Chapter 11: Caitlyn
The door slams shut and Carter thrashes his body against the steel. He needs to calm down, or he is going to get us both killed. I walk to the wall and press my face against it then lift up. The blindfold falls to my neck. A flickering fluorescent bulb above me illuminates the small space.
“Carter,” I say in a low voice. He stops struggling and stands there panting. I walk in front of him and rise to my toes. My face is a fraction of an inch from his. I lift my chin, grab the blindfold with my teeth, and pull it down. His pupils focus on me.
“Thanks,” he says. I nod. “We have to get out of here.”
I look around the concrete room. It probably was once a closet, but now it is a makeshift jail cell, and a pretty good one at that.
“There’s no way out,” he mumbles and takes a seat on the steel chair bolted to the floor along the back wall. His eyes soften in a way that tells me he may cry. There isn’t time for that.
Besides, one time with Walter, we were in a much worse predicament.
Walter. I haven’t thought of him in weeks. I do miss him sometimes. We went through so much together. Maybe I did love him... but now is not the time.
I look to the door. There is no way for them to see inside here. This could give us all the advantage we need. I drop to the floor, and by pushing my shoulders back, I am able to bring my bound hands under my backside and to the back of my knees. I pull my knees in close to my chest and then bring my hands around my feet and to the front. Carter tries to do the same, but he isn’t flexible enough. His hands are stuck behind his back. I rise to my feet.
“Now what?” he questions. I move around the closet. I need something sharp to cut the zip-tie.
A scrap of metal.
An air vent.
Anything to scrape at the plastic trapping my wrists together.
The room has nothing other than the chair with sides that are rounded and smooth. This will be complicated. I only have one last trick. I told Walt about it once; he even thought I was crazy.
That says something.
Carter looks back to me, hoping for some idea. I move my ear against the door, close my eyes, and concentrate. Two voices speak lightly outside the door. My courage still needs to re-build. I need to find the part of me that I let die several weeks ago. A part that I can't seem to let die. That won't die.
After listening for a few more seconds, I turn to Carter.
“After I make my move, charge the first guy. I’ll take the second.” I hope there’s only the two. I'll have to improvise if there are more.
I hear footsteps from outside, coming closer to the door. You can do this. Remember how you survived for five years. By inhaling with a closed mouth, I pull the inside of my right cheek between my molars. A mass of flesh sits between my teeth.
And I bite. I bite, hard. My eyes water as I feel the chuck of tissue separate from my mouth. A warm liquid fills my mouth. It gathers in the corners of my mouth and beneath my tongue.
The handle of the door slowly rotates. I press my back against the wall and try to relax my face. Carter stands. I hold up one finger and then point to myself. Wait until my move.
The door opens and two guards stand with their rifles at the ready. Glancing past them, I don’t see any more. Perfect. The closet is small so they have to get close to us and one in front of the other.
As I expected, his eyes go from me and then to Carter. They see him as the real threat. Underestimating the girl is a perpetual problem for them. He points the gun directly at Carter; the guard behind him points his to the floor. Wait. Wait.
“Come on you two; we are going-” He gestures with the gun, and it no longer points at Carter. It’s time.
I quickly inhale through my nose and open my mouth slightly. With a jerk forward, I spit all of the blood building in my mouth into his face. He yells and his gun goes off harmlessly into the cement. Carter lunges forward, slamming into him while I rush the second soldier. This guard tries to bring up his gun, but I shove it aside with my bound hands and clasp his head, aiming my thumbs. I line up one thumb with his eye socket and push with all the strength I have. He screams and falls backward to the ground with a thud.
I collapse on top of him and continue gripping his skull. My hands lift up while clutching his hair and bring his head into the floor until he stops screaming. Reaching to his belt, I retrieve a knife with my hands. I turn to Carter. He stands above the other soldier whose face is covered in a mix of my and his blood. Carter turns his back to me, and I quickly cut the plastic tie. He grabs the knife from me and then cuts my own bond.
“Damn, Ryan was right,” he says to himself while grabbing the soldier’s rifle. His eyes meet mine.
“About what?” I inquire, grabbing a weapon from their bodies.
“Nothing,” he says. Adding two clips to his pocket. I know what he means. A commotion of feet begins in the other room. We both bring our rifles up to the entrance. I spit out a bit of blood still seeping from my cheek onto the gray floor. A shadow appears at the entrance.
“What the hell is going on in-” the soldier never finishes his sentence. Both of us drop him with several bursts, and he falls dead instantly. We run out of the room.
Carter and I make our way back along the cement corridor of the stadium and move down the second floor concourse. The seats of the stadium are to the right and the vender shops are to the left. More gunshots echo from the outside, and we follow the chaos. Others have chosen not to go quietly either.
When we turn a corner, at least six soldiers crouch behind several souvenir carts and fire into a concession stand within the wall of the stadium. They have their backs to us and focus their weapons at the stand. Which of the others is behind there? While unseen, Carter and I sneak up behind the two closest soldiers. Carter grabs one around the neck with his arm and squeezes; the guard flails as he struggles to escape Carter's grip. I use a knife on the one in front of me. He simply drops.
I'm back in the wilderness.
We peer over the souvenir cart towards the stand within the wall. Four more guards fire into it. Whoever is behind there continues to blind-fire from over the counter.
“Caitlyn, we’ll go through the seating behind us and flank them. Follow-“
A small black ball flies from behind the counter towards the small group of soldiers. I almost don't see it. It’s a…
I dive forward, grabbing Carter and pulling him low beside the seats.
BOOM.
Some small debris rains down on us, and we slowly rise back to our feet. With wide eyes and quick breaths, we both nod at each other, unscathed. The soldiers are not so lucky. The gunfire has stopped, and I see several of their motionless bodies.
Who the hell managed to get a grenade? David? Ryan?
Smoke from the blast covers the area and three figures emerge from the haze, jumping over the counter. To the left and right are Paige and Jo. They look fine. In the middle is a man I have never seen before. He has a worn white hat and a long coat that goes to his knees. In each hand, he carries revolvers. He looks like a damn cowboy.
Paige runs up to Carter and throws her arms around him. Carter kisses her forehead. She releases him, and her hands return to the rifle strapped around her shoulder.
There will be time for pleasantries later.
“You are?” Carter asks.
“Nichols.” The cowboy tips his hat. “But I believe it’s about time we get out of here.”
“Where are the rest of them?”
“I heard Ryan and David when we were taken outside,” Paige says. “We were blindfolded; I’m not exactly sure where they are.”
We stand for a few moments while looking around the field and the other side of the stadium. The place is huge. They could be anywhere on this level or the levels beneath and above us. It will take forever to-
BOOM.
An explosion lightly illuminates the other side of the field, and our feet feel the rumble. We share glances.
I smile softly. None of us makes very good prisoners.
We take off running around the concourse of the stadium towards the explosion. A few guards emerge from the side, but we quickly put each one down with a series of shots. Most of them still have no clue that we are all free.
Two figures appear around the corner, I raise my weapon to fire. The others do the same.
“Wait, wait, wait!” the voice yells. My eyes focus; it is Nate and Laura. That was a close one.
“How'd you two get out?”
“I forgot I had a few of these in my pockets.” Nate says, flipping one of his bombs in his hand. “I think they thought they were flashlights or something. We just ran into Kevin. Apparently, Tori and Darrel are free too. Kevin went to get the SUV while Tori and Darrel went for Ryan and David. They saw them through a window in a box seat.”
“Good. Let's get to the vehicles,” Carter says, “Those four will be able to take care of themselves...”
A soldier appears in the doorframe from the right; the other aren't paying attention – too busy concentrating on our next move. I turn my rifle towards the soldier, but Jo is in the way. I lunge forward, pushing her to the ground and begin to fire while I am falling. I aim as best I can.
The soldier fires at us. The ground comes quickly, and the air in my lungs violently escapes as my chest collides with the ground. I look up to where the soldier was, ready to fire again. His body is falling down the frame of the doorway. A streak of blood follows him.
“Nice shooting,” Nichols says. He reaches his hand forward and pulls me to my feet. “You’ve got some instincts, sweetheart.”
I do have instincts. I’ve finally accepted that truth.
I need to embrace the animal that I have within me; they need me to. Every time I try to bury it deep within, it always comes back. When Walter died, when they tortured me, when I… when I killed Sara, I tried to put it behind me. But in this world, I’m always going to need it. Maybe one day, if it ever should come, when we aren’t always in danger, I’ll let it all go. That's what I want in my heart.
However, that day is not today. Not as long as my friends are in danger and that Matthews still sucks air.
I reload the clip sluggishly into the rifle. Guns aren’t my specialty, but I am going to do whatever it takes to save their lives.
And my own.
Our group runs outside. The white SUV travels down and skids to a stop right in front of us. Kevin is behind the wheel.
“Get in, now!” Kevin shouts. A few pops of gunfire blast from behind us. The back window of the SUV shatters, and Kevin quickly aims his pistol out the open passenger window and fires back. We pile in while firing back at the guards. Dozens of guards start to appear on both levels of the stadium. I'm the last one in and Kevin slams on the gas while I shut the door. “Can anyone else hot-wire a car?”
“I can,” Nichols says.
“There's a fleet of cars up ahead. We all aren't going to fit in this. Get it started and follow me,” Kevin states. After a turn around the stadium, we approach the lot with vehicles lined up. Nichols hurries out. Jo follows him, and I decide to go, too.
Kevin parks the SUV, and those inside prepare to provide cover fire through the windows. Nichols rotates his gun and bashes the driver's side window of a black sedan. He unlocks the door, wrenches it open, and jumps into the vehicle. I crouch beside the sedan, and shoot at the growing number of soldiers in view. Some are on the ground level, and even more appear on the walls of the higher stadium levels. I move closer to Nichols and use the open door as cover. He lies underneath the driver’s side while his hands strip and twist some wires. A bullet shatters what remains of the window and covers us both in glass.
“Can't you do this any faster?” Jo asks, steadying her rifle on the hood and firing desperately.
“I'm going as fast as I can,” he shouts from under the wheel. I bring down a few targets, but even more appear in the distance.
He needs to do this faster.
Chapter 12: David
“You leave them alone!” I yell fruitlessly as the soldiers drag Paige and Jo out of the stadium. Despite my protests, they only push us into the adjacent building and pull us by our bound wrists up dark steps. Ryan and I try futilely to resist the forced march, but their guns push us forward to the other side of the stadium. Reaching the second level, they shut us in a room.
I kick the door with all my might; it doesn't budge. Ryan walks calmly to the window at the bottom of some stairs. A table sits beside it and a few chairs point out towards the window. I glance out the glass. We are in a box seat that overlooks the field. I walk beside him and look down – it's a long drop. Still, maybe we could make a jump if we have to.
“Ryan, what the hell are we going to do?” I ask. He shakes his head.
“I'm sure Nate and Laura will be okay. The rest – I don't know,” he says, turning to me with a look of indignation. “You should have kept driving, David.”
“I wasn't about to leave anyone. We've been through too much together. Either we all make it out of this or none of us.”
“You still shouldn't have stopped.”
I give him a cold stare as I turn, placing my back against the glass. Stillness fills the small room. He looks slowly to me and then out the window.
“I remember,” he begins, “I remember when my dad first brought me to a game here. I must have been six or seven. After the third inning, we went to get hot dogs. Somehow, between reaching the top of the stairs and getting in line, I lost him. I couldn't see him. Fear quickly went through me. I frantically searched for him to no avail.”
I do not know where he is going with all this. This isn't the time to reminisce. Most of all, Ryan is rarely one to share old stories, especially after we arrived at the Ax.
“Ten minutes later an attractive, well-dressed woman, she couldn't have been very old, picked me up and carried me to her box. From there, she called on a phone. Once she hung it up, she turned to me with a smile, and told me everything would be okay. She took me down to a window just like this. It had me in awe. However, I stepped hesitantly back from the counter. I was afraid I could fall. She smiled. She told me I was safe. We were really high up, nearly fifty feet, but the glass wouldn't break.”
“So?” I ask.
“Well, we won't be making it out the window,” Ryan replies and continues to stare out blankly. “We need another plan.”
“Dammit Ryan,” I say. What the hell is wrong with him? It's as if he's already dead. We stand in silence for a few more moments. “We need a way-”
The door to the box slams open. The sergeant walks in the room. He moves down the stairs quickly.
“Sit down,” he commands with an outstretched pistol. We both find seats in the front row. Maybe, we can talk our way through this. Doubtful, but maybe. He steps in front, holsters the gun, and glances between us impatiently.
“Who exactly are all of you?”
“We are just trying to survive,” I say.
“We are the ones who broke into Washington last month. We are the ones, who made your defenses look like a joke. We are the ones who before that killed dozens of your men up at the mines and at the Lancaster farm,” Ryan says, his face grinning with pride. His eyes are wild and wide.
Ryan, what they hell are you doing? It's not the best to piss off the man with a gun.
The sergeant steps in close to Ryan. Rage fills the man's eyes. He must believe Ryan. He reaches an arm back and strikes Ryan across the face. The crack shakes my insides.
Ryan just… laughs.
The sergeant reaches back and strikes Ryan again. A thin stream of blood runs from Ryan's mouth. He continues to laugh. The sergeant stares at Ryan, fury surging through every inch of his face. He places his hands around Ryan's neck. Ryan stops laughing as he struggles to breath.
“Please, keep laughing.” The sergeant moves his face within inches of Ryan's. “Keep laughing.”
Ryan slams his head forw
ard, striking the sergeant's nose. I hear it break and when he pulls away, blood flows from the man’s nostrils and into his grimacing mouth. His hand goes for his pistol and points it at Ryan's head.
“You’re going to-”
The hammer on the gun begins to move back...
My foot collides with the side of the sergeant’s knee. Ryan quickly moves his head to the right as the gun goes off. I dive forward and bury my shoulder into the sergeant’s chest. Both of us fall to the ground. Ryan remains standing as the guards at the door fire into the room. Flipping the table with a kick, he creates a barrier between the deadly rounds and us. He puts his back to the table, and looks to me. I slam my shoulder into the sergeant’s face. He goes unconscious.
Bullets riddle the window behind us, and splinters of the wood rise into the air. We are trapped in a five-foot space. The gunfire keeps coming, and bullets pepper the floor all around us. The glass shatters and a howl of cold wind blows through the box.
“Now what?” I yell over the heavy gunfire. His craziness freed us; hopefully, he has another wild card.
“I hoped you had a plan,” Ryan says back. I shake my head while he wipes the blood from his mouth on his shoulder. I turn my back to the sergeant, and manage to find the gun with my bound hands. I fire a few shots around the table from behind my back.
At least they won’t rush us if they think we are armed.
They continue to shoot back, splintering the table away. We may have to jump.
Suddenly, the bullets stop.
Ryan and I share glances. I clutch the gun behind my back tightly and lean face a hole in the table. One of the guards lies on the ground; the other is struggling for air.
Darrel is on top of the guard, holding him in a tight headlock. I stand just as the guard goes limp. Darrel rises with an uncomfortable look. Tori walks around the corner, reaches down to the soldier, and withdraws his radio and gun. She hands it to Darrel who tries to slow down his breathing.
“They're both unconscious,” Darrel says.
“How'd you two get free?” Ryan asks, moving towards Ryan. Darrel flicks open a knife and frees Ryan's hands.
Humanity Gone (Book 3): Rebirth Page 7
