by N. W. Harris
“We’re just passing through, Shamus,” Maurice replied, his stern voice as deep and loud as the thunder, but still managing to be friendly and disarming. “Best if you move aside.”
“You got them kids who tore through here in that armored car, blasting my people to bits, with you?”
“I don’t see how who we’ve got with us is any of your business,” Maurice replied, sounding so authoritative and intimidating that Shane was sure Shamus would back down. “Now step aside.”
“Well, it is my business. You leave those kids with me, and I’ll let you pass,” Shamus offered, the threat clear in his voice.
“Ain’t happening,” Maurice replied, raising the barrel of his shotgun.
“Then we’ll have to take them from you,” Shamus yelled.
The thugs with torches and guns moved forward, shouting threats at Maurice and his gang.
“Stay tight,” Maurice yelled over his shoulder. “Let’s punch through these bastards.”
The mob surrounding Shane and his friends surged, pushing them forward. When they encountered Shamus’ gang and had to stop, guns started popping off, first one at a time and then in a barrage of explosions. Adrenaline pumped through Shane, and he raised his gun toward the building on the left side of the street. Pulling the trigger, Shane shot a boy who leaned out of a window, aiming his gun down into Maurice’s gang. The kid fell to the street, dead before Shane even realized what he’d done.
There was no time for Shane to feel any remorse over killing the boy. Gun barrels flashed in the second floor windows of the building, and Maurice’s people dropped all around him. Survival instincts taking over, Shane aimed and picked off the snipers as fast as he could, afraid they’d hit Kelly or one of his other friends if he paused for even an instant.
With the deafening noise of hundreds of guns going off and people dropping dead all around him, Shane felt disassociated from his body, like he watched a character in a video game and wasn’t actually killing and couldn’t be hurt. Kelly stood next to him, and Steve stood on the other side, their flashing barrels raised and waving back and forth like Shane’s. When his clip went empty, he dropped it on the ground, reached around to his backpack, and retrieved another. Slamming it into the gun, he knew his ammo was dwindling, but there was no choice but to continue firing.
The mob surrounding Shane and his friends sidestepped down the street, pushing through Shamus’ gang. Suddenly, the head of a boy walking in front of Shane snapped back in a most unnatural way. Something warm and wet splattered his face, and he realized the poor boy’s skull had opened up. He fell against Shane, leaving a trail of hot blood on his bulletproof vest as he slipped down, collapsing dead on the ground.
Using his sleeve, Shane scraped the dead kid’s brains off his face and pointed the M-16 up at the balcony where the barrel of a gun had just flashed. The flickering light illuminated a teenage girl with tight braids hanging from either side of her head. She held a rifle aimed at him. They only stared at each other for an instant, but it seemed like an eternity, long enough for Shane to feel horrible about pulling the trigger. Her gun barrel flashed again, and Shane saw another one of Maurice’s people drop in front of him. Kicking himself for the lethal moment of hesitation, Shane fired a burst of rounds from his weapon, and the girl slumped down onto the balcony, her gun falling end over end to the street below.
“They’re mowing us down,” Maurice yelled. When the conflict started, Shane saw at least thirty kids between him and the stocky leader of the assault. Now he counted half that.
“We have to charge them,” Shane yelled. “Run!”
The remainder of Maurice’s people surged forward together, pressing into Shamus’ gang. In the chaos of the charge, Shane ended up next to Maurice.
“Get back,” Maurice shouted, stepping in front of him. “We have to keep you alive.”
Shane ignored him, leveling his gun and switching it to automatic. He wasn’t going to get stopped here, he was going to make it to the capitol building, and no amount of armed thugs was going to stop him. Seeing the flash of the enemy’s guns and Maurice’s people dropping dead beside him, Shane sprayed the kids blocking the road with bullets and rushed forward into the opening he created. Dropping to a knee, he fired at the armed teenagers again, cringing as he watched them die.
Something hit Shane in the side of the head, and he fell to the ground. Looking up, he saw Shamus, standing over him with the butt of his gun raised, about to smash Shane’s skull. The skinny gangster bared his gold teeth in a vicious grin and raised the gun higher.
Seeming to come from nowhere and moving faster than Shane imagined the chunky boy could move, Maurice leapt over Shane and buried his shoulder into Shamus’ gut, knocking the wiry teenager to the ground.
“I got him,” Maurice yelled, pressing his knee into Shamus’ throat. “Go!”
Kelly and Aaron caught up and helped Shane scramble to his feet. They charged into a thin area of the gang blocking the street with what remained of Maurice’s people at their heels. Adrenaline masking the pain of his bruised skull, Shane kept shooting and running with Aaron and Tracy on his right side and Kelly and Steve on his left.
A block down the street, Shane couldn’t find anyone left to shoot at. By some miracle, they’d made it past Shamus’ thugs.
“They’re on our tail,” Tracy yelled, not giving Shane a chance to rejoice at their success.
Looking over his shoulder without stopping, Shane saw the torches and flashing guns moving in behind him. At least a third of Maurice’s people had made it through the roadblock, running backwards and shooting their guns to slow down the advancing thugs.
“They won’t be able to hold them off for very long,” Aaron yelled.
“This is our chance,” Shane said. “We have to get to the capitol, now!”
Holding the M-16 across his chest, its barrel hot from the firefight, Shane took off at a sprint with his friends behind him. The sounds of battle faded as they distanced themselves from Shamus and his gang. They crossed an intersection, and Shane heard the buzz of motorcycles, racing down the side streets. Running even faster, he feared they would cut back and try to intercept him before he made it to the capitol building.
Halfway down the next block, his fear was confirmed. Four motorcycles slid around the corner and did wheelies as they accelerated toward Shane and his friends.
“Take them out,” Tracy shouted, leveling her gun and shooting from her hip while still running down the street. Shane and the others did the same, hitting three of the riders, who dropped to the ground, their bikes veering off onto the sidewalk.
The fourth bike sped toward Shane, moving too fast for him to aim at the rider. Shane fired several shots and missed. He saw the long, dirty blade of a machete in the bike rider’s hand, and then the motorcycle was upon him.
“Watch out!” Aaron yelled.
Aaron leapt in front of Shane, knocking him to the ground. The bike passed, its front tire grazing Shane’s arm. Aaron buckled over, holding his stomach.
“Aaron?” Shane jumped to his feet, catching his friend before he collapsed.
Blood poured out from between Aaron’s fingers, draining onto the asphalt.
“No,” Kelly shrieked, standing on the other side of Aaron.
The motorcycle slowed and turned around. Kelly raised her gun and let out a pained scream. She unloaded her clip into the motorcycle’s rider, and he dropped dead in the street, his bike falling on top of him.
Aaron folded over, holding his wound. Shane dropped his gun and eased him to the ground, laying his friend’s head in his lap.
“Hang on, Aaron,” Shane demanded. A flash of lightning revealed the gash running across Aaron’s abdomen. Guts had spilled out of the wound, and Shane knew there was no way he could survive.
Steve held a flashlight over Aaron and Shane, his face slack and pale with shock. Tracy squatted down and ripped packs of gauze open with her teeth, dumping them onto Aaron’s gaping laceratio
n. The white cotton turned to blood red in an instant.
“How bad is it?” Aaron asked, groaning in pain.
“It’s just a scratch, man,” Shane said, stifling his tears. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Lying bastard,” Aaron replied, with a weak smile. He coughed, and blood spurted from his mouth. “Do me a favor?”
“Yeah,” Shane said. “Anything.”
“Get your asses to the capitol and shut that stupid weapon down.”
“We will, man,” Shane promised. “Why the hell did you have to jump out in front of me like that?”
“Hey man,” Aaron said, his voice faint. “I got your back—you got mine. Right?”
“Yeah, right,” Shane said, trying to smile.
Aaron grinned up at Shane, and then his face went slack, his head rolling to the side.
Tracy stuck two fingers on the side of Aaron’s neck for a moment and then looked at Shane with apologetic eyes.
“He’s gone,” she said, and sat back on her heels, rubbing Aaron’s blood off her hands onto her pant legs.
Shane leaned over, wrapping himself around Aaron’s head. A pained moan erupted from deep within him, tears flooding out of his eyes.
“Come on, Shane,” Tracy said with a firm voice. “We have to go.”
“Damn it! I know,” Shane snapped, sitting back. He carefully slipped Aaron off his lap and lowered his head to the bloody asphalt.
Kelly helped him to his feet, saying, “He was so brave. Let’s keep your promise and get to the capitol building.”
Maurice’s gang came over the hill, getting pushed down the street by Shamus’ mob. Shane looked at the two fighting groups of teenagers—the reality of how little time they had to make it to the capitol motivating him into action.
He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.
“Let’s go,” he said, and then continued running down the street, his promise to Aaron and his desire to protect Kelly pushing him forward.
It began to rain, soaking Shane’s face and hiding his tears. He could only hope Aaron had gone to a better place—that maybe he’d been reunited with his mother.
Shane and Aaron had been close friends since they were little, playing football in every league together from the time they were old enough to wear a jersey. As he ran, Shane’s grief transformed into anger. He wanted to get even with the people responsible for Aaron’s death but, in reality, it was the same people who killed his aunt and dad. And those people had to be dead too. Making it downtown and destroying the weapon was as close to revenge as he’d be able to get.
With rain coming down in blinding sheets and frequent flashes of lightning illuminating the way, they sprinted three more blocks, trying to put some distance between Shamus’ gangsters and themselves. Shane’s ribs hurt from the effort, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace, but then Tracy pointed at a dark building up ahead with a round dome for a roof.
“There it is,” she shouted. “We made it!”
The capitol building loomed in front of them, a gleaming, white symbol of the government that failed its people. Recharged by the idea that they were so close to success, Shane took the steps two at a time. At the top, he rushed forward and pushed through the doors. Motorcycles buzzed onto the street below. Shamus’ thugs jump off them and ran up the steps behind Steve, Kelly, and Tracy.
“Get inside and block the doors,” Tracy yelled.
But Shamus’ thugs made it to the top of the flight of steps, across the concrete walkway right behind her, and one had his weapon pointed at her back.
“Tracy!” Shane yelled.
Her eyes went wide, like she read on his face that he saw she was about to get shot. Without warning, four of the older thugs stopped and turned their weapons toward each other. With a loud boom of their guns going off at once, they wiped each other out. Only five younger kids remained on the porch of the capitol, looking at each other and at Shane and his group with confused expressions.
“It must be happening,” Tracy said. “The weapon is starting to affect younger people.”
Shane looked over at Kelly. Her eyes glazed over, like she was hypnotized. She glanced at Shane, Tracy, and then Steve, perhaps assessing their age to determine if she should kill them. Then she walked toward the steps stiffly with her gun raised toward the fighting teenagers down in the street.
“Grab her,” Shane ordered, rushing after Kelly.
Steve and Shane took Kelly’s arms, and Tracy pried the M-16 out of her hands. Her eyes stared straight ahead and her face was pale, like she had become a zombie.
“Kelly? Can you hear me?” Shane asked. His worst fears coming true, he waved his hand in front of her face, hoping to bring her out of the murderous daze.
When she didn’t respond, they tried to turn her around. Without a change in her empty expression, she resisted, like every muscle in her body wanted to go down and kill the teens fighting in the street below. Steve and Shane had to lift her off the ground to get her to face the other way.
“Take her inside,” Shane said to Steve.
Steve nodded and lifted Kelly in a bear hug. She kicked and clawed at him but didn’t make a sound. He carried her between the large, limestone columns and into the dark building.
Turning around and looking at the five stunned kids from Shamus’ gang who remained on the capitol’s porch, Shane shouted, “Now do you get it? This weapon is going to kill us all if we don’t stop it soon.”
The kids, all boys who looked to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, glanced at each other and then back at Shane. Their faces were slack with shock, and they suddenly looked very young and innocent.
“You know how to stop it?” one of them asked, a mixture of fear and desperate hope clear in his voice.
“Yeah, but we have to keep the rest of your pals from killing us first,” Shane replied, pointing his gun at the two mobs engaged in a shoot-out at the bottom of the capitol building’s steps.
Only a small contingent of Maurice’s people remained. One of Shamus’ thugs must’ve dropped their torch, because the building across the street was on fire. It created enough light for Shane to see a flock of crows swoop out of the dark sky and attack a girl off to one side of Shamus’ gang. He worried the animals would be coming after Kelly next.
“We’ll hold them off,” the boy said, shouldering the butt of his shotgun and aiming down the steps. “You go shut that thing down.” The others followed his lead, turning their backs to Shane.
Grateful these guys had a handful of common sense, Shane spun around and rushed inside.
“Help me,” Tracy called after Shane stepped through the doors and shut them behind him.
He rushed over and got behind a large, antique desk, helping her push it in front of the doors to block them. The emergency lights around the parameter of the room provided dim illumination, so they weren’t fumbling around in total darkness.
“The stairs are over here,” Steve said, carrying Kelly across the room. She kicked and fought him, her face still blank as if she were under some kind of deep hypnosis, but Steve was so big and strong that he didn’t have trouble hanging onto her.
Pulling flashlights out of their packs, they made their way down the marble steps and into the basement of the building. A small plaque at the bottom of the steps had the words Federal Offices printed on it and an arrow pointing down a pitch-black hallway.
“That has to be it,” Steve said and rushed down the hall.
They came to a door at the end of the hallway with B101 painted on the glass, and Shane opened it and peered inside. The emergency lighting in the room illuminated bodies lying everywhere. Some suffered gunshot wounds and others had their heads smashed in, like they’d been killed with office equipment used as weapons of opportunity.
“Eew, this place stinks,” Kelly said. “Where the heck are we?”
“Kelly, you’re all right?” Shane asked. Overcome with relief, he turned his flashlight on her face. Steve
released her, and she stood on her own two feet. She no longer attempted to escape.
“Yeah, I think I am,” she replied, shielding her eyes. “I must’ve passed out for a minute.”
“Maybe the weapon only makes her go all weird when she’s near other older kids her age,” Tracy observed. She walked to the opposite side of the office and studied a large, stainless-steel door that looked like the entrance to a vault.
A scurrying sound made Shane look down. A rat ran across the floor and jumped on Kelly’s leg, sinking its teeth into her. Kelly screamed, and Shane kicked it off and stomped on its head.
“This means the animals and bugs are gonna come after me,” Kelly said. She sounded frantic, and her face turned white with fear.
“Don’t worry—we’ll protect you,” Shane said. He looked over at Tracy. “Can you get that door open?”
“Yeah,” she grunted, pulling on the large, shiny handle. “It’s unlocked.”
Shane latched onto Kelly’s arm and tugged her across the room, kicking another vicious rat along the way.
“Shut the door,” he ordered once they were all inside.
Steve helped Tracy close them in the vault. Shane searched the floor for more rats, but didn’t see any. The small room’s metal walls had racks against them, each one stacked high with file boxes.
“This can’t be it,” Steve said, sounding distressed. “There’s no way out of here besides that door.”
Tracy walked over to the left wall and pulled on a rack of boxes. When nothing happened, she worked her way around the room. Realizing she might be onto something, Shane started at the opposite corner and did the same.
“Got it,” Tracy announced a minute later.
The rack she pulled on swung away from the metal wall. Shining his flashlight on it, Shane could see the outline of a door. When he pushed on it, it swung inward, stopping halfway when it hit the body of a woman, laying facedown on the tunnel floor.