by Flacco, Jack
She and the boys strolled to Ranger’s side to say their good-byes to Olivia.
A team of three secured a chain link fence in place to block the south entrance to the train yard. The other entrance to the yard led north, where Ranger wanted to go. A boy emerged from a warehouse with a motorbike in hand, walking it in front of the SUV.
“Jonah will see you to the safety of the mountain where you can return home to Arizona.” Olivia pointed to the motorbike escort.
Ranger and the others watched Jonah as he mounted the bike.
The Olivia then said, “Thank you, Randy. We’re not sure what will become of your blood and if our studies will be successful, but we’ve stored it in a safe place where no one would be able find it.”
Randy nodded in silence, and a partial smile escaped him.
As for Ranger, he had other things on his mind, “Who is this General Grayson?”
Olivia studied Ranger’s face for a moment, noticing the glint in his eye and the slight smile. If she didn’t know better, Ranger had more than a passing interest in the general.
However, Matty recognized Ranger’s curiosity and knew whenever he asked for more information he was up to something. She stepped into the conversation between Ranger and Olivia, and promptly said, “No.”
“What?” Jon asked.
“He’s going to go after the general.”
“How did you get all that from Ranger’s simple question?”
Ranger glanced at Matty and smirked.
“No.” Matty placed both hands on Ranger’s chest, a now-common occurrence when she wanted to get her point across.
Olivia said, “He’s impossible to get. You’ll first have to get passed the guard towers. Then, you’ll need to breach the fences. You’ll have to get rid of the one hundred or so soldiers running the camp. And if you’re still alive, the general never goes anywhere without his gun by his side.”
“No.” Matty said.
“Why should I do somethin’ about the general?” Ranger asked the question for Matty’s benefit.
“General Grayson is in charge of the conversion project for the state. Are you familiar with it?” She held her scarf tight around her mouth not wanting it to blow away with the sudden gust.
“I know the aliens want the minerals in people’s bodies. The military ships the people to the camps, and the aliens perform the extractions, converting people to zombies.”
“Right. There’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
“The general enjoys what he does.”
“How do you mean?”
Olivia stretched her hands behind her head, clutched her scarf and began to unravel it from her face. She unrolled layer upon layer, as Ranger, Matty and the others watched. When the last layer left her face, Matty covered her mouth with both hands while gasping, but couldn’t prevent her words from slipping out in a quiet voice, “Oh, my God.”
The woman allowed them to take a good look at her face. The scars covered her cheeks, running all the way down the jawline, and one in particular stretched the length of her neck. “They beat me wanting to know where the Resistance forces hid. They wanted to know how many, the location and defenses. I didn’t tell them, though. Sergeant Baskins beat my face with a glove covered with sandpaper. He said, ‘You’ll tell me what I want to know or you will die begging for your life.’ I never prayed so much. After a while, it stopped hurting. Either my face went numb or I didn’t care anymore. I don’t remember. The last thing I remember is the Resistance dragging me outside the camp where General Grayson had hung me on a pole as an example for others to see—at least, that’s what my friends have told me.”
The words hit the four of them like a hammer to the chest. Randy had to look away, knotting his hands around his head. Jon couldn’t absorb the sight of her either, and walked away with his hands in his pocket. Ranger had his eyes on Olivia’s scars for a long time before his nostrils flared with rage.
And Matty? Matty stared at Olivia. The more she stared the more her stomach churned in anger. Her eyebrows creased together and her lips tightened. She slapped her hand on Ranger’s chest and said, “Let’s go beat the shit out of these motherless dicks.”
Ranger didn’t need convincing.
* * *
The night sky had played host to the lights for several months. Patterned after the stars, the multi-colored dots rotated left, then quickly switched right. Their shapes changed as well from individual specks to triangles and from triangles to squares. The pinpricks grew to twice the size, and their colors grew brighter. The spectacle resembled a planetarium light show without the lasers. Before the change, no one would have suspected the lights’ intentions as malevolent, since their appearance suggested beauty and grace. Who could argue they weren’t beautiful?
As the lights screamed to earth, the patterns disintegrated into slow shapes. The shapes transformed into blazes. A cluster of individual lights spread past the horizon into the distance. Another set followed them leaving streams of fire across the sky. Flames burst from one cluster and melted into parts unknown.
One of the former lights that had turned hot soared through the upper atmosphere, released debris in a golden trail of glitter. The object appeared as if it wouldn’t make it and would explode at any time. It didn’t. Once the object passed the upper atmosphere, it took its real form, reducing its speed and floating stationary high above where it had disappeared into the clouds. The other objects did the same, flying through the evening and stopping after the flames had dispersed. They hovered in place, motionless, not indicating why they had come. They had a silver shell, with a round cap that appeared as frost. The lights had all but disappeared and what remained, gleamed.
* * *
The next morning, the sun peaked from the clouds and flooded the valley with its golden rays. Jonah had led Ranger and the gang away from the roadblocks of Temple City into the desert. Leaving them by the side of Weis Highway, he turned his bike around to head back east. Before then, the young man inched closer to the open window where Ranger sat in the driver’s seat. He wished Ranger and the others luck on their road to Logan Airbase, which he detailed in a map he had given them.
Glancing behind him at their road ahead, Jonah said they would need fresh supplies to carry them through to the conversion camp. He suggested Willowbank, but that would be up to them. Perhaps he knew something they didn’t. He then smiled and wondered what Ranger would do when he met the general for the first time, but he had to wait another day to find out. He needed to get back. He reminded them that whatever the group had planned, they’d have to do it quickly. He mentioned how another wave of alien ships would land soon and they had to hurry if they wanted to get out of there alive. Not that it mattered anyway since Ranger didn’t have a chance to overthrow the camp. Nonetheless, Jonah shook Ranger’s hand and left them in the middle of the desert.
* * *
Ranger and the kids drove through the town limits and arrived at New Calvary Baptist Church where parishioners once had assembled during the worst part of the change. The sign before entering the town said Willowbank and had gunshots all over it. Before the change, the town’s population hovered around the five hundred mark. No one knew for sure how many folks had survived. Of those, the military would have tossed into the back of trucks and shipped off to conversion camps.
Willowbank’s church sat at the end of Main Street near First State National Bank where folks had once withdrawn cash for a weekend of binge drinking and debauchery. Not much to the town other than the old abandoned mine, which had closed years ago because of the credit bubble burst. The good citizens would have boozed it up on a Saturday night only to wake up the next morning with a massive hangover they’d have to nurse on their way to church.
In their eagerness to get rid of General Grayson, Ranger and Matty didn’t count the cost to their actions. Questions lingered. How would they get rid of him? They’d always fought against zombies, but one of their rules d
ictated never to kill people. How would they get into the camp? What about the soldiers protecting the area, what would they do with them? Ranger had only one thing on his mind, get some food fast. He thought if they parked near the church, they’d have a chance.
Carrying forward, Ranger led the kids to the town’s grocer.
“I’m not sure if we’ll find anything here.” He said.
“When have we ever found what we’re looking for?” Matty asked, then smiled. In some way, she spoke the truth. Whenever Ranger searched for something they needed, he’d find something else. He wouldn’t know what he could use until it came in handy later when looking for a solution to another problem.
As they strode into the McMally’s General Store, the shelves had little left for them to eat. Other than a few cans of fruit and vegetables, the entire store sat empty. Moldy bread greeted Randy in the bakery area. Jon couldn’t find anything worth eating in the dairy aisle. At least Matty had some luck with discovering a bag of chips in the corner of the store. Ranger, though, collected all the remaining canned goods he could store in his bag.
Curiosity pique Jon’s interest when he saw a stairway leading to the top floor of the grocer. Not wanting to take a chance going alone in the back of the store, he called Randy to forget about the moldy bread and lead him to the top of the stairs. Jon thought they might get lucky and find something better to eat in a hidden stash.
Pulling his handgun from his pants, Randy ascended the narrow stairway with Jon following him. One step after another, the stairs sounded as if they hadn’t had foot traffic in a long time. Each foot creaked its way to the top. The gun in Randy’s hand felt cold, only because the stairs reminded him of dark places he’d soon never want to visit again.
When they reached the top, the boys sneaked to the door of the bedroom nearest the stairs on the right. Jon covered his nose expecting to find bodies, as he remembered from all the zombie movies he saw. Randy pressed on the door and pushed it open. The bedroom looked immaculate. The bed had its covers done neatly. The closet appeared untouched, and the dresser drawers remained shut. No one had ransacked the place, but who could have if everyone had disappeared like all the other cities and towns?
Leaving the bedroom undisturbed, they walked the opposite side of the hallway to find another bedroom, again, door partially opened with not a hint of what lay behind it. Randy kept his gun ahead of him as he gently pushed the door open. The master bedroom had all the frills expected for a small town home. It stood without a blemish as to what went on in the town a few months earlier. Dust had accumulated on the top of the dresser.
Placing his hand on his stomach, Jon couldn’t contain all the gurgling noises. He thought if he didn’t get food fast, he’d pass out. Randy heard it and made a goofy face as if to say, “I hear your stomach more than I do my own thoughts.”
* * *
Sergeant Baskins sat on the table in the basement of the abandon building with one leg bent to his chest while the other dangled from the edge. He gazed at the floor as the sound of the impact hit his ears. The punches echoed through the halls where a contingent of his squad waited for further instructions. He could smell the mustiness in the air from the growing mold on the walls; evidence that in years past whoever maintained the building didn’t do a good job with cleaning the place.
After one last punch, Baskins said, “Stop.”
The soldier stepped away from the person tied to the chair and shook his hand thinking he may have broken it from the constant beating he delivered to the prisoner.
Baskins hopped to the floor and strolled to stand in front of the prisoner. The other soldiers broke the huddle they had formed and gave the sarg enough room to maneuver. He paced around the chair until again he finally came to rest in front of the prisoner.
“Let me ask you again. Where is he?” He asked.
Olivia smiled, not because the beating stopped but because she hadn’t said a word since Baskins ordered her torture.
Baskins placed his hands in his pocket and continued pacing around her, always maintaining his eyes on his prisoner. “Your entire team is dead. At least they will be once General Grayson places them in the conversion cage. They should be arriving at the camp any time now.”
Accustomed to the torture, Olivia spat at the sergeant’s boots as he made his way around her right side.
“I suppose that’s your answer for not telling us where the boy is.”
A smile bounced from her lips as she lifted her face from the strands of hair covering it. Strings of drool poured from her mouth from the beating administered to her.
Continuing on his route around the prisoner, he said, “Have you yet to ask yourself why I sent your team to the camp but kept you behind?”
Her chin dropped to her chest and her face went back to hiding behind her disheveled hair.
“I wanted you all to myself. I wanted personally to make sure you were dead this time. Don’t say this to anyone, but I think the general was soft stringing you up on the pole thinking you would have died. I would have shot you and dragged you around the camp like the dog that you are.” He chuckled, then asked, “Do you know how we found you?”
She wet her lips with her tongue and swallowed. She would’ve done anything for a tall glass of cold water to satiate her thirst.
“Sound has an interesting way of telling others where you are. Private Witham here,” he motioned his hand to the soldier, “He’s an expert with a parabolic microphone. Do you know he can hear a spider spin a web clear across the street and pinpoint its exact location without it ever knowing we were on to it? I mean, technology is an amazing thing. He was able to hear you breathe and tell me where in the building your snipers sat waiting and how many there were. Then it was all a matter of finding an entrance.”
Private Witham nodded his head agreeing with Baskins and went back to leaning against the wall while watching the sarg at work.
“Too bad snipers are worthless when the opposing army storms the basement of the building they’re supposed to protect.”
Staying silent and breathing heavy, Olivia sounded as if she had fallen asleep.
“Bring in the girl.”
Olivia’s head propped from the cover of her tossed hair and gazed over her shoulder at the doorway behind her. Her eyes had turned a bold black and her lips had slightly parted as she mouthed words without sounds. Perhaps she uttered a name.
Private Norris held Abigail by the scruff of her neck and dragged her to the center of the room where Olivia could watch her.
“Don’t hurt her. Please, don’t hurt her.” She said.
“All of a sudden you have a tongue.” Sergeant Baskins said, and the soldiers around him laughed. “Let her go.”
Abigail ran to her mother, hugging and kissing her, not wanting to separate from her.
“Don’t worry about me,” Olivia said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Leave my mother alone.” Abigail said, staring at the sergeant who wore dark, cold eyes.
“Your mother has something I want.” Baskins motioned to Private Norris to pull her away from Olivia.
“Leave her alone.” The little girl kicked Norris in the leg, grabbed his gun from its holster on the side of his hip and pointed it at Sergeant Baskins. She pulled the trigger, it clicked but nothing happened.
Baskins grabbed the gun from her hands and threw the girl into Norris’ arms. “Try to keep her from running this time.”
Abigail’s heart raced as the cold sweat poured from the back of her neck. Why didn’t the gun go off? she wondered.
“Next time, try loading the chamber. Like this.” He loaded the chamber with a pull and pointed the gun at the little girl’s head all the while her mother watched in horror.
Chapter 18
Matty threw the bag of chips in the duffle bag she carried and moved to the frozen aisle of McMally’s General Store. Opening the door to one of the freezers, she expected a cold wave to hit her face, but the freezers had broken down mon
ths ago and any food she would have found would have spoiled. Nonetheless, except for a few bags of beans at the bottom of the freezer, the shelves had no edible goods. Not to say she wouldn’t take a chance eating the vegetables in the bag she found anyway.
Behind the checkout counter, Ranger thought he’d have some luck finding something the owners may have forgotten to take in the hustle and bustle of running for their lives. The register sat on the counter and nothing else. Without trying, Ranger pushed a button to the register’s drawer and sure enough, he discovered the slots filled with cash. He grabbed a wad, at least a couple of hundred, and stared at it. He couldn’t understand how the world existed with currency as the major unit of trade. What a waste, he thought. All the world’s efforts for the accumulation of wealth only to have it disappear as quickly as water on a hot summer day. He threw the money on the floor, useless junk, and searched further for anything he could salvage for a nice meal.
As Matty closed the door to the freezer, she peered over her shoulder to the empty aisles. Where did Randy and Jon go? She dropped the duffle bag, drew her gun and ran to the last place she saw her brother. At the same time, she called Ranger’s name. He trotted to her, with the shotgun at the ready. Matty had a knack with the way she would make Ranger realize something was amiss. She’d call his name in a way only he’d make sense of the danger. The way she inflected her voice may have hinted at the problem or the fact she had her gun in her hand may have served as a good indication, too. Whatever it was, Ranger came running.
They looked at each other, then at the stairs. The same thought entered their mind. Having known Jon, he would have asked Randy to walk to the top of the stairs with him in search of food. She knew her brother well. Ranger took the lead, scaling the stairs to the top, ignoring the creaking and allowing his shotgun to represent him in the event he had to confront any of the undead.
