by Alex Gunwick
12
Luke peeked into the rear window of a nondescript house. The window whipped open and he stared down the barrel of a shotgun.
“You boys best move on now,” the homeowner said. “The wife hates cleaning guts off this damn window.”
“Shit.”
Luke grabbed Boyd’s sleeve and took off running. After crossing the yard, he used a crate propped up against the back fence to vault over. Boyd followed on his heels.
“That went well,” Boyd said as they ran across a backyard.
“I thought so.”
“Now what?”
“We need a new plan.”
“Ya think?”
Luke raced up to a wooden gate. Fortunately it wasn’t locked. He unlatched it and pulled it open. After Boyd cleared the gate, Luke closed it. They hurried across the front lawn and onto the sidewalk. Luke slowed his pace so that they wouldn’t draw undue attention.
“Where should we go?” Boyd asked.
“We need to get away from the populated areas.”
“We’re in the middle of Riverside. There are probably a hundred thousand people within a stone’s throw of us. I’m starting to think we’re screwed.”
“That’s ridiculous. No matter how bad things get, there’s always a way out. I have an idea, but it’s going to sound crazy,” Luke said.
“What?”
“We should go underground.”
“What?” Boyd’s eyebrows shot up.
“Last night I slept in a library. I found a map of the storm drain system for Riverside County.”
“Storm drains? You’ve got to be kidding me. They’re full of nasty-ass water and rats and shit.”
“You’re thinking of the sewer system, it’s not the same.”
“Are you sure?” Boyd asked.
“Pretty sure.”
“I’m not crawling down into a hole unless absolutely necessary. I’ll take my chances above ground. It’s not like those guys shot at us. We got away.”
“The guy at the house almost shot me,” Luke said. “I got lucky. If someone was trying to break into my house, I’d shoot him.”
“That’s cold.”
“It’s realistic. Before shit hit the fan, I wouldn’t have considered it. It would have been considered illegal in California.”
“Even if the guy’s breaking in?” Boyd asked.
“Yep. The law says you have to be in imminent danger of death or great bodily injury in order to justify deadly force.”
“I’d consider someone breaking into my house as a threat to my life.”
“I agree, but that was the law,” Luke said.
“Was?”
“There’s no law anymore. The laws of the past are over. Do you see any cops around?”
“I haven’t seen one since Vegas.”
“Exactly.”
“Without laws, what’s to keep anyone from simply taking whatever they want?” Boyd asked.
“Nothing. Without anyone to enforce the law, criminals will be even more dangerous now.”
“Is that why you want to go in the storm drains?”
“I figure it’s the safest route at this point,” Luke said.
“Shouldn’t we take advantage of daylight to get as far away from here as possible?” Boyd asked.
“I think we should go underground for now. It might slow us down, but it should be relatively safe.”
“When we run into a writhing mass of rabid rats, I’ll remind you that you said that.”
“Trust me, rats are the least of our worries. If we run into those gangbangers again, we’ll probably end up needing those tampons.”
“What…oh, right. Bullet plugs.” Boyd grinned. “I haven’t needed a tampon before and I sure as hell hope I’ll never need one.”
“Same here.”
“What about your leg?” Boyd pointed at the bandage on Luke’s leg. “Aren’t you worried about bacteria? Those drainage systems are petri dishes.”
“I’ve got it wrapped up pretty good. I can put a trash bag around it for extra protection.”
“It’s still asking for trouble. You can’t walk into a hospital if it gets infected.”
“I know, but we might be able to find antibiotics later,” Luke said.
“Don’t count on it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Storm drains…” Boyd shook his head. “I guess it’s worth a shot. How do we get into them?”
“Let’s keep walking until we get to a major intersection. There are usually big manholes there.”
“What if someone sees us?”
“We won’t make a move until we’re sure it’s clear.”
After cutting across three more blocks, they stopped at a large intersection. Luke glanced around before pulling a length of paracord out of his pack.
“We’ll need something for leverage,” Luke said. “These manhole covers are heavy.”
“How about a metal bar?”
“Where?”
“Construction site.” Boyd pointed across the street to where a half-finished building stood.
“Perfect.”
Luke located a two-foot piece of rebar. Typically used to reinforce concrete, the steel spiral design would help catch the paracord and hold it in place. A few well-tightened knots later, Luke headed back to the manhole. He looped the end of the paracord through two holes in the manhole cover and tied a Palomar knot to secure it.
After grabbing the rebar, Luke backed up several steps until the line went taut. As he pulled back another step, the edge of the manhole cover lifted up an inch.
“Can you grab it?”
“Another inch,” Boyd said.
Luke heaved back as hard as he could, hoping the paracord would hold.
“Got it,” Boyd yelled as he shoved the manhole cover off to one side. “You first.”
Luke pulled a flashlight out of his pack and pointed it into the concrete cylinder. A series of rusted metal rungs led to the bottom. He tested the top rung. When it held his full weight, he descended halfway down.
“I don’t see any water.”
“More room for rats,” Boyd grumbled.
“We need to try to pull the manhole cover back into place.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“Reverse tie the paracord and pull it.”
“What if we get trapped?” Boyd asked.
“We can push on it to get out. It’s much easier than pulling up to remove it.”
“If you get us trapped underground, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Stop whining and get down here. Don’t forget the rebar and rope.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Luke shook his head as Boyd descended the ladder.
“Stay here and man the flashlight while I put it back,” Luke said. He quickly ascended the ladder. He struggled against the weight of the manhole cover. From this angle, he’d expected to be able to slide it back into place. No such luck.
“Told you it wouldn’t be easy,” Boyd said.
“Just keep the damn flashlight pointed up here.”
As Luke yanked on the paracord, the steel cover moved another inch. Trying to get leverage inside such a small hole wasn’t easy. He’d resorted to pulling an inch at a time.
“That’s close enough,” Boyd said.
“No. All the way or someone will know we’re down here.”
After he’d finally pulled the damn cover into place, Luke wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Musty air stagnated in the tunnel. Curved cement walls stretched into darkness in both directions. Odd echoes reverberated from farther in the tunnels. A trickle of running water dripped from a distant source.
“This is creepy as hell,” Boyd said.
Luke didn’t respond, but silently agreed. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but it beat running around topside.
“Let’s get this over with,” Luke said.
As they headed into the tunnel, the yellow glow of the flashlight illum
inated discolored brick walls. The gray remnants of an old waterline marked a place three quarters of the way up the walls. Unless there was a flash flood, they would be okay. Please don’t let it rain, Luke prayed.
After two uneventful miles, Luke relaxed his guard. The tension in his shoulders eased and he continued at a less cautious pace. As they rounded a corner, the absolute darkness beyond the reach of his light shifted. He quickly killed the light.
“What—”
“Shh!” Luke hissed.
“What is it?” Boyd whispered.
In the distance, a light bobbed up and down. With each passing second, it moved closer. If they attempted to run, they wouldn’t make it far. There wasn’t anywhere to hide. The last section of the tunnel had been so straight that any idiot who could squeeze a trigger would be able to send a kill shot right into their backs.
Luke switched the flashlight to his left hand. He retrieved his gun and aimed. Blinded by the oncoming light, he held a hand up to cover his eyes. Voices echoed against the walls of the storm drain.
“Whoa! There’s more people down here,” someone said. He sounded young, possibly Kyle’s age.
“Dude, that guy’s got a gun.”
“Hey, don’t shoot!” the first kid yelled.
“Turn your flashlight off,” Luke said.
“O…Okay.”
The light went out, plunging the tunnel into darkness. Luke flicked on his light. Two boys in their early teens lifted their hands over their heads. They were dressed in filthy jeans and ripped T-shirts. Neither looked as if they’d had a bath in weeks.
“Please don’t shoot us,” the first teen said.
“Keep your hands up or I will shoot you,” Luke warned. “Boyd, check them for weapons.”
As Boyd searched the teens, Luke kept his finger off the trigger, but ready. If things went south, he wanted to get the first shot on target. Age didn’t mean a damn thing anymore. A thirteen-year-old could pull a trigger just as fast as any adult, maybe faster.
“They’re clean,” Boyd said.
“What are you doing down here?” Luke asked.
“Just having fun,” the second teen said. “I’m Mason, this is Noah.”
“Are you brothers?” Boyd asked.
“No. Friends. How about you guys?” Mason asked.
“Friends.” Boyd cast a quick glance at Luke.
“Can we put our hands down yet?” Noah asked.
“Sure,” Luke said.
“What are you guys doing down here?” Mason asked.
“We’re on our way home,” Luke said.
“Why aren’t you walking on the street?” Noah asked.
“It’s not safe,” Boyd said.
“It’s not,” Noah said softly, a shadow passing across his face. Luke had seen that haunted look before on the battlefield. This kid had seen something go terribly wrong.
“What happened?” Luke asked.
Noah shot him a wary gaze before dropping his chin to his chest. He shook his head slowly. Mason took a protective step in his direction.
“His parents got killed,” Mason said.
Luke inhaled a breath and blew it out slowly while he waited for the kid to continue.
“It happened four days ago.”
“Five,” Noah corrected.
“Five. He was home with his parents. It was before all the lights went out. They were watching a movie since none of the TV channels were working.”
Luke glanced at Boyd, who stood ramrod straight.
“The movie was almost over when they heard a noise outside. His dad went to check it out and got shot in the head. The guys rushed in and killed his mom. They were going to kill him too, but he ran.”
“I should have stayed. I should have tried to help them,” Noah said, pain strangling his voice.
“I already told you there was nothing you could do about it,” Mason said. “Nobody lives after taking a head shot. They died instantly.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Noah said.
“Yeah, I do.”
“How do you know?” Noah asked in an angry tone.
“In Call of Duty, everyone dies when you shoot them in the head. Everybody knows that.”
“I should have gone back.”
Boyd stepped forward and put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You did what you had to do to stay alive. Mason’s probably right. Those guys probably would have killed you too if you’d stayed.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Noah grumbled.
“Where are you staying now?” Luke asked.
“With Mason and his mom.”
“No dad?” Boyd asked.
“Nope. He took off when I was five and never came back. My mom hates his guts,” Mason said.
“She really does,” Noah said. “But she’s cool. She doesn’t care where we go as long as we get home before dark. She gets pissed if we’re out after sunset.”
“You should listen to her,” Luke said. “What are you two doing in the tunnels? You could get trapped down here. If it rains, it’s going to flood the pipes. You’ll drown.”
“It’s cool down here. We won’t get lost or anything because we always bring chalk with us to mark the path. See?” Mason pulled a large hunk of orange chalk out of his back pocket.
“Even if you mark the path, it’s not safe,” Boyd said.
“At least no one’s shooting at us down here,” Noah said.
“True that,” Mason said.
“Well… just be careful. Your mom’s counting on you to get home safely,” Luke said.
“We’ll be careful,” the boys said in unison.
“Jinx!”
“I said it first!”
“No you didn’t!”
“Hey! Knock it off,” Luke said in the tone he reserved for disciplining his kids. After several seconds of heavy silence, he cleared his throat. As much as he wanted to help the kids in some way, they weren’t his responsibility.
“We’ve been walking for a while. What are the cross streets here?” Luke asked.
“Uh, I think Magnolia and Jackson,” Mason said.
“By the hospital?” Boyd asked.
“Yeah. There’s a ton of cops up there,” Mason said.
“Why?” Luke asked.
“One of the gangs took over the hospital. It was crazy. There are old people wandering around in the streets—”
“Dead people too,” Noah interjected. “Not like wandering around. Not zombies. They’re still alive. But yeah, they’re all over.”
“All over where?” Boyd asked.
“The dead people are piled up on the lawn and shit,” Mason said. “It smells like ass.”
“Worse than ass,” Noah said while wrinkling his nose.
“Where did the bodies come from?” Luke asked.
“From everywhere. People are bringing dead bodies to the hospital when they die. The cops aren’t helping. They’re trying to get control of the hospital again,” Mason said.
“Yeah, they’re shooting the place up. I heard someone say they’re going to blow it up because there’s a bunch of oxygen in there,” Noah said.
“Is the backup generator still on?” Luke asked.
“The what?” Noah asked.
“Are the lights still on?”
“Yeah. At night. They’re the only ones with lights anymore. The power’s out all over the place.”
“What time is it right now?”
“Uh, maybe five p.m.”
“By now it’s probably six,” Mason said. “We need to head back home.”
“You guys take care of each other and take care of your mom. The world’s only going to get more dangerous as people run out of food.”
“We’ve still got a ton of macaroni and cheese,” Mason said.
“We stole it from Costco.”
“Shh!” Mason slapped Noah’s arm.
“They’re not going to bust us. They’re not cops.”
“Be careful out there,” Luke said. �
�Stockpile as much food as you can and don’t tell anyone else about what you have. If people find out about your mountain of macaroni and cheese, they’ll come and take it from you.”
“That would suck,” Mason said.
“Exactly. So be safe. Find as much food as you can, and pray.”
“Mom says she’s been praying to the Great Spaghetti Monster in the sky.”
“The what?” Boyd asked.
“She said it’s like God but not God. I don’t get it,” Noah said.
“Keep praying,” Luke said. “But don’t wait around for God to save you. He’s probably got another million people in line ahead of you.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Mason said. “Come on, let’s go. See ya around.”
As the kids took off down the tunnel, Mason switched on his flashlight to illuminate the streak of orange chalk on the wall. At least they seemed to be somewhat resourceful. Hopefully they’d find a way to survive.
13
Elijah puffed up his chest as yet another member of his flock knocked on the door to his office. He’d lost count of the number of people who’d come by to thank him for the feast. Losing a member of the family seemed less important this morning. He now had the complete respect of his flock, which is what he’d always wanted.
He waved in the elderly married couple who waited patiently at the door. As he half-listened to their praises, he ran through a roster of everyone in the church. Since the bombing, he’d lost two strong, younger men to that woman. He needed more people, but how could he find more? It’s not like he could put an ad online. He’d have to talk to Turner about it.
After he’d shuffled the couple out of his office, he called Turner in. Always the loyal soldier, he wasn’t ever far away, unless he was running the flock through their daily exercise routine. Elijah never participated. Why should he? He was already perfect.
“Come in and close the door,” Elijah said.
Turner did as he was told before taking a seat across from Elijah.
“Now that we have a healthier food supply, we need to consider the future,” Elijah said. “We’ll need to gather more supplies before winter.”
“Winter?”