Black Flag | Book 1 | Surviving The Scourge

by Klapwyk, Dave

  Joe stopped her and pushed the blinds back. “Get away from the windows.”

  “What are they doing?” asked Blender.

  Zach was still looking at his laptop. “Looks like they’re robbing Building Three.”

  “How would you know?” Blender walked back to the kitchen to grab his sandwich.

  “I have a camera set up outside that’s linked to my laptop. I’m watching it right now.”

  Joe walked over to Zach to look over his shoulder. “Where did you get a camera?”

  “I grabbed it from the Florento’s place, hooked it up last week. I have a couple of them set up.” He pointed to the screen. “This one is mounted on the top of Building One, looking across the street to Building Three. If I zoom in…”

  They were all gathered around Zach’s laptop. On the screen, they could see the entrance to Building Three. Some of them stood guard outside the entrance while others carried boxes, electronics, food and other items out to the waiting vehicles. Most of them were armed. They had bats, knives, machetes, a cricket bat, and one had a short shovel. Nobody carried a rake.

  “What’s that?” Joe pointed at a second-floor balcony near the top right of the screen.

  Zach fiddled with some buttons, and the view zoomed out.

  “No, over there.”

  “I’m working on it, hang on.”

  As Zach adjusted the controls, the picture shuddered briefly, then moved right, up, and then zoomed in on a balcony on the fourth floor.

  A large overweight man stood at the balcony doorway with one hand on his hip, and the other held a cricket bat that rested on his shoulder. A mother and her two young children sat cowering in the corner of the balcony. In front of them, the father stood between the mother and kids and the man with the cricket bat. He was holding his head, which appeared to be bleeding.

  “Is that a cricket bat?” Blender was eating his grilled cheese as he hovered with the others looking over Zach’s shoulder. “Who even plays cricket on this side of the pond?”

  Ayesha had to push her way through to see the screen. “That man looks like he’s hurt.”

  Joe stepped aside a little to give her a better view. “What are they doing? Zach, can we see the street?”

  “Can do.” He adjusted the controls again, so they could see the entrance to Building One and part of the street.

  “Can you zoom in further?”

  “No, that’s as good as it gets. This camera is mounted on the roof of the building, so that’s pretty far away.”

  “How many cameras do you have?”

  “Just two, and both are on your building. One on the roof and the other in the lobby.”

  They watched as men and some women carried their looted items to the waiting vehicles on the street.

  “It looks like they are robbing the whole building!” Joe pulled out his cell phone. “We better call the cops.”

  After an agonizing five minutes, he finally got through. The operator said the police are currently backlogged, but help was on the way.

  They watched for the next 20 minutes as Building Three was emptied of all food and valuables, and still, no police showed up. The sun had completed its final act of the day and retreated behind the dark curtain of the horizon.

  “What are they doing now?” Blender asked.

  The man with the white bandana was pointing across the street as others started marching towards Building One.

  “This is not good,” said Zach as he moved the mouse and clicked a different camera icon.

  The screen went black for a moment, then came back up. The screen showed the inside of the lobby. They were able to make out faces peering through from the outside.

  “What are we looking at, Zach?”

  “That would be the other camera in the lobby downstairs. I think we’re next.”

  Ayesha stepped back. “Are they coming to kill us?”

  “No, no, Ayesha, it will be fine. The police are on their way.” Joe said, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. He put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do.

  Blender was back in the kitchen. He was stuffing cans of food into a backpack. “We need to get out of here.”

  Joe looked up at him. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m packing up the food.”

  “Uh-oh.” Zach was still watching the screen. “They’re in.”

  Joe looked back at the screen as Ayesha moved closer to him and grabbed his arm. The armed gang had broken through the door and were now streaming into the lobby.

  “We’ve got to go,” said Joe.

  Blender paused his food stashing. “Where are we going to go if they are already in the building?”

  Ayesha was still clinging to his arm. “What if we just let them have our stuff, maybe they won’t hurt us.”

  Joe watched as Blender threw his backpack on, walked across the room and grabbed his bat. “What are you doing?” asked Joe.

  “I’m going to protect our food.” He stood at the door in a batter’s stance.

  “I don’t think so, Braveheart. We need to get to the roof.”

  Blender put his bat back down at his side. “Oh, good because I really don’t like fighting.”

  Joe walked towards the door. “Ayesha, Zach, let’s go. Now!”

  “Are we sure we don’t want to let Babe Ruth here take them on?” Zach closed the laptop and joined them at the door.

  Joe opened the door to the hallway and looked both ways. He couldn’t hear or see anybody.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  As they left, Blender pointed back to the apartment door. “Aren’t you going to lock your door?”

  “No. They’re going to get in anyways, no sense having a broken door too.”

  He led them to the closest stairwell. Following closely behind him was Ayesha. Behind her, still carrying his bat as menacing as he could, was Blender. At the back of the group was Zach. “Isn’t a cricket bat bigger than a baseball bat?”

  Blender looked back at Zach. “It’s not the size of the bat that counts, it’s how you-.” He stopped mid-sentence as Joe opened the stairwell door, and they heard yelling and footsteps coming from the stairs below. They froze as the footsteps got louder.

  “The other way!” Joe whispered loudly. They turned as one and ran down the hall in the opposite direction.

  Blender was now leading the pack as they passed the elevator doors. “What did I say last time about whispering loudly?”

  The elevator dinged behind them as they reached the stairwell at the other end of the hallway. Blender opened the door and let the rest of them go past. Just as Joe entered the stairwell, the elevator doors opened. Blender took off up the stairs. Joe stopped to look back through the small window in the stairwell door. One of the other tenants had opened their door at the same time as two burly men exited the elevator. The old man was Mr. Isper. He was over 75 but was always happy and full of energy. He was saying something to the men when one them pushed him to the ground. Another skinny man with long red hair came through the opposite stairwell doors. They all entered the old man’s apartment as the red-haired guy, who looked to be out of breath, walked towards Mr. Isper.

  “Are we going?” Ayesha appeared beside Joe, tugging at his arm as he watched through the window. Blender and Zach were already at the top of the stairs trying to open the door to the roof.

  “Joe, Ayesha,” Blender called down, “are you coming? The door’s locked.”

  Mr. Isper was yelling at the red-haired guy, his arms flailing.

  Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring. He removed the key for the roof and handed it to Ayesha. “Here, bring this to Blender and get on the roof. I’ll be there in a second.”

  She grabbed the keys and ran up the stairs. When Joe looked back through the window, Red was kicking Mr. Isper as he crouched in the fetal position on the floor.

  Joe ran through the open door and dove headfirst into Red, knocking him to the ground.
Joe was not a fighter and had rarely even been in a fight, except for joining the wrestling club for two years in high school. Red squirmed out from under Joe and stood up. Joe rolled over and came up in what he was sure was a fighting stance. His fists came up like Rocky Balboa. He had a few centimetres and about 10 kilograms on Red. He was feeling confident now that he had successfully knocked the guy over on his first charge. That confidence turned to fear when Red pulled a Crocodile Dundee sized knife out of his pants.

  Where was he keeping that knife?

  Joe glanced down at Mr. Isper. He wasn’t moving or making any noise.

  Rather than using his fists in a knife fight, he made a dash for his apartment door and almost fell inside. Red was right behind him. Joe looked around for anything he could use a weapon. He made a move to the knife block in the kitchen just as Red threw his knife. The large knife flew end over end and smacked Joe in the back of the head, handle first. The knife clanged across the floor. Both men dove across the kitchen floor towards the knife. Joe’s head was stinging, and his vision was a little blurry. Red easily beat him to the knife. Joe backed up on his butt, sliding backwards towards the rec room. Red stood above him with the knife in his hand.

  “End of the line, hero.”

  Joe reached behind him and felt around for something, anything he could use to fight. His right hand came across one of his favourite championship darts, which he immediately grabbed and threw with all his might towards Red. The dart shot through the air and lodged itself into the centre of Red’s forehead.

  That’s a triple 20.

  Red pulled the dart out and threw it to the ground. This gave Joe enough time to get to his feet and run through the rec room. He felt a sharp, hot pain in his left thigh and looked down to see Dundee’s knife sticking out the side of his calf. The knife then fell out of his leg and onto the ground. He yelled in pain and grabbed his leg, as he stumbled to the ground. Red was walking over but was having trouble seeing as blood now streamed down his forehead and into his eyes. He stumbled towards Joe, who was now up against the wall below the window. Red wiped the blood out of his eyes and charged. Joe grabbed the knife on the ground and staggered to his feet, just as Red plowed into him. Red’s hands were on Joe’s throat. He gasped for air but couldn’t breathe. It felt like his larynx was being crushed. Joe let go of the knife and tried to pull the hands away from his throat, but he was rapidly losing consciousness. The room seemed to spin, and his vision went blurry, and he closed his eyes.

  Suddenly he was able to breathe again. The hands around his neck loosened. He opened his eyes and looked back into his attacker’s face. He had a look of confusion on his face as he stared back at Joe. There was something wet on Joe’s stomach and below on his family jewels.

  Oh no! I’ve been stabbed in the balls. I’ll never have sex again!

  Red staggered back a step. The knife was protruding from his stomach. It was hilt deep, and blood was hemorrhaging from the wound. Joe stepped aside as Red began falling forward towards him. Red clasped at the window knocking the blinds down and revealing the open window behind it. He placed both hands down on the sill looking through the window into the black night.

  Joe wasn’t sure if he should run, punch him or help him. He took a step forward. “Are you okay? I should call someone or…”

  As he got closer, the man pulled the knife out of his stomach and stabbed clumsily towards Joe. He ducked, then slipped in the blood now pooled on the ground. Joe landed face-first in the blood. When he looked up, he could see Red had the knife in both hands above his head and was preparing to bring the knife down onto the back of Joe’s head. Joe grabbed both of the man’s ankles and pulled. Red fell backwards out the window and disappeared into the darkness, taking the knife with him.

  Joe sat for a moment, stunned. Then he heard talking and yelling outside the apartment door, and he broke out of his stupor. He scrambled to his feet. It sounded like someone was about to come through the open door, so he ran to the second door that was once Mr. Waxworth’s apartment door on the other side. Just as he reached it, a man with a white bandana with a black skull on it came through the first door. It was the cop-killing, rake wielding psycho who now carried a shotgun. Joe noticed that his nose looked a little crooked.

  For a moment, they both stopped and looked at each other. Then the man looked at the blood all over the floor below the open window and then back to Joe.

  Joe flung open the door and flew out into the hall. He tripped over Mr. Isper, who now appeared dead. Joe scrambled back to his feet and limped over to the far stairwell door. When he opened the door, he found Ayesha lying in the stairwell landing. Dead.

  He took a quick intake of breath and bent down. “Oh no, Ayesha.”

  “Joe!” she came back to life and wrapped her little black arms around his neck.

  “What…” the sound of Black Skull following in his footsteps and tripping over Mr. Isper brought Joe back to the other terrifying reality. The one where he was being chased by a man with a shotgun.

  He was about to race up the stairs to the roof, when he heard men banging on the doorway to the roof. He changed his mind and ran down the stairs, Ayesha still clinging to his neck. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. He ran down the stairs as fast as he could limp with the extra 35 kilograms strapped to his front. Black skull ran up the stairs thinking they had gone up, giving him a few precious seconds to descend two more floors.

  Joe could hear that more men had joined Black Skull in his pursuit. He opened the door to the 2nd floor, hoping they might think he had gone that way. However, it was the fire door and automatically closed. He took off one of his shoes, threw it into the 2nd floor hallway and stuck the other shoe into the doorway to keep it open. He limped down to the first floor and stopped, listening. It sounded like they were following his misdirection.

  The first floor was filled with other members of the raiding party, so he ran down the last flight into the basement level. He wasn’t sure if they were following him or not, but he didn’t want to find out. Joe began to run down the hallway when he heard people running down the opposite stairway. He put Ayesha down and reached for his keys, opened the door to his shop, and the two of them ducked inside. He turned on the light and locked the door.

  They could hear voices and footsteps in the hallway for a few minutes. At one point, someone banged on the door and tried to open it, but eventually, most of the voices and noises faded.

  The two of them sat quietly on the couch. Ayesha hugged her knees and started to shake.

  “What’s the matter, are you okay?” Joe asked. He wasn’t sure what to do. He tried to comfort her but was coming down off his own adrenaline high and had to force himself to not break down crying. The two of them sat there for almost ten minutes and were finally starting to calm down when Ayesha’s phone chirped.

  It was Zach. He and Blender were on the roof and were safe. Joe realized that he had lost his phone at some point. He told Ayesha to text Zach back and that they should all stay where they were until the cops showed up.

  “Hey, you’re bleeding.” She pointed to the blood covering his shirt and pants.

  “Oh no, that’s not mine.” He looked down at his shirt but then noticed the pain in his calf. He slowly unrolled his pants to reveal the still bleeding wound. “This blood, however, is mine.”

  “Are you shot?” Ayesha had an empathetic grimace on her face.

  “No, it’s only a flesh wound,” he said with a British accent.

  She looked back at him, confused. “And that’s a good thing?”

  “Never mind. I got a large knife thrown at me. Grab that cup, fill it with water and pour it over my wound.”

  She ran to the sink, filled a mug with water and emptied it slowly on his cut. Once the water washed away the blood, he could see that the slice wasn’t very deep.

  Ayesha pulled the first aid kit off the shelf and opened it. She dabbed at his leg with a piece of gauze. “Hold still.”

 
; “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “My mom’s a nurse. She did teach me something useful.” She pulled out a roll of gauze and proceeded to wrap his leg. “Where’s your wife?”

  “Gone. Ouch, be careful that hurts.”

  “Gone where?”

  He adjusted his position on the couch, which was suddenly uncomfortable. “She died 10 years ago.”

  “How?” She finished wrapping his leg and expertly tucked the end of the gauze under, so it was secure.

  “Cancer.” He pulled his pant leg back down over his wrapped leg, then got up to pour himself a cup of whiskey. “Do you want any water or anything?”

  She nodded, and he rinsed out a mug and filled it with water for her. He sat back down beside her.

  “That must have made you very sad,” she sipped from her mug as if she were savouring hot chocolate.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Your still sad.”

  “Yeah.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

  “What was her name?” She took another sip of her water.

  “Jenny.”

  “What was she like?” She put her mug down on the side of the couch.

  “She was perfect.”

  “How come you never found another wife?” Ayesha yawned and rubbed her eyes.

  “Never met the right person, I guess.”

  “Do you think you will ever find someone perfect?” She shifted closer to him and leaned her head on his arm.

  He looked down at her. “What are you, my therapist? You’re only 10 years old. What do you know about love?”

  “I’m 11, and I don’t know much about love. I don’t even think my mother loved me.” Her eyes closed as she talked.

  “Of course, she did. All mothers love their kids.”

  “What do you know about kids; you don’t even have any,” she said quietly. Her face was nuzzled up against him.

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “I have you,” he finally replied.

  She said nothing. He leaned his head forward and moved a black braid from her face. She was sleeping.