Resurrection

by Michael Clements

  About four boys lived inside. The place reeked of marijuana smoke and cigarettes. The boy who answered the door led them to one of the apartment’s two bedrooms, and sure enough, there was Kayla, unconscious on the bed.

  “Kayla,” said Ethan, sitting beside her, “you awake at all?”

  She opened her eyes, then squinted. “Ethan?” she groaned. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He peered closely at her eyes. They were bruised, and sunken. He’d heard of what that could mean. He lifted the blanket some. “Don’t…Ethan…” said Kayla, trying to resist, but was apparently too weak to move. That was when Ethan saw bruises on her right arm.

  No more denial, Ethan told himself. Then, he looked at Sierra saying, “From prostitution to drugs…” Covering Kayla with the blanket, he said, “We’re leaving.” He left the room immediately.

  Sierra waited a moment before following. “Where are we going?”

  Ethan said nothing until they were back in her car. “I need you to drop me off somewhere.” Sierra agreed, reluctantly. She started the car and began pulling out of the lot. “After you drop me off, don’t come back here.”

  Less than half an hour later, Ethan returned in a different car. Andrew, to whom the car belonged, was riding shotgun. Ethan parked parallel to the apartment complex, positioning the back seats in a straight line with the front door.

  “We’re putting Kayla in the back seat,” said Ethan to Andrew, who couldn’t have looked more nervous. “Make sure that happens when I come back out with her.”

  “Hey, Ethan, I don’t think–”

  Ethan had already unlocked the back seat door behind him and left the car. He knocked on the door. The moment it opened, he saw Sierra and, behind her, Roland.

  “Look, Ethan, nobody wants trouble,” said Sierra.

  “Kayla’s cousin!” Roland said loudly, less like a polite greeting and more like a sarcastic, impersonal greeting, intended make Ethan feel insignificant.

  “I’m here to take her away,” said Ethan, forcing the door open, colliding Sierra’s nose with it.

  Roland pulled handgun on him. “Whoah, buddy, you’re not taking…”

  Ethan didn’t think. He backhanded the weapon with his left hand, redirecting it, and then punched Roland in the throat with his right. Roland reflexively fired it, lodging a gaping hole in the wall. Sierra gasped, and the other boys in the house stepped backward in fear. Since Roland hadn’t relinquished the gun, Ethan kicked Roland’s knee while holding the weapon with both his hands. Before Roland fell onto his back, the weapon slipped through his fingers. “Don’t follow me,” warned Ethan. Roland was in partial shock, and groaning in pain as Ethan frisked him, finding no additional weapons.

  Tucking the gun into the back of his pants, Ethan ran to Kayla’s room. He threw back the blanket then picked her up. If she was saying or doing anything in protest, Ethan was too pumped with adrenaline to notice. Quickly, he carried Kayla outside, where Andrew was waiting with the back door already open. He got into the back with Kayla and shouted, “Drive!”

  TYSON

  Howlers and rioters dominated the streets of all West Portland, he realized. Logic and sense determined that the troops had lost control, and it was only a matter of time before the madness spread to the reclaimed areas. Tyson’s legs were failing him, but what truly pained him was the thought that the city was lost. His efforts to bring balance only descended the city further into ruin. He saw signs posted on front lawns, graffiti plastered across signs and posts, and people raving, all in agreement that the troops were to blame for the state of things.

  “Keep up!” Ethan ordered him.

  “It’s… It’s…” exhaled Tyson painfully. The two had just encountered a house burning bright. Lying motionless on the street in front of it was a man in uniform. “We’re finished,” he whispered to himself.

  “Colonel!” shouted Ethan as he threw Tyson beside a car. There were two enraged rioters charging at him from behind, having been drawn to his own uniform. Once out of the way, Ethan unsheathed a machete from his belt and stuck it in the first man, then resorted to fists with the second. Ethan got the second man on the ground and dropped his weight on the man’s neck. Wasting not one second, Ethan pulled the blade from the first man then said, “They’re on to us. Come on!”

  Tyson found himself being forced back onto his feet. Ethan carried him by one arm around his shoulders as they made their way onto a residential street that seemed somewhat quieter.

  “How much farther?” asked Ethan, demanding an answer with his tone.

  “At least two miles…”

  “We can make it, but you have to carry more of your own weight. You’re the soldier. MOVE!”

  Even in his broken state, Tyson couldn’t disobey. As Ethan helped him limp, and sometimes run, he noticed the irony, being of high rank and relying on the aid of a professional criminal. There was no time for pride, though. Ethan was all that kept him alive. While witnessing the destruction unfolding before him, his spirit was broken, and at that moment cared nothing for his wellbeing. Fallon, Adrian, Connor, Paige… They were his motivation. Surrender was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

  Once again, Ethan threw him beside a car, then used it as cover as he crouched, looking over the hood. “You have a gun?”

  Tyson shook his head. “Why? Don’t you?” he asked, breathing deep, holding his aching head. “You’re unarmed?”

  “Outgunned. I’ll have to make due.” Ethan extracted a small pistol from an inside coat pocket.

  “Give me the blade.” Ethan looked at him as if offended. “I have nothing here!” Ethan unclipped the sheath, then dropped it on the Colonel. Mustering all the strength he could, Tyson sat up, extracted the blade, and prepared himself. “Assessment?”

  “Some old truck with a full bed full of lunatics.”

  “Are they in pursuit?”

  “I’d use the word ‘stalking.’” Ethan cocked his hand-sized gun. Tyson had more confidence in Ethan’s ability to fight than to shoot.

  The two waited patiently until the truck was much closer. In the near distance they heard the truck party shouting taunts like, “Get up, soldier!” and “Chicken shit!” Tyson saw Ethan leaning against the car, frozen, and eyes unblinking. He prayed Ethan had a plan, and wasn’t going into shock from fear.

  Ethan abruptly dove onto his belly, aimed his pistol underneath their cover, and fired two shots. Loud pops followed, as air leaked from two nearby tires, grinding metal against the road. The truck slammed on the brakes, and all the rioters in the truck shouted profanities. Ethan got up, seized Tyson by the wrist, and dragged him across the sidewalk, across a lawn, then up against the nearest house. He fired a round at the window then broke the remaining glass with his elbow. He hoisted Tyson through first.

  Tyson landed on glass shards, but could deal with the cuts for the time being. When Ethan came in after, the gang outside was already firing shots at them. Both hid behind furniture since the bullets were piercing through the wall with relative ease.

  “Ethan!” called Tyson. “We can’t stay! Back door! Now!”

  With the help of an adrenaline rush, Tyson shot up and ran for the back of the house, with Ethan following immediately behind. Through the back yard, jumping the fence, and making their way to the street again, it seemed they successfully escaped the hostiles.

  “Clark!” called the perimeter guard.

  “Hoover!” replied Tyson.

  The soldiers protecting the border called forth an additional few to provide cover whilst they cleared an opening. “What happened?” one asked.

  “This is Colonel Corwin,” answered Ethan. “He’s hurt, but he’ll make it.” He gave Tyson to the guards, then once lifted off him, Ethan bolted in the opposite direction.

  “Ethan!” called Tyson, concerned and confused.

  “Keep it open!”

  Part of him wanted to believe Ethan had nefarious intent, but he
ignored the feeling after reminding himself that Ethan had proven his trustworthiness. Once Tyson crossed in, he ordered the men, “Leave it open until he returns!”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Who is he, sir?” They looked at each other. “We’ve never seen him before.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Stand down!”

  The same soldier then asked, “Yes, sir. Can we bring you further in, for your safety, though?”

  They had a point, so he let them bring him to a Jeep parked in the middle of the street. He got himself in, then was driven toward the residential area. Along the way, he contacted Fallon via radio.

  “Oh my god! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Do you have any available units?”

  Fallon informed him which squad was on standby at the moment, and Tyson told her to send them, and the specifics on where and how. His plan was to ensure Ethan returned safely, while preventing a potential wave of invaders.

  A ten minute drive later, when Tyson was dropped off at Fallon’s facility, his wife rushed out to greet him at once. “I heard what happened. I’m so glad you’re in one piece. Ethan helped you get out?”

  “Yes. Fortunately for us, he’s not on his sister’s side. Any word on him?”

  Fallon looked back at one of her staff, who nodded to her. “Yeah, we heard he came back with a hostage.”

  “Make sure they both get here.”

  “Is it wise to trust him to be here?” asked Fallon with tremendous concern.

  “He’s on our side, love.”

  “The Krohns are devious. He could be leading us into–”

  “I trust him, Fal. Now, you’re going to have to trust me on this. Okay?” She nodded. “Bring Ethan and his prisoner here. He might be on to something important.”

  Seemingly every soldier in the zone was present at that late hour of the night. When Ethan was transported over, in a sheriff’s Crown Victoria no less, he was the first to exit the vehicle. When the driver unlocked the back seat, Ethan pulled his hostage out with fury. He dragged the man off the sidewalk and pinned his face against its edge. “Tell me what you saw!” shouted Ethan.

  Some nearly pulled Ethan away, and Fallon looked to her husband with concern, but Tyson waved them off.

  “We saw you,” said the hostage, who Tyson discerned was in his early twenties, and likely had been dragged into Lilith’s regime for survival’s sake. Fragile, non-aggressive, no attempt at self-defense… Nothing about the man indicated he’d remain faithful to Lilith, or any other gang. “We saw you with these fucks,” laughed the man. “The boss is gonna know. She prob’ly knows already.”

  Ethan was done. He stood idly for a moment, then looked to the Colonel, with concern and possibly fear in his eyes.

  “Nobody could have known it was you,” said Fallon to Ethan.

  “It doesn’t matter. Few people could help Tyson escape, or have a reason to.”

  “A reason to?” asked Tyson.

  “I never supported her war effort.” He looked at the troops surrounding him. “Nor yours.”

  It couldn’t possibly have been more apparent that the zone was in a dire situation now. Both resident and soldier were at risk, perhaps even if Ethan had not gotten involved.

  “What should we do, honey?” asked Fallon.

  “Our mere presence in the city puts lives at risk. We’re clearly not wanted here.” Tyson looked to his wife, and then his comrades. “We need to evacuate…”

  –––––––

  An exit strategy was in order. Tyson and the other leaders, both military and civilian, were tasked with the near-impossible: organizing a mass exodus in less than a day. Upon realizing this, Tyson had ordered Ethan’s hostage released back to his people, unharmed, and moved everyone inside to Fallon’s offices.

  Tyson and Ethan waited for Fallon in the hall outside her office, standing against opposite walls. “You’ve played a dangerous game, Ethan,” said Tyson.

  “No game,” replied Ethan.

  “No game? Then, it’s time you honor your end of our agreement.” Ethan was silent, averting his eyes. “Did you forget, Ethan? That agreement is the only reason I didn’t incarcerate you the moment we met.” Ethan remained ever silent, his posture suggesting he was uncomfortable. “Where is your sister, Ethan?”

  “I helped you locate Marcus Solomon. I’ve given you payment.”

  “But that was not our accord. A debt still needs to be paid. It was your terms, Ethan, not mine. Your offer. You would surrender her hideouts, and every other secret you may have knowledge of, if she were to oppose us.”

  Ethan bit his lip. “At times, you sound just like one of us… You know, I didn’t think she’d take it this far…”

  “All the more reason to give her to us. All you have to do is tell us where to find her.”

  Fallon approached from down the hall, with no personal assistants as he had expected. She was accompanied by Tyson’s lieutenants, though. As she opened her office and everyone stepped inside, Fallon reported, “There were about two-dozen survivors of the Krohn ambush.”

  “Did my First Lieutenant survive? I need his help now more than ever.”

  “You need everyone now more than ever. Yes, Malachi is here, but he’s not in fit condition.”

  The couple entered Fallon’s private office while the others remained outside. “If he can talk, he’s in fit condition. Please bring him here.”

  “I will,” said his wife.

  “Oh…” he added. “Bring Ethan as well.”

  Some minutes later, Fallon returned with them both, closing the door behind her. Though Malachi was hardly in any condition to move, Tyson shook his hand. “Good to see you,” he said.

  “Likewise, sir.” Malachi looked to Ethan, who remained standing in the corner next to the door. “Who’s joining us?”

  Reluctantly, Tyson answered, “This is Ethan Krohn. Twin brother of our … number one suspect.”

  “You trust him, sir?”

  “Yes, I trust him. I have good reason to. Now, we need to cut to the chase. We have a situation on our hands.”

  “I heard, sir,” said Malachi. “I was present when … Ethan … humanely dealt with his hostage.”

  Tyson laid everything out. “Portland is no longer safe. Family, friends, allies… They’re all in danger now that Lilith Krohn has seized control of the mob. She has experienced criminals and gangsters on her side; she has most citizens on her side as well, even if they don’t have any true devotion to her. She has made it clear that she is seeking more power. She’s taking over territory after territory. The more she moves, the stronger she gets. Am I correct so far, Ethan?”

  “I don’t know what her end goal is, but in essence, yes, she won’t stop until she controls the city and the whole metropolitan area.”

  Malachi spoke bluntly. “If she needs to be eliminated, we should send Ethan to do that.”

  Ethan scowled. “I’d never kill my sister.”

  “We may not have a choice here,” replied Malachi. “Thousands of lives are in danger…”

  “Could you kill your family?” Ethan rhetorically asked. Malachi didn’t respond. “I didn’t think so. Besides, even if I was willing, she knows what side I’m on now. Family or not… I can’t get within ten feet of her again.”

  Fallon had been searching for a map while they were talking, and finally found one. She laid it out on the desk, on top of all the documents and scraps. “So, we need to evacuate. Where can we go in such short notice?” The map displayed all of Oregon and southern Washington.

  When Tyson examined it, he became frustrated that it was a geographical map instead of a road map. “Do we have a road map?” he asked Fallon. She shook her head. “Very well, then.” He sighed heavily. “Okay, what we need is a place that can hold a massive influx of refugees, but more importantly, one that’s willing to. It doesn’t need to be a city. In fact, it might be better if it wasn’t. Ethan, is there any nearby l
ocation that your sister has no influence in?”

  He shook his head. “Every square foot within a twenty-five-mile radius belongs to her. We can’t stay close. We need to move far.”

  “Will she follow us if we leave?”

  “She wants all opposition gone, so I doubt she will pursue us if we leave.”

  Malachi raised his hands. “Sir, if I may… Is it really wise to run?”

  Tyson leaned back in the chair. “Explain…”

  “Well, sir… I mean, we’re soldiers. We just don’t cower.”

  Ethan, of all people, chuckled at that. “Your kind ought to understand what a hopeless situation is better than most.”

  “My kind?” said Malachi, aggressively. “Don’t even get me started on your kind, Ethan. It’s people like you that put America in this situation in the first–”

  “Enough! Both of you!” ordered the Colonel. “Fight about this later, when our people are safe. Alright, if the Portland area is not an option, where is?”

  Fallon asked, “Do we have any assessments of other towns?”

  “I don’t know, honey, because I thought you would know the answer to that.”

  “Every other jurisdiction I’ve worked with has had problems with their population. Woodburn, Wilsonville, Sherwood, Tigard, Tualatin, Hillsboro… They’re all a mess. They couldn’t take us for sure. We have five thousand people to evacuate. It’ll be a miracle if any place could take us in.”

  “Looks like we’ll need to takeover,” said Ethan. The others looked at him suspiciously. “You’ve been talking about innocent lives here. If no place can take us in, we have to force them.”

  Silence…

  Tyson pondered deeply, but still had no ideas. Every option was either immoral, or impractical.

  “Truth is…” began Fallon. Tyson put a hand on his wife’s back as she continued. “Wherever we go, we need to plan on staying there. For a year, maybe a few years… Maybe permanently.”

  Tyson understood the full gravity of that fact. A place that’s secure, isolated, and can sustain all of us without the need for outside help… Then, he came up with an idea. “The coast,” he said. “Honey, what’s your assessment of the coastal towns?”