by Jeff Olah
The man in the dusty tan leather jacket rubbed at his temple, looked back toward the rear yard, and moved quickly back to Griffin holding out his hand. “I’m only going to be able to help you—”
Griffin bit through the pain radiating from his left ankle, stood up straight, and reached for his hip. He drew back a nine-millimeter pistol, stepped away and pointed it at the man’s chest. “Who are you?”
“Yeah, I saw you slip that in the holster as you stood up. Been wondering how long it was going to take you to grow a pair.”
“Who. Are. You?”
The thin man shook his head. “This again?”
“We’ve got a minute, go ahead.”
The man who identified himself as Scott Carson smiled. “I have a feeling you think you know something. I mean why would you go through all this trouble if you didn’t?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Griffin said. “You go ahead and answer one more time, and if I feel you’re telling the truth, we can both walk out without any trouble.”
“Fair enough,” the man said. “And what happens if you think otherwise?”
Griffin stared into the man’s eyes and waited a moment before speaking. “Put the bags on the ground, then we can start.”
“Okay.” The man slipped the bags from his shoulders and set the twin duffles carefully on the ground. He moved away and started to stand. “My name is actually Roland Mayhew and I’m the man who just ended your life.”
Before Griffin had an opportunity to process the words, or had a chance to react, the man standing ten feet away stepped to the side, pulled his own weapon, and fired a single shot.
He felt the side of his head give to the superheated projectile and was tossed sideways into the wall, then crumbled heavily to the asphalt. Griffin now lay flat on his back staring up as the man moved in over him and again pointed the pistol at his face.
The man looked down at the weapon in his hand and then around the barrel at Griffin. “Now I’m going to leave you out here to die … no hard feelings I hope. I really did enjoy our little chat and hope for your sake that those things get it over with quick. And hey, thanks for calling attention to yourself, and to your stash, I’ll be sure to let your friends know as soon as I catch up to them.”
Griffin coughed, his voice coming out slow and guttural. “Why?”
The man stepped around him, grabbed his pistol, and tossed it into the bag. “You know, I never really intended on saving you, but I did want those weapons. And well, now I have them.”
“Then just kill me.”
“Not my style,” Roland said. “I’m more of a facilitator.”
Griffin blinked involuntarily and felt the ground below his head beginning to warm over in his own blood. He could only watch as man in the tan leather jacket returned to the twin duffles, again dragged them onto his shoulders, and moved out of sight.
28
Zach was alone. There were four others seated around him in the vehicle, although not one of them had spoken a single word since driving out of the parking lot. They stared out their respective windows and every few minutes looked back over their shoulders, but that was it. Not a sideways glance, not a smile, not anything but the sound of the tires on the road and the rush of the wind as they drove away from the high school.
These people weren’t strangers, in fact a few of them were his friends. He’d grown quite close to Ben while in Vegas and the Mayor seemed like a nice man, but something was different now. Ben hadn’t even looked in his direction since jumping in behind the driver’s seat, and Mayor Gil looked like he was crying.
The others simply avoided eye contact and now he was beginning to feel as if he had done something wrong.
But still, Zach had questions.
“Uh … Mr. Ben?”
The air inside the light-colored van seemed to go cold. The others sat up in their seats, but still avoided looking down at him. Ben slowly glanced into the side mirror and then gripped the wheel with both hands, the top of his knuckles shining white from the driver’s seat.
“Yeah?”
Zach’s own hands began to shake. He didn’t want to ask, but it was the only thing running through his mind. “Where uh, is Mr. Ethan?”
Ben turned to his right. He eyed Mayor Gil and waited. The Mayor pulled his head away from his hands, wiped his nose, and nodded.
Ben forced the words out as if he were already waiting for the next question. “Ethan is in the other car.”
Positioned between the girl Ben had brought from the desert and the man he’d never seen before today, Zach sat forward and rested his hands on the front seats. “Is he with Miss Emma?”
Even before the boy finished, Ben was nodding his head. “Yes, we are following them.”
“Where are we going?”
Again, Ben paused. This time he looked into the rearview mirror, eyed the man seated next to Zach, the woman to his left and then back at the Mayor. Still no one spoke. “You know buddy, I’m not really sure where we’re going, but I promise it’ll be safe.”
Zach curled his lip as if thinking through his next question, and then simply sat back. “Okay.”
Ben breathed out slowly, relaxed his arms, and rolled his neck. He reached out, laid his hand on the Mayor’s shoulder, but kept his eyes straight ahead. He whispered something only Mayor Gil could hear and then offered a weak smile.
Zach shot forward once again and looked out the window to his left. “Oh,” he said, “what about Miss Carly, she didn’t get in. Is she with Mr. Ethan and Miss Emma?”
Mayor Gil quickly brought his hand to his face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to, and although Zach was just a child, he could read emotion better than most adults.
“She…” Ben’s voice fell off.
Zach started to speak, but then stopped himself. He dropped back into the seat, blinked a few times, and looked into his lap. As the tears came, he pulled his shirt up to his face and wiped his eyes and nose. “She’s okay … she’s with them now.”
Mayor Gil could only manage a half smile as he turned toward him.
“My mom and my dad and my sister. She’s with them now; they will take care of her.”
Seated to his left, Mila dropped her arm over his shoulder, pulled him in close, and kissed him on the top of the head.
Ben quickly reached into the back seat and grabbed Zach’s hand. “Yes, they will. And if your family is anything like you, I’m sure she’ll be in good hands.”
That made Zach happy. Even more than the compliment, he was able to remember the feeling he had being around the three people he loved more than anything. It was brief, but that didn’t matter. In the last few weeks, he was having trouble recalling their faces, although now it all came rushing back. “Thank you Mr. Ben.”
“Mr. Ben? I thought I told you it’s just Ben. I mean we are friends, right?”
Zach wiped his face once more and looked from Ben to the Mayor and then back to Ben. “Yes, we are friends.”
29
Ethan slammed his fists into the dash. He lowered his window and feeling the cold night air on his face, searched for a place to stop. His eyes were clouded over and his mind raced at the thought of what had taken place over the last two hours, but for the moment he refused to allow himself to think about what was to come next.
Without turning, Ethan spoke to Tom in a low voice. “Zach?”
“Yeah, he’s okay … back in the van with Ben.”
Into the rearview mirror, he watched as Emma pushed a jacket under his mother’s head and spoke quietly to Shannon. She quickly wiped her forehead, leaned back on her knees, and turned to him. His sister’s voice came out slow and deliberate. “She’s okay for now, but we need to find somewhere to stop.”
Ethan knew she wasn’t telling him everything. He could read her better than anyone else. But whatever it was had to wait. Turning to Tom who’d already begun to slow the oversized SUV, he pointed through the windshield. “That place, can we get there?�
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As the first few drops of rain began to dot the windows, Tom also lowered his window. “Not tonight, I mean I don’t think I’d chance driving out of the city in the dark. Morning would be better.”
His eyes darted to the rear, quickly watching the rise and fall of his mother’s chest. “Okay,” he said, turning back. “You know this city, find us a place for the night.”
Tom nodded and then dropped his left arm out through the open window, again reducing his speed. He waved the trailing van forward and waited as they pulled alongside.
The van’s rear passenger window shot down and Bryce leaned out. His face was puffy and his eyes red and tired. He looked back in the direction they’d come from and then at Tom. “Whatta we doin’?”
“We need to stop.”
“Harbor Crest … I mean, I don’t think—”
“No, we don’t have time. We need to get somewhere quick.”
Bryce again looked toward the rear of the SUV. “Someone hurt?”
Tom breathed out hard. He looked back toward Ethan and then again to Bryce. “We just need to get somewhere for the night. We got anything on this side of town?”
Bryce bit at his lip, looked out toward the end of the block. “West isn’t going to be safe. They’ve got people from Sixth all the way down.”
Ethan sat forward and put his hand on the wheel. He leaned around Tom and spoke to the man he had yet to meet. “Anything, we just need to stop for the night.”
“We’ve got a spot, but it hasn’t been cleared in like two weeks.”
“Take us there.” Ethan dropped back into his seat, turned to his sister, and offered a quick thumbs-up.
Tom pulled out behind the van and followed as they drifted around a small horde. At the next intersection, they turned right and quickly pushed their speed past fifty. They sped through an abandoned section of downtown before again turning right at the corner of Sixth Street and Rockfield Boulevard.
Ethan stared out through the windshield as the rain continued to fall. “Someone you know from before?”
Tom shook his head. “No … well yeah, we met after the outbreak. He helped set up our place at that mall.”
“Harbor Crest?”
Tom hesitated. “Yeah, he and I—”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry, for what exactly?”
“I should have listened,” Ethan said. “I should have at least given your plan a look. I should have done a lot of things differently.”
Tom dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Tonight wasn’t your fault, you know that … right?”
He sat with his head dropped to his chest and flashed on the images of Carly’s final moments. He wanted to run toward the pain. He wanted to punish himself. Tom was wrong—this was his fault, every single ounce of it. His decision, his lack of self-control, and his selfishness had gotten one of his friends killed. He would never forget, nor would he allow himself to be forgiven. Everything that happened tonight was his fault and now he needed to live in that world. For him, but mostly for them.
“How far?”
Tom glanced at Ethan and then back at the rain-slicked street. “What?”
“Where’s your friend taking us?”
Brake lights ahead and then they were stopping. Tom dimmed the headlights and pulled up to the curb behind the van. He watched as his friend stepped out of the large sliding door and then met him out in the street.
Ethan also exited the SUV, locked the doors, and moved to the sidewalk. He pointed to the office building at his back. “This it?”
Tom nodded and motioned toward his friend. “Bryce this is Ethan, Ethan … Bryce. I’ll fully introduce you guys later.”
Bryce checked the area they’d just driven from and also the long boulevard ahead. “We’ve got a few minutes, but I think we may want to get the vehicles away from here once we’re inside.”
Ethan nodded and again looked back toward the building. Eight floors of concrete, glass and not much else. It was surprisingly clean and for the most part looked like the end of the world had forgotten to touch this part of the city.
An empty bench and a still fully stocked newspaper stand sat on either side of the unchained double doors, twenty feet from where they stood. Bryce moved first and started toward the entrance.
Ethan followed. “Doesn’t look secure.”
“That’s because it isn’t. We’re gonna have to take turns watching the door, but so far no one knows we’re here and if you haven’t noticed, it doesn’t look like this is a very popular spot.”
Tom looked from Bryce to Ethan. “You good with that?”
“I think we have to be, for now anyway.”
Bryce looked through the glass doors and pulled the left side open. He placed his boot in its path and slammed his hand into the marble wall to his left. “HEY!”
Ethan pulled open the opposite door and with Tom, stepped inside. He stared into the empty lobby and quickly counted to ten. When nothing moved and the silence persisted, he stared toward the reception desk.
“Wait,” Bryce held out his right arm.
“Wait for what?”
Bryce looked to Tom and then Ethan. “We’re going in unarmed?”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. But you did say this was the place, or am I missing something?”
“I just think we may want to slow it down.”
Ethan shook his head and pointed back toward the street. “Go back, watch the street. I’ll clear it myself.
Tom stepped between the two men and continued into the wide-open lobby. “Let’s go, we’ll stay together and clear the first two floors. We find anything we don’t like and we pull back. No surprises.”
The three men moved as one unit, pushing back doors, peering inside darkened offices, and confirming all exits were accounted for. They worked quickly to slide three massive filing cabinets alongside the front doors and then hurried to escort the others inside.
While Emma and Shannon tended to his mother, Ethan returned to the doors. He waited as Tom and Bryce moved the vehicles into the below ground parking garage and then watched as they rushed back across the abandoned street.
Once inside, the men secured the doors and met the others in a secluded area just outside the hall leading to the building’s service elevator. Out of sight from the street, but close enough to the exit that they felt safe, the group settled in for the night.
From behind the reception desk, Ethan waved Tom over. He continued to watch the doors and the street beyond, not fully confident in the choice he and the others had made.
“What’s up Ethan?”
He waited for Tom to come in close. “I need your help.”
“Sure, anything.”
“It’s Griff and Boone.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure they even made it out.”
“I don’t buy it, those two … I mean more than anyone else, they can handle themselves.”
Tom dropped his head to the left and looked up at Ethan through narrowed eyes. “Okay?”
“I’m going back.”
From over his right shoulder, Ethan had missed his sister approaching. “I don’t think so.”
He looked back at Emma, nodding as he turned to face her. “I have to at least try.”
“No,” Emma said, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “You don’t. Your responsibility is here now. We need you … mom needs you.”
“You said she was okay.”
“No, she’s not okay. She’s probably not going to make it through the night … and she knows it.”
30
Roland Mayhew walked the length of the east end of the school before noticing the flames shooting from the second-floor window. He moved away from the building to get a better vantage and then watched as Mitchell Blake and his people destroyed what was supposed to have been his new home.
With the bags weighing heavy on his shoulders, he started toward the front gates. He had yet to actually take
a human life, although he no longer had the support of the group who called themselves Guardians of the New World. Eight-four scared men and women who ran at the first sign of trouble. He now wondered if he ever had their support.
Going wide around the entrance, Roland paused at the ten-foot chain-link fence. He watched as men and women ran in and out of the blown-out front doors. They carried large sections of splintered wood, gas cans, and makeshift torches. And as the smoke that poured out through numerous windows along both sides of the beleaguered high school began to consume the area, Mitchell Blake finally appeared.
Backing away and laying the duffles beside the fence, Roland pulled free the lone rifle and pulled it into his shoulder. He liked the way it felt tucked in tight, the power it represented and the feeling that with one flex of his index finger, he could end that man’s life. He liked the thought of it, but somehow knew he couldn’t actually pull the trigger.
He placed his eye to the scope, sighted Blake, and for the moment just focused on the rapid pace at which his heart pounded against the inside of his chest. Roland wanted him dead, not for what he’d done here tonight, but for what it symbolized. He had lost, Blake had won. It was as simple as that.
Roland dropped the weapon and returned it to the bag. He could fire off a shot, hope to cause a bit of panic amongst the people following Blake back out to the street, but eventually they’d find him and he wasn’t prepared for what came after that. There would be a time when he’d remind Mitchell Blake of this monumental mistake, but for now it would have to wait.
Searching the length of fence that disappeared into the adjoining lot, Roland pulled the bags back over his shoulders and moved into the darkened night. Rain fell harder now, adding another layer of cover as he found a downed section of chain-link. He ran the short distance to the opposite corner of the intersection, moving awkwardly as the bags nearly pushed him off balance.
Roland ducked behind the corner of what was once a vintage arcade. He watched as Blake jumped behind the wheel of the tan Jeep and his people piled into the remaining vehicles. Multiple engines fired at once, drowning out the soft rain that fell against a red and white canvas awning that hung tattered overhead.