Storm Front

by Riley Flynn

  “He can’t be trusted,” Alex insisted. “You can see it.”

  “Yeah, I know. But, then, he does some good things, too.”

  “He kept you locked up for weeks!”

  “He let me out. Figure, what’s a few weeks when you’re worried about a virus? I can make my peace with that.”

  “You’re with them, aren’t you?” Alex could hear it in Cam’s voice. The sound of bets being hedged.

  “I ain’t with no one but myself. I just know what I think. Krol’s shady, but we got nothing to lose from hearing him out. They got supplies here–”

  “Which they’re stealing from dead people. Or doing deals with Levine. Who knows where they’re sneaking off to?”

  “Alex, man.” It was Timmy’s turn to talk calmly. “Do you hear yourself?”

  “I’m just spit balling.”

  “You’re neck deep in conspiracies, man. Krol’s really got to you.”

  Of all the people to say it, Timmy’s words carried the most weight. The man who made a hobby of seeing conspiracies in every corner of the world. Timothy Ratz, the man who had spent his life prepping for the worst. There must be something Alex wasn’t seeing. The way his friends were reacting, it wasn’t quite right. Or maybe, the worrying thought began to appear, Alex himself might be the problem, the one not acting rationally.

  “I don’t know what’s true and what’s not.” Cam had started speaking again. Everyone – even the baby – stopped making any sound. They all listened to the soothing voice. “There’s not much we can do about it now, anyway. We ain’t going anywhere tonight. We probably ain’t going anywhere tomorrow. Alex, you were right. This place. It’s damn near perfect. Only problem is, some other folks are thinking that, too.”

  “They’re not just ‘some folks’, Cam. They’re killers. There’s bodies in the barn and-”

  “There’s bodies everywhere, my friend. Most of those people were dead when they turned up on the doorstop. You want Krol to let them in with open arms?” For the first time, Cam actually sounded angry. “You’re not thinking right, Alex. I don’t know whether you noticed, but most of the country bit the big one recently. We’re all that’s left. We probably got to figure out how to get along with folk now, at least for the time being. We ain’t got a reason to go anywhere else.”

  “You’re damn right we’re not going anywhere, Cam. This is my house! I’ll fight for it. I’m not letting them take this–”

  Alex stopped talking. His voice had risen. He was standing in the center of the room. The baby had started to cry. Right on cue, Finn joined in. Joan’s eyes were full of daggers as she tried to rock away the tears.

  They weren’t going anywhere. Not with the baby. They weren’t going to war, either. It wouldn’t serve any purpose. Alex hated that his friends were right. He sat down on the bed, all the fight fading away.

  “This is ridiculous. It really is.” Joan almost sang the words. Her voice was soothing. “I think we can sleep on it. At least for tonight. We can all start acting rationally. Alex, I think you’re processing a lot of information. I’m telling you this as a friend. You haven’t even mentioned where you went earlier, or what you saw. Something happened out there. But I want you to lay down and sleep before you tell anyone or do anything. You’re exhausted. You’re not well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed…”

  Everyone nodded along, even Alex. As she’d been speaking, he had wanted to talk over her. He’d wanted to argue. Every word made him even more furious. Then, as the softly spoken words sang along on the evening air, something changed. Then, he realized, she might be right. Right now, he was tired. Exhausted. Almost standing outside himself, watching an angry person shout at his friends. Perhaps he did need some rest and reflection. But he still didn’t want to admit it.

  “We can sleep on it tonight,” Alex admitted. “But we need to talk about it soon. We need a real plan. We can’t go on like this.”

  “We’ll talk to Krol tomorrow,” Joan said. “I’m only sorry I’ve not been able to be more involved. With her and–”

  “No, it’s fine.” Alex stood up, stretching out a hand to pat the baby on the head. “You’re right. I’ve hardly been around. I haven’t been myself. I don’t even know this little guy’s name.”

  “Guy?” That familiar eyebrow arched up above the rims of Joan’s glasses. Alex knew it was a sign he had just said something stupid. “What do you mean, ‘guy’?”

  “His name?” Alex looked around the room in confusion.

  “You really haven’t been around, Alex.” Joan’s voice, so soothing a minute ago, was now laced with venom. “I’m going to overlook this because you have been under a lot of stress recently.”

  Timmy was falling on the floor, trying to hold in a laugh. Cam held his hand in front of his face, his shoulders shaking. Alex looked around. He had no idea what was happening.

  “But–”

  “Man, stop yourself.” Timmy reached out a hand, slapped it against Alex’s leg. “She’s a girl.”

  “Oh.” Alex had to hide his face from Joan. “I’m sorry, Joan, I–”

  “Don’t apologize to me; she’s the one you need to speak to.”

  Alex looked down into the baby girl’s face. She had one blue eye, one gray, just like her mother.

  “Alex, you’ve never even held her, have you?” Joan’s eyes had narrowed as she considered Alex carefully. “How much time have you spent with her, actually?”

  “I… Well… I…”

  “I thought as much.”

  “But you still haven’t named her, right?”

  “No. Not yet. Come here.”

  Alex walked towards the head of the bed. Joan was holding out the baby, offering her up.

  “Why not?” He took the little girl in his hands. He’d never been more terrified in his life.

  “It’s an old family thing. Support her head. Not until she’s a month old. That’s right. So that the evil spirits won’t come and take her away. If they don’t know her name, they won’t know where to find her. That’s right. Just like that.”

  Holding the baby in his arms, Alex could feel his anger retreating. The red mist was clearing. But it wasn’t going away. Just being saved up for later. When it could be more useful. When it made sense.

  But the little girl, she changed things. This was the future. Amid all this death and chaos and destruction, amid all the lies and the deceit, she was something pure and innocent. She was a sign for hope, held in his arms.

  “You know, Joan, I was going to say something.” Alex’s voice was low and soft, he never looked away from the baby’s eyes. “I was going to say you should name her Danny. It was my old man’s name but that was before… you know… I guess it still works.”

  “I’ll think about it. She likes you.”

  “She knows I got her these diapers.”

  “She’s a lucky girl.”

  Alex held on to the baby for as long as he dared and handed her back to Joan. As he looked around the room again, Cam was examining the pack of diapers.

  In that moment, Alex looked at his friend. Cam was smart. Thorough. He’d helped them so much. Always trying to see a new angle on a tricky situation.

  Where would we be without him? Alex thought. But he couldn’t resist making a joke.

  “See anything you like, Cam? Sorry I didn’t get you a pair.”

  Alex laughed at his own comment. Timmy joined in, half-heartedly.

  “Nah, was nothing.” Cam turned around, a considered look on his face. “You got these from Levine?”

  “He gave them to me.”

  “Weird, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Something wrong with it?”

  “Forget about it. I’d just be worried that he was up to something, just giving away supplies like that. Judging you. Trying to get a feel for you. But then, it might be nothing. I got to go, anyway.”

  “Where have you got to go?”

  “Said I’d take guard duty tonight. I got all the luck. L
ooks like it’s about to snow. Want to get warmed up before I head out, got to go talk to someone.”

  Alex hadn’t been given guard duty once. No one had ever asked him. They didn’t trust him.

  “Good luck out there.”

  Cam laughed.

  “Going to be bored and cold. Hope they’ve buried those dead fellas by the time I get out there. Smells something awful, I bet.”

  Cam walked out of the room, flashing them all a wink and a grin before he left.

  The wave of tiredness hit Alex all at once. It damn near knocked him down, his brain suddenly feeling like mashed potato tasked with math problems. The numbers didn’t add up anymore. He had to rest.

  Alex made his excuses and left. Timmy and Joan watched him go, the baby and the dog slept on. Tomorrow was a new day. It couldn’t come quickly enough.

  Even as he walked through the unlit halls, navigating his way with a hand on the wall, Alex knew the anger hadn’t gone away. It never would. He smiled, for a moment. Someone was going to pay. Right now, though, they’d have to wait. This was a new world. An angry, crazy world.

  21

  Alex lay awake in the dark. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep. Too many things were happening. Life was not simple.

  Levine and Krol. The farm. The baby. Eames. His friends might even be right – he might be obsessing over everything. But it wasn’t the obsessions which kept him up at night.

  It was the guilt. He’d brought them all to this farm. He’d led them into this terrible place. Now, he had to guide them through to safer lands.

  This wasn’t the farm where he grew up. It was different. When he had been young, Alex had watched his parents work hard to build up the house from nothing much into a vibrant, warm, loving, ideal home. His father had worked hard, toiling in the fields. His mother had helped and had raised their child. Together, they’d created something special.

  When Alex had suggested the idea of fleeing to the farm, of leaving Detroit behind and escaping, he had held this picture in his mind. It had driven him forward, propelled him through incredibly dangerous times. But it had been a fool’s errand.

  So stupid to think he could have just turned up and it all would have been the same.

  Alex twisted and turned in the bed, the guilt and the anger crumpling his back and not letting him settle. The seconds turned into minutes turned into hours. All of it stretching away into the night. He wanted to be dreaming, to disappear into his own thoughts, but everything inside his mind was breaking apart. Every thought, every memory, every time he tried to consider anything in any detail, it all crumbled apart, like dust in his hands.

  A more sensible person would have left, he knew. A clever person would have seen Krol occupying the farm and would have given up on the dream. A pragmatic person, a realistic person.

  Alex wasn’t either of those, he knew now. By anybody’s guess, he should have been killed a hundred times over. Maybe Levine was right with his whole rapture schtick. Some people were just chosen. Even as the thought passed through his mind, he realized how ridiculous it was.

  Levine might not be so thoughtful, Alex realized. The former senator seemed the type to buy into his own hype.

  There was no way he was leaving those monsters to take over his family’s home. Levine or Krol, it didn’t matter. He had to do right by his parents’ memories. By Eames. By Sammy. By everything he’d known growing up on this lonely plot of land. He couldn’t leave it all behind.

  It was overwhelming, the tiredness. The fatigue. Not just today, not just on this night. But for months. Always running. Always looking over his shoulder. I’m not going to be chased away again, Alex thought. It’s time to settle down and make things work.

  The blankets were knotting around Alex’s legs. He kicked them off. He wasn’t going to be sleeping any time soon. Standing up, he went to the window. A tiny window, overlooking the back yard.

  It had started to snow outside. A few flakes, drifting down from the clouds and catching against the window pane.

  Making things work meant finding peace with Krol. That meant talking to the man. It would be hard. Almost impossible. But they had to make it work. There was no other option. Cam had been right: they weren’t going anywhere else in this winter. It was impossible to admit that his rage wasn’t justified, but if it meant survival, Alex could bite the bullet and swallow his pride.

  The cogs were beginning to click into place. Alex’s mind was easing, slowing down from the thousand mile an hour pace which had kept him awake all night. Might even be able to catch some sleep, he thought. Having a plan – or even an intention – was comforting.

  Alex sat back down on the bed.

  Maybe it was time to sleep after all.

  A scream cut through the quiet night. Without thinking, Alex recognized the voice. It was Joan.

  He leapt from the bed, not pausing to grab his sweater or shoes. He didn’t have a gun or a knife or any other weapon. He ran.

  Joan screamed again. A high-pitched scream, right from the depths of her stomach. Alex knew fear. He knew what it meant to be scared. It was all there in the sound, all the terror and dread. He ran faster.

  Alex wasn’t the only one moving. The sound of people running through the house could be heard all around. All his senses seemed heightened. Movement upstairs. Downstairs. At the end of the hallway. In the kitchen. He wasn’t the only one who had heard.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Alex skidded to a halt. It was dark. There was no one else around. Footsteps in the house meant people were arriving. No time to wait for them.

  Feet barely touching the steps, Alex ran up the stairs. It was dark. He knew where to stand. Muscle memory. He’d done this a thousand times. Never this fast.

  The door at the top was closed. Alex didn’t wait to knock. The handle almost ripped from the wood, he opened it so fast.

  Inside, the candle was almost dead. The window was open, blowing the flame around.

  Joan lay on the bed, unconscious. Still breathing.

  “It’s me! It’s Alex! What happened?” His hand shook her shoulder. She didn’t wake up.

  She was bleeding from the head. A cut above her left eye, blood pouring down her face. Defensive wounds on her hands, he noticed. She’d gone down fighting. Alex propped her up in the bed and looked around the room. It had been ransacked.

  The baby was gone. The blankets, the bedding, the clothes, and everything else was thrown around the room. A fight had broken out. But there was no little girl.

  Alex ran to the open window. He looked out. Nothing. An empty courtyard. The snow almost starting to settle.

  Footsteps called from somewhere. Alex looked out again. In the house or outside? He couldn’t tell. More sounds. Heavy, slow thuds. It sounded like a fight.

  The door burst open again. Timmy stood in the empty space.

  “What the hell happened? I heard the–”

  Alex pointed at the bed where Joan lay unconscious, his mind a confusing car crash of rage and fear.

  “Help her.”

  “But–”

  “The baby’s gone, Timmy.”

  “What–”

  Alex didn’t wait to respond. Timmy already knew as much as he did. They were wasting time talking.

  “Look after her. I’m going out.”

  Before Timmy could say anything, Alex was out of the window.

  The roof tiles were wet and cold. Alex’s bare feet squeaked and curled. There was no one else out here, he could tell. Slapping wet cracks bounced through the window. The sound of fighting came again and then stopped, suddenly.

  It had come from the courtyard below. Feet struggling for a grip, Alex ran down the roof. Cam, he remembered, out there somewhere. He was on the edge of his balance, about to fall. One slip and his head would crack open on the ground below. The fearful thoughts were chased from his mind. No time for that.

  The gutter creaked as Alex reached the bottom of the roof, slid off the tiles and hung on to the pla
stic piping to lower himself down. It snapped, dropping him ten feet on to the ground. It hurt.

  Alex jumped up to his feet. This wasn’t the time for licking wounds. He tried to remember where the fighting sounds had come from. The courtyard was empty.

  The snow had just begun to lay a thin drift on top of the dirt. Alex looked closely. Footprints. Almost visible. They pointed toward the barn.

  He had to run. His lungs were burning, his limbs aching. Alex could feel the cold in his feet but he didn’t care. Rounding the corner, finding himself near the track which led down toward the road, he stopped.

  There were people here. The air was still warm. A splash of red on the white ground. Alex heard a groan. He looked around. The voice sounded familiar.

  There was a body lying face down. Alex ran to it. Those same clothes the church people wore. He crouched down beside the person’s neck. Were they dead? Feeling for a pulse, Alex stopped. His knuckle brushed up against a bone, sticking out of the wrong part of the neck. Dead, for sure.

  That groaning sound again. Alex already knew who it was. But he didn’t want to admit it.

  “Cam! Cam, where are you?”

  The groaning stopped. Alex looked around. Every moment he was outside, his eyes grew more accustomed to the dark. There he was. Propped up against a wall, head bent down.

  “Cam, what happened?” Alex ran towards his friend. “Cam?”

  A hand reached up from the darkness. It cupped Alex’s face. Cam laughed. It turned into a cough.

  “They came, Alex. They…” he coughed. “They came for her.”

  “For Joan? For the baby?”

  “Yeah.” Cam’s breathing was labored. It stuttered. Something was very wrong, Alex knew. He didn’t know what.

  “What happened to you?” He put an arm under Cam’s shoulder, about to pull him up. “Are you-”

  Alex stopped talking. He removed his hand and looked at it under the dim light. It was a deep red, almost silver. Warm. There was too much of it.

  “I was watching. Should have been watching better.” Cam stopped every few words, coughing and spluttering. “They came around the corner so fast, carrying something. I tried to stop them. Got one. The other had a knife. No time to shout. He got away…”