Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

by Hamilton, Grace

  “There,” he said, tapping his window. “Rob’s Sporting Goods.”

  “We don’t need football equipment,” Gary grumbled. “We need drugs.”

  “They’ll have first aid supplies,” Owen said. When no one seemed excited about this, he added, “Hey, it’s a start, and we’ll definitely need that kind of stuff.”

  “Worth a try,” Claire said.

  Gary grunted, but he pulled into the parking lot and approached the front of the store. One of the big windows in front was broken, but they decided to check it out anyway. Owen went inside with Carlos, Claire, and David. The shelves had been dumped, much of the sports equipment taken. What remained were mostly uniforms, large pieces of equipment, and trash. However, Owen found a few small first aid kits on a shelf near the cash register. Claire took them and put them in her bag.

  “Not much,” she noted, “but more than we got from Carlos’s place.”

  They rooted around in the store for a few more minutes, and Carlos finally took an unused roll of paper towels from the bathroom, as if he were determined to do something useful. He put this rather forcefully into Claire’s bag before returning to the car.

  “Well, it wasn’t a waste of time,” Gary said, when he saw their haul. “Good job, kid. Where to next?”

  As they climbed back in the car, David Horton finally spoke up. At first, he was too quiet to be heard, and Claire made a weird, “Huh?” sound. He cleared his throat, adjusted his hat, and tried again.

  “I was just thinking,” he said, “we’re not that far from Merced University, and I know the campus has a health clinic. People might not think to loot a university clinic. Heck, they have a whole college of medicine.”

  “I like the way this kid thinks,” Claire said, clutching the bag in her arms. “Let’s try it.”

  Gary nodded and put the car in drive.

  “The clinic is near the football field,” David said. “On the south side, I believe.”

  Gary seemed to know the way. He drove to downtown Macon and approached the campus from the south side. The clinic turned out to be inside a large red-brick building just off Stadium Drive. As they pulled into the parking lot, Owen noticed a few students wandering through campus. It seemed unlikely that classes would be in session, but maybe some of the students were simply stuck on campus with nowhere else to go.

  “Act like you belong here,” Gary said, parking close to a pair of glass doors at one end of the building. “Don’t give anyone a reason to look twice.”

  “Then Carlos should stay in the car,” Claire said. “He’s a little bitty old man.”

  “Oh, shut up, you witch,” he replied, thrashing in the back seat so that he bumped into David.

  “I agree,” Gary said. “Claire, Owen, David, you three go get it done. Carlos will stay with me. Hurry up. We’re out in the open here. Too many eyes.”

  “How do we be inconspicuous if we have to break the glass?” Claire asked.

  “You just break it like it’s your job to break it,” Gary replied, scratching his big belly. “Do it fast. Get in, get out, and let’s go.”

  Owen’s felt a twinge in his conscience. Now they were stealing medical supplies from students. He got out of the car and approached the building, David and Claire following behind him. Claire paused to empty the bag in the trunk.

  Please be unlocked, Owen thought, as he reached for the door handle. Please be unlocked.

  The door swung open with a rush of muggy interior air. Owen breathed a big sigh of relief as he stepped into a dim hallway.

  “Stop acting so suspicious,” Claire said. “Remember what Gary said?”

  Owen ignored the comment and started down the hall. A sign directed them to another door halfway down on the left. This door was also unlocked, and Owen stepped through to find himself in a small waiting room. Rows of padded chairs lined two walls, a table stacked with old magazines between them. The room appeared remarkably undisturbed. That was a good sign.

  “Let’s go. Let’s go,” Claire said, spinning a hand in the air. “What are you staring at?”

  A large open window led into a reception area. Owen climbed through and made his way toward an open door in the back. It didn’t take long to find a supply closet stocked with pill bottles and medical supplies. He was already taking them off the shelf when Claire and David reached him. Claire opened her bag, and Owen started dumping medical supplies inside.

  “I have to hand it to you, David,” she said. “This place is a gold mine.”

  “Thanks,” David muttered.

  Owen started on the top shelf and worked his way down. He had cleared two shelves completely when he heard sharp voices coming from the waiting room. He froze and turned to David.

  “I saw them come in here,” someone said. He sounded young and angry.

  “Get ’em,” said a second person. A young woman, equally angry.

  Owen and David stared at each other for a second. Suddenly, Gary’s recommendation that they act like they belonged didn’t seem like it would help.

  “Is there a back door?” Owen said, quietly.

  “Take the rest of the stuff first,” Claire said.

  But Owen heard a third voice and a fourth now coming from the waiting room.

  “No, I think it’s time to go,” he said, turning to see what was behind him. The hallway led past a series of doors and turned to the left, but an exit sign hanging from the ceiling pointed them in that direction. He gestured toward the sign.

  “We’re armed, kids,” Claire reminded him. “Let’s take the rest. What are we afraid of? If we have to go through a few people, so be it.”

  Owen ignored her and started down the hall, beckoning David to follow him. Was the old lady out of her mind? What were they going to do, blast their way out of the building? Fortunately, she didn’t press the point. With a roll of her eyes, she swung the bag over her shoulder and followed Owen down the hall. Just as he turned the corner, Owen heard footsteps rushing through the reception area behind him.

  “You people stop,” someone shouted.

  “Freeze or we’ll shoot,” said another.

  A door at the end of the hall had an exit sign above it. Owen stopped, spun, and threw himself against the wall. David kept going a few steps then pressed himself against the wall next to him. Claire, bearing the heavy bag, came last, but just as she turned the corner, someone fired a shot. The bullet hit a door beside her, kicking out a spray of splinters.

  “I said stop,” someone shouted, his voice cracking.

  Sounds like college students, Owen thought. Whoever they were, they were young like him.

  “Go, go, go,” Claire said, waving at Owen as she hurried down the hall.

  “I’m not letting these people chase us into the parking lot,” Owen muttered, drawing his Glock. “We’ll get shot in the back.”

  At this, Claire stopped, dropped her bag, and reached into an inner pocket of the jacket she was wearing. She produced the largest, most absurd handgun Owen had ever seen. He didn’t know handguns all that well, but he was pretty sure this chrome behemoth was a Desert Eagle.

  “Get off our campus,” one of the students cried.

  Owen thrust his arm around the corner and fired the Glock, aiming into the ceiling so he wouldn’t hit anyone. This stopped the footsteps immediately, but one of the students returned fire, bullets eating the door and wall to Owen’s left.

  “Back off,” Owen shouted. “We’re leaving. Stop shooting at us.”

  “You’re dead, you thieves,” a student yelled.

  Claire marched toward the corner. As she did, she pointed at David, pointed at the bag on the floor, and pointed at the exit. He got the meaning, nodding and picking up the bag of medical supplies.

  “Hurry,” she said to Owen. “I’ll be right along.”

  And with that, she stepped boldly around the corner, brought the Desert Eagle up, and opened fire. The gun made an explosive sound as Owen and David hurried down the hall and through the
exit door. They came out in another hallway, but through a window, he saw Gary in the Chevy Nova. Claire kept firing, screaming at the students, though her words were lost beneath the thunderclaps.

  “She’s crazy,” David said, pressing his hat to his head as he ran for the glass doors that led out of the building.

  Owen heard someone racing toward him. He glanced over his shoulder, aiming the Glock, and saw Claire tearing down the hall in a cloud of gun smoke, the Desert Eagle aimed back over her shoulder.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said, her gray hair flying out behind her. “Run, dummy. Run!”

  Owen followed David outside and toward the Nova. Gary had the engine running, and as soon as they piled into car, before Claire even got her door shut, he pulled away with a squeal of tires. Only then did the precarious nature of their situation hit Owen. He was lightheaded from hyperventilating, and his heart was pounding. He still had the Glock in his hand, so he put it in the holster.

  “How many did you kill?” Gary asked.

  “Don’t think…I killed any,” Claire said, out of breath. “It was just a bunch of teenybopper college kids. I fired into the walls and floor, and they scattered like mice. I’m sure they’ve been chasing off looters for weeks and never had one fight back like that.”

  This is not what I signed up for, Owen thought. This is bad. We’re like a criminal gang.

  “We got quite a bit of stuff that time,” he said. “Maybe we’re done for the day?”

  Gary glanced at him, one gray eyebrow going up. “Losing your nerve?”

  “No, but it’s a little more intense than I expected,” he replied. “I thought we’d be rooting through medicine cabinets in empty houses.”

  “Yeah, didn’t quite work out that way,” Gary said. “Let’s hit one more place, and then we’ll call it a day. Any suggestions?”

  “The hospital,” Carlos said. “Just bust in and take what we want.”

  “No, I really think we should avoid fights,” Owen said. “There are plenty of abandoned buildings. We don’t have to attack people.”

  Gary gave him a stern look. “Suggest something then.”

  Owen turned and looked out the window, desperately seeking some empty building that might have something worth taking. He saw a large shopping center across the street from the university, but he thought it was just a little too close to their last encounter. A block to the south, however, he spotted a sign for Happy Dogs Veterinary Hospital.

  “There,” he said suddenly, tapping his window. “The vet clinic will have medical supplies we can use.”

  “What, like heartworm medicine and rabies vaccinations?” Gary said with a sneer.

  “Well, they’ll have bandages and such,” he said.

  “Actually,” David piped up. His hat sat askew on his head, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it. “A lot of the drugs pets use are the equivalent of human drugs, stuff like prednisone and antibiotics and stuff.”

  Gary Morde grunted, but then he stopped fast enough to throw Owen into his seatbelt and swung left toward the vet clinic. There was dust on the windows, a handmade sign on the door that read “Closed for Good,” and a bag of old trash that had clearly been scavenged by animals on the sidewalk out front.

  They parked around back, where they found an unlocked door beside a dumpster. The inside was frozen in time, as if the staff had simply walked out when the power died and never returned. In the lobby, they found stacks of dog food. Medical supplies were in a large cabinet in back. They swept the shelves clean, dumping pill bottles, bandages, and packets of who-knew-what into Claire’s bag, until the bag was almost too full to close.

  “You picked a good place,” Gary said to Owen, as they trudged back through the building. He clapped Owen on the shoulder with one meaty paw.

  On the way back, Claire tucked a few cans of dog food into her bag as well. When Carlos gave her a questioning look, she said, “Some people have dogs.”

  “It’s fine,” Gary said. “Let’s get out here. We’ll call it day. Good job, everyone.”

  When he opened the back door, Owen immediately heard a familiar sound coming from somewhere nearby: the growl of motorcycle engines. It sent a fearful shudder through his whole body.

  “Load up fast and let’s go,” Gary said.

  As they dashed out into the open, the sound of the motorcycles became so loud, Owen could scarcely think. They must have been close, but he didn’t see them. They were parked at the back of the building, with roads on two sides and a small field on the other.

  Gary popped the trunk, and Claire dumped the cloth bag inside. However, it was so full that she had to push and smash it down to make it fit. Then she slammed the trunk shut and got in the back seat. Carlos and David got tangled up as they tried to get in, Carlos pushing at the kid and making his hat fall off.

  “Watch it, already, would you?” David said, with surprising vehemence, as he stooped to grab his precious trilby. “My dad bought that.”

  “Okay, sorry, muchacho,” Carlos said.

  Carlos slid into the middle beside Claire, and David came last, pulling his door shut so hard it made the whole car shake. Gary had just reached for the gearshift when Owen saw movement in the sideview mirror. Turning around, he spotted a line of motorcycles pulling into the parking lot. The man on the lead bike was enormous, a broad-shouldered beast straining the arms of his leather jacket. He pulled up alongside the Chevy Nova and came to a stop.

  He had a camouflage hat on his head, mirrored sunglasses over his eyes, and massive black boots. His neck was like a tree trunk, his face all sharp angles with skin that had a texture like sandpaper. He pulled the sunglasses off, revealing ice-blue eyes. A jagged scar bisected his face, running from the left side of his forehead all the way down to his right jawline, slicing right over the bridge of his nose.

  “Get out of the car,” he said, in a deep growl of a voice.

  “Good God,” Gary muttered. “Look at that monster.”

  Gary put the car in drive and stomped on the gas. The Chevy lurched forward. In the sideview mirror, Owen saw the lead rider pull a handgun out of the inner pocket of his jacket. Some of the bikers behind him did the same. Suddenly, they had seven or eight guns pointed in their direction.

  “Get down,” Owen shouted. “Everyone get down!”

  Gary was driving wildly toward the parking lot exit, but suddenly it seemed a thousand miles away. When the guns began to fire, it was like a sudden chaotic burst of fireworks echoing off the back wall of the clinic. David curled up as low as he could go, putting his head between his knees so that he was practically buried in the garbage.

  Carlos uttered a long string of curses in both English and Spanish, as Gary unleased a voice-creaking scream. David heard bullets striking the car. The sideview mirror exploded, the back windshield cracked. Bullets hits the metal body of the car with a tinny sound, like a hammer striking the surface.

  “Go faster,” Claire shrieked. “For God’s sake, Gary, get us out of here!”

  Owen felt a thump as they transitioned from the parking lot to the street, and then he was thrown against Gary’s soft side as they turned the corner. Already, the car was picking up dangerous speed. They zigzagged through a neighborhood, and finally the noises faded, leaving them in a terrible silence.

  “Is everyone okay?” Owen said, sitting up.

  When the people in the back seat didn’t answer, he turned to look behind him. The rear windshield was shattered, and there were bullet holes punched into the ceiling of the car. Claire was still hunched down behind Gary’s seat. Carlos sat beside her, his face over his hands.

  And then Owen felt a hand fumbling against his arm.

  “Owen?”

  David’s voice. The young Horton boy was leaning against his door, his hat in his lap. He grabbed Owen’s arm, but there wasn’t much strength in his grip. The exit wound was in the middle of his chest, cutting through his t-shirt, and blood had already begun to pour down his belly, pooling in hi
s lap.

  “Oh, no,” Owen said. “David!”

  In blind panic, he reached for the wound, thinking he needed to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding, but then David flopped forward, pressing his cheek to the back of the headrest. He got both of his arms around the headrest and slid them around Owen’s shoulders, holding him in an awkward embrace.

  “I don’t feel right,” he said, his words slurring. “I think they got me. Did they get me?”

  “Just hold on, David, okay?” Owen said. “We’ll get you to Dr. Yates right away.”

  “Where’s my hat?” David said, his voice fading to a whisper. His face was very close to Owen’s ear, and still, it was hard to make out the words. “My dad bought it for me.”

  “You’re going to be okay,” Owen said. “Just hold on.”

  But he heard the boy’s last breath. It rattled as it come out of his mouth, wet with blood, and then David slumped to one side, his arms sliding away from Owen, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

  14

  There was a bit of cloud cover that afternoon, as if the weather had decided to go easy on them in the midst of their grieving. Old Town Cemetery also had large patches of shade from the massive trees that grew throughout the property, and the small crowd of mourners clustered together in the shade. Shane, Corbin, the old one named Gary Morde, and a few others stood with shovels beside a large pile of dirt on one side of the grave.

  Jodi was only half-listening to Sheriff Cooley as he gave a rambling eulogy. Her attention was mostly focused on Owen and the Horton kids. They were standing together, Owen between the two girls at the head of the open grave, all of them weeping. Amelia had her arm wrapped around Owen’s waist, and from time to time, she turned and wiped her tears on his shoulder. Jodi was concerned about her son. He was taking David’s death hard, and when she’d tried to talk to him that morning, he had pointedly not said anything.

  “Though we know that our friend and brother, David Horton, is another victim of the world’s brokenness,” Sheriff Cooley was saying, “we won’t remember him as a victim. We will remember as a bright young man who was always willing to help.”