by Jeff Olah
“Looks like they’re coming in.”
Obscured partially due to the approaching night, it took Bryce a moment to figure out what it meant. He stopped, turned completely around and tilted his head. With his hand over his eyes and shielding the moonlight, he was able to see the outline of what appeared to be large sections of chain-link fence that had been somehow attached to the back of the trucks.
He estimated that between the two there had to be at least twenty feet of fencing that stretched from one end of the intersection to the other. It looked to him like they were being used as makeshift barriers that had the intended purpose of keeping back a massive throng of Feeders who had pushed in from the rear.
Bryce looked to his friend, then back over his shoulder, and then again into the street. “This is going to get bad real quick, we’ve gotta—”
His thought was cut short as he noticed Sawyer now staring off toward the rear of the school. His friend broke into a jog and motioned for Bryce to follow. “We might have just gotten our first break.”
Bryce bit into his lip. He didn’t understand what changed in Sawyer, but continued after him all the same. “Whatta ya got?”
Increasing his pace, his eyes roving from left to fight, Sawyer breathed out heavily. “It was there, I swear to you, it was there.”
“What … what was there?”
“A light.”
As the last syllable crested Sawyer’s lips, it happened again. The third window from the right—closest to the rear of the gym, sent a stream of illumination out into the yard. It was only for a brief moment, but it was there.
“Okay then,” Bryce said, “let’s go get our friend.”
20
Ethan had crawled away from the low wall and now sat facing toward the street. The man on the street below with the bullhorn hadn’t again spoken. Was he getting ready for another attack or was he simply waiting for Ethan to wave a white flag? With everything that had taken place in the last thirty minutes, he figured the best course of action was the one he’d fought against since arriving nearly a month before.
Tom was right and Ethan was going to tell him. That is, if he was able to leave the roof in one piece.
“HEY?” Ethan’s voice moved out into the cool night air and then echoed through the devastated city streets.
There were voices, many of them. Verbal taunts only slightly out of earshot, low slung conversations, and even a few well-timed whistles. But nothing from the man with the bullhorn. He had made the call and now appeared to be giving Ethan just enough rope to hang himself.
Again Ethan attempted to keep the dialogue moving, but he also was hoping to buy his friends some time. “WE NEED TO TALK.”
Now those other voices all went quiet at once. They were replaced with a long belly laugh. It was him, but not through the bullhorn. His voice came out deep and thick, without an ounce of remorse or shame.
Next the squawk of the bullhorn and then, “No we do not. We only need for you and your friends to make your exit. And if I’m counting, it looks like you’ve got about six, maybe seven minutes.”
With his head still swimming through last night’s bad decisions, Ethan turned to Boone. “I’m sure the others are already clear. Why don’t you head down and make sure they get to the vehicles?”
Boone dropped to his hands and knees and moved quickly to the east side of the roof. He tilted his head up and appeared to be listening to something. As he approached the wall, he slowly pulled himself up and looked out toward the rear of the school. He paused for a brief moment and then slowly slumped back to the ground. Turning to face Ethan he said, “We’ve got company.”
Ethan almost laughed. “Yeah, that’s obvious.”
Boone shook his head, the look on his face telling a different story. “No, they’re already inside the gates. We’ve got to get down there. I mean like right now.”
His new friend was right. And that was already his plan, but he wanted to give the others a few more minutes to at least get out away from the building. There wouldn’t be time to pack up or to gather all of the items they’d risked their lives scavenging for, and although they’d have to leave behind most everything they’d worked to collect over the last thirty days, there was one thing that was absolutely worth the risk.
Ethan waved Boone over. “You still got a radio?”
“Yep.”
“Let the others know we’re coming to them, but that I’m going to make a quick stop.”
Boone bit into his lower lip and leaned back into the wall. “What?”
“I’m going after the weapons.”
Ethan stayed low and moved back to the retaining wall. As he began to shout into the night, Boone returned the radio to his hip and held up his hand. “Griff’s already heading to the weapons. Tom said he’s getting everyone out to the portables, we should go.”
One less thing to worry about, Ethan thought. Now how to fix the other problem. “Okay,” he said, “take the long hallway to the kitchen and get to them before they get outside. I’m right behind you.”
Boone stared back, his face wore a long frown that told Ethan he didn’t like the plan. However, he moved to the door and disappeared into the stairwell all the same. His last words, “Don’t be a hero.”
Ethan pushed into the retaining wall and as he started to stand, he dug his fingers into his temples. The pain was dull and throbbing, but constant. It was a long overdue reminder of what he fought to leave behind, and although it could have been avoided, it was definitely something he needed to go through. A not so gentle reminder of what was most important in this new world.
Taking a deep breath, Ethan scanned the street below and found the man with the bullhorn. He was standing behind a group of three well-armed men and also had what appeared to be a stainless-steel Beretta hanging from his left hand.
The man began to raise the bullhorn, but before he spoke, Ethan again shouted, “WE’VE GOT A FEW THAT ARE INJURED …”
He was lying.
“WE JUST NEED MORE TIME.”
The man on the street keyed the mic on the bullhorn and waited as those around him fell into silence. He hesitated for a beat and then spoke, this time there was something new in his voice. Ethan thought it sounded like anger, or maybe fear. The man was now looking away from the building, toward something in the east. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your life, or what’s left of it, is about to get much worse. Take my advice, leave the building now.”
Ethan was already through the door and down the first flight of stairs when the voice from the street died away. Now the only sound was his feet on the cold linoleum steps and his heart beating in his ears.
He rounded the last set of stairs and moved toward the exit on the first floor just as another explosion rocked the building. It didn’t sound as though it was a direct hit, although the magnitude of the shockwave indicated it was much closer than he was comfortable with.
Out into the hall, he looked left and although the smoke had cleared, he was unable to see anything past the front doors of the school. Instinctively, he moved right and started for the gymnasium. His friends would have initially gathered there before heading out into the rear lot.
Before he’d gone ten strides, he heard voices coming from where he anticipated they would have been. Only they weren’t exactly voices, more like random grunts, groans, and what could only be described as something resembling a wounded animal. Forward wasn’t the only way through; however, it was the only way back to his friends.
As he came to the intersecting hall leading away from the main area of the school, he peered right and thought of Griffin. Had his friend already made his way through the darkened corridor or was he the one who now needed help? Ethan couldn’t be sure that the sounds of the horde weren’t coming from that direction, but as he continued on, he knew he didn’t have a choice.
Griff, you’d better have taken the back way.
One last look over his right shoulder and then he was on
the move again. Deeper into the hall his visibility was now near zero. He squinted as he moved, but that did nothing to bring the area ahead into focus. Noticing that the inability to see was compounding his disorientation, he stepped quickly to the left and placed his palm flat against the wall.
Before starting again, Ethan calmed his breathing and only focused on the sounds outside of himself. The distraction of the previous few minutes, what it all meant, and how to navigate the next half hour had to take a back seat for now. If he couldn’t get himself out of the building, he was useless to his friends. And although he wasn’t at a hundred percent, they still needed him.
As he stepped cautiously through the dark—one shallow stride at a time—he came to another break. He remembered this as the hall that led to the faculty breakroom. Just ahead, the second door on the right would drop him into one of the classrooms that sat at the rear of the school. If needed, he could break out a window and catch the others somewhere between the gym and the portables.
Another twenty feet and he could finally make out the doorway ahead. Within ten feet he was stepping across the hall and through the filtered moonlight gently pushing its way into the hall. Quickly toward the back of the room and then sliding a desk against the wall, Ethan took a moment to steady himself before climbing onto the seat.
Ethan hesitated as he reached for the latch at the top of the window. The rear lot had been overrun and without a weapon, or any real way to defend himself, the chances of him making it to the portables untouched didn’t look good. And although there was one other way out of the building, he knew that option would be even more risky than what he was about to do.
With one final scan of the grounds below, Ethan pushed open the window and began to climb out. And as the sounds of the world beyond came rushing in, there were voices. Not only the low moans and pale grunts of the horde, but through the chaos came the unmistakable shouts of two men.
Ethan swung his legs over the edge of the window sill and before jumping to the ground, he just listened. For a moment, he almost thought it was Griffin barking orders to Boone, but as they grew closer, he realized the two voices were from men he had yet to meet.
21
Tom was out front. He moved in silence along the exterior wall of the gymnasium. With the fences down, he was now in a slow jog, making sure the others stayed on his heels. He replayed in his head the last conversation he’d had with Griffin and had to remind himself that he was in fact capable of leading these people to safety. Desperate circumstances aside, he had no other choice.
Mayor Gil was next, followed by Shannon, Helen, and Carly. They clung to each other’s belts and were—as a unit—attempting to stay hidden in the shadows. At the rear and not more than a few seconds behind, Emma held tight to Zach’s hand and tried keep pace with Ben and Mila.
Tom eyed the rear yard. The portable classrooms were less than fifty yards off, although the crowds pouring in off the street were much closer. Tom slowed as he reached the east end of the building and waited for the others to file in from behind. “Looks like we’re good. There are a few small packs that could be trouble.” He pointed to a spot just beyond the tennis courts. “But if we stay together, we’ll make it.”
Carly looked to Helen, and then Emma, and finally back to Tom. “What about Griff, Boone … and Ethan? They still haven’t—”
He was thinking the same thing, but couldn’t let this get away from him. He really only had one job to do and if he could keep them moving, he might just get it done. Interrupting, he said, “They’re coming, I promise you that.”
Emma pulled Zach in front of her and eyed Tom. She didn’t appear pleased with his response, but kept it to herself.
“We don’t have time to debate this and we sure as hell aren’t going back. Ethan knows where we’re headed and that’s where—”
“TOM!”
A voice came from the darkened west end of the building. It was somewhat familiar, but not enough that he could place it. He thought it sounded a bit like Griffin, but that wasn’t right. He also knew the voice had come from an area that would make it impossible for it to be either Boone or Ethan.
Tom looked to Ben and then to Mayor Gil. “Either of you have a weapon?”
Ben took in a long breath through his nose and shook his head. “No sir.”
Mayor Gil reached into his lower back and withdrew a pistol, holding it down at his right side. “Only for show my friend. Fired off the last round somewhere near Barstow.”
Out of instinct, Tom motioned the others closer. He had them move around the corner and stay huddled together. Holding out his hand, he asked Mayor Gil for his empty weapon. “Stay here.”
The sound of hurried footfalls preceded two individuals emerging from the shadows. They were out of breath and their eyes moved between the downed fences, the approaching horde, and Tom. The man on the right pitched forward and placed his hands on his hips, causing Tom to take a quick step back.
Quickly raising the weapon and pointing it at the man’s chest, Tom had the taste of bile in the back of his throat. Even though the weapon was empty, just the thought of ending another man’s life sent a cold chill up his spine and nearly brought him to his knees.
“STOP—”
What was left of his thought slowly faded as he turned to the second man. Dressed in a dark colored dress shirt and slacks that looked to be three sizes too big, the man with more than a few days growth covering his face and neck smiled.
“Tom?”
The weak feeling in Tom’s legs and the hollow pang in the pit of his stomach quickly receded. He knew the man standing less than ten feet away. He looked much thinner than he last remembered and had obviously seen much better days, but it was him.
“Bryce, what are you doing here? I don’t understand, how did you—”
The man in the tattered and bloodied dress shirt shook his head and pointed back toward the street. “We don’t have time right now. This place is about to become a war zone and we’re standing at ground zero.”
Tom stepped forward and eyed his old friend. “What’s going on, why are you here with those people? Why are you—”
Again, Bryce interrupted. Only this time, he narrowed his eyes and looked over Tom’s shoulder. “You don’t understand, and right now there really isn’t time to explain. We’ve got to get as far away from here as possible.”
From behind, Helen moved away from the others and stood at Tom’s side. “My son is still in there, we can’t …” She began to break, her words catching in her throat.
“We have three others inside,” Emma said. “We aren’t leaving without them.”
Bryce turned to Tom. “They’re going to turn this place upside down, not to mention what’s flooding in off the streets. You’re gonna have to make a decision right now.”
Tom stepped aside, turning back to Emma and the others. “We’re not leaving them.” He then motioned toward Bryce. “But he’s also not wrong, we do need to move out.”
The group descended into multiple whispered conversations, none of which could be heard over the other. Mayor Gil finally stepped forward and pointed toward the tennis courts as a fifty-foot section of chain-link fencing slammed to the asphalt. “I think these men may know what it is that—”
A third silhouetted figure emerged from the shadows. This time, there was no mistaking the man’s identity. He was still nearly thirty yards away and as he hesitated, a crowd of more than twenty cut off his path back to the others. He slowed to a walk and looked to be searching for another way out.
Emma stepped out away from the corner of the building. “ETHAN!”
With the crowd closing in around him and no real way to avoid the confrontation, he lurched forward and began taking them one at a time. The exact details were lost to the distance and the darkened rear lot; however, there was no denying what was coming next.
Helen finally gave in to her emotions. She dropped to her knees and began to sob. Her back rounded and her he
ad in her hands, she screamed as if the sheer volume of her voice would drive the horde from the area.
As the others stood frozen in place, Shannon grabbed Tom by the arm and turned to face the man he addressed as Bryce. “Do something.” Her voice continued in an upward arc. “Go get Ethan.”
Tom’s eyes drifted to Bryce and then back to Shannon. “I …”
Shannon looked around at the others. “He risked his life for every single one of you, we should all be—”
There was a collective gasp as they watched Zach move out away from the building and sprint in a straight line toward the crowd of ravenous beasts. The young boy called out as he put his head down and ran. “Mr. Ethan, I’m coming!”
Shannon was the first to react. She pushed through the others and started after Zach as Ben and Tom followed. Although before they had taken more than a few strides, the trio quickly realized two things. First, the eight-year-old boy was much faster than anyone else in their small group, and second, there was absolutely no way they were going to reach him before he was overtaken by the crowd of nearly two dozen Feeders.
As the group looked around at one another in horror, Emma stepped forward. “No,” she said, “let him go.”
22
The two rights and a left he took after moving out into the first floor should have placed him in the hallway just outside the gym. He remembered passing the cafeteria and the row of offices beyond what was left of the massive trophy case, but something was wrong. It was darker than he’d anticipated, and although Boone had walked these halls more than anyone else over the last thirty days, he was now lost.
He was also disoriented. Having slowed his pace and stopping more than a few times to just listen, he was unsure whether the distant sounds of the dead were coming from the rear yard or if they were now inside the walls of the school. But so far he’d been lucky—the only thing that had actually moved was his reflection in the glass doors of the admissions office.