Dad stiffened. "They can't force us to stay here."
"I don't think they'll shoot ya, but you've got to stay, Andy. It's your job to help these people."
"I'm a father first, Tom."
Tom looked down at Halle and me with a sympathetic expression. "We've all got a job to do. You do what you think is right."
He walked away, and Dad watched him, his jaw moving beneath his skin.
I checked my phone again for the time and for any messages from Mom or Chloe. Nothing.
"Is she almost here?" Halle asked.
"Almost," I said, not sure if I was telling the truth.
The brakes of a military truck squeaked in the street near the armory's entrance, and then more people came in through the front doors.
"Are they giving people rides?" Halle asked.
One of the gunmen shoved a father forward, and his frightened wife and sons followed.
"Back off!" the father growled, pulling his wife and kids under his arms.
"I'm not sure that's what they're doing," I said.
"My Lord, it is hot, hot, hot," a nearby woman said, dabbing the forehead of her young son. Her long braids were wrapped in a bun on top of her head, and she held her son's red puffy coat over her other arm.
"I want to go home, Mommy," the boy said around the finger in his mouth.
"I know you do, baby. Me, too." Her eyes brightened when she saw Halle. "There's a little girl. Maybe she'll play choo-choo with you." She walked over to us. "Hi there."
"Hi," Halle said.
With one hand, the boy held tightly on to his mother's leg. His hair was freshly trimmed, and his smooth mocha skin was a stark contrast against his white tee. He looked to be around four or five.
The mother batted his other hand away from his mouth. "What do you say, son?"
He held out his hand. "I'm Tobin. Nice to meet you."
Halle looked up at me. Tobin's finger was still glistening with his spit.
Halle would collect tiny bottles of hand sanitizer and not just because it was the new thing at school. She had started the trend. Not only was Halle a borderline germophobe, she was also a hoarder. Dad had even dubbed her second backpack a B.O.C.--Bag of Crap. She would keep tiny toys from McDonald's Happy Meals, an old camera, a calculator that hadn't worked in years, three or four notebooks and several pens, and random items she'd collected from toy machines at stores or restaurants. Once, I'd even found a coagulated bottle of nail polish that had to have been as old as she was.
"Gross!" the mother said, chuckling. She took a sanitizer wipe from Tobin's preschooler-sized backpack and rubbed his fingers and palms.
Halle waited a few seconds until his hand was dry, and then she took it. "Halle."
The boy ripped off his backpack and sat on the floor before pulling out small cars and a few miniature trains. Halle sat down with him and watched for a moment before joining in. She was twice his age, but she still liked a good playdate.
"I'm Tavia," the woman said, crossing her arms across her stomach, as she watched the little kids play.
"Jenna." I was sure that my smile was awkward. It felt strange to have such an ordinary conversation when the armory was slowly being turned into an internment camp.
"You doing okay?" Tavia asked.
"Today is pretty messed up," I said.
She laughed at my honesty. "Where are your parents?" She dabbed her brow with the heel of her hand.
"My dad's over there," I said, tossing my head in his direction. He was helping his shift partner organize medical supplies in the corner of the room. "My mom works in Bishop. She's on her way here."
"Oh," she said, suddenly concerned. "My brother is on his way here, too. I haven't heard from him in several hours though. I heard the interstate is gridlocked. Did you hear that?" she asked.
"Earlier, yes."
"I have a confession," Tavia said, keeping her voice low. "I knew your dad was one of the firefighters. I figured you might have overheard something useful."
"Just that I-35 is closed down, and the police want us all to stay here."
Just as I uttered the words, several men in riot gear came through the large double doors we'd come through, holding semiautomatic rifles. A collective gasp traveled from the entrance to where we stood, and the crowd began to panic again.
Governor Bellmon stood on his perch. "Now, this is just a precaution. Emotions are running high. It's going to get dark soon. We want to make sure all safeguards are in place before the sun goes down. That's all. Everyone, try to remain calm."
Tavia laughed once without humor. "Remain calm? That man's done lost his damn mind."
"It's a stressful time. He's just doing his best," a man snapped.
Tavia turned around. "I'm not saying he's not. He's always taken care of our state. But he should let us do our best at home. Just sayin'."
The corners of my mouth turned up. I liked her.
"The sun is going to set soon." Halle pushed up her glasses as she looked up at me.
Tobin banged his train car into hers, pretending that the driver or passengers or whoever were screaming--quietly, of course.
"They brought back flashlights and candles," I said.
Tavia leaned back to get a better look at the far wall. "I see some tall work lights over there, several of 'em. I'd say they're prepared--at least for the night."
"Are we staying here?" Halle asked, her voice going up an octave. "I don't wanna stay here."
Tavia leaned in. "Me either, but I bet it's just for one night. They'll get this mess figured out, and then we can all go home."
I was glad Tavia had replied for me. Halle often asked a lot of questions I wouldn't know the answers to. I wouldn't feel too bad though. Neither Mom nor Dad would know all the answers either.
I looked over at my dad. In that moment, he happened to glance over to check on us, and our eyes connected. He was trying to hide it, but I could see that this was one of those times he didn't know the answer. I wondered if anyone did.
IT HAD JUST BEGUN TO QUIET DOWN when someone began to beat on the entrance doors. A few police officers unfastened the chains they had wrapped around the door handles an hour earlier.
An older man in camo burst through. "They've...they've killed them! The stupid sons-a-bitches gunned them all down!"
People gasped, and the crying began again.
"Who?" the police chief said, standing between the man and the crowd.
"Those idiots guarding the overpass! They gunned down a truck and then an entire family trying to pass through--"
"What family?" someone asked.
The panicked chatter ignited.
"I don't know. I tried to stop them. I tried to stop them!" the man said. He began to cry. "Then, the people stuck in traffic below...they got out of their cars and tried to run into Anderson. Those boys gunned everyone down! They're all dead! Men...women...kids...the boys shot everyone who moved."
The yelling and screaming got louder.
"What do we do?"
"Why would they do that?"
"Is the infection here?
"It's here! The infection is here! They wouldn't just shoot innocent people!"
"No! No!" the older man said. "They weren't infected!"
"Now, you don't know that," Governor Bellmon said, his voice booming. "Let's work on the assumption that they have successfully protected us. Please! Please calm down!"
"Protected us? What if the people out there were our families trying to get home?" a man yelled.
A woman cried out, and fists rose in the air as people demanded answers.
"We can't leave!" the governor shouted. "We don't know the whys of what happened, but we know people are being killed out there. If you want to live, you must stay in here!" He gathered himself and then spoke more softly, "We all know what this is. We must stay together."
The panic and sobbing quieted to whimpers and humming conversations.
Dad walked over and knelt next to Halle. "Doi
ng okay, Pop Can?"
He would only call her that when he was trying to lighten the mood. She hadn't caught on to it yet, but I'd figured it out right after the divorce. Dad would get excessively weird when he was trying hard to play dad. It was more natural for him to play a skirt-chasing firefighter.
Halle sniffed.
Dad noticed Tavia and Tobin when he stood.
"My son wanted to play with your girl. Hope that's okay."
"Yeah," Dad said, dismissively waving her away. "Thank you. She needs the distraction, too."
"I'm Tavia. This is Tobin," she said, indifferent that her son wasn't concerned with introductions.
"Andrew," Dad said, shaking her hand. The gray crowding his brown hair above his ears caught the light just right. In that moment, he looked a lot older--or maybe it was from the burden of fear he was holding inside.
Tavia's polite smile faded. "He's wrong--the governor. It's not safe to lock this many people inside a building with only two exits. If something goes wrong--"
"It won't," Dad said, glancing at Halle and me.
Tavia ignored him. "Your girls will notice. If something ugly comes through those doors and we're all trying to squeeze through that one, they'll notice. No sense in trying to keep it from them when it's just down the street."
Dad took a step toward her. "You heard Bellmon. He said to stay in here, and the police department is going to enforce his demand."
Tavia repositioned her stance. She wasn't the type to back down. It reminded me of the hundreds of power struggles Dad had fought and lost with Mom. That was why they'd gotten a divorce. She never let him win, not even when it hadn't mattered. He always said it took a special kind of man to marry a redhead. It had turned out that he wasn't it. On the days when I was on the losing end of one of her tirades, I couldn't blame him for when he'd stopped trying.
"I have a son," Tavia hissed. "When it comes to his safety, I'm not listening to anyone's demands. Bellmon's scared, and his decision-making is impaired."
"It doesn't matter. An entire police force is behind his decision. We're staying."
"You know he's wrong. I can see it on your face. I've seen it all night, every time you look at your girls. Look at them, and tell me they're safe."
"Keep your voice down," Dad growled.
Tavia leaned back, just enough to give Dad some space. She breathed out her nose. "We can sneak them out after dark."
"That's the worst time to travel."
"I live just past Main Street behind the grocery store," she said.
Dad shook his head. "That's halfway across town."
"Well, where do you live?"
Dad looked at Halle and me and then down at Tobin. "Two-and-a-half blocks south." Tavia began to speak, but Dad interrupted, "One of those blocks is the park, so it's more like five or six."
"We can make it," Tavia said. "We can slip out right after dark and hide out at your place, like we're doing here, but it'd be safer--just until daylight."
"I don't even know you," Dad said. "Why should I listen to you?"
"Because I'm a parent with a little one in here--just like you. Bellmon isn't responsible for our children, Andrew. We are."
"There are more supplies here," Dad whispered.
I could see it in his eyes. He was considering it. I liked Tavia's idea, but I wouldn't dare say so. If a kid agreed, that would automatically make the plan weak.
"There are also more people. Think about the worst-case scenario. Do you wanna be in here, trying to get out, when that goes down? I sure as hell don't."
Dad looked around, thinking. He didn't take long in making up his mind. "We've got an hour before it's dark enough to try." His eyes fell on me. "We'll take turns watching the little ones while we each get supplies. I'll get medical. Tavia, you grab food. Jenna, you get water and two blankets just in case we don't make it to the house."
Tavia and I nodded.
Dad did, too. "I'm going to get back before anyone suspects anything. Act normal."
Tavia put her hand on my shoulder and sighed as Dad walked away. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. Then, she looked down at me. "Your dad's as smart as I thought he was."
"Most of the time."
He wasn't always worthy of father of the year, but I trusted him to get us to safety. He thought quickly, was handy with little to nothing, and had a decent aim. He'd even made me a console table once. When I was nine, I'd accidentally fallen on it, and it hadn't even wobbled. When he did things, he would do them right. Mom had even admitted once that she missed that about him. It seemed to be the only quality of his that she could appreciate. She could trust him to take care of things, and he would take care of us.
"IT'S DARK," I said, rolling up a blanket and gesturing for Halle to hold it under her arm.
"So?" she said.
"I'm going to tell you a secret, and you have to be quiet about it. Okay?"
She gave a nod, already aware that she wasn't going to like what I had to say.
"Dad is going to take us home."
"But the governor--" she said.
I shushed her. "Tavia and Tobin are coming, too."
Halle's eyes bulged. "Is she the new girlfriend?"
"No. No, she's just a friend. They think it'll be safer if we go to Dad's house. Mom will go there, too, when she gets into town."
She frowned but agreed.
I leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You have to keep this a secret, Halle. We're going to sneak out. We're not supposed to leave."
"Will they shoot at us?" Halle asked. She was always one for theatrics, but she was genuinely afraid.
I shook my head, pretending to dismiss her concern. "No way, crazy pants."
Halle laughed once and rolled her eyes. When she turned, I swallowed hard.
What if the shots we heard were from those wannabe soldiers gunning people down who were wandering around? What if they shot Mom? I shook my head, pushing those thoughts from my mind.
More than one person had referred to my mom as a badass. No one would take her down before she got to us. By sheer will alone, she would find a way.
"This blanket is yours to hold," I said, holding out the tightly rolled wool.
"I don't want to hold it. You hold it," Halle whined.
"I'm holding the other one plus holding your hand."
She pressed her lips together.
"Halle, this is important. You have to hold this, and you can't draw attention to what we're doing."
She leaned toward me. "I have to go to the bathroom."
I sighed. "You just went."
"I'm nervous," she admitted.
I kissed her forehead. "Me, too. We'll go as soon as we get to Dad's. It's not far, I promise."
"But I have to go," Halle said again, desperation in her voice.
I looked to Dad. "We can't go yet," I whispered to him.
"What? Why?"
"Halle has to go to the restroom."
"Again?"
"She's nervous," I explained.
He sighed, frustrated. "Take her. Hurry. In and out."
I tugged on Halle's hand.
"The bathroom's that way," she said, resisting with every step.
"There's only one restroom, Halle, and there's a line. You're going to have to go outside."
"What? I'm not pottying outside!" she hissed.
I forced her out the door and to a dark corner of the yard. "Halle," I grunted. "Here. Squat."
"No!"
"We don't have time for this!" I said.
Our voices were no louder than a whisper. We were well practiced in fighting just loud enough so that no one could hear.
Halle grew sullen, her lips forming a hard line. "This. Is. Injustice," she said, unbuttoning her jeans.
"You don't even know what that means," I said, exasperated. I turned around but leaned back to murmur one last instruction out of the side of my mouth, "Don't go on your shoes."
"My pee feels hot. I think I'm running a f
ever."
"It's just cold outside. Hurry up."
"What if I'm infected?"
"You're not. Let's go."
Halle put herself together, and then I gestured to Dad that we were ready. Dad would go first in case anyone noticed, and then we would follow in twos.
Halle and I pretended to talk while Dad walked casually down the fence line, running his fingers along the chain links. To me, his nonchalance looked forced, but no one else seemed to notice. I kept Halle with me once Dad had slipped into the space between the two large gates. The young gunmen had closed the gates earlier with a rusted thick chain.
Dad was athletically built. He was on the department's softball team. He wasn't in the best shape of his life, but he easily maneuvered himself under the chain to the other side. Halle simply sidestepped through, but I had to duck. Dad kept walking toward the shadows of the trees, and Halle gripped my hand tighter.
A few moments later, I heard the chain rattle again.
Dad strolled across the street and into the park, and then he ducked behind a large tree trunk. When Halle and I reached him, he pulled us to the side.
"Wha--" I began, but Dad covered my mouth with his hand.
Halle's eyes danced between us. When Tavia made it to the tree with her son in her arms, Dad removed his hand from my mouth to hold his finger to his lips.
Tavia blinked.
"Can you keep him quiet?" Dad asked. He nearly breathed out the words.
Tavia raised an eyebrow.
"What if he's scared? Will he be quiet if you tell him to?"
"I am his mama. Nothing else is scarier than that," she whispered.
Dad tilted his head in the direction of the street on the other side of the armory. The police officers were mobilizing outside.
"Heads up!" one called.
"Halt!" another said.
"We're police officers! Halt, or we will fire!"
The commotion drew the attention of the groups of people in the yard. They walked over to the west fence. The yelling had also attracted the multitude of silhouettes wandering in the dark, their slow ambling only truly visible between streetlights. They were moving like children. Like bored grade-schoolers walking in a line to a field trip no one wanted to go on, they shuffled their feet in protest. Surely, they moved forward toward the officers without fear.
I'd watched enough movies with my mom to know what I was looking at. "They came from the highway, didn't they? They're infected," I said, not really asking.
"Last warning!" an officer commanded.
"Please stop!" another begged as he aimed and cocked his rifle.
Among Monsters Page 3