by Amber Garr
“Zachary!” my mom screamed and somewhere near my dad, a gun shot rang out. The bullet hit the Hummer, the sound of scratching metal jolting me back into action. I landed in front of the soldier who struggled to swing the gun around on me. Knocking his arm to the side, I lowered my shoulder and tackled him to the ground. The gun skidded along the pavement when his head bounced against the concrete. But he was tough, and in the next instant, a red hot flash of pain exploded in my jaw when his fist made contact. I didn’t let go and instead shoved the tip of the steak knife up under his chin.
“Don’t move,” I said, mouth aching from the impact of the punch. Warm liquid that tasted like iron dripped from my lip onto the soldier’s neck. The blood made a sickening noise as it fell onto his skin.
“Get off of me,” he spat. He reached for my neck and tried to wrap his hands around my throat.
I pushed the knife a little further into his skin. “Don’t test me,” I growled.
“Oh my God,” my mother called out when she saw me on the ground.
“Mom, get the gun!”
“I can’t—”
“Mom!”
Whatever hesitation had her trembling disappeared with the fear she heard in my voice. The soldier was struggling too hard for me to keep control and I really didn’t want to cut him. I really didn’t.
“Get up, Zachary,” my mom said, words clear and solid.
I lifted my head to see her holding the assault weapon like a second skin and wondered why she looked so comfortable. “And you,” she addressed the soldier, “don’t move.”
Scrambling to my feet, I brushed off my clothes and wiped the blood from my mouth. “You okay?” I asked her and she nodded.
Breathing hard, I turned back around to look for Vee and my dad. I didn’t know what I was going to see, but when I spotted them, I smiled in relief.
When they pulled us from the car, my shoe fell off. Why that bothered me so much, I didn’t know, but it definitely pissed me off to no end. I focused on that anger when they shoved me to the ground and pressed my mom and me up against the car like criminals.
But when I watched Mr. Scott drop the soldier with one punch, I knew we had about three seconds to react. I heard some commotion over by the Jeep and hoped Zach would be able to handle himself. The Moment Mr. Scott and the soldier fell to the ground, the one behind us shuffled his feet and swore under his breath. Turning my head as much as I could without him noticing, I saw him lift the gun and aim it directly at Zach’s dad. In a split second decision, I jumped to my feet. My mom stayed silent when I reached out and pushed the gun to the side, a bullet flying past Zach’s dad and smashing into the parked Hummer.
“You bitch,” he snarled at me and then slammed the butt of his gun into my stomach.
A sharp, burning pain sprouted where the gun hit and I cried out while it spread to my extremities. I felt like I was going to puke, but managed to keep it in as I struggled to get out of the way of another hit.
The soldier raised the gun again, aiming directly at my head. His dark, evil eyes bore into mine, so full of hatred he didn’t even see my mom sneaking up behind him. She swung her arm out and hit him in the side of the head with a kitchen pot. The clang of the metal making contact with his skin echoed through me, but his eyes glazed over a second later and he fell to the ground.
“That’s for calling my daughter a bitch,” my mom spat.
“Way to go Mom,” I coughed, still have a hard time catching my breath.
“Valerie?” my dad called out and rushed to our side. “Are you two okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good,” my mom said as my dad kissed her cheek. She looked down at the pot in her hand and twirled it a few times. “I bet you’re glad that I packed this after all,” she smiled up at him. They both had matching dark hair and light blue eyes like me. There was no denying the family resemblance.
“What happened?” I asked, still trying to process everything.
“I don’t know, but we can’t stay here,” Mr. Scott said. He now held a gun in his hand and I noticed that the soldier he’d been fighting was now passed out cold with had his hands tied behind his back.
“Is he alive?” my mom asked, clearly noticing him too.
“Yes,” Mr. Scott answered curtly.
“Dad!” Zach called out when he reached his father’s side. They gave each other a quick hug before Zach stepped away. “What did we just do?”
“This is bad,” his Mom added, the assault weapon in her hand dwarfing her tiny frame. Her usually primped and proper blonde hair stuck out of the bun like an unruly mess. She looked ferocious and wild—a mother hen on steroids.
“We need to go before anyone else arrives,” my dad said.
“Where are we going?” I asked, still clutching my stomach and trying to will the pain away.
Zach rushed to my side and wrapped his arms around my waist to help hold me up. “Are you all right?” he said only to me while our parents continued to strategize.
“I will be,” I groaned. “Who knew getting punched in the gut would hurt so bad?” I looked up at him and smiled and then winced with what I saw. “I should be asking if you’re okay. Looks like your lip is split pretty good.”
Zach absently reached for his face, wincing a little when his fingers brushed against his jaw. “I’ll be fine,” he said quickly.
“There’s a place in West Virginia where we should be safe,” Zach’s dad said. “It’s a government compound but one not many people know about.”
“Do you really think it will be safe after this?” my mom asked, waving the pot around at the three soldiers lying unconscious in the street.
“We’ll be okay,” Mr. Scott said. “I know people there.”
“Sounds so James Bond-ish,” I whispered to Zach and he chuckled. I stood up, trying to stretch out the lingering pain in the middle of my stomach. Zach held on to my arm, refusing to let go. And in all honesty, I was quite all right with that.
“We’ll have to drive through the night and stay off the highways,” Zach’s dad continued. “Sampson, do you have something I can write on? I’ll give you the name of the closest town in case we get separated.”
The two of them walked to our car, our mothers following closely behind. “Well this has been fun,” Zach said. “Looks like all those video games we played may come in handy.”
“What?” I asked.
“You know, the shooting, stabbing, fighting. We can just pretend that we’re in a game.”
“But this isn’t a game,” I whispered and his grip on me tightened.
“I know,” he whispered and dropped his head.
“We’re going to be fine,” I said. “Your dad’s worked for the government for a long time. I’m sure he has lots of friends.”
“But now we’re making enemies,” he said, jerking his chin toward the soldiers on the ground.
“Well, we have to do what’s best for us.” I tried to soothe him, but I wasn’t even fooling myself.
“Let’s go,” Mr. Scott said, waving over his wife and son. Sirens screeched in the background warning us that our time was done here.
“Stay close to us,” Zach spoke in my ear, sending chills over my skin. He ushered me to my car and then leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” He winked and a little piece of me forgot to be frightened for a few seconds. I couldn’t help but smile back as he jogged over to catch up with his parents.
A moment later we pulled away from our home and the government soldiers who’d foolishly tried to stop us. Everything we’d known had disappeared in a matter of hours—our future more uncertain than it had ever been. Looking to the back of our over-packed car, I wondered how long we’d be able to survive on the run. There would be more soldiers hunting us down and other people fighting for their lives. I didn’t think my mom’s cooking pot would protect us against them all.
“You okay?” my mom asked, watching t
he thousand thoughts skitter across my face.
“Yeah,” I said and tried to smile.
“It will all work out, honey,” she said. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
Sleep was the last thing on my mind, but as we made our way out of the city suburbs and the landscape opened into rolling hills of untouched farmland, my eyelids drifted close.
A hand on my shoulder startled me awake. It was pitch black outside and I felt like I’d slept for a day.
“Wake up sleepyhead.” Zach’s smooth voice surrounded me with comfort.
I opened my eyes only to find his staring right back at me. “What?” I screeched and pulled my face away from his. “Creeper,” I mumbled and Zach laughed.
“I just thought my face would be the first thing you’d like to see in the morning.”
“It’s not morning.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“What are you so happy about?” I rubbed my eyes and pushed up to a normal sitting position. Zach stretched across the back seat, arms draped over my thighs and long legs curled up beneath him.
“You look cute when you’re mad.”
“Zach,” I groaned. “Why do you say things like that?” In the middle of a yawn, I suddenly panicked—did I have morning breath. Snapping my mouth closed I narrowed my eyes at him when he laughed.
“Because it’s just the two of us now, so we have to be nice to each other.”
“Just the two of us?” I snapped my head around looking for my parents. “Where are they?”
Zach’s hand gripped my thigh and drew my attention to an intense sensation crawling up my leg. “Relax,” he chuckled. “They’re fine.”
I punched him in the shoulder and he winced. “Well why did you say that it was just us then? You freaked me out!” Placing my hand over my chest, I tried to slow my breathing.
Zach continued to laugh and that just made me angrier. “I mean that it’s just the two of us and not all of our friends anymore.” He hung his head but I couldn’t help myself.
“Do you miss Kayla already, Zach?” I teased.
Zach looked up at me and then smiled. “Not as much as I’m sure you miss Nathan.”
A moment later we both broke out in laughter and Zach nestled his head against my legs. “I don’t miss Nathan,” I said, enjoying the feel of Zach in my lap. I absently brushed my fingers through his light hair, unaware of how intimate the gesture was. But Zach didn’t seem to mind, and in less than a minute, I heard his breathing deepen as he drifted off to sleep.
At some point, the car door opened and I was pulled back to the present. Zach stirred in my lap, but didn’t fully wake up. His hand rested on my knee and I suddenly felt embarrassed by my mother’s glance in our direction.
“We’re ready to move again,” she said with a wink. I felt my cheeks heat and thanked the world that it was dark and Zach was asleep.
“Why don’t we both just ride in here,” I suggested and my mom nodded.
“Okay, I’ll tell the Scotts.”
She closed the door, thrusting us back into darkness. The heat from Zach’s body warmed my soul as I imagined what life would have been like if we’d fled in separate directions. He was my best friend and life without him in it would be too much to bear.
A few minutes later, my parents slid into their seats and we started moving again. “Are we almost there?” I asked. Zach stirred again and I rubbed my hand in slow circles over his back.
“Yes,” my dad answered. “David just wanted to wait until sunrise before we approached the compound.”
“Oh,” I said. I wondered why that would matter, but at this point, we had no choice but to defer to his best judgment.
I looked out the back window seeing the first hints of daylight arching toward the sky. A purplish-gray haze filled the air, chasing away the dark and letting us know we’d survived the night. I wondered if it would always be like this? Would each sunrise bring a feeling of relief that the previous one hadn’t been our last? My chest clenched in fear—not from the situation but from the anxiety of wondering what the future held for us. I hoped the wars would end soon and we could go back to living like before. Perhaps it would only take a few months, maybe even a year. But I had to have faith that our government and our citizens would prevail at a time when we all needed each other more than before.
The car slowed and I turned my focus to the road in front of us. Unpaved, the gravel kicked up underneath our car in a symphony of clicks and scrapes. The forest surrounded us on all sides, feeling safe yet suffocating at the same time. The Scotts’ car edged forward slowly in front of us, brake lights illuminating the last of the darkness each time they were pressed. After driving several miles into the woods, we turned onto a small dirt road to the right.
“Is there really a compound back here?” my mom asked, squinting out the window.
My dad shrugged, “David says there is.”
“There is,” Zach said, startling all of us. He sat up and stretched, arm coming dangerously close to my face. “I heard him talking about it before.” Zach brushed the tip of my nose with his hand and I swatted him away.
“Well does anyone else know about it?” my mom grumbled.
Zach continued to poke at me, and I silently keep pushing him. “You’re acting like a child,” I mouthed, and when I saw the dimples appear, I knew he understood.
The rising sun cast an eerie glow through the trees but also highlighted the clearing in front of us. Several cars lined the edges of the forest and a large log cabin filled the remaining empty space.
“This doesn’t look like a compound,” my mom murmured, and I had to agree with her.
“No, it does not,” Zach said, his hand coming to a rest on top of my thigh. Again.
I tried to ignore the heat pulsing from that touch. “Well, looks like we’re about to find out.” I pointed to two men walking our way. I didn’t see any guns but knew better than to think they’d be unarmed.
Zach’s dad stepped in front of his car and greeted the men. They shook hands and he gestured to the rest of us.
“Well, looks like that’s our cue,” my dad said and he turned off the ignition.
Zach and I shared a glance as we all slid out of the car and slowly made our way toward the men. My parents clutched each other’s hands and Zach’s Mom had her arm intertwined with her husband’s. Without a second thought, I reach for Zach’s hand and weaved my fingers through his. He squeezed and when my mom noticed, she winked at me.
“This is my wife and son and these are the Witterlys,” David said by means of introduction.
The men nodded at all of us as though connected by the same brain. The older one, hair cropped short but not close enough to hide the gray, spoke first. “We have enough empty cots right now, but later today we will need to visit a supply station to fill up for the next few weeks.”
“A supply station?” I asked and everyone turned to look at me. I felt Zach laughing to himself.
“Yes,” the older man said. “The government keeps us supplied with water and other commodities so that we can function like a compound.” His eyes stared through my core and a wave of mistrust enveloped me in warning.
“We can help,” David said and my dad nodded in agreement.
“Very well. Let’s get you inside then. We’ll leave in a couple of hours.”
The men turned and the six of us followed them into the cabin. I noticed three pickup trucks, one SUV, and a handful of cars parked along the perimeter. How did all of these people fit inside this cabin?
But I got my answer when the men led us around the side of the building toward an old cellar entry. The younger one lifted the hatch and a flood of light greeted us from underneath the ground.
“Sweet,” Zach said in amusement. “It’s like an underground fallout room.”
“It’s more than just a room,” the older man
snapped and Zach pinched his lips together. “Go down the stairs and through the door at the end of the hall. Melanie will meet you and show you to your beds.”
Zach’s dad shook the man’s hand and we descended into the basement without saying another word. The hallways had been carved out of the rock beneath the cabin and the fresh scent of dirt and moisture riddled my senses. Zach’s contagious grin spread to my lips as I watched him enjoy this Moment like it was a big adventure.
Noticing me staring, he let go of my hand and wrapped his arm across my shoulder. “This is cool, right?”
I smiled up at him. “If living in a bat cave is cool.”
“Yes. Bat caves are super cool.”
Melanie, a woman at least my mother’s age, greeted us at the wooden door at the end of the corridor. Her dark, straggly hair hid her eyes which would have been an issue if she actually wanted to look at anyone. Instead of making us feel welcomed, she just led us into a great room of sorts and pointed to the corner. “There are some cots over there, but you may need to share.” Coldness etched her voice and I wasn’t sure if that was just my reluctance or if she really didn’t like our arrival.
Everyone else ignored her as we made our way to the other side of the room. Rows of cots lined the floor, and I counted at least fifty. But only half of them were occupied from what I could see in the limited lamp light.
“Those must be solar,” Zach leaned in and whispered to me.
“How do you know that?” And why did it matter? I thought to myself.
“I just know things,” he said and squeezed me tighter.
When we reached the cots, Zach’s dad turned toward us. “There are only five of them,” he said.
“Well, why don’t we grab one of the empty ones?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We can’t. It doesn’t work that way.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Zach nudged me in the side. “Vee and I can share,” he said. And when all four parental units gave us a look, he held up his hands in surrender. “What? We’re the smallest.”
