by Harley Tate
He pushed down on the bent paperclip and shoved the unfolded one into the remaining space inside the lock. With his one hand maintaining downward pressure, Walter raked the straightened paperclip toward him, attempting to lift the pins inside the lock and unlock the front door.
Leave it to the student health center to cheap out on their hardware. A simple lock like this was easy to pick, even if it took a few tries. After raking his hand several more times, he heard a pin move. That’s it. A handful more attempts and another two lifted. He tried the handle. It turned.
“How did you do that?”
Peyton’s hushed question made him smile. “Practice.”
He wished he could be doing this mission alone. To risk his daughter and her friends for the sake of his wife and a man none of them knew too well didn’t seem fair. But he couldn’t keep Madison away, and her friends would be an asset whether Walter wanted to admit it or not.
With a deep breath, Walter leaned back and let out a cardinal’s call—three small chirps, a pause, then another three. Hopefully Madison and Brianna were ready. He turned to Peyton as he stood. “Stay close.”
Walter pulled a pistol from his waistband before swinging the door open. As it shut behind them, Walter clicked on his flashlight. He would have loved a little tactical version—something made of cast aluminum with rugged notches for grip and an adjustable beam. But the cheap trunk flashlight he scavenged from the rental car would have to do. Between that and the paper clips, that car was coming in handy.
With a flick on and off of the flashlight, Walter assessed the situation, handgun light and easy in his shooting hand. They stood in a waiting area about the size of Walter’s living room before it turned to ash.
Nothing looked disturbed. Either they were incredibly lucky and the health center hadn’t been looted or whoever was hiding out had been neat and tidy.
A hallway beyond led deeper into the building and an elevator off to the right at one time gave access to the upper floors. Now it just sat frozen in place like a Lego brick for a giant.
Peyton clicked on his flashlight—a slim little thing sold by the checkouts at sporting goods stores. It wasn’t bad for a dollar. With an LED bulb, it might outlast them all.
Walter reached out and turned it off.
“Only use it when you have to. Quick bursts of light on and off. If there’s someone else in here, your flashlight will tell them exactly where you are. It’s easier to stay hidden in the dark.” He let the flashlight go. “Think firefly, not floodlight.”
Peyton shifted beside him. “Got it.”
“Good.” Walter motioned toward the wall. “Check the directory. See if you can find the pharmacy. I’m going to scope out the reception area.”
Peyton headed for the far wall and Walter turned toward reception. The desk sat empty, a coffee mug abandoned on the top along with a stack of papers and a cup full of pens.
He leaned against the wall and used three bursts of light in different areas to scope inside the space. Empty. Walter hopped the desk and landed in a crouch. With his gun in his right hand and flashlight in his left, Walter crossed his arms at the wrists and crept forward.
There were so many places to hide. So many dead areas. He pulsed the light again.
Walter hadn’t trained in ground combat or urban warfare since before Madison was born. Sure, he could shoot a handgun and a rifle and kept in shape, but he was no seasoned infantry Marine. He forced a breath into his lungs.
All that mattered was keeping his daughter and his wife safe and finding antibiotics. He shoved his momentary doubt aside. His family came first. He would walk through hell and back out again if it meant they could survive.
He flicked the light and climbed back over the desk. Peyton stood by the directory, not moving in the darkness. “Did you find it?”
“Suite 108. I’m assuming that’s somewhere here on the first floor.”
Walter nodded. “Stay behind me. We’ll have to clear the hall and any rooms as we approach. If a gunfight starts, take cover anywhere you can.”
“I can shoot. I’m not great at it, but I can shoot.”
“I’d rather keep you alive. If I’m worried about where you are, I won’t be as effective. Got it?”
Peyton grumbled his acceptance and Walter pressed forward. They needed to get on with it. With Madison and Brianna sneaking in the back, Walter had to clear the first floor and find the pharmacy as soon as possible.
He headed toward the hallway. Without any light from outside, the building was pitch black. No amount of adjusting to the darkness would give his eyes enough light to see. He turned on the flashlight and swept the hall.
Nothing.
Maybe they really were lucky.
Approaching the first door, Walter reached for the handle.
Chapter Six
TRACY
Parking lot, CSU Chico
7:00 p.m.
Sitting around waiting for her husband, daughter, and two more college kids to return from a drug run wasn’t how Tracy envisioned a single night of her life unfolding. But there she was, stuck with an injured hand and no way to help. She snorted her frustration out her nose and spun around.
“Enough waiting. We need a camp.”
Tucker glanced up from his spot on the trunk of the Jetta. “What do you mean?”
“A place to stay and regroup for a day or two. If everyone makes it out of the student health center alive and they get medicine, Drew needs to take it and rest. We can’t go anywhere until he’s a bit more stable.”
Tucker turned and peered into the back of the Jetta. “Do you think antibiotics will even work?”
Tracy wished she knew. “All we can do is hope. But in the meantime, we can make him more comfortable and give us all a place to rest. If we stay up in shifts, at least we can all get a few hours of sleep later.”
“Makes sense.” Tucker pointed up the road. In the growing dark, they couldn’t see anything beyond the buildings at the edge of the parking lot. “Houses start about a block that way. When we drove by, they didn’t look all that bad. I bet we can find one to use for a while.”
“Good. I’ll check on Drew and secure the Jetta. You put anything away that came from the Jeep and lock it up. We can check out the houses together.”
Tracy walked over to the rear seat where Drew rested and bent down to feel his pulse. His heart still pumped, but his breath came even more shallow than the last time she had checked. Even if they did get him medicine, it might be too late. Tracy pushed up to stand and eased the door shut.
As long as Drew stayed still, no one would notice him from the road. They couldn’t keep an enterprising thief from breaking into the cars, but hopefully they wouldn’t be gone for long.
Tracy locked the doors to the Jetta and pocketed the keys as Tucker did the same with the Jeep. As they met between the vehicles, she handed him a flashlight. “Only use it if you have to. I’m hoping we can get all the way to the houses without them.”
“What about weapons?”
“I’ll bring a handgun. As long as we stay together, we should be fine.”
Tucker’s head bobbed up and down, his black hair blending into the dark as he turned toward the street. “Let’s see what we can find.”
Tracy led the way, keeping close to the shadows and as concealed as possible. Just as Tucker promised, after they cleared the block, the school buildings gave way to little houses tucked close to the sidewalk, front porches barely visible in the night.
Motioning for Tucker to stop, Tracy pointed up at the first house. “Do you remember which ones were still intact?”
“Most of them, actually. I only saw one or two that had any kind of damage.”
“All right.” Tracy made her way farther down the sidewalk, passing the first two houses with her gun held loose, but firm in her good hand. “We’ll pick the farthest one off the street on this block.”
Six houses. All appeared fine, like the owners were nestled away sa
fely inside, without a care in the world. Tracy didn’t know if they were occupied, vacant, or harboring people just like themselves. But they needed a place to sleep.
She backtracked, stopping in front of a pale house with dark shutters. “Let’s try this one. “It’s got good cover from the trees for the second story windows.”
Tucker nodded and the pair approached the front porch. Tracy touched Tucker on the arm. “Wait at the foot of the stairs. Let me check it out first while you watch the street.”
He did as she instructed and Tracy climbed up to the front porch. A swing hung from the porch ceiling to her right and a dead potted plant greeted her beside the front door. If anyone was still home, they’d given up on the flowers a few days before.
She reached for the door handle. It turned. Was that a good thing or not? Tracy didn’t know. She pushed the door open and waited, wishing she had training for this sort of thing. Breaking into houses wasn’t in a librarian’s skill set.
“It’s unlocked. I’m going in.” Tracy didn’t wait for Tucker to respond. Instead, she ducked inside and braced herself. If anyone wanted to shoot her, now would be the best time. She couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her.
After counting to two hundred, she stuck her head back out the front door. “Come on in.”
Tucker appeared by her side a moment later. “Is it clear?”
“I have no idea.” Tracy shut the door behind him and flicked on a small flashlight. “But I can’t see anything, so we’ll have to use this.”
Tucker clicked on his own. “Let’s split up.” He moved the beam around the house, lighting up a small entry, an empty living room, and stairs leading up to the second floor. “I’ll take the upstairs.”
Tracy nodded. “I’ll start on this floor. We can meet back here.”
“I’ll shout if there’s a problem.”
Tracy watched Tucker climb the stairs and disappear down the hall before heading off on her own. Making her way through the open living and dining rooms and into a small, but tidy kitchen, she grew more relieved every minute. From the lack of upset, it appeared whoever lived there had packed and left when the power went out or hadn’t been home at the time.
The house was full of nice furniture, old but well-maintained. It struck her as a professor’s place, but they were in the middle of spring semester, so it didn’t make sense. A professor would be teaching, not on vacation.
Then it clicked: spring break. UC Davis had been on spring break. CSU Chico must have been as well. From the looks of the rest of campus, it appeared a good number of kids had stayed on campus, but it made sense for a professor to take a few days off.
She entered the back hall and found a tastefully furnished bedroom and half bath before walking into a home office.
With books lining the walls from the floor to the ceiling and a desk sitting in the middle, it had all the feel of scholarly learning combined with a sense of home Tracy would never have again.
A worn plaid blanket was draped over the arm of a wood captain’s chair on wheels. Tracy ran her fingers across the wool.
Never again would she relax with a cup of coffee and stare out her kitchen window at the flowers spilling over the pots in her backyard.
Never again would she sit with Walter on the couch and watch a ball game, waving at the occasional neighbor who walked by.
She eased down into the chair and spun to face the desk. Picture frames dotted the top, full of smiling faces of a man and a woman. In one, they stood in front of a scenic tropical backdrop, grinning as they held up hands with matching wedding bands. In another they waved from atop a small mountain, nothing but blue sky in the distance.
Treasured memories of the everyday world. The one they had all taken for granted. The one that ceased to exist in the blink of an eye. No more baby clothes or handmade Christmas stockings. No more flipping through yearbooks or photo albums.
Everything Tracy had held onto for Madison’s entire life, gone up in smoke. Turned to ash.
Maybe it was for the best. Losing everything made leaving that much easier. She knew they would have to do it eventually. But it still hurt. She wiped at her eyes with her good hand and stood up. Memories would have to suffice.
Tracy couldn’t dwell on the past. Every second she delayed was a second she put her family at risk. She took a step when a sticky note on top of the desk caught her eye.
SMF to LGA, Saturday 8:10 a.m.
Hotel Indigo Lower East Side, 4 p.m. check-in
LGA to SMF, Thursday 10:17 p.m.
If the note described the travel plans of the husband and wife who called this house a home, the chances of them ever making it back were slim. Flights weren’t leaving LaGuardia or landing in Sacramento any time soon.
Tracy took one last look around and strode out of the room to find Tucker waiting by the front door.
“It’s all clear upstairs. I think whoever lives here left on vacation.”
“I agree. Let’s check out the back and then we can move the cars over.”
Tucker nodded. “There’s a detached garage at the end of the lot. We might be able to stash at least one back there.”
After confirming the garage and the backyard held nothing but tidy tools and withered tomatoes, Tracy and Tucker moved the two vehicles and unloaded as much as feasible with only two sets of arms and one damaged hand. After securing the cars, they hauled a practically unconscious Drew into the house.
As Tucker propped the man’s legs up on the living room sofa, Tracy stood up and stretched. “Now that Drew’s safe, one of us should go back and wait.” She shined her flashlight on her analog watch. “They should be back any time.”
“I’ll do it. You can relax and keep an eye on Drew.”
Part of Tracy didn’t want to expose Tucker to any more risk. He’d been through so much already. They all had. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. You rest. I’ll head back.”
Tracy nodded and watched in silence as Tucker grabbed a bottle of water and pocketed his flashlight. He eased out the front door and stood on the step, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, before heading back toward the student health center.
Once he disappeared from view, Tracy locked the front door and sat on the upholstered bench in the front window. Her hand throbbed from too much exertion and the occasional bump of the wound. She hated not being fully capable.
Staring out into the dark of the university town, Tracy tried to keep the internal demons at bay. Her husband and daughter were out there, searching for medicine because of her. If something happened to one of them, she didn’t know if she could forgive herself.
So many things had happened in such a short time. If this was only the beginning, what lay ahead? How much harder would it get? How many of them would make it?
After pulling the handgun from her waistband, Tracy checked to make sure it was loaded and ready and set it in her lap. All she could do was wait and pray.
Chapter Seven
WALTER
Student Health Center, CSU Chico
7:30 p.m.
The second the handle turned, Walter knew they weren’t alone. It could have been a shuffling noise or a whisper from the other side or just the hair on the back of his neck, but he knew.
As the door swung open, Walter pulsed his flashlight beam. Nothing obvious.
Damn it.
His heart thudded like a freight train chugging up a mountainside. In or out. In or out.
There wasn’t a good option. Too little light, not enough men. He glanced at Peyton. Not enough experience.
If they could clear the room… The crack of something wooden connecting with Peyton’s head shocked Walter out of his hesitation. He spun, gun up, flashlight on.
A man stood in the hallway holding a block of wood like a baseball bat. A two by four, Walter guessed. With the light in the man’s eyes, he couldn’t see, but he could still swing. The wood flew in Walter’s direction. Even in the chaos, he could see the blood. Peyt
on’s blood.
All because Walter didn’t know what to do. Peyton sagged to the floor next to him, lifeless and awkward.
Was he dead? Unconscious? Bleeding out? Walter didn’t know and didn’t have time to wonder.
The man swung the weapon again, blind and full of fear and rage. He grunted as it whipped an inch in front of Walter’s face.
Walter couldn’t leave Peyton. The kid took up half the doorway, pushing the door open wide with his body.
The smart thing would be to retreat, get in a corner, somewhere, anywhere to protect Walter’s rear. But he couldn’t leave Madison’s best friend. If he died on Walter’s watch…
He had to act. Enough hesitating. Enough trying to do the right thing. His daughter was either inside or on the other side of the back door and Walter wasn’t going to let her be hurt or killed.
Worse.
The trigger pulled so easy. The gun had been used often, broken in until the pull was smoother than a hot knife through butter. The noise of the single shot pierced the silence.
The two by four clattered to the ground. Grabbing at his chest, the man sagged to his knees, blood coating his fingers and staining the pale blue of his shirt. In a minute, he would be dead. No one survived a gunshot wound to the heart. Not like this.
Walter spun, searching for the next threat. It came so fast. Screaming, running, a flash of a knife blade.
Screw turning the flashlight off, Walter needed to see what was coming. Once again he crossed his arms, gun in his right hand, wrist braced on top of his left arm holding the light.
No waiting. No hesitation. The second shot hit its target as well as the first. Walter couldn’t say whether the assailant had been black or white or tall or short. Fat or scrawny. All he saw was the knife and visions of his daughter.
His wife and Drew waited for medicine, counting on him to deliver. He couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t expose his family to this new life alone. The threats lurking inside that health center wouldn’t be making it out alive.
