by Jeff Olah
Ethan had driven the armored truck to the edge of town, high up on Grand Terrace—near where it intersected Temple Avenue. He sat in the front alongside Ben and peered through a set of binoculars taken from the Chief’s office back in Summer Mill.
Cora sat between the driver and passenger seat eating what was left of a small bag of cheese puffs. Intent on getting a rise out of Ethan, she chewed especially close to his ear. Reaching the bottom of the bag, and not getting the playful reaction she was looking for, she leaned in and tapped him on the shoulder.
“So… we’re going to wait here and do what exactly?”
Ethan didn’t answer her. He instead handed the binoculars to Ben and called out to Frank. “If they were from Xavier Brevin, they sure didn’t act like it.”
Frank shot back quickly, “Not everyone in that facility was a raving lunatic. I would assume some were of great intellect, maybe even geniuses. Hell, even smart people go a little crazy sometimes.”
“Yeah, maybe. But they were all criminals of some sort.”
“True, but we also don’t know if that’s who they are, could have been pretty much anyone. And it’s not like we can go around asking… Hey, are you an escaped inmate from the country’s worst insane asylum? Somehow I don’t think we’re going to get an acceptable answer.”
Again looking to interject herself into the conversation, Cora held up her hand. She waved it back and forth like a child trying to get the teacher’s attention.
Ethan turned to Cora, who now sat less than a foot away, and grinned. “Not sure exactly what we’re going to do, but for now, we should probably just watch and wait.”
Shaking her head, Cora didn’t appear to like his answer. She began to respond, but then stopped. She thought for a moment longer and then turned back to the others in the rear cabin. Carly’s voice could be heard; however, her quiet words never made it into the front seats.
Ethan’s attention quickly turning back out through the windshield, he motioned toward the university and said to Ben, “Anything?”
Handing back the binoculars, Ben leaned forward in his seat. “It’s getting darker, but it looks like they’ve got three people out front. They’ve got rows of wood pallets stacked behind the fences. I can see two men off to the right and a woman over on the left.”
Bringing the binoculars up to his eyes, Ethan adjusted the fit. “Who’d they say we needed to see? Wasn’t it someone named Josie?”
“Not sure,” Ben said. “But that lady out there—if that’s her, the one in the black jacket—she doesn’t look like someone I’d want to mess with.”
“Doesn’t really matter either way. We aren’t going down there.”
Cora was back. She pulled herself in between the two seats and sat on her knees up against the center console. “Hey,” she said.
Ethan continued to peer through the high-powered binoculars, but leaned down toward her. “How’s Griff doin’?”
“Not too good, his head is still pounding out of control and now he says he’s seeing two of everything.”
Ethan started to respond, but apparently Cora wasn’t finished.
“I think we need to go down there and at least see if those people can help us. For all we know, there could be a doctor behind those fences.”
“That’s the point—we don’t know who is down there. They have weapons and seem to think that they’re calling the shots. We have no way of knowing who or what these people are.”
“Well, they didn’t hurt us and they could have. Maybe they are trying to help and the weapons are for their own protection. Because in case you forgot, there are plenty of reasons to carry a weapon nowadays.”
Bringing the binoculars again to his eyes, Ethan scoped the gates and then further back, the parking lot. He traced a line from the south corner of the lot to where it ended near the gymnasium. He counted the darkened vehicles and made note of the other men moving toward the outdoor aquatic center.
He handed Ben the binoculars. “There are more than fifty vehicles down there. All of them right outside the gym. The rest of the lot is empty.”
“So?” Cora said.
“There are more vehicles out in the street, close to the gates. All of them at odd angles and most with their windows busted out. Looks like whatever cars were left in the lot after everything went down were pushed out into the street. Those cars by the gym were driven in recently and parked in tight rows, one pushed in right behind the other.”
Ben scoped the area outside the gym. “Yeah, but why?”
“It looks like they are taking people in.” Ethan pointed to the two-story brick building behind the gym. “And they have power, probably from generators. They’ve blocked in the first few rows of cars with the ones behind them, so it looks like they don’t expect anyone to be leaving.”
Ben was beginning to see what Ethan was alluding to. “Not expecting anyone to leave or maybe not allowing anyone to leave?”
“Yeah, something about these people just isn’t making any sense.”
Cora held out her hand. “Can I take a look?”
Ben handed her the binoculars and turned to Ethan. “So, now what?”
Ethan nodded. “I agree with Cora.”
Still trying to adjust the fit, she leaned in closer. “You do?”
“We do need to get Griff some help and even though Carly has him stabilized, he needs a safe place to rest, at least for now. And even though I don’t really like the idea of driving right up to the front gates, I don’t know if there are any better options.”
Now scoping the lot, Cora said, “What about your parents’ house?”
“We’ll get there, but we’d have to drive right by that front gate. My parents are about a mile away. There’s no way we’d get past there without being seen.”
Ben looked into the back and then to Ethan. “Why not just ask them?”
“Ask who?”
“Those people at the gate. I mean if we have to go down there anyway, we might as well not try to hide—”
A flood of illumination broke the approaching nightfall. Its wide path moved through the rear of the armored truck and into the cab, resting on the driver’s window and the left side of Ethan face. Next came the sound of screeching tires and multiple doors slamming shut.
Turning away from the sound, Ethan reached for the weapon sitting in the center console.
Quick footsteps, two taps from the barrel of a shotgun on the driver’s window, and then a voice. “Don’t even think about it.”
Ethan pulled back his hand as the man standing on the opposite side of the door aligned the barrel of the weapon with the corner of the window. Instead, he reached for the keys hanging from the ignition and looked over at Ben out of the corner of his eye.
“Ethan, what are you doing?”
The man outside the window now slammed his fist into the door. “You can try to run, but I can guarantee you that you won’t get very far.”
Staring down at the steering wheel, Ethan bit into his lower lip. “Damn it.”
“He’s right,” Ben said. “If we try to run, they’ll just catch us.”
Again from beyond the window, the man tapped the glass.
Ethan didn’t respond.
“Open the door and let’s have a chat. Or you can reach down, turn over that engine, and let me and my boys find out just how bulletproof your truck really is… go ahead—it’s your choice.”
Continuing to stare down at the wheel, he breathed out slowly. “Frank, you see another way out of this?”
From the rear cabin, Frank spoke quietly. “No, we really don’t have much of a choice here. It’s not going to do us any good to test these guys.”
Pausing, Ethan moved through the possible scenarios in his head. His vehicle was slower, although it could handle much more abuse. He knew this city fairly well and could attempt to lead them into the lower elevations and then run them off the road. Although that option wasn’t necessarily any safer for his friends in the rear
cabin. He could also drive straight through the gates down at the university, although he’d have much the same problem. There had to be another way, something he was missing. He just couldn’t see it.
Slowly dropping his left hand down below the window, he gripped the handle and opened the door. Sliding back in his seat, Ethan rested hands on his lap and stared back at the man with the twelve gauge slung over his shoulder.
Leaning in, the thickly-muscled older man spoke loudly. “Okay, which one of you morons is Ethan Runner?”
32
Before turning, Tom looked down at the revolver and opened the cylinder. Six spent casings meant his new weapon would be of no use. He slipped it into his waistband and looked to the woman who was slowly beginning to stand. She held her hands up, motioned toward the door, and started forward.
Their voices reached him as he was starting to turn.
“You need to come with us right now. There isn’t time for questions. We have to go.” A man, middle-aged, wearing a ragged white dress shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes walked toward them. Of average height and weight, he was mostly forgettable in his normality. He was now coming through the lobby as a smaller man stood at the entrance doors.
Tom was now facing the older man as he continued forward. He was caught off guard. There were too many things happening at once. Why were they here? How’d they get through the crowds? How could they have possibly known that he and the woman were here? He was told there wasn’t time for any questions, and for some reason he believed them.
Stepping toward the door, Tom was nudged by the woman as she slipped in beside him and tossed her pack over her shoulder. Lifting her chin, she met the taller man’s eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“There isn’t time. We are here to help. This building is about to be overrun and if you want to live to see another day, you’ll come with us right now.”
Pulling through the confusion, Tom found his voice. “We don’t know you and have no idea—”
The shockwave nearly pulled him off his feet. Tom turned into the lobby and glanced in the direction of the disruption. Door number two—just over thirty feet away—exploded inward. As the door was thrown from its hinges, landing awkwardly along the blood-soaked tile floor, Feeders began plowing through the open doorway.
Locking hands with the woman, Tom turned back to the man. “Where to?”
The first man turned back to the other still standing at the entrance. “We clear?”
“Yeah dad, but it’s gonna be close.”
“Okay,” said the taller man. “Follow us, and stay close. We aren’t going to wait for you.”
The woman squeezed Tom’s hand. “What about your leg?”
Tom pulled her forward. “It’s fine.” He was lying.
The tall plain-looking man moved to the entrance door first. He carried a twenty-four-inch fireman’s axe, the bloodstained fiberglass handle extending out from his right hand. He moved quickly to the alcove and then stepping over the bodies, out into the street.
The younger, much smaller man followed closely, guiding Tom and the woman through the alcove. As they reached the street, the taller man was again on the move. He crossed the street and only looked back as he stepped up onto the opposite sidewalk. “Patrick, let’s go.”
Tom was, for the moment, keeping pace with the group. His right hamstring only hinting at its former injury. As he approached the curb, he released his grip on the woman’s hand only to have her clamp down on his tighter.
Up onto the opposite sidewalk and beginning to increase their pace, she looked up at him. “I’m not letting go. You fall this time and we both go down.”
The taller man reached the corner of the building opposite the one they’d just exited and stopped. He turned back and waited as the one he called Patrick fell in behind. Only three paces back, Tom and the woman came in quickly behind. The foursome turned back in the direction they’d come and watched the alcove begin spilling Feeders, three at a time, out into the street.
The tall man rested momentarily with his hands on his knees. He looked up at Tom and the woman. “My name is Cedric.” He then motioned toward the smaller man, who out in the failing daylight looked much younger than he initially thought. “This here is my son Patrick. We’ll explain everything in a few minutes.” He looked back at the street beginning to be overrun with Feeders and said, “But right now, I think we’d better get going.”
The tall normal-looking man, who they now knew as Cedric, stepped around the corner and waved his hand. He stared into the distance and then said, “Let’s go.”
His son Patrick turned to Tom and smiled. “Only a few minutes, really. We have safe place to… I mean we have a whole building.”
As Cedric turned the corner and Patrick followed, the woman started after them. She stayed with Tom, but released his hand and continued to watch him, not wanting to replay the incidents from earlier that day. “You okay?”
His right leg continued to loosen, although the threat still lingered. Fully extending his right hamstring would send a signal through his sciatic nerve and into his lower back. It warned him that he was nearing another episode. However, with each new stride, he forced his lower body into a different position. So far, he hadn’t found one that completely alleviated the warning signal.
“I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself to run slightly ahead. “Really, I’m good.”
Watching Cedric skip off the sidewalk and move back into the street, Tom’s eyes traveled up the long block. Sixty feet ahead and off to the left, another massive grouping of Feeders had taken notice of their presence. They moved slowly, but their numbers and the large area they covered were the bigger threat.
Cedric noticed the same thing and without turning, shouted as he continued to run. “Stay to the right, if we have to, we’ll duck into the next alley and come up through the parking garage.”
His son, while still running, rotated his upper body a quarter turn, smiled, and gave a thumbs up. “Don’t worry guys, we’ve got this.”
Tom smiled back, but wasn’t so sure. As the last remaining bits of daylight moved away from the city, more of the area fell into darkness. By his estimation, nothing good happened in this new world once the sun had set.
Out in front, Cedric pointed toward the next intersection, thirty yards beyond the growing crowd. Those things were now covering more of the street than not, and with each second that ticked away, the narrow path ahead continued to close.
He shouted, “We’re going to have to go in through the back.”
Patrick was still three paces ahead, but now began to pull away. He felt the same intensity the others felt, but reacted in a way that Tom was unable to. The kid increased his speed by at least twenty percent, as if he’d been purposely slowing himself to accommodate his guests.
Tom called out to his two new friends in between the deep breaths he was fighting to take. “Hey… how… much… further?”
Ten seconds before reaching the narrow alley at the end of the building, Patrick had caught up to his father. Although he faced the opposite direction, his voice was clear and came out strong. “Just up here to the right. Maybe another two minutes.”
Tom didn’t have two minutes, he wasn’t even sure he had another thirty seconds. His awkward running style—full stride, three quarter stride, repeat—was now causing his left leg nearly as much distress as his right.
He looked over to the woman, met her eyes and then quickly looked away. He again shouted through the agony. “I need… to… stop.”
Coming to the end of the building, Cedric continued up onto the sidewalk and began drifting to the right. The closest group of Feeders—eight in total—were less than thirty feet away, but still closer to the alley than either Tom or his female friend.
Reaching the inlet to the alleyway, Cedric stopped and guided his son in behind him. Raising the fiberglass handled fireman’s axe, he looked to Patrick and nodded. His son drew a twenty-two-inch machete from the wo
rn leather sheath along his right hip and stepped forward.
Forty feet from the alley and his stride, limp, stride routine had taken its toll. Tom’s right hamstring again tightened and at the same time his left hip felt like he had gravel inserted directly into the joint. Tom slowed considerably, but looking into the milky white eyes of those coming for him, he bit down into the inside of his cheek and just kept moving.
“Let’s go,” Cedric took down the first Feeder that stepped up onto the sidewalk. “It’s now or never.”
The woman slowed to a light jog and again reached for Tom’s hand. “Come on.”
Moving closer to the building as he limp-jogged, Tom avoided a pair of Feeders that had broken off from the main group. He sidestepped the first and turned his shoulder away as the second reached out for his face.
Moving into the alley, the woman turned back and her eyes widened as she glanced over Tom’s left shoulder. She was momentarily paralyzed as she looked back at Tom and tried to articulate her fear. And in that darkened space between the two buildings, time began to slow as her scream came out only a fraction of a second before he felt himself being pulled backward.
Tom felt both of his feet leave the pavement at approximately the same time. He blinked and a half second later, he was staring up at the changing sky, gliding backward out onto the sidewalk as the beast standing above him growled at his friends.
As he prayed for a quick end, a lightning bolt of silver and yellow flashed through his field of vision. Instinctively closing his eyes, Tom winced as his attacker dropped down on top of him.
33
Three men. The first, a large forty-something, with close-cropped greying hair and a jaw so angular it might cut glass, had a handful of Ethan’s shirt. His uneven gaze was off putting and even though he had yet to declare his intentions, Ethan knew what the man wanted. And as he pulled him out of the cab with one hand and tossed him to the ground like a wet rag, Ethan was also beginning to think he should have just listened to Cora.
