“The longer this goes on the more desperate people will become,” Mike said.
“I know.”
Mike watched Clarence fumble the rifle awkwardly in his hands.
“You know I’ve never even fired one of these things before,” Clarence said.
“You haven’t?”
“Firearm training isn’t a part of the TSA program.”
Mike grabbed the rifle. He flipped it on its side exposing the safety lever and making sure it was clicked on and pointed away from them.
“Rule number one when handling guns. Never point it at another person unless you’re ready to pull the trigger.”
Mike brought the rifle up to his shoulder and peered through the sights, scanning the front of the building.
“When you aim you always want to bring the gun to your eyes, not the other way around. When you’re handling a rifle or shotgun keep the butt of the gun firmly tucked against your shoulder. It’ll help with the recoil when you fire. When it’s time to shoot, you want to squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it,” Mike said.
Mike handed the gun back to Clarence. Mike watched him keep the end of the barrel away from the two of them and he brought the rifle up to his shoulder.
“And know where the safety is. You don’t want to be in a situation where you forget it’s on and when you go to squeeze the trigger nothing happens,” Mike said.
Clarence’s thumb found the lever on the side of the rifle and flicked the safety off. He put his finger on the trigger.
“Wait,” Mike said.
Clarence lowered the rifle, taking his hand off the trigger.
“Rule number two: never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Just keep your finger extended beyond the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” Mike said.
“Right,” Clarence said.
Mike grabbed the rifle out of Clarence’s hand and clicked the safety back on. He threw the rifle strap over his shoulder and clapped Clarence on the back.
“We’ll take it out back for target practice after breakfast,” Mike said.
“You’ve taught people to shoot before?”
Mike paused, trying to overcome the lump forming in his throat.
“Yes.”
Tom and Fay gathered the empty wrappers and cans from breakfast and threw them in the garbage, which was overflowing.
“It’s your turn to take it out,” Tom said.
“Fine,” Fay replied.
Fay tied the open ends of the trash bag together and lifted it out of the can. The bag caught on a crack in the can and split open, dumping trash all over the floor.
“Goddamnit,” Fay yelled.
Tom laughed. Walking back through the kitchen, his laughter echoing through the food court.
Fay threw up a middle finger. She picked up the pieces of trash and dumped them back into the can. Once the mess was cleaned up she dragged the can to the front of the airport.
The can slid across the pavement until she reached the dumpster on the side of the building. She placed the can right next to it, and just then heard a gunshot go off. She immediately ducked for cover.
“Shit,” she murmured.
She glanced around looking for the source of the shot, keeping her head covered. She squinted further down the tarmac and saw Clarence, rifle in hand with Mike behind him, aiming at something in the distance.
Fay covered her ears as the gunshots continued to ring out. She walked to them and could see that both Mike and Clarence had ear protection on. She screamed their names and when that didn’t work she threw an empty soup can at them. She hit Mike square in the back.
Mike took the earpieces off. Clarence clicked the safety on and leaned the rifle up against his shoulder.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Fay asked.
“Mike’s teaching me how to shoot,” Clarence said.
“He’s pretty good,” Mike said.
“Well, it took me a couple tries, but I finally got one.”
Fay walked up to them and saw a row of soup cans set up thirty yards away on top of a luggage carrier.
“You really think this is a good idea? I thought we weren’t supposed to bring attention to ourselves,” Fay said.
“Most people run away from gunshots, not toward them,” Mike said.
Fay grabbed the earpiece off Clarence’s head.
“Where’d you get these?” Fay asked.
“Found them in the ground control locker rooms,” Clarence said.
“Can I try?” Fay asked.
“Sure,” Mike said.
Fay put the earpieces on and Mike grabbed the rifle from Clarence. He showed her how to hold it and gave her the same advice he’d given to Clarence.
Fay brought the rifle up to her eyes. She kept the stock snug against her shoulder. Her finger hovered until she finally rested it gently over the trigger. The sights along the end of the rifle shook slightly as she tried to balance the gun. Once the gun felt steady she lined up her shot, squeezed the trigger, and the can went flying.
“Shit,” Clarence said.
“Nice shot. You’re a natural,” Mike said.
“What?” Fay screamed.
Mike patted her on the shoulder and gave her a thumb up. She smiled and then noticed the crowd behind her. Everyone had gathered outside. They were all looking at her and cheering. Fay’s smile slowly faded. She handed the rifle back to Mike and took her ear protection off.
“Where are you going’?” Clarence asked.
Fay ignored him. She ran between Jung and Jenna and headed for the side door, which led her to the food court. Once she was inside she sat on her cot, her shoulder feeling the strain from the recoil of the rifle.
Clarence walked in behind her, panting from the short jog he made running after her.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“Do we have any more Ibuprofen?” Fay asked.
“I think so, but, Fay, why’d you leave like that?”
“Where is it? I don’t want my shoulder to be too sore.”
“Fay.”
“What?”
Fay’s voice was harsh, accusing. She saw the open look of apology across Clarence’s face. He held his hands out and sat down on the cot next to her.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“It was a lucky shot. That’s all.”
“That’s why you ran? Because you hit the can?”
“No.”
“Then why’d you take off like that?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fay…”
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
Fay bolted from the cot, leaving Clarence by himself. She ran through the food court and past the check-in desks by the front entrance of the airport, her feet carrying her to the other side of the airport. She ran around security ropes and jumped over fallen displays until there wasn’t anywhere left to run. She leaned her hands up against the wall, her chest heaving, trying to catch her breath.
She spun around and slammed her back against the wall and slid down. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and rested her head against her knees.
Mike dropped small amounts of oil along the tip of the barrel then wiped it down with a rag. Nelson watched Mike’s movements. They were precise, rhythmic.
“What do we do now?” Nelson asked.
“We leave tomorrow. I can’t afford to stay here another day,” Mike said.
“But what about these people?”
“Nelson, the cabin was built for me and my family. It can hold five people at the most. Bringing you and Sean along with me is already pushing it. I can’t show up with another seven people.”
“These people helped us. They fed us. Took us in.”
“These people stayed here and hoarded as much food as they could.”
“But they said they’re leaving soon too. Why don’t we ask where they’re going? Maybe it’s better t
han the cabin?”
“My family isn’t wherever it is they’re going. My family is at the cabin. If you want to go with them you’re more than welcome, but tomorrow morning I’m leaving with or without you and Sean. End of discussion.”
Mike finished wiping down the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He walked back into the food court through the side door. Jung and Jenna To were watching their two children play when he walked in. Jung saw him and made a beeline for him.
“Mike,” he said.
“I’m busy,” Mike said, grabbing one of the lanterns from the Burger King counter.
“Please, wait.”
Jung put his hand on Mike’s chest stopping him and blocking his path.
“Let my family come with you,” Jung said.
“Jung, I don’t have anywhere for your family to go.”
“The cabin, right? You’re going to the cabin?”
Nelson.
“Look, Jung, whatever it is you think I can help you with I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Mike said and then moved to the side and ran past him.
Jung caught up with him as Mike headed back to the weapons depot where Clarence had shown him the rifles.
“We were heading back home to China when everything stopped working.”
“Isn’t your wife American? Doesn’t she have family here?”
“She does, but they’re in Florida. We were here on vacation.”
“You wanted to go vacation in Pittsburgh?”
“New York. We were here as part of a layover.”
The deeper they went into the airport the darker it became. Mike flicked on the lantern. The flame ignited casting an orange glow around the two of them and lighting their path.
Clarence and the rest of the group hadn’t ventured into the dark portions of the airport because of the bodies. When they came out of the TSA security room after the rioting started they searched for supplies, and the only thing they found deep within the terminals were corpses.
You could barely see them in the darkness, but the smell was overpowering. The rotting flesh baking for the past week in the unventilated, un-air conditioned depths of the airport sent a fowl stench in the air. The sour, bitter musk hit you like a brick wall.
By the time Mike and Jung reached the weapons holding both of them were gagging, covering their noses and mouth with their shirts, but it did no good.
The inside of the weapons holding was practically barren when they checked it earlier. Most of the weapons had been picked over, but a few rifles, a stack of boxes with ammunition, and a cleaning kit still remained.
“Grab those rifles over there,” Mike said.
“Mike, please. My family can’t stay here. If there was help coming it would have been here by now. If we can’t get somewhere safe we’ll end up like those people out there.”
The lantern swung in Mike’s grip. The light danced across Jung’s face, which was filled with desperation, a look he’d seen too often over the past week.
“You pull your weight, each of you. Everyone has a job. No one gets special treatment. Understand?”
Jung nodded.
“Good. Now, grab the rifles.
The To family, Nelson, Sean, Tom, Clarence, and Mike sat around one of the tables in the food court. The sun had gone down and they were swallowing down cans of ham and black beans. Fay was on watch.
Mike chose to tell the rest of the group about the cabin. They all jumped at the chance. Mike instructed each of them to pack enough food and supplies for a two-day walk. Everyone dumped any luggage they had and immediately started packing.
“After we leave in the morning it’ll be important for us not to stop. I want to make sure we get there as quickly and safely as possible,” Mike said.
“Will it really take two days?” Tom asked.
“Yes, and it could take more if anything slows us down,” Mike answered.
“What’s it like out there now?” Jenna asked.
“The road? Dangerous,” Mike answered.
“Do you think we’ll get mugged like you and Nelson?” Clarence asked.
“Not if we stay smart,” Mike answered.
“Guys, we’ll be fine. Mike knows what he’s doing. Trust me,” Nelson said.
Trust him. Mike looked at the faces staring at him and a pang of guilt shot through him. The last time he helped people they turned against him and separated him from his family. He wasn’t going to let a gang of bandits stand between him and his family ever again. If it came down to it he would sacrifice the lot of them to reach his family.
After dinner, it was time for Mike to relieve Fay of her watch. She was posted in the corner where she was supposed to be, vigilantly staring into the night.
“Grab some dinner,” Mike said.
“Thanks.”
Fay put her hand out and Mike helped her up. She handed him the rifle, but before she turned to go he stopped her.
“You sure you never used a rifle before?” Mike asked.
“No. That was my first time.”
“Well, it was quite a shot.”
“Thanks. And thanks for saving us.”
“I haven’t saved anyone.”
“Well, you’re doing more than most would… More than I would.”
The last words were said to herself, and Mike could see from her reaction they weren’t meant to be said aloud.
“Do you know why I took off today after I hit the can?” Fay asked.
“No.”
“It was because I saw the look on everyone’s faces. They saw that I could do something that they couldn’t. They saw that I could be someone to protect them. They thought I was someone who could keep them safe.”
“Why did that make you run?”
“Because if I didn’t keep them safe, and I knew how to do it, then I failed. So, that’s why you’ve already saved us. You’re not afraid.”
Mike sat down as Fay turned to leave. He stared out into the night. The moon was full, so he could see clearly. He thought about what Fay had said. She was wrong. He was afraid, but it wasn’t the type of fear that comes with indifference, it was the fear that comes with action. He knew what he was capable of. He remembered how easily he had pulled the trigger on the neighbors attacking his house. He could see the blood spilling onto the grass of his lawn, turning everything crimson.
He cradled the rifle in his lap and rested his head back against the wall. He pushed the rest out of his mind with one single thought: get to my family.
7
Day 9 (The Cabin)
“Dammit, Ulysses, will you let me finish what I’m saying!” Ray screamed.
Ray propped himself up on his elbows from the couch. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Anne tried to ease him back down onto the couch, but he pushed her away.
“You have no idea what’s in that town. It could be overrun,” Ray said.
Ulysses put in a few bottles of water and a day’s ration worth of food into the satchel. He pulled the strap of the bag over his head and let it fall across his chest. A holster rested on the counter, the pistol’s grip sticking out. He slung it around his waist and clipped the belt together.
“Maybe I don’t know what’s in town, but I do know what’ll happen if your fever keeps going the way it has,” Ulysses said.
Ray’s arms were shaking from the exertion of keeping himself upright. His elbow gave way and he collapsed back on the couch. The room felt like it was spinning. His head swayed back and forth. He tried to collect his thoughts. Before he could come up with a rebuttal he felt a hand on his chest and Ulysses’ face came in and out of focus.
“I’m going, Raymond,” Ulysses said.
“Remember what I told you,” Anne said.
“I’ll be fine.”
Ulysses walked out of the door and down the dirt path that winded up to the cabin. The town was only a mile and a half away.
The morning sun wasn’t yet hot and the trees around him provided nice shade. His boots crunched the twig
s and leaves on the ground. Along the way he saw a deer and a few turkeys. Good hunting.
Once Ulysses made it out of the tree line and back onto the highway, he headed west to the town of Carrollton. He could see the small outline of the buildings on Main Street in the distance. The tall fields of grass surrounding the town stretched out to the forest tree lines surrounding it.
The road was completely clear with the exception of a tractor that had shut down in the middle of the road, blocking both lanes. Ulysses glanced up into the cab window. He climbed up and opened the door taking a look inside. Except for a pair of gloves on the seat, it was empty.
From his elevated position, he was able to see into the distance. He looked for signs of any farms in the distance, but was disappointed when he could find nothing. He jumped back down from the tractor and continued his journey into town.
The buildings grew larger the closer he came. The sun had crept higher into the sky, and the heat was bearing down on him now. The cool of the morning was disappearing. He reached into his pack and pulled out one of the bottles of water he packed. He took a sip. The town was only another one hundred yards away.
Ulysses squinted his eyes at lumps scattered on Main Street. At first he couldn’t tell what they were, then he glanced up into the sky and saw the buzzards circling. His pace slowed. He glanced around the buildings looking for signs of any people. He edged along the side of the road, moving along in the tall grass for cover.
The only part of him exposed was the top of his head. His eyes scanned above the grass looking for anyone that might have seen him coming. He approached the stores on the right side of Main Street and waited on the edge where the tall grass ended and the clearing began.
There was no movement in the town, so Ulysses kept low and ran up to the side of the first store. He followed the edge of the building’s wall to the main road.
The buzzards overhead squawked, still circling the rotting flesh down below. Ulysses turned his focus to the storefronts. Most of their windows had been smashed in. None of those close by was a pharmacy.
Ulysses adjusted the strap along his chest and mapped out a route in his mind. There were enough cars for him to hide behind, so he’d have to pass each store carefully, checking to see if there was anyone inside.
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