The short man looked puzzled, but Janicea didn’t think Benji noticed.
“No way! You the cruel one. I heard things about you.”
“Then you know how cruel he can be if you make him angry,” said the short guy.
“You’ll let me go if I show you the rocks?”
The taller man nodded, “Sure, maybe.”
Benji looked around and his eyes lit on them, she and Bronte. He stood on one leg and pulled off his other shoe. He dumped a couple rocks into his hand.
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“Is that your shoe?” asked the angry one.
“Yeah,” said Benji.
“You’re under arrest. Drop to your knees and cross your feet.” Benji freaked. “You lied! You lied to me!” he shouted. “That’s your shoe so they’re your rocks. Now get down on your
knees.” The guy with the jug ears stepped behind Benji and drew a pistol from beneath his arm under the suit coat. She’d swear later that he put the barrel against Benji’s head, but not even Bronte would back her up. But if they were cops they’d never do that!
She couldn’t help herself and stepped forward shouting, “Why don’t you go chase real criminals—He wasn’t hurting anyone but himself!” The two men looked over at her and she shouted, “Run Benji! Run!”
From a distance she heard Bronte shouting at her, “No Janice, stay out of it. He’s just a piece of garbage. They all are! They aren’t cops, Janice!”
Something or somebody is shaking her. “Wake up bitch!” yells Torenz. “We’re here, get off the damn truck!”
“Torenzio, I…”
She can feel the people move behind her and suddenly she no longer has to press against him. Torenz brings a walkie-talkie to his lips. “We are setting up now. Where are they?”
“They just passed Bartlett Park and Chattaway’s, Torenzio. They should be visible to you in less than a minute unless they stop again.”
“What? Have they been stopping?”
“Every time they see a place to loot.”
“Well, there is a corner grocery just to the right of Thrill Hill behind me. We could take out the lead vehicle just as it reaches the bridge and then proceed from there?”
“What does Janicea think?” asks the voice.
“Janicea doesn’t know shit. I’m afraid she’s lost her willingness to help the cause,” Torenz says, and grins at her.
“It’s no skin off my ass, brother. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
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His arms are aching. Pretty soon, I may have to switch to the pistol because I’ll be too weak to swing the axe. The water continues to pour down. He stands for a moment, waiting for the others to disappear. How am I going to do this? When he had Sam with him, they could each take a side. In theory, that way, they could check each store.
He resigns himself, and jogs into the center of the concourse where Kathy just escaped from. “Fire department!” he shouts, “I’m here to help you! Fire department! Come out and I’ll get you out of here!”
Twenty or thirty bodies litter the floor, in and around the fountain. Smoke is still billowing from the caved-in store entrance to his right. Nobody moves. No cheerleader uniforms either. The first store on the left is a jewelry store. Several display cases are smashed in and glass is all over the floor. A gray-haired woman in a tan skirt and blue blouse is on her knees in the middle of the mess, attempting to stand. Dear God why isn’t she screaming? The glass must be digging into her legs. The thought flashes through his mind. One of them!
He speeds up a bit and looks into the next store. It appears to be filled with expensive statuettes and gift items. Nobody or bodies though.
Time to try the other side and backtrack a bit. What happened to the Goths?
The first store on this side is also a jewelry store. “Liz are you here? Fire Department! Hello!”
He gives up and goes to the next. It is some kind of eyeglass place. A display of sunglasses is almost empty. Theft? He takes a few steps inside, but it is also empty. No damage to display cases, but empty. Hopefully most people escaped. He turns to leave and sees the gray-haired woman across the way. She is on her feet and staggering badly in her highheeled shoes, but walking toward him determinedly.
Jesus. I should probably kill her now. The woman’s face is gray and one eye is rolled up. Normally he’d run to help someone who looked
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like her and was still walking around. That’s what happened to Fabrowski and Lechi. They went to help terribly injured people and he was unlucky enough to witness it.
He blinks abruptly. Good God! I’ve been woolgathering. The woman is only five feet away and has begun to moan. Glass is still imbedded in her legs, arms and hands. “Oh no you don’t,” he says and jabs her with the head of the axe. Down she goes. “That’ll slow you down a bit.”
“Which store next?” he wonders out loud. “Might as well stay on this side a little longer.” With that, he jogs into a ladies clothing store.
“Hello! Fire Department! Anyone here?”
T WO MEN IN BUSINESS SUITS, two women and two children are walking toward him. He can see a similar sized group heading toward Talaski and his cruiser.
The bigger man of the group approaching Keller is expounding on something. He is about Keller’s height, with gray-flecked hair cut above his ears and collar. His yellow-toned skin is pocked and oily. “We were thinking about staying at my condo on Tierra Verde, but this appears to be quite serious.”
“Is it well-stocked with supplies?” the shorter man wants to know. He has a big head and big ears. “You know I’m a serious camper and serious about being prepared for hurricanes. I have a supply of the new army rations, canned goods, water, liquor and almost any sundry item— We don’t really need to go to this ship.” He pauses and looks around furtively. He actually looks right through Keller, then says, “I even have guns and ammo.”
I’m invisible to these people .
Both men fall silent as a distant throbbing materializes into the chop and clatter of a helicopter. It appears over a line of three story office buildings. The body of it is painted a fiery red and yellow letters on the side proclaim, “Sky Action 9.”
“What’s he doing Dad?!” shouts one of the kids, a boy of about thirteen.
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The helicopter drifts lazily above them, traveling at a meager three or four mph. Some sort of camera is mounted in the nose, just in front of the pilots. The down draft is enormous and the dress of one of the women in the group flies up around above her waist before she can pull it down. Keller gets an eye full and a lazy grin breaks through the sober mask he’s been wearing for hours now.
Now that was beautiful .
“What are you smiling at?!” shouts the bigger guy.
“I saw something that pleased me,” Keller answers. The copter picks
up speed and disappears behind some buildings as it continues on a northerly path.
“Don’t smart ass me.”
“Well, then don’t dumb ass me, or I’ll knock your dick in the dirt.”
The guy is hyperventilating. “I’m personal friends with both the mayor and chief. Your career will be finished.” He actually sprays spittle at the end. His wife, the woman in the dress, puts a hand on his arm trying to restrain him. “Lionel please, it doesn’t matter.”
Lionel shrugs her hand away and the woman staggers back with a shocked look on her face. “Stay out of this Carol.”
Carol listens and goes back to comfort her children. All the others are standing there with shocked expressions.
“Last chance,” says Keller, and folds his arms. He takes a deep breath.
“What do you mean last chance? I’ll have your badge. Maybe you’ll be able to work in the drive through in McDonalds or—”
“Shut up and get your family in the car. I’m done talking.”
He splutters, but seems to think better of it. “Okay Carol, let’s get this over with. Everybody in the car.”
&nbs
p; “Hey mister?” asks a girl of about eight. Her red hair is in pig tails and a delicate spray of freckles cover her nose and cheeks. Her expression is serious.
He smiles at her.
“Are you going to ‘rest my daddy?”
Keller looks over her head at Lionel, who is now scowling at his daughter.
“Your dad is just upset. Fortunately, I am patient.”
“But are you going to put him in jail? Mommy says the tax man might if—”
“Shhh, dear,” says Carol, blushing. “I’m sorry Officer. We’re all under some strain. I hope you’ll forgive my husband’s behavior.”
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“Call me Matt, ma’am, and don’t worry. Let’s just get out of here.” Keller looks up as he reaches for the driver’s door handle. Lionel is standing at the front passenger door frowning at him, with an angry flush on his face. “What’s your last name, Officer?” he demands, voice pitched low. “You think you are a big man and you carry a gun and a badge and you can treat little people like shit.”
“It’s Keller, and I’m not an officer so you can stuff all your threats about my job and your bragging about your powerful connections. And you are a blowhard braggart, Mr. My Condo.”
“Is that so? Well, how about we settle this with our fists, right here then?”
“You sure you want to chance humiliation in front of your loved ones? I don’t have anything to lose, you do.”
“No piece of garbage like you talks to me like you did. Let’s settle this.”
“Try this on for size—No! Now get in the car, or I’ll leave your ass.”
The first car is pulling out. Lionel appears to be wrestling mentally with himself.
Keller whispers, “Listen you selfish prick. I’m driving the car that is taking your family to safety. If you got a problem with me we’ll settle it later.”
Lionel stares at him for a moment then slides into his seat. Keller follows a moment later and starts the engine.
I N THE END she settles on a pair of khaki green shorts with cargo pockets and a beige scoop-neck top. I’m almost naked again. This outfit would be enough to turn heads in the club. She is well aware of the effect her body has on men. She grabs her sneakers and socks and goes back out to watch more TV.
In just the few minutes she’s been gone a lot of the professional production of the news program has also disappeared. She can hear part of the crew say, “Just a minute Denise, the teleprompter…” then the male voice fades into a static hiss, then clears. The camera shifts
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slightly and she can see the weather girl drinking some water and arguing with a guy in a T-shirt and jeans. The screen jitters, then steadies back on the anchor, Denise, who is now smiling into the camera, but looking strained. With a sheaf of papers in hand, Denise launches into a narrative that is either on a teleprompter or memorized.
“Around the world and back here at home the news is the same: Mass rioting, power failures, and governmental crackdowns. There is an emergency session in Congress and the President is expected to issue a statement within the hour. All National Guard and Reserve Troops have been activated and placed on alert. Sources indicate that martial law is about to be declared for the entire country. Sad news from several major cities in the Northeast. Large sections of New York City, Rochester and Boston are burning.”
“Horrible ain’t it?” Jerry says, entering the room behind her. “They keep side-stepping all around the cause. Why are they worrying about integrity now?”
“What is going on Jerry? I’m a little dense. All I know is last night was a bad night.”
“I think you’re in denial, Trish. You aren’t dumb.”
“Something’s bothering me. Haven’t your friend and his son been gone a long time? I don’t really know how it ended across the street.”
He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right. Think we should check on them?”
“Yes, I have a bad feeling that it’s too late. Got any weapons?”
He puts his right hand behind his back, grins at her, then pulls a Bowie knife with a gladiatorial flourish. “We who are about to die…”
She cuts him off. “Don’t joke like that Jump.”
“Sorry,” he mutters. “It isn’t funny, you’re right. Let’s go find them.”
He eases the knife back into its sheath, then takes both her hands in his. “If I tell you to do something—Do it! Are we clear?” He looks deep into her eyes and it takes an effort not to look away. Mostly because she isn’t comfortable with genuine affection. He clears his throat. “Don’t do something crazy trying to save me. I’ve got nothing tying me here except my friends. No family. If something happens and I tell you to run, I expect you to do it.”
“Okay,” she answers and gives his fingers a brief squeeze.
“You’re not convincing me, Trish, but I guess I have no choice but to trust you. I know there’s no way you’ll wait here while I go check.”
She gives a quick grin without opening her mouth, and winks twice.
“I don’t have anybody either, Jerry,” she says. “At least til I met you guys.”
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He looks startled. “A sweet pretty thing like you? Guess we’ll have to look out for each other, then.”
They both leave by the front door. Trish still doesn’t have a weapon, but as long as Jerry does, she’ll try not to worry. They both draw up short. Two SUVs are pulled in front of the convenience store’s parking lot. A guy with a hunting rifle is standing between the two vehicles. A group of five or six people are standing on the sidewalk.
“Goddamn ghouls,” mutters Jerry.
“What, you mean those bystanders?”
“They’re worse than zombies if you ask me. They feed off the pain and suffering of others.” Is that pain I hear in his voice? A moment later, he laughs. “Sounds like I was describing lawyers, doesn’t it?”
She gives Jerry a blank look, then looks past him across the street. Hank and his son are on their way back. “Thank god, they are all right,” she says.
Jerry grins and somewhere not too far away, over his shoulder, there is an awful flare of light, followed by an angry expanding cloud full of debris. A moment later a shockwave shakes the ground and then the sound of an explosion so loud that glass shatters in nearby cars and in the storefront. Trish stumbles into Jerry who barely remains standing while most of the other people fall to the ground.
“Must have been the gas station on the corner or a tanker truck,” says Jerry as debris rains down around them. A big tire still attached to an axle falls on two people and pins them to the ground. A softballsized piece of metal junk clips a man on the head and he drops to his knees, a hand feeling for an ear that is no longer there. Without thinking, Trish starts to run toward them, when suddenly Jerry shoves her to the ground and lies on top of her. “Stay down,” he says in her ear, “and cover your ears.”
Two more explosions follow hard on the heels of the first.
“There goes the power,” says somebody nearby. Several people scream and the ground itself convulses for a moment. Jerry hugs her tight and then something hits her hard enough to knock her senseless.
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WHEN YATES STOPS THE GROUP OF PEOPLE HEADING FOR HIS CRUISER, Talaski shrugs. Might be a good time to make sure I’m ready. He pulls his pistol, removes the magazine and ejects the round in the chamber by pulling the slide back. Someone shouts at Yates.
The Mayor?
Sure enough, the Mayor and the Chief are standing with Yates and shouting at him. A moment later, Yates actually hangs his head and motions to the group of people to follow him. They get aboard one of the buses. The Mayor shouts something and waves at a woman standing off to the side with a plain clothes guy he knows only by sight. The whole group makes for his car.
“No fucking way…” he mutters. With quick, sure motions he releases the pistol’s slide and reloads it. Something tells him to place the pistol down between the seat and the door instead of returning it to it
’s holster.
The Mayor pulls open the front passenger door. He gives a strained little smile, “Little change of plans, Officer. Hope you don’t mind?” Without waiting for an answer he steps back away from the door. Chief Hadley opens the right backseat door and the woman slides in. Not much to look at, at least at the moment. Talaski’s only impression is that of a petite woman of about thirty with smudged make-up and a disheveled appearance. She’s dressed well, but her white culotte pants are dirty and her peach-colored blouse has a torn sleeve.
“I’ll let the Chief ride up front with you, Officer,” says the Mayor. “Detective Pitts and I will ride in the back with Ms. Collins here.” Talaski’s eyes meet hers in his rearview mirror briefly, then Hadley is sliding ass first into the seat beside him. There is a whiff of what might be stale sweat and cigarette smoke. He waits while everyone settles in, buckling seat belts, then starts the engine. The whole time he stares at Hadley, waiting for the man to say something.
Hadley glances over and his cheeks, ears and nose are flushed red. “Got a problem with this, Ski? If you do, we can leave your ass here.”
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T HERE IS NO TRAFFIC on Ninth Avenue North. Nothing. He draws even with a gas company building and slows down a bit, looking it over. He spots the sign, ‘Dan’s Gas.’ There is a chain link fence running around the property and the gate to the parking lot is hanging wide open. Three cars parked out front. Automatically, in his mind, he catalogues them: Lexus; Chevy S-10, and an old Cadillac.
The front windows of the building are all tinted. Maybe the employees are watching him. He hears something like muffled thunder and looks north. Sees a rising, expanding smoke cloud. God, that must be miles from here. Maybe over in Pinellas Park. Freaky shit man.
He glances back at the Gas Company, and three people have emerged from the front door. All three are pointing at the smoke and talking. One of them is female, very female.
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IT’S LIKE WATCHING SOMETHING HORRIBLE in a movie play out. From the window, he watches the people fan out in a rough ‘U’ shape in front of the bridge and the army truck that is now blocking access to it. Three guys with handguns are actually hiding behind the truck parked near the building. Four more carrying rifles are hiding behind a hedge across the street, and at least ten more are behind the army truck. Those ten may not all be armed. It’s hard to tell.
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