by C C Roth
I don’t know if I heard the shot first or saw the blood, but his smile fell and he suddenly looked confused. He dropped to his knees and I saw the soldier who had rounded the north corner of the building, standing tall and still, aiming his rifle at us. I’m sure I was screaming because my throat felt like a hot coal was tearing through it, but I couldn’t hear the sound. In one motion I ran forward as I emptied Noah’s handgun into the stranger who had just shattered my world. He fell but I was still running toward him, propelled by rage. Then three more people rounded the corner, so I emptied my rifle into them.
Suddenly I was being pulled backward. I didn’t fight it or even really notice it at first. I think I was still screaming. Noah spun me around and yelled in my face as he shook me violently.
“Stop! You have to go. Stop shooting!”
I fell on the ground next to Mike and covered his chest where the blood was pouring out. He was sputtering and his eyes darted in panic.
“Sam? Sam, you’re okay. It’s okay.” He was trying to comfort me. He was the one who was shot but he was comforting me. His hand grabbed my sleeve and gave me a yank. “Listen. It’s okay. You can do this.”
“No, no, no…” was all I could say over and over. “Mitchell has a doctor, remember? He can help you. He can save you.”
I knew I’d never get him to the car by myself. Desperate I lunged at Noah like a wild animal and grabbed his arms. “Help me. Help me carry him. We can make it, it’s not far.”
He started to protest again but I shoved his knife at his throat and screamed, “Help me save my brother!”
He had no choice. In a flash we scrambled to help Mike up and each stood under one arm, supporting his weight. It was slow and painful getting him through the woods. He was a big guy and it took all our efforts to keep us upright. He was trying to walk but he was too weak, making our progress slow. There was no other option, we had to backtrack to the drop-point where we’d parked the cars. With every stumble I could hear a voice in my head doubting our chances. What if they took both the cars? What if they’re all gone? You won’t make it. He’s dying. You killed your brother. He’s dying.
Finally, the truck was in sight, but I feared we were too late. Even in the darkness I could see how pale Mike was. He was trying to talk again but his breath was so ragged I couldn’t make it out.
“Okay, Mike. You did it. Look we’re here. Your obnoxious girlfriend left the truck for us, so you just need to hold on for a little bit longer okay? Mitchell will figure this out. We’ll get you fixed up.” I said it, but I didn’t know if it was true or not.
We fumbled him badly into the back of the pickup and I tried to make him comfortable.
“Here, sit with him,” I said to Noah. “Hold this on his chest. Hard, press hard. Good.”
I cranked the engine on, pausing only to open the window behind me so I could hear Mike and Noah. Then I tore through the woods, playing slalom with the trees, possessed by one thought. He can’t die. I flipped on the walkie and desperately tried to reach someone.
“Karina? Karina it’s Sam. Mike’s been shot. Karina?”
I flipped the channel. “Karina! Mike is shot. Do you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Dammit where are they? They should be close.” The truck teetered as I tore out of the woods and onto a back road.
“The safe house,” Mike groaned from the back. “They’ll be at the safe house.”
“Right. The safe house. Shit.” There wouldn’t be a doctor at the safe house. I needed to go to The Home. But Mitchell wouldn’t forgive me if I broke protocol and put everyone at risk.
“Noah, how is he?” I jerked around another corner spraying gravel like shrapnel.
“Well he’s been shot in the chest so not good. I don’t know. There’s a lot of blood back here.”
I didn’t know what to do. Panic was making me flounder like an idiot. Once again someone I loved was dying in the back of a car while I sat helpless to do anything about it. Mitchell. Mitchell would fix this. He would call Dr. Pearson again. After all, he seemed to have no trouble getting anything he wanted.
“Mitchell. I know you’re listening. Mitchell pick up.”
There was a long silence as our tires finally hit paved road, my ears straining for a response. If I stayed my course, I was headed downtown towards The Home or I could turn left and head to the safe house.
“Mitchell pick up dammit!”
“You are breaking protocol, Red Team.”
“It’s Mike. He’s been shot. I need help.”
More silence.
“Mitchell! Tell me what to do.”
“Continue to the safe house as planned. Someone will come for him.”
“You’ll send a doctor?”
“Yes. Do not come here. Continue to the safe house.”
“How long?”
“Not long. I’ll call now. Go to the safe house. Over.”
I did as I was told and yanked the truck to the left. We would be there in minutes. I could hear Mike coughing from the back, but not a real cough. More like a strangled murmur.
“Hang on, Mike. Almost there.”
The safe house was an abandoned farmhouse just outside the city. It had been abandoned even before Avian-X and it looked like something out of a nightmare. But Mitchell’s people had fixed up the inside with supplies and tents. It was a perfect hiding spot because no one would go there on purpose and if you did happen to find yourself driving past, you’d take one look, think murder, and keep moving. The van was parked out front. I didn’t know how they’d managed to cram everyone in, but they’d done it to leave the truck behind for us. I owed Karina another “thank you” for that. Navin came running off the front porch as I skidded to a stop and it occurred to me, I hadn’t given him a thought since I saw him last. He looked relieved to see me alive but there was no time for celebrating.
“Mike’s shot,” I said as I ran to the back and lowered the tailgate. “Help me get him inside.”
Navin jumped into action and only scowled when he saw Noah in the back of the truck.
“I needed his help. I couldn’t carry him on my own,” I said.
The three of us lowered Mike as carefully as we could. I grabbed his legs and we carried him up the crappy front steps and into the main room, leaving a trail of blood behind us as we went. There were lanterns glowing throughout the room bouncing shadows on the dusty, crumbling walls.
Karina rolled out a sleeping bag on the floor. “Here. Lay him down. How many times was he shot?”
“Once. In the back but his chest is bleeding.”
She ran and grabbed a flashlight. “Take his shirt off so we can pack the wound better.”
My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t seem to make them move right. Navin and Noah pulled Mike’s shirt off sending a fresh wave of blood bubbling out of the hole in his chest.
Karina shoved a flashlight in my hand, and she got to work packing his wound with gauze.
“Sam. Hold this here. Push as hard as you can. Don’t worry about hurting him. Just push.”
I knelt next to him and held down the wadded-up gauze, making him wince in pain. It quickly soaked with blood and my hands were covered again.
“Shit.” Karina got more from her first aid kit and replaced the squishy mess, then put my hands back on top of the fresh pile. “We’ll have to hope the bleeding stops soon or else he won’t make it.”
“No. I called Mitchell. He’s sending Dr. Pearson.”
Karina paused and stared at me for a moment. “He wouldn’t…Mitchell said that?”
“Yes. He said he’s sending a doctor.”
She nodded slowly then turned to look down at Mike. She sweetly ran her hand over his face and gave him a kiss.
“I’ll be right back,” she said as calmly as she could. But she couldn’t hide the tears pouring down her face as she walked outside.
I was too overwhelmed with emotion and adrenaline to read her expression and interpret what was
happening. All I could do was watch and wait. Mike’s face was even more gaunt looking now. He’d lost so much blood.
“Mike it’s going to be okay. The doctor is coming. You’ll be fine.”
He wheezed a little and opened his eyes. “Sam. No one is coming. Don’t be upset.”
“Mitchell is sending a doctor. Someone is coming, Mike.”
“No, they’re not. And it’s okay. Listen to me. You have to take better care of yourself. You have to not listen to the part of yourself that scares you. You have to try to do what’s right, okay?”
I didn’t know what to say. He was trying to say goodbye, but my world wouldn’t exist without him. “Mike, shut up. You take care of me. You’ve always taken care of me. You’re all I have left.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do better. I’m just not cut out for this I guess.” His eyes blinked slowly, his tears leaving a trail through the blood and dirt on his cheeks.
My hands were slippery with blood seeping through the gauze again, but it wasn’t gushing like before. Maybe that was a good sign. “Mike, it’s going to be okay. Please don’t die. Please.” I choked on tears, unable to hold them back.
“Sam, you have so much good in you. You’re not just one thing. You’re not a monster. I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. I did this to you.”
“No, you didn’t. You can’t blame yourself. I know you will anyway, but you didn’t do this. You didn’t blow up the world. It’s not your fault.”
“Mike, I—"
“Stay away from Mitchell. He’s bad for you. He wants you to be his pet. Stay away from that guy.”
I sobbed and nodded. “Okay. I will. Screw Mitchell. We can go home now. Together. We’ll go home, okay? Just hang on a little longer.”
He smiled his sweet easy smile. “No. You can go home. You can. You’re such a badass, you’ll be fine. Just try. Promise you’ll try to be good. You get to choose, you know.”
“Mike, please…”
“Let’s go home, Sam.”
I could feel his weakened heart underneath my hands, the beat of it fading with every passing second. Then it stopped. His face didn’t move. He didn’t blink. One single tear rolled down his cheek and he was gone.
I screamed, a savage thing that tore through my body and threatened to rip me apart. I started doing chest compressions and screaming for someone to help me, but everyone just stood over us staring. I counted out the compressions like I’d seen other people do then yelled again for someone to help. The room was full of people, why was no one helping me? Navin tried to put his hand on my arm but I shoved him away.
“Stop it! Just help me. We just need him to hang on a little longer. Someone is coming.” My voice was pure desperation.
Noah appeared in my line of sight and gave Mike a few breaths as I tried to keep his heart going. My arms ached from the effort, but I didn’t stop. I just needed more time.
Karina stood in the doorway wiping tears from her face. “No one is coming, Sam. Mitchell lied to you. I’m so sorry.”
“What do you mean? No. He said he would send a doctor. He called—"
“He lied to you, Sam. To keep you away from The Home. To follow the protocol. I’m sorry. You need to say goodbye to your brother. We can’t help him.”
“No.” I searched the faces around me. Everyone wore the same sorrowful helpless look of pity. They felt bad but I couldn’t process it. Why did they all have that same look?
“Sam, please.” Navin put his hand on my arm again, the heat was a shock and I stared at him blankly, not even processing his face. “Sam, he’s gone. I’m so sorry, he’s gone.”
I stopped compressions, my hands laying frozen over his body, still holding the wound. His chest was silent, no breath, no heartbeat. No one was coming. Mitchell had lied. Why would he do that? Why was my brother dead? Why? That one word repeated over and over again, a carousel of whys. It was just too much. I felt like my entire body was being squeezed by an enormous invisible fist. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak, I was just frozen. I stayed like that for a long time, hours maybe. Just kneeling next to Mike’s body. The people in the room moved and talked. Someone said something to me, but I couldn’t hear it. All I could see was Mike’s face, sickly and pale staring into eternity. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t my brother, it just couldn’t be. Maybe it was a joke or something. It was a mannequin, or something put there as some sick joke, and the real Mike would be back soon. He would punch me in the arm and call me an idiot and make all these people leave me alone and stop staring. He would fix it like he fixed everything.
My brain finally registered movement as I felt Navin’s hands on my arms. Felt him lift me up and carry me outside. I couldn’t walk, my legs were numb after kneeling for so long. By the light of a lantern he set me on the ground and washed me with a bottle of water and a rag. He scrubbed the blood off my hands and arms. He took off my clothes and put clean ones on me. Ones that weren’t soaked in the blood of my dead brother. I remember seeing my hands go from black and red to pale again. Such a simple thing. Blood was there, then it was gone. I supposed someone was moving his body so I wouldn’t have to see it. I would go back into the house and there would be an empty void where he used to be. So easily erased from the world. It was so simple. Mike was gone.
10 Afterlife
We waited the mandatory 48 hours before leaving for The Home. I don’t remember sleeping but I must have. I remember Navin moving me to a sleeping bag in a back room alone. He gave me water and rubbed my hair as I lay down. He talked to me, but I don’t know what he said. There was this pressurized ringing sound in my head that drowned everything else out. Like a white noise machine but painful. There were conversations, there was a car ride, and then we were back at The Home where Mitchell was waiting out in front for us. I didn’t have my mother’s rifle. The group had talked and agreed I was a threat and I shouldn’t be allowed to have any weapons. They were right. I hadn’t moved my own body in 48 hours, and I felt like a corpse, as if I had died alongside my brother. But the moment I saw Mitchell I was born anew with rage. I wanted blood. I wanted to set the world on fire and destroy everything. The moment we were close enough I lunged and clawed for him, narrowly missing his distraught face before I was yanked backward by an invisible force, almost like levitating. It really had been a smart idea to take my gun away…I just didn’t appreciate it at the time. The guys carried me into The Home and upstairs much as you would transport a feral cat, grab on and hope like hell you don’t get your eyes scratched out. A never-ending fountain of profanity spewed out of me and launched directly at Mitchell. I think I may have spit at him at one point, but the details are fuzzy. I remember being put in the bottom bunk bed in our room and I remember Navin wrapping his body around mine, hugging me tight. I must’ve still been kicking and screaming. I was so disoriented it was like watching someone else’s drunken dream. Quieting the fight inside me was impossible, and I could still feel it churning as I fell asleep with Navin’s warmth and kind words closing around me. But it wasn’t his voice that soothed me. It was the deepest, darkest part of me that rose up once again to hold me prisoner in a loving embrace. My cold friend reassured me that it was there for me, that I would never be alone. I felt its chill envelop me until whatever tiny pieces of Sam that had remained, were pushed aside and buried. I stayed in that bed for two days.
When I finally emerged, it wasn’t a conscious choice. My body simply stood up and carried itself downstairs. The house was unusually quiet, perhaps that’s what had stirred me or maybe it was hunger forcing me to move on. I wish I could say I’d had some revelation and forgiven myself for Mike’s death or that he had appeared to me in a dream, ethereal and glowing, telling me he forgave me and I had to go on. But neither of those things happened. I had no clarity, no epiphany, no desire to live and yet my feet shuffled awkwardly down the stairs anyway, forcing me forward into a world without him. I was struck with irony realizing I suddenly I had so much in comm
on with the kids in the house…I was truly an orphan now.
When I reached the first level, I found the source of silence. Everyone in the house was gathered around the large TV again on the main floor, bodies scrunched together making too much heat in such a small space. Everyone except Mitchell. I leaned against the stair railing next to Navin and watched as the perky reporter took over the blue screen.
“Hello and thank you for being with us on this tumultuous week. Late last night our news team was made aware of some terrifying events that have been unfolding across America over the past year and while it pains me to bring this report to you, it is crucial the American people are made aware and able to process this information over the months leading up to our primary election. What you are going to hear and see over the next hour will be difficult and the program may not be appropriate for young children.”
I looked around the room, but no one was asked to leave, even the little ones. These kids had already seen the worst of humanity.
“We have spent the past 24 hours checking the validity of these claims as well as the footage we will show shortly, and we have every reason to believe our source is completely accurate in their re-telling of these events. I have been asked to read this source’s statement now. ‘For the past year Gabriel Ross, former Secretary of Defense, has been playing out his role in a series of unchecked and highly illegal operations under the guise of securing the safety of the American people. Furthermore, new evidence supports suspicions that Ross has had a direct role in the release of the Avian-X virus on U.S. soil.’ The source goes on to accuse Ross of multiple war crimes including the illegal capture and detention of U.S. civilians, most of whom were young children, for the sole purpose of creating an Avian-X vaccine. These accusations are not being taken lightly and a special task force is being assembled as I speak, to launch an investigation into these claims. Unfortunately, their task is going to be a difficult one given the convoluted nature of this tragedy and the break in command post-Avian-X. To makes matters worse we have confirmation that former Secretary Ross has been found dead in what appears to be a government operated medical facility where at least twelve young children had been held against their will over the past month. We have footage from one of these brave souls, a survivor, and we would like to share it with you now. It has been edited for time.”