Haven (Apocalypse Chronicles Part 1)

by Falter, Laury

  It was just before 7:15am as I reached my assigned locker, located in the main hallway, midway down. Number 143B.

  Someone had written a not-so-nice word at the end of the B, which maintenance had tried to wash off. Still, I could make out the faded remnants of it staring me in the face. A year ago this might have bothered me. I might have made a bee-line for the janitor’s office or found one of my friends in the halls to work on figuring out who the offender might be. Regardless, at the moment I wasn’t insulted.

  What a fun game, I thought. I’d like to play, too. There were definitely better words out there to describe me.

  Brazen…

  Brilliant…

  Breathtaking…

  Bitchin’…

  Okay, that last one was a derivative of the root word, but who says I had to play by any rules? Especially when the game only existed in my head.

  I was so preoccupied with my little game that I made the mistake of allowing the edge of my book bag to slip from my fingers, and the contents flew out across the tiled floor, where several items were clipped by passing shoes and were sent spiraling down the hallway. I lost a pen, a Tootsie Roll, a few pennies, some dimes. But I was most concerned about the box that Mr. Chow had given me and another word popped into my mind, running through it sarcastically.

  Beautiful…

  I began frantically searching for it, my eyes darting back and forth across the ground. It would mean a haranguing from Mr. Packard, definitely detention, and possibly suspension if I were caught with these kinds of weapons on school grounds, but it would be completely devastating if I lost them altogether. Still, as I searched, all I found was a lipstick tube tucked beneath the lockers, gum wrappers, and wads of dust. There were no steel stars.

  Then my eyes swept to the right, stopping as a pair of boots came into view, and my lungs ceased up as yet another word raced through my mind. This one didn’t start with B, wasn’t part of the game, and made me feel alive, actually part of the living, for the first time in months.

  It came screaming through my consciousness, freezing me in place for a few very long seconds.

  Harrison…

  Before I could decide if I truly wanted to look at him, my eyes made the decision for me. Slowly, I took in the sight of him as my gaze ran the entire length of his body. He stood on the opposite side of the hallway, leaning leisurely against the lockers, his jeans resting snugly around his well-built thighs, his boots crossed at the ankles, his blue eyes locked on me. He didn’t move, evaluating me with curious, sincere interest, as was always the case when we crossed paths.

  He had been in the sun and was tanner now, which deeply contrasted with the white t-shirt draped over the contours of his chest muscles. His shaggy, dark blonde hair was tousled, which made him hardy and more striking. As always, he looked like he’d just walked off the field and into the city.

  We’d been exchanging glances for over a year after he transferred from a high school in Texas, both of us keeping our distance while always seeming to sense when the other was around. Since the first time our eyes met, I’d snuck glances of him and caught him staring back in the cafeteria, the library, in the hallways. It was divine fate that we didn’t share any classes or I wouldn’t have heard a single word the teacher said…and I have fairly strong willpower when it comes to that kind of thing.

  My focus right now, however, was on the steel stars he held inconspicuously in his hands, as if he knew I didn’t want anyone to see them. But he had, and it instantly put me on edge.

  His inquisitive expression firmly in place, staring intently, he crossed the hall. When he stopped a foot from me I realized that with the exception of our first encounter, the two of us had never been so close. Since that first meeting, we’d kept a wary, intrigued space between us, which he had now breached.

  I struggled to remember to breath, and when the inhale finally came, it carried his scent… an inviting mixture of earth and fresh air, completely out of place in the sprawling landscape of suburban Chicago, and so incredibly intoxicating. I was acutely aware of it, equally as much as his hands, which held the stars, and hadn’t shifted from his sides.

  “What kind of a girl,” he said in a deep, resonating voice that sent a flutter through my stomach, “owns Japanese throwing stars?”

  These were the first words he’d said to me. Ever. And they were as daunting as if he’d just peered directly into my soul.

  I stiffened, feeling completely exposed, vulnerable. I had to remind myself it was just a question, a legitimate one considering he held the stars and it was justifiably odd to see them spilling from a girl’s bag and sliding across the school hallway.

  His eyebrows dipped just enough to indicate that he realized he’d hit a nerve, and then he made the wise decision not to pursue his questioning. Extending his hands, he presented me with the stars. It seemed almost like a peace offering. I reached up and took the edges of both, my fingers unintentionally running along the inside of his palms in order to get under the thin pieces of metal. Our touch sent a current of excitement surging through me, and I wasn’t the only one rattled by it. His fingers, which were curled up to enclose the stars, contracted. It was an almost insignificant twitch, but I’d caught it. He’d felt the jolt too.

  My excitement flared, and had I thought about it beforehand, had it not been for my automatic reaction, I might not have done it. But I did. I looked up, directly into his blue eyes, the same ones that had been staring at me from a distance for so many months. My heartbeat sputtered and then began to accelerate.

  “You’re welcome,” he stated before I could conjure a thanks. It was arrogant…and charming, and it made my heart leap against my rib cage.

  “Thanks,” I replied, and then clarified, “for not saying anything about them.”

  “What makes you think I won’t?” he asked, without any hint of challenge. It was an honest question.

  I shrugged, having come to that conclusion about him involuntarily and without much thought. “You don’t strike me as someone who cares much for following the rules.”

  He snickered, appearing to hesitate, and then thoughtfully added, “Even if I was, your secret would be safe with me.”

  I blinked to clear my head, stunned. Was he…hitting on me?

  Overcoming my surprise, I asked, “Now what kind of a guy breaks the rules for a girl he barely knows?”

  His lips turned up in a sideways grin. “The kind that’s interested in the-”

  That’s as far as he got. He never finished his sentence, although I heard it well enough in my head.

  The kind that’s interested in the girl.

  I stared into those blue eyes, realizing that he’d done it. He’d come right out and, without reservation, without insecurity, admitted to being interested in me. He’d broken through the barrier we’d established and laid it all out on the line. Well, almost.

  If things had turned out differently, he might have walked me to class, keeping the conversation going. He might have met me at lunch where we’d have sat in the library, talking below the quiet hum that always persisted there. He might have met me at my locker the next day and, eventually, maybe, just maybe, he might have asked me out on a date. But that wasn’t in our future. There was something far darker and unsettling waiting for us, and it cut short Harrison’s confession.

  He and I swung our heads around to find a school security guard sprinting down the hall with only the toes of his black-soled shoes hitting the tile, a radio held out in front of him.

  “Code Red! Code Red!” he screamed into it. “Lock all exterior doors! Close the rear and main gates!” There was no mistaking the sheer terror this man was feeling. His nostrils were flared; his eyes were wide, vacant. There was trill to his voice. He didn’t see anyone around him, not Harrison, me, or the guy down the hall scoffing at the guard’s distress. His entire world in that moment consisted of whatever was happening outside the main entrance, which was exactly where he was headed.


  There was a handful of us who’d made it to school early, and we watched as he continued his race toward the main entrance, slamming the bar handle hard enough to make the glass doors shudder when he finally reached them. Once outside, he came to an abrupt halt, his legs positioned to take that next sprinting step, his arms raised as if he was instructed to keep them visible, his hand still clutching the radio a few inches from his mouth. It was that pause, and the position of his body, that made me realize he was witnessing something catastrophic, life-altering. The radio slipped from his fingers and crashed to the ground, jarring him back into a sprint. He launched himself down the steps, his head bobbing as he took several at a time.

  We all headed for the doors, Harrison next to me the entire way. His pace and the fact he was so close made me think his intentions were about my protection. While I didn’t need it, I understood. The air around us suddenly felt thick with tension as the first sounds of what was happening beyond the entrance reached our ears. Car alarms were beginning to sound; screams, some muffled and others loud and clear, echoed across the parking lot; tires screeched and metal crunched. We made it to the glass doors and stopped just as fast as the guard had done seconds ago. Then we were stunned at the scene before us, which surpassed all of my most terrifying nightmares.

  People were scattering, tripping over curbs, shrubs, and each other in unexplainable frenzy. Others were chasing them, arms outstretched, swiping at them, grabbing for them. Not a single person was without blood on their body. Some had already fallen victim and were struggling to shove aside their attackers. One kid, who looked no older than a tenth grader, tried to make it across the lot, his eyes locked on the doors where we stood. He made it four steps before Mrs. Richard’s car rammed him during her attempt to flee. He disappeared under the hood. She skidded to a stop and opened her door only to find a man coming through it, pushing her back inside kicking and screaming.

  When I saw a girl, who normally sits three rows in front of me in Spanish class, taking a bite out of the school counselor, who was trying to get into her car, I finally understood this wasn’t an ordinary mob. No, the victims were helpless animals trying to evade predators, only there was no safe place for them to go. The school had been fitted with steel bars around the perimeter with gates small enough to fit two, three people total, through them at once. The parking lot beyond it was cordoned off with a thinner chain link fence, forming a secure little cage.

  By pure instinct, I started to shove open the door, only to find that Harrison had beaten me to it. He stepped through before me, unaware that I was behind him, and raced down the steps. By the time I got to the bottom, he was just inside the parking lot, pulling an attacker off an unconscious girl. She was small-framed so her attacker covered nearly every inch of her. I recognized him instantly as Harrison peeled him off his victim and flung him across the pavement. His name was Todd Beckholt and he was famous for the size of his belly and the aggression he showed on the football field. His body rolled like a wide barrel several feet away but he didn’t stay down, propelling himself back to his feet and charging Harrison. He moved like he had a vengeance to settle, but that didn’t seem to intimidate Harrison, who met the guy with equal force.

  I grabbed the unconscious girl’s hands and dragged her up the curb, through the steel bar fencing, back to the steps, while keeping my eye on Harrison’s fight. It was immediately clear that he was strong, effortlessly maneuvering Todd’s body and his snapping jaws away from his face to fling him back across the parking lot. The problem was Todd kept coming back.

  Instinctively, I remembered the stars still clutched in my hands, and the cutting of their edges into my skin reminded me of their potential benefit. I didn’t hesitate. Shifting clear of the girl’s limp body, I slid my right foot forward and generated the momentum needed to launch the star at Todd. It landed right where I’d intended, in his right knee.

  Harrison’s head swung around, his eyes wide in disbelief, the beginnings of a shocked grin forming on his lips. He hadn’t expected me to intervene. But Todd took a step with that leg and I knew he wasn’t fazed at all. I immediately transferred the second star to my throwing hand and sent it directly into his other knee. His movement was noticeably impaired now, the stars preventing his kneecaps from working properly, but it still didn’t deter him.

  “I got him,” Harrison called back before adding a command that surprised me. “Get inside, Kennedy.”

  He was concerned. About me.

  I should have listened to him. If I had any logic in me at all, I would have been tearing for the building. But as the chaos raged around us, I took the unconscious girl’s wrists again to continue to pull her out of danger, hauling her up the first step. As I did this, I didn’t take my eyes off Harrison – and wouldn’t – until I knew he was safe too. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the growl, I’m fairly sure I would have ended up being a meal.

  It came from my left, outside the fence, where Tammie Fleming, a girl I knew from gym class, was sprinting toward me, her upper lip curled back, spit flying from her mouth. She was a big girl, so her belly wobbled from side to side, slowing her a bit and allowing me to get a good look at her. This was my first encounter with one of them, right up close and personal. As she bore down on me, her snarling mouth was wide open and I could see phlegm strung between her teeth. Her blonde hair, which I’d always seen pulled back into a ponytail, was loose, flying around her face. Some of it clung to the wet parts where saliva had landed. Her eyes were vacant, unaware of anything but me. She didn’t even seem to notice the tear in her peach-colored shirt along the shoulder line, or the fact that a chunk of skin was missing below it.

  “Tammie?” I called out, though deep, down I already knew she wouldn’t hear.

  She kept coming in that crazy, dazed homicidal kind of way. I dropped the unconscious girl’s hands, twisting my body perpendicular to Tammie, and launched my foot directly into her stomach. It was a perfect side kick, landing exactly where I’d calculated, and it should have knocked the air from her lungs. If it did, she didn’t pay any attention to it. After a brief stumble backwards, she regained her balance and came at me again. This time, I swung at her. I’m of an average build, not too short, fat, tall, or thick, but I pack some force when it’s needed. As my fist made contact with her soft, spongy cheek, it sent her staggering to the side and she slipped off the edge of the street curb, landing oddly on her right foot. The sickening crack of her ankle was cut short as another victim’s scream rose above the quieting chaos and I realized that the shrieks were beginning to subside. Tammie’s broken ankle didn’t inhibit her, or even seem to register through her obsession to get to me, but it did buy me some time. I stepped backward, putting distance between us, and stumbled over the guard who had run shouting down the hallway a few minutes earlier. He was facedown, the contents of his neck smattered across the white concrete sidewalk. His weapon was drawn, his finger still on the trigger. I bent down, pulled it from his grip and stood back up, my hands automatically wrapping around it, pressing with isometric tension just like my dad had trained me. With my trigger finger in place before I was fully standing I aimed it at Tammie, but she kept coming, the void in her eyes not allowing her to see the danger pointed in her direction.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” I screamed. God, stop…please stop. Don’t make me do this.

  As a body came in between us, I was barely able to make out the blur of Harrison’s form as he seized Tammie’s arms and flung her through the gate, into the parking lot, with dizzying speed. He slammed the gate shut, and I heard the automatic locking mechanism fall into place.

  It was the stupidest, boldest move I’d ever seen anyone make.

  “I could have shot you!” I shouted.

  Harrison turned around, completely ignoring me and taking hold of one of my arms as he raced by. He seemed intent on dragging me up the steps, back into the building. But there were others who needed help. The girl, the unconscious girl… My eyes shot back to wh
ere I’d left her, on the first step a few feet away from us. It was empty. But there were others…in the parking lot.

  “No!” I grumbled, doing my best to pull away, back in their direction.

  “They’re gone, Kennedy,” he said, firmly. “Gone.”

  In disbelief, I snapped my head around and peered across the parking lot. There was very little movement now, a complete reversal from only a few minutes ago. It all happened so fast. Instead of fleeing bodies, there was a crooked group of cars, some still with their engines running, jamming the exit. Pieces of clothing, lone shoes, backpacks, and purses were strewn around them, abandoned by their owners. The screams so prominent before had been silenced, replaced now with the hollow, unrelenting ringing of cell phones and car alarms. It was a battlefield, and the victors were heads down, consuming the defeated.

  Harrison continued to drag me up the steps, but when I wasn’t moving fast enough, he stopped, turned, and wrapped his arms around my waist. He hauled me up and over his shoulder and began running in one continuous motion toward the school’s main entrance. Fortunately, I managed to secure myself on his well-formed muscles.

  He only paused after we were inside and he had locked the door with keys that I figured he must have taken from the security guard. Then he stood very still, and I knew exactly what he was doing…evaluating the scene from above. His arms were crossed over to stabilize my legs, and they felt warm and unyielding, as if he wasn’t ready to let me go. I lifted my head to ensure there wasn’t any danger coming down the hall and my breath seized in my chest.

  “We’re not alone,” I said quietly, in an inane effort not to disturb the peace that had settled over the school now.

  “I know.” In what seemed to be an attempt to make me comfortable, he mentioned, “They’re not dangerous.”

  No, they weren’t, but they might need help.

  “You can put me down now.”

  He snickered to himself, apparently realizing that he hadn’t yet, and slid me off his shoulder, carefully setting me on my feet. Our eyes met and his were reflecting a serious darkness. “Are you okay?”