by Hunt, Jack
“Enough.” Gabriel grabbed him and tore him off. The ranger was out cold, his face covered in dirt and blood. Gabriel scooped up the rifle and checked if it was loaded, and then relieved the ranger of his sidearm, ammo and radio. He tossed the handgun to Marcus, the only person he trusted in the group. “Now listen up. You want to get out of here, we have to work together. None of this every man for himself bullshit.”
“Fuck that. I’m not staying with this group,” Jesse said elbowing his way forward. “They’re going to be looking for all of us. We need to go our separate ways.”
“We stick together,” Gabriel said.
“You all can but I’m going my own way.” He nodded and turned. He had only made it a few feet when a gun went off and he collapsed. Gabriel turned to see Marcus holding the handgun out. Marcus strolled over to Jesse who wasn’t dead but trying to crawl away. Gabriel might have stopped him had he seen any use for Jesse but the guy was a loser. He’d been nothing but trouble in the pen, a thorn in Marcus’ side. He never told him what had taken place but it didn’t take much to figure out what was going on between the two of them.
Marcus kicked him over so he was looking at him. He placed his boot on his neck and without saying another word fired another round straight into his face. With that done, he turned to the rest of the group. “Anyone else want to go their own way?”
Murmurs spread. “Nah, fuck that. I’m good,” Hauser, another inmate who had looked like he was about to follow Jesse, replied. Lee looked on in shock, saying nothing. He knew better.
Gabriel reached down and relieved the ranger of his summer jacket and slipped into it. It wasn’t a good fit but was better than being cold. “We’ll see if there is a vehicle up by the road. Maybe find some additional clothes.”
“What about him?” Torres asked pointing to the ranger.
Gabriel cast his gaze down, turned the rifle on him and squeezed a round into the unconscious ranger’s temple. “Who?” A smile danced on everyone’s lips as he jerked his head and told them to move out. As they climbed the embankment, he knew Niles was confused. Why had he stopped him from killing the ranger only to end his life with the man’s rifle? It was a power move. Give a man an inch and he’d take a mile. Gabriel had no qualms about killing to keep his freedom but he would decide who lived and died, and in a group of this kind, first kills always established pecking order.
They scrambled up the embankment to a dusty narrow road hedged in on either side by thick trees. At the top they could just make out the silhouette of the landscape surrounding the lake. There was no vehicle to be seen so they trudged in the direction the ranger had pointed, northeast.
As they pressed on, Gabriel fished into his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Oh, it just gets better,” he said. He took one out and tossed the pack to Torres to share among the others. After sparking it to life he took a hard hit and let the nicotine flow through his system. It was like instant relief. A wave of a calm and a sense of well-being came over him. He blew out smoke and gazed up into the night sky. It was crazy to think they had survived a crash and were now free men. All those years wasted. It would all be different now.
“Why did you have to kill him?” Lee said catching up with him. “He was no threat. Guy probably had a family.”
“Yeah? So did I. I didn’t see anyone crying when they tossed me inside. They might as well have put a bullet in my head.”
“But you’re responsible for your actions. He was just doing his job.”
“So was I,” Gabriel said looking at a confused Lee. “Do you think I wanted to hit those banks? If there could have been another way I would have taken it but that’s not how this world works. The government steals from us all the time but people sit back and do nothing because it’s okay for them to do it, but when we have mouths to feed, rent to pay, we’re supposed to grin and endure the hardship. Well fuck that. I did something about it. Robbing banks was my job. And I was damn good at it.”
“Until you got caught.”
“No, until an asshole cop decided he was going to be a hero.”
“Is that why you killed him?”
“He got in the way. I gave him a chance.”
Lee shook his head. “Gave a chance.”
“You think you’re so much better than us because you wear that uniform, because you’re on the other side of the bars? Then answer this, Lee. Why did you kill Stevens then?”
Lee’s chin dropped. He opened his mouth but then shut it.
“That’s right. Because he got in the way of what you wanted.” Gabriel took another drag on his cigarette. “Sometimes we have to do what we have to do to survive but don’t ever think you are different.”
With that said Lee fell back into the group.
It didn’t take them long to see a few cabins between the trees. Torres cast Gabriel a glance as if requesting permission to explore. Gabriel gave a nod and Torres and three others hopped over a fence ahead of them and went in as scouts. They heard the sound of glass shattering and then Jericho returned and beckoned them in. “They’re empty.”
Some of the others rushed in eager to find food and something warm to wear.
“Are we staying here?” Marcus asked.
“No. We need to keep moving but no harm in looking. Keep an eye on them.”
Marcus gave a nod and hopped over the fence, hurrying with the others through the darkened woods towards three cabins. “Lee,” Gabriel said before he followed.
“Yeah?”
“When we make it to a town, you’re free to go.”
Lee shook his head. “Yeah right. I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“I mean it. What you did back there for us on that plane. I respect that. Human decency goes a long way in my books.”
Lee snorted. “Human decency. How can you say that after what you just did?”
“It’s what I had to do, just like what you did with Stevens.”
“I did what I had to, you did what you chose to. Don’t confuse the difference.”
8
The explosion shook the ground, shattering windows in surrounding buildings and vehicles. It was the first of many they witnessed over the course of ten minutes. Tyler was escorting Erika back to her hotel when the 737 nose-dived into a huge apartment block. A billowing cloud of black smoke and tongues of fire rose into the night sky, illuminating the street they were on. Screams cut through the silence as people sprinted away from the crash site. It was like witnessing 9/11 all over again. Tyler recalled the sight on the news as the twin towers collapsed and a tide of gray smoke and debris pushed through the streets of New York, smothering everything and anyone in its path.
Tyler peered around the vehicle from his crouched position. His body was partially covering Erika, shielding her from some of the flying projectiles of debris. In the distance he saw another plane swoop down erupting in a fireball. They were less than twenty minutes away from McCarran International Airport. It was as if every plane that had taken off was bombarding the city. His immediate thought was a terrorist attack but how could they take control of that many planes?
“You ready? We need to move,” Tyler said in a strong tone as he tried to guide her along the chaotic street. Off to their left they saw people on fire running from the building, screaming before they collapsed. A reel of video footage played back in his mind from when he was a kid. In an attempt to toughen his sons, Tyler’s father had shown them footage of wars, genocide, and plane crashes. He’d lived with nightmares for months after that. Of course, their father said it was a matter of conditioning the brain to respond to the chaos so that when they eventually faced such situations, they wouldn’t fall into shock and buckle. Right now, all he wanted to do was get her back to that hotel, make sure she was safe, and then head to Uncle Lou’s.
“We should help,” Erika said looking off towards the apartment block.
“We need to keep moving.”
“You want to leave. Leave. I’
m helping these people,” she said, breaking away from him and jogging towards the rubble and smoke. A large section of the building was gone from where the airplane had ripped through it. Blackened sections of the airplane were scattered, some parts had traveled several blocks down the street.
“Erika.”
Unaware of the dangers, she didn’t listen to him and pressed into the dark smoke.
Another explosion erupted, and the force of it hurled them back against a vehicle. What caused it was anyone’s guess but it could have been any number of things from gas pipes to a fuel tank. Tyler was briefly knocked unconscious. When he came to, he was visibly shaken and now blanketed in soot. He shook his head and turned to see Erika gripping her arm and groaning. He scrambled over and saw her jacket was torn, leaving the upper portion of her arm exposed. There was a five-inch gash that was bleeding badly. She had her hand wrapped around it and her fingers were now gloved in blood.
Without even giving it another thought he slung his backpack to one side and reached into it and pulled out a small med kit. From it he pulled out an antiseptic towelette and cleaned her wound, then applied gauze and began wrapping a bandage around her arm.
Erika looked at him in astonishment. “You always carry that with you?”
“Would you think it’s strange if I said yes?” He paused for a second before continuing. She continued to watch as he tended to the wound with all the proficiency of someone with first-aid training. To him it was nothing, no different than tying his shoes each day. His father had ingrained certain habits in them when they were younger. At the time he didn’t understand why, now it made more sense.
“You know what you’re doing?”
“I know enough,” he said before switching the tone of the conversation back to what had annoyed him. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I’m not standing by and doing nothing.”
“You’re not emergency services.”
“No but until they get here someone has to help.”
“You’re liable to get yourself killed. It’s volatile. This whole place could erupt again in a minute. The building is unstable. Now, are your legs working?”
“Of course they are,” she said as he helped her up.
“Then let’s go.”
Erika looked back towards the building. Tyler could see her reluctance to leave despite the danger. Bodies were lying throughout the street. A mother crouched over a child cradling her and sobbing. “My baby, my baby!” Further down four people were carrying a guy whose leg was gone. A woman was performing CPR on an older woman without much success. Were they friends or strangers helping? Did it matter? His father’s voice came back to him as clear as the day he heard it. “When all hell breaks loose. Get out. Get back to the cabin. Don’t be a hero. Don’t be moved by what you see. It will only get you killed. Safety first, and that means you.”
“Erika,” he said.
She looked at him. “Why did you help me a minute ago?”
“Because it was the right thing to do.”
She nodded. “Exactly,” she said as she walked back towards the building. Tyler sighed and shifted from one foot to the next. He glanced down the road. Right about now Uncle Lou would be moving into phase one of his plan of survival. Common sense told him to leave her. He didn’t owe her anything and after the shit night they’d had, it wasn’t like they’d made a connection, and yet… he looked at her as she stooped down to check on someone and saw something that reminded him of his mother. Unlike his father, she had a warm and caring heart. It had been her idea to open up their house to the street when the power went out. She had been the one to convince their father that it was the right thing to do. Maybe that’s why he didn’t walk away but followed Erika into the midst of the chaos. All around people were shouting for help but there were no medics to be seen. Even if they were on the streets, they would have had a hard time getting through the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Stalled vehicles, no telecommunications and multiple downed planes would have placed a tremendous strain on emergency services. He imagined they were out there just as they were on 9/11. Courageous men and women running into danger to help. They weren’t alone. Erika wasn’t the only person risking her life. There were others. It was a given. Even though there was no telling what or who had caused this, the people of the city were rallying together, lending a hand if only to comfort the injured and dying.
Trapped beneath a chunk of concrete with exposed rebar, Nate came to, coughing and spluttering. He inhaled hard trying to catch his breath like a man coming out of the ocean for air. The first thing he saw was the face of the young woman who had pushed him into the stairwell. Her face was covered in blood, and it was clear she was dead. Her body was buried beneath rubble. A shot of pain went through him. He let saliva dribble out his mouth to determine which way was up. It was a little trick he’d learned back when he was snowboarding in Colorado as a kid. Avalanches were common and if you lived through one, disorientation could be a killer. He looked down and saw his jeans and red hoodie were covered in plaster and drywall. He wiggled his Nikes to make sure his legs weren’t paralyzed before he tried to shift position and find a way out. His first instinct was to call out for help and he might have done that had he not seen Zach’s jacket. How many floors had he dropped? A flood of memories came back to him. Zach leaving him behind, the nose of the plane, the woman pushing him towards the stairs, and then the building collapsing like a stack of cards.
“Zach?”
He shuffled forward, climbing over the dead woman and squeezing through a gap where a shard of light filtered through on the jacket he’d been wearing. He got as close as he could before he realized that it was pointless. Zach had been crushed below heavy blocks of concrete and all he was seeing was his arm in the jacket. The rest was gone. Horrified, he scrambled back and began screaming. “Help. Help! Get me out of here!” He headed for the spot where the light of the moon was filtering through the darkness. The smoke and fire began to make him cough even more. He pulled his top over his mouth and nose and tried to climb his way to the surface. Every step felt more precarious than the last. Placing his foot on a ledge of concrete, he pushed up only to have it give way. Nate fell back, and had he not moved fast he would have been buried below rubble.
Fear gripped him at the thought of being trapped inside the fortress of concrete, or worse succumbing to smoke inhalation. In that moment he regretted ever stepping foot inside that apartment, he regretted leaving Colorado, and he especially regretted the path he’d chosen up until this point. Nate began praying as he clawed away sections of concrete and plaster, slipping his body around jagged rebar. “God, if I get out of here, I promise I will change my ways. I won’t steal anymore. I’ll do good to people. I’ll…” He stopped and looked at the area he was trying to get through, it was blocked by a huge piece of metal. “No. C’mon!” He was so close to the surface. A warm breeze blew in through the tiny gap, teasing him. “Help! Help. Anyone out there?”
He could hear people crying, and reassuring words from people trying to help. A sense of doom and hope mixed together. How many others were trying to get out? How long would it take before they would find him? He’d seen some of the shots on the news of earthquakes out in California — people trapped, emergency services finding them days later and then stories of survivors having lived on bugs and rainwater. Oh God, the thought of spending even another minute below the surface was bringing on claustrophobia that he didn’t think he even had. He continued to cry out for help as he backtracked and looked for another way out. He’d passed several people who were alive but unable to move as they were pinned under fallen walls. All he could do was tell them that help was on the way and if he made it out, he’d let the rescuers know where they were. The truth was, he had no clue, and all he could think about was himself.
As he navigated his way through the rubble, he was beginning to think he would never get out. Every band of moonlight turned out to be too small for him. Hope rose
then fell. Fear gave way to panic at the thought that the concrete above him could be unstable. What if it gave way? What if it crushed him but didn’t kill him? He slumped down feeling defeated, then it dawned on him. He reached into his jacket feeling the weight of the piece against his chest. He’d never had to use it. It was there simply as a means of threatening anyone who fought back. The Glock was loaded. His mind switched to thinking the worst. He felt like he was seated at the edge of an abyss, and any minute he could plummet into it. He took the gun and lifted it to his mouth, thoughts of suicide racing through his mind. If he wasn’t found he could always shoot himself. It would be far better than starving to death.
As he sat there in the darkness his eyes began to see thing that weren’t there.
He tapped the barrel of his gun against his temple.
How long would it take before thirst gave way to dehydration and he started to hallucinate? Water. Then he remembered he’d been carrying that girl’s bag with him. Inside of it was water. He scrambled through the grime and debris trying not to make eye contact with any of the survivors that called out to him. There was nothing he could do. How could he help them? It took him a while to find the dead woman and where he’d woke. With only a few faint bands of light he had to feel around for his bag. How long he spent searching for it was unknown as time seemed to cease down there. Eventually, though, his fingers clawed at the leather bag. It was partially buried below plaster. He dug it out and fished inside for the bottle. The second his hand clasped onto it, he felt a wave of peace come over him. Unscrewing the lid, he chugged it down, then about halfway through the bottle he realized he had to slow down. If he was going to be trapped for a day or more, he would need to ration it. He was about to screw the cap on when he heard a groan to the right of him. “Water. Water,” someone said. He squinted into the darkness and saw a young boy. A section of rebar had impaled him and even if emergency services reached him in the next ten minutes, he would likely not survive.
