Salt of Gomorrah

by Alex Mersey

  A low rumble reached them as they approached a major intersection, the traffic lights still hanging overhead. Sean picked up his pace, his heart thumping renewed energy. The Black Arrows were stealth predators, the only noise they made was the sound of cities and towns crumbling in their wake.

  This rumble was manmade, and it grew louder, deeper, and then the thunderous growl crawled across the junction. A motorbike gang, black and chrome machines riding low like the original Harley Davidsons, flags mounted on the handlebars, bucket helmets and leather jackets. At least twenty, easing along as if they were on a Sunday drive. The noise was impossible to talk through, so they just stood there, watching.

  Sean glanced at Johnnie, expecting a whoop, an air punch, something, but the kid just watched with the rest of them, until the deep-throated revs faded. He’d withdrawn into himself, pretty much like that first day when the shit had hit the fan.

  “I thought—” Alli started and stopped.

  Lynn’s brow cocked. “Someone forgot to tell them about the EMP.”

  “Those are older models,” Sean said, still somewhat in awe despite the logical explanation. “Mechanical engines and push start motors. The EMP would have fried anything electrical, with circuitry, I think?” He wasn’t clear on the specifics, hadn’t done his required pre-apocalypse reading. “But yeah, some older cars should still be working.”

  “How old?” asked Beth. “What kind of models are we looking for?”

  “The kind that start when you turn the key,” Lynn said with a trace of excitement that could only lead to trouble.

  They turned left onto a six-lane avenue divided by a concrete barrier and saw what had forced the bikers to go so slow. The avenue looked like a car park, six jam-packed lanes of stalled traffic. People trying to get home from the office that day the Silvers had first appeared? Fleeing with loved ones in the hope of finding someplace safer? Many of the cars were badly dented, windshields smashed, the damage inflicted by mass panic rather than from above.

  A paved shoulder allowed them to walk without having to weave through the cars. On both sides, large department-type stores and shopping complexes were faintly recognizable despite the obvious Black Arrows fly over. Massive destruction, but also salvage opportunities if they came across a store that warranted the effort.

  Especially a pharmacy.

  Alli didn’t complain, which in itself was an indicator, but she seemed paler and paler each time Sean glanced her way. Beth stayed close, feeding her sips of precious water from their dwindling supply.

  The commercial estate, however, seemed dedicated to auto repair shops, car dealerships, upmarket storage units and sprawling furniture stores.

  And then a Walmart up its own little off-ramp from the avenue. Or to be precise, half a Walmart. A jagged line dissected the cream building where the underpinning steel beams poked out into the crumbled ruins that spilled down the road.

  “Don’t say it,” Lynn muttered. “I don’t care if the Silvers come back to finish it off while we’re inside there. We need the supplies.”

  “I know,” Sean said. They still had food, plenty of trail mix, beef jerky and crackers. But water and medicine were going to become a necessity soon. Especially water, since he’d clean forgotten about the knapsack when he’d grabbed Johnnie for the mad dash down the stairs. “I just hope they left us the good half.”

  Beth snorted a laugh. “He has a sense of humor.”

  “I’m right here.”

  She fake-smiled him as she wrapped an arm around her sister. “Do you want to wait here and rest?”

  “No way,” Alli said, already looking brighter. “Shopping, duh.”

  Beth smiled, real this time. “And all the time I thought antibiotics was the cure.”

  They picked a path over the strewn rubble, building and squashed fresh produce, mangled parts of industrial freezers and shelving.

  Alli bent to scoop up a four-pack of tuna that she almost stepped on. “Guess the grocery section’s toast.”

  “I’ll take that.” Beth unzipped her bag for Alli to pop it in.

  Lynn tucked a fist under Johnnie’s chin to raise his eyes to her. “Want to do some treasure hunting?”

  He nodded, his mouth still red although the jaw breaker had been lost while fleeing the hospital. “What are we looking for?”

  “Any boxes of food or cans that don’t have dents, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Their progress slowed to scour for canned and dry goods as they went, heads bent, attention on the ground, except for Sean. He was more concerned with what might come for them from the skies. And once they were inside, he wouldn’t see or hear them coming until it was too late.

  Was this a mistake? Maybe.

  Did they have a choice? No.

  The sweltering midday heat was bordering on dangerous levels, easily in the high nineties. They’d been rationing two measly bottles of water, and it felt like he’d been sweating out a bucket for each sip.

  He brought his gaze down to earth just as two men and a woman rounded the corner up ahead.

  “Lynn, Beth,” he called softly and moved toward them when he saw the rifle resting in the crook of an arm, not pointed, but ready.

  The man with the rifle just gave them a nod, though, as the trio passed, each hauling a snow sled piled high, the goods wrapped in tent canvas and strapped down.

  “God,” Beth whispered, staring after them. “We’d better hurry or the shelves will be stripped bare.”

  They hurried, around that corner that took them into the store’s car park and the Outdoor Living entrance. This half of the building had survived, but all the glass had shattered, which made getting inside a matter of stepping through the steel frames of the sliding doors.

  The interior was dim, lit with only the sunlight filtering in from the rubble wall to their left. Shadows moved and made shuffling noises; they weren’t the only scavengers in town. Beth pulled flashlights out her bag and handed them around as they navigated toppled shelves and the items knocked onto the floor, although relative order reestablished itself as they delved deeper into the aisle.

  “This way,” Lynn said, flashing her light over the Pharmacy sign at the end of a long aisle of health products.

  Sean grimaced at the silhouettes moving around behind the counter. Three, four, five…a popular spot. Of course, that was the first place they’d headed themselves. A shoving match broke out between three of the silhouettes, shouts and grunts, while the others simply kept swiping shelves clear into whatever they were using as a carrier, he couldn’t see.

  “Give me your bag.” He held a hand out to Beth. “I’ll get what we need.”

  Beth had other plans, slipping her bag off her shoulder as she strode up to the counter, flashlight announcing her arrival. “Watch my back.”

  “Shit.” He sprinted forward, wincing as the aches and pains jolted through his body. “I was hoping to keep a low profile,” he hissed as he caught up. “You know, stay under the radar of those brawlers.”

  She whipped a dagger up for his inspection, the mean one. “I think they’ll leave us alone.”

  No more time to argue. Beth practically vaulted over the high counter, Sean pulled himself over slowly and carefully, with some more wincing, and shone his flashlight over the sparse shelves.

  He didn’t really know what to look for, but when he saw prescription type boxes labelled with names that ended in ‘cillin and ‘cin, he snatched a varied selection and called softly, “Over here. Does this look right?”

  She read the names and, satisfied, dumped the whole lot in her bag. “Sounds antibioticish. What else do we need?”

  “Hey,” yelled a coarse, smoker’s voice. “That shelf’s taken.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Beth whirled about to greet the stomping, bearded man with her dagger. “I didn’t see any name on it.”

  He leveled a pistol at her. “Want to look again?”

  “We’re just leaving.” Sean grabbed her
arm and tugged.

  “Now just a minute,” the man growled, jabbing the gun at Beth. “What did you put in that bag?”

  A heartbeat passed.

  His pulse spiked.

  “Please, sir…” She lowered the dagger, her voice warbling with unshed tears as she pulled two boxes out. “My sister’s terribly ill. She has an infection and I wasn’t sure which tablets we need.”

  “We’ve all got our own troubles, lady.” He plucked the boxes from her hand and waved them on with the gun. “Scram and don’t come back this way, you hear me?”

  They scrammed, over the counter, this time Sean seemed to have less difficulty getting his body to cooperate, and down the aisle to where the others waited.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” Sean said, scowling her. “London Drama School?”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” She patted the bag, which still held another three or four boxes, and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Could we please discuss the plan first next time?”

  “What plan?”

  “You’re going to get at least one of us killed before we walk out of here, aren’t you?”

  She grinned at him, as if that were A-Okay with her.

  While they’d been gone, Lynn and Alli had been stocking up on other necessities from the beauty and hygiene shelves.

  “I was thinking,” Lynn said, slinging her bulging bag over one shoulder, “we should see if we can find proper rucksacks in the Camping section first, then we’ll know how much we can carry.”

  They all agreed, although Sean made a detour to the hunting counter where the firearms and ammunition would be. He was damn tired of having a gun pointed at him. He shone his flashlight over the rifle display cabinets. All smashed and pecked clean. He walked around the counter, kicking aside empty cardboard containers and packaging, searching in the corners and under overturned shelves, and then he smiled, went down on a knee to collect the rifle sticking out from beneath a cabinet. A Remington Bolt Action rifle.

  “You know how to handle that?”

  He pushed up, slow nod to Lynn who’d come to see where he’d gone. “Clay pigeon shooting.”

  “Clay pigeons? Don’t you have to wear tweed and live on an English country manor to do that?”

  “No manor, just lots of corporate events.” He held the rifle up to check the model. “It’s a useful way to encourage healthy rivalry in teams that have lost their edge.”

  “Is that what you did before all this?” asked Lynn. “Team building.”

  “Something like that,” he said vaguely, basically the truth. After he’d rattled them good and shaken the dead wood loose. Risk Assessment and Corporate Restructure Consultation was too much of a mouthful and who cared anymore?

  It took slightly longer to find a sturdy shoulder strap and the 7mm ammo in the messy aisles. Two boxes, twenty rounds each, he figured that would get him by.

  - 23 -

  Sean

  They resembled packhorses when they left the store, rucksacks poking above the back of their heads. On top of that, Beth and Lynn still had their leather bags dangling off one shoulder. Even Johnnie had a kiddie pack, and some of his natural resilience had bounced back with the responsibility of carrying his own provisions. They’d spent far more time in there than Sean would have liked, but he was happy with the results.

  Proper walking shoes, jeans and tees, fresh underwear and socks and lightweight jackets for the night chill. Thin sleeping bags tucked into a roll beneath the rucksacks. Protein bars and MREs. Energy drinks from a promotional display they’d stumbled across in the dark, quite literally.

  Everything they needed to go deep into the wild and sleep rough. The supplies wouldn’t last forever, and Sean had no arsenal of hunter/gatherer skills to draw on, but it felt like, finally, he was back on track. Even if it were only for a few days.

  The only blight on his mood was Alli. Sure, it was sweltering, but they’d veered off the roads into a sheltered thicket, and yet there was a constant bead of sweat on her upper lip and she was clearly struggling with her much, much lighter load.

  Beth, however, was still agonizing over which antibiotics to give her. “We can’t mix and match, right?”

  No one bothered answering her.

  “We have no idea, okay?” Sean said at last. “Just choose one.”

  “You choose.”

  “Is there something with Amoxicillin?” suggested Lynn. “I think that’s a broad spectrum general antibiotic.”

  Beth squinted at her. “Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure,” Lynn huffed.

  “Fine!” Beth read through the package labels, discarding two of the boxes and then inspecting the third closer. “One or two pills?”

  “Two,” Sean said. “Better too much than too little.”

  “I suppose…” Beth sighed. “I’ve never heard of anyone overdosing on antibiotics.”

  “Oh, my God,” Alli moaned, “you know what they say about too many doctors, right?”

  “Actually, I don’t,” quipped Beth. “But sounds like a nice problem to have. Here.” She handed over two pills and a blue energy drink.

  They’d paused in a tight clearing to squabble. Johnnie had found a fallen tree trunk to straddle and Sean joined him, shrugging off his rucksack and the rifle before he dropped.

  He picked the kid’s wrist up to check the time. “It’s only three o’clock, but how about we set up camp for the night?”

  The other rucksacks hit the ground before he’d finished speaking. Then the sleeping bags were rolled out to sit on.

  Lynn glanced nervously at the rifle propped between him and Johnnie.

  “It’s not loaded,” he told her.

  Johnnie’s hand hovered. “Can I play with it?”

  “No!” Lynn shook her head firmly. “That’s not a toy, Johnnie. You understand that, right?”

  “Jeez, mom, I’m not a kid,” he said, mimicking Alli perfectly.

  Lynn was not amused. “You’re a kid until you turn twenty-one. Get used to it.”

  He stomped off to put distance between them and sat down heavily to scratch in the dirt with a twig.

  Beth eyed the rifle with a thoughtful frown. “Would you teach me to shoot?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She shot to her feet.

  “Not this very second,” Sean said, flapping her back down. “My body feels like a damn whack-a-mole that’s been whacked once too many.”

  “That’s what happens when you turn yourself into a man cannonball,” she said thinly.

  “You saw that?”

  “Saw what?” demanded Lynn.

  He sighed. She’d assumed he’d been hit by flying debris as he fled the scene and he hadn’t corrected her.

  Beth left her sister curled up on the sleeping bag and drifted closer to them. “Something exploded inside the hospital. This massive fireball burst out of the front entrance and flung him in the air.”

  “They must have hit a storeroom of oxygen tanks,” Sean added.

  Lynn scowled at him, as if he should have known better than to dally near a hidden oxygen supply closet during an attack.

  “And then,” Beth went on, sinking cross-legged to the ground and stretching her arms out behind, “Sean here decided to take a nap on the roof of a car.”

  He slid off the log so he could rest against it and give Beth a leveled look. “You saved me.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You would have picked yourself up eventually.”

  “I’m not sure eventually would have been soon enough.” He tipped his head at her. “Thanks.”

  “Next time you can thank me by moving your ass,” she retorted. “What happened back there? You were supposed to be right behind me.”

  “I needed to sound the alarm.”

  “How long does it take to shout ‘Silvers!’”

  “For goodness sake,” Lyn exclaimed. “Did you go running back inside?”

  “Of course not,”
he said. Not technically, since he hadn’t reached the door yet. “But the lady at reception wasn’t very cooperative.” He thought about her bossy attitude and changed that to, “She might have been the administrator, and she seemed to believe the hospital was built on sacred ground just because the Silvers had missed them during the first attack. She genuinely thought the hospital was a safe zone.”

  “Like she expected them to follow the Geneva Conventions?” Lynn drew out slowly.

  “Exactly like that…” Sean trailed off as her words triggered a line of thought. “Even without the Geneva Conventions, it’s a code of honor, human decency, to let the enemy tend to their injured.”

  “What are you saying?” said Beth. “That the attack on the hospital today was a mistake?”

  “Only if the Silvers are humane, and I think we can rule that out.” Sean scrubbed his jaw, wishing something else, anything else, made more sense than this. “No, this was the end game of a military strategy. For whatever reason—” He glanced at Lynn “—they changed tactics, and their Black Arrows don’t cremate everything into oblivion, which means more survivors. What if they deliberately left the hospital standing to draw in the wounded and the stragglers?”

  Lynn gasped. “Like a human net?”

  “Like a human net.” He couldn’t think of a better description, and his blood chilled at the calculating, sadistically brilliant brains of the alien invaders.

  “But how would they know that humans would be naturally drawn to a hospital as a place of safety?” Beth slapped a hand to her mouth as the answer dawned on her. “Oh, my God, they’ve been watching, spying on us? For how long? That’s just…”

  “Creepy?” Lynn shuddered, and they fell into silence once more, chewing on this new horror.

  It’s just a theory, Sean reminded himself, but he couldn’t un-think the worst case scenario, that the Silvers weren’t just superior beings with superior technology and weapons, they’d tapped into the human psyche and turned the last resort left to mankind, basic survival instinct, against them.