The Last Orphans

by N. W. Harris

  “It’s empty,” a boy shouted.

  “They must’ve taken off on foot,” another said.

  “Should we go after them?”

  “Naw—this is Maurice’s territory. He’ll deal with them.”

  “Yeah. Let’s get out of here before Maurice’s lackeys try to deal with us.”

  “I ain’t scared. You scared?”

  “Shut up, numb nuts, or I’ll show you scared.”

  “Both of y’all shut up before I bust a cap in ya,” a deeper voice said. “Get on your bikes and ride.”

  “I know you didn’t just say bust a cap,” a boy spouted, the others cackling with him.

  A few seconds later, the motorcycles roared to life, and the thugs headed back the way they’d come.

  Exhaling slowly, Shane realized he’d been holding his breath the whole time the gangsters were on the street below.

  “That was a bit too close,” Kelly whispered.

  Shane stepped nearer to the window and peered out. “Looks clear now.”

  “What happened to your neck?” Kelly asked, her voice filled with concern.

  “I guess a bullet grazed me.” He reached up and felt the sticky blood, his wound stinging now that she mentioned it.

  “Let me clean it up,” Kelly said, pulling a small first aid kit out of her pocket.

  “How do we get to the capitol building now?” Steve asked, discouraged.

  “We walk,” Shane replied, cringing as Kelly wiped his wound with alcohol swabs. “If we can go from building to building and keep quiet, I bet we can get past Shamus’ gang without them noticing.” He wasn’t convinced, but they didn’t have a choice. To give up meant waiting for the animals to attack and kill them.

  “It would be better if we can get down there undetected and don’t have to fight them off while we’re trying to focus on shutting down the weapon,” Aaron said, optimistic in spite of how dire things had gotten.

  “Then it’s agreed,” Tracy said. “Let’s get moving before the weapon makes us turn on each other.”

  Shane eyed the M-16 in each of his friends’ hands, realizing how quickly it all would end if the limbic manipulator scrambled their brains. Kelly finished cleaning his wound, putting some antibiotic ointment and bandages on it, and he flashed a smile at her to say thanks, remembering she was the oldest and the first person to be affected by the weapon if it did shift its settings.

  “Tracy’s right,” he said, rising to his feet. “Let’s move.”

  They followed Shane down the steps through the building, and then slipped outside behind him. He was surprised at how comfortable he felt about marching into the street and becoming the target for hundreds of angry and heavily armed teenage gangsters. The numbness he’d experienced in varying degrees since his aunt died had something to do with his tranquil state. But he had also accepted that getting to the capitol building was their only chance to survive. The other two courses their destiny could take would be death by being shot by gangsters, or death from the limbic manipulator weapon. His entire focus was on their one chance to stay alive. Knowing what needed to be done—even if their odds of success were one in a million—had an oddly calming effect on Shane.

  “Shouldn’t we go down another street?” Aaron asked after they darted into the next building.

  “No,” Tracy replied, glancing at Shane as if to see if he agreed. “I think we’re better off going back down this one. They won’t expect us to be stupid enough to do that, and it’s a straight route to the capitol. We might get lost if we try to change our course.”

  Tracy looked as calm as Shane felt. He wondered if this is how she was all the time, even before the world got turned upside down. They’d only had a couple of classes together, and when he’d seen her at school, she always wore the same expression of seriousness and focus she displayed now. What had happened to her to make her so numb and emotionless? Regardless, he felt lucky she was here—a member of his team in this life-or-death game in which they found themselves.

  Shane’s foot caught on a body, and he almost tripped and fell on his face. All the buildings and the streets had corpses scattered everywhere—yet he’d become so jaded from seeing the dead he hardly noticed anymore. The bodies had begun to swell, and flies buzzed around them. Decay was setting in, and soon they’d start stinking.

  “She’s right. Let’s keep moving,” Shane said, trying not to think of how horrible it would be to be surrounded by a million rotting corpses.

  Back out in the dim daylight, his small team pointed their guns in every direction and ran down the sidewalk. In the middle of the pack, Shane covered the opposite side of the street with Kelly at his back. They entered the next building, a fancy shopping mall with handbag stores bearing French names Shane couldn’t pronounce. It was the kind of place where he guessed his aunt would’ve gone shopping. The thought sent a bolt of pain through his chest.

  Leading the way out a door at the other end of the mall, Shane saw a pack of dogs trotting down the street. A large Rottweiler led at least thirty others of all breeds. Holding his hand up, he stopped Kelly just before she stepped out. A pit-bull with a thick chain adorning its neck veered from the pack and paused, studying Shane. Bloodstains on the white fur around the dog’s thick jaws told the story of how its owners must’ve died. It raised its head, its ribs pumping in and out as it smelled him. Shifting its attention to the right, the dog’s brownish-gold eyes locked onto Kelly. The pit-bull let out a deep, rumbling growl, lowering its head and baring its teeth.

  “Back off, dog,” Shane threatened, raising the barrel of his gun and lining the sights up with the animal’s big skull.

  The dog crept toward Kelly, the white hair from its neck to its tail rising up into a long mohawk. From the corner of his eye, Shane saw Kelly stepping back. The dog barked, startling Shane such that he pulled the trigger. The gun’s report echoed between the buildings, the pit-bull dropping dead with a gaping hole in its forehead.

  “The weapon must be starting to make them target younger people,” Tracy said worriedly, stepping beside Shane with her gun aimed at the pack of dogs.

  Most of them tucked their tails between their hind legs and ran down the street, afraid of the gun. But a few stopped and gave curious looks toward the mall. Shane held his breath, his weapon pointed at the dogs. Seeming uninterested, they turned and continued trotting down the street, their heads held high like they owned the world. And Shane knew they did. If they all attacked at once, he expected he and his four friends couldn’t hold them off for very long.

  “At least the rest of them didn’t come after us,” Steve said, eyeing the dogs. “Maybe that one was just mean.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Shane replied, doubtful.

  Aaron stepped onto the sidewalk. “We’d better hurry just the same.”

  Glancing at Kelly, Shane saw her face had lost all of its color.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let them get to you.”

  She gave a weak smile, whispering, “Thanks.”

  He slid his hand down her arm and laced his fingers through hers. Instead of pulling away, Kelly squeezed like she trusted he could keep her safe. He had to. If he could keep her alive, he believed things would work out—life at least stood a slim chance of being good again. Jogging along behind Tracy, he remembered how hopeless his best efforts were when his aunt was attacked. It reminded him he could do little if the insects and animals came after Kelly, but he still resolved to die before he let them hurt her.

  They ducked into the next store, a ransacked coffee shop. A patron lay on the floor with a portion of the long, metal needle of the thermometer used to check to see if the drinks were the right temperature sticking out of his eye, piercing deep into his brain.

  “Looks like he bitched about his latte one too many times,” Steve mumbled, stepping over the body and grabbing a brownie off the shelf below the register.

  “You think that’s bad,” Aaron said, chuck
ling behind the counter. “Looks like the barista got beaten to death with a coffee carafe.” He picked up a dented, stainless-steel container and waved it like he was threatening Steve. “I said half soy, no whip!” he shouted with mock anger.

  “Come on, guys,” Shane said, feeling like a jerk because he’d almost started laughing. “Don’t be so disrespectful.”

  “Hey, man,” Steve replied guiltily. “Just trying not to lose it.”

  “Something moved in the building across the street,” Tracy said over her shoulder. Shane rushed to the front door where she had taken up guard. “Fourth window to the left of the corner, up on the third floor. The one with the planter box hanging off it.” Tracy pointed her gun at the high-rise apartment building.

  Shane didn’t see anything besides a curtain billowing out of an open window. Aaron stepped on Tracy’s other side.

  “Your mind might be playing tricks on you,” Aaron said.

  “I know what I saw,” Tracy retorted.

  The volatility amongst the exhausted members of Shane’s little team seemed to be increasing. And he knew it would only get worse, because they weren’t going to get quality rest anytime soon.

  “We’ll keep our eyes peeled,” Shane said, clapping Tracy on the shoulder. “Let’s move, people.”

  The next block had a large parking structure on it that didn’t offer much of a place to hide. They trotted in the open, guns held ready, with Shane leading the way. Halfway down the block, they crossed the structure’s wide driveway.

  “Yo,” a male voice yelled from inside the parking structure. “Where y’all going in such a hurry?”

  Spinning toward the sound, Shane raised his gun to his shoulder, pointing it into the dark interior of the garage.

  “Who’s there?” Shane asked, trying to sound intimidating.

  “Let’s move toward cover,” Tracy whispered.

  Giving a slight nod, Shane sidestepped to the right, and the other four did the same, all with their guns trained on the parking structure.

  “No use in trying to get away,” the deep voice shouted. “We got a whole grip of guns pointed at you.”

  “Show yourself,” Shane replied, continuing to move toward the concrete wall alongside the entrance to the parking structure. He didn’t see anybody with guns pointing at him and his friends, so he suspected the deep voice’s owner might be bluffing.

  “Gladly,” the voice said. “Lower the business ends of your boom-sticks first. We ain’t interested in acquiring any lead poisoning on this beautiful summer’s afternoon.”

  Shane shot a look at the heavy, green clouds hanging low overhead. Not exactly what he’d call a nice day. He decided it couldn’t be Shamus’ people in the garage, or they would’ve already attacked. Hoping maybe they’d gain the ally they needed to help them get downtown, he lowered the barrel of his gun and motioned for the others to do the same. Tracy pointed hers at the ground last, giving Shane a look that said she wasn’t convinced it was the right thing to do. A loud whistle came from inside the parking structure, and then the unsmiling faces of at least fifty kids rose up along the concrete barrier wall of the second floor.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Shane saw a similar number of teenagers slipping out from behind cars and out of the office buildings across the street. They held guns, baseball bats, and a few even had machetes. A cold sense of dread settled over him. The voice wasn’t bluffing, Shane and his friends were surrounded, and this time without the Stryker for protection.

  “Maurice?” Shane asked the short and stocky bronze-skinned teenager who stepped out from behind the parking lot attendant’s booth sitting in the middle of the entrance to the garage.

  “That I am.” Maurice smiled in a way that made him seem friendly and threatening at the same time. “Have we met before, or does my reputation precede me?” He narrowed his eyes, studying Shane.

  “Reputation,” Shane admitted, trying to give the impression he believed he could take on the army of teens surrounding him and win. “Ran into some friends of yours downtown.”

  “Yes, so I heard. Y’all did quite the number on those criminals—it’s amazing that y’all are alive,” Maurice answered. Smiling broadly, he laid the barrel of his shotgun over his shoulder and walked closer. “Any enemy of Shamus is a friend of mine.”

  Taking Maurice’s outstretched hand and shaking it, Shane studied the gang leader’s brown eyes, trying to decide if he could trust him.

  “Why do you guys hate each other?” Shane asked. He knew if he could get Maurice’s army on his side, they’d have a much better chance of getting to the capitol building and shutting down the weapon. But Maurice could be just as bent on keeping things the way they were as Shamus. Having learned from his previous mistake of telling Shamus everything up front, Shane didn’t want to risk divulging his plan until he learned more.

  “Shamus is a gangster,” Maurice said, reaching into the cargo pocket of his pants and pulling out an apple. “When the adults and animals went wack, Shamus and his gang of drug-dealing thugs recruited the smaller gangs and anyone else bent on wreaking havoc and took control of the downtown area almost immediately. Y’all wouldn’t have made it out if it weren’t for your toys.” Maurice nodded at the gun in Shane’s hands.

  “So what are you guys trying to do?” Shane asked, keeping his face stoic and his voice firm. He didn’t want to show any sign of weakness, feeling like the entire city was a giant tank full of hungry sharks.

  “We’re just trying to survive,” Maurice answered sincerely, taking a bite of the apple. “After the world went to crap and Shamus’ gang attacked and killed a few of us, we figured out that we’d have to band together to defend ourselves. We staked out this area of town as our own, and Shamus’ gang has let us be since we started fighting back. Now, what about you? Why are you so bent on heading downtown?”

  Looking from Kelly to Tracy and then to Steve and Aaron, Shane tried to decide if he should come out with the truth. Kelly shrugged as if to say, What do we have to lose, and Tracy gave a little nod. The guys were too busy scanning the crowd of armed teenagers surrounding them to notice.

  “The adults and animals went berserk because of a top-secret military weapon,” he said, turning his attention on Maurice.

  Narrowing his brown eyes, Maurice said, “Go on.”

  “We are trying to shut it down.” Shane didn’t want to say too much at once, figuring he could change the story if he didn’t like Maurice’s reaction.

  “That would’ve been nice a couple of days ago,” Maurice replied. “But it seems like the damage has already been done. What is the point of shutting it down now?”

  “Well, things are gonna get worse. A lot worse,” Shane said sternly. “We tried to explain this to Shamus, but he either didn’t believe us or didn’t care.”

  “Probably both,” Maurice said, glowering down the street toward Shamus’ territory. He looked back at Shane. “How do you know all this?”

  “We picked up a message on a military radio. It was recorded by a scientist who helped make the weapon,” Shane replied. He wasn’t convinced Maurice had good intentions, but he liked the short, stocky guy a heck of a lot better than Shamus already. “The message said where the weapon is and how to shut it down.”

  “And it’s obviously downtown.” Maurice tossed his apple core into the bushes, wiped his hand on his pant leg, and then shifted his shotgun over to his other shoulder.

  “Yep, under the Georgia Dome,” Shane replied, not taking his eyes off Maurice’s for even a second. “And the access to the weapon is through a tunnel that’s in the capitol building.”

  Maurice scratched the chub hanging beneath his chin with his thick fingers. The stocky leader of the army of teens encircling them reminded Shane of a shorter, darker version of Steve. He studied Shane and his friends for a long moment.

  “I’m afraid to ask,” he said. “But what’s gonna happen if we don’t shut this weapon down?”

  Upon hearing Maurice u
se the word we, Shane wanted to jump up and down and hug the jovial-looking kid. Knowing even if they did decide to help, these guys could back out at any moment, he contained his excitement the best he could. “The weapon will cause the animals to turn on us and us to turn on each other like the adults did.”

  “Great,” Maurice said, rubbing his free hand across the bushy growth of hair atop his head. “And when is this going to happen?”

  “Any moment. It might’ve already started.” Shane glanced at Kelly, remembering how the dog tried to attack her. “So will you help us? We’d have a much better chance of getting downtown with you people on our side.”

  “Yeah, I’ll help you,” Maurice replied without hesitation. He looked around at the gun-toting kids comprising his gang. “But I’m not really the big boss here. We’re just sticking together for protection. I’ll try to get as many of these folks to help us as possible, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “Thanks,” Shane said, smiling gratefully.

  Maurice nodded. He stepped a few feet away from Shane and his group, putting his hands up around his mouth to amplify his voice.

  “Gather around people,” he yelled, his booming voice so loud it sounded like he was speaking through a megaphone. “I got some important news to share with y’all.”

  The teenagers came down out of the parking garage, and even more exited from the buildings across the street, closing in around Maurice. They wore the expression of shellshock that Shane had seen on most kids’ faces, like they’d all watched their parents die. Thinking back, he didn’t recall seeing the sad expressions on the faces of many of the kids in Shamus’ gang. They must’ve all come from families even more messed up than his own. The thought made him feel sorry for them and miss his dad at the same time.

  Maurice spoke with an assertive tone, relaying all that Shane had told him. An impressive orator, Shane wondered if he might’ve become a politician or a preacher if the world Shane, and he reckoned everyone else, had taken for granted hadn’t come to a swift and violent end.