by Harley Tate
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MADISON
Sloane Residence
7:00 p.m.
Madison paced back and forth in the kitchen, a half-empty bottle of Gatorade in her hand. She wished it were beer or wine or even vodka. She didn’t drink, but she could start. It was the apocalypse after all; age limits no longer applied.
Peyton appeared in the doorway with dark circles under his eyes. He rubbed his shoulder. “I’d give a very special body part to have an ice pack right now.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“I’m not. I’m completely serious.”
“How is he?” Part of Madison didn’t want to know. Maybe if she didn’t think about him, then the man duct taped and tied to the iron bed in the master bedroom would disappear.
“The same as twenty minutes ago. Passed out cold. His head wound seems to have stopped bleeding though, so that’s good.” Peyton hesitated. “I think. Is it good?” He shook his head and walked over to the stack of Gatorades. “I don’t even know anymore.”
Madison agreed. “Last week we were gearing up for midterms and talking about summer vacation.”
“Now we’re deciding what to do with a guy some librarian we don’t even know tried to kill.”
“If she’d been trying to kill him, she’d have used a bullet. She was scared and reacted. Are you telling me that if the situation were reversed you wouldn’t have defended yourself?”
“I wouldn’t have put myself in that position in the first place.”
Madison sighed. It was easy for Peyton to say he wouldn’t have reacted the same way, but when a strange man busts through the bedroom window and tries to punch your lights out, he’s not there to introduce himself and invite everyone over for tea.
“Cut Wanda some slack. She’s trying. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be clean, remember?”
“Peyton grimaced as he surveyed his fingernails. “I’m not sure we’ll ever be clean again.”
Madison ran her hand through her hair. The strands still held onto enough grease to make her nose scrunch. “None of that matters. We need to figure out what to do with him. We can’t keep him tied up in there forever. His friends will come looking for him.”
“How do you know he has friends? He could be a loner. Does he look familiar?”
Madison exhaled. “I don’t really know my parents’ neighbors.” Oh, how she wished her mom and dad were back home. Thanks to the break-in and resulting prisoner, Madison had temporarily put her mom’s absence out of her mind. But thinking about the neighbors brought it back full force.
“They’ll be all right, Madison. Your mom is tough as nails. If they’ve run into trouble, she’ll find a way to bring Brianna and Tucker home.”
“Thanks.” She managed a small smile.
“Guys?” Wanda called out from the living room. “I hate to interrupt, but there are headlights in the driveway.”
“My mom!”
“Or someone looking for their friend.” Peyton reached for the shotgun. “We can’t be too careful.”
Madison nodded and pulled Wanda’s handgun out from her waistband. Ever since she almost bashed a man’s head in, Wanda said she didn’t want to touch it.
“I’ll take up position in the hall. You get behind the entertainment center. At the first sign of trouble, shoot.”
Peyton nodded and slipped behind the entertainment center as the lights out front shut off. Madison hid behind the corner of the wall leading to the bedrooms. Please be my mom. Please.
The door handle rattled, followed shortly by a knock. “Hey you jerks! Open up, it’s us!”
Madison exhaled in relief and rushed to the front door. She threw it open and wrapped Brianna up in a bear hug. “You’re all right!”
“No thanks to two frat boys who thought target practice in an empty Walmart was the best way to waste ammo.” She stepped back, her blonde curls sticking every which way, and pointed at the entertainment center. “Redecorating?”
Madison swallowed. “We had a bit of an incident.”
“What? Is everyone okay?” Madison’s mom, Tracy, appeared in the doorway.
Madison ran to her, hugging her even tighter than she’d hugged her roommate. “You came home.”
“Of course I came home. But are you all right? What happened?”
“There’s plenty of time to talk about it. Can I help haul in gear? Is Tucker okay?”
“He’s fine, just collecting the things from the car. Unfortunately we don’t have much. A few more guns, some boxes of ammo, and a bit of food, but we had to leave most of it behind.”
Tucker entered the house then, an oversized black gun bag slung over his shoulder and a cardboard box in his arms. “We’re lucky to be alive. Your mom really came through. I had no idea she could dance like that.”
Madison raised her eyebrows, but her mom waved her off. “I’ll fill you in later.”
“Yes, you will.”
Peyton shut and locked the front door. “The important thing is that everyone is home safe.” He slapped Tucker on the back. “Nice to have you back, man.”
“Good to be back.” Tucker bumped Peyton in the shoulder and the big guy almost curled up into a ball. “Whoa. What happened to you? Is your arm broken?”
“I don’t think so. Bruised really bad, though.”
Madison exhaled. “After you all get something to eat and drink, we need to talk. We have a problem.”
“What do you mean there’s a man trapped in my bedroom?” Madison’s mom’s gaze darted from her daughter to Peyton to Wanda and back again.
No one volunteered.
“Is he alive? Dead? What happened?”
Peyton scratched at his ear. “He’s alive, but he’s got a nasty gash in the top of his head. Lost a bit of blood.”
“Did he break in? Threaten you?”
Madison glanced at Wanda. The woman sat hunched over her bottle of room-temperature juice, a cardigan wrapped around her despite the heat. Her eye had swollen completely shut and the skin around it looked almost black. “Wanda should explain it.”
Her mom turned to Wanda, waiting. After what seemed like forever, Wanda reached for her juice, turning the bottle around and around on the table. “We were all standing around, chitchatting in the kitchen when Madison saw someone in the backyard.”
“Okay.” Her mom sat forward in her seat, elbows on the table. “Then what?”
Madison glanced at Brianna and Tucker. They sat super close, hands wrapped around each other, listening and waiting. She was so thankful no one was seriously hurt. After Tucker and Brianna explained the drama that went down at Walmart, Madison knew how lucky they had been.
Wanda chewed on her lip. “Madison and Peyton rushed to turn out the lights and get the weapons. I… I ran to the bedroom. I was going to get my father’s gun…”
“But?”
She swallowed a small sip of juice. “I panicked, locked the door, and stood there in the dark shaking like a leaf. When I saw him in the window outside, I froze. I thought if I didn’t move, maybe he would just go away.”
“He didn’t.” Peyton, obviously disgusted by the whole scene, stood up and walked over to the far window.
Wanda agreed. “He threw a rock through the window. Climbed in a minute later. I started screaming.”
“When she screamed, we rushed that way, banged on the door, tried to get it open.”
“That’s when he hit me.”
“And that’s how I hurt my shoulder.” Peyton glanced at Madison’s mom. “You have some solid doors in this place, Mrs. Sloane.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t happy. “Sorry you got hurt.”
Wanda spoke up. “I am, too. I never meant for this to happen. When the man crawled in through the window I pointed the gun at him, but he didn’t stop. He… he laughed.” She tucked the cardigan tighter around her shoulders. “After he hit me, I just reacted. I didn’t think it would hurt him that bad. I just… I wanted him to leave me alone. T
o leave all of us alone.”
Madison’s mom reached across the table and patted Wanda’s hand. The older woman wrapped her other fingers on top and squeezed. Something passed between them; Madison didn’t know if it was an apology and acceptance or just an acknowledgment of what happened, but when her mom pulled back, her face softened.
“What matters is that we’re all alive and mostly unharmed.”
“But what do we do about him?”
Her mom shook her head. “I’m not sure yet. We’ll need to wake him up. Find out what he knows and if he has any friends. Then we can decide.”
Madison’s eyes went wide. “You mean like an interrogation?”
Her mom shrugged. “I’d prefer to call it a question and answer period, but interrogation works.”
Wow. Her friends had commented over and over about how tough her mom had been, but Madison hadn’t appreciated it until now. She’d been the one to comfort Madison when she fell and scraped her knee. The mom who baked the best muffins on Saturday mornings and invited all of Madison’s friends over for every long weekend and holiday.
Tracy Sloane was the most caring, welcoming woman Madison knew. And now she proved herself to have a backbone of steel. Madison sat a little taller on the kitchen chair. If she could grow up to be half as brave and strong as her mom, she would consider it a success.
Her mom pushed back from the table and stood. “The guy is passed out cold. Let’s get the window secure. There’s some plywood in the garage. Then we can take shifts keeping watch, but otherwise, we should all try and get a good night’s sleep. We can wake him up and figure out what to do in the morning.”
Everyone around the table nodded.
“I’ll take the first shift.”
“Madison, are you sure, honey?”
Madison nodded.
“I’ll take second shift.” Brianna smiled at Madison. “I won’t be able to sleep much anyway.”
“All right. Thanks, girls. At the first sign of trouble, come get me.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Sloane, we’ll be fine.”
Madison’s mom sighed. “We’ve been through this. I’ll never get you kids to call me Tracy, will I?”
They all laughed and split up, some going to their sleeping bags, others to a last-minute drink from the counter. Madison headed toward her parents’ bedroom. As she pushed open the bedroom door, the man they held prisoner came into view.
He groaned and shifted in his restraints.
Madison gripped the shotgun tighter and shut the door behind her. Could she shoot him if she had to?
Madison didn’t know and she hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WALTER
Forest of Northern California
10:00 p.m.
Walter waved his arms back and forth as he stood in the beam of the headlights. The brightness eclipsed his entire vision and for a moment he wondered if death came on like this: a blinding light followed by whatever came next.
Heaven. Hell. The end of the world.
He lowered his arms as the vehicle slowed. It pulled up alongside him and Walter exhaled in relief. Military. The emblem on the side read Army National Guard and beneath it in small block print, Eureka, CA. Walter stepped off the road and waited.
The passenger-side door to the Humvee opened and a kid who looked like he was playing dress up in his dad’s closet stepped out. The insignia for a private covered his shoulder and Walter marveled. Either they let them in younger and younger or he really was getting old.
“Do you need assistance?” The kid didn’t smile as he spoke, but he could tell from the way he stood, awkwardly gripping his gun in his left hand, that he didn’t want to engage a hostile.
Walter nodded. “Yes, please. My friend tripped over a log about a hundred and fifty feet into the forest. He can’t walk.”
The private glanced around. “Do you have a car?”
“No. We’re on foot. Trying to get to Sacramento.”
Another man jumped out of the Humvee and approached.
“Sir, this man has a friend who’s hurt in the woods and can’t walk. He’s requesting assistance to get him out.”
The other guardsman nodded and stuck out his hand. “Staff Sergeant Hickman at your service.”
Walter shook the man’s hand. “Walter Sloane, UMSC retired.” He glanced back at the forest. The men from the cabin could still be chasing them. He needed the guardsmen to help and fast. “If you don’t mind, I’m worried about my friend. We were chased by a bunch of thugs into the woods. They could still be looking for us.”
The private glanced at his superior, waiting.
Hickman shouted at the vehicle. “Gortz, Mather, get out here and help us look for an injured civilian.”
The two men responded in the affirmative as they clambered out. Walter pointed the way and with him guiding them through the brush, they located Drew in minutes. He still sat where Walter left him with his foot propped up on the log and a sorry look on his face.
The staff sergeant coordinated moving out. When they reached the side of the road, he turned to them both. “Let’s get you two into the Humvee and checked out by the medic back at base camp.”
Walter agreed. He’d never been so thankful to see a bunch of soldiers in his life.
DAY FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WALTER
National Guard Armory, Eureka, CA
6:00 a.m.
Walter rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the private he’d met the night before handed him a steaming paper cup of coffee. He sipped it with thanks and tried to wake up.
It had taken at least an hour to reach the National Guard facility after Walter flagged the Humvee down. Then they had been shuffled inside and asked a few questions about where they were from and where they were headed.
When they were satisfied, a guardsman treated Drew’s ankle injury and his bleeding blisters and sent him to a cot somewhere with a sleeping pill and a bottle of water. Walter had intended to stay awake long enough to learn what was happening out in the world, but he’d succumbed to the suggestion of a cot for himself and fell asleep as soon as his eyes closed.
Now he stood in the chilly coastal air, sipping bad coffee, just as clueless as he was the night before. He glanced at the private’s name tape. “Private Lewis, is it?”
The kid nodded.
“Been with the Guard long?”
He shook his head. “Just finished training, sir. This is my first deployment.”
What an introduction. Walter felt for the kid. He looked about the same age as his daughter. So young and inexperienced. He wondered where his daughter was and whether she possessed the same bewildered expression as Private Lewis.
“Thank you for stopping and picking us up. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
The kid nodded his acceptance. “We were supposed to go to Portland to help out with the riots there, but we got called back just south of the border. Lucky for you we got forced off I-5 and onto the backroads.”
It sounded familiar. “Where are you headed now?”
The kid hesitated. “My sergeant says Sacramento.”
Walter almost spit out his sip of coffee. “Why? Did something happen?”
“It’s real bad there. Riots. Looting. Even the prison caught fire.”
Another guardsman walked up and joined the conversation midstream. “I heard all of downtown is burning and the south side is even worse. It’s like Armageddon down there, man.”
Walter reeled. If Sacramento was as far gone as they said, was his family even alive? He glanced at the other man’s name tape. “Havers, is it?”
“That’s my name.”
“Do you know any more? What about the more established parts of town?”
“You mean the nicer ones?”
Walter nodded.
“As far as I know, they’re on their own. Our job is to get that shit contained and keep it f
rom spreading. What the rich people do inside their fancy houses and behind their gates isn’t our problem.”
Tracy wasn’t waiting in a fancy house or behind a big gate for Walter to come home, but they didn’t live in a bad part of town, either. He frowned. How would the National Guard contain anything? The power loss wasn’t temporary. Nothing would get any better.
“How are you going to keep the violence from spreading? Are you hauling in aid? Food and water and temporary shelter?”
Havers laughed. “No, man. Not even close. We’re supposed to set up a perimeter. No one in. No one out.”
Walter blinked. “That’s the plan?”
The kid nodded. “We’re fencing off all the zones of unrest.”
“You’re locking them in?”
The other guardsman answered. “Let them all shoot each other. That’s what Sergeant says. In a week, everyone will be dead one way or another. No point in getting shot for a hopeless cause.”
Walter couldn’t believe his ears. “What about all the people still trapped in the city? There have to be thousands of good people stuck in the middle of the riots. Aren’t you going to go rescue them?”
Havers snorted. “Who do you think we are? The Marines? Naw, man. You wanna risk your life, go ahead. We won’t stop you.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo. “I’ve got a little girl. She’s four. I’m not going in there so some thug can put a bullet in my head.”
Havers stuck the photo back in his pocket and continued. “This isn’t just a California thing or a West Coast thing. It’s national. Hell, it could be all over the world for all we know. The president is supposedly in some bunker somewhere barking out orders, but there’s no one left to listen. The state government’s a joke, the police are all gone. It’s over. Everything is over.”
Private Lewis kicked at the ground. “I heard since there’s no more computers, we can’t get paid. Everything used to go all automatic-like right into our bank accounts. No one knows how to do it the old-fashioned way.”
Walter exhaled. It was as bad as he feared. Worse. “If you all aren’t getting paid, why are you here?”
