by Jeff Olah
“It must have been rough.”
Cookie set her fork on her plate. “My granddaughter is much tougher than she looks; she’s the reason we’re still here.”
“Where are you from?”
“The city, downtown.”
Owen leaned back into the table and folded his hands. He looked toward the windows at the northwest corner of the building and then back to the women.
There wasn’t time.
He also wasn’t asking the right questions and knew that sooner or later, Natalie would jump back in. He needed to get through this and back to what mattered most. “My friends and I … we aren’t staying here.” He then turned to Harper. “What are your plans?”
Cookie swallowed a small sip of water, wiped her chin, and pushed aside her plate. Her expression told him that she was understandably caught off guard by the question. “We don’t have a plan, does anyone? Do you?”
Owen forced back a smile. The older woman’s no-nonsense attitude reminded him of his wife. Only now he was intrigued, rather than apprehensive. She continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer, but all he could focus on was the world beyond their building and the next several hours.
“We do have a plan, but unfortunately it doesn’t involve staying here. Not even for another day.” He glanced to Natalie, her eyes now narrowed and drilling a hole in the side of his head. “You’re welcome to come with us, but if you’d like to stay here we’ll understand.”
Harper slid her chair away from the table, looked as though she might stand. “My grandmother is in no shape to travel. This is the first time she’s eaten in the last few days. She’s weak and just needs some time. Maybe a couple of days.”
Owen looked to Kevin, and then Natalie, and finally back to the two women. “I’m sorry, but we’re leaving tonight. We’re heading to the coast and if we don’t go soon, there’s a chance we won’t be able to.”
Natalie placed her arm on the table and raised her hand. “Uh, excuse me? I thought that you said we’d have to wait another three days?”
He should have had this conversation with her separately, although he was here now, and figured he’d kill two birds with the same stone. “Yeah, things have changed a bit.”
“Things have changed? What things and when did they change?”
Her sarcastic tone said she didn’t believe him. He’d heard it more times than he could recall, but now didn’t care. For once, there was a good reason.
He didn’t like the idea of unraveling the details in front of their guests; however, they might also benefit from hearing what he had to say. “It was this morning.”
Natalie’s voice inched up. “This morning?”
“Well, I first spotted it late last night, but wasn’t sure.” He turned briefly to Kevin and then back to his wife. “It wasn’t until this morning that I knew for sure.”
“What? What did you know for sure? What is it Owen?”
Again to Kevin and then back to Natalie, he said, “The crowds, they’re migrating this way. I’m not sure why, but if we don’t leave soon, we won’t be able to.”
Now it was Natalie’s turn. She looked to Kevin, and then back to Owen. “What do you mean, won’t be able to? Couldn’t we take another route, maybe just go around the crowds?”
“That was my plan two days ago, but now it won’t work. If we don’t go soon …”
Owen stopped. He didn’t even want to voice it, thought that maybe if he never spoke the words that it may not actually come to pass.
Kevin shifted in his chair, looked to Natalie, and finished Owen’s thought. “If we don’t go today, we won’t be able to. The crowds are going to encircle this place, probably within the next twenty-four hours. We may be safe locked behind these gates, but even that won’t last very long. Owen’s right, we have to go. And the sooner the better.”
Cookie took a slow sip of water, slid the glass to the center of the table, and began to step out of the booth. “Mr. Mercer?”
“Owen, just Owen.”
“Owen …” She turned to Harper. “We want to go with you. We won’t be any trouble and will pull our own weight. My granddaughter is tough, tougher than most, but so am I. We aren’t about to give up, not even close.”
He let a soft grin slide across his face. “Okay, okay. I believe you. You don’t need to sell me on—”
“MR. MERCER!”
It was Lucas. He was moving quickly along the outside stairwell and shot through the doors just as everyone in the room turned.
Moving through the dining room, Lucas dropped his voice, but not his intensity. “Mr. Mercer, there’s a problem.”
Owen pushed out of the booth, his pulse rocketing. “What is it?”
Lucas stopped at the table twenty feet away. “They got through. I don’t know how, but they’re inside the gates.”
14
Owen jogged to the opposite side of the room. The windows at the northeast corner offered the best possible view, and if his predictions were correct, that’s where they had gotten in. He quickly pushed a chair into the wall, climbed atop, and pressed his face into the backside of the glass.
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, his eyes darting from one end of the property to the other.
“Oh shit …”
Reaching into his lower back, he felt the handle of the Glock, stepped off the chair, and turned to the others. “We have to go now, right now.”
Natalie was already heading toward the stairs. She spoke under her breath to Harper and Cookie, then started toward the stairs. “AVA, NOAH?”
Owen crossed the dining room, his eyes watching the front doors and the windows on either side. “Nat, where are the kids?”
As she continued in the opposite direction, crossing paths with Kevin and Lucas, she shouted back, only turning slightly toward him. “They were going to the third floor.”
“For what?”
She didn’t answer.
Now moving toward their new guests, Owen slowed. “There really isn’t time to talk this over, we’re leaving. And I’m going to need you both to follow Kevin out to the black truck.” He made eye contact with his friend, offered a nod. “He’ll make sure you’re safe, just do what he says.”
He turned away as Kevin led Harper and Cookie toward the doors, Zeus now up on all fours, waiting for instruction. Ahead, Natalie and Lucas had moved into the interior stairwell and disappeared, only his wife’s voice could be heard echoing down to the first floor.
“AVA, NOAH?”
Owen stopped. He took a half-second to look around and think through his next move, to attempt to focus through the fear. Running to the stairs, he stopped at the door. “NAT, LET’S GO!”
Somewhere above, a door opened and voices shot through the narrow space. He closed his eyes and just listened for a moment. There was Noah, breathing hard and asking questions without waiting for answers. His daughter also—she was speaking over her brother and making sure Lucas had alerted her father.
The last voice was his wife. It was low and rushed. As he stepped into the stairwell and looked up, he caught a glimpse of her coming out onto the third-floor platform and hurrying the others along. “Come on, we’re getting out of here, we don’t have time, just … just go!”
Owen backed away as his children and his wife moved out of the stairs and ran the short distance to the front door. He followed, keeping one eye on the windows over his right shoulder.
With the group now gathered near the front doors, Owen turned first to Kevin. “Let’s just get through the gates and out onto Sixth. Once we have them at our backs we can decide how far out we want to go.”
Kevin nodded. “Okay, I’ll take our new friends out first, have Zeus run interference. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Next, over to Natalie, he motioned toward the front lot and handed her a key ring. “Get the kids to the SUV. I’ll come out with Lucas and he’ll drive.”
She began to respond, but he had already turned and started for the
kitchen. “Lucas, let’s go.”
Ava called out. “Dad, what are you—”
Without turning, he interrupted. “No time sweetheart, I need you to help your mother and your brother. I promise Lucas and I will be fine.”
Into the kitchen and scanning the cooktop, Owen reached for a pair of egg timers, handed one of them to Lucas, and gripped the other in his left hand. “Your idea, you get the honors.”
Lucas didn’t hesitate. He dropped it into the pocket of his sweatshirt and then looked back toward the dining room. “Now?”
“This is it buddy.”
The teen’s hands were shaking. He again looked toward the doors and then back to Owen. “Thank you.”
Owen grinned. He had, for the moment, forgotten about the man he used to be and was somehow able to quiet the voices in his head. His mind hadn’t had the time to drift, hadn’t had the chance to fall into the darkness that usually took hold. It felt good, it felt new, it felt like what Natalie and the kids would need from him.
Back through the doors and into the main dining room, Owen jogged alongside Lucas. They reached the doors as the others stood just outside, waiting for the right moment to make their move.
Kevin inched to the edge of the building and slowly peered around the corner. He turned back to the others and waved them forward, his voice only a soft whisper. “Go now, get to the trucks.”
Owen kissed Natalie and the kids, pointed them toward the light-colored SUV, and turned to Lucas. “Okay, you ready for this?”
The teen brushed the hair away from his face and nodded. “Yes sir.”
“This was your idea. Remember how this works and what you told me about how you’ve seen those things move. We’ve got one shot at this, so let’s get it right.”
Lucas stalled for a moment and then turned to meet Owen’s eyes. He was breathing fast and his lips were a lighter shade than they were two minutes before. “Yeah, I got it.”
Owen placed his hand on Lucas’s shoulder and leaned in close, made sure to maintain eye contact. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
The others moved quickly to the vehicles, just slightly ahead of the crowd as Owen motioned toward a grouping of a half dozen Feeders. “As soon as they pass in front of the gate, we go. Stay on my left side until we reach the corner, and then get out there and do your thing.”
Lucas looked like he was going to speak, but then just nodded. He was again breathing faster and now licked his lips, he looked scared.
More scared than Owen would have liked. “Hey, you don’t have to do this. We can—”
The teen used his forearm to nudge Owen forward and then pushing past, started toward the corner of the building. He was two paces ahead before Owen even realized what was happening. “HEY!”
Lucas jogged a few strides ahead and then as Owen began to pull alongside, he broke into a sprint. As they came to within twenty feet of the corner, he reached into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled free the egg timer. Now scanning the crowd, he twisted the dial forward and then quickly back, the bell beginning to ring even as he tossed it to the back of the lot.
Owen slowed. He took a quick glance over his shoulder, now eyeing Natalie as she helped their children into the rear seats, started the engine, and closed the doors. Turning back, he rotated the dial on the second egg timer, pausing a moment to watch the movement of the crowds before twisting it forward.
The horde had noticed the ringing bell, but was slow to turn. The majority instead remained focused on Owen and Lucas, now out of the shadows afforded by the massive structure at their backs.
He looked for a pattern, something that would indicate how the next thirty seconds would play out. He could launch the second device, hope it would stay in one piece, hope it would ring for more than just a few seconds, and then in turn, would begin to pull the crowds away from his friends.
But as the first egg timer fell silent, he started to see the bigger picture.
This wasn’t going to work.
None of it.
Three quick-moving Feeders turned the corner—almost appeared to be running—and locked on Lucas. They were less than two strides away when the teen became aware, and now had his path to the gate blocked.
“Owen?”
Sixty feet to his right, Kevin had begun to back his truck toward the fence. He waved Lucas and Owen away from the building and appeared to be mouthing some sort of instruction; however, his voice was lost to the interior of the massive black pickup.
Owen pulled the Glock, looked toward Lucas, and motioned toward the gate. “GO, GET TO THE GATE, DON’T WAIT FOR ME!”
He was already running toward his family, and only slowed once to check if the teen had done what he’d said. Lucas had started forward, but then hesitated as another group of four rounded the truck and joined the others.
“LUCAS, YOU HAVE TO MOVE, RIGHT NOW!”
As the two groups converged, now gaining the attention of another half dozen, Lucas stopped moving. Forty feet from the gate, and another ten to Kevin, he looked from the crowds, to the gates, to the truck, and then finally back to Owen. His face was wet with tears and sweat. He opened his mouth to speak, but then turned away and dropped to his knees.
He wasn’t going to make it.
The teen had saved his family only days before, and on more than one occasion. Now Owen was going to return the favor.
15
The crowds had followed the exact path he had assumed they would. Through downtown and spilling out onto the east side. They moved slow and were now beginning to bottleneck as the first wave reached the end of Sixth Street. Hundreds of Feeders pushed into the former garment district, blocking off access to the highway, and for the moment, everything else.
Jerome Declan sat in the passenger seat of a white BMW X6 and was content to simply wait and watch. He ran his hand along the edge of the window, held back a grin, and turned to look at the man in the driver’s seat.
“Kirk …”
The younger man shook his head and exhaled in a low groan. He didn’t answer right away, and instead turned his eyes to the sidewalk outside his window. “Let’s not do this.”
Declan unbuckled his seatbelt. He turned to first look at the three men in the second row, and then back to Kirk. “Do what?”
“I’m not really in the mood for this. Why don’t we just focus on what we came out here to do?”
Declan slapped his right hand against the dash and turned back to the others. “He’s not in the mood fellas, how about that?” Then back to Kirk he leaned in close. “How about you humor me for the next hour, what do you say?”
Kirk continued to stare out the window, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, his arms flexed at the elbow. He sat quiet for what seemed like a full minute and then turned to face Declan, “Okay.” A fake smile started across his face. “Whatta want to chat about?”
Declan nodded. “That-a-boy.” He reached out and laid his left hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “See, it’s not that hard, you just have try.”
From the back seat there was a short burst of laughter that was quickly stilted. The young man in the middle sat up straight and turned to look out through the driver’s side window.
Declan’s smile returned as he looked into the back row, slowly drawing out the young man’s name. “Thomas Jefferson …”
The former college basketball star was bright pink, his hands folded in his lap, and his shoulders frozen in a permanent shrug. “Uh … I …”
Twisted further in his seat, now leaning back against the door, Declan folded his arms into his chest. “Tell me, who was it that decided on your name? Was it your mother, maybe your father, was it a consensus? I mean, come on. There’s no way it was just a spur of the moment thing, there’s got to be a good story behind it.”
“Uh … I mean … it wasn’t really that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal?” Declan quickly sat forward. “You were named after our third president, and ther
e’s no way that was an accident. How on earth could that not be a big deal? I mean you must have taken some pretty nasty abuse in grade school.”
Tommy nodded “Yeah, but more because of my height.”
Declan matched Tommy’s gesture. “Yeah, I could see that too, but I’m more interested in the story behind your name. Now don’t get me wrong, I would have been one of those kids making fun of you, hell I probably would have led the charge. But now I just have to hear about how you survived fourth grade.”
Tommy had a weird look on his face, something that Declan didn’t quite recognize. It wasn’t exactly embarrassment and didn’t appear to be anger. The twenty-something former college athlete looked from the men at his side, to the driver, and then finally back to Declan. “I’m not too sure that the kids in grade school even knew who Thomas Jefferson was, maybe once I got to high school, but even then I think it seemed like a pretty dumb thing to make fun of.”
Declan held back the urge to respond with the anger that was building. The much younger man hadn’t taken the bait, and now the moment felt flat, uninspired. He needed to come at this from another angle. “So, you’ve never had to throw up those massive hands of yours, never had to take down a bully?” His words were coming faster now. “Never had to tear someone’s head off for disrespecting your lineage?”
Again, Tommy’s face looked odd. It was obvious he was confused, or possibly scared, maybe a little bit of both. “Uh … I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t really remember having to. The only people that ever mentioned it were my teachers. They were interested, but never really—”
“You mean to tell me that there wasn’t a single person in your life that found the humor in you being named Thomas Jefferson? You’re telling me that I’m the only one, that somehow I’m wrong, that it’s perfectly normal to name your child after a president, and that pointing it out makes me some sort of …” Declan took a breath and leaned toward the back seat. “Makes me what?”