by Jordan Ervin
Eric slowed as he approached the mall’s entrance, passing a handful of frantic individuals who ran away with stolen goods. He took a deep breath—thankful that the adrenaline injections were still coursing through his veins—and grabbed his handheld radio.
“I’m entering the mall now,” Eric said quietly. “Remember, you’ll be safe so long as you remain incognito. No one’s hiking ten stories without a reason, so don’t give them one. I’ll radio when I’m heading back.”
“You got it,” Rick replied, a hint of static on his voice. “Take care of yourself.”
Eric latched the radio to his vest without replying, hugging the shadows as he entered the mall with his pistol raised and his eyes alert.
They had been forced to flee south after Sarah cauterized his wound with a chem-pack, fleeing the battle while Jackson Hewitt’s army crumbled. Even without the threat of death, it wouldn’t have been an easy trek. Sarah had her daughters and Elizabeth had her aging joints and weary muscles—not to mention the fact that Judi had somehow left her shoes back at the barracks before their flight. It was the little things that Eric noticed as they ran. Of course, a battle-hardened soldier like Eric knew it was typically the little things that proved to be the deadliest.
They had traveled roughly four miles south on foot by the time they reached the southern border of the base. He had hoped they would find another vehicle to get them a couple hundred miles out of harm’s reach before the sun began to rise. When they had broken free of the base’s perimeter, they had found an old van, hotwired it, and began to move toward Interstate Ninety-Five. However, they only made it about half a mile before they realized the van had been siphoned of most of its gas and was running on fumes. They crawled to a stop near a large circle in the heart of Fayetteville and Eric decided they would need to take refuge for the night in one of the nearby buildings.
The streets had been mostly abandoned of life and void of any older cars that he might have been able to steal. Eric had broken into the tallest nearby building, leading everyone to the top floor, instructing Rick to guard over others until Eric returned from a supply run. Sarah and Rick had argued with Eric, pleading with him to rest after losing so much blood, but he had made it quite clear that it wasn’t a discussion.
War wouldn’t wait for him to catch his breath.
Though he believed he could sleep for an entire day, he also knew their battle was far from over. While safety was essential, knowledge was chief. Eric was a shepherd with no path and scared sheep. He needed answers, and that need now guided his feet.
He moved through the busy mall—busy for four in the morning. As it had been with most of the larger cities with a nearby military base, Fayetteville had remained relatively peaceful throughout the past few months as violence rolled across the nation. With the exception of a few installations, the military had taken it upon themselves to keep the order in their home cities as they protected their friends and neighbors. The food that had been available was evenly dispersed and any rise in crime had been dealt with swiftly and harshly by the local military and police. Cities such as Fayetteville, Colorado Springs, Virginia Beach, and San Diego had maintained order with the help of the armed forces. However, as Fort Bragg went up in fire and smoke, so did the last restraint of those left behind in Fayetteville. Months of delaying the panic that had swept much of the country had come to a jarring end, leaving Fayetteville with precious few hours to catch up on the madness.
Shouts and cries of anger and pain echoed through the mall’s wide corridors. Store windows had been broken and shattered as the looters took whatever they could find. Everything from the local rug importer to the cookie shop had people either pouring into the store empty-handed or emerging into the hallways with armloads. To Eric’s left, two men fought over a hatchet that had been taken from a medieval décor store, struggling back and forth like idiots over a relic that wouldn’t get them very far at all on America’s dangerous roads. One of the men finally managed to rip it free and slash the other across the cheek with the thick blade before turning to run. He made it four steps before the wounded man drew a snub-nosed revolver from his ankle and blew a hole through the running man’s chest. The concussion sent everyone in eyesight ducking, though it scattered very few. It wasn’t the first time a gun blast had boomed through the halls, and Eric knew it wouldn’t be the last. The man who had pulled the trigger picked up the hatchet and ran off, glancing over his shoulder as he disappeared down a darkened hall. Eric forced himself to ignore and forget all emotion, moving forward as he searched for what he needed most.
He rounded a corner and carefully made his way toward an electronics storefront a few hundred feet away, happy to see that the gate was just now falling to twenty or so looters. Eric didn’t want to be present in the initial rush. He wanted to either find what he was looking for once the room cleared out or be there to greet the man who beat him to it and persuade him to hand the device over nicely. He approached the store carefully—shaking his head in bewilderment as a trio of youngsters emerged, holding the latest nVision gaming headsets and a pair of old RC cars. Eric nearly laughed at the teenagers, each boy clearly expecting the coming day to be full of free fun and laughter, but he stifled that laugh. He knew when those teenagers comprehended the full reality of what was really going on, they’d be among the more dangerous on the open road.
He slowed and glanced inside the glass storefront, watching as those inside scurried around without much attention for one another. Eric entered the store and moved toward the back quickly, making his way for the storage warehouse at the rear. Most of the thieves still lived in the past, only bothering to take that which was displayed in the shiny cases up front without thinking about the more useful items waiting in the back for drone delivery. Eric had been hoping no one else had thought to search the rear depot for the specific radio he needed. However, that hope vanished as he opened the rear door and glanced through the rows of steel shelves and boxes, watching silently as a fight broke out.
Cursing and the flat thumping of fists striking flesh filled the small storehouse. Eric clung to the shadows in the back of the large room as he made his way toward the group. Two grown men stood nervously as a third man struggled with one of two teenagers. The two fought back and forth over a small brown box that contained what they both desperately wanted.
What I need, Eric realized after catching a glimpse of the logo on the box.
The two teens—one a younger man that couldn’t have been much older than Judah and the other, a pretty brunette with raven black hair that looked the same age—fought back as bravely and stupidly as they could. The man who was trying to pry the box from the youth’s hands shouted and cursed at the boy. When the teen landed a bone-crunching punch on the larger man’s nose, the man cursed and abruptly drew a gun, stuck it in the boy’s face, and pulled the trigger. The teenage girl cried out in horror as the boy fell to the ground, a red cloud of mist blanketing the girl’s pretty face.
As soon as the boy hit the floor, Eric no longer pitied the three remaining men; he rarely pitied those he killed. He moved forward quietly as the man leveled the gun on the horrified girl and began to shout.
“I told him to give it up! If he’d listened then he’d still be—”
Eric seized the closest of the three men from behind—wrapping his gloved hand tightly around the first man’s mouth before jerking his arm back, snapping the man’s neck with a loud pop. Eric raised his pistol and shot the man who had just killed the boy—careful to hit his spine just below the neck so that he couldn’t pull the trigger and kill the horrified girl. The third and final man instinctively reached behind his back for a gun as he turned to face Eric. However, the man’s muscles seized up immediately as his eyes met the barrel of Eric’s gun.
It was all over before the first man hit the ground.
“Before you do anything stupid,” Eric began calmly, “know that I am a professional killer who is very good at his trade. I am fast and I
rarely miss my mark. Now if you want to put that statement to the test, then by all means, draw. But if you want to avoid joining your friends here and that helpless boy that you just helped murder, then I suggest you slowly drop the gun that you’re reaching for and kick it over.”
The man’s eyes went wide and the center of his pants grew dark as he slowly lowered the pistol to the ground with shaky hands. As the man kicked the gun over, Eric spared a quick glance back toward the entrance of the store to make sure no one else was coming.
“Smart move,” Eric said. “Now take off your clothes.”
“What?” the man replied with horror in his eyes.
“I don’t want you drawing some weapon that I don’t see under your jacket as you leave. But I tell you what, I’ll even let you keep those soiled under garments of yours on so that you don’t scar this girl more than you already have, you fat son of a bitch.”
“I didn’t kill him!” the man protested. “Please, I’ll freeze to death outside if you—”
“Better than being shot to death right now,” Eric said. “I’m sure there’s a department store nearby that might offer you a change of clothes free of charge. So what’s it going to be?”
The man paused briefly before quickly undoing the buttons on his leather jacket. A few more moments passed before the man had piled up a heap of clothes, two more pistols sitting on top next to an army-green machete with a sheath. The man stood there in the dark, crying softly.
“So what do I call an asshole like you?” Eric asked.
“What?”
“What’s your name?” Eric asked again.
“Phil,” the man said shakily. “Phil Hebron.”
“Phil Hebron, I’m Eric Corsa. Remember this moment and remember my name. Not everyone will be so kind. I suggest you pick your friends carefully from now on. Now get the hell out of my sight.”
The man nodded, glancing at the terrified girl a few feet away before running for the door.
Eric eyed the doors a few seconds after the man had passed through them. He then turned back to the teenage girl and found her on the ground next to the dead boy. Eric grabbed the man’s two pistols, the lengthy blade, the long leather coat he had thrown on the floor, and the three firearms he found on the two dead men. He wrapped them up and shoved them in his bag before rising and slowly approaching the girl.
“You’re safe now,” Eric said. “And I’m sorry to do this, but I’ll be needing that box.”
The girl sat there and continued to sob—her shoulders shaking and her hair slowly swaying back and forth in front of her face. Eric stooped down, his eyes watching the girl as he fought back the guilt that rose within him.
“I don’t know who that boy was, but I really need you to hand me that box and get out of here. Don’t think what I just did was only to help you. I need that box.”
“Here,” she said, handing it over. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Who was he?” Eric asked as he grabbed the box.
“His name was Micah,” she replied softly without looking up. “He was my twin.”
Shame, pain, and remorse coursed through Eric. The girl had just watched her twin brother die and already someone was demanding the very thing the boy had died trying to defend. Eric tried to do as he had before and attempted to shove all emotion out of his mind. He had others he was now responsible for, and he was already wasting time with this girl. He needed to get moving.
Nevertheless, Eric might be willing to kill without mercy, but he wasn’t completely heartless.
“Do you have family?” Eric asked as he bent down to her.
“What?” the girl asked as she looked up with red and shock in her eyes.
“Do you have anyone you can go to?”
“My dad, maybe,” the girl replied. “My mom is in Greece and my sister is in Arkansas.”
“Okay, your dad. Is he in the mall?”
“No,” she replied. “He’s a security contractor on base with the Rangers. We live on base but he sent us into town for the night to stay with friends. When we woke up to the sound of bombing, we tried to call him but I couldn’t get through. We came here to take this and find out what’s going on.” The teenager began to breathe heavily, fighting the pain that clearly threatened to annihilate her sanity. “What’s happening?”
A surge of pity and emotion struck Eric again, and this time he didn’t even try to hold it at bay. The teen was kneeling over the corpse of her brother in the city that bordered the base where her father had likely just died. Her mother was on the other side of the world and her sister might as well have been. The teenage girl pushed her hair away from her face and Eric noticed her for a second time—her sharp eyes, her smooth skin, and her athletic physique. She had the beginnings of a beautiful woman, something that might now cause her more harm than good.
Don’t help her, the warrior inside whispered as a fresh wave of exhaustion rolled over him. You need to get back before you fall over. She’ll slow you down, require protection, and eat your food before likely dying because of some small stupid decision she makes.
As the soldier’s voice pleaded with him, his compassion won out. Eric had been far younger than her when Gene saved him. Though he wanted to believe the teenage girl could look after herself, Eric knew she wouldn’t make it three days without someone killing her or worse. He muttered a curse as he held out his hand.
“Fort Bragg was just destroyed,” Eric said. “I’m sorry, but if your dad was at the base then he’s gone. I’m not too keen to take on strangers but I can help you if you come with me now.”
Emptiness filled the girl’s pretty eyes—a large pair of glistening caverns that glazed over like death—and she fell sideways, slumping up against the concrete wall next to them without a word.
Don’t do it, Eric, the voice inside pleaded again. Go! He cursed once more before kneeling down to her and sitting next to her.
Eric knew leaving the girl behind would set him on a dangerous path of apathy, but to save her, he needed her to snap back to reality.
“My name is Eric Corsa. I have friends nearby that will help take care of you, but first, I need your help.” She stared ahead, her eyes unblinking as tears welled up and cascaded down her silky-smooth cheeks. “It’ll be okay. Just tell me your name and we’ll go from there.”
She looked back at him, eyes widening and narrowing as though she was seeing him for the first time. He stared back with as warm of a smile as he could muster.
“What’s your name?”
“Alexandra,” the girl replied passively as she gazed at her dead brother.
“Good,” Eric said calmly. “Do you have a last name, Alexandra?”
“Andreou.”
“Very good,” he said, glancing back at the door uneasily as a loud crash sounded out from beyond. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Alexandra Andreou. Now you said you have a sister in Arkansas. What’s her name?”
“Nadia,” the girl responded absently. “She’s a…teacher out there.”
“Great,” Eric said. “Now listen. I don’t think we can help you reach your mother in Greece right away, but my guess is that my friends and I will be heading west as soon as the sun rises. Maybe I can help find your sister Nadia for you.”
“I can’t leave him,” she said quietly, glancing down at the dead boy.
“Alexandra, we have to move,” Eric said. “I want to help you and I know it’s tough, but it’s the way things are. I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”
“But I can’t….”
Eric paused, moving in close as she set her head on his shoulder and cried. He knew they were wasting precious seconds, but unless she snapped out of it before they started moving, he would most likely find himself in a struggle to save her life somewhere outside the isolated warehouse.
“Alexandra, I promise I’m going to take care of you, but you’re going to have to come back to reality. We have to move. It’s what your brother would have wanted.” He peeled the wr
apping back from the brown box and took the heavy radio from it, powering it on and holding it up for her. The radio was the size of a brick and had a five-inch screen that dominated one side. “Now do you know what this is?”
She finally tore her eyes from her brother and looked at the radio that Eric held.
“It’s a hunting radio capable of tapping into military channels,” she said. “They were blacklisted just before things got bad, but I thought they might have one in the delivery depot.”
“I’m assuming you know what these can be made to do?”
“They were manufactured before last year’s FCC regulations.”
“Right again,” Eric said. “Did your father teach you all this?”
She looked over at him again, her face empty of everything except sorrow, and proceeded to throw up, spilling rancorous bile onto his Kevlar vest. He fought back the urge to vomit himself as he began wiping the girl’s puke off him. Still, he had committed to helping this girl, regardless of what the shock of losing a family had done to her.
“I’m sorry,” Alexandra said quietly.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “It’s okay. Now Alexandra, you look like you’re in pretty good shape. Are you a runner?”
“I played varsity basketball,” she replied flatly. “I also ran the four-hundred.”
“Good. That’s going to help with getting out of here. Take this.” Eric handed her a canteen of water. “We have a little over four miles to get back to where my friends are waiting. Now I’m guessing you were taking this because you knew how to use this to piggy back off the GPS satellites to access live satellite imagery?”
She wiped her chin and looked at him, nodding her head as she took a drink.
“Great,” he said as he stood up, taking her by the hand and helping her to her feet. “I’ll make you a deal. I’m going to get us to safety and keep an eye out for danger before we get there. I need you to type in the exact codes I relay to you as we move.”
