Thy Kingdom Come (Navitas Post-Apocalyptic Series)

by Daniel Adorno

  Avery smiles in triumph and extends his hand to receive the sword. I take off my pack and remove the sword from the top loop. For a moment, I hesitate to give it to him, but Red sidles up next to me. I give the sword to Avery, who grips the sheathed blade in his left hand and admires it like a child receiving a new toy.

  "Now, was that so hard, kid?" he says. Avery turns the sword with his wrist and wraps his right hand around the hilt.

  A bolt of electricity arcs from the hilt, electrocuting Avery. He screams in agony and falls onto his back. The sword drops next to him. Everyone looks on in disbelief including me.

  Red grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me in close. "What was that?! Some kind of booby trap? Answer me!"

  "I...I don't know," I reply.

  Red shoves me back and I hit the ground hard. My elbows scrape the asphalt causing pain to shoot up my arms. Avery is on his feet, clutching his burnt hand. In a split second, he pulls out a revolver tucked in his pants and aims it at me.

  "You're dead, you little punk. Trying to trick me, eh? Bad idea, compadre."

  I shut my eyes, waiting for the gunshot. This isn't how I expected to die. I've failed Zechariah and the Grays. How will they get medicine now? And what about Cassidy? She will starve to death and it's all my fault. Everyone I care for will die. Just shoot me already, Avery.

  A gun fires, but it's not Avery's. It's further away. I open my eyes and watch the Lake Street Gang scramble for cover as a beat-up, gray van screeches down the road alongside the mill. Gunfire erupts from the van's opened side door. Two gang members fall to the ground, struck down by the bullets.

  "Get the rifles!" Avery screams, running to the bed of his pickup. He tosses rifles to his goons who aim at the van and shoot.

  Get out of here, I tell myself. I crawl on all fours and grab my sword. To my relief, it doesn't shock me and is cool to the touch. I rise to my feet, keeping my head low to avoid the flying bullets all around me. The gang no longer cares if I flee, so I bolt out of the mill parking lot while they're distracted by the van.

  I reach Baltimore and feel the adrenaline rush course through me as I distance myself from the carnage. But it doesn't last. The van speeds up several feet behind me. Avery and his thugs' range of fire follows the van, which pulls up alongside me. The passenger door swings open and a teenage girl with pink braided hair pokes her head out.

  "Get in!" She yells.

  Before I can respond, bullets puncture the van's metal exterior and ricochet around me. I throw my arm in front of me to shield my face, but something strikes me on the temple. My head jerks back and hits the pavement. Everything goes black.

  Thirteen

  “Do you know him?” A man’s voice asks.

  “No, but he looks familiar,” a girl replies. I’ve heard her voice somewhere before.

  The world is gray and blurred, but colors seep in. I realize that my eyes are half-opened. I lift my eyelids and pain shoots up along the right side of my face. Two blurry blobs of color hover over me, but as my vision adjusts, I see faces. A man and a teenage girl. I recognize the girl—she’s the one with the pink hair from the van. Her face is thin and sharply defined with prominent cheekbones. The man is older, around my dad’s age before he died. Tufts of gray pepper his dark hair and he examines me with his squinting blue-gray eyes.

  “How are you feeling?” He asks.

  “Like my face was flattened by a truck,” I say, wincing as he prods my temple. “What happened? Where—?”

  “One of those bullets grazed your skull,” the girl says. “You should've got in the van quicker.”

  “Lela,” the man says in a reprimanding tone.

  “What? He was too slow, it’s not my fault or Grandpa’s if he can’t listen!”

  “Please stop talking so loud. It hurts my brain,” I say.

  The man laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ve patched you up now and a dose of meds will help with the pain.”

  “Wait, meds?” I say, attempting to rise from the stretcher I’m lying on. A wave of vertigo rushes over me and I sink back down.

  “Whoa, whoa. Take it easy, kid,” the man says. “Lela, can you fetch me the aspirin in my case?”

  Lela frowns then nods her head and disappears from sight. I try to breathe slowly to control the vertigo and nausea wrestling for control inside my body. I look around my surroundings to distract myself. The room we're in is huge, it reminds me of a dance hall. Chairs and tables are set up throughout the hall. A bar on the opposite side of the room is a meeting spot for dozens of survivors including Lela. Along the wall perpendicular to the bar, cots and makeshift beds line the floor. Some adults and their children are sleeping in the beds. “Where...where am I?”

  “You’re in the community hall off of 12th Street. This where all the Forest Lake survivors are holed up. I’m Lyle Thornton, the resident doctor. You got an awful graze on your temple there and if I had to guess, a mild concussion when you hit the ground. The good news is you’ll be good as new after a few days’ rest, provided Mayor Perkins lets you stay that long.”

  A concussion? That’s the last thing I need right now. I can’t be sidelined, not with Cassidy and Zechariah in danger. But my head is throbbing and the rest of my body is sore from walking, running, and trying to stay alive. I've had more physical exertion these last two days than the last six months in the Grays' basement. And my stomach growls to add to the pain. Where's my backpack? I panic a little inside, wondering if they took my food or worse—my dad's gun or the sword. I need those supplies!

  "Did you come across a backpack?" I ask, trying to control the panic in my voice.

  "Oh yes, it's right there," Dr. Lyle says, pointing at a table nearby.

  My backpack is on top with the sword still tied to it. I wonder if anyone touched the hilt. The electricity that shocked Avery is still a mystery. I need to keep a close eye on the sword. There's no sense in being questioned about it if I don't have answers—that's more attention than I need right now.

  "Do you need anything to drink or eat?" Dr. Lyle asks.

  "Yes, I'm starving," I say, happy for the offer.

  "Well, everyone here is starving to some degree, but we can spare something for a fellow survivor," he offers. "And food will help with a speedier recovery."

  He talks like Mrs. Gray, in that medical and logical tone she uses. It always made me uncomfortable, like I was being diagnosed or patronized. Zechariah wasn't a fan of it either. Her medical tone meant he had done something wrong, and she expressed it through her "doctor speak" as he called it.

  Lela returns carrying a small bottle of aspirin and a plastic tub of some sort. Accompanying her is a much older man—possibly in his sixties. He has a camouflage bandanna tied around his forehead and stringy silver hair reaching to his shoulders. "Here's the meds, Doc. I brought goat cheese too if he's hungry."

  The mention of food energizes me and I slowly lift myself from the stretcher on the floor to a sitting position. The movement makes me dizzy, but I manage it fine. Dr. Lyle seems impressed at the effort and hands me the plastic tub of cheese. "Take a few spoonfuls of that and then we'll give you some meds. Not smart to have medication on an empty stomach."

  I snatch the tub from his grasp and pop the lid open. With a spoon given by Lela, I shove generous spoonfuls of the cheese into my mouth. It has a pungent, bitter taste. We never had goat cheese at the Grays' farm and I haven't eaten the stuff in years. I don’t recall it having such a strong flavor. Whatever. It's food and I consume the entire tub in front of Dr. Lyle, Lela, and the old man.

  "Guess somebody was hungry," Lela says, smirking.

  "What's your name, kid?" the old man asks.

  "Dex. Dex Finnegan," I say, putting the tub down next to me. "You were driving the van, right?"

  "Yep. My name's Bill. Bill Almstedt and this my granddaughter, Lela," he said, tipping his head in her direction. Lela crosses her arms and give me a quick nod. "Lucky thing for you, I was out scouting today. What in the world pos
sessed you to be on the gang's street?" Bill asks.

  "I was trying to visit the clinic to find medicine. There was no other way except crossing Lake Street," I reply.

  "The clinic's been abandoned for months now," Dr. Lyle chimes in. "Avery and his gang have looted everything inside. I managed to get most of the medical supplies moved here before the worst happened."

  Hope springs up inside of me. The medicine is here! Now I need to find transportation to the Grays. Maybe Bill could drive me?

  "What do you need medicine for anyway? Were you expecting to get shot or are you looking for a fix?" Lela asks, raising an eyebrow.

  "Lela!" Bill growls.

  "I'm not a druggie," I say, staring up at her. Her vicious stare doesn't subside. "My friend needs strong painkillers. We had to amputate his leg a few days ago and we're running out of morphine."

  "Just the thing a druggie would say," Lela scoffs.

  Dr. Lyle ignores her comment and crouches down next to me so our eyes are level. I'm uncomfortable by how close he is to me. "Dex, who performed the amputation on your friend's leg? That's a very dangerous procedure in an unsterile environment."

  "My friend's father and I performed the surgery," I say.

  All three of them look at me like I'm a rabid animal. Then I realize how barbaric the whole thing sounds, so I explain how Mrs. Gray coached us through the procedure, trying to reassure them.

  "And she's a surgeon, you say?" Dr. Lyle asks.

  "Yes, Dr. Jessica Gray. She used to work at Regions Hospital before...well, IlluMonday."

  "Jessica? She's alive?" Dr. Lyle asks with eyes wide.

  I nod, surprised that he knows her.

  "What is it, Doc?" Lela asks.

  "Jessica Gray. We went to med school together before I moved back here to start my practice. I didn't know she came back to Forest Lake. Another doctor in this town would be a huge blessing," Dr. Lyle says. That's when I notice the dark circles around his eyes and his somewhat gaunt appearance. The man has patched up patients by himself for over a year. Living in a basement for that long has been tiresome for Mrs. Gray, but she hasn't had to provide medical care for anyone besides her family. Dr. Lyle must be stretched to the breaking point.

  “Dex, I’m sorry to tell you that our supplies are limited. Mayor Perkins has kept a tight rein on distributing food, medicine, and clothing to outsiders. The Lake Street Gang is hoarding everything and they have a high price on any goods we could use,” Bill says with a somber look.

  “I could try convincing this Mayor...?”

  “Perkins,” Lela cuts in. “Good luck. He rations out soup crackers like they’re gold or something. Can’t imagine how he’ll respond to you wanting meds for your fix.”

  “I’m not a druggie!” I yell. My cheeks become flushed when I realize the other people in the hall are now staring in my direction.

  “All right, we don’t need a scene,” Dr. Lyle says, frowning. “Come on, let’s go talk to the Mayor. He’s been waiting for you to come around and hear your story.” He offers me a hand and pulls me to my feet. My legs feel like rubber and I almost fall, but Dr. Lyle steadies me with his hands clasped on my shoulders. Once I get my bearings, the four of us walk over to the bar where several middle-aged men and an old woman are drinking from tall glasses. Behind the counter, an obese man with a bulbous nose and thinning hair watches us approach. His eyes squint at me as I step up to the bar.

  “Hello there,” he says. “I’m Mayor Ralph Perkins and who might you be?”

  “Dex Finnegan."

  “Finnegan, eh? The name rings a bell. Your family resides in town?” The Mayor asks.

  “They did,” I say, averting my eyes and hoping he understands what I mean. He does.

  “I see. Well, let’s discuss your current situation and see how I can help,” he says, flashing a bemused smile.

  Dr. Lyle, Bill, and Lela hang around the bar while I tell Mayor Perkins everything I’ve been through in the last few days. He nods his head every so often, but says nothing. When I mention needing meds for Zechariah, his expression changes. His eyes avoid mine and he leans away from the counter until I’m finished.

  “You’ve been on quite an adventure,” Mayor Perkins says at last. “You’re lucky to be alive, Dex, but I’m afraid we can’t help you here.”

  “Why not?” I ask. My heart beat increases.

  “We’re low on medical supplies and I need to think of the people I govern here. I have a sworn responsibility to the people who live in this town—”

  “I live in this town!” I blurt out. For the second time in less than hour, all eyes are on me. “My friend lives in Forest Lake and he needs your help.”

  Mayor Perkins swallows hard, but his demeanor remains professional and cold. “I am sorry, Dex. The residents in this hall need those supplies and you are an outsider. My generosity will extend for one night, then you must be off in the morning. Dr. Lyle and Bill will get a bed ready for you.”

  “But—”

  A hand gently rests on my shoulder and tugs me away. “Come on, Dex. You shouldn’t get too worked up in your condition,” Dr. Lyle whispers.

  My shoulders droop in defeat as he steers me away from the bar and back to the stretcher I was laying on. I turn for a moment and glare at Perkins. He remains composed and uncaring despite my reaction, chatting with the old lady at the bar as if the whole scene hadn’t occurred. I want to explode and call him a coward for not helping, but I don’t. That’s not what my parents taught me to do.

  “Don’t worry, Dex. You’ll figure out a way to help Zechariah. Sometimes things have a way of working themselves out,” Dr. Lyle says, patting me on the shoulder. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I catch Bill and Lela glance at each other when he says it. Neither says anything.

  Fifteen

  Later that night, I have trouble falling asleep. The cot I’m given is hard as granite and my head is still aching. I can’t stop thinking about Cassidy. She’s asleep by now, but I’m praying she found something to eat before the day was over. I try not to worry about how I’m failing her, but that causes my thoughts to shift to the Grays. They’ve probably run out of painkillers by now, which means Zechariah is in tremendous pain. My headache doesn’t seem so bothersome in comparison. I need to snatch more medicine before I leave this place. Dr. Lyle has been sympathetic so far, maybe he could steal some for me? I hate to put him in that position, but my options are limited. I’ll ask him in the morning before Perkins gives me the boot.

  That still leaves me with Cassidy. How can I help both her and the Grays? Bill’s van is the only GPV in town besides Avery’s truck. I’m not stupid enough to try crossing paths with the Lake Street Gang again, so the van is my last option. The thought of stealing from someone who helped me already gnaws at my conscience. What would my father do? He’d disown me for even considering it. But if I don’t, Cassidy dies.

  If I plead with him, Bill might drive me back home. He was concerned enough to help me before knowing anything about me, so I’m banking on his kindness a second time. All I’d need to do is rob him at gunpoint once we’re in the van together. The only problem I foresee is Lela. She’ll be there with him and she’s a feisty one. I need to figure out how to distract her. God, am I really considering this? This is insane! I can’t do it. There has to be another way—

  “Hey, druggie,” Lela’s whispering voice startles me.

  I turn to my side and see her standing over me, holding a lit candle and smiling. Guilt hits me for scheming against her and her grandfather. “Lela? What’s going on?”

  She shushes me by placing a finger to her lips. “Quiet! Come with me and don't make any noise.”

  We tiptoe through the hall around the dozens of people sleeping on the floor. Lela leads me to a door behind the bar I hadn’t noticed before. It leads into a narrow hallway where men's and women's restrooms are located. Lela turns to face me outside the women’s restroom and tilts her head toward the door. “Go on, get insid
e.”

  “Excuse me?” I say, furrowing my brow.

  “Everyone is inside waiting. Get in! We don’t have all night,” she says, raising her voice above a whisper.

  “Who’s everyone?”

  Lela rolls her eyes, then grabs my arm and tugs me inside the restroom. Then I realize that I left my backpack by the cot. I’m going inside the women’s bathroom in the middle of the night, unarmed with a girl who can’t stand me. Why did I even follow her here?

  Once inside, Lela releases her grip on my forearm. It’s pitch dark inside the restroom due to the lack of any window. Before my eyes can adjust, someone strikes a match and lights a candle on a counter to my left. Three men and a young woman are gathered in the cramped restroom. Their Illumen implants reflect the dancing flame of the candle. Dr. Lyle and Bill are the only two I recognize. The other man is Asian and wears a long, dark coat and thick glasses. He looks middle-aged or older, but it's impossible to tell in the dim light.