by Hamill, Ike
Instead, Brad took the walkway to the parking garage and used those stairs. With open doorways at each landing, and big windows looking out to the cloudy night, he wouldn’t need his headlamp to find his way down. Brad brushed a gloved hand lightly down the bannister as he wound down the stairs to street-level. He paused at the second floor landing to look out the window. Across the street, in the direction of the highway, a brief flicker of light caught his attention. It was gone before he could pinpoint the origin.
Before exiting the stairwell, Brad tightened the scarf around his neck—adjusting it to cover the lower half of his face—and braced himself for the wind. The hinge squealed as Brad pushed open the door and stepped out into the night.
Brad walked up the sidewalk and stayed close to the building on his left. Most of businesses had awnings, so the old snow on the sidewalk was intermittent. He crossed in and out, from dry pavement to a thin crust of trampled snow. He and the others had walked the streets dozens of times since moving into the apartment building, so individual footprints were impossible to distinguish except for the odd stray.
Brad stopped when a set of footprints veered from the others and headed off across the street. He stopped and stared. There was something strange about the footprints. The clouds didn’t offer enough light for any detail. Brad looked up and down the street before turning on his headlamp. Once he did, he knew why the prints looked strange. First, the prints were too small. The stride matched his own, but the length of each print was tiny. Brad hunched and followed the prints as they dropped over the curb and headed diagonally across the street. On each left print he could see a perfect print of the sole of the shoe. On each right, the print was twisted; smeared by a foot that turned as it lifted.
Brad shut off his light and crouched in the middle of the street while he waited for his eyes to readjust to the dark. He wondered if Brynn had left the prints. Brynn’s feet would be small enough, but Brad couldn’t remember if Brynn had walked with a limp. He doubted it. Brynn had leapt over the table to get to Lisa’s fresh bread. Wouldn’t he have noticed if Brynn had limped while making the jump?
Brad shuffled across the street and ducked into a doorway. The footprints continued up the street a few feet away from him and then disappeared under an awning. They didn’t reappear on the other side. Either the owner vanished or they entered the building. Given all the vanishings, either explanation seemed reasonable to Brad. The thin layer of snow hadn’t melted or really drifted in the past couple of months, but it had blown around enough to soften the edges of other footprints and tire-tracks. These prints were so crisp. They had to be recent.
Brad looked back towards the apartment building. He could fetch Pete and they could investigate the tracks together, or he could just wait for morning and not wake anyone else up. He glanced in the direction of the highway. Brad took his first step back towards the apartment building.
The sound of a child sobbing stopped him. It seemed to come from the building where the footprints ended, but it was so quiet that Brad couldn’t be sure. He turned back to look, but kept his feet moving in the direction of his temporary home. Warning klaxons fired off in his brain. His instincts told him to run—run from the weird footprints, and run from what sounded to be a child in distress. Brad stayed calm and moved cautiously, back towards his building.
On the building to Brad’s right, a door fired open with a bang and a huge hooded figure emerged.
“Get down,” a gruff voice ordered.
Brad raised his hands but kept backing away.
“Motherfucker,” the hulking figure said. “I said get down.”
Brad couldn’t see the weapon in the man’s hands, but he heard the click of a shell sliding into the chamber of the pump-action shotgun. Based on the stance of the dark silhouette, Brad assumed he was the target of the gun.
Brad stopped, but didn’t have a chance to follow the order to get down. Just as he stopped, feet planted on dry pavement under the awning of a jewelry store, another man tackled Brad from behind. Brad’s arms shot out to take the worst of the impact with the sidewalk. His face came to rest just inches from the shotgun man’s shoes—black Chuck Taylors with green laces. The stock of the shotgun plowed down into the back of Brad’s head, knocking him unconscious.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Portland, Maine and North - WINTER
ROBBY WOKE FACING the window. It was too early—the sun hadn’t come up yet. Until he heard the door knob turning behind him, he couldn’t figure out what had roused him. Robby flipped over and threw back the covers in time to see the door pushing inward, stopping only when it hit the dresser.
He lay paralyzed with fear. He had nowhere to run.
“Robby,” Pete called from the other side of the door. “Robby, wake up.”
“Yup,” Robby said. He flew out of bed, shaking off his fear. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”
Robby’s door drifted shut and Robby heard Pete moving down the hall. Pete was talking to someone else out there, but Robby couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Robby jumped into his clothes. He had laid out everything he needed the night before, and even in the nearly dark bedroom, he dressed quickly. He shoved the dresser aside enough to open the door and jogged down the hall. He found an assembly in the living room.
Sheila and Lisa sat on the big couch and Ted and Pete stood. Pete stopped talking when Robby walked in the room.
“Tell Robby what happened,” Lisa said.
“Brad’s missing,” Ted said. “I was on my way back over here when I saw tracks on Pearl Street. Two sets that I’m sure weren’t there when I went out. One of them could have been Brad’s. Both sets disappeared near an insurance building on the north side of the street.”
“He left to go check on Ted hours ago,” Sheila said.
“He never showed up,” Ted said.
“Something has happened to him,” Pete said. “Ted showed me the tracks. They end at an awning for an insurance building, like he said. We’ll start at that building; see if we can track him down.”
Their heads snapped around and Lisa grabbed her chest as the front door swung open. Romie strode in, letting the door swing shut behind her.
“What’s going on over here? I thought we weren’t getting together until sunrise,” Romie said.
“Brad’s missing,” Pete said. “We’ve got to find him.”
“I told you guys not to trust that Nate guy,” Romie said, waggling her finger in Robby’s direction. “He shows up and suddenly people start disappearing. You think it’s a coincidence?”
“Was there a sign of struggle?” Sheila asked Ted.
“I couldn’t see any,” Ted said. “But the tracks ended at dry pavement, so who knows.”
Pete stepped forward into the center of their loose group and raised his hands before speaking. “We can stay in contact with radios and break up into teams of two. We’ll start with the insurance building and work outwards.”
Sheila began to stand, but stopped when nobody else moved. The rest of the group didn’t respond or move to comply. Pete’s eyes jumped from person to person, looking for agreement.
“Wait a sec, Pete,” Romie said. “We’ve still got six people. We need to get to hauling those bodies or at least start redistributing the seventh sled.”
“Yes,” Robby said. “I’d be more comfortable if we could at least offload half of Brad’s sled to the rest. We’ve got some margin for error, but I’d rather not lose a whole sled.”
Pete’s voice started at a reasonable volume and rose to a shout—“Are you people kidding me? We’re going to move on and LEAVE BRAD BEHIND?”
Robby tightened his jaw, but didn’t respond.
Lisa was the first to answer. “Pete, listen. We’ve all lost a lot of people. All we can do is keep going. If we finish this mission, we have a chance to gain back some stability, but right now we’re living in a very unstable world.”
“Are you seriously conflatin
g the big extinction with what’s likely happened with Brad? Like Romie said, it’s probably that Nate guy who got him. We can stop Nate. We don’t need a big plan. He’s just one guy,” Pete argued.
“By the same argument,” Lisa said, “we can’t afford to let one man stop us from finishing this. We don’t have any guarantee that Robby’s plan will work, but it’s the only plan we’ve got to take this world back.”
Their heads snapped around once more as the door swung open again.
“What are we arguing about?" Nate asked. Brynn stood at his side with one arm around Nate’s waist.
“What did you do to Brad, you son of a bitch?” Pete yelled as he lunged for Nate. Ted stepped in his way and restrained the big man.
Nate took a step backwards and pushed Brynn behind himself. “What’s your problem?”
“Let me see his shoes,” Pete said, still struggling against Ted. He was pointing towards the feet of Nate and Brynn. “I want to see his shoes.”
“Calm down, big man,” Nate said. “We didn’t do anything.” He kicked off one of his shoes and flicked it over towards Pete. Pete didn’t bend to grab it.
“Not yours,” Pete said. “His.” He pointed towards Brynn’s feet.
Nate bent down as Brynn raised one foot. He plucked the shoe from Brynn’s foot and tossed it to Pete. The shoe bounced off Ted’s arm and Pete dropped to grab it from the floor. He flipped it over and ran a finger over the tread. He narrowed his eyes and tossed the shoe back towards Brynn. He kicked Nate’s shoe back as well.
“Are we exonerated? Can we come in now?" Nate asked. He picked up his shoe and ushered Brynn towards the couch. “Can someone tell us what’s going on here?” Nate sat down and untied his shoe so he could fit it back on his foot.
“I’ll be right back,” Robby said. He walked back to his room while the others brought Nate and Brynn up to speed on the night’s events. He squeezed back through the door and opened the bottom drawer of the dresser. Under the sweatpants, he found his thick envelope. He bent the papers, stuffed them in his back pocket, and returned to the living room.
“Did you check his room?" Nate asked. “Did he leave a note or anything?”
“If there is a note, I’m guessing you planted it there,” Pete said to Nate.
“When, Pete?" Sheila asked. “I was here on the couch all night. When could Nate have snuck in and left a note in Brad’s room? You, Ted, and Robby are the only ones who have been down the hallway.”
“I’ll go look for a note,” Ted said. He gave Pete a stern look and headed down the hall.
“So we’ll just go find Brad and ask him what happened,” Nate said. He finished tying his shoe and stood up.
“Wait,” Robby said.
Nate sat back down.
“We need to head north. We can’t be distracted by losing a member of the group,” Robby said.
“So we’re all just expendable?" Pete asked. “We’re not looking out for each other anymore? What’s the point of banding together if we can’t trust each other when we need help?”
“We’ve banded together to accomplish something we can’t do on our own,” Robby said. “We’re trying to help everyone, not just the people in this room. We have to be willing to make hard decisions and sacrifice.”
“So if I disappear tomorrow, you’re not going to spend one minute looking for me?" Pete asked.
“You’re the only one who can keep those tractors moving, Pete,” Romie said. “We’d spend at least one minute looking.”
Ted came back to the living room empty-handed. “Nothing.”
“I’m not going,” Pete said. “I was willing to risk my neck, but only because I thought we were watching each other’s backs.”
“Okay,” Robby said. “Nate, can we assume you’ll drive one of the rigs?”
“Yup,” Nate said.
“Great,” Robby said. “Is everyone else in?”
Nobody responded. Their eyes shifted around, stopping short of eye-contact. Sheila looked down at the table where the empty bottle of whiskey still sat.
Robby pulled the envelope from his back pocket. “None of us are indispensable. I’ve rewritten all the notes I lost in the fire and pulled together all my theories. If I’m lost, I expect you all to proceed without me so I recorded everything I expect to lead us north and what to do when we get there. Lisa? Would you keep these notes?”
“Yes,” Lisa said.
“So you’re in?”
“Yes,” Lisa said.
“I’m in,” Ted said.
“I’ll go too,” Romie said.
“Good,” Robby said. “We really need at least six drivers or this trip will take forever. Are you coming, Sheila?”
She didn’t answer. She shifted her gaze from the table to the window, where the sun was just starting to brighten the sky.
“Brynn can mostly drive,” Nate said. Brynn didn’t say anything. “We’ll have to show you how these things operate, but you can handle it,” Nate said to Brynn.
“That’s a good fallback position, but if we can I’d like to…” started Robby. He was cut off by Pete.
“Fine, I get it. I’ll go,” Pete said.
“You’re sure,” Robby said. He said it more like a statement than a question.
Pete nodded his head.
“Sheila?” Robby asked.
She dragged her eyes from the window over to Robby.
“What? Of course,” she said.
“Good,” Robby said. “We’re back to seven, and with Brynn as a backup. Let’s get moving.”
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
BRYNN PUSHED THE SLIDER another sixteenth of an inch to the right, raising the temperature in the cab of the tractor yet again. Robby unzipped his coat the rest of the way, trying to stay ahead of the sweat beginning to form under his clothes.
“It’s good to talk to another kid,” Robby said. He’d been trying for an hour to strike up a conversation with Brynn. “It sucks talking to adults all the time.”
When they were loading up the tractors and getting ready to head off, Nate and Brynn approached Robby. Nate made Brynn state the request—Brynn wanted to ride with Robby. This was his chance to finally learn something about Brynn. He figured since Brynn wanted to ride with him, they would talk. This assumption proved to be incorrect. Brynn hadn’t said a word to Robby since climbing in the cab.
“You talk like an adult,” Brynn said.
Robby was startled by Brynn’s sudden statement. He almost forgot to answer.
“Yeah? What makes you say that?” Robby asked.
“Pull over. I gotta pee.”
“Sure. Well, wait, I can’t really pull over. You remember how much trouble we had with the soft snow near the edges of the road before? I’m afraid if I veer off this course at all we’ll get mired again.”
The journey started very slowly that morning. Just north of Portland, the snow became incredibly deep—ten to twenty feet in spots—and it got worse as they continued north. Pete, at the head of the convoy, guided the group along the right side of the road. There, the crown of snow on the northbound lanes looked a little less deep. The massive tracked vehicles punched right through the snow, bogging down to a crawl.
Pete radioed back that he would scout a better path. About halfway back in the line, Robby didn’t see Pete until he crested the hump of snow which followed the highway north. Pete was nearly swimming in the snow until he reached the top, where the crust had some integrity and supported his weight. After they maneuvered the tractors up to the top of the hump, they moved much more easily.
“Pull over,” Brynn repeated.
“Like I said, I can’t. I can stop if you want to just go off the side or something. Nobody will watch.”
Brynn shook his head.
“You want a cup or something? You can go in the back seat?”
Brynn shook his head.
“What do you want to do?” Robby asked. The boy wasn’t offering any suggestions. They rode in silence whi
le Robby considered the problem. The cloud cover was even thicker here, north of the city. It was about noon, but the sky had the same grey, gloomy look it always did. Robby wondered if anyone else needed to go to the bathroom and then he thought about the women of the group. They couldn’t just leave the tractor in gear and piss out the window. That’s what Nate said he would do when the time came. The women might also want to pull over, but how would they?
Robby picked up his radio handset. “Anyone else need a bathroom break?” he asked.
Lisa’s voice came over the radio first, but she was interrupted by Romie—“Sure do.”
“Me too,” Lisa said.
“Already taken care of,” Pete said.
Robby turned to Brynn—“Grab those snowshoes from the back seat and start putting them on.” He sensed Brynn would really want some privacy. Brynn slid over the seat and started to rearrange the food and gear to make enough room back there to maneuver.
Robby kept his speed until he saw Nate’s sled in front of them start to slow. Before embarking they agreed to maintain a certain distance between tractors at all times. The line of tractors stopped. Brynn threw open the back door, aligned the edges of his snowshoes on the step and then jumped down into the snow. After a quick roll, Brynn was back on his feet and reaching up to close the door behind him. Robby grabbed the other set of shoes and made his way onto the track to put them on. Ahead, he saw Nate rounding the back of the corpse-loaded sled in his boots; gingerly putting each foot down so he wouldn’t punch through the crust of packed snow.
Robby cinched the last strap and paddled his snowshoes over to Nate.
“Brynn have to pee?” Nate asked.
“Yeah,” Robby said.
“I should have warned you—Brynn needs privacy,” Nate said.
“No worries.”
Robby slipped out of his snowshoes, climbed up the back of Nate’s trailer, and stood on the seat of the snowmobile lashed there. From the head of the convoy, Pete was whisking an even pace towards them. The big man showed his dexterity on snowshoes. Romie, Lisa, and Sheila formed a group to walk towards a small clump of branches—the tops of trees sticking out of a deep mound of snow. Brynn was disappearing over a snow bank at the edge of the road.