The Catalyst: (Book One)

by Devi Mara

  The scrunch of snow under their boots broke the tomblike silence. Robin glanced around the backyard.

  “Which way?”

  George pointed to the north and started across the lawn. Robin quickly followed. They passed through the gate of Mrs. Winters’ privacy fence and into the alley behind her house. The wind whipped down the narrow street, rattling the bare tree limbs overhead. Robin ducked her head and trudged after George.

  He led the way down the alley and across two streets, before turning into a backyard. Another Victorian mansion, but not as well kept as Mrs. Winters’.

  “Here?”

  George shushed her and nodded. He crept up the stairs of the back porch and tried the knob to the kitchen door. When it turned easily, he glanced over his shoulder at her. Robin frowned.

  “Be careful,” she whispered.

  George slipped inside, leaving Robin standing on the porch. She looked around. Several houses looked into the backyard, dozens of dark windows staring at her. Robin shivered, as a strong wind tore at her coat. Suddenly, something grabbed her arm. She swung around, hand already balled into a fist, only to pause at the sight of George’s startled face.

  They stared at each other for a moment, before he looked away to scan the backyard.

  “See anything?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, come on.”

  Robin followed him into the kitchen and paused. The house was cold. Someone had turned off the heat before they left. George pointed toward the hallway and Robin followed him to a door just outside a kitchen. With a grin, he opened it and gestured dramatically. Robin suppressed a smile and leaned around the edge of the door. A pantry.

  “There’s enough here to feed us for weeks,” George whispered, smiling at the rows of canned goods.

  If they could move it. Robin left George at the pantry and wandered down the hallway. Three hooks next to the front door held two sets of keys. Robin peeked out the window in the door to see two cars in the driveway. One up on blocks.

  “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder, pocketing both sets of keys.

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “To check the car.” Robin turned to look at him.

  “I’ll watch from the door.”

  Robin nodded and eased the door open. It opened two inches before letting out a piercing screech. Robin froze. She could hear George’s strained breathing from just behind her. When nothing moved outside, she sent him a quick glance. He nodded.

  The door opened the rest of the way without a sound. Robin clenched both sets of keys in her hand and stepped out onto a worn welcome mat. Her eyes scanned the dark houses across the street.

  “Robin!” George whispered.

  Robin jumped, whipping her head around to glare at him. “Yes?”

  “Be careful. There have been gangs roaming this area.”

  “Right.”

  George stepped back and pushed the door closed. A moment later, his face appeared in the window. He gave her a thumbs up.

  “Great,” Robin muttered.

  She turned back to the driveway and made her way down the sidewalk. Gangs. Perfect. Reaching the car, she tried both sets of keys. The second set opened the door and she slid into the driver’s seat.

  “The moment of truth.”

  Robin turned the key. The engine sputtered. She pressed the accelerator a couples times and tried the key again. The car started at the same time a shotgun fired. Robin lurched over in the seat and covered her head with her arms. The blast came again, joined by yelling. The passenger side door flew open and George threw himself into the car.

  “Go! Go, now!”

  Robin threw the car into drive and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The car lurched forward, racing down the driveway. Robin kept her head down, barely able to see over the dash. The driver’s side window exploded a moment before she heard a loud thud and the car lurched.

  “Did I just…?”

  “Just go! Go!”

  The tires slipped when she hit the street, but she kept her foot on the accelerator until they caught. She drove until the crack of the gunshots faded. Then, she pulled over and put the car in park.

  “Did I hit someone?”

  George glanced at her. His face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. He nodded.

  “Oh, no. No, no, no, no.” Robin rubbed at her face. “Do you think they are…?”

  George nodded.

  “It was an accident.”

  “They were trying to kill us,” George said. “They were shooting at us.”

  “But I killed someone!”

  Robin struggled to slow down her breathing, as George watched her silently from the passenger seat. When her heartbeat was back to normal, she chanced a look in his direction. He was frowning.

  “They probably took the food.”

  Robin stared at him.

  “I don’t know of anyone else who stocks up like Mr. Baker.” George shook his head. “Let’s call it a day. Start again tomorrow.”

  Robin cleared her throat. “Alright.”

  The ride back to Mrs. Winters’ house was spent in silence. Robin parked the car in the alley. She returned George’s wave, as he walked to the end of the road and turned left. Once she was sure he was not coming back, she climbed back into the car and started the engine. She had to leave, get away from all of it.

  George was more concerned about missing out on a food stash than the death of another person. Had society crumbled so quickly? Addar told her to go to Quincy. That it was safe. She leaned her forehead against the worn leather steering wheel. Safe from his people maybe, but not from hers. And the gangs. Roving packs of people with guns. It was insane.

  Something tapped on the window and Robin jerked her head up. Mrs. Winters stood beside the car, bundled up from head to toe with only her face exposed. She waved one mittened hand. Robin forced a smile.

  “Are you coming in, dear?”

  Robin nodded.

  …

  George arrived just after 6 AM the next morning. The sun peeked over the horizon just enough to light the front parlor. Robin stood near the window, as Mrs. Winters went to open the kitchen door. Ice had formed along the front sidewalk and street overnight, making them shine in the morning light.

  “Good morning, Robin.”

  Robin forced a smile and turned toward the door. George leaned in the doorway, Mrs. Winters nowhere in sight.

  “Are you ready to go?” His smile was kind and a faint blush colored his cheeks.

  Maybe, she was wrong to think badly of him. The world was not the same as it had been. So much had changed in just a week. Her mother always said law was the only thing that kept some people from anarchy. Robin sighed. Perhaps, George had his priorities correct and it was she that was wrong.

  “Yes. Let me just get my coat.”

  Robin walked past George to the closet and retrieved her coat. He helped her into it at the back door and she murmured her thanks. Robin followed him across the backyard, the frozen grass crunching beneath their feet. George went directly to the passenger door of the car and climbed in. Robin paused for a moment, before pulling the keys from her pocket and settling in the driver’s seat.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Turn left at the end of the alley and go two blocks. We’re headed for the yellow house on the right.”

  Robin nodded and started the car.

  The engine rumbled to life and a flock of birds erupted from the trees in the neighbor’s backyard. Robin pressed gently on the accelerator until the tires caught on the ice and the car began to move. The turn at the end of the alley became a controlled slide, as the classic car hit a patch of ice and slid sideways around the corner.

  At a flash of movement from the corner of her eye, she glanced to the left. There was nothing. Her gaze stayed on the hedges and the house beside them until they were out of sight. She followed George's directions to a large, yellow Victorian around the corner. The
paint was peeling and it was missing one of the upstairs shutters. Robin parked the car at the curb and shut off the engine.

  "So, what now?"

  George opened his door. "Now we hurry."

  Robin followed him out of the car. They hurried across the lawn and between two houses to come around to the back. Overgrown with weeds and dead ivy, the kitchen door was barely visible. George looked over his shoulder at her, before trying the doorknob. The moment he touched the door, it swung open with a loud screech.

  George stepped inside and after a quick glance around gestured for her to follow him. Robin moved through the doorway and closed the door behind her. Finding nothing in the kitchen, Robin took the bottom floor. Searching the living room, and even the closets, for any canned or preserved food.

  George took the creaky staircase to the second floor. She could hear him walking around upstairs, the old floorboards creaking in distress. After ten minutes, neither of them had discovered anything. George trotted down the stairs, his footsteps sounding like thunder, and joined Robin in the kitchen. For a moment, the two of them just looked at each other.

  "What now?"

  George looked around, frowning. "I just don't get it. Mr. Harris ordered a box of canned goods every week for three years. There's no way he used it all and he wasn't one for donating." He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "It has to be around here somewhere."

  Robin followed his gaze around the kitchen, lingering on the cabinets they had already searched. As she looked at the door to the empty pantry, her eyes caught on an imperfection in the wall to the left of the door. Robin cocked her head to the side and moved toward it.

  She raised her hand to run her fingertips over the strange mark. The wallpaper dipped and she followed the edge of the wood in the shape of a circle. All at once, it gave way. The outline of the circle turned out to be a hidden doorknob.

  "George..." Robin glanced over her shoulder.

  George immediately moved toward her and paused at her side. The two of them looked at the revealed doorknob and then each other. George was the first to make a move. He reached for the doorknob and opened the door. The weak daylight streaming through the windows revealed a dark staircase

  "It's probably down there." George looked at her for confirmation.

  Robin looked from him to the dark staircase and nodded.

  George pulled a small flashlight from one of his pants pockets and clicked it on. The light illuminated sixteen steps and the concrete floor at the bottom. George swallowed hard and started down the steps. He turned around to look at her. Robin followed him.

  The basement was at least ten degrees colder than the rest of the house. On the way down, Robin tucked her hands into her pockets. The basement had been sectioned off into multiple rooms. The one they stood in was no larger than ten feet by ten feet. There was a door to the right and to the left. George motioned left and Robin nodded.

  The door opened up to a home gym. From the thick layer of dust over everything, it was obvious the owner had long since abandoned it. George pulled the door closed and they moved toward the door on the right. The flashlight immediately illuminated a box of canned goods.

  "See, I told you." George grinned over his shoulder at her.

  Robin smiled as the flashlight found another box of canned goods and then another. A second later, the smile slipped from her face.

  The beam of light found a booted foot. Slowly, as if in slow motion, George settled the flashlight on a man's face. Robin tensed. The man leaned against the wall with a shotgun lying across his lap. One hand was on the gun and the other lay relaxed at his side. But it was not the gun that attracted her gaze.

  The concrete wall behind the man's head was painted a bright crimson. Globs of flesh stuck to the surface like macabre texturing. George turned away from the sight and rushed out of the room. Robin could hear him retching, as she stayed frozen in place. After a few minutes, the sound of vomiting stopped and George staggered up behind her.

  "I've known him for fifteen years. He and my dad used to bowl together. I can't believe..."

  "I'm sorry." Robin met George's gaze.

  "There's nothing to be done for it. We should get the food and go."

  Robin nodded.

  Each of them grabbed a box to carry up the stairs. Robin made four trips, before she stopped to get the car. She drove around the entrance of the alley and parked the car in the backyard, backing it up to the kitchen door. She opened the trunk and went into the house to grab a box. As George carried the boxes up from the basement, Robin loaded the trunk.

  She came back into the house as he was putting the last box on the table.

  "All set?"

  "That one will have to go in the backseat."

  "Alright then." George hefted the box and followed her to the car.

  "I'll close the door." Robin hurried over to lock up the house, as George struggled to get the box into the backseat.

  Once it was done, they both got in the car. The drive back to Mrs. Winters’ house was filled with a companionable silence. As they turned down the alley behind Mrs. Winters’ house, thick black smoke closed in around them. The closer they came to the house, the thicker the smoke grew. Robin’s heartbeat increased, her hands squeezing the steering wheel hard, as some part of her already knew what they would find when they reached Mrs. Winters’ house. She slowed and finally stopped at the back gate.

  Fire swallowed the house. Engulfing the structure, it spread to the neighboring houses and set fire to the fence bordering the alley. George leapt out of the car as it was still rolling. Robin slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting him as he ran in front of the car. Robin started to put the car in park when movement from the corner of her eye drew her gaze. The sharp crack of a gunshot split the air. It was quickly followed by another. She saw George fall a moment before something slammed up against the driver's side door.

  It hit the window again and Robin realized it was the butt of a rifle. Robin smacked her hand down on the door lock, as another figure approached the passenger door. She jammed her foot down on the accelerator. The tires spun but the car didn't move. Someone tried to open the passenger side door and Robin caught a glimpse of a handgun before the tires gripped and the car shot forward.

  Zigzagging wildly down the alley, she sideswiped a line of trash cans and the passenger door slammed closed. At the end of the alley, she jerked the wheel to the right and the car fishtailed around the corner. She drove three blocks before she calmed down enough to think rationally.

  His parents owned a grocery store less than ten blocks away. They deserved to know what happened to their son and to receive the food he worked so hard to get. Decision made, Robin eased up on the accelerator and turned right at the next corner to head toward the grocery store.

  The streets were still empty and silent, but it seemed more sinister than it had before. Robin avoided looking in the rearview mirror at the black smoke that was slowly taking over the horizon. When she reached the heart of Quincy, Robin slowed down to carefully scan each storefront.

  George had never mentioned the name of the grocery store or its exact location. Finally, Quincy Deli and Market appeared on the left. Robin swung the car into one of the many open parking spaces and put the car in park.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Robin sat on the pallet and leaned back against the wall. Made from a sleeping bag and two blankets, the pallet was thick enough to act as a buffer between her and the cold concrete floor but too thin to be truly comfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest and let her gaze wander over the interior of the grocery store.

  George's parents sat at a folding card table near the front window of the store. Only a sliver of late afternoon sun could be seen between the boards covering the glass. As if sensing her gaze, George's mother glanced in her direction. Robin smiled and George's mother returned it with a weak smile of her own. A moment later, the woman rose from her chair to approach Robin.

  "I
hope this will be okay for you. I'm sorry we don't have anything else..."

  Robin shook her head. "This is fine, thank you."

  Shannon nodded and glanced toward the store room in the back. "I hope you know we appreciate what you did. George Sr. and I..."

  "I understand." She watched Shannon’s lower lip quiver before firming.

  "You're welcome, as long as you want to stay." She waited for Robin to nod, before returning to her chair at the folding table.

  Robin watched George's father, George Sr., deal Shannon a hand of cards. Robin watched them play pinochle for a few minutes, before she stood and wandered toward the store room. The space, twenty feet by fifteen feet, was filled with tall shelves. She had no doubt, in usual circumstances, every shelf would have been filled with canned goods. But with the boxes she and George had gathered from the house, only half of one of the eight shelves was full. It would last the three of them a matter of weeks, two at the most.

  Robin sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. Life had become an unending pursuit of food, shelter, and safety. Is that all there was to life, anymore?

  "Dr. Kay."

  Robin glanced over her shoulder to see Shannon and George Sr. staring at her expectantly. She left the store room to approach their table. When George gestured to the chair, Robin sat.

  "Would you like to join us for a game?"

  Robin's gaze wandered to the window. She shook her head. "I should move the car."

  "Now?" Shannon raised her eyebrows.

  "Yes. Before it gets dark."

  "How far away are you planning to park?"

  Robin glanced at George. "Two blocks, maybe three."

  Shannon nodded. "In case they try to follow the car. The ones who..."

  Robin did not reply, but she did not have to. All three of them knew who Shannon meant.

  "I should be back in less than an hour."

  Robin left through the door in the store room. It led to a narrow, dingy alley. A large dumpster blocked most of the view from the street. After checking to make sure the door closed fully, Robin trudged toward the mouth of the alley. At the street, she looked both ways. When nothing moved, she navigated the patches of ice on the sidewalk and rounded the corner of the building.