by Jeff Olah
Ben understood without having to be asked. “Carly, Ethan made us promise—”
“Promise?” Although answering Ben, Carly spoke to Griffin. “He made you promise—promise what? That you’d let him go out there and get himself killed? And you were supposed to what… cover for him when we woke up?”
“Listen,” Griffin said. “He’s been trying to leave this town and this group for days. He wants to get to his sister and I don’t blame him. I don’t understand his irrational need to leave in the middle of a snowstorm, but he’s an adult and there is nothing you or I could do to stop him.”
“Plus,” Ben said. “He’s coming back. He didn’t leave for good. That’s a good sign, right?”
Cora and Shannon had finished. They now sat with their backs against the inside of the rear door and watched as Carly continued to rattle off questions.
“Really? How could you possibly know that?”
“He left his stuff here,” Ben said. “He would never have—”
“What?” Carly said. “You don’t think he’d take the first opportunity to just leave? You don’t think he’s serious? Do you not realize that he just lost his best friend and he also hasn’t slept in like two days? And what, he left a few things behind so you think he’s coming right back? That’s ludicrous, you two should never have let him go, or at the very least you should have woken one of us.”
Griffin shook his head. “He wanted to go. He’s been trying to leave since he saw those messages from his sister. We all know what it’s like out there, but he’s also more than capable and Ben is right. Ethan is coming back.”
“What do you—” Carly began again, but was immediately cut short.
“I know how important he is to you,” Griffin said. “But you had to have known that he was going to do this either way. If not today than tomorrow or maybe next week. He had his mind made up days ago. He wanted to do this all on his own, he needed to. But he’ll be back, I guarantee it.”
Shannon sat forward. “You sure? Ethan seemed pretty hell-bent on getting to his sister.”
“Yeah, he is, but that’s only part of it. He didn’t go out there tonight for his family. It was something else. He’ll be back.”
“I’m too tired for these cryptic games,” Carly said. “What do you know?”
“I know that Ethan is going to leave to find his family at some point, but I also know that’s not what he’s doing tonight. He’s a smart guy and knows that going out on his own isn’t the best idea, but before long it won’t matter to him. Tonight though, he has other things on his mind. He left his phone and his weapon. He’s not leaving, not tonight. That phone is his only connection to his sister. He checks it every few hours. No way he left here without it.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “He promised he’d at least come back to say goodbye to you girls.”
“Wait,” Carly said. “He did what?”
Griffin cut a look at the kid and then shook his head. “I told him I’d give him three hours to get whatever it was done, if he promised to give you the opportunity to say goodbye.”
“So, you just let him go based on a promise?” Carly bit into her lip. “What if he decides not to keep that promise? I’ve known Ethan for years, but you just met him. I’d trust him to tell the truth, but why did you?”
“I didn’t have to. I know he’ll be back and I also have a pretty good idea of where he went.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he left his phone and his weapon. That tells me he wasn’t expecting any trouble and there’s only one place I know where he may feel safe.”
“Oh yeah, where’s that?”
“The only place we’ve driven by more than a few times in the last five days. He’s going back to the bank. He’s been waiting for this since the first day and I’ve seen how he gets when we pass by. There hasn’t been much activity there in the last few days and I think he knows that.”
“Oh,” Carly said, her voice shrinking as she peered out through the windshield. “He went to say goodbye to David, didn’t he?”
“That’s what I’m thinking and I didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it. You know, with our history inside that vault. I’d have pushed a little more for him to stay, but I figured he would be okay just going there and back.”
Carly still stared straight ahead. Furrowing her brow, there was something she was running through in her mind. She attempted to vocalize it two separate times, but stopped herself just before the words crested her lips. Turning to Griffin, she sighed heavily. “When did he leave? How long ago did Ethan walk out into that street?”
Turning to Ben, Griffin raised his eyebrows. “Right around sunset, probably an hour or two. He should be back—”
“No Griffin,” Carly said. “It doesn’t take two hours to walk to the bank and back. That’s only like four blocks. He should have been back already.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. We cleared that part of town two days ago. Anything or anyone left there won’t give him any trouble.”
“So… Ethan left, all alone. Without his weapon. Without anyone or anything else for protection. It’s been almost two hours since he walked away and you think that everything is just fine?”
“You have to trust me, he’s okay. I wouldn’t have let him go if I thought there was a chance that—”
“Trust you? Are you serious? Ethan is probably already dead or… or worse. This is on you.” She glanced from Griffin to Ben. “Both of you.”
Turning toward the center console, Griffin reached in and pulled out the group’s only remaining weapon. “Ethan would have left no matter what I told him.” Holding up the nine millimeter he said, “There are three rounds left in this thing and after that, it’s empty. Wouldn’t have done him a whole lot of good if he ran into any real trouble and it won’t do me much good either. That’s why I’m leaving it here for you.”
Carly was confused. “What?”
“I’m going out after him.”
Leaning forward, Carly said, “That’s a bad idea. Probably worse than Ethan going out alone.”
“Maybe,” Griffin said. “But you’re right. He should have been back by now. Maybe he lied to me just so I’d let him go. Maybe it’s something else, but either way, it doesn’t change the fact that he still hasn’t come back.”
Carly reached for his arm. “I don’t think—”
“Listen, you’ll all be safe here. And I’ll stay hidden in the shadows. I’ll make a quick trip up Fourth and then follow Bridge Street to Second. I’ll check the bank and then circle back. Won’t take me more than twenty minutes.”
“No, I think we should all go. We can drive that same route in less than five minutes. We’re all just sitting here anyway.”
“The truck will draw too much attention. You’ve seen what happens. And if he’s stuck somewhere out there, it’ll only make things worse. I’m going alone; we really don’t have a choice.”
48
He was alone. Much more alone than he was used to.
Frank Jarvis hadn’t spoken to another human being since the night before the world went to hell. Tonight and for the last several, his only connection came from the low monotonous groans of those outside the building. He slept most of the time and only ate when it was absolutely necessary. He wanted to die.
He’d lost his wife more than five years before, although this was different. He’d grown accustomed to this new reality. This new routine. Wake up, watch the news, eat breakfast, and then shower. He’d walk into his closet a few minutes before nine and pull out a pair of navy blue jeans and a heather grey t-shirt. It was always blue and grey.
His trek to the corner market and then to the library were the only variables in his otherwise deliberate lifestyle. Even taking the same route each and every day could mean running across someone he hadn’t seen in weeks. Someone who’d want to chat. Those were the conversations he dreaded the most.
Small talk. Why not just put a bullet in my head?
; Now, though, he’d give his left arm for some company. Not his right arm, he needed that. But he would offer up his left. However, he wasn’t entirely sure of the reason. Did he actually want to have a conversation with another living, breathing human or was he simply tired of being locked away in a box?
With nothing to do for the last five days, he sat on the metal framed cot and listened. He listened to the sounds of the building settling under the weight of the storm. He listened to the sounds of the fading horde outside the building, and he listened to the sounds of the voices inside his head telling him that there was no one coming.
On the fifth night, an hour before sunset, he told those voices that they were wrong.
. . .
He’d been awake and on his feet for the better part of the last two hours. Standing with his hands gripped tightly to the cold metal bars, he again cried for help. For the people less than a hundred feet away to hear him, even though he knew they wouldn’t. And now, not only was his lower back begging him for relief, but he’d also worn out his voice.
The sound the massive vehicle made as it rolled into the yard was unmistakable. The same vehicle that had driven past the front of the building more times than he could count, had finally pulled into the lot. He was sure of it. The low rumble of the diesel engine put a smile on his face.
“HELP!”
He knew it was foolish, but in his mind, it was better than doing nothing. Maybe.
“SOMEONE, IF YOU’RE OUT THERE.”
Looking away from the rear doors, he again glanced at the trash can. Shook his head and moved to the makeshift bed. He slid it to the wall of bars where he was last standing and climbed on top.
He wasn’t sure it would even hold his weight, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t using it to sleep anyway. Most nights were spent flat on his back along the cool concrete floor. Better for his aging back than the sagging blue fabric of the cot. He also doubted he’d be able to keep his balance for more than a few seconds at a time.
Frank reached for the flat horizontal bracing near the top third of the cell. Leaning forward, he braced himself with his right foot and craned his neck. He could see a few inches over the vending machine and out the rear door. Couldn’t quite make out what he was looking at as the darkness of night matched the interior.
Stepping down, Frank moved to the opposite side of the cell and attempted to get a glimpse of the lobby. Only the set of double doors were within sight, although scanning the floor, no light shone through. “They’re still here.”
He moved back to the cot, stepped up, and tried for a new positon. His right foot now planted along the lower bracing, near waist high, he pushed up. Near the ceiling, he twisted his head to the left and squinting, had full view of the rear lot.
Closing his eyes, he counted to ten, allowing pupils to adjust for distance. He opened them slowly and gasped. A large white armored vehicle sat parked at the rear of the lot. Positioned near the dumpster and partially out of sight, there were people. No faces yet, just two silhouetted figures sitting in the front seats, although he knew who it was and why they were here.
He’d known the men in the vehicle since they were young boys. They’d both been to his house and destroyed his lawn on more occasions then he could count. Football, basketball, skateboarding, broken arms, bruised elbows, and hurt feelings. He watched the pair grow into men as he himself lost touch with most everyone else in the town he called home. Ethan and David. They were here. They’d come back for him.
Pulling away momentarily, he rolled his head from left to right, releasing the stiffness building in his neck. He breathed out a heavy sign and smiled. He was going to walk out of here. This morning, he wasn’t sure he wanted to; now, he knew he was going home. Frank Jarvis began to quietly laugh for the first time in weeks.
Out of the corner of his eye, Frank detected movement. He quickly pulled back into his perched position and swallowed hard as the passenger door of the armored vehicle popped open. A tall man dressed in dark colors stepped out and closed the door. He watched as the tall man moved around behind the armored vehicle and disappeared.
Still silhouetted in the shadows, he was unable to get a read on exactly who he’d seen. It wasn’t David. The build was close, but the man must have had three or four inches on him, although at this distance, Frank wasn’t sure of anything. The man dressed in dark tones also didn’t seem to fit the image he held for Ethan.
Waiting for the man to reappear on the opposite end of the truck, Frank gripped tighter to the metal bars. “Come on, I know you’re coming in here. So come already, what are you waiting for?”
After five minutes, his hands and the arches of his feet began to cramp. He couldn’t maintain the suspended position another minute. Stepping down, he slid the cot away from the metal bars and sat down hard with his back resting against the wall. He took a deep breath, turned, and focused his stare toward the end of darkened the hall. And waited.
49
Ethan sat on the roof. He looked over the crowd to where he had laid his friend to rest and prepared to say goodbye.
. . .
It was the second day of school. He was eight years old and about to learn what it meant to have a real friend for the first time.
Ethan was finally allowed to walk home from school alone. This was big. Real big.
His mother told him to come straight home. She said his sister Emma was riding the bus and would arrive about fifteen minutes after he did. This would be a test. If he failed, he’d be right back on the same bus tomorrow afternoon. So he wasn’t going to screw this up. He couldn’t; he was too old for the bus.
As the final bell rang, Ethan grabbed his backpack and shot across the classroom. He didn’t stop for his usual drink of water and definitely didn’t slow down to watch Caroline Kirby walk down the front steps. If he even caught a glimpse of her, his entire schedule would be trashed. He could wait until tomorrow morning to see her. It would be worth it.
Across the lawn, down the sidewalk, and a quick shortcut through Mr. Jarvis’s front yard gave him a nice cushion. He’d hit a full stride as he passed the hardware store and only slowed for a second to give a wave at old man Tully.
“Gotta go, my mom said—” He was already too winded to speak.
Reaching the open field past Tully’s place, he heard footsteps at his back. He didn’t turn and continued running. They were close, very close. And they were heavy. This was someone bigger, someone older.
Turning into the lot and taking his second shortcut, Ethan was struck from behind. The collision sent him skipping forward. Not off his feet right away, but too off balance for him to continue running. His eight-year-old legs couldn’t keep pace with the momentum of the rest of his body. He went down, face first into a half-full trashcan, and at full speed.
For a moment, he could only see a brilliant white light, backlit with tiny explosions. As he rolled onto his side, he lost track of his backpack and skidded to a stop.
The first thing to cross his mind as he got to his knees was his timeline. He didn’t care that the sixth grader now standing over him had already pulled back a balled fist. He wasn’t worried about the crowd of children from his school who had begun to gather. He couldn’t be bothered with that right now. He had a job to do, even if his head still hadn’t completely stopped spinning.
Reaching for the trashcan at his left, Ethan attempted to push himself up to stand. Before he pulled his knees up under himself, the behemoth of a kid swung down hard with his meaty fist. Ethan was happy that the big kid had more strength than accuracy, as his roundhouse only nicked the side of his cheek.
The big kid pulled back and finally revealed himself. Standing up tall, he pointed a long thick finger at Ethan. “You’re that Runner boy, aren’t you?”
He had to get home.
“You’re that kid who thinks he’s the fastest in our school?”
What was this kid talking about? Ethan didn’t have a clue. But in his limited scope, he could
n’t recall a single schoolyard fight that made any sense. Most were over something as arbitrary as who was stronger? Who was a better ball player? And now this, who was faster?
He couldn’t believe that this was happening today. Couldn’t it have waited? Couldn’t the bigger kid have just pummeled him tomorrow morning? Ethan thought about asking the monster of a sixth grader to postpone the beating, although he figured he already knew the answer.
And when the heavy right hand came down once again, he was sure of it. The first blow had barely grazed the side of his cheek, but not this one. This one connected squarely with the left side of Ethan’s face. Another meaty roundhouse. Felt as if he took a bowling pin to the side of the head. It hurt like nothing he’d ever felt.
He was scared, but he was also mad. Not really mad that he was in the middle of a fight or that he had just been hit harder than he knew was possible. He was mad that as he tried to back away and stand, his legs wouldn’t cooperate. If he was going to run, he was going to need his legs and with each second that slipped away, so did his chances of making it home before Emma’s bus.
As the big kid stepped closer, Ethan reached back for a patch of dirt. He dug out a handful, but before he was able to toss it, he was struck once again. The second blow missed most of his face, but nicked the side of his left ear as his nemesis stumbled forward.
While the big kid attempted to regain his footing, Ethan jumped to his feet. He didn’t turn. Just grabbed his backpack and started to run. But as the crowd began to laugh and point, he quickly realized he wasn’t going anywhere.
Caught from behind, the kid had Ethan’s shoulder strap in his left hand. He pulled him backward and raised his balled fist for a third time. Closing his eyes and preparing for the worst, Ethan held his breath and clenched his teeth.
Nothing—just the crowd’s gasps quickly followed by more laugher.
A second kid. A boy from Ethan’s class. They knew each other, but not well. His name was David, or at least that’s what Ethan remembered. He stood in the shadow of the much bigger kid and stared blankly back at Ethan. He had ahold of the bigger kid’s wrist, although the look in his eyes said he had no idea what to do next.
