Early Release

by Jason Michelsen

  What did shock and enrage her was the second corpse. She found him just under the edge of the bleachers. It only took a second to recognize him as the pretty boy with the swollen eye she had treated first last night. His wounds had not been life-threatening. At least, not the physical ones. A nail file lay in the bloody curl of his fingers, proof of the second suicide Lisa had seen since the world fell apart.

  No tears fell for the boy. Trembling shoulders came not from sorrow, but from anger. A couple dozen sociopaths could not tear apart the fabric of America. They could not take the goodness from this country.

  She wouldn't let them.

  Rising quickly, Lisa scanned the huddled masses for either of the two people she knew. Rachel was no longer where she had spent the night; she must have went to use the freshly dug outhouse behind the gym. She spotted the old man near the top of the bleachers, staring blankly at the opposite wall. The nurse climbed straight to him, not caring who she stepped over or on. For their part, the townsfolk didn't react to being trampled on, either.

  When she stood in front of him, he barely seemed to notice her.

  "Two men died last night." The statement was matter-of-fact, delivered to provoke a response rather than break bad news.

  His gray eyes focused on her, but he said nothing.

  “One of them died from the beating he took defending this town," Lisa continued harshly. "The other was just a boy. He slit his wrists."

  Finally she provoked a reaction, but the shocked look on his face was not enough to satisfy her thirst for confrontation. Coldly, she continued on. "Look, I don't know who you are, but it's obvious the people around here are looking to you for guidance. Do you really plan on sitting here while they lose hope and kill themselves off one by one?

  "The world isn't the same now. In a matter of days, everything has changed. It doesn't matter if this catastrophe is global in scope or just affecting us. Everything we know is different.

  "Except one thing: People. Human beings haven't changed. They still need hope. You have to be the one to give it to them. There are hundreds of us in here, and they guard us with maybe a half-dozen men? They think we're weak. They think we're broken. They think the people of Webster are soft!"

  At this a fire began to burn in the man's eyes. His spine straightened, shoulders swept back, and chin raised. Whoever this guy was, he suddenly seemed a formidable foe.

  "My name is John Thomas. I was the mayor here until two years ago when the town decided they wanted change." John chuckled, but the raging inferno in his eyes showed no mirth. "I guess they got it."

  Lisa smiled conspiratorially. "Well, Mr. Thomas, I think it's a time for a return to old-fashioned small town values."

  81

  Adam walked slowly to his post in the gym. Last night's events had been a roller coaster that he still felt a bit hungover from. He mentally ticked off the points that had kept him from sleeping peacefully.

  I drew a weapon on an innocent child. Even if he didn't kill her, this took a toll on him. Truly, he didn't even know what made him shoot past the girl. It was as if some unseen hand pushed his arm away and pulled the trigger for him. Whatever else happened, at least he wouldn't have to worry about killing kids anymore. If anyone could get her out of town, it was Saul.

  Which led to the second low point of the night. He let his bosses arch enemy get away. Adam knew he owed David a lot -- the man had saved his butt repeatedly in prison. Still, the Prophet wasn't likely to accept the "repaying old debts" excuse. If the truth came out, he was dead. Probably worse than dead, if that were possible.

  So Adam lied to Prophet. After letting two people who were supposed to be killed escape, he put his own life on the line by lying about it. And he was rewarded. The Prophet told him to think about his future and decide what assignment he wanted. For now he pulled guard duty, but soon he could take any job he desired. The future was limitless.

  Unless someone found out.

  As he gave the night a little more thought, it wasn't so much a roller coaster as a derailed train ride. His nausea swelled.

  Entering the gym, his nerves calmed a little. The people of Webster remained cowed. It was hard to be worried about anything in a room full of people you controlled so completely.

  Adam walked a casual lap through the building, letting his confidence build and the sick feeling fade from his stomach. He stared down some of the people just for fun. A leg sticking lazily off the bleachers was kicked out of his way.

  By the time he returned to the entrance, all his concerns about last night were gone. Adam was back on top of the world; moral questions were beneath him.

  Then she walked in.

  The sudden appearance of the classical beauty whose daughter he had almost killed made him miss a step. Their eyes met briefly, but it was more than enough to pick the scab in his heart. For a moment she was shorter and her already youthful face was even more innocent.

  She's gone! he told himself. No one can ever know or my life is over.

  Spinning on his heel, Adam quickly retreated to the far side of the gym. All the confidence he had gained from his previous lap among the downtrodden captives was lost, and his raw nerves threatened to drive him over the edge. He knew he somehow needed to re-center himself, but the constant stress that invaded his life allowed no such respite.

  "What up, son?" came an over-enthusiastic greeting from under the edge of the bleachers. In the midst of his personal crisis Adam turned to face a man with a reason to be upbeat.

  Known as Detroit on the cellblock, his robust waistline was a sharp contrast to the too-small head atop his shoulders. His skin was nearly dark enough to make his past seem bright. Detroit was doing a fresh thirty piece for killing a cop in a botched home invasion. Had it not been for a technicality in his questioning, two more murders and a rape would have seen him executed. Escape was the only chance he had at life, and he got it. The bubbly attitude was no less disturbing for all it made sense.

  "What's up Detroit?" the youngster responded with a half-hearted smile.

  "Just livin' kid, just livin'. I heard you was the hero last night for catchin' the little girl. Keep this up and you'll take that goofy lookin' white boy's spot in no time!"

  Even the spiteful reference to Lionel couldn't overcome the sickening feeling that came with the reminder of last night's drama. Adam's forced laugh didn't convince the real killer.

  "What's wrong, man? You should be on cloud nine right now, instead you look like the BOP got us back!" His own joke seemed to worry him; he looked over his shoulder with a nervous grin.

  "Nah, just stressed. Prophet's got me pulling guard duty still, but wants me getting ready for another job at the same time. Just burning my blunt at both ends, you know?"

  Detroit nodded sagely. "I know that's right. What can you do though? He's given us freedom like we've never had, we gotta trust the man."

  "Yeah, he threw that earthquake in at the perfect time, huh?" Adam couldn't suppress his sarcasm, but it seemed lost on the convict.

  "Maaan, I ain't sayin' all that," Detroit chuckled. "But you have to admit that everything came crashing down at a great time for us. Us real ones survived, but do you see any of those lames out in this new world?"

  Tapping his tiny forehead to provoke thought, the murderer wobbled away, leaving Adam to consider the lames -- those without sufficient criminal credibility to be gang affiliated or blatantly racist -- who had died inside the prison walls. There was only one conclusion he could come to.

  They were the lucky ones.

  82

  Inside the barn David could almost believe the world was normal still. Born and raised a city-boy, he was far enough out of his element that any minor signs of damage or looting would be lost on him. As far as he was concerned, equestrian equipment was supposed to be scattered on the floor, and loose floorboards from the loft were supposed to be haphazardly hanging above. It was like an old west painting.

  Finding the ladder -- it seemed stur
dy enough -- he climbed carefully into the loft. So far, so good. The upper floor of the barn was largely empty, with only a few stereotypical bales of hay and a decidedly non-stereotypical kayak. Saul crept around the weak spots in the floor and was thrilled to find the front half to be sturdy. An area large enough to set up a base camp also provided access to two windows, allowing him second-story views of both the Town Hall and the school.

  Taking the opportunity to survey the north side of Webster, he noticed that the Prophet's gang was not made up of morning people. Only one person moved that he could see -- a solitary guard at the doors of the high school, and it appeared that he was still drunk.

  Everyone else must be sleeping it off.

  Satisfied with the view and--more importantly--with the barn's lack of occupants, David headed back to the shack. Wasting this opportunity to move his headquarters with no one around would be practically criminal, and crime was something the escaped convict was trying to cut back on.

  Without incident Saul moved back to the rundown shack where he found Eve patiently waiting.

  Well, maybe not patiently. He was barely through the door when he was blasted with a verbal barrage from the ten year old.

  "Is it safe? Are we going? Could you see anything from there? What's next?"

  David listened to the list with one eyebrow raised. If she popped off with an "Are we there yet?" or "Can we stop at a motel with a pool?", he would probably think this was a family vacation. Through a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Without his family.

  "It's clear, we move now before anyone shows up."

  A look of relief crossed the kid's face; she didn't seem to have any shortage of energy. As he hurriedly packed the two bags, he considered the resilience this young girl had shown. Her father had been murdered and her mother kidnapped, all in the previous day. Yet here she stood staring at him with a tear-free face, wordlessly pushing him to hurry. He wondered how his daughter would handle the same situation.

  Thoughts of his Rachel were the one thing that David still tried to avoid from his old life. Marta was one thing. She would recover from his actions and go on to live the life she deserved. She could at least recognize the addictions and psychological problems that made him turn on her; she would not blame herself.

  But his baby girl? How could she possibly understand what was wrong with him when she was just a child? She was only four years old when he left! He took some solace in the fact that his ex-wife would raise her well, but that could not make up for the fact that he was gone.

  Over the years he was locked up, Saul had finally learned to forgive himself. He understood that the Soldiers he lost weren't his fault. He committed crimes he never dreamed he would, but now accepted that the past was behind him. All the pain he caused Marta, in the end was for the best. It freed her from him. Leaving Rachel, though....

  No, that was something he could not forgive or forget.

  "Are you ready?" Eve's voice pulled him back to his purpose.

  "Yes," he responded somberly. David hefted the packs onto his shoulders, expertly balancing the weight. It wasn't the ideal way to carry them, but for the short trip it would do.

  He stole a glance out the window, confirmed that their path was clear, and led the kid out the door.

  Less than ten minutes later they were settling into the loft, with the girl setting out sleeping bags and their meager food supplies while he shifted the random junk around to screen them from view if anyone should happen to wander in. It wouldn't protect them from a thorough search, but the wall he built would have to do.

  Throughout his fortification work and their quiet breakfast, David struggled to turn his mind away from thoughts of his daughter. Being around Eve made the unconscious comparisons nearly impossible to avoid. Only a year apart, he found himself hoping that Rachel was growing up to be as tough as the impressive child before him. There was no way of knowing how widespread this cataclysm had been, but intuition told him his daughter would be going through a similar hell right now.

  That idea wrapped his heart in razor wire; every beat sent tangible pain coursing through his body at the thought.

  Growing desperate to get his mind off his little girl, Saul decided to set about the process of getting to know his new charge, and their mission.

  "So Eve, tell me about this mom of yours we're about to rescue. What's her name?"

  83

  "Rachel, over here," John called softly.

  Since Lisa had awakened the leader in him, the former mayor had been running down a list of who could be counted on to help if they got an opportunity for uprising. Eve's mother was relatively new in town, which could play in their favor. Coming from the city made her a cosmopolitan object of fascination for a lot of people. For Lisa, it made her the perfect recruiter.

  "Good morning John, Lisa." Rachel greeted them with a weary smile, and eyes that said she knew something was up.

  John sat back in the bleachers and nodded to the nurse. It was her idea to explain. With a quick look around that probably wasn't as subtle as she meant it to be, she began laying down the basics of her plan. Vague as that plan was, it didn't take long. When she finished, the fierce glow in Rachel's eyes made her half-smile as threatening as a mountain lion.

  Lisa knew she had the right person for the job.

  "When?" was all the vengeful wife asked.

  "As soon as you can. We want people primed and ready. There's no way of telling how long they plan on keeping us penned up here."

  Rachel nodded. She took Lisa's hand and gave a quick squeeze, then turned and drifted off among the townsfolk.

  "Get some rest," John told her, "you'll need it when she finishes her part."

  Turning back to the old man, Lisa smiled with a confidence she almost felt. "No rest for me yet. Still a few things I have to do first."

  John smiled understandingly and moved off to do his part. Steeling her nerves, the nurse looked to the guard at the entrance. He was tall, but not towering. Dirty blond hair sat wildly atop a boyish face that looked rather pensive at the moment. She had seen him before, which probably marked him as one of the original escapees.

  Standing with a deep breath, Lisa walked briskly across the gym. Appearing confident was more critical to Rachel's recruiting effort than anything else, but it couldn't hurt for this job. All that bravado in her strut was wasted on this guard. What she had mistaken for thoughtfulness on his young face was actually full blown distraction -- she was only five feet away when he finally acknowledged her.

  "What do you want?" he asked without even raising his weapon.

  So much for my intimidating walk.

  "Two men are dead over there. We need to take them out of here."

  He stared at her, considering what she said before slowly shaking his head. "No. No one leaves here, just put something over them."

  "And what should we use?" Lisa summoned up her most clinical voice and adopted a lecturing posture. "We have no sanitation system, and certainly no way to embalm them. Nothing we use to cover them will stop them from starting to decompose within twelve hours, or from being a health hazard in twenty-four. Do you know how many diseases can be caused by untreated corpses? Do you think those diseases will avoid you because you're holding a gun?"

  Now she had his attention.

  "Look, I don't make the rules, I can't make this call. When my shift is over I'll ask the boss how he wants it handled. That's the best I can do."

  Lisa stood her ground. It wasn't her exaggerated disease scenario that drove her, but the symbolic aspect of carrying out their dead. She suspected that was the type of action that would rally the people into insurrection.

  "And what if we just pick them up and walk out the door with the bodies?" Her tone was remarkably steady, considering how shaky her knees felt.

  Now he raised the rifle meaningfully. "No one makes it out that door."

  "I thought you weren't a killer?" came the sweet voice from behind her. Rachel had come to see what the con
frontation was about, and her appearance was having a visible impact on the guard.

  "I'm not," he began uncomfortably, "but I'll do what I have to do. You two need to go back to your people."

  "Unfortunately, your people already slaughtered my people back in Santa Maria!" Lisa couldn't keep the heat from her voice, so she did not try. "Now I'm with these people, and I'd prefer to keep them alive while I'm here. If you don't allow me to remove those bodies, then you will be a killer."

  A hand on her shoulder from Rachel was enough to take away some of the edge. Her accomplice stepped up with a smile to try a different technique.

  "She's right, you know." Rachel spoke softly in direct contrast to Lisa's harsh verbal assault. "I believe you don't want anyone else to die here, but you have to give us this. You aren't a killer, and you don't have to be."

  His face softened slightly, but he wouldn't meet either woman's eyes. Before he could respond, a stumpy middle-aged man approached him and clapped him on the shoulder -- or as close as he could reach to it.

  "Hey Jersey, boss sent me to relieve you. He wants you to join him for lunch."

  A look of something akin to guilt flashed across the tall man's face as he answered his companion. "I still have a few hours on shift, though."

  "Hey, I guess plans change." The new guy chuckled in an annoyingly nasal manner. "You off one little girl and suddenly you get special treatment!"

  The tall guard's face flinched in a way that explained his inability to meet a mother's eyes.

  Rachel's hand squeezed impossibly hard on Lisa's shoulder, then slid off as she collapsed.

  Lisa turned to catch her, but realized as they clung to each other that neither had much hope of staying on their feet. As she hit the ground, images of Eve flashed through her mind, then everything was drowned out by sobs.

  84

  Adam needed to be gone. Watching the two women collapse tore him inside like a twisting knife. He fought the urge to deck his replacement for the untimely comment, but figured that might be a bit too obvious. Instead he whispered something about moving the girls back to the crowd, then turned and made a quick exit.