The Last of Us

by D B Bray

  “What’s taking so long, Jaque?” Charlie asked, looking Adam over for wounds.

  “He’s dead,” Jack said, lowering his head.

  Charlie growled and looked at Jack.

  “Who the hell was that?” Charlie asked, picking him up and pushing him into the wall. “My friend is dead because of him!”

  Jack rested his head against the wall and sighed. “I’m sorry about your friend, really I am. This Constitution thing has caused more problems than I can deal with. Part of me just wants to turn around and head back to Zone Ten.”

  Charlie threw his hands up and walked away. “Before this is over——.”

  “Charlie, that’s enough. Jaque is dead, we keep moving,” Adam said, rising from the wall he was leaning against.

  Billy and Fred nodded. They stripped Jaque of all his weapons and armor and shoved them in different packs. Adam walked over to Jack.

  “Thanks for coming back for me,” he said, shaking his hand.

  Jack could only nod, his lips quivering. “Sorry—-.”

  “Ah, forget it, he died free. I think that’s all anyone can ask for,” Adam said, cutting him off. “Let’s go,” Billy hissed.

  Adam peered through the window at Red’s men as they stripped the dead outside. Red directed his men, throwing the extra weapons into a crate secured to his half-track. Adam’s fingers turned white from the grip on his bat. He looked around the room and noticed a wooden door deteriorating to his left. He walked over, pried it open, and waved the others on, and then followed them out.

  The buildings had an elaborate tunnel system connecting each room. After tripping and stumbling through the maze, they came out on 1st Avenue. Adam pulled a map from his pocket and glanced down at the map.

  “New plan. We’ll take 1st to 79th to get to the library. It’s still several miles away, so we’ll stay in the shadows until we reach it,” he said.

  Not waiting for the others to agree, Adam jogged up the street and headed toward their destination. The rest of their run was uneventful, but Jack kept a close eye on his surroundings as they transversed the destroyed roads.

  The buildings of New York were utterly destroyed, the crumbling infrastructure overgrown with roots and brown vines. On his right, Jack saw what was left of the United Nations building. The tall rectangular building was split in half, one side leaning toward the water.

  Jack kept running to catch up with the others. He saw a tiger and lion in the distance, eating the prey they brought down. The lion roared; its mane grungy. The others never glanced at it as they continued on. A large bridge loomed on the horizon. They stopped under it and drank some water in the shadows, breathing hard. The bridge was broken in several places, the concrete piled in the water below.

  “What is this thing,” Jack asked, looking up.

  Adam shrugged and handed him the map. Jack looked up at the bottom of it.

  “The Queensboro bridge,” he muttered, then handed the map back to Adam.

  They ran under the bridge and further on. They passed St. Catherine's park and watched a herd of deer and elk graze at the center. They reached 79th street and turned left. Billy tripped, coming around the corner and landed with a grunt. Jack picked him up and continued to sprint behind Adam.

  They reached The New York Society Library and stopped in front of it, trying to catch their breath. The building was amazing on the outside, barely touched by the scenes of war, an oddity along the war-torn street. The front of the limestone was pockmarked from bullets, but it was still breathtaking. Jack ran his fingers across it, feeling the grooves.

  “It’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” Billy said.

  “That it is. Let’s get what need and get back to Battery Park,” Adam said.

  Charlie gripped the front door handle and pulled. The door broke open, and he waved the others through. The first room they entered had a sizeable wooden reference desk with two chandeliers broken over it. As they walked through the room, they stepped on the glass, shattering the silent air.

  “Where to now?” Adam asked.

  “The man told me it’s somewhere on the fifth floor,” Jack said.

  Adam smirked and looked at the stairs. “Well, this should be fun.”

  The first-floor staircase was broken into several pieces, boards skewed at different angles. They cautiously approached it, looked up, and saw one of the banisters still intact. Adam shook it and then started his climb.

  Everyone followed behind him as he climbed one step at a time. He continued leading them up the stairs, and as they reached the fourth floor, the stairwell swayed under their weight. Adam stepped on a loose board, and the right side of the stairs crumbled. They watched it crash on the other stairs below.

  “Well, now what?” Billy hissed.

  Adam thought for a moment and untied his grappling hook attached to his belt. He saw a metal beam sinking from the fifth floor. He swung the hook, attached it to the beam, and then yanked it. It collapsed in front of them, sending debris cascading over them. Adam rolled his rope up and crossed over to the other side. He helped the others across, and they continued to the fifth floor.

  “Ok, Jack, where to now?” Adam asked.

  “I’m not sure.” He glanced over Adam’s shoulder to the far end of the hall and saw a room. He led them over to the door and read the sign above it.

  The Hornblower Room.

  “It must be in here,” he said, slipping through a tight opening.

  Jack surveyed the room as they entered. The bookcases were intact; the books long ago looted. “Let’s split up and look for it,” Jack said.

  They searched the room, feeling along the walls and shelves.

  “I don’t see anything,” Fred said.

  “Yeah, me neither. But it’s got to be here,” Jack said.

  Billy got in Jack’s face. “Where is it?” he shouted, slamming his foot down.

  Jack shrugged. “How should I know?”

  Billy bit his bottom lip, his hands shaking. He walked over to a wall and punched it. Jack stared at his feet and then looked up. Just above them, out of reach, was a ventilation system running the length of the room. Jack walked over and swung the butt of his rifle over his head and hit it. It swayed for a second and then stopped. Charlie chuckled behind him. He pushed Jack out of the way, spit in hands, and grabbed his bat.

  “Watch this,” he said, swinging the bat over his head.

  The blow knocked the vent tube in half. The contents fell to the ground with a loud crash.

  “Better?” Charlie asked.

  Jack smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

  A metal box lay at their feet. Jack crouched down; his fingernails scraped against the lid. His heart thumped in his chest; his fingers twitched.

  They all gathered around as Jack carefully reached into the box and pulled out a thick plastic bag with a note and several other pieces of parchment. Jack’s hands shook as he unfolded the letter. He walked over to the window, the others in tow. He took a deep breath and read it out loud;

  The bombs have destroyed everything. The buildings and bridges have been bombed day and night, crushed in their entirety. I even watched as the bombshells ended the migration of people crossing the Queensboro bridge last night.

  I have never seen such devastation and wanton violence. The people have turned on each other and are forming tribes for protection. Marshall law was declared a few nights ago, but the populace outnumbered the army. The police tried to stop the looting, but it was no use, they melted into the crowds rather than be killed.

  I have decided to hide my piece of the Constitution here in the oldest library in New York City. The New York Society Library was created in 1754, during the time when New York City was the capital of the country. Before it was moved to the District of Columbia.

  Enclosed are the first two pages of the Constitution, Articles I and II. The other two were hidden by another friend of ours, Michael Sherman. He was a descendant of Roger Sherman, one of the critic
al members of the Great Compromise, also known as the Connecticut Compromise.

  I also read that Roger Sherman signed all four documents that helped found the country. He signed the Continental Association, Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution.

  If you are here for the documents and are searching for the rest, Michael said he was heading north to New Milford, Connecticut. Roger Sherman lived in New Milford, where he set up a general store. The building is located on Main Street, and that’s probably where he hid it.

  Jack folded the letter and stuffed the documents in his bag. “Time to head back and bring your tribe over to the Statue’s,” he said.

  “Let’s split up and head back to Battery Park,” Fred said.

  “Good idea. Jack, you, me and Billy will take 1st Avenue back. Fred and Charlie will take the FDR,” Adam said.

  “That isn’t a good idea, Adam. We need to stick together,” Charlie insisted.

  “If that Red guy is heading this way, it's easier to slip by him in two groups. I’ll see you at Battery Park,” Adam said, ending the debate.

  Adam walked over to the window and broke it. He leaned out over the ledge and calculated how far his rope would go and then tied his grappling hook off.

  “Fred and Charlie, you go down the rope, and my team will go out the front. If anyone gets captured, leave them behind,” he said, handing the rope to Charlie.

  Adam ran to the stairwell; they had just come up and worked his way down. Jack followed behind him with Billy as they maneuvered their way to the bottom. The stairs creaked and groaned under their weight, and as they reached the first floor, the rest of the stairs buckled and crashed behind them. Jack moaned and rubbed his eyes, the dust from the concrete temporarily blinding him. He coughed and yelled out to the others. Billy and Adam groaned and then sat up, coughing. They helped each other up and stumbled through the door.

  The light outside was blinding, and when their eyes came back into focus, they saw Red sitting in his turret surrounded by his men. Red waved to his guards, and they stripped the boys of their packs.

  “I lost some men in that last battle,” Red said, looking at Jack. He dismounted from the turret and slapped him across the face. “And it’s your fault. I’m going to kill you, kid, but I’ll make it quick if you tell me where Lucy is.”

  “I’m not telling you anything, Red. She’s free, and if I have to die for it, so be it,” he said, a smile crossing his bloody lip.

  “Not smart kid, not smart at all,” Red said, punching him in the stomach.

  Jack rolled over and rose to his knees. “Okay, I’ll tell you what you want to know.” He glanced at Billy and Adam. “But let my friends go.”

  Red laughed and spat. “There’s no negotiating, boy. These boys are dead men walking, just like you,” he said.

  “If you want what I have, you’ll let them go.” Jack paused. “I’ll lead you to her. She’s in Battery Park, held by the slavers.”

  Red raised an eyebrow. “Battery Park?” he asked.

  “Yes, the port just south of here. The slavers took her and my brother. I’ll trade you a valuable book I was looking for in the library if you help me get them back,” he said.

  “What was in that library? The Constitution?” Red asked.

  Jack’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, you didn’t think I knew?” he asked.

  Jack stayed silent. Red eyed him wearily and glanced over at Caleb. “Is he lying, Caleb?”

  “Not sure, Chief. But we did get him out of the clutches of other slaver’s here, so he may be telling the truth,” Caleb said.

  “Give me the book, boy,” Red said.

  “No, let my friends go, and I’ll go with you to Battery Park, and when I have Toby, you can have it and Lucy.”

  “You got heart kid, lots of heart. What’s to stop me from taking the book and destroying Battery Park?” Red asked.

  “Because you want Lucy, not to lose all your men burning Battery Park to the ground. And you will,” Jack said.

  Red paused for a moment, then mounted the turret. “Release his friends and bring him with us.”

  Adam picked up Jack’s pack and handed it to him. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he whispered.

  Jack winked. “Statues,” he said before walking over to the turret.

  One of Red’s men overheard him. “What’s Statue’s?” he asked.

  “The nickname of the boy who died in the fight,” Jack said.

  The horses led the half-track back down the road to Battery Park, leaving Billy and Adam in a cloud of dust.

  After riding for a few miles, Red glanced down at Jack from the turret and watched him trip for the third time in a row.

  “Tired, boy?” he asked.

  Jack glared at him and spat on the turret. “Haven’t even broken a sweat yet.”

  That was a lie. Jack was tired, really tired. His feet ached as he trudged through the streets of New York. They hadn’t stopped moving since leaving the library. The skies darkened in front of them as the smoke from the burn barrels blocked out the otherwise blue sky.

  Battery Park appeared on the horizon, the auctioneer’s voices loud and clear through their bullhorns. Jack could hear the bidding in the distance, and as he approached, he saw mere children being dragged to the block. They screamed as they were stripped from their parent's embraces. It was too much for Jack. Tears streamed down his face as he watched Red and his men laugh at the turmoil and chaos.

  Red slapped Jack across the face, bringing him back to reality and said, “Now, where is my niece?”

  Jack spat out a stream of blood from between his teeth. “Follow me, and I’ll lead you to her,” he said, tugging at his bindings.

  Jack looked around the encampment and found what he was looking for. The first slaver tribe he ran into the day before was sitting outside a hut near the waterfront. The red lines down the center of their faces were pronounced as the sun dipped behind them.

  Jack pointed. “That’s where she is.”

  Red tied a rope around his own wrist and dragged Jack across the rocks to the water. Jack groaned as he came to a stop a few feet from the slavers. Red stepped in front of him and rested his hand on the butt of his pistol.

  “Where’s my niece?” he asked.

  The large man who had confronted Jack the day before stood up and lifted his club. “Who are you talking to, old man?”

  Red smirked and looked at his men. “I’m talking to an idiot who needs his shoes off to count to twenty.”

  “Is that a fact?” the man asked, snapping his fingers.

  Shadowed forms appeared from behind them. Red stood his ground unfazed. His men glanced over their shoulders; their palms sweaty against the butts of their weapons. The slavers surrounded them and stepped in closer, closing the gap.

  “Guess I’m not as dumb as I look. Now, unless you want to leave here in a box, I would leave in the same direction you came from,” the man said, sitting back down.

  “Not likely. I came here for Lucy, so go fetch her and I’ll wait here,” Red said.

  “I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about.” The slaver stuck a tobacco leaf in his gum, spit out a stream of juice, and said, “You’re starting to anger me, though.”

  Red watched Jack’s finger’s twitch beside him. “Did you lie to me, boy?”

  “Nope, I saw her in this camp yesterday. I kept my side of the bargain. I just wanted to see her again and apologize to her before you stole her back,” Jack said.

  Red nodded, and before anyone could react, he lifted his pistol and shot the man he had been talking to. The slavers attacked from behind and from the front. Bodies slammed to the ground, most never rising again. Jack ducked under a wagon he had been standing next to as the two groups collided.

  The bullets zipped by his ear and sounded like tremendous claps of thunder. Some were so close; he could feel the heat as they snapped by. He dove into the dirt and rolled under the
wagon, putting his arm over his head. He saw Red in one moment; the next, he was gone. The gunner in the turret mowed down the slavers in front of him until he fell backward out of the turret. One of the slavers bound up to the machine gun and turned it on Red’s men.

  The gunfire finally stopped, and Jack’s breath exploded from his lungs. He wiped the dirt from his face and looked around. The dead and dying lay intermixed, their faces gruesome and cold. He could hear the groans of pain and misery around him.

  He crawled out from under the wagon, picked up his rifle, and sprinted for the waterfront. He found a paddleboat tied off to a rope at the end of the pier. As he untied it, bullets flew past him, splintering the wood. He ducked low, finished untying the boat, his hands trembling. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and then threw his pack in. An explosion in the water on his right knocked him down.

  He felt a sharp pain in his calf as he launched himself into the boat, belly first. A rickety wooden paddle lay on top of the water tethered to the side. As he sat upright, he noticed blood mixing with the water.

  Why am I bleeding?

  With his adrenaline pumping, Jack snatched the paddle, stayed low, and rowed away from the dock. Red and his men ran after him, firing their guns and crossbows. The water splashed around him as he paddled with all the strength he had left. The smoky haze surrounded the end of the pier, and then Red disappeared into the mist behind him.

  The paddleboat swayed, and his paddle broke in half as he plowed through the water. He sat shivering as night closed in. He pulled his pant leg up, touched the wound and winced.

  Taking off his bloody boot, he tore his sock off. He bit into it and ripped it, the dirt grinding between his teeth. He pulled the tube back over his wound and tied his shoestring around it. He took a deep breath, then tightened it. He growled as the pain radiated through his body. The small caliber round felt like it rotated around in his calf muscle as he finished knotting his laces.

  Man, this hurts.

  The moon shone brightly in the sky. He felt the hair on his neck stand up and scanned the still waters. He brought the scope to his eye and saw a large fin resting on the water's edge.