by N.W. Harris
“Maurice?” Shane asked the short and stocky bronze-skinned teenager who stepped out from behind the parking lot attendant’s booth sitting in the middle of the entrance to the garage.
“That I am.” Maurice smiled in a way that made him seem friendly and threatening at the same time. “Have we met before, or does my reputation precede me?” He narrowed his eyes, studying Shane.
“Reputation,” Shane admitted, trying to give the impression he believed he could take on the army of teens surrounding him and win. “Ran into some friends of yours downtown.”
“Yes, so I heard. Y’all did quite the number on those criminals—it’s amazing that y’all are alive,” Maurice answered. Smiling broadly, he laid the barrel of his shotgun over his shoulder and walked closer. “Any enemy of Shamus is a friend of mine.”
Taking Maurice’s outstretched hand and shaking it, Shane studied the gang leader’s brown eyes, trying to decide if he could trust him.
“Why do you guys hate each other?” Shane asked. He knew if he could get Maurice’s army on his side, they’d have a much better chance of getting to the capitol building and shutting down the weapon. But Maurice could be just as bent on keeping things the way they were as Shamus. Having learned from his previous mistake of telling Shamus everything up front, Shane didn’t want to risk divulging his plan until he learned more.
“Shamus is a gangster,” Maurice said, reaching into the cargo pocket of his pants and pulling out an apple. “When the adults and animals went wack, Shamus and his gang of drug-dealing thugs recruited the smaller gangs and anyone else bent on wreaking havoc and took control of the downtown area almost immediately. Y’all wouldn’t have made it out if it weren’t for your toys.” Maurice nodded at the gun in Shane’s hands.
“So what are you guys trying to do?” Shane asked, keeping his face stoic and his voice firm. He didn’t want to show any sign of weakness, feeling like the entire city was a giant tank full of hungry sharks.
“We’re just trying to survive,” Maurice answered sincerely, taking a bite of the apple. “After the world went to crap and Shamus’ gang attacked and killed a few of us, we figured out that we’d have to band together to defend ourselves. We staked out this area of town as our own, and Shamus’ gang has let us be since we started fighting back. Now, what about you? Why are you so bent on heading downtown?”
Looking from Kelly to Tracy and then to Steve and Aaron, Shane tried to decide if he should come out with the truth. Kelly shrugged as if to say, What do we have to lose, and Tracy gave a little nod. The guys were too busy scanning the crowd of armed teenagers surrounding them to notice.
“The adults and animals went berserk because of a top-secret military weapon,” he said, turning his attention on Maurice.
Narrowing his brown eyes, Maurice said, “Go on.”
“We are trying to shut it down.” Shane didn’t want to say too much at once, figuring he could change the story if he didn’t like Maurice’s reaction.
“That would’ve been nice a couple of days ago,” Maurice replied. “But it seems like the damage has already been done. What is the point of shutting it down now?”
“Well, things are gonna get worse. A lot worse,” Shane said sternly. “We tried to explain this to Shamus, but he either didn’t believe us or didn’t care.”
“Probably both,” Maurice said, glowering down the street toward Shamus’ territory. He looked back at Shane. “How do you know all this?”
“We picked up a message on a military radio. It was recorded by a scientist who helped make the weapon,” Shane replied. He wasn’t convinced Maurice had good intentions, but he liked the short, stocky guy a heck of a lot better than Shamus already. “The message said where the weapon is and how to shut it down.”
“And it’s obviously downtown.” Maurice tossed his apple core into the bushes, wiped his hand on his pant leg, and then shifted his shotgun over to his other shoulder.
“Yep, under the Georgia Dome,” Shane replied, not taking his eyes off Maurice’s for even a second. “And the access to the weapon is through a tunnel that’s in the capitol building.”
Maurice scratched the chub hanging beneath his chin with his thick fingers. The stocky leader of the army of teens encircling them reminded Shane of a shorter, darker version of Steve. He studied Shane and his friends for a long moment.
“I’m afraid to ask,” he said. “But what’s gonna happen if we don’t shut this weapon down?”
Upon hearing Maurice use the word we, Shane wanted to jump up and down and hug the jovial-looking kid. Knowing even if they did decide to help, these guys could back out at any moment, he contained his excitement the best he could. “The weapon will cause the animals to turn on us and us to turn on each other like the adults did.”
“Great,” Maurice said, rubbing his free hand across the bushy growth of hair atop his head. “And when is this going to happen?”
“Any moment. It might’ve already started.” Shane glanced at Kelly, remembering how the dog tried to attack her. “So will you help us? We’d have a much better chance of getting downtown with you people on our side.”
“Yeah, I’ll help you,” Maurice replied without hesitation. He looked around at the gun-toting kids comprising his gang. “But I’m not really the big boss here. We’re just sticking together for protection. I’ll try to get as many of these folks to help us as possible, but I can’t make any promises.”
“Thanks,” Shane said, smiling gratefully.
Maurice nodded. He stepped a few feet away from Shane and his group, putting his hands up around his mouth to amplify his voice.
“Gather around people,” he yelled, his booming voice so loud it sounded like he was speaking through a megaphone. “I got some important news to share with y’all.”
The teenagers came down out of the parking garage, and even more exited from the buildings across the street, closing in around Maurice. They wore the expression of shellshock that Shane had seen on most kids’ faces, like they’d all watched their parents die. Thinking back, he didn’t recall seeing the sad expressions on the faces of many of the kids in Shamus’ gang. They must’ve all come from families even more messed up than his own. The thought made him feel sorry for them and miss his dad at the same time.
Maurice spoke with an assertive tone, relaying all that Shane had told him. An impressive orator, Shane wondered if he might’ve become a politician or a preacher if the world Shane, and he reckoned everyone else, had taken for granted hadn’t come to a swift and violent end.
Once Maurice told the kids about the secret weapon and explained that they’d have to fight their way through Shamus’ gang to get downtown where they could shut it down, he paused for a long moment and pivoted around, seeming to look into the eyes of everyone there. No one said a thing, all just looking back at him with expressions that seemed even bleaker than before. They looked like Shane felt when he found out the government was responsible for killing his father and his aunt. Shane felt a surge of anger and sadness well up in him, and he gritted his teeth to keep it from showing on his face.
“Y’all know what Shamus and his gang are capable of, and they don’t want the weapon shut down,” Maurice said, breaking the gloomy silence. “We need people brave enough to fight and not afraid to die.” He looked around. “If you’re willing to go with us, stay where you are. If you’re not, you best head back up the street and put some distance between yourselves and the fighting that’s about to go down.” Maurice pointed away from Shamus’ territory.
Shane held his breath, looking at the somber faces. No one moved for what seemed like an eternity, and Shane became excited at the thought that all these kids were going to help. But then, a tall skinny kid with dark hair and pale skin turned and walked up the street. One by one, other kids looked down at their feet, as if too ashamed to look at Maurice, and turned away, following the lanky, pale boy. Shane’s hope faded as he watched the would-be army dwindle.
