by Mike Kraus
Frank takes this to mean that the place has been heavily trafficked by those looking to procure the same type of supplies he is after and thus he employs a healthy amount of caution during his search. In addition to the flashlight in his left hand he wields a pistol in his right, using it to sweep each room he passes by. Light and shadows from the mirrors and gleaming metal surfaces jump back at him, making him flinch every time he thinks someone is lying in wait.
Though Sarah had enough medicine on hand to put Linda under and start treating her deep infections she was blunt with Frank about what he had to do. “If you don’t get enough of this antibiotic, Linda will die.” Frank grits his teeth as he plays back the words in his mind. He picks up the pace through the clinic, searching for the back room he knows exists. After going to three walk-in clinics and two hospitals Frank is already well-versed in where the restricted medications are kept under lock and key. The problem, though, is that he’s not the only one who knows.
The clatter of glass bottles makes Frank freeze in place. He shuts off his flashlight and shifts to the other side of the hall and ducks down in case anyone was watching him. A soft yellow glow appears out of the darkness a few doorways down, emanating from the room Frank has been searching for. He creeps up to the door slowly and peeks in.
Two figures stand in front of a tall metal cabinet. A large lantern rests on the table in between the pair and the doorway, giving off the yellow glow. Both of the men are thin and wear track pants. One has a light jacket on while the other wears a ragged and stained tank top. Both have tattoos across their exposed skin and curse at each other with every other word. The pair grunt as they struggle with a crowbar, trying their best to break open the metal cabinet without having the foggiest idea of how exactly to do so.
Frank watches the two for a moment, thoroughly absorbed in amusement by their idiocy. First they try prying the cabinet open from the top of the right door, then the bottom of the left, then from the sides and then from the middle. The double doors on the cabinet remain fast, though, and the lock is positioned in a way that they can’t break it off or open without a key or a gun of some type.
“Dammit!” One of the men yelps as he turns on a portable cutting torch, burning off the hair from his left arm and very nearly setting his shirt on fire. He points the torch at the cabinet for a few seconds before his partner grabs it and turns it off before launching into a rant.
“What’re you trying to do? Burn all the drugs?!”
“I thought—”
“That’s what I’m here for!” The second man turns and throws the torch on the table next to the lantern. Frank, noticing the man’s movement too late, is seen by the second man who backs up and grabs at the first man while speaking. “Someone’s here with us!”
Frank stands up and starts to move in front of the doorway as he replies. “Hey! Sorry, I’m just here for some—” Frank’s words are cut off by the sound of a pair of pistols firing wildly from inside the room out towards him. He swings back around the doorframe and ducks low, staying clear of the shots. The smell of gunpowder fills the cramped space as the two survivors quickly expend their ammunition reserves. When they run out of bullets Frank shouts again, hoping to reason with the pair. “I just need some morphine and antibiotics! Please, they’re for my friend who’s injured!”
“Fuck your friend!” The first man shouts. Two slides slam home, indicating that fresh rounds have been chambered and another hail of gunfire pours out into the hallway. Frank sinks into a sitting position on the floor and watches as the opposite wall is turned into what he considers a fairly accurate representation of Swiss cheese. He briefly considers abandoning the clinic and finding somewhere else to locate Linda’s medicine when Sarah’s words echo through his head once again.
In that moment Frank feels something grip his insides, twist them up and shake them around. Avoiding conflict wherever possible while letting Linda take point in any conflict situations that do arise has been his strategy up until this point. Any actions he has taken beyond that have been out of pure necessity and survival instincts. It is not necessary to engage the pair in the next room. He could easily slip away and find somewhere else to search. But he doesn’t.
As he sits in the hallway watching drywall turn into puffs of white powder while his ears ring he feels something click inside his brain. It’s similar to what clicked when he had to save Linda from the meth heads and when he bluffed their way out of an arrest in the D.C. survivor city except this time he is alone. There is no backup, no one to encourage him and no one to see whether he fails or succeeds.
In this moment he is completely alone.
Frank double checks the safety on his pistol and tightens the muscles in his legs. He stays still, waiting for the dual-firing pistols to expend their last rounds. As before there is the sound of frantic clicking once the two men finish emptying their magazines and they both go to reload at the same time.
Frank feels the rough texture of the wall as he slides upward, scraping his back and nearly tearing his jacket on the plastic sign glued to the wall. He turns and steps to the right, raising his pistol and leveling it with the first figure he sees. He squeezes the trigger twice in rapid succession, sees the first figure recoil in pain and performs the same action on the second figure.
While both men have a long and sordid history of using firearms on others for some reason neither of them has ever been shot. The surprise at actually being shot is the first feeling they experience though the pain comes through a few seconds later. The first figure—who nearly had his new magazine fully inserted into his pistol—drops both to the ground in shock. The second figure stares down at his chest with wide eyes as the brownish white color of his tank top begins to turn crimson.
Frank glances at both figures long enough to shoot each of them once more. He aims for their heads, wincing slightly as a mist of blood and a few pieces of gore are ejected into the air and onto the floor. The groans of pain and struggles to retrieve their weapons stop after these final shots and Frank steps over the men to examine the cabinet.
Twenty minutes later Frank steps out from the Washington Walk-In Clinic with a dirty duffel bag over his shoulder. The bag contains dozens of IV bags filled with life-saving and pain-relieving liquids. Frank walks to his car stiffly and puts the duffel bag in the passenger seat before heading back inside to retrieve a second bag filled with the rest of the cabinet’s contents. As before he steps over the bodies of the two men without looking at them, doing his best to avoid stepping in the pools of blood that are slowly spreading through the room.
Once both bags are in the car Frank gets in, turns the key and starts it up. He grips the steering wheel with both hands and looks down at the bags that will save the life of his friend. He starts to ponder the cost of obtaining the supplies when he stops himself, shaking his head to try and physically dislodge the thoughts from his mind. With a slight nod and a deep breath he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot, heading for Sarah’s townhouse and a reprieve from the day.
Chapter 7
After having their badges cleared yet again Frank and Linda boarded the nearly empty C-130 as it was undergoing refueling. All of the supplies had been offloaded and the only things left on board were the seats along the sides of the plane into which dozens of soldiers and other people were situating themselves. Frank and Linda sat by themselves down at one end of the aircraft, not wanting to have to face any unnecessary questions while they were in the air.
Halfway through the flight, as Frank began counting the rivets on the opposite wall for the third time, he heard a buzzing sound coming from beneath his seat. He reached down and pulled out the padded case holding the satellite phone and opened it up. The screen on the device was illuminated and a message flashed across indicating that two messages had been sent.
Frank pressed the button with an envelope on it and the messages appeared. They were sent by a number he didn’t recognize but as he read the messages he
realized they had been sent by Sarah.
1: Found someone in Long Beach. Will advise when I make contact.
2: Casey Schultz. Air Force, black hair, 5’5”, working in admin at airfield. She will procure vehicle for you two. Best of luck.
Frank re-read the messages three times before putting the phone back into its case. I guess that solves the car problem. Just how many people does Sarah know, anyway? The thought drifted around through his head for a few minutes before he went back to counting rivets to pass the time.
The flight lasted for just under six hours and Frank was relieved to see Linda fall asleep shortly after takeoff. She stayed asleep until the plane started to descend toward Long Beach at which point Frank tapped her on the leg until she woke up. “Hey, we’re a few minutes out from landing.”
“Hm?” Linda rubbed her neck before collecting up a few loose strands of her hair and retying her ponytail. “Did I sleep the whole time?”
Frank nodded. “Yep. You were out like a light. How’s your leg?”
“Doing okay.” Linda flexed her leg back and forth. “I should be good to walk on it for a while. Did you sleep any?”
“Nah. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Jet lag never really affected me. I’m good.”
“Must be nice.” Linda yawned and looked around at the other people strapped into their seats. The mood was somber and everyone appeared to be minding their own business, scarcely saying a word to one another. “Once we’re on the ground we’ll get directions to the port, get ourselves a vehicle of some sort and head straight there. I want to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.”
“You expecting trouble?”
“I always expect trouble, Frank. Always.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that we might not have as much trouble with the vehicle situation as we thought. Sarah sent us a message on the satellite phone. We need to look for a lady named Casey. She’s in the Air Force and is working at Long Beach. Sarah apparently talked to her and this lady can get us a car.”
Linda smiled. “Excellent. We’ll find her first thing after we’re on the ground.”
The plane touched down several minutes later and spent several more taxiing around to its designated spot. The crew chief came walking around to help the non-military personnel with unbuckling their straps before opening the massive back ramp at the back of the plane. Frank and Linda were two of the first to depart once their rifles had been retrieved by the crew chief. They headed straight for the closest building that had a swarm of people around it. Behind them, once all the passengers were off the plane, workers began offloading crates of supplies from trucks onto the aircraft so that it could head back out again for another run.
Frank and Linda expected to be stopped or, at a minimum, be greeted with stares as they walked in to the hangar that appeared to serve as the hub for the airfield. The amount of traffic that the airfield received meant that no one even bothered glancing at the pair except for the guard who checked the tags hanging from their necks and waved them through. The level of activity in the hangar was frenetic as people walked and ran to and fro all while talking and shouting at each other.
“Do you see anyone who looks like what Sarah described?” Linda cupped her hand around her mouth and talked directly into Frank’s ear.
“Over there. Let’s ask her.” Frank pointed to a woman wearing an Air Force uniform who had a phone to one ear and her hand over the other. She matched the description that Sarah had sent so he and Linda walked over to the woman and waited until she got off the phone.
“Son of a bitch!” The woman cursed as she hung up the phone. She slammed it down on the receiver before glancing up at Frank and Linda. “Sorry about that. These idiots can’t get maintenance parts in for another two days and I’ve got three birds grounded till then.”
Linda nodded sympathetically. “Sorry to hear that.” She handed the woman her badge and Frank did the same. “We need to get a vehicle. Something discreet, preferably, without any markings.”
The woman looked at the badge and did a double take, her eyes widening and her voice lowering to a whisper that was barely audible over the background noise. “You two know Sarah?”
Frank and Linda exchanged a glance. The woman smiled and stuck out her hand to shake both of theirs. “I’m Casey. Lieutenant Casey Schultz. I worked with Sarah a few times, helping her out with some of her projects. She called me a few hours ago and said you two would be here soon.”
“Huh.” Linda nodded thoughtfully. “I guess she really did make contact with you. Did she say what it was about?”
Casey shook her head. “Nope. She said you two were here and would need a car and asked if I could help. I asked her what it was about but she said she couldn’t tell me.”
“Can you?” Linda took her badge back. “Get us a car, I mean?”
“Absolutely!” Casey smiled and flipped through a large binder on her desk. “Give me just a minute and I’ll find something for you. Are you sure you don’t want something big, though?” She looked at the pair nervously. “The streets are pretty rough right now.”
“Nah.” Frank shook his head. “We’d rather blend in as much as possible.”
“Having anything that drives is going to make you stand out like a sore thumb but I’ll see what I can do.” Casey continued flipping through her binder and touching various lines in the book with her pen until she tapped on one and looked back up. “This one belonged to Roberts. He was killed a few days ago during a rescue operation. It’s a black SUV in decent condition.”
“The guy who owned it died?” Frank blinked a few times in disbelief. “And we can just take it?”
Casey shrugged. “This isn’t a normal situation. Every vehicle, including private ones, is counted and cataloged in case it needs to be used for something. You two are the something this one’s going to be used for.”
“Sounds good, Casey. We’ll take it.” Linda slipped into the conversation. “Where can we find it?”
“Look behind the second hangar down. Keys will be inside. License plate is JCV-790.”
“Thank you.” Linda smiled. “Thank you very much.”
Casey nodded. “You’re welcome. I hope you two are successful with whatever you’re doing.”
Frank and Linda turned and walked off as Frank mumbled under his breath. “Me too, Casey. Me too.”
***
“What’s your problem with them using a dead guy’s car?” Linda talked as she and Frank headed towards the area where Casey directed them. “This is an emergency. Every vehicle that still operates is needed for something.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Frank nodded and waved away Linda’s concern. “Sorry if I seemed weirded out by it. It just seemed odd in the moment, that’s all.”
“Good. Because there it is.” Linda pointed ahead of them at a small parking lot filled with vehicles. “JCV-790, right there at the end.”
“Perfect. Let’s load up and go swing back around and talk to Casey. I want to see if what Sarah said about getting three days’ worth of supplies will be true or not.”
“Hey, nice idea.” Linda took her backpack off and put it on the ground next to the SUV. “I had forgotten about that.”
Frank looked through the tinted front window and pulled on the handle. The driver’s side door opened with a soft whoosh. He reached around the steering column and nodded with satisfaction as he felt a small bunch of keys hanging from the one that was inserted into the ignition. “Looks like Casey was right.”
“Fantastic. Let’s get loaded up, go see her about the supplies and then get going.” Linda looked at the sky and then at her watch. “If we move quickly we might make it to the port before midnight.”
“That’ll be a stretch, but maybe.”
Frank loaded his and Linda’s gear into the car, tucking their rifles into the back seats along with their backpacks. They both got in and drove back to the hangar where Frank wen
t inside to talk to Casey. Fifteen minutes later, when Linda was starting to get worried that something might have gone wrong, he came back out carrying a large duffel bag. He threw the bag into the back of the SUV and got back into the driver’s seat with a smile on his face.
“I take it things went well?”
“ I asked for three days of supplies, just like Sarah said. I’m pretty sure she gave us a week’s worth even though I specified that we only wanted enough for three days.”
Linda poked Frank in the arm. “Maybe she thought you were cute.”
“Ha!” Frank laughed and put the SUV into gear. “We’ve got water, MREs and a box of protein bars. Add to that the stuff we brought and we’re in good shape for a nice long stakeout.”
“I hope to hell it won’t come to that. Say, did you happen to get directions while you were in there?”
“I did one better.” Frank pulled a thickly folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Linda. “That’s what took me so long. She was looking up the latest intel on the area to see what our fastest route would be. I told her we were going to a place a mile or so from the docks so that she wouldn’t know exactly where we were going. Just in case.”
Linda unfolded the map. “I’m impressed you thought of that. We’ll turn you into a field operative yet.”
“I’d settle for not having nukes go off all over the place, thanks.”
The mention of the reason why the pair were in Los Angeles sucked all levity out of the conversation and Linda’s smile fell. “Agreed. Okay, it looks like this should be fairly easy to follow. It’s a roundabout route but we should be able to drive it in an hour.”