by T. L. Payne
Beth could no longer contain the tears. She sobbed into the phone, unable to speak.
“Oh, Beth. I’m so sorry about your mom. If there is…”
“Maddie and Zach are out there alone. Maddie was on an airplane flying back to Ohio when the EMP hit. Zach is somewhere along an Interstate in southern Illinois on a class field trip. They’re helpless, Roger, and it is all my fault,” Beth cried.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Roger said.
“What about the travel ban?”
“Fuck it. They can shoot me. I’m on my way. Don’t worry, Beth.” Roger said, and the line went dead.
Roger dropped his pack and M-4 on the floor just inside the door. Beth stood at the end of the long hall. Roger turned to her and opened his arms wide. Beth ran to him and collapsed into his arms. She felt her knees buckle. He held her tight.
The grief of so many losses overcame her. It felt as if every cell in her body mourned. She felt the physical pain of grief. When Greg died, she’d thought she could not bear the pain. It was so intense that she wanted to leap from her body to avoid it. It was the kind of pain, both mental and physical, that she would do just about anything to stop. And the only thing that would make it stop was gone. Her husband was dead. Her mother was dead. Her children were alone in the apocalypse.
But she knew, like a severe injury or disability, she must choose to accept the pain and move forward with living or do nothing and let it engulf her and hold her in place until she was consumed by it. With Greg, she had eventually chosen to accept the pain and move on. She had children who needed her. She had no choice. There was nothing she could do to stop the pain from the loss of Greg and her mom, but she had children. Children who were out there somewhere, alone, and they needed her.
Taking hold of Beth’s shoulders, Roger leaned back to get a look at her. He brushed unruly strands of blonde hair from her face, then clutched her tight to his chest. He had been like a brother to her. She found momentary comfort in his presence. She allowed herself to be in that moment and to feel the relief of not being alone.
The two sat at the dining table talking about news reports and the disaster area. Beth had gone up to check on Frank several times, but he refused to answer the door. Jack whined and scratched on the door to her parents’ bedroom. When Frank did not open the door to let him out, Beth ascended the stairs and knocked on her step-father’s door.
“Frank, is it okay if I open the door and let Jack out? He probably needs to go outside.”
She heard nothing.
Beth knocked again. This time a little louder.
“Frank?” she called as she reached for the door knob.
After turning the knob, Beth cracked open the door. Jack bolted out and down the stairs. Beth turned to follow him, but turned back and pushed the door open a little wider, continuing to call her step-father’s name.
“Frank? I just wanted to check to see if you needed anything. Roger came over and….”
Standing in front of her parents' bed, Beth froze. Frank’s lifeless body hung by a neck tie from a hook over the closet door. Backing out of the room, Beth closed the door. He had made the choice not the live with his pain. She could understand his choice. He was with her mother now. She envied him.
It was the choice she would likely have made if she had not had Maddie and Zach to think about. And then there was her husband, Jason. He was a good man. He had been good to her and the kids, but he knew nothing about surviving the apocalypse. He was even less prepared than Maddie and Zach for the new world. Her kids would have to come first. Poor Jason would need to fend for himself until she got her kids home safe.
Does that make me a bad person?
She imagined that she would be doing a lot of things that would make her question that before she reached her children. But did not have time for self-evaluation. She knew what she had to do. She had two thousand miles to travel.
“Is everything okay up there?” Roger called from the bottom of the stairs.
Beth descended the stairs in silence. She felt guilty for being relieved that she could leave there and not feel she had abandoned a sick old man in the middle of the apocalypse.
Jack ran past Roger, bounding up the steps toward her. She bent down and picked him up.
“Now, what the hell am I going to do with you, huh?” she asked, stroking the fur out of his one good eye. Beth carried Jack past Roger and went into the dining room. Roger followed silently.
Beth sat with one-eyed-Jack in her lap as she and Roger planned how to go find her kids.
Chapter 12
Olive Street Christian Church
Marshall, Illinois
Event + 1 day
The reverend and his congregation were cordial but not as friendly as Zach had expected. The church’s stove operated on propane, but the refrigerators did not, so breakfast that morning had consisted of oatmeal and juice. While most of his class had turned their noses up at the meal, Zach scarfed his down.
Fuel is fuel.
Zach’s intention had been to head out at first light, but Mr. Dean had caught him before he reached the door.
“Not yet, Zach,” Mr. Dean said, catching him by the arm. “The chief stopped by this morning. The Red Cross is going to be coming soon to pick us up and get us home.”
“Are you sure they are taking us home and not to another shelter?”
“That is what the chief said.”
Zach reluctantly agreed to stay with his class and wait for the buses.
His friends did not appear concerned at all. Jacob and Connor were acting like it was a big party. Connor had his arm around a girl’s shoulder. Jacob was leaning in talking low to another girl. Zach thought it was funny because his friends had not given those two girls the time of day before the lights went out. Zach thought of that country line his grandpa had said, something about all the girls looking pretty at closing time, whatever that meant.
The reverend was in a whispered conversation with a man at the back door of the church. The man’s voice was raised enough that Zach could hear him but not enough to make out what he was saying. He could tell it was more than a friendly, shoot-the-shit conversation by the animated way the man threw his arms around and pointed inside the church.
“What is that about?” Jacob said, walking up beside Zach.
“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to come stay here and the reverend said no.”
“Maybe. It is a little crowded in here. Did you hear that they ran out of bottled water already? Sister Brown came through passing out styrofoam cups. She told everyone to write their names on them because that was all they had. We have to drink tap water from the sink,” Jacob said, wrinkling his nose.
“At least you have water. The people on well water would love to have running water right now.”
“How do we know that their water is drinkable? Who knows what all is in it. Could be lead like in Flint, Michigan. I never drink tap water.”
Zach shook his head. Jacob could be so dramatic sometimes.
He’ll be drinking worse than that before the power comes back on.
Zach wanted to tell him just how bad things were going to get, but Mr. Dean was right. If everyone knew, they would panic. It would be hard to control everyone after that.
A couple of church ladies sat up card tables in a fellowship hall off the kitchen. They laid out board games and decks of cards to give people something to occupy their time. A cart of books was brought in, but they were all bible books so most of them remained on the cart.
Zach sat in the pew nearest the back door, looking at the group milling about the sanctuary. There were several mothers with small children and no one to help care for them. If the Red Cross didn’t come, he wasn’t sure how they could possibly make it home on their own with the little kids in tow.
A man in a leather vest and pants watched a group of kids playing on the floor just outside the kitchen. A little girl ran after a toy that another kid
had thrown. Before she reached the toy, the man scooped up the little girl and tossed her into the air. He sat back down in the chair, holding the child on his lap. The child wiggled and squirmed then began to cry. A young petite woman exited the kitchen door, ran over, and grabbed the girl from his arms. Hugging her tight to her chest, she shook her finger at the man.
“You fucking perv. You keep your filthy hands off my baby girl,” she yelled.
She kicked the man in the shin. Turning, she stomped off back to the kitchen, clutching the child in her arms. The other mothers flooded out of the kitchen, shooing their little ones away from the man.
He rose and walked over to a group of men by the front of the church. If the other men had seen the commotion, they did not show it. It was possible that the man didn’t know better than to pick up someone else’s child, but Zach didn’t think that was possible. The man was in his early thirties. He was young enough to know how it would be perceived.
The men with the pervert all wore leather vests displaying the same logo. From the man's confident demeanor, Zach got the impression he was the leader of their group. The man pointed to the game room, and the other men followed him.
The morning dragged on. It seemed to Zach like it had been days long. He resisted the urge to check his watch every five minutes. When the church ladies called out that lunch was served, his male classmates were the first to line up. Zach was starving too, but at least he had finished all his breakfast.
Lunch consisted of peanut butter sandwiches and a juice box. Zach felt like he was back in kindergarten as he stuck his straw into the tiny box.
The church must have dipped into the nursery’s food stash, he thought.
He was grateful and all, but breakfast had not been filling, and one peanut butter sandwich was more of a snack to a teenage boy. His stomach rumbled loudly by two o’clock. He didn’t want to risk being seen taking food from his pack, so he slung it over his shoulder and headed to the bathroom.
Zach passed Becket Hall’s music teacher, Mrs. White. She glared at his pack has he passed. Zach gave her a broad smile.
“Where are you going, Mr. Langston?”
“I was just going to change clothes, Mrs. White,” Zach lied.
“All right, you have five minutes. No playing around it there. You don’t have cigarettes or anything in that pack do you?”
“Gawd no. I just want to get into something more comfortable.”
She nodded. Zach pushed open the bathroom door. Two men were huddled in the corner, puffing on a cigarette and blowing it out an open window. The church did not allow smoking, of course. The men looked up, saw it was Zach, then went back to their conversation.
They don’t consider me a threat. Good.
Zach entered a vacant stall and shut the door. He lowered the lid of the toilet and sat down. Placing his bag on his lap, he unzipped a top pocket. It contained energy bars and nuts. Knowing he needed to conserve food for his trip home, he removed only one energy bar and a small bag of nuts.
After slowly tearing open the wrapper, Zach peeled it back and took a bite. He ate the energy bar and a handful nuts, then put the bag back into the pouch. Standing, he opened the stall door and slung his pack over his back. The two men turned and stared at him as he walked over to wash his hands. When he turned on the water, he remembered he had forgotten to flush. Looking at the men, he doubted they would think anything of him not flushing. But not wanting to rouse suspicion, he turned and walked back to the stall. Reaching in, he flipped the handle flushing the toilet. Returning to the sink, he washed his hands. He looked around for paper towels to dry them.
“Ain’t none. They ran out early this morning. They said they don’t got no more,” the man with long sandy brown hair and dirty jeans said.
“Oh, okay.”
“Whatcha got in there?” the other man asked, pointing to Zach's pack.
The man stepped forward, dropped his cigarette on the floor and stamped it out with his foot. He too looked dirty and disheveled.
“Just books and clothes mostly. We were on a school field trip when this—whatever this is happened,” Zach said, wiping his wet hands on his pants.
“Let’s have a look,” the first man said.
“Yeah, we need to make sure you don’t have drugs or something in there,” the second man said.
As the men rushed toward him, Zach hurried toward the door and opened it. He could see the men had gained on him. They were just behind him when he exited the bathroom. He turned to look over his shoulder and bumped into Mr. Dean.
“Whoa, slow down there, Zach. What’s the hurry?”
“Mr. D, I don’t think it is going to be safe here very much longer. There are some sketchy-ass dudes staying here with us,” Zach said, his voice cracking.
Mr. Dean took Zach by the arm and led him away from the restrooms. When they reached the back of the church, Mr. Dean turned to Zach, placing his hand on Zach’s shoulder.
“Did someone do something to you in the restroom? You can tell me, you know.”
“Oh no, Mr. D, nothing like that. I just have seen some sketchy behavior from some of the men here.”
Mr. Dean motioned for Zach to take a seat in the last row of pews. Scooting in beside him, he said, “Tell me what you saw that concerned you.”
Zach placed his pack on the pew beside Mr. Dean and turned in his seat to face his teacher.
“Well for one, I watched that man over there in the leather vest pick up a little girl and put her in his lap. When she struggled, he held her tighter. Her mom had to come wrestle her out of his hands.”
“That is concerning. I will have a talk with Chief Baker about it. Maybe he can post one of his officers inside to deter that behavior,” Mr. Dean said, standing to go.
“That is not all.”
Mr. Dean lowered himself back to the seat.
“Go on.”
Zach told Mr. Dean what had occurred in the restroom.
“We need to have a talk with Chief Baker. There might not be anything he can do, but he should be aware. He may want to at least have a talk with them.”
Zach didn’t think talking would deter those men. If the Red Cross didn’t come for them soon, Zach feared that it would get ugly in the church by morning.
Chapter 13
Bellwood, Illinois
Event + 1 day
After witnessing the attack on the young woman, Maddie was determined to get away from the crowds on Mannheim Street. Exiting the parking lot, she chose to turn left toward a residential area. She doubted the men had gone into the neighborhood. All the action was centered on the stores and shops of the business district.
Although the residential area was quieter, people were still out on their front lawns talking to one another. Children played in the streets between stalled cars. Maddie and Emma walked along the sidewalk, scanning the road for any sign of the young woman’s attackers. At the stop sign, Maddie had to choose to go right or left. Left led to a commercial district where she didn’t want to be, so she picked right.
They walked three blocks before having to make another right/left choice. To prevent them from becoming hopelessly lost in the maze of streets, she decided this time it was best to check her map. Pulling it from the side pouch, she traced the route from the shops where they had hidden behind the dumpsters to the residential street she had first turned on. Looking at the street sign above her, she retrieved a pen and circled it on the map. She traced a route that would lead her back to Mannheim Road further down in a less commercial area.
As she stowed the map back into her pack, a man dressed all in black passed them on the sidewalk. He did not speak or look up. Maddie watched as he traveled down the street in front of them. Something about the man gave Maddie the creeps. She hung back to see which direction he would choose at the next intersection. About halfway down the block, two teenage boys stepped onto the sidewalk and walked toward the man in black. Stepping off the curb onto the street, the man continued
to walk in the same direction. After stepping into the road, the boys kept advancing toward the man.
The man in black reached back and pulled a pistol from his waistband. Holding the gun down to his side, he kept walking. As he approached the boys, he put the gun back into his waistband but kept his hand on the grip. When the group met, one of the teens reached out and placed an arm around the man’s neck. The man pushed the boy away with one hand, pulled his pistol with the other, then fired one-handed at each teen.
Pulling a gun of his own, the teen who had first approached the man began firing as the other boy fled in the opposite direction.
Maddie and Emma took cover behind a parked car. The teen with the gun ran right past them. Maddie peered out from behind the vehicle. The man in black dropped to his knees and fell face-first to the pavement. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the sky. Looking up and down the street, Maddie could no longer see either boy. After the gunfight, the residential street was deserted. No one came out of their houses to see what had happened.
Straightening, Maddie pulled Emma to her feet. Standing a few feet away, Maddie could tell the man had been shot in the neck and abdomen. Wounds that, on a normal day, could likely be fatal. On a day without 911 and trauma surgery, his injuries would be a definite death sentence.
Maddie stared down at the man. She felt paralyzed.
The man attempted to rise but could not. He tried to speak, but he only coughed blood. Maddie stepped closer. The man mouthed, “Help me.”
“No one can help you,” Maddie said.
A look of resignation came over the man’s face. He looked skyward, appearing to make peace with his death.
Maddie looked to his right. A pistol lay by the tire of the nearest parked car. Stepping over the man, she bent down and picked up the Glock G42. She dropped the magazine into her hand. It was nearly empty. She laid it on the pavement and racked the slide, catching the ejected round as it flew into the air.
