State of Panic: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Jack Hunt

  I willed my breath to slow. The thought of them hearing the radio made me tremble.

  They rushed by and I breathed out a sigh of relief. I pulled the backpack off my shoulder and fished around for the radio. I waited for a minute or two before I tried to contact them.

  “Guys? Come in,” I muttered in a hushed voice. There was no answer. All the while my eyes were focused ahead. It was the first time I was actually grateful for the blackout. If the power weren’t out, this place would have been lit up like a Christmas tree with security lights. As it was, it was like being inside a dark room with a few pinpricks of light from the night sky.

  “Murphy?”

  I turned up the volume ever so slightly, then wondered if they were in the same predicament as me. Was I giving away their location? I was listening so intently for a reply from them that when the sound of boots hit the dumpster behind me a cold shaft of fear shot through me. Laughter broke out as I looked up. Above me, standing on the dumpster looking down was a skinhead.

  “Boo!” he said then broke into laughter. As I scrambled to my feet with the Glock in my hand and began backing away I didn’t see the other one come up behind me. He rushed and hit me so hard in the center of the back I didn’t know if it was his knee or boot. I slammed against the ground and the Glock flew out of my hand and slid a few feet away.

  I scrambled for it but one of them stood on my fingers.

  “It’s the turncoat.”

  The guy crouched down in front of me, then looked at his buddy. “I hate a lot of things,” he then began reeling off his racist remarks. “But there is nothing more that grinds my hump than a turncoat. What about you, Steve?”

  “Fucking hate ’em.”

  With that said he yanked me up and slammed me against the dumpster and began laying into me, while the other one laughed. All my attempts at shielding the beating only riled him up even more.

  “Get your fucking hands out of the way.”

  I attempted to fight back but his buddy stepped in to take over. A second later I was spitting blood on the asphalt. Breathing hard and looking ahead I didn’t see the kick come in from the side. There was no time to brace for it. I sucked in air and then felt the sole of his boot come down twice on my back as if he was trying to crush my spine. As I was slumped there, one of them went over and picked up the Glock.

  “Nice piece, I think I’ll take that.” He tucked it into his waistband. I pushed myself up and leaned back against the dumpster. “They are going to fucking love you when we take you back.”

  Call it pent-up rage or just an adrenaline rush but as he came back to give me another pounding, I reacted.

  He grabbed the back of my collar and I came up with a swift uppercut that took him off balance. I charged him and grabbed the handle of the Glock from the front of his pants but instead of yanking it out I pulled the trigger. The bullet shot through his leg as I collapsed on top of him. His scream was deafening. In that split second I was in survival mode. There was no time to pull the gun out as the other guy came at me. Before he got within two feet, another gunshot went off and the guy dropped. Still on the skinhead who was squirming beneath me in agony, I saw Luke out the corner of my eye. He’d hopped over the fence. I stumbled back to catch my breath when the second round was fired. Luke loomed over him with the gun still pointed at his head. He had killed both of them. I could see that his hand was shaking.

  “You okay?”

  I spit blood on the floor, then nodded. “Not exactly.”

  Everything seemed surreal in that moment. I don’t know what I expected to see in his face. Remorse perhaps? Guilt? God, he’d just killed two people.

  He motioned with his head. “Go up. Murphy and Edgar are on the roof across from here. You still got the radio?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. With that he turned and dashed off into the darkness leaving me beside two dead bodies. I stared at one. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen years of age. I felt my stomach churn within me and I flipped over and vomited. I wiped my lips with the back of my arm and then staggered to my feet. I removed the gun from the dead guy’s waistband, moved quickly over to the rifle case and grabbed it up. I headed in the direction of where Luke had gone. He whistled from a building one block down, then pointed to a black fire escape that went up the side of a four-story building. I juggled the rifle case in one hand and began making my way up. Once I heaved it over the top, I slumped down and took a moment to get my bearings. All over the city the sound of gunshots resounded. The community was fighting back. Maybe we weren’t alone. Whether we would win was to be seen.

  “Sam, you there?”

  Murphy’s voice came from the two-way. I pressed the button, cleared my throat. “Go ahead.”

  “You okay?”

  What was it with everyone asking me that? No, I fucking wasn’t okay. I had been shot at, slapped around and had witnessed people murdered in front of me. I was far from okay.

  “How’s the bleeding?” I asked.

  “It’s under control.”

  I had images of him stuffing dirt into the hole or a piece of cloth. These military guys were badass and they knew all manner of ways to stop bleeding. Gunfire echoed in the darkness.

  “Do you have a bead on Kate?”

  “A bead?”

  He replied sounding frustrated. “Can you see her?”

  I got up and went over to the edge, while trying to remain low. I was at the top of a building that was on the corner of Cedar and Fourth. I could see Main Street and the angry mob. Cars were on fire; black smoke swirled up and vanished in the blackness of night.

  “Take out the rifle, use the scope.”

  I went back to the case and lugged it over. I unclipped the side and flipped it open. It smelled like fresh leather. The rifle had some weight to it when I took it out.

  “Do you have it?”

  I pressed the button. “I got it.”

  “Tell me what you see.”

  I rested the rifle on the edge of the building and peered through the scope. I adjusted it slightly and then tilted it down. Lots of heads, fists, and angry faces. I swept back and forth until I came to rest on the officers who were on their knees.

  “I see her.”

  “Keep your eyes on the guy walking back and forth in front of them.”

  I couldn’t hear what was being said.

  Drifting up was just pure noise, music blaring and skinheads cheering and pumping the air with fists. Several of them were firing off rounds as if already celebrating.

  “My arm is fucked so I’m going to need you to take the shot.”

  “What?”

  “You are going to have to take the shot otherwise she is going to die.”

  I peered again through the scope and spotted a handgun in the hand of the man who was walking up and down.

  “Why not Edgar or Luke?”

  “There’s not time for questions. The other two are positioned on different roofs. When you fire, they will fire too, they aren’t going to know who took the shot. That should give you enough time to get down. After you get back to City Hall, distribute the weapons. We are going to need the additional help.”

  In my backpack were several handguns. Inside the case was a rifle and a Benelli M4 Tactical shotgun.

  “Why don’t you…”

  “My arm is shot, Sam. You’re the one carrying the rifle. I’ve got my M4 Carbine. That will keep them at bay for a while.”

  “And the others?”

  “They have AR-15’s, they should be okay.”

  None of this was sinking in. It was like being thrown in at the deep end. There was no easing into any of this.

  “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Murphy interjected. “Sam, this is not the time to back away.”

  “But—”

  “You are in a war, whether you like it or not. They won’t hesitate to kill. It’s simple, do you want those officers dead?”

  I hesitated before I replied. “No.”<
br />
  “Then you need to pull the trigger.”

  “I’ve only ever fired a rifle when I’ve gone hunting.”

  “Then you should be fine,” Luke muttered over the radio.

  There was a pause in our conversation; I assumed Murphy was reassessing the situation from his position.

  “Luke, once he takes the shot and you fire some rounds, I want you to change position. We need to keep moving. Give them the sense that there are more of us than there really are. And Sam, I hope you can run fast.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “Sam, did you hear me?”

  I pressed down on the button. “Yep.”

  As I peered through the scope, Murphy told me to take the shot. I checked that there was a round in the chamber. I focused in on the guy who was now standing in front of one of the male officers. He lifted his gun and fired a round into his head. The sound of Kate’s scream could be heard. The armed skinhead then stepped to his left to repeat the process.

  “Sam. Take the shot!”

  I froze in that moment. It was long enough for the man to shoot another cop. There were three remaining. Kate was in the middle.

  “Take the shot!”

  I exhaled hard. My finger squeezed against the trigger and the bullet hit its target.

  The skinhead fell on the officer and before the others could figure out where the shot came from, Murphy, Edgar and Luke began unloading rounds into the large group.

  It was pure pandemonium.

  People were climbing on top of each other to get out from the rain of bullets that were taking down the group from multiple angles, and different locations.

  I pulled the rifle back into the case, closed it and got the hell off that roof.

  FINE LINE

  I couldn’t believe I had just killed someone. I didn’t even have time to process it. I was down on the ground and pounding the pavement back to Cedar Street. The streets would be crawling with them as some sought cover, while others looked to find the shooters. On one hand I didn’t want to leave them but I was following orders, running on instinct and had smothered the emotion that was in danger of paralyzing me. A mix of fear and adrenaline kept my legs moving. My thighs screamed in protest, and I could feel a stitch coming on.

  I saw the sign for Seventh Street up ahead. It was one block over. I still had to cross Sixth Street. As I burst across the street a batch of skinheads plowed into me. One of them fell to the ground. A few of them I recognized. My eyes scanned their faces hoping to god that they weren’t any of the guys from the library.

  “Frost, where the hell have you been?”

  It was Bryan Catz. He grabbed a hold of me.

  “We were getting fired at, I ran just like you.”

  “Did you see where it came from?”

  “Back there.”

  I motioned over my shoulder and he glanced down at the case in my hand and frowned. “What the fuck is that?”

  I swallowed hard as he pulled it out of my hand. Other skinheads ran past us, only Bryan and a couple others had stopped. They were looking around nervously. Fear on their faces. The idea of standing out in the open was probably making them antsy. He pushed me back and placed the case on the ground. I reached around my back and took a hold of the Glock. I began taking several steps back towards Seventh Street as he unlocked the case. I didn’t stick around to see his reaction. I turned and ran. I glanced back when I heard him call my name.

  “Frost! You fucker. Get him.”

  And that was it. If I had a stitch before, my stomach felt like it was about to hurl as I raced towards Seventh Street with multiple skinheads on my tail. I turned a few times to fire a couple of rounds to slow them down but that only infuriated them more. As I zigzagged to avoid being hit by a bullet, I fixed my face like a flint towards Seventh Street. When I reached it, I could see City Hall one block down.

  The only thing pushing through my mind was to get to that building.

  At the far end of the road I saw more skinheads running up towards me. They were probably the overflow from Main Street. While they weren’t aware of the others chasing me, I wasn’t going to risk it. I dashed into an alley, pushed the Glock into the back of my waistband and sprinted hard down the dirt-filled street full of puddles left over from rain. Water splashed up my leg and my throat felt like it was on fire as I turned back to see Bryan and six others racing after me.

  I was fucked. Royally.

  I turned a corner and practically launched myself up onto a dumpster and over the fence. As I landed hard the Glock fell out of my waistband. I had only taken a few steps when I heard it hit the ground. I swiveled back and scooped it up just as one of them came over the fence. He was in midair about to land when I fired into him, then fired two more rounds at the fence. That kept the others back but not for long. As I got closer to the rear doors of City Hall, I knew that there was a shitload of chairs and tables stacked up behind them. There was no way that I was going to be able to get inside, and if any of the five skinheads behind me realized that others were there, they would swarm the place.

  Shit! I screamed inwardly as I changed direction and flew into a tight alley that had overgrown with weeds, branches and brambles. Nature tore at my skin like gnarled fingers. I felt as though I was running into a black hole.

  As I came out the other side, I sprinted across the street and into a large patch of trees between a maintenance and building supplies store and an auto dealership. I ran up to the first door and yanked on it hard but it was locked. Before I could get to the wall that hedged in the two buildings, I heard them.

  I ducked down behind a huge supply of lumber.

  “Frost, I know you are in here.”

  I heard their boots nearby, one of them smashed a window on a car with his baseball bat. It happened again, then again.

  “Come on out. I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself to Eli. Perhaps he’ll show mercy on you and just take away your red shoelaces.” Eli? I heard a couple of them laugh. They were playing games with me. There was no way out. It was made very clear at the beginning. If you went against them, you got fucked up. And with the way things were now, fucked up meant dead.

  I shifted my position as I saw one of them getting closer. I moved over to a red SUV and got between two of them. I laid on the ground. From there I could see their boots. I pulled out the magazine and checked how many rounds I had left, and then slid it back in. I had more than enough to kill all five of them but they were also packing. At least one of them was. The others had baseball bats, a chain and something else that would no doubt tear me apart.

  “You know Nate was a good guy, he was like a brother to me.”

  He must have been referring to the guy I’d shot near City Hall. That was two people I had killed. Though the second time around, it was different. I knew it was him or me. I wiped moisture from my lips and looked to my right. In the window of one of the cars I saw the reflection of a flashlight. I moved position for a second time. I wasn’t going to be able to hide for long. On the other hand I didn’t want to kill any more people.

  We were going to need the bullets. I moved into the section of used vehicles and began checking the trunks on each of them while keeping low to the ground. Several times they passed by the vehicle I was behind. All that could be heard was gravel beneath their boots and the occasional whack as they slammed a baseball bat against metal.

  At what point does a man break when pushed into a corner? What happens when the lines blur between what he doesn’t want to do and that which he must? Murphy’s words came back to me. They were words he’d shared when we were out in the wilderness. The second month was meant to be harder. That it was. Every day out there in the elements he imparted lessons to us. Some of them just went in one ear and out the other but others stuck.

  Murphy had been reeling off one of his old war stories about him and his buddies caught in a firefight. According to him, his platoon had been sent in to rescue a group of U.S. military advisers when
they got overrun. A massive coalition air strike was called in. They destroyed over forty buildings and killed over seventy militants but it wasn’t enough.

  There is a fine line that separates those that will and those that won’t. There is a fine line between those that will stand and those that will fall. While you are out here that line for you might be as simple as hiking another mile. On the frontline, where lives are lost or survive, it means pulling the trigger when you might just want to freeze or run. I don’t like killing people but if it means bringing the guy beside me home alive, I won’t hesitate. Now dig deep, dig d-e-e-p.

  His words echoed in my mind as I became one hundred percent focused on getting out of this alive. I crept up the back of the van I had moved behind and peered through the murky glass. I could see two of them at one o’clock, one was at twelve and the others were at nine. Like sheep that had strayed from the pack. I focused on the one at twelve. I crouched down and positioned myself at the corner of the van with the Glock extended.

  I was waiting for the moment he came into view. I swallowed hard, every ounce of my being was focused on the tunnel, the gap between the vehicles. As he walked into frame, I aimed and pulled the trigger. The moment he went down, I rolled out into a new position further down and further back.

  “Where did that come from?”

  One down.

  I moved again. This time I was nervous to look around the corner of the next vehicle in the event that they spotted me. The two guys who were at one o’clock had raced over to check on their buddy who was now lying motionless. I circled around another vehicle. As I stuck my head out to take a look, one of them spotted me and pointed.

  “There he is.”

  A spray of bullets from whoever was carrying hit the car. A window shattered and I heard Bryan telling them to split up. My pulse had gone into overdrive. Everything became crystal-clear as though I had too much caffeine. Fear no longer crippled me, all I had left now was my fight-or-flight instinct and flight was off the radar.