by Harley Tate
He pushed off the couch and picked up the bat, patting his palm with the barrel. “Think about it. Riots. Fires. Prisons running out of food and water. Jails at capacity with people awaiting trial. There’s no way courts are working. Without janitors and cooks and suppliers, there are a whole lot of bad people out there ready to explode.”
He swung the bat in a practice swing. “I wouldn’t want to be a cop right now.”
Peyton had a point. Once they were cocooned inside her parents’ house, Madison had pushed all thoughts of the deteriorating outside world from her mind. But it was all still there.
Grocery stores. Gun and pawn shops. Restaurants with stocked kitchens and storerooms. So many vulnerable places. So many windows waiting to be smashed. All it took was one enterprising individual and then the rest would follow.
How long before the more dangerous parts of town turned into a free-for-all? Had it happened already? Were they next?
“How much of a target are we?”
Peyton scrunched up his face as he thought. The motion reminded Madison of their days spent hovering over plants in the greenhouse. A wrinkled nose was a sure sign Peyton was lost in thought.
Madison smiled at the memory, but it was fleeting. She wondered about all the college kids who were partying for spring break in Southern California and Mexico. How many were still alive? How many would ever make it home?
At last, Peyton answered. “I don’t know. But Bill saw the supplies in the Jeep and he thinks we have more. He said as much at the meeting. Who knows who overheard and is thinking of ways to break in.”
He glanced up at the oversized picture window. “Do you all have any spare plywood lying around?”
Madison scanned her memory. “Not that I can think of.”
“We need to secure the window. It’s too exposed.”
She glanced around. “We could push the entertainment center in front of it. The back is solid wood.”
Peyton turned toward the large television cabinet and nodded. “That should work. Want to help?”
“Sure.” Madison walked over and took up position on one side of the cabinet. “I hope you’re prepared to take the laboring oar on this. I remember my dad complaining about it almost throwing out his back.”
Peyton lowered into a squat, his hands braced on either side of the unit. “Where do you think he is right now?”
Madison couldn’t think about her dad. She changed the subject. “Let’s get this moved, okay?”
“On three. On, two, three.”
Ugh. Madison lifted, using all of her leg and back strength, but she could barely get her side off the ground. Payton on the other hand, picked his side up with ease and began to drag it toward the window.
Madison limped along after him, half-scooting, half-carrying the monster shelving unit the few steps to the window. She set her side down in a massive thud, practically dropping it the last few inches. She stood up and groaned. “Remind me to never do that again.”
“I didn’t think it was too bad.” Peyton stood back and eyed it, confirming the wood covered the glass. “It looks a little off center. Do you want—”
“No!” Madison almost shouted her refusal before flopping down onto the couch. “I’m not touching that thing. You want to move it, be my guest.”
Peyton shrugged and went to work, sliding the entertainment center a bit to the left, then to the right until he deemed it perfect. “That should do it.”
“What was that noise? Is everything all right?”
Wanda walked into the living room, hair dripping wet and Fireball curled up in her arms. The friendly little cat mewled as he saw Madison and reached out a paw in hello.
She walked up and scratched him behind the ears until he squirmed in Wanda’s arms. “We moved the entertainment center to block the front window.”
Wanda’s brow knit together. “Why? That was such a nice view.”
“From outside, too. Anyone could have looked in to see what we are up to. It’s also easy to break. One well-aimed rock and we’d be breached.”
“You don’t think someone would do that, do you?” Wanda glanced around as if she could see through the walls. “The neighborhood seems so quiet and friendly. Apart from that one man, I suppose.”
“Bill pointed a gun at us, Wanda. If he’s willing to do that only a few days after the power is out, what do you think will happen in a few weeks?”
Wanda grew sheepish. “I don’t know, do you? Have either of you thought about what we’re doing and why?”
Madison stilled, confidence giving way to doubt. “Not really. When the power went out, we were all focused on getting here. Everything we did, every choice we made, was all about getting home. Now that we’re here…”
“There isn’t a manual for this sort of thing. No textbook to learn from. We’re on our own.” Peyton grabbed the bat from where he left it and took another practice swing.
Madison clutched at her middle as a chill rushed through her. “I’m worried about my mom and the others. Something’s gone wrong, I can feel it.”
“Do you really want to go searching for them? We can take Brianna’s Jeep.”
“But then everyone will know we’re gone. The house will be exposed.” Madison chewed on her lip. Each choice put them at risk: go and leave the house vulnerable, stay and hope her mom and friends made it home alive.
Was this what it would always be like from now on? Teetering on the edge of a decision, not knowing whether to step back or jump?
Life a week ago was stable, dependable, safe. Now Madison didn’t know whether the neighbor was about to shoot the lock off her front door or if her mother was trapped in a Walmart across town or somewhere on the road needing her help.
And her father…
Pushing her father out of her mind had become an art form. Where was he? Hong Kong? Seattle? The Sacramento Airport? Was he even alive?
Madison snorted back a wave of emotion and the tears that threatened to flow along with it. She didn’t have time to break down. She didn’t have time to be weak and afraid. Peyton and Wanda and fuzzy little Fireball needed her.
Her mom and Brianna and Tucker needed her.
The world might be going to hell in a handbasket, but Madison wasn’t going to hop in and ride it down. She exhaled and straightened her back. “Let’s root through the garage and see if we can’t find something to secure the back windows. We need to make it as difficult as possible to break in.”
“What about your mom?” Peyton’s face creased with sympathy. Madison’s mom had been a surrogate mother to Peyton for the last couple years. She knew he worried, too.
“She’s a strong woman. I have to trust that she’ll find a way to make it home.”
Wanda stepped back to let Madison and Peyton pass. As she did so, Fireball squirmed out of her arms. He landed on his paws with a soft thud and scampered into the kitchen.
Madison smiled. “You want to help us secure the house? How about you chase all the mice away?”
“Maybe we should train him to catch them, instead. We might need the protein.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“I bet they taste just like chicken.”
As Madison launched a soft punch at Peyton’s shoulder, Fireball lowered into a crouch. His mouth opened and he hissed at the sliding glass door.
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he sees his reflection.”
Madison turned to Wanda. “Turn off the lantern.”
The woman rushed over to the kitchen table and flicked the lantern off. As darkness descended on the Sloane house, Fireball hissed again.
Madison peered out into the night. Oh, no. “Peyton, get the shotgun. There’s someone in the yard.”
CHAPTER NINE
MADISON
Sloane Residence
9:00 p.m.
“Are you sure?”
Madison nodded, clutching at Peyton’s arm as they ducked around the corner. “The fence do
esn’t move on its own.”
“How many were there? Did they have weapons? Were they just looking around or trying to break in?” Peyton shot questions rapid-fire into the dark, but Madison shook her head.
“I don’t know. I only saw one, but that doesn’t mean anything. We need to get ready. No matter how many are out there, we have to keep them out.”
Wanda exclaimed under her breath. “I’m not cut out for this. First at George’s place, now here. Please tell me you aren’t going to shoot anyone today.”
Madison blinked. “Who shot someone?”
Wanda muttered. “No one. Just forget I said anything. What can I do to help?”
“Can you get your revolver?” Peyton inched forward, head poking around the corner to scope out the backyard.
“It’s in the guest room. I’ll have to walk right by the door. What if someone sees me?”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take.” Madison exhaled. “Get it and meet us back here.”
“All right.” Wanda took off, rushing past the sliding door and heading toward the hallway.
“I’ll get the shotgun. It’s in the living room.” Peyton began to move, but Madison reached out, clutching at his arm. “Be careful.”
“I will.” He handed her the bat and took off.
Madison wrapped her fingers around the shaft, nails digging into the grip as she steadied her nerves. Please just be a nosy neighbor or a man out looking for his dog. Not a thief. Burglar. Predator.
After the first few hisses, Fireball ran off, presumably hiding beneath a bed or otherwise making himself scarce. If only Madison could transform him into a lion, a massive wild counterpart to his little flame-colored self.
But Fireball wouldn’t be coming to her rescue. No, Madison, Peyton, and Wanda were on their own. Two college kids and a fifty-something librarian. Not the best trained defense force around, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Madison steeled herself. They needed to be ready to do whatever necessary. She clutched the bat tighter and eased toward the sliding glass door. She couldn’t stop a rock, but she could stop a person. She readied the bat and waited.
“Any movement out there?”
Peyton’s voice made her jump. As her heart slowed down from heart attack levels, she shook her head. “I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”
“Should I go out there and scare them off?”
“No. You could get shot.”
“So we just wait for whoever is out there to break in?”
“What choice do we have? I’m not putting you at risk. There could be ten people, all armed with guns out there for all we know.”
Peyton didn’t respond right away. After a moment, he mumbled a curse. “Wanda must be hiding under the bed.”
“Maybe she’s keeping Fireball company.”
Peyton snorted. “If she’s not going to be out here, then she should give us her gun. It’s no use to anyone tucked away in the guest room.”
“I can’t ask her to do that, and you know it. Maybe when my mom gets back…” If she gets back. No. Madison couldn’t think that way; she wouldn’t.
Her mom and Brianna and Tucker would be coming back. They were just held up. Joe must have needed help or Walmart had more supplies than they could fit in the car or they came across someone her mom knew.
There were a million innocent reasons for them to be late; she wouldn’t think about the bad ones. She handed Peyton the bat. “Trade you.”
He handed her the shotgun. “Brianna loaded it yesterday. All the ammunition we have is already in the gun. When you run out, that’s all there is.”
Madison nodded. Five shells. She would have to make them count. She inhaled and exhaled, counting with every cycle. One. Two. Three. Four. Whoever was out there didn’t seem in a hurry. Five. Six. Seven.
“Maybe you’re right. We could both go outside. One in the front, one in the back, case the place.”
“It’s too risky.”
Madison and Peyton went back and forth, debating what to do, until a scream shocked them both still. Madison reached for Peyton. “Was that…?”
“Wanda.”
“Let’s go.” Madison leapt up from her crouch, ignoring the risk, and ran toward the guest room.
“Wanda! Wanda!” Her voice carried down the hall, bouncing off the closed door and echoing back to her.
Another scream. This time more fear than surprise, the tone higher, the terror too real, too close.
Madison sucked in a breath, her own heart beating like a butterfly against glass, bruising and insistent. She reached the bedroom door two steps ahead of Peyton fueled by adrenaline and panic. Lunging for the door handle, she twisted and pulled.
Locked.
Damn it. What was she hiding from? Them? No one who wanted to break in would stop at a locked bedroom door. Madison hammered on the wood, ignoring the pain radiating up her arm as she slammed the side of her hand against the grain.
“WANDA!”
Peyton added his own deep voice to her shouts. “Wanda! Unlock the door! It’s us! Wanda!”
He hammered a foot above Madison’s fist, his beats as frantic as Madison’s own.
“Why would she lock us out?” Madison tried the door handle again, yanking and twisting as she added her foot to bang on the door.
Another scream from inside and Madison turned to Peyton. “Can you knock it down?”
He blinked in slow motion, staring at the door as he thought it over. “I can try.”
Madison backed up until she brushed the hallway as Peyton readied himself. Charging at the locked door like a linebacker, shoulder down, arm braced, he rushed past her. He slammed into the door and wood splintered, but it held. Peyton staggered back.
“Are you all right?”
He rubbed at his shoulder. “Yeah. Let me try again.”
“Maybe we—”
Before she could finish, Peyton launched himself again, running faster and jumping into the door with all his strength. The upper hinges split from the frame, canting the door at an awkward angle, but the stubborn thing still stayed locked.
Peyton stood up, cradling his arm. “I think I dislocated my shoulder.”
Madison couldn’t believe this was happening. What was going on inside that bedroom? Why hadn’t Wanda let them in?
She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted through the gap in the door and the frame. “Wanda! It’s Madison. You’ve got to let us in. Please!”
As her voice edged into begging, Madison leaned against the door, resting her head on the wood. She turned her head to the side and stilled. Is that…?
With a start, she pulled back. “I hear crying.”
“What?” Peyton stepped closer, still clutching at his arm and shoulder. “Is it Wanda?”
“I think so.” Madison leaned back in, straining to listen. “Wanda? Are you all right? Whatever has happened, it’s okay. We can get through it together. All you have to do is open the door.”
Madison didn’t know what more she could do. At some point, Wanda would either have to open the door, or they would have to go outside and try to break in through the single window. As she opened her mouth to voice her plan, the door knob rattled.
“Wanda?” She stepped back as the door creaked open. “Are you—”
One look at Wanda and Madison’s tongue turned to a cinder block inside her mouth. Her shirt hung loose and torn, exposing a giant swath of skin across her middle. A bruise already purpled around her left eye, swelling the skin and forcing the eyelid shut.
One free hand trembled in the air as Wanda pointed inside the bedroom. “I…I didn’t…I tried…he…”
She trailed off, the stops and starts of an explanation dying before anything coherent came out. Peyton eased past Madison. He wasn’t waiting for any explanation. As he came around Wanda’s side he stopped and whipped his head in Madison’s direction.
His eyes confirmed Madison’s fear. “What did you do? Is he dead?”
Oh, no. Madison slipped around Wanda and came to stand next to Peyton. A man half-sat, half-reclined on the floor, eyes closed, arms limp and floppy. Blood oozed from a gash on the top of his head, turning his blond hair into a matted, sticky mess. She swallowed.
“Wanda, what happened?”
Wanda’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
“Did he attack you?”
She nodded.
“Did you hit him?”
Her head bobbed. “W-With the gun. I didn’t m-m-mean to kill him.”
Madison exhaled and clasped her hands together to steady them as she knelt at the man’s side. He looked about her mother’s age, mid-forties, maybe a few years younger. Pale skin, no wrinkles in his relaxed state. With his khaki pants and polo he didn’t look like a criminal. He looked… like a neighbor.
She reached for his neck, pressing her fingers against the squishy side. Thank God. “He’s not dead. Just unconscious.”
Peyton mumbled a thanks beneath his breath. “What do we do with him?”
Madison stared down at the man. As much as she hated to admit it, they couldn't let him go. Not after Wanda almost killed him.
If the police still existed in some fashion, or the other neighbors found out… It could mean the end of their safety. The end of the little fiefdom they had worked so hard to cobble together. Without her mom there to defend them, Madison couldn’t begin to imagine how badly it could go.
At last, Madison lifted her head and met Peyton’s troubled stare. “Find some tape and bind his arms and legs. We need to keep this contained.”
CHAPTER TEN
WALTER
Cabin in Northern California
8:00 p.m.
Walter turned around, a dust-covered tin in each hand. “Tell me you like sardines.”
Drew sat up just enough on the couch to scope out the stash. “Aw man, seriously? A whole cabinet full of sardines? Gross.”
“Don’t knock ’em ’til you try them.” Walter tossed a tin at Drew and the man managed to catch it, only half-falling off the couch in the process.
“You’re serious?”
“Indeed, I am. There have to be fifty tins up here, all a few years old. We can eat a couple and if the owner of the cabin shows up, he or she won’t even miss them.”