by Jeff Olah
Drifting left and looking back over his shoulder, Tom estimated that he had roughly a five second lead on those most near, although their thunderous footfalls added to the illusion that they were much closer.
He moved out into the street with the intent of swinging wide around the pair of cement trucks and felt his right bicep beginning to cramp. Her body now seemed to be involuntarily fighting his attempts at holding her tight against his chest. She stiffened her arms and legs and struggled to get free.
Tom moved off the sidewalk and without slowing, continued to rouse Emma. He fought through the pain ripping through his right arm and lifted her face up alongside his.
“Emma … Emma … Please!”
She stirred, her eyelids fluttering as she kicked her legs and attempted to pull her arms up into her chest.
“Emma wake up.”
A quick breath in—as if she was coming up for air—and then Emma’s eyes shot open. She appeared confused, her pupils now dilated as she quickly scanned her new surroundings.
“Tom?”
There was no point in attempting to hide the severity of their situation or delaying the inevitable for any longer than was necessary. Tom had reached his limit mentally, as well as physically. He needed to stop, to give in to the exhaustion, even if just for a minute or two. He was going to have to put her down.
“Emma …” in between labored breaths, he continued. “I … can’t … keep … going.”
Emma leaned into him as they turned the corner and moved behind the cement trucks. She wrapped her arms around him—taking the pressure off his arms—and checked the crowd coming from behind.
“Put me down.”
“Can you—”
Emma winced and pulled her hand to the wound on the right side of her head.
“Put me down, I’m fine.”
She wasn’t and he knew it. Emma was finally awake and semi-coherent, but beyond that, he had little faith that she’d do anything but drop to the pavement. However, he also knew that they wouldn’t last another thirty seconds with him carrying her.
“You gonna be okay to—”
Their faces nearly touching, Emma wore an expression that told him she was now more irritated than frightened. Interrupting, she began pushing away.
“I’m good … really I am. You have to put me down.”
She was right. He did have to put her down. He wouldn’t have been able to continue carrying her, not even another ten seconds. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, Tom moved to the right, slipped in beside the first cement truck, and stopped.
Emma squirmed free and reached for Tom’s hand. Her legs were a bit unsteady, and as he maintained eye contact, he could see the color running from her face.
“Stay with me,” Tom said. “We’re almost there.” He nodded toward the end of the block and held tight to her hand. “Let’s go, we’re gonna make it.”
The horde moving in from behind had turned the corner and were now filling in from both sides of the gargantuan construction vehicles. They had also gained the attention of another much larger crowd that milled about at the east end of Pacific Avenue, and within the next few minutes, the number of Feeders coming for them would double.
Tom led Emma around to the front of the first cement truck.
“Can you walk?”
She let go of his hand. “Yes.”
“Can you run?”
Emma nodded. “What are you doing?”
“What I have to do.”
“And what is that.”
Tom didn’t acknowledge her question; he instead pointed to the storefront just over fifty yards away.
“You see that door that looks like it was spray-painted red?”
“Yeah?”
“Go there,” Tom said. “It’s not locked, but it’s stuck. Push hard and you’ll get it open. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Tom?”
He placed his hand on her lower back and kissed her on top of the head.
“Don’t wait for me, just go.”
Tom gave her a gentle nudge and moved back out into the street. He ran toward the crowd coming in off Pacific and began waving his hands.
“HEY OVER HERE … LET’S GO, COME ON!”
As the two groups began merging into one, Tom quickly looked over his shoulder. Emma was now taking short, hesitant steps backward, but continued to watch him. He waved her on, and as she turned and started to jog, the sound of a weapon being fired rang out from somewhere in the distance.
147
They’d driven as far as they could along Las Vegas Boulevard before turning left and heading away from what was left of the Strip. The complete destruction of downtown left them with little choice. However, the torched hotels, overturned taxi cabs, gutted outdoor malls, and multiple spot fires were only half of the problem. They were also completely out of time.
Frank pulled the SUV to a stop at the corner of Sands Avenue and Paradise Road. He nodded to Griffin and stared past him out the passenger window. A stand of twenty-foot spruce framed an empty parking lot, and beyond that, a newly constructed office building.
Walking the lot was a former security guard. He had taken notice of the SUV and started toward the street. With every other step, he twisted his torso at an awkward angle and tossed his mangled left arm out in front of his body. It appeared that he was attempting to keep himself upright with the unnatural movement, but as he pushed through the closely spaced trees and started down the grassy embankment, it proved to be his undoing.
Within six feet of the sidewalk, the man in the tattered black and red polyester uniform jerked forward and crashed down on top of his already blown-apart left arm. He slid out onto the sidewalk and fighting furiously to right himself, ended up rolling onto his back and into the street.
Griffin turned back to Frank and keeping his voice just above a whisper said, “What do you think?”
Frank let off the brake, turned out onto Paradise, and glanced into his rearview mirror as he drifted to the center of the road.
“What do you mean,” Frank said. “About what?”
Griffin stared straight through the windshield.
“What we’re doing here. I mean the odds of us actually finding him … you know?”
Frank looked back over his shoulder, confirming that the others were actively engaged in their own conversations.
“Yeah, I understand. But what else are we gonna do? You know as well as I do that it was only a matter of time before he left. And I’m pretty sure he had that planned before we even got here.”
Griffin rested his hands on the dash and shook his head. He appeared to be lost in thought, as if he were somewhere else. “You were right.”
“What?”
“It’s raining, you said earlier that the rain was coming.”
“Yeah,” Frank said. “So?”
Griffin turned back to face Frank, his eyes narrowed and his face ashen.
“We’ve got ten minutes of daylight, maybe fifteen. What the hell are we going to do after that?”
Now alongside McCarran Airport, Frank couldn’t help but wonder why this end of town ran in such contrast to the area they’d just driven away from. They hadn’t passed a single vehicle since turning off Sands Avenue, and other than a handful of Feeders roaming the empty streets, nothing moved.
“Ethan is out there somewhere. Hopefully he was able to find a car and get back to the interstate. He might even be out ahead of us; I just don’t know. But either way, this is where we’re at … we just keep moving until we find him or we reach the coast.”
“So we drive around all night in the pouring rain and what … just hope we find him, or he somehow find us?”
Frank shifted in his seat as they approached the next intersection. “We all had our reasons for agreeing to go after Ethan, and I for one owe my life to him. So no matter what, I’m not going to stop until I find him.”
Griffin closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. “That’s not i
t, I’d do absolutely anything for Ethan. But this, what we’re doing here, the way we’re doing it, with all of us, it’s just not … I don’t know.”
Frank now understood what this was. He should have recognized it long before now. For all the obvious signs, it was right there, written across Griffin’s face since they first realized what Ethan had done. “I agree.”
Griffin looked confused. “What are you agreeing with?”
“Ethan shouldn’t have left.”
“Yeah,” Griffin said, “that’s pretty obvious. I don’t think you’ll find anyone in this vehicle who would argue that point.”
“And—”
“And what?”
“And you’re pissed … I would be too.”
“I don’t know if pissed is the right word. Maybe more frustr—”
“You’re pissed,” Frank said. “Because Ethan left without you. You’re pissed because you can’t understand why he didn’t ask you to come. You’re wondering what it was that made him think he was safer without you there to help. But, you’re mostly pissed because you think that he lumped you in with the rest of us. The old, the fragile, the foolish.”
“So now you’re a psychologist, you think you know what’s going on inside my head?”
“I think you’d rather be out there with Ethan fighting for your life than in here with us trying to find him. And you’re right, you should be.”
Griffin just stared at Frank.
“Son, you aren’t like the rest of us. You know how to handle yourself out there, you’re an asset to this group and that’s the exact reason why Ethan left without telling you. He wanted someone here who could take care of us … his mother, Shannon, Carly, hell even the kid and me.”
“You’re trying to tell me that I should take what he did as a compliment, some sort of pat on the back?”
“Read into it whichever way you want, but the fact remains that we need you and he knew that. I for one am grateful.”
Griffin sat back in his seat as the rain now came down in sheets. He breathed out slowly and rested his hands on his legs. “I appreciate it, Frank, but we’re gonna have to decide what to do for tonight. Do we keep on, or head back and wait till morning?”
Neither realized that the others had been listening in for the last few minutes, and as the rear of the SUV fell into silence, Helen took her turn.
“Ethan trusted you, Griffin. He trusted you to take care of us, but we aren’t your responsibility. My son thought we’d be safe locked up inside that hotel, but he—”
Frank had seen it first, followed closely by Griffin and then the others. The group of six stared in silence as Frank pulled the SUV to a stop and cut the lights, not more than a quarter of a mile from the coming intersection.
From their position, the headlights of the approaching vehicle were the only thing visible through the right side of the SUV. It wasn’t quite close enough to get a read on the make or model; however, as it traveled along the southbound lanes of Las Vegas Boulevard, Helen nearly leapt from the second row.
“Frank, it’s Ethan, turn the lights back on.”
Frank moved to switch the lights back on, but Griffin had already reached from his seat and held out his left hand.
“Wait,” Griffin said. “Just wait a second.”
148
Ethan sat on the floor and watched as Zach opened a third package of potato chips. The pounding rain had driven the pair away from the residential neighborhood before the young boy had a chance to reveal the spot where he and his sister had spent the previous eight days. As they entered the ransacked grocery store hours before, he’d told Ethan that he never wanted to go back. There were too many bad memories, too many reminders of what happened to his sister and their parents.
With his back against the outside edge of check stand number three, Ethan pretended not to notice as Zach’s stomach once again growled. He turned away and again looked out toward the parking lot as the boy looked up at him.
“I’m sorry,” Zach said. “It keeps doing that.”
Ethan smiled and shook his head. He noticed the boy mirroring his gesture before digging back into his bag of chips and finishing what little remained.
“Happens to me all the time. But when it does, you better cover your ears … I’m tellin’ ya.”
Zach covered his mouth as he laughed, but was caught off guard as his stomach again reacted to the barbecue-flavored snacks. He was obviously embarrassed, but quickly tilted back the bag and let what was left slide into his mouth. He chewed slowly and then wiped his sleeve over his lips.
“Mr. Ethan?”
“Just Ethan. You can just call me Ethan, I mean we’re friends, right?”
Zach nodded. “Where are you going?”
“What do you mean? Like when we leave here?”
“Yes sir.”
Ethan though for a moment about correcting the boy, about reminding him that they were now friends and that friends addressed each other by first names. But instead, he thought it best to come at it from another direction.
“Well … I guess we’ll have to figure that out together, you and me.”
“Okay.” Zach nodded, but he didn’t appear to be convinced. “But … I thought you said you we’re trying to go to California?”
“You’re right, I do have to go to California, my sister is out there.” Ethan regretted his choice of words even before he was even finished speaking them. He watched as the boy’s face changed, the corners of his mouth dropping and his eyes falling to the floor. The kid had lost his own sister—probably his last connection to anything good in this world—only two days before.
Zach stared at his feet and set aside the empty bag of chips. He ran his hand over his eyes, and from where Ethan sat, he could only assume the boy was wiping away a tear.
“Mr. Ethan, I don’t want to stay.”
“Stay?”
“Yeah, I don’t like it here. I want to leave. There’s too many monsters here, but …”
Without actually having to hear the question, Ethan was certain he knew what Zach was really asking, the boy was just afraid to voice it.
“Zach …”
“Yes?” He wiped his face once again and looked up at Ethan.
“How old are you?”
“I’m eight, but in three months I’ll be nine.”
“Wow, I would have thought you were at least ten.”
Zach smiled. He appeared to take Ethan’s miscalculation as a compliment; however, Ethan was truly surprised by the boy’s age. He was much bigger than any eight year old he could recall. Half a head taller and outweighing others his age by at least ten pounds, the kid could have easily passed for a twelve year old.
“Yeah,” Zach said, “the doctor said I was big for my age.”
Ethan nodded as he pushed away from the check stand. “You’re pretty fast too.”
“I was the fastest boy in the whole third grade.”
Looking back toward the door, Ethan said, “What about the girls?”
Zach laughed. “Well …”
“Wait, don’t tell me. There was a girl who was the fastest in the whole school?”
“Her name was Sara, but how did you know.”
Ethan smiled. “I was pretty fast when I was in school too, but there was this one girl who always beat me.”
Zach continued to giggle.
“Hey,” Ethan said. “Where is your backpack?”
The boy pointed to the opposite side of the aisle, then quickly jumped to his feet and retrieved it. “Okay?”
“You still have your glove and that ball?”
Zach unzipped the pack, dug around inside, and pulled out the worn leather glove, setting it aside. Back into his bag, he pulled out the bloodstained baseball and tossed it over to Ethan.
Estimating that they’d been locked away in the store for over three hours and given that the two hadn’t slept since at least yesterday, Ethan asked, “You tired?”
Zach shook his head. �
��No sir.”
With just enough moonlight spilling in through the entrance, Ethan tossed the ball back to his new friend and nodded toward the back of the store. “Alright then, you’re gonna need to back up.”
Zach caught the ball as he was backpedaling and moved to the open area alongside a stand of over-ripened bananas. He quickly tossed the ball back to Ethan, who now stood to the left of the last check stand.
“Hey,” Zach said. “I have another one in my backpack.”
“Another what?”
“Another glove.”
Ethan opened the pack and pulled out the second glove, this one obviously for an adult. He slipped his hand in and tossed the ball back to the smiling boy.
“Fits perfect.”
Zach stepped back with his right leg, steadied himself, and threw the ball overhand. It whistled through the air and slapped into the tan leather with much more force than Ethan was ready for.
“Wow, you got an arm too.”
Dropping the ball from the glove into his right hand, Ethan noticed the name scribbled across the webbing. It was the same handwriting as the boy’s glove, but only three letters. Ethan breathed out slowly, paused a moment, and then looked up at the boy. Zach was staring back, his hands at his side, and his face again showing the pain of the previous two weeks.
“That was my dad’s, I gave it to him for his birthday.”
It hit him hard and all at once. There wasn’t a single thing Ethan could say that would help in this moment. He wanted to take the boy’s pain and show him that everything was going to get better. He wanted to, but he knew he couldn’t. That’s not what Zach needed, he just needed some hope.
“Zach, you’re a very brave—”
A sea of illumination swept in from the parking lot, first spilling in over the register to his right and then coming to rest on the reflective linoleum less than a foot from where Zach now stood. Darting left, Ethan dove in behind check stand number two, calling out to Zach as he crashed into a gift-card display stand.
