by C C Roth
“There is still no vaccine and people are killing each other because they can’t agree on whether or not they should be killing each other.”
He nodded, “Well that’s nothing new. We’ve been doing ridiculous things in the name of desperation since the beginning of time.”
“Uh-huh.” My annoyance was thick.
“Sam,” my dad warned.
Frank put his hand up. “That’s alright. Things are only going to get worse, you know. People everywhere are trying to rebuild before we’ve even healed and everyone has a different idea about how to do it best. Our government is vulnerable and our country is weak as a kitten. The only thing saving us right now is secrecy.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Mom spoke to me for the first time since we’d left the cabin. “No one knows exactly how bad everything really is. We still have an enormous military, Sam. We still have strength where it counts. But we’re limited in how we can use it because of the virus. And because people are arguing about everything. There are protocols for situations like this, but no one ever thought it would actually happen. No one ever thought that we would be this weak as a country. We’re crumbling, yes. But there are plans to fix it, to stabilize it. The problem is we’re fighting each other from within. There are some people who might not want things to stabilize and go back to normal.”
“What? Who wouldn’t want that?” I asked incredulous.
Frank leaned in, his tone serious. “You’d be surprised. There are always people that will put their needs and wants ahead of the many. There are always people that think they can do things better than the other guy. The problem is right now, your average citizen in the Red Zone will listen to just about anyone who will help keep them alive and the Safe Zone isn’t going to be sticking their necks out anytime soon to help. Not until we get a vaccine or eliminate this virus. Sure, they might be able to let people in but that’s only if you can make it there safely. They might be able to send supplies or set up temporary Safe Zones, but they aren’t moving into the Red Zone to stabilize the area for fear of losing more manpower. People, at least some of them, are no longer expendable. We’re stuck waiting it out.”
I stared at him unimpressed. “Yeah that doesn’t really make me feel better.”
Franked belted out a deep belly-laugh. “Well I suppose it wouldn’t. But it’s life.”
“Try not to think about it too much, Sam,” Dad said. “You don’t have to worry about politics or how the power struggles will shake out. We don’t have any control over it anyway unless we want to march into Bloomfield and declare ourselves the new Mayor. We just need to keep our heads down and wait for things to settle. People will fall in line and realize that a new world order isn’t exactly possible. Things will go back to the way they’ve always been. Just hang in there.”
Frank winked at me. “If you need somethin’ to feel good about just look around this table, young lady. You have more than most people and you should be thankful every day for the love of your family. You all managed to stay together and stay alive. More than half the population can’t say that.”
I thought about that for a minute as I looked at my Mike and my parents. We sat in silence for a while just watching the people in the lot working their stands. Our current scenario, sitting in the sun and chatting as the calm, lazy world around us ambled past was a sharp contrast to what was happening in Austin, Texas. More people were dead, but I guessed that wasn’t such a big deal considering half the country had been wiped out. Maybe we were still the lucky ones.
We took our time going through Frank’s store in an attempt to delay our departure. I didn’t want to be stuck at the cabin everyday anymore and after watching the news today I didn’t feel like we were any closer to a return to normal. The virus was winning and we were shooting each other because we disagreed about something as simple as safety. I loitered in the hunting section next to the front door and ran my gloved hands over the various knives that had been laid out on the metal shelf. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Ellen lurking and watching me.
“Don’t you guys worry about someone just stealing these?” I asked her, determined to hear her speak.
She didn’t move for so long I thought she was going to ignore me completely. “No. I don’t think anyone is dumb enough to start a knife fight when I’m holding a shotgun.”
I laughed at her bluntness. Ellen was kind of a badass. “This one is nice,” I said holding up a small fixed blade with a blue handle. “How much for it?”
“You’ll have to ask Frank. But I think for you he’d make a good deal. I think you remind him of our…” She stopped abruptly then waved me over. “You might like this one better,” she said as she reached under the counter and produced a large pocketknife.
Crossing the aisle, I picked it up and examined it. It was about the length of my hand with a black handle and though not terribly large it had a surprising heft to it. I opened the blade and watched the light shimmer along the sharp edge.
“Sure. This one is nice too. I don’t really know anything about knives though.”
“It was our son’s. I gave it to him two years ago.” Her eyes squeezed shut in pain. “Will you take it? I don’t know what else to do with it.”
I didn’t understand. “Well, I can’t just take it. Maybe I should ask Frank.”
“Please,” her eyes were pleading. “I can’t look at it anymore. Please just take it.” She turned and quickly scrambled away into the small little office behind the counter leaving me holding the knife with a dumbfounded expression on my face.
“Oookay, I guess I have a new knife.” I closed the blade and turned to leave. Dad was standing by the door and had walked up just in time to see me putting the knife in my pocket. He eyed me with a mom-like scrutiny.
“What? She told me to take it,” I snapped, immediately defensive.
He threw his hands up in surrender. “I believe you. Just want to make sure you’re not—"
“What? You want to make sure I’m not what, Dad?”
“Calm down, Sam. Frank has been really nice to us and I just don’t
want—"
“You don’t want me to ruin it by being me?”
“Geez you’re sensitive today. I didn’t say that.” He wrapped an arm around me and gave a squeeze. “I love you, kid. I know you didn’t steal it.” He gave me a kiss on the head then walked to the door. “Now c’mon Clepto, let’s go outside. It’s time to get going…before you clear out the whole store.”
I laughed at the ridiculous face he was making and followed him out, but he had every right to think I might be stealing something. I’d done it before, a lot actually. Before, when things were normal, sometimes I’d just grab something in a store I didn’t even need or want and pocket it because I could. I’d gotten caught a couple times but I still did it every now and then. Nia always looked shocked and would give me a lecture but I never gave it much thought. It was just something I sort of, did. Dad always made me feel better about it, about everything. He would tease me or make a joke and that would be it. He never held things over my head or tried to make me feel bad for the mistakes I made. He understood me. I mean he still used to punish me and talk to me about whatever my latest crime was but he never made me feel bad about myself for any of it. Not like Mom did. Maybe he should have but at the time I was so grateful he didn’t.
We packed up the supplies we’d collected into the back of the jeep. Mostly hygiene products, thank god, and a bunch of stuff to help with the garden. Dad was super excited that Frank had a soaker hose in storage and he was almost giddy about getting home to set it up. He even did a little happy dance as he closed the back hatch.
“Nerd,” Mike said shaking his head.
“Yeah, well this Nerd is going to grow a crap-ton of food to feed you all year so…”
“I’m so sorry, where are my manners,” Mike bowed in feigned subservience. “Your Royal Nerdiness.”
“You should ta
lk.” I punched Mike in the arm then jumped in the back seat before he could return a jab. “Too slow!”
He threw his arms up in the air. “Um, Sam? You know we’re riding in the same car, right? You can’t really get away from me.”
“Yeah,” I taunted from the back, “but I’ve got the rifle.”
“Children, no threatening each other with fully loaded guns,” Dad teased. “Things I never thought I’d have to say.”
Even Mom laughed at that one and we all waved a final goodbye to Frank as we pulled out of the lot. Just one big happy family. It had been a rough morning and there wasn’t a whole lot in the world to be excited about right then, but Frank was right. We had each other and that was so much more than a lot of people had. In that moment we were still the lucky ones, gliding through the insanity that surrounded us as if we were in an impenetrable bubble.
Dad turned the opposite direction out of the parking lot and we all exchanged looks.
“Frank said there was a lumber and feed supply warehouse halfway to Bloomfield. Thought we should check it out while we’re here and feeling lucky.”
“Jack, do you think that’s a good idea?” my mom asked.
“I don’t think anything is a good idea anymore. But we still need some things to make our plan work. It won’t hurt to check it out. It’s outside of the city by a few miles and Frank said there weren’t any blockades this way. We should be okay.”
To pass the time we played music mash-up where Dad had to sing every song we called out even if he didn’t know it. It got pretty ridiculous and everyone was laughing so hard we were all in tears.
“I think we’re here,” Dad said as he slowed the car to turn.
The mood changed quickly as we saw our destination and the giggles ceased. The warehouse was large and uninviting. The type of place that makes you think, Nope, definitely haunted. Keep driving. There was an antique tractor parked in the grass with a big sign propped up against it that read Feed and Supply. Except someone had spray painted a big red line through the text but hadn’t bothered to replace it with anything.
There was no one in sight and only one truck in the lot.
I grabbed the rifle as I stepped out into the parking lot. Mike rolled his eyes at me as I grinned and wagged the gun back and forth a little, taunting him.
“What did I say about fighting over the weapons?” Dad teased again.
We walked up to the oversized front doors and peered in through the glass. It was sparse but there did appear to be shelves inside with unmarked bags and other supplies on them. My mom seemed apprehensive, but they pulled the doors open and we walked in.
It was quiet but I could sense someone was there from background noise or something. Or maybe it was just a feeling. Directly in front of us was a large open area flanked on both sides by rows and rows of industrial shelving all the way to the walls. A large receiving door was on the back wall directly ahead of us and it had been raised halfway so sunlight covered the back half of the expanse. The shelves were sparse and totally empty in some sections. As we walked forward, I could see some cans on the floor to the right of us, as if the rest had been hastily swept off and these were accidentally left behind. My mom saw it too and touched my dad’s arm. She gestured to the cans and then tilted her head back to the door as if to say “let’s go”.
He nodded and we all turned to leave quickly. But it was too late.
A man appeared from an aisle at the back near the receiving door. “Hey there. How you folks doin’?”
He was carrying a shotgun and though his words were normal enough there was something aggressive about his tone and the way he was standing. The hair on my arms stood up and I wanted to run.
My dad quickly pulled down his mask and put on a friendly face. “Hi. Not sure we’ve come to the right place. You got any lumber?”
The man smirked. “No sorry. Fresh out.” There was a huge pile of planks behind him, two rows over. “In fact, we’re fresh out of everything.”
“No problem, we’ll take off then.”
Dad turned to leave and nodded for us to do the same. But the man started walking toward us quickly.
“How long you all been here? Had a chance to poke around did you?”
“No, just here. We’re headed back out of town and thought we’d stop by. We heard there might be some supplies for trade. Sorry to bother you.” Dad again ushered us toward the door. We were only a few feet away from it now, so close I could almost touch the handle.
“Well hold on now.” The man covered the distance between us with long strides and pushed between us to stand in front of the doors, completely ignoring a safe physical distance in the midst of Avian-X.
“We haven’t even been introduced. I’m Travis.” Again his words didn’t match his tone. He was sizing us up. His eyes rested on the rifle I was holding and he winked at me, causing an almost audible wave of nausea within me.
“Nice to meet you, Travis. I’m Jack, this is my family. And since you’re fresh out of everything, I think we’ll be going now.” Dad wasn’t messing around and his tone made that clear.
My eyes widened as I registered there was blood on Travis’s shirt. A spray of it across his chest.
He rubbed his hand over his scraggily face, “Well, that puts me in a bit if a pickle. See, I think you know I don’t own this place and I think you know what me and my friends are doing here, but what I don’t think you know is that I was told not to let anyone see us and…you’ve seen us.”
“We haven’t seen anything. We stopped by, you didn’t have what we needed, and we’re leaving.”
Dad had his hand on the door and was pushing it open as Travis raised his shotgun and tapped Dad on the chest with it playfully. I didn’t understand what this guy’s problem was.
He smiled again, a nasty thing crawling across his dirty face. “I can’t let you leave, Jack.”
My parents seemed calm until suddenly my mom drew her Remington up and pointed the barrel at the man’s face just inches from his nose. I jerked into action and followed suit but with none of the grace and steadiness of hand my mother possessed.
The man snickered, “You let your wife protect you, Jack?”
“Absolutely. She’s a much better shot than I am.”
“Not that it matters when we’re this close,” Mom said in a dark tone. “We’re leaving. Whether you’re alive or not when that happens doesn’t make any difference to me. Now move.”
I’d never heard my mother’s voice like that. She was bold and intense as if threatening someone’s life was second nature to her. The next few seconds were a blur. Everything was in slow motion and fast forward at the same time. I wish I hadn’t done what I did next. I wish I could take it back.
The man narrowed his eyes then lunged forward as he grabbed the barrel of my mom’s gun trying to swing it out of her grasp. I think Dad and Mike yelled and started to jump in but they weren’t fast enough. His sudden movement had startled me, and I reacted. The next sound was a deafening blast that echoed through the warehouse and my soul. Without thought or any consciousness I had taken aim and pulled my trigger. Blood sprayed me and the glass doors as Travis dropped to his knees with a shocked look on his face. There was so much blood. It was seeping down his chest and his eyes met mine for a moment as if he wanted to say something. Then he collapsed on the cement at our feet, reduced to a lifeless lump. I was frozen and my eyes were wide with the shock of what I had just done.
I shot a man. He’s dying in front of me because I shot him. Oh god, what did I do? I looked at my mom and her face was as surprised as mine. Then I realized, she hadn’t planned on shooting him. She must’ve been trying to fight him off without firing, knowing that the noise would bring his friends he had mentioned a moment ago.
“Run. Now,” Mom shouted.
Dad held the door open, smearing a gruesome streak of blood across the glass, and we jumped over Travis as we bolted into the parking lot. There were shouts coming from behind us, the
n gunshots. We made it to the jeep and Mom all but threw me into the back. Mike climbed in and slammed the door shut as the bullets hammered the side of the car. He shoved me down onto the floor with one firm hand on my back as he lay across the seats. I reached up and yanked on the handle to let Mom in from the opposite side. The bullets pelted the pavement and shattered a window, raining glass down on my head. I could hear Dad yelling for Mom to get in. They were both still outside but had put the car between them and the onslaught of gunfire. Mom returned a few shots and Dad jumped in the passenger side door so he could get behind the wheel. Mom let one more blast go then she ducked to jump in the back with us. We were six inches apart, her eyes fixed on me with determination.
Suddenly she froze. Her hands, which were braced on the sides of the car door, slowly started slipping. I didn’t get it, not right away. I’ll never forget the expression on her face. Her eyes held mine and her mouth moved as if she were speaking, but no sound came out. I screamed and didn’t stop. Mike and Dad were shouting and all of sudden there was more gunfire. My dad had picked up the Winchester and was shooting at the warehouse from the driver’s seat. There were five men taking aim on us. It all happened in seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. My mother hitting the ground, her arms falling useless at her sides. Mike screaming at me to get down. My dad taking aim over the hood of the car and shooting a man in the leg.
And then it came to me again, stronger than before. The Cold. My new secret friend that lived inside me, who had perhaps always been there, spread its fingers wide and gripped me from within. It was no longer a thing, it was a who. It had a soul and a hunger and it was taking over. Turning me to ice, making me its frozen host. It told me to stop screaming and take aim. I had forgotten I was even holding my mother’s Remington, but my cold friend was in charge now and It was acutely aware of the rifle in my hand. In one swift movement I jumped from the backseat through the door opposite the warehouse and lay down on the rough pavement, my mother’s lifeless body next to me. Tiny grey pebbles dug into my cheek as I took aim under the car using it as a barrier between me and the men. The shots rang out clear and sweet and my cold friend was proud of me. It hugged me tighter with each squeeze of the trigger. One, two, three, four shots and all of the men were down. The sudden silence was a deafening shock that left my ears ringing. I replaced the empty magazine as I stood and walked around the car towards the warehouse, barely registering the look of terror on Mike’s face as he sat up from the backseat. I moved towards the men who were spread out on the pavement in front of the warehouse. One was clutching his leg and scooting towards the door in a pathetic attempt to get away. I took aim and met his eyes as I fired. The next man started screaming as I came toward him, a terrible, shrill, hysterical sound that was barely audible to my cold friend. I fired again and his awful noise stopped. They were dead, all of them. A shiver ran through me, a small reminder that I was human and supposed to have feelings, but I felt nothing. For a cold blissful moment, I truly felt nothing and it was amazing.
