“My Bubby has always been heroic. This is wonderful. And he’s fine?”
Candice replied, “They’re playing pied piper, they were leading the infected away. Beret made us come in before they got back. I’m sure he’s safe. He’s with our friends.”
“Then they’ll all be back,” Leon said assuredly.
Grace was about to say more, keep the conversation going, ask Leona what she knew or had heard, when she spotted Eugene.
The spoon clanked against Candice’s cup. “Oh no. Where’s Max?”
Eugene was speaking to Paul and when he made eye contact with Grace, he held up his hand and walked over.
“What happened?” Grace asked. “Where are Max and Myron?”
Eugene pointed back with his thumb. “Myron is adjusting the ladder. Max is um …”
Candice gasped. “He died?”
“No, no, no.” Eugene held up his hand. “He’s outside.”
Leona stood from the table. “You look worse for wear. I’m gonna get you some soup.”
“Thank you. I’d kill for some ibuprofen as well. My head is killing me.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Leona winked and excused herself, walking back to the lunch lady kitchen.
“Where is he?” Grace asked.
Eugene leaned into the table.
“He is dead,” Candice said. “Isn’t he?”
“He is not dead, Grace.”
“I like Max. He is misunderstood.”
“I bet. Good word. Big word.” Eugene said. “Anyhow, he’s out there trying to find a car and get supplies. He really doesn’t think this is a good idea. He just wants to have things ready in case we have to run. It’s bad out there. There’s a ton of the Ragers. We drew a lot of them away, but they’ll be back.” He glanced up when Leona brought the soup and he thanked her.
“Will my grandson’s escape plan work?” Leona asked. “Can we get out with that many of the sick people out there?”
“Yes,” Eugene nodded. “For now. That’s why it’s probably best not to stay here.”
“Hmm,” Leona said. She placed her hands over Candice’s ears and said softly, “This place is a deathtrap. A tragedy waiting to happen. I can feel it in my bones. I also feel…” she lowered her hands, “until there is a better option and a definite place to go, this is our safest bet. Just my thoughts. Take it for what it’s worth.”
“What do you think?” Eugene asked Grace.
“I think there are so many out there,” Grace replied. “If we leave, until this thing is over, we’re going to be running, trying to be one step ahead. I look around, I see concrete walls and steel doors. As long as we have food and Immune that can go out and get more, I think this is not only our safest, but our best option. There’s not another one.” She looked at Leona. “No offense.”
“None, taken,” Leona said.
“Are you saying you want to stay?” Eugene asked.
“Yes. Until the time comes when we have to leave.”
“And what happens when that time comes and we can’t?” Leona asked. “You have a child here, so this cannot be a cross the bridge, or rather fire ladder, when we get to it.”
“You’re right. I honestly don’t think it will come to that,” Grace said. “How could it?”
<><><><>
He felt inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. The key master, the thinker, the person obsessed with the radio. Other than those few things, no one really paid much attention to Paul. Sure, they gave him the time of day, were considerate about asking to do things. After all, in a sense, the shelter was his ‘house’. If they were leaving or changing something it was the polite thing to do.
The bottom line was, no one cared. If he were a character in a book, people would be waiting on his death. He supposed in life there were people who lived their lives, never making a mark outside their daily jobs.
Paul had the chance to shine. However, he just couldn’t hit that point.
Stanton was a different story. He not only was instinctively a leader, he’d had it together, or at least projected it. Paul was a plethora of emotions, most of which were anger and sadness. He was hurt because Stanton had been killed. It was senseless. Stanton should have never have gone on the recovery expedition.
It was a great loss to the shelter. A good man who could have made the difference was gone. His men were not taking it well. Two had told Paul they were taking a break from duty and would probably head out.
Everyone in the shelter knew Stanton. He was the one that had updated the residents, walked the floor at night checking on people. He projected a sense of safety and calm, and Paul wasn’t sure he could fill those shoes.
The news about Stanton’s death was delivered by Myron. The young man choked up.
“I told you not to take him,” Paul said. “I said it was dangerous.”
Like a child being scolded by a parent, Myron took the verbal hit personally and his demeanor sunk even further. Not even the fact that he helped that family made a difference.
Paul would speak to him later, possibly apologize for coming down so hard on him. It wasn’t Myron’s fault, it was an emotional time.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tara said via their radio communication when she heard the news. “We lost two men today when they went out to clear infected from around the buildings.”
“This is insane, Tara.”
“Staying in and close to the city isn’t a viable option anymore. We have thirty-two people here. A small enough group to move. Where, I don’t know yet. We made phone contact with Cee the DJ. We’re gonna try to pull off a rescue for her. She is still getting calls and has been marking locations.”
“So you’re gonna be a martyr and go out saving people?”
“Hey, you do what you have to do. You of all people should be out there. You’re immune. You walk among them. If I was, nothing would stop me.”
Yes, Paul thought, but you don’t have cowardly tendencies. I do. I wanted to run before this shelter shit, and now I hate my decision. He didn’t outwardly convey his thoughts, becoming silent for a moment then cleared his throat. “Did Cee say if she heard anything from anywhere outside of the city?”
“No. But we’re all— hold on,” Tara said in a rush. Paul waited, listening to the silence of the radio. He looked down to the cup of chicken soup that had been placed before him. It had grown cold.
“Paul,” Tara said with some exuberance when she returned. “You are not gonna believe this.’
“Good news?”
“Awesome news. It’s not global. I mean, it’s pretty much global, but there are uninfected areas.”
Paul paused, setting down the radio for a moment. It was great news. “How do you know?”
“We have been calling out constantly. We got word from a radio operator in Canada.”
“So Canada is infection free?”
“Not all. Mid provinces and Northwest Territories are low population areas and aren’t seeing it like us, and have been able to control it. He said he hasn’t reached many in the US, but apparently Russia is battling it better than we are.”
Paul exhaled. “This is great. Are they sending help?”
“Help?” Tara asked. “Paul, no one is coming to help. If we want help, we have to do it ourselves.”
“Great. Then we’re back to square one. Radio communications or not.”
“How can you say that? We can head to the safe zones in Canada.”
Paul laughed then lifted the radio again. “Trek dozens of people thousands of miles through millions of dangerous infected. That’s not an option or reality, Tara. Canada may as well be Russia right now. Because it’ll be just as impossible to get to.”
He set down the radio, grabbed his soup, and walked from the office. Tara kept calling and Paul returned to lower the volume. She may have been excited about the prospect of safe zones, but to Paul it was a fantasy.
When he returned to the gym he saw the reality. And that was, th
ey were trapped. Trapped in a dead city in nothing less than what would soon be a concrete tomb.
TWELVE – BAGGED
Max found a Toyota and parked it pretty close to the school, loaded it with supplies, then made his way through the growing number of infected. There were so many of them pressed against the glass, running their hands up and down, causing a squealing noise. He had two bags across his shoulders, and he reached for the door. It was locked. Which was a good thing, because when he withdrew his hands, several of the infected tried to open the door.
Wondering how he was supposed to get in, Max made his way around the circumference of the building until he spotted a soldier in the clearing out back, having a cigarette. The solider showed him a door propped open by a shoe and Max, after thanking him walked in.
He had been gone for hours. The community of Caramount was self-sufficient in that it had every type of store necessary, and Max had hit as many as he could. After seeing how many infected were around the school, he was even more convinced they had to leave.
After recalling Myron had told him something about the gym, Max wandered the halls, following the sounds of life until he saw the gym doors.
They were closed and he knew why. The interior gym doors were directly across from the glass ones where the infected were gathered.
He slipped though the first set of doors, pausing inside to look around. There weren’t that many people, yet he didn’t see Grace. He did, however, see Candice sitting at a table and it looked like she was coloring.
There was a desk by the door and a frazzled looking man sat there. He peered up when Max walked in. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, no, I’m good thanks. I see one of my party right over there.”
“You can’t go in. We have to register you.”
“I’m sure they did already. They came in with Myron.”
“Oh. You must be Max. I know they were concerned about your return. I’m Paul. I run the shelter.” He extended his hand to Max.
“Nice to meet you. Thanks for having us. Can you excuse me?”
“Sure.”
Max walked over to the table, placed his bags down, then sat next to Candice. “Hey.”
She glanced up. “Hey. I was worried. Where were you?”
“I was getting us some things. I didn’t mean to make you worry. Where’s your mom and Eugene?’
“Getting blankets and stuff. I guess we’re sleeping here tonight.”
“It won’t be for long. I have stuff ready to go outside, so when we can get out, we will.”
“Where will we go?”
“Have they said anything about safe places?”
Candice shook her head. “Not that I heard.”
“We’ll figure it out. How is your mom doing?”
Candice shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
Max leaned closer. “How are you doing?”
“I’m sad about my sister.”
“I bet. Hey…” he pulled one bag forward. “I know we had to leave our bags behind, so while I was out….” He reached in and pulled out a big bag of chocolate pieces. “I got this for you. This bag has some goodies for us while we’re here.”
“Thank you! What’s in the other backpack?”
“Oh, grown up stuff. Things I found that we’ll need.”
She muttered “Oh” and returned to her coloring book.
“Candice, I know this is rough on you. I do. I’m not so much a kid person.”
“Yeah, you told me. Remember? Last night. But then you gave me food. Like today.”
“Well, I really don’t know what else to do. If you need anything, you can ask me.”
She nodded, then paused as if she were on freeze. “Are we gonna die?”
Her question threw him and Max was at a loss on how to respond. Her question conveyed her fear and doing the best he could, Max replied, “No.”
“Really?”
“I think we’re though the worst of it.” Max looked up. “Yeah. We’re though the worst of it. It’s moving forward from here on in. We’re fine. We aren’t gonna die.”
“Promise?”
Max cleared his throat then after a slight hesitation said, “I promise.”
“I have one more question.”
“What’s that?”
“Can you open these for me, please?” She pushed the bag of candy his way.
“That,” he said as he ripped open the bag, “I can do.”
<><><><>
The gymnasium roof offered the best view, but wasn’t the easiest one. While he tried to put on a cool exterior, Myron could see that Eugene was still a little shaken. His words were choppy and he kept fumbling with things in the supply closet. He felt bad both Eugene and Grace were dealing with losses. Myron didn’t have words to give them because he didn’t know what to say. Even his grandmother’s chicken soup didn’t help, but he knew something else of his grandmother’s would.
Her vodka.
“Do you mind, Gram, if I give him some? I can go out and get more.”
“No, he needs it. Poor man. I had no idea he lost his daughter, and Grace, oh, that poor soul as well. Offer her some.”
“I will, thanks.” Myron took the clear plastic bottle of vodka, shoved it in his coat pocket.
“Bubby,” Gram said, grabbing his arm. “Do me a favor. Keep an eye out on Paul, will you? He seems off and nervous. Like he’s hiding something.”
“Nah, Gram, he just has a lot to deal with. Stanton dying wasn’t easy, he kind of freaked on me.”
“Why?’
“Because he didn’t want Stanton to go in the first place.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t want Stanton to go because Stanton did everything. You know it and I know it. He knows something, Bubby. I worked at the bank for years, I know when people are hiding things and are on the edge.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
He found Eugene and, under the guise of wanting to show him something, he took him to the east wing roof.
“Here.” Myron extended the vodka bottle to him.
“Oh, I’m not a drinker.”
“Have some. You’re kind of frazzled and it’ll help. Think of it as liquid Xanax.”
Eugene chuckled and took a sip. He wiped his mouth and stared out. “Holy shit.”
“Best vantage point would be the gym, but we can see things coming from here.”
“They’re relentless,” Eugene said and took another sip. “Thanks for all your help today.”
“Not a problem. Where were you headed?”
“Actually… here. We didn’t intend to stay, though. We stopped by to see if you had any information. Like will this last? Are there any safe areas?”
“Answers we don’t have,” Myron said. “Paul mans the radio and I am sure as soon as he hears of a safe area, we’ll be packing up. This is a great shelter, but if we get completely surrounded, even for us Immune, it can be a coffin.”
“The only safe place is one with few infected.”
“Small town maybe,” Myron shrugged. “If there were an end to this madness, we could hunker somewhere safe and high. Wait to see if these things will die off. But we don’t know.”
“I can’t see how they’ll last forever. They’re only people. Dead or alive, right?”
“Right.”
“Max wants to leave,” Eugene said. “He has a car packed, that’s where he was. He wants to take Grace and Candice and go. Back roads south of the city aren’t as bad as these. Shoot for the south, stay in houses at night. Only houses with an attached garage. Park in there, leave from there.”
“With him being immune, he can clean out a house.”
“Him and Grace.”
Myron whistled. “So you’re not thinking immediate, you’re thinking long term?”
“Yeah. I mean we just met Grace. She rescued us actually. She’s a good woman. I have no doubt she can’t make it on her own. She feels better having us around, I thin
k.”
“For sure,” Myron said. “I want what’s best for my grandmother. She’s all I have in this world. Maybe… maybe, you know, we can come with you guys. I’m immune so I can be a help.”
“Absolutely, I’ll talk to Max and we’ll—”
“Unbelievable.” The voice carried to them across the roof.
Myron looked over his shoulder. It was Paul. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Is that why you’re up here? To plot and plan?”
Myron laughed at the ridiculous notion and didn’t even understand what Paul meant. “Plot and plan what?”
“To leave.”
Eugene cleared his throat. “Paul, it’s not like that and even if it was, why sneak? Myron’s not a prisoner here.”
“He made a commitment. When he arrived he committed to helping. Stanton is gone, I need you here. You can’t go. My god, Myron, you would still be in that apartment if I hadn’t opened this place. All of you would have nowhere to go, yet no one wants to help keep this place going. Unbelievable. This is the gratitude—”
“Dude, honestly, chill.” Myron held up his hand. “Way out of control.”
“Aren’t we all planning on leaving anyhow?” Eugene asked. “I mean, this is a temporary shelter. Eventually, people will have to find safe permanent shelter. Myron devised a way out. If we can move them—”
“You aren’t moving them anywhere. You and your little crew are self-focused and you know it. Myron isn’t. Besides, you won’t outrun them. Good luck out there, but I will advise against moving forty people to their deaths, because that’s what it is. There is nowhere to go.”
As abruptly as he entered, Paul left. Had he followed them to the roof? His behavior was odd but to Myron, not unexpected’ he was under a lot of stress.
“Wow,” Eugene said. “Sorry I got you in trouble.”
“In trouble? He’s not my dad. Although, he could be, I don’t remember him. That would be weird, wouldn’t it? If he were my long lost dad.”
Eugene laughed, took one more sip of the vodka and handed the bottle back to Myron. “Let's go thank your grandmother for this.”
“She has a spare. And for the record, I said I’d help here, but I am focused on my grandmother. She is first.”
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