If there was a shred of regret, it was that he hadn’t thought about his plan more, and gotten to the leader. But it was unrealistic. He should have known that. He would have never gotten there.
His plan had sounded like something from a spy novel, not something from real life.
He’d done what he could.
These hadn’t been the men who’d killed his wife and son. But they were close enough. They were cut from the same cloth, so to speak. They were part of the same organization.
They started again.
Miller was reeling in pain. But he stood tall and strong.
Bullets sprang through the thin wooden door.
The door was shaking with kicks. And body slams. They were throwing their bodies against it.
The dresser couldn’t hold out much more, and Miller couldn’t get close enough to hold it back, unless he wanted to take another bullet.
Finally, the dresser had danced back a bit from the door, from the impacts.
A heavy boot broke through the door, splintered wood going everywhere. A hand reached through, going for the doorknob. The weight of the dresser was enough to keep the door mostly in its frame.
Miller aimed carefully, squeezing the trigger.
A howl of pain. The hand retreated, bloodied. He’d shot good. But it wouldn’t be enough.
It happened so fast it was hard to register it all. The door was opened, the dresser kicked back.
One of them entered. He knew where Miller would be. His face was contorted in rage. His hand was bloodied. He had his gun in his other hand.
He and Miller shot at the same time.
The guy went down, thrown back a little.
Miller took the bullet in the chest. His breathing was going all funny. He felt the blood pooling.
These would be some of his last moments. He wasn’t going to make it.
But he was going to take out the last one.
Or were there two?
He couldn’t think straight. His mind was a mess of adrenaline and pain. Everything was confusing.
The only thing he could do to steady himself was keep the grip on his gun tight. And his finger on the trigger.
More movement.
Someone else came through the door.
Miller had his gun on him.
But the other guy was too fast.
Miller saw everything in slow motion. But his own reactions were too slow. The guy pulled the trigger.
Miller felt the bullet hit the center of his chest.
He had several seconds of consciousness before he died. Nothing but a flash of his past memories, playing in his mind’s eye. Like he was watching a film, surprisingly clear, but as if he was peering down onto everything. He felt close to the events, but far away at the same time.
His son’s first birthday party. His wife was sobbing in the kitchen, because none of their friends had even bothered to respond to the invitations. And no one had showed up. The balloons hung sadly up around the ceiling.
The first time he’d met his wife. That tight sweater she’d been wearing in the dead of winter, when the sun never seemed to rise high enough to burn off the winter doldrums.
Miller’s first day of kindergarten, when he’d been a boisterous kid full of energy, ready to cause havoc, ready to make the kindergarten teacher cry.
The little film cut off suddenly. Miller knew no more.
26
Georgia
“Did you hear that?” said Mandy.
Georgia nodded.
It had been the unmistakable sound of a gun going off. A handgun, by the sound of it.
“What do we do?”
Georgia didn’t answer. She was worried about their safety and their future. Most of all, she was worried about her daughter. What Kara had described wasn’t any kind of life. It’d be a life of confinement and unparalleled misery.
They needed to get out of there.
“If only Max were here.”
“We can’t rely on Max now. We’ve got to work this out ourselves. You still have your knife, right?”
Mandy nodded, patting her cheap utility knife in its sheath.
“Good.”
Georgia took out her own knife, a Buck 110. It was big and heavy, but in reality the clip point blade wasn’t that long. The Mora blade might have been longer. It’d work, though, in a pinch. It had a solid lockup, and Georgia felt fairly confident it’d function as a weapon without the lock folding and the blade snapping closed on her fingers.
“What are we going to do, Mom?”
“We’re going to fight.”
“Without guns?”
“There aren’t any other options. We’re going to have to fight our way out. We can’t stay here.”
“What about James?”
“We’re going to try to find him. James can take care of himself.”
“Do you think he’ll come looking for us?”
“Definitely.”
Georgia didn’t want to admit it out loud, but she was worried that James was going to get himself killed trying to get them out of there. Once he got wind of the plan, there was no way he would stand for it. But he was still smaller than an adult, and weaker. He’d grow into a man one day, hopefully, but he wasn’t yet there yet. He wasn’t a match for the men here.
“Do you hear that?” whispered Mandy.
Georgia heard it. There were footsteps right outside the door. They weren’t heavy.
Georgia knew those footsteps.
“James?” she called out, hoping against hope that she wasn’t wrong.
“Mom?”
“James! Can you get the lock?”
“What’s happening, James?” said Sadie.
“There’s no time for that,” said Georgia, thinking practically. “Can you open the lock?”
“I don’t have a key.”
“What do you have?”
“A handgun. From a dead guy. They took my bullets. I don’t have much time.”
“OK, shoot the lock. Do it at an angle so that there’s no risk of it ricocheting off and hitting you.”
James said nothing.
But a moment later, there was a gunshot.
“James?”
“One second.”
She heard James pulling the busted lock off of the door.
The next thing she knew, James had thrown the door open. He stood tall in the doorway, looking more like a man than ever before. There was blood on him.
“Have you been shot? Are you injured?”
James shook his head.
There wasn’t time for him to tell them what had happened. But it was there in his eyes—something had happened, for sure.
“They’ll be coming. They’ll have heard the gunshot.”
Georgia turned to see Mandy already grabbing her gear.
“Sadie, get your stuff. Quick. James, stay outside. Shoot anyone who comes.”
“Where’s Chad?” said Mandy.
“He didn’t make it.”
No one said anything. They were rushing for their gear.
Georgia hated to keep James outside like that, exposed to anything that might come his way. She feared a bullet might lodge itself in James’s chest. The only thing that was protecting him now was the mild darkness of the compound. There were some ambient lights—powered by a battery that had been protected during the EMP—and lights from the building, that gave more background light than you’d find in the depths of the woods.
In mere moments, they had most of their stuff.
James stuck his head inside.
“We’re going to have a hard time getting out of here. I see them, off on the other side. They’re grouping up. Or waiting.”
“I know.”
“What’s the plan then, Mom?”
Georgia didn’t know. She didn’t see how they could possibly get out.
There were concrete walls they’d have to scale. And there were people on watch all over. They’d never get all of the group safely over
the walls.
Getting through the front gate would be problematic, to say the least. There was a guard always there.
The real problem was that the compound wasn’t that large. And there were a lot of people in it.
There wasn’t really anywhere to hide.
They were going to have to try, though. There wasn’t anything else to do. Staying wasn’t an option. She wouldn’t let Mandy or her daughter go through that, no matter how far down the road it was. The threat was simply too serious.
“Everyone ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they take your ammo too?” said James.
“Yeah.”
“Here, Mom,” said James, handing the handgun to Georgia. “You should have this. You can use it better than any of us.”
Georgia took it. She handed her Buck knife to James.
“Everyone have a knife?”
They all nodded, and showed their knives.
Sadie looked terrified, but there wasn’t any time to comfort her.
“Just so everyone knows,” blurted out James, suddenly, as they all filed through the doorway. “Chad tried to save me. It was the last thing he did.”
Georgia knew there was something else that James wasn’t telling them. But it wasn’t the time to delve into that now. Maybe never.
“We’ll head into the shadows, between the buildings,” whispered Georgia.
She kept the handgun ready, as she led everyone, single file, out into the shadows.
They were just in time.
There were footsteps coming. Heavy boots. Lots of men. No way to tell how many. Frantic whispers and commands.
Georgia realized they’d be pursued. They couldn’t hide long.
She stopped. “We’re going to have to head out the gate. It’s going to be dangerous. But there’s no other way.”
The cars, everyone knew, were outside the concrete walls. Georgia felt for the keys in her pocket. They were still there. Max had the other set.
Where was Max?
No time for that now.
“We’ll never make it out,” said Mandy.
“We’ve got to try.”
“We’re talking about the lives of your kids here. And ours too.”
They were talking in hushed whispers, in the shadows. The concrete walls were on either side, creating a narrow alley. It was as if they were prisoners of war. The once-inviting compound had transformed into a prison camp.
“It’s better than the alternative. We’ve got to get out. Or die trying.”
Georgia gritted her teeth to prevent tears forming in her eyes.
“You go ahead,” she said to Mandy. “James and Sadie, follow Mandy. I’ll take up the rear. I’ve got the one working gun. Use your rifles as clubs. Use your knives.”
“Mom…” said Sadie, tugging on Georgia’s sleeve.
“Go!” hissed Georgia.
A single tear managed to escape her eye, but no one saw it. They were already heading through the dark corridor between the barracks.
The front gate was maybe 100 feet down in that direction, off to the side.
“They’re over there!”
“I see one!”
The shouts from the men were coming. They weren’t trying to be quiet now. They were shouting, murmuring, their boots stomping. They had become an angry mob, intent on taking the women back.
A single female voice rang out above the male voices. It was Kara. “Don’t let them escape!” shouted Kara. There was an edge to her voice, a viciousness.
Georgia turned to look, just barely seeing Sadie’s back as she followed her brother.
Georgia knelt down, turning back to the direction the mob was coming from. She checked the pistol first.
It was a six shooter, unknown make. Seemed good enough, though. High caliber bullets. Good stopping power, probably good accuracy. Hopefully, at least. But still, it wasn’t the sort of gun Georgia would have chosen if she’d had the option.
But she didn’t.
The shouts were closer.
Georgia got as close to the concrete wall as she could.
A small guy rounded the corner. He was the first, but he wouldn’t be the last.
“They’re heading towards the gate!”
He saw Georgia too late. He pointed his gun.
Georgia took aim, squeezed the trigger.
The kickback felt good in her hands. It felt like she was doing something, taking some action.
The roar of the gun was deafening. Nothing she wasn’t used to, though. Not at this point.
Her shot hit him in the head. His body crumpled to the ground.
One more, thought Georgia. Maybe two.
She’d make a last stand if she had to. If it meant Sadie and James getting out alive.
But they’d need her help. They had no weapons. It’d be better if she could join them.
And she didn’t want to die.
Two rounded the corner.
Georgia squeezed the trigger. She aimed. Squeezed the trigger again.
Two down in quick succession. A pile of bodies. Georgia didn’t even look.
Three bullets used. Two more left.
Georgia made her move. It was time.
She sprang up and dashed down toward the gate, where her children and Mandy had headed.
She didn’t look back. She ran with all her might, her legs churning under her, just like she’d done when running track in high school. She’d been one of the fastest. But that was years ago.
She heard the bullets. They hit the concrete, sending shards into her face.
She heard the footsteps behind her. Dozens of them. Heavy boots.
She heard the shouting.
Up ahead, she saw her children and Mandy dashing towards the guardhouse.
There were two guards, emerging now from the little guardhouse.
They held handguns, pointing them at Mandy and James and Sadie.
There’d be no way to get past them, not with the wooden gate blocking the exit. It was shut, and padlocked, as Kara had explained was the custom at night.
Georgia didn’t have time to think.
There wasn’t time to reach them. She’d have to make the shot from here.
And it meant getting shot herself. Most likely.
Georgia stopped in her tracks, raised her gun. She took a moment to take careful aim. It was too long, putting her in danger. After all, they were chasing her down from behind. She shouldn’t have stopped like that. But it was what she had to do.
It was almost too far to take the shot. But Georgia was good. She could do it.
The gun kicked, and she saw the guard fall.
The other guard looked up, but it was too late for him.
Georgia aimed at him, squeezed the trigger, and he fell.
It’d been a hard shot, but she’d done it. Her kids had a chance of escaping now.
Georgia felt the bullet hit her back. Pain roared through her. But she didn’t fall. She staggered forward. Her gun fell from her hand, making a heavy thud on the ground.
“Mom!” cried out Sadie, turning around, staring down the corridor between the barracks.
27
John
“You feeling better?”
John nodded. His mouth was full of roasted rabbit. He didn’t care about opening his mouth when he spoke, but he did care about losing an opportunity to continue eating the rabbit. Time with his mouth open meant time spent talking rather than chewing. He wanted to get it all inside him, as much of the rabbit as he could.
“I can’t believe how well this turned out,” said Cynthia. “Here, have the rest of mine.”
John shook his head. He couldn’t take her food. Food was life now.
“Seriously, take it. You’re not looking that much better.”
John accepted the legs she handed him. There was a bit of fur on one of them still. It’d been harder to get it off then they’d thought. They’d done quite a number on the rabbit, definitely butchering it
in a completely incorrect way. But, whatever, it had worked, and it was cooked and they could eat it. That was the important thing.
A bit of fur didn’t bother him. He just picked it off when he could. Or he’d pick it out of his teeth later. It didn’t matter.
“You need it, trust me. You look terrible.”
“I get the point,” said John, finally speaking.
“So you can talk. The rumors are true.”
John nodded vigorously instead of laughing.
“Did you hear that?”
“What?”
John used the opportunity of his open mouth to take another huge bite of rabbit leg, tearing the meat right off the bone with his teeth. He’d never even eaten rabbit before now. Not once. It wasn’t like it was often on the menu at the places he’d frequented before the EMP.
“You don’t hear it?”
John shook his head. But he put his rabbit meat down carefully on the ground. He looked around, but he didn’t see anything.
A split second later, something came running into their little camp.
It was a huge furry dog, a German Shepherd, tan and black, with pointed ears.
John pulled out his gun.
“What are you doing?” cried Cynthia. “You can’t shoot it.”
John had never been an animal lover, but on the same token he wasn’t going to relish shooting a dog. But if it was a danger to them, he wouldn’t hesitate.
The dog didn’t seem interested in attacking them. Instead, it went straight for John’s rabbit meat.
“No!” shouted John, swatting at the dog’s face and pulling the meat back up into his arms.
The dog sat down, obediently, as if it had been given a command. It looked up at John with pleading eyes, patiently waiting.
Cynthia started laughing. “It just wants a little rabbit. Can you blame it? It must have smelled it.”
John didn’t laugh. Instead, he cast his gaze around into the surrounding trees.
“Someone’s here,” he whispered.
Cynthia’s hand went to her own gun.
“How do you know?”
“This dog is trained. It’s someone’s dog.”
“Maybe he’s on his own. His owner might have died.”
Getting Out Page 15
