Echoes of Tomorrow Season One: Episode Seven (Echoes of Tomorrow: Season One Book 7)

by Douglas Wayne

  I can’t worry about that, he thought. Just do your damn job and shoot that bitch. Ironically, it was not the first time that thought had passed through his ears, yet it was the first to refer to an actual woman he needed to kill. Old ideals of not putting women on the front lines had never put him in the position of having to aim his gun at a woman, let alone pull the trigger. Yet, here he was, standing over her like a hunter in a deer stand, sights of the weapon over his prey. She looked up in time to see the muzzle flash against the backdrop of the dark room. Her head exploded in sprays of brains, blood, and skull that littered Al’s perfectly manicured bushes. But as she bled out, Tyler didn’t think the old man would care.

  He leaned back against the wall expecting a retaliation shot or two. Shots that didn’t come after a minute of waiting.

  Was that the last of them? Are they all dead?

  He wasn’t sure how things were going downstairs, or how many they killed before he got involved, but by his count there could be as many as five still on the loose. As much as he hated leaving the high ground, he knew it was time to give up his perch. His position gave him a bird’s eye view of the cul-de-sac, but left him open to an attack from the back if any of them managed to get inside.

  Thick white smoke threatened to suffocate him as he left the room, so he dropped to the floor and crawled. On his way past he looked in on the room he had been tied in. Most of the smoke was concentrated in there, coming from the area the cocktail landed a while ago. He strained his eyes looking for a sign of a flame but it looked as if Matt and Ronnie had put out the fire and bought everyone time.

  Tyler continued crawling down the hallway, stopping every few feet to take gulps of the comparatively clean air closer to the floor. He wondered how firefighters were able to do their jobs day in and day out if they had to put up with this. In the few short minutes he’d spent around the fire before and now, he had no desire to be near one again. Least of all to be the one brave, or stupid enough to go inside.

  Reaching the staircase, he crawled head first down the first few steps before maneuvering himself back onto his legs. The air got better the closer he got to the ground floor, which he found as a relief. He wasn’t sure he could’ve put up with much more. As it was, his lungs ached with every breath and he knew they would for the next few days.

  Matt noticed Tyler making his way down the stairs and stopped him before he reached the bottom. “Better hold up. They don’t know you’re on our side.”

  “Might be a good time to tell them,” Tyler said, taking another step before stopping. Thinking about it, he realized it wasn’t a good idea to go down without at least having Matt walk with him since there was a good chance they might mistake him for one of the people attacking the house from the outside.

  Matt nodded. “Just keep that thing on your side. If they see you holding it they might get antsy.”

  Tyler reluctantly let the gun fall to his side, its only tether to his body the cloth neck strap. With the occasional pop of gunfire, he didn’t feel safe leaving the gun at his side. All it would take is someone stepping through the door ready to fire to make it a bad day. All his prior training told him it wasn’t right, and he tried to push his instincts aside as he followed Matt into the living room.

  Two people huddled against the front wall, each holding one of the handguns Al had confiscated earlier. Shards of the large picture glass window were strewn across the floor, turning the room into a torture chamber for bare feet. In the back corner of the room a man lie still against the wall. Blood blossomed across his chest, forming a wide circle that covered most of his shirt and ran down his pants in a puddle below his body.

  “How many left?” Matt asked as they entered the room.

  “Two,” the one against the far side said, a black haired man with a gash along his cheek. His eyes widened as he noticed Tyler. “What’s he doing here?”

  The other man turned, a kid in his early twenties by the looks with long brown hair tied in a ponytail. He trained his gun at the center of Tyler’s chest and the other did the same.

  “Easy, Jack. He’s on our side.”

  “The hell he is,” the kid said. “Al had him tied up for a reason.”

  “The wrong reason,” Tyler spat. “But Matt’s right, I’m on your side.”

  The two men glanced at Matt with a look that said ‘is that true?’ Matt nodded in agreement. “He’s been shooting from upstairs.”

  Their looks went from questioning to approval once they realized he was the sharpshooter who’d been taking the attackers out one at a time.

  “One is hiding behind your truck,” Jack said. “The other one is somewhere across the street. We lost him when you gunned down that chick in the bushes.”

  Tyler nodded. “Be ready to shoot.”

  The two men got back in position on the side of the window while Tyler made his way to the front door. Matt, knowing things were about to go crazy, retreated back into the hall. Tyler double checked with the men to make sure they were ready then opened the door and ducked against the wall.

  Gunfire erupted from outside, bullets splintering wood and chipping brick as they hit the house. Most the gunfire was focused at the open door where Tyler had been standing moments ago. The few shots that made it through the door pierced drywall and insulation as they pierced through the walls.

  Jack peered up from his hiding spot, gun held at the man across the street who he noticed peeking around the side of an oak tree. He pulled the trigger three times, sending a makeshift spray into the tree. The first bullet slammed into the tree, sending out a spray of bark. The second missed the man wide right, but the third found its mark, hitting the man in the hip, sending him to the ground.

  Tyler poked his head around the corner and noticed the man holding his hip on the ground, took careful aim, and sent a spray of automatic gunfire his direction, putting an end to his suffering.

  He turned his gun to his truck and saw the other man sitting on the pavement, his back against the passenger side front tire. The blackened steel of his gun reflected the moons light against his hands which were covering his face.

  “Cover me,” Tyler said to two men before heading outside.

  Jack leapt up and rushed to the door while Davis kept watch from inside the house, gun trained at the hod of Tyler’s truck.

  Tyler moved as quiet as he could until he was close enough to spit on the man before letting him know he was there. “Hands in the air, asshole.”

  The person at the truck startled, noticed Tyler and his gun, and raised his hand. Tyler demanded that he stand up nice and easy, which he did without complaint. In the soft glow of the moon Tyler noticed it was a young kid who couldn’t be much older than his son.

  “Why are you here?” Tyler asked as he moved between the kid and his gun.

  “Those guys,” he pointed to the cluster of bodies in front of the house. “They said they wanted to tear stuff up. Start a few fires, grab a few things from some abandoned houses. But one of them noticed you guys and said we should attack. He said you probably had something worth taking.”

  “Makes you a thief.” Tyler stuck the barrel of his gun in the kid’s face. “Or a murderer.”

  “It was them,” the kid said, body trembling in fear. “I didn’t want any part of it.”

  “Jack here says you were shooting at the house. Doesn’t sound like someone who didn’t want any part of it.”

  “I didn’t. I swear.”

  “The kid’s probably right,” Jack said, stepping from behind Tyler, gun at his side. “I saw him against your truck, but never saw him shoot.”

  Tyler was reluctant to believe either of them. Not long ago Tyler was on the other side of the argument without the luxury of having anyone to speak for him. But there was something about the kid that made him want to give him a chance. Nothing huge, but a chance at redemption.

  “Here’s how we handle this then. I’m going to check your gun, if you’re missing so much as one bullet, you g
et to deal with Al. Should warn you, he took a bullet in the shoulder and is going to be ticked off when he wakes up.”

  “What if they’re all there?” the kid asked, shoulders relaxing a hair.

  “You come with us and you get to deal with Al, but in a more friendly setting.” Tyler flashed a grin. “Your call.”

  The kid looked at Jack who replied by shrugging his shoulders and pointing his head at Tyler. “Fine. I’ll go.”

  Chapter Three

  Jack ran ahead to let the others know the fighting was over, leaving Tyler to deal with the kid. Tyler held the muzzle of the gun aimed to the kid’s back as they walked, ready to pull the trigger if he so much as sneezed. As they walked, the kid looked from side to side, jaw dropping at the sight of the dead men he’d been with before.

  Al was awake when Tyler got back to the house, sitting in one of the living room chairs with his legs propped up in the air. The once white sheets Tyler used to wrap his shoulder was stained with his blood, yet the bleeding had been contained to the bandages.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Tyler asked as he walked inside. He pointed to a spot on the floor for the kid to sit then relaxed his grip on the gun once he saw the kid walking over.

  “Hurts like hell,” Al said, a faint smile on his lips. “Guess I should be glad it still hurts. Could’ve easily bled to death upstairs.”

  “Is that any way to thank him for saving your life.” Judy entered the room, tall glass of water in one hand and a bottle of ibuprofen in the other.

  “In time, woman. Gotta find a way to apologize to him first.” He sat up in the chair, rubbing his wounded shoulder.

  “No need,” Tyler said. “I understand why.” He didn’t like not being trusted, but he understood why he wasn’t. What he’d seen outside the house had been enough to show the harsh new reality of the world. People couldn’t be trusted. Where before you could walk up to someone without fearing for your life, now you had to treat everyone you ran across as a potential enemy who wanted to take everything you owned, including your life

  “Admire a man who can understand the emotions of another man.” He looked over at the boy in the corner. “You on the other hand, have some explaining to do.”

  Al waited for his men to come back inside after setting their dead friend on the back porch. They stood around the edges of the room and listened intently to the conversation.

  Word for word the kid started by telling Al the exact same story he’d told Tyler and Jack. Al wasn’t content with only knowing why he’d been here with the others, so he pressed him to talk about how they’d met.

  “I ran into them this morning a few miles down the road. I was trying to break into a Burger King to get something to eat. They showed up after a while and let me in.”

  “Joined a group of killers for a meal. Bad tastes kid.” Jack shook his head.

  “I didn’t even get a meal. Most the food was spoiled. But they told me I wouldn’t starve again if I went with them.” The kid’s eyes darted from person to person before coming to a stop on Tyler.

  “You get your meal, kid?” Tyler asked. The kid shook his head. “Still got that food you took from me?” He asked Al.

  “Kitchen table. We were about to go through it before they showed up.”

  Tyler walked out of the room and into the attached kitchen. Against the far wall he saw the stacks of canned goods and bottled drinks piled on the table in a heap. He pushed through the top layer of food until he reached a can of ravioli, took it, then grabbed a can of cola from a ruptured case.

  Returning to the room, he looked at the kid and bobbed his head. “Head’s up.” He tossed the can of soda first followed by the ravioli. The boy didn’t hesitate to rip the pull tab open and get to the food. He held it up to his nose, taking in the aroma before looking at Tyler expectantly.

  “No sure where the silverware is, kid,” Tyler said.

  “I got it.” Matt walked into the kitchen, stopping for a moment when Al yelled to grab a plastic spoon instead. He returned to the room and tossed the spoon across the room to the boy. It landed on the floor a few feet in front of him in a pile of the broken glass.

  “Thanks,” he said as he leaned carefully to take the spoon. Within moments of sitting down he’d shoveled three spoonfuls of pasta in his mouth, inhaling it like most boys his age.

  The group waited while the kid ate every ounce of pasta out of the can, and all the sauce his spoon would allow.

  “How old are you, kid?” Tyler asked.

  “Thirteen.” He popped the tab of the soda and took a long pull. “My birthday was a week ago.”

  “The boy got one hell of a present,” Al remarked.

  “Where’s your parents?”

  “Gone. They disappeared with everyone else.”

  “You poor thing,” Judy made a move toward the kid before Al stopped her with his good arm.

  “I don’t have an issue feeding a starving boy, but I’m not ready to trust him around you yet.” Al looked around the room. “Don’t take offense, boy, I treat everyone like this.”

  Tyler nodded. “You aren’t going to tie him up, are you?” He looked down at his wrists, which still stung from all the tape.

  “Don’t reckon that’s necessary. But we shouldn’t leave him alone.”

  Jack stood. “I’ll keep an eye on him for a while. I got a few hours sleep last night.”

  “Sounds good,” Al said, then turned to Tyler. “Me and you need to have a little chat, if you don’t mind. It’s about your lady friend.”

  “What’s wrong with Marcy?” Tyler’s heart leapt out of his chest. In the adrenaline of the firefight he’d nearly forgotten about her. The last thing he remembered was her being carried out of the room. But things had gone crazy shortly after. Al had taken the bullet in the arm and the group outside was moving in. He’d been more worried about keeping the house secure than about how she was doing.

  “We should take this to the other room. Have a little privacy.”

  Al and Judy led them to a room at the end of the hall and on the left. Three twin beds were placed against the walls, one on each side with a trio of small dressers on the remaining wall. The closet door had been removed, allowing for easy access to the desk built in its place.

  On the rightmost bed, Marcy was asleep, laying face up. Her chest rose and fell sharply, at irregular intervals, followed with occasional gasping for air. Tyler sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. As much as he wanted to blame Al for this, his stupid decision to scavenge from the houses had put her in this position.

  “Your lady friend isn’t doing so well. She needs medical care in the worst way.”

  Tyler couldn’t argue with his statement, but knew it wasn’t realistic. “The hospitals aren’t safe.” He told the couple about the one he’d been at the first few days after the event. Explained how it had been attacked by a large group of people intent on taking it back. He left out the parts about Mr. Fire and Mrs. Ice, however, afraid the older couple would have trouble believing it. How could he explain something he still barely believed himself?

  “If that’s the case, I’d start making preparations now. Just in case.”

  Tyler bit his lip to keep from showing a much softer side of him self than he wanted at the moment. “She’ll pull through.”

  “Son, I’ve seen a lot of bad shit in my days. Lost half the men in my platoon to a misplaced napalm strike back in Vietnam. The fire took half that number in the first minutes, smoke got the rest. A few of the macho ones walked around the rest of the day sounding like the Marlboro Man. Most of them died in their sleep from asphyxiation. Swelling of the throat and lungs is the danger here, not so much the smoke.”

  Tyler wondered if there was something they could give her while she slept to keep the swelling down, but all he knew they had was ibuprofen. Without a way to get her to swallow it, it wouldn’t do them any good and with the way she was already struggling to breathe he didn’t want to
risk pouring anything down her throat that might to int the wrong pipe. There wasn’t any options. All he could do is wait it out and hope she pulled through.

  “Didn’t pin you as the army type,” Tyler said, wanting to change the subject.

  “Eight years. That boy in the other room wasn’t the only one that had one hell of a birthday. Registered for the draft on my eighteenth birthday, name got pulled a month later, was in the jungle getting shot up by Charlie a few months after that.”

  “It was hell enough as a volunteer. Couldn’t imagine being drafted.”

  “You a soldier boy too?” His eyes went to the gun. “Reckon so with the way you handle that.”

  “Have some experience with it.” More than I wanted. “Signed up for the free college and job experience, ended up spending my term holding one of these every day for about four months.”

  “Iraq?”

  Tyler nodded. “At least I drew the easy one. In and out in a few months.”

  They spent a few minutes talking over the differences between the wars and how the new batch of military was fighting a war of attrition on two fronts.

  “Where you headed after all this?”

  “My home is in Flagstaff. Was in town for a job.”

  “Ain’t that some shit. Well, given the current state of my house and the neighborhood, I think we’re in for a move too. Don’t think I’ll be heading as far west as you, but I don’t think it’ll be a bad idea to get further away from Mobile.”

  “After the last few days, can’t say I’d be willing to turn down the company. The two of us aren’t scaring anyone.”

  “Get some rest,” Al said. “I don’t want to risk moving her until midday. It’ll take us that much time to grab what we can and pack it up. As long as you don’t mind taking most of the supplies in the back of your truck, we can take the seat out of the van to keep her comfortable for the trip.”