by E S Richards
His words had the exact desired effect, Mike seeing Scarface tense up in response to them and clench his fists by his side. It was only once the guard was completely out of sight that Mike put a hand to his throat and winced, feeling the bruises that had been left there. Scrambling to his feet, he dragged himself through the door into his room, the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins during the interaction wearing thin and his body suddenly feeling completely wiped out.
“Whoa, dude,” Zeke—the teenage boy whom Mike was sharing a room with—commented as he stumbled back inside. “You okay? What happened to your neck?”
“Nothing,” Mike mumbled in response, staggering over to his bed and collapsing onto it, curling into a ball and facing the wall.
“Suit yourself,” Zeke replied with a shrug. “No point getting back into bed though. It’s breakfast time and you know they’ll be checking bodies. I’d get dressed, get out, and keep your head down if I were you. Try and avoid whoever messed you up like that.”
Mike didn’t reply to his roommate. Zeke meant well and they were usually civil with each other, but that morning Mike just wanted to be left alone. It had taken more out of him than he would ever admit going head-to-head with Scarface; at one point he had actually been frightened that Scarface would try and kill him. He tried to think what his father would’ve done in that situation and questioned whether he had made the right choices. But the moment was over now, and he had the battle scars to prove that he had at least tried.
Allowing Zeke to leave the room in his own time, Mike remained curled up facing the wall until he was alone again. Only then did he unfurl his body and take a deep breath, shuddering at how close he had likely just come to the end. Gritting his teeth, Mike decided that he couldn’t wait much longer for his father. He needed to find his cousin Gemma again and he needed to get a message to the outside. Their rebel faction needed to strike back, and they needed to do it quickly.
Getting dressed for the day and rushing out of the room so he wasn’t late for breakfast, Mike tried to come up with a way to meet up with Gemma again so he could get the message out to his father. When he’d seen her before it had been completely by chance, his work detail for the day taking him to her. Sadly, it hadn’t happened since, despite Mike often trying to return to the same area in the hope of seeing his cousin. As he sat down with a bowl of oatmeal, keeping his head down so the bruises on his neck weren’t noticed, Mike tried to guess where his cousin would be and how he could find her again.
Unfortunately, other people had different plans for the teenager.
“Quiet,” one of the guards—one Mike hadn’t seen during his first stay in the pit whom he had named Skinny—announced as he did every morning. “Listen in for your work detail.”
This was a routine that Mike had grown used to. Again, it was slightly different from how things had been before, but overall it was the same. The boys filed into the cafeteria, they ate a disgusting breakfast, and then they were sent off to carry out some sort of mundane task for the duration of the morning, followed by lunch and more mundane tasks in the afternoon. It was dull and difficult, the extracurricular activities that Mike carried out overnight the only thing keeping him entertained.
He listened with one ear for the list of names and their tasks to be read out, only paying attention properly when Skinny reached the letter H in the alphabet. The assignments were given in alphabetical order by surname, so Mike knew that his would be along shortly. After Peter Jennings was told he would be working in the kitchen that day, Mike Jessop was omitted from the announcement and Skinny went straight on to Daley King.
Looking up and around the cafeteria, Mike wore a confused expression until he locked eyes with Scarface, the guard staring directly at him with an unpleasant smirk on his face. Refusing to back down, Mike stared at him for several seconds before looking away, realizing that the guard had something more in store for him that day. It wasn’t enough to strangle him half to death, so now Scarface had another trick up his sleeve. Sure enough, as everyone else filed out of the cafeteria and headed off for their work assignments, Scarface and Skinny sauntered over to where Mike sat, both of them grinning maliciously.
“Don’t worry, Jessop,” Scarface announced as the cafeteria emptied and only the three of them remained. “We haven’t forgotten about you.”
“Oh, phew,” Mike exhaled in mock relief, switching back on his arrogant attitude and using it as a way to protect himself to some extent from the guards. “Lined up something special, have you?”
Scarface looked over at Skinny and let out an amused grunt. “Oh, you have no idea. You, Jessop, have been chosen for the program. Congratulations. You’re one of the first up.”
Mike stared at the guards for a second, not fully understanding what Scarface was referring to until he remembered the rumored official reason behind the Authority taking over the city. Everyone had whispered about it since day one, but no one had ever really known for sure, no one had ever been a part of it. Now it seemed that was about to change.
“Not so clever now are you?” Scarface jeered, pleased with himself that he’d managed to shut Mike up finally. “Let’s hope your girl still likes you with that ugly rash around your neck. Looks like you’ve had a nasty reaction to something.”
Mike swallowed and refused to rise to the bait that Scarface was laying out for him. If they wanted to make him be a part of some twisted breeding program, then they were welcome to try. He’d cooperate to a point, but they had another think coming if they thought they could force him to do anything he didn’t want to. Rising slowly from his seat and taking a few calm steps toward the two guards, Mike smiled politely at them and nodded.
“Okay, then,” he announced. “Lead the way, gentlemen.”
Chapter 14
“Are you sure it’s okay? You’re not going to need it?”
“Honestly, it’s fine,” Mia replied with a nod. “We’ve still got the Jeep, remember?”
“Yeah, except aren’t those guys planning to head back to Philly soon?” Blake responded, worried about leaving the Clarke family stranded at their farmhouse without any working vehicles. “Won’t they take the Jeep then?”
“Maybe,” Mia replied with a shrug. “We’ll manage. Honestly, you’ve both done enough already for my family, just take the truck and get yourselves safely back to the city. You can’t exactly get there without it.”
“Thank you,” Vic replied, answering for Blake as he could tell his companion was happy to protest until the sun came up—something Vic couldn’t remember happening for many days now. The world was blanketed by darkness now and sunlight was nothing more than a mere memory. The heavy snowfall didn’t help in that regard, making everywhere look muffled and different. No landscapes were familiar and everywhere seemed to have changed. It made Vic feel uncomfortable and only spurred him on about getting back to Houston. He was worried about his store and what could’ve happened to the city in the time he’d been away. “Come on, my friend,” he encouraged Blake. “Let’s get our gear loaded up and be on our way.”
Eventually things were sorted out between the two men and they were ready to leave, with nothing more to do but say a few final words of goodbye to the Clarke family and the three college boys. Most of what they wanted to say had already been said, so it was a formality to say goodbye at the door, Mia, Chase, and Riley waving the two of them off. Leo also stood with the Clarkes, a decision weighing heavy on his heart.
“Wait,” Leo remarked just before they left the house. “I want to come with you.”
“What?” Chase blurted out, turning to his friend with a shocked expression on his face. “Seriously?”
Leo paused and locked eyes with Chase, seeing the confusion in his friend’s gaze. The same look appeared on everyone else’s faces too, thanks to Leo previously making it clear that there was nothing left for him in Houston. Since being at the farmhouse, though, he had begun to doubt that decision. If he stayed with Chase a
nd his family, he was effectively cutting all ties to his own and ruling out the possibility of finding his parents again. He still hadn’t told anyone about his house—finding it completely empty with no note or sign of his parents. At the time he had just assumed they were dead, but after seeing the emotional reunion between Chase, Riley, and their family, he had started to doubt his feelings. Staying at the farmhouse meant he was ruling out any possibility of having a family again. Going back to Houston didn’t guarantee he’d find one, but it was a chance he realized he couldn’t let pass him by.
“Yeah,” he exhaled, feeling slightly ashamed that he had misled everyone when they’d shown him nothing save for kindness and support. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” he paused, trying to figure out the right words to say. “That’s my home, you know? I feel like I should go back there. I feel like I need to be there.”
Chase looked at his friend for a second, seeing the pain behind his eyes and wishing he knew what was going on in Leo’s head. “I get it,” he nodded. “You don’t need to explain yourself.”
“I really do wish I could stay,” Leo continued to rationalize his decision, hoping he hadn’t offended anyone. “I just have to do this. If…” he faltered and looked over at Blake and Vic. “If it’s all right with you guys?”
“Of course, my friend,” Vic beamed immediately, walking over to Leo and throwing a hand around his shoulder. “The more the merrier. You’ll be good with us.”
“All right then,” Blake commented, cognizant of the time and determined to get back to Houston before it was too dark. “We better be off. You guys take care of yourselves.”
The six people looked at one another, no one really sure what to say. Chase and Riley were both still in shock over Leo’s decision. Everything was happening so quickly they didn’t really know how to get their emotions in order.
“Well, good luck, I guess,” Chase spoke up eventually. “And thank you,” he added to Blake and Vic, “for getting us back here. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Our pleasure,” Blake smiled. “We’ll come back and visit you once all of this has blown over. Make sure you keep an eye on that roof.”
“For sure,” Riley nodded with a smile, determined to hold herself together and fight back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. “Goodbye.”
On the lingering farewell of a thirteen-year-old, Blake, Vic, and Leo gave one final wave and walked briskly outside to the cab of the truck. Leo had given the engine a once-over earlier that morning, making sure everything was still in working order and that the truck would be fit enough to get them back to Houston. The car enthusiast doubted it’d run for much longer, but following the quick clean he’d given it, he was confident it’d make it to the city. That was good enough for them and—like Mia had rightly pointed out—they didn’t really have another option.
“Back in three hours?”
“Four, I reckon,” Vic huffed in response, not liking the state of the roads as they were coated in snow and ice. “We need to be careful on these wheels.”
“I know,” Blake nodded, turning the key in the ignition and smiling as the engine turned over without protest. “I will be, don’t worry.”
Vic nodded and fastened his seatbelt, claiming the window seat while Leo was crammed in the middle. He turned to look out of the window and back at the farmhouse, just able to make out what he believed were the silhouettes of Riley and Mia standing by the door and watching them go. Lifting his arm, he waved to them and wondered if he would ever see them again. He had grown particularly fond of Riley and honestly wished her and her family all the best. What they had been through was horrific and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. In a way, Vic believed he had it easier with his family being halfway around the world. At least because he couldn’t reach them, he couldn’t psych himself out with worry about what was happening to them and whether he could change it. He was powerless to help them and so he focused his efforts on people and places closer to home. Houston was his next stop and he dearly hoped his city was still there waiting for him.
The three men didn’t talk much during the drive, Blake forced to concentrate on the road, Leo lost in his own thoughts about what he was going to do when they made it back to Houston, and Vic watching the surroundings pass them by. He couldn’t see much, but what he could was all the same. Buildings destroyed and lying in ruins on the ground. Ash and snow mixing together to coat everything in a dirty gray powder. Death, destruction, and decay. The eruption had affected everything, and the closer they drove to civilization again the more obvious the effects became.
Something else that didn’t go amiss the farther they drove was the sound of the truck’s engine. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Vic murmured, the sort of grinding sound echoing through the cab and gradually getting louder and louder. When they’d left the farmhouse, it had barely been noticeable; now it forced them to raise their voices when they spoke, dominating the drive.
“I know,” Blake replied, “me neither. Not sure there’s much we can do about it, though. We’re still about forty minutes away from the city.”
“Is it better or worse the faster you drive?” Leo asked, trying to figure out with his technical knowledge what was making the noise.
Blake pushed his foot down on the gas pedal, demonstrating the answer to Leo’s question. Surprisingly as Blake sped up, the sound lessened somewhat. It was still loud, but much less ear-splitting than it was when they were driving slower.
“What do you reckon?” Blake asked, slowing the truck again as he looked over at his companion and waited for an answer, allowing the grinding sound to crescendo once more.
“Ugh, drive faster,” Vic winced in reply. “I’m not sure I can listen to that for another forty minutes.”
“All right,” Blake rotated his grip on the steering wheel, pressing down on the gas again and watching the speedometer of the truck tick upwards. Vic had been right from the beginning; the roads were treacherous because of the snow. It made the asphalt slick and unpredictable, hiding any bumps or potholes and meaning his tires often struggled to maintain traction. In the dim twilight, it left Blake hunched over the steering wheel and concentrating on the drive more than he ever had in the past. After everything they had already gone through, the last thing he wanted was for them to get in an accident on their way back into the city.
“Hey,” he commented maybe twenty minutes later, the three of them tearing through the outskirts of the city and forced to once again drive at a slower—and louder—pace due to the number of abandoned cars on the roads. “You remember that from before?”
Vic peered over the dash and out of his window as they passed what Blake was referring to, raising his eyebrows at the sight of several military vehicles all parked beside one another. “Definitely not,” he answered. “That is new.”
“Do you think it’s legit?” Blake asked curiously, slowing down even more to take a sharp corner as they entered the city proper. “Do you think the military is actually here?”
“I doubt it,” Vic shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust anything like that anymore.”
“Me neither,” Blake replied, glad that Vic agreed with him. “That’s not a good thing though.”
Vic pondered under his breath, wondering exactly what the line of military vehicles could mean. There was the possibility that they were both wrong and the government had sent the proper military into the city, but both men knew how unlikely that was. Unfortunately, that meant that someone more sinister had gotten a hold of the vehicles and both of them came to the same conclusion as to who that was. The Authority.
“Get us to the office building,” Vic announced, a sense of dread creeping over him as they navigated through the city streets. They had no chance of returning unnoticed in the large truck, and so both men figured they might as well go for it. “Quick.”
“Hold on,” Blake remarked as he yanked the steering wheel to the left, turning a sharp corner and speeding
down one of the main roads in the city. Thankfully, the Authority had done one good thing in their earlier time in the city and cleared the main roads, meaning for once Blake didn’t have to worry about swerving around parked or abandoned vehicles. He raced down the street like he was part of a car chase, attacking the corner at the end and leaving a cloud of dust and smoke in his wake.
“Left or right here?” Blake called out, his sense of direction failing him as he saw an approaching intersection ahead of him. Reluctant to slow the truck, he kept charging toward it, waiting for his friend to give him the bearing.
“Right,” Vic replied, Blake starting to turn the truck before the word was even completely out of his mouth. “No,” he suddenly backtracked, recognizing where they were and realizing his mistake. “Left. Left!”
Blake slammed his foot onto the brake and spun the wheel, trying to turn the truck back in time and make it around the corner. The combination of the speed of the vehicle and the weight of it took over nonetheless, the wheels starting to skid as the back kicked out almost separate from the cab. All three men knew what was going to happen before it did, looking over at one another and holding on to the doors and dash where they could. Blake struggled with the steering wheel for another second before he completely gave up, knowing the truck was going to fall. The wheels spun and the engine shuddered, the oversized construction truck teetering over and slamming violently into the side of a building with a loud crunch.
The impact was sudden but long-lasting at the same time. Vic’s head was thrown back into the seat behind him as the truck hit the building, his seatbelt barely holding him in place as the whole vehicle tipped over and ended up on its side. The familiar metallic smell of blood filled the cab and Vic blinked through his daze, trying to determine where it was coming from.
From his seat where he hung suspended above his friends, Leo just peered around and tried to shake the knock from his head, but Blake was completely out cold below the two of them. A large gash on the stuntman’s head proved to be the source of the bloody smell, the impact as the truck toppled over smashing the window next to Blake and the glass quite clearly causing some damage.
