The Sound

by James Sperl

  “But that's the problem,” Cesare said, stepping up. “They should've been out here by now, but they haven't shown up.”

  “Sorry,” the guard said without emotion. “We've got our orders.”

  Andrew clenched his jaw and exhaled exasperatedly. “Look, we think something's happened. We need to check on our friends to make sure they're all right. I know you've got your orders, but I'm just asking for a little latitude here. We're coming right back. Look,” he dug into his pocket and withdrew his ID, “you can even keep this if it helps.”

  The guard shook his head. “If I make an exception for you, I have to make it for everyone. Now please move away.”

  “This is such bullshit,” Andrew grumbled. “They could be in trouble.”

  The guard moved his finger off the trigger guard of his assault rifle onto the trigger itself. “Not as much trouble as you're going to be in if you don't walk away in the next ten seconds.”

  A small crowd gathered behind Andrew and Cesare. Andrew put the number somewhere around fifteen people. Supportive cries of outrage sounded from the most irate, but no one confronted the guards directly; they only continued to watch the altercation passively.

  Cesare took a step forward, which prompted the guard to jerk his rifle into attention. Three more guards filed in behind him. Cesare held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

  “Easy, fellas. I just want to ask a question. Since you're not letting people back in, is there a way to get a message inside?”

  The guard dropped his head in disbelief. “We're not a fucking courier service.” He looked past Andrew and Cesare to the assembling crowd. “Do you people really not understand what's happening here?” The crowd quieted, the guard stabbing a finger into the air and pointing to someplace off in the distance. “There's a convoy of vehicles headed this way—a very long convoy—and they will likely be here within the hour. This is imminent. New Framingham's very existence will be put to the test today.” Heads turned to look at one another, the bluntness of the guard's words shocking them into silence. “Now, I'm sorry if the lockdown procedure inconveniences you, but it's a necessary precaution.”

  “Against what?” Andrew said, throwing up his hands.

  The guard held firm. “Against anyone that might try to infiltrate our community.”

  Andrew laughed from absurdity. “What, you mean spies? You think that whoever's coming waited until the hour before they arrived to infiltrate this place? I hate to break it to you, but if you're worried about spies, you're too late. They're already inside.”

  The crowd grumbled in anxious support of Andrew. The guard studied them with the look of someone who knew he was losing control of the situation.

  “Furthermore,” Andrew went on, “do you really think you're going to be able to keep people out? There are more holes along the perimeter of this place than a golf course.”

  The guard set his jaw; his brows flatlined, fixed for business. “Then you shouldn't have any trouble finding someplace else to enter. We've got our orders here.”

  Cesare exploded with rage. “This is ridiculous! Time's running out. We need to get in there and find our friends. We're not just going to leave them in—”

  The guard had had enough. He drew his rifle on Cesare, quick as a viper. The three guards behind him, who had been quietly assessing the situation, fanned out as they surged forward. Each drew his rifle on the unsuspecting crowd. The guard had everyone's full attention.

  “Anyone still standing here ten seconds from now will be considered an enemy of New Framingham and treated as such in accordance with its laws. Your opportunity to defend New Framingham from inside has passed. I advise each and every one of you to vacate this area immediately. Find a place to hole up or, if you're inclined to fight, which I hope you all are, do whatever you can out here to help those inside. If what they're saying is coming is true, we're going to need the help of every able-bodied person to save this place.” He shot his dead-eyed glare to Andrew. “Something to think about for those of you who want to help loved ones still inside.” The crowd dispersed, some walking away begrudgingly, some fleeing outright.

  Andrew delivered the guard a final look of defiance before he and Cesare peeled away.

  Cesare exhaled a pent-up breath. “So what do we do now?”

  “Plan's the same,” Andrew said. “We find our friends.”

  “Yeah, but how? You heard that guy. Security's going to beef up everywhere.”

  “Likely.”

  “Then how're we going to get past it to get in?”

  “I'm not entirely sure,” Andrew said. “But I have an idea, and it will require all of us.”

  Cesare cocked his head. “What do you mean 'all of us'?”

  Andrew let slip the smallest of grins. “I mean it looks like Evan will get his chance to help after all.”

  * * *

  It was just as Andrew had hoped. While Ring Road to the south of Shopper's World had mobilized an impressive line of defense—tractor trailers lined up along the wide open stretch of road from east to west, effectively cutting off the Olive Garden and TGI Fridays restaurants from the community—it was the southeast entrance that interested him.

  As he suspected, security at this checkpoint was lighter—but not by much. With so many people either flocking to Lowe's to retrieve their belongings or heading to the clinic to pull out family members—both of which were west of New Framingham—the number of residents who congregated along the eastern borders and the forces required to guard them were significantly lessened. Add to that, Travis's convoy allegedly moved in from the northwest along I-90. It didn't seem likely that he would mount an offensive on the eastern side of Shopper's World, not if he hoped to sustain momentum. Andrew saw a potential opening, and it was one he hoped to exploit.

  After he and Cesare had gathered Elenora, Evan, and their belongings, they relocated to the community's substantially less populated eastern side. They settled into a thicket of trees along Shopper's World Drive located directly across from the southeastern entrance. From there, Andrew laid out his plan.

  “It sounds very dangerous,” Elenora said after he finished. “Are you sure Evan should do this?”

  “It's got to be him,” said Andrew. “In fact, I don't think it'll work any other way unless it is him.” He placed a hand on Evan's shoulder. “Are you absolutely sure you're up for this?”

  Evan didn't hesitate with his reply. “Absolutely. Let's do this.”

  Andrew studied him for any sign of masked fear, but Evan was a stone of determination.

  “Seriously, Andrew. I can do this.”

  Andrew nodded. “All right. Then get in position, and go when you're ready.”

  “Will do.”

  “And Evan.” Evan stopped after a pair of steps to look back at him. “There's no shame in backing out if you need to.”

  Evan frowned then half-smiled. “Whatever.” He tromped off through the underbrush.

  “Nonna, are you sure you're going to be okay here?” Cesare said. “I hate the thought of leaving you by yourself.”

  Elenora straightened. “I'm a big girl. I'll be fine. Just make sure you two stay safe. This little maneuver is risky. It could end badly. Very badly.”

  “Believe me when I tell you, I know,” Andrew said, inhaling a calming breath. “But we're out of options, and we're out of time. With any luck, we'll be back sooner than we hope.”

  “I've never been a real fan of luck,” she said.

  Andrew smiled. “Me either.”

  Elenora searched the ground before she looked up and said, “I hate to even say the words, but...if you don't come back...”

  Cesare took her hand, but Andrew responded. “If were not back within the hour, you and Evan take whatever you can carry and hightail it out of here.”

  “But where do we go? And how do we get there?”

  Andrew nodded emptily—he hadn't thought that far down the road. Then an idea jumped to mind.

  “Head
toward Natick Mall,” he said. “It's due east from here.”

  “The mall?” Cesare said. “What the heck for?”

  “To get a vehicle. If there are 5,000 or so people here, then there have to be other places away from here large enough to store all the cars and trucks they arrived in. But someplace nearby. The parking lots at Natick seem like the most obvious choice. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that each vehicle's key is still in the ignition. Worst case scenario, we rendezvous back at the Rosenstein lab in Ashland. If more than three days pass and no one shows up...well...”

  “Okay,” Elenora said through clamped-shut eyes. She opened them and stared at Andrew with a lifetime's worth of wisdom. “We will. But you just make sure none of that will be necessary.”

  “We'll do our absolute best.”

  Elenora gave him a smile both achingly sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. “More would be better.”

  “There he is!” said Cesare. He pointed through the trees at Evan, who had doubled back and now approached the security checkpoint from the south.

  Andrew suddenly felt more uncertain now than he did prior to devising this cockamamie scheme. While five security guards were a lesser number to contend with than eight, it was still a substantial amount to have to evade to get inside. And all of it hinged on whether a teenager's acting skills were up to snuff.

  “Come on,” Andrew said to Cesare. “Let's get in position.”

  Cesare kissed Elenora. “See you soon.”

  “You better.”

  Andrew and Cesare crept through the forest. They sneaked in a half-stooped posture until they reached the edge of the treeline where they crouched behind the widest trunk.

  Evan continued at a fast walk until the guards spotted him. Without a speck of hesitation—and just as they had planned—he broke into a run and charged up to them. The nearest guard raised his rifle.

  Here we go.

  “Don't shoot! Don't shoot!” Evan cried out in feigned panic. Andrew heard his voice more clearly than he thought he would at this distance.

  “Freeze right there!” the lead guard shouted, his terse command drawing the complete attention of the other four, all of whom now glared at Evan—and faced away from Andrew and Cesare.

  Bingo.

  “Go!” Andrew whispered harshly.

  Springing to their feet, Andrew and Cesare bolted across Shopper's World Drive toward the rear of Macy's Furniture Gallery. For a short distance, it sure felt far—and exposed. From the trees, Shopper's World Drive looked like your average road, but once asphalt was underfoot, the six-lane section of boulevard seemed as long as a football field.

  Andrew put his head down and ran. He tried not to think about whether anyone saw him, or if the barrel end of someone's weapon poked out from some heretofore unseen location and traced his path. He just ran. He had to trust his eyes. He had to trust his instinct. But most of all, he had to trust that Evan could pull off his job.

  After they had crossed the road, he and Cesare sprinted through a single line of trees, which separated Shopper's World Drive from the stores on the opposite side. Five more heaving strides and they were able to duck into a loading bay for cover.

  Once assured they had made it undetected, Andrew poked his head around the edge of the wall to see Evan's Oscar-winning performance in mid-delivery.

  “— down the road!” Evan twisted and pointed to someplace behind him in the dark distance.

  “Whoa, whoa, calm down,” said the lead guard, who lowered his weapon. The other guards followed suit. “What're you on about?”

  Evan pretended to catch his breath. “I was out scavenging with a friend, and we came across these guys. Must've been six or seven of them. We overheard them talking about some people coming to attack this place. A convoy.”

  The guard shot a look to the others then swiftly moved out from behind the barricade. “Where were these people?”

  Evan spun and pointed again. “About half a mile that way. They had guns and some stuff that looked like bombs. They shot my friend!” Evan broke down into phony sobs.

  A second guard stepped up beside the first. “Could be a scouting party.”

  “Sounds right,” said the lead guard.

  “If they're from the group that's coming, they could be forwarding intel as we speak. We need to shut that shit down.”

  “Roger that.” The lead guard turned to the others. “DeLancy, Steigs. You're with me. Haines, radio this in and see if anyone's available for support. We're going hunting.”

  “Copy that,” said Haines.

  The lead guard and guards DeLancy and Steigs each chambered a round then trotted off in the direction Evan had indicated without so much as a backward glance.

  “Well, I'll be damned,” Andrew said to Cesare. “Kid's got some skills. Come on. Now's our chance.”

  They slunk along the wall toward the remaining guards. Three of the five were away, but two remained. If either of them turned around, they would not only see Andrew and Cesare, but Andrew and Cesare might very well end up stuck in a holding cell after the guards arrested them.

  Fortunately, Evan grasped the importance of the crucial moment. Glimpsing Andrew and Cesare over the guards' shoulders, Evan took his performance to the next level and gave his friends the best chance they would ever get to sneak inside.

  “This whole thing has...” Evan staggered and plastered his hand to the side of his face in a woozy gesture. “I don't feel so well.”

  Haines, who had just started to turn to reach for the radio, stopped halfway. “You all right, kid? You don't look so good.”

  “Me? No, I'm...” Evan collapsed in a heap right where he stood.

  Andrew almost reacted, almost flew to Evan's side to check on him. But in the second before he charged off, he recognized what was happening: It was part of the act.

  Evan's bravura was a gamble. Not only could his phony blackout have come off as unbelievable, but the intended result relied upon something Andrew felt was in limited supply these days—basic human decency. At any moment, one or both of the guards could have looked back and seen Andrew and Cesare coming, but Evan's fainting spell banked on their compassion—and it paid off.

  The guards rushed to Evan's aid, and as they did, Andrew and Cesare darted along the remaining length of wall, around the corner, and through the checkpoint. Andrew supposed a well-meaning resident of New Framingham could have seen and reported them, but another deep-rooted facet of human nature was self-preservation—everyone would be too concerned with saving his or her skin to care.

  The pair ran inside and cut right at the end of the building, hurrying toward the Macy's entrance. They slowed to a casual walk once they put the building between themselves and the guards. No one paid them any mind.

  “Come on,” Andrew said.

  Stepping up their pace, he and Cesare maneuvered along the sidewalk toward the daycare two stores away. The walkway was eerily empty considering how many people still lingered inside, but as soon as he heard a voice broadcast via bullhorn from the parking lot, Andrew understood why.

  A trio of slow-moving pickup trucks coasted north through the parking lot toward the Sleep Zone. Several men rode in the back of each one, all of whom handed out objects Andrew couldn't see. Crowds swarmed them. It wasn't until he was able to hear the tinny voice coming from the man who bellowed from atop the center truck that he learned what the objects were: guns.

  “...residents of New Framingham. If you know how to use a firearm,” the balding man with the bullhorn shouted, “you are called upon to help defend our community from an imminent attack!” People clamored for the rifles and the handguns heaped into the truck beds. The men in the trucks couldn't hand them out fast enough. “As we speak, the greatest threat we have faced is approaching. They have already attacked our convoys. Killed eleven of our people. Fight with us and protect New Framingham! Help fight our enemies!” Cries of approval rippled through the crowd. Arms raised in solidarity, each hand clut
ching the weapon it had just received.

  Andrew and Cesare stared at the scene in spiraling horror.

  “They're giving back the guns?” Cesare said.

  Andrew had no words. The mania spoke for itself. While it was necessary for the people of New Framingham to defend themselves, the frenzied panic had reached a fever pitch. People scrambled in all directions, some crying, some with fear etched so deeply into their faces the lines seemed permanent. Fights broke out. Men screamed and hollered with pre-combat fervor, the embrace of the primal overtaking otherwise civilized people. Through it all, flood lights from the rooftops illuminated the nightmarish scene in a wash of stark yellow. Things were about to go downhill and quick.

  “We've got to move,” Andrew said. He transitioned from a walk to a jog until he reached the daycare and pushed through its doors.

  Three women scurried about frantically, each one gathering children or supplies with focused purpose. One of them, Samantha, glanced over to find Andrew and Cesare. The men trotted over to her.

  “Are you here for your child?” she said, hopeful.

  “We're friends of Clarissa's,” said Andrew. “Is she here?”

  “No,” Samantha said nervously. “I don't know where she and Dustin went. When I left to get our evac bus, both of them were here. But when I got back they were gone.” She looked back at Ronnie, who was in the process of collapsing a crib. “Ronnie was the only one here with them, but she was out back moving supplies when they disappeared.”

  “Wait,” Andrew said. “Dustin's not around either? Isn't he the director?”

  “Supposed to be,” Samantha groused. “We could use some direction right about now.”

  Andrew rubbed a concerned palm over his face. He shared a grave expression with Cesare, who asked, “Any idea where they could've gone?”

  Samantha shook her head, fear and exhaustion sagging her eyes. “No, but I wish they'd come back already.”

  Andrew's mind unmoored from the conversation and went adrift with worry. Where the hell was Clarissa? Did she stop to help someone? Was she at this very moment where they were to have originally met? Her absence was a hiccup time couldn't afford.