Zach turned and continued running without saying another word. Frank followed and then finally Bryce. It took all my energy to get that first foot moving at the speed of a run, but then it came naturally. Like I was being pulled along by a rope connected to Zach.
And then, just like that, we stopped. There was movement ahead of us now, too, and to the sides. Zach stopped, reached back, and grabbed Bryce and pulled him down behind the trunk of a large tree. Frank stopped dead in his tracks, pressed Reggie’s head against his shoulder, and ducked behind a large green area.
I dove without thinking about where to dive. It was away from Zach and Bryce. It was away from Frank and Reggie. It was in the wrong direction.
I barely cleared a tree that had fallen over, but behind that, the Earth took a sharp dive downward. The top of my foot hit the top of the tree and tossed me around like a kid in a bounce house. My shoulder pierced the ground first. The collision sent a sharp pain through my arm, but that pain went away quickly as I rolled through the woods toward the bottom of the hill. I could feel every rock, stone, twig, and stick poke, prod, and pull at my body. My skin was cut, my bones bashed, and my body bruised.
I finally reached the bottom of the hill, but not before my face bounced like a basketball off of a rock. There wasn’t anything else to think about as I lied there, except the pain. I honestly didn’t know if I’d broken any bones or had been cut so deeply that I was going to bleed to death. I just felt the stabbing sensation all over my body and the warmth of blood pouring from a gash above my eyebrow.
I didn’t even realize that my hand was pushing my face off the ground. It was instinct. My body was going to keep fighting. I pushed myself up to my feet and looked around the woods as if I was just learning to see. It was blurry. My head was ringing, my body was aching, but I was going to keep fighting.
There was nobody around me. Zach was gone. Frank was gone. There was no Reggie. There was no Bryce. I must have been the only one to fall down the hill. I was the only one to jump in that direction.
“Frank!” I shouted. And then I quickly ducked my head into my shoulders like a turtle. My head was clearing up. I remembered that there were soldiers after us and that they were in shouting distance. If I screamed for anyone, those soldiers would be the first to hear me.
I looked up the hill that I had just fallen from. It must have been a fifty-foot fall, seventy-five maybe. It was far. It was steep and there was a lot to hit on the way down. I was sure I’d hit most of it, too.
I looked down and spit the blood out of my mouth. The blood that had been pouring from above my left eye down to my lips. I wiped it away. One swipe at my forehead and my entire palm was covered like a canvas of red paint.
I began walking along the hill trying to find a spot where I could climb back up to find the others. There was no clear area to walk up. I was going to have to climb. I reached up and grabbed a small tree for leverage. I pulled my legs up behind me and put my right foot on a stone and tried to push off.
My leg gave out. I rolled back to the ground and rolled up against a tree. I wasn’t going to be able to get back up to the top. I sat back and did my best to ignore the pain. I was trying to magically appear in a happy place. I’d never meditated before so clearing my head wasn’t easy. It wasn’t possible.
There was a rustling of leaves behind the tree. I couldn’t turn my head, but I could hear it. Somebody was coming. There was nothing I could do. I was going to be saved or I was going to be killed. When the footsteps finally stopped next to me, I turned my head to see who was standing there.
This was where my story was going to come to an end. My eyes stared at the ground with a pair of black boots. I scanned up to a pair of green camouflage pants and a black belt. This was not Zach. This person was not Frank or any other friend or ally that I’d made during the last few months. This was a soldier. I leaned my head back against the tree and stared right into the eyes of the man that was going to kill me with the very gun in his hand.
He was young. He was twenty. Couldn’t have been older than that. He was clean-shaven. Tall, with some lean muscle. He looked like an athlete. He didn’t look like an asshole, though, either. If things were different and I’d met him a few years ago…he looked like somebody I could be friends with. But this wasn’t a few months ago. I let it collect in my mouth and then spit blood on the toes of his boots.
He looked down at the blood and dragged his toes against the ground to wipe it off. He scanned the area. Clearly, he was alone. He put his gun in his holster and bent down in front of me. I couldn’t defend myself. I could have spat more blood into his face, but what was the point?
“Get up,” he said to me. He grabbed me under the arms and lifted me up to my feet. He knew I couldn’t stand well so he kept me up against the tree. “You need to go.”
I stared at him. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his hand. He began wiping the blood off of my face. He pressed the cloth against the cut above my eye. He pressed hard but was trying to help me, not hurt me.
“You need to get out of here before they get here. I got a pretty good head start, but if they find you, they’ll kill you. He’ll kill me just for helping you.”
“What is this place?” I was able to ask.
“You need to go,” he said.
I pushed his hand and handkerchief away from my face. “My fiancé is in that place. What is it? That Captain, is he in charge?”
The kid looked around. “No, he’s not in charge. Not yet, but things are changing, man. That place used to be good, but it is changing. Darren, the Captain, is slowly starting to get more control. He hasn’t completely taken over yet, but he will.”
“Is she safe? My fiancé?”
“Yes. She’ll be safe. For now.”
“I need to get her out,” I said. I leaned off of the tree.
“They’ll kill you. Look, I will keep her safe. You and the others you’re with need to get help.”
“Help? Where?”
“I don’t know, but the four of you aren’t going to save your friends. There are too many of Darren’s guys. I will keep your friends alive until you get back.”
“Why? Why are you helping me?”
“Because I want out. I said District 7-1 isn’t what it used to be. When we save your friends, you take me with you. Wherever you go.”
“Why don’t you just leave?” I asked.
“No, not by myself. I need people. I need friends.
More blood had begun pooling underneath my tongue. I leaned over and spit it out. I laughed. He needed friends. What good would friends do?
“If I come back and my fiancé is dead…I’ll kill you.”
“It won’t come to that, but I guess that is reason enough to keep her alive.”
I left this kid and ran through the trees, got help, came back, rescued Haylea and the others from District 7-1, left safely with the soldier that helped me out, found a new place to live down south, was able to survive the new world with the new family we turned out to be.
None of that actually happened, but it all flashed before my eyes when Zach ran up behind the solider and pulled a gun on him seconds away from shooting him in the head. I grabbed the soldier’s arm and flung him back into the tree. The throbbing pain in my stomach turned sharp. Stabbing me.
“Zach, no!” I threw my right hand up to stop him. I wasn’t able to lift my left arm. “Put it away.”
“What?” Zach kept the gun pointed. “Move!”
“He’s helping us!”
“What?”
“Lower the gun, damn it.” I had one hand pressed against the kid’s chest to keep him down, one held up to stop Zack, all the while still hunching over in pain.
When he lowered it, I turned around and reached out my right hand to help the soldier back to his feet. He dusted off his clothes and glared at Zach.
“He’s going to help us.”
“Why?”
“Because I want out,
” he said.
“Been there,” Zach said. He seemed sincere.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Ryan.”
“Okay, Ryan. We will be back. You’d better not be fucking with us,” I said.
“I will keep your fiancé safe.”
“And my niece,” Zach said.
“Yes. All of them. They’ll all be there when you get back.”
“Thank you, Ryan.” I reached out and shook his hand.
“Now, go,” Ryan said.
He stepped around me. He nodded toward Zach. After all, the kid was going to keep the two people we cared about safe. Zach put the gun over to his left hand and shook Ryan’s hand with his right.
“Find help. But hurry,” Ryan said before jogging off in the other direction. Before he was out of sight, he put a shot off into the air.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Do you trust him?” Zach asked quietly as we ran off.
“We have no choice, Zach.”
“I would have said the same thing. But now what?”
“We go back to Indy,” I said.
“What? Why?”
“I know someplace where we can get help.”
3
Emily Clark
I was down to four senses. My body was numb. My hands were lifeless. My fingers tingled and vibrated even as they lie in my lap. I could touch the tips of my fingers together, but couldn’t feel the roughness of my skin.
I could hear, though. Boy, I could hear. My eyes lingered up to the grandfather clock separating Father Ricky’s living room from the kitchen. The tick of the hand moving second after second sounded like an echoing church bell. Each rang bellowed my eardrums as if my sense of hearing improved as my touch faded.
Footsteps were no joy, either. Father Ricky moved around the room delivering each one of us new bottles of water. He offered food, but nobody could chew. Using my jaw muscles to open my mouth seemed too difficult.
The soldiers chatted in the corners of the room. I could hear them as if they were standing next to me. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their voices created a damning dull in the back of my head.
There was one soldier who did nothing but stare at us. The one they called Captain was fuming with anger. He would have shot us all down in that living room if he could have. I didn’t doubt that for one second.
He had a certain glow of rage around his silhouette. I could feel it. I could see it. When he scanned the room, he’d occasionally make eye contact with me. And hell, if I didn’t see red eyes of the devil looking at me.
But he was handcuffed by the job. He had to wait. Father Ricky demanded that he call some Glen Fuller to come to meet with us. He didn’t have an exciting title like The Captain. No President. No King. But I wouldn’t bet against him showing up and being introduced to all of us as The Executioner.
And just like that, there was a knock at the door. The Captain walked across the room. His boots slammed into the floor with each step.
“I shall answer my own door, Darren,” said Father Ricky. What was it with these two? Every interaction they’d had was a dick measuring affair.
Darren stopped. “And when you open it to find one of these people on the other side?” He pointed at me like I was the dangerous one in the group. Meanwhile, Jack was sitting against the wall coldly. The floor creaked under his next steps.
“Perhaps, I could just look through the window then?” Father Ricky stopped Darren again.
At this point, he was standing right above me. His dirty boot sprinkled dust onto the water bottle I had been drinking from. From my view, I could see what nobody else could. Darren’s hand grew tighter on the trigger of his gun.
He didn’t say anything. He ignored Father and walked out of the room toward the front door. I could hear the lock turn. It was smooth. Clean. The door pulled open with the sound of two rubber strips rubbing by.
It brought me comfort to know I still had that fifth sense after all. I could instantly feel a breeze come through the front door, down the hall, and graze by my elbow. It felt ice cold on the parts of my arm that were covered with dry blood.
Before I could hear the footsteps again, there were two men already in the room. Darren followed behind another man. Glen Fuller. He wore a loose-fitting pair of khaki pants and an overly large white sweater. His glasses were white and so clear that at a bad angle it’d look like he wasn’t wearing any at all.
“What happened?” he asked. His voice was sweet. Sincere.
“These people approached the gate— “
“I’m not asking you, Darren,” Glen responded sharply. They exchanged a look that froze time before Glen broke off.
He walked softly as if approaching an aggressive dog. He gave each one of us a second of attention before moving onto the next one. He wasn’t picking us out of a lineup, he was surveying the damage.
He circled and then a spark flickered in his eyes. Something had stroked his attention in a way it hadn’t yet before. He was no longer surveying the damage but admiring the beauty.
I’m a woman and men were not smooth. They never were. He was staring at one of us as if he’d already confessed his love. His exhale created a smile. It was a smile of sadness. Of sympathy.
He moved closer and directed all of his attention to Heather.
“Please don’t be afraid. My name is Glen Fuller.” He wasn’t threatening at all. “What is your name?”
“It’s…my name is Heather,” she stammered.
“Heather.” He nodded. “Heather. Heather, what happened?”
Heather looked away. I once read, in the most boring book left in the waiting room of my office, that it is almost impossible to think of something without moving your eyes.
Heather wasn’t thinking. She was looking for approval. She had looked away to Haylea as if she wasn’t allowed to answer the question without her approval.
Glen looked back to Haylea and smiled emotionlessly. When he turned to Heather, he nodded again and repeated his question. “It’s okay,” he started. “What happened?
“We were attacked by your people,” Jack said from the ground.
Glen looked around Heather to Jack. Jack made quick eye contact, but then rested his tired head against the wall he sat against.
“Is that true?” Glen asked Heather. He glanced at Darren for a moment.
“Yes,” she said almost silently. “Yes.” Louder.
Glen reached out to Heather. She didn’t flinch but instead shivered as his hand got closer. He paused. He meant no harm. He touched her shoulder gently and moved by her to Jack.
He sat on the arm of a chair in front of Jack.
“What is your name?” Glen asked quietly.
Jack’s minor snicker didn’t amuse Glen. He waited quietly for Jack to answer or even look in his direction.
When Jack’s head finally turned to him, he said, “Fuck you.”
Glen’s lips pursed. Not out of anger, but disappointment. Disappointment not in Jack but with what happened to these people that it had caused so much pain and mistrust.
“You said that my people attacked you. That they ambushed you. I’m going to need more than that.”
“Or what?”
“What is your name?” He asked again.
“Jack,” sprang Heather. “His name is Jack.”
Glen looked at her with admiration. “Thank you.” As his head turned back to Jack, Jack’s was shaking.
“Just talk to him,” we heard Haylea say. Now Jack took the effort to turn his head to her. That’s why Heather looked at her earlier. We all looked to her. Well, we all usually looked to Jack or Kurt to get us out of situations like this, but perhaps it was Haylea who was controlling all the strings.
Glen nodded his approval to her.
“We were heading south,” Jack unwillingly began. We needed a string to pull words from his mouth.
“Are you seriously going to take their word over mine?” Captain
Darren stepped forward.
“I haven’t heard their word yet, but yes. Look at these people. You’ve obviously done something to them and they have no reason to lie to me so back up and let me talk to Jack.”
After a moment, Darren backed up and Glen could focus back to his hurt guests. “I’m sorry, Jack. Please continue.”
“We were heading south.” Jack coughed.
“Where were you coming from?”
“Indianapolis.”
“Why were you heading south? Loved ones? Were you in trouble?”
“South for the winter,” he joked. They both smiled but it was short lived. “Indianapolis is pretty bad. There’s nothing there anymore. Our place was destroyed and we needed a new plan. Heading south seemed like a good idea.”
“And you arrived here.”
“Yeah, we did.” Jack stopped. His heated gaze moved to Darren. I couldn’t imagine what Jack’s intentions were for that man. “We pulled up to the gate simply looking for a way through,” he explained to Glen.
“And fuel,” Haylea said.
“Yeah. Fuel. Maybe some food and supplies.”
“And you were given all of that?” Glen asked.
“So, I thought. We were given directions to the gas station, but when we got there the attack started.”
“They were hiding somebody,” Darren spoke loudly. “He was bitten.”
“He wasn’t bitten you son of a bitch!” Jack got to his feet quicker than I expected him to. Glen put his hand up to stop anymore fighting. Glen was so calm and in so much control. He moved his hand back and forward until Jack backed up to the wall. “He was hurt. He had a bullet wound in his shoulder that was cleaned up and he had a bum leg. That was it. And you shot up the bus with him inside of it.”
“He’s lying. You’re lying!” Darren pointed at Jack. His soldiers held him back.
“Darren, back up and shut the hell up! Shut up!” Glen yelled.
I was taken aback with how quickly his sweet voice turned harsh.
“You killed him,” Jack said again. Heather had tears in her eyes and was trying to keep from crying. “You killed Dan. You son of a bitch. You killed them.”
Dead Last, Vol. 3 Page 2