There.
I see what appears to be a rack toppled over. There’s a lot of ceiling mess on top of it. I can slide through, I’d have to push the things between the slats out of the way, but I should be fine.
And I am.
I make it to the other side without a problem and am surprised at what I see. The back of the store is much like the front but the middle is virtually untouched. It no longer has a roof but, besides the overturned shelves and scattered goods, it’s fine. I glance around, taking it all in. The left wall is crumpled. I think I can see into the store that’s next to this one.
I stand. If the muscles in my thighs could talk they would be screaming. Walking miles a day is bad enough without the additional brutal thigh squat work-out. I take a minute to lift my legs, one at a time, stretching out my muscles. It helps to relieve some of the pain.
I take another good look around. There’s so much stuff. A grin stretches across my face. I did it. Finding what we need won’t be so hard. The hard part will be trying to go back out the way I came. How many trips like that can I make before my thighs give out? Two? Three? And I can forget about carrying anything large or bulky.
“I’m in,” I yell out.
No answer.
I yell it out again.
Still no answer.
I go to the left wall—well, what used to be the wall—and peer through the opening. I won’t be going out that front door; it’s just as blocked as the store I’ve just come through.
Maybe I can get through the back?
I step over the boundary and into the next store. Moving through, I make it to the back. There’s a waist-high pile of trash blocking the back door, but nothing I have to climb under. I crawl over it to unlock the door. It won’t open all the way. There’s something blocking it from the other side. Determined not to give up, I lie on my back and, with wood and shingles pressing into me, kick at the door. Using all the force I can muster in my skinny legs, I kick until it finally opens and reveals the fresh air from outside.
I take a couple of deep breaths and stare up through the ceiling.
I’d love to lie where I am and feel some kind of accomplishment, maybe pat myself on the back, but maybe later. I haven’t really done anything yet.
I hop down and outside. There are docking stations for some of the buildings on the street but, other than that, the back is just as quiet as the front.
Get the others.
I jog along the building to the end of the street and turn one corner, and then another. I can see everyone down the street, still outside the building waiting for me.
I raise my hand and open my mouth to call out, to tell them to come this way, but I stop, clenching my jaw hard. I could have almost cost us our lives. If there are any aliens around they’ll hear me yelling. I jog to them instead.
Mia is the first to notice me. With her eyes wide open, she lets out a high pitched squeal. The others turn. Frightened and confused looks drape across their faces. They look at me, then past me, then all around, trying to see what is chasing me.
“It’s okay,” I allow myself to half-yell this out. I don’t want to scare them, making them take off for nothing.
It works. They don’t run, but they still glance around warily.
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Jason asks, as I come closer.
As soon as I reach them, I begin to cough. My lungs expel all of the dust from the store.
Ken frowns at me. I want to tell him what I found, but I can’t stop coughing. “Where did you come from? You couldn’t reach the stuff?”
Wade steps to me and pulls me to his side. “If she couldn’t get anything, she couldn’t get it.”
I clear my throat, which, by now, is scratchy and sore. I shake my head. “It’s still in there. I saw it.”
Ken blows out a hard, defeating breath. “That’s fine,” he says in disappointment. “I’m sure this isn’t the only surplus store we’ll pass. We’ll just have to keep our eyes open.”
Ms. Burgess rubs my back. “It’s okay Sinta. We’ll find another store,” she promises.
Finally, when the coughing spasms end, I say, “I found an easier way in. We can all go in and get what we need.”
“You did?” Ken asks.
I nod. “Around back. Come on, I’ll show you.”
We trot to the back, using the same path I took.
Ken begins to go through the door but Jason puts a hand on his chest. “Let Sinta show us the way.”
Ken begins to shake his head.
“I think Sinta has put herself in enough danger for one day,” Ms. Burgess says.
“Jason is right,” Wade says. “She’s been through here before. It’ll be safer if she shows us the way.”
I open my mouth to disagree. Ken is our leader, I’m more than willing to let him take over now, but Ian says, “Go ahead. The last thing I want to do is break an ankle.”
Everyone is watching me, waiting for me to lead them. “Okay.” I have no choice.
I scramble up and across the wall of trash to where I’m able to hop down. My feet crunch on the dirt, wood and bits of shingles. I wait for them to hop down behind me and afterward make my way over the crumbled wall and into the surplus store.
“Sweet,” Ian says, coming to my side.
Wade is the next to come through. He lets out a low whistle. “Perfect.”
I stand in the middle taking a look around.
Maybe now I can pat myself on the back.
“Great job, Sin,” MJ slaps my back, causing me to take in involuntary step forward. I wanted a pat on the back, but not to get knocked down.
Shayla stops next to MJ. “What he said.” She inclines her head to MJ. “But without the physical abuse.”
MJ grabs her hand and pulls her away. “Come on, let’s get our swag on.”
Shayla giggles, letting MJ pull her along. I can’t help but to grin as I watch them go.
As Mia breezes past me, she grabs my arm, pulling me along. “A toothbrush and clothes,” she said dreamingly. “We can also get some clean clothes.”
“Shouldn’t we get weapons?” I eye where everyone else has congregated. They’re picking guns off the floor, big ones and small ones. I want a gun. I want the biggest one I can find.
“We will,” she says, as we reach the clothes. “After we get a change of clothes, a toothbrush—maybe two of them—and then backpacks.” She looks at me, her face brightening. “Oh! We can even find one of those nature backpacks.”
“Nature backpack?” I ask slowly.
“Yeah, you know the kind. They have everything you need in them. You can even carry a small tent and sleeping bag in them.”
I tilt my head to the side. That isn’t a bad idea. “They should have them here.”
“First clothes, then toothbrush and then backpack”
“And then weapons,” I add.
“Of course. How can we kill aliens without weapons?” she asks with a straight face.
I nod. How can we kill aliens without weapons?
Anyone watching us would have thought this was the best shopping trip we’d ever been on. And it was. I’ve done my time at the malls with a purse slung over my shoulder and a wallet filled with the money my dad had sent me. It was guilt money. I knew it and intended to spend every dime of it.
Mia and I would visit our favorite stores, leaving with bags of goodies, a lot of which I didn’t need. I wouldn’t be smiling, or laughing, as I am now. I was always on some type of emotional mission. One I couldn’t explain. All I knew is that I wanted my dad to pay for not seeing me. For keeping me tucked away in his back pocket. I wanted him to know that his money was spent frivolously and with abandon. I wanted him to know that I didn’t need him and I didn’t need his money.
But, of course, there was no way for him to know any of this. He never asked me what I had spent my money on. Every month it would be delivered via courier. An envelope full, with my name scrawled across it. When I was yo
unger, I would think he had written it and would imagine that, while he did, he was at least thinking about me. But then I received a handwritten note from his secretary, telling me of a college trust fund that was set up for me. The handwriting on the envelopes matched hers and I knew then that he had not even taken the time to write my name.
Money is useless now. It can’t be used to bargain for my mom’s life, mine or Mia’s…or even my dad’s.
I push that painful thought away. My dad wasn’t the best dad, but he was still mine and now I probably won’t ever see him again. I can walk home. He can’t.
Is he okay? Is he safe?
Stop.
I shake my head and concentrate on picking my way through the merchandise, looking for lightweight clothing, lighters, matches, flashlights, sleeping bags, flares, pocket knives, toothbrush and toothpaste.
With hiking backpacks filled with items dragging along the floor behind us, we finally make our way to where the others are. There are weapons in piles on the floor. From my guess everyone has claimed a pile. I count. There are nine piles, one for each of us.
“That’s yours,” Wade says from behind me. He’s pointing over my shoulder.
My eyes follow to where he is pointing. The third group of weapons, a handgun with a case of bullets and shoulder holster.
“Thanks,” I reply, sounding not too impressed. Everyone else’s pile appears to have more than mine.
“I got you what you need, Sin,” Wade says.
I know that I sound ungrateful and I wince. “Is that all that’s left?”
“There’s still more. But you don’t want to take more than you can carry. That won’t do you any good.”
So that’s why I don’t really have anything. He doesn’t think I’m strong enough to carry anything else. I straighten and square my shoulders.
“See?” Jason says with a chuckle. “I told you she would have wanted the crossbow or even the samurai sword.”
“Crossbow?” Wade said. “You heard Captain Page, a crossbow wouldn’t do anything to stop an alien.”
“He did not. A crossbow has enough power to penetrate their skin and slow them down.”
I’m not sure what a crossbow is but my interest is piqued. “Where is it?” I ask.
“Sin, you don’t need a crossbow. Everything you need is right here,” Wade says. “That’s a high powered Glock. That’ll stop the aliens in their tracks. I got you enough bullets to last a while. You have your hunting knife, not for the aliens but for food. You’re all set.”
“What are you? Her dad?” Jason says, with a hint of amusement.
“From what I can tell neither one of you is her father.” That came from Ken. He walks over to us, looking not too happy. He’s holding a rifle in his hand and tosses it to Wade. “Found this over near the back.”
Wade catches and inspected it. “Thank you, sir.”
Ken gives a short nod before turning to Jason. “Why are you two arguing over what she needs? If she was half as worried about her safety as you both seem to be, she would have been here when we were gathering the weapons that we wanted.”
“I…I was packing a bag,” I stammer out.
He takes an uninterested glimpse at my backpack. “Is anything in there going to keep you alive?”
The fact that I have to think on it makes him grunt and turn away. “This isn’t the minor leagues, you’ll have to learn to get the essentials first and the luxury items last. What if the aliens had come and we had to leave in a hurry? What would’ve been in your have in your hands?”
“Clothes,” I’m almost too embarrassed to admit.
“New clothes won’t save your life,” he says, walking away.
He’s right.
I want that crossbow and anything else I can get my hands on.
Chapter Fourteen
We’ve left the surplus store with all of our prizes and found what’s left of a church. It reminds me of one of the death traps I was thinking about earlier, but at least it’s warm and dry. I’m glad to be in here rather than outside. I can hear the heavy rain beating down on the building and the wind howling.
I didn’t get the crossbow, but I have the samurai sword, another gun, more bullets and a gun belt that appears to be more of a harness. But the samurai sword is what I like the best. It’s by my side in the sheath next to my bag.
“I don’t think your father likes me,” I say.
“Pft. It has nothing to do with you.”
I’m sitting on my sleeping bag in the basement, eating what Ms. Burgess calls dinner. She found and passed out some freeze-dried bags of food, the same kind that hunters and campers use. They taste horrible, but have enough calories and nutrients to keep a person alive. I’m munching on what’s supposed to be scrambled eggs and bacon, but the taste isn’t anywhere near that.
“Why do you say that?” I ask, between bites.
Jason shrugs. “He thinks I like you. He also thinks you’ll distract me from following in his footsteps.”
My gaze shifts over to him. Someone like him could never be interested in someone like me. Even dirty and holed up in a church, he appears to come from a family of wealth. He has that teenage heartthrob hair style, even though I’m sure it looks that way because he’s missed some barber appointments. He’s muscular but lean, bigger than Ian, MJ and even Wade. Not fat bigger, but like he’s got a man’s body, not a high school boy’s body.
He’s out of my league.
“Why would he think that?” I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
Jason lifts a shoulder. “He thinks I should be concentrating on getting you guys to Ohio and not worry about any long-lasting friendships.”
“So you aren’t allowed friends? That kinda sucks.”
“He thinks I’m spending too much time with you. I don’t know what he thinks we’re doing or talking about. It’s not like we have enough time to chat about our lives or swap cookie recipes.”
I catch the humor in his voice and I smile, giggling just a little.
“He thinks I should leave you alone to your bodyguard.”
I snort, which horrifies me because it does not sound cute at all. “Wade is not my bodyguard.”
“How do you know I was even talking about him?”
“Because he’s always… He’s my friend.”
Jason chuckles low. “It’s cool though. He wants to protect you and I see why.”
I don’t have to look to see that Jason has his eyes on me. I feel it, heat boring into my skin, seeming to bore right through me. Feeling uncomfortable, I stare down at my hands. I have the urge to do anything but look up to him. I begin to pick at my nails, trying to distract myself.
“Why do you think that is?” I whisper.
“Because you’re sweet, special, innocent…all the reasons why I want to also.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“It’s not that my dad doesn’t like you. His issue is with me… He thinks that you’re someone that I could fall in love with.”
That isn’t what I’m expecting to hear. I’m sure by now I’m so red that I look like a tomato. “That’s…that’s…crazy. Me and you? I can’t see that happening.” I lie. I could see it happening.
He leans back on his elbows. “You’re right.”
And my heart seems to splinter in a million pieces.
“He’s just reading too much into everything,” he continues. “I don’t have a little sister, but if I did I think she’d be a lot like you.”
Every ounce of my being screams out in horror. Little sister? Argh.
I don’t want him to know that my heart is seized in what feels like a vice grip. I open my mouth to tell him that I see him as a big brother, but what comes out is. “Yeah, he’s reading too much into everything. It’s probably my fault. You and Ken came along and saved our lives and I’m…I’m happy to have someone else to talk to.”
“Hmm.” He stares at me a long while and I get the same uncomfortable vibration
humming across my skin. Fine tingles travel up my spine and around my neck to the back of my ears. “Do you think if none of this happened that our paths would have crossed?”
“No. After I graduated college with a degree in political science and journalism, I was going to travel the world, writing about genocides, civil wars, forced sterilization and poverty.” I have no illusions about that. We are from two entirely different worlds.
“Who knows? You may have covered my dad in office one day, or even me.”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
“See. That right there…”
I glance up to him, our gazes lock. “What?”
“That’s why my dad thinks I can fall in love with you.”
“W…why?”
“Your smile.”
If I wasn’t red before, I know I definitely am now. I suppress a stupid urge to giggle.
Jesus.
“Then he would be wrong,” I say, when I’m sure I won’t start giggling like an idiot. “But I get the feeling that your dad doesn’t think he’s wrong about anything.”
I glance at Ken—the Senator. He’s studying a map and plotting out our route with a pencil. If someone were to take a picture of him now, they could post it in any magazine and label it “Senator Chamberlain Hard at Work”. I get the feeling that he’s always “on”. That’s the same feeling I used to get when my father came around. There was never an “off” switch with him. Adam Sullivan, Corporate Lawyer. Ken Chamberlain had that same kind of air. An air of importance. I know the type all too well.
Jason chuckles. “According to him he’s never wrong.”
“I know the type,” I add.
“Really? Your dad?”
“My dad,” I agree. “He doesn’t think he’s ever done a wrong thing in his life, even with me staring him right in his face.”
Jason frowns. “What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath and find the courage to continue on. “I’m his mistake.” Then, finding more courage, I add, “He got his mistress pregnant.”
I’ve only told one other person in the world this and she’s curled up in a sleeping bag. It just never seemed to be polite conversation and not something that I even wanted to share with anyone else. But what the hell. Aliens have waged war on Earth. I really doubt that because I’m a product of an affair people will think less of me.
Against The Darkness (Cimmerian Moon) Page 15