by Olah, Jeff
Owen held her hand and kissed her once more. “You won’t have to.”
He watched as she turned and walked away. Natalie, Harper, and Gentry would head out first. They would take Ava and Noah. He asked Lucas to drive and ran through the plan until the teen could repeat it back word for word. It was only a mile, but the former jewelry outlet was secluded and safe. Bars on the doors and windows, two ways in and out, and a straight shot to the interstate if things went sideways. He didn’t like it, although if Gentry was right, if their location had been compromised, his wife and his children would be much safer somewhere else.
He now needed to focus on what came next.
At the gates, Kevin gave a thumbs up and glanced back at the red pickup truck Travis had found two days before. The two men they’d taken from the street, Max and Billy, stood in the bed, chained at the waist and arms to the rack behind the cab. Max seemed to be grinning as he stared off toward the parking garage.
“If I were you,” the smaller man in the green aviator jacket shouted as he tugged at the restraints, “I would just leave now. This isn’t going to go down the way you’re thinking. I can all but promise you that.”
Owen motioned Kevin and Travis toward the truck. “Let’s go.” He ignored Max, taking a quick look toward the former sanitation plant to the south and then the street beyond. Still clear as far as he could see, the area eerily quiet, even for the end of the world.
Travis stood at the rear door, waited for Zeus, and then climbed in behind the overly alert German Shepherd. Kevin started around the front of the truck, keys in hand and his eyes roving the street just beyond the gate.
“Listen man, I’m just trying to help.” Max leaned into the cab of the truck and glared at Owen. His voice was different than before. Shaky, like he was out of breath, only he wasn’t. “You don’t know what you doing here man; it’s gonna be bad. Really bad.”
Twenty yards from the truck, Owen felt the need to quicken his pace. The voices, which so far he’d been able to keep pushed down, were now telling him that this was wrong. That he shouldn’t be doing this, that he needed to take his family and just run.
Back across the yard, he took one final glance beyond the southern wall. Lucas’s SUV had rolled to a stop at the last intersection. Owen continued to watch, but pulled the walkie from his front pocket and keyed the mic. “Lucas?”
He waited.
Nothing.
Owen noticed that behind him, Kevin had stopped short of climbing in behind the wheel of the truck. He again keyed the walkie and started back across the lawn. “Lucas, you there?”
A brief sound of static and then silence.
“Hey.” Kevin leaned into the hood of the pickup. “They’re probably just hung up with the crowds. Nothing to worry about, but we do need to get going.”
Owen looked at the two-way radio in his hand. He imagined Lucas’s voice coming through, the teen’s focused tone as the light-colored SUV pulled away from the intersection. He would reassure Owen that he could handle it, that he would keep Natalie, Ava, Noah, and Harper safe. He would tell him that he knew the plan backward and forward, and had driven the route more times than he could remember. He would tell him that he didn’t need to worry.
But there was still no movement from the beyond the wall. Owen leaned into the walkie as he began to jog. “LUCAS?”
When he was ten paces from the paved walkway there was the familiar static and a voice, but not the one he was expecting.
“Dad?”
“Noah, what’s going on?”
“We got—”
His son’s voice dropped away and was replaced again by a quick note of static.
“Noah?”
Nothing.
“Noah, are you there?”
Still only white noise.
“NOAH!”
Owen came to a stop, again stared down at the two-way radio, fearing the outcome. There was a moment where it was all he could see, his vision beginning to narrow and the sounds of the devastated city falling away. He was holding his breath and was in the midst of talking himself back, reminding himself where he was, when the sound of a weapon being fired echoed from over his left shoulder.
It was quick. Like a flash of light you don’t see until it’s already there. A single round that sounded like a crack of lightning.
“NOOOOOOO …”
101
Owen flinched, turning back toward the gates as it all seemed to come at once.
Max, the man in the green jacket. His body going limp as his head was driven violently back and to the right. The side of his head was opened up and a fine pink mist sprayed out over the bed of the truck and against the left side of Billy’s face.
Billy, now pulling against his restraints and attempting to duck behind the truck’s cab, was shouting something that sounded like a prayer, but his words were lost to the voices of Travis and Kevin.
“OWEN, GO BACK! GET INSIDE!”
Kevin now stood behind the driver’s door. He was looking out toward the four-story concrete parking structure, but waving Owen away.
Travis had climbed out of the rear cab, pistol in hand, scanning the street as Zeus leapt past him. The massive German Shepherd turned on a dime, rounded the rear of the truck, and was headed toward Kevin when two more rounds were fired.
The first skipped off the roof of the truck and exploded into Billy’s shoulder, a hailstorm of bone fragments and scorched pieces of flesh sprayed out over the sidewalk. The small man’s blue ball cap flipped backward off his head as he screeched in pain and then slammed into the side of the cab.
Owen hadn’t noticed before, but Thomas was seated opposite Travis and hadn’t yet moved. His legs were pulled up into his chest and his head pushed forward, tucked behind the driver’s seat headrest. He appeared to be shaking as he slowly turned to look at Owen.
The third round tore into the door frame, only inches from Kevin’s left elbow. In one fluid motion he slid right, shouldered his rifle, and placed his eye behind the scope. “THIRD LEVEL, JUST RIGHT OF THE STAIRS!”
Owen stayed low, hunched forward as he covered the last several feet and dipped in behind the passenger door. He quickly glanced into the backseat and motioned for Thomas to stay put. And then back the other way, he looked to where his friend had indicated. “KEVIN, WHATTA WE GOT?”
Kevin had his finger resting on the trigger guard and was scanning the other three levels when a faint buzzing sound pulled his attention back in the other direction. It was coming from beyond the intersection and somewhere to the left of the garage.
Owen looked toward the building fifty feet away and then back through the cab, tapping his fingers on the dash and waiting. When Kevin finally leaned his head to the right, Owen said, “Go back? Maybe try to catch the others before they—”
“No.” Kevin’s voice was low. Just above a whisper, but pointed, like he was rationing his words. “There’s another one, he’s got the rear choked off.”
Owen was here, but his thoughts were back on that street a few hundred yards away. He took another look, but from his crouched position was unable to see anything above the wall. Had they moved away? Were they still there? Had the older model SUV stalled? Were they now out on the street, carrying what they could and running from the dead? He didn’t like any of those options, but for the moment he needed to figure out how to survive what was right in front of him.
“Okay,” Owen said, “how many?” He glanced into the rearview mirror and could see Travis near the left corner of the truck’s bed. He was looking in the same general direction as Kevin, but he seemed more interested in the left corner of the intersection.
“Don’t know.” Kevin pulled away from the scope and cocked his head. “At least five, maybe more.”
“It’s him, I can feel it.”
The whirling sound was growing closer, like it was right on top of them. Travis saw it first, but only a fraction of a second before Kevin, and then the sound of the electric vehic
le’s horn.
It was clean. Like it had just rolled away from a car wash on a lazy Saturday afternoon. The immaculate silver paint and black trim throwing an odd contrast to the destroyed world beyond. Tinted windows hid the faces inside, although from this angle it still would have been only a guess.
But Owen knew exactly what this was.
Three men walked out into the intersection ahead of the newer model electric vehicle. The first was a large man who carried a pistol in each hand and had the barrel of what looked like a shotgun tight against his right shoulder. He started toward the far sidewalk and motioned for the others to follow.
Trailing the electric vehicle, another three men moved away and met the others at the sidewalk. They stood in a line as if they had rehearsed it more than once. They turned their heads in unison, staring at the man with the shotgun on his shoulder, and waited.
The large man placed one hand in front of the other, rested them near his waist, and turned to look through the driver’s window of the plain looking vehicle. He quickly nodded and then turned to face the truck.
“Owen?” Kevin was looking back at him.
Owen sucked in a mouthful of air through his teeth and considered the variety of ways this could go. “So what, eleven … maybe more with whoever’s in the car?”
“Yeah, at least.”
“Okay then.”
Kevin tapped the barrel of the rifle against the door. “Owen?”
He started to rise, look over the door. It was apparent what this was, at least to him. A show of force and nothing more. That man wanted something and this was his way of telling Owen that he needed to listen, that he had no other options.
“Yeah?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking,” Kevin said, “I just want you to be sure you know where it will end. This isn’t just about you and him anymore, and you should know that.”
“I’m good.”
“I know you are. And you know that I’m here for you and the others no matter where it takes us, but we have to be smart about this. Let’s see what they want and try to work a deal. We don’t really have the numbers for anything else.”
“Yeah,” Owen said. “But we have something else. There’s a reason why he just fired on two of his own and not on us. And I bet I know why.”
“Don’t do this man.”
Owen stepped out away from the door and stood just to the right. He rolled his shoulders, narrowed his eyes, and looked through the windshield of the electric vehicle. “Alright, let’s do this.”
Kevin leaned into the cab. “Owen, this isn’t the play.”
Travis had taken notice and was now at the passenger side of the tailgate looking more concerned than curious. He opened his mouth to speak, but then just ducked back behind the bed.
Owen clutched the Glock in his left hand, slowly stepping toward the silver vehicle. “DECLAN!”
Before he’d gotten more than a few feet from the truck there was whoosh of air as all four doors of the mysterious vehicle were opened. The driver stepped out first. He held a semi-automatic rifle and wore dark sunglasses that seemed oddly out of place for the time and season. The man behind the driver and the front passenger were next, almost in unison. They exited quickly, turning toward Owen and holding their weapons down at their sides.
From behind the rear passenger door, there was movement. It was slow and the door appeared to quiver as the shadowed figure emerged. He looked smaller than before, frail, like he’d lost a solid fifty pounds, maybe more. Hard to tell from this distance. But he also looked sick, infected, as much like the dead as anything he’d seen in weeks, maybe worse.
Jerome Declan looked like he’d had the skin along his face and neck turned inside out and although he wore clothes that hung like they were made for someone at least four sizes bigger, Owen had the sense that his body couldn’t have looked any better.
From behind, Kevin continued to plead. “Owen, don’t do this. Remember why we’re here. How we’ve made it this long.”
Kevin was right, but he didn’t understand. Not today.
Owen stopped ten feet from the truck, tucking the Glock into his waist and holding his hands in the air. “I just want to talk, no one needs to get hurt … on either side.”
Declan looked like he was laughing. The sound was different, like an exaggerated snicker, but dropped off quickly. “Mr. Mercer …”
Owen waited. It sounded like there was more, like Declan was using the brief pause for dramatic effect, so he began counting in his head. And before he got to four, he found out he was right.
Declan leaned into the side of the electric vehicle. “You know what I want, what I’ve always wanted. That hasn’t changed and neither has my resolve. I know you thought you killed me back there on that highway, and let me tell you, there were moments that I wished you’d done a better job. But now, here between the two of us, I think I’m ready to forgive you. That and I’m feeling a bit generous.”
Owen shook his head and looked back toward the bodies in the back of the pickup. “Two of your own, for what?”
“You and your friends were leaving. You knew we were coming. Maximillian and William were obviously compromised. And I’d assume that from the restrains you weren’t throwing either of them a surprise party. You were going to use them as leverage. And well, I just eliminated that leverage. Now we can both discuss things on a more level playing field.”
He fought the urge to say what he was feeling, but also wanted to see where the deranged psychopath was headed. “So?”
“So,” Declan said, “it’s simple. I’m going to let you live. I’m going to let your family and your friends live. Hell, I’ll even let you and your group continue to use this facility. My people and I will leave here tonight and never come back. You have my word.”
Owen looked at each of the men on the sidewalk individually, then the three near the doors of the car, and finally back at Declan. Kevin was right, they were far outnumbered, but each second they wasted on this idiotic pissing match was another second his family had to flee the area. “You’re lying. You didn’t come all the way out here, with all those guns, just to tell me that you’ve suddenly had a change of heart.”
Declan offered a gesture that looked like he was nodding, but the movement wasn’t completely obvious. “You’re right, but not entirely. Every single word of what I’ve promised you is the truth. You and your family won’t be harmed, but I’m going to need a sign of good faith from you first.”
“Good faith?”
Declan made the awkward motion with his head once again. “I only want one thing from you in return, and hell, I’ll actually be doing you a favor.” He paused, this time the edges of his lip curled up as he looked around at men near the car. “You bring me Gentry, you bring him here today, and I’ll let you and the rest of your little group live out the rest of your existence … without interference.”
102
He had risen that morning sure of his plan, sure of himself, certain that today would be the day he’d finally leave the voices behind. Although, as a light rain fell from above, and the sky began filling with swollen clouds the color of bruises, Owen Mercer needed to turn that off. He needed to be someone else. At least for the next few minutes.
“Whatta ya say, Mercer … you in or out?”
There was a crack of static from his waist, followed again by his son’s voice. He wasn’t able to make out the words, but Noah’s tone was calm and not rushed. It was low, and partially hidden behind Declan’s fading voice, but he wasn’t completely sure he was the only one who’d heard it. His face went flush and his heart kicked, but instead of showing his obvious concern, he quickly responded. “I think you already know.”
Declan shifted his weight to his other foot, pushing his right hand into his lower back. “I know what you think you should do, what you think is the right thing, the honorable thing. But I can’t believe you’d be that stubborn. You’d really let me kill all of your friends, your wife,
your children. And for what, to save a man you really don’t even know?”
Owen reached toward his waist and folded his hands into one another. He looked out toward the garage and then back at Declan as he lowered the volume on the walkie. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe a single word.”
“Well that’s just sad. It’s sad that you have no idea what that man is doing to your son. What they do in private while you’re out here chasing around ghosts. What your wife isn’t telling you and how I’m giving you the opportunity to fix it. I can guarantee you’ll be thanking me when you finally find out.”
“You don’t know anything about me or my family, so why don’t you just curl up and die already. I’m sure there isn’t a single person here who would even care. None of these men give a damn about you, they’re only scared, and I bet most of them don’t even know why. There’s probably even a few who’ve already thought about how they’d do it.” Owen wanted to push, but wasn’t sure this was the right way. He looked around, making eye contact each of the men. “Tell me I wrong.”
Declan looked like the words may have had an impact, or maybe he was just beginning to tire of the drawn out back-and-forth. “Instead of trying to convince you, how about you take a ride with us and I show you.”
Owen didn’t respond.
“I have over four hours of recordings that I’m sure you’d be very interested in hearing. I’ve only listened to a few minutes and I can guarantee that you’ll want to hand Gentry over once we’re finished.”
Owen wasn’t able to focus on the details. His mind was with his family. He was listening to Declan, hearing him, but was only concerned with walking the line until he could be sure that Nat, Ava, and Noah were a safe distance away. He feigned looking back at the bed of the truck, but once again attempted to see beyond the rear wall.
It was gone, or at least it appeared that way.
He wasn’t sure if Lucas had finally pulled away from the intersection or if the light-colored SUV was simply out of his line of sight. He also wasn’t going to be able to stall much longer, and now needed to find a way out for him and his friends. “How about you go back home, give me directions, and we’ll meet tomorrow morning for breakfast. You can show me whatever it is over pancakes and bacon?”
