The Second Amendment: A Novel On Surviving The Coming Collapse

by Above Average J. T.

  Walter simply gave him a nod,

  A brief pause followed. But within only five seconds, the firing resumed again.

  “Come on,” Benjamin egged him on. “Let’s move!” he commanded.

  “Hold on,” said Walter. “I need to get to my station. I hid a gun in my drawer,” he confessed.

  “What?! Are you nuts?” Benjamin tried to stop him.

  Walter went on crawling like he did not hear from his friend.

  “You can’t fight them off, Walter. There’s too many of them outside,” he warned.

  Walter was headed towards his station on all fours. He was determined to get his gun. Benjamin could do nothing to stop him. He checked on the rest and instructed them to start making their way out of the building.

  The series of gun shots continued. As they moved forward, some people would stop as they were too scared. Benjamin had to go back and keep checking on the others.

  The bullets shattered the glass panes. This created a piercing, reverberating sound across the hallways. The group had to cover their ears from the piercing noise.

  As they were heading for the exit door, Benjamin temporarily stopped them. “Hold on, guys,” he said. “We need to divide ourselves into groups.”

  “How do we decide that? Where are we supposed to go?” Jessica asked; her voice trembling as she spoke.

  “It’ll be easier that way so we will move faster,” he explained.

  “Dr. Xavier, I want you to join this other group,” he instructed. The other doctor merely nodded. “It is important that we have at least one doctor per group. That way, someone can look after the others in case of injury. We will head this way and you head over that way. Let’s meet each other at the back door,” he added.

  “Oh, and whoever gets there first, make sure you secure the back and keep everyone safe,” he noted as a final instruction.

  “All of you, come with me,” he told the other group.

  Before they can even finish discussing their plans, another huge explosion slightly jolted them off the ground. Benjamin took a peek from behind a wall. He can see fire at the entrance door of the hospital. The doorway is now completely engulfed in flames. Smoke also started to billow out from the fire and slowly making its way inside the hospital corridors.

  “Oh, no, no, no, no….” was all Benjamin could say. “Quickly! Go towards the exit door at the back of the hospital.”

  Benjamin, Victoria, Jessica, Anthony, and Darla went together as a group. They quickly headed towards the exit door. Shots were still being fired at by the thugs at random. But when Victoria stopped to look for Walter, a stray bullet had hit her in the leg.

  “Ahhhhh!!!! Help!” she cried out for help. She was grimacing in pain and covering the area hit by the bullet with her hands.

  Anthony and Benjamin quickly went to her aid. They lifted her so they can continue heading towards the exit door. “Keep putting pressure on it,” instructed Benjamin.

  The smoke was now quickly filling up the building. These were black and heavy smokes. They were coughing and heavily breathing as it gets more difficult to breathe through the smoke.

  The smoke also made it difficult for them to see. They used their hands to feel around the walls and navigate the hallway.

  Eventually, the group had reached the door at the back of the hospital. Benjamin and Anthony set Victoria down for a while.

  “Where’s Walter? Where’s Walter?” she asked frantically. Neither Benjamin nor Anthony responded to her.

  They waited for the other group to arrive. A few minutes had passed and there was still no sign of the other group.

  “Walter! Walter!” Victoria yelled.

  “Ssssh..” Anthony tried to get Victoria to stay quiet. “We can’t let the thugs know we made it. Sit still.”

  As they were about to take off and find safety elsewhere, Walter showed up at the door. He held his gun on his left hand. Meanwhile, his right hand was covering what appears to be a wound on his left arm. His sleeve was bloodied.

  “What happened?” asked Benjamin, as he helped him out of the hospital.

  “I’m fine,” he said while Benjamin tried to examine his wound. “I was hit by debris in the arm, this is no bullet wound,” he reassured them.

  “Where’s everybody else?” asked Anthony.

  “I spotted a few bodies on the floor; they were all unconscious. I checked their pulse - they did not make it,” Walter sobbed.

  His face turned more somber when he spotted a bloodied Victoria on the floor. “What’s going on?”

  Victoria was crying at this point. She feared for her life but was also glad to have seen Walter. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I was so scared you won’t make it out,” she said.

  “Ben?” he turned to Benjamin, seeking an explanation.

  “She was hit by a stray bullet in the leg as we were heading for this back door,” he explained.

  “It happened so fast, Walter,” Anthony came to Benjamin’s aid. “It was so hard to focus with all of the smoke.”

  Walter’s eyes turned watery. He clenched his fist in anger. He also tightened his grip on the gun. “They are going to pay for this,” Walter threatened but in a low voice, as though he was talking to himself.

  “Walter, we can’t think of that at the moment. Victoria needs help,” Benjamin reminded him.

  They were interrupted by Darla who was breathing heavily and noisily. Darla had trouble breathing. And she was coughing constantly. Her eyes were rolling, too.

  Benjamin quickly attended to her. He diagnosed that Darla had suffered from smoke inhalation. “Move out of the way, give her fresh air,” he told the group who had gathered around Darla.

  He started giving her CPR. This made her cough up some more. But it helped to regulate her breathing. “Jessica, look after her,” he commanded.

  “Darla’s condition is stable for now. But she might have inhaled toxins from the smoke. So we need to monitor her condition in the next few hours,” he said.

  Meanwhile, Anthony and Walter had improvised a gauze to wrap Victoria’s wound. They wanted to control its bleeding. If not, she could suffer from major blood loss.

  The gun shots had ceased. The thugs were still in front of the hospital, though. They relished the sight of the fire that they assumed that should burn up Walter and his friends alive. More than half of the hospital had been consumed by the fire. And it continues to burn with the wind blowing up the fire to make it bigger.

  Meanwhile, at the back of the hospital, Benjamin and the group were planning how they can get to Anthony’s car. There is no way for them to get to the parking lot without being seen. Benjamin knew they could not wait for the thugs to leave. Or else, Victoria could die on the spot.

  Walter decided to take it upon himself to handle the thugs. Benjamin tried to warn him again.

  “I’m not going on a shooting rampage with them,” he insisted. “I will divert their attention so that they either leave or you can sneak up to get to the vehicle.”

  Benjamin hesitated.

  “Trust me,” he said. “We can’t waste any more time. Just get Victoria the care she needs,” he added.

  Benjamin walked off. He, too, was aware that it was the best plan they had for now. But he worried for his friend’s sake.

  Walter pulled out his gun. He slowly walked over from the back to the side of the hospital. He walked as slowly as he can to avoid making noise. He tightened his grip on the gun while maneuvering himself as close to the wall as possible. He placed his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot when needed.

  As he kept walking, he could hear their voices. He knew he was close enough. They were laughing, as though celebrating in victory. This heightened Walter’s yearning for revenge.

  He leaned against a wall to keep hidden from their view. Then, he took a quick peek.

  They all had their backs turned against him. There were three of them. One was drinking water off a canteen. The other two were smoking their cigarettes as
they casually conversed. He knew this was the most opportune moment to hit them back.

  He aimed the gun at the guy who was drinking water. He hasn’t fired a gun since he returned from his tour of duty in Afghanistan. The sensation of his fingers on the trigger felt completely alien. It felt like the first time he handled a gun.

  He pressed the trigger on the gun. He watched the bullet as it traveled in the air. The bullet landed and hit the man on the skull. He dropped the canteen to the ground and collapsed.

  The two men searched around to see where the shots were coming from. But it was too late. A parade of bullets had already struck them. One was hit on the chest and the other at the abdomen. They, too, fell to the ground.

  Walter quickly returned to the group. He ran as fast as he could.

  “I got them! I got them!” he shouted like a mad man.

  “Okay, it’s time to move,” Benjamin instructed the others. He and Walter carried Victoria while Jessica assisted Darla. Anthony stayed in front. He led them to where he had parked his car.

  By the time they got to the vehicle, Anthony noticed that the sky was heavy with clouds. “Come on! Let’s get out of here before it rains or the thugs get back,” he yelled. Anthony quickly drove his vehicle out of the parking lot. They were headed towards Benjamin’s house.

  ***

  Chapter 13 – Spring Planting

  It was a quiet, Thursday morning in the farm. Spring was finally starting to show. The flowers were starting to bloom. The farm animals were peaceful and settled. The atmosphere was quiet with no sounds heard except for the occasional chirping of birds. It was a stark contrast from the violence and chaos that plagued the city.

  But for the Byrons, spring at the farm meant something much deeper. It is the beacon of hope for them - an opportunity to start anew.

  The Byrons did not expect that a family in Mississippi would take them in. But Mary, who is a mother herself, had a difficult emotional struggle upon seeing the little kids and their mother. She knew the danger in her decision but it did not turn her away. A few days ago, she was put in the same position of life versus death when she had to sacrifice herself for her kids’ safety. She knew how the Byrons felt albeit the varying circumstances they are in.

  But it also added to her sense of worry about her husband. If Memphis isn’t safe and is driving people away, is the situation as bad or worse in Southcrest? This question has not left her mind since.

  Grandma joined Grandpa in the living room. He was speaking to the Byrons, the black family that Mary spotted outside the farm. Everybody else was also gathered in the living room. They waited on as Grandpa decided on the fate of the Byron family after they sought help.

  “Where are you from, again?” Grandpa Taylor verified the information that Mary had earlier shared to him.

  “Memphis,” the father responded.

  “How bad is it out there?” he continued to ask.

  The father started by shaking his head, as if recalling the events of the past few days nearly brought him to tears. It took him a few more seconds before he could speak, “pretty bad.”

  He held his breath and sighed. He added, “We’ve been robbed off our personal belongings and money. A lot of our neighbors were killed, too. I knew that if we did not leave there, we would’ve been next to go.”

  Grandpa Taylor just kept shaking his head. He could not believe the extent of damage in Memphis. He remembered visiting it a few times and had known it to be a quiet and safe city – as you would expect most Southern cities.

  “What made you consider Southcrest for your refuge, then?” Grandpa Taylor kept asking to gather information.

  “We were here to find our uncle, who I believe is living in that farm house next to yours. We do not know of any other family members. We haven’t had any contact with most of them,” he said, taking time to pause to breathe. “But when we got to their farm, no one was there. Now, we don’t know where to go,” he concluded in a somber mood.

  Grandpa Taylor sounded surprised. He looked at everybody else with a look of awe. “Didn’t you know?” he asked the man.

  “Know of what?” he said, looking confused and distraught.

  “Your uncle who is living in the farmhouse a few blocks from here? He’s been dead for about a couple of years now,” Grandpa Taylor detailed.

  Silence filled the air. No one spoke. Only their breaths pervaded the air.

  “Are you sure? This… this can’t be…” he looked helpless. The Byron patriarch buried his face in the palm of his hands.

  His wife had come over closer to him to give him a pat in the back. He was sobbing uncontrollably. So was his wife, but hers were more of stifled sobbing.

  “I’m sorry,” he said once he regained himself from crying. “It’s just that,” he paused again as he looked at his children, “I have no idea where to begin from here.”

  “You said no one lived there anymore?” Grandpa Taylor asked him.

  He simply nodded.

  “Why weren’t you aware of his death?” he asked, curious. “He was a close friend of mine, but I wasn’t aware that he had a family in Memphis.”

  “Even though he was my mother’s cousin, we weren’t very close. I hadn’t seen him in 10 years. Last time I did was when I arrived in Mississippi to work - I was originally from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. He needed extra hand in the farm. But when I found a new job in Memphis, I had to move there. Eventually, I got married and started my own family. By that time, we lost all forms of communication. He was very old-fashioned; he did not have any telephone lines in his home. He liked to isolate himself in the farm,” he explained.

  “And maybe, he still has some grudge on me. I left him in the farm searching for bigger, better opportunities in the big city,” he added like an afterthought.

  He looked up at Grandpa Taylor, squinted his eyes as if telling him to continue his story.

  “Since Martial Law was declared and when the riots started, I had been trying to get in touch with my relatives. But I could not get in touch with anyone. He was my last source of hope,” he said, his voice nearly fading at the end.

  “Are you sure the house is empty?” Grandpa asked.

  “I think so. No one would respond when I knocked at the front door,” he added.

  “What if you and your family can stay there for a while? Sounds like a good idea to you?” he suggested.

  For the first time, the Byron patriarch registered a smile on his face.

  “That sounds like a better idea,” he said.

  “Sorry we could not take you in. We’re already quite full here with my two children and their children. However, that other farm house has enough space for your family,” said Grandpa Taylor.

  He nodded in agreement. “It’s okay, I understand,” he said.

  “We’ll drop you off with a few supplies – just to get you back on track. From there, you can work on providing for yourselves,” he reminded. Grandpa Taylor looked around him, eyeing outside of the farm, “there’s plenty of ways to survive here in the farm, if you know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh, Mr. Taylor, this is more than enough help. We appreciate you and your family’s kindness,” he added.

  “Don’t mention it. We have enough supplies to last us a while. Plus, we got a few hands to help us out so I’d like to think we would be self-sufficient even if this Martial Law crap could last for a while,” he noted.

  “I’m so happy for your family. Glad you survived through that ordeal,” Mary confided.

  “But remember,” Grandpa Taylor interrupted. “We will be more than willing to help anyone who would ask for it, if they are willing to cooperate with us and work for their food. If they are looking for trouble, we are also more than capable to defend our lives,” he adamantly reminded.

  “We’re willing to do anything to ensure my family’s survival and safety right now,” he responded.

  “Thank you,” added his wife. She was teary-eyed in joy.

  Mary respon
ded with a hearty smile. Her heart filled with hope. She prayed that her husband will get the same fate. And that he, too, will be able to find his way home with them.

  ***

  Chapter 14 – Mortally Wounded

  The trip to Benjamin’s house was filled with skepticism. They did not know for sure what awaited them there. In fact, they could be in a more serious danger than they already went through at the hospital. Lots of questions raced in Anthony’s mind as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The future is as blurry as the rain-soaked road.