by Roger Hayden
They moved to the kitchen. Fat flies buzzed over an industrial sink crammed with dishes. Near it, they discovered the freezer door cracked open. The meats inside were spoiled with discolored blotches and dressed with puffy, white maggots. Covering their mouths with the hems of their shirts, the party closed the door, snatched a few food cans hidden behind sticky juice boxes in the pantry, and quickly exited. After shoving the supplies in their backpacks, they walked on. The rest of the buildings were a similar sight: dark, musty, and stripped of useful goods.
The more they moved in, the more the Briersville felt… off. Eli swore he saw something move on one rooftop, but they only discovered more birds. They eventually came to a stop before a splattered bloodstain on the sidewalk. Above it was an open third-story window.
“Jumpers,” Levi said, tracing the fall with his deep-brown eyes. The daylight sparkled on his dark steely beard and tan skin.
The stain had hardened and appeared more burgundy than red. “Rain should’ve washed it away,” Harper said. “Someone cleared the body.”
“It could’ve been an animal,” Dustin chimed in. “Like a bear or something.”
Levi shrugged. “Possible.”
Judging by the sour looks on their faces, Harper knew they wanted the Hummer. Nonetheless, parking away from the town meant less chance of being heard or targeted. If there was going to be a welcoming party, they were miles late.
When they reached the four-block-long heart of downtown, most of the cars had been cleared out. Around them were tall office buildings turned into antique shops or Lionel train museums. Their shadows were long and boxlike and covered the street like flat jail bars. All of the buildings seemed stripped and abandoned apart from one, a small barbershop with a closed front door nailed shut by two-by-fours.
“What were they trying to keep out?” Eli asked.
“Maybe that bear,” Dustin replied, stepping over the spillage of an overflowing community trash can.
“Lot of work for one bear.” Harper followed behind, tracing the ominous windows around them and realizing just how exposed they really were. A curtain ruffled in an adjacent building’s upper window. Harper felt eyes on her but saw no one. Not taking chances, she kept her gun close.
“Hug the walls.”
They listened to her command even though Levi still led. Harper could see him nervously jittering. She’d be lying if she denied her fear. Nonetheless, DC had hardened her, but not to the point of stupidity.
Backs to the building’s wall, they moved to an alley that separated them from the barbershop. They glanced down the backstreet and found a fly-swarmed dumpster, a shopping cart parked with its face to the wall, and a tarp-covered pallet supporting uneven stacks of bricks. Scaffolding ramps zigzagged nearby and ended at the adjacent shop’s flat rooftop. Not taking any chances, they ran past the alley and to the barbershop.
Levi stopped before the barricaded front door. He slipped a small, flat pry bar from his detachable tool belt and began removing nails. The others flanked both sides of him, constantly scanning for any signs of movement.
After a few minutes, long nails nested around Levi’s feet, and he rammed the door with his shoulder. After four good shoulder bashes, the door burst open, and they were met with dust, darkness, and the booming blast of a shotgun.
Birds went flying. Levi stumbled back into Harper’s arms. She staggered. In a chaotic motion, Dustin, Charlie, and Eli all leapt back and aimed their guns into the dark room.
Levi patted down his chest, gut, and groin and closed his eyes in relief. After a moment, he touched Harper’s arm. She helped him regain his footing. She could feel him trembling as he pulled himself away. He exhaled to lessen the shock and cursed quietly. Pointed at the doorframe and aiming directly at them was a dusty 12-gauge duct-taped to a chair. Running from its trigger to the interior doorknob was a near-invisible line of heavy-duty fishing wire.
Harper shouldered past the others and gingerly stepped inside, wishing that she had a handgun instead of the long-barreled hunting rifle. Her jade eyes bounced from barber chair to barber chair and finally to the dusty pump-action shotgun.
“Misfire,” Harper shouted back to the others.
“I nearly peed myself,” Levi said with a slight chuckle.
The rest of the group entered the barbershop. Charlie watched the door. Levi stayed far away from the weapon that had almost taken his life.
“Nasty trap,” Dustin said, shaking his head. “Just plain nasty.”
They moved with their reflections in the long mirrors that raced down both walls. With the sun spilling across the floor, they headed for the doorless room in the back. Keeping an eye out for any tripwires or floor traps--or whatever traps there may be--they entered the doorless room, Levi taking the vanguard. Even Charles, guarding the door, felt anxious about whatever the shotgun trap was protecting. Tucked in the corner were extra waiting chairs and shelves full of hair products.
Together, they searched under the chairs, opened a cardboard box, and moved the shelf. Their boon was shampoos, conditioners, and gels to last them months.
“Lot of work for a whole lot of nothing,” Dustin said unhappily.
Levi stuffed a few products in his backpack. “Eh, worth dying over, no. But otherwise a pretty good find. It’s good to have healthy hair,” he said, still in shock.
As they were about to head out, Harper glanced up at the white ceiling tiles. Standing on a chair, she lifted a mineral-fiber square with the tips of her fingers and peeked her head through. Cobwebs and insect carcasses sprinkled the tops of the other tiles. After twisting her head to be facing where the far side of the building was, she spotted a series of plywood planks leading into the darkness. Most curiously, the shop next to the barbershop looked to have been boarded up for months.
She poked her head down to the others. “There is something up there. Like a bridge.”
“Will it support you?” Eli asked. His thick hair had shagged over his ears and rested on his shoulders. Blowing air up his face, he moved a bang hanging over his eye.
“I don’t know.” She peeked up again. “Maybe.”
“Well, I know it won’t support me,” Levi replied. He stood over six feet tall, so no one contested him. Dustin was a middleweight muscular fellow, and Charlie remained at the front door.
“Mom, I can do it,” Eli volunteered.
“Are you sure?” Harper asked him seriously. “You just got your cast off.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said, sounding peeved.
Dustin snickered.
“Dustin,” Harper said with authority.
“Now you sound like my mother.”
Harper stepped down and smiled sympathetically as Eli climbed up. Gun hanging on his back, he gritted his teeth as he put his weight in his forearms and lifted himself onto the tiles. Once his thrashing legs slid inside, Harper stood on the chair and watched him army crawl across the planks. His country blue jeans and worn sneakers slowly wiggled into the darkness.
“How are you holding up?” Harper shouted.
“Good!” Eli’s elbows and knees knocked on the planks, which clapped against the tiles.
“Your arm?”
“Fine!” His voice echoed through the far-stretching and tight space. A loud bump sounded from his direction, followed by a muffled “Ow.”
“Sure?”
“Yes, Mom!”
“Watch out for any loose boards or wires.”
“Mom! I know!”
Crack!
Eli yelped, and then there was silence.
“Eli!” Harper yelled.
She glanced down at the others and quickly climbed onto the ceiling tiles. She snaked across the plywood. Cobwebs stuck to her hair. Her elbows and knees hit against the wood as the bridge curved at hard angles. The rifle wobbled on her back. Soon, her eyes acclimated to the darkness, but touch became her dominating sense. Up ahead, a pool of light streamed up from the broken tile. Harper quieted her movement until only t
he sound of the creaking boards remained. As she neared the patch of light, Harper slid the rifle from her back to her hands.
“Eli,” she whispered. Her index finger switched the safety off.
Slowly, her gun’s barrel edged over the hole where the planks had ended. Following the firearm, Harper snuck a peek. An unseen flame cast an orange glow over the room. The broken tile had shattered into fiber chunks directly below her. A small, broken plank rested on top of the pile. A shred of Eli’s shirt was snagged on the wood’s jagged break.
Her son was nowhere to be seen.
Harper whispered Eli’s name a second time. Her heart pounded. An elongated shadow expanded across the lime-green tile floor. Her finger slid over the trigger. The shadow stopped right out of view. Then her son appeared.
With wide eyes and a smudge of dirt on his cheek, he looked up at her. “You’re going to want to see this.”
He left her view, leaving his distorted shadow behind.
Harper let out a sigh of relief, then she removed her finger from the smooth trigger. She slung the rifle over her back, twisted herself around, and gently lowered herself feet first. The board trembled beneath her palms, but she landed without issue.
The room was long like the barbershop and housed tiers of wooden shelves covered with clay flowerpots. Faded brown garden soil clumped in some parts of the tile flooring. At the front end of the shop, plywood sheets covered the windows and door. Harper twisted around to her son. He stood over organized piles of suitcases, duffel bags, milk crates, and large flowerpots packed with canned food, water bottles, medical supplies, alcohol, baseball bats, and more alcohol.
Jackpot.
They exchanged looks and then embraced each other with a warm hug. Harper looked at the candle that was nothing more than a flaming wick sticking out of a puddle of wax.
“Did you light the candle?” she asked.
“No, but I did do a quick sweep.”
Harper pulled away. Readying her weapon, she scanned the flower shop. The main room offered nothing in terms of cover, so she moved to the second door in the back. Standing with her back pressed beside the doorframe, she turned the knob and flung it open. No shotgun blasted. With silent steps, she swiftly turned and entered the backroom. More shelves of supplies lined the room. Similar to the barbershop, a shotgun taped to a chair aimed at a red door leading outside. Tucked in the corner was a wide platform truck used for carrying goods.
“Someone was here,” she told Eli, examining the un-trapped trigger. “They left out this door. That candle could’ve been burning for a minute or a few days.”
Harper opened the red door and looked out into an alleyway. A gust sent a plastic bag dancing by her. If not for her pulled-back ponytail, her bangs would’ve gotten into her eyes. Aiming the rifle, she scouted out the rooftops. Without seeing any sign of movement, she returned indoors.
“Start stacking supplies.” She pointed to the flat-surfaced platform truck. “I’ll tell the others.”
Standing on a chair, she peered her head up through ceiling and yelled out to the others. They replied to her quickly, and she gave them the lowdown. Circling around the side of the building, Charlie, Dustin, and Levi met Harper in the alleyway.
“You didn’t see anything, right?” she asked.
The men shook their heads and went inside. Not wasting time gawking, they filled the cart until the stacks had trouble balancing. Then they stuffed up their backpacks with pounds of items. By the time they were overly encumbered, there were still milk crates and flowerpots overflowing with supplies. Cutting the shotgun free with her knife, Harper stabilized it on the top of the pile. They started out the back red door and into the alley. Charlie pushed the cart while Harper and the others acted as guards. The front wheel spun rapidly as they raced the cart toward the main street. Canned green beans and bottles of whiskey rattled whenever they bumped over cracked concrete.
“You really hit the gold mine, Harper,” Levi said as he jogged toward the alley’s threshold.
Harper followed a few feet behind him with a sly smile. The four o'clock sun kissed her face through the alley’s gateway. She squinted to stifle the sunlight.
A red block dropped from the blue sky, plummeting before her eyes, and whacked Levi in the side of the head. A quick splash of blood flew from his skull. The bearded man staggered. His gun went off, discharging the howling bullet into the concrete a yard from him. Losing his footing, Levi smashed into the building’s wall and sunk to the ground.
The cart came to a sudden halt, spilling the top layer of supplies in a frenzy of clinks and clatters. Cans and bottles rolled past Harper’s feet. She shot a quick glance to her limp comrade, the bloody brick next him, and the unkempt woman on the rooftop. Bug eyed, with an uncombed mop of soot-covered hair, the woman let out a harrowing shriek. Before Harper could react, pitter-pattering sounded on the two three-story buildings surrounding her. Shadows overtook them. On the rooftops, hordes of drably dressed vagrants howled. They raised their brick-clenching dirty hands to the sky and rained down a storm of red bricks.
A deafening shotgun blast thundered past Harper as she covered her head with her forearms and rifle and pressed against the wall. The crazed woman’s chest cavity exploded into a frenzy of blood and bone shards that dribbled down on Dustin's cap and right ear. Without hesitation, he ran out of the alley, red clay shattering on the ground around him.
Charlie pumped the shotgun. A red shell discharged from the chamber. A brick smacked his shoulder and toe, and with a wet thunk, one rammed into his eye. Knocked prone, he wiggled his way to the flower shop, being flooded by the squall of bricks.
Meanwhile, Eli and Harper exploded into a sprint. Red blocks fragmented around them, filling their path with chunks of clay. Keeping their heads covered, they zigzagged into the main street. A brick whacked against Harper’s rifle, cracking into three pieces that rolled down her back. The clacking sound of impacting bricks and the volley of death chased them until they were out in the open.
Loud pops filled the air. From the upper-story windows around them, muzzles flashed. Small bullets zipped past the Murphys.
As she ran, Harper slung her rifle to her hip and blindly fired into the window of the nearest building. Large shards of glass smashed to the ground. Together, she and Eli leapt through the frame. Inside, Lionel train tracks and tiny towns surrounded them. They took cover behind a table. Harper set her rifle on top of a small farmhouse and aimed through the glass hole. The brick throwers across the way vanished inside their current building. From her vantage point, the other shooters were out of sight.
Eli struggled to find his breath. “What are we going to do?”
“Hide,” a man said behind them. “Right, Sergeant?”
Harper twisted back to the familiar but far gaunter roguish man and a petite teenage girl with pink hair that had faded around her black roots. Flashes of the bridge out of DC revived in Harper’s mind. She remembered saving this man’s daughter amidst the corpses but never knowing if they’d truly escaped.
“Karla?” Eli said, completely shocked and enamored by the girl’s presence.
“Our reunion can wait,” the man said as he hiked up the stairs surrounded by a train track. “Your friend is already up here.”
Tucked away in the second loft, Dustin paced back and forth. The tin bucket in the corner explained the overwhelming smell of feces. Crudely opened food cans stood next to an incomplete farm scenario on a table. Two sleeping bags were sprawled out across the center of the floor next to a black ash stain with remnants of a small fire.
“Harper. Eli.” Dustin stopped his pacing. Beads of the woman’s blood rolled from the side of his cap and into the sweat on his temple.
“Push the table with me,” the roguish man ordered. The five of them drove the miniature-granges table across the wood floor, stopping at the edge of the stairwell. “It’ll slow the bastards if they try to come up.”
“We need to get Levi and Charles,”
Harper stated. “Those supplies, too.”
“They’re dead,” Dustin said, chewing his nails. “Jesus, they are really dead.”
“We don’t know that,” argued Harper. “If there is even a chance they can still be alive, we need to save them.”
The roguish man chuckled and shook his head of greasy, stringy hair. “Good luck. If you think you’re the first to fall victim to the fine citizens of Briersville, you are sorely mistaken. If you weren’t packing heat, they would’ve hit you a lot sooner. You did find their stash, though. I’m jealous. I’ve been looking for that for the last…” He snapped his fingers to recall.
“Four frickin’ days,” Karla finished. Her cheeks were sunken, and her razor-scarred wrists were practically bone.
“Yep…” He smiled spitefully to the universe. His calculating and sunken eyes shifted to Harper. “You and your boy look pretty well fed, though.”
Nibbling on his nails, Dustin jerked his head.
Eli readjusted the shotgun in his grasp and beamed with sudden optimism. “Yeah, we’ve--”
“Gotten lucky,” Harper interrupted, wiping Dustin’s expression off his face.
“Very.” The girl squinted her eyes that were as cutting and turquoise as her father’s.
Quiet filled the stale, open floor.
“I’m going to keep lookout.” Blood hardening on his cap’s bill, Dustin stormed to the nearest window and hunkered low. With a swift motion, he cocked the bolt action of his rifle.
Eli combed his bangs away with his fingertips. “Karla, how’d you escape?”
“Sheer force of will,” the father replied for his daughter, his gaze fixed on Harper. “Your mother’s turret paved the way, of course. Speaking of which, you better help her guard this place. Those vagrants don’t like to leave a job half-finished.”
Harper patted Eli on the shoulder. “Come on.”
Her son looked back at Karla as Harper led him to a window near Dustin’s.
Disappointment and confusion caused a heavy frown on Eli’s tanned face. “Why can’t we tell them about the community?”