by Justin Bell
“You know what I mean.”
Rebecca crossed her arms and leaned back against the van, looking out toward the scattered campfires.
“I didn’t like how things ended,” she said quietly. “That Japanese family. In the mall? That’s on me.”
Angel turned to look at her. “Come on,” he said. “You weren’t the one that busted down the barricade and set the place on fire.”
“No, but I was the one who insisted that we all take on Ironclad. Left them there all by themselves.”
“And what do you think would have happened if you left one or two people behind, huh? I think maybe we’d have two more corpses you’re beatin’ yourself up over right now.”
Fields didn’t answer.
“Look, Rebecca, you’ve gotten us out of more trouble in the past couple of weeks… I’m not sure any of us would be around if it weren’t for you.”
“And what makes me so special?” she asked. “Orosco. Harrison. Liu. They all had the same training, probably better. They were all trying to do the same thing. They’re all dead. For all I know, my whole squad down in Houston is dead. Who knows what’s happening in the world right now.”
“Everyone’s strugglin’ with the same stuff. Same exact stuff. Survivor’s guilt is real, trust me, I know.”
Rebecca nodded softly, then looked over at him. “I know you do. I’m sorry. I’m making this about me.”
“It’s okay,” Angel replied. “I like talking about you.”
“You’re a dope,” she said, smirking slightly.
“For real,” Angel replied. “You don’t talk about yourself enough. Or give yourself enough credit. I mean, come on, you were on the S.W.A.T. team for the FBI. That’s some serious skills, girl.”
“No better than anyone else on the squad,” she replied. “And believe me, I heard about it. I thought Orosco was going to have a stroke when he saw me walk in my first day. Crazy, curly red hair spilling over my shoulders, tactical vest hooked around my finger.”
“Seriously? Orosco didn’t strike me as that type.”
“Oh, he wasn’t,” Fields continued. “All it took was one day, and he was convinced. He knew I had what it took. Everyone else, though… running around, calling me Ginger, telling me I was going to break a fingernail. Obnoxious.”
“So how did you convince them?”
“Not sure I ever did,” she said. “In fact, I had to work twice as hard just to get the same respect most of the men did. If I wasn’t the first one in the office or the last to leave, I got these looks. And not just from the guys, either.”
“But you made it.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Don’t for once think I ‘made it’ as if being a woman in this business is something that you can finish. Some single obstacle you can overcome. It’s constant, Angel. Every day. The last op I was on with Orosco before coming up here I was dealing with it. It’s just a way of life.”
Angel nodded. “But here you are. You and Rhonda both. The two of you showin’ us all how it’s done, right?”
Rebecca chuckled. “I suppose,” she said. “Though you weren’t too shabby with that M-249 back in Chicago. You tore it up.”
“We took it with us,” Angel said, smiling broadly. “I got it in the van. No ammo for it, of course, but hey, you gotta start somewhere.”
“You’re crazy,” Rebecca said, laughing.
The two of them looked out into the night, picturing a cloud-free canvas full of stars, and hoped that maybe, just for a moment, they might find a chance to forget what was going on in the world and enjoy a nice summer evening like this together.
Chapter Two
Winnie looked back over her shoulder, making sure she could still see the van’s shrouded shape accented by the pale amber of the surrounding campfires. It stood there, within sight, Angel and Rebecca milling around in front of it, staring off into the sky.
“Can’t believe they actually let us take off,” Tamar whispered as they made their way to the shoreline. “If your mom had been there? Forget it.”
“Dad would have let us go,” Winnie replied.
“Both your parents are pretty cool.”
Winnie rolled her eyes. “You don’t live with them.”
“Ah, get out of here. At least you’ve got both of them at home, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose. Though they spent a lot of time fighting the past few years. I haven’t seen them get along for a while. At least until now.” She veered left, around a clutch of people surrounding a campfire. “Takes Armageddon for my parents to get along, go figure.”
“Don’t knock it.”
Winnie looked over at Tamar who was matching her stride for stride. “Sorry,” she said. “I know, you lost yours.”
He shrugged. “Barely knew my dad. Wasn’t even all that close with my mom. It was my brother that got me. Poor kid deserved better. Deserved better in life and dang sure deserved better after.”
“So what happened?”
“That’s the crazy thing. I don’t really know. Whole stupid city melted down. People shooting each other dead on the streets, setting fires. Burned down the whole block my apartment was on. I would have run inside that building and probably died myself if Lonzo hadn’t been there.”
“Seems so stupid. Useless. Does it matter who’s in charge if the world is dead?”
“Some people seem to think so. I mean, Chicago was a powder keg anyway. Rival gangs all over the place. Even normal people hatin’ the cops. Cops hatin’ ‘em right back. I guess I’m not surprised a little stress boiled the place over.”
“Little stress. That’s what nuclear war means now? A little stress?”
“I dunno,” Tamar replied. “In all those movies the survivors always come together. Find faith and strength in tragedy. In the real world? Daaang. Not so much.”
Winnie walked carefully through the squat thrusts of brush growing along the grassy shore of Lake Michigan, sliding between a few trees, Tamar coming close behind her.
“How the heck we supposed to get fish in this place?” he asked. “I ain’t got a fishing rod.”
Winnie shrugged. “Good question. I guess I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Eh, I figured you’re just trying to get me out here alone or somethin’.”
“Shut up,” Winnie retorted, smirking, and slapped him on the chest.
“Hey, I’m not pointin’ fingers there, girl. I came along, didn’t I?”
Winnie chuckled.
They stood there on the shore, looking out over the water for a few moments, a dark and vast smooth surface, rippling lightly in the evening breeze. With the thick cloud cover there was no real moonlight to see the lake by, not much ambient light at all, besides the dull glow of surrounding fires coming up over the trees. They couldn’t see the lake really well, but they could hear it, a gentle lapping against the grassy shoreline. Winnie looked back, barely able to make out the shape of the van.
“We might be a little too far out. If Mom gets back, she’ll kick my butt.”
“Aw, come on,” Tamar said. “You’re a spoiled white girl, right? I think there are laws against that stuff.”
“You’re such a jerk,” Winnie replied.
“But you’re hanging with me anyway,” he said. His hands touched her arms, and she looked up at him from under her matted bangs. She felt a warm rush of blood to her cheeks as he held her arms and he drew closer, looking at her eyes.
“Oh, snap he’s going for gold!” a shout came from the trees and a dark figure leaped out.
Winnie bit off a shriek and whirled toward the sound, her hands raising in self-defense. Tamar took three clumsy steps backwards, falling into a martial arts fighting stance.
Max barked out laughter. “Oh, man, shoulda seen your faces!” he shouted. “I thought you were supposed to be getting food, not sitting out here playing kissy face! Come on with that garbage.”
Brad came out from the trees behind him, his face considerably more stoic and serious.
&n
bsp; “That’s not cool, bro,” Tamar said, shaking his head. “Not cool at all.”
“Aw, come on,” Max replied. “Where’s your sense of humor?”
“Just beat it, kid,” Tamar growled.
Max rolled his eyes. “All right, all right, my timing sucked, sorry. Don’t get all butt hurt.”
“Hey, speaking of butt hurt,” another voice came from the trees, but this one was wholly unfamiliar to any of them. A broad-chested shadow stepped forth, a figure wearing a backwards baseball cap and a long, thick coat, draped down his legs. “You guys are new here, right?” he asked. In looking at him, he appeared to be in his mid-20’s. Old enough to be large and imposing to the kids, young enough not to know better than to harass them.
“Yeah, man, we’re just passing through,” said Max. “In and out.”
“Got it,” replied the man. Behind him a few more shapes formed, drawing out from more trees, and soon there were six of them there drifting into a semi-circle around the four others. They were all around the same age, and if Max had to bet, they’d entrusted the security of this particular township to themselves. “See, there’s a toll to ‘just pass through’. Ain’t no freebies here.”
“A toll?” Brad asked. “What do you mean?”
“This here is private space. My name’s Paul. You wanna just pass through, I need something in return, got it?”
“Private space?” asked Winnie. “There are people all over out there. They all paying your toll?”
“Nah, they’re staying here. You don’t pay toll if you park here. But all you fancy people with your cars, all you guys who just want to drive through our space. I’m sorry, but nobody rides for free.” Paul stepped up closer to the group, standing at least a head taller than Tamar, and big enough to engulf both Max and Brad.
“All right, you made your point,” Tamar said. “We’ll be moving along now, chief, thanks.”
The large boy took a step forward, blocking Tamar’s path and pressing a hand to his chest. “That’s not how this works, ‘chief’.” Three of his friends stepped forward as well, one of them grabbing Winnie’s arm, the other coming up on Brad and Max. Winnie cried out, trying to pull away, but the boy gripped and held tight, pulling her toward him.
Tamar moved fast, swinging his hand over the boy’s wrist, locking and twisting, flipping him over his shoulder, feet arcing through the air. Even as Paul was striking grass, Tamar shoved left, extending his foot out like a piston, driving it into the chest of the boy grabbing onto Winnie. He flew backwards, crashing into the other two who were standing near Brad and Max.
“Time to get scarce, kids!” Tamar shouted, and gestured for them to run past him through the trees, back toward the van. As they moved that way, Paul rolled over, thrusting his hand into his long coat and removed a dull gray revolver.
***
“Not that easy!” another voice echoed as Tamar, Winnie, Brad and Max made for the trees. Four other boys converged on them, stepping from the shadows and blocking their path, standing shoulder to shoulder.
“Just pay the toll, punk,” one of them growled. “That’s all we ask.”
“We don’t have any money!” Max shouted. “We’ve got nothing!”
“Then, I guess we’ve got a problem.” Paul strode toward them, holding a pistol in his left hand, the other hand rubbing his ribs. “You’ve got some good moves, kid. We could use someone like you.”
“I got no interest in shaking down innocent people,” Tamar growled back.
“Why you have to be like that?” Paul asked. “No reason we can’t all get along.”
“I see plenty of reasons,” Winnie hissed, and she darted left, latching her fingers around Paul’s wrist. He tried to step back, but her nails dug deep into flesh and she tore away, wrenching the pistol away from him, then stepped forward, throwing an elbow into the bridge of his nose. As he stumbled, shouting, Max rammed the point of his sneaker up between the legs of a second boy and Brad moved in, kicking him behind the knee and knocking him down. A third charged, but Tamar moved into him, then spun and thrust a stiff back kick into his stomach, doubling him over.
“We gotta get outta here!” Tamar yelled. Winnie nodded and took off running, sliding past him into the trees and out onto the flat grass littered with campfires. Max and Brad followed close behind and Tamar brought up the rear, looking back over his shoulder as they ran. He returned his gaze back to where he was going just a second too late and stumbled through a campfire, scattering litter, and sending a poof of sparks whooshing up into the air as he toppled forward onto the grass.
“Hey you little creep!” someone sitting by the fire shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Stop them!” a voice cried from the trees. “They’re outsiders!”
“Tamar needs help!” shouted Winnie and broke away, charging back toward him where he was on all fours, trying to pick himself up from the grass. Paul burst from the trees, pistol in hand, coming around, and as it jumped in his tight fist, fire blasted from the long, round barrel.
***
The kids were approaching the trees and Rebecca took a slow walk around the front of the van, toward the passenger side. She opened the door, looking in on Clancy Greer who appeared to be asleep, eyes closed and chest heaving softly, though each breath rattled like he was exhaling through dried rice.
She placed a hand on his cheek, then his forehead, both were hot to the touch.
“Still in bad shape?” Angel asked, coming around the front of the van himself, still glancing at the trees the whole time.
“Burning up,” Rebecca replied. “If we can get him to some serious medical care, I think we can save him, but he’s not doing real well right now.”
“Any sign of Rhonda and Phil?”
“Nope. I hope their kids show back up before they do, though. They went off into those trees and I lost sight. Rhonda will kick my butt.”
“Why will I kick your butt?” Rebecca looked out toward the empty section of field and both Rhonda and Phil emerged from the darkness. “Where are the kids?”
Rebecca pointed to the line of trees separating the grass from Lake Michigan. “Winnie and Tamar went to go see if they could find any fish or anything.”
“Fish? With what?” Phil asked, looking over.
“And you just let them go?” Rhonda asked.
“Hey, I’m not a mother,” Rebecca replied. “I’ve seen them handle themselves.”
“For crying out loud, Winnie’s fifteen years old. What about Max and Brad?”
Rebecca leaned to her left and peeked through the open side door of the van, realizing for the first time that the two young kids were gone as well. She tried to hide her surprise.
“They went along, too.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Rhonda said, throwing up her hands. “So now eleven-year-olds are old enough to walk through the pitch blackness toward a lake just for the heck of it.”
“Max is twelve,” Phil said calmly, trying to keep some measure of peace, “and Brad is pretty mature for eleven.”
“Mature enough to not drown in the stupid lake?” Rhonda asked. “Mature enough to not get attacked in the trees over there? Is that how mature he is?”
“Hey, take it easy,” Angel said. “It was our call, not Phil’s. We need all hands on deck, Rhonda; we need to start trustin’ these kids.”
“I trust my kids, it’s the two of you I’m starting to worry about.”
“There’s no need for that,” Phil said.
“Yeah, Rhonda, take it easy. You’re screeching loud enough to wake the dead. And me.” Greer sat up gently in the passenger seat, using his elbows for support. “We need food. And we need to watch the van. They did what they thought was right.” His voice was thin and brittle, but still carried that air of authority and Rhonda didn’t push back.
“Good news is,” Rhonda began, “we’re hearing that Cleveland Clinic might have near full use of their medical facilities. I think that needs to be our next
stop.”
“Is it on the way?” Greer asked. “I’m not going to let you make a special trip just for me.”
“It’s not a special trip, Mr. Sheriff,” Rhonda replied. “We’ll be passing right by. Settle down.”
Greer nodded his approval, then laid his head back down on the head rest and closed his eyes.
“How far is it to Cleveland?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” replied Rhonda, “but I wouldn’t think more than a few hours. Four at the most, as long as we’ve got gas.”
“We’ll have gas,” Angel replied.
“Then we should get moving,” Rebecca said. “I fear that every minute counts.”
A single gunshot echoed over the dark sky and both Rebecca and Rhonda whirled in the direction of the trees, Rhonda swiftly snaking the Colt pistol from the small of her back.
“So help me, if that was one of my kids…”
“Mom?” Max shouted from the dark as he approached.
“Maxie? What was that? Are you all okay?”
“Uhhh, I think it’s about time we got going,” he said. Brad and Winnie came up behind him with Tamar bringing up the rear. “We’re not making many friends.”
“What’s going on?” Rhonda asked. “Who’s shooting at you?”
“Some dude named Paul,” Winnie gasped in between breaths. “Says we have to pay a toll to pass through here. Told him we didn’t have any money, and he tried to grab me.”
“Tamar kicked his butt, you should have seen it!” Max yelled, then simulated a clumsy side kick.
Two gunshots rang out, and a pair of sparks danced off the roof of the van, spraying up into the sky and sending Rhonda stumbling for cover.
“We can’t leave you alone for a minute!” she screamed.
Brad whirled toward the darkness, where the gunshots had come from, lifted his Ruger .380 and fired four shots into the night.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouted Angel, charging over to him. He wrapped his fingers around the pistol and pushed it gently down. “There are a lot of innocent people out there! Don’t go Rambo on us, kid!”