by Jeff Olah
“Sounds logical, although maybe you should head up front and confirm. Also reiterate the importance of them staying with the plane while we are gone. I don’t want any excuses for us not hitting our target window tomorrow.”
Dalton pulled the tablet from his lap, powered it on, and closed the two windows he was working in. Before heading to the forward cabin, he placed the tablet back in his seat and turned to Goodwin. “I’ll make sure.”
“Before you go,” Goodwin said, “I want you to understand that this is our plan. Without you, there is no getting into that facility, not now, not next week, maybe not ever.”
“Thank you Mr. Goodwin, I appreciate everything you have done for me, including and most importantly, allowing me to stay at your side this past week. You didn’t have to keep me around, but I’m forever grateful that you did.”
He knew what Dalton was doing, but it wasn’t going to work. Marcus Goodwin didn’t have another side. There was not a single part of him that could be manipulated, and although Dalton was smart and quick on his feet, Goodwin was smarter.
“You’ve earned your rightful place here, so do yourself a favor and don’t try to patronize me. It won’t work. You know that I need your services, but I also need the men that we are here for. Without you and without them, this won’t work. Blackmore would be as good as lost.”
Attempting to come up with a proper response—one that would satisfy Goodwin, as well as put an end to this conversation—Dalton paused and looked back toward the front of the jet. He knew that no matter what he said next, it would somehow be the wrong thing.
As the uncomfortable silence continued, Dalton simply nodded his head and motioned toward the cockpit. “Yes, I understand. I will make sure they do as well.”
Goodwin didn’t respond, adding to the already awkward moment. He instead waited for Dalton to turn and walk away. He then reached for the glass bottle of artesian spring water that sat atop the small square table to his right. Tilting it back and taking a long pull, he again peered out the window.
Intently studying the devastated topography below, he spoke quietly and only to himself.
This world, not much different than the last… the only change, less weakness to deal with. Maybe this won’t be so bad?
A smile began to form at the corners of his mouth as Marcus Goodwin contemplated what the new world would look like. He pictured an existence where one day every man, woman, and child would know his name. Some would think him a visionary, while others would initially despise what he stood for and what he had created… but they would learn to respect him. They would one day see what he saw. But ultimately they would realize that this world—good or bad—was his. It would belong only to him.
This wasn’t exactly the outcome he’d originally envisioned; however, it was his all the same. The turn was unfortunate, but now he believed it was necessary and embraced his creation. The ends would one day justify the means. And he no longer cared about the whys or the hows, only that his legacy lived on—for however long that would be.
A backlit figure stepped out of the cockpit. Goodwin expected to see a reluctant James Dalton striding back to his seat, but was surprised as the co-pilot, a tall slender sixty-something man, walked quickly through the rear cabin.
Goodwin turned away from the window as the uniformed man approached. “Yes, Mr. Osborne, what can I do for you?”
“Mr. Goodwin, we have a problem”
“Add it to the list.”
“We can’t land, not at our assigned airfield anyway, we are looking into—”
“I don’t care what the problem is, land this thing or I’ll do it myself.”
The co-pilot looked out the window at Goodwin’s right side. “I understand your concern; we both do. However, we are running into the same problem as we did at take-off. There just isn’t enough asphalt to put down.”
Peering around the tall slender man, Goodwin focused on the cockpit. “I’d rather not have to come up there myself. You were hired to do a job, so just—”
Even as the co-pilot began to interject, he could feel the tension in the air beginning to solidify. “Sir… that isn’t our only concern. There is one other issue that needs to be addressed before making any other decisions.”
Goodwin’s eyes narrowed as he sat forward. “I won’t tell you again. Land. This. Plane. There isn’t anything else that needs to be discussed. I have men on the ground just waiting for us to arrive. They are the reason we’ve made this trip.”
“Yes Mr. Goodwin, that’s the other problem.”
“What is the other problem?”
“The men we’ve come here for, they aren’t at the airfield and we’ve lost all communication with them… we have no idea where they are.”
93
Huddled under the treeline at the corner of University Avenue and Eleventh Street, Griffin asked the others to stay back against the wall at the far end of the sidewalk. With the moon now high in the sky and nearly full, a row of densely spaced pine trees offered just enough cover from the intersecting streets. Griffin felt this would be a safe place to collect his thoughts, at least for the moment.
“I’m going after Ethan and Ben, there’s no reason that all of us—”
With one arm wrapped tightly around Helen, Carly quickly shook her head. “You have no idea where you’re going.”
Pulling her shoulder-length brown hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear, Cora said, “She’s right; we should all go.”
Carly peered down at Ethan’s mother and continued Cora’s thought. “We have to her take with us. She’s the only one who knows how to get to the house.”
Wincing as he squatted, Griffin pulled one of the black duffel bags in between his legs. Unzipping it, he began digging through as he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t used to this. He had five other people now looking to him for guidance, and at present, he wasn’t even sure he could manage taking care of himself. Debating the group’s plan would only waste time. Time they didn’t have.
Leaning back, he pulled out a SIG Sauer P320 and set it on the sidewalk alongside two fully loaded magazines. His head pounded and for some reason, his right eye had begun to twitch. Dropping his face into his hands, Griffin momentarily pushed their current situation to the back of his mind, dug his middle fingers into his temples, and pushed down. His previous injury, whatever it was, had finally decided to take a stand.
Taking a deep breath, Griffin gripped the pistol, placed his left hand on his knee, and slowly pushed to stand. His head had begun to spin, but not like the spinning that would come after a long night with far too many drinks. This was slower and more annoying. He’d be able to function for the time being; however, the persistent nausea sitting in the pit of his stomach reminded him that he was nowhere near ready for what was to come.
Turning to face the others, he looked to Frank and pointed the weapon up the next block. “I’ll take the lead. Carly and Helen can guide us. You and Shannon watch our rear, but let’s stay away from the street. I have a feeling that woman has no intention of letting us just walk away.”
Frank nodded. Grabbing one of the two black duffels, he pulled out a pistol of his own and looked back toward the university. “Okay, let’s go.”
Stepping between the two men, Cora reached for the second duffel at the same time as Griffin. She pulled it to her feet, withdrew a Glock 17 nine millimeter pistol, quickly slipped the bag over her shoulder, and readied the weapon. “Just in case?”
Griffin narrowed his eyes. “In case what?”
She looked from Griffin to Frank and then back. “I don’t see a downside to us being a little more prepared. Like you said, Josie’s not just going to let us leave. Also, you know that I’m more than capable of handling one of these.”
Griffin didn’t respond.
“And,” Cora continued, “those shots we heard a few minutes ago, we also need to be prepared for whatever or whoever that was.”
Before the last word le
ft her mouth, she’d instinctively turned to face Ethan’s mother. The pain of the unknown was clearly written across the older woman’s face and although Cora knew it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, she quickly apologized. “Helen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Still wrapped tightly under Carly’s right arm, Helen’s words came out slow and cracked. “I’m okay, I just want to get back to my family.”
Griffin turned away from the street and faced the others. There would be time to reflect once they’d gotten to their friends and away from this hell. Right now, he needed them to set aside the current situation and focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. He needed to get them moving. He had to somehow keep them alive.
“Okay, stay close. We’ll get to Ethan and your husband and then get the hell out of here. We’ll put this city in our rearview mirror and never look back.” Now gazing only at Helen, he leaned in and said, “I promise you.”
Fighting back tears, Helen attempted to stand up straight against Carly. She nodded and pushed through a half smile. “Thank you.”
Returning the gesture, Griffin motioned toward the end of the long city block, looking at Helen for confirmation. “That way?”
“Yes, the next street leads straight into our development. We’ll be able to see it once we turn the corner.”
“Okay,” Griffin said, “let’s go.”
Starting cautiously, the group of six stepped out away from the thick row of pines and into the moonlit night. They moved as a single unit, with Griffin keeping one eye on the intersection not more than a hundred yards away. And with every ten seconds that passed, he’d step out into the street, turn, and check the university as it faded into the distance.
Falling back in ahead of the others, Griffin slid in close beside Cora. He placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered into her ear. “This may just work after all.”
Grinning nervously and narrowing her eyes, Cora looked up at him. She chose not to respond right then, and instead gradually increased her speed, sliding her hand onto his upper arm. She pulled Griffin out ahead of the others, and attempting to contain her voice to only the two of them, rested her head on his shoulder.
“Don’t you hear that?”
“Hear what? What are you talking—”
His voice trailed off as he became aware. He didn’t know why he hadn’t heard it before, and was confused as to why the others hadn’t either. Could it have been his increased heart rate beating inside his ears, or maybe the fact that his sole focus was the fifty-yard radius he had been monitoring for the last thirty minutes?
He wasn’t sure, although now he was unable to focus on anything else. And looking back at the others, they’d obviously heard it too.
Frank had stopped walking first. He’d set the duffel bag on the sidewalk and stared back in the direction of the university. It was too dark and too far away to see at this distance; however, with his right hand gripped tightly around the weapon hanging at his side, he began to nod.
“You were right, they’re coming. What are we going to—”
“Wait!” Stepping away from Carly, Helen turned to the others. Nearly unable to contain her excitement, she spoke quickly and at an increased volume. “That’s not coming from down there. That sound is my husband’s SUV. I’d know it anywhere.”
Turning back toward the intersection and quieting his breathing, Frank stared silently into the night. “I don’t know. It seems to me that it’s coming from back there.”
The others began to debate the origin of what was now obviously some type of large vehicle as Griffin held his left hand up over his head, calling for attention. “Listen, either way, we need to keep moving. Whoever’s coming is going to be on top of us in a matter of minutes, and this time, we’re gonna be prepared.”
94
He was impressed with himself for the first time in months, maybe even years. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to and although the victory was a small one, at this point, it was something he could use to get himself through to the next crisis. His plan had worked, and other than a handful of lost souls roaming the street, every last Feeder in the area was now locked inside his parents’ home.
After quietly following the last few through the garage and up the steps, Ethan simply closed the door behind them and sprinted back to his father’s SUV. However, glancing in through the windshield on his way to the driver’s door, his joy was short lived.
Ben was pitched forward in the passenger seat, held only inches from the dashboard by the seatbelt now positioned high on his chest. His eyes were closed and he didn’t appear to be conscious.
Rounding the front of the vehicle and without regard for their current situation, Ethan shouted at his young friend. “BEN, WAKE UP!”
Clutching the remote in his right hand, Ethan locked and then unlocked the doors with the sound of a quick chirp. Opening the door, he laid his weapons on the center console and leapt into the driver’s seat.
Slamming the door and shoving the key into the ignition, he leaned to his right and placed his arm across Ben’s upper chest. Guiding the kid back into his seat, he took a quick glance out through the passenger window. The last few Feeders were now moving toward the driveway and the rear of the SUV.
They didn’t actually pose a threat, although Ethan needed to release some of the rage tearing apart his insides, if even just a small dose. He’d vent what remained when the opportunity presented itself, but for now, this would have to do. At the moment, he had a much more pressing issue seated only eighteen inches away.
Turning over the engine, Ethan shifted the SUV into reverse, gently cut the wheel to the right, and plowed his size twelve boot down onto the gas pedal. The massive vehicle lurched backward and made contact with three of the five Feeders, throwing two of them to the opposite side of the street.
The third beast dropped straight to the asphalt and caused the driver’s side of the SUV to jump as the rear wheel drifted over the severely mangled corpse. Checking his rearview mirror, he moved his foot from the gas to the brake just as the rear of the SUV downed the final pair of Feeders.
With one last glance toward the darkened house, Ethan said good-bye to his father. This wasn’t a scene he’d ever want to remember. In time, he’d push this night aside and only allow himself to remember the days, weeks, and years before the world went to hell.
He’d remember his last trip to this city only three weeks before. It was the last time he saw his father smile, it was the last time they’d shared a laugh, and it was the last time he told his father he loved him. That was the memory he’d hold on to… if that were even possible.
Back to present, he still had a job to do. His friend sat in the seat beside him, eyes closed and apparently bleeding to death. The makeshift tourniquet appeared to be working, but for how long, and just how much damage had already been done?
Ethan wasn’t put off by the carnage; however, he also had very little experience with this kind of thing. As he turned right at the first corner, nearly taking the SUV up onto to two wheels, he spoke quietly and only to himself.
“What the hell am I doing?”
As he pointed the SUV down the last stretch of asphalt before reaching the gates, he again turned to Ben. His young friend was now slumped backward in the seat, his head back against the headrest, leaning ever so slightly to the right.
Ethan placed his hand on Ben’s chest once again. He waited a few seconds to confirm the rise and fall, and then over the roar of the engine shouted, “DAMN IT KID, OPEN YOUR EYES!”
He was breathing, but nothing much beyond that. The kid’s eyelids were still clamped down and he appeared to be losing the color in his face. Ben’s body shifted violently with each turn in the roadway and as they exited the gated community, he slipped down in his seat, the belt now resting squarely across his neck.
There wasn’t time to reposition his injured friend; however, as they approached another left turn, Ethan had an idea. Even though Ben didn
’t appear to be choking, the full weight of his body pulling against the taut seatbelt, combined with his current condition, couldn’t be helping matters. Ethan was through taking chances.
With a quick check of his speed, Ethan pressed gently on the gas pedal and moved to the right side of the unusually empty residential street. As they approached the turn, he slipped his hand under Ben’s left arm and focused on a spot a few feet from the left-hand sidewalk.
As they entered the turn, Ethan tapped the brakes and cut the wheel just enough to force Ben’s limp body up and to the right. Keeping his eyes on the darkened road, he used the vehicle’s centrifugal force to help him push his friend’s neck off the seatbelt and his body back against the passenger’s seat.
Straightening out the SUV, Ethan punched the gas just as Ben’s right side slammed into the passenger door. The kid’s eyes shot open only a fraction of a second before he yelped in pain and pushed back against his seat. He stared at Ethan and blinked repeatedly, obviously unaware of their current situation.
“Ethan… what’s happening?”
Before Ethan had a chance to answer, Ben shook his head, attempting to make sense of this new reality. He quickly turned his focus out through the windshield and squinted into the night. Grabbing the sides of his head, the younger man cried out in pain once again.
“I can’t do this… my head, it’s pounding.”
Ethan turned to Ben and laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’re almost there, kid. You just need to stay with me for another minute.”
“Why is my—”
Ben stopped his question and narrowed his eyes, as if he just remembered something. Because he had. Twisting his head at an awkward angle and staring down at his right arm, it all came back. Leaving the university, hiding behind the truck, watching Maddox murder Ethan’s father, and finally stepping out into the street and taking a bullet in his right arm.
