Divided We Fall_A Post-Apocalyptic Novel of America's Coming Civil War

by Mark Goodwin

  Ava led her group south, away from the mob. She looked at James and Charity. “Keep your heads down. Traffic cameras are at the intersection. James, do you have a knife?”

  “A pocket knife.”

  “Good. Let me see it.”

  He passed her a folding knife. Ava tucked her pistol in her waist and opened the blade. She cut both sleeves of her tee-shirt. She slipped the first sleeve over her head and pulled it down to cover her nose and mouth. The other sleeve she pulled over her head and down below her eyebrows, leaving only enough room between the two sleeves to see through.

  Charity was still crying. “We have to call the police!”

  Ava grabbed her friend by the shoulders. “We have to get home before Antifa finds us, Charity. The police have all they can handle right now.”

  “We should at least report it!” Charity protested.

  “I just shot two people. Their friends are going to say we started it, and we’re going to say they started it. The cops will finally show up to write down all the he said, she said. It’ll get turned over to the liberal Austin DA’s office. The case will be high profile because it happened during the Ross Riot. So, the DA will consult Mayor Beset who wants to appease her base; who happens to be Antifa and the SJWL. Which way do you think this thing will go? I’m not gambling the rest of my life on the impartiality of the Austin justice system.”

  Ava looked sternly at her upset friend. “We’re not calling the cops, okay?”

  Charity looked at James.

  He nodded. “She’s right. And she fired the first shot because that guy grabbed your gun. I tried shooting into the air to scare him, but that didn’t work. I think Ava just saved your life. We’re going to back her up on this, okay?”

  Charity wiped her eyes with her wrist. She looked at Ava and nodded. “Okay.”

  Ava passed the knife back to James. “Do the same thing with your shirt sleeves, use them to cover your faces. We’re going to have to walk right below those traffic cams in the intersection.”

  Ava waited while James and Charity made their makeshift masks. She looked behind them to see that the mob was contemplating pursuing her group. Ava lifted the gun and began walking back toward the mob. “You guys are slow learners. I’m not giving warning shots. If you take one more step, I’ll drop you!”

  The mob froze, grumbling about getting even.

  “Turn around and keep walking!” She pointed her weapon at the center of the crowd.

  Slowly, one by one, the mob turned around and started to walk away.

  Charity and James soon had their face masks on.

  “Quick! Let’s move!” Ava exclaimed.

  James led Charity as they followed Ava. The three of them were soon off the bridge.

  Ava turned to her friends with her face pointed low. “Run to the other side of that apartment building, then hang a left behind the building. There’s a golf course over there that backs up to the train tracks. They’re probably calling other Antifa members with guns right now. They’ll be hunting us down. Now run!”

  Ava led the way, with James and Charity following close behind.

  They sprinted past the building, across the golf course, and into the tree line. Once they reached the tracks, Ava slowed down.

  “Let’s keep moving!” Ava found an even pace stepping on the railroad ties and led the way south on the tracks.

  “We’re going the wrong way to get to your apartment.” James managed to keep up with her.

  Ava turned around. “I know. We can’t take Riverside Drive. It’s too wide-open. Antifa will spot us. And even if they don’t, we’ll hit every traffic cam all the way home. Not only will the police have a better chance at identifying us, we’ll lead them right to my place.”

  “Barton Spring Road then?” he asked.

  “No,” Ava replied. “Still too out in the open. We’ll pass Barton Springs, then cut through the residential neighborhoods until we get to Travis Heights Boulevard. We can take that all the way to the river, then follow the bike path beneath the highway. We’ll come in the back way to my apartment.

  Ava switched out her magazine for a fresh one, just in case they ran into Antifa on the way home. “It’s going to be a long walk, but that’s the least of our problems right now.”

  “I think it’s a good plan.” James held Charity’s hand.

  CHAPTER 20

  The wicked shall be a ransom for the righteous, and the transgressor for the upright.

  Proverbs 21:18

  Ava’s mind haunted her the whole way home. While the man’s face had been covered by the red bandana, she remembered his eyes after she pulled the trigger. She could still hear the screams of the second man when she’d shot him. She didn’t know if he was alive when they left the bridge, but she knew he wouldn’t have long without medical attention.

  Ava imagined the police showing up at her apartment in the middle of the night, kicking in her door, and charging in to arrest her with guns drawn.

  Gunfire continued to ring out in the distance as they walked through the neighborhoods.

  “It sounds like a lot of shooting downtown.” James pulled his shirt-sleeve mask below his mouth. “I hate to say it, but if a lot of people get shot, it spreads resources thin. It would be difficult for the cops to pinpoint us as the shooters for the incident on the bridge.”

  Ava appreciated the verbal gesture of solidarity, but she was the only shooter—or at least the only killer. “I hope it’s just Antifa getting shot tonight. If Higgins is right, we’re going to need all the able bodies we can get for what’s coming.”

  They reached Ava’s apartment building after two hours of slipping silently through neighborhoods. Ava looked around for police vehicles before going inside. When they finally made it to the apartment, Buckley was waiting diligently.

  “You guys make yourselves comfortable. I’m going to change my shirt and walk Buck.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Charity said.

  “Okay, but put on another shirt. If the police or Antifa are looking for us, they’ll be looking for people with no shirt sleeves.”

  Charity followed Ava to her room and borrowed one of her shirts.

  “I should go with you,” James said.

  “I don’t think I have anything that will fit you.” Ava tossed him the remote. “Why don’t you turn on the local news and see if they are talking about a shooting on the bridge.”

  “Okay. What if I find out that they’re looking for us?”

  “Send Charity a text that says I miss you bad.” Ava put the leash on Buckley and headed out the door. She kept the dog confined to the area between the apartment building and the river, keeping a close eye out for police and listening for sirens. Ava hurried Buckley along and then headed back upstairs with Charity.

  Once back inside the apartment, Ava topped off Buckley’s food and water bowls. “Any news?”

  “Nothing about us.” James sat on the couch watching the television. “But downtown looks like a war zone. Antifa started fires in several of the buildings, torched cars, attacked people. The two groups facing off on 3rd Street had a shootout. Ninety people are dead so far. Hundreds are injured. Governor Hicks is sending in the National Guard, and it doesn’t sound like Beset is cooperating.”

  “She’s lost control of the city. What else can she do except hand over the reins?” Ava put on a pot of tea to calm her nerves.

  “I’m sure that’s why she’s not cooperating. Once the Guard rolls in, she won’t have command. DHS is going to be coordinating the effort to restore order. Tyrants hate to relinquish power.”

  Ava leaned on the counter looking into the living room. “I wonder if the Feds will investigate the shootings or if they’ll turn the scene back over to the city?”

  Charity rubbed Ava’s back to console her. “They’ll have a massive crime scene spread out over several miles, huge numbers of casualties, multiple local, state, and federal agencies, all fighting over jurisdiction. Political infighting
between the parties will have politicians pointing fingers at each other.

  “I know you’re worried. I am too, but I think it would be like finding a needle in a haystack to figure out we were the ones who shot those people on the bridge.”

  Ava hoped Charity was right. But once again, if she was wrong about her analysis, it wouldn’t be we going to the electric chair for murder. That special privilege would belong to Ava alone. “Maybe, but if they come around asking questions, don’t say anything. Don’t say you were there, don’t say you weren’t there. Tell them you’ll be happy to talk about anything they want once your lawyer is present.” Ava texted her adoptive father’s number to Charity and James. “That’s my dad’s number. If anyone asks you about tonight, call him before you even make eye contact with the person.”

  Charity looked at her phone. “Lee? You want us to call Lee? I thought you hated him.”

  “I do. He’s a creep for a father, but he’s a good lawyer. And he owes me, so I wouldn’t think twice about letting him keep me out of jail.”

  James added the number to his contact list on his phone. “That’s good thinking. At least you know someone who can help if the worst happens.”

  “It’s the only thing he ever taught me. Cover your tracks and don’t talk to the police without a lawyer present.” Ava sighed, wishing she wasn’t in this horrible situation.

  James pointed at the scrolling news feed at the bottom of the television broadcast. “They just issued a curfew effective until 10:00 AM tomorrow morning.”

  Ava walked around to the other side of the breakfast bar and took a seat on one of the stools. “Do you guys mind staying the night? We certainly don’t need to be out driving around with a curfew in effect.”

  Charity looked at James. “I guess that would be okay. What would be the sleeping arrangement?”

  “James can take the couch, and you can sleep in my mom’s room. I’ve got extra blankets and a pillow. Plenty of towels too, so you guys can get a shower if you want.” Ava stood up to turn off the tea kettle, which was about to whistle.

  “That will be great. Thanks,” James said.

  “I’m going to get a shower while the tea steeps. After that, we should probably get rid of the shirts we were wearing. The building has a charcoal BBQ grill down by the pool. That’s as good a place as any to burn the shirts.”

  “Sounds great, but I only have one shirt.” James lifted his brow.

  Ava nodded. “Danielle’s dad is about your size. I’ll see if Megan down in 4-G still has any of his clothes.”

  “What about the guns? Should we get rid of them?” Charity sat next to James on the couch. “We could throw them in the river.”

  Ava got up from the stool. “My 1911 is the only one that they’d have slugs from which to identify it. Maybe I’ll stash it on top of one of the drop-ceiling tiles in the women’s bathroom of the gym. It’s right across from the pool. Saturday night, nobody will be in the gym, much less the restroom.”

  “Do you have anything we could put on the grill, so it doesn’t look like we’re just there to burn evidence?” James put his arm around Charity.

  “Hot dogs, but I’m not really hungry.” Ava looked down at Buckley. “Although, I’m sure somebody will eat them if we cook them up.”

  Three hours later, the shirts were incinerated, the 1911, ammo, and magazines were stashed, everyone had showered, Buckley had feasted on six hot dogs, James wore a Texas Longhorns tee-shirt that had belonged to Megan’s derelict boyfriend, and Ava lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

  She kept her Glock on the nightstand in the absence of the 1911. Two months earlier, one gun seemed like overkill. She’d never have imagined a day might come when she’d be glad she had two.

  The scene from the bridge played over and over in her mind as she tried to fall asleep. When she wasn’t reliving the event, she was imagining the police storming her apartment and hauling her downtown to face murder charges. Over and over, the double feature replayed for her mind’s eye.

  Exhaustion overtook her in the early morning hours, and she finally fell asleep.

  Sunday morning came, and Ava awoke to her racing heart as she imagined the experience once again. She crawled out of bed and started a pot of coffee. She knew the caffeine might make her anxious, so she determined to only drink one cup.

  Charity came out of the other bedroom shortly after Ava had woken. “How did you sleep?”

  “Not great.”

  “Me either. Are you planning to go to church?”

  “Curfew doesn’t lift ‘til ten. There’s no way I can get you guys home and then make it all the way down to Buda by eleven.”

  “Yeah, that would be tough.” Charity sat on the bar stool. “Got any more of that Captain Crunch?”

  “Nope. The sugar phase was just to get me through that first week of being without my mom. I’m done with it—or at least I thought I was. This might actually be worse.”

  “You can come stay with me for a few days if you want. You can bring Buckley.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not even sure that would help. Coffee?”

  “Please.”

  “I don’t have milk or sugar. Will James have a cup?”

  A groggy call came from the direction of the couch. “Yes, please. Black is fine.”

  Once the curfew was lifted, the three of them left Ava’s apartment, stopping off to eat at the girls’ favorite diner. Over breakfast, they spoke in hushed tones about the incident at the bridge, the mayhem across the city, and Higgins’ hints to prepare for a possible widespread civil conflict. They determined to say nothing about the bridge to anyone, ever.

  Monday afternoon, Ava returned to the office from lunch. Linda, Dr. Hodge, and Charity were in the front office discussing Saturday’s riots and the continued presence of National Guard troops in the streets of Austin.

  Linda looked up at Ava. “A gentleman stopped by while you were at lunch and asked about you.”

  Ava’s heart skipped a beat. She was sure it was a detective from the Austin PD or an agent from the FBI. She felt the color drain from her face. “What did he say?”

  “He asked if you were here. I didn’t say that you worked here, I just asked for his name and asked if he had a business card to leave with me. He didn’t give me a name, he just said he’d be back some other time. Kinda peculiar.”

  Ava glanced at Charity who shrugged as if this were the first she was hearing about the visitor. Her mouth was dry. “What did he look like?” Ava was expecting Linda to say dark suit with dark sunglasses. She did not.

  “Clean shaven. Fit. White shirt, no tie, no jacket.”

  Ava listened. What kind of cop doesn’t wear a tie or a jacket?

  Linda continued describing the man. “A little older than me. One of his eyes sort of looked the other way, but otherwise, he was—kinda cute.”

  Ava’s stomach sank. Suddenly she almost wished it had been a law enforcement officer sent to question her. “Did he have a scar?” Ava drew a line on her lip and down her throat. “On his mouth that ran down his face?”

  “Yeah, gave him sort of a rugged quality. Do you know him?” Linda asked.

  Ava quivered as she explained that she’d seen the man before at the cemetery.

  “We should call the police!” Dr. Hodge insisted.

  “No!” Ava said a little too emphatically. She repeated her desire, this time with tempered enthusiasm. “No. That’s okay. The cops are swamped. What’s the final body count from this weekend? A hundred and twelve?”

  “A hundred and sixteen.” Linda nodded with a look of compassion.

  Ava nodded along with Linda. “A hundred and sixteen murder cases they have to solve. They’re operating with a skeleton staff on a shoestring budget.”

  “They’ll never make any arrests over Saturday’s riots.” The doctor shook his head confidently, which did more to ease Ava’s fears than he’d ever know. “The whole country is melting down. Every law enforcement agency in America is i
n survival mode right now.”

  He looked back up at Ava. “You got your concealed carry license, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. Charity and I went together.”

  “Good. I’d still recommend filing a report with the police. That creates a paper trail, so if this creep starts bothering you and you have to put him down, at least you’ll have it on record that he was harassing you.”

  “Thanks.” Ava had no intention of heeding that advice.

  “Did you girls get to shoot? Besides those couple shots at the class?”

  Ava’s mind kept replaying the situation on the bridge. “No—I mean, not much. We took an hour and a half defensive pistol class. We shot some, but not a lot.”

  “You should come out to my place Sunday. I’ve got a shooting mound and some targets set up. We’ll make lunch.”

  Ava looked at Charity. Despite feeling gun-shy, she knew they both needed to get more proficient at shooting; especially Charity. With the direction the country was heading, Ava sensed that Saturday probably wouldn’t be the last time she had to use a gun. “What do you think?”

  Charity turned to the doctor. “Thanks for the offer, but James is off this Sunday. We usually spend the day together after church.”

  “Bring him, too. Bring anyone you like.” Dr. Hodge lowered his voice and looked at Raquel who was coming through the door. “As long as they are on our side in this thing.”

  “Make sure I get those x-rays before you leave the office today, Ava.” Dr. Hodge walked toward the back.

  “Yes, sir. I better get back to work.” Ava waved at Charity, Linda, and even Raquel, who looked at them all suspiciously.

  The work week progressed. Ava slept a little easier with each passing day that she didn’t have a visit from the police. But she never stopped looking around the corner, down the street, and behind every car she passed for the man with the lazy eye.