by M. F. Wahl
***
Casey didn’t know what to expect when they entered the fortified door of the hotel, but this certainly wasn’t it. The entire group, her, Danny, his men, and Alex, stand stark naked and at gunpoint. Goosebumps run along her skin. They are trapped in a wire and scrap metal cage that has been retrofitted to create a “foyer” at the front entrance.
She seems to be the only one worried. Danny is agitated. Casey’s beginning to suspect it’s his default demeanor, and his men chat, unfazed. Alex can’t separate his attention from his knapsack that’s now in the hands of a guard, being inspected.
This is like some fucked up version of the TSA.
Casey peers through the cage wires into the dark lobby. She didn’t notice them as they entered, but now she sees that balistraria line the reinforced windows. Men and women stand on duty at each one, ready to dispatch enemies without ever needing to leave the safe confines of the building. This hotel is a fortress.
Huge, hardwood walls and ceilings loom over a few small fires. The light of candles and lanterns bob in the distance as people pass by, their torn, smoke-choked coughs bouncing around the chasmic room. Dusty chandeliers made of deer antlers dangle above, as though decoration for some macabre, doomsday ball. Not a single person is interested in what’s happening at the front.
Another day, another group of naked people.
A large woman, and an even larger man, roll by on beaten office chairs. They examine their captives one by one with behemoth, square magnifiers searching for bites. Warped by the glass, their eyes look giant and alien.
The guards surrounding the foyer remain silent, vigilant, with shotguns trained at the heads of each group member, even Alex. Casey’s bare feet stick to the floor where the cold marble is stained thickly with blood. Her heart pounds and she looks up at Danny only to catch him staring at her disrobed figure. He turns away quickly, blushing, and says nothing.
Casey purses her lips. She’s not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. This is twice he’s seen her without her clothes. At least the playing field is level now. Even in this surreal environment, with death lurking around every corner and hunger gnawing at her ribs, Casey finds she can still appreciate a well-made male form.
It’s not long before everyone is deemed safe and the group is allowed to clothe themselves once again. Dressing Alex however, is difficult. He could care less about modesty and all he wants is to get his knapsack back. Taking it from him in the first place was a challenge because he’s so obsessive and rarely lets anyone else handle it.
Once dressed, they step away from the foyer and into the lobby. Casey wonders if Alex has ever been in a hotel before. Certainly he’s never seen anything like this—she’s never seen anything like this.
Danny speaks briefly with a tall, weaselly looking man who’s been watching from the sidelines. He’s unimpressed and shakes his head at Danny while the two mumble quietly. Eventually, the man crosses over to Casey and Alex.
“Hello,” the weasel extends his hand. His grip is surprisingly strong. “I’m Opie, and you are?”
“Casey,” she says. “And this is Alex.”
Casey turns Alex to face Opie but the boy has other ideas. Opie takes it in stride.
“Well, Casey, please come with me.”
He and Danny lead them into a quiet area of the lobby and show them where to sit. Opie offers to bring Casey coffee and the boy a hot chocolate. She can’t believe her ears, it’s been over a year since she’s had a cup of coffee and hot chocolate just seems unthinkable. Opie promises to have it sent quickly, and then melts into the darkness behind them.
Danny drops onto an overstuffed armchair. It’s a bit frayed but still in good condition. The blond man seems out of place on the posh furniture. He traces his finger along the top of the designer coffee table before them. Outside he was like a man in his element, in here he’s awkward, or nervous, or both? Maybe he’s worried about having picked up tagalongs. Casey notices he’s staring at her again.
“Stop doing that, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Sorry.”
He looks at the kid instead. They sit in silence for a while, Casey beginning to feel a little guilty for snapping. Alex peeks over the high back of his chair and they watch the strange scene behind him. Two children, a bit older than him, kick a ball in the middle of the lobby as adults mill about on their day-to-day business.
“You two look like you could be brothers,” Casey says.
“Pretty sure I’d know if I had a dumb, mute brother.”
“He’s not dumb.”
“Oh.”
Danny glances over his shoulder, waiting for someone. “Lot should be here soon.”
“So, she’s your leader, right? That’s what your men said.”
“Something like that.”
The ambiguity isn’t comforting, but Danny is unwilling to elaborate. Casey can tell he’s on edge.
“How old are you anyway?” she asks.
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Twenty. How old are you?”
“Old enough to know better,” Casey cracks a smile, trying to ease the weird tension coming from him. Danny stares a moment before a shy smile touches his lips. He relaxes slightly and Casey’s glad. She thinks they’ve been building a rapport, maybe even an attraction, and would hate to lose it now.
She’s struck by how kind Danny looks when he lets his defenses down—young too, when he’s not mad at the world. She would even go so far as to say he’s handsome, but only in the classical, blond-haired, blue-eyed, tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered way. As if anybody would go for that kind of thing. God, he’s only twenty! Twelve years younger than her.
Danny suddenly tenses as an older woman’s hand slides over his shoulder. His half-shy smile drops away in an instant and his face hardens, darkens, ages. As his defenses come hammering back up, Casey is thrown out. The beautiful young man that sat before her transforms instantly into the hardened and grizzled killer she first met. The change in his demeanor is so drastic it raises Casey’s hackles.
“I hope Danny has been treating you well,” the woman says.
Casey doesn’t answer immediately, pausing to take stock of the tiny, woman with wavy grey hair that’s pulled back from her brow with bobby pins. This woman with the power to mutate men. This woman from whom confidence and mettle ripple away in waves.
“Of course,” Casey finally responds.
The woman seems curiously surprised, only for a split second, before it’s covered with a warm smile. Casey notices Opie is back, lurking in the background, listening and watching. Her stomach begins to knot.
“You must be Lot,” she says.
“You’ve heard of me!”
“In brief.”
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage then. What may I call you?”
“Casey.”
An older man with a withered face arrives, holding a tray with two steaming mugs. He quietly sets the mugs on the table and leaves without a word.
“And the boy?”
“I call him Alex. He doesn’t speak, or even write for that matter.”
But he sure knows what’s going on, Casey thinks, as Alex snags up the mug of hot chocolate with no attempt at politeness.
“He’s touched,” Danny pipes in.
“Interesting. Touched children are rare for this new world,” Lot says.
“Casey will more than make up for the kid’s burden here. She’s strong. She’s already saved my life—”
Lot shoots Danny a nearly imperceptible look and it shuts him down, silencing him. He’s like a puppy at her feet, Casey thinks, a beaten puppy.
“You’ll have to forgive Danny. He can be presumptuous, but I’m happy to see you were able to make it to us safely. Despite his—standoffishness, you and Alex could not have been in better hands. Ultimately Danny always does the right thing, but he’s had trouble with people ever since his father died when he was a child. I
raised him myself, did he mention that?”
Danny is on his feet the second the words leave Lot’s mouth. Instinctually, Casey reaches for her bat, and then remembers it was taken from her when they entered the building.
“She doesn’t need to hear that!” Danny says, raising his voice.
Lot raises an eyebrow. “Stop being so temperamental, Daniel, and sit down.”
Danny crosses his arms like a pouting child. Alex jumps from his chair, suddenly interested and already finished with his hot chocolate. He copies Danny move for move. Danny turns and shouts at the boy, his anger finding a convenient outlet. “Stop that, would you?”
Alex continues to look fixedly at Danny, doesn’t bat an eye. It’s as if Danny’s yelling at a rock. Casey gently takes Alex’s hand and pulls him to her. “Quit that, honey, it’s not nice.”
Lot lightly laughs, completely ignoring Danny’s outburst. She reaches over and tenderly pushes Alex’s unkempt hair from his eyes. There’s something about the way she does it that sets Casey’s teeth on edge. Her eyes fall on Lot’s necklace, a blue, spiraled triangle. It makes her uneasy. She’s sure she’s seen the design before, but she can’t quite place it.
Lot smiles at her, catching Casey’s gaze. “Children are such treasures, aren’t they?”
Danny’s furrows his brow; he’s high-strung and Casey wonders how much of his bad attitude has to do with Lot. The woman seems cordial enough, but there’s something that doesn’t sit right. Maybe it’s the way everyone around the place kowtows to her, even Danny—especially Danny. Casey hasn’t known him long, but it’s odd to her that for all his macho grandstanding, he’s like a starved, neutered whelp when it comes to this woman.
The creeps leak down Casey’s spine and she curls her toes inside her shoes. She’s beginning to have serious second thoughts that can’t be soothed by the promise of a hot meal, conversation, and a safe bed to sleep in.
Voices rise above the low hum of activity in the hotel lobby. Shouting. There’s someone in the caged-in foyer, soaked in blood. Casey can tell, even from where she sits, that he’s panicked, calling for a nurse. The guards are jittery, the stocks of their guns held tightly to their shoulders.
The man in the cage is beside himself. Two guards take off, sprinting in different directions to find a nurse, the nurse, somewhere in the depths of the building. Judging from the panic of the caged man, someone outside has very little time.
Casey’s instincts as a first responder kick in and she jumps to her feet. It’s impossible for her to sit back and watch an emergency unfold without doing something about it. Lot and Danny both shoot her quizzical looks.
“I can help,” she says.
Danny shakes his head. “They’ll find the nurse.”
“I’m a paramedic. They need someone now.”
Casey is running for the foyer almost before the words fully leave her mouth. If this is a true emergency, and it certainly appears to be, then seconds count to save a life, and she isn’t going to have Danny, or this woman tell her what to do.
“Watch Alex,” Casey shouts back over her shoulder at Danny.
Danny ignores Casey’s command and follows her, leaving the boy behind with Lot. Alex attempts to follow but is held back gently. Lot strokes a calming hand down his cheek.
“Don’t worry Alex, everything’s going to be okay.”
Casey and Danny dash for the front entrance.
6
Casey bolted up a down escalator. It was utter chaos. She and her partner had stopped to eat lunch in the food court (he had excused himself to go “drop the kids off at the pool”), and then the screaming started.
People ran, shoving each other, stampeding like a herd of mindless animals. Casey’s feet pounded at the folding steps as they passed by. At the top, a little girl in a pink dress crashed to her knees and began crying. The girl’s panicked father wrenched the child to her feet and attempted to drag her away, but it was too late—the seemingly possessed man was too fast. A paper shopping bag was still wrapped around his wrist and his clothes were drenched in blood. Casey couldn’t get there fast enough—running toward what everyone else was running from. She pushed through the glut of bodies panicked to get away.
The girl’s father kicked the bloodied man square in the face. The man’s head snapped back with the blow and his nose exploded, but there was no reaction to the pain, and it didn’t slow him down. Damn tweakers. Meth, maybe bath salts, or some other drug. They were all bad shit, as far as Casey was concerned. Why couldn’t everyone just be content to smoke a little dope? The only thing a stoner ever attacked was a hoagie.
The rabid, drug-addled man lurched again for the girl as she sat on the floor, crying. A man from the crowd suddenly jumped into action. Finally, Casey thought, a Good Samaritan.
She felt like she was moving in slow motion.
The Good Samaritan tackled the tweaking son-of-a-bitch and the two struggled. They hit the glass railing and the druggie sailed over the side.
People screamed as the meth-head flew through the air, hitting a silvery, hanging decoration. Sloosh. One of its long, thin barbs impaled him. His heart and half his ribcage clung to the top of it as he slid down the shaft. The giant decoration swung in the air and the skewered man thrashed like a hooked fish.
Casey couldn’t believe her eyes. He should have been dead. There was no way he could survive, but contrary to all that was good and sane, he was alive—and angry.
The Good Samaritan dripped blood from several nasty bite wounds. He stared over the side with the rest of the crowd, in shock. Casey finally reached the top of the escalator. Good thing she was in great shape.
She yelled into her shoulder radio for her partner.
The Good Samaritan turned to face her, blood from teeth marks dripped down his cheek. He was going to need a lot of stitches. Casey reached into her pocket and snapped on a pair of blue rubber gloves.
“I didn’t mean too—” he whimpered.
“It’s okay,” Casey fell back on her training. “I’m here to help.”
***
“HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!” The man in the foyer is covered in blood and desperate. Casey turns to the head guard, the overly muscled military man that ran the foyer inspection. He swings his gun around to meet her. “Open the cage!” she shouts.
“Back away, lady, we have this handled. The nurse is being located.”
Casey doesn’t lower her gaze, doesn’t back down.
“I’m a paramedic. I can help, right now.”
Danny steps up behind her. “Just open the damn door.”
The man’s eyes turn to slits. With a grumble he opens the three padlocks that secure the gate. The surrounding guards tense with itchy trigger fingers.
“Don’t move a muscle, Abel,” someone says to the man inside the foyer.
Abel nods compliance.
Danny turns to the military man and holds out his hand. “Gun.”
Sourly, and with true distain, the man shoves his rifle into Danny’s hand. Danny points to a pouch on the man’s hip containing extra shells. Those also are handed over with displeasure. Casey raises an eyebrow at Danny.
“You want backup, or not?” he asks.
“Sure, no problem.”
They step into the foyer and sprint after Abel, who dashes outside.
The light of an oil lamp glows in the middle of the field surrounding the hotel. Nearby a behemoth of an apple tree rises over the flatlands. It must have grown there unchecked for decades, its massive, leaf-burdened limbs stretching toward the sky. Casey’s feet pound the ground. Something about the tree reminds her of an elderly nun casting desperate prayers to her Lord. She wonders what the hell people are doing out here in the dark anyway.
Incoherent yelling drifts toward them. As if it isn’t already bad enough to be out here at night, the yelling is bound to attract all sorts of unwanted attention.
Casey skids to a stop as they reach the tree where a man is pinned under a thick branch
. The man screams as she throws herself down next to him, inspecting the situation. “I’m going to die!” he shouts. “I’m going to die! They’re going to get me!”
Abel slides in next to Casey and covers the man’s mouth with his hand. “Shhhhh, Lawrence! Shhhhh! You’ll get us all killed!”
This only panics Lawrence further.
Danny shoves Abel to the side. “You’re not helping.”
“Danny! Thank God!” Lawrence is genuinely relieved and it quiets him some.
Casey grabs the nearby lantern and holds it closer, assessing the damage—just like riding a bike. “It’s okay,” she says. “I’m here to help.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Casey, I’m a paramedic.”
“Thank God! Praise Jesus!”
Casey looks over Lawrence’s injury. He’s in bad shape. Skin and thigh muscle bulge out around a spear of broken tree branch and there is blood everywhere. The artery is probably nicked. What wouldn’t she give for a proper medic kit, or hell, even a crappy first aid kit?
“I need a belt.”
Abel snakes off his belt and tosses it to Casey.
Danny stands sentry, his rifle steadily trained on the night. Locked and loaded. “Hurry up.”
“I’m hurrying.”
“Faster.”
There’s far off movement in the field, near the woods. Casey slides her hands under Lawrence’s thigh. She loops the belt around it and pulls, straining her muscles. Warm blood squirts from his wound, making the leather hard to grip. She digs her knees into the soft ground and pulls again.
Lawrence is crying. “Hurry up. Oh my God, hurry up.”
“We need to push this branch off of him,” Casey shouts at Danny, without looking up. She ties the belt off and hopes it will hold.
More figures appear in the distance as Danny reluctantly lowers his weapon. “Alright, let’s do it.”
Casey fumbles around the massive, leaf-laden bough. She wedges her hands under it and on her count she lifts with Danny and Abel, trying to roll the branch off Lawrence. It doesn’t budge.