Sound of Survival (Book 2): Fight or Flight

by Patten, Sean

  As I watched Ramirez, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was trying to decide just how much of this he could stand by and simply watch.

  “What can we do?” I asked Ed in an attempt to get the plan back on track.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But the more I think about it, the more I’m realizing that’s where we need to be. Behind that door is a straight shot to the holding cells we’ve got where they put people here who break the law during the show, where we let them stew while the cops come to get them.”

  “Thinking we could get some good use out of those right about now,” said Ramirez, his eyes still fixed on the riot.

  “And they’re right by one of the secondary exits out of this place. There’s even this little parking lot where we might be able to find a car. It’s the best shot we have.”

  “If only we could do something about that guard,” I said.

  Ed appeared to think the matter over, while Ramirez continued to regard the people.

  “What about this?” I asked. “There’s three of us and one of him, right?”

  Ed’s eyes flicked over to me, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

  “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  “You know I’m right,” I said. “He’s big and he’s armed, but maybe if we took him on all at once…”

  Ed shook his head.

  “No good,” he said. “All it’d take is for him to get one shot off and we’d be fucked. Keep in mind that we can’t just drive to the hospital and get patched up if shit goes sideways.”

  “What if I distracted him?” I asked. “And then you two hit him from the sides?”

  “‘Distract him’?” asked Ed. “Like what, saunter up to him while batting your eyelashes?”

  Truth be told, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. And it seemed totally ridiculous when Ed put like that.

  “Okay, fine,” I said. “It’s not the best idea. But like you said, we need to get past this guy. You got a better plan?”

  “Let me think,” said Ed, a tinge of impatience in his voice. “Just give me a damn second.”

  He glanced up at Ramirez, who was still monitoring the crowd.

  “Hey, bud,” he said. “You got any big ideas?”

  Ramirez continued to stare forward. Whether or not he heard was unclear.

  “Hey!” said Ed. “Earth to Ramirez!”

  But Ramirez only raised his hand, pointing ahead at the stage.

  “This is about to get bad,” he said. “Really, really bad.”

  “Huh?” I said as I turned to see what he was looking at.

  I realized what he meant right away.

  The riot was getting out of control, and it was easy to see that it was far more insane than Dante and his men had likely been anticipating.

  I had a hard time believing what I was seeing. The crowds had rushed the main stage, the area where Dante had given his little speech and directed them to deposit whatever drugs they had. But it was far from a neat and orderly drop-off. No, the entire stage was mobbed, people climbing not only onto the stage but onto the scaffolding behind it.

  Dante and his men were nowhere to be found, probably having realized that they’d be torn to pieces if they’d stuck around.

  “Holy shit,” said Ed, putting his hands on his hips. “What are they doing?”

  “They’re panicking,” I said.

  The three of us stood dumbfounded by what we were seeing. More and more of the thousands of people there rushed the stage, smashing up against one another as they tried to make their way onto it. In the masses I spotted a few of the Black Mountain crew fleeing in the opposite direction. Sure, they were armed, but there were only a few dozen of them against thousands of people—they didn’t stand a chance.

  “This is bad,” Ramirez repeated, his eyes drifting up to the people climbing the scaffolding.

  I followed his gaze. The metal supports that held up the stage and the massive lighting and speaker systems behind it clearly hadn’t been designed to handle dozens and dozens of people climbing up on top of them. The structures began to sway back and forth, low, ominous groans sounding.

  “Ed…” I said, my voice trailing off.

  “We need to move,” he said. “Now.”

  But we were about thirty seconds too late for that.

  An awful, deafening snap, followed by an echoing twang, ripped through the air. The steel support structures began to sway faster and faster. One by one, the people who’d been climbing on the thing began to fall, hitting the stage from dozens of feet up, landing with sickening thuds.

  And then the stage finally gave in, slowly falling forward.

  “Run!” shouted Ed.

  I turned on my heels and broke out into a sprint, pumping my legs as fast as I could. As I ran, I turned my head just in time to watch the stage hit the ground, the horrible boom and crash like nothing I’d ever heard before.

  Screams mixed with the sounds of destruction, the air soon filled with dust that made it nearly impossible to see where I was going. But I kept running, pushing the horrible screams and shouts and cries of pain. I was no longer thinking, I simply knew in my bones that I had to get clear.

  And then, just like that, I realized that the noise was over. I stopped in my tracks, and eerie silence coming over me, the dust slowly fading from the air. Before too long it was clear enough to see.

  But I didn’t want to turn around and look. I didn’t want to face what I knew was behind me.

  I also knew that I didn’t have a choice. I had to find Ramirez and Ed.

  So, taking a steeling deep breath, I slowly turned.

  I wasn’t ready for what I saw.

  Where the massive Dead Air stage once stood, where only a day ago I’d been playing music with my band for this same crowd, there was now nothing but a massive heap of wreckage.

  And among the wreckage were bodies—so many bodies. Even from where I stood I could see arms and legs sticking out of the wreckage, some moving, some still.

  As if not in control of myself, I began to walk slowly towards the disaster, the details becoming clearer and clearer with each step I took. The silence was the worst part, that strange quiet that stood as a total contrast to the horror in front of me.

  Before too long I was right in front of it all, the enormous pile towering above me. And as I stood, my eyes slowly drifting over everything, taking it all in, I spotted something on one of the arms.

  A snake tattoo.

  I ran over as quickly as I could, eager to see if I was actually seeing what I thought I was, or if I was having some kind of insane hallucination.

  I stopped in front of it, realizing that it was no trick of the eye—it was Brittany.

  I squatted down and peered into the wreckage. Sure enough, there was a twisted, mangled body attached to that arm, one that was as still as a stone. It was dark among the wreckage, but I could make out her skinny frame, and see the burns on her skin from when I’d hit her with the candle last night.

  She was gone. Brittany was dead. The woman who’d killed my friends wasn’t going to hurt anyone ever again.

  “Amy!”

  My eyes went wide and I stood up. It was Ed’s voice.

  I turned around to see him coming towards me, stopping when he was only a few feet away.

  “Oh my God,” he said, looking me over. “Are you okay?”

  Struggling to gather myself, I glanced down at my body. Like Ed I was covered in dust. But also like Ed, I was unharmed. We’d both been very, very lucky.

  “Where’s Ramirez?” I asked.

  “Down that way,” he said, pointing to his left. “But…”

  “Is he hurt?” I asked, panic creeping into my voice.

  “No,” he said. “But I don’t think he’s coming with us.”

  Without waiting for me to respond, Ed broke out into a loping run. I followed, trying to ignore the moans coming from the wreckage and the dust-covered, dazed pe
ople all around me.

  Before too long we came upon the familiar, wiry frame of Ramirez. But he wasn’t standing around. Instead, he was busy at work pulling at the wreckage, doing his best to free whoever was still in there and still living.

  “Ramirez!” I shouted.

  He stopped for only long enough to see that it was me and that I was unharmed before going right back into it.

  “We have to go!” said Ed.

  “No way!” said Ramirez. “No way am I leaving these people here like this!”

  I could tell right away that there was going to be no talking him out of it. And truth be told, I almost wanted to help him. Only the sudden thought of Mom in Sandy Vista made me certain I had to keep moving.

  “Ramirez, you can’t help everyone,” said Ed.

  “I don’t have to help everyone,” he said. “Just who I can.”

  Ed opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to realize that this was it. This was where our and Ramirez’s paths split.

  “You sure this is what you want?” Ed asked.

  “I’m sure,” he said, finally turning to face us.

  Ed stuck out his dusty hand.

  “Then good luck.”

  Ramirez took it, a small puff of dust shooting into the air around their hands.

  “Good luck,” he said. “Both of you.”

  And that was that. He turned his attention back to the wreck, already busy at work freeing whoever was in there.

  “Come on,” said Ed. “I bet you anything our boy abandoned his post.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  We started off in a trot and were soon back where we’d been before the stage collapsed. Sure enough, the side entrance was still there, the guard long gone.

  “This is it,” said Ed. “Our ticket out of here. You ready?”

  “Ready,” I said.

  Together we approached the door. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ed twisted the handle. Inside was darkness.

  And nothing to do but step into it.

  17 Amy

  My eyes soon adjusted to the dim light, revealing an empty hallway, various supplies stacked along the walls. Between the stagnant heat and the stale smell of dust in the air I could tell that this facility was meant to be temporary, more so than the rest of the structures there. And it was totally quiet, almost creepily so. Ed and I seemed to be the only ones there.

  “Okay,” said Ed. “I’ve only seen this place once, but I know there’s a break room somewhere. Come on.”

  He started off and I followed, our footsteps echoing down the empty hall.

  But as soon as we began moving, as soon as I had time to think, my mind went right back to what I’d seen—Brittany’s body in the wreckage. So far, I’d mostly been able to put the horrors of last night out of my mind—just staying alive was enough to keep me focused. But between seeing Brittany and finally having a moment of peace, all I could think about was what had happened.

  The bodies of my band, my friends, all appeared in my mind with perfect clarity. I knew that for as long as I lived I’d never forget what I’d seen, how close I’d come to being dead among them.

  “—be somewhere up here.”

  Ed’s words, mid-sentence, broke through my thoughts.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “I said the break room should be somewhere up here. Might even be some food and water there.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Good.”

  As soon as I spoke the words I went right back to thinking about Brittany and the rest of them. The whole horrible thing had only taken a few minutes, but it seemed like hours. And only through luck had I made it out of there alive.

  Why me? Out of all four of us, why was I the one to live? Did someone need to stay alive just to be tortured by the trauma?

  “—is it.”

  “Huh?” I said again.

  Ed stopped in front of a door and turned around to face me.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, looking down and tucking my dirty hair behind my dirty ear. “I’m fine.”

  “Listen,” he said. “I get that you’re shaken up. But we need to stay focused and keep moving. Once we’re out of here we can…talk about it, or whatever.”

  I realized that I hadn’t told Ed about everything. I’d mentioned it briefly when we’d first met, but he didn’t know all of the horrible details.

  “Anyway,” he said, turning his attention back to the door. “I think this is it.”

  He gave the doorknob a twist, to no avail.

  “Fuck,” he said under his breath. “Well, here goes nothing.”

  Ed stepped back and sized the door up. Then he raised his foot and drove it hard into it, the wood on the hinges splitting and cracking, the door giving way and falling into the room with a crash.

  “Steel-toe work boots,” he said, smiling and holding up one of his feet. “Best money I’ve ever spent.”

  I gave him a weak smile in return, my mind still occupied.

  “Oh, mama,” he breathed as he looked into the room. “You’ve got to check this out. Come on.”

  Ed headed inside and I followed close behind. Sure enough, there was stuff in there worth saying “oh mama” over. There were three vending machines, one with pre-made sandwiches and such, another with snack foods, the last with drinks. The room wasn’t much—just a small space with three round plastic tables and some chairs, a dead TV hung in the corner—but for Ed and I it was a little oasis.

  “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll do the, uh, cooking.”

  I wordlessly plopped into one of the chairs as Ed checked out our options.

  “We got sandwiches,” he said. “But I’d recommend against the tuna.”

  “Whatever’s fine,” I said, my voice sounding faraway, as if someone else was speaking.

  “Okay,” he said. “Take a load off and I’ll get us some grub.”

  Ed went to it, breaking into the vending machines with a crowbar that he retrieved from somewhere outside of the room. I spent the time thinking, and thinking, and thinking. An hour ago I would’ve been thrilled at the idea of some food and drink and rest. But now that I had it, all I could do was ruminate.

  After some time passed, a sandwich in a plastic container, two small bags—one of chips, one of cookies—and a tall bottle of water appeared in front of me.

  “There you go,” he said. “Get your grub on, young lady.”

  Ed didn’t exactly wait for us to say grace. He tore into the massive pile of food in front of him, shoving down one sandwich before starting on the next, washing it all down with long swigs of soda.

  Only when he was about halfway done with his meal did he realize that I hadn’t done more than open the bag of chips.

  “Something wrong?” Ed asked. “There a reason you’re not indulging in this wonderful bounty before you?”

  He flashed me a smile, letting me know he was only teasing.

  “Just don’t have much of an appetite, I guess,” I said.

  “Well,” he said. “Bad news for you. Your body needs food, and it doesn’t matter if you feel up to eating or not. God knows how many lucky breaks we’re going to get after this.”

  I didn’t respond. Ed raised his sandwich to his mouth, stopping mid-bite, as if realizing something. Slowly, he set down his sandwich and reached over, placing his hand on mine. I could tell right away that this sort of display of affection didn’t exactly come naturally to him.

  “Um, listen,” he said, chewing and swallowing. “I know we just saw some serious shit. And you’re probably having a hell of a time processing it all. But—”

  “It’s not that,” I said, cutting him off. “I mean, yes, what just happened was one of the worst things I’ve ever seen in my life. But it wasn’t the worst of them all.”

  He cocked his head to the side.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I paused, not sure if I should tell him everything. But it only took a few seconds of thinking before I realize
d that he needed to know. And though I couldn’t believe it, I wanted to talk about it.

  “Last night,” I said. “When I told you that something awful happened to the other guys in my band.”

  “Yeah…” he said, his tone giving me permission to go on.

  “I didn’t tell you everything that happened.”

  He crinkled his eyebrows skeptically as he unscrewed the cap of his soda and took a sip.

  “That’s right,” he said. “You didn’t. Figured whatever happened it had to have been rough as hell. But I didn’t want to pry.”

  “Right,” I said. “It was…bad.”

  It was such a blasé way to put it. But I couldn’t even think of another word.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” said Ed. “Still don’t want to pry. But it might feel good to get it out there.”

  “I was planning on keeping it to myself,” I said. “But one of those people in the wreckage…”

  “What?” Ed asked. “Who did you see? One of your friends or something?”

  “No!” I shot out. “Not a friend. Not at all.”

  “Then who?”

  I realized at that moment there was no more dancing around the issue. Either I was going to tell him, or I wasn’t.

  So I did. One deep breath later, and I went into it.

  I told him about Ty and Chris and Elliot, about Brittany, about what had happened last night, about how my friends were killed in front of me, and how I barely got away with my life.

  I had no idea of how much time it took to tell him everything. But by the time I was done I was exhausted, worse than if I’d had to trek across the festival grounds again.

  “Holy shit,” said Ed, sitting back in his chair. “I figured something terrible had happened to you before we met last night but…I don’t even know what to say.”

  “I don’t either,” I said. “And when it happened I just started walking. Don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found you. Maybe wander into the desert in a total daze.”