Race the Dead (Book 1): The Last Flag

by Cavanagh, Wren

  Alvin shrugged.

  “Are you two a...a…couple?”

  He shrugged again. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” he replied softly. “You?”

  “Husband, two kids.” She took out her phone again, made a mental note to power it off when done, and pulled up the pictures of her family for Alvin. “Love my kids; they're my everything. Ben, that’s hubby there — Is a great dad.”

  Alvin looked at smiling people in the photos — a happy loving and healthy family. The two children were pre-teens, a boy and a girl, both as blond and as elfin as Theo.

  “That’s Josie, and that's Barney,” said Eliza. “We call him Bamm Bamm, get it? Bamm Bamm Rubble, Barney Rubble?”

  Alvin shook his head, “Wrestler?”

  “Jesus, the Flinstones. How freaking old are you?”

  “Maybe it’s how freaking old are YOU? Were you in front of the radio when we landed on the moon?”

  Eliza chortled, “No, and it would have been a black and white TV. It happened in the 60s, not the 40s.”

  They sat quietly, comfortable in each other’s silence until Alvin spoke again. “Theo was in a lot of foster homes. He’d have been lucky to find someone like you.”

  What do you say to that? Wondered Eliza, and said nothing as they scrolled through the photos on her phone. Eliza broke the silence this time. “So you found your friend?”

  “Still don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Sorry, guess I got the wrong impression.” She didn’t push him after that. She figured he was trying to decide if he should trust her not. It was almost half an hour before he spoke up again.

  “Okay, it would be good if you helped him out, once this is all done.” He hesitated. “He shouldn't be alone again, you know. That’s all. And yeah, okay, I found him on the street. But we aren’t a couple, I just took him home, like a stray, like he’s my kid now, weird but there you go.”

  She thought about it and nodded. “Sure. I’d be there for him, if he wants to connect.” Let it sink in, don’t push. Maybe he’ll open up some more. She switched the topic. “The drones are down in this weather, helicopters too. They aren’t streaming this show now.”

  “I don’t care. Are we still going to get the money if we win?”

  “Why wouldn’t you? I’ll keep filming until we're done or they tell me to stop, or I run out of batteries.” She hesitated, went on. “Alvin, dead people don’t make much use of their money, you need medical attention.”

  When he replied, his voice was barely audible. She leaned in to hear him. “I have family — they can use it, made a will before I left, and there ain’t no medical attention that can help me now. Theo ran off from a buncha places. Don’t let them get his money, okay?”

  After a few silent minutes Eliza drew closer and draped her arm around Alvin’s shoulders. After a few second of resistance he allowed her to draw him in. “I’ll do what I can.”

  They watched the fat white flakes fall, from furious swirls to a steady graceful fall against the black sky, until exhaustion claimed them and they went into fitful, nightmare-filled sleep.

  ----------

  Carson rested his forehead against the window’s cold glass. Viewed from the third floor of the retail store, the town skyline was almost a uniform black block against the sky. Only a few buildings that were equipped with generators or somehow still had power boasted lights that pierced the darkness.

  This is a nightmare, thought Carson. It doesn’t feel real — it can’t be real. I'm gonna close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them, I’ll wake up and mom will be alive. We’ll be home. And this was just an insane dream. So, I might be mad, but mom will be alive and we'll be home. Please God, I’ll take that trade. Bring her back and you can make me as crazy as a bedbug. Please, I'm begging you.

  He closed his eyes tightly, held his breath, and willed his wish to be true with all the focus and hope he could muster, slowly counting to ten and before opening his eyes. Everything was as before, he felt tears sting his eyes and willed himself not to cry. His sister needed him now, and the last thing he wanted was another lecture from his father on the art of manliness. His father — who had only recently returned. Where had he been when they needed him? Asshole. He had returned banging on the door, wanting to be let in. Once in...well, once in…

  “What is this? Why are they here?”

  “Mom...”

  “Yeah, I saw her. I asked you why they're here.”

  Emma answered for him. “Scott, Tom told us to go for the same flag as you, they didn’t give us one. We got there at the same time as Carson, and we helped each other out.”

  “Well, you're done helping. Now get out.”

  “Dad, they saved my life. Tessa, too. And where are they gonna go?”

  His father ignored him. “Get out.”

  “No.” Emma’s reply was terse. “No. We're staying here and we're waiting on Lew. Keep in mind we can challenge you for your flag. I’d rather work with you instead.”

  Scott Pine advanced on Emma, shoulders hunched up, gaze fixed and head cocked forward. Up close he delivered a small shove to her shoulder. Carson was about to step in and hold his dad back, but it hadn’t been necessary. Emma jabbed hard at his throat and when Scott was busy gagging, kneed him in the groin hard enough to lift him off the floor. And that...Was all, folks. With a grunt, the man fell to his knees and curled up in a ball.

  Emma knelt by him and leaned in close. “We think we need to join forces. We can help each other out. We lost Joe; you lost Amber and your cameraman. Think about it. You need a cameraman.”

  “The network...” He gasped, paused, a thin line of drool connecting his lower lip to the floor. It was almost a minute before he choked out a reply, “Network would drop a new one.”

  “No, nope!” Ross chimed in while filming the conflict, “The military has stepped in. The network is fighting it, but no one is coming in any time soon. I got no wi-fi.”

  “And don’t ever fucking touch me again,” Emma added. “We're waiting for Lew; he's bringing in a survivor that's worth the same as a flag, and we're staying here! Then if you want to go at it alone you can. We’ll leave with her, the flag, and be on our way.”

  Carson and Tessa had sat themselves at a safe distance from their father after that. Humiliation had a way of bringing the out worst in people, along with a need for reaffirmation. Carson had no doubts that his dad would target him for that. Fuck, maybe he’d knee the old man in the balls.

  He turned away from the window and went to his sister. She had curled into herself —knees drawn up, arms folded and sandwiched between her chest and legs. Her face tight and tense — Tessa sat on one of the large, expensive leather lazy boys, in a far corner of the showroom area. Carson sat down close to her, took one of her arms, wrapped his arm around it, and held her hand. With a quick furtive look around he made sure his father was nowhere in sight. Emma and Ross were in the corner diametrically opposed to them.

  “We should leave.” He said softly.

  “Leave dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Even if we get out alive,” she murmured, "where are we going to go?”

  “Mom’s sister. She hates him, and she keeps telling us to visit.”

  “I don’t want to leave dad, he needs us.”

  “He can’t go on alone, he’d have to quit and then they’d just get him out.”

  “Okay,” She nodded, began to bite her lips. “Maybe you could get the gun back?”

  “No. No bullets left anyway.” He got up grabbed some display blankets and covered Tessa with them.

  “It’s gonna get colder. Tomorrow, first thing. If the road is clear — we go. I’ll get a couple of backpacks ready for us.”

  “What about…?” She tilted her head in the direction of the window
.

  “They're slow, we are young and faster. We can avoid them or outrun them, and at the fence we’ll get picked up.”

  “We could push that button. The one that tells Tom we want out.”

  “I did, for over an hour. No one is coming for us now, not in this weather.”

  He got up and left the third floor — filled with furniture, high end items, and electronics that would never be his — and made his way to the second floor where he found a small outdoor and sport section. There while keeping an ear and an eye out for his father, he found what he wanted, a couple of sturdy backpacks, flashlights and batteries, and whatever else he thought would come handy. They wouldn’t need much; they were going to head for the fence as fast as they possibly could and stop for nothing. If they left early, they’d be there in three hours, tops. On the first floor, he made his way to the snack and food aisle and added some snacks and water to the backpack before putting them both behind one of the check stands by the exit.

  He stood still, but heard nothing but silence. Where the hell was his father? He walked toward the back, wishing he’d kept one the flashlights in his hand. Muffled noises startled him. He tried to deduce the origin. There — again, the noises. He followed the sounds to a dingy white door, and grabbed the heaviest thing in reach: a large can of Alpo. Damn, maybe I should just run, he thought, but lifted the can above his head. The door opened.

  “What are you doing here?” Scott Pine looked at him like he was a moron. “Dog food…what the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Was just walking around, dad. Heard noises and wanted to make sure everything was okay,” he shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “It’s the restroom, son. And don’t just take anything that doesn’t belong to you.” Scott Pine grasped his son’s arm firmly. Remember, that’s stealing. We're better than that. We're setting an example to anyone watching this show.”

  “Okay, dad.”

  “You think what happened to your mom was my fault, don’t you?”

  “No, dad.”

  His father fixed gaze was on him, daring, wanting him to start something. “I lost my wife — your mother. In my absence, you were the man. And Tessa was there; why didn’t she help? You had the easy job of grabbing the flag and the backpack and heading back.” Scott tapped Carson’s chest lightly. “But you didn’t, did you? You fucked up.”

  A hundred retorts came to Carson’s mind, he uttered none of them. “Sorry, dad.”

  “Sorry, doesn’t do shit.” His father tapped him on the chest again, a lot harder. “You think I'm hard on you, but I'm not. Not anymore than I am on myself. Remember that. I risked my life to get those…Those monsters away from you. I have always taken care you, put food on the table. You, Tessa — you two let me down. You let your mother down.”

  Carson nodded, but his dad’s discipline always seemed one-sided to him. The unfairness of it loosened his lips. “Don’t remember the last time you owned up, dad, not blamed someone else. When was that?”

  The blow came fast. Carson folded in pain and fell to the floor, gasping for air.

  “You show some respect,” Scott said, through clenched teeth. “I've taken responsibility for my actions as a man and for my family, and never gave you anything you didn’t have coming.”

  Carson closed his eyes as he tried to breathe. When he opened them, his father was inches from his face, chin tilted toward him, staring down at him. He wanted to laugh at him then. Pain notwithstanding, he saw his old man as a hateful insecure bully, but this was not the time to fight it out. He might be able to take him, but what if…what if he lost? He couldn't afford that now; he had to get himself and his sister out of here.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, sir.”

  “Let’s go get some rest it's been a bad, ugly day for everyone, but you so try my patience.”

  Asshole, thought Carson as he headed up the stairs. But stay right behind me. Last thing I want is you back there with my backpacks. Back on the 3rd floor, his father made his way to one of the display beds. On the lazy boy, Tessa slept under the cover of the blankets. Carson went to the lounge chair next to his sister. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so tired or hollow in all his life, as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

  ----------

  At the side entrance of the main floor, Ross and Emma hadn’t missed the exchange. She had been anxiously waiting; willing for Lew to return. On hearing muffled noises from the back of the old deli section, she went over to investigate, and Ross followed had her like a shadow, and they saw the altercation. She almost intervened, but the man had let up and the two had left without noticing them. She’d have to figure out what to do with the kids. Leaving them behind wouldn’t do.

  “That was ugly,” Ross muttered quietly behind them.

  “Yeah.” She turned and looked at the cameraman. He had turned off the camera and set it down on a display counter. “Wow, that thing has an off switch?!” She teased, in mock amazement.

  “Right?!” Ross replied with a smile but continued without humor. “I also have only two spare batteries and didn’t see any extra I could use in the electronics department.”

  “What is this thing about the military?”

  “Last I heard from Tom before I lost the connection, is that they stepped in and stopped the show. Tom would love it if you — everyone — quit and got out. He thinks its way too dangerous and out of control.”

  “No kidding. Once we get Lew and that woman back, we’ll have two flags. We’ll challenge Scott for the third and head out, and then Righteous at least will have no reason to continue. They’d lose to us, anyway. Did he say anything about the other teams? Or about Joe?”

  “They got Joe back, and one of the Cobra Kids, who is hurt bad, he’s going to die.”

  Kate was shocked. “Die?”

  “I think Tom is right we should get out.”

  The hard slap on the doors’ glass pane made both of them jump, she turned and saw what she was hoping she’d see. “Lew!”

  Kate rushed to the door, unlocked it and let them in, hugging Lew fiercely. He returned her embrace, held her tight in his arms and kissed her.

  “Your lips are so cold!”

  “Yours are so warm,” he replied, with a sigh of relief. “The rest of me is pretty damn cold, too. I can’t feel my toes anymore.”

  “Let’s get you something dry to put on. The second floor has some clothing.”

  She heard a soft whirring behind her; Ross had turned the camera back on, batteries be damned, and he was recording the arrival. His attention was on the newcomer, the woman who had remained at the entrance, fumbling with the locks as she tried to close the door.

  “Dr. Aluri, let me help you with that,” said Emma, and locked the door, then held the woman’s at arm’s length for a clinical and personal inspection.

  She looked like a homeless refugee from a war-torn nation, who had traveled the wilderness for months to get to civilization. Dirty from head to toe, her hair was a dark and gray tangled mop, and she was wearing mismatched clothes.

  Emma saw no major wounds, and looking past her disheveled exterior, she saw a different Anjali Aluri: a woman of medium height, black hair going on gray, and intelligent brown eyes. Her face had fine, features that were drawn down and back by the cold and the anxiety, and almost hidden behind grime and dirt. She saw a woman who had worked hard in her profession and cared enough about others to have placed herself in danger to help them. Because that's what we do, Emma thought. Nurses and doctors — we go and try to save your ass even when it could get ours handed to us.