5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors

by Correll, Richard

  Thop-thop-thop-thop-thop-thop………….

  Rebecca was back in the real world as if yanked out of her reverie by a powerful grip on the scruff of her neck. Standing, dream-like by the window, remembering the taste, the moment her teeth dug in, the sudden satiation in her stomach. The power, yes, the real feeling of control and power, there was no need of reliance on anything or anyone when it was you who brought home the meals. Her eyes unfocused finally and looked out into the early light.

  Thop-thop-thop-thop-thop-thop………..

  The mist of an early morning shower still hung in the air. It changed everything to dull grey. It was strange how important nature’s light was when there was no other competition. Low cloud cover seemed to decapitate the taller buildings in the distance.

  Thop-thop-thop-thop-thop-thop………….

  They were right in the middle of the road. That is, thirty eight stories right above the street and staring right at her. A hovering helicopter had rotated sideways and was now facing the building she was in, facing her. The pilot had one of those huge helmets on that made him look alien, almost sinister. The visor looking like it hid giant, monstrous, bulbous eyes. The man in the co-pilots seat had binoculars trained on her. It seemed ridiculous at such close range. The handsome face of an older African American man had leaned forward between them. His eyes were watching Rebecca with intense curiosity.

  Rebecca felt naked, like she had stepped out of the shower to be confronted by an intruder. After all, that is what they are, she reminded herself, intruders, invaders. Like an animal she stood very still in the presence of danger. Let them make the first move.

  What are you doing in my world? Rebecca made eye contact and started to stare them down.

  *

  “Her eyes are a weird blue, they haven’t changed color.” The man with the binoculars finally shouted over the rotating blades of the chopper.

  “She’s alive.” The Deacon spoke for everyone, “I’ll be damned she’s alive.”

  “She doesn’t look too happy to see us.” The pilot observed through immobile, thin lips.

  “We need to set down.” The Deacon turned to the pilot.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” binoculars man answered for both of them. “We’d be swarmed in a second.”

  “The top of the building then,” The Deacon wasn’t about to let this moment of redemption go. He could almost see Mrs. Archibald, Mr. Threllen and Kenneth Otoyo. All of you from First Baptist Church, this is for all of you. “There has to be a way in.”

  The man with the binoculars looked at Rebecca and waved to get her attention. He then extended his arm and held it up palm first. Wait where you are, we’ll be right there. The helicopter motor increased in intensity and the vehicle started to rise.

  *

  Rebecca watched the signal from the man with the binoculars. What was he trying to say with his hands? We don’t want any trouble. The machine started a slow ascent in retreat.

  Would they be back? If they were planning to, there would be more of them. It was time to pack up and move on. You could wait for them to return from another location. The intruders would be caught by surprise then. A perfect ambush was always the greatest equalizer to being outnumbered. Rebecca packed up what little belongings she had in a few seconds and was facing the door to leave.

  Listen………

  *

  “There.” The Deacon exclaimed, pointing through the Plexiglas of the helicopter’s windshield. The roof was flat with a gravel floor and a single, concrete shed with a heavy service door. The landing area would be tight. “Drop me off and signal the EVAC.”

  “Just you?” The soldier who had been sitting in the back with him chimed in. “Don’t you think you might want company?”

  “The less, the better, remember?” The Deacon was already priming his nail gun.

  “You’re gonna need someone to get your back.” The soldier was one of those people who just couldn’t or wouldn’t sit by in an emergency. They always wanted to, always needed to be there. “I don’t want to argue with you about this.”

  “All right then.” The Deacon nodded, the helicopter was just a few feet above the building now.

  “EVAC is on the way, sir.” The co-pilot reported as they exited the helicopter amid swirling dust and debris. The echoes of the chopper blades bouncing off the long dead concrete buildings created a surreal, off world atmosphere in the grey dawn light.

  *

  Listen………

  She was in the hallway now. The grey morning had done little to cast any light here. Shadows remained still and in their place. Something, something was in the air. It wasn’t really movement or a smell. It was that sense of silence in the woods when things just weren’t right. Rebecca thought about flashing the light but decided to kneel down and wait out the moment.

  She concentrated on the shadows, taxing her memory to the fullest. Remember last night? You came this way. Rebecca closed her eyes for a second and tried to retrace her steps. She slowly let her eyes open and refocus on her surroundings. It was like taking two pictures, one from last night and one from now and overlapping them. The doors were closed at either end, the floor was the same. Wait, she was breathing through her nostrils now. There was something new, shapes on the floor, one, two or perhaps three?

  She had that feeling now, the moment the deer can sense a change in the world around them. They can feel themselves in the cross hairs. Still casting a low, kneeling silhouette, Rebecca reached into her bag and found the flashlight.

  The light shone through the dusty haze of the hallway. The shapes crept from the realm of shadow with the tight beam of the flashlight. He had been dead a long time, one of the first perhaps. He was dressed in an orderly’s uniform for a hospital. The skin around his face had drawn around the shape of his skull while his long, black hair was now silver white. The mouth was wide open in an eternal hell hound scream. Protruding from his skull was the end of a hunting arrow. Rebecca’s eyes slowly widened as she let the flashlight beam take her to the next lifeless mound. She was a woman with a round face. Her body was dressed for a hot summer in exotic colors. Her Caribbean features were drawn up into a snarl, like she was about to expel hatred in the instant before death. She was lying on her side. The back of her head had been pierced by another hunting arrow. The delicate feather tips protruded from her left eye socket. Her left hand was extended to its very limit, clawing at something just down the hall, just out of reach.

  That feeling……crosshairs…….

  Rebecca slowly played the flashlight down the hallway, careful not to miss a single nuance. The beam was moving in the direction that the Caribbean woman was pointing, was she pointing? The thought seemed odd to Rebecca as she turned toward a shape that rose out of the shadows.

  He was about five foot ten and hundred and seventy five pounds with a black beard and curly black hair. Rebecca’s flashlight made him blink for a second, but not long enough. He was holding a small bow no larger than 2 feet in height, perfect for hunting game in close quarters.

  “Peek-a-boo.” A gravel voice spoke as a cruel smile crossed his lips. Rebecca began to react as he let the string of the bow leave his fingers.

  It was suddenly there, sticking out of the spot between her right shoulder and chest. The end of the arrow almost seemed to quiver as she dropped the flashlight while her scream bounced off the walls and echoed back to her. The world began to swim as if she was drowning as Rebecca tried to reach over her shoulder for her scope rifle when she screamed a second time. It was a smaller arrow this time, no longer than a foot in length. It was strange to look at it protruding from her left hip. Then the pain made her collapse. The air in her lungs felt dirty, she gagged on sheer agony and rolled amongst the bodies.

  Crossfire, they have you in a crossfire. Rebecca felt like she was sliding down a huge, black hole to nothingness. Were these the intruders?

  “Got her!” The gravelly voice with the two foot bow howled in delig
ht.

  “Fresh meat for dinner,” Another voice replied in exultation on the other side of the hallway near the fire exit.

  The world was getting cold. Of course, what made you think you were the only hunter in this jungle? For a moment, Rebecca wondered how long they had been hunting her.

  *

  The soldier fired three quick bursts into the silver lock on the door and it popped open slightly. The Deacon opened it carefully and shone a flash light into the darkness. It stank of dust, dirt and neglect. A single staircase descended past the power of his flashlight beam into darkness.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” The Deacon asked.

  “That’s a helluva thing to ask right now.” The soldier held his rifle at ready. A scream came out of the darkness. It was a cry of surprise, pain and anguish.

  They charged into the shadows, the soldier took the lead with the Deacon shining the light over his shoulders.

  *

  Rebecca kept trying to focus and refocus on the world. She tried to see beyond the pain, it was so intense it affected her eyesight. Her ears picked up boots walking closer. The man with the two foot bow was claiming his prize.

  There were two muffled gunshots from somewhere, then a third. Something metallic creaked and then there was a drumbeat of footsteps on a steel stairway. The boots belonging to the man with the two foot bow paused a few inches from her body.

  “What the fuck is that?” His gravel voice called out to his two friends across the hall. He was distracted for a second. That was all Rebecca needed.

  Rebecca had found the handgun she had picked up in the office in her knapsack, she rolled over slowly. Her body came in contact with the tips of his boots. Confused for second, the man looked down at Rebecca, all he saw was cold metal rising from the shadows.

  “I see you,” Rebecca whispered and pulled the trigger. In the black and lighter than black shadows, the man’s head looked like a big crimson balloon that was torn open.

  The explosion seemed to come from inside his skull and radiate outwards. What was left of his head, brains and skull was now dripping off the ceiling and walls. The hands incredibly were still in place. The rest of the body seemed hung in suspension for a second before the legs slowly buckled and the rest of his body surrendered to the inevitable.

  Gunfire, a single shot pinged off the fire escape door at the end of the hallway. Rebecca thought about returning fire but had a guess they had lost track of her in the darkness.

  “Hold on, save your ammo!” A new voice she had not heard from issued a stern order. Before he lightened his tone and called out: “It’s okay, bitch. We just have to wait you out. You know how bad you’re hit.”

  Rebecca could feel her attention begin to un-focus, you can’t stop this. It was like the edges of her eye sight were beginning to go blind, darkness closing in. The pain was everywhere now, she felt herself start to sob. Her clothes were soaked with blood.

  “US Army, put your hands up now!” It was a powerful voice, used to giving commands, the intruders? “I won’t ask twice, put your hands up!”

  There was a gunshot, followed almost immediately by the sound of a dozen hammers striking their targets in quick succession. Guns were just guns to Rebecca, but she knew an automatic weapon when she heard one. Something appeared in front of the fire escape door, was it one of them, those things that prowled the night? It staggered like them, seemed aimless for a moment, His clothes were peppered by recent entry wounds that were expanding on his chest like rings of water where someone had dropped a stone. The figure coughed up blood before collapsing in the hallway.

  “There’s one more. “ Another voice called out to the American soldier.

  If Rebecca stared hard straight ahead she could see shadows in the flashlight that were appearing for an instant before becoming one with the dark again. Slipping down the stairs, Rebecca saw a man with a crossbow begin to run away.

  “The staircase,” Rebecca blurted out and coughed. “He’s running down the staircase.”

  There were footfalls descending from their position and the occasional “thruuuung” of running into the hollow metal railing.

  “Where are you?” A large frame that appeared to be the African American man was in the hallway. His flashlight played over the walls and bloodied floors, searching for Rebecca. “C’mon girl, you here?”

  A long cough from Rebecca and a cry of stinging pain was the only reply she could manage. The Deacon used his flashlight like a talisman, driving the darkness back. He boldly moved down the corridor and before long found the twitching Rebecca.

  “Oh my god, “ he knelt beside her and tried find out how serious each wound was, he was about to call out to his soldier to get a Med team down here until a door a few floors down opened with tremendous force.

  “No…….no…………..noooooooooooooo!” The walls echoed everything, his voice, the sound of a pack of dead lungs howling with hunger, the noise of a shirt being torn…….the limbs snapping away, the long, sorrowful wail of a trapped animal at life’s end.

  “Deacon!” The soldier had been peering downstairs and now he turned his head toward the preacher. “Father, we need to leave now.”

  “This is going to hurt, stay with me okay?” The Deacon performed a fireman’s lift and pulled Rebecca up on his shoulder.

  “Jesus,” he swore at the sight of the arrow embedded in her shoulder, The Deacon heard her wail softly as he turned in the hallway and headed for sanctuary. A brilliant point of light lit up the stairs as the soldier blazed off a long burst toward invisible targets a few floors down.

  “Go, go go…..” The soldier watched the Deacon start moving up the stairs with Rebecca in tow. He followed. Backing slowly away from whatever it was that seemed to be closing fast.

  The sunlight was still a gray haze but it stung the Deacon’s eyes as he pushed the fire exit open, The EVAC helicopter swirled dust and debris into his face.

  *

  Rebecca was watching the world spin out of control. She was suddenly fourteen, drunk with her friends for the very first time. It had started just by tasting different bottles and then the world became impossible to navigate. She finally slid down a wall and surrendered to gravity.

  “I feel wobbly woozy.” She slurred.

  *

  The Deacon handed Rebecca’s almost limp form up to eager arms and then chanced a look back, he was relieved to find the soldier right behind. They leaped up into the EVAC and grabbed hold of anything while the whirling blades increased in speed. The Deacon felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach as the chopper began to rise and spread a thick grit into the air.

  They came out of the sand fog with the suddenness one had come to expect from them. The Deacon found himself transfixed, almost out of body as a tall woman in a leather jacket and facial piercings extended a black nail polished hand upwards. She must have only been dead for just a year or two. Her puss yellow eyes were in stark contrast to the grey skin and black lipstick. Her hair was a black bob that was now caked with mud and time. It was hypnotic to watch her arm extend up wards to find a grip on the underbelly of the helicopter, perhaps delaying it a second so that others could clamber up and do the same.

  Her nails grazed one of the landing wheels as forward motion propelled her past the rising machine and falling over the edge into space. The speed of her descent was something the Deacon had never seen before. The farther a body fell, it seemed to pick up speed, moving faster. He looked away before impact. It suddenly occurred to the Deacon that through all of this, he had not let go of Rebecca’s hand. He gave it a re-assuring squeeze. Weakly she returned the effort.

  *

  Rebecca was six years old, trying to play with the other children. But they just wouldn’t come around to her world of dragons, dark queens and fantasy. The era of sorcery, spells and cavernous worlds filled with treasure held no interest to the others.

  “I don’t want to play anymore.” Rebecca whispered as the helicopter rose above
the walls of her former kingdom.

  THE BROKEN ROAD

  The shock of losing Maggie had long since worn off for Brett. He’d never be passed the point of the incision in his heart, however. It still felt like a deep wound that would always be there. Maggie was gone. How do you do that? How do you walk away from this kind of thing? He kept his eyes centered on the terrain a few yards in front of him. He trusted his instinct to keep him abreast of anything that might be following or waiting for the right moment.

  If he passed a few knots of people, he rarely made eye contact any more. As they grew fewer and farther between the groups of survivors became more dangerous. The sleet started up again as he walked past a late model four door vehicle. The driver’s door was open and a man had his legs crossed casually at the ankles on the pavement. They both seemed to try to avoid eye contact as each casually passed a hand toward their sidearm. Was this the new greeting nowadays? Nice to meet you, it’s another fine day at the end of the world.

  Brett crossed the road and kept a corner of his eye on the man. He made no movement, a signal he wanted no business with Brett but also was not looking for trouble. At a safe distance Brett returned his attention to the country road in front of him. The man behind Brett held his motionless position. No one wants any trouble, bud. Let’s just move along.