by Jeff Olah
“What?”
“I’m seeing things that happened before, but only in small flashes. For a few seconds each time. It happens when things get really bad, like out on the street when we were running. I see things, I start to remember, but then it’s gone.”
“What kinds of things are you seeing?”
“I don’t know—it’s hard to describe. It’s kind of like I’m driving in a car with some other people and those things come out of nowhere. We are attacked. And then I can’t see it anymore. The pictures just fade away.”
“Can you remember where you are?” Tom said. “That may help.”
“It’s in the city, but not here. It looks different.”
“Any names? Faces? Anything else?”
“Not really, I mean there is one woman, though. Her face looks like mine, but older, I guess. Maybe my mother or a family member, or maybe I’m just imagining things. I just don’t know.”
He didn’t know what else to say and couldn’t imagine the emotional pain this woman was suffering. He wanted more than anything to be able to offer some encouragement, a few words of wisdom, just something to give her a glimmer of hope. He wanted to tell her it was going to be okay, that she would eventually remember, that it was just going to take some time, but that she would be whole again. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He would be lying and right now that was the last thing she needed.
“How about this,” he said. “How about I tell you my story. Where I was when this all went down almost a week ago. Whadda ya think?”
Her eyes opened wide and she smiled. The calmed look on her face was real. She was excited—happy. Living in her own head was taking its toll. She needed to leave that behind, if only temporarily. “Yes,” she said, “I would enjoy that.”
Tom slid up in his seat and cracked his knuckles. “Okay, you ready for this? It may just be the best story you’ve ever heard.”
She cocked her head and squinted. “Seriously?”
“Too much?” he said.
The woman held her hand out in front of her face, her index finger and thumb less than a half inch apart. “Maybe a little.”
“I was at work when all this went down. In my trailer rehearsing my lines when I heard a banging on the door, thought it was my agent. He was supposed to show up an hour before, but I figured he was hung up in all that stuff I was hearing about downtown. Never imagined I’d be running from a production assistant less than ten minutes later.”
She smiled harder and almost laughed. “Wait, aren’t the production assistants supposed to be running around for you, not after you?”
“Okay, good. You have a sense of humor. Let’s see what else we can find out about the pretty lady with the orange backpack.” Her face turned red and even he was surprised as the words came out.
“You think I’m pretty? Okay, now I definitely want to hear your story.”
He forgot where he had left off, not only because he said the words, but also because he meant them. She was beautiful. And at the moment, that was the only thing he could think about.
“Well?” She asked. “What else? I need details.”
Tom wiped his hands over his face and then rubbed them together. “Okay, here we—”
The door from the stairwell opened, cutting short his story.
Cedric was back. He was breathing hard and smelled of burnt plastic. He waited until the door was closed and then started across the lobby floor. As he turned to the pair, and without breaking stride, he said, “Come with me, let’s get you settled in.”
81
The harsh interior lighting had the group shielding their eyes as they moved out of the cool night air and into the gymnasium. Maddox stood at the door and directed Cora, Shannon, and Carly to the extended bleachers at the opposite end of the gym. He held his hand out and watched as the women made their way over and sat among the twenty or so others.
Ben, Ethan, Frank, and Griffin stared up at Maddox as he slowly turned around. “Stay here and don’t cause any trouble; I’ll be back shortly.” And before moving back through the door, he grabbed a handful of Griffin’s jacket and pulled him in close. “You and I are going to have a nice little chat later, so don’t go getting yourself killed in the meantime.”
Griffin nodded. “You know where to find me.”
As the door slowly closed and Maddox walked back toward the parking lot, Ethan looked out over the darkened campus. Moving in the opposite direction and at twice the speed, Horatio carried a duffel bag over each shoulder. They hung low as he strode up the concrete steps of the Admissions building. Setting the bags on the ground, he quickly looked back the way he’d come, unlocked the doors, and moved inside.
As the gym doors closed and the men started for the opposite end of the gym, every eye in the room fell to them. Scanning the small crowd, Griffin turned to Ethan and Frank. “Hey, you guys notice anything unusual?”
Continuing on, Ethan said, “You mean how immaculate this place is? I mean what the hell is going on here? It looks like we could eat off these floors, doesn’t look like the end of the world is just outside those doors.”
“That’s not it. What do you see that’s missing?”
“No guards?” Frank said.
“No, they’re on the other side of the bleachers. Two men with semi-automatics.”
“Okay,” Ethan said. “What then?”
“Look around, other than those two and the four of us, there aren’t any other men here. I lost count, but with Cora, Shannon, and Carly, it looks like there are less than thirty women. Nowhere near the hundred that they told us were here.”
“And”
“And why aren’t there any other men here?”
Ethan looked around. “Don’t know maybe—”
Carly was running. She came through the crowd of women and ran straight toward the men. She was attempting to keep her voice at an even tone, but was unable to control herself. “Ethan, she’s here. It’s your mother.”
He was still looking at Carly, however as her words trailed off, his eyes drifted to the other women twenty feet beyond. He looked from one face to the next. He moved by Cora and then a few others who looked familiar, but weren’t. Next, he found Shannon and briefly watched as she wrapped her arms around a total stranger. Finally turning to the last few women still seated, his pulse began to quicken and his breath caught in his throat as he watched her stand.
Time slowed and everything else around him faded as he moved away from the others and started toward her. Ethan found her eyes from across the hardwood floor and studied the unusual look on her face. There was joy, but there was also a hint of something different, something quite the opposite. She began to cry.
As he reached her, he leaned in, kissed her tear-soaked face, and pulled her into him. Her shoulders rounded as she melted into his chest, quivering as she pulled in tight.
“Mom, you’re okay.”
She cried harder, gripping his back and pulling at his jacket. Attempting to speak, her words came out in short bursts. Your father… he’s gone… your sister… I don’t… I don’t know… we have to go, but… they won’t… they won’t let us leave.”
His joy quickly turning to anger, Ethan pulled back and looked into her eyes. She was older now. Much older than her sixty years. Her face hung at the corners and wide dark rings encircled her eyes. Wiping her dirty hand across her face, his mother attempted to compose herself. She pulled at the sleeves of her blouse, straightening them as she took in a deep breath.
Ethan rested his hand on her shoulder and looked back to where the men with the semi-automatic weapons stood. They were gone. As Griffin and Ben approached, he leaned in and spoke quietly to his mother.
“Where’s Dad?”
Her tears returned. “He’s still at the house.”
“What, why?”
“That man, the big one that brought you in here, he came into our neighborhood, to our home. He told us that they had a safe place for us to go, with food and prote
ction. He told us they were going to take the women and children first.”
She shook as she tried to continue. “He said that the men were going to be brought out next.”
“When was that?”
She looked around and then lowered her voice. “Yesterday,”
Griffin leaned in. “We’ve got company.”
The men dressed in black strode quickly from the edge of the bleachers, a small crowd of women parting as they drew close. “Listen up, we’ve got a problem out at the gates. We are taking everyone back to their rooms. No exceptions. The men will need to follow me and the rest of you will go with Sam back to Carpenter Hall.” The volume in his voice increased as he continued, “Once we have it under control we will bring you back here to eat. Let’s go.”
The man giving instructions cut his eyes toward Ethan. “We don’t have any problems, do we?”
Ethan released his mother and turned to Shannon, Carly, and Cora. “Mom, stay with them.” Leaning in, he pressed his lips to her damp face, kissed her, and whispered into her ear. “I’m going to get Dad. Just do what these men tell you. I will be back.”
She looked up at him as he pulled away. “But?”
He simply shook his head and followed the man with the semi-automatic weapon.
. . .
Back out into the cool night air, Ben moved in beside Ethan. He spoke quickly and quietly. “What’s going on?”
“Not really sure, but let’s just see how this plays out. No heroic stuff, okay?”
“Sure.”
Griffin walked at the front of the line, two paces behind the man in black guiding them toward the Admissions building. He was as curious as the others, but decided on another approach. “Where are you taking us?”
The man didn’t answer.
“Alright then, I’ll wait here until you’re ready to explain to me what the hell you people are doing.”
The man stopped, but didn’t initially turn. He pulled his weapon into his shoulder and spoke in the opposite direction. “You have two choices. You either walk up those stairs and into that building or I shoot you where you stand.”
“How about you turn and face me. You’re the one with the weapon, you shouldn’t be afraid.”
The man swung around quickly, nearly striking Griffin with the end of the weapon as he stepped in close. “Do I look like I’m afraid?” He leaned forward and pressed the barrel into Griffin’s throat. “Do I?”
Ethan moved ahead and stepped between the men, pulling Griffin away. He nodded to the man in black. “We’ll do what you say. We’re just exhausted and hungry, been out there too long.”
“Just keep your boy in line. I won’t hesitate—”
Ethan interrupted and looked up toward the building. “Sure thing.”
The man turned and started forward again. Frank and Ben followed as Ethan turned to Griffin. “Let’s do what they tell us, for now anyway. You’ll get your turn, I promise.”
Up the concrete steps, and into the darkened Admissions building, the man in black locked the door from the outside and started back toward the parking lot.
The four men stood in the empty lobby staring out through the doors. They watched as across the greenbelt, the twenty-eight women were led into Carpenter Hall. And Ethan’s mother, Helen Runner, slowly walking hand in hand with Carly.
Griffin turned and started toward the massive reception desk at the center of the room. “There’s something wrong with these people. We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Wait,” Ethan said, “there’s something else—”
Footsteps from the darkened hallway had the men back on their heels. From out of the shadows came a voice and then a silhouetted frame. “Ethan, you and your people have to leave.”
82
Suite three-twenty-six was inviting, warm, and well organized. Minimally furnished, the open space reminded Tom of the studio apartment he’d left seven days before. Against the wall at the opposite end of the room sat a fold-away sofa, twin two-drawer nightstands, and a fully stocked bookcase. Closer and to the right, a mini-fridge hummed quietly alongside the room’s only illumination, a small desk lamp burning softly against the coming night.
Following Cedric into the suite, Tom limped to the table at the center of the room and sat facing the failing city beyond. “I don’t understand—you all have power?”
Cedric stayed at the door as the woman moved slowly to the window. He continued to watch the hall as he pulled free a two-way radio. “One of the other suites was running completely off solar. I was able to tie into it a few days ago. Nothing too fancy, but it works for now.”
Tom again rubbed the back of his right leg. “How long have you and your family been here in this building?”
Keying the mic, Cedric held up his hand. “Patrick, you there?”
Waiting for his son to respond, he turned back to Tom. “Since the very beginning.”
“Anyone else in the building?”
Cedric peered down at the black device in his hand, willing his son’s voice to come through. “One other group—they left three days ago, thought they’d do better out there.”
“Not likely.”
Peering out into the hall, Cedric again keyed the radio. “Patrick, what’s going on? Where are you?”
A moment of static and then a voice came through, not Patrick, but a woman. She sounded out of breath and only spoke two words. “We’re here.”
Out in the hall, a door slammed and as Cedric stepped back, holding the door open, Patrick came through. He was closely followed by a woman who stopped just inside the door and handed a bright orange flare gun to Cedric. “Took two this time. They seem to be drawn to the place a whole lot more than usual.”
Closing and locking the door, Cedric moved to the nightstand. He placed two flare guns in the bottom drawer and moved to the table. He kissed the woman and turning to Tom and his friend said, “I’d like you both to meet my wife Veronica. She’s the reason you’re here.”
Tom stood and reached for her hand. “Hello, my name is Tom.” And turning to the woman who saved his life more than a few times today, he said, “And this is…”
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know her name and he didn’t know what to say. And as the awkward silence continued, all he could do was tell them what he did know. “This is my friend. She saved my life today, as did you and your family.”
Veronica smiled and turned to the woman at the window. “Does your friend have a name?”
“I don’t know,” the woman said. “I woke up two days ago out on the street. I don’t remember much before that.”
“Anything at all?”
“Just bits and pieces, nothing that tells me how I got here or really anything else.”
“I’m so sorry,” Veronica said. “Maybe if you get some rest, things will come back.”
Moving away from the window, the woman stood at the table alongside Tom. She dropped her backpack on the floor and looked from Veronica to Cedric. “Thank you.”
Turning to her husband, Veronica looked back toward the door. “Do we have enough hot water?”
He nodded. “You want to take her downstairs?”
Tom looked to the woman and then back to the husband and wife. “Showers? You have showers?”
“We are able to heat the water once every three or four days. It’s not perfect by any means, but it’s better than nothing.” And looking toward the woman at Tom’s side, he said, “You’ve been out there a while. I think it may just do you some good.”
She forced a smile. “I couldn’t ask you to—”
“Nonsense,” Veronica said—a smile beginning to form at the corners of her mouth. “We’re not taking no for an answer. We’ll get you a nice lukewarm shower and something that’s at least semi-edible. You’ll be as good as new.”
The woman grabbed her bag off the floor and looked back to Veronica. “Semi-edible sounds really good.” She handed Tom her backpack and followed Veroni
ca through the suite toward the door.
This felt different. Not having to run, not having to hide. Her heart rate now finally at a normal level had her questioning who these people were and their motivation for helping. She was exhausted and her mind was going to places it shouldn’t—she knew this—but she also couldn’t control it.
Even the man who pulled her out of that SUV, the one who somehow freed her from the parking garage only minutes before it was overrun. The one who had also driven in from out of nowhere and found her amongst a sea of walking corpses. Why was he here, why today? Was it fate, maybe karma, or was it simply her own paranoia working overtime due to the events she couldn’t remember living through?
Two paces behind Veronica, she stopped and remembered. It was something he’d said in passing, but now it seemed relevant in light of their new circumstances. “Veronica?”
The taller woman with light green eyes and strawberry-blond hair paused. “Yes?”
“I know we just met and that you and your family have gone completely out of your way to help Tom and I, but…”
“But what?”
Turning back toward the suite, the woman peered in through the door. “I would like to ask you for a favor.”
“Sure,” Veronica said. “What can we do for you, sweetie?”
Watching Tom set her backpack on the table, he must have had the same idea. Crossing the floor, she unzipped her bag and pulled out the blood-speckled cell phone she’d stared at for the past few days. “Do you have enough power for me to charge this?”
83
Horatio carried the twin black duffels and stopped short before entering the lobby. Squatting and placing the bags on the tile floor, he motioned for the men to join him as he peered out through the front doors. “They only want your vehicle and your supplies. These people are getting rid of anyone who might pose a threat and are only keeping the women around as servants. Everyone who poses a threat is either sent away or killed. You and your people have to leave right now.”
