by Hunt, Jack
When they made it to the bottom of the staircase, there was a living room off to the right and farther down a kitchen. He could just make out the corner of a table, and one single chair tucked beneath it. Sam looked into the living room to make sure it was all clear before approaching the kitchen. His heart thumped inside his chest. It didn’t matter how many times he entered a dangerous environment, he never got used to it. Becoming too lax could get you killed. His movements were slow but purposeful. He cut the corner of the room and entered. A hand-cranked radio was on but there was no one there. He surveyed the room but couldn’t see anything that would give him cause for concern. Still, someone had to be nearby if music was playing but where?
Anna entered and they pressed on down a corridor that led out of the kitchen down a few steps and along to the store itself. As they got closer to the room that housed all manner of shelves full of canned goods he spotted an older man stacking the shelf.
The floorboard creaked and the old man stopped stacking.
“Come on in,” he said without looking back.
“We’re just here to find a few things, then we will be out of your hair. We’re not going to harm you.”
“Of course you’re not.” He chuckled. The guy turned and smiled. He had to have been in his early seventies. He resembled Mr. Rogers. A thin green sweater, a bland shirt beneath that and old-style gray pants like the ones found in a bargain shop. He shuffled forward to place another can on the shelf and Sam noticed he walked with a limp. “You can put down the gun, it won’t be needed,” he said.
“I can’t do that,” Sam said keeping a firm grip on it.
“Suit yourself.”
Right then he heard a shuffle behind him. He spun around to find a younger woman gripping Anna around the throat with her forearm. In the other hand she held a handgun up to her head. She’d emerged from a side door that no doubt went down to the basement. She wore a jean shirt and dark pants, had short cropped red hair, and looked to be in her late forties. Her face was round, and her cheeks were red.
He put up a hand. “Whoa, whoa. Just wait!”
“Then put your weapon down,” the man said.
“Okay, I’m lowering the gun. Like I said, we don’t mean you any harm.” Sam brought the Glock down to his side. He wasn’t going to let it go but he didn’t want to intimidate them.
“You know how many people have tried to get in here?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. If you want us out, we are gone. Just let my daughter go.”
“I shot the last person who entered. Guy lived but I swear he regretted entering.”
Was he lying or telling the truth?
“How many of you are out there?” he asked.
“A couple,” Sam replied.
“That’s not what it looks like outside.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Wanted to see how honest you were.”
“Hey look, man, I’m not playing with you. We’re just traveling through trying to get back to Colorado and we needed to—”
“Colorado. Where?”
“Breckenridge.”
He snorted. “Never heard of it.”
Sam’s eyes darted to the woman again. He could have shot her but he had a sense they weren’t going to harm Anna otherwise they would have killed them both by now. He was about to speak up when Anna said, “I just need some maxipads. No food. No water. I have cash.”
“Dad?” the woman holding Anna spoke up.
The old man stared at Anna for a second or two then walked across the room and grabbed a packet of pads and tossed them to Sam. The woman fished into Anna’s pocket and removed a twenty-dollar bill. Next, he motioned for them to head out the way they came. “Can’t let you out the front door as we haven’t opened it since this kicked off. You know, I could hold you here until the law shows up but I won’t. From one father to another I understand but that don’t give you the right to break in.”
It would have been easy to kill them and clean out their store but that wasn’t his way. He didn’t just kill innocent people, or at least those without just cause. Right now they had enough food and water in the truck.
“You attending Harvard?” the old man asked as they made their way to the second floor. He’d noticed her hoodie.
“Yeah. You ever go there?” Anna asked.
“No, I was a Princeton man myself. What were you studying?”
For someone that wanted them out he was asking an awful lot of questions.
“Psychology.”
Sam looked at Anna. He had no idea what she was taking and he hadn’t thought to ask in light of all that had occurred.
“Ah, understanding the human mind. Well, I’m sure you’ll learn a lot about the way people think through this event.”
The woman released Anna and pushed her into the bathroom. Sam slipped by her and looked back at the man and woman. “Don’t come back. Next time, I won’t be as generous,” the man said. Sam nodded and climbed out of the window, slid down the roof and hopped to the ground. He looked up to see the woman looking at them as they made their way back to the truck.
“Well that was an experience,” Anna said.
“Why did you pick psychology?” Sam asked.
“Of all the times, you ask me now?”
“Just curious.”
Anna tapped her temple as she went around to the other side of the truck.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said before she got in. Sam stood there for a few seconds longer with his hand on the door handle. He looked back but could no longer see the woman. He had a feeling they were still watching, at least the old man was. As he got in Mason shot him a sideways glance.
“Run into any trouble?”
He shook his head. “Nothing we couldn’t handle,” he said before looking back at Anna. “Got what we needed, let’s go.” As they peeled out of there and continued on their way, Sam’s mind was full of questions for his daughter. There was still so much about her that he didn’t know. Years and years he’d missed out on. He didn’t know what her favorite color was, what food she liked or what her dreams were. As his mind went back and forth from the past to the present, he couldn’t help but wonder how things would have gone had he stuck around, had Richard not interfered in his relationship with Helen.
ELEVEN - DELAYS
Albany was a total nightmare. A graveyard of vehicles littered the highway making it virtually impossible to cut through without slowing down to a crawl so they chose to go around, heading southwest — a direction that Sam would forever regret. What should have been a three and a half hour journey from Mason’s home if they didn’t stop, doubled, eating away at the daylight, their nerves and supplies. Mason tapped the fuel gauge as they saw signs for Sloansville, a small hamlet in Schoharie County. Like any hamlet in the USA, if you blinked you’d miss it. It was located at the intersection of U.S. Route 20 and New York State Route 30A. There wasn’t much to the place. Clapboard homes lined the main stretch, with many of the houses nestled behind woodland. As they got closer to the intersection, all of them turned their heads to gaze upon a police cruiser that had slammed into a liquor store, leaving a gaping hole in the window. Fortunately there didn’t appear to be any officer inside. Multiple bottles of liquor were shattered on the ground, and the back of the cruiser had the word: PIGS sprayed over it in red. It was framed by black smoke from homes nearby that had burned to the ground, and were smoldering away — nothing more than charred remains.
“Keep driving, Mason,” Lisa said, tapping him on the shoulder nervously.
“We’re nearly out of gas.”
“Then use the canister in the back,” she said.
“We already have. This truck doesn’t give many miles to the gallon.”
“Then why the hell did you have me buy it?”
“Because it was a deal,” he said easing off the gas. “I didn’t know we were going on a road trip.”
She huffed but continued. �
�Well at least get us through to the next town, this doesn’t look safe.”
“Haven’t you heard anything I’ve just said? We are coasting on fumes right now.”
Sam pointed across the intersection. “Pull into the Mobil station but kill the engine and let it glide in.”
“I doubt they are going to have gas, the last four stations were dry.”
“They might not but those vehicles parked around the side might,” Sam said twisting in his seat. “Anna, can you reach back and grab that hose, and the canister.”
The truck drifted across the street and came to a standstill near two trucks. Sam picked up his Glock and hopped out of the vehicle.
“What about me? I can help,” Anna said.
“Can you shoot a gun?” Mason asked.
“No.”
“Then it’s probably best you stay put.”
Sam’s gaze bounced between them as Mason closed the door and trudged away. Sam leaned in and tapped her leg. “Remind me to show you how,” he said before pointing to the Glock. She smiled ever so slightly.
As he turned back to the station, he noticed all the windows had been blocked out by newspaper. In his mind there could have only been a couple reasons; one was to avoid prying eyes, the other was if they had closed up shop. He instructed Chase to see if he could siphon out some gas while he went and checked the main doors. He hadn’t got within a few feet of the door when he heard a voice, and a radio playing, as well as what sounded like someone having sex. His heart sped up and he turned and motioned to Anna to tell Chase to speed things up. She stared back at him with a blank expression and then it dawned on him. He was so used to using hand signals in the military he just figured everyone was familiar with them. Staying low he backed up and went around the corner to tell Chase.
“Pick up the speed.”
Mason’s brow pinched. “We got company?”
He nodded.
“Good news, this has fuel,” Chase said spitting out a mouthful of fuel and then thrusting the end of the tube into the steel canister.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Sam said to Mason as he returned to the main doors and tried to see who was inside. The best course of action against a threat under these circumstances was avoidance and he had no intention of busting in there and opening fire. They would get what they needed and leave.
A gruff male voice hollered, “Archer, you know I’m not sure your brother is gonna like this. We were meant to get the others—”
“Screw him. He can wait. I’m not his whipping boy.”
“Don’t let him catch you saying that.”
“Gabe, shut up, man, you’re putting me off.”
The sound of a guy heaving continued, and a woman groaned louder.
Sam peered between the newspapers and saw several wind-up flashlights facing the ceiling. They lit up the inside providing enough light for him to spot one guy sitting in a lawn chair smoking a cigar, and taking swigs from a can of beer. He looked ordinary enough, a plaid shirt, baseball cap, torn jeans and yellow workman boots. “You know, Archer, I’m worried about your brother’s mental state.”
“Eight years inside can change a man,” Archer replied.
“You trust him then?”
More grunting ensued. “He’s flesh and blood. Of course.”
Sam turned and saw Chase move to the next vehicle.
“Ah, I don’t know about that. Killing that cop the way he did, that wasn’t right. To me that’s just asking for trouble. For all we know the lights could come back on, then what?”
“You worry too much, and you talk too much. Now shut up.”
Sam shifted along the window until he was on the opposite side. He peered through another gap and squinted. He still couldn’t see the other guy, but he had to be close as he could hear him clearly.
“I’m stepping out to take a piss.”
“Well grab me a beer from the truck.”
Sam’s eyes widened and he made a whistling sound to get Mason’s attention. Mason tapped Chase on the shoulder and he yanked the tube out of the second vehicle and they double-timed it behind it. It was too late to move their truck so he waved for them to get down. Anna and Lisa dropped, and Sam pulled back behind the door. He pressed his back tight against the glass and waited. From inside he could hear approaching boots. His heart began slamming in his chest so he took a few slow breaths to control his breathing.
When the door opened, Gabe stepped out, turned to his right and then stopped. The door closed behind him and Sam rose up.
“What the hell?” Gabe said, looking at their truck. Without looking he backed up reaching for the handle only to bump into Sam. Before he had a chance to turn, or mutter a word, Sam clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him to the ground pressing the barrel of his gun into his side.
“Shhhh! Don’t even breathe.”
Once he had him on the ground, he let out a short whistle and Mason and Chase emerged to continue siphoning. He also motioned with two fingers to Mason to take over his position and keep an eye on those inside while he dragged Gabe to the corner of the building.
“How many are inside? Nod once for one, twice for two. You understand?”
The guy mumbled behind his hand.
“Don’t say a word. Now how many?”
Gabe nodded twice.
“You sure?”
He nodded again.
“Any others coming?”
Gabe shook his head.
“You packing?” He glanced down but didn’t see a holster. He would need to pat him down but he wasn’t going to take his gun off him, and Mason had placed the zip ties in a bag inside the truck. Once Sam had him around the corner he pressed him up against the wall of the store and kept his forearm on his windpipe so he could barely breathe.
“I’m going to release the pressure on your neck. You shout, and I’ll squeeze this trigger. You understand?”
Gabe nodded. He had a look of fear in his eyes, the kind that made it clear that he wasn’t going to be a problem. Years of taking people down, looking into the eyes of insurgents, he’d got a feel for those who would be trouble. Call it a gut feeling, or years of experience but he liked to think he had a knack for it, even though sometimes he got it wrong. Sam released the pressure on his neck and Gabe gasped. Sam quickly patted him down but he didn’t have anything except a large hunting knife. He relieved him of that and tucked it into the small of his back. “What do you want?” Gabe asked.
“Just some gas and then we’re out of here.”
“They’re out.”
Sam jerked his head. “Those vehicles aren’t.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“It’s already done,” Sam said.
Gabe gritted his teeth.
Sam motioned with his head to the cop car across the road. “What happened there?”
Gabe turned his head ever so slightly. “Does it matter?”
Sam pressed the tip of the barrel harder into his stomach.
“Okay, okay. Things got out of control. People were looting. The cops showed up and…” He trailed off and looked down at the ground. “Look, I wasn’t involved but others were and if you had a lick of sense you would get the hell out of here now.”
Sam smiled. “Did your buddy in there do it?”
The guy shut down and wouldn’t say another word.
Right then, they heard the sound of a rifle and glass shattering. For only a second, Sam took his eyes off Gabe but it was long enough for him to slap the gun to the side and head-butt him. It all happened so quickly. Sam staggered back as Gabe tried to make a break for it. Sam gripped his nose and turned and fired one round hitting him in the leg. Gabe buckled and rolled, screaming in agony.
Coming around the corner he saw the other guy, the one Gabe had called Archer, on top of Mason pressing his rifle down with both hands. A woman wearing no top came out screaming, holding a shard of glass in her hand, and went for Mason. Mason twisted and she missed. Sam didn’t hesitate.
He fired a round straight through her skull. Archer flashed a look of anger before he retreated back into the station. Sam turned to find Gabe no longer on the ground, he was gone, dragging his leg and heading onto the main road. Sam hurried over and dragged Mason out of there just as more rounds zipped over their heads and more glass shattered.
Chase was already in the driver’s side and yelling for them to get in but getting to their truck was the problem. Archer kept them under heavy fire. By the sounds of it he was using an automatic. He fired multiple times at their vehicle taking out the windscreen. All Sam could think of was Anna.
He knew if he didn’t stop Archer immediately, the chance of them surviving was nil.
“You okay?” he asked Mason.
He nodded.
“Cover me. I’m going around back.”
Mason rose to a knee and unleashed several rounds forcing Archer back. Sam hurried around the rear of the building and tugged on the back door. It opened and he slipped inside. He could hear Archer returning fire and then changing his magazine. “You sonofabitch!”
Sam moved down the narrow corridor, keeping his back pressed to the wall. He turned into the store itself. There were several aisles that had been stripped of products, and coolers were against the wall. To the right of him was a food mart area with a cash register. Archer never heard him coming. He slipped down two aisles and took aim. One round was all it took to the back and he slumped. Sam moved in, scanning for threats before he turned over the guy. He was still alive, barely. Blood trickled out the corner of his mouth and he had this wild look in his eyes. He coughed and more blood came out. Sam patted him down, removed his M4 rifle and several magazines stuffed in his pockets. He looked into Archer’s face. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five years of age. Archer grabbed a hold of his pant leg and for a second Sam thought he was going to say something then his eyes just closed.
When Sam emerged, Mason was already at the truck.
At first he thought it was Anna that was injured but it was Lisa. She’d taken a bullet to the leg and was screaming in pain. “It’s okay. It’s okay, it only clipped you,” Mason said trying to calm her down. Anna had tears streaking her cheeks and she was shaking.
