“Hey, that’s ours!” Carson yelled and rushed toward Emma while pointing the gun at her. “That’s our flag!”
“We got to it first,” Emma shrugged. “It’s our flag now. And it's still against the law to shoot at live people.”
“That, and the gun is still empty,” Lew pointed out with a smile “Also, without our help your name would have been ‘Supper’. Look Carson, we have something you want, and you might have something we want. We should work together for a bit. How ‘bout it? Or we could challenge you for that flag your team’s already got.”
Carson rummaged in the bag and produced six shiny bullets. He loaded the gun and felt, more than saw, the others tense. “Not going to shoot anyone—relax,” he said sullenly, as he thought about what Lew has said. He didn’t see much of a choice. “Follow me.”
The dead woman lowered her hands and moved to join them.
“No,” Carson raised the gun to her. “You stay. Please stay.”
“Please?” She stood there, confused and helpless. “Need…help.”
“No, sorry. You're not coming with us. I am really sorry” He looked at the badge, “ Ms. Aluri, but you could be contagious, and you're too slow and could cause us all sorts of problems.”
She looked from face to face. They didn’t meet her eyes for long and they all shook their heads. Shocked, she lowered her hands and stopped walking as they kept hedging away from her, “Water?” she asked.
“Yeah, okay, but you gotta stay here. The dead don’t seem to mind you so you stay, okay?” Carson lowered the gun, feeling a bit stupid, and grabbed a protein bar and a water bottle from the backpack, then tossed it at her feet. “We’ll have someone come back for you, but for now you gotta stay. Just stay in this area, we’ll send a rescue helicopter for you.”
“Anjali…my name. Anjali Aluri. Please...” She tried on more time.
“Stay here.”
She watched them leave.
After a brief hesitation, Anjali picked up the offerings, ate the protein bar and drank the bottle empty, then followed in their footsteps. They were dark and clear in the thin layer of snow that had carpeted the ground and was growing thicker with every passing minute.
Abandonment issues, yeah I got them
NO! No way you're leaving me behind, appalling creeps! Thought Anjali as she tried to pick up her pace, she felt rage build up in her chest. She stumbled but she managed to retain her balance and kept walking. “Jerks!” The intended shout came out as a wheeze; she stopped and gulped in air. “JERKS!” Yeah, there, that’s better.
Oh my God, she thought, dismayed and amused. I am as fast as ten-pack-a-day, obese sicko with a Twinkie addiction. God, seriously—I fail to see your plan for me here. That stopped her in her tracks. Had she always been religious? Or was it spiritual? Or simply superstitious, because try as she might, she couldn't pull up the memory of a church from her reigniting brain cells.
A freezing mix of rain, ice and snow fell harder and as it hit her skin she felt the tiny pressure of the droplets hitting her face. She held out her hand and watched as in seconds, rain mixed with larger flakes of snow accumulated in her palm. This isn’t good.
She began to walk again when a violent shove knocked her to the ground. Asphalt, pebbles and glass. Anjali felt pressure but no pain, her body was still numb, mentally, she was outraged. Really?! First abandoned, now a this? She thought incredulous.
Angry, she staggered to her feet and turned to look at her attacker, he was a large man who wore the uniform of a gas station attendant, the name patch on his chest said ‘Bob’. Bob was dirty, streaked in mud, oil and a patina of old blood, as if he had tried to wash in it.
No death by natural causes for you buddy, Anjali realized, when she saw the large hole on the man’s left flank. Someone had made a meal of him from the ribcage to hip and had hollowed out the belly, and in that hollowed out body something glittered, in that dark hole that once held the man’s guts. She looked closer, curiosity getting the best of her, a wrist watch? Awww, for Christ's sake! A wrist watch. Great company I'm keeping.
She shook her head, disgusted, and backed away as the man drew closer still to her. What the hell? She wondered. Everyone else is leaving me alone—what's wrong with you? She retreated until he backed her into a car. She could go no further and he leaned in toward her. Their faces were inches apart when he opened his maw: a foul, horrid hole, his nearly black tongue danced inside, past the receded and rotted gums that held lurid, yellowed teeth. He drew nearer still, within kissing distance, before he lost his balance and fell against her, pinning her to the car and knocking out of her the little breath she had. With a grimace and gritted teeth, Anjali closed her eyes, felt his open lips on her cheek, slowly closing. She could feel the pressure of his teeth. She wanted to scream as she struggled to push him off. Too weak, oh my God, I am too weak. I can’t breathe, I...
Loud gunshots rang out and broke the spell. The man turned toward the noise, pushed off her, and began his journey toward the new distraction. Anjali opened her eyes. Terrified, she looked wildly about.
I'm shaking, she thought. Oh God, I'm shaking. That was close, that was... She looked at her arms. The asphalt had scraped her skin, the glass bits had pierced it. She was bleeding, blood was slowly seeping from the deeper cuts and abrasions creating vivid rivulets on her wet, cold skin.
----------
“You all see that?” Tom asked, slack-jawed with disbelief.
----------
Under a blue California sky in the Extreme Sensory Production’s executive room, in the bleak cold ground editing room being covered by the falling Oregon snow, anywhere where anyone was paying attention, everyone was agape.
“This is remarkable. Has anyone heard about anything like this?” Cheryl asked the room.
“Rumors. There are always rumors, but nothing confirmed,” Mike Holtz, the line producer, replied.
Cheryl looked amazed. When she had returned to the production room, she had been bored. Now she was enraptured by the woman on the screen. The drone following the contestants had been turned around and kept on her.
“Looks like we have a new player,” she murmured to no one in particular.
“The CDC or the Army will be shutting us down any time now.” That was Karlie speaking, and Cheryl shot her an unhappy but respectful look. Karlie Howitzer was Mike’s assistant, and if anyone was born to budget a production, that was her, she was always good at paying attention at what really mattered: the bottom line.
“Maybe not,” Cheryl replied. “They might be too busy. We’re going to keep filming for as long as we can. Anyway, we have the first amendment on our side.”
“That woman needs help. She is not a new ‘player’, damn it!” Dale Larosh slammed his hand on the table in front of her.
Dear Dale, she mused, what am I gonna do about you? Everyone knew that his brother was one of the turned; his jaws wired shut and tucked away in a very high-end hospice that charged exorbitant care-giving prices for all types of difficult patients. Dale was all about the family, and he could foot the bill.
Cheryl shrugged. “Fine. Contact the hospital. Call the Army. Call the National Guard,” she held his gaze, “Or do you think it would be good to risk the lives of our pilots? Oh! And if the hospital isn’t ready to receive her?” She placed just the tips of her manicured fingernails on the sleeve of his shirt. “I know...Your house! We’ll drop her off at your house. Will that work for you, Dale?”
He swatted her fingers away, disgust stamped his features.
Cheryl ignored that and continued, “I think we should help her.” She said trying to sound pious and paused for emphasis, she tried to look concerned and caring, but doubted that she had pulled it off. Around the meeting table she could see discomfort and possible mutiny simmering in the ranks. “We will. Help her. But we need
to contact the people who can best do it, and have them do it. Until then…we do our job and keep filming. As a matter of fact, Dale why don’t you take ownership of that? Helping her?” She smiled at him.
“I intend to do just that,” his reply came through clenched teeth. “Right now. Get Zisk, have him tell them that the team that escorts the woman out gets a free flag.”
Cheryl gazed incredulously at the man. She hadn’t expected that one. Such a good idea that she wished she had thought it. “I like that idea, Dale. Let’s do it.”
----------
“What?” Tom asked again. He was finding it hard to accept.
“You heard me. Do it,” Zisk answered him, irritated.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Jesus! Just do it Tom. You're not in charge—you're the host. Nobody is asking you.” He paused briefly then went on. “Or me, for that matter. Quit second guessing everything…it’s just… a damn TV show.”
“You don’t think this is a good idea either.”
“No, I sure as hell don’t! They rushed to get this show going—rushed and pushed, cut corners, and haven’t planned for shit but the basics.” The director stalked out on him then. Tom groaned in frustration but did his job.
“Teams!” His voice went over the headsets. “Do you want a chance for a free flag? Run, do not walk, RUN! And pick up a new team member. Anjali Aluri. 1080 East Birch street.”
----------
“Pull out the map,” Alvin ordered.
Theo took it out from his backpack and unfolded it as the other two gathered around him.
“No.” He tapped his finger on the address and shook his head. “Clean across town.”
“No way, and Righteous is right there,” Alvin snorted with disdain.
“Yeah, no fucking way,” Theo said as he put away the map. “I’m betting she’ll slow down anybody that picks her up, and if she's one of the town’s survivors, why is she still here? What’s wrong with her? Let ‘em have her.”
Alvin nodded. “We stay on track. Let’s go find Ty before it gets too dark. After that, one more flag, we grab the last one and we're out. And we gonna need a warm place for the night. Christ, it's snowing even worse.”
----------
“Everyone stop.” Cho brought her team to halt. “Kate?”
“Yeah yeah, I know. Hold on.” She looked at her map. “Too far away. Let the other teams fight for her.”
“No! I really think we should go for it!” Cho insisted with way too much enthusiasm.
Kate shoulders slumped in annoyance. “No. Too far. Righteous is closer, and think about it,” she drew closer and whispered in Cho’s ear, mindful of the cameraman that followed them. “This woman has survived in Prideful—not a pretty place. She didn’t manage to get out when they evacuated the town, or didn’t want to. Maybe she's nuts or maybe she’s sick. She might need serious help. Let them babysit and earn that extra flag. Worst case scenario—Righteous doesn’t take her, they look like assholes. Great! Then we can bargain with Tom for more than a flag and we’ll look like heroes if we pick her up. Best case scenario—the production gets off its ass and picks her up to save face.”
Cho thought it over, nodded. “Where are we going next, then?”
“Six west and then five more north,” Kate responded.
“Let’s hit the road, women. This will be the last flag for the day, it’s snowing out there and we ain’t dressed for it.”
Snow in her eyes
A wave of dizziness hit her and she fell back down on the bench in the bus shelter where she had taken refuge from the weather, he eyes shut tight she felt the cold; and the pain. Days back she had thanked God for the end to the typical Oregon Indian summer, she had been worried about having to run around in the heat.
The cool weather had helped her get this far but now it was getting too cold. Far too cold and way too fast. But she was still sweating like a pig and the sweat on her face felt like a coating of ice and she felt weak and dizzy.
Amber leaned back in the shelter’s bench, with her eyes shut tight she breathed out a deep sigh. Now that she was finally in a comfortable spot, she doubted she could get back up even to go into a warm place. She tried to breathe deep and slow—in, out, in, out—focused on bringing the dizziness under control and slowly opened her eyes. Relief flooded through her; the vertigo had subsided.
She straightened up a bit and looked for her daughter, there, up the street with the cameraman, peering into a store. Tessa looked back then and noticed her mother, waved at her as she smiled and pointed to the inside of the store, then lifted one of the fingers in her outstretched hand.
One minute, got it. Amber feebly waved her on, soon as I feel strong enough, I’ll try and be right behind you honey, bound to be warmer in there. A sharp stab of pain in the side of her neck made her gasp and squeeze her eyes shut again.
She hadn't wanted to come, not at all. She'd fought her husband over his going. But he insisted. They needed the money for the upcoming hospital bills and to better care for her, and tithe to the church, that was a big one, his rise in the ranks church. Then he announced that both kids would go. And of course, both kids had wanted to, they wanted save their mom.
Afraid for them all she hid the worst of her symptoms and joined them.
Now under the blanket of the overcast skies, she realized what a horrible idea this whole thing had been. She tried to take a deep breath and get up only to fall back down again; her heart raced maniacally then began to skip beats. It felt like a frightened beast had burrowed in her chest: a small, frantic animal, struggling behind the shelter of her ribs. An animal that clawed with sharp painful sharp nails to go even deeper inside her. Fresh unimaginable pain doubled her over and she fell to the cement. The pain so fierce she could not scream or breathe at first.
“Help...” She managed to choke out with what breath she had left. “Help.”
Amber struggled to straighten herself out on the sidewalk, to get some air in her lungs but the pain’s cruel intensity didn’t allow it, her struggle was feeble and short. The last thing she saw as her vision closed to narrowing black tunnel, were the snowflakes that fell toward her in the fading light. She died then, alone, unseen by the world at large, in unexpected privacy.
----------
In the cold store Tessa walked in quiet amazement at the merchandise left behind. The town had been evacuated so quickly that there had been no time for rioting or looting. She went from aisle to aisle. Looking at things she never had. Things she could never have, or was forbidden from having — all here, all within her reach. Just like the movies and TV Shows promised, lots of good stuff was left behind. And no there is no one to stop you from taking anything, thought Tessa.
She ran her fingertips over elegant coats and delicate rich fabrics. Touched wistfully the lipstick tubes and make up kits, and lingered in the electronics section, touching, holding, and admiring the expensive cameras, tablets and phones. She went behind the jewelry counter and pulled out some of the trays, trying on bracelets and necklaces and rings that made her giddy and left her nearly breathless. She forgot all about her mother, the show and the cameraman that was following her through the store. Didn’t even think about the thousands, if not millions of people watching, gleefully judging, unseen emotional vampires. To them, she was as much of a comestible as she was to the turned, it was just a different type of devouring.
Ian managed to get a few good square head-on shots. He was happy the kid looked innocent and amazed rather than greedy and needy. He was supposed to stay unattached and professional, but he always found it hard to keep that distance with the vulnerable ones, as a veteran of many reality shows, he was all too aware of the fickleness and cruelty of the viewers and news cycles. He hoped she wouldn’t pocket any of the shiny objects. He’d bett
er make sure of that actually, since he didn’t want the viewers to turn against her.
Making no noise and out of camera view, he raised an arm and waved at her. He managed to get her attention. The poor kid blushed an intense shade of red, he thought that wouldn’t be too visible in the store’s dim light, but she held her cool and calmly put back a large gold chain. He smiled at her, gave her thumbs up and gestured toward the exit. Tessa made no outward display of agreeing with him, or even that she had seen him but moved toward it with composure and grace.
Race the Dead (Book 1): The Last Flag Page 9
