by Bowman, Dave
It was a female voice.
She came closer, carrying a candle. The light revealed the bruised face of a young woman. She carried a large bag over her shoulder. She stood in the doorway, studying him.
“I'm here to treat your injuries,” she said. “Are you safe?”
Jack blinked. “Safe?” he finally asked, tasting blood in his mouth as he spoke.
“Yeah, safe. Some of these guys hit me when I try to patch them up. Are you gonna hit me?”
With some effort, Jack was able to push himself up to sitting. “Well, as long as I have these cuffs on, I don't see how I could hit anyone.”
“You'd be surprised,” she said. “I got a welt on my leg from a guy on the second floor.”
“I'm not going to hurt you,” Jack said.
The woman looked at him a moment more, then walked over to him, deciding he wasn't dangerous. She dropped the heavy bag to the floor beside him, then opened the zipper. She pulled out a large scarf and neatly spread it out on the carpet, then sat on it.
“This carpet's disgusting,” she said. “There's blood all over it, you know.”
“I'm aware,” Jack said. “Your friends out there get a kick from roughing people up.”
She made a disgusted face. “Oh, no, they're not my friends. They captured me same as you. I hate them. But I'm trapped in here.”
She glanced at him.
“Just like you,” she added.
Jack watched as she rifled through the contents of the bag, bringing out plastic bags of alcohol wipes and bandages.
“Did they do that to you?” he asked, looking at the large, purple bruise under her eye and the gash on her forehead.
She nodded. “Yeah. I got that the first day when I tried to run away. Still hurts like hell.”
Jack sighed and shook his head. “I guess they're not above hitting women.”
“I guess not,” she said as she slipped on latex gloves. “There's nothing too low for those people. I think they killed all the motel guests – all the people who were staying in these rooms before they moved in. Then they took the place over.”
“But why do they send you to patch me up?”
She didn't look up as she tore open a packet. “Because they want you to be able to work.”
“Doing what?”
She shrugged. “Raiding houses and stores. Transporting stuff. And if they really trust you, they'll put you on the crews that go out and steal cars and bring new recruits. But they probably won't trust you anytime soon. Not if you got sent here to C Block.”
Jack shifted his shoulders, making the cuffs scrape against his wrists.
“I don't suppose you have the key to these things?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Only Kyle, the guy who brought you up here, does.”
“I figured. What about pain meds?”
“None of that, either.”
She shone a small flashlight on his head and shoulder. “They got you good,” she said, shaking her head. “You must have talked back to them if they did all that to you. But then, everyone on C Block did something they didn't like.”
He cringed as she wiped the wounds on his forehead clean.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Why do they have you on nurse duty?” Jack asked.
“They grill everyone once they capture you. Find your strengths and stuff. I'm a nursing student. So they have me doing this.”
“How many people are here?”
“You mean in C Block? Like fifty or sixty. I'm not too sure. They don't tell me much.”
“How many total? How many run this whole thing, and how many have they captured?”
She tore open a bandage wrapper and placed it over the largest wound on his head.
“Dunno. But I know there's a lot. I hear they've got most of White Rock under control now.”
Jack cringed as she pressed the medical tape into his skin. She didn't have the gentlest touch.
“But how's it possible to get all this going in just a few days? This all started after the EMP, right?”
She frowned. “The what?”
“When the power went off,” Jack offered.
“Oh, right,” she said, nodding. “Shoot, I don't know. I'm not even from here. I'm from Phoenix. I was in town doing a tour of the college here. I'm almost done with my pre-reqs and they've got a good nursing program.”
“I thought you said you were already in nursing school.”
She gave him a look. “So I lied to them. I wanted to have some job to do. Otherwise they'd put me doing something hard like pushing crap in a wheelbarrow. I don't want to do that. It's hot out there.”
She applied another bandage to his jaw.
“So how'd they pick you up and bring you in here to work for them?”
She sighed. “I was outside a gas station. It was like the world was ending. People were stealing everything. I was just standing there watching them, when out of nowhere these two guys grab me. Say I'm working for them now.”
“And so you just accepted it?” he asked, staring at the floor. “You're just gonna work for them now, putting Band-Aids on people they beat up?”
“I told you I tried to run away. They beat the crap out of me.”
“But what about now? Why don't you try to escape when you have a chance? You're just giving up?” Jack said.
She shrugged. “What else is there to do? I can't fight them. I'm no match for all of them.”
“But they've got so many people locked up here. They've captured half the town, it looks like to me. Why doesn't everyone just band together and escape?”
“Because they're broken in,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?”
She started pressing her fingers along the ribs at his mid-back, which made him jump.
“That's what they do to everyone. Beat them senseless so they can't fight back. It's like their spirits are broken or something,” she said. “It's only been a few days since this whole thing started, but man, did they do a number on everyone here.”
Jack didn't say anything while she lifted the back of his shirt to take a quick look at his injuries. She peered around his arms, which were pinned behind him by the cuffs. Then she let the bottom edge of his shirt drop and started to pack away her supplies.
“No broken ribs?” he asked.
She chuckled. “I don't think so. But I'm not really sure, to be honest. And I don't know what I'd do for you if they were broken.”
Jack nodded. “I guess you're kind of learning on the job.”
“Something like that.”
Well, at least the wounds have been cleaned. Less risk of infection.
She pushed herself off the floor, then grabbed the scarf she had sat on and shook it out.
“You'll live,” she proclaimed.
“Thanks,” he said. “You got any food?”
She shook her head. “No. Sorry. That's Becky's job. I'm Mandy, by the way.”
He watched as she picked up her bag and candle. “I'm Jack.”
Mandy nodded. “Well, take it easy,” she said as she crossed over to the door.
“You, too,” he said.
“And good luck. I hope they give you a good job.”
Some light filtered in from the hall as Mandy opened the door. The blood stains on the carpet came into view for a brief moment.
Then she walked out, closing the door behind her. He was thrown into darkness once more.
He struggled against the cuffs and the chains on his feet, trying to get any leverage. If he could only get one foot free, he might have a chance.
But it was no use. He wasn't getting off that floor or out of those bindings.
28
“Brody?”
Myra stood next to her granddaughter in the driveway and watched as her son stood at the bottom of the hill, bent over the bike and coughing.
“He says he's sick,” Katie said, nestling against her grandmother.
Myra gave her a squeeze, then
let her go and walked down the driveway toward her son.
“Do you need help?” she called down to the dark figure at the bottom of the hill.
He looked up at her and stared for a moment. There was something strange about the way he was standing there, squinting up at her. Like he didn't know where he was.
Finally, he lifted his hand and waved. He grabbed the handlebars and began walking the bike up the hill. Myra met him halfway.
“Brody, you look terrible!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace.
He muttered something she couldn't hear.
“What?”
He motioned for her to take the bicycle. She watched as he dragged himself up the hill, then she began to push the bicycle up beside him.
“I'm so glad to see you,” she gushed. “I've been worried sick about you and Katie and – well, about all of you. I'm sorry you're so sick, though! Is it the flu?”
Brody shrugged his shoulders. He didn't seem to have the strength to speak.
Myra ushered them inside, where she lit a few candles and brought out some fruit, cheese, and water from her reserves. The fatigue she had felt before was forgotten. The excitement of seeing some of her family gave her a new burst of energy.
Katie ate ravenously, but Brody just slumped over on the couch silently after taking a sip of water.
Myra frowned as she watched him, then went to the kitchen and put some water on to boil on her propane stove. The kitchen and living room were all open, so she could see them as she bustled around.
“I'm making some chicken soup,” she said from where she worked. “I need to use up everything in the freezer, anyway. Everything is thawing out. So much waste.” She shook her head sadly.
Brody didn't respond.
“When did you get sick?” she asked Brody.
“It was the day after the bomb went off,” Katie said after Brody mumbled something unintelligible.
Myra returned to the living room and looked at her son. “You two must have been terrified.”
Katie nodded. “Yeah. And I was especially scared because I was alone when it happened.”
“Oh, were you still at work, Brody?” Myra asked.
Brody mumbled something again with his eyes closed.
Myra fidgeted. “Oh, I wish I could make you better. I hate seeing you so sick like this.”
Katie looked around. With her mouth still full of grapes, she asked, “Where's grandpa?”
Brody opened his eyes and looked up at his mother, curious to hear the answer.
Myra stood up, worry crossing her face. She walked to the window, looked out for a while, then turned back to face them.
“He's missing.”
Katie and Brody looked at each other.
“Missing?” Katie asked.
“Since when?” Brody mumbled.
“Since Wednesday. He went out to the hardware store just before the power went out. And, well…”
Myra stopped herself. Her voice was shaking, and she didn't want them to hear the panic and fear she felt. She didn't want to spread it to them.
“And?” Katie asked impatiently.
“And, well, I haven't seen him since.” Myra quickly returned to the kitchen where she busied herself with chopping onions. She said the rest quickly from her place at the counter, raising her voice so they could hear her. “I've been out looking for him all over. I talked to Fred Clanton, the Pattersons, the neighbors, several other people in town. No one knows anything about him. And every day, I've been walking all over the woods around here. He's just disappeared. And his truck too. I haven't found any sign of him.”
Silence hung in the darkened house. Brody pushed himself up a little higher from his place on the couch.
“So he's just gone?” he asked weakly.
Myra finished chopping the onion, then returned to sit near beside Brody on the couch. She buried her face in her hands, then broke down in tears.
“He's gone. And I'm worried to death about him. I've tried to find him, Brody. I've tried so hard.”
Brody lifted his arm – with some effort – and wrapped it around his mother.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't want you to see me like this. I know he's somewhere out there. I'm sure – I'm sure I'll find him tomorrow. I'm going to go out looking again first thing in the morning.”
Katie moved toward her grandmother and leaned her head on the older woman's shoulder. “I can help you look, too, Grandma.”
Myra wiped her tears away and sniffed. She patted Katie's knee. “Thanks, Katie. I would appreciate that.”
“You can take the bikes,” Brody offered quietly.
Myra nodded and smiled. “That would help, too. We could cover a lot more ground that way. And you, Brody, you're going to stay right here and rest tomorrow. Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?”
Myra lifted the plate of fruit and cheese toward him once more. This time, Brody accepted and began to munch on an apple slice.
“We'll find him, Mom,” Brody said. “He probably twisted an ankle or something.”
“You're right,” Myra said, squeezing his hand. “He probably just decided to take a ride down one of those forest service roads and got stuck out there when the cars stopped running. But we'll find him. I know we will.”
She tried to sound confident, but she didn't feel it. She stood up before they could see the doubt on her face and returned to the kitchen.
“And once we find your father, we've got to find Heather,” Myra said. She dumped some chicken bones she had pulled from the warming, but still cool, freezer into the stockpot. “And Annie. I don't know how yet. But we'll figure it out. I'm worried sick about all of them. This whole thing has just been awful.”
She chatted away to them while she worked, asking them questions about what they had seen in Johnson City and on the bike ride to her house. After a while, Brody grew silent again. Myra returned to the living room to see him lying there with his eyes closed.
She bit her lip, worrying about how bad her son looked. Katie was dozing off as well on the other end of the couch. But thankfully, the teenager still looked healthy; just tired from their long bike ride.
Myra woke her granddaughter and led her upstairs to Annie's old bedroom. She tucked Katie in, then crossed the distance to the door, sheltering the flame of her candle. Before she had shut the bedroom door behind her, Katie was already asleep.
Myra was feeling her own exhaustion even more now. She had gotten a second wind when her son and granddaughter had arrived, but now her fatigue was catching up to her. She went to the kitchen and turned the gas flame off from under the pot of soup. Then she returned once more to the couch where Brody was asleep.
She sat down beside him, and the movement woke him. He squinted at her through groggy eyes. Even in the dim candlelight, Myra could see how strange his eyes looked.
She had raised three children. It didn't look like any flu she had ever seen.
“Katie's asleep upstairs,” Myra said. “Now, do you want to tell me what's really going on?”
Brody's eyes opened a little more as he gazed at his mother. Finally, he spoke.
“Mom, I'm dying.”
29
At some point, Jack fell asleep.
He was startled awake by the door being thrown open. Kyle, the guy who had brought him into the room, stood in the doorway.
He beamed his flashlight on Jack, blinding him. Jack squinted. He was painfully hungry. His throat was parched.
“Can I get some food in here?” Jack muttered toward the light.
Kyle didn't answer. Instead, he pushed another guy inside the room. This guy was in handcuffs as well. He stumbled inside, then stood and waited as Kyle stepped in the room, shutting the door behind him.
“122, on the floor!” Kyle ordered.
The new man moved quickly to lower himself to the carpet where he stood. He sat down and waited as Kyle crossed over to him.
Behind them, a wom
an stood in the doorway holding an automatic rifle. Jack hadn't seen her before. She was clearly one of them – the monsters in charge of this operation. She stood on guard while Kyle bent down and chained the new prisoner's legs to the bed across the room from Jack.
Kyle stood up and walked over to Jack.
“You got something to say, 154?”
“Yeah, I need something to eat,” Jack said from where he lay on the floor. “And water.”
Kyle stared at him, then gave him a sharp kick in his belly. Jack groaned in pain.
“Around here, you gotta work for your supper,” Kyle said, scowling. “And you ain't ready to work yet. I can tell just by looking at you.”
Kyle stood before Jack for a moment. Then, his steel-toed boot came flying again and landed in Jack's shoulder.
This time, Jack saw stars. He nearly passed out from the pain. But somehow his consciousness stayed with him. He almost wished it wouldn't.
Kyle turned toward the door and walked away. The woman in the doorway laughed, then slammed the door shut and locked it.
Jack strained his eyes to look at the new man over near the other bed.
There was a bit of light filtering in around the plywood on the window. Jack could make out his general shape. He was short and round. He groaned from the pain of his own injuries as he struggled to get comfortable on the floor. Finally, he let out a deep sigh.
“You all right over there?” the man said, breaking the silence of the room.
Jack drew in a sharp breath, grimacing from the new pain in his gut and shoulder. “I'm hanging on.”
The man sighed. “A few days ago I was just working at my desk,” he said. “Minding my own business. Now, look at me. They got me chained up like an animal.”
“Did they just bring you in?” Jack asked.
“No. I've been here – what? Two days or so. I don't know. They've got all the windows boarded up so you don't know if it's day or night. And they come in and beat you every so often so you black out and fall asleep. Hard to keep track of the time like that.”
Jack moved around and pushed himself up to sit on the floor. With his arms and legs bound, it took some work, and the pain made him wince.
“The name's Steve. Steve Randolph.”
