Unbeaten

by A. R. Shaw

  As soon as the second group made it clear to the edge of the evergreen buffer, she switched Boyd for Wren. “Nothing personal, I just can’t function properly when I know she’s that far away.”

  Boyd lifted his hands. “None taken.”

  “God, Mom,” Wren said.

  “Argue with me later,” Sloane said. “No time now.”

  Their first journey by foot brought them out into the open, across a two-lane road, into a parking lot and then the evergreen buffer behind it. They followed that concealment northeast and then ran through a couple of backyards until they reached Florence Ave. Again, through a couple of backyards to Alameda Avenue and then they entered the evergreens again.

  As they stopped to catch their breath, Wren said, “Why aren’t there any dogs barking around the neighborhood? That seems odd to me.”

  “They ate them,” Chuck said. “More than likely,” he added with a lift of his shoulder. Sloane didn’t doubt his words but gave him the stink-eye anyway, followed by, “Shh.”

  As they kept watch and caught their breaths, Chuck said, “You know, instead of risking the backyards, we could just skirt the street the rest of the way. The coverage from here on out seems minimal anyway.”

  She nodded. “I was considering the same path. We just have to get to Portway. Just a couple of blocks away. Does it seem too easy to you too? That’s the feeling I’m getting. No dogs. No lookouts.”

  He took in a slow breath, then shook his head. “I think this is the way it is here. Those inside the walls live at the whim of a tyrant. People will only take that so long. It’s been a while. Perhaps those that challenged him are dead and the rest are content living in the shadows. Or else they’re too damn complacent, just like the guards on the bridge. Their focus is outward, not inward.”

  “That’s deep, Chuck.” But really, he was right. Or at least, she hoped so. “Well, let’s get rid of the menace,” she said, and they trekked their way through the night along Almeda Avenue up to the point through the woods where the Oregon Coast Highway met at a tee with Portway Street.

  This was the area Marvin warned them about. How to proceed? Go from open parking lot, building to building, or make their way to the Riverwalk’s edge and skirt along the shadows of the riverbank?

  As she looked out, many of the buildings were destroyed from the carnage of the past. Most of them were collapsed in one area or another. Old rusted-out vehicles crowded the Oregon Coast Highway. She found it odd. As a leader of a community, she would have rid the town of things like this long ago, making a point of pride in their living conditions again. But Tale was not out to impress or take care of his people. It was all for him.

  “What is that smell?” Wren whispered, and Sloane wanted to clock her for making any kind of noise at the moment.

  But it was a remarkable odor. The stench could only be described as rotting, infected sewage…if that had a smell and she was sure it did, and it was festering inside her nose at the moment. In all likelihood it was a fish market gone way bad. This was a smell your nose did not get used to with extended exposure. How could these people live here?

  Though at the moment she was looking for the three-story orange rooftop Marvin described earlier, and down Portway Street at 1 Pier Street, she spied the building only because someone had erected what looked like a bonfire in the nearby parking lot. The flames highlighted the front of the building.

  At second glance, the fire had to be a makeshift lighthouse, signal fire. The silhouette of two people with rifles slung over their shoulders indicated it was probably an around-the-clock guard detail. That’s where Tale had to be located, and Jason as well. That was also a good indication the building was secure and guarded. She hoped they were as lax as the guards on the bridge, but something told her this was the business end of the deal. The outward focused command center. This is where Tale kept his goods. The bridge was where he kept his trainees. Which meant these guards meant business. They would find out soon.

  52

  Davis

  It didn’t take Davis long. He knew what Ivan expected him to do with the items he’d risked his life to give him. It was a get-out-of-jail-free bundle. The makings of a Molotov cocktail. He just needed the guard to come back in the room when he was ready.

  Davis chuckled to himself and had a devilish smile as he unscrewed the hilt again and pulled out the lighter within the base of the knife, “Bastard,” he said. “Ivan never did like that guy.” That guy was the guard with the beard, Robby. The one coming and going from their cell.

  Davis handed one of the blankets to the kid in the next cell. “Warm up the bottle with your body heat as much as you can. Hold the bottle out like this with the cap off. Use it like a squirt bottle. Put the blanket over your arms and cover yourself. You’ll most likely soak yourself too in the process. Best to avoid burns when possible. When he comes in, wait until he’s closer to the cell before you spray him. Do you understand? It’s important that you understand.”

  Jason rolled his eyes and nodded his head.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, you silent, sarcastic shit.”

  Davis then held the knife, blade down, in his right hand. He stood tall, rolled his head from one side to the other and shook out his arms. The next few moments had ‘hairy situation’ written all over them. He wanted to be ready. The kid also prepared himself.

  “Stop, drop and roll. You know what that means?”

  “Yeth!” Jason said.

  “No…no talking from you. Only nodding or hand gestures. That’s just…creepy. Be ready,” Davis said, as he held the bottle against his skin, attempting to warm the liquid. Later, he moved over to the far end of his cell. Cringing at the sound of fabric tearing, Davis slowly tore a strip of his blanket off and stuffed one end into the bottle and then moved his left hand, with the bottle, through the cell bars to the other side. With his right hand he prepared to strike the lighter on the other side of the railing. Timing was everything. The guard would see the set-up as soon as he walked into the room. Davis needed to wait until he was close enough to grab. The problem was, there was no way the plastic bottle would shatter when he threw it at him. That’s why he needed Jason to expel the propellant ahead of time for maximum effect.

  Now, they only had to wait.

  53

  Ivan

  He couldn’t even explain it to himself. One second, he was getting the children ready for bed, which meant him yelling, “Go to bed” the moment he walked through the door; the next he found himself in the kitchen preparing the bottles. He shouldn’t do this. It was a death sentence for him and the kids in the next room. He knew this. But he found himself popping the cap off the vodka bottle anyway. Searching in a cupboard for the two water bottles. Pulling the lighter out of his back pants pocket and taking the knife with the hollow hilt out of his go bag. Something in his reckless conscience told him this was really the only way he could help his friend, who’d become his brother. It wasn’t his fault if Davis failed in the process. He would at least get the hell out of there.

  Shrugging his shoulder as he emptied the water into a plastic pitcher, he mumbled to himself. “I’ll just blame it on Robby. He’s a weasel anyway.” Planning to pass suspicion on to the guard, Ivan carefully poured the clear liquid into the emptied water bottles. Forever caught conning for favors of booze and goods, Robby was as incompetent as they came. He preyed on the troubled and the helpless. Ivan had no sympathy for the man. It didn’t matter in the end. He could give his old friend Davis a chance to avoid an imminent death and take care of a menace at the same time. He only hoped Davis succeeded. The man had a mangled left arm and he looked like hell. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t last much longer, no matter how Ivan intervened.

  Holding his arm steady as he began pouring the second bottle, Ivan sloshed a little of the precious liquid over the rim when the girl walked into his peripheral view. He only caught sight of her dark brown hair at waist level. “What the hell are you doing? I said go to bed
.”

  He immediately concealed the bottle by his side, hiding his crime.

  She had the tip of her right finger in her mouth. It annoyed him when she did that, partly because he knew she needed someone to care for her more than he ever could. There was no way that was ever going to happen. She was stuck with him and he was an inadequate caregiver. The only thing he could do for her and the boy was to give them shelter and food. That was all. The boy, especially, needed more right now.

  The girl before him startled back a few steps at his rebuke. She pointed to the bedrooms at the back of the house.

  “What?” he yelled. “Speak. What is it? I don’t have time for this,” he yelled louder.

  She was a little thing, barely eight years old, if that, and tiny as a wisp. He’d taken her in because he caught Robby, the menace, leering at her in the lock-up one day. She was just a little girl, but had Ivan not walked in when he did, he was sure Robby would have violated her in some way. Just another reason he hated the creeper.

  “He’s…wet,” she said and scrunched up her nose.

  Ivan lowered his head. “Shit. All right, go to bed,” he said calmer. He was not a parent. Didn’t want to be a parent. Not in this world. Not in the last. But here he was, in charge of two children in the last month.

  The girl scampered off and Ivan turned to watch her go. She was a delicate little thing, like a fawn that lost its mother. She talked to no one but him or Linda, the doctor. Perhaps instead of the boy, he should have grabbed one of the wives in those last few seconds. She needed a woman and Linda wasn’t available. There was no time to really consider the consequences then. There was never a good time for consequence considering. Those days were over. You just acted now. Acted on fear and instinct. He wasn’t sure why he grabbed the older boy over the younger. He wasn’t sure why he grabbed that boy over the others. He just did. Perhaps it was only because he was the nearest soul to save. The path of least resistance. That’s all life really was now.

  He finished filling the vodka bottle and screwed on the cap. Then, he swirled the remaining liquid in the bottle and took a deep chug and let his boots fall loose against the wood floor as he walked toward the back rooms of the dark house and the boy with the pissy pants.

  54

  Jason

  This wasn’t wise, Jason thought as he held his arms through the bars of the cell, holding an opened bottle of warm vodka that his cellmate was about to ignite as Jason sprayed the contents onto the guard with the beard. He didn’t like the guy either, but he didn’t want to cause anyone unnecessary pain and so far, the worst thing the bearded guy did was call Ivan the Adopter, chopper, clopper…whatever it was. He didn’t think the guy deserved to go up like a Roman candle. But that was just him. Maybe Davis and Ivan knew the guy better, and Jason was beyond the idea of finding out if the guy deserved this or not for himself. He just wanted to get out of there, find a radio, and give his position. He still felt like he owed that much to Sloane and the others.

  Because he couldn’t hear a thing, he kept glancing at Davis to see if he would give a signal when he heard the guy coming in the room. It had been a while and the guard did seem as if he came in at certain intervals.

  With the blanket layered over his arms, Jason hoped the incendiary would not backfire into the aerated stream. But hope was in short supply and like Davis said before, did he want to die in the cell or out of the cell? It was his choice and he’d made it, but was it too late to change his mind?

  That’s when Jason noticed the door handle begin to turn.

  55

  Sloane

  They hurried as they walked between the buildings with quick, even steps. Sloane could not help but pull Wren behind her with a motherly tug of her hand, which Wren flung away at first detection.

  Sloane accepted this, both not being able to resist the mothering and the rejection at the same time. There were some things mothers could not do, and one was not to mother. Some switch somewhere gets turned on after the birth of a child and it cannot be turned off…metered, but not turned off like a light switch.

  Rejection of the mothering, on the other hand, came with the maturity of the child. That, she expected—hoped for, even. Or else, she wasn’t doing her job right.

  “Stay out of the light,” she warned them with a whisper. “Stay to building shadows as much as you can. Don’t make yourself a target.”

  “They’re not even paying attention,” said Wren. “I bet we could walk right up the street.”

  Sloane watched the guards. Neither of them looked around too much. One of them had his rifle slung around his back, warming his hands out against the fire. The glowing dot of a cigarette hung slack from his mouth.

  “Let’s keep it that way. Watch your footing and no talking from this point on. Watch for trip wires and traps. Stay close.”

  They’d already crossed the main street, hopscotching from building to building. Soon they’d have to decide which path to take the rest of the way. Both routes held risks. Along the Riverwalk, behind the rooms of a one-story hotel, or cross the open expanse and continue jumping from building to building, making their way to the back?

  Sloane put off the decision until they neared the shadows of the last building.

  They held there for a minute when Chuck signaled to Boyd to keep watch behind them and then inched forward and lightly asked, “Is there a way into the back of the building? Did Marvin mention anything about that? We’re not getting through the front without a battle. That’s a given.”

  “No, he didn’t. I got the impression he was hardly ever in there. He and his team were only the outside detail, for beyond their borders to the south.”

  “So we don’t even know what floor he’s on?”

  “No, but Marvin did say the holding cell was in the basement of the building. That’s all I know. If Jason is here, he’s likely in there.”

  Wren butted in, “Then we need to hurry and get in there.”

  “Shh, you’re not talking right now. I’m talking,” Chuck said, pointing to himself.

  Wren glared at him.

  Chuck returned his attention to Sloane and said, “Then we need to…”

  “Wait,” Sloane whispered and pushed them back against the wall as she turned forward. A sound…a motor was coming in the distance.

  They all looked and watched as the guards around the fire turned to the north and began walking toward headlights in the distance.

  “Where are they going?” Wren asked.

  Chuck strained to see farther than his height. “It’s the big bridge from Washington. Someone’s coming.”

  “This is our only chance. We’ll move while they’re distracted. Come on,” Sloane said.

  56

  Davis

  The door opened in the cell room.

  Davis nodded his chin. “Hey Robby,” he smiled at him. Keep coming.

  Robby stopped. Davis could see he knew something wasn’t right. His arm still remained on the door. “What’s...”

  “I’ve got something to tell you, but I don’t want the kid to hear. Can you…come closer?”

  Robby let the door fall shut but stopped about halfway in the room. “The kid’s deaf. I’m not coming any closer. What do you want?” Robby asked, his brows scrunched up.

  “That’s okay…that’s close enough.”

  Davis gave the signal.

  Jason pulled the opening of the bottle from his mouth and shot a stream of the vodka at the guard. He jumped back, avoiding most of the blast.

  “What in the hell is going on?” Robby said.

  And Jason used his right hand to swing the bottle up and down, catching the guard in the beard and all up and down the front of his shirt with the rest of the liquid, causing the guard to divert his attention away from Davis.

  Davis lit the wick of his own bottle on fire.

  “That better not be…” the guard said before he lit up in bright yellow flames.

  He wasn’t the only one.

/>   The kid next to him in the locked cell was also was on fire around his hands and arms, despite the aid of the blanket.

  “Come here, you bastard,” Davis yelled at the guard as he writhed around, trying to stamp out the flames covering his chest, face and hair. The entire floor where most of the vodka had spilled was running a flaming river toward the drain in Jason’s cell.

  When Robbie came within reach, despite the flames, Davis reached out and grabbed him by the belt and pulled him near enough to grab the keys from his pocket.

  He unlocked his cell door and shoved the flaming guard into the corner of the room and unlocked Jason’s cell as he batted away the flames. Jason had retreated to the back of his cell, without room to put out his flaming clothing. Davis pulled the kid to the floor and rolled him around, slapping out the flames.

  “You okay? I said stop, drop and roll. Didn’t you get that part?”

  He didn’t give Jason the chance to respond. Instead, he pulled him up by the front of his singed shirt and dragged him from the cell.

  The guard had slumped in the corner of the room, trying to put out his own flames with hands that were still ablaze. His beard seemed to be providing fuel for the fire lighting up his head. Davis almost felt sorry for him, but he didn’t help the man. Instead, he grabbed the big knife and the blanket from his own cell.