Deadlocked 7

by A. R. Wise

  He panicked, and started rushing through the throngs of people inside of the church, screaming for David. He was using a crutch that Jill had given him, his right leg still useless after the accident in the field. Clyde tried to stop him, but Arthur refused to calm down until he knew David was safe. Clyde agreed to help search for the boy, and headed to the stairs that led to a room above the vestibule, under the steeple.

  That’s when the helicopters could be heard swooping in, and the survivors of Vineyard inside of the church were familiar with the sound. The crowd grew fearful, some wailing and others clutching their loved ones, all while Arthur continued to push through them in search of his son.

  Annie’s expert aim took out one of the helicopters, and Arthur recalled training with the young girl with The Department in southern Colorado. She’d always been a remarkable shot, and he could see the result of her aim as one helicopter fell to the road and rolled into the camp’s perimeter. The calamity of its crash caused the survivors in the church to scream out, but the chaos was stilled when they heard another helicopter’s chain gun start firing.

  The attack devastated the psyche of the group, and no one thought they would survive. They had no way of knowing how many helicopters were out there, and most of them assumed a squadron had come to finish what they started in Vineyard. Arthur tried to scream out his son’s name, but his voice was muted by the cries of terror as the thudding explosions of gunfire echoed through the sanctuary.

  That’s when Arthur figured out where his son had gone. He knew that Annie was in the steeple, and David would’ve tried to get a view of his mother. Arthur was near the dais of the sanctuary, past the pews and the crowd of people. There was a door in the back that led to the area where the wounded pilot had been taken, and Arthur was headed there when he realized he was going the wrong way. He gazed back at the church’s entrance just as the steeple fell. His heart seized, and his breath was all but stolen as he tried to make his way back. It was almost impossible to hop through the crowd, and he started to scream at them for help. They did what they could, but there were so many of them that they had trouble moving aside as he pushed through.

  When the bell broke free and fell, everyone became silent. The bell smashed through the ladder, causing an ominously low clang with each strike on the rungs, until it hit the floor on the second story, just above the entrance to the church. A malaise swept through the group as the bellowing hum filled the church. There was a sense that the world was collapsing in on them, and their sanctuary was ending.

  Arthur stared at the door that hid the stairwell leading upstairs. He knew that Clyde had gone up to find David, and was terrified that they had both died when the steeple collapsed. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the door opened and Clyde came out with David in his arms.

  “David!” Laura came in from outside, screaming for her grandson.

  Arthur continued to make his way through the crowd to reach his son. Clyde set the boy down, and he stood dazed. The boy was pale and staggered to the wall to support himself, his crutch lost.

  “He’s okay,” said Clyde. “Annie was up there.”

  “She fell,” said Laura, and her voice broke when she spoke, as if the emotional dam that was keeping her sane threatened to burst.

  Clyde looked at Arthur and nodded. Arthur mouthed a thank you, uncertain that he could even speak, and continued to move through the crowd to reach his son. When he got to him, he fell to his knees and grasped the boy. He pressed David’s head into his shoulder and gripped the back of his hair. He wanted to be strong for the child, but his grief overwhelmed him. David sobbed as he rubbed his hands on David’s shoulders. Then he held his head back to look at him, but the boy just stared, bereft of emotion.

  “Are you okay?” asked Arthur.

  “Mom’s dead,” said David.

  “I know, David. I know.”

  He stared at his father and stated, “Annie’s dead too.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Arthur.

  Then David focused on his father’s eyes. The boy shivered as if suddenly cold, and then his demeanor turned fragile. Arthur felt the boy’s rigid stance crumble, as if he’d suddenly lost the will to stand. “Mommy’s dead!” He screamed out and fell into his father’s arms. “Mommy’s dead!” He wailed, an avalanche of despair, and Arthur held onto him as tight as he could.

  “I know, buddy.”

  “Mommy’s dead!” David started to cry, a torrent of tears that wet Arthur’s chest. “She’s gone. She’s dead forever. She’s dead!”

  Arthur tried to calm David, but he was inconsolable. His pain overflowed as he sat shaking in his father’s arms. “I’ll never see her again. I’m never going to see my mom again.”

  “I’ve gotcha, buddy. I’ll be here for you. We’ll be here for each other.”

  David calmed and stopped sobbing. He put his hand on the side of Arthur’s face and stared into his father’s eyes. Tragedy had steeled him, and David’s eyes were filled with anger. The once loving and docile boy had learned to hate. “Promise me you’ll kill them.”

  “What?” asked Arthur, more frightened than confused by what his son had said.

  “Promise me you’ll kill all of the people that did this. You have to murder them, Daddy. Whoever did this, you have to kill them. Promise me.”

  Arthur had never seen such hatred, and he never wanted to see it from his son. The once angelic child now pleaded for revenge, and Arthur had never felt a deeper sense of heartbreak.

  David grit his teeth. “Kill them all.”

  Chapter Five – Parenthood

  Thirteen years after the apocalypse

  Arthur and Annie are at the raider’s camp.

  “No, she’s not with me.” Arthur stood over the corpse of the raider that had been in Annie’s tent.

  “She left a few minutes ago to meet you in your tent.” Annie slipped on her coat and then got her gun.

  “They took me out to shoot me,” said Arthur.

  “Well, I’m glad they suck at their jobs,” said Annie. “Do you need a gun? I think Kim left hers in the bag.”

  “No time,” said Arthur. “I’ve got mine still. Come on, we have to go.”

  “Where? What’s the plan?”

  He glanced at her as if surprised she needed an answer. “Find Kim and get out of here.”

  “Who are these people?” asked Annie as she slipped on her boots.

  “Raiders. They found the trader camp and wiped them out. They’ve been here pretending to be traders and murdering whoever came near.”

  “So we’re going to kill them, right?” asked Annie.

  “First we’re going to find Kim, then we’ll figure out our next move. Come on, we need to hurry.”

  “Do you know where they took her?”

  “I’ve got a guess,” said Arthur, although he hoped he was wrong.

  They left the tent and Arthur moved fast to the body of the man with The Bleeder stuck in his temple. He set his foot against the man’s head and jerked the blade free. Then he stabbed The Bleeder into the snow a few times before wiping it clean.

  The storm was getting worse, but the snow couldn’t collect in the hot blood that was leaking from the man at Arthur’s feet. The steaming pool was illuminated in the moonlight as the snowflakes melted within it.

  “Where are we going?” Annie whispered as she stood beside Arthur.

  He pointed The Bleeder out towards a trailer that was parked away from the fenced yard where the tents were located. “I bet she’s in there.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Annie.

  “That’s the Fuck Truck.” He used the slang term for the prostitute trailer.

  Arthur knew that Annie understood why they needed to hurry. It was an unsavory truth of the post apocalypse that sex was a valuable commodity. Despite how the traders tried to appear wholesome, they all practiced the world’s oldest profession. Every trader caravan Arthur had ever encountered had a trailer or camper that
was meant for sex, usually outfitted with multiple beds and partitions. Whores were kept for travelers looking for company and willing to trade for it. Sex slavery was something that the Rollers tried their best to fight against, but sometimes it seemed more pervasive than the zombies that plagued the world.

  “Do you think…” Annie started to ask, but Arthur interrupted her.

  “Let’s go.”

  He was worried about lookouts, but hoped the two boys that were supposed to murder him had also been tasked with keeping watch. Arthur paid close attention to the footprints in the snow and pointed out a set of two that branched away from the fence’s gate. The prints headed off in the direction of the prostitute trailer.

  The trailer was hitched to a semi, and there was a door on the side with a list of rules painted next to it. Arthur and Annie followed the tracks to a stepstool that was set beside the truck’s door. He glanced at the rules:

  1) No screaming.

  2) No blood.

  3) No kids.

  It was a common set of rules seen on these types of trailers. The underground market had come to refer to the Fuck Trucks by the number of rules they had printed by the door. This one would be called a Three, because it had three rules. More deviant patrons would search for caravans that had a Two, One, or even a Zero Fuck Truck in tow.

  Arthur tried the door, but found it locked. He mouthed a curse and then pointed at the back of the truck. He motioned for Annie to stand guard at the door while he went to the back to try and get in from there. She nodded and kept her gun ready while Arthur hurried away.

  The storm was getting worse by the second. Even the wind had started to pick up, driving blast after blast of bitter air into Arthur’s face. He ignored it as best he could and got to the back of the truck. It was closed, but not padlocked. He knew that lifting the lock would alert anyone inside that he was coming in, but he had no other choice. With his pistol at his side, he jerked the lever up to release the door and then swung it open.

  It was set up as most of the prostitute trailers were, with a thin hall on one side and a line of beds, each separated by a fabric wall, on the other. Curtains were used for doors, suspended on a metal rod with brass rings. The trailer stank of sweat, metal, and mold.

  “Who the fuck?” asked Jack from somewhere within. “Mac?”

  Arthur climbed into the truck. He could tell that Jack was nearby and he heard someone rustling and moaning. He put his gun away in favor of his blade, not just for a silent kill, but also for a painful one.

  He slid open the curtain in front of the first room, but Jack wasn’t inside. Instead he saw a young girl, not much older than Annie, bound by chains to the side of the truck. She had red hair that had been shorn nearly to her scalp. She was nude except for a studded leather belt tied around her waist. Her ribs protruded from her emaciated body. There was a ball gag in her mouth, tied in place by a white cord that was discolored by blood. Her lips bore a fresh wound, and at first Arthur thought someone had stitched the gag in place. Then he realized that someone had tattooed stitches over her lips as a cruel joke.

  She was alive, and awake, but her eyes were filled with sorrow. When she saw Arthur, she didn’t recognize that he wasn’t there to rape her. The girl looked at him, and then hung her head.

  “Who’s there?” asked Jack from the next room over. The curtain slid to the side and the burly man walked out. “How the hell?”

  Arthur hit Jack with the hilt of his blade, causing the big man to stagger back. Then he moved to stand behind the bloodied raider and clasped his hand over Jack’s mouth.

  “This is going to hurt,” said Arthur just before he stabbed The Bleeder into the fat man’s lower back, through his oblique muscles, just beside his spine. The agony that Jack experienced was intense enough to cause him to stand rigid and gasp. When his victim tried to move, The Bleeder nearly got caught in his muscles, but Arthur was determined to make this murder last. If anyone else had been hiding in the truck, Arthur assumed they would have revealed themselves by now. If he was alone with Jack, he planned to make the man suffer.

  Arthur tore the blade free and stabbed again. Jack swiped his elbow backward, but Arthur easily avoided the strike. This time, when Arthur pulled his knife free, a jet of blood spewed forth.

  Jack couldn’t scream, the pain silencing all but gasps as he twisted. Arthur pushed the globular man to his knees and then debated how to kill him. He wanted to cause the man as much pain as possible, but if he drew this out any longer he could put Annie in danger. Arthur clenched his teeth and resigned himself to end it.

  “Who?” asked Jack, although his voice came out as a sputtering plea that Arthur wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

  “Does it hurt?” asked Arthur.

  “Yes.”

  “Not enough.” He stabbed Jack in the throat and the tip of The Bleeder spiked through the other side of the man’s neck. Arthur knew this wouldn’t kill the rapist immediately, and would leave him struggling not to drown in his own blood. He pushed Jack over as the man convulsed, spewing crimson from his mouth and back. His flopping feet splashed in his blood as he stared up at Arthur, his eyes wide with terror, until his body finally fell silent.

  Kim sobbed, uncertain what was happening behind her. She was nude and hogtied, with her backside facing Arthur.

  In the months that followed, neither Arthur nor Kim ever spoke about what happened in the trailer. They rescued the other prisoner, a mysterious young woman that came to be known as Stitch because of the tattoo that Mac had given her, and then murdered the remaining raiders as they slept. Only the three of them ever knew what had occurred in the trailer on that horrible night, although Arthur suspected Annie knew as well, but she was kind enough not to ask.

  Nine months later, David was born. He was, and always would be Arthur’s son. It never mattered that he couldn’t have been.

  * * *

  August 24th, 20 years after the apocalypse

  Annie is near death as Arthur and David wait inside the church.

  “Move,” said Clyde as he came back into the church. His mouth was smeared with blood, as if he were a zombie pulled off a victim mid-meal.

  Arthur was confused by the commotion, but soon realized that the mass of bloody rags that Clyde and some of the Rollers were carrying into the church was Annie. Her brilliant red hair was muted by wetness, and the color seemed to drip away from her, leaving a trail beneath them.

  “What happened?” asked Jill as she rushed to help.

  “She fell,” said Abe as he supported Annie’s body from the side.

  Arthur realized that Clyde’s lips were stained with blood because he had been performing CPR on Annie.

  Laura came in after them, her body clearly beaten and bruised from being knocked off the truck not long ago, but her true pain was revealed in the well of tears that glassed her eyes. She watched them carry her daughter into the church, and Arthur was heartbroken as he stared at her. It was as if Laura’s grief was too much for her body alone, and was pouring forth to affect everyone around her.

  “She’s going to be fine.” Billy staggered up the stairs to stand beside Laura, his back hampering his stride. “She’s a tough girl.”

  Laura turned on him, filled with fury and blame. “This was your fault!” She grabbed Billy’s shirt in her left hand and shook him. Where most women would’ve instinctually slapped the victim of their fury, Laura chose to punch him. She struck him in the nose and he fell backward as she reared back to hit him again.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Zack bounded up the stairs and pushed his way between the two rival captains. Billy’s back gave out, and when Laura’s grip was torn away from his shirt he fell against the threshold for support. “Stop it you two.”

  “He did this to Annie!” Laura’s anger twisted her tone, making each word hiss as she seethed. “He made her stay up there.”

  “It was the right thing to do,” said Zack, which halted Laura’s condemnation. Zack looked pained as he
explained again, “Billy was right. Annie’s the reason those copters fell. If she’d come down from there, then a lot more people would be dead right now.”

  Laura struggled to understand how Zack of all people could turn on her, but then she looked out at the crowd of survivors that watched them. Her fury turned to sorrow, and then to resolute authority. Her transformation was stunning to watch as she wiped away her tears, willing once again to be the leader the Rollers needed. “You’re right.” She spoke in a whisper at first, but then stood up straight and pulled away from Zack’s arms. “You’re right.” She walked away from them both, a steady cadence as her boots clopped on the wood floor on her way to where Clyde and Jill had set Annie down.

  “How is she?” asked Laura.

  “Hard to say.” Clyde had set Annie on a pew and was struggling to locate all of her injuries. “We’ve got lacerations everywhere, and no doubt a few broken bones.”

  “She’ll be okay, Laura,” said Jill as she stood beside Clyde.

  Clyde looked at his assistant, and then at Laura. “No, she might not be. I’m going to give it to you straight, Laura. She’s in bad shape, and she’s losing a lot of blood.”

  “Annie’s a fighter.” Jill sounded defensive, as if offended by Clyde’s dire warning. “If anyone can live through this…”

  “I’m not sure we can save her, Laura,” said Clyde. He paid attention to the girl’s battered body as he spoke, tearing at her clothes as he searched for the source of the gushing blood.

  “God damn it, Clyde,” said Jill.

  “It’s the truth.” Clyde screamed, his voice echoing in the sanctuary as his anger boiled. The survivors watched in stunned silence. “Laura, you need to see the truth here. She might not make it.”

  There was a tense silence as Laura stared at him. No one knew what she would say as Clyde seemed to be trying to provoke a response.

  “I trust you, Clyde,” said Laura. “We’re going to evacuate soon. Do what you can.”