Sound of Survival (Book 2): Fight or Flight

by Patten, Sean

  “Shit,” I said. “We there already?”

  “No,” said Ramirez, looking ahead. “Looks like we’re just at the border of the arena.”

  I glanced up, trying not to draw attention to myself. Sure enough, through the windshield I had a perfect view of the chaos up ahead. Thousands of people were packed into the space, the teeming masses looking more like an ocean than people. As if greeting us, one of the towering lighting fixtures bordering the area slowly came down, smashing into the ground like the cell phone towers I’d seen yesterday. It was a nightmare, and one we were about to be right in the middle of.

  “Get down!” hissed Ramirez as two Black Mountain dudes on motorcycles pulled up to the sides of the van.

  I did, getting myself in a spot where I could still see what was going on. Baldie and Blondie appeared to be bullshitting with the two men, the guys taking a quick glance through the partition as if to make sure we were still back there. Luckily, the rearview mirror was a shattered mess, which meant they didn’t have a way to see what we were doing back there without turning and looking. After a few seconds, we were off, making our way slowly through the crowd.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m guessing we got about five minutes to pull this off.”

  My eyes went to the jagged piece of metal jutting out of the wall. I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t more than a little nervous about the whole thing.

  “Just be careful,” said Amy. “Please.”

  I gave her a quick nod before moving over to the shard and giving it a once-over before turning my back to it. Slowly, carefully, I positioned my bound wrists where I remembered the metal to be, feeling the tug of it against the zip tie.

  The second I had them in position the van hit a lurch, my heart jumping up into my chest at the idea of the metal stabbing me right in the wrist. Amy let out a shriek, both her and Ramirez squinting through the half-darkness to make sure I wasn’t bleeding out.

  But nothing. No pain. I was good.

  Not wanting to waste another second, I quickly repositioned against the metal and, with a steeling breath, pulled my wrists up.

  The pressure let up right away, letting me know that I’d done it. My hands free, I brought them in front of my face and checked them over, making sure they were free of cuts.

  All good. Looked like out of all the ways I could be dying over the next few days, blood poisoning wasn’t going to be one of them.

  “Great!” said Ramirez. “Now us!”

  I raised my foot and pressed it against the metal. Then, with a hard kick, I ripped it clean from the wall, the rusty shard flying to the ground with a clatter. After a quick look up to make sure that Blondie and Baldie weren’t paying attention, I snatched up the metal and hurried over to Ramirez and Amy.

  “Damn,” said Ramirez. “That was hard to watch.”

  “It’s over now,” I said. “But we’ve still got some bullshit ahead of us.”

  With two quick flicks, I freed Ramirez then Amy.

  “What now?” Amy asked.

  “Now I open the door and you two jump out. We should be going slowly enough that jumping’s not going to do any damage.”

  “Sounds reassuring,” said Amy.

  “It’s the best plan we’ve got right now,” I said.

  She nodded. “I know,” she said. “I’m just nervous is all.”

  “I get it,” I said. “And I don’t like it either. But as long as we stick together, we should be fine.”

  “What if we get split up?” asked Ramirez.

  “Good question,” I said. “We get split up, we meet at the westernmost entrance as fast as possible. No screwing around—we can’t afford to get lost.”

  “And getting out?” asked Amy. “Black Mountain looks like they’ve got this place locked up.”

  “We’ll figure that out when it’s time to figure that out,” I said. “For now, we need to get the hell out of this van.”

  Both Ramirez and Amy looked ready.

  “Let’s do this,” I said.

  Together, the three of us hurried over to the door. After another check on Blondie and Baldie, I grabbed the handle and opened the door with a push.

  Right away both the searing desert air and the roar of the crowd greeted us. And as much of a zoo as it looked from inside the van, it was nothing compared to seeing it in person.

  “Shit,” said Ramirez. “This looks bad.”

  He was right, but there was no time to dwell on it.

  “Amy first!” I shouted over the noise. “Then Ramirez, then me!”

  Amy grabbed the border of the door and, with a determined expression on her face, jumped out. Within seconds she was gone, melted into crowd. A moment later Ramirez did the same.

  When he was gone something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye—one of the water bottles we’d had on us was rolling around the van. I quickly took it before leaping out the back, hitting the ground and going into a quick roll.

  I stopped in time to watch the van continue on, disappearing into the crowd.

  Relief washed over me, but quickly turned to panic the moment I realized that Ramirez and Amy were nowhere to be found. After hurrying to my feet I did a quick turn where I stood, but saw nothing but strangers jam-packed next to one another, the roar of people so loud that I could hardly think straight.

  “Amy!” I shouted out, despite knowing that my voice likely wasn’t carrying any further than a few feet. “Ramirez!”

  Nothing.

  Fear hit me in the gut, freezing me where I stood.

  I was alone.

  13 Ed

  The arena was like hell on earth. The smell hit me right away—the stench of sweat and fear all carried on the hot stale air. People were packed tight next to one another, and I had barely enough room to stand up straight. I couldn’t help wondering who had it worse, the people in the arena or the ones who’d taken their chances with the desert outside of the festival grounds. From where I stood, it felt like a coin toss: die roasting under the desert sun, or die trampled underfoot?

  But I didn’t have time to think about that. I needed to find Ramirez and Amy, and I needed to find them fast. Our plan to simply meet up at the western entrance had sounded good from the relative comfort of the inside of the van, but now that I was out in the middle of the chaos of the arena I could sure as shit see that it was going to be easier said than done.

  No choice. I had to move.

  The water bottle gripped tightly in my hand, I started making my way through the crowd, leading with my shoulder and shoving my way through as courteously as I could, considering the circumstances.

  It was slow going. No one seemed to want to budge—most of the twenty-somethings that made up the crowd seemingly content to just stand there and stare off into space, as if waiting for something to happen. Every now and then, though, I’d spot a fight or something that looked like a fight about to break out. As far as I could tell, people who still had their wits about them were desperately trying to get their hands on whatever supplies they could.

  It made me glance down nervously at my water bottle before noticing that more than a few people around me had already realized what I had. It was nothing—a bottle of bargain-bin water that wouldn’t have run any more than a buck at any gas station just two days ago. But as far as the crowd around me was concerned, it was as valuable as gold, the possible difference between life and death.

  I quickly tucked it under my shirt, realizing that I’d been flirting with danger just by carrying it out in the open like that.

  As I moved I continued to search around for Ramirez and Amy, not spotting hide nor hair of them. Nightmare scenarios began forming in my mind of awful things happening to the both of them, Amy especially.

  It was strange. I was starting to feel protective over the girl, more than in just a way that I ought if I were simply concerned with paying her back for saving my life.

  It’s because she’d be totally helpless without you, dumbass, I tho
ught. Always had a soft spot for helpless cases.

  And helpless she was. Whatever she’d gone through last night had done a number on her, and as quick as she might’ve been on her feet I doubted she’d have what it would take to make it out of this nightmare alive.

  I pressed on, using the position of the sun to determine where the hell I was. It was nearly dead-center in the sky, which made things difficult. Slowly but surely I inched forward, getting closer and closer to the westernmost gate. The idea of finally arriving only to learn that Ramirez and Amy hadn’t made it was enough to give me chills, but I kept telling myself that there was no sense in getting worried about something that hadn’t happened yet.

  Five more minutes on I heard something that froze me where I stood.

  “He’s got water! Get him!”

  Shit.

  Surrounded by people with no way to make a quick escape, my body tensed as I prepared for a fight, ready to knock the teeth out of anyone who wanted to take my bottle.

  But to my surprise, the commotion broke out off to my right, involving people that weren’t me. The scene was a mess, fists flying through the air and connecting with random faces, shirts getting pulled and ripped, curse words flying into the air. Before too long I spotted smears of blood appearing on people’s faces, a few of the fighters dropping down and out of sight, likely to be trampled on by everyone around them trying to flee the scene.

  I held my water bottle close, tucking it under my shirt and making sure that no one spotted it and started to get any ideas. Right as I started to take off and put some distance between me and the brawl, I spotted a kid, one who had to be no older than fifteen, run right past me through the crowd. He looked scared as shit, like he’d just seen a ghost.

  Something told me he needed help.

  “Aw, damn,” I said out loud, turning in the direction that the kid ran and starting off after him.

  I knew it was a bad idea, but the thought of some kid lost and alone in this place was enough to make me not give a shit about my own problems. I hurried along, trying to keep my eye on his skinny frame as he darted through the crowd. The kid was small, but he was fast as shit.

  I kept close, though, and before too long I watched as the kid ducked into one of the abandoned food and drink booths, disappearing among the plastic flaps.

  Not your business, I thought to myself. Just leave the kid be.

  But despite my brain knowing the smart thing to do, I kept on towards the tent. When I arrived, I gave the flap and quick pull and ducked inside. Sure enough, the kid was hiding in the corner, looking more shocked and dazed than scared.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he barked out, his brown eyes locked onto me.

  “A friend,” I said.

  “A friend?” he asked, his tone suggesting he didn’t believe me in the slightest. “A ‘friend’ like those assholes who took my last bottle of water?”’

  I raised my palms in front of my face, letting the kid know that I wasn’t there to cause any trouble. My water bottle was tucked into my waistband and cool against my skin.

  “Not here to do you wrong,” I said. “Just saw that you looked scared as hell and I wanted to see if I could help.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  It was a good question.

  “Just don’t like to see anyone suffer, is all,” I said.

  He said nothing, instead continuing to regard me with a skeptical expression.

  The kid was short and wiry, with fair skin and a head of messy, jet-black hair. He was dressed in sneakers, skinny jeans, and a T-shirt that looked like it was for one of the bands playing the festival.

  “How long has it been since you’ve had any water?” I asked.

  The kid seemed to be weighing whether or not telling me anything was a smart idea.

  “Since this morning,” he finally said. “Like, early this morning. I was pretty much dying of thirst when I got lucky and found a bottle of half-drank water in one of the garbage cans out there. I was just about to have some and…”

  He trailed off, and I nodded. I knew where the story ended.

  “Here,” I said, reaching under my shirt and pulling out the bottle of water. “Have some of this.”

  The kid’s eyes went wide, like he was looking at a bounty of presents under a Christmas tree and not a bottle of plain water.

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  “Serious,” I said. “No strings attached.”

  He regarded the water bottle for a moment as held it out, then took it. Milliseconds later he had it opened and drained nearly half of it with one pull.

  “Easy,” I said. “Drink too much too fast on an empty stomach and you’ll make yourself sick. Don’t waste good water by puking it up.”

  He nodded, slowing down his sipping.

  “Who you here with, kid?” I asked. “Why are you alone?”

  “I was here with my older sister and her boyfriend,” he said. “They didn’t want me to come with them, but Mom and Dad made them.”

  “And where are they now?” I asked, already knowing that the answer to the question likely wasn’t going to be a happy one.

  “I…don’t know,” he said, his eyes drifting down. “When the power went off last night everything went crazy. I was with them one second and then the next they were gone. I haven’t seen them since.”

  It was rough to hear. No phones meant there was a good chance people separated might not see each other again.

  “You haven’t seen them, have you?” he asked. “My sister’s tall and skinny with dark hair, and her boyfriend’s tall too, but kind of fat. They’re both twenty-one.”

  He likely had just described a few thousand people here.

  “Sorry, kid,” I said. “Haven’t seen them. Trying to get back to my own people, myself.”

  He held the water bottle back towards me, the liquid sloshing around inside.

  “Keep it,” I said. “But I want you to stay put, got it?”

  “Who are these people?” he blurted out. “The guys with the motorcycles and the guns.”

  “Bad people,” I said. “Ones that you want to stay as far away from as you can. Got it? Believe it or not, this is probably the best place for you. Hide out here and you won’t have to deal with them. And when this place finally clears out you grab what supplies you can and follow the road out of here as far as you can. Travel by night, sleep by day. Got it?”

  He nodded. It wasn’t the best plan, but likely the one that stood the best chance of keeping the kid alive.

  “What about my sister? And her boyfriend?”

  Shit.

  “They won’t leave you behind,” I said. “And the best time for you guys to try to find each other is when all this shit calms down and the motorcycle guys are out of here. If they’re smart, they’ll be hunkering down, too.”

  This appeared to calm him down some. Then, to my surprise, a smile broke out across his skinny face.

  “Shit’s crazy, right?” he asked. “You know, I bet when this is all said and done they’ll be selling ‘I survived Dead Air 2019’ T-shirts, you know?”

  He laughed a little at his own joke. I forced a smile, but I sure as hell didn’t share his confidence that things would be going back to normal anytime soon.

  “Now,” I said. “What are you going to do?”

  “Stay put,” he said.

  “Right. And don’t drink all that water at once—you gotta make it la—”

  I didn’t finish my sentence. A series of steady gunfire pops rang out, one after the other. It was time to move.

  “Stay here,” I told the kid. “Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  With that I ducked out of the tent. Nothing more I could do for him.

  Back in the arena, the crowd was still and silent, which was eerie as hell on its own. And they were all looking in one direction, towards the main stage.

  I turned to see what was up, spotting Dante himself standing on the nearby stage, megaphone in hand
, flanked on both sides by armed men.

  “All right everyone!” he shouted out, his voice booming. “You want to live through the next hour? Then you’d better listen the fuck up!”

  14 Ed

  I had no idea what Dante was going to say, but with an intro like that, it wasn’t going to be good.

  “All right!” he said. “Do I have your fucking attention?”

  No one said a word. Somehow, all of the thousands of people in the audience seemed to realize that this was a “stand still and shut the hell up” kind of situation.

  “Good!” he said. “Good boys and girls. Nice and attentive—just what I like to see.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and began strolling slowly across the stage.

  “Now,” he said after letting some anticipation build in the air. “For those of you not in the know, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dante Arco, the leader of this fine group of boys known as the Black Mountain Mob. But you don’t need to bother yourself with remembering my name—though I’m sure you will—because as far as you’re concerned, while I’m here my name is G-O-D.”

  I was close enough that I could make out that same sinister smile that I’d seen on his face before.

  “Why?” he asked. “Because I’m the one here with the power of life and death. I’m the one with the power to send you to heaven, or cast you down to hell. Understand me?”

  No one said a word. A sick feeling took hold of my gut, and I had an inkling that whatever Dante was going to say next, it was going to be more than just a simple warning.

  “Now,” he said, his voice crackling and loud through the megaphone. “Some of you might be wondering just what a man like me is doing at place like this. Others, on the other hand, know damn well and good why I’ve decided to grace you with my presence. But just to make things perfectly clear, let me fill you all in.”

  More silence, more awful anticipation.

  “Dead Air wasn’t just about the music. And by that I don’t meant the merchandise and all that shit. No, Dead Air was something of a special project for me, a way for me to move my product in the middle of the desert where no one would be paying any attention.”