by Tyler Wild
Skyler threw her hands up in frustration. “I can’t even.” She spun around and headed down the steps. “I’ll meet you guys on the ground. Save them if you want.”
Hannah excused herself. “I’ll just go with her to make sure she’s okay.”
I shook my head in disbelief. We had trekked all the way down here, risked life and limb, all for this?
Oliver and I shared an uncertain glance.
Brett may have been a dick, but I couldn’t leave the two of them trapped in this building. Besides, Madison was hot as fuck. And I seemed to do stupid things for beautiful women.
I stood in the doorway to the stairwell and looked over the edge. It was a long way down. If I thought standing atop my roof at home was dangerous, this was insanity. I didn’t know how we were to get them out of that corner room. There was no way to access it, short of scaling the chasm between us.
I cringed the moment the thought entered my mind, but I knew it was the only solution. In the stairwell, a long white firehose with a brass nozzle hung from the wall, neatly spooled. It was plenty long enough to span the chasm. All we needed to do was secure it on either end. Brett and Madison could shimmy across it and join us in the stairwell.
It sounded good on paper. In reality, it was a little more daunting.
12
It seemed like a good idea at the time. But it was probably one of the dumber ideas I'd ever had. I unspooled the firehose and tossed the end across the chasm to Brett. He failed to grab onto it the first few attempts, but he finally managed to snatch the brass nozzle.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" he asked.
“Tie it off.”
"On what?"
Brett wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
Madison had a four post canopy bed made from solid mahogany. It wasn't going anywhere. The damn thing had to weigh a thousand pounds.
Brett tied the nozzle around a bedpost, then tugged on it to test the line. It wasn't as taut as it should have been, and the hose sagged. I thought it would probably hold. Though, I didn't want to be the first one to test it out.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Brett asked.
"You got a better idea?"
“Is it secure on your end?" he asked.
I nodded.
Brett grabbed the hose and yanked hard on the line, testing the connection.
It held.
He moved to the edge and looked down 37 stories to the ground below. Even if you weren't afraid of heights, it was enough to make you uncomfortable.
Brett held onto the firehose and swung his legs up, wrapping them around the line so he dangled upside down. Like an inchworm, he started across the chasm. Gusts of wind swayed the hose, and Brett swung from side to side. If he lost his grip that was all she wrote. He’d plummet through the air and end up as a spot on the concrete. It was a daunting feat.
Madison's face twisted with anxiety as she watched. I don't think she was all that concerned about Brett. The terrifying aspect for her was that she would have to do it next.
Brett scooted across the line. He finally reached the landing of the stairwell and lowered his feet onto the concrete edge, then used the line to pull himself into an upright position. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the stairwell. "Holy shit, dude! That was intense."
He looked back to Madison. "Piece of cake," he shouted.
She didn't share his enthusiasm.
Brett glanced back to me. “I guess I owe you one."
I was shocked when he extended his hand. We shook, and I thought my metacarpals were going to snap under his firm grip.
Brett didn't wait for Madison to cross. He darted down the steps. “I’ll go to see if I can fix things with Skyler.”
I thought it was a dick move to abandon Madison. But a handshake was more than I expected from Brett. I can’t lie, a part of me was hoping he couldn’t put his relationship with Skyler back together.
Madison stepped to the edge, clutching the line. She looked terrified. Her voice trembled. "I don't think I can do this."
"It's easy. If Brett can do it, you can do it."
She didn’t seem quite as confident.
Madison pulled the line taut, then swung her legs up like Brett had done. She inched down the line, moving past the ledge. Her red hair fluttered in the breeze. She craned her neck, looking over her shoulder at the ground below.
It was a mistake.
A sudden gust of wind swayed her as she dangled from the line. She quickly crawled back to her starting point and got off the hose. "I can't do this."
I grimaced. I had no idea how I was going to get her across this chasm. Her fear was something I understood well. But I tried to be encouraging. “You can do it."
"No, I can't."
I sighed. "I'm afraid of heights too”
“That's great. You don't have to climb across this thing."
I knew I was going to regret doing this. I grabbed onto the line, pulled myself up, and wrapped my feet around the hose as Brett had done. Then I shimmied toward the south structure.
There was no way I was going to look down. I held onto the rope, white knuckled, inching my way across the chasm. A breeze blew across me, and my heart leapt into my throat. The line swayed back and forth, and I started to bounce. I held still for a moment until the wind settled down, then continued shimmying across the chasm. Reaching the other side, I pulled myself to my feet and let out a deep breath of relief. I forced a smile. "See? No big deal!”
Madison looked pretty from a distance. But up close, she was stunning. Her terrified green eyes gazed at me. I could see the appreciation in her face. I had risked my life to comfort her.
"We can't stay here forever, and I know you didn't make me crawl across that rope for nothing."
"So, this was your plan?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “You’re going to guilt me into crossing?"
"Whatever works."
She tried to smile, but wasn't in a smiling mood.
"Just hang on tight, don't look down, and keep moving forward."
"Easier said than done."
Madison contemplated the situation, then finally grabbed hold of the line. "If I die, this is your fault."
“You’re not going to die,” I reassured her.
She climbed onto the line and inched toward the north side. She made it about as far as she did the first time, then stopped.
"Don't look down. Keep going,” I said. "Everything's going to be fine."
Madison took a deep breath and kept scooting toward the other side. This time she got lucky. There were no strong gusts of wind. The journey was smooth and uneventful. She reached the other side and breathed a sigh of relief.
"See, that wasn't so bad!” I shouted.
"If I never have to do that again, it will be too soon."
I let out a chuckle that faded quickly. I climbed on the line and scooted across the chasm. I was about halfway across when things got dire. It wasn’t a gust of wind, or fatigue, or nerves that caused the problem.
I heard a crack, then the line went slack. The bedpost had snapped, and the end of the firehose had broken free.
I plummeted toward the ground.
13
I hung on for dear life as I swung like a pendulum, careening toward the north structure. Fortunately, I didn't smack into a steel beam, or a concrete pillar. The hose hit the edge of the floor and flung me into a room. I let go of the line and tumbled into a demolished apartment several stories below. I rolled across the debris and smacked into the far wall.
The impact rattled my spine, leaving me with a nice headache. I pushed off of the dusty floor and staggered to my feet. My heart still thumped in my chest, shaking my whole body.
“Are you okay?” Madison yelled.
"I think so."
With some careful maneuvering, I was able to access the stairwell.
Madison spiraled down to greet me. She flung her arms around me. "I'm so glad you're okay. I would have felt terrible if you died on
my account.”
She felt good in my arms. Her soft curves pressed against me. We broke free from the awkward embrace. And we both suddenly became shy, not able to look each other in the eyes. There was a palpable energy between us. The hug had made that apparent. At least, I certainly felt something.
"My rifles," I said. “I need to get them."
My legs drove me upstairs, jogging three flights to retrieve the weapons. I slung them over my shoulders and descended to meet Madison. Together we spiraled our way down to the ground floor.
With all the excitement, I buzzed like I had guzzled two pots of coffee
Skyler and Brad had apparently resolved their differences because she was clinging onto him like he was the last man alive. I just shook my head. Why do women always go for the guys who treat them like shit?
“What do we do now?" Oliver asked.
“We are going to Josh's ranch,” Hannah said, leaving no room for debate.
"Do you even know where it is?” I asked.
"Sort of," she muttered. "I've been there a few times. I'm sure I could find it again. I can just call him for directions."
"We don't know how long cell service is going to last,” I said. “Call him now."
“My uncle has a place,” Madison offered. "It's not far out of town. He's one of those survival nuts. He’s got water, food, medical supplies. You're all more than welcome, I'm sure. You saved my life. It’s the least I could do for you." Madison smiled and put an affectionate hand on my arm.
I smiled back. “That sounds like a good idea to me."
Hannah’s face twisted up. "We don't know this… girl—or her uncle."
"You don't have to come," Madison said in a bitchy tone.
Hannah whipped out her phone and dialed Josh. I was surprised when he answered.
“Hey, baby! Where are you?” Hannah asked.
"We are still on the road. I can't talk. My battery is dying.”
"We’re going to head your way."
"Who's coming?”
“Me, Skyler, Josh, Noah, Oliver…and some random girl.”
“No. That's too many. You, Skyler, and Josh, nobody else.”
Hannah’s face crinkled. “What do you mean, nobody else?”
“Exactly what I said. We don't have the room. Or the resources."
Hannah growled, "Seriously?"
"Seriously!”
"I'm not leaving Noah and Oliver," Hannah said.
"Why do you give a shit about them?”
“Noah and Oliver came for me and Skyler when you didn’t!”
I couldn't help but smile at the fact she defended us.
They argued for a few minutes and Hannah finally said, “You know, you're kind of a jackass!” She hung up.
“I take it Josh's ranch is out?” I asked.
"I'm not going anywhere unless you can come along,” Hannah said to me.
"Well, I'm going to Josh's," Brett said. He turned his gaze Skyler. "You coming?"
Skyler looked torn. She shrugged. "I don't know."
"Come on. It's the only safe place."
"We don't know if it's going to be any safer than here,” Skyler said.
Brett's face twisted up. "Fine. Stay here with your idiot friends and these losers."
"These losers just saved your ass," Skyler said, growling.
“Whatever. Are you coming?"
Skyler folded her arms. "No. I'm not."
"Suit yourself," Brett said. He spun around and strolled away.
Skyler watched, tormented as he disappeared into the haze and maze of rubble.
"Forget about him. He’s a jerk," Hannah said.
"He really is," Madison added.
The girls shared a slight chuckle.
“How far away is your uncle's place?" I asked Madison.
"It's out near Brookville."
"Do you think it's really going to make a difference where we go?" Skyler asked. "I mean, they're going to kill us one way or another.”
“I’m not ready to give up just yet,” I said.
Madison tried to call her uncle, but couldn't get through. The cell lines were busy, so she sent him a text. A few minutes later, he responded, “Come on down. Plenty of room!”
"How the hell are we going to get there?" Oliver asked.
14
As we moved west, the real horror began. We crept through the wasteland, weaving around piles of rubble, creeping through demolished buildings, taking cover behind anything and everything available. There wasn't a bird in the sky, or an animal on the ground. They had the common sense to get as far away from here as possible.
That said, I kept seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. At first I dismissed it, thinking it was a stray dog darting between the piles of rubble. I kept getting glimpses of a small creature in my periphery, but it was gone by the time I turned my head. I motioned for my squad to hold up, and I listened intently.
"What is it?" Hannah asked.
"I don't know."
After a moment, we continued moving forward through the rubble. Wishing a few steps, we found ourselves surrounded by several small creatures. They looked reptilian. A cross between a Komodo dragon and a pit bull. They had razor-sharp claws, scaly skin, and glistening fangs. Four of them surrounded us, growling and snarling.
I brought my weapon into the firing position just as they launched into the air. Fangs raced toward me. I squeezed the trigger, blasting off several rounds, putting a nice hole in one of the creatures. It flopped the concrete, splattering the rubble with green blood.
Oliver had discharged his weapon as well. Skyler got off a shot while Hannah still fumbled with the safety.
I swung the barrel my weapon around and blasted at the small creature that sprinted toward her. A brilliant plasma bolt erupted from my barrel and eviscerated the creature, splattering Hannah with green goo.
She shrieked in horror, thoroughly disgusted.
For a moment, I thought we had successfully managed the threat. Then, another creature darted from behind a pile of rubble, streaking toward Oliver. It attacked him from behind, moving too fast for me to react.
Oliver screamed as the creature bit into the fleshy part of his calf. The thing tore at his skin like a rabid dog. He tried kicking it away, but its jaws wouldn't release. He beat it with the butt of his rifle until it tumbled aside.
I fired two shots at the beast as it charged him again. The plasma projectiles drilled through the varmint, spewing blood. The carcass slid across rubble, staining the ground green.
I rushed to Oliver's aid.
He winced with pain as he clutched his leg. Oliver’s eyes brimmed with tears. He staggered to a pile of rubble and took a seat. "It burns!"
That didn't sound good. My first thought was that the creature injected some type of venom.
Oliver rolled his pant leg up, revealing multiple punctures. The flesh was gnarled and blood trickled down his calf. He put pressure on the wounds with his palms, trying to stem the tide.
"Don't worry," I said. “It's going to be okay."
"Yeah, right," he said with a healthy dose of skepticism.
I peeled off my T-shirt and tied it around Oliver’s calf. Blood soaked into the fabric. “Can you walk?”
Oliver nodded. “I think so.”
I helped him to his feet and held onto him as he took his first few unsteady steps. They were painful. As he hobbled along, he got used to it, but still limped considerably.
We needed to get him medical attention. I didn’t know what condition the hospitals were in. The ones that were functioning were probably overloaded, and a flesh-wound wasn’t going to garner much attention. At the least, we needed to clean and dress the wound properly.
We continued heading west and saw the horrors of war. We encountered American tanks that had been obliterated by alien weaponry—burnt out smoldering hunks of metal, charred and scored. Bodies of American soldiers littered the roadway, the ground unable to soak up all of their blood.
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Between the gloomy sky, the smoldering ruins, and the fires that burned rampant throughout the city, the air was thick with brown haze. It decreased visibility and provided some cover. It played hell with Oliver's allergies. He sneezed incessantly, and I found myself coughing and hacking up black soot.
There were no city services. If a building caught on fire, it stayed on fire. The wind caused the flames to spread rapidly to nearby structures. And stations with any remaining gas exploded. We tried to avoid areas with active flames.
We zig-zagged our way through the ruins and came upon a section of town with minimal destruction. My eyes fell on a Jeep parked at the curb. It looked untouched. It was covered with dust and debris, but didn’t appear damaged. I didn't figure the owners wouldn’t miss it.
I had never hot-wired a car before, but I had hot-wired a boat. I had watched enough TV shows to know how the basic principle worked. Last summer, we were waterskiing in one of the canals and were a good two hours away from port. It was a friend’s boat —Jeff Fenton’s. He didn’t have floaters on his keys. When he jumped into the water for a quick swim, the keys found their way to the bottom of the canal. We were stuck. There was nothing to lose, so I played with the wires under the dash until the engine turned over. How much harder could it be to hot-wire a car?
I moved to the Jeep and pulled on the door handle. It was locked. I thought about smashing the window with a brick, but that would undoubtedly set off the alarm, and I didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention.
My attempt at grand theft auto was thwarted before it began. But across the street I noticed a Mercedes dealership. I ran to the building and pushed into the showroom. No one had bothered to lock up amid the chaos. There were no sales reps or store employees in the building. The showroom was lined with shiny German cars, polished to perfection. Big rims with fat tires coated in glossy rubber protectant. There were convertibles, sedans, and SUVs. They all had sticker prices in the triple digits.
Just beyond the showroom, I found the manager's office. There was a pegboard with dozens of keys, all tagged and labeled with the corresponding car on the showroom. I perused the collection of keys and grabbed one for the SUV.
