by Jeff Olah
Under his breath, Ethan laughed. “You look like crap, my friend, but you’re right. Stay close and do not slow us down. I can only carry one person out of that building, and you know after last night, I may not even be up for that.”
“You worry about you, I’ll be fine.”
38
The crowds outside First City Bank had grown in the time it took to run through the plan a second time. With the others only partially convinced of the merits of this endeavor, Ethan sat in the passenger seat with Ben behind the wheel of the armored truck. “Again, take your time leading them away. If you get into trouble or can’t make it back, get to the end of Old Bridge Road and wait there. This rig is pretty much impenetrable. You guys will be safe.”
“Okay,” Ben said. “And Ethan, I’m sorry about earlier. I was just a little excited and knew with the gun I’d be able to draw them further away.”
“I’ll tell you what—you help me pull this off, and maybe we’ll call it even.”
. . .
Griffin knelt next to Cora as they backed onto the sidewalk, fifty feet from the bank. “You feeling any better?”
“Yeah, my stomach feels better. Carly said it had more to do with being out in the cold so long rather than my side. My head still hurts a little, but I’m pretty much good to go, and you?”
“Still cold, but I’m assuming the next few minutes will take care of that. Trying to avoid being eaten has a way of keeping you warm.”
“Just make sure you get back here.”
“Ten-four.”
. . .
Stopped with the driver’s door alongside the busted out front windows of Jennifer’s Antiques, the armored vehicle’s side mirror was less than six inches from the transparent jagged edges. Through the bulletproof windshield, the group watched as the crowd beyond began to take notice. A few peeled off and started in their direction as the men prepared to exit.
Carly stood at the rear door with one hand on David’s forehead. “You’re burning up. You shouldn’t be going out there. I’m not trying to tell you what to do but—”
“I’m fine. It’s just the booze from last night finally working its way out, or maybe I’m coming down with something. Either way, when I get back, I’ll have the best nurse in the entire county to take care of me.”
Carly frowned. She never frowned. “I don’t like this, not at all. But I do love you, so get your butt back here, so I can show you how much.”
David leaned in, and whispered, “Carly, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like, if I’d never taken that dare in fourth grade. Even more, I can’t believe you actually let me kiss you. Given the chance, I’d still kiss you. Every. Single. Day. And yes, I’ve loved you ever since I was nine years old.”
A tear rolled down her right cheek and slowed at the cleft in her chin. She leaned in and kissed him hard. “David, that was nearly as good as the day you proposed—where’d that come from?”
From the cab, Ethan barked, “Thirty seconds, then we go.”
“What’s gotten into him?” Carly asked.
David smiled. “Looks like that guy we lost in high school is back. Something changed in him at the hospital. I don’t know what, but I think it’s a good thing.”
Stepping out from the passenger’s seat, Ethan moved through the rear cabin. He motioned for Griffin to follow and then turned to Carly. “Lock the door behind us and don’t open it again until you see our faces come out of that bank.”
She told Ethan she understood, wished him luck, and then turned back to David. “Are you sure about this?”
He kissed her once again, as a tear matching hers hung at the corner of his right eye. “It’s just something I have to do. There isn’t any other way. I love you.”
“Ben!” Ethan shouted. “Just like we talked about, sweep them away from the front, and then nice and slow. Clear the way, buddy.” From the front seat, Ben gave the thumbs up.
The space outside the rear of the truck was clear. Ethan opened the door and stepped out first. He was followed closely by David and then Griffin. Closing the door, the trio stayed in the shadow of the truck as it pulled away, gaining speed as it skipped over the next sidewalk and clipped the first few Feeders.
“Wait,” Ethan said, his hand on David’s shoulder. “Once the front doors are clear, we go. Fire on them only if we have to; I don’t wanna draw any attention away from the truck.”
To their left, inside the ravaged antique store, a four shelf mahogany cabinet slowly drifted away from the wall. Two rows of fine china sat above a shelf of porcelain baby figurines, and along the bottom, six stained-glass decanters. The one-hundred-year-old cabinet lurched up onto its front legs and pitched forward as a pair of curious Feeders moved away from their current victim.
Before the first piece of delicate glassware crashed to the stained concrete floor, Ethan stepped inside. With his sidearm placed securely on his right hip, he again drew the expandable steel baton. As the cabinet slammed to the floor, he stepped on top and kicked his first aggressor in the chest. Cartwheeling backward, the beast staggered into a vintage clothes rack and disappeared.
Coming in from behind, Griffin ran through as if he was on fire. Moving past Ethan before he could blink, the newest member of the group carried a stainless steel globe, slightly larger than a regulation size basketball. He gripped it by the stand and was already in mid-swing as he stepped by Ethan.
The area of the sphere labeled “East Asia” contacted the bridge of the Feeder’s nose with a shallow crack, and both Griffin and Ethan turned away. Following through, fragmented pieces of bone and decomposed flesh exploded up and away as the Feeder dropped to the floor.
Not waiting for the first attacker to get back on its feet, Ethan grabbed Griffin by the shoulder and motioned back out to the sidewalk. “Let’s go.”
Stepping around the sea of broken glass, the trio moved quickly and quietly to the northeast corner of the building. Watching the armored vehicle slowly plow into the crowd, they stepped out onto the sidewalk and walked toward the entrance.
“Stay close,” Ethan said.
Continuing along the sidewalk, the truck listed left as it pushed through the crowd, sideswiping the brick exterior. Gaining speed, the impenetrable fortress on wheels drifted along with its tires straddling the red painted curb. And as Ben cut the wheel hard to the right, the trailing edge of the truck pushed a half dozen Feeders in through the massive front windows of First City Bank.
Already in a dead sprint, Ethan flicked open the baton as he rushed toward the massive horde. Scanning the crowd, who had yet to take notice of his presence, he counted eleven that would be a direct threat and estimated there to be sixty or more who followed the truck off the sidewalk and up Old Bridge Road.
Twenty feet from the bank’s entrance, Ethan sensed that there was a problem. No one was at his side and peering down at the sidewalk, his shadow ran alone. Turning, he saw Griffin helping David up off the sidewalk. Back on their feet, the pair moved slowly, as David limp-walked toward Ethan.
Waving Ethan over, Griffin’s mouth moved, but his voice was lost to the truck’s overbearing engine. Attempting to assist the injured man, Griffin was hastily brushed off. And as Ethan took his first step back toward his best friend, David fell face-first onto the unforgiving concrete.
39
Moving quickly back to his friend, Ethan motioned toward the massive opening at the front of the bank. “Griffin, I’ll get him inside. Just get in there before we do and make sure there aren’t any surprises.”
Again on his feet, David clung to Ethan’s vest. Being dragged, the two-hundred pound man began vomiting blood. As the Feeders who were thrown into the bank emerged, he begged Ethan to leave him. “Go find Shannon, we all aren’t going to make it. Please, do it for me, do it for Carly. I’m begging you, I can’t go back to her.”
Reaching the partially demolished entrance to the bank and watching the truck disa
ppear behind the ocean of bodies, Ethan pushed David inside, over to the wall, and held his shoulders pinned back. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s gotta wait. Do you think you could do me a favor and stay alive for another few minutes?”
“It doesn’t look like I have a choice.”
The bank had obviously been overrun at some point earlier in the day, Ethan was sure of it. Desks were overturned, light fixtures smashed, and computer monitors lay facedown among the mess of Savings Account and Home Equity handouts. The most telling sign—the door between the bank’s lobby and the secured teller area had been torn from its hinges.
Rapid footfalls came from the out of the darkened interior and then Griffin appeared. He stood beside Ethan and motioned toward the rear of the bank. “Hey, there are voices coming from the vault. Maybe it’s the woman you’re looking for?”
David spoke, although his voice drifted off as quickly as it had come. “You can actually hear—”
“Ethan,” Griffin said, “what the hell is the matter with him?”
David was sick. Not unlike the flu that kept him out of school for the entire week of finals his senior year, but still different. His hands shook. He was just barely upright. The skin on his face and neck had gone from a light shade of pale to nearly translucent. His deep blue eyes were beginning to cloud over. And then there was the thick trail of vomit-blood running from the right corner of his mouth, yeah he was sick. Perfect timing.
“Flu, maybe—I don’t know? But, we really don’t have time for this… look.” Ethan pointed out into the street. The majority of the crowd continued to follow the truck away from the building, but not all of them took the bait. At least twenty, give or take a few, found the activity back at the bank more interesting than following the moving metal box on wheels, or maybe they were just lazy. Either way, going back out into the street wasn’t going to be an option.
“Griffin,” Ethan said. “You see any of those things in the back near the vault?”
“No, just the voices, I think. Either way, whoever’s back there is safe for now.”
“Okay, we’re gonna need to stay out of sight for few minutes as well. Hopefully it will give the ones out in the street time to lose interest and move on.”
Stepping away from the wall, David straightened up. He no longer walked with a limp, and started for the rear of the bank. Past the Branch Manager’s office, around the downed security door, and in between the teller’s desks, he squinted into the darkness, trying to get a clear image of his surroundings. Finding a place to sit, he flopped down into a rolling desk chair and began to cough.
Finished with their scan of the interior, and without another way out of the bank, Ethan and Griffin moved in behind the teller’s counter and knelt alongside their sick friend. After wiping the sweat away from David’s face and what remained along his friend’s mouth and chin, Ethan sat in silence, listening for the voices Griffin had described.
Nothing for a full two minutes, and with the lobby beginning to fill with Feeders, Ethan slid out from under the counter. Crouching, he pushed the chair and his friend into the hall and motioned for Griffin to follow. Ten feet from the vault door he said, “I’m going in.”
He didn’t wait for either man to question his plan or even respond. Ethan turned and crawled away from the counter. Rising, he moved to the opposite end of the hall and stood in the shadow of the massive vault door. Reaching for the inch-thick stainless-steel handle, he slowly pulled it open.
As light spilled out into the hall, Ethan stepped around the door. Not what he expected to find, the empty room held little more than the two hundred safety deposit boxes and a granite topped table in the back left corner. The voices, he’d heard them as well, but not from here.
“Ethan.”
He’d asked Griffin to keep all communication to a minimum, but as he moved back into the hall, he could see why his request had been ignored. Fifteen feet away, on all fours, his best friend crawled toward the vault. Slowly progressing out of the dark, David was closely pursued by two Feeders, and then Griffin, who was in the process of leveling his weapon at their attackers.
One quick shot to the head sent the first beast into the second, and then both stumbled forward into David. Coming from behind, Griffin struggled to make sense of the three bodies as David began to shout. “Leave me—just go.”
Starting back toward his friend, something over Ethan’s right shoulder stirred. A door opened and another source of light reached out and connected with what slipped from the vault. As Griffin moved in, stomped the second Feeder, and pulled David free, Ethan turned back toward the opening door.
Rick Norcross, the bank’s morning teller, emerged from the sparsely stocked supply room. Four years Ethan’s senior, the overweight, balding, father of two was followed out into the partially lit hall by Amy Hildebrandt. The newest assistant manager of First City Bank was a transfer out of the city and had only received her new business cards three days before.
Shouting incoherently as they ran, Rick appeared to not notice the others as he moved into the vault, and as Amy followed the older man inside, she begged Ethan to follow. As the two bank employees moved by, one last shadow emerged from the supply room.
As she did every other day, the woman running toward Ethan wore a red blouse and jet-black polyester slacks. She moved quickly in only her socks, and cried as her eyes fell upon the man she’d worked with for the last six months. “Ethan, thank God.”
Since his first day of employment with BXF, the closest contact he’d had with the distant blonde was handing her a manila envelope that had slipped from her overly-organized desk. He’d often wondered what it would feel like to wrap her five-foot four-inch frame in his arms. And as she leapt into his embrace, it felt different than he imagined. Amazing, but still not exactly what he had expected.
“Shannon, you’re okay. I’m getting you out of here.” Ethan didn’t know if this was true—he didn’t know anything, but that was the only thing on his mind.
Letting her go, Ethan watched as another six Feeders rounded the corner and started toward the vault. At the same time, Griffin had David back on his feet moving slightly ahead of the crowd. As they passed Ethan and turned into the vault behind Shannon, David tripped over the entrance and slid into the bottom row of safety deposit boxes on the right hand wall.
Ethan stood at the door and fired four rounds into the crowd as another three turned the corner. “Guys, I think—”
Griffin stepped to the threshold and grabbed Ethan by the shoulder. “Let’s go, we don’t have the firepower for this. Get in here.”
Reluctantly stepping back and into the vault, Ethan quickly holstered his weapon and moved to David. Sliding his friend up and into a seated positon, he began searching him for injuries from the last attack. David pushed him away and spit a mouthful of blood out onto the floor.
Slightly less coherent than he was out on the sidewalk, David lay with his back against the wall. Turning to the left, he attempted to reach out for Griffin as the door descended into its closed position. Next the sound of metal on metal as the twenty-ton door found its seal.
As Griffin stood to the right of the door, he scanned the interior control pad. Without knowing what he was looking for, he turned to the others who’d taken to consoling one another and said, “How do we lock this thing?”
No one answered. No one even looked up.
Turning back to the control pad, Griffin stared at the six rows of alpha-numeric keys and finally located the green Auto-Lock button. Before Amy, the newest assistant branch manager could stop him, Griffin pressed the button.
40
Thirty minutes had passed since they found themselves locked in the three-hundred-fifty square foot, custom made vault. The air had grown stale and although the power had been out for the last few hours, the backup generators continued to function, keeping the space at an even seventy-two degrees.
The group of six sat with their backs against the wall a
nd detailed their individual stories of where they’d been and what they’d done before ending up at this point. The specific events were different for each person, but the theme remained the same across all six stories. Simply survive. Run, hide, fight, do whatever you have to do to survive. This was their new reality.
Ethan now sat with David, who continued to fade in and out of consciousness. With the others occupied at the control pad, he again watched his friend come back. “Ethan, you have to get out.”
“David, you’re sick buddy. You’re not thinking straight. We’re gonna get you out of here and get you some help.”
His voice now clear and increasing the volume, David said, “I’m not sick, Ethan.”
“You’re definitely sick my man, maybe the flu. And it looks like the fever has you a little confused.”