by Jeff Olah
Okay, maybe small talk wasn’t so bad.
“We had to make a deal with the man who saved you, he wanted—”
“A deal,” Kevin said, interrupting. “What kind of deal and what does this have to do with my truck?”
“He said he wasn’t going to help you unless …” Owen stopped for a second and peered back into the hall. “He wanted your truck in exchange for saving your life.”
Kevin looked like he was going to jump out of the chair. “And you agreed to that? I mean come on Owen, what the hell were you thinking?”
He was confused. He expected a bit of disappointment, a turn in his mood, maybe a question or two, but this wasn’t adding up. “Are you serious? Did you really expect me to negotiate with your life?” Owen could feel his face starting to warm as the volume in his voice began to rise. “Did you really want me to tell Paul that there was no way—”
Kevin’s lip started to curl at the corner. He relaxed his shoulders and unballed his clenched hands. “Yeah, I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes, I know.”
Owen was still partially stuck behind the dense cloud of tension that had come over the room. He read the change in Kevin’s tone as condescension, but wasn’t absolutely sure. “You know what exactly?”
“I know about my truck. I think Paul might have actually mentioned at some point last night, but Travis just confirmed it a few minutes ago.”
There was a short burst of relief that flooded through him, followed closely by an overwhelming urge to get even. However, the feeling was short lived. “Did he come by this morning?”
Travis sat forward. “Who?”
“Paul, hasn’t he come by this morning?”
“Did he tell you he would?”
“No,” Owen said, “But I just figured.”
Travis stood from the chair. “When was the last time you saw him?”
He didn’t like where this was headed. “Sometime last night, after he cleaned up in here, you?”
“Same.”
Owen paused for a moment, looked from Kevin to Travis. “Didn’t Paul’s wife help Lucas move the truck and the SUV into the garage?”
Travis nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“So she already had the keys to the truck?”
Kevin brought the recliner all the way up and looked like he was going to stand. “Yeah, so what? We agreed to give it to them, what does it matter when they took it?”
“It matters because Paul was supposed to stick around and make sure you were okay, and it also matters because they’ve got our supplies.”
There were hurried footsteps out in the hall, more than one set. And before he could turn back, Natalie and Harper were at the door. “They’re gone, and I think that—”
“Yeah,” Owen said. “We know. They’ve got the truck and everything in it.”
Ava and Lucas appeared behind Natalie. They were out of breath and trying to read the faces of the adults. A few paces back, Cookie held Noah’s hand, walking with a slight limp and speaking to him under her breath.
Lucas stood on his toes and waited for Owen to look over. “We might be okay.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got everything out of the truck last night. I heard what you guys were talking about and figured you were going to ask me to do it anyway.”
“Good,” Owen said. “Now we just have to find a way to fit eight people plus a very large German Shepherd into an SUV built for six.”
“I think I might be able to help.” Travis now stood beside the recliner and faced Owen.
“I thought you were leaving?”
“I know where there’s another vehicle. It won’t be easy to get to, but it’s got fuel and some supplies.”
“You sure, last night you said—”
“It’s in the garage, two levels down. The crowds were pretty bad last time I ran through there, so we might not want to wait.” Travis motioned toward Kevin. “I know he needs to rest, but I’m just not sure how much longer we’ll be able to get down there … or get back out.”
“I don’t know.”
Kevin now sat at the edge of the recliner. “Owen, we should take him up on it. We might not get another chance.”
Owen scanned the faces of the others. There was a desperation in their eyes that told him that they felt it too. This wasn’t their home, they didn’t belong. They had an opportunity and they needed to take it. “Okay,” he said.
And then turning back to Travis, he began to nod. “But you’re coming with us.”
37
Declan remembered the building, but not the men surrounding him. They wore three-piece suits and carried rifles on their shoulders. He wanted to get to the stairs or the elevator, the reception desk, find a familiar face, but was unable to take even a single step. They began to close in around him, murmuring incoherently as they moved in tight, shoulder to shoulder. He exhaled slowly, although the air around him began to thicken, his throat feeling like he swallowed the sun, like it may close with each breath that he fought to take.
It was like he was drowning, like he was going to be crushed by the men in the dark suits. He was beginning to lose the feeling in his legs, his feet immovable against the reflective concrete floor.
He tried to turn his head, but was only able to move his eyes. He looked at the faces of the men, although none looked back. They were now a blur, each fading into the next, one indistinguishable from the other, their suits becoming a wall of black, overtaking the entire space, until it was all he could see.
“Hey.”
The voice wasn’t coming from within. Declan recognized it, but didn’t know from where. He tried to answer, to call out, but nothing came.
“Get up.”
He was hit from behind, first a light brushing against the back of his head, and then a more aggressive shove, his left shoulder tweaked forward as he nearly lost his balance.
“Let’s go.”
Now the voice was louder, pulling him from the blackness that was holding him down. He shot above the shadowed men in the dark suits, finally filling his lungs and opening his eyes.
“Come on.”
His neck was sore and his legs ached. Declan looked back and to the left. The twin in the red windbreaker stood only a few feet away, his face saying that he hadn’t changed his mind. He motioned toward the door and pulled down on the straps of his pack.
“I wanted to leave you, but my brother said we shouldn’t. You might want to thank him.”
Declan shook away the sleep, took a moment to stretch his lower back and then turned toward the man at the door. “Thank you?”
Jacob had already moved to his brother and started into the hall. “We don’t have much time; the crowds have grown.”
This wasn’t exactly the way he’d expected to start his day, but with a few minor adjustments, he’d get to where he needed to be. There were two ways of going about it, although without the windbreaker twins, things became a little more complicated. He was still situating his weapon in his waistband as he turned out into the hall. “Gentlemen, what’s the rush?”
They were at the railing looking down over the lobby. Jacob turned back, thumbing toward the floor below. “They got in earlier this morning.”
How long had he slept? It didn’t feel like it was more than a few hours, although the sun twisting in through the broken glass of the lobby windows told him it had to be late morning.
“You didn’t think this was worth coming to get me?”
The look on Jacob’s face told him that his question didn’t come across in the exact manner he’d hoped. “You’re really trying to blame us for—”
“No, no, no.” Declan reached the railing, the first-floor lobby much the same as he was imagining. A few dozen Feeders roamed in circles, unaware that he or the twins were twenty feet above. “I’m just trying to gauge your level of familiarity with those things.”
“Familiarity?”
Declan brushe
d the hair away from his face. “How much time have you spent around them, how comfortable you are going hand to hand, or I guess I should say, hand to mouth.”
Jacob was responding almost before Declan finished. “We’ve done fine out here on our own for the last two weeks. I don’t think we need a lecture from you.”
Joshua leaned around his brother. “Yeah, we’ve figured them out. They can’t climb and loud noises confuse them.”
Declan was impressed. He wasn’t sure how quickly the populous would catch on to that little detail. There wasn’t anything reported on the news when it all broke out—at least not that he’d seen—and other than a handful of individuals, it would have taken quite a bit of observation or luck to see that through everything else.
And these two didn’t seem like the lucky type.
“So,” he said, “what’s the plan?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing.” Jacob turned and nodded to his brother. “But we’re getting out of here, once and for all.”
“That’s good. Are you planning to just walk out those doors or did you happen to find another exit—one that doesn’t lead you straight back into the horde?”
Joshua stared at his brother, his mind racing at the question. “Jake?”
Jacob held tight to the railing. He tilted his head and looked through the broken doors and out into the street. “It’s not that bad, we can make it.”
“Make it … make it to where?”
Jacob looked at Joshua, shook his head, but then didn’t respond.
“Your vehicle, it’s how you got this far into the city. So, where is it?”
There was a second where the look on Jacob’s face changed. Like he was finally letting his guard down, or maybe he had just stopped caring. “Not close.”
“Well, I’m guessing that since you were on foot yesterday, either your ride had broken down or you were out of gas. And I’m betting it was the fuel. Happens to the best of us, especially now.”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Just a dumb mistake.”
“You don’t say?”
“I drove us right into that crowd. They got behind us before I could pull away and we had to run for it.”
“You out on Tenth Street or further out?”
Jacob looked at his brother once again, and then at the infected walking near the doors. He was considering the consequences of continuing with the current direction of their conversation, it was in his eyes. He paused for a beat and then nodded. “Tenth, but we’re two blocks back.”
“I’m in the opposite direction, maybe fifty yards from the doors. I could give you boys a lift, but I’m not sure we’d even make it past the reception desk.”
“It won’t be a problem, we know what we’re doing.”
Red windbreaker was nearly there. Declan just needed to back it down a bit and then offer a slight nudge at the right time. It wasn’t as easy as he originally thought it would be, but then again reading people wasn’t necessarily an exact science. And with the way things had started out, he was almost surprised he’d gotten the twins this far.
“There’s a whole lot more of them out there this morning. You boys wouldn’t make it past the sidewalk, but I think I may be able to get you where you need to go, plus I owe you one.”
Jacob just stared for a second and then turned to his brother.
Joshua looked like he hadn’t been keeping up with the conversation, as his eyes moved quickly between Declan, the crowd, and then back to Jacob.
“Alright,” Jacob said, “how do we do this?”
Twenty minutes later, Declan stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of Suite 214. He looked out beyond the rear parking lot as Jacob pointed him toward a black Ford Mustang just under a quarter mile away. “It looks like more of them followed the crowds to the front. We should be able to get around them if we can get to a rear exit, maybe—”
Declan stepped back from the window and pulled the pistol from his lower back. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Jacob looked like he trusted him, like he honestly didn’t understand.
“This is where we part ways.”
A scowl started across Jacob’s face. “What?”
“Give me the keys.” Declan raised the weapon and fired a single round through the window behind Joshua.
As Jacob took a half step back and threw his arms up to shield his face from the exploding glass, Declan stepped by him and shoved Joshua through the opening.
There were a few seconds where everything happened all at once, but then time slowed to a crawl. Declan knew what was coming and had put himself in the proper position, although he had no way to account for how Jacob would respond.
The smaller man reacted with a right hook. It appeared to be more instinct than aggression. Although fast, it was too low and from too close to do any real damage. If Declan hadn’t been ready and shifted his weight when he did, the strike would have landed somewhere between his left shoulder and his neck.
But he stepped in, deflected the blow with his left forearm, and grabbed Jacob by the collar. Twisting back to his right, he forced the smaller man to the edge of the shattered window and quickly brought the pistol back around.
Declan pressed the barrel into Jacob’s temple and let his eyes drift out to the concrete walkway, eighteen feet below. He waited for Jacob to turn his head and look down to where his brother lay flat on his back, moaning incoherently.
“Listen to me very carefully.” Declan’s spoke quickly, each word very precise in diction and tone. “Your brother has probably two minutes. If you waste even a single second getting to him, he’s going to die. He’s most likely got a broken ankle, but if you do what you need to do, both of you will live.”
Jacob was breathing rapidly in through his nose, and out through his mouth, his face twitching and his hands gripped tight to the back of Declan’s shoulders. He appeared to be trying to speak, attempting to make sense of what had just happened. “Why?”
“I’m going to let go and step back, and when I do, you’re going to take the keys out of your pocket and toss them on the ground. If you try anything, I’m going to shoot you in the face and watch you die. And then I’m going to stand right here and watch that crowd tear your brother apart. You still have a chance, so don’t do anything stupid.”
Jacob dug his hands into Declan’s back. He was teetering on the edge, his heels at the lip of the window, and his soles grinding on the shards of glass scattered across the floor. “I’m going to find you,” he was spitting as he spoke, his voice horse and wet, right on the edge of hyperventilating. “And I’m going to kill you.”
Declan released his grip on Jacob’s collar, stepped back, and motioned toward the window with the pistol. “Joshua’s got maybe a minute thirty, maybe. So, you may want to change your focus.”
Jacob just stared back, like he was still contemplating his next move. Like there was even the most remote possibility that he could save his brother and somehow release the fury he was feeling on the stranger three feet away.
There wasn’t.
Declan saw it in his eyes and shook his head. “Just drop the keys and go for your brother. He’s a good man and I’m actually sorry I had to do that to him, but it isn’t about what I want anymore or about what you want. It’s about what must be, and today, this morning, he drew the short straw, so just drop the keys and go.”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He jammed his right hand into his pant pocket and pulled out a chain that held two keys. Snapping his arm back, he threw the keys overhand at Declan. And as they dropped to the ground and came to rest between Declan’s legs, he took a half-step forward. “I’m going to find you and I’m going to kill you. And I don’t care about what all of this was about, you deserve to die.”
Before Declan could respond, Jacob quickly turned on his heels and ran. He disappeared through the door of Suite 214, his shallow footfalls increasing in speed as they faded toward the lobby.
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Now Declan just needed to follow him out into the street.
38
Gentry was okay with Margaret making the decision to go out on her own, if in fact that was what she had done. It was her choice. However, there was no way he could leave without at least confirming that was the case. Her home was less than sixty feet from the front door, and he couldn’t live with himself or continue to do what he needed to do if he abandoned who he was when it mattered most.
Checking the rear deck and the beach further on, he wasn’t thrilled to see that the crowds had grown, but knew they were too far away to cause any real problem. He made his way to the upstairs den, took in the streets leading into the once exclusive gated community, and began to feel good about his chances.
There were fifty, maybe more. But not grouped together. They roamed the neighborhood alone, seemingly unaware of one another. If he squinted, he imagined they could pass for neighbors out gathering the morning paper or cutting lawns or simply out for a walk. Although the sidewalks were empty and most walked the streets with no apparent destination. It would have been semi-amusing, had they not been directly in the path he needed to travel.
This should be interesting.
Downstairs, he gathered his pack and made his way to the front door. It reminded him of the morning nearly a week ago as he bolted from his apartment and decided to take a chance at finding Natalie Mercer. Two quick breaths in through his nose—mentally running through the next few minutes—then he opened the door and ran the thirty feet to the driveway.
Three Feeders between the shrub and Margaret’s front door. They looked to be heading in the opposite direction, so giving them the opportunity to clear the area, he turned to his right and walked quickly to the end of the driveway.
His vehicle—a two-year-old Jeep—sat exactly where he’d left it, near the mailbox fifty feet away. At the moment, there wouldn’t be a problem getting there, but as he waited for the group in Margaret’s front yard to move away, those in the street appeared to have heard him coming from the home.