by Sean Sweeney
***
“This isn’t going to be like camping out, daddy,” the little girl, Cassie, said, her whiny 6-year-old voice coming right to the point. “When we went camping last year, the ground was soft and the air smelled nice. This,” she said, waving her hand around her, indicating the jagged edged bricks that encompassed their new surroundings, “isn’t so soft. And that tree smells like pee.”
Her father, Daniel, cringed.
“Sweetie, I know it’s bad, but we have to keep our spirits up.”
Cassie pouted and sat on the granite steps between City Hall and the squat federal building.
Daniel’s heart broke; he didn’t like his daughter upset.
But what can I do? he thought. We’ve been uprooted and cast from our home. It’s hard for any little girl to deal with. Hell, it’s hard for me to deal with. He clenched his eyes. Damn it, Carolyn! Why did you have to take that flight to Denver?! Oh God, why did you have to make that volcano erupt when Carolyn was on her way? Why God?!?Why!
Daniel wanted to scream. He refused his grief, though: Daniel, now a single parent, had to be strong for his only child. The grief welled.
There were many times during their trip from Columbus, Ohio to Boston that Daniel wanted to pull over and let the torrent of tears wash over and out of him. It wasn’t a smart idea to let the grief build up; his elders back home in Denver had told him that everyone needed to grieve at some point.
Just thinking about their words, now only in his memories, made him want to flee. Their bodies were now under several feet of ash.
It’s not fair, Daniel thought as he sat down next to his daughter. It’s not fair that Cassie and I live while the rest of our family has perished. A solo teardrop did a long, slow march down his cheek. He wiped it away before Cassie could see it.
A tissue appeared out of thin air next to him. The sight startled him, but when his tear-filled eyes adjusted, he saw who held the tissue.
His jaw fell.
“I thought you might need this,” the woman said.
Daniel took it without a word, until his manners caught up with him.
“Thank you.”
My God, she is beautiful, he thought. She almost looks like my Carolyn.
“My name is Angela, and I’m with the city of Boston. I’m just taking a count of the refugees.”
Daniel’s heart lifted. He felt a surge of emotion that scoured his limbs, making every nerve ending tingle. Every hair stood on end. The air turned cool, making him shiver – although he wasn’t sure it was the end that caused that.
“What do you need from us?” he asked. “It’s really just my daughter and I… now.”
He kept his tears at bay.
Angela marked her clipboard. Daniel could see a stack of papers held down upon it. He also saw no ring on her finger.
For some reason, that excited him.
“And what are your names, and where are you from?”
“I’m Daniel Drake, and this is my daughter, Cassie. We’re from Columbus.”
“O-H.”
“I-O,” Daniel replied instinctively with a smile. Cassie leaned on his side. He wrapped his daughter up in a small blanket. A man in fatigues with a semi-automatic rifle walked by, looking around at everyone. Daniel eyed him warily.
“What’s going on? Why is G.I. Joe acting like he’s looking for Destro?”
Angela shrugged.
“I don’t really know, sir. I haven’t been told much, but –”
A scream rented the air near the pavilion stage. Feet pounded the bricks in a rush, refugees swarming volunteers.
“It’s food!” someone yelled.
“Hey, let’s keep order here!” the military man said, pushing his way through the crowd. Someone grabbed the gun and downed him, issuing the butt of the rifle into the man’s gut. More people surged forward. Other men with rifles tried to fight their way through the horde, but it was useless.
Daniel and Angela watched from the top level. They sat there horror stricken, as if the people below had lost their minds.
Daniel looked to the crowd, then down to Cassie, who had fallen asleep despite the tumult. He looked back to the mob below, which now saw more military men trying to control them.
It wasn’t working, Daniel could see. Loaves of bread took off like planes departing Logan, coming down as if clueless pilots were at the controls. Rounded cheese flew up and landed without bouncing.
Then the gunshots cracked. Screams blistered the air, caroming off the concrete and bricks. Cassie woke up this time. Her face showed fright upon it.
Daniel made a quick decision. He picked Cassie up, the blanket clinging to her. He moved toward Congress Street. Angela, however, stayed rooted to the spot, unmoving and not knowing that Daniel and Cassie had left her there.
Daniel didn’t realize it, either, but that wasn’t in his control. He had Cassie in his arms as he ran for the stairway near the federal building. Several others ran alongside. He made the quick dash carrying his sweet burden as fast as he could. He hurried north along Congress Street and looked for his car.
He found his car covered in a light coating of ash. He wiped the handle and opened the door.
“Get in the back seat, sweetie,” he said.
“Daddy, where are we going? Another car ride? I thought this is where we were going to stay.”
“I know honey, but just do as I ask, okay?”
Cassie didn’t put up another argument. She got in and buckled her seat belt by herself before Daniel hurried around the front to his seat.
A mob spilled out of City Hall Plaza. Several carried bricks, as if they ripped them out of the ground. They walked to the north.
Daniel tried the ignition. The engine groaned, but it wouldn’t start.
“Come on, turn over you stupid, fucking –”
“Language, daddy!”
“Sorry, sweetie. Sometimes I need to –”
Glass shattered around them. Cassie screamed as the brick zipped through the windshield. Daniel gasped. The car began rocking as the throng reached them. More glass shattered, this time on other cars.
“Shit!” Daniel tried the engine again, and finally it sang a revving chorus. Daniel laughed.
“Gun it, daddy! Let’s get out of here.”
Daniel didn’t care there were people surrounding his car, or that there was a large hole in the middle of his windshield. He put the car in drive and drove his right foot onto the accelerator, turning the wheel left. He didn’t hit the brake.
Several of the rioters fell to the ground, grasping their broken legs and hips. Some landed on the hood of Daniel’s Mazda, but couldn’t hang on for long as he sped away from the scene. They cracked their heads on the pavement. Others simply got out of the way. Others weren’t so lucky.
Daniel made a U turn when he got to Faneuil Hall, heading north on Congress. He thanked God for the steel fencing on the traffic island. He sped away toward the North End, his dented Mazda keeping to the road. Ash slid off the car like snow on the highway in winter.
A tank nearly cut him off as he meandered closer to the submerged Central Artery. Daniel swerved and nearly hit the stationary military men, all of whom lifted their weapons after the fact.
Cassie just giggled.
She stopped as the sound of bullets against the chassis tinkled. None hit the tires.
Sweat slicked Daniel’s forehead as he drove away, beads sliding down his bloodless face.
“We need to find a safe place, sweetie.”
“But where, daddy?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just drive and hope we don’t find any road closures.”
They didn’t find any as they drove north out of Boston; but they did not stop anywhere in Massachusetts. They looked northward to less populated areas – places where they would be the only refugees, places where they could grieve privately.
Daniel also wanted to change their names: For what he just did on the streets of Boston, he didn�
�t want to be found by anyone.
Not even by Angela.
THE END
Visit Sean online:
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Join Sean’s mailing list and get updates on his work straight to your email!
Email Sean!
[email protected]
Fan of Sean’s work? Find him on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/seansweeneyauthor
Like what you’ve read? Sean Sweeney has something for every member of the family: check out more books and stories!
For young adults:
Zombie Showdown
For adults:
The Jaclyn Johnson, code name Snapshot series
Model Agent: A Thriller
Rogue Agent: A Thriller
Double Agent: A Thriller
Promises Given, Promises Kept: A Jaclyn Johnson novella
Federal Agent: A Thriller
Literary Agent: A Thriller
Jail Bird Jenny: A Jaclyn Johnson short story
Travel Agent: A Thriller
Chemical Agent: A Thriller
Ticket Agent: A Thriller (coming early 2017)
Redeemed
Scollay Love (under the name D.L. Boyd)
Royal Switch: A Major League Thriller
An Invitation to Drink… and to Die
The Lone Bostonian
The Long Crimson Line
Freedom (with David Wood)
The Peg-Legged Privateer: A Tattered Sails novel (coming Fall 2016)
The Alex Bourque Small Town PI series
Cold Altar
Voir Dire
Beach Blanket Bloodshed
The Obloeron Saga
The Rise Of The Dark Falcon
The Shadow Looms
Krampel’s Revenge
The Quest For The Chalice
The Return To Lowbridge
The Fall of Myrindar
Short stories
Belief Debt: Paid In Full (Part of Christopher Nadeau’s Not in the Brochure anthology)
C is for Coulrophobia (Part of the Phobophobia anthology)
Red Christmas (Part of the Bump in the Night 2011 anthology)
Refugees: A short story of survival
Writing As John Fitch V
One Hero, A Savior
Turning Back The Clock
A Galaxy At War
The Mastermind: A novella
Short stories
Sidetracked
Amber Twilight
Vuvuzombie
About the Author
Sean Sweeney’s love of reading began in 1988, when he was handed J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic The Hobbit. His passion for writing began in 1993, as a sophomore in high school, when he began writing sports for his local newspaper. Born and raised in North Central Massachusetts, Sweeney has written for several newspapers. When he is not writing, he enjoys playing golf, reading, watching movies, enjoying Boston sports teams, Arsenal F.C., and the Gold Coast F.C. He and his wife, Jennifer, have two horses—Alex and Jesse—as well as five cats: Ziggy Puff, Diva, Spooky, Squeaky, and Roxie. They live in Bolton, Massachusetts.
