He grunted an acknowledgment as the doors slid closed.
“Do you know what’s going on?” she asked, forcing herself not to bite her bottom lip.
“Haven’t you heard? That virus from overseas is here and is worse than anyone could’ve imagined. There was rioting at the airport and they just fucking bombed it.”
“What?” A buzzing started in her head. “Like, bombed it with an actual bomb?”
Richard looked at her as though she were stupid. Which, she had to admit, she’d accused herself of only twenty minutes ago.
“Yes, like an actual bomb,” he said. “They were trying to quarantine it when riots broke out and the military came in and bombed the hell out of it.”
“When?” she breathed.
The elevator dinged as it reached the foyer.
“It’s happening right now. It’s streaming live across pretty much every feed. Apparently, most of Europe declared martial law early this morning, but communication is getting sketchy from overseas.” He placed his arm over the closing doors. “Are you getting out? I’m going down to the garage.”
Looking out at the shiny tile foyer, Mackenzie felt the first grab of genuine fear in her gut. She didn’t think she could face what was out there.
“Do you have a car? Maybe you could—”
“Nope, not taking you anywhere. I’ve got to get to my wife on the other side of the city.” He softened marginally. “Look, if I were you, I’d stock up on supplies and get yourself home real quick. Good luck.” Then he pushed her gently from the elevator.
“Supplies? What kind of supplies?!”
But the door slid smoothly shut, her frantic question unanswered.
Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck.
Jake slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. Frustration rode him hard, and his jaw ached from the constant clench of his teeth.
For the last hour of his trip to Chicago, he’d been barely inching forward, choked by frantic traffic. The I-88 had been relatively free flowing until he took the exit onto I-290, where the exodus from the city was attempting to take over all eight lanes of the highway.
Every radio station was staticky white noise or on a prerecorded loop advising listeners they were in a state of emergency and to remain indoors. But Jake didn’t need a news anchor to tell him things were bad. Really bad.
As he got closer to the city, nothing looked amiss. Until you noticed the enormous plumes of black smoke clouding the sky to the north. And once you saw that, you couldn’t unsee it.
Whatever the fuck it was, it wasn’t good.
Jake had been in his mechanic shop that morning, fitting a throttle valve into a carburetor when his sister Chloe arrived, the rear tires on her car kicking up gravel.
“The way you drive, I’m going to need to change the brake pads on that vehicle soon,” he said, wiping grease-stained hands on his jeans.
“Are you not listening to the radio?” she screeched.
“Whoa. What’s going on? Calm down.”
“Calm down? Don’t tell me to calm down. The world is freakin’ ending. I’m not going to calm down!”
“Did you have a fight with Ash? I thought he was out of town?”
“Yes, he’s out of town, and the jerk wouldn’t listen to me this morning when I begged him to come back.” Chloe was literally wringing her hands in distress.
“How exactly is the world ending, Chlo?”
“The WHO has declared a pandemic—Sy-V is in the States.”
“The WH-who?”
“World Health Organization,” Chloe almost yelled. “They’re saying the rate of community transmission is so fast that containment is basically impossible. Schools are closing and Twitter is exploding with reports of the military mobilizing.” She was breathless with agitation. “You need to get Mac.”
Jake was already moving toward his SUV before Chloe finished speaking. His mind set on one thing—to rescue Mackenzie. Hell, she was one of the few things he’d thought about since he was fourteen.
“I’ll call Mac and tell her I’m on my way. You call that damn husband of yours and tell him to get home.”
“I can’t get through to Ash, I just keep getting a busy signal.”
“Keep trying. I’ll message you when I get to Mac.”
Since then, he’d tried several times to send messages to both Chloe and Mackenzie, letting them know he was delayed. Each time, the messages bounced back unsent, and his calls wouldn’t connect. He was now almost two hours late to meet with Mackenzie.
Worry gnawed at his stomach, causing bile to rise in his throat.
Jake’s unrequited love for his sister’s best friend meant he knew Mackenzie probably even better than Chloe did. He absorbed every gesture and nuance when he was with her. Hell, he remembered details she’d probably forgotten about herself.
He knew she secretly loved One Direction and that she couldn’t stand cooked tomatoes. That she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous, and it was her deadbeat father—and the fact he owed money to half the town—that had driven her from Sanford.
He also knew, with dreadful clarity, she would not be prepared for whatever was coming. Grams had always said Mackenzie was book smart, not street smart. It didn’t matter how many hundreds of hours that girl had spent studying to be a lawyer; she needed protecting.
The urge to get to her now had his foot pressing on the accelerator. The front corner of his vehicle nudged the car blocking him; heading in the opposite direction, he could see the despair in the heavy frown lines of the man driving it.
“Move over!” Jake gestured to him.
They locked eyes, and Jake saw when the man decided to help. With no acknowledgment, his beefy arm went over the headrest of the passenger seat as he turned to look backward, looking for a gap in the next lane to move into.
In this manner, appealing to each oncoming driver’s humanity, Jake moved forward until suddenly he was behind a garbage truck that was forging ahead, heedless of the oncoming vehicles. Sitting on the truck’s tail, Jake was light-headed with relief that he was finally making progress.
In the end, he had to park several streets from Mackenzie’s Lincoln Park apartment because the roads were clogged with stalled or abandoned cards. There were fewer people on the sidewalk than he would’ve expected, and those he saw were covering their mouths and noses with articles of clothing.
Smart.
Shrugging out of his shirt, he held it over his face and started a steady jog to Mackenzie. After hours of sitting tensely in his vehicle, it was liberating to stretch and morph his worry into physical action.
The entrance to the apartment building was open and Jake bounded the steps to the second floor, stopping short of crashing into Mackenzie’s door. Knocking sharply, he breathed deeply to calm his racing heart.
“Mac?” he called, knocking harder.
No response.
“Damn it, Mackenzie! Are you there?”
Dread threatened to swallow him. Without stopping to think, he rammed the door with his shoulder, attempting to force his way through.
Standing back, he rubbed at his now throbbing shoulder. Too bad he’d never learned how to pick a lock.
“Damn it, Mac! Are you there?” Bracing his bent elbows against the wall, he rested his bowed head. The unfamiliar creep of defeat was bitter.
Jake hadn’t allowed himself to think beyond getting to Mackenzie, and now he was here, and she wasn’t. He had no idea what route she’d take to get home from her office, whether she’d take a bus or the L. If he went out looking for her, he may miss her.
“Jake?”
The small voice came from behind, and before he could turn, Mackenzie had thrown herself at his back, wrapping her arms tight around his waist.
Grinning stupidly, he turned and pulled her into his arms, relief exploding in his chest. His smile widened as she burrowed against his bare chest, her voice muffled. “Gross, Jake, you smell.”
“Where have you been? I thou
ght you’d be here waiting for me.”
She pulled back, and he looked at her properly. Her blouse was untucked, her hair a mess, and her bare feet were grubby and bloody with blisters.
“Jesus, Mac! What happened? What happened out there?” he asked, worry lacing his tone.
“I ended up having to walk and ditched the heels about halfway. It’s crazy, Jake. I saw a bunch of police officers trying to reason with a group of people and then out of nowhere the army was there and started shooting.” She paused, stifling a sob. “They just pulled out guns and opened fire into the crowd.”
“Fuck,” he said. “Come on, open up and let’s get you packed. We need to get out of here.”
“No judgment from you, okay? I didn’t know I was going to have visitors, and the place is a mess.” She jiggled her key in the lock.
“I’m not going to be checking your kitchen sink for dirty dishes, Mac.”
Turns out that wasn’t exactly what Mackenzie was referring to. Living in an apartment with no clothesline or dryer, she’d rigged up several strings along which lacy lingerie was drying.
Jake would’ve paid money, a lot of money, to peruse each delicate piece. Instead, he cleared his throat and forced his gaze away.
Now was not the time.
“Pack enough for a couple of weeks. We don’t know how long this is going to go on for. Do you have spare asthma inhalers?”
“Damn! I should’ve picked up extras at the drugstore this morning. I’ll have to do that before we get going—I emptied mine on the way home.”
Striding to the kitchen, Jake opened the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of water.
“Pack cold weather gear,” he called out.
“You’re not my dad,” she said, coming into the room as she slung a backpack over her shoulder. She’d changed into sneakers, leggings and a sweater.
“That’s all you’re taking?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow, ignoring her comment.
“I don’t know what’s going on out there, but when it all blows over, I’m coming back here. It’s not like I’ll be in Sanford when winter comes—there’ll be a vaccine before we know it.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Are you sure you’ve got everything you need?” he asked, passing her the water to put in her backpack.
“Yes, Dad.”
That rankled, knowing Mackenzie’s feelings toward her father. Having pulled his shirt back on, he grabbed two dish towels from the drawer, telling her they were to use as face masks.
“How did you know which drawer they were in?”
“Dish towels go in the third drawer down. Everyone knows that.”
“You’re such a know-it-all,” she said.
“A know-it-all who’s here to save your ass. Let’s go.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“Sure, Mac.”
“Save the towels. I’ve got proper face masks.” She handed him one. “And I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted quietly, pulling the front door closed behind them.
He hid a smile, but it slipped as they started down the stairs.
If the military was massacring in the streets, he didn’t think the situation was going to be blowing over soon.
Chapter Two
In the short time Mac had been in her apartment, the air outside had grown thicker with a choking smoke, and her lungs tightened. The intensity of noise had amplified too. Wailing sirens competed with blaring car alarms. People were no longer hushed and frantic, but loud and belligerent.
“Can you believe they bombed O’Hare?” Mackenzie said.
“They what?” Jake’s eyes widened above his face mask.
The red-and-blue flashing lights of a police vehicle parked on the block over caught their attention—an officer was shouting from a loudspeaker for civilians to stay indoors.
“When did they start calling us civilians?” Mackenzie glared at the cop. “It sounds like we’re in a war zone.”
“Look around, Mac. We are.”
“Why aren’t we seeing anyone who’s sick?”
“I don’t know.” Jake pulled her backpack from her and shouldered it himself. “Which way to the drugstore?”
It was only a short walk to the nearest shopping strip, but they’d barely started out before Mackenzie was limping. She’d washed her feet and applied Band-Aids, but the blisters from trekking half the way home in her three-inch Fendi slingbacks were worse than the time she’d worn new heels clubbing until dawn.
The friction as she walked was excruciating.
Jake noticed and shortened his strides to accommodate her slower pace. “I’m guessing you won’t be wearing those heels again?”
“Nope. Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I dropped them and ran when the shooting started. Those people just started falling over, like it was some kind of game. And the sound of a gun is so much louder than it is in the movies. And then people started screaming—” She choked. “I just can’t believe it was real. That it happened.”
Jake pulled her tighter against his side as she fought back the tears burning in her throat.
“I’m glad Chloe sent you,” she admitted.
“I would’ve come for you even without Chloe,” he said roughly. “I’ll always come for you, Mac.”
Unlike my jerk of a boyfriend.
There was something in the way Jake was looking at her, eyes serious over the top of his mask, that had Mackenzie’s stomach doing a funny little twist.
There was no time to think as they came abreast of the small supermarket and Jake tugged her against the wall to avoid being rammed by an exiting shopping cart, piled high and steered by a wild-eyed man in a business suit. A woman with a red-faced screaming baby strapped to her front, her cart also loaded to the brim, followed him.
Jake caught her eye. “Think they know something we don’t?”
“They’re just panic buying. Remember whenever there’s a severe storm warning in Sanford? The whole town mobs the grocery store, thinking they’ll never get the chance to buy food again,” she said. “We’ll probably have to stay inside for a week, two at the most, until they contain the virus.”
“Still, it can’t hurt to grab some supplies. With the way traffic is, it’s going to take a lot longer to get home. We’ll need food.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to reply that while Sanford may be his home, it sure as hell wasn’t hers. But his mention of supplies stopped her. Hadn’t that been what Richard Drammel told her to do?
“Yeah, okay. And the drugstore is two down. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Holy shit,” Jake breathed as they walked through the automatic front doors of the supermarket, reflexively pulling Mackenzie closer.
Recoiling from the utter pandemonium, Mackenzie stepped backwards. It was like they’d entered an alternate universe, where instead of neat shelves and orderly lines, people were arguing and jostling in lines that snaked back into ravaged aisles. Customers were actually running, sweeping products indiscriminately into their carts. Two harried women staffed the checkouts where a fight had just broken out.
“What do you mean, cash only? I don’t have any cash!” yelled an elderly man brandishing a bank card at the cashier, whose bangs were matted to her forehead with sweat.
“I’m sorry, sir, really I am. But our system just went down. I can only accept cash payment,” she said, holding up beseeching hands. As she spoke, the overhead lights flickered and several people screamed in fright.
“Cynthia, it’s time to get the hell out of here,” Mackenzie heard the other cashier say. “We don’t get paid enough to deal with this.”
In the space of a second, the tense atmosphere flashed from frantic uncertainty to dangerous hostility. Another flicker of the lights and chaos reigned.
Abandoning the semi-organized lines, shoppers—fiercely protective of their carts—charged for the exit. Two men were trading blows, a box of bottled water on the ground at their feet, and a teenage boy who’d just entered the store was knoc
ked to the ground and trampled.
“Jesus Christ!” Jake lunged forward to help the boy to his feet, dragging him to where Mackenzie was cowering against a display of fresh flowers. “Are you okay?”
“Fuck you! Get your hands off me!” said the boy, snatching his arm from Jake’s grip and dashing away.
Dry mouthed, Mackenzie couldn’t get her body to move. She knew the longer she stayed frozen, the less likely they were to find anything worth salvaging on the shelves.
The need for haste pulsed through the air, and everyone was breathing it and reacting accordingly.
But her? Nope. The utter unreality of people being shot in front of her earlier in the day had been so surreal, she still couldn’t quite grasp that her world had altered irrevocably. And now people were literally going mad, grabbing anything and everything from the supermarket shelves before barreling out without paying.
“Oh god,” she blurted. “I’ve just thought about the airport. Before, I was thinking about the structure of the buildings getting bombed. But the people. Imagine how many people were trapped there. It makes me feel sick.”
“You can’t think about it now. We need to get some food and get the hell out of here,” Jake said with grim determination.
He grabbed a shopping basket and thrust it at her, taking one for himself.
“We stick together, okay? Let’s take it one aisle at a time; you look at the shelves on the right, I’ll look at the left. We want fresh food because most people are bypassing that in favor of the packaged, long-lasting stuff. And we can get that back in Sanford.”
Mackenzie stuck a hand in the back pocket of Jake’s jeans, staying close behind his broad back as they jogged to the fresh produce section. The safety she felt being shielded by him was comforting, and she had a moment of marveling at how Chloe’s little brother suddenly seemed years older and more grown up than she was.
There was no sign of the freckle-faced, scrappy kid who used to torment her with frogs.
Taking a handful of carrots, she had a brief, bizarre moment of imagining she was on one of those reality television shows where you had sixty seconds to grab as much as you could from the supermarket shelves, and whoever had the most expensive cart at the end won. And then a woman shoulder-checked her, reaching for the last loaf of fresh bread.
After Today (The After Series Book 1) Page 2