by Olah, Jeff
Ava slowly removed the blindfold and looked up at the tall thin man standing in the doorway. She wanted to charge him, wanted to kick him in the balls. She wanted to rip his face off with her bare hands. She wanted to do whatever it would take to get her away from here.
The man she remembered as Vince glared back as he began to close the door. “Oh wait,” he said, and then reaching back into the hall, he came away with a small bottle of water and tossed it onto the bed to her left. “Dinner will be ready in a few hours, someone will come for you.”
And then he was gone.
She walked slowly and quietly to the door, gripped the knob without making a sound, and turned. Of course the door was locked. She should have known.
The room was nice, not what she was expecting. Dark hardwood floors, so pristine she could almost see her own reflection. There was a twin bed in the corner, an olive green comforter pulled tight at the edges. Two oversized pillows in off white, newly pressed cases.
At the foot of the bed was a small area rug that had the feel of contemporary art. Parallel lines in various colors atop a canvas of blue and tan squares.
The room also smelled clean, like the laundry just after you pulled it out of the dryer.
There was a single night stand next to the bed, a battery powered clock and a notepad spaced equally from one another. This was someone’s room. Someone who lived here, wherever here was.
So, they weren’t planning on keeping her here long, maybe a night or two, but nothing long term. The space would have been different, it would have been …”
A window.
Why would they put her in a room with a window?
And instead of questioning it, she rushed to the bed, climbed up and pulled back the curtain.
“Oh.”
Security bars. Again, she should have known. But were they to keep the infected out or to keep whoever lived here in? She had a bad feeling about it, a bad feeling about all of this.
Ava dropped to the bed, put a pillow at her back, and closed her eyes. She first tried to remember every single detail about the road, and then the men who took her. What things stood out, what things didn’t?
At the moment, the only thing she could concentrate on was the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. She opened her eyes, took in a deep breath, and began looking around the room—for what, she didn’t yet know.
A six drawer dresser sat in the corner near the door. It looked to be close to five feet tall and a few feet wide. There was no way they left anything inside that she could use to either free herself from the room or to attack the next person through the door.
No way.
But with not much else to occupy her time or her attention, she figured she’d at least have a look.
As she walked by the door, there were voices somewhere on the other side. It sounded like a woman and a man. The woman must have been older, her tone was authoritative and sure. She seemed to be scolding the younger man.
Ava moved in closer now. Not quite able to make out their conversation, she slid in beside the dresser and placed her ear against the door. For the first ten seconds she was only able to catch every fourth or fifth word, but then as she adjusted to the strained position of her head, their voices began to crystalize.
“You’re kidding right?”
“No,” the younger man said, “I wish I was, but that’s what he wants.”
“He’s going to get someone killed.”
The man sounded like he groaned.
“Does he even know who she is? It doesn’t look like he thought this one out too well.”
The man hesitated for a beat. “Vince said that we need to keep it quiet, but they’re going to move fast on this. He made the decision and he’s not going to change his mind.”
“You think—”
The woman’s voice dropped away as a third voice shot through a two-way radio. “Yolanda?”
The woman whispered something to the younger man and then there were quick footsteps moving away from the room. “Yes,” the woman said into the radio as her voice began to fade. “We’re on our way.”
Ava felt the need to let go, to take a minute to break down and let the bad thoughts take over. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg those men to let her go, to plead for mercy. She wanted to just be a nineteen year old that didn’t have the thought of death weighing on her mind every single second of every single day.
She wanted to, but she knew she couldn’t.
Her father had told her that in this new world you had to pick and choose your moments of strength and your moments of weakness. He said that there were times that you had to be someone else, someone who was the strongest, most powerful version of yourself. He told her she had that ability, more than most people, more than anyone he knew.
And today she was going to have to put it to the test.
Ava stood with her back to the door and gave herself a full minute to imagine the worst possible outcome. And when the tears again started to come, she straightened up, turned away from the door, and moved to the dresser.
The drawers were empty and the dresser sat balanced on a folded piece of cardboard placed under the right rear leg. She gripped the sides, rocking it back and forth until the small square of cardboard unseated itself and slipped to the side.
Ava quickly scanned the ground to the left and the right. She dipped to the left and strained to see behind.
Nothing at all she could use.
Okay, time to think.
Back to the bed, she stared at the door, picturing the many ways her next encounter might play out. Ava made a mental note of the way the door would swing into the room, the placement of the dresser, and estimated where she might have to stand in order to somehow make up for the possible height and weight differences between her and the next person who entered the room.
She shook her head. Using the dresser as an obstacle and counting on her speed and agility would have to be plan B. She needed something that was foolproof, something that would guarantee her safe passage, at least until she made it out of the room.
The rest she would have to figure out on the fly. There was only so much planning you could do without knowing what you were running toward.
Ava took the pillows and piled them one atop the other, slid down on the bed, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t about to let this beat her. She was stronger than that; she just needed time to let it come to her. Time that unfortunately she didn’t have.
But then as soon as she let her mind off the hook, the moment she started to drift, it came to her.
Okay, she thought, a smile coming out of nowhere. I can do this.
10
Mason sat on an old office chair, his eyes closed and his arms folded as Ethan finished his sutures and cleaned the wound. He was physically in the room with his friend, but his mind was not. Mentally he had exited the rear gates and was already traveling the road between Harbor Crest and the long wooded path to the beachside resort Lincoln and his people called home.
“You sure about this?”
He just turned and stared at Ethan.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Hell, I’d be the first one out there with you if I had the choice.”
Mason ran his hand over the exposed thread near his left ear. “Tell me again why they had you sew me up? Are Emma and Gentry trying to punish me … or you?”
Ethan backed away and tossed a handful of wet paper towels into the trashcan near the door of the former mattress store. “They’re in the lab again, something big I guess.”
“And how much practice had you had with the needle and thread before they gave you the thumbs up to start working on your own?”
Ethan winced, grabbing at his lower back. He then sucked in a quick breath and grinned. “You’re my first. They figured that I couldn’t make you look any worse. But hey, now you and Owen are twins—you’ll have matching scars one day.”
“That’s a good thing?”
“You w
ere lucky. It could have been worse, much worse.”
Mason looked down at the floor. “Yeah.”
“Hey man, whatever it is, you know you can let me in.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious. You may think that you have to do everything on your own and I know you prefer it that way, but it might just help to let some of it out, let someone else carry part of that weight. You could use a break.”
“Thanks, but you know that’s not how I’m wired, not anymore.”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, why not?”
“What?”
“Why … why can’t you be who you used to be? Why can’t you let them see you be vulnerable, why can’t you be more like everyone else? Maybe shed a tear every once in a while, laugh like you did before the world changed you.”
Mason knew what his friend was doing. It wasn’t the first time and he guessed it wouldn’t be the last, and maybe at some point he’d take Ethan’s advice, maybe he’d try to be more like the others, but not today. His friends needed him to be different, Natalie and Owen needed him to be different, and most importantly, Ava needed him to be different.
“I need to go talk to Savannah.”
Ethan’s smile said that he was okay leaving the conversation for another time. “Oh boy, you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Don’t think I have a choice, unless that is, you’re volunteering to go talk to her for me.”
“You know exactly how that would go over.”
Mason stood and started for the door. “Two things you can do for me while I’m gone.”
“Yeah?”
“Keep your eyes and ears open, stay close to the radio, and make sure you let me know if anything looks weird.”
“Like what?”
Mason shook his head. “I don’t know, but something’s not right with this whole thing. I have a feeling there’s more to it.”
“Okay, what’s the second thing?”
“Try to get better at this whole sewing people up thing—I have a feeling I’m going to need your help when I get back.”
The walk from the former mattress store to his suite on the first level took less than two minutes. In that time, he thought about what story he’d tell her and then how he’d convince her that it wasn’t an outright suicide mission. Savannah knew him probably better than anyone left in this world, so anything other than the absolute truth was sure to fail.
She met him at the door, her eyes already wet, and her expression layered in anguish. Carefully putting her arms around him, she pulled him in close, and kissed the right side of his face. “I know.”
He leaned away, but continued to hold her, his eyes looking into hers. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Honesty,” Mason said, “that’s what I love most about you.”
Savannah pulled him closer. “I love you too.”
“I’m not doing it for me this time.”
“I know; that’s why this time it’s so hard. I want to be mad, I want to tell you not to go, but I can’t. I can’t ask you to be selfish, I can’t tell you that I want to take your hand and walk out that back gate and never come back. I can’t do any of those things … but I want to.”
“I have to go get Ava, but I don’t think it’s as simple as it looks.”
Now Savannah leaned back, wiping her tears. “Are you worried, should I be?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Does this seem like something Lincoln would do?”
“I only know what you’ve told me about him.” She looked deeper into his eyes. “Does it seem like it to you?”
“That’s the thing. I’ve never been able to figure him out. He’s never really had that one thing that motivates him. He jumps around from one thing to the next, always with these big ideas and wild theories.”
“So?”
Mason rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I’m going out there.”
“Please tell me you’re not thinking about doing this by yourself, that you’re at least—”
“Randy tried to get Lincoln on the radio, but no luck. It looks like he wants us to come to him. And no, I’m not going alone.”
Savannah glanced back toward the center of the abandoned mall and then again to him. She looked like there was something she needed to say, something other than the obvious. “What if …”
“I’m not even considering it,” Mason said. “I made a promise to her parents and I’m not going back on it.”
“Okay.”
Mason pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
Savannah used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her face and then kissed him back. “I know you do.”
Mason wanted to tell her not to worry, that he’d be back and that everything would return to normal, but he’d made her that promise a million times before and it was starting to sound a bit insincere. He didn’t need to say it and he could see that she no longer needed to hear it.
“I have to go.”
Savannah kissed him once again, hugged him tight, and then turned toward the door to their suite. “Go get Ava—do what you have to do. I’ll be right here waiting when you get back. ” She paused before walking inside, but didn’t turn. “And I love you too.”
11
Randy Stiig groaned as he pushed out of the chocolate-colored leather recliner and started toward the door. He loved working the solar farm. Especially the late afternoon shift. He could pack a lunch, a large bottle of water, and just sit in the tower and read until the sun eventually buried itself behind the western horizon. But today it was unseasonably cool and the sky was a mixture of charcoal greys and navy blues.
He enjoyed reading in the rain, but today he just couldn’t seem to focus. A half a page, then back to the top. Three paragraphs, then start over. He’d forgotten the main character’s name more than once and now was just trying to remember where he left off.
His mind wandered—that was normal. And although most times he attributed it to the stress that came with his position at Harbor Crest, and his constant need to check in on his best friend, today was different. He loved that little girl like his own and wanted nothing more than to drive through the gates of Lincoln’s compound and choke the life out of him.
He never liked that man or his people, and figured it was better that he was here instead of there anyways. There was little doubt he would have done something he would have regretted.
“How ya doin’ my friend?”
The voice came from his right. It was slow and after all these years, still held that southern drawl. Mayor Gil Walker stood at the door, his hat tipped back and his eyes fixed on the large window that overlooked the massive solar farm.
Randy set the book in his lap and rested his head back against the recliner. “Mayor Gil …”
The former mayor of Green Valley, Utah appeared much the same as the first time Randy recalled seeing him. A white Stetson, a red flannel, a dark brown beard and a jagged scar that ran from the edge of his right eyebrow into his thick facial hair. He had rugged good looks, was built like an outdoorsman, and at seventy-two, appeared at least ten years younger.
“Startin’ to rain, looks like it’s gonna make for a few cats and dogs tonight.”
Randy motioned toward the recliner across from his. He dogged-eared his last page, set the book on the end table to his left, and nodded toward the door. “What do you make of all of this?”
Mayor Gil let a slow grin slide across his face. “You talkin’ bout the rain, or are we goin’ in the weeds tonight?”
Randy shook his head and held back the urge to laugh. “Depends.”
Mayor Gil leaned into the arm of his chair and cocked an eyebrow. “On what?”
“On what you brought us to drink.”
“You know they’d string me up by my toes if I took any of the good stuff. And at my age that ain’t too good for the day to day.”
Randy let out a laugh this time. “Y
eah, but it would have been nice.”
“Yes sir.”
Randy let the thought marinate for a moment. It would have been nice to toss back a few, even if all that what was left in the lock up at Harbor Crest was more than half a decade old. He was beginning to forget what a cold beer tasted like rolling down the back of his throat and that bugged him, probably more than it should, all things considered.
“So,” Randy said, “you think we got a problem?”
The Mayor folded his hands and placed them in his lap and he blew out a long breath. “Lincoln never struck me as an unreasonable man, more of an odd visionary, a wide-eyed dreamer, if you know what I mean.”
“I never liked him.”
“Ah, he’s harmless. You just have to know how to work with the man.”
A bolt of anger tore through Randy. He sat forward in the recliner, his hands gripping the soft leather. “Harmless, you’re kidding right?”
“That’s what I’m trying to get at. It just don’t seem right. The man must have hit his head or somethin’.”
“I don’t think anyone knows what Lincoln’s capable of, not even Mason. He never shows his face anymore, and from what I’ve heard, he hasn’t been outside the compound in the last three or four months. I mean what do we really know about the guy, other than he’s probably the most eccentric person left in this world.”
The former Mayor ran his hand over his thick facial hair, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, other than the contract between our communities, what else is there?”
Randy cracked his knuckles. “What are you saying?”
“Nothin’ really. But maybe we should think about …” As Mayor Gil’s voice trailed off, his eyes drifted back toward the window. “They’re early.”
“Stay put, I’ll get it. No need for the both of us to get soaked.” Randy took in a long breath, slowly filling his lungs as he stood and started for the door.
Mayor Gil also stood, his knees popping and creaking as he followed Randy across the hardwood floor. “That’s alright brother, it’ll go faster if we get out there and make that lemonade together.”
Randy stopped and turned. He shook his head as a grin started across his face. “How long have we known each other, how many hours have we spent together up here and at Harbor Crest before that?”