by James Hunt
They thudded against the door Zack described, and Wren thrust it open, sunlight blinding both of them. Zack stopped to catch his breath, but Wren pushed him forward. “We can’t stop, baby. Let’s go.”
But when Wren’s vision adjusted to the light, she saw just how bad Zack’s injury was. The jeans were soaked and darkened around the area where the beam had pinned him, and while Zack could bend the knee, she noticed his foot hung loosely from the ankle and that his shin shifted slightly to the left. She looked to his face and could see the pained effort as he gritted his teeth with every step.
Wren stopped at the corner of the factory, knowing they’d have to pass by the exposed doors the terrorists had entered, and made sure the coast was clear. Gunshots sounded toward the emergency vehicles where the fire still raged, but her vehicle remained parked and unharmed.
They were forced to go all the way around the gated entrance, Zack too weak to climb the fence where she had entered. The moment her hand touched the passenger-side handle of the EMS vehicle, a scream pierced the open air behind them.
Wren turned to the sight of two masked men sprinting in their direction. “Hurry, Zack!” She opened the door and threw her son inside. She slammed the door shut, running around the front of the vehicle as gunshots thundered behind her. She jumped inside and started the car, slammed the shifter into drive, and floored the gas pedal as bullets thrummed against the vehicle, shattering the back passenger-side windows. Wren thrust her son’s head down, keeping one hand on the wheel and ducking herself.
Another round of gunfire shattered the rear window, and Wren did her best to keep both eyes on the road, swerving left and right to avoid the machine-gunfire. She blew past stop signs and intersections, the wind whipping through the shattered window, flinging her hair in all directions. The speedometer pushed sixty, but she didn’t slow her pace, putting as much distance as she could between her and the blazing hell behind her.
Chapter 8
The radio in the truck spit sporadic crackles and pops as Wren twisted the dial, trying every channel to get back in touch with Nathan, or anyone. “Hello? Nathan, can you hear me?” But every time she took her hand off the receiver, all that answered was the steady buzz of static.
Wren viciously slammed the receiver against the dashboard and punched the steering wheel as Zack winced from shifting in his seat. She looked from the empty fuel gauge glaring back at her over to her son, who brushed glass from the shattered window off of his lap, and gave his hand a squeeze.
Zack laid his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. His face was slick with sweat, and Wren worried that he may have had a fever, or perhaps he was just delirious with pain. He needed a doctor, and with the seven circles of hell surrounding them, she wasn’t sure if that help could be found.
“Can’t we just go to the hospital?” Zack asked.
“It’s gone, Zack.” Wren wasn’t sure why she told him, but she hoped that he was old enough to take the news, as she was desperate to share the burdens of the world with someone. “What’s happening out there is bad. Your sisters are with Nathan at a fire station, and no one knows when this is all going to be over.”
Zack glanced down at his leg, a quietness overtaking his eyes, his body consumed with stillness, and Wren watched his eyes as he processed her words. She gently grabbed his arm. “Right now there isn’t anywhere that’s safe. I know it’s hard, but you need to understand what’s happening out there. You need to know what we could face. There is nothing more important to me right now than protecting our family, but we have to be smart while we’re out here, okay?”
Zack gave a quick nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
“W—n.” The radio crackled spontaneously, spraying a rush of static then incomprehensible chatter. “Wre- -r- -ou th-re?”
Wren reached for the receiver. “Nathan? Yes, I’m here. Can you hear me? Nathan? Are the girls okay?” She lifted her finger off the receiver, both she and Zack leaning closer to the device, waiting. Listening.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Nathan replied. “The girls are fine. Are you all right? Did you get Zack?”
Wren exhaled, smiling. “Yes, I found him, but his leg is broken. I need to get him to a doctor.” And as if on cue, Zack winced. “He’s in pretty bad shape.”
“Let me see what I can find.”
“Hurry.” Wren set the receiver down and glanced out the empty space where the passenger-side window once rested. She had pulled off onto a random highway when the truck sputtered to a stop. She knew she was south of the city, and judging from the worn-down houses and open fields, it was farm country.
“Mom?” Zack asked, snapping Wren back to reality.
“What is it?”
“I know I shouldn’t have been out there. I shouldn’t have left school. I’m sorry.”
“Absent ten times this semester?” Wren shook her head, her voice exasperated. “What the hell were you even doing out there? It’s dangerous any day, let alone one like this. What is going on with you? You never talk to your father and me, and you’ve been elusive and defensive when we try to communicate with you. I know a lot of it is hormones, but you’ve got to let us in a little bit.”
Zack kept his head down, his eyes on the floorboard. “I know you and Dad are getting a divorce.”
Wren shook her head, floored at how her son could even know something like that. “What are you talking about?” She’d spoken to no one except her lawyer about it. She hadn’t told her parents or her sister. It was something she’d kept to herself for the past three months.
“You guys don’t talk to each other anymore. I can see it at the dinner table and how late you stay at work. You guys are barely ever in the house together.” Zack looked up from his feet. “Why?”
Wren was on her heels, unsure of how to proceed, her mind drifting to the divorce papers she’d planned on giving Doug later that night, before all of this. Before the world went to shit. “I didn’t realize you’d been paying that close attention.”
“Addy and Chloe know something is up too. They don’t talk to you about it, but they talk to me.” Zack shifted uncomfortably, the lines on his face accentuated by the dirt and soot smeared on his cheeks. “Is it true?”
The hazel eyes staring back at Wren were wide, and though Zack was almost fully grown, easing into his father’s features and shoe size, he looked at her like Addison and Chloe had in the hospital. “Zack, your father and I—”
“Wren, are you still there? Wren?”
Wren snatched the receiver back up and offered a relieved sigh, thankful for the interruption. “Yeah, I’m here.” Zack sank back into his chair and looked away.
“I’ve found Doug. He just finished up with a fire at the downtown circle. He’s bringing an ambulance to you with a paramedic team to work on Zack’s leg. Then he’s going to come and get the girls.”
Zack turned back to the radio at the mention of his father, and the news brought a mixture of anxiety and relief for Wren. “Thanks, Nathan. For everything.”
“Just hang tight. He has your GPS coordinates and should be there in fifteen minutes, assuming he doesn’t have any problems getting to you. I’ll be on here if you need anything.”
The signal ended, and Wren set the receiver back on the hook. She looked at Zack, who still had his eyebrows raised, wanting his question answered. “Zack, your father and I have had some problems lately. He knows that, and so do I. We never meant for that to have an effect on you and the girls, although at some point I think we both knew it was going to happen.”
Wren rubbed her brow, bits of dirt and grime falling. She felt the grainy particles on her fingertips, and the frustration at the forefront of her thoughts pounded her mind like a hammer on an anvil. “Your father and I have a lot to talk about.” She kept her voice low but firm. “And that will be a decision between the two of us. But regardless of what happens with that, I promise you that nothing will stop us from loving you and your sisters. Nothing.”
“Yeah.
Okay.” Zack rested his head back, reabsorbing himself into the cone of adolescence that he’d become so accustomed to in such times, ignoring everything around him.
Wren fell against the back of her seat, closing her eyes, but found them opened every few seconds to check the clock on the dash, which seemed to be frozen as the minutes crawled by.
After the thousandth glance at the clock, she saw running headlights on a vehicle up the road. Zack tried getting out of the car but stopped once the pain from his leg thrust him back into his seat. Wren placed her hand over his chest. “Stay here.”
Wren climbed out of the car, making her way around the engine and to the side of the road to get a better look. She squinted, the heat coming off the road giving the vehicle heading toward them a hazy, wavering image. It could be anyone. Her mind drifted back to the masked men she saw in the SUVs and trucks, armed to the teeth.
But when the flashing lights flickered on top of the vehicle, all of the tension coiled up in her body released. Doug. She waved her arms, moving down the side of the road to grab the ambulance’s attention. It slowed to a crawl and pulled in right behind the EMS truck.
The back doors of the ambulance burst open before it came to a stop, and Doug jogged over, his clothes dirtied and dark with sweat, a breathlessness in his voice when he spoke. “Are you guys all right?” He stopped at Zack, clutching his son in both arms, Zack squeezing back just as hard.
Wren walked to him, hesitant, the coldness of their last interaction still fresh in her mind. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, in the end glad he was here and glad he was alive.
“Nathan said he’d been trying to reach me all day, but the damn radios have been so shoddy that we’ve barely been able to keep in touch with our own people.” Doug stepped aside as two other paramedics wheeled a stretcher over and started inspecting Zack’s leg.
“Doug,” one of the paramedics asked, “mind giving me a hand here?”
“Sure.” Doug helped Zack up with one easy lift under his son’s shoulder, transferring him over to the gurney. Zack yelped in pain, but Doug made the move quickly. He gripped his son firmly, his tone a blend of father and firefighter. “We’re going to have to cut the pants open and take a look.”
Zack nodded, his breathing accelerated. One of the paramedics brought a blade up from the hem of the pant leg to the knee, splitting the jeans in two and exposing the black-and-blue skin, the bone of his shin dented and leg oozing blood. Zack looked away immediately, and Doug slid on a glove.
“We need to link an IV and set the bone.” Doug ran his fingers up and down Zack’s leg with a light touch, applying pressure along the joint to check for any other fractures. Every wince from Zack told Doug all he needed to know. “Feels like a clean break.”
The other paramedic gathered the necessary devices, cleaning Zack’s arm for the IV needle. A fresh round of sweat burst from Zack’s face, his breathing accelerated. “Dad, I—”
“You can do this, Zack,” Doug said, taking the brace and adjusting it to fit his son’s leg. “It’s going to hurt, but only for a little bit. We need to stabilize it so there isn’t any more damage to your tissue. I’m going to do it on three, okay? One.” But before Doug reached two, he snapped the bone back into place. Zack wailed in pain, falling back onto the stretcher, and passed out.
Wren rushed to her son’s aid, gripping the gurney’s railing. “Christ, Doug, you could’ve—”
“The sooner it happened, the better,” Doug snapped, wrapping Zack’s leg in the brace. He stopped and let the paramedic take over, brushing the hair that had matted on his son’s forehead. Zack’s head lolled back and forth in a pain-induced haze. He looked back to Wren, his features softening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” Wren offered a weak smile, taking Zack’s hand, giving it a kiss, and holding it all the way to the ambulance, where the three climbed inside. The second paramedic rode in the passenger seat and the other drove.
The ride back into the city felt long, the ambulance swaying back and forth. It was the first time they’d been in the same room for longer than two minutes for more than a month. “Nathan tell you about the girls?”
Doug nodded, his eyes still on Zack, twirling the gold band on his left ring finger around the dirty, greasy stains. “Yeah, he told me.”
“And you know what happened with the hospitals? With everything that his friend told him?”
Doug laughed, shaking his head. “Christ, Wren, you don’t actually believe him, do you? His theories? His crazy-ass friends that live out in the middle of nowhere with their… whatever the hell they have? Everything I’ve heard so far said that this is limited to Chicago. There haven’t been any reports anywhere else around the country of similar events happening. This will blow over.”
Wren nodded, trying to shake loose the thoughts that had consumed her since the moment she saw those men at the hospital. The way they killed without hesitation or explanation. While she hoped that Doug was right, she knew that Nathan had one thing nailed down: whoever these people were had been planning this for a very long time. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“Since the hospital’s collapse, the medical unit downtown has been relocating to smaller hospitals. We’re heading to one of the Shriners on the east side of the city. From what we’ve heard on the radio, it’s still standing. We’re going to pick up the girls on the way, along with Steve’s wife and son.” He gestured to the driver.
“Shouldn’t we get him to a hospital first?” Wren asked, taking Zack’s limp hand.
“He’s stable for now, and Nathan’s station is on the way. It won’t take long.” Doug let go of the gold band around his finger and hung his head. “So, you still want to talk?” He glanced up, the stoic expression offering no hint of what he wanted.
“Not now, Doug.” Wren rubbed her eyes, trying to ease the rising pressure in her skull. The last thing on her mind was her marriage. “We get the girls, we get him patched up, and then we go home. We can talk then.”
“Sounds like the same record I’ve heard before.”
Wren leaned forward, her face flushed red and her words a harsh whisper. “Well, I’m sorry that I don’t want to talk about our marriage problems with our son passed out with a broken leg and our youngest daughter with a broken arm, huddled in a fire station with her sister while the entire city burns around us.” She cocked her head to the side, nodding sarcastically. “Yeah, I think I’d like to skip that.”
“Then when?” Doug matched her tone and resentment, his fingers curling to fists. “Every time I bring it up, you shut me down, so when?” He tossed his hands in the air, exasperated. “I can’t keep going on like this. You know what the first thing I felt when I saw you on the side of the road was? Anxiety. It wasn’t relief, it wasn’t happiness, it was anxiousness. I saw you and thought, ‘God, I wonder if she’ll even acknowledge that I’m here. I wonder if she’ll even be glad I showed up!’” Doug raised his voice then slammed his back into the wall behind him, crossing his arms, retreating within himself.
Wren held back the tears that demanded to be shown. She wasn’t going to let him have that. Not here, and not now. She spoke her words slowly, meticulously. “Well, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. And I’m sorry that my presence caused your delicate constitution to fall under added stress. I have been in a car wreck, shot at, and watched all three of my children nearly die at the hands of madmen, but by all means, let me make you feel better.” She spit the last words with a sting of venom and leaned back, wanting to escape through the walls behind her. The rest of the trip was silent, and Wren’s mind was splintered with the stress of the day along with how her marriage had become so jaded, pinpointing the moment when she stopped loving her husband.
Chapter 9
Wren’s head jerked up from her shoulder, where it had drifted off to rest, her body taking advantage of the lull in activity to shut down, doing its best to try to recover her nerv
es.
“Doug,” Steve said, the ambulance squeaking to a stop. “We might have a problem here.
Wren squeezed past Doug, investigating the cause of their delay. But whatever she could have imagined in her nightmares paled in comparison to Chicago’s skyline. Columns of smoke rose into the sky, glows of fire battling the sun for attention as the beautiful architecture she’d fallen in love with as a college student burned to nothing. A distant explosion caused all of them to jolt and she looked back to Zack who still lay unconscious.
Doug reached for the radio, scanning the channels. “Nathan, can you hear me? Nathan, this is Doug. Come back.” Only the rush of white noise answered.
Traffic was roadblocked in all outbound directions from the city, people laying on horns on the highway and overpasses, anger and desperation reaching a crescendo as everyone clamored over one another to escape the chaos of Chicago. Wren clutched Zack’s arm, feeling the warmth of her child as he lay still on the cot. She drew in a breath, a glimmer of strength returning with it. “How far are we from the station?”
Ken, the second paramedic in the passenger seat spoke up. “Ten miles, at least.” His gaze was locked on the chaos in their path.
“We don’t stop,” Wren said. “For anything. You turn the sirens and lights on, and you keep driving. Whatever you have to do.”
“I’d buckle up back there. And make sure Zack is secure.” Steve shifted into drive, flipping on the lights. Doug climbed back with Wren, helping strap Zack down. The sirens wailed from the roof, and Steve jolted them forward.
Wren white-knuckled the railing on Zack’s stretcher, Steve maneuvering the ambulance in and out of traffic. She heard him try the radio one more time, but the efforts were fruitless. Wren forced her concentration on the fire station. The girls were still alive. She could feel it. I know they’re alive.