Days of Chaos

by Hunt, Jack

Satisfied that he’d earned their respect again, Cole hopped up onto the bar eyeing Maggie across the room with a look of glee. This was all working out perfectly. Twelve people weren’t a lot, but it was a start and he was confident others would soon join them.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. You’re probably wondering why you are here. It’s very simple. We are living in dangerous times. Unfortunately no one is coming to save you or me. We are on our own. Now you might be thinking that you can survive this by yourself, and you would be wrong. The only way we are going to make it through this is by joining together.” He jumped down and walked over to a man in his early twenties. He was thin and looked like he had an attitude. He got real close to his face. “Think about what it would be like to have someone watching your back, someone looking out for your best interests, someone willing to fight to ensure you stay alive. Think about never having to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, or whether you are going to be alive, a day, a month or a year from now. These are just some of the perks of aligning yourselves with us. Together we will not just survive, we will thrive, but it comes at a cost and you must ask yourself, am I willing to pay the cost?” He got almost nose-to-nose with the kid. “Are you?”

  Whatever attitude he had vanished, and he nodded.

  “Good. Because our fight for survival starts today.”

  Cole was about to return to his podium on the bar when he turned right into the blade. Magnus offered back a cold stare as he thrust it deeper into his abdomen. Cole clamped on to his leather jacket, gripping him tightly, words unable to escape his lips.

  “Why? You’re probably wondering why?” Magnus said while the crowd looked on. “It’s simple. It just requires the right kind of persuasion,” he said, tossing Cole’s words back in his face. “People follow that which they fear. Look around you. I did this. Not you. And as long as you are calling the shots we aren’t going to survive.” He left the blade in and Cole gasped as Magnus pushed him back and Cole dropped to the floor clutching his wound. He cast his gaze to Sawyer and Tyron, but they looked on unsympathetically. Magnus dropped down and relieved him of the handgun in his waistband. “You won’t be needing this. You know, Cole, it’s been one hell of a ride but if there is anything this shit storm has taught me, it’s that all good things come to an end.” He took a deep breath and looked up at the crowd of faces. He had their full attention. “I appreciate you extracting that information from her, it saves me a lot of time. Well, I would love to stay and have one last drink but we have work to do. As you so eloquently put it — our survival starts today.”

  * * *

  Amos Jones was an odd-looking fellow. He shuffled around his home in a pair of slippers and a striped robe, and beneath that he wore military fatigues. He was in his early fifties, bald and missing one of his front teeth. Damon’s father had spent the better part of two hours trying to convince Amos to let him use his vintage 1949 Caddy. Apparently it was locked up in his garage and rarely saw the light of day even when the country had power. He referred to it as his baby.

  Although Buddy was on onboard with helping them, Amos wasn’t.

  “We’ll have it back by the end of the day,” Buddy said.

  “Famous last words,” he replied before taking a hard pull on his oversized cigar. “No, it’s probably best you all keep your distance. These kinds of things never work out in the end.”

  “A girl’s life is at stake,” Buddy replied.

  “And so is my Caddy. You know how many miles that has on it?”

  Buddy shook his head

  “56,021. That’s right, that beauty is a well-oiled machine that is going to net me a tidy profit once I retire.”

  “Retire? Old man, you’ll be lucky to make it till next year,” Damon said.

  Amos jabbed his finger at him. “You youngsters have no manners. In my day, I would have been whipped with a belt and had my mouth washed out with soap for speaking to my elders that way.”

  “Oh, come on, let’s leave this asshole. We are wasting our time,” Jesse said pulling Damon away. “She could be dead by now.”

  “I just told you. He won’t kill her.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not waiting around for some old coot to find his balls.”

  Jesse stormed out of the house and Damon took off after him while Buddy continued to work Amos. He’d told them it wasn’t going to be easy. Amos was a breed of his own, a recluse who had zero tolerance for anyone that didn’t think the same as him. Outside Jesse returned to the trailer to collect his AR-15.

  “Give him time. He’ll work him down.”

  “Damon, we don’t have time. We are out of it. Now I’m going whether you’re coming or not.”

  “It’s a long walk from here.”

  “Who cares,” Jesse said pushing past him.

  “Hold up, Jesse.”

  Jesse wasn’t listening to him. He trudged off heading west on Irish Hill Road. Damon ran a hand over his head and sighed before jogging back to the house and heading in the back door. Now he usually could keep his cool but he’d had about enough of this old man’s shit. He pulled the Glock from his waistband, charged past his father and while Amos was bending over to pick up his coffee, he grabbed him and stuck the gun against the side of his head.

  “Now listen up, you old bastard, I’m done playing games. We are taking your vehicle whether you like it or not.”

  “Damon!” his father yelled.

  In an instant, the gun he had pressed against his face was out of his hands and Damon was on the floor with it pointed at him. Amos loomed over him, his eyes narrowed.

  “I beg to differ.”

  For a man of his age, he moved fast. Looks were deceiving. Damon put up both hands while his father tried to talk Amos down from putting a hole in his skull.

  “Amos. He doesn’t know any better.”

  “Well that’s obvious.”

  He twisted the gun around and handed it back to Damon, grip first. Slowly Damon took it and Amos pulled him up. “You’ve got balls, kid, I’ll give you that.” He studied him for a second before heading over to a cabinet. “I’ll take you. But I drive.”

  “Why did it take you so long to decide?” Buddy asked.

  “It’s a classic.”

  He fished out some keys and slipped out of his robe. Next, he disappeared into a back room and returned with an M16 rifle, and a bag over one shoulder.

  “Well come on then.”

  He led them down a hallway and through a door into the connected garage. Inside it was pitch-black. Amos didn’t turn on a flashlight but made his way down a series of small wooden steps. He pushed up the garage door and daylight flooded the small space to reveal the shape of a vehicle hidden beneath a cream cover. He grabbed a handful of cover and gave it two large tugs. It slipped off to reveal a mint condition, black, 1949 Cadillac OHV V8. It was quite a sight to behold and certainly not what he expected. He unlocked the door and slipped in, then opened the other side for them. Damon noticed there wasn’t any rust. It had all the original headlights, dash and doors. It was a four-speed automatic.

  “You get this repainted?” Damon asked.

  “No,” he said before laughing. “This is the original paint.”

  “How often do you drive it?”

  “I’ve had it out of this garage three times over the past sixteen years.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Oh I’ve started it up a few times just to hear the roar of the engine but that’s about it.” He stuck the key in the ignition and fired it up. “The only thing that has been changed is the battery which I got last year. Not bad, eh?”

  Damon shrugged. He just wanted to get moving.

  After a slow process of reversing out so he didn’t scrape it, he closed his garage and got back in and Damon gave him directions. Jesse hadn’t made it far down the road but he was moving at a fast pace when they rolled up beside him.

  “You want a lift?”

  He looked surprised to see them and Da
mon popped the door for him. He sighed as he got in. “Took you long enough.”

  “You youngsters wouldn’t have survived in my day. Everything has to be now. You don’t have a shred of patience.”

  * * *

  As they got closer to the tavern Damon felt his chest tighten. He knew eventually he’d have to kill Cole and with their history that was going to be hard. Prison had given Damon a lot of time to think. So much had changed between them over the years. They were no longer the kids that spent their time playing video games and getting drunk, they’d both grown into people they didn’t want to be. The need for money changed things. It had changed them and led them down a destructive path.

  Amos veered over to the edge of the road about a hundred yards from the tavern.

  “There’s no Scout outside. You think they’re still in there?” Buddy asked. “Anywhere else they might have gone?”

  Damon pushed the door open. “It’s possible they went back to the garage but… listen, stay here. I’ll go and check it out.”

  “Not by yourself you aren’t,” Jesse said.

  “We’ll remain here,” Amos said, tapping his steering wheel. His father agreed. They were both at an age where risking their lives wasn’t something they were ready to do — especially for a stranger. Damon and Jesse double-timed it across the road, down a grassy embankment, and pushed their way through some trees to come up around the back of the tavern. He brought up his rifle and approached at a crouch, scanning his surroundings as Jesse watched his six. At the rear of the tavern he peered through a dirty pane of glass into the kitchen. There was no one there. He cupped a hand over his eyes and squinted trying to make out the restaurant area through the doorway. It was too dark to see.

  “Anything?”

  He shook his head and with two fingers gestured for them to work their way around. They moved quietly staying low to the ground just in case anyone looked out the window. At the side door entrance, he cut a glance through the window but saw no one inside.

  “Listen, open the door and I’ll head in.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “No, but we have no other option. I don’t see anyone in there.”

  “Maybe they parked in a different spot and are waiting to ambush us.”

  “Just do it,” Damon said, stepping back from the door and preparing to unleash a flurry of rounds. He leveled the rifle as Jesse gripped the doorknob. He gave a nod and Jesse yanked it open. Damon slipped in raking his rifle. Not even two seconds after, Jesse was through the door to back him up. The fireplace was crackling. There were empty beer bottles on the counter and a few plates of food but no one.

  “They must have gone to the garage,” Damon said. “Let’s go.”

  He turned to head out when they heard someone call his name in a soft voice. “Damon!”

  They both turned toward the bar. When he made his way around, there on the ground clutching a bottle of bourbon was Cole with a blade still stuck in his stomach. Damon hurried in and dropped down beside him taking in the sight of his old friend.

  “Who did this?”

  He coughed. “Magnus.”

  Damn gritted his teeth.

  Cole’s skin was clammy and a pasty white.

  “Where is he?”

  “Lake Placid. He’s taken Maggie. They’re going after Elliot. He has others with him.”

  Damon looked at Jesse. Cole reached up and grabbed a hold of Damon’s hand, clutching it tightly. “Listen to me, Damon.” He swallowed hard trying to summon the strength to say a few words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I…”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Damon said.

  “It does. I was wrong. I should have never sent you in to get those drugs. I should have never let you take the fall. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes welled up and a single tear trickled out the corner of his eye.

  Damon dropped his chin and felt his grasp tighten. Although he knew Cole had lost his way, if he was honest, so had he. Life wasn’t easy.

  “Damon, we should go,” Jesse said. He nodded and looked back at Cole who was struggling to breathe.

  “You remember that time when we were thirteen, and I stole my old man’s gun and that bottle of liquor?” Cole asked.

  Damon nodded.

  “I wish I could go back to that time.”

  Life felt carefree and easy back then. It was like they had the whole world at their fingertips. They would spend hours wandering the back roads and countryside, smoking cigarettes and talking about the future. They had heads full of dreams and nothing seemed impossible. Neither of them knew where they’d end up and neither of them could have imagined this.

  “Me too,” Damon said. Cole’s eyelids would close then open as if he was having trouble holding on to life. He gasped a few times then his breathing would return to normal. Even though all manner of shit had gone down between them, he was still his friend, and the closest one he’d had. He remained there for the next five, maybe ten minutes until he bled out and took his final breath.

  As he left that tavern that morning, his heart was full of rage.

  It wasn’t just because he’d lost his girlfriend and his oldest friend but because it should have never happened. None of it.

  Chapter 19

  “You’re worrying about a bunch of nothing,” Elliot said leaving the town hall and heading back to the Jeep. “What Murphy wants will never happen.” They were off to bring supplies to those manning the checkpoints. In the first few days after they emerged from the bunker Gary had rallied together those who’d offered protection and security before the blackout. At that time those assisting were mainly made up of police officers. Now there were others who were doing it in the hope of being showed preferential treatment. But neither Gary, Ted nor Hammond had made promises. The less they knew about how fragile the remaining infrastructure was, the better.

  “You heard him.”

  “Even if he managed to enlist all of those folks, he still wouldn’t have enough to enforce all those laws. Sure, he might be able to kill criminals but evacuate those not from this town? Best of luck with that. This place is full of tourists all year round. How’s he going to enforce that while maintaining the checkpoints, looking after supplies and having others hunting? He might have some good ideas but they are idealistic at best.”

  “Good ideas?” Gary asked jumping into the Jeep. “Why didn’t you back me up?”

  “Because despite what you think, he’s right about the criminal aspect. We don’t have room in the jail for the lawless, so if you want to try and run this town, you’ll have to start thinking about new forms of punishment that will send a message to anyone else who’s considering breaking the law.”

  “No, there has to be another way.”

  Elliot fired up the engine. “There isn’t, Gary. When we were returning from New York, we met all kinds of people along the way. I’m talking about the desperate, dangerous and depraved. We had no choice but to kill them.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Is it? How?”

  “We have people here willing to help. As long as we maintain a core group of thirty or more people we can handle this town and the situations that arise. We can deal with them in a lawful and fair manner. Killing innocents isn’t the solution.”

  Elliot shook his head. “But we aren’t talking about innocent people.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Actually no, I don’t. Look, I know what you’re trying to do, Gary. You want to hold on to what remains of society but it’s not able to function the way it did before. Within a year people will starve, kill each other or die from sickness. It’s already happening. And, that’s not even taking into account all the planes that dropped out of the sky, or those who were affected by the initial blast and radiation fallout. Now just as I said to you before, you have two choices. Fend for yourself or fend for others but if you choose to fend for others, you’re going to have to make some hard decisions and
one of those is who lives and dies. I’m talking about those who are going to put an unnecessary strain on our limited resources. You want to jail criminals? How are you going to feed them? How are you going to deal with sanitation? Huh?”

  “Don’t be so condescending,” Gary shot back as they drove along Station Street heading for the first checkpoint. “I know these things.”

  “Then you understand that Ted has a point.”

  “I understand that Ted is going to incite riots.”

  “That’s the cost of trying to control the masses,” Elliot shot back. “And none of you are ready for that.”

  Gary continued to look ahead.

  When they arrived at the checkpoint on Station Road and Old Military Road, Elliot hopped out and went around to the rear of the Jeep to bring a small box of canned peaches and potatoes to two armed helpers. One of them was a cop. There were five checkpoints around town, the one here, one on Sentinel Road, another on NY-86, another on Sara-Placid Road, and the final one on Ruissemont Road and Mirror Lake Drive. Each one was manned by two people, one of those two was a cop to ensure that nothing got out of hand. They were all given walkie-talkies, which could be used to communicate with one another and call for assistance. Those checkpoints were to be manned twenty-four hours with three shift rotations taking place — one at eight, another at four, and a third at midnight. Everyone was meant to be involved in that but due to a shortage of people only three of those five checkpoints were being manned at any given time.

  “Sergeant,” Officer Palmer said stepping up to greet them.

  “How’s it been?” Gary asked hopping out and getting an update. As Elliot handed over the cans he glanced at Gary. He could see he thrived at continuing to play the role he’d once been so good at. His mind went back to what Rayna had said and even though he was still trying to come to terms with it, he would have been lying to say that he didn’t feel resentment and anger toward him.

  “We had a group of six people who came up from Averyville that attempted to cause some trouble but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle,” Palmer said.