By then the local news was reporting on what was happening and Lori could only pull over and listen in stunned disbelief. "I was near the back entrance to my office building and watched as people streamed out. I recognized some of my co-workers. They were...some of them were bloody and dirty and they looked...they looked mad...like wild animals or something." Lori had stayed hunkered down in the front seat of her car while chaos erupted all around. She hadn't felt safe in her car, and at some point decided to head into the building. "I probably shouldn't have," she said. "But nobody had come out in over an hour so I took my chances. I made my way to my office and everything was just a mess. It looked like a hurricane had swept through. The place was deserted and my secretary, Barbara, was lying on the floor near her workstation with her throat ripped out. I closed the door to my office and tried to get an internet connection to see what was happening but I wasn't successful."
Once things calmed down somewhat outside she ventured out with a metal pipe she'd salvaged from inside the building. That's when she saw Martin's SUV weaving around stalled vehicles on Lake Street. "You don't know how big a relief it was to see Martin. A living, breathing, sane human being!"
James Goodman's story was similar to Martin's. He'd spent the morning at his house north of Walnut Street in Pasadena. His wife had just taken their son to school on her morning commute to the office. "I'm a history professor at Pasadena City College," he said. "And I didn't have anything scheduled until that afternoon. I spent most of the day riveted to the news and trying to get in touch with Carol, but—"
James would eventually venture outside in his Audi not to escape the city, but to find his son, Jacob. That's when he ran into Heather Young, almost literally.
"Those fucking things were chasing me," Heather said. She'd wolfed down a hamburger, two hotdogs, and was working on a makeshift salad. "I was watching everything on TV like you guys were when some of them came into my yard. My folks and my brother had gone to work. I grabbed one of my dad's guns and got one of them, but ran out of ammo. Two others started chasing me and that's when I ran into James."
"I stopped the car instantly," James continued. "I could tell she was normal and she just got into the backseat as I was pulling away."
"Those things chased you?" I asked.
James and Heather nodded. "Fuck yeah," Heather said.
James was driving his Audi so fast that when he tore out onto Lake Street he nearly collided with Martin and Lori, who'd just begun the journey toward the mountains. "We kind of threw in together at that point," Martin picked up the narrative. He leaned back in his chair, his meal polished off. "We noticed those things would come out when they heard us drive by, but having a vehicle helped put the distance between us."
It wasn't until they reached the blocked intersection that they were forced to abandon their vehicle and strike out on foot. "We found a car," Martin continued. "And Heather hotwired it. That took us to almost four blocks from here."
"What happened then?" Tracy asked.
By then the four of them agreed they had to get out of the city. James told them that there was a road that went over the San Gabriels into the valley on the other side. Once there they could hit one of the major highways that would take them out of the major metropolitan areas. "We've got to get out of here," Martin concluded. "That's the bottom line. There's not only going to be more of these things in major cities, but anybody like us that's unaffected...well... as society continues to fall—"
"Shit, society already goddamned fell," Lori huffed.
"It's going to get more crazy," I said, finishing Martin's train of thought. "There's no rules, no society, nothing to keep order."
Martin nodded. "Exactly!"
I didn't say it but I thought: not to mention the stink of decay that's eventually going to permeate the city like the goddamn smog. By my estimation, the primitives outnumbered the living and the dead by a great margin. Eventually as both normal people and primitives succumbed to violence, natural disease, or accidents, there was going to be a big problem when it came to the dead.
The foursome had made it halfway up the development we lived in when they were once again blocked due to a vehicle pile up. "We got out of the car and started hiking up the street," Martin said. "I figured we could snag another car since Heather proved to be so reliable in hotwiring them."
Heather offered a bemused grin and I grinned back at her.
"But then we heard that damn sound they make," Lori said. "And two of them were emerging from a house about fifty yards back. They came after us and we just started running."
More of them joined in the chase and the four dove into the shrubbery-infested hill, trying to lose them. That's when our paths crossed.
"Are there any stations on the air?" James asked as Lori and Tracy cleared the table. Emily stayed at her mother's side wherever she went.
"No," I said. "Last one went off not too long ago."
"So we have no idea what's going on elsewhere in the city," Lori said.
"Or even the world," James said.
"So now what do we do?" Tracy asked.
I gestured toward the windows and the sliding glass door, which were covered with drapes. The upstairs area was growing dark from the falling sun outside. As if on cue, those howlings from the primitives started again.
"What are those things?" Lori whispered. For the first time she looked afraid.
I heard Emily whimper, saw her bury her face in the hollow of Tracy's neck. We stood silently as more howls rose from outside. Most of them sounded far away enough but others sounded close, perhaps coming from a few blocks away.
"I wish I knew," I said.
That's when we heard the rustling sounds, first coming from far away, and then becoming clearer. I could feel the air grow tense as the sounds grew louder.
And there was something else I felt, too. Something I didn't know how to describe at the time.
"Get back downstairs," I said, urging Tracy toward the stairway. Martin darted toward the kitchen and grabbed the Ruger from where I'd left it on top of the refrigerator. The sounds grew louder and I recognized them now for what they were.
Footsteps. Running toward us.
* * *
We made it downstairs and huddled on the floor in the hallway once again, listening as the primitives roamed outside, hooting and howling in those strange voices.
We listened in silence as footfalls from perhaps a dozen primitives roamed around the house. It sounded like they were moving past our house, headed elsewhere. Why our house happened to be in their path was just our dumb luck, I guess.
I could hear the primitives make their way around both sides of the house. Some of them stepped onto the deck and headed around the side path toward the front of the house and continued on. Others stopped near the front, probably pausing to take interest in the dead primitive I'd killed outside. I could hear startled grunts and hoots and a very brief flurry erupted—it sounded like a fight by our front door—and eventually subsided. Emily's face was pressed into her mother's breast, both hands clamped over her ears, her eyes squeezed shut. I wanted to do nothing else but envelop Tracy and Emily in a protective shield away from this nightmare, but I knew I couldn't. For the first time in my life I felt like a total failure for being unable to provide security and safety for my family.
Eventually the sounds faded. At one point James asked if he could use the bathroom. I pointed out the lone bathroom on the bottom floor and James made his way over to it, shutting the door behind him. He didn't flush the toilet when he was through. Okay by me. I think all of us were afraid on some subconscious level of making any noise.
At some point the foot-traffic around the house stopped.
We remained seated on the floor in the hallway for a while, talking quietly among ourselves. I think that was the first time we all began to relax since the nightmare began. Emily fell asleep in Tracy's lap as we talked, and Tracy retreated to Emily's room to put her to bed. When she returned she
plopped herself back down on the floor next to me and took my hand.
"I've got to be honest with you, David," Martin said to me. He was leaning back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. "I, for one, am so grateful and glad we met you. I don't know what we would have done without you."
Lori, James, and Heather murmured their thanks as well. James sighed and kept his face averted from the rest of us. He'd been silent and brooding ever since the foot traffic ceased. I guessed he was quietly mourning the deaths of his wife and son.
I checked my watch. It was only 8:35—still relatively early, but I felt beat. I nodded at Martin. "How are you doing?" I asked.
"Aside from the fact that the world has just ended and I probably won't see Jerry ever again, I'm doing okay."
I turned to Tracy. "How about you, honey?"
"I don't know." She leaned against me. I could tell she was still in mild shock from the events of this morning—losing Eric being the chief among them. "I don't think I can sleep, if that's what you mean. And I still can't get over losing Eric."
I quickly explained to the others what happened to us this morning regarding Eric. Lori was immediately consoling. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she told us. She was sitting on Tracy's right and gave her a hug.
"We should take shifts through the night," I said to Martin. "You, me, Lori, and Tracy. Each of us takes a two hour shift while the rest of us gets some sleep."
"I'm up for that," Martin said.
"What about me?" Heather asked.
"You were a big help today with hotwiring cars," I said. "And we can rotate as the days pass. I don't think James is going to be up to taking a shift tonight, and I wasn't sure about you."
All eyes went to James.
He was crying.
James looked at us. In the darkened hallway I could see tears streaming down his bearded face. "I'm sorry..." he said. "It's just..."
Lori scooted over to him. She put an arm around James's shoulders. "I know, baby. You go on and cry now. Go on."
James settled against Lori and cried. His sobs weren't loud. They weren't dramatic and braying, but they were heart wrenching. We could only sit there in silence, feeling our own respective losses and grief well to the surface. Martin remained stoic. He sighed and drew his knees up, bowing his head against his knees. Lori closed her eyes while she held James and I think she, too, was crying over whatever loved ones she had lost. All of us had loved ones we either knew were lost forever to the sudden spate of violence, or had no way of knowing their fates—were they primitives or were they somewhere else cowering in fear like us? Tracy leaned closer to me and I held her, feeling a sting at the back of my throat over our own joint loss. At least we knew Eric was dead. There were still our parents and siblings to think about. I had a sister in Orange County who lived with her husband and two young children. I had no way of knowing if they were alive or dead or had turned primitive. Most of Tracy's family harkened from the Midwest. Only Heather seemed to not let her emotions get the best of her. She sat on the floor, somewhat away from the rest of us, looking up at the ceiling. I couldn't tell if she was contemplating anything or if she was pissed off.
At one point I got up to check on Emily. Tracy followed me to Emily's room. We stood over our daughter's bed and watched her sleep. Emily had plopped one of her pacifiers in her mouth and every once in awhile she would suck on it, deep in sleep.
"I don't want anything to happen to her," Tracy whispered.
"I don't either." I drew Tracy close to me. "I need to talk to you."
Tracy nodded. I think she knew this conversation was about us, about maintaining our family unit against all odds. "Are you okay with handling one of the guns?"
Tracy nodded. For the first time I saw a hint of strength in her features. "You better believe it."
"Okay." I felt better now. Despite Tracy's previous misgivings of having loaded firearms in the house, the few times we went to a target range together she proved to be very adept at them and was practically a crack shot. "I have a good feeling about Martin and Lori. What about you?"
"I feel good about them, too," Tracy said.
"You okay with having one of them take a shift with one of the guns?"
"As long as they know how to use it."
"Good. Me, too." I paused for a moment. For the first time since the day began, I suddenly felt exhausted. "James seems okay, but he's definitely not in the right frame of mind to watch our backs. And Heather seems okay, but I don't have that good a read on her yet. Maybe it's because she's a kid. She still has that teenage rebellion thing going."
"I think you're right," Tracy said. "Let's get a chance to know her a little better."
"Despite whoever stands guard, one of us always has one of these." I tapped the holster enclosed Sig near my waist. "Whoever's on guard can have the rifle."
"Okay."
After an awkward pause, we hugged. It was the first time we'd been able to genuinely hold each other since the awful events of this morning. Tracy trembled in my embrace. "I just wish this could all be over," she whispered against my neck.
"Me too, hon."
We remained that way for a moment, taking solace in each other, then looked down at our sleeping Emily. When we rejoined the group back in the hallway, James had gotten control of himself and was sniffing back tears. Martin was looking at me.
"You ever shot a rifle before?" I asked Martin.
"I served in the Marines thirty years ago," Martin answered, proving my age estimation of him correct. "It'll come back to me."
I turned to Lori. "What about you?"
"I've never shot a rifle, but I've shot a 9 millimeter before on a firing range."
"Would you feel comfortable taking one of the shifts?"
Heather perked up, raised her hand. "I can do it."
"Hold on a minute," I said to Heather, then directed my attention back to Lori. "No problem if you aren't comfortable. Just be honest."
"Show me what to do and I can do it." The determination in Lori's voice and her body language, her facial expression, told me she was a go-getter. This was a woman who wouldn't take shit from anybody, either, and I had a feeling she was a fast learner. I motioned her to come over to me and she got up.
"You okay to take the first shift?" I asked Lori. "Say from now until midnight?"
"Sure."
"It'll mean staying upstairs in the living room. Keep the lights off. If you hear anything outside, be ready to use this." I held up the Ruger. "And definitely use it if somebody tries breaking in. I don't care if they're normal like us." If I wasn't so damned tired I'd take the first shift, but today's events had really worn me down. Besides, all I needed was a few hours sleep and I'd be fine.
"What about us?" James asked.
"We need to get some sleep," I said. It felt good to take charge, to take control of my house and ensure my family's safety. I felt I could trust Lori and Martin in maintaining this sense of control, too. "Tracy and I will bunk down with our daughter in her room. One of you can take the master bedroom and there's a sofa in the office." I didn't want to offer the use of Eric's room so soon after his death. In fact, the door to his room was closed. Tracy probably. "I can get extra pillows and blankets for whoever sleeps on the floor." I pointed out each room, and then turned to Tracy. "You want the midnight to two shift?"
"Yeah." Tracy nodded.
I glanced at Martin. "How does two to four sound to you?"
"Fine with me."
I turned to James and Heather. "We all need some sleep. Let's get some rest and in the morning hopefully we'll be rested enough to come up with some kind of battle plan for getting out of here."
"I don't mind staying up to stand watch," Heather volunteered again.
"I appreciate it," I told her. "But we have it covered tonight. Maybe tomorrow."
I don't know if Heather intended to protest the matter further, but for me the case was closed. I gestured to Lori. "Let's go upstairs."
&nb
sp; When we reached the upper level of the house I led Lori over to my makeshift office. I showed her where I'd stashed the brick of .22 ammunition for the rifle. I also showed her where I'd stashed several loaded magazines. Each magazine held thirty rounds. "Tracy will show Martin where these are when he takes his turn. The location for the ammunition stays between the four of us. Okay?"
Lori nodded. "Gotcha."
Despite the drawn curtains, there was enough moonlight to provide illumination to see by. I sat down on the living room sofa and showed Lori the basic mechanisms of the rifle; how to open the breech, how to insert and remove the magazine, how to chamber a round, how to fire it, where the safety was. "This is a semi-automatic rifle," I concluded. "Keep that in mind when you fire this thing. It's not a high caliber weapon so you'll only feel a slight kick to your shoulder as you fire it, and it won't be that loud."
"I saw that handgun you got tucked under your shirt," Lori said. "What else you got?"
"One other handgun," I said. "Tracy and I will be in possession of them."
Lori nodded, her gaze not leaving my face. "If I had a little one as adorable as your Emily I'd be armed to the teeth at all times, too."
I smiled at her. "You'll be okay here. Wish I could say enjoy a movie or something, but I don't think that'll be safe."
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