by Jeff Olah
Back to the half dozen theatre workers, he quickly eyed each one individually. Not one showed any of the usual signs of decay he had come to expect, and other than the copious amounts of blood covering their faces and hands, the tight-knit group appeared nearly untouched.
Twisting left, he swung on the largest of the six. A man in his late twenties that must have outweighed him by a good sixty pounds. Lunging forward, he pierced the right temple of the large man with sharpened edge of his weaponized Rebar. As the man dropped to the asphalt, Griffin took a step toward the gate and drove the three-foot piece of discarded metal into the head of the young blonde who followed close behind the oversized ticket collector.
Making quick work of the next three, Griffin ran the short distance to the gate and dropped to one knee. He had ten seconds before the last of the theatre employees was on him, but even less time than that to get the gate secured. The massive horde filing away from the commercial building across the street had already entered the parking lot.
Griffin pulled the two sides of the gate together, looped through the short section of chain, and used the padlock to once again secure their home.
Taking a quick breath, he pushed away from the ground and eyed the only remaining theatre employee. Older than the others and with a slightly varied uniform, the man’s nametag read Nicholas. That was of little concern to Griffin, but the word that sat below the man’s name was why Griffin had kept him for last.
“Manager”
As the over-forty gentleman with blood running from his eyes, ears, and mouth stumbled forward, Griffin moved aside and shoved him to the ground. Using just enough pressure to finish the job, he punctured the back of the man’s skull and knelt beside the body.
As Boone and Tom made their way over from the now secured tennis courts, Griffin reached to the former theatre manager’s waist and retrieved a set of keys. Shaking his head, he held them up and turned to his friends. “Who likes popcorn?”
Boone looked around the yard and then toward a growing pile of rotting flesh at the north end of the gymnasium. “We’d better get these bodies—”
The door at the rear of the gym shot open and Carly appeared, out of breath. “We need help … it’s Ethan … he’s down.”
190
By midday, Bryce had nodded off twice. His stomach still ached and his arms and legs were much weaker than he could ever remember, but at least the pounding at the back of his head had subsided. He was thankful for the little things, although as he attempted to focus his thoughts, the voices returned.
At least three men, maybe there were more, but that’s all he could make out at the moment. The first to speak was the man who last walked through the door. Roland Mayhew—at least that’s what Bryce was remembering. He didn’t recall much else about their conversation and certainly not any of the other names.
There were two voices now going back and forth. The more even toned, more direct of the pair, he felt was Roland. They had only spoken for a few brief moments, but his calm demeanor came through even if Bryce was unable to catch every word.
Within minutes, the voices quickly dropped away and the door at the opposite end of the garage once again opened. Three men came through the doorway, each stopping at the bottom of the steps. They stared at the floor and waited as Roland moved by with the tall thin man at his side.
“Well,” Roland said, “you ready to get out of here, maybe go back home?”
Bryce didn’t respond. He instead just looked from Roland to the tall man and back to Roland.
“What, you’ve got nothing to say? I mean, I just offered you a way out of here and you’re just going to sit there like I asked you to murder someone?”
Bryce swallowed hard and looked around Roland toward the three men at the bottom of the steps. They each carried a weapon and for reasons yet unknown to him, continued to avoid eye contact. “What do you want?”
“Who says I want anything. Maybe I’m just going to open the door and let you and your friend walk away.”
“My friend,” Bryce said. “Where is he? I want to see him.”
Roland turned to the tall man and furrowed his brow. “I was sure he’d be happier to see us, but I don’t think I understand the attitude … you?”
The tall man didn’t seem to understand the question and instead of answering, simply shrugged his shoulders.
Bryce leaned back into the drywall, took in a slow breath, and then repeated himself, “What do you want from us?”
Roland turned away from the tall man and took a step toward Bryce. “You know what we’re looking for and by now I’m quite sure you’ve figured out why. My friends and I would appreciate your help, but at this point we may no longer need it.”
Looking around the garage and then in through the open door, Bryce shook his head. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. My friend and I have nothing to do with anyone at the high school.”
Taking a pause, Bryce was starting to feel the effects of more than two days with very little food or rest. He was beginning to forget exactly why he was fighting to stay alive. “Why don’t you just take your little army and go knock on their front door, ask them to let you in, maybe they aren’t who you think?”
Roland turned to the three men near the door and then back to the tall man. He narrowed his eyes as if perplexed by the question. “You know, that’s a good point. Why don’t we just stroll on over and knock on their front door?”
No one answered or even looked toward the man in the tan leather jacket. Roland looked around the garage as if waiting, but then quickly turned back to Bryce, his face now changed. Harder, with a hint of red behind his cheeks. “No, that’s why you and your friend are here.”
“What?”
Roland turned back to the tall thin man. “What did we agree on, an hour?”
The tall man nodded. “Yeah, an hour.”
“Okay,” Roland said, “my friends here have convinced me to give you an hour.”
Bryce sat up straight. “An hour … for what?”
“To warn your friends at the school. By my calculations, it should only take you fifteen minutes to get there on foot. That leaves you with forty-five minutes to get them to leave.”
“I already told you, I don’t know those people.”
“Well then, I guess you and your friend in the other room can use the hour to get as far away from here as possible, but I’m betting you won’t.”
Bryce flinched as the tall man stepped away from Roland and held out a box cutter. Roland nodded and the tall man moved to Bryce, knelt before him and looked into his eyes. “Don’t move an inch, I’d really hate to have to slice your Achilles.”
Bryce looked into the tall man’s eyes, who was now smiling, and then turned to Roland. “You’re letting us go?”
Roland turned to the three men at the door and motioned back toward the home. Within seconds, his friend was pushed through the threshold and down the two steps.
Sawyer, the man he’d lived with for the better part of the last month, was now a shadow of his former self. Although they had only been separated for just over forty-eight hours, Sawyer looked like he’d lost at least ten pounds. He was no longer wearing a shirt or any shoes. His face was drawn and dirty, blood was caked at the corners of his mouth, and the bruising along his torso and arms told Bryce his friend’s time here had been every bit as tortuous as he’d imagined.
With his arms and legs now free, Bryce slowly pushed away from the floor and stood with his back to the wall. Sawyer was guided to a spot beside him, although the pair avoided looking at one another.
Roland asked the three men at the door to vacate and then turned to the tall man. “Make sure the others are ready.”
As Roland watched his men move away and back into the home, Bryce leaned slightly to the left and whispered to his friend. “You okay?”
Sawyer stood frozen in place. He also spoke under his breath. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, but what’s going on?”
Bryce shook his head. “You’re lying, why would you—”
Roland raised his right hand and held up his index finger. “We just don’t need you anymore. We got most of what we needed by just watching those people for the last few days, and if my friends are correct, there shouldn’t be a problem getting them to leave.”
“Then why—”
Roland held up his finger yet again. “You shouldn’t be wasting valuable time asking so many questions. If what you’ve said is the truth, if in fact you have no connection to those people at the high school and this was all just a misunderstanding, you should really just take the opportunity to run away from here.”
He was right, but was the clean-cut man—who appeared abnormally calm—really going to just let them go free? Something told Bryce that there was more to the story. “What about our things?”
Roland pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, stared down at his wrist, and started toward the door. “You and your friend have been given a gift.” And motioning back into the home, he continued, “I strongly suggest you simply walk out the front door and never come back. This offer does have an expiration. Oh, and by the way, you’ve got fifty-seven minutes.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Bryce turned to his friend and the pair headed toward the door. Roland was right, whatever the reason, he and Sawyer were being released. And while they might not even make it across the street, there was no use in standing around and asking questions … that would come later.
Bryce led the way as he and Sawyer moved past Roland, into the hall, and then out onto the porch. They quickly shuffled through two rows of men who stood on either side of the short walkway and then out onto the sloped driveway.
More men and more weapons. Something wasn’t right. When he and his friend were initially brought here, Bryce estimated that there were no more than seven or eight men guarding the newly constructed residence. Now, between the front yard and the street beyond, there had to be upwards of thirty well-armed men and women.
Roland made his way through the center of the large group and stood at the foot of the driveway, his hands now folded into one another. He looked to Bryce and Sawyer and then around at the sea of men waiting for their next move. “No one gets in their way. They’ve both indicated that they have no idea who those good folks are at the high school, so they are no longer of use.”
Back to Bryce and Sawyer, Roland continued. “It’s time for you to go.”
There was something in the theatrics of their release that made no sense. Why bring them here, beat them for days on end, and then simply let them walk away? And why the walk of shame just before kicking them back into the streets? Bryce wasn’t sure what this was, but he was certain of one thing. This wouldn’t be the last they’d see of the blond man in the tan leather jacket.
With Sawyer at his side, Bryce walked out into the street, turned his gaze toward the mid-afternoon sun, and took a moment to revel in their newfound freedom. He waited until they were at a safe distance and then under his breath said, “Just follow my lead, I think they’re already tracking us.”
191
Jogging back through the gymnasium, Griffin followed Carly across the hardwood floor. For the third time in the last eight days, he was coming to Ethan’s rescue. He had yet to tell the others about his friend falling out of the truck or nearly being decapitated out on Sixth Street, but he had a feeling that given the circumstances, revealing the truth about the last few weeks might just be for the best.
Behind the others, Boone took one last look around the yard, secured the doors, and followed Tom out into the hall. The pair rushed to catch the others, although as they moved up the stairs to the second floor, Griffin was already standing at the door to the classroom and waved them off.
“He’s okay.”
Boone gave a thumbs-up and motioned back in the opposite direction. “We’ll do a quick sweep of the front and then take the weapons back upstairs.”
Griffin nodded and before following Carly into the former math classroom, paused at the door. He told himself to stay calm and remember what his life was like before he was able to outrun his own demons. He knew that deep down Ethan was a good man and that he was the only reason this group had made it to the coast.
Walking into the room, Emma stood over the dark blue cot Ethan was stretched out on. Griffin laid his hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly, “So, he alright?”
“He’ll be fine, just a few bumps and bruises.”
“What happened?”
Emma curled her lip and as Ethan opened his eyes, she turned up the volume in her voice. “He tripped on the third or fourth step and then just fell the rest of the way down. Nothing’s broken, but I’m done trying to fix him.”
Sensing her building frustration, Griffin looked down on Ethan and then back toward the door. “What about the kid … anything new?”
Emma started back toward the hall and motioned for Griffin to follow. She stopped just outside the door and peered down the long corridor. “Zach appears to be mostly unaffected by the infection.”
“So, he is infected?”
Emma bit at the side of her lip. She paused a moment and then nodded. “Yes, he was infected sometime in the last few days before Ethan found him.”
“But he hasn’t shown—”
“No,” Emma said, “he’s not presenting with any of the typical signs, none that would cause any real alarm anyway, but there are a few things.”
Griffin looked back over his shoulder as Ethan began to stir. “A few things … but he seems fine?”
“Like I said, it’s really nothing we need to worry about.” And then intentionally peering past Griffin, Emma said, “Definitely nothing he needs to worry about.”
Griffin nodded back into the classroom. “You gonna stay with him or …”
Emma shook her head. “I’ve gotta get back to Carly. We’re going to take Zach for a walk, maybe up to the roof.”
“Do I even want to ask?”
“He seems a bit sensitive to sunlight. I just want to make sure this was something that he’s always dealt with and not something new.” She paused a beat. “Although if it’s being caused by the infection, it may actually be a good thing.”
“What?”
Emma again looked over Griffin’s shoulder as Ethan rolled onto his back. “Probably not the best time to get into this. I’m sure we’ll have more to talk about this afternoon.”
“Okay,” Griffin said. “You mind if I come at your brother from a different angle?”
“Whatever you think might snap him out of this, but trust me, over the years I’ve tried just about everything.”
Griffin leaned in, gave Emma a gentle hug, and then turned back toward the classroom. “Tell Zach I’ll be looking for a rematch later tonight?”
“A rematch?”
“He’ll know … oh and also tell him I said no cheating this time.”
Emma moved off down the hall as Griffin strode back through the columns of sunlight now peeking through the windows along the right side of the classroom. He purposely dragged one of the desks out away from the wall and sat down beside his friend. “So, how’s your head?”
Ethan opened his eyes and staring back Griffin, pushed up onto his elbows. He breathed in through his nose and wiped away the sweat forming along his hairline. “Emma, do you know where she—”
Griffin interrupted, looking back toward the door. “She’s gone. I think she just needed some air.”
“She’s pissed.” Ethan looked away. “I mean I really don’t blame her, but I just need some time to get through this.”
Griffin didn’t like seeing his friend like this, but he also knew better than to get in the way of whatever Ethan was going through. He’d seen this many times in his former life and for once, figured he
’d go in the opposite direction. “Hey man I get it, just do whatever it is you need to do to get right. I’ll try to run interference with the others, you know, keep them occupied. But how about you steer clear of the stairs for a bit?”
Again massaging his forehead, Ethan nodded. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”
“And if you need something, why don’t you come to me or Boone, at least until you get this stuff sorted out. I think the girls kinda have their hands full.”
Ethan didn’t respond.
Griffin had seen this too many times. First his grandfather and then in the years after, his own father, and by the time he was sixteen, his uncle had also fallen victim. Alcoholism was something that had become part of his everyday life. He’d even let himself slip into its ravenous clutches before he finally got his life put back together. There was no escaping it, no outrunning it, and just the thought of talking his friend down from it was laughable.
Ethan was going to have to find his own rock bottom, and from where Griffin was sitting, that rock bottom was a thousand miles away.
Back on his feet, Griffin leaned in and checked the lump growing on Ethan’s head. He slapped his friend on the shoulder and started back toward the door. “Get some rest, there’s something I want to show you later.”
As Griffin moved out into the hall, Ethan slid back down onto the cot and rolled onto his right side. “Hey …”
“Yeah?”
“Emma tell you about the kid?”
“You mean Zach?”
“Emma thinks he’s got something … something inside him that could end this whole thing.” Ethan smirked. “You know, maybe save us all.”
Griffin ignored Ethan’s question. He knew there was little point in discussing anything of substance before his friend sobered up. “I’ve gotta get back outside; we seem to have a problem keeping the rear lot secured.”
Ethan’s eye’s widened. “You need my help?”
