by Cronan, Matt
The Minister cackled as he stared up at her. Blood poured from his mouth as he did and streamed down his chin. Sam ran back to Troy's crumpled body, and when he reached out to grab her, she evaded him and then kicked. The toe of the steel-toed boot collided with her target and a chill ran up her spine as she heard the sickening crunch of the blow. Troy fell motionless.
Not willing to succumb to a trap, Sam kicked again for safe measure. This time her boot found his gut and the Minister's mouth shot open. Blood spewed from his mouth along with part of his tongue. Sam held her hand over her mouth to keep her from vomiting. She squatted down beside him and sunk her hand into the breast pocket of his coat. Her fingertips touched the small golden key, and she fished it from his pocket.
Sam stood, turned toward the door and then turned back again. She could still feel his hands groping her body and again she saw red. She kicked Troy in the crotch and spit the remnants of the blood in her mouth onto his face.
"May God have mercy on your soul, Minister."
She bolted to the door and then shoved the key into the lock. It turned without restraint and the lock clicked open. She took one last look behind her and realized she had not only signed her own death warrant but Jordan's as well. Probably many more. Anyone that had ever associated with her. Tears stung at her eyes, but she fought them back. The emotional breakdown would have to wait. She took a deep breath and exited into the hallway.
6
Sam made it down three flights of stairs before the alarms sounded. They were the same ones that rang when the infected had breached the walls. Long and whooping. Above her, doors slammed open. She hustled down the last two flights and burst through the steel door at the bottom of the landing.
The midday sun blinded her, and she covered her eyes as she stepped out into the courtyard. A handful of soldiers ran past her and mounted the stairs to the building's entrance. She pressed her palm to her forehead and fixed her eyes on the sidewalk. When she reached Main Street, she took off in a sprint toward the stockades.
The men's stockade was an old police precinct on the East side of town, three miles from Ministry Headquarters. Sam darted down side streets and alleyways, being careful not to be seen by the passing soldiers who all hustled toward City Hall. Toward the Minister. They'd soon be alerted of her indiscretion and sent to the stockades to hunt her down. She imagined fat, little Cyrus Poxxal stooped over the Minister's crippled body and declaring a full-blown manhunt. Her lungs burned and her muscles ached, but the thought of being captured and executed caused her to run faster.
Sam rounded the corner of Elm and Second and spotted three soldiers emerge from the doorway of the stockade. She ducked into a grouping of ancient elms and oaks and watched as they took off in a jog toward the city. They disappeared out of view and Sam turned toward the building to think about her entrance strategy.
She had almost decided on a point of entry when a giant hand covered her mouth. She let out a muffled scream as a second hand wrapped around her waist. Her feet left the ground and her assailant carried a few feet farther into the woods.
"Hush," a man said. "I ain't here to hurt you."
Sam stopped screaming as the man lowered her. The man released his grip and Sam turned toward him. Her face lit up as she eyed the giant man standing behind her. Cole Porter smiled back at her.
"You scared the living daylights out of me," Sam said.
"Sorry, Miss Sam," Cole said. "Didn't mean to scare you. Figured you'd show up here. Heard a buncha chatter on one of the soldier's walkie-talkies." He pulled a greasy rag from the back pocket of his coveralls and offered it to her. "Your head's bleeding. Did you know that?"
"Yeah." She took the rag and pressed it to her forehead. "But you should see the other guy."
Cole's eyes widened. "Did you kill him?"
"Not yet." She pulled the rag back and stared at the bright red patch of blood on it. "But the day's not done."
One of Cole's meaty fingers shot to his lips, and he pointed toward the building's entrance. A blond-haired soldier popped his head up from behind the glass double doorway and Sam's muscles tensed. The man looked in either direction and then disappeared into the building.
"Have you seen him?" Sam asked as her muscles relaxed.
"Naw. Not since they hauled him away from the plaza." Cole's voice lowered even more. "But you're here to bust him out, ain't ya?"
Sam nodded.
Cole stroked his thick, bushy beard and sighed. "Best we go around to the back and get 'em." He pointed toward the rear of the building. "I got a key to the door, and no one uses the hallway back there."
"How do you have a key?" Sam asked.
Cole smiled. "Been in maintenance ever since they shut the gates. I got a key to just about anywhere you want to go."
"Do you have a key to get us outside?" Sam asked. "Outside the walls."
"Naw. But I know someplace we can lay low until we figure it out." Cole looked toward the street and then back to the stockades. "We need to get going."
Sam nodded, and they started toward the rear of the building. They stayed as low as possible as they crossed the empty lot of overgrown weeds and brush, but Cole stood close to seven feet tall and was a hard person to miss. She prayed no one would see them as they neared the stone building.
In the distance, the bleating alarm halted and Sam's heart jumped into her throat. What little time remained for this rescue attempt was dwindling. She quickened her pace as she rounded the corner of the building and Cole fell in line behind her.
"Thank you," Sam whispered as they reached a set of stone steps at the rear of the building.
"Don't thank me yet," Cole said. He stepped past her and descended the steps. "Door at the bottom leads to the holding cells."
They reached the landing and Cole dug into the pocket of his coveralls and fished out a massive ring of keys—all assorted shapes and sizes. He picked a small silver one from the bunch and shoved it into the lock. He turned it and the door opened.
Cole took a step forward but Sam grabbed him by the sleeve. "Why are you helping me? If the Minister finds out, he'll kill you."
"Ain't got time to explain," Cole said. "Jordan's a friend of mine and I could leave it at that but…" His voice trailed off.
"But what?"
"Someone wants to meet you when we're done here."
"Who?"
"I'll tell you after, Miss Sam. I just need you to trust me for right now. We're running out of time."
Sam's brow furrowed but nodded in agreement. Cole was right. It had been half an hour since she escaped City Hall. The soldiers knew about the attack. The longer they waited, the lower their chances of success would be. Cole disappeared through the doorway and Sam followed.
They tiptoed down a narrow hallway toward a frosted glass door at the end. Overhead, emergency lights illuminated the corridor in a dull glow. The walls, once white, were now yellow and covered in mold. Portraits of police officers lined the walls. Photos of ghosts hung frozen in time. Sam shivered as she passed them. She felt like they were watching them.
They reached the end of the hall and Cole pointed to the top of the door. Someone had scrawled the word 'Inmates' into the wood just above the frosted glass. Sam nodded, took a deep breath and threw open the door.
Six jail cells lined either side of the room. Two soldiers stood in the middle and stared at them wide-eyed. Sam gasped as they both raised their weapons in unison, but Cole Porter pushed past her and punched the closest guard in the nose sending him reeling backward. He snatched the muzzle of the rifle of the second man and forced it to the ground. The gun flew from the soldier's hands and clanked on the concrete floor. Cole seized the disarmed man by the collar of his field jacket and tossed him into the empty cell and then he slammed the iron door shut.
"I'll take care of them," Cole shouted. He dug his free hand into the pocket of his blue coveralls and retrieved the heavy key ring. He tossed them to Sam and then buried his boot into the nose of t
he soldier lying crumpled on the ground. Sam shivered at the sound of the crunch.
She ran past three cells before she reached Jordan. He stood at the barred door and covered himself with his hands. Sam blushed at the sight of his naked body. Except for a secret kiss or holding hands, they had never been intimate with one another. They had never even seen each other outside their Ministry-issued coveralls.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked as she fumbled through the keys. She avoided making eye contact but also focused on keeping her gaze above his waist.
"Well," Jordan said, "I'm standing naked in a prison cell and I'm pretty sure those alarms have something to do with you and your busted forehead."
Sam gave him a half-grin as she plucked a key from the mass and shoved it in the lock. She tried to turn it, but it remained steadfast. "The alternative to the situation is," Sam said as she pulled the key from the lock and scanned through the others, "is me being raped and executed in front of you."
"Did he put his hands on you?" Jordan asked, his voice trembling.
Sam bit her lip and locked her eyes on the keys. The thought of the old pervert rubbing against her brought a fresh set of tears to her eyes. She blinked them away and said, "It's not important. What's important is getting you out of here."
She needed to touch him. To hug him. She needed to be wrapped up in his embrace. To feel his flesh against hers. It would be the only thing that would make her feel okay again. The only thing that could wash away the lingering touch of Troy.
"Tell me."
"Yes," Sam whispered. She drew in a painful breath. Her hands trembled as they rooted through the many keys. "Dammit. Why are there so many keys?"
"I'll kill him."
Sam picked out another key that looked like it might fit and slid it in the keyhole. She turned the key, and the lock clicked open. The door swung open, and she threw her arms around his neck. She didn't care that he was naked or that an entire army was hunting them. She kissed him on the mouth and he returned it, although he didn't remove his hands from his groin.
"I love you," she said. She could no longer fight the tears and they streamed down her face.
"I love you, too." His eyes were also wet, and she wiped them away with the sleeves of her coveralls.
"I hate to break up a tender moment such as this," Cole said from behind them, "but we got about two minutes to make haste."
The two guards lay motionless in the cell near the door and Cole had stripped one of his clothing. He tossed the fatigues into the cell. Jordan caught them with one hand and his cheeks turned bright red. Sam turned away and Jordan slipped into the stolen clothes.
Sam placed the heavy ring of keys back into Cole's hand and wrapped her arms around his neck. He bent down and Sam whispered into his ear, "Thank you."
The three of them backtracked out of the stockade and fled across the field behind the station. As they reached the edge of the woods, Sam turned and saw a bevy of soldiers approaching the building.
"Run," she said.
They sprinted until the woods gave way to the rear of an old neighborhood and then they slowed to a stop to catch their breath.
"Where are we going?" Jordan asked.
"Edge of town," Cole answered. "Someone wants to meet you two?"
"Who?" Jordan asked.
"You'll see," Cole said "For now, you two catch your breath. I'll check our six and make sure no one followed us." The giant stepped back into the woods, and after a few seconds, Sam lost sight of him.
She sat down on the street and pressed her palms against the hot, faded blacktop. It burned her skin, but the pain was welcome. They were still alive. Jordan squatted beside her and wrapped a hand around a cluster of weeds sprouting up from the cracked pavement.
"This place is creepy," Sam said.
"I grew up in a neighborhood just like this," Jordan said. He uprooted the weeds and tossed them aside. "I can't remember the name of the town."
Sam furrowed her brow as she tried to remember the name of the city she lived in before the quarantines. She could see the burning city, but that was all. "I can't either."
"It's weird."
"I can't remember my parents' faces. Can you?"
"No."
The abandoned houses surrounding them peered out from behind thick foliage and a shiver ran down Sam's spine as her eyes fell upon a pink tricycle in the front lawn of the adjacent yard. Children once played here. Families once lived here. In the distance ahead, she could see the concrete wall encircling the city.
"What's happening to us, Jordan? It's like we're all stuck in someone's nightmare and everything is fading."
"If it's a nightmare then I wish the son of a bitch would wake up." He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "But then we wouldn't have each other and that would truly be a nightmare."
Sam smiled and turned as she heard footsteps behind them. Cole emerged from the woods and squatted down beside them.
"I doubled back," he said and withdrew handkerchief from his pocket. "Laid down some tracks goin' the opposite way. Any of them can track worth a hoot shouldn't be too fooled, but I know most of them soldier boys and they ain't hunters." He wiped his brow with the napkin and then tucked it back into his coveralls. "You two think you gotta couple miles left in those wheels of yours?"
"I think we can manage," Sam said.
Cole nodded and stood. Jordan stood as well and offered a hand to Sam. He pulled her to her feet and squeezed her around the waist.
"We're going to be okay," Jordan whispered.
"I hope so."
They jogged to the front of the neighborhood and turned right toward the west side of the city. Cole moved fast for his age and Sam struggled to keep up. Her adrenaline levels had spiked during the escaped, making her body numb to pain and fatigue. Now, the muscles in her thighs and calves quaked with every footstep and her forehead throbbed to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her lungs burned with each shallow breath she managed.
Sam counted each footstep as it smacked the pavement, trying to force her mind away from the events of the day. She had sealed her fate in the Minister's office and sealed Jordan's as well. The Minister would execute them. Cole would be executed too if the soldiers caught him helping two fugitives. A wave of nausea swept through her and she stopped in her tracks.
"What's wrong?" Jordan asked.
She tried to answer but panic prevented her voice from reaching her lips. An image of Jordan kneeling on stage to be executed flashed through her mind and she vomited onto the worn down pavement.
Jordan pulled her hair away from her face and she heaved again. It had been almost a full day since she had eaten and threw up liquid. Water and stomach acid. It burned her throat and nose and splashed as it struck the ground.
"Miss Sam—"
Her stomach clenched again, and she wept as she threw up again. Inside, a mixture of terror and sorrow ravaged her heart and soul. Everything was her fault.
"We have to keep going," Jordan said.
"Okay," Sam said through tears.
"We ain't got much further, Miss Sam." Cole said. "Just hang in there a little longer." He panted but not as hard as Jordan or herself. Sam wondered how the old man could be in such better shape than two youngsters half his age.
She nodded, dried her eyes on her sleeves and straightened.
"Where are we going, Cole?" Jordan asked.
Cole looked around as if he were making sure the coast was clear and then whispered, "The ol' train yard down on Elm. Gotta bring you to 'em. Let 'em tell ya the story. Let 'em tell ya the truth."
"Bring us to whom, Cole?" Jordan took a few steps toward Cole. He poked a finger into the old man's chest. Cole dwarfed him by a foot and at least 100 pounds. "Are you setting us up? Is this a trap?"
"Jordan, calm down," Sam said. Her voice came out weak and fragile and she cursed herself. "He helped get you free."
"Why? Why are you helping us?" Jordan asked. His words came out tough but Sam co
uld see the fear in his eyes. "Who the fuck wants to meet—?"
Cole threw a jab so quick that Sam barely saw it. It caught Jordan in the mouth and he took a couple of steps backward. Sam gasped. Jordan's eyes widened and his hands wrapped around his jaw. He didn't go down, but his knees buckled and he took an awkward step forward.
Jordan spit a mouthful of blood onto the blacktop. "What the hell, Cole?"
"I ain't no traitor and I don't appreciate you accusing me of one," Cole said. "And you ought not to speak like that in front of Miss Sam or any matter of fact. Didn't your parents' teach you any manners?"
"Who are you taking us to see?" Jordan asked. His brow furrowed, but he stayed out of striking distance.
"You don't know them," he said.
"What does—?"
"Listen here," Cole interrupted. "We can stand 'round here with our thumbs up our keisters," he pointed back in the direction they had come from, "wait till one of those soldier boy's catches and skins us, or we can get on with the gettin' on."
Sam pulled Jordan back to her side and spoke in a whispered hush. "We don't have a choice, Jordan. If it's a trap then we're already caught. Besides, I trust him." At this, Sam detected the faintest of smiles behind Cole's thick beard.
Jordan seemed to consider her plea and then nodded his head. He turned back to the big man and extended a hand. "Sorry, Cole."
"Aw, you ain't got to say sorry to me," Cole said, "but you need to apologize to Miss Sam."
Jordan nodded and turned to Sam. He didn't apologize though. His eyes grew saucer-wide, and he raised a trembling finger. Sam spun around and her heart dropped as her eyes fixed on a squadron of soldiers marching down a cross street. They didn't seem aware of their presence…yet.
"Let's go to the train yard," Sam said. She turned and saw Cole had already taken off in a sprint in the opposite direction. Without hesitation, Sam and Jordan followed in his footsteps.
7
A sea of rusted rail cars stood atop broken-down strips of iron. The town had abandoned the train yard long before the infection took place. It reminded Sam of the rest of New Hope. A city of ghosts forgotten and left to rust.