by Morgan Rice
“Grab my hand!” I scream.
“No!” he shouts back. “I’m heavier than you. I’ll just pull you in.”
I turn to Zeke and Ben. “Hold my legs, I’m going in.”
I don’t give them a chance to protest. I fling myself forward into the hole and they grab me, pinning my legs against the asphalt. I’m hanging into the hole by my waist, stretching forward for Ryan. He’s still a good few feet below me.
“Jump!” I shout.
The smoke is so thick now it’s starting to obscure my view of him. For a second, I lose sight of him. My first fear is that he’s passed out.
“Ryan!” I scream. “RYAN!”
Suddenly, he reappears, making the smoke swirl around him. He’s got a crate. He coughs as he positions it on the ground, covering his face with his sleeve, then clambers onto it. It gives him just enough height to reach my hands. I grip him as hard as I can.
“Pull!” I shout at Zeke and Ben.
Molly comes over to help, and between the three of them, they heave me up with Ryan dangling from my arms. We get him through the hole then flop back against the ground. I take in a huge gasp of air, lying sprawled on my back, gazing up at the black sky.
My first instinct is to laugh. We made it. We’re alive. But when I turn to Ryan, expecting to see his cocky smile, instead I see that his eyes are closed. He’s not moving.
“No, no, no,” I say, dragging myself onto my knees and crawling over to him.
I rest my head on his chest. It’s not rising or falling. He’s not breathing.
Everyone begins to realize what’s happening. They crowd over, looking anxious and pale. The kids cling to each other, unable to look as I begin performing CPR on Ryan. Jack howls into the night, and Penelope joins in.
“Come on!” I shout as I pump down on Ryan’s chest.
He’s completely covered in black smoke. When I push my lips to his they taste of coal. I will Ryan to breathe again. He can’t leave me. Not now. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
Suddenly, Ryan takes a sharp intake of breath. He’s breathing again, but he’s still unconscious.
I sit back on my heels, feeling overwhelmed. What are we supposed to do now? We’re in the middle of the street, completely exposed. We don’t have the train anymore, and Ryan’s out cold.
“We need to find shelter,” Molly says, taking me by the arm and leading me to my feet. “In case there are any crazies left alive around here.”
“Shelter where?” I cry, glancing around at the derelict buildings. None of them seem to offer adequate protection; they’re all falling apart.
Just then, I realize the dogs have disappeared. Once again, they’ve hurried off, sniffing the air, searching for danger on our behalf. Then from somewhere far away, Jack starts barking and Penelope joins in with her high-pitched yapping.
“I think the dogs might have found somewhere,” Molly replies. “Come on.”
She takes my hand, not wanting to let me go, even when I pull back to try and get Ryan. So I let her lead me away in the direction of Jack’s and Penelope’s barks, while Ben and Zeke carry Ryan’s unconscious body.
Penelope and Jack lead us all down a road that runs parallel to the train tracks. Up ahead is a strange-looking building that looks like it might have been some kind of power station once upon a time. It’s made of a series of buildings like silos. Beside them is a pyramid-shaped building that is completely rusted. There are no windows and the only way in is up a steep, narrow ladder. I’m so glad the dogs managed to find this place; it will certainly offer us protection for the night. With only one way in, we’ll be able to guard the door.
“Come on,” I say, scaling the ladder.
I push open the door at the top and step inside the strange building. I realize then that it’s not a power plant at all, but an enormous grain store. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Zeke, Ben, and Molly manage to carry Ryan up the steep stairs and into the grain store. Bree and Charlie come inside last. Zeke slams the door shut, plunging us into darkness. Then we all sink to the floor, exhausted.
I help settle Ryan into a comfortable position and wipe the soot from his face. He’s still unconscious and the sight terrifies me.
“I think a few of us should go back to get the boat from the harbor,” I say to the group.
“Why?” Molly questions me.
“Because the river runs all the way to Indiana and we know we’re safest on the water.”
Zeke consults the map. “She’s right. The Maumee River would take us on for miles but it goes through some built-up areas.” He points to where the river diverges at a place called Grand Rapids, heading due south almost all the way through Ohio. “This river would avoid all the large towns.”
“I don’t want you to leave, Brooke,” Bree says, her bottom lip quivering. “And what about Ryan? What if he wakes up while you’re gone?”
“She’s right,” Ben says. “We shouldn’t split up. Not while there might still be crazies out there.”
“Well then what’s your plan?” I say with a harsh tone.
“How about,” Molly says, acting as the peacemaker, “we all get some sleep? Eat some food? Talk about this in the morning?”
I shake my head. “We need to have a plan.”
“And we will,” she says sternly. “Tomorrow. The kids need to rest.”
She gestures toward Bree and Charlie. They both look terrified and exhausted and I know Molly’s warning me to calm down, to not look so desperate and frantic in front of them. But I can’t help it. I can’t bear the thought of not knowing where we’re heading next, not knowing what the next step of the plan is. We were supposed to be on a coal train right now, hurtling through the open countryside, not cooped up in a grain store.
“No,” I snap back. “Tonight. We’ll work out what we’re doing. As soon as Ryan’s awake, we leave.”
Molly narrows her eyes. She doesn’t appreciate my attitude or being bossed around by me. But I feel like I’m losing my mind right now. Plotting our next steps is the only thing that will stop me from worrying.
“You know what, fine,” she says gruffly. “Since none of my opinions seem to matter, I’m going to go and see if there’s anything edible in this place. You guys sit around talking in circles.”
She stomps off. I feel bad for making her annoyed, but she has no idea how much danger we’re in, in the middle of nowhere, completely off course. The quicker we plan our escape route the better.
Zeke spreads the map out on the floor and Ben and I peer over it.
“Do you really want to go all the way back for the boat?” Ben asks.
“What other option do we have?” I reply. “It’s our only transportation. We can’t get to Texas by foot.”
“She’s right,” Zeke replies. “The boat is integral here. We could even head all the way west then row it down the Mississippi.”
“But that would mean going via Chicago,” Ben says. “There’s bound to be an arena there. And that’s not to mention how far we’d have to carry the damn boat in the first place.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Zeke asks.
Ben shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s better or not, but I think we should leave the boat behind. The chances of us finding one at the other end are pretty high, wouldn’t you say? And it would mean we weren’t being slowed down the whole time by carrying the boat.”
I’m about to launch into another argument when I suddenly hear a shrill scream.
“Molly!” I cry.
Jack and Penelope bound off into the darkness, ready to play the heroes again. We stand, prepared to follow them.
“Stay here!” I cry at Bree and Charlie. “Look after Ryan, okay?”
Then we run, Zeke first, then me, then Ben. The metal grating clangs underfoot as we hurry after Jack and Penelope.
“MOLLY?” I cry, but there’s no response.
I’m terrified for my friend. What could have happened to her? Did she fall over on
e of the balconies and hurt herself? Was she attacked? If so, by who, or what?
I can see Jack and Penelope draw to a halt up ahead, but I can’t see Molly at all. We race toward the dogs and see why they’ve stopped. There’s a large door that’s sealed shut. The dogs scratch at it, whining.
“She must be in there,” I say.
Zeke and Ben start ramming their shoulders against the door. I join in too, and before long, we manage to pry it open just a little.
“Molly?” I shout through the gap. “Where are you?”
Again, there’s no response. We manage to make a gap just big enough for Penelope to get through.
“Please find her,” I tell the one-eyed Chihuahua.
The little dog tips its head to the side as though she understands what I’m asking of her, then disappears through the gap.
“She’ll be okay,” Ben says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Penelope will find her.”
I fold into him, remembering how safe and comforted I feel in his arms.
Finally, we hear Penelope’s familiar yap-yap-yap. She leaps back through the hole, tail wagging, and a moment later, the door creaks open, and there stands Molly.
“Oh God,” I cry, flying into her arms. “I thought something terrible had happened to you.”
But that’s when I realize she’s not moving, not reciprocating the hug. I open my eyes and discover that I’m starting straight down the barrel of a gun.
I jerk back and hold my hands in a truce position. As I move away from the door, I catch sight of Molly’s captor. He’s a young guy, maybe nineteen years old, with a guarded expression. One of his arms is tight around Molly, the other clutches the gun, pointing it at us.
“Who are you?” he demands.
“Just survivors,” I say. “Just people like you.”
He glares at me, untrusting.
“Why are you here?” he snaps. “No one’s been in Toledo for years. Why did you come here?”
“Why don’t you put the gun down so we can talk properly?” I say.
“No way,” he says, shaking his head. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“We’re trying to get to Texas,” I reply. “To an army camp there. We were supposed to take the train all the way down but the tracks were damaged and we were attacked by crazies.”
He pauses and a little flicker of interest crosses his face.
“An army camp?” he says.
I feel like I might be getting somewhere. The mention of the military camp has piqued his interest.
“Yes. We received a radio message from a survivors’ camp. A military one. We’re going to check it out.”
He studies my face as though trying to work out if I’m telling the truth or not.
“I’m Brooke,” I continue, trying to lure him into security so he’ll put the gun down. I point to each of the guys behind me. “Ben. Zeke. And that’s Molly.” I point at my friend, who is trembling, the gun poised at her temple. “I’m also here with my little sister, Bree, her friend Charlie, and there’s one more of us, Ryan. He’s unconscious. Then there’s Jack the pit bull and Penelope the Chihuahua, who you’ve already met. And that’s it. That’s everyone. You don’t have any reason to be afraid of us. We just wanted somewhere to shelter until Ryan wakes up, then we’ll be off.”
“You’re really going to Texas?” he asks, his tone closer to curiosity than aggression. But his eyes are still narrowed, telling me he’s not quite sure if he can trust me.
“Yes,” I reply.
“What if…” he begins, then pauses. I can tell he’s hesitating, deliberating. “What if I told you I know the best way to get to Texas from here? Would you let me come with you?”
I can feel Zeke and Ben tensing behind me. We don’t know this guy. All we know about him so far is that he has a gun and he’s pointing it at Molly’s head.
“I would,” I say, trying to sound as honest as possible. “The bigger the group, the stronger we’ll be. Survivors need to stick together.”
He narrows his eyes. “How can I trust you?”
I shrug. “You just have to make that leap of faith.”
There’s a long moment of stillness. Everyone holds their breath. Molly’s eyes are squeezed tight. Her skin is drained of all color.
Then suddenly, the boy releases her. She flies forward into my arms. I grab her trembling body and hold her tightly, exhaling all the tension I’d been trying to hide from the boy.
Everyone’s relief is palpable.
“I’m Stephan,” the boy says, still looking guarded but showing no guilt or shame at all for having held Molly hostage.
“Nice to meet you, Stephan,” I say, trying to sound cordial rather than angry.
I hold out my hand for him to shake. But as his gaze darts down to my outstretched hand, I turn it into a fist and slam it under his chin. It knocks him out cold.
His gun clatters to the floor. I grab it and stash it in my belt. Everyone stares at me, open-mouthed.
“What?” I say defensively. “He deserved it.”
No one argues with me.
“You’d better tie him up before he comes to,” I tell Zeke.
“I’ll go and raid his food supply,” Ben adds.
“Good idea.”
I loop my arm through Molly’s and begin leading her back to the others. She’s still trembling.
“So you were just lying when you said Stephan could come with us?” she asks.
“Oh no, he can come with us if he wants,” I say with shrug.
“Then why did you punch him?!”
“I just felt the need to put him in his place. No one points a gun at my best friend’s head.”
Molly locks her green eyes on me.
“Thank you, Brooke,” she says under her breath. “And I’m really sorry about our argument.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Already forgotten.”
Molly and I have never been into mushy displays of affection. It makes me uncomfortable to talk like this. Thankfully, we’ve reached the others and Bree runs up to me.
“Where have you been for so long?” she cries.
“We found a survivor,” I reply.
Bree frowns. “You did? Where?”
“Oh, Zeke’s just tying him up.”
Her frown deepens. But before she gets a chance to fire another question at me, I’m distracted by a noise that comes from behind her. I look over and see that Ryan is stirring. He’s waking up. Molly loosens her grip on my arm and gives me a little shove, as if to say, “Go to him.”
Quietly, I head to where Ryan is starting to bring himself up to a sitting position. He looks disorientated, and his cropped hair is still filled with soot. He manages to prop himself up against the wall, and hunches his knees to his chest.
“Brooke,” he says when he sees me approaching. “What happened?”
I crouch down beside him and put my hand gently on his shoulder. “Nothing happened. You’re safe.”
He shakes his head. “No. No. Something bad happened. I died, didn’t I?”
I falter, unsure as to how much I should really tell him. “You stopped breathing,” I explain. “But it was just for a little bit.”
“It being for a little bit doesn’t make it any better.”
I look away. My voice is quieter. “No, I suppose not.”
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean…” He pauses, frowns, stares at me intently. “You brought me back to life, didn’t you?”
I can feel the emotion lodging in my throat. The fear when I’d thought I’d lost him. The panic. The utter relief when he came back to me.
I nod, slowly.
Ryan looks down at his lap, frowning as though some deep thoughts are consuming him. Then he looks up at me again, leans forward, and quickly kisses me.
I’m completely taken aback. It was the last thing I was expecting him to do. But it felt wonderful, like electricity in my body.
The pleasant sensation doesn’t last long, though, be
cause I’m suddenly hit by a pang of guilt. Ben. Ryan. I don’t know what I want or how I feel.
“It’s okay,” he says, studying my expression. “I’m not expecting anything from you. This world is too insane for relationships or dating. I just wanted to do something a normal eighteen-year-old guy would do, you know? Just in case I die properly next time.”
I let out a small laugh and smile shyly. “Okay.”
Just then, Zeke and Ben return with Stephan. He has a huge bruise from where I punched him, and looks incredibly angry. They’re carrying a box filled with cans of food. At last, we’ll be able to eat. Molly looks at Stephan coolly, as if to warn him that she has neither forgotten nor forgiven the gun incident.
“You must be the survivor,” Bree says with a friendly smile.
Stephan gives her a moody look. “That’s me.”
“Well, thanks for letting us stay here,” she adds, brightly. “We appreciate your hospitality.”
Stephan touches his jaw and winces. “I didn’t exactly have much choice.”
“Come on,” I say, peering into the box filled with can of beans and fruit. “Let’s eat.”
We gorge ourselves on the provisions, and as we do, we look over our map again, plotting out our route. Between mouthfuls of canned peaches, I look at Stephan.
“You said you knew a good route to Texas,” I say. “So, tell us.”
“The Mississippi is by far the safest route,” Stephan explains, pointing it out on the map. “You can follow its path all the way to Baton Rouge in Louisiana.”
“We have a boat,” I explain as I pop another piece of peach into my mouth. “It’s in Toledo Harbor. It would only take a couple of hours to head back and get it. We could send a small group.”
“A boat isn’t going to do you any good,” Stephan says, his laugh closer to a scoff.
“Why?” I ask, frowning.
“Because there’s no water in the Mississippi anymore. The riverbed is completely dry.”
“What?” I snap. “Then why would we even bother going that way?”
“Because it’s still the best route,” Zeke says gently. “And at least this way we won’t have to go back for the boat.”
I chuck my empty can down on the ground, making it clatter. Everyone jumps at the sound. I don’t know why I’m so angry, it’s just that fate seems to be throwing every obstacle it can at us.
