Breakdown: Season One

by Jordon Quattlebaum

  Talia’s eyes hardened, and the faint light of the room seemed to dim as she spoke her next words. “Do what you need to do, John.” She placed a hand on his arm and looked him squarely in the eyes. “I’ll be just outside if you need to resuscitate him. Just yell.”

  The raider’s eyes flew open wide, panic striking deep.

  “Talia?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Get my tool kit from the garage. I’ll need the vice grip, hammer, and pliers.”

  The kid on the table was crying now, babbling on about how he’d tell them exactly where they took her. Talia and John just ignored him for the time being.

  “Oh, John, surely you can be more creative than that?”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, darling. The fishing tackle box too. We’ll need those hooks.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Salt.”

  She nodded too sweetly.

  “Get our girl back, John.”

  “I will, Talia.”

  Talia stepped outside, and the screaming began.

  Chapter 2 – R&R

  Thom slept uneasily as the van rumbled down the back roads toward Columbia. Every now and again Herbie would hit a bump at the wrong angle, and Thom would wake. It wasn’t the most restful sleep he’d ever had, but he was running on empty and needed whatever shuteye he could get. They’d been driving for an hour or two, but progress was slow. Cars clogged even the back roads, and the lights on the old van were shot, so they were driving blind. Still, it was better than walking. At their current rate, they’d hit Columbia right around sunrise.

  He wondered how his daughter was holding up. He hoped she’d had a chance to go to the store that morning before class, but he knew in his heart she probably hadn’t. Food would be scarce in her dorm room. Thom tried not to think about the long list of possible hardships she’d be facing: hunger, thirst, illness, assault. He’d see her soon, and she’d survive until then.

  She had to.

  “You awake?” Herbie asked, chancing a look over his shoulder to where Thom rested in the back.

  “Yeah. Sort of. What’s up?”

  “Well, I’m just thinking about what tomorrow’s going to bring. It’s going to be a doozy, Thom.”

  “Yeah? Care to elaborate?”

  “Tomorrow’s day three. That’s important for a few reasons. One: most folks only keep around three days’ worth of food on hand, meaning the majority of people in America will be eating the last of their food today, if they haven’t already.”

  Thom nodded and thought about how silly the gesture was in the dark, but Herbie must have registered the movement in the rearview, because he started talking again.

  “Two: most Americans don’t keep any sort of water stored. Folks are going to have to start getting creative with where they’re finding water. Many of them will turn to some pretty questionable sources. People are going to start getting sick. Diseases are going to start spreading in the next week or so.”

  Thom sighed. He knew what they were up against, but he knew Herbie well enough by now to know that the man wouldn’t say something if he didn’t think it was important.

  “What’s the plan, Herbie?”

  “Well, you’re not going to like it, but I think we should pull over for the night and rest. We can sleep in shifts and get some quality rest so that we’re ready to face whatever craziness tomorrow brings.”

  “No way, Herbie! We’re just a few hours away from Anna. We push on until we can’t go any further.”

  Herbie nodded. He’d expected this reaction. “Well, Thom, we can do that. We’d probably get to Columbia right around daybreak. We’d be completely exhausted, and our reaction times would be slow. We wouldn’t be thinking straight. Heck, we might not be thinking straight now. Our bodies aren’t used to pushing like this, and we haven’t exactly been giving them ample time to recover. We keep pushing like this, and we’re going to be worthless for Anna when she may need us the most. She’s your daughter, Thom. That makes this your call, but you know what my vote is.”

  The van was silent for a long while, bumping along on failing shocks.

  Thom sighed.

  “You’re right, Herbie.”

  Herbie smiled behind the wheel. “I’m glad you agree. It’s what’s best for us right now, and what’s best for your daughter. We’ll get there tomorrow. We’ll be well-rested. We’ll make sure she’s safe, but for now we rest. Deal?”

  Thom nodded, and Herbie pulled off to the shoulder of the road. He took the keys from the ignition and pocketed them before drawing his pistol and laying it on his lap. They were on the outskirts of a little town. Herbie wasn’t sure what it was called; he must have missed the sign. It seemed as good a place as any to get some shuteye, though.

  “You go ahead and get some real rest, Thom. I’ll take the first watch. You sleep.”

  Thom gladly acquiesced, folding out the sofa in the back of the Westfalia into a bed. Sleep found him quickly.

  Herbie did what he could to occupy himself. He used a lot of the old tricks he knew to stay awake, like drinking a lot of water. Another trick he used was staying in motion. Every count of 500, he’d get out of the van, take a little walk around, and do some pushups.

  His eyelids grew heavier with each circuit, and soon he ran out of water to drink. Herbie’s muscles weren’t what they used to be, and he was doing fewer and fewer pushups to get his blood pumping. Eventually on one of his 500 counts, Herbie drifted off to sleep.

  They were completely unaware of the handful of armed men who encircled them.

  Light filtered through Herbie’s closed eyelids, prompting him to wake. His heart pounded. The van was on fire. No. Not the van, but something in front of the van. His tired eyes took a moment to focus, and what he saw took him back to the days of his youth.

  A burning cross, and cowardly men hiding their identities beneath sheets.

  Chapter 3 – A Good Morning

  Anna snored softly on the sofa, covered by a few old sheets the boys had taken from their linen closet. A small river of drool had worked its way from the corner of her mouth, down her chin, and onto one of the pillows they’d taken from the dorms. Every so often she would stop snoring and smile, mumbling a contribution to a conversation that no one in the waking world was privy to.

  Brian tried not to stare. He hadn’t slept last night—Trinity’s orders. She was concerned about the hit he’d taken to the head, and she didn’t want him to risk sleeping. Anna had volunteered to stay awake with him through the night but had fallen asleep a couple of hours ago. His best guess placed the time around 5am. The sky was starting to lighten, and the birds had begun to chirp noisily, happy that spring was finally arriving after a long, cold winter.

  Prying his eyes away, he stood slowly from the chair he’d been sitting in. He was still a little dizzy and had thrown up a couple of times soon after regaining consciousness, but he was feeling better, all things considered. Brian walked his way into the bathroom and, out of habit, flicked the light switch on. Of course, nothing happened, and he laughed at himself, slightly embarrassed.

  Old habits.

  Brian opened the cabinets and retrieved a bottle of ibuprofen, taking a couple of them and swallowing them with a glass of water.

  Matt passed by the bathroom door on his way through the hallway to the kitchen, pausing momentarily to offer a mock salute and a “Good morning,” muffled through a huge yawn.

  The little girls were next, running down the hall giggling as Brian brushed his teeth, Ms. Grimes close on their heels. Trinity, Sephi, Bruce, and Red soon joined them.

  Brian could hear Bruce in the basement dragging something heavy up the stairs. He spat, swished some water in his mouth, and spat. That little habit seemed so wasteful to him now. He’d have to break
that quickly.

  He popped out into the hall to see what all of the commotion was, only to see Bruce setting up a propane stove in the kitchen. Ms. Grimes started preparing a breakfast of oatmeal and what little fresh fruit they’d managed to scavenge from the school. Carla made sure everyone washed their hands thoroughly, warning that getting sick now was not an option.

  Breakfast was delicious, especially considering the fact that Brian’s diet over the last couple of days had consisted primarily of dry ramen and Pop-Tarts.

  After breakfast, Trinity and Red carried the dishes outside and set up a system of five-gallon buckets next to a trashcan. First, Trinity would scape any leftovers into the trash and wash the dishes in the sudsy bucket. Then, she’d pass the dishes to Red, who would dip them into the clean water in a second bucket before placing them in a rack on a nearby folding table to dry. When they finished, they set the water aside, deciding they’d use it to water the garden they were going to plant today. It was a good system, and it saved on water, which would become a very important commodity in the coming weeks.

  The rest of the crew got to work digging a temporary slit trench latrine, which was basically a long, shallow ditch that they’d do their business in. It would suffice until they could work on something more permanent.

  There were several other projects underway, including some solar food dehydrators and a solar oven Bruce and Matt were working on.

  Anna stepped outside and scrubbed the drool from her chin. She’d always been a heavy sleeper. She caught Brian looking her way and they both blushed, embarrassed.

  Brian smiled. There was a lot to do, but they’d get it done. They would find a way to survive until help arrived, and maybe, just maybe, he’d win over Anna in the meantime.

  Chapter 4 – Rescue

  The heavy wooden door to the clinic swung shut behind John as he exited the building, his hulking body squeezing carefully through its frame.

  Linus was waiting. He’d heard the screams all through the night, had heard what the young gangbanger had told John. The information was damning, and Linus was scared. He’d gambled and lost, and now it was time to man up and pay the price. Seeing the bloody claw hammer in John’s hands gave him doubts about what he was about to do. If he ran now, he might get away before John could catch him. The man was injured, after all.

  No. It was too late for running. John’s eyes, hollow and empty, swung over to meet Linus, and like a lesser beast caught in the penetrating gaze of an apex predator, Linus froze. It could have been his imagination, but he could swear that he had heard John’s knuckles crack as they tightened on the handle of the hammer. There was anger blazing in those eyes. Some of it was directed at Linus, but most of it aimed at his daughter’s captors.

  He hoped.

  “You.”

  The hammer rose, and the first rays of morning sun glinted off of bloodied steel.

  “He knows I’m involved,” Linus thought, just before he wet his pants.

  “John, I’m so sorry! I want to help rescue—” Linus begged before John cut him off with a glance.

  Linus prepared himself. He was ready. He deserved this, didn’t he? He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the head of the hammer to cave in his skull. Linus wondered morbidly if his brain would have time to process the sound of his head caving in before he died. He wondered what his death would sound like.

  The sound of steel clanging on the pavement wasn’t what Linus thought he would hear next.

  After a long moment, he gathered enough courage to open one eye, squinting into the morning light. John had his arms raised, and Linus thought for a moment that John had decided on a much more hands on approach to his vengeance. But the hands never found his throat. Instead, John collapsed against him, flinging an arm around Linus for support.

  “Take me to my home, Linus. You and I need to have a talk with Juliana’s mother.”

  John’s voice was grim, determined, but for the moment, Linus had hope that he’d live to see another dawn.

  The two men walked in silence to the Willis home, which was currently under guard by two of the neighborhood men. They nodded to John and scowled at Linus as he walked through the door. He realized then that he hadn’t been the only one who heard the screams, the confessions and the accusations. By now most of the neighborhood knew about his transgressions. He was damned. They’d throw him out shortly if they didn’t hang him from a tall tree as a lesson to everyone.

  John led Linus to a seat that Thom had sat in just a couple of nights ago and told him to sit.

  “Don’t move,” he said, his voice warning of unspoken consequences. After what Linus had heard last night, those consequences didn’t need to be spoken; he heard them loud and clear.

  Talia walked in a moment later, calm and collected. She stepped over to where Linus was sitting and slapped him hard. The sound her hand made as it struck his face was impressive. Linus reached up instinctively to cradle his stinging cheek, and Talia slapped the other side.

  “What did they give you for our daughter, Linus?”

  “Talia, don’t—” John started.

  “John, I love you, but so help me God, if you tell me what to do again, I don’t know what will happen.” She turned her gaze back to Linus. “I’m curious what the devil charges for a deal these days. What’s your soul worth to you, Linus?”

  Linus unclenched his hands, and a pill bottle fell to the floor.

  Talia flew at Linus in a frenzy of fists and kicks and clawing nails. John was a strong man, but he actually had trouble holding her back.

  Finally, he was able to tear her away.

  “Baby, sit. This is going to be okay. Linus is going to help make this right, aren’t you Linus?”

  The blood drained from his face then, regardless of his stinging cheeks.

  “Yes. Of course! I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “Good, because you’re going with me to rescue her. Do you know how to shoot?”

  “Shoot?! You can’t be serious.”

  In response, John simply let his wife go, and the assault began again with renewed vigor.

  “That’s enough, Talia,” John said, embracing his crying wife. “If you’re too hard on him he won’t be any help out there getting our girl back.”

  Talia nodded and offered Linus a few more choice words in Spanish before she left the room.

  “Linus, I don’t think these were events that you saw coming. Am I right?”

  Linus nodded emphatically.

  John continued. “Good. I know from the kid in the clinic that you were connected to this in some way. Do you know these men?”

  Linus shook his head. “I didn’t know the kid who got shot, but I do know their boss.”

  “Do you know where to find them?”

  “I think so. They’re not far, but they’ll know you’re coming.”

  “What do they want?” John asked, his face uncomfortably close to Linus’.

  “Everything.”

  John knew that much already. The note they’d found in his daughter’s room had said as much. He was to deliver himself to them, with Linus as his guide. In return, they would give the neighborhood four hours to evacuate with just the clothes on their backs. If they took anything with them beyond that, the note assured them that they would be killed by sniper fire.

  Talia entered holding a stack of clean clothes. She tossed a shirt, some pants, and a belt at Linus before leaving again, streaming more Spanish.

  Linus didn’t understand, but whatever she’d said sent John into a laughing fit.

  “What’d she say?”

  John simply held up his index finger giving the “one minute” sign while he finished laughing.

  Eventually, he spoke.

  “You’re going to need some clean, dark cl
othes if we’re going to get Juliana back. It’ll be easier for us to approach unseen.”

  “John, what did your wife say?”

  John grinned. “She said that she was sorry, she’d made a mistake. These are men’s clothes. She went to go see if Juliana had anything in your size.”

  Linus hung his head in shame. “She’s right,” he admitted. “I’m a coward. I’m selfish. I’ve always taken the easy way out of things…done what’s best for my own self-interest. She’s right, John.”

  John nodded.

  “So tell me what you know about these guys. Every detail. We leave in an hour.”

  Linus sat and spilled the beans.

  While they planned, John picked up the pill bottle and swallowed two of them dry.

  …

  John Willis considered himself a good judge of character, which is why he had to laugh when he slapped a rifle, one of the scary black ones people are always getting fired up about, into the arms of Linus. His every instinct was screaming at him to punish the man. Imprisonment, banishment, execution, something other than what he was doing right now, which was trusting him with his life.

  He took a few minutes to show Linus the basic workings of the gun, including the “tap, rack, bang” methodology of dealing with a malfunction. If they survived the rescue mission, he’d teach him about stovepipes and squib loads, and other technical issues, but for now they were the least of their worries.

  Talia walked to her husband and caressed his face with her hand before pulling him close for a passionate kiss that went on a lot longer than Linus was comfortable with. When they finally broke it off, they spent another long minute resting their heads against one another, and then it was time to go.

  As Linus was about to step outside, Talia pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. His face paled and his knees wobbled, but he nodded and followed her husband outside.