by Jeff Olah
Twenty feet from the open door to the main cafeteria, he ran his fingers over the throbbing knot on his head and winced. Ethan wanted one last reminder of what it was that brought him here before turning the corner and facing his friends, and the unknown.
And as the late afternoon sunlight drifted in through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the room and spilled out into the hall, he spotted the boy seated across from Boone just staring at the floor. Stopping just outside the door, Ethan gripped the frame and dropped to one knee.
“Pssst.”
Zach didn’t turn.
Again, but a bit louder. “Pssst.”
Beside the young boy, Helen noticed her son in the doorway and unable to hold back her ear to ear grin, tapped Zach on the shoulder. “Hey,” she whispered, “I think someone is trying to get your attention.”
Zach looked up at Helen and with a furrowed brow, saw that she was pointing out into the hall. He quickly turned and followed her eyes out through the door and paused a moment just staring at Ethan, trying to understand why his friend was down on one knee. “Mr. Ethan?”
As the young boy sat up in his chair, unsure of exactly what to do, Ethan waved him over. Zach turned to Helen and then to Carly and then Emma. They all had the same wide smile, Emma even had to wipe a tear that formed at the corner of her eye.
“Go,” Helen said, “it’s okay.”
Zach dropped his feet to the floor and couldn’t get out of his seat quickly enough. The boy darted across the black and grey checkerboard linoleum, making a beeline toward the hall. As he approached the door, he slowed considerably and his expression rapidly changed. He appeared to notice the pain on Ethan’s face and stopped just short of his friend. “Mr. Ethan, are you okay? Uh, Miss Emma said that you were sleeping.”
Still somewhat under the influence of his morning debauchery, Ethan took a moment to stand. He looked out over the massive room and nodding to his friends, again waved Zach over.
Hesitating, a look of confusion washed over the boy’s face. He turned to the others and then back to Ethan momentarily. His lower lip began to quiver and he attempted to speak, only to have the words catch in his throat. And then just as quickly as the boy came to the door, he turned and ran off.
Ethan’s heart sank. He watched as Zach moved back to the opposite side of the table and stood behind Emma. He didn’t know exactly what was troubling his young friend; it actually could have been many things. His appearance, the fact that he’d been missing in action for the last few weeks, or the stench of several days’ worth of alcohol oozing from his pores. There was no way to be sure, but whatever it was didn’t matter. Ethan had started down this path and now needed to walk the remainder of the trail.
Stepping out of the hall and crossing the threshold, no one spoke. For the moment, they only stared. Ethan made sure to focus on each step, one foot in front of the other. They knew he was still intoxicated, but he didn’t want to show them just how bad. If he at least looked like he had gotten himself back together, they might just give him a pass on the last few days.
Eyeing Griffin at the opposite side of the room, he nodded and then turned to his mother and then Shannon. “Hey.”
Emma spoke next, even though he was hoping it would have been someone else. “You sure you want to be here?”
Ethan focused his attention beyond his sister, and although he addressed her, he offered Zach a half smile. “I’m okay, I just needed to …”
His friends waited as Ethan attempted to find the right words. He knew what he wanted them to understand, but there wasn’t any real way to verbalize it. They were each dealing with the same things that had taken him down, but he was the first to break. He was the first to revert back into the person that he used to be—well, at least that’s what he was telling himself.
“Hey.” Griffin moved away from the windows and started toward Ethan. “You need some sun my friend, how about we go take a walk outside?”
Ethan scanned their faces. No one followed Griffin’s comment and appeared to be waiting for him to answer. Like they wanted him to leave the cafeteria, like they needed it. Almost as if he walked into a room full of people planning a surprise party for him, but not really.
“Okay,” Ethan said, “I guess … whatever.”
“Wait Griffin, just a second.” Tom had moved away from the table and now stood high on his toes, peering out the floor to ceiling windows, toward the front lot.
Without turning, Griffin said, “Let me guess, we’ve got company?”
“Yeah, well that and—”
Griffin smirked, but continued walking. “Same group as before?”
Tom turned away from the window, his face now ashen and his eyes wide as silver dollars. “No, not Feeders.” He then paused for a beat. “But something isn’t right.”
“Spit it out buddy.”
“I’m not really sure how, but … I think someone found us?”
Griffin slowed to a stop and turned. “What?”
Tom’s voice broke as he started again. “They’re looking for Ethan.”
195
Bryce attempted to calm his breathing as he silently prayed for a break. He closed his eyes, held out his right hand, and reached for the handle. With Sawyer ready to climb over his back, he finally leaned into the door and pushed down. As the handle slowly folded under the delicate pressure of his hand, Bryce began to smile. “Finally.”
Again from behind, his over-excited friend pushed him through the doorway and into the familiar pub. Locking the door and stepping out into the middle of the darkened room, Bryce’s bare feet warmed with the touch of the hardwood floors. “Let’s catch our breath, get what we need, and try to get to the school before sundown.”
Sawyer limped as he made his way around the marble inlaid mahogany bar. He stopped just short of the door leading to a second much larger room, leaned into the bar, and peered up a narrow stairwell. “We need to clear this place first.”
Bryce’s mind had been running on fumes for the last two days and he knew that if he didn’t get something in his stomach soon he was going to make a mistake, like the one his friend just reminded him he was about to make. “Yeah, yeah of course.”
“Together.”
“Uh huh.”
Reaching in under the bar, Sawyer groaned as he moved to his knees and pulled out a pair of rusted three foot lengths of pipe. He handed one to Bryce and then turned back to the open area in the adjoining room.
Although they hadn’t locked the place when they last departed, Bryce was fairly confident that no one had come by this part of town for the better part of the last six weeks. He and his friends had set up more than a few locations like this around the city, and although he would never simply rely on gut instinct alone, he didn’t completely see the need for concern.
Before moving forward, the pair waited at the transition between the two rooms and listened. Bryce tapped his length of pipe on the table to his right and turned to his shirtless friend. “We’re gonna find a way out this time, right?”
Sawyer nodded and smiled. “Like we always do.”
When nothing moved, Bryce slowly walked into the large room. He stepped carefully along the hardwood, weaving in and out of the eight pool tables, and making sure to avoid any of the broken bottles or other hazardous debris. One misplaced step and his already bloodied and bruised feet could turn into the thing that ended his recent string of luck.
Making quick work of the pool room and upstairs offices, Bryce followed Sawyer into the stockroom and began digging through what remained after their previous visit. “Anything useful … a jacket, a shirt, some socks, a pair of running shoes, hell I’d even take a bathrobe at this point.”
Sawyer sat back and leaned into the wall, staring out the window as if contemplating his answer. “Well, we could …” With his eyes drifting back into the hall and then nodding toward the stairwell his lips curled up at the edges.
Bryce dropped the box he was rifling thr
ough back on the floor and cut his eyes at his friend. “You really that desperate?”
“Yeah, aren’t you?”
He’d done worse things over the last six weeks, and although the thought of what Sawyer was suggesting didn’t sit particularly well with him, it was something they probably needed to do. “I don’t think I can remember a time when I’ve felt worse.”
“So,” Sawyer said, “how about it? We’ll get in and get out, not even think about what we’re doing.”
“You got something for your nose?”
Sawyer held up a few shards of wadded tissue and raised an eyebrow.
Bryce shook his head, took one from his friend, and tore off two pieces. He rolled them into tight little balls and shoved the pieces into his right and left nasal cavities. And starting toward the stairs, he fought back the urge to chuckle. “Can’t believe we’re doing this.”
Through the main bar area and back into the pool room, Bryce led the way. He maneuvered back toward the kitchen and slowly peered over the counter. “Yep, still there.”
Sawyer went in first, sidestepping the first downed Feeder. He momentarily examined the four men who’d lost their lives attempting to save their workplace and focused on the small man in the corner. Turning to Bryce he shrugged. “Looks about right.”
Bryce quickly looked over the remaining three and found his match. The above average height man looked to have been one of the bartenders, still clad in his black vest and grey button-down shirt, rolled up to the elbows. “Let’s just get this done.”
Down onto his knees, Bryce avoided looking into the milky white eyes of the former bartender whose right arm still oozed a reddish black river down onto the cold tile floor. He quickly disrobed the man, tossed his clothes into a pile, and then crossed the floor to help Sawyer do the same with the small man.
Once finished, they attempted to hold their breath as they rushed to pull on the unfamiliar garments. The pair then removed the shoes and socks from the other two men, checked them for size and slipped on the closest fit. They both settled for something a bit bigger than normal. Bryce was only a half size off his usual elevens, although Sawyer was a full size away from what he typically wore.
“Let’s get out of here,” Bryce said. “We’ve got things to do.”
Back up the stairs and into the office that overlooked Tenth Street, Bryce stood at the edge of the window and pointed back in the direction of Radar Ave. “We’ve got a few stragglers, but I haven’t seen the tall guy or any of Roland’s other men.”
Sawyer stood on his toes and followed Bryce’s eyes. “You know they’re still out there though, right?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. But it doesn’t matter, we’ve got to get to Tom anyway. You saw the number of men Roland had with him. He wants the school and he’s gonna take it.”
“You think Tom will come back with us?”
“I really don’t know. This could all be for nothing, but we have to try. He’d do it for us.”
“Okay, so how you want to do this?”
Bryce turned away from the window and moved to the high-backed leather chair behind the massive oak desk at the center of the office. “We have to assume that Roland is watching us. He could march right in and take the place, but I think he’s wanting us to do some of the work for him.”
Sawyer moved to the seat opposite Bryce and also sat. “What do you mean?”
“He’s probably thinking we’ll go in and warn Tom about what’s coming, tell him and the others that they need to leave.”
“And?”
“And we also have to consider what the group on the other side of town is going to do. I mean how the hell are we going to get out of the middle of this whole thing before it blows up?”
“The ones from the police station?”
“Same guys. And I think they may know about this place.”
Sawyer turned to the window. “So, we better move.”
“Yeah, I have a feeling that the next few hours are gonna get real messy.”
196
Roland Mayhew stepped out of an oddly immaculate white luxury SUV and stood beside the driver’s door. He peered through the intersection at Tenth and Radar, watching as a small group of Feeders moved off in the opposite direction. Dropping his head, he stared down at his watch and then quickly looked over his shoulder. “Five minutes.”
Three men trotted away from the storefront of the outdoor mall and eyed Roland as they made their way across the empty parking lot. The thin man who Sawyer had called Cory moved away from the others and headed for the rear of the SUV.
Cory motioned the other two toward the passenger side and then opened the rear hatch. He withdrew a semi-automatic rifle and two additional magazines. He tossed the rifle over his shoulder and before closing the hatch, leaned around to the driver’s side. “Roland, we’re all secure, what’s next?”
The man in the tan leather jacket didn’t initially turn. He instead continued to study the crowd as they disappeared toward the end of Tenth Street. Running his right hand through his thick blond hair, he let out a long breath, and began to nod. “Okay, good. Do we have eyes on Blake and the others yet? We need to ensure this goes down without any interference.”
Cory hesitated. He avoided eye contact with Roland, who had turned away from the street and was now looking back at him. “We can’t seem to get a location on Blake or his men. We lost him near the highway and haven’t seen him since.” Cory paused. “And …”
Roland stiffened as he closed his eyes and shook his head. “If you’re going to tell me that anyone else has defected, make sure to include their names. Because I’m going to want to know exactly who it is I’m going to bury.”
“Miller and Dohan haven’t checked in since this morning and Thomas said they were acting kinda funny last night.”
“Have Thomas double back and see if he can confirm their whereabouts.” Roland stopped as if intercepting another, more important thought. “Also, have him check the East side, make sure Blake and those other degenerates haven’t left the station. This could get a lot more complicated if they decide to come out of their hole.”
Cory let the rifle hang loosely from his shoulder and turned to walk away from the SUV. He reached to his right hip and grabbed for his two-way radio. As he moved back toward the mostly abandoned parking lot, he brought the radio to his mouth and keyed the mic. “Thomas … you there?”
As Cory continued away from the SUV, Roland moved back into the driver’s seat and peered into the rearview mirror. Two men sat in the second-row seats quietly conversing with one another. Upon noticing that they were being watched, the pair straightened in their seats and stopped talking.
Roland laughed and shook his head. “So boys, you ready for tonight? You get your marching orders from Cory?”
Nervous laughter came from the back seat as the man with the thick mop of hair, meaty hands, and a greying beard laid his pistol in his lap. “Yes sir, we’re all set.”
He began to lean forward as if continuing his thought, but was quickly cut short by Roland. “I know I shouldn’t have to ask this, but … do either of you have a problem with what it may take to complete our objective?”
As one, the two men spoke quickly, unable to get the words out fast enough. “No sir!”
Roland just smiled. He ate this up. Having nearly a hundred men and women willing to commit to his every demand, simply because they were too scared to live in this new world alone, had become addicting. He was now pushing boundaries that would have scared the life out of him six weeks ago.
In his former life, Roland liked to think of himself as an international rock icon. With fifty-six songs written for various well-known artists, and three number one hits in the last year alone, his success was evident. Life was good. And although he had never actually stepped on stage, the lyrics he sold to those that did made himself and many others wealthy beyond all comprehension.
He was proud of who he was and that his words had the power to
move millions. He realized his talent at an early age, the influence it had, and the doors that it opened. Now that same talent for inspiring others was what was keeping him alive, and although he had eliminated more Feeders than he could count, he had yet to raise his hand to another human being. That’s what they were here for—his army—they did all of the unspeakable acts that needed to be done. He only had to ask.
Tonight he was going to have to be on the top of his game. Roland Mayhew the Songwriter was going to have to transform once again into Roland Mayhew the leader of Guardians of the New World. That’s what he’d become over the last forty plus days and that’s what they were expecting. He only hoped that he’d be able to deliver on the promises he’d made so many weeks before.
Twisting in the driver’s seat, Roland looked back over his left shoulder as Cory ended his conversation and started back toward the SUV. Out through the window he said, “So, are we short another two?”
Shaking his head as he made his way to the driver’s door, Cory dropped the two-way radio back into his pocket and stared into the distance. “Yeah, Thomas said they cleaned out their stuff early this morning and hooked up with Blake a few hours ago.”
Pushing down a sharp surge of anger, Roland breathed in slowly through his nose and fought to remain calm. “That’s good.” Through the rearview, he again glanced into the back seat, and then back to Cory. “Remind me that we have to pay a visit to the station once we get settled in tomorrow. I want everyone in this city to understand who we are and what we’re about.”
Cory simply nodded and continued staring down the long block. “Okay.”
Roland leaned out to see what had the tall man’s attention. “What’s on your mind?”
“They gonna have the trucks ready for tomorrow? I haven’t seen them since yesterday.”
