The Integration (Part I): Still Myself, Still Surviving

by Marlin Grail

  Time is pressing on my head more, considering I have left everyone in the car for a few minutes at this point. Resting my arms on the counter-top, I work the gears in my head on how to be creative with sharing our message to any newcomers of this place. “This surface should suffice with what I have in mind.”

  Immediately acting on my vocalized thought, I grab the sticky notes, count them in total, and calculate the amount needed to shape each letter.

  I cut corners on the elegance, but at a distance do I continuously view it—like a painter taking a step back at their work in progress. By the end, it spells out, “HAZE IN BACK”.

  They may call them something else, but hopefully they know what I'm referring to. Any haze we see, in the air or on the ground, are all the same now. All terms for it should define the same to describe its black-mutating smoke.

  I go ahead and place the paperclips on the edges of the sticky notes that connect with each other, as to provide weight in case of wind. A quick glance to reassure it is clear to the naked eye, and enough is spelled on our part. We may never meet who might encounter this message, but at least it shares insight of what we know of the place—and of who we are.

  Yes. We are survivors. Most of us have killed, but we do not have a killer mentality, 24/7. If we can, we will prevent death from coming, or ward people away from following its trail.

  Now that my purpose was fulfilled, I take off back to the car. Outside, I see my rolled down window, and Lissie delivering her look she conveys when she becomes playfully disappointed I succeed in something she doubted.

  “I take it from your less distressed face that you found a way?” she says.

  I decide I should let myself let loose at this point, and indulge the triumph from this task. “Did you think I would've let myself not?”

  Then, in an instant, a roar of an engine comes dashing its way from the road we are going up towards. “Gary!” she yells.

  The truck intends to, with its crudely-fortified bumper, ram right into me. It accelerates roughly, and aims its trajectory directly where I am standing.

  I expect the driver would not want to crash into the store, so if they miss me, all they would have to do would be viciously brake and U-turn their way back to a distance away from where I am.

  “Guys, stay in the car!” I yell.

  My heart pounds hard, for though I know this beast of a vehicle is probably not agile with countering my dodge, if I make a mistake, then it could end my life.

  I have not done a side-roll in a while, so hopefully it fits that saying, 'once you learn to ride a bike, you never forget'.

  This short span of waiting for the vehicle to come forth feels longer than it is—making my timing go off, for my jumpy reflexes have me slightly twist my legs to the left—anticipating the escape. “Gary… now!” I hear Ashton shout from the back seat.

  His voice is loud enough for me to hear over the deafening engine of this truck's increasing speed. Then, just as I predicted, the driver slams on the brakes just before impact. I lunge my body as far as it can go, mindful to keep my hands in a triangular formation—pointed to my desired landing spot, and roll off of my shoulder.

  My elbows drive into the concrete, but the hurt is hidden by the adrenaline that rushes from avoiding collision with them.

  It's not the most painless or prettiest side roll executed, but it will do.

  While rolled on my back, looking upward, I notice I have made a decent gap between me and the truck. It slows down just in time to not hit the building, and turns its way past the gas pumps, now circling back to where it was before heading towards me.

  Go ahead. Try and hit me again. I will do as many awkward maneuvers as it takes.

  The vehicle only growls several times from pressing on the accelerator while the brake is slammed down—teasing their next move, but to my surprise its engine stops. The dark tinted windows make it hard to see their faces, but I can identify 4, or 5, counting if there are 3 people in the back seat.

  Ashton has jumped out of our vehicle, with his rifle in hand and has aimed it at them. Janice slides her way where Ashton's door is, and Lissie opens her side door. All of them rush to take cover to the backside of our car shying away from the truck. Recognition strikes me with an instant flash of thought.

  If they are not of C., convince, otherwise I must make sure to contact our supervisor for backup. I'm not in the mood to talk to him anymore today, but I'll have to put our differences aside if it comes down to it.

  All of the truck's doors simultaneously open, and all the people from them, 5 in fact, pour out. “Excuse me, but I believe I was trying to hit you.” The driver says to me, with his sunglasses clung onto his face.

  “Well, I'm sorry to have put a wrench in your plan.”

  Ashton and Lissie, the only ones with guns by the car, are more than showing that they are ready to pull their triggers.

  “I do not see how you expect to gun us all down, bitches!” the man says to them.

  A few of his people start gesturing the threat of pulling out their weapons from behind them.

  Good thing they did not equip them in their hands before they left their seats.

  I dart to the group, and, sure enough, the commotion of every one of them unfurled. This time, I angle myself to perform a front roll, which, for sure, I have no trouble doing.

  I still hold my breath each time the perception of the world turns upside down—from these glides off of my back.

  I am now squatted on the ground, behind the front left side of the car's front bumper. The car windows that remained opened on both Lissie and Janice's side have been shot through and shattered. Rather than start returning fire alongside with Ashton and Lissie, I call upon the need for assistance. “Lissie! Stay close to Ashton, while I radio for support!” I say.

  No chance we can convince them now.

  She nods in understanding, and rushes her way to the rear bumper where Ashton is present. Both now crouched behind it, they share the limited space with coherency. They time their pull outs diligently, and skillfully aim down their sights—suppressing against these foes.

  I clamp onto the radio's button, beginning to speak into it, while patting and rubbing Janice's shoulder to comfort her shaken vibration she is showing. “Supervisor, sir! Please respond! Sir!” No response comes in, even after several seconds of anticipation for his deep voice to be heard. “Repeat, sir! We have enemies that have pinned us down at the gas station in the town we were sent to today! Respond!”

  Once again, no response comes in.

  Ridiculous! If the intention was for our only communication with someone else of this organization to be him, then why would he be absent at any time, especially when we need contact now!

  “What's the plan, Gary?” Ashton says.

  Because I draw blank as to what sudden movements we could do that would not be high-risk, I slam my radio to the ground as my answer, and begin firing as well. I notice 2 of them have been shot by Ashton and Lissie, both completely incapacitated to shoot back, so I aim my sights down at another—whose right leg is exposed from under the truck's front passenger door. Down they go, and I ensure to fire 2 rounds at them.

  Now that we have more ammunition, we do not have to be sparse on our shooting.

  Ashton currently has 1 of the 3 bags by Lissie and him. I signal for her to roll me over a few bullets, since she is reloading herself. “Does it matter which bullets I give you?” Lissie says with frustration.

  “No! Just the ones not as long and pointy as Ashton's!” I return back. Only 2 remain hostile, and I expect them to be the trickiest. Lissie starts speeding up, now delivering several bullets down to me. While filling up my magazine, I continue with comforting Janice, keeping her positive in our situation. “It is okay. We are going to be alright. Just stay hidden like this, and you will be fine.”

  She accepts my words, and continues to press her ears shut. Lissie, Ashton, and I develop a sturdy rhythm with our shooting intervals. Af
ter several bullets fly out of our guns, it becomes clear we have overpowered the 2 people remaining, as we can stay risen and shoot for longer periods than at first.

  The 2 men have stationed themselves on the truck's bed—likely laid out on their stomachs, and are blindfiring above the roof. I caution to Lissie and Ashton, “Even if these gas pumps have no fuel in them, any small amount of it that might remain could ignite!”

  “Let's finish this!” Ashton says.

  As soon as he ends his war-cry, I see through the trees movement of multiple contacts coming down the road. Immediately, once they are spotted by all of us, they open fire on the truck. I order Ashton to crouch down, concerned about him standing out in the open.

  These must be the people of that roadblock up ahead. The droning of our shooting must have caught their attention enough to have investigated.

  Once they cease fire, I begin shouting the code for clearance—as means to signal we are friendlies. “D11! Repeat, D11!”

  “Good job remembering to announce that!” one of them shouts to me.

  We all unwind from the firefight, and I go over to thank everyone who came. “We really appreciate the assist. We were on our way to go through the roadblock, and they trapped us here.”

  The women I recall, who gave us an unsavory expression of distrust, lets her shotgun rest up on her shoulder. “Yeah. Damn slow construction of these posts. It's still fresh around here. There's only ours and another, which you probably went to. The road that continues opposite of our post has a bleed-in, which means there's at least 1 road not managed critically.” She says, popping her neck afterward.

  “Sure. I am positive that could be taken care of.” I say back, hoping to signify between the both of us that we are comrades.

  She gives a tiny smile, and goes to shake my hand. “Sarah. I know I've seen your face before.”

  “You mean from today?”

  “No, but before then.”

  “Well, maybe you are confusing me with someone else.”

  “Don't assume I can't tell the differences in people's faces. We're all unique, especially some of your features.”

  I insist she could be mistaken on this one special occasion, but I know she must be referring to a time when I was on media, or maybe at a performance.

  “Well, I suppose it could just be that, but, whatever it is you're not wanting to come straight out about, I'm gonna find out.”

  I smile, wishing her luck.

  “Good luck yourself.”

  Our car's right side has been damaged severely, with lodged bullet holes and a flat. “This car's not going anywhere.” Ashton comments, while going to the trunk and checking on our luggage, hoping to also find a spare tire.

  He then groans when one is unable to be found. Sarah then shouts at us in response to hearing him. “Then why not just take their truck?”

  I do not kick the consideration in my head for too long. “Could you help us get their bodies out of the way?” I ask back.

  Without a direct answer, she, and a couple of the others, go over to the truck.

  They drag the ones in the truck's bed, letting those plastic faces grind up against the surface, and they begin dumping them onto the grass. Ashton and I go to pull out the bodies that were tucked and limp inside the vehicle's seats. “This is the life now, huh?” Ashton says.

  I do not say anything back, except nod at him.

  Yes, this is the life now.

  We all quickly place them to the land next to this station's pavement. One of the roadblock men comes up to me. “Can we take their weapons?”

  I nod, and allow him and his team to take what they may from their bodies.

  Our group loads up the truck, with all of our supplies, and we resume the mission back to our place—remaining silent as though nothing different happened. “Hey! While you yell the clearance, make sure to turn off the ignition!” one of their voices shouts at me.

  I acknowledge at the herd of guards, and turn ourselves back onto the road.

  Unfortunately, where Lissie is seated, her passenger seat has blood stained onto the carpeted fabric. I feel guilty, not just for most of us currently sitting in spots where people have recently been killed, but for me adding this layer of discomfort—because I wanted to reassure myself about our humane ways still being prominent to us.

  Had I kept us moving, we likely would not have encountered those aggressors.

  My reaction to this culpability makes the color rush from my face, while I also begin to feel it in my sweaty palms—hidden away by the steering wheel. We pass the roadblock, temporarily stopped, but successfully keep moving forward, and, eventually, after swerving past the RV, I spew out my apology. “I am so sorry everyone! I put our lives in danger, based on an idea to prove we are, I, am a good person. Those boys are gone, and it's still affected me. I understand if I let you all down.”

  I expect one of them to agree with me, and the first reaction comes from Janice. “Aww, Gary, I don't think any of us hold you responsible. I'm not upset at all with the choice you made.”

  It's not just this choice. All of the choices I have made, so far today, have had irrevocable consequences.

  Ashton reaches from behind to pat me on the shoulder. “I agree with her. To be honest, yes, had we kept going, we would have avoided that fight, but I know, for sure, they wouldn't have thought for 2 seconds about helping out another group, like you did—like I would have wanted to have done too.”

  Lissie nodded her head, repetitively, with practically every word Ashton was sharing. “This blood doesn't bother me, Gary. We took a risk, at the expense someone else did not die. If we have sinned by killing, then I believe we can make that up by doing the little deeds, like you did—which can go a long way.” She says this, subtly shaking her fist in a way that suggests even herself is having to accept this as well.

  I enhance the intake of these words everyone has shared, letting them go and begin healing my wounded mind.

  The blood on her seat may stain, unable to be cleaned, but the color will fade into it, and we will still be here when it does—vivid and full of many more chances to improve. I must accept that as long as I am around, or any of us are around, then there is always room to improve. I mentioned that yesterday to Lissie, but I forgot it today. Sometimes, it is easier said than done… but I'll still do it.

  Chapter XXIV

  (Janice)

  The sight of our shelter's location is now but a few hundred feet away. Evening time is hitting near, with the sun now reaching its last phase for the day. The area is imprinted in my mind—like the sight one gains of the road that takes them home.

  This is our home, now.

  I can tell Gary has begun finding peace with today, as his shoulders look less strict on his posture, and he is holding the steering wheel with only 1 hand.

  A positive for him having this truck is his sword can be stored in the bed.

  “How are we going to hide this truck?” Ashton says to Gary. “Those stones are too large, and planted in their place for us to push out of the way with this.”

  “It might just be a matter of making the vehicle appear unable to be functional.” Gary says back, talking methodically.

  I start sharing my input, letting myself interpret how others would see nature take over an automobile. “Well, the truck is already rusted somewhat, and with the gunshots that ricocheted and chipped at it, we could just park it in the grass and have it look like it's already been searched and discarded.”

  “Well, it is worth the risk, but I will park it a distance away from our path, in case it does get taken.” Gary says, looking at me through the rear-view mirror every now and then.

  He drives past our area for an extra several seconds, then slows us to a bumpy stop, as he drifts the truck off the road's pavement and onto the uneven grass.

  “Who's interested in having dinner?” I say.

  “Peanut Butter and Crackers has been my dinner these last few days. Please excuse the
bad breath.” Ashton says, chuckling as he opens his side door.

  I unlatch mine, and proceed to meet up with him. “How about tonight, we do something different? I saw some of the rations. All we need to do is to boil some water, and there you go.”

  Ashton looks up at me, while taking a bag out of the truck's bed. Lissie comes over to get in on our conversation. “I'm down for that. You took those pans out of the bags beforehand?” she says to me.

  “Of course! We have 3 in the shelter.”

  Gary shuts his door last, calmly walks over, and reaches down to pull out his sword, along with a bag to carry himself. “I would like that myself, Janice.” He says, catching eyes with mine, looking like a boy who was in trouble and wants to rejoin his family.

  I count him, along with Ashton and Janice, as my family. Will was there, but I couldn't hold him too dear to me, in case he flew away from the nest—which he did.

  I hunch over the truck's body to pull the last bag out. “It's okay, Janice, I got this.” Lissie says, placing her hand on my back.

  “I know I'm old, but it doesn't mean, as an older person, you can't exercise yourself.”

  She accepts my response, and lets me stretch myself to grab and lift the weighted bag off of the bed.

  Better we carry heavy supply bags than bags that can be carried easily.

  I situate it over my shoulder, and nod to Lissie that I'm okay. I examine our vehicle, imagining what people that would pass might get attracted by. “We should roll the windows down, and leave some of the doors open—including the truck bed's door. This should help make it look already scavenged.” I say out loud, circulating my hands to help me picture the appearance at a distance.

  “Good thinking.” Ashton says, with Gary and Lissie nodding in agreement.

  They go and unlatch the doors, as I guide. “Wider the open gaps, the better.”

  Once they finish, Ashton goes over to the road, and stands there for a few moments. “I think we're good.” He says while jogging back to the truck.

  At this point, the talking of food has bested me, now that my stomach begins growling. “Ready to go everyone?” I say.