The Next World - RESISTANCE - Book 2 (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Jeff Olah

  Before they could answer, Declan turned back toward the four men and handed the rifle to Kirk. “Tell me.”

  “I put a round through the third-floor window,” Kirk said, “wanted to find out how many are staying there. Maybe get them out of the building, get a quick head count.”

  There must be something he wasn’t seeing. He was tired and so were his men, but none of it made any sense. “That doesn’t get us any closer to what we’re trying to do. What did you plan to do with that information?”

  “We need to find out who we’ll be fighting, if it comes to that.”

  Declan shook his head. “Fighting? You can’t even seem to figure out how to get to them. And even if you do, you’d better hope there isn’t a fight. That woman needs to be delivered in one piece. I don’t care what happens to the others, but that woman and the information she has is why we’re here.”

  Kirk set the rifle against the parapet, turned away from Declan, and started back toward the door to the stairs. “Do it yourself.”

  He let the younger man get about halfway before pulling back his jacket, sliding a matte-black .45 caliber pistol from his waist, and firing off a shot. As planned, it went high and to the right. The three men to his left flinched in unison, as if they weren’t expecting him to actually pull back on the trigger.

  Tommy started to speak, but then just stared at the floor when Declan turned to face him.

  Declan waited for Kirk to turn back. “You going somewhere?”

  Kirk balled his hands into fists and seemed to be shaking. Maybe from fear, maybe from rage. Declan figured it was probably a bit of both, thought about firing a second round, but quickly decided on something else.

  “Why don’t you come back and join us. I haven’t rung the dismissal bell just yet.”

  Kirk avoided looking in Declan’s direction and instead stared off into the city as he began walking back. “You know he’s not actually coming back, don’t you?”

  Declan smiled. “Who Goodwin?”

  With a quick glance toward the others and then back to Declan, Kirk folded his arms into his chest. “How many teams does he have out here? You actually think Goodwin’s just going to drive up to the front doors, take the elevator to your suite and give you the keys to the city?”

  Declan peered down at the weapon in his right hand, slowly raising it to Kirk’s head. “Go to the corner and jump.”

  Kirk turned toward the others once again, this time like he was looking for an ally. He unfolded his arms, dropped them to his side, and held out his hands. “Or what?”

  “I’m not really sure,” Declan said. “Maybe I’ll just shoot you in the leg and then throw you over, or maybe I’ll shoot you in the stomach and let the boys throw you over.”

  “I don’t think you’ll—”

  Before Kirk could finish, Declan moved to him, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed the pistol into the side of his face. “You don’t think I’ll do what?”

  Kirk was quiet. He was breathing more quickly than before, but other than that, didn’t appear appropriately shaken.

  “I realize you have some feelings about what’s going on here and that you’ve thought most of this through to the end. But what you don’t understand is that there really isn’t any other option for us, for any of us. This thing, this mess, it isn’t going away. And even if Goodwin never comes back, we still have a job to do.”

  As Kirk attempted to pull back, Declan released his grip, and pushed him away. The younger man with the short-cropped hair was taken from his feet and cartwheeled backward onto the gravel rooftop. Quickly scrambling to his hands and knees, he stared up at Declan, but still refused to speak.

  “So,” Declan said, “tomorrow. We’ll go around, take the highway all the way to the shore if we have to. No more delays.”

  “Declan …” Tommy stepped forward, his voice low and uncommitted. “The woman, what if she refuses?”

  Declan motioned toward Kirk, who had now started to stand. “She’s got her kids with her, right?”

  Kirk flared his nostrils, breathed out heavily, before finally nodding.

  Back to Tommy, Declan grinned. “Okay then, now we know where to push.” And eyeing the others, moving slowly from one to the next, he said, “Get some rest boys, we leave at dawn.”

  11

  The steady breath against his face was sour. Short rapid breaths that could only be from one of two people. Owen fought back the urge to laugh and wondered how long he could hold out. It was a game he’d played with his son more times than he could recall; however, the first in the last few years. He wanted to open his eyes, to let Noah off the hook, to see his wide smile and his deep-set dimples. But he also didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance to share this with his son.

  He simply didn’t want the moment to end.

  Noah’s face was coming closer. His nose just beside Owen’s right ear. The breath sounds growing louder with each pulse. Owen finally counted to three and then quickly snapped open his eyes and turned to his son. “You sir, are violating my personal space, and you know what that means.”

  Noah jumped back, sat in the chair he was kneeling on. “Dad, come on, let’s go outside.”

  Owen almost forgot where he was, wished he would have. Sitting up in the long booth he’d used for a bed, he ran his hand through his hair and yawned so hard his jaw felt as though it might unhinge.

  “Where’s your mom?”

  Noah pointed toward the open front doors. “Mom’s outside with Zeus and Ava.”

  “What about Kevin?”

  Noah looked toward the stairs, rounded his shoulders, and leaned in toward Owen. “I think he’s up there with Lucas, they took the guns.”

  The ache in his stomach told him that he needed to eat, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. It was the first time in the last six days that he’d risen after the sun. He needed to rest, but now felt a step behind on the day.

  “They say what they were doing?”

  “Kevin was talking to Mom, but I don’t know. Something about Lucas shooting the rifle.”

  His mind began to put together the pieces of his son’s brief explanation, and then attempted to start filling in the parts that didn’t seem to fit, although he figured—just like everything else—that the truth was much less devious than his imagination.

  Leave it alone Owen, you know it’s nothing.

  Reaching for Noah’s face, he looked the nine-year-old over. “You get anything to eat this morning?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you didn’t save anything for me?”

  Noah rocked back in the chair. “Nope, Mom said to tell you that you’re on your own.”

  Owen hardened his look, stared over Noah’s shoulder toward the front doors. “She did, did she?”

  Noah smiled wide and placed his hand over his mouth. He began to laugh, but then choked back a mouth full of air and began to cough.

  “Excuse me sir, are you in need of medical attention?”

  Noah let out a hiccup, his eyes going wide as he nearly toppled out of the chair.

  Owen leaned forward, reached for Noah’s arm, and noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He slid his son off the chair and into the booth, turning quickly to his left.

  “Owen.”

  Lucas stood just inside the door to the exterior stairs. He was breathing hard and motioning toward the street. “She’s back.”

  Owen began to ask, but then it hit him. He pushed out of the booth, slipped on his shoes, and started toward the stairs. “Lucas, get Natalie and Ava inside. Tell them to stay put until I come back.”

  “What about—”

  “Get them inside and stay here with Noah. No one goes outside or leaves this room.”

  Lucas was still contemplating a response, the look on his face reading as confusion.

  As Owen approached the stairs and grabbed his weapon, Lucas stepped aside. “Lucas, you getting this?”

 
The teen only managed a single word. “Yeah.”

  Owen didn’t have the time to explain what he’d seen the previous night. For now, he needed to deal with the problem right in front of his face. The other fires would have to wait. No matter how big they were, or how monumental they might become.

  Owen stepped out of the hatch and onto the roof, jogging toward his friend in a crouched position. “It’s her?”

  Kevin motioned him over, now standing at the northeast corner of the roof and looking oddly relaxed. “Yeah, check it out.”

  Less than a hundred yards away, the woman from the day before stood holding a sign above her head. She was only visible from the waist up and in nearly the same position she’d been when Owen had run out into the street. Written in what looked like charcoal, three giant words were scribbled out on a piece of tattered cardboard.

  WE NEED HELP

  Owen glared at the sign for a few seconds, but it seemed like it was longer than that. He felt the urge to run, to react, to do something other than just stare back at the woman and her sign. “How long has she been out here?”

  “Same as yesterday.”

  “And the sign?”

  “At first she just waved her arms over her head. I guess she wanted to be sure we were watching. She just pulled the sign out a minute ago.”

  That wasn’t what he was asking. “No,” Owen said, “what do think we should do?”

  As the woman lowered the sign and now just stood with her arms at her side, Kevin turned to face him. “What do you think?”

  “We really don’t have much of a choice.”

  “We don’t have a choice or you don’t have a choice? Don’t let this turn into something it’s not. There are a few ways this could go, and only one of them ends well for us. I think we need to remember that.”

  Owen stepped to the edge of the roof, dropped to one knee and looked out toward the interstate. It was worse than the night before and now had him doubting his decision to keep it to himself. “Let’s find out what she wants.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  12

  They were running out of time, but Owen needed to finish this. He watched the alley that ran alongside the building across the street, now beginning to slide the nine millimeter from his belt.

  “Owen,” Kevin reached for the gate. “Let’s at least allow her to cross, I don’t think she’s going to give us any trouble.”

  Owen looked over briefly, made eye contact. “You willing to bet your life on that?

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  His attention quickly turned back to the street, Owen gripped the gun in his left hand. “Then what are you saying?”

  Kevin scratched at the side of his face, sounding like he was already growing tired of the back and forth. “Just that not everything is as black and white as you want it to be.”

  “You doing it again, trying to teach me some sort of life lesson? Trying to show me how to focus on what’s important? You wanting me to prove—”

  Owen’s voice dropped away as the woman from the roof leaned out away from the alley and looked first at him, and then down toward the end of the block. She stepped quickly to the sidewalk, her limp from the day before now only a slight hitch.

  From his right, Kevin held his hand out, placed it carefully over the weapon in Owen’s hand, and quietly cleared his throat. “She’s not armed and looks scared.”

  Owen’s eyes locked on the woman; he didn’t turn or blink. “Yeah?”

  “You want her to run again?”

  He spoke quietly out of the side of his mouth, almost as if on autopilot. “No.”

  “Then focus on what we’re—”

  Owen pushed Kevin’s hand back, finally turning toward him. “I know what I’m doing.” His voice now ratcheting with each word. “You just worry about yourself.”

  Kevin stepped in front of the gate, almost nose to nose with Owen. He kept his voice low, but spoke quickly. “Come on man, she’s not a threat. You know that.”

  The woman had stopped on the opposite side of the street. She teetered at the edge of the sidewalk, again looking from Owen, to the end of the block, and then back to Owen. Her eyes said she’d been awake much longer than was healthy, and her drawn features spoke to the disaster that this world had become.

  He figured Kevin was right, but was done taking chances. His family came first … no matter what.

  “Hey.” Owen wasn’t sure exactly what to say. There were many things, but with Kevin drilling a hole in the side of his head, they all seemed much too aggressive.

  The woman stepped off the sidewalk and offering a weak smile, began to raise her hands. “I’m sorry.”

  Her voice sounded as though she hadn’t used it for quite some time. It was low, raspy, and hesitant. She walked with her shoulders rounded and her head down. And again, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  Kevin moved past Owen and looked to the intersection beyond their building. He turned back to the woman and then reached for the lock. “We shouldn’t be doing this out here. We either need to let her in or turn her away now. There isn’t time for anything else.”

  “Unlock it, but leave the chain on.” Owen leaned into the gate and as the woman stepped up onto the curb fifteen feet away, he held up his hand. “Stay right there.”

  She stopped, but again turned to face the intersecting street to her right. “I need some help, my—”

  Owen again held up his hand, quickly looking her over. “Are you alone?”

  She shook her head, but didn’t answer, looked like she was afraid to speak. He didn’t like what that said, but also didn’t get the feeling that she was a threat. Maybe Kevin was right.

  But then again …

  “Who are you with, where are they?”

  The woman wiped her eyes, swallowed hard. She was at that helpless moment just before a complete breakdown. Owen had seen it many times, only now he was on the opposite end.

  To his right Kevin sensed it too. He slipped the chain from around the gate but before pulling it open, turned to Owen. “Let’s figure this out inside.”

  Owen made a point of looking into the woman’s eyes. And when she finally met his stare, he slipped the nine millimeter into his pants and nodded to Kevin. “Yeah.”

  The woman’s eyes were full as she looked from Owen to Kevin and then back. She blinked every few seconds and slowly opened her mouth, saliva sticking in the corners. “Wait.”

  Kevin held tight to the chain-link, slowing the gate as he stepped into the opening. “Wait?”

  The woman was shaking, her arms, her legs, she even appeared to convulse as she turned and looked back toward the alley. “I can’t.”

  Owen now also reached for the gate. He slowly pulled it away from Kevin, and stood on the sidewalk with his hands raised and his palms facing out. “It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt you. We just want to help.”

  He knew what was coming, should have seen it earlier and made the adjustment. But it was too late. The woman took a step back, turned, and started to run.

  Before she was even half way across the street, Owen was on the move. Her strides were less than half of his, and although she was fast, he was already gaining ground.

  Up onto the opposite sidewalk and approaching the alley, the woman turned the corner first. She cut left and darted around a dumpster, leapt a motionless corpse, and then again increased her pace.

  Within five feet, Owen reached out for the back of her shirt, but only managed to grab a handful of nothing. He tried to speak, his words coming in short bursts, between deep swallows if air. “Come on … we only … want to …”

  He now thought back to his conversation with Kevin and wondered if chasing this woman was the right decision. Was this what was best for his family or was he simply feeding a personal obsession?

  He didn’t even need to ask. The answer should have been clear as soon as he stepped through the gate.

&
nbsp; Owen quickly slowed to a walk and then paused a moment to catch his breath. “We can help you, you just need to let us.”

  As if awakened by his words, the woman came to an abrupt stop. She stood facing away, her hands hanging at her sides. She looked like she was going to turn, but then didn’t. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come out here.”

  Owen looked over his shoulder, saw Kevin standing thirty feet back. His friend motioned toward the end of the block and pointed at his wrist.

  Back to the woman he said, “What’s your name?”

  The woman turned her head back, tears continuing to run down her dirty cheeks. “Harper.”

  Owen slowly started forward, each step carefully placed. “Okay Harper, we can help, but there isn’t time. We have to go … right now.”

  She finally lifted her head, again wiped at her face, and pointed toward the opposite end of the alley. “It’s my grandmother…she’s weak. She needs help.”

  13

  Owen sat across the table from Harper Rhyes and her grandmother, Cookie. They ate quickly and without speaking more than a handful of words. Once finished, the older woman pushed back in her seat and looked around the room.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Owen said. “No trouble at all.”

  Natalie came out of the kitchen, followed closely by Kevin and Zeus. She had another plate of rice and two glasses of water. “I hope the two of you are still hungry.”

  Harper began to shake her head, although Cookie turned to Natalie and smiled wide. “Yes, thank you.”

  Natalie set the plate and the glasses on the table and took a seat beside Owen. She waited for Kevin to slide into the booth to her right and watched as Zeus trotted to the front doors. “So, the two of you have been alone out there for the last week?”

  Harper stopped short of raising her glass to her mouth and turned to her grandmother.

  Owen rested his arms at his sides, shifting slightly away from Natalie. His wife was never one to mince words, and he knew from her tone that the question had multiple layers. Ones that weren’t going to be easy to answer. Their new visitors may not have picked up on it, although he could see where this was headed and felt the need to interject.