by Bowman, Dave
She kicked her in the knees this time. Naomi whimpered in pain. With her eyes closed, Naomi heard the woman lift her rifle up in the air, preparing to bring it down against her head. Naomi cringed, waiting for the final blow to take her life.
"No, stop!" a new voice rang out.
Naomi gritted her teeth, waiting for the new pain to come anyway.
"Don't hit her anymore! Let me talk to her. I can make her work!"
Naomi opened her eyes to see the other prisoner, who was standing now, pleading with the guard.
"You need more workers for the latrine project! I can get her to work for you!"
The guard looked at the older prisoner, then down at Naomi in disgust.
"Fine. You've got a half-hour," the guard said. Then she spun on her heels and left the room, locking the door behind her.
The older woman knelt at Naomi's side and lightly touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Naomi stared at her. "Why did you do that?"
The woman didn’t answer.
"I wanted her to kill me," Naomi said, her voice shaking. "I'm not going to be a prisoner here!"
The woman brushed Naomi's long brown hair out of her face, then rested her hand on her shoulder. Somehow, the woman's touch made Naomi feel a sense of relief. She began to weep where she lay on the floor.
"It's all right," the woman said, patting her hand. She reached over toward her bed and produced a small towel. The woman pressed it against Naomi's forehead. Naomi hadn't realized it, but she was bleeding from where the first guard had hit her.
"My name's Joanne. What's yours?"
"Naomi."
Joanne helped her to sit up, then looked at the wound on her forehead.
"I think it's stopped bleeding. Are you hurt anywhere else? Is your stomach okay?"
Naomi groaned as she moved. "I'm hurt all over. But I'm going to live, unfortunately. At least for now."
Joanne tsked. "No, you can't let them keep hitting you. You have to stay alive, Naomi."
Naomi sighed. "Why? So I can be their slave until they decide to kill all of us?”
"No," Joanne said as she sat on the floor beside Naomi. "You work for them so you can stay alive. But it won't be forever. We'll find a way to get to someplace safe."
Naomi shook her head. "There's no way out of here! They've got guards all over the place. How do you expect to make it out of here in one piece?"
"I don't know that yet. I just know that if we do what they say –"
"You mean work for these monsters?" Naomi shook her head bitterly. "What's the point of that? What kind of life is that?"
"If we do what they say and don't give them any trouble," Joanne continued patiently, "we can come up with a plan. We can watch them, find their weaknesses."
Naomi scoffed.
"Everyone's got a weakness. We just don't know what theirs is yet," Joanne said. "It might take some time, but I know we can find a way out of here."
Naomi shook her head. "I'm not so optimistic. I've already lost everything that matters. So I don't want to keep on fighting." She wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don't have anything to live for anymore."
Joanne took her hand and held it in her own. "As long as you're alive, there's hope. You have to keep on living, no matter what you lost."
Naomi frowned. "It's not what I lost, but who. When you lose the most important person in your life, it's hard to go on fighting."
Joanne was quiet for a moment. Finally, she sighed. "I know it is. But it's what they would have wanted us to do."
Naomi looked at her. "Did you lose someone too?"
"My daughter," Joanne said, looking away. "She had just turned seventeen last week. And now…"
Her voice broke, and she stopped.
"I'm so sorry," Naomi said. "Was it… them?"
Joanne nodded. "In our own house. We were trying to get away from them. Maddie was climbing out her bedroom window, and they – they shot her. My poor baby! I still can't believe she's gone."
Joanne shook her head sadly, staring off into the distance. Naomi felt her own pain surge as the two sat in silence. Finally, Joanne sniffed and looked at her.
"Who did you lose?"
"My mother," Naomi whispered.
Joanne pulled Naomi close, and they were quiet for a while.
"Your mother would have wanted you to live, Naomi," Joanne said. "And Maddie wouldn't want me to just give up, either. We have to do it for them."
Before Naomi could answer, the sound of a key in the doorknob startled them. Joanne got up and sat on her own bed just before the dark-haired guard appeared.
The guard entered the room and looked at Naomi expectantly.
"What's it going to be, 156?"
Naomi glanced at Joanne, then up at the guard. She drew a breath.
"I'll work."
"Good choice," the guard said, then ushered the women out the door with a sharp motion of her rifle.
That afternoon, Naomi had begun work digging a latrine with the other women. She quickly got into the routine of the operation, and learned never to talk during worktime.
She glanced over at Joanne, digging at the dry earth nearby. If it hadn't been for her new friend, Naomi would have already been dead.
She still wasn't convinced they would find a way out. But Joanne had convinced her to not give up hope just yet. Still, though, Naomi knew she couldn't do this indefinitely. She didn't have it in her. She'd either have to find a way to freedom, or die trying.
9
The man wrapped his arms around Annie, and pulled her down. She hit the ground hard.
"Get the hell away from me!" she yelled at him.
Annie elbowed him in his chest with all her might. She pulled herself away a few inches, getting some traction on the cedar log nearby.
He grabbed at her legs. She kicked him in the face, but not hard enough. He pulled at her legs, causing her to slip in the mud and fall to the ground again.
"I'm not going to hurt you!" he said in a pleading voice. "I just want a friend!"
The way he said the word friend made Annie shudder. He was either insane or as high as a kite.
They struggled a bit more. Finally, she got her arm free and elbowed him in the eye.
He recoiled, his hands flying to his face.
He looked at her with an expression of shock and surprise, then he turned and ran inside the house.
"You'll pay for this!" he yelled just before slamming the door shut.
Annie scrambled to her feet. Judging from his dilated pupils and the erratic way he moved, the guy was clearly strung out on drugs. She didn't want to wait around and see how he would make her pay.
She ran toward the driveway. But something caught her eye – a stable. It was behind and to the left of the house.
She looked back at the house. The man could emerge any moment with a gun. She knew it was a risk. Maybe it was even stupid. But she had to do it.
She took off running toward the stable. As she got closer, she heard movement inside the structure.
Inside the stall was a beautiful, chestnut American Quarter Horse.
Annie felt her heart leap for joy. She stepped inside the stable and approached the animal.
"It's okay, it's okay," she murmured soothingly to the horse. "Do you want to go for a ride?"
The horse snorted and stepped toward the gate. Annie looked at the horse – a mare. She seemed tame and gentle. Annie stroked her nose, and the horse seemed glad for the company.
Annie looked back at the house. Still no sign of the man.
She grabbed the saddle from the hook on the wall and, leaning over the gate, positioned it on the horse.
“How’s that?” Annie whispered. She hoped she was doing this right, but she didn’t have much time to make sure.
She spun around, looking through the stable, and her eyes landed on some ropes and a harness.
Bingo.
Then she opened the gate. The horse, already fully acc
epting of Annie’s presence, waited patiently for her commands.
She mounted the horse, then clicked her tongue. The horse took off at a slow trot and left the stable.
Annie urged the horse faster with her legs, and the horse picked up speed.
They covered the distance in front of the house at a gallop. Annie looked back at the house. The man didn't appear in the door, but she heard a crashing noise from within the home.
Annie felt the panic rise up inside. Was he coming after her now that she was escaping with the horse?
She urged the mare faster, squeezing her legs around the horse’s trunk, and holding on tight. She looked over her shoulder, watching for the man to emerge.
But the horse carried her all the way to the highway, kicking up dust behind them.
And he still hadn’t reappeared.
Once they were on the highway again, Annie felt she could breathe a little. Looking down at her hands, she saw she was shaking. She took a deep breath. She was still alive.
“Good girl,” she said, patting the horse’s shiny brown coat. “You’re going to save us.”
The horse seemed to enjoy the ride. She, like Annie, had been yearning to move. She carried Annie up and over the hill. Annie got one last look at the house below before it was out of sight.
“Hang on, Charlotte,” Annie muttered under her breath. “Almost there.”
Halfway up the next hill, gunshots rang out across the countryside. Annie felt herself freeze up inside, even though the sun was warming up the area. Her mouth was suddenly dry as her heart sped up in her chest.
The gunfire had come from the east, and it could have easily come from Dan’s .22.
10
Charlotte shifted in her seat, mindful of the bullet wounds.
She still couldn't believe she was alive.
At least something had gone right in the disaster that had been the past few days. Annie had kept her from bleeding to death.
But now, Charlotte had something new to worry about.
Annie had been gone too long.
Charlotte watched the sun rise higher in the sky. Each minute that Annie was gone, Charlotte's uneasiness grew. There were a million things that could go wrong. And since the attacks on Austin, everything that could go wrong, did.
What would Charlotte do if Annie never returned? She couldn't go looking for her friend – not in her current state. Her throat started to tighten as she thought of all the possibilities. She was afraid for Annie – and herself. And Charlotte was the only one with a weapon.
Charlotte looked down at Dan's .22 in her lap. She had screwed up the day before. She'd been too afraid to shoot Harvey when she’d had her chance. And she had paid the price for her hesitation.
She ran her finger down the shiny surface of the gun. She had never touched one before yesterday. Charlotte had never expected to be in a situation anything like this.
She sighed and looked out at the road to the west, hoping to see Annie's figure appear on the horizon.
Please hurry. Please be okay.
She leaned her head back in the seat. Overhead, a buzzard circled in the sky.
Maybe he's waiting for his supper. Harvey and I probably look like a sure thing.
As she watched the bird fly overhead, she heard a rustling sound behind her.
Instantly, a wave of fear spread through her body.
Harvey was waking up.
Momentarily forgetting about her injuries, she turned around in her seat too quickly. Pain seared through her torso. But that sensation was soon forgotten.
She looked in horror as Harvey struggled against the rope.
He looked up at her. Their eyes locked for a second. Charlotte saw the rage and darkness in him.
"You tied me up! I can't believe this shit!"
And he worked furiously at the knot at his wrists. He muttered, “You’ll pay for this. Oh, you’ll pay all right.”
Charlotte swung her legs out of the car. Trembling, she pushed herself to her feet and turned to face him.
She watched, horrified, as Harvey got his hands free. He glanced up at her, scowling, as he pushed himself up to sit in the grass. Then he started working on the knot at his ankles.
“We both know you ain’t gonna use that gun,” he said, keeping his eyes on his work at the rope. “Don’t even front.”
Charlotte took a breath.
She looked at the gun, flicked the safety off, and brought it up with both hands.
Harvey glanced up at her again. This time, he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. He kept fumbling with the knot, his hands shaking.
Charlotte aimed right for the center of his chest. She exhaled and pulled the trigger.
11
The man leapt toward Heather, reaching out for her in a furor.
Heather stepped to the side, just dodging his grasp. His arm brushed against her side as he stumbled. He nearly fell down the steps, but caught himself.
Before Heather could react, he turned and grabbed her. He grunted as he pulled on her arm.
With her free hand, she withdrew the knife in a sudden movement.
She tried to stab him again in his belly, but he grabbed her arm as she made the movement. Heather's hand was clenched tightly around the knife. She didn't let go.
“Give me that!” he roared.
The man grabbed her arms, twisting them around behind her. Enraged, she tried to jerk free.
She kicked him, then wrenched her right arm away from him.
Without hesitation, she plunged the knife in his thigh.
He screamed in agony, cursing at the top of his lungs. He released her arm and looked down at the wound, his hands shaking. His mouth opened, and a strange wailing noise began to flow out of his mouth.
Behind her, the little girl scrambled to her feet. She scurried off the porch, unnoticed by both Heather and the man.
Heather jerked the knife out of his body again. She stood in a defensive stance, waiting for him to make his next move.
The man took a step toward Heather, then stumbled.
Heather backed away, keeping her eyes on him. Finally, he fell to his knees on the porch. His hands covered the hole in his leg. Blood gushed out from the wound, making his hands slick and deep red.
Heather turned around to see the girl was gone. Heather jumped off the porch, then ran into the yard. She saw the little girl running down the street, away from the house as fast as her legs could carry her.
"Wait!" Heather called.
She ran a few steps down the road behind the girl and called after her once more.
"Wait! I'm not going to hurt you!"
But the little girl was long gone. Terrified from the encounter, she ran down the street without looking back.
Heather came to a stop. She had done what she could. She couldn't chase after the girl. Heather hoped the child had a safe home to return to.
She ran across the front yard of the house again, expecting to see the man lying on the porch, reeling from his injuries.
A tidal wave of fear coursed through her as she glanced over at the porch.
The man was gone.
Heather looked around in all directions, spinning in a circle in the yard. The man was nowhere to be found.
She broke into a sprint across the tall grass in front of the house. As she reached the parking lot, she looked behind her. She saw what she had missed before – a trail of blood across the porch of the house. The man had made his way inside the home.
He was either bleeding to death inside the house, or he was getting his gun.
Heather rounded the corner of the gas station and grabbed her bike. In her panic, she lost her balance as she pushed off. Tumbling to the ground, her hands and left arm broke the fall. Shaking from fright, she scrambled to her feet and mounted the bike again.
Suddenly, the sleepy town seemed full of eyes that were watching her. She feared that someone might be waiting for her out of sight, ready to pounce. And most of all, she fear
ed the man would emerge from his front door at any moment and open fire.
She raced through the front lot of the gas station on her bicycle and began to pedal down the highway.
Her heart was pounding so quickly that nausea began to overtake her. Adrenaline flooded her system, making her confused and panicked. She glanced behind her shoulder, almost expecting to see the man coming after her.
She continued through the small town, passing block after block of homes and businesses. Most of them were empty, but she saw a few people scattered here and there. Suddenly paranoid, she was terrified of them all. She pressed onward, not wanting to be detained any longer in the town.
Finally, she made it to the southern outskirts of the town, and then to an unpopulated area. Once again on a deserted stretch of highway, her panic did not subside. Instead, the desertion of the area seemed to heighten her anxiety. She continued to pedal furiously, trying to shake the feeling that someone was following her. She knew it was unlikely the man was on her trail, but she couldn't help looking over her shoulder again and again.
Her heart pounded as she glanced at the thick woods surrounding the road. The forest seemed to be a wall, hemming her in on both sides. She felt her heart beat faster. It was becoming difficult to breathe.
What if she never made it to Tennessee? What if she made it, but her family were missing – or dead?
Maybe she'd never see any of them again.
Fear took her over more completely now. She felt a chill, despite her exertion.
In a matter of days, the world had turned dark and unwelcoming. The attacks on the nation had torn apart the fabric of society. Everyone's morals seemed to have collapsed. Not even the government had been able to protect its citizens from a devastating national disaster.
Heather was all alone.
Her panic increasing, she felt herself toeing the line of hyperventilation. The muscles of her hands, deprived of oxygen, began to contract into claws around her handlebars. Her vision was quickly blurring, the road and the trees becoming distorted shapes.
She pushed the bicycle faster, glancing behind her once more. Any moment now, she expected the man to appear on the road, chasing her to exact his revenge. Her only chance at survival was to get as far away as fast as she could.
