by E S Richards
Failing to find his girlfriend, Dixon’s eyes rested on General Shepherd instead. He had clearly been awaiting the president’s arrival, rushing forward to greet the man and to get confirmation that he was able to take control. The president offered the general a nod, moving deeper into the bunker where his own family were waiting for him.
“Sir,” Dixon saluted as the general approached him, his tens of medals dazzling even under the dim emergency lighting.
“You report to me now, soldier.” General Shepherd returned Dixon’s salute as he spoke, advancing out of the bunker and away from the president and those hidden beside him.
Dixon was more than happy to follow, falling into step just behind the man and awaiting whatever orders would come. He was uncertain how they would deal with such a natural disaster, most of their drills revolved around advancements from other countries. This was something Dixon hadn’t trained for since he was engaged in active duty.
They had just made it out of the final reinforced doors—General Shepherd swiping out of each with a key card—when all the lights suddenly cut out.
“Shit,” General Shepherd swore. “That was lucky.”
“Sir?” Dixon questioned in the darkness, uncertain how being plunged into compete darkness could be regarded as lucky.
“They’re all stuck in there now, soldier. No emergency power: no way out of the bunker. Or back in, for that matter. From here on out the president is inaccessible. Now stick to your right hand wall, we’ve got a country to save.”
Chapter 14
Amy forced herself to breathe as she stared at the dying man on her living room carpet. Zephyr didn’t say a word, his eyes also fixed on the man he had just stabbed, the man he had broken into Amy’s house with.
“What—”
Amy started to speak, her voice snapping Zephyr back to the real world. In an instant he turned and sprinted out of the room, slamming her front door behind him and leaving Amy in a state of shock. She rushed to the window, watching as the man who had served her coffee with a smile on his face on countless mornings jumped into a truck and drove away. Leaving her with a dying—possibly already dead—man on her carpet.
James suddenly flashed into her mind. She had told him to run and he had listened, fleeing the living room and escaping into the kitchen. But how much farther had he run? Where was her son now? The dead man suddenly didn’t matter to Amy, she just needed to make sure James was safe and nearby.
She dashed into the kitchen, calling his name in panic. The double doors that led down to the lake were open, a clear indication of the route her son had taken.
“James!” She cried as she moved outside, instantly being hit by the buffer of hot air that clung heavy to her every step. How many times had she almost lost her son in the past few hours; she couldn’t let herself feel that pain again.
Glancing in both directions Amy continued to shout for her son. The beach was completely empty, a rarity for a day like this but Amy knew full well why everyone was inside. South Haven was exploding all over the place; people weren’t even safe in their own homes, let alone out in the open. And yet, that’s exactly where her son was.
“James!”
“Mom!”
Tears instantly filled Amy’s eyes as her son appeared in front of her, lowering himself down from a tall tree just to her right. Amy ran forward, reaching up and helping her son out of the branches. Immediately she wrapped her arms around him, dropping to her knees so she could give him a proper hug.
“Oh James,” she sniffed, “you’re such a brave boy. Well done.”
James returned his mother’s hug, clinging onto the fabric of her shirt. When she finally pulled away from him Amy noticed James staring at his hand, small flecks of red blood dotting his pale skin. Amy glanced down at her shirt and saw a spatter of blood across it, the force that Zephyr had stabbed his partner with showering blood across her clothing.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay baby,” Amy spoke quickly, “I’m okay, don’t worry.”
But worry was all Amy could do herself. James was all right, that was the main thing she had been concerned about, but there was still a dead man in her house. A house that she would have to take James back inside of.
“What happened?”
Amy paused for a moment, uncertain what to say. Her son was a bright child, excelling in school and in his social interactions. He had friends, had hobbies and interests. He understood why his parents didn’t live together and the situation that his family was in. But she knew it would be asking too much of him to understand what had just happened.
Already that day her son had seen countless people die. He had stood by her side as Amy held onto a dying woman, allowing her to pass peacefully to the other side. Then he had witnessed death in a much more violent manner. The explosions of gas tanks all along a street, people being blown to pieces, pulled apart by the force of the fires.
That was in a state of chaos though. They had been in the middle of the disaster and had no choice but to witness everything that was happening around them. Now there was a man dead in their home; somewhere Amy had assured James would be safe. Try as she might she couldn’t figure out a way to explain that to him.
“One of the men got hurt,” was all Amy eventually managed to say, nothing could have prepared her for this moment. No parents should ever have to explain death to their child at such a young age.
“The bad men?” James asked innocently, at least he was aware of that.
“Yes,” Amy nodded. “One of the bad men. He’s still in the house but he can’t hurt us now, okay? Let’s go back inside and upstairs and then I’ll come back down and send him away.”
“Okay,” James nodded, gripping Amy’s hand as she stood up. Sliding the patio doors closed behind them as they entered the kitchen, Amy made sure she turned the lock firmly; she wasn’t risking another break in.
With her hands on James’s shoulders she led him past the living room door quickly and turned the corner up the stairs. Their view into the living room was blocked, thankfully, and so they reached the top of the stairs without James having to witness the corpse he now shared a home with.
The sight upstairs was shocking. Drawers had been ripped out of cabinets, the intruders rifling through all their possessions in search for anything useful. Amy could see her jewelry box lay open on the floor, the contents stolen away by Zephyr and his friends. A thought flashed through her mind that surprisingly caused Amy to sigh with relief. Her wedding ring hadn’t been there; instead Amy kept it in her bedside table, safely in a wooden box with a lock of James’s hair and other hugely sentimental items. She prayed that box was still in there. It meant more to her than she was willing to admit.
Pushing James forward to his own room they found that in equal disarray. Most of James’s things were left untouched, however, the need to steal from a little boy beyond even the wretched men who had cruelly entered her house. Amy picked up James’s bedside lamp from where it lay on the floor, the bulb smashed from the fall.
“Be careful here, James,” she spoke, bending down to pick up the larger shards of glass she could see.
“Why did the bad men come here?”
James’s question was so innocent it took Amy’s breath away for a moment. It was another question however, that she struggled to find an answer for. James still believed in the goodness of people; he was still young enough to think bad things didn’t happen every single day for absolutely no reason. Perhaps after today his opinions would change, but for now Amy wanted to preserve the little boy she loved so dearly.
“I’m not sure, darling,” Amy spoke softly, “I think they were looking for something.”
“What kind of something?”
“I don’t know,” Amy shook her head. “But they’ve gone now, you don’t need to worry about them, they’re not coming back.”
“What about the man downstairs? You said a man was still here.”
“Not for long,” Amy t
ried to smile, tried to make her son feel safe. “I’m going to make him leave now. Why don’t you tidy up your things up here? And then I’ll come up and see you when the man’s gone.”
“Okay,” James looked at the floor and nodded slightly, wringing his hands together in front of him in worry.
“You don’t need to be scared James,” Amy put two fingers under her son’s chin, making him look up at her. “Everything will be okay.”
James nodded again, looking at her this time as Amy turned to leave. She hated lying to her son, but what else could she tell him? They both needed everything to be okay and somehow she was going to try her best to make it that way.
Steeling herself for what was to come, Amy refused to look back as she walked down the stairs. The first thing she did was lock the front door, making sure they were safely shut inside just as she’d done with the patio doors. Then with a deep breath, she walked into the living room.
The intruder was very much dead. Amy could see that from the second she pushed open the door and saw his cold eyes staring at her, unblinking in death. She pursed her lips and inhaled sharply through her nose, closing the living room door behind her and closing herself in with the body.
She had to get rid of him somehow, but this hulk of a man was almost twice her size. Amy couldn’t even think how she would carry him out of the house, and even if she managed to do that, where would she leave the body?
The man was lying at an angle on the floor, the knife still lodged in his chest. Amy thought about pulling it out but knew she couldn’t bring herself to do that, not in her own home with her son waiting for her upstairs. Her eyes drifted to the wicker cupboard where he had been hiding and slowly an idea started to form in her head.
Moving over to the cupboard Amy pulled the blankets out, tossing them over the dead body onto the couch. Next she started removing the old board games and other bits and pieces that had found a home there, making the cupboard as big and empty as possible. Looking at the tiny room she knew it would be a squeeze, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do. She would hide the body and then she and James would leave their house. It already wasn’t safe; this was simply the final straw in Amy’s decision to leave.
Now all she had to do was get the dead body in there. Easier said than done.
Amy had heard the expression dead weight a thousand times, but this was the first time she had ever experienced it. The man felt like he weighed a thousand pounds and there was no chance she would be able to lift him. Glancing around the room Amy sighed and tried to find another option.
Seeing the pile of blankets on the couch Amy realized she didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way the body could stay in the house; she needed to get rid of it. Taking a deep breath she laid her hands on the corpse, a shiver running down her spine as she touched him. He didn’t feel dead at all. His skin was still warm; if it weren’t for the knife wound in his chest Amy could’ve believed him to be sleeping.
Closing her eyes Amy started to roll the body onto one of the blankets, pushing at the man’s shoulder until his body started to tilt. As he flopped over onto his front Amy heard the unmistakable squelch of blood as the knife was forced further into his chest and the pale blue blanket started to fade to crimson. Wincing, she wished she had removed the blade, but it was too late to second-guess anything now. She just needed to get the body out of her house before James discovered what had happened.
Even once the dead body was on the blanket, it was still hard work to drag the weight out of her front room. Sweat quickly formed on Amy’s brow and blood managed to stain her clothes from where she’d readjusted the body. Dragging him through the doorway she paused for a moment, listening for her son upstairs. If James suddenly appeared now Amy didn’t know what she would do.
Thankfully the wooden floor in the hallway and kitchen made Amy’s task easier and body slid almost gracefully along the floorboards. Finally reaching the patio doors Amy unlocked them as quietly as possible and tugged the body out onto the patio. She didn’t want to move him far, so simply made sure it was out of sight from the kitchen and left the blanket there.
Staring down at him Amy couldn’t help but look into the man’s cold, dead eyes. The sight was horrible. Amy felt like she was going to throw up at any second, the reality of her task hitting home like a slap to the face. But finally, it was done. Amy felt sick from the act she’d just been forced to endure, the result of not a natural disaster, but a very man-made one. There was now a dead man outside her house, a constant reminder of what had happened earlier.
With her hands on her hips Amy nodded to herself and took another deep breath. It was time to leave.
Chapter 15
Walking back to his home, Len couldn’t help but feel slightly alone. He missed the pressure of the baby boy against his chest, even though he knew he had made the right decision. A part of him felt guilty about allowing a child to be taken so far away from where his family was, or at least, used to be. He knew the boy’s mother to be dead, but what of his father?
The likelihood was that even if the father were still alive, he would never be reunited with his son again. What if the father was like him? Struggling through the chaos that had ensued all with the ultimate goal of reuniting with his son. Had Len just made that journey even more impossible for the father? Or had he truly made the right decision?
So many questions plagued him now he was making the journey alone and it pained him to think of each one. Constantly he reminded himself that in the moment, he had made the correct decision. He couldn’t have looked after the little boy, but Freddie and Jen could.
When all of this was over, maybe they would share their tale with the world. Tell America of how they came to be the parents of the young boy and how they had cared for him like he was their own. Len could only speculate, but that was the story he told himself to make everything seem better. The boy would be dead if it wasn’t for him. He had saved a life and that was never an easy thing to do.
Len fantasized about what his own son might be doing at that moment. James was a keen artist, never too far from a blank page and a colored pencil. Len’s favorite drawings were stuck to his fridge at home, or decorating the mantle in his study. James was present in everything he looked at; he was everywhere, except by his side. Except where Len wanted him most.
The hole in Len’s heart caused by the absence of his family was more painful than anything he had experienced. More painful than his ribs or his swollen face, both now merely added baggage Len had to carry with him on his journey. He slowly grew accustomed to the twinge in his abdomen as he walked. It wasn’t debilitating and that was a positive in Len’s eyes. No physical pain, no matter how bloodied or bruised he became, was going to stop him from finding his son.
As Len stayed in the shadows while he walked, the streets becoming more and more familiar the closer he drew to home, more people began to appear. The area was more residential now; gone where the towering office buildings that had crumbled to the ground. The number of cars lining the streets gradually decreased and the picture of destruction diminished slightly.
Fires still blazed in plentiful supply, Len’s eyes now used to squinting against the smoke. But through the flames he saw signs of life, signs of hope and the possibility of a future.
A mother with her two children sat in their kitchen, visible through the window as Len moved through the street. They looked up at Len as he passed, their gaze following the passing stranger. Len didn’t know them, but he offered a smile and a small wave as he passed, if only to show the children that life would find a way. People were surviving and everything wasn’t as bad as it may seem.
Turning the next corner on his way home, Len was caught by a different sight however. The road was lined with shops, stores that sold everything from food, to clothing and electrical goods. All along the street the windows had been smashed in and a group of people were climbing in and out of them, pillaging the stores for whatever they carried.
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Len paused, still hidden by the shadows on the corner of the road. No one had noticed him yet, but his encounter with the group of shaved heads from earlier made him wary of the situation. This group of people undoubtedly knew each other and could be another faction that had formed up in the city.
He watched them for a while, trying to determine whether he needed to fear the group or not. They were of mixed ages and genders and the longer Len watched, the more he started to think of them as two families rather than a violent faction.
A young boy clung to an older girl who Len assumed was an older sister, the pair of them making the trips in and out of storefronts. An older woman accompanied them, making the decisions inside of what they needed to take. These supplies were then passed off to two men about Len’s age and another teenage girl and were taken the same route around another corner every time. They certainly didn’t look dangerous, with no weapons to protect them while they worked.
