Silent Interruption

by Trent Russell

Michael’s pace was down to a slight jog. “I’m…really…damn…tired.” He stopped against the trunk of a car parked on the side of the road. Ironically, it was one of the few cars they had run across that had been parked normally and not stalled or crashed due to the EMP.

  Tara stopped next to him. “My God…” The two of them panted long and hard. “I don’t believe this,” she said after many anguished breaths.

  Michael turned back around. The road behind them remained clear of human beings. “Tara, I don’t know how we’re going to get out of town. It’s like…it’s like something out of that movie we watched last month, you know, Escape from New York. Crazies everywhere.”

  “We will. We’ve got to.” Tara gripped Michael’s arm and held it tight. “We’re not going to let these bastards get us.”

  Michael closed his eyes. “I never thought this was what my day was going to be like.” Then he laughed. “My dad’s not going to believe this.” He shook his head. “Oh, Dad. Damn. I hope he’s okay.”

  “He’s up in Mount Crawford. It’s got to be a lot better than this place right now,” Tara said, “Not a lot of people there, and definitely not a lot of crazies.”

  “Except maybe Uncle Jerry and his friends after a couple of cold ones.” Michael laughed again. “They never stop telling that story about Deannie’s. Oh shit, what about your parents? Tara, they—”

  Tara cringed. “I can’t believe I forgot about them. They’re back home in Woodstock. Same deal, not a lot of crazies there, but if my dad tries to come looking for me…” She shook her head. “I want him to stay away! Don’t come anywhere near here.”

  Michael sighed. “Tara, are you sure this is all an EMP, that thing you told me about? Are you sure it isn’t something else?”

  “It sounds too much like it, Mike. I wish I was wrong. I really do.”

  “Then…” Michael bowed his head. “Everything’s gone now. Nothing works. Nothing’s gonna work, Tara. This is one hell of a scary thing. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  “Mike!” Tara suddenly sprang to life, jumping from the vehicle and pointing to another intersection just ahead.

  The duo had been so exhausted they hadn’t noticed their flight had taken them close to a T-intersection. On the other side of the street lay people, dozens of them, all gathered around a rundown motel. They didn’t look like crazed rioters. They seemed like confused, normal, law-abiding people. They were talking amongst each other or sitting on the concrete sidewalk or the few public benches nearby.

  Tara turned to her lover, taking hold of his arms. “Mike, they look normal. They’re not a bunch of crazy savages. Maybe, maybe we can find some help over there. They could have food or water.”

  Michael smiled. “Yeah.” He stood up from the vehicle and pulled his jacket taut. “Maybe we’ll finally be safe.”

  Tara then hugged Michael tightly. “Thank God,” she said, her voice muffled in his chest.

  Michael clenched Tara. “Looks like we are going to make it.” Then he kissed her on her cheek. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we’re going to live and get back home!”

  Tara laughed. “You’re right! We are.”

  After a good minute of solid embrace, the two parted. Tara wiped stale sweat from her face. “Well, let’s not wait around here any longer, right?” she said with a big smile.

  Michael nodded with a grin. “Right.”

  She and Michael left the vehicle behind and walked across the street toward the crowd. Tara hoped that finally, finally, they had turned the corner on their long nightmare.

  Carl poked his head out from the space between houses. Nothing. No gunshots sped through the air in front of him. The distance between this house and the next was short, crossable by a short back road. Perhaps they finally would catch a break. At last, they could cross to another property without incident.

  Unfortunately, sometimes when things were looking up was also when they would take a bad turn. Still, they had to keep moving.

  He knelt down and scooped up Shyanne. “Preston, get ready to run,” he said. Carl held tightly onto Shyanne. “Sweetie, hold on. This will be short and quick.”

  “No more shooting?” the little girl asked, sounding slightly panicked.

  “I hope not, but don’t worry, I’m going to protect you.” There was no more room for delay. “Go!”

  Carl started his run. Preston quickly followed. However, they only had crossed halfway when a loud gunshot rang out and struck the house they had just fled from, hitting the gutter.

  Shyanne screamed. Preston let out a yelp. Carl, for his part, muttered a vile curse as he made it to the other side. Then he slammed his back against the side of the house and slid down to take cover. Preston dove to the ground next to him.

  “Dammit!” Carl gritted his teeth.

  They waited beside that house for a full minute without incident, and now they start shooting? Perhaps somebody spotted them and opened fire, but damn, that person would have to have been keeping a close watch on that spot. Or maybe it was just random. This whole neighborhood had been turning into a shooting gallery. There was no telling where the next shot may come from.

  “Am I okay? Am I okay?” Shyanne asked, her breath short and fast.

  Carl quickly loosened his hold on Shyanne. “Let me check you.” He was sure she wasn’t hit, but it was best not to take any chances. He quickly looked over her clothes. No blood. Then he patted her gently.

  “Nothing hurts, huh?” Carl asked.

  Shyanne clutched her stomach. “My tummy hurts.”

  Carl didn’t spot any blood on her shirt near her stomach. All this horror must be shaking up the little girl. The past hour particularly had been a nightmare as he, Preston, and Shyanne retreated behind and between houses, often crawling to avoid the increasing gunfire on the main streets. Shyanne would scream every time one of the louder gunshots popped off, at least at first. Now she merely flinched, unless one of the bullets hit very close, as this last one had done. Carl even had to pat himself down to make sure he hadn’t taken any shrapnel.

  “These houses just go on and on.” Preston stumbled to his knees. He coughed. “Are we ever going to make it out of here alive?”

  Carl looked to the blue skies above them. “We are,” he muttered. They had come too far to succumb to despair now. Besides, Carl had a feeling they were near the end of this neighborhood. “Earhart Highway. It must be close by. It runs through the center of the city. If we can find it, we’ve got a route to get us out of here.”

  “It’s an open highway. Won’t we be spotted?” Preston asked.

  “The rioters and looters are looking for people to prey on and things to steal. Earhart doesn’t run past any major businesses near the outskirts of the city. It curves and just breezes through the suburbs. Trust me, I’ve taken Earhart many times. There’s also a river that runs through the outskirts. Follow that and we also have a route out of here.”

  Preston tried to get up, but slipped and fell back to his knees. Carl realized that Preston must be nearly spent. The young man had been on his feet almost the entire day, and in a nearly constant state of danger. Also, the bright blue sky was starting to dim. There was little chance they could make it out of the city before the sun set. Their only realistic chance was to get out of this neighborhood and find Earhart or some major highway that led out of town.

  Carl stood up. But first, he’d have to find some sign that they were nearly out of this shooting gallery.

  “Stay here.” Carl patted Shyanne on the shoulder. Then he crept along to the end of house, where the ground opened up to a side yard and a street that curved around to intercept Carl’s path. So there would be no cover for at least a few yards.

  At least the yard had a tall tree that would obscure Carl’s group if they decided to make a run for it. However, another idea took hold in Carl’s mind. It seemed crazy, but with all this foliage around, it was hard to see beyond the next house over. Carl needed a boost.


  It’s just like tree climbing on the farm, Carl thought.

  Carl made his move. He dashed to the trunk of the tree and then pressed against it, using it for cover. Nobody took a shot at him. If this was the edge of the neighborhood, perhaps it would be quieter here, with all the action taking place in the core of the community.

  I hope to God I’m right.

  Carl started climbing. He had not climbed a tree in years, yet he was surprised how easy this was for him. Perhaps it was a reminder of quieter, more peaceful days.

  Soon he had reached a branch higher than the nearby house. From here he could view the rooftops of the neighborhood, as well as the streets beyond. His stomach churned. The streets were coated with dead bodies. Perhaps there was another reason the number of immediate gunshots died down—most of the shooters were dead.

  Carl tried ignoring the painful sight and turned around to look beyond the neighborhood. At first his view was blocked by a hanging branch, but it was small and easy to push aside. Once he did so, he almost laughed with relief.

  A large overpass bisected his view. It stretched high over the nearby power lines, but after that began sloping downward to the right. If Carl remembered the city correctly, that was Earhart. The sloping overpass then angled over a river before circling toward the ground. Once the overpass hit the earth, the highway would jet out of the city limits and through the suburbs.

  Carl quickly climbed down, so quickly he nearly slipped off one of the branches. He instantly forgave himself. He and his party now had a solid route to escape this carnage-filled city.

  He dashed back to Preston and Shyanne. Preston’s face appeared slightly red. “What the hell were you doing?”

  Carl couldn’t help but grin. “What’s the matter, Preston? Never saw a good tree you didn’t want to climb?” He knelt down by Shyanne. “Hey. I found Earhart Highway. That’s going to lead us out of the city and help us go somewhere safe.”

  Shyanne jumped up and down. “Really?”

  Carl nodded. “C’mon, I’ll lead the way.”

  The joy Carl felt was somewhat mitigated by the lingering thought of the bodies littering the streets. He, Shyanne, and Preston would escape this community alive. Many, sadly, would not.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carl brushed the latest twig out of his face. He swore softly under his breath. Whoever owned this property did a poor job of trimming the trees and bushes that ran between his home and an old chain link fence that marked his property boundary. The plant life was so thick that crawling under the heavy branches to get through the property was the only option.

  But as the minutes dragged on and the foliage did not fade even as they crossed yards, Carl recognized that this overgrowth had plagued more than just one property in this area. He just hoped they didn’t run into another fence, one that completely blocked their path. Then they’d have to turn around and crawl back the other way, and Carl didn’t want to lose precious time.

  “Doing okay back there?” Carl asked.

  Shyanne’s voice piped up from directly behind him. “This is fun!”

  Preston responded next from behind Shyanne. “Well, compared to dodging bullets, I like this a hell of a lot better.”

  Carl chuckled. “Yeah, this reminds me of my first weeks of training. Of course, we had to creep under barbed wire fences, not tree branches, although some of these twigs feel almost as sharp.”

  “Hey,” Preston spoke up, “I got a question. Do they really shoot at you when you’re crawling?”

  “No way. The military doesn’t shoot at you.” Carl paused to shove another branch to the side.

  “You know how much money it takes to train just one of us? Take one of us out and all that money goes down the drain.” He laughed.

  “That was a joke, right?” Preston asked after a moment’s hesitation.

  Carl shook his head. “Of course!” By now the canopy of branches was about six inches higher, giving Carl freedom to raise his torso. “Preston, do you ever find anything funny? I know the world’s fallen to pieces around us, but we got to keep our spirits up.”

  “I know a joke!” Shyanne cried out.

  “There we go. Tell Mister Preston your joke,” Carl said.

  Shyanne then said, “Knock knock.”

  “Who’s there?” Preston asked.

  “Cats go,” Shyanne said.

  Preston frowned. “What?”

  “No, ‘cats go!’” Shyanne shouted to him.

  “Oh, okay, okay. Um, ‘Cats go who?’” Preston asked.

  “No! Cats go ‘meow!’ Owls go ‘hoo’!” Shyanne replied with a bout of laughter.

  Preston shook his head. “Huh? Cats go meow?”

  Carl chuckled. “Wow, Shyanne’s sense of humor is too sophisticated for you. Cats go meow, owls go hoo, like w-h-o?”

  Preston winced. “Oh, I get it! Shoot.”

  The canopy rose even higher. Now Carl could stand up, though he remained crouched. “Shyanne, I think I’m going to appoint you our comedy officer. Your job is to teach Mister Preston how to have a sense of humor.”

  Shyanne emerged behind him. She was able to stand now, with the canopy just inches from her head. “You got it!”

  Carl stopped to glance at all the overhanging vegetation behind them. “I just realized,” he said, “with so many of these homes abandoned, or if their owners don’t survive, these bushes and trees just are going to keep growing and growing. We might see whole houses get overgrown.”

  Preston just now was emerging from the foliage. “That’d be kind of ironic.” He brushed small twigs and leaves out of his hair. “I don’t support what’s going on around us, but it seems a little funny to have Mother Nature take back some of the Earth from us.” He shook his shirt to get some more small debris off his body. “We haven’t always been good caretakers, especially with all the carbon we throw into the air.”

  Carl turned back around, pushing aside some final low-hanging branches before the entire brush opened up to clear space. A street curb lay a few steps ahead. Carl slowed down to take in the view. He was bringing his party out to an old, cracked street that ran through a small neighborhood. The homes looked decades old, with damaged siding and split screen doors. There was no human activity.

  However, it was the large overpass that drew Carl’s attention. It was the same overpass he had spotted from the tree, and now it was much closer. In fact, if they turned right and walked up this road, they might find an open path that would take them to Earhart Highway.

  Everything seemed fine for them to proceed, except for one small problem.

  Carl backed up to Shyanne and Preston, who just had emerged from the foliage. “Preston, I need to borrow your gun.”

  Preston removed it from his belt and gave it to Carl. “What’s wrong? Somebody’s out there?”

  “Not somebody.” Carl returned to the curb. He pointed to the left side of the street.

  Several yards away, a German Shepherd was leaning over a storm drain, licking up water trickling toward the metal grate. The dog’s back was to Carl and his two companions.

  “A dog?” Preston asked.

  Shyanne looked at Carl, her eyes widening. “He’s big.”

  “But what’s the gun for?” Preston turned to Carl.

  “Well, hopefully our furry friend isn’t going to be any trouble, but we don’t know if he’s domesticated or feral.”

  “Feral?” Shyanne asked, “What does that mean?”

  “Wild,” Carl replied. “You know, wild animals. You see, we’re going to have to be careful around animals, even in neighborhoods like this, because animal control’s gone. That means dogs and cats are going to breed and live free of human influence. They might be more likely to attack anybody who approaches them.”

  Carl studied the dog as carefully as he could from this distance. No collar or identification tags were visible, but that didn’t mean the canine couldn’t be someone’s pet. The dog wasn’t foaming at the mouth, so he like
ly wasn’t rabid. Also, the dog sported no injuries. The animal didn’t seem to have been in recent fights. Perhaps that meant he wasn’t aggressive.

  “You two take the sidewalk and start walking up the street, but don’t run unless I tell you. Do not try to move fast. Just go easy. I’m going to stand here and guard your flank until I know you’re okay,” Carl said.

  Preston looked down at Shyanne. The girl extended her arms. Preston grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m strong enough to pick you up.” He fidgeted wildly. The girl’s face betrayed some disappointment. “How about I hold your hand instead?”

  Shyanne smiled. “Okay.” She dropped her left hand. Preston took her right hand and started walking with her.

  Carl kept watch on the dog as Preston and Shyanne trekked up the sidewalk. For minutes the animal did not turn his head. Carl hoped the animal simply would leave after finishing his drink.

  God, please don’t make me shoot a dog, Carl pleaded.

  Standing there looking at the animal, it was hard not to recall the military dogs he had met during his service time. Military dogs were valued companions. He remembered one in particular, Edgar, whom his fellow servicemen were fond of. Edgar was a bomb detector, and more than once sniffed out something dangerous that could have caught Carl or his men by surprise.

  Sadly, shortly before the end of Carl’s final tour, Edgar succumbed to cancer at the age of twelve. Carl and his team saw to it that Edgar came back to the United States with them and was buried on the property of Carl’s friend, Sergeant Kurt Walters.

  The dog raised his head, turning and spotting Carl.

  Shit! Carl’s heart quickened. What would the dog do now?

  The German Shepherd simply looked at him. Carl waited and waited. If he started to walk away, how would the dog react? Some dogs only gave chase at the sight of rapid movement. Others would approach at the provocation of a person only walking.

  The dog then let out a “Woof!” Not fierce at all. It sounded almost friendly.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s been a long day for both of us,” Carl said to the animal. “I don’t guess you have an owner nearby who’s looking for you? This whole street’s been pretty quiet so far.”