by Sam Sisavath
He caught her staring at the gun and smirked. “Go ahead if you think you can. That’ll be the fucking day.”
It might come earlier than you think.
*
It was almost dark when she heard gunshots again. John’s rifle. Jack, who had been sitting at the window without moving for the last three hours, knew it, too, and he stiffened and peered out, rifle raised slightly.
She heard two shots—both from John’s rifle.
Then what sounded like shots from another kind of weapon, answering John’s. It went on for a while, back and forth, back and forth…
And then it just stopped.
It was over. Just like that, it was over.
Either John was dead, or the strangers were. She didn’t know, she couldn’t know, and the uncertainty hung over her head like the Sword of Damocles and made breathing difficult.
She sat on the couch next to Fred, who remained unconscious, oblivious to the gunfire in the woods. She noticed, and so did Jack. She wondered if he was debating whether to go help John or pack up and run. She thought he might be leaning toward the latter. Fred would have already been out the door. But not Jack. No. Jack’s love for John was based more on fear than actual brotherly devotion.
Looking at Jack, she felt her confidence growing. As soon as John left the cabin, she knew what she had to do. There would be no turning back, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice. Fred was going to die, then John would realize she wasn’t trained to handle what he needed. Then he would get rid of her…like he got rid of those two girls…
“He’s probably dead,” she said. “Or dying. I bet he’s bleeding out there right now.”
Jack looked across the cabin at her. She could see the startled shock on his face. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to her being unafraid of him.
“What?” he said, blank confusion in his eyes.
“Your brother. He’s probably crawling around in the woods dying. I bet he’s been gut shot. Like poor Fred here.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Wouldn’t that be a hell of a day? Two Sundays gut shot in the same day?”
“I said shut your fucking mouth.”
“John probably didn’t stand a chance. What an idiot.” She let out a laugh. “What was he thinking, going up against all that firepower? God, what an idiot.”
“I told you to shut the hell up!” Jack stood up, his face turning red. “Just sit there and shut your mouth.”
She ignored him and pushed on. “He never stood a chance. Out there all by himself. But maybe he’s not dead yet, maybe he’s crawling around, wondering why you haven’t come to save him yet. He sure can’t count on Fred here.”
Jack glared at her. “He’s fine. He’ll kill them, you’ll see.”
“I don’t know about that. They did get Fred. I bet they got him, too.”
It was quiet outside. It had been about ten minutes since the last gunshot. Wouldn’t John have come back by now if he was still alive? She hoped that thought was going through Jack’s mind, seeding doubt, building fear, creating indecision.
She could tell she was close from the look on his face. She was so close.
“He’s probably dead,” she said. “Fred’s going to die later tonight, too. Did you see that wound? He’s not going to make it. When that happens, you’re going to be all alone, Jack. The last surviving Sunday. How long do you think you’ll last without John?”
Jack blinked at her, his face contorted in that almost innocent way when he was struggling with words, often under John’s badgering glare. She knew better, of course. There was nothing innocent about Jack Sunday.
“Just shut up,” was all that came out of his mouth.
No, I won’t shut up.
“I wonder how you’re going to make it without them,” she said. “Without John. He’s the brains, I know that.”
“What?”
“Come on, we both know it. John built this place. He tells you what to do. How are you going to survive without John? Did you even know where to put your dick in a woman before he showed you? I saw you watching when he raped me that first night. Was that when you finally learned where to put it?”
His face had turned a ghastly purple, and she could almost feel the rage welling up inside him, about to explode. He pointed a shaking finger at her. “I’m warning you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Shut your goddamn lying mouth, you fucking bitch.”
No.
“The funny thing is,” she continued, “he told you that you can’t have me, but he gives me to Fred whenever it’s your turn to go out and watch the highway. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? Of course not.”
It was a lie, but Jack didn’t know that.
He stalked across the room, and she quickly got up to her feet and braced herself. He had left the rifle behind at the window. She concentrated on the gun in his front waistband, the handle jutting out, like something that shouldn’t be there.
“Shut your lying whore mouth!” he shouted at her.
“Go to hell!” she spat back, with all the venom she could muster.
That did it. He slapped her across the face so hard she instantly tasted blood. The force of the blow sent her staggering back onto the couch. He scrambled after her, pouncing. He grabbed her by the shoulders with two hands, pulled her back up, and slapped her across the face again. She screamed.
“I’ll teach you to lie, you stupid whore!” he shouted, his spit flying at her face.
His hands found her throat and his fingers wrapped all the way around. She felt dizziness almost immediately. His face was inches from hers, contorted in that ridiculous, angst expression she had seen a hundred times before when he wanted to argue with John but was too afraid to.
Now, now, now!
She thrust her hands forward, below his outstretched arms, and fumbled at his waistband, groping blindly until she found the handle of the gun. She tightened her grip around the curved wood and pulled, even as he was screaming into her face. But she had stopped listening. Her ears were ringing and she was starting to black out, because he was squeezing, squeezing so hard…
She thought the sound of a gunshot up close would be louder, or maybe it was because her ears were flooded with pain. She heard the bang! and felt Jack jerk backward, his fingers relaxing around her throat almost instantly, although he didn’t let go. His eyes went wide, that confused expression spreading across his face and, without thinking, she pulled the trigger again.
And again and again and again…
He slid to the floor and lay in a puddle at her feet. Blood pooled underneath him, and she could hear him still breathing, even over the loud, cacophonous thrumming inside her eardrums. His eyes were wide open and he stared at her, that dumb look of confusion plastered across his stupid Sunday face.
She had to grab the couch to keep from falling. She still had the revolver in her hand—it felt so heavy.
Lara realized suddenly how much darker the room had gotten. She didn’t have her watch anymore, and there was no wall clock in the cabin, but she knew they were pushing up against sundown.
The door, a voice inside her shouted. Lock the door! No one’s locking the door!
She turned and almost ran into the man’s chest.
She didn’t know how he had gotten into the cabin without her hearing. He was taller than Jack but a few inches smaller than John. He had short brown hair and was wearing some kind of black plastic strap around his throat. A wire dangled from his right ear, connected to a radio that was Velcroed to some kind of vest. A rifle was slung over his back.
His hand moved quickly and snatched the revolver from her grip. She didn’t realize the gun was gone until a few seconds after it was no longer there. “Just to be safe,” he said, and his voice sounded calm and kind and unthreatening, and she thought of Tony again.
Tony. Poor Tony…
A second man came into the cabin. He was about the same age as the first man and wore the same kind of clothes and
had the same band around his throat, with a wire also dangling from one ear. He closed the security gate over the cabin door, then pulled on it.
“Looks like they have the place fixed up pretty good,” the second man said. “Only two windows still open, both with burglar bars. Propane tanks for cooking, gas generators for indoor plumbing, and residential well water. Quite the sweet setup for the end of the world.”
“No lights?” the first man asked. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Lara.
“Nope,” the second man said. “Looks like they go dark when it gets dark. Smart.”
The first man looked past Lara at Jack, lying on the floor behind her. “Not a friend, I take it?”
She took a couple of steps away from him and almost stumbled over Jack.
The second man was closing the windows and pulling the curtains over them, bathing the cabin in darkness.
She couldn’t see anything. Not the men, not Jack, not Fred, and not even herself.
There was a cracking sound, and seconds later two green glowing tubes appeared in the blackness, lighting up the men’s faces. They tossed the glowing sticks to the floor, then cracked two more and tossed them to other sides of the cabin. There was light again, and everyone appeared in an otherworldly fluorescent green glow.
The second man walked over to Fred. “This one looks like he’s about had it. Probably won’t make it through the night. What about that one?”
The first man crouched next to Jack. “Deader than a doorknob.”
“John?” Lara managed to say.
“John?” the first man repeated, looking up at her.
“Is John dead?” she said, forcing the words out. She had to know. She had to know.
The two men exchanged looks, then the second man shrugged. “Maybe the big one with the beard? He looks like a John to me. Or maybe a Paul. Possibly a John Bear Paul.”
“Is he dead?” she asked again.
“Yeah,” the first man said. He looked back down at Jack, then up at her. “You all right?”
“No,” Lara said and began crying uncontrollably.
*
Will handed her an energy bar from one of his pouches and watched her eat in the semi-darkness. It tasted like the best thing she had ever eaten. After weeks of nothing but venison—not just eating it, but also having to skin and cook it for the Sundays—anything would have tasted like caviar.
When she finished, Will handed her another one.
Danny was going through the fridge. He pulled out bags of stored venison and tossed them into the sink before locating a six-pack set of Miller Lite, with three cans still inside their rings. He brought the beers over and handed them one each.
She took it and drank half of it in one gulp.
Will and Danny exchanged a look, then laughed.
She realized what she had done and laughed with them. “I’m not really a big drinker,” she said, embarrassed.
“I can see that,” Will said and laughed again.
They sat with their backs against the wall, eyes on the door and windows, in the soft green illumination of the glow sticks.
Will told her about the silver bullets. How had she and the Sundays managed to survive all this time without them? She told them about the first week with Tony, hiding in her apartment, then finally venturing out here on the dirt bike.
She stopped talking when she heard them moving outside the cabin, drawn to the windows and probably the strange green light inside. She couldn’t tell how many there were, but Will guessed at least a dozen by the sounds. Every now and then, one would slip its hand through the burglar bars and tap against the glass.
“What are they doing?” she whispered.
“Probing,” Will said.
“They can think…?”
“They can do more than that,” Danny said.
She sat in the darkness with them and listened to the soft padding of bare feet outside. The sound kept changing—first slow, then fast, then slow again. Every now and then, something scraped against the other side of the door, and once she thought she saw a shadow flitting across a window.
She felt safe with Will and Danny sitting on both sides of her, their rifles leaning against the wall next to them. They didn’t seem alarmed by the sound of the creatures moving around outside, and their calmness had an effect on her.
She grew less and less afraid as the night went on.
“You think it’s the same group?” Danny asked.
“I don’t know,” Will said. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe they are following us…”
“Tracking us is more like it,” Will said.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Me, neither. But it won’t make any difference tomorrow. We’re thirty minutes from Starch if we push it. Two hours if we go slow. Either way, we’ll be in Starch by tomorrow.”
“If it’s there like you said.”
“It’s there.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Trust me.”
“Only as far as I can throw you. Luckily for you, I can throw pretty far.”
Lara did her best to stay awake and listen to them without interrupting. They had their own rhythm and she felt like an interloper, stealing pieces of their conversation, even though she hardly understood what they were saying most of the time.
Sometime around midnight she gave in. It was the first time in a long while she had fallen asleep without the sounds of chains jingling in her ear or dreading what awaited her.
CHAPTER 23
KATE
Kate was on the auto body shop’s rooftop with Ted when she saw them coming back. She could see both ATVs through her binoculars. She had been waiting to hear from them through the radio nearly all day yesterday, but once Will announced they were going into the woods, the radio went quiet.
This morning, when it squawked, she could feel her heart in her throat, waiting for bad news. There were none. They were coming back—and they were both fine.
“They’re back,” she announced.
“Thank God,” Ted said, relief in his voice, too.
Last night hadn’t been easy for any of them. It occurred to her that they had become too reliant on Will and Danny, and without the two ex-Rangers around, the night seemed colder and scarier.
She watched the ATVs get closer. She made out Danny, in front on his yellow Yamaha. Then Will came into view, with a second person riding behind him. A woman with blonde hair.
“Ted, can you stay here?”
“Go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
She climbed down and went into the office. Carly was there with Vera, talking to Luke. Kate woke up this morning to find him sitting up on his bedroll. He looked pale and was too weak to walk, but he was alive. That was all that mattered. He had survived the night.
He looked up from a can of corn as she walked in now. “Don’t get mad, but I think I’m eating your corn.”
“Just make sure you eat everything. You need the strength.”
“Yes, Mom.”
They exchanged a brief smile before he shyly went back to eating the corn with a spork.
Carly was making coffee with some old grounds she found in the back, using a portable coffee maker salvaged from a house a few weeks back.
“They’re back,” Kate announced.
“Oh, thank God,” Carly said. “Are they all right?”
“Will said they were fine on the radio.”
“What about…you know,” Luke said. She knew he was referring to the men who shot him.
“I don’t know,” Kate said. “I’ll find out.”
She slipped out of the office just as Will and Danny turned into the dirt parking lot, a thick cloud of dust floating into the air in their wake.
Carly came out behind Kate. “Who’s the girl?”
“I don’t know. Will didn’t mention her.”
Danny stopped in front of them and turned off the engine. Before he could hop do
wn, Carly rushed forward into his arms. It was all he could do to grab her before they both tumbled over the ATV.
He laughed. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
“You had me worried,” she said and punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you or Will call over the radio last night?”
“We tried, but nothing got through the trees.”
“Don’t ever do that again,” she said and kissed him hard on the mouth.
Will parked next to them. “Get a fucking room.”
Danny flipped him off while still kissing Carly.
The woman climbed off the ATV. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with dirty, shoulder-length blonde hair. Soft blue eyes complemented a thin five-five frame, though she didn’t look malnourished. She wore a long, crumpled dress that had seen better days. Despite her unkempt appearance, Kate thought she was breathtaking.
She felt a curious sensation while looking at the blonde. It had, she realized, been a while since she looked at another woman and felt anything approaching jealousy.
“Welcome back,” Kate said to Will.
She resisted the urge to jump into Will’s arms the way Carly had done with Danny.
You’re too old for that.
Seeing how attractive this woman was, Kate felt a childish need to assert herself.
Will introduced them, including Ted, who waved down from the roof.
The woman, Lara, waved ‘Hi’ to them in that awkward way people did when they met strangers and were unsure of their surroundings. Kate felt sorry for her, thrust into a group that was already intimately familiar with one another after surviving on the road together for almost a month now.
“I’m making coffee,” Carly announced. “I promise, it’s not as bad as last time.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Danny said. “Last time was great.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I mean it. I didn’t know coffee could be so painful.”
She gave him another punch and they piled back into the office, all except for Will and Kate. He pulled his M4A1 out of a scabbard alongside the ATV, took out the magazine, and replaced it with one that didn’t have a white ‘X’ printed on the side. The ones with the X were loaded with silver bullets, something they carried with them at all times now.
