Somewhere In The Middle

by Lucas Coon

  "Mitchell!"

  He heard his name, but still couldn't see anything.

  "Mitchell! Wake up man!"

  'Darren?' He was sure he heard Darren.

  "Kayla, help me out. Here take the bags. I need to get him in there!"

  'Well hey...it hasn't been very long at all.'

  "Wake the hell up Mitchell!"

  'I'm sorry Darren. I think I'm dead so that's not going to work.'

  "Come on. Kayla, help me pick him up. Lilly you stay back!"

  'Yep, I'm definitely dead.'

  "What was that Darren?" He knew this was Kayla's voice. What was she referring to?

  "Son of-- Kayla get him inside. I'll take care of it."

  'Take care of it?'

  "Come on, I'm right here. I know you can see me. Come a little closer you bastard."

  By the time Mitchell realized what he was referring to, he was awoken by the sound of the blast of a shot gun launching its payload. He threw his eyes open and saw Darren standing at his feet holding the smoking gun, and a motionless body lying on the floor. Darren turned around and saw that Mitchell was awake.

  "Oh good, you got your beauty rest. Now is a good time to get up and get inside." His voice was the second loudest sound echoing the stairwell. It was being drowned out by loud grunting and screeching. Mitchell knew exactly what this meant. The infected were hoarding in the building, and if he didn't get up they would all be dead.

  Darren grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. They ran in and Kayla pulled the door as tight as the door frame would allow. They were followed by the sound of hand smacking the door as hard as they could and the screaming sound of infected. Mitchell turned towards the door and fell to the floor, sitting and facing the entrance.

  "Well, that was an experience." Darren sarcastically spouted in the direction of his wife and Mitchell. "One that I'd prefer we go ahead and never repeat for the rest of our lives. Anyone agree?"

  "What the hell happened out there?!" Kayla sounded genuinely concerned behind her monotone voice and blank stare.

  "Yeah, Mitchell, what happened out there man?" Darren put his hands on his waste looking directly to Mitchell for an answer.

  "I, uhh, I honestly don't know. I think I passed out." Mitchell realized how dumb this response sounded. "Well, I know I passed out, actually." He wiped sweat from his forehead. "I felt dizzy and then just fell. Maybe it's exhaustion?" This was a reach.

  "First it was dehydration, now exhaustion. How do we know you're not infected and slowly circling the drain?" This wasn't something Mitchell expected to hear.

  "Darren, what the hell is wrong with you?" Kayla's voice went straight to a level that could only be described as incredibly angry. "You said yourself he wasn't infected. He's been doing everything he can to help us, and this is how you repay him? He's known us for less than twenty-four hours and he's risked his life twice trying to make sure that we have a plan to survive, and you ask him something as stupid as that?" Clearly, this wasn't a question that Darren should have spouted out.

  "Well, he's been acting strangely ever since he was attacked upstairs. So now I'm wondering..."

  "Darren, I am not infected. I don't know what is wrong with me, but I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, I am not infected! Do not go from defending me this morning, to saving me this afternoon, to alienating me this evening. That's the exact path that Abram was going down." Mitchell was clearly insulted by this accusation. "If I were infected and hiding it from you, why would I bother helping you? Wouldn't I just shut and lock the door to my room and wait to go through the disgusting agony of being completely controlled by those...those things? Why would I even bother with what we're doing? Did you think of that?"

  "I...err..." Darren stuttered. "You're right." He slumped down on the table by the door. "That was stupid of me. I appreciate all you've done for us, believe me." He paused for a moment. His gaze continued at the dark blue carpet. "I'm just scared. Scared of one of us getting infected, or worse."

  "Is mister Mitchell going to become a monster?" Lilly walked out from behind the wall, expelling a wave of pure curiosity. Mitchell stood down to let Darren talk his way into control of this situation. It was his fault that she thought that in the first place.

  "No. No, sweetheart. That was a stupid thing to say on daddy's part. Mitchell is a good man, and he's not going to become a monster. None of us are. I promise." He treaded softly towards the little girl. He knelt to one knee and kissed her on the forehead. His voice was shaky and somber. "I promise you; none of us will ever be one of them. We're going to keep going, and we're going to get to safety."

  "It's alright Darren. I understand why you're scared. I think we're all thinking the same thing here." He smiled. "I think, it's best if we go ahead and pack it in for night. What do you guys do for fun around here?" Mitchell tried to make a joke out of the situation. He wasn't sure if anyone actually found it funny, but Kayla chuckled, which was enough for him.

  "We found people on the radio!" Lilly was excited to tell her dad about what they had found.

  "Oh, really?" Darren looked surprised.

  "Yeah, we found a couple of broadcasts." Kayla walked over to the radio and hit the power. She picked up a sticky note and looked it over. Mitchell assumed that she had written down all the stations that had sound. This was a positive sign, as this meant there was probably more than one. "There's a lot of dead air out there right now, but we found three that weren't." Not many, but Mitchell remained optimistic. "The first one..." She turned the dial. A voice started chiming off prerecorded words. "...is a call for evacuation."

  "...evacuation efforts. If you can hear my voice, please go to the subway station downtown at the corner of Twelfth Street and Mayer Street. This is the point of evacuation for the downtown area. There will be military personnel in the subway station to ensure that you are evacuated to a safe location. We are currently running trains out of the city approximately a hundred and fifty miles to the nearest safe-zone. If you enter the safe zone, you will be tested for infection, and proper recourse will be taken if you enter the evacuation zone and you are an infected individual. If you believe you may be infected, please locate the nearest quarantine zone, and the medical personnel will do all they can to help you. There are three quarantine zones in the greater downtown area. Woodward High school, at the corner of Woodward Avenue and First Street. The Sun-Up inn on Woods-End Drive between Twenty-Ninth Street and Thirtieth Street. And, finally, the Military has set up a third Quarantine zone in the West Plaza Shopping District near Last Drive. If you are not near the quarantine zones, please flag down any Military or Public Assistance personnel that you may see. This recorded message will now restart from the beginning after a four second pause. This is Private Davis of the United States Military. This message is to inform survivors of our current evacuation efforts. If you can hear my voice..." Kayla turned the dial to the right and static continued.

  "This next one..." she turned it some more and got to the next station.”...is our local alternative rock station. Apparently someone has taken refuge there."

  "This is day two of my being stuck inside this damn radio station. If there is anybody out there please send help. I am at the WMQZ building near downtown. I can't leave because there are infected that are nesting downstairs, and if I open the door I'm dead. Who am I kidding, I'm dead anyways aren't I? At least I'm not the only one. We're all dead. You hear me? We are all fu-" Kayla quickly turned the dial to the next tone of static.

  "And finally this last one. I have no idea what this is because I don't speak, what I think, is either German, or Russian, or whatever language this is." She turned it to the last station.

  Mitchell listened intently to the sound blaring from the speaker. He didn't know much in either of the two languages Kayla had mentioned, but he know enough to tell whether it was one or the other. He listened for a few moments, and heard something that he recognized. He attempted to pronounce what was said. He knew he was go
ing to butcher the pronunciation, but he thought he would try. "Just a moment ago, the man said "Yesli ne ya, to kto? yesli ne seychas, kogda?", which, roughly means, "If not me, then who? If not now, when?" That's a Gorbachev quote. He was the leader of the Soviet Union and was partially responsible for the Cold War ending." He thought about this for a moment. "Why is a station being broadcast in Russian?"

  Kayla shrugged. "You clearly know more than I do here." She turned it off. "That's what we found over the radio. Nothing else was audible. There were a few stations where the static tone lowered, but whatever was playing behind it was impossible to understand." She sat down in the chair outside of their cubicle. Lilly stood beside her with her adorable look of innocent confusion.

  "So, not much then, huh?" Darren chimed in his disappointment. "Well, I guess the evacuation orders helped some."

  "Yeah, but is it current? I thought a lot of the military was run out of the city, which is why so many of the rescue efforts failed. Wait, you guys said it's been silent for a while?"

  "Well, I wouldn't say that we were the most diligent at checking all the stations. I don't remember that one, but the guy in the alternative station seems fairly new, and I don't recall the Russian station at all. I know two days ago all radio communication went silent, and that night is when we stopped checking."

  Mitchell pondered this over in his mind for a moment. Was there anything worth hanging on to here? Perhaps the evacuation orders were accurate. Maybe they weren't outdated and the military was just sticking to their guns in the quarantine and evacuation zones. What if that's where Aria went? Maybe she heard the call and went to the subway, and she was waiting there, or was outside of the city. A hundred and fifty miles was only a two, maybe two and a half hour ride on a train. Maybe they could go there and be safe in that little time. It was a shot in the dark, but they should probably try.

  "I suggest we sit it out for a little bit and really think about this. Tomorrow, Mitchell and I were going to discuss traveling outside of the building to get food. Kayla would you suggest anywhere specific nearby?" Darren spoke up to break the silence.

  "I usually brought my lunch, but there are a number of places that could have food still in them within a couple of blocks. That's a risky mission though, isn't it?" Kayla crossed her arms in protest. "Not like you two have the best track record going for you right now."

  "We don't exactly have much of a choice honey, but thanks for the encouraging words." Darren brushed off her concern.

  "You guys can't go outside. There are monsters! Big scary monsters that will knock you down and eat your face until you become a monster too!" Lilly decided her input was necessary as well. "I don't want you to have your face eaten daddy!"

  "We'll be fine. Let's discuss this in the morning. I'm ready to lay down. Anyone else bushed?" Darren looked expectantly at Mitchell.

  "Yeah. I think I'm going to go ahead and head on to my room. I've got some things I want to do before we go, if we go out tomorrow." He waved his hand to Kayla, Darren, and Lilly. "Good night guys."

  He turned and walked back to his room and shut his door. As he looked at the handle again, he considered locking it. For the third time, his idea was over-written by his trust of the people sitting outside of his office. He sat in the leather chair and looked out the glass wall at the small bit of the cubicle that he could see. He watched them settle in to get comfortable. He expected to see them talking, but they didn't seem to be discussing what had happened or what they were going to do. Lilly picked up her book about the purple dog and opened the front cover. He could hear her reading from where he was. For a small girl, her voice was definitely not indicative of her size.

  "This is a dog. This dog is purple. This purple dog's name is Peter. Peter is a pug. Peter is a purple pug." She turned the page. "One day, Peter the purple pug went for a walk. On his walk he saw a pretty butterfly. Peter the purple pug pranced to follow the pretty butterfly." She turned the page again. "Peter pranced and pranced, and followed the pretty butterfly into the forest. The butterfly didn't know Peter so he kept flying away. After chasing the butterfly for a long time, Peter the purple pug got lost in the forest. Peter looked and looked, but could not find the path home." Another page turn. "Peter felt sad. Peter the purple pug wasn't supposed to wander off. His mother told him over and over to stay out of the woods or you will get lost. Peter laid down on the ground and cried. "I'll never make it home in time for dinner!" Peter said. Patrick the pig heard Peter the purple pug crying and asked him why he was sad. "I'm not supposed to be in the woods." Peter told him. "Where do you live, mister purple pug?" Patrick asked. "I live on the farm at the end of the trail." Peter said. "That's easy! If you look for the tallest tree, you can get back home!" Patrick wanted to help Peter find his way home." Mitchell smiled. He thought the story was clever, not only for its alliterations but he also appreciated the morals that it was teaching.

  Mitchell attempted to divert his attention to something else. He looked around the office to see what he could distract himself with until he was tired. He looked at his backpack longingly. He thought about what he had in the bag. He could take the time to write out a journal entry, or he could start reading the science fiction novel that he found. He could take the time to boot up the computer to see if it was worthwhile to keep it. He thought seriously about writing his entry. Was now the time to fully start that project? He decided to hold off on that for the moment.

  He threw himself backwards in the chair. It leaned to a comfortable position and the mechanism kicked in to stop it from falling too far back. He looked up at the ceiling and stared at the tiles that lined it. Based on their white coloring, and the holes throughout the bottom, he guessed they were fiberglass tiles. They were almost identical to the ones in his classroom, but he guessed they were probably universal tiles. They weren't pretty tiles, but they were probably flame resistant, and worked for what they were needed. He studied them over a little bit. He noticed that one tile in particular was slightly askew, directly above where he was sitting. After staring at the corner for several moments he decided that the tile had been moved at some point in the recent past.

  He stood up and looked at it. 'Why would he move one of his tiles?' He pulled himself up onto his desk, and was just barely able to reach it. He pushed the tile up and over just enough to get it to fall. It came down with a thud and broke apart as it hit the desk. Mitchell had accidentally inhaled the dust from it, and coughed it up hard. He rubbed his eyes to get the particles out of them. 'That wasn't too bright.' He waved his hand in front of his face and hopped down. He kicked the pieces of tile off the desk and over to the corner of the room. He looked all over the floor and throughout the dust to see what fell out. He found a piece of paper folded up to quite a small size with a key taped to it. He unfolded the paper and read the note.

  "Caroline, I know that I wasn't the best husband to you, nor the best father to our children. If this note is in your hands, then I'm gone and you were told about this key by my lawyer. I told him not to tell you about any of this until I died. Even though I've made a number of mistakes in my life, I know that I will probably spend eternity after my death atoning for them. You've done more for me than you will ever know, sticking by me for my reputation, and sticking around for the kids. I'm no good at writing sappy notes, you know that. I'm not going to make a confession; you know what I've done and I'm truly sorry. This key goes to my personal safe behind the book shelf. If you clear the middle shelf and push the back, it'll fall out. I hope what I've left you will make up for what I've done."

  Mitchell folded the letter back up and placed it in the drawer of the desk. While it was none of his business, he decided that he would go ahead and check the safe. He moved all the books from the third shelf on to the floor and pushed the back. As the note stated it fell down behind the book shelf and revealed a fireproof safe with a key port.

  Mitchell inserted the key and turned it until it unlocked. The door popped open and he peered in
on its contents. 'No way.' He put his hand in and pulled out tightly bound stacks of hundred dollar bills. He pulled it all out and counted it. 'This is seriously a couple million dollars. Robert was loaded and put it all back for his wife in case he died?' He started to think about what he could do with this much money. He smiled a childish smile of greed, there wasn't much he couldn’t do. He grabbed two stacks, and his smile quickly faded. He realized that, at any other time in history, this would be an extravagant find, but today, in the current situation their society was in, this meant nothing. The money in this safe was literally worthless; to him, to anyone in the other room, and, realistically, anyone that was alive. Maybe someday it would have value again, but it would be pointless for him to take it. He looked sadly at the stacks of cash and sighed. He picked them up and put them back in the safe, making sure to lock the door. He stacked all the books back where they were and sat back down in his chair. He opened the drawer and grabbed the note. 'This note was instruction for this man's wife. If it was me, I wouldn't want some stranger taking money I left for Aria.' He placed the note under the corner of the desk lamp and put the key underneath the note. It was weird to him that he was going to pass up that kind of money.