“It’s a sign from God,” Collins said.
“What are you talking about?” Chris asked.
Collins ignored him and walked out into the street. He stood in the way of the approaching car with his arms out. The car stopped a few feet away. The driver pressed down on the horn telling Collins to step out of the way. As Collins approached the drivers side door the man inside rolled the window down.
“Are you out of your damn mind?” the driver asked.
“Yes,” Collins said pulled the .38 revolver from the back of his pants. Neither Frank or Chris knew that he had the gun on him.
“Ok, ok. Take it. No good to me dead.” The driver said.
“Thank you kindly,” Collins said keeping his revolver point at the man stepping away from the car.
“Chris get in the driver’s seat.”
“I’m not supposed to drive,” Chris said repeating what he was told at boot camp so many years ago.
“Chris get in the car,” Collins repeated.
As Chris sat in the drivers seat Frank moved to the back seat from the passenger side but made sure to tell the owner, “have a blessed day!”
The middle aged man looked at the trio as if they had escaped from a psych ward.
Collins sat the passenger seat and Chris hit the gas turning down the nearest street.
The owner realized they were going to head back, driving south on the next street and ran the one block to the intersection trying to catch them. He picked up a rock that laid in a yard and carried it to the corner. As he reached it the car was half way to the intersection.
“Is that the same guy?” Chris said pointing to the man on the corner.
“Shit.” Collins pulled his gun out of his pants but it was too late. The man tossed the rock at the car smashing the windshield. Chris swerved the car trying to avoid the impact. The spider web pattern in the glass obstructed his view but he regained control of the car. Frank looked back at the man on the corner who stared at them driving away.
“Jesus loves you!” Frank yelled out the window, his way of thanking the man for his donation to the church.
The angry mumbling of words could be heard. Frank didn’t know what it was the man had said but guessed it was profanity he would rather be oblivious to.
Although Chris thought Collins had lost his mind he was thankful for the car.
“Where to?” Chris asked.
“Just drive straight for now.”
The went several miles down the street until they came to a business part of town. Collins hoped they could pick through the leftovers of a supermarket or some mega store like a Super Walmart. Then he saw something that stuck out to him. Children playing in a yard. A fenced in yard, with barbed wire and security all around. Some of the children were white but he spotted some that were not of this land.
“Stop over there,” Collins pointed out.
Chris pulled into the parking lot for a daycare center.
“I’ll be right back,” Collins said.
Frank and Chris sat in the car as Collins pulled on the front door of the building. The door wouldn’t budge and he stood back and shot the glass next to the door. Reaching in to unlock the door he noticed he could walk through the broken glass.
All of the children in the yard started running towards the building after the shot was heard. Collins walked inside and disappeared.
Everything seemed quiet at first. Then Frank saw the children running back out into the playground. A woman was fighting with Collins hitting him in the chest, trying to knock the gun away from him. Frank watched as Collins pistol whipped the woman. She fell to the ground and didn’t move afterwards.
“What’s going on?” Frank asked.
“Sometimes it’s better to not ask questions,” Chris said.
Chris sat with his hands on ten and two, gripping the steering wheel. He looked down the field next to the daycare center. A doe and fawn stood out in the open eating from the grass. Chris thought that was a fine opportunity for a meal. They could throw the doe in the trunk and bring it back like the deer he hit with a car two years ago. Chris didn’t notice the gun shots at first. He noticed the two deer running away to the trees behind the school. Then Frank screamed.
The blood curdling roar that escaped from his throat was more horrifying than any movie Chris had ever seen, but he had heard worse in Iraq. His mind switched off. To him nothing was happening, he only waited for the next order. Another shot rang out. Frank watched in horror as the children with dark hair were lined up against the fence. Three more shots could be heard before it was over. The car was rocking now as Frank screamed in the back seat. His hands in the air in front of him muscles tense, fingers curled as he rocked back and forth. In disbelief Frank watched Collins pat a blonde haired girl on the head as he walked back to the building. Five bodies lay in the grass.
As Collins walked out of the building Frank struggled to open the back door of the car. He continued screaming even after he opened the door and ran away through the parking lot as if Satan himself was coming for him.
Collins sat in the passenger seat.
“What’s wrong with him?” he asked Chris.
“I don’t know,” Chris said. For a few minutes Chris though he was back in Iraq. He didn’t see Collins exit from the building but a man in tan camouflage and a beretta nine millimeter. He would have sworn Collins had a Kevlar helmet on but was surprised when he later looked at him and he only had his receding hairline. At times he didn’t see the impala dashboard but instead saw the Humvee he drove in Iraq.
“Where to?” Chris said in a daze.
“Head back to the church. The lord’s work is done here.” Collins said.
They ran out of gas a mile away from the church. They never ran into the owner again. They told the church that they had been separated from Frank when looters came by. A day later Frank’s wife disappeared in the middle of the night taking all of her belongings with her. The church assumed Frank came back since his bag was also gone.
Collins shared with the Reverend what had happened.
“It was just like you said. We need to cleanse the land. Men, Women, and Children in order to make this a Christian Nation. We can’t have them growing up and starting the whole thing all over again. I could feel the hand of the lord being guided through me. It’s like I was watching myself doing it. It was me, but it wasn’t. I was truly blessed,” Collins spoke like any deranged killer.
The Reverend was lost at what to do. He never thought that one of the congregation would go ahead and do something like this. He did say this was what was needed. He couldn’t go back on his word.
“The lord thanks you for your work,” he couldn’t believe the words were coming from his mouth, but they were. He had to go along with this.
Collins sat in the office with a grin on his face.
“You think we will be blessed now? A reward for what happened?” Collins asked. He wasn’t thinking food, instead Isabel.
“I think we have a great many rewards coming our way.”
The Reverend knew he had to address what happened. He had the congregation gather in the church. He always hated the Muslims but he was struggling at the thought of children, Muslim or not. No food had been found that wasn’t guarded or spoiled from the power outage. He had to take drastic measures.
Before he could start a man ran into the church and hollered, “we found food!”
Everyone flooded out and saw an old pickup filled with boxes in the back. “Doritos” was written on the side in black ink.
“Hope you prefer nacho cheese,” the man said as he pulled one bag out of the truck bed and dropped it on the ground.
“Where did you find this?” the Reverend asked.
“On the highway. The truck must have broke down hauling it. Then we found this pickup on the side of the road with a flat. We changed the flat and filled it with these boxes from the truck. I hope we can go back and grab more before somebody else takes them.”
People we
re already stuffing their faces with the corn tortilla chips.
“This is a blessing from God!” the Reverend proclaimed. “This is how the lord rewards those that follow his will. If we are to survive we need to go to those that don’t deserve to be in this land and take back what is rightfully ours.”
That night the church celebrated their find and had two more loads of tortilla chips brought back to the church.
Afterwards they started to target businesses that they knew were owned by so called “foreigners.”
A convenience store owned by Indians was raided and the owner with his son killed. The Lord’s Army, a name Collins created, loaded up all the supplies and left the bodies to rot.
A gas station owned by a Sikh was attacked by the Lord’s Army. What little gasoline that was left in the underground tanks was pumped out by hand. All the food in the store was taken out. Collins thought it would be a good idea to send a message to all the other non-Americans. The Sikh was dragged out of the station and his body hung over the pumps. A sign was placed around his neck that said “Christian Nation.” That Sikh had fought along side American soldiers in the first Iraq war and later in Somalia. He used the Montgomery G.I. Bill to fund his way through college earning a business degree. He owned half a dozen gas stations around town employing thirty people across the city. He earned two purple hearts and was called the screaming Sikh by his brothers in the army. His hatred for Muslims was greater than any American could understand. Yet, he was killed for being one.
The food started to become more regular and with more of the stores they took the more weapons they acquired. Before the Reverend knew it he had what Collins already called the Lord’s Army.
Chapter 11
Hands still shaking Fatima drove down the spiraling ramp to leave the hospital. A week ago the power went out. Two weeks ago the capital of the country was nuked. She didn’t think things would fall apart as fast as they had. The taillights in front of her didn’t brake as they reached the exit and sped out into the street. She stopped for a second and turned left. She drove to the main strip of road that connected the city with the business district. She would pick up her boys and take them home where they would be safe. The lights didn’t work anymore and she stopped at all of them to make sure no traffic was coming from the cross streets. She felt like she was driving in the country with all of the lights out in the pitch black of night.
If things went well she would be at the daycare center in twenty minutes. She stopped at the next intersection and looked to her left. The popping sound of glass caused her to scream as she was covered in the small square specks. She brushed her hair back and found a man sitting in the passenger seat of her car.
“Get out,” he said. She had seen him at the hospital before. One of the regulars always in for being intoxicated. He was sweaty and going through withdraws. She couldn’t count how many time she had taken care of him. “Get out,” he repeated.
“I know you. I took care of you,” she said.
He paused for a second.
“You think I give a fuck? Get out.” He pointed the gun at the ceiling and fired it.
She didn’t remember opening the door or falling out of the car, but there she was on the asphalt. The man in the car screamed as he cupped his ears. He crawled in her seat and pulled the door shut. She could see his ears bleeding from the concussion of the gun. He put the car in drive and sped off down the road. She was left in the dark.
The bag of medical supplies Dr. Hartman had given her was gone. Her pepper spray in the her purse was gone. Money and ID were gone. She had nothing but her name badge and some food in her pocket she never gave to the cleaning guy on the roof. She moved away from the street and walked down the sidewalk. She didn’t know what else to do.
The daycare center was miles away. Funny how things were convenient when you had a car. The air was getting cold. She could see the crystals of moister falling in the moon light as a cloud revealed the white waxing oval. Pulling her coat closed she tried to keep her body heat locked inside.
After two blocks she started looking for a place to sleep. She couldn’t remember when the last time she had eight hours of sleep.
She found a car on the side of the road and the doors were unlocked. She crawled inside assuming it was abandoned after the EMP.
Once her eyes closed she was in a deep sleep.
The sound of breaking glass jolted her awake. She instantly remembered the car jacking. She looked around and found all the windows intact. The glass was fogged over from her breath. She wiped some glass clean and watched two people climbing through a picture window they had smashed. The bagel shop might have something inside worth taking. She looked around the street and didn’t see anything to concern her. She stepped out of the car and shut the door. She hurried down the street away from the looters.
A few blocks away she started to question if the people were truly looters when her stomach started to grumble. If they were simply trying to survive, was it a crime to take food that others weren’t taking? She pulled the jerky from her pocket and tore open the wrapper. She could smell the teriyaki flavoring the moment it was opened and her mouth watered. She stuffed a large piece in and chewed for a few seconds.
A few minutes later the bag was empty and she was running the end of her finger across the bottom picking up the small pieces that remained. She found a public trash can and placed it inside. She laughed to herself as she did it, but didn’t see the point in making the world a dirtier place than it was. She wondered who was going to empty the metal bin. Either way it was in it’s place. She continued walking.
An hour later she could feel a blister growing on her foot. Her shoes were not meant for walking. She stopped and took the shoe off looking at her foot there was a bubble filled with fluid waiting to burst. She contemplated popping it but knew it would only bleed afterwards. She either needed a ride or new shoes and she had neither option. She put the shoe back on and continued down the street.
An hour later and only a mile further she saw smoke rising down the street. She saw her car sitting on the side of the road. She ran up to it. Walking with a limp, her blister was now open. She looked in the drivers side window and saw the man that had car jacked her. He had managed to wrap the front of the car around a telephone pole. The airbag had gone off, but that sent him over the steering wheel since he never put the seatbelt on. His head rest outside of the windshield with his skull split open. She checked his pulse. He didn’t have one. She opened the drivers side door and popped the trunk open with the switch. Lifting the truck lid she saw her gym bag inside and her tennis shoes.
“Never thought I would be so happy to see you,” she said kicking her work shoes off and putting the socks over her bleeding feet. She put the shoes on and found them a little more comfortable. The damage was already done. Unless she stopped walking her feet would remain in pain. She grabbed the gym bag, stuffed the medical supplies inside, and pocketed the pepper spray and wallet. There wasn’t anything else in the car of value. She took one last look at the man in the drivers seat.
“Karma is a bitch,” she said as she walked away leaving his corpse there.
She took the photo of her boys out of her wallet and looked at it. She didn’t need the reminder of where she was going or why. The picture gave her comfort and made her feel like they were with her already. She pictured their smiles and laughter. She could feel their arms around her. The smell of their hair filled her head. She was walking faster. She blocked the pain from her mind.
A few blocks later she started to see people in the streets. They had guns and were raiding a gas station. A man with a turban was dragged outside. The turban was knocked off his head and he scrambled across the ground to grab it. He couldn’t allow himself to not show his humility to God. Before he could put it back on one of the laughing men shot him in the head. Fatima ran behind a row of bushes to hide herself from the men.
She couldn’t believe what she had just seen. She wanted
to run over and check the man and see if she could save him. There was no chance outside of a surgery room and trauma center. The man wouldn’t live even if he had pulse. She crawled behind the bushes and tried to get away from the area. As she passed by the doorway of the building, an arm came out and pulled her inside. She was about to scream but a hand covered her mouth and a man’s face appeared above her with a finger over his lips.
“Shhh,” he said as he lifted his hand from her mouth. She stayed quiet and looked back at the door seeing that it was closed. “Stay quiet. Can’t let them know we are in here,” the man said.
“Who are you? What is going on?” she whispered.
“I am Amir. Those men are from the Lord’s Army,” he said.
“Lord? What lord?” she said.
“Jesus, I assume,” he said peeking out the window to see where the men were. “Come we must leave out the back. Get far away from here.”
“I need to get my sons,” she said.
“Where are they?” Amir asked.
“A few miles away,” she said.
“If it’s a few miles away from here. The further the better.”
They went out the back door and disappeared down the alley. From that moment on they stayed off the main streets. They traveled slow and stayed out of sight. Fatima wanted to rush, but couldn’t move fast with her feet. She couldn’t help her boys if she died on the way.
The sun was setting and Fatima couldn’t believe she wasn’t there yet. Amir checked a few doors of buildings trying to find a place to spend the night. They found an air soft course that was abandoned. The doors were left open since there was nothing to steal. The warehouse that had been converted into an arena had an old Jaguar car inside. The tires were flat and the motor had not run in years. Fatima crawled onto the cold leather and knew it would be a miserable night. She looked forward to seeing her boys tomorrow. She took her sweat shirt out of her gym bag and put it on trying to create layers to conserve body heat. Amir sat in the passenger seat and laid it back.
“We should be safe here tonight,” he said. “What is your name?”
Remnants of the Day- The Lost Years Page 8
