by Brian Keene
“Lori, when this started, I wondered what the sense was in staying alive. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about just ending it all. I mean, what’s the point? The fucking world is flooding and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop. I felt that way again yesterday, when I found Jimmy. He was my best friend, my last link to my old life. With him gone, there just didn’t seem to be a point to life anymore.”
She started to speak, but I pressed a finger to her lips.
“But you make me want to stay alive, Lori. You are the point. You’re my reason now.”
I kissed her again.
“Kevin,” she breathed. Her body was trembling, her eyes filled with emotion. “You haven’t said much about what happened with Jimmy. If you want to talk, I’m here for you. Or if you want to cry.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. Right now, it still hurts too much to talk about it. As for crying, well, I don’t cry. You might as well know that now.”
“I’m serious.” She frowned. “You don’t need to impress me, so stop with the macho stuff already. If you need to cry, it’s okay. I’m here.”
“Lori, I’m serious, too. I don’t cry. I’ve never been able to.” I told her about my grandma’s funeral and everything, and she said that was sad, but that she understood.
But despite the emotional pain, I did open up and talk about Jimmy. I told her about the first time Jimmy and I met (playing with Hot Wheels together in the dirt lot between our houses), and what it was like growing up together, fights we had with our parents, the crazy shit we did in high school, those sort of things. Then she told me about her best friend and her parents and her brothers and sisters, and the guy she’d been dating when the rain started.
When we were finished, we made love again. It was better this time, perfect in fact. It was everything I’d ever seen in movies and read about in books—love-making on an epic scale. Maybe that sounds corny to you, but that’s what it was. I’d never felt this way with anyone else. Our relationship was less than twenty-four hours old, but we were already learning our way around each other’s bodies. We both lasted a long time, and when it was over, we lay there, holding each other and listening to the rain beat against the skylight.
I almost fell out of bed when the pounding started. Somebody was at the door.
“Kevin? Lori? Open up.”
Juan. The door shook in its frame as he hammered at it again.
“Kevin! Wake up, man. We’ve got trouble! Are you in there?”
“Yeah! Hang on a second!” I struggled into my boxer shorts and jeans, and Lori pulled the sheets up around her, concealing her nakedness.
I opened the door. Juan stood there, his eyes wide and frantic. He grabbed my shoulder and the strength and urgency in his grip made me cringe.
“What’s up? What’s going on?” I asked.
He took a deep breath. “It’s Louis and Christian.”
“Yeah? Are they finally back?”
“No.”
I frowned.
Juan’s face had grown pale. “The Satanists have them.”
CHAPTER NINE
Anna kept the kids inside, despite their protests and insistence that they should be allowed to go outside and see what was going on. The rest of us ran out onto the roof. I think that most of us didn’t want to see, but at the same time, we were unable to help ourselves. Christian and Louis were our friends, and in some strange, fucked up way, we owed it to them. We were obligated to bear witness.
The group crowded around the edge and took turns with the telescope. Lee accepted it from Mike, put his eye to it, and the color instantly drained from his face. Without uttering a word, he handed it to me.
I looked and felt my stomach fall out from under me. A dozen Satanists milled around on the Trade Center’s roof, waiting for darkness to fall. Some of them carried wet kindling in preparation for the bonfire to come. Others were securing the evening’s sacrifices.
The evening’s sacrifices being Louis and Christian.
I recognized them even from a distance, through the blurry, raindrop-distorted image in the telescope. Their hands and legs were bound with heavy chains, the ends of which were secured to cinder blocks. In addition to Louis and Christian, there was a young woman with a baby, not more than a few weeks old. I watched as the baby began to cry, squirming helplessly in its captor’s grasp, and then I could watch no more. The look of terror etched on both the baby and the mother’s faces made me sick to my stomach. I closed my eyes and handed the telescope off to Sarah.
She pursed her lips. “Oh my God…”
“Those motherfuckers,” Taz growled. “Those dirty, evil motherfuckers!”
“What are we going to do?” Mindy whimpered.
As usual, we all turned to Juan for guidance. He was trying to light a cigarette, but the rain kept putting it out. Giving up, he flung the soggy butt into the wind. A seagull darted for it. He watched the shrieking bird snatch the cigarette and wheel away, and then he met our eyes.
“Do? We’re going to go get them back.”
“Word!” Ducky pounded his fist into his palm. “That’s what I’m talking about. Put a hurtin’ on their ass.”
“Some Rambo-style shit,” Taz agreed. “Bust in, break some off, and bring them home.”
“I’m up for it,” Sarah said.
Mike stepped forward. “Count me in, too.”
“Are you crazy?” Mindy shouted. “That’s suicide! How many of them are over there?”
Mike took her hand in his. “It doesn’t matter, honey. Juan’s right. We’ve got to try. This is Louis and Christian we’re talking about.”
“You’ll be slaughtered! Then what will I—the rest of us—do?”
“Goddamn it, Mindy.” Mike’s face turned red. “Those are our friends over there! What do you want me to do? Stand here and watch while they get butchered? I’m going along to help!”
“No, you’re not,” Juan told him. “And neither are you, Sarah. But me, Kevin, Taz, and Ducky are going to.”
I jumped when I heard my name. “Me?”
“Why not?” Mike asked. “You can’t just expect me to stand here while Christian and Louis are their captives.”
“I can and I do,” Juan said. “You’ve got a woman here that loves you, Mike. And more importantly, I trust you. Let’s be honest here. Chances are I’m not going to make it back, and if that happens, I need you to take over here. Somebody needs to lead and my choice is you.”
“Well then why the hell do Taz and Ducky have to go?” Lashawn angrily jabbed a finger at Lee. “Send Mr. Science here instead.”
“Hey,” Lee shouted back, “don’t call me Mr. Science, bitch!”
Taz took a step towards him. “Don’t call her bitch, motherfucker.”
Lee refused to back down. “Or what, you two-bit thug? Tell me! What are you going to do about it?”
“You best get the fuck out of my mug,” Taz warned him. “Unless you want to get your fucking face split. You ain’t messing with Nate now.”
Juan sighed. “Both of you knock it off.”
Sarah frowned at him. “I still don’t see why I can’t go. I’m just as capable as the rest of you. Is this because of some bullshit macho creed or something? Because if that’s what it is, Juan, then—”
I could see the anger building in Juan seconds before he snapped.
“All of you shut the hell up, right fucking now!”
Shocked into silence, they waited for him to speak. He stood there on the roof, his chest heaving, rain dripping from his face, fists balled in rage. Slowly, he unclenched them and his voice returned to a normal tone.
“Now that I have your attention, here’s how we are going to play it. Despite what you might think, this is not a democracy and it is not open for debate. Those things died with the rest of our civilization. Welcome to Juan’s world.”
Sarah opened her mouth, but he cut her off again.
“You’ve all trusted me up to this point and you’ll
have to trust me now. Sarah, Mike, and Lee have talents that are irreplaceable to the group. I need them here in case something happens to us. Taz and Ducky are used to guns and violence. I need them with me, for what we are about to do. We’re not going over there to sell Girl Scout cookies, people.”
“But why does Kevin have to go?” Lori whispered, so softly that we almost didn’t hear her above the rain.
Juan grinned. “Because I like him. And because I think he might like to pay those sick fuckers back for what happened to Jimmy.”
I tried to smile back, but my mouth didn’t want to work. I felt sick inside. My stomach was a ball of lead.
Salty, who’d been hiding in the back of the crowd and standing under some ductwork to block the rain, stepped forward. “Wasn’t the Satanists that did that to Jimmy.”
“Not now, Salty,” Anna whispered.
“You’re forgetting something,” Sarah pointed out to Juan. “Louis and Christian took the last boat, and now the Satanists have that, too. So how will you get over to the Trade Center?”
Juan’s shoulders sank.
“Shit!” Mike threw his hands up in frustration. “God damn it, she’s right, Juan! What the hell do we do now? You can’t swim over there.”
“Why don’t you use those washtubs?” Salty suggested.
“What?” Juan blinked at him.
“Those plastic washtubs downstairs,” Salty said. “They float. Just strap ‘em together with rope.”
Juan glanced at Mike. “Would they hold us?”
“I think so. We haven’t exactly been eating well.” He sized up Juan, Taz, Ducky, and me. “None of you are small guys, but you’ve all lost weight. I think it would work.”
“No,” Lee said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What happens if you guys start sinking halfway there? All it would take is one big wave to flood those things. Then you’d be stranded in the water—or worse.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Juan asked.
“We build a raft, and quickly. It doesn’t have to be anything permanent. Just enough to get you guys there and back again.”
“Do we have time to build something like that?”
Lee glanced at the sky. “I think so. It’s hard to tell exactly when sunrise and sunset occur, but I’ve noticed that they don’t start their ceremonies until well after dark. We’ve got at least an hour. Maybe even an hour and a half.”
“All right,” Juan barked. “Taz, Ducky, Kevin—you guys come with me. The rest of you help Lee out and give him a hand putting the raft together. Lee, you’re in charge. Nate, you stay up here and keep an eye on the Trade Center. Holler quick if it looks like they’re starting without us.”
Nate didn’t reply.
“Nate?” Juan stepped towards him. “You hear me?”
Distracted, Nate stared out over the water.
Juan put a hand on his shoulder. “Nate? You okay?”
“Yeah,” Nate shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Just tired is all.”
Juan studied him a second longer, then took me by the arm and led Taz, Ducky, and me back inside. Taz and Ducky ran off to their room to fetch their guns. I followed Juan to his suite. It looked like a tornado had hit it. Dirty clothing and bed linens lay tossed about and food wrappers, empty beer bottles, and other debris littered the floor. There was an overflowing trash can in the corner.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said, embarrassed. “Housekeeping hasn’t been by lately.”
“I think you should complain to the front desk.” I grinned, but he must have seen the fear in my eyes.
“Kevin, look—you’ll be okay. The truth is, I need you along on this. I don’t trust Taz and Ducky one hundred percent, and I need somebody to watch my back in case they try to smoke some pork along with the bad guys. I know how it is now, but I also know that back in the day, I was a cop and they were gangbangers. Old loyalties die hard and I’m still not sure where they stand. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.” I felt like puking, and the blood drained from my face.
Juan noticed it. “Seriously, man. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine.”
He pulled open the closet door and brought out a very mean-looking rifle.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“This is an M-16 assault rifle. I actually prefer the M-1 Garand. It’s a lot more reliable, especially in rapid-fire situations. But this is all I brought with me, and beggars can’t be choosers. I’ve kept it cleaned and serviced, so hopefully it won’t jam on me. These are my extra magazines. They hold the bullets.”
“I knew that. I’ve seen movies.”
“Okay then,” he chuckled and pulled out another piece of equipment. “Know what this is?”
“An elephant gun?”
He laughed. “Not quite. This beauty is an M-203 grenade-launcher. I can install it on the M-16. And these little babies here are antipersonnel ammunition for it.”
“Antipersonnel ammunition?”
“Grenades.”
“Christ, Juan. We should change your name to Rambo.”
He winked at me and then fished around in the dresser drawers.
“Do I get one, too?”
“No. But you do get this.”
He handed me a pistol. I’d held pistols before, during guard duty and when Jimmy and I found them while scavenging, but it felt different this time. It was heavy. Cold. I admired the weapon, curled my fingers around it. It felt good in my hand.
“That’s a Sig P245,” Juan told me. “It’s a .45 caliber, holds six rounds in the magazine and one in the pipe. As with all Sigs, there is no manual safety. It’s a double-action pistol, single after the first shot, with a de-cocker.”
“I don’t understand,” I admitted.
“I don’t have time to give you the schematics or read you the sales brochure. What you need to know is this—the trigger is here. We’ve only got the one clip for it, so try to make your shots count. You’ve got seven. When you run out of bullets, that’s all we have. Hopefully, by then I’ll have done some damage to the Satanists and we’ll have rescued our friends and be on our way home.”
“Juan, I’ve never fired a gun before in my life.”
“It’s easy, Kevin. Just point and shoot. That’s all you have to do. Point. Shoot. Repeat as necessary.”
Before I could reply, there was a knock at the door. Juan opened it and Taz and Ducky bustled in, acting like excited little kids around the tree on Christmas morning. This was the happiest I’d seen them since they’d joined our group.
“Yo, check it out.” Ducky nudged Taz. “Kevin’s got a Sig.”
“Nice one,” Taz said in appreciation. “You know how to use it?”
“I’m a fast learner.”
Taz laughed. “You go, playa.”
Ducky flashed a smile. “I got me an MP-5.”
Juan whistled in obvious admiration. “Heckler Koch, right?”
“You know what time it is. The mini-uzi is dead, but this motherfucker here,” he lifted the gun with pride, “is alive and well. There’s no kick at all. It shoots exactly where you point it. You got to be retarded to miss with this thing.”
“Keep that in mind when we’re over at the Trade Center,” Juan said.
“See this?” Taz showed me his machine gun. “This is an AK-47—when you absolutely, positively want to eradicate every motherfucker in the fucking room. Accept no substitutes.”
“It’s big,” I said.
“Big dick, big gun.”
They both giggled uncontrollably and I caught a hint of weed wafting off of them.
“Are you guys stoned?” Juan asked.
They shrugged.
“We can still do our job if that’s what you’re thinking,” Ducky said, leaning against the dresser.
“Why?” Taz sat down on the bed, the mattress springs creaking under his weight. “You gonna arrest us, Officer?”
Juan shook his head. “No. Actual
ly, I was going to ask if you had any more. I could use a hit right about now, and I bet Kevin could, too.”
I nodded. A nice buzz would have taken the edge off of me right about then.
Taz’s expression was one of surprise, and then regret.
“Shit, I wish we did have more. This was the last of the stash. We been saving it for a special occasion, but we figured this might be the last chance, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Juan said. “I’ve got something that I’ve been saving for a special occasion, too.”
He pulled open another drawer and held them up. All three of us gasped.
“Are those—more grenades?” I stuttered. They looked huge.
“White phosphorous grenades, a kind that was only used by the Special Forces and Black-Ops units. But I managed to get some from a friend of mine, right before everything collapsed. There’s one for each of us, so use them only as a last resort, okay?”
Taz and Ducky started laughing again. I took mine warily. It was heavier than I would have thought, even heavier than the gun. Holding it in my hand scared me, but I felt a little better after they explained how to use it.
“So what’s the plan?” Ducky asked.
“I don’t know,” Juan admitted. “I’m making this shit up as I go along. We don’t know enough about them, where they post guards, if there are any entrances at water level, what kind of weaponry they have. All we know is what we’ve seen from the roof. When we get there, we’re going to have to think quickly and play it by ear. Taz, you and I have the heavy shit. I figure we’ll open up, and keep those fuckers busy, while Ducky and Kevin try to free Louis and Christian.”
“What about the girl and the baby?” I reminded him.
“Sure, them too. And any other prisoners we find. We’ll keep the cultists pinned down while you rescue the captives.”
Taz stood up and scratched his groin. “Be straight with us. You really think we can pull this shit off?”
“I don’t know.” Juan shrugged. “Worst case scenario, we take as many with us as we can, so that the rest of our group doesn’t have to worry about them. It just pisses me off. We should have done this a long time ago, but we didn’t. And now Christian and Louis might pay the price.”
