by Reece Hinze
“Relax man, relax,” he said.
Westlake grunted.
“The Colonel is a dangerous man,” Cooper replied calmly. “He was delayed by our sabotage but he won’t be for long.”
“The treads on a tank are pretty easy to track,” Tupac added.
Cooper nodded and then turned to James. “I imagine we are on a streaming satellite feed as we speak, although the smoke will throw them off. That’s why we went through such a metropolitan area in the first place. If we are going to complete our mission, which might be the most important mission ever undertaken by mankind, we can’t afford to stop and help everyone along the way.” He turned back towards the road. “It’s a damn shame Captain but it has to be so.”
James sighed and fell back into his seat a little too hard. Thunder rolled through his pounding head. A long, beaklike nose peeked around the passenger seat. “Sometimes, James Lasko, the ends justify the means.”
James eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. He had completely forgotten his rescuers saved his torturer alongside him. The man’s haughty British accent elicited an uncontrollable fight or flight instinct inside him.
The man looked him up and down as if marveling his own creation. “And what an end it is,” the Doctor said with a thin smile tracing across his lips. James hated him. He hated his voice, his insect fingers, and his dark sunken pitiless eyes.
“What in the fuck is he doing here?” James demanded.
“Oh I have my uses. People like me always have their uses. Ever heard of Operation Paperclip?”
James ground his teeth audibly and squinted into the front seat. “I can only think of one use for you. Worm food,” he growled.
“That’s enough,” Cooper snapped.
The Doctor smiled wide and disappeared back into his seat. James sighed again.
When the time is right, I will kill that man. Slowly.
“That man knows me as Patient 1113,” James said.
“Your name is Captain James Lasko,” Cooper said from the front seat.
“It is, isn’t it? As a Captain I believe I am the ranking officer here and as the ranking officer, I demand to know where we are going, Sergeant Brickson.”
Cooper paused for a moment before answering. “We are going to see an old friend of mine.”
James leaned his head back closed his eyes. “Back from the good ol’ days before you helped destroy the world.”
Cooper and the others pretended not to hear the comment.
“How do you even know your friend is alive? Mine are all dead. The entire world is burning.”
“That’s your sadness speaking Captain,” Cooper replied. “And I know he is alive because nothing as trivial as the end of the world could kill this man. He will help us.”
The two black vehicles rolled on, crashing their way through the charred city, past fields of the dead, and down an uncertain road.
They say time heals all wounds but in the days since Susanne’s death, all time did for the survivors at the Slaughter ranch was hone in the harsh reality of their situation. The birds still chirped and the squirrels still chattered but the children rarely laughed or played in the yard anymore. Anne, Victoria, and Bridgett had set up a makeshift school to keep the kid’s minds occupied but they cried often.
And then the others started showing up. Some were neighbors and some were parents of the kids Wade rescued from the school. The children would file out of the barn with hopeful eyes when they heard a vehicle coming down the drive and inevitably, sadly shuffle back when it turned out to be someone else’s parents. Some parents took their children away but most stayed. It was always after the visitors when the crying was the worst. Tim would scoop them up, ruffle their hair or pat their back. He took it upon himself to become the de facto Dad to the orphans. Wherever Tim walked, kids followed him like a mother hen.
With the sudden influx of able bodied adults, the survivors posted around the clock lookouts and patrols. The rooftop of the children’s barn provided a perfect vantage point. It was one of the new people, a lookout, who spotted Luke’s old Dodge speeding down the drive.
Anne, Bridgett, Victoria, and Tim, with a pigtailed little girl in tow, met the truck near the children’s barn. Luke, Wade, Paul, and Richard, the man they found amongst Susanne’s horde, were unloading the morning’s haul.
“Any luck today boys?” Tim asked in way of greeting.
“We found some camping lanterns and blankets at the Rodriguez’s and few trinkets at the place next door,” Wade said.
“Found all these at the place next to that,” Luke said, pulling out an armful of blankets. There were several more in the bed of the truck.
“The kids won’t have to share anymore. Nice work. Any food?” Tim asked.
Paul pulled aside a faded San Antonio Spurs blanket to reveal a dozen or so cans.
“That’s not much,” Bridgett added.
“No but the supermarket still isn’t safe. We drive by it every day to see if the crowd has dispersed but I think it’s only growing,” Paul said. “Almost like they are herding there.”
Bridgett’s eyes flicked to Paul but she turned towards Luke as he walked up.
Anne gave her boys a hug. “I’m just glad you boys are alright. I know you found whatever food you could.”
“Praise God for that,” Tim said.
Anne chortled, shaking her head.
Paul examined his parents for a moment and then continued. “Do y’all think they are eating the food in there?”
“I’ve never seen them eat,” Richard responded immediately, almost frantically. “Have you? They don’t eat man...”
“Quit saying ‘they do this’ or ‘them’,” Victoria said. Her upper lip was raised. “They are still people, just sick people.”
“We need more than just the food at the supermarket,” Anne said, ignoring Victoria. “Medicine, extra clothing, sanitary supplies…” Her voice trailed off and everyone followed her eyes to a dusty Volvo station wagon travelling down the drive towards them.
Despite the grizzled look of the heavily armed survivors, the driver never hesitated, hopping out immediately. Tim walked forward, extending his hand in greeting. “Tim Slaughter,” he said.
“Nate Crane,” the man replied. His skin was dark as night, his face haggard. He gestured towards his wife who exited the car with a strange, forlorn looking child. A boy whose skin was pale and smudged and dirty. “This is my wife Emily.”
“You and your family look hungry,” Tim said. “Why don’t you come to the house and get something to eat.”
“He’s not ours but thank you. We haven’t eaten in days.”
The child sat in the living room, staring placidly into the yard while the adults gathered in the kitchen.
“It’s cat food,” Anne said with a grimace. “I cooked it as well as I know how but it’s still cat food.”
The Crane’s didn’t seem to mind, scooping great chunks of meat between words. “We’re grateful. I assure you.”
After husband and wife had scraped their plates clean, Tim invited them into the living room to tell their story. An untouched plate sat near the boy.
“Emily and I decided a vacation was in order,” Nate said with a smile. “We run a business, or ran a business I guess… out of our home so… we take these little trips often. We left our twin boys with my mother and set out for Padre Island.” Emily began to tear up. Nate comforted his wife before continuing.
“It was just supposed to be for the weekend but it has taken us over a week to get back. The hardest part was getting through Corpus Christi. It’s…” Nate looked out the window towards whatever the strange boy was staring at. “It’s bad,” he said.
“After Corpus, we decided to avoid San Antonio all together. When we finally got back to Cibolo, we found my mother. She…”
“Was she sick?” Bridgett asked gently.
“No, my mother passed quietly as far as I can tell. I thank God for that. But the boys weren’t t
here. There wasn’t a note or anything saying where they went so we went to the school.”
“What school do your boys go to?” Victoria asked.
“Cibolo Middle School,” Emily said. It was the first time she spoke. Her voice was tiny, distant.
Anne covered her mouth.
“The school was destroyed. That’s the best way I can put it. Corpses and destruction everywhere. We found the signs leading us here in the hall way,” he said. Nate looked up with hopeful, desperate eyes. “Are our sons here?”
“I’m afraid they are not,” Tim said. “I’m sorry.”
Emily burst into sobs but Nate just nodded his head, as if expecting the answer before it came. “We were chased out of the school. As we ran down a hallway, this boy,” he pointed to the mute child by the window, “jumped out at us. At first we thought he was sick like the others but he says ‘Please help!’ The poor boy was…” Nate choked up. He had to pause a minute before continuing.
“He was hiding underneath the bodies of other rotting children.”
Anne gasped and looked at her son Wade who looked as if he might be sick.
“He hasn’t told us his name or said anything else,” Emily said. “I don’t know how he survived in that place for so long.”
“We left him,” Anne said.
“Mom,” Wade said.
“We should have checked the other wing,” she said.
“Mom, don’t even go there,” Wade said, trying to comfort her.
“We should have checked the other wing!” Anne shouted, startling everyone. Her face was beat red. Her eyes were watery and distant, like she was searching for the right words.
“Damn!” she said. Tim recoiled, visibly shocked.
“Damn, damn, damn,” she continued. “GOD damn!”
A deathly silence hung over the room. None of the boys had ever seen their mother so upset. Anne hurried out of the room. Bridgett and Victoria ran after her.
Tim broke the long silence. “Will you stay with us?”
“We have to find our boys,” Nate said.
“Stay with us, son.” It was Clifford Worsby. No one had seen the old man enter the room.
Nate simply shook his head and focused his attention on his upset wife. Tim sighed and walked over to the window. He squat down near the disheveled boy. “You’re safe now,” he said. “What’s your name big guy?”
“They should have checked the other wings,” the boy said. His haunted, withdrawn expression never changed.
The Crane’s refused to stay even one night at the Slaughter ranch. After seeing them on their way, Luke wondered slowly back up the drive.
What kind of sick world is this?
The Cranes were nice people, good people, and their sons had been ripped away from them mercilessly. He gripped the cross that hung from his neck. Maybe Mom is right. God damn, she had said. He had an overwhelming urge to discuss the matter with Bridgett. She always had a way of giving him a new and different perspective but she has been distant the past few days. He pulled his old tin flask out and took a pull.
As soon as Luke emerged from the tree tunnel he was greeted by the familiar twin barns. The loft doors were open and he saw his mother standing on a box talking to the big group of children all sitting ‘Indian style’. A smaller group of adults, mostly neighbors and parents of the school children that had found their way here over the last few days, stood quietly to the side. He couldn’t hear his mother but saw her animated arms. She did a little jig and the children laughed.
Movement caught his eye. A man and a woman ran towards the woods. Luke reached for his rifle but there was no need. Wade’s wide smile greeted him. Luke was a long way away but he was pretty sure he saw his brother wink at him before disappearing into the woods with the beautiful Victoria Conroe in tow. Luke smiled, shook his head, and continued on.
Just past the towering barns and behind the stables, he saw John. John, a man stricken with Downs Syndrome and Luke’s friend since childhood, was in a heated argument with Wade’s partner Danny Rodriguez. John was holding a shovel. Danny “supervised” from a nearby lawn chair, his smashed ankle propped up on a stump.
“No, no, no,” Danny said. “You stick the spade into the ground and use your body weight to push it further so you can get more dirt!”
John huffed. He had one hand on the shovel and one on his hip. “Don’t you think that even a guy with Downs knows how to shovel dirt Danny?” he asked.
“Apparently not,” Danny said. He adjusted his umbrella. The sun was getting in his eyes. “It’s going to take you forever to scoop that hole just scraping at the ground like that.”
“Well if you have a better way you can just do it yourself,” John said. He let the shovel fall to the earth like he just dropped the mic after a rap battle.
“Hey guys,” Luke said smiling. “What’s up?”
“Luke!” John said, running over to give his friend a hug.
“What’s up Luke? How’s your day going?” Danny asked sarcastically. “We’re just here digging a shit pit.”
John looked at Danny, indignant. “I’m digging a poop pit Danny. You’re sitting there being grumpy.”
“All I can do is sit here!” Danny said, defending himself.
Luke laughed. “Alright boys. I’ll leave ya to it.”
John threw up his chubby arms in frustration. “Wait, you aren’t going to help either Luke?”
“I’ll be happy to use your hole once you’re done J.C.,” Luke said over his shoulder.
“Ohhhh, that’s just great!” John said. “Everyone just wants to…”
Luke didn’t hear the rest of John’s rant because his ears picked up on something in the distance. The noise was hard to pinpoint but definitely out of place in the day to day, electricity free, post societal environment of the Schlather compound. Luke stopped in the middle of the yard, leaned against the trunk of a big oak, took a pull of his flask, and strained his ears. The noise drew closer and closer and all at once it was clear.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.
The noisy thumping of helicopter wings was very loud now. Luke saw the lookout on the barn waving his arms frantically but couldn’t hear him yelling. He couldn’t hear anything at all but the helicopter and then he saw it. A long sleek frame zoomed low, just over the tree tops. The blackwashed bird had its nose down, travelling fast. Luke waved but none of the black clad soldiers sitting in the open doors waved back. They had big guns and all of them wore gasmasks. Luke stared at them and they stared at him and all of the sudden he knew.
They don’t care about us at all. We are surviving and they don’t care.
Soon the chopper and the gas masked soliders were out of sight. Luke’s mind wandered to Bridgett, as it had more and more since she walked back into his life. He had to tell her about this.
He found her in the basement, taking careful inventory of their food supply. She had her hair up and her tongue out. She was concentrating so hard that when Luke reached for her, she screamed bloody murder.
“Oh my God,” she said, gasping for breath. Bridgett’s big dog Sophie was startled too until she saw Luke and then she wagged her tale, threatening to knock over anything close.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said holding his hands up. He couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s not funny Luke!” she said, smiling too. She hit him playfully in the chest.
“Look, I’ll make it better,” he said and wrapped her in his arms. She had his head on his chest and he scratched her back. Luke was surprised she didn’t pull away.
“That feels good,” Bridgett said. Her voice was muffled by Luke’s shirt.
“So I just saw the weirdest thing.”
“What?” Bridgett said, her voice still muffled.
“A black helicopter just flew right over the house. It was packed with soldiers.”
“Is that what that was?”
“Yeah,” Luke said.
“Where were th
ey going? Did they see us down here?”
“I don’t know and yes. It was strange. Almost like they were heading to a fight. All I know is they couldn’t care less about us down here.”
Bridgett hardened at his words. She sat down on the dusty wooden basement steps. “What do you mean? They saw us and just kept going? Didn’t care at all?”
“That’s certainly what it seemed like,” he said.
“This is a nightmare,” she said.
Luke placed his hands on her shoulders, squatted, and looked into her eyes. “It could be worse.”
“Worse? How Luke? My parents are dead. John’s mother is dead. All those poor children and their parents are dead. It’s the end of the world how much more…”
Luke cut her off with a kiss. A long, passionate kiss. Their mouths locked perfectly together and neither person held back. When Luke finally pulled away, he said, “I’ve missed you Bridgett. Very, very much.”
Bridgett smiled with tears in her eyes. She was so beautiful.
“Bridgett, I…”
She cut him off. She shook her head back and forth and ran up the stairs with the big dog galloping after her. A confused Luke sat on the dusty bottom step and sighed.
Bridgett burst out of the house and burst into tears. Through her streaky vision she found her way to a big oak at the corner of the yard. She sat with her back against the bark while the towering branches waved gently back and forth with the breeze. She hugged her loyal Sophie fiercely. The dog knew she was upset and licked her face. This is all wrong, she thought. This isn’t the way this is supposed to turn out. She saw something move in the corner of her eye. The hair on the back of her dog’s neck stood on end. She felt a scream erupt from her mouth but no sound came. A tattooed hand covered her mouth.
“When are we going to talk about this?”
