by Jeff Olah
“Yes Mr. Goodwin, they’ve both been through every course and are finishing with the firearms testing this morning. I’ll send over their results as soon as they are available.”
Again pausing, Emma dropped her head, slid the chair back away from the desk, and appeared to be taking a deep breath. And as quickly as it began, it ended. “Thank you, Mr. Goodwin… good-bye.”
She quietly placed her phone down on the desk, and without looking back at Ethan, stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Second Street. She stared off into the distance and continued to take in long deep breaths.
Ethan spoke first. “Hey, I know I was—”
She held her hand up, but didn’t turn around. And twenty seconds of silence passed before she decided to respond.
“You need to get your life together. I can’t it do anymore. You need to figure out what it is that you value in life and go do that.”
“So little sister, you think forcing me into a job that I don’t want, doing something I have no interest in, is the way to make that happen?”
“That’s just it, Ethan—no one knows what it is you want, probably not even you, but you do need to figure it out.”
Turning away from the window and now facing him, she continued, “Listen, I get that you’re struggling. With Mom and Dad moving to the city and then me heading out to California, I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but I’m trying here. I think you should at least give it a chance. You owe me that as your sister.”
He sat for a long moment and then smiled. It wasn’t a peace offering and it sure as hell wasn’t him conceding. He just felt like she needed it, and although he sometimes wanted to deny it, she was family. He should be better for her. And without any other explanation he said, “Okay, I will.”
She appeared confused. “Good?” She spoke the word as if it was a question. “Uh… And you’re going to need to get over to the range and finish up before lunch.”
“I’ll wait for David. We’ll take the black truck and fuel it up while we’re out. Tomorrow’s the big day. Should be fun; too bad you won’t be here to witness it.”
She sensed the sarcasm in his tone, but moved past it. “David’s already at the range. He was here on time and I sent him out.”
“What, why? I was only like five or ten minutes—”
“Twenty, you were twenty minutes late. But that’s not the only reason I sent him out ahead.”
“Okay?”
Emma moved back to her seat across the desk and sat down. “Ethan, I know the last few years haven’t been great. I realize you’ve been through a lot and I’m just trying to help, but this job is about more than that and I hope that you’ll take it seriously.”
“I am.”
“You’re not, but I’m telling you that in a few months or maybe a few years, you’ll wish that you did. The man running this business is going to change the world. He’s doing things right now that are maybe fifty or a hundred years off. He’s a genius.”
“Oh… the guy you were just talking to? Didn’t sound like you were too pleased with him.”
Emma cut Ethan a look. “He’s got his own way of dealing with things and I don’t always see his vision, but that doesn’t really matter. I just want you to understand that if you do a good job here, the possibilities are endless. Trust me.”
“I do trust you, but I still don’t know why you can’t explain what you’re working on. I’m not the smartest guy around, but I think if you dumb it down a bit, I might be able to catch on.”
“That’s not it and you know it. I just can’t speak about anything going on out there in California. I signed a non-disclosure for a reason.”
“Okay,” Ethan said, “then what about the blonde out there? Don’t tell me you signed a non-disclosure about her as well?”
Emma smiled and quickly brought her hand up over her mouth, attempting to stop herself from laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And?”
“And, she’s a very private person. Shannon likes to be left alone and is extremely professional. She’s also a beautiful woman who has no need for someone like you in her life. So my advice—for whatever it’s worth—is for you to stay away. I mean it, stay away. You’ve got work to do. Be nice to her, but that’s all.”
“I’ve been trying.”
“Is that what you call what happened last night, trying to be nice? You really need to get yourself under control. It’s no longer funny, and is bordering on pathetic.” Emma regretted her choice of words even as they were leaving her mouth.
Ethan looked away.
“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. It’s just that I know you, the real you. The brother who saved me from the Boogie Man and then from the schoolyard bullies. The boy who grew into a man and then protected me from all the bad things life sent my way. I may be all grown up and this might sound selfish, but I just want him back.”
Ethan turned back to her and nodded, his eyes beginning to cloud. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I absolutely don’t deserve it, but I am appreciative and I promise to start showing it. I know that you stuck your neck out to get me a job here and like it or not, I realize that it’s the best thing for me. I will make you proud and promise not to get under Shannon’s skin too much, but don’t you think you could have at least hired someone a bit less… you know, my type?”
Emma sat back in her chair and again smiled. She was exhausted and barely able to control her delight. The urge to get out of her chair and hug him was almost too much, but she reminded herself of the situation, where they were, and what they still had left to accomplish. However, she felt the need to mark the event in some small way, show her brother that his ability to open up meant something to her.
Looking past him and out over the open second floor, she took a deep breath. “Ethan, what we’re doing is going to change the world.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
“But I don’t think you understand how big this is… BXF is going to do something that will be talked about until the end of time. It’s going to touch every corner of the planet and most likely affect every human life.”
“Wow.”
He wasn’t seeing it. There wasn’t any way he could. Not yet. She’d just have to hold on to the belief that one day she’d be able to share everything with him and that he’d be proud.
“A year from now, you’ll be glad that you took this job—I promise.”
91
Day Seven of the Outbreak…
His shirt lay at his feet a tattered mess, mostly soaked through with the kid’s blood. The cold night air bit at the exposed skin of his upper body and the horde—too large to count—was less than thirty seconds from overtaking them. He was still reeling from the events of the past several minutes, although there were more pressing matters.
Down on one knee, Ethan looked into Ben’s eyes. “Stay with me kid, you’re gonna be fine.”
Twice looping a torn length of fabric around the younger man’s arm, Ethan placed it just above the injury and tied it off. He watched as the flow of blood slowed, before moving in behind and scooping Ben off the saturated asphalt.
“Ethan, I’m cold and I can’t feel my arm.”
“It’s alright. I’m getting you out of here.”
Moving quickly to his father’s SUV, Ethan crossed the driveway without looking into the garage. He leaned into the front passenger door and reached under Ben’s legs, feeling for the door handle.
Stepping back, he pulled the door open. Carefully placing Ben atop the black leather bucket seat, he scanned the interior for his father’s keys. The ignition, the dash, the center console, and finally the driver’s seat.
Nothing.
Back over his shoulder, a few from the approaching crowd had taken to investigating the blood-soaked street as others moved up onto the sidewalk. They were now only seconds from the driveway.
Ben’s eyes began to close. “Ethan, I’m too tired, I can’t
stay—”
“I need you to fight. Hold on to the door handle and don’t let go. I’m going inside to get the keys, but those things are going to get here before I get back.”
Ethan leaned in, reached around to the front of the seat, and stared into Ben’s eyes as he reclined the seat. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “Stay awake, I’ll be right back.”
Stepping away and closing the door, Ethan turned to face the crowd. He stopped near the garage door and waved his arms in the air, attempting to draw the crowd back away from the vehicle.
“HEY… OVER HERE, LET’S GO!”
From the blacked-out street, the first few continued forward, only taking a passing interest in Ethan as they slowly stumbled toward the SUV. With their single-minded rage focused on the interior, the horde quickly noticed Ben sitting inside the vehicle and began filling in around the front and rear passenger doors. They began clawing at the frosted windows as Ben closed his eyes and turned away.
Again Ethan shouted as he started back toward the SUV. “COME ON, I’M RIGHT HERE!”
As the crowd continued to pour in off the street, Ethan was able to get the attention of a pair of Feeders coming in from the left. They’d yet to push in behind the crowd surrounding his father’s vehicle, and with nothing standing in their way, they turned toward the garage.
“Good,” Ethan said under his breath. “Now I just need the rest of you to follow your friends.”
And they did.
The growing crowd finally took notice of Ethan as he backed into the garage. He crossed the floor quickly and moved to the work bench. Reaching for the pair of nine millimeter pistols, he turned toward the door to the house. He avoided the other parts of the garage and the spot where the man who taught him to throw a fastball lay in a river of his own blood.
Over his shoulder, he confirmed that the crowd was still in pursuit and also gauged the timing of what he was preparing to do. If he knew anything about his father, the keys would be easy enough to locate. He’d kept them in the same dish for over thirty years without fail, the same dish his sister made in grade school. The same dish that was always placed by the front door.
Ethan just needed the growing horde to follow him away from the SUV and into the house. Divert their current flow and get them moving in another direction. That’s how this was going to work. There wasn’t time for anything else.
He had to forget his own grief for the moment, push it aside, and get Ben back to the others. Move through each step precisely as it played out in his mind. No room for error, not in the slightest. If something went sideways, one tiny little glitch—anything at all—he and Ben wouldn’t live another sixty seconds.
Time wasn’t going to stand still for him, it wasn’t going to wait, and it sure as hell wasn’t on his side. He had one minute to make this happen. There wasn’t anyone coming to help. He was alone with only one way forward; now he just needed to act.
Slipping one of the pistols into his waistband and gripping the other in his right hand, Ethan narrowed his gaze on the door leading to the house. Stepping into the laundry room, his eyes slowly began adjusting to the darkened interior. And with less than a five second lead on the crowd pouring into the garage, he paused.
Standing in the hall between the laundry room and the entrance to the kitchen, a candlelight flickered from somewhere beyond his current vantage. The living room sat to his left and something or someone moved quickly through the shadows. Whoever it was stayed low and darted behind the large sofa.
Ethan raised the pistol in his right hand, kept his back to the wall, and quickly turned into the opposite hall leading to the front door. There wasn’t time for a long drawn out conversation. He couldn’t spare even the few seconds it would take to question the person hiding in his father’s living room. Was it simply a neighbor attempting to hide from the dead, or was it the last of Maddox’s men trying to wait out the inevitable?
He could fire into the dimly lit room, through the front of the tan leather sofa, and finish this without wasting another second. He could also just walk out through the door and let whoever it was die at the hands and mouths of those now pouring into the laundry room.
He didn’t particularly like either of those options, especially if it were just another innocent victim brought here by Maddox and his men. But he also wasn’t about to leave another moment of his life to chance. He’d already killed two men without blinking an eye and even though it was the right thing to do, he didn’t like the path he was now traveling.
Ethan backed toward the front door, and as the horde found its way into the adjoining hall, he looked to his right and found the bowl Emma had made all those years ago. Reaching in, he pulled out two sets of keys, shoved them into his pocket, and without turning, reached back and opened the front door.
“Whoever you are, you have less than five seconds to get out from behind that couch and get through the sliding glass door. I won’t harm you, but there is a large crowd coming your way that will. If you don’t go now, you won’t have a chance.”
The first few Feeders stomped heavily out of the hallway and into the living room. The next few turned away from the others and started for Ethan. They broke off in twos and threes, heading in opposite directions—half toward the person hidden behind the couch, and half headed toward Ethan.
Sliding behind the door, Ethan watched as the man behind the sofa leapt to his feet and took a step forward, reaching for his right hip. At this distance, he was only a vague silhouette; however, he wore the same black fatigues as the others, telling Ethan everything he needed to know.
As the horde continued to spill out of the hall—partially obstructing Ethan’s line of sight—the man thirty feet away again stepped forward.
Ethan trained his pistol on the man’s head and spoke only to himself.
Don’t kill him. You don’t have to. Get back to Ben.
With the crowds only a few seconds from reaching both men, Ethan wrapped his index finger around the trigger, waiting for the man to make a move. From across the room, the man locked eyes with Ethan and nodded, before turning and moving to the slider.
As Ethan lowered his weapon, the man slipped through the glass door, into the backyard, and disappeared into the night.
His heart pounding like a jackhammer against the inside of his chest, Ethan stepped out onto the front porch and closed the door just slightly ahead of the approaching crowd. They slammed into the opposite side with enough force to push Ethan out onto the porch, as he turned to check the front yard and the path leading back to the driveway.
Mostly clear.
The last half dozen or so Feeders from the street continued into the driveway, following the others into the garage, slowly finding their way into his parents’ home. Ethan quickly moved to the end of the walkway and checked the SUV. Only three remained at Ben’s window.
His friend needed help. He needed to get Ben back to the university and more importantly, back to Carly. Although Ethan also had one last thing to do before he hopped into the SUV and drove away from the area.
As the last few Feeders moved up into the home, Ethan turned and started for the garage. He needed to finish this tonight.
92
Cruising at an altitude of thirty-eight thousand feet, the Gulfstream G280 sliced through the night sky like a hot knife through butter. The flight had been quiet since leaving the West Coast, with the pilot only once appearing from the forward cabin. He sat in silence, peering out through the window and contemplating this unplanned trip.
Taking in a long slow breath, Marcus Goodwin turned in his chair and folded his hands into his lap. He glanced toward the front of the jet and then let his eyes drift back to the man seated five feet away.
“This shouldn’t take much more than a few hours. But this is something that is absolutely necessary.”
The small man with sandy brown hair and a wide nervous smile sat motionless, just staring back. He wanted to speak—simply offer up his opinion,
his solution—but he knew Mr. Goodwin wasn’t yet finished. So instead, he sat up high in his seat and gripped the oversized tablet like his life depended on him never letting go.
Goodwin began to nod as he continued, “I realize you probably have many concerns about this little trip, but I promise you, we need these guys.”
Marcus Goodwin paused and now waited for a response from the man half his age.
The small man only offered a slight grin, not completely ready to put his thoughts into words. They’d come out rushed and most likely offensive. His well-mannered demeanor was beginning to crack.
Leaning forward, Goodwin studied the man’s face, practically assured of what he was thinking. “James Dalton… let me ask you a question, as it’s obvious that you’re second-guessing our plan.”
“Our plan sir?” As the words crested his tongue and left his mouth, Dalton was already regretting his decision to speak. He crossed his legs and then uncrossed them just as quickly. He sat back in his chair, placed the tablet in his lap, and attempted to slow his racing pulse.
Rubbing his hands together, Goodwin smiled hard and shook his head. “Yes, that’s what I was looking for. I didn’t bring you along just because of the way you dress. While I feel that your decision to continue wearing three-piece suits even now is a bit odd, I do like your enthusiasm. It may just be what gets us through this—”
Goodwin stopped mid-sentence. He narrowed his eyes and looked toward the cockpit. Then back to Dalton, he rubbed at the two-day scruff along his face and neck. “Are we descending? There’s no way we’ve already arrived.”
Looking down at his wrist and pulling back his sleeve, Goodwin continued, “I’m calculating another twenty minutes, isn’t that right?”
Dalton nodded. “Yes, usually. But given the fact that we’re most likely the only ones in the sky, I assume that the pilots have taken some liberties with our scheduled route, which may have saved on fuel, as well as time.”
