Sound of Survival (Book 2): Fight or Flight

by Patten, Sean

  He took the megaphone from his face for a moment and shook his head, as if in disappointment.

  “We had the new runners of the festival paid off, we had security on our side, and everything was set. Only thing we didn’t count on was a fucking EMP knocking out the goddamn power!”

  He yelled the last part, his words booming as they echoed over the crowd.

  We all waited for him to go on. To my surprise, the anger on his face disappeared, replaced by something like amusement. He laughed to himself, as if the whole thing was really funny, now that he’d had a chance to think about it.

  “You know,” he said. “We have more in common than you would think. You all came here expecting the concert of your lives, and I came here expecting the payday to end all paydays. Looks like things didn’t really go according to plan for any of us, huh?”

  No one laughed.

  “Anyway,” he said. “I’ve always considered myself an eternal optimist, which means I like to make the best of bad situations. And folks, when I showed up here to get shit under control I realized that you all had given me the fucking mother of bad situations.”

  I, and plenty of the other people in the crowd, knew that he was referring to the warehouse raids last night.

  “Now, I know when the lights went out, plenty of you figured that’d be the perfect time to cut loose and get crazy, get all Dionysian on it, you know? And hell, were things different I might’ve been right there with you. I like to have fun myself, believe it or not.”

  A little more pacing later, and he went on.

  “But this isn’t about fun right now,” he said. “No sir-ee. This is all business. And I’m gonna cut the bullshit and get right to the point. A bunch of you rowdy assholes got into my stashes last night, and I’m really, really pissed off about it. Pissed off enough to feel like going all murder-crazy until my I’m good and happy. Got me?”

  I clenched my fists, wishing I could rush the stage and kill the fucker where he stood. God only knew how many lives Dante had ended by moving his boys in and making a bad situation even worse. Or how many more would suffer before he was done.

  “But I didn’t get to be the big man on top by letting my emotions get the best of me. No, I’m going to be as cool and straight about this as possible. So let me put it to you as crystal-fucking-clear as I can.”

  He lowered his megaphone for a moment and shot a hard glare into the crowd.

  “I know some of the product, hell, a lot of the product’s gone up your noses, and short of opening up your faces and scraping what I can off your sinuses, there’s nothing I can do about that. Whatever, I’ll take the hit. But what I can do is get back the product that you’ve all taken and are holding onto. And I know you’ve taken a motherfucking shitload of it.”

  At this point he turned to the side stage and made a “come here” motion with his free hand. Seconds later, two of his men came onto the stage, both of them holding tight onto some twenty-something guy who looked scared out of his fucking mind.

  Once the men were close to Dante, one of them kicked the kid in the back of his leg and dropped him to his knees as the boss spoke again.

  “Now, I’m big into letting people tell their side of the story, so that’s what I’m going to do. Go ahead and speak up, kid. Don’t be shy.”

  He stuck the megaphone in front of the kid’s face.

  “W-what do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice quaking with fear.

  “Let’s start with the basics,” said Dante. “Your name, your age, where you’re from, what you do. Real first-date shit.”

  He put the megaphone back in front of the kid’s face. I didn’t like where this was going, not one bit.

  “My name’s Carter Kenworthy,” he said. “I live in Venice Beach. Um, I’m twenty-four. And I’m a DJ—one of the DJs who was gonna be playing the festival.”

  “That’s right, kids!” said Dante, bringing the megaphone back to his own mouth. “I’ve got for you none other than DJ Kenworthy! But he’s not there to play some bangers for you, no-no-no. Why don’t you tell them why I’ve got you up on stage, bud?”

  The megaphone went right back to Carter’s face.

  “Because…because me and my friends were stealing some of your drugs.”

  “‘Some’?” Dante repeated. “That’s a kind way to put it. If I remember correctly, you and your buds got found by my boys loading up one of the last working golf carts with kilo after kilo of my merchandise. Is that right?”

  “That’s…that’s right.”

  “And why don’t you tell the crowd where your friends are now.”

  He held the megaphone in front of Carter’s face, Carter not saying anything until Dante gave him a swat to the back of the head.

  “Dead,” he said. “You…you fuckers killed all of them right in front of me!”

  “Sure did,” said Dante. “And we decided to spare you. You got any idea why that might be?”

  “Because…you’re going to let me go?”

  I couldn’t believe the kid could be this stupid. He was doomed, no doubt about it.

  Dante regarded him quizzically for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter, a laughter that was loud enough that he didn’t need the megaphone for us to hear it. Carter regarded him with an unsure expression he finished laughing.

  “Wow!” said Dante, appearing to wipe away a tear. “No, kid, you’re absolutely fucked. The only reason your sorry ass is up here is because I want to send a clear warning to the rest of the fine people here. And that being—you touch my shit, you die.”

  Total panic took hold of Carter, and I got the sense that the gravity of the situation was finally dawning on him.

  “No!” shouted Carter. “I didn’t know it was yours! Please!”

  But Dante wasn’t moved by his words or his tears or his struggling. Instead, he removed the pistol from his waistband and looked it over. I realized, to my horror, that I was about to watch him execute someone for the third time that day.

  “Please!” shouted Carter. “I’ll do anything, just let me get in touch with my label and they’ll get you whatever you want.”

  I winced in spite of myself. On top of everything, the poor kid still didn’t realize that the old world was gone and not coming back.

  Dante raised the gun to Carter’s forehead, the kid still pleading for mercy. People in the crowd around me began to quietly panic at what they knew was about to happen.

  But Dante didn’t fire. Instead, he held the gun in place, as if trying to decide something. Finally, he tucked the gun back into his waistband. Relief splashed onto Carter’s face—he seemed certain this meant he’d gotten a stay of execution. But I knew enough about Dante to understand that there wasn’t the slightest chance in hell of that.

  “Thank you!” cried Carter. “Thank you!”

  Dante didn’t react. Instead, he raised the megaphone to his mouth and spoke.

  “You know what?” he asked. “Killing people is fun. But sometimes, watching other people do it for you is a whole different kind of satisfying. Boys!”

  He waved his hand through the air, the other men on stage moving as if they knew exactly what to do. Dante strolled offstage, returning moments later with a folding chair. Carter, realizing that he wasn’t going to be spared after all, went back into his pleading as the other Black Mountain men dropped him down to his knees and tied his hands behind his back.

  “Let’s do this old-fashioned style,” said Dante. “Blindfold and all.”

  One of the men complied, wrapping a red-and-white bandanna from his back pocket over Carter’s eyes. The kid went right back into his crying and pleading.

  Dante sat back and appeared satisfied with his sick bullshit.

  “Okay,” he said. “On three! One!

  The men raised their submachine guns.

  “Two!”

  More pleading from Carter. Part of me wished the kid would just try to make a break for it. Better that than dying on his knees.


  “Three!”

  The men opened up with their guns, flashes appearing at the ends of the barrels as they fired round after round. Most of them hit home, Carter’s body twitching back and forth with each impact, red splotches appearing on his shirt. Many in the crowd around me began screaming and crying at the display, some looking away.

  After a few brief and horrible seconds, the gunfire stopped. Carter slumped down to the ground, dead as dirt.

  “Very nice!” said Dante. “Like I said, sometimes you want to make the meal yourself, sometimes you want to have the meal served to you. And I don’t know about you all, but that was a hell of a delicious meal!”

  He hopped up off his chair and stepped to the front of the stage as his men took away Carter’s body.

  “We’re going to leave that poor SOB right by the east entrance,” said Dante. “Give you all a little reminder of what happens when you steal my shit.”

  Then he raised his finger.

  “And here’s where you all ought to pay attention. Tons of my product is still missing, and as much of party animals as you all are, I know you couldn’t have snorted it all up your noses in one night. So, I want to see my drugs, right here, on this stage. And I want to see a lot of them. Because if I don’t see a big, beautiful pile of white packages before too long, I’m going to start giving you all the DJ Kenworthy treatment, one by fucking one.”

  He stood there for a few moments, letting his words sink in.

  “I’ll let you all get to it,” he said. “Can’t wait to see what you have for me!”

  With that, Dante set down his megaphone and strolled off the stage.

  The panic began instantly. People screamed and ran and collectively freaked out in the worst way possible. Just as I decided to get moving, I felt the hard slap of a hand on my shoulder. Instantly, the idea that Dante’s men had learned I’d been spying on them, and now they were here to exact punishment, appeared in my mind.

  I whipped around, blood rushing and ready for a fight.

  15 Ed

  Instead of a pair of Dante’s men ready to put a bullet in me, however, I was greeted by the faces of Ramirez and Amy.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Relief hit me hard.

  “Holy shit,” said Ramirez. “It is you.”

  “You’re both all right?” I asked, looking them both over and seeing no injuries, only brown scuffs on their clothes, likely from the jump out of the van.

  “Yeah,” said Ramirez. “Both fine.”

  “We found each other right away,” said Amy. But you weren’t so easy to track down.”

  “What happened to waiting at the west entrance?” I asked.

  Ramirez spoke up.

  “When Dante started giving that fucking speech of his Amy and I figured that was a good time to look around.”

  He shook his head, a look of pure disgust on his face.

  “Sick son of a bitch.”

  Amy, on the other hand, appeared more shocked than anything. It was as if she was trying to figure out just how much more death she was going to have to witness that day.

  The panic and energy in the crowd ratcheted up as we spoke. I realized that before too long standing around having a conversation in the middle of it all wasn’t going to be the best idea.

  “We need to get out of here,” I said. “I don’t know how much powder there is in the crowd, but I can bet you guys anything that whatever Dante gets on stage, it’s not going to be enough.”

  “Yeah,” said Amy, her voice weak and barely audible over the noises of the crowd. “I want to leave. Now.”

  Ramirez dutifully nodded.

  “Right there with you,” he said. “But first we need to see what we can do for these people.”

  “Listen,” I said. “I get that you’re still worried about protecting and serving, but this place is a total loss. The best we can do is get out of here before we’re totally fucked.”

  “And just leave all these people here to die?” asked Ramirez, gesturing towards the crowd. “To what, save my own skin?”

  He was picking the wrong time to be a Boy Scout about this shit.

  “Listen, you want to stick around and try to help, get a knife in your gut or a bullet in your brain in the process, be my guest. But you want to get out of here alive and live to help another day, come with me and Amy.”

  Ramirez appeared conflicted. I got it, I really did. The kid probably had signed onto be a cop to help people and look out for the innocent and all that shit. And now he was in the middle of a place that sure as hell needed some law and order.

  “You’re just one man, Ramirez,” I said. “You want to help people, then don’t throw your life away. Come with me and get your ass back to LA. You’ll do a hell of a lot more good linked back up with your people than trying to fix the world on your own.”

  “Please,” said Amy. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  He still looked conflicted, but I got the impression he was starting to see the sense in my words. Truth be told, as much as Amy and I could’ve used another person on our team, I would’ve just as soon left him there.

  “Okay,” he said. “Fine. But if the chance to help someone comes up—”

  “I get it,” I said, cutting him off. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it. Now let’s go!”

  We picked the exact right second to get moving, because, as if it were the exclamation point at the end of my sentence, one of the speaker towers came crashing down into the dirt only a few hundred feet from where we stood.

  I never would get used to that, knowing each one of those towers falling into the crowd meant another handful of senseless deaths.

  I did my best to shake off the thought as the three of us picked up the pace, making our way through the crowd.

  “Where to?” asked Amy.

  “Let’s get to the perimeter!” Ramirez called out. “Better the people on one side of us than all around!”

  “Yeah!” I said, thinking it was a smart call.

  As quickly as we could without getting sucked up into the chaos, we cut across the arena stage and soon arrived at the tall fence that sectioned off the main festival stage area from the rest of the grounds and the desert beyond.

  It didn’t take long before we realized others had the same idea. People swarmed the fences, the Black Mountain crew waiting on the other side, still as statues with guns in their hands, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The three of us stopped to watch how it was all going down.

  “You can try to run!” called out one of the guards. “But we’re right here waiting for you!”

  That didn’t seem to do a damn bit of good quelling things. But I could tell that didn’t matter one bit to the guards. If anything, they looked more than willing to use the panicked masses as target practice.

  The attention of the guards went to a few of the people trying to flee, four people who had begun to scale the fence and were getting close to the top.

  “Last warning!” the guard called out. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

  But people didn’t stop. They climbed and climbed. One of them—a skinny guy who was going up the fence like a monkey—only increased his pace.

  “Fine!” the guard called out. “Have it your way!”

  With that, he raised his gun and took aim.

  “Oh, no,” Amy breathed, knowing just as well as me and Ramirez what was about to go down.

  A series of pops sounded out, the man near the top of the fence freezing in place for a moment before letting go and falling backwards, down into the crowd. Screams erupted, and the people still on the fence got wise of what was going on and began scaling back down as fast as they possibly could.

  The guards kept firing, now aiming into the air and blasting off warning shots.

  “Fuck,” said Ramirez, his eyes narrowed, pure rage in his voice. “These fuckers…these fuckers have to pay.”

  For a second I worried that he was going to lose his cool and do
something rash. But instead, he turned around towards me.

  “This is just as bad,” he said. “We have to figure out something fast.”

  Amy piped up.

  “Ed,” she said. “There has to be some way to get out of here that’s not through the main entrances, right? Like some kind of a secret passage?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to opine on the ridiculousness of there being secret tunnels or something like that. But right as I was about to speak, I realized that yeah, there actually was something like that.

  “Off by the main stage,” I said. “There’s a door that security guards use to get rowdy fans out of the crowd without having to take them through the public entrances. No one really knows about it—might be unguarded.”

  “Then that’s where we’re going,” said Ramirez with a tone of grim determination.

  “Come on, then,” I said. “And stay close!”

  The three of us took off, following the perimeter fence back towards the main stage. As we moved I did my best to not become distracted by the insanity in the crowd, the people climbing all over one another, either some attempt to get free or to see if they could find some drugs to give to Dante in hopes of him sparing their life.

  It wasn’t long before we reached the side of the stage. But my gut sank when I realized that while the exit was where I’d expected it to be, it wasn’t unguarded.

  No, there was someone there all right—big, burly and armed.

  And he didn’t look like he’d move without a fight.

  16 Amy

  Part of me wanted to drop to my knees in defeat. I’d allowed myself to get so excited at the idea that Ed had access to some easy way out. But no, it was guarded, and the man in front of the door didn’t look like he’d be persuaded to move.

  The three of us moved far enough away from the door that we wouldn’t be spotted, but near enough that we could still keep an eye on it.

  “Fuck!” shouted Ed as he punched his fist into his other hand. “Motherfucker!”

  Ramirez didn’t say anything. Instead, his attention was on the thousands of people around us. The panic had boiled over into rioting, even more frenzied that what I’d seen last night. It looked to me like the pressure of knowing their lives were on the line upon threat of Dante’s punishment was enough to turn to whole place into pure chaos.