Ophelia

by Rain, Briana

  Thanks, Clyde, for backing me up. Even if you did sound skeptical.

  My mom looked at me. I couldn't describe it, but it was a weird look. One I haven't seen on her. Uncomfortable, I looked away from her and back at the fireworks. There was a familiar whistle and a stunning golden shower. I stared at it until the last remains of it faded away completely, and ignored that look.

  It was hard to ignore that look.

  Chapter 20: Roger, Roger

  I fell asleep again, but only for about an hour, according to my watch. I couldn't see much of it because of the dried mud earlier. But now, sitting here, alone by the fire as the others slept, I dipped it into a puddle so shallow that calling it a puddle was a stretch.

  I wiped the surface with the edge of my flannel that I took off after I woke up. I dreamed, or nightmared, about all that drool getting on it again, like back in the classroom. It was gross. Both the nightmare and the top itself. But I used the inside to wipe off the face of my watch, so it should be okay.

  I pressed the button on the side and the face lit up, but I still couldn't see all of it. There was a crack in the upper right side of it, not letting me see the year or the am/pm part.

  Was it still called the side of a face if it was a circle? Eh, probably not.

  I’m tired.

  The fire got low, so I took a piece of whatever was in the pile, that I'm guessing Clyde put together, leaned over and gently stuffed it into the middle. That's what you're supposed to do, right?

  As to what I just put into the fire, I had no idea. I touched it with my bare fingers and I had no clue what it is other than it was something damp. Did I want to know? Absolutely not.

  The fire was mostly a smoke signal at this point, but at least it was something.

  Though I usually liked the cold, it didn't feel good now. I didn't welcome this breeze like I did the one back home. Since none of us had dried off, now the cold threatened to kill and the breeze felt like a slap in the face.

  I scooted closer to the weak fire, but not too close, because I had a vivid memory of a girl in middle school catching her hair on fire during our school's Christmas show. Why they would give thirteen-year-olds real candles and tell them to sing and sway is beyond me. Who was in charge of that, anyways? I had no idea.

  The fireworks had stopped some time when I was asleep, but I wished that they were still going off. Then I'd have something to look at except for this unidentified junk barely burning and something besides Crazies to listen to.

  I was absolutely going to go crazy if their muffled cries lasted through this entire apocalypse. I mean, I didn’t think I could take that.

  My hair felt heavy and stiff, like a wig loaded down with sprays and greases and gels. Except it wasn't those things. It was my actual hair attached to my actual head loaded down with rain and mud and blood and drool. Eck.

  I wanted to risk checking my ankle, now that the others were asleep. It was nagging at me. I just had to kn—

  “Hey there.”

  I jumped a mile high at the sound of Clyde’s voice. He snuck up on me on purpose, I knew he did. People were not that naturally quiet. They just weren’t.

  “What?” I snapped at him, my hand over my chest, seeing if that'll help with my Tachycardia. It didn't.

  The southerner laughed quietly at me, because I'm apparently the best comedian of the apocalypse, and sat down next to me. He rubbed his hands together and stretched them out towards the fire.

  “You cold too?” I wanted to scoot even closer, but was too afraid of what could happen if I did it.

  “Freezin’—“ He chuckled at something he thought, but didn't share it with me. Instead, he withdrew his hands and leaned back against the AC unit thing, like I was.

  “Hey, what did you want to tell me earlier? Before you ran to the ledge and went on about distractions and all that?”

  I looked past him, to where the others were piled on top of one another, using each other as pillows. To make sure that they were all asleep. They were, or they were really good at faking it.

  “It's April 25th, the twins birthday. But…” It made me really sad to say that out loud. Even if it was really quiet and even if it was only to Clyde and I knew that the others couldn't hear it… It made me sad.

  “But don't tell them.”

  “Why not?”

  Why do you have to question everything, dude? Chill.

  “Because I didn't get them anything. And it's been kind of a shitty day for it to be remembered as a birthday. All those things they had to see in the school…” I took a deep breath. “I'll remind them at the end of a good day. Something good that they can hold onto for awhile. I don't want any of this nightmare to stand out any more than it needs to.”

  I looked at Clyde, and he gave me a weird look. Not the same weird as the look from Mom was, but a still a weird one.

  Okie dokie then.

  I looked back into the fire and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shrug.

  I stared into the fire more intensely, and felt myself get angrier, which couldn't have been good. That thing about the birthday was a good idea, right?

  Right?

  I was tired and second guessing myself. I felt like those hours of sleep were barely registering in my mind.

  I just didn’t know what else I could do. A birthday, like most holidays, was something that kids remember for years to come, and I—

  There were gunshots. Lots of them. Like the kind that come from an assault rifle. The automatic kind. It sounded like party poppers, only more than anyone would sanely set off at one time. A lot more. It sounded very sudden, very coordinated. It had to be one team, and not two groups fighting each other.

  Clyde and I were up. Up and on our feet. Or, at least I was, for a second. I was standing until Clyde's cold fingers wrapped around my bare arm and yanked me down so that we were both crouching.

  Although it was a good idea, he didn't have to grip my arm and pull that much. I rubbed my arm, and hoped that it would help with the pain.

  One of the twins cried out, and they both clung to Mom, scared and confused and definitely not liking the rude awakening. I pulled the sleeves of my flannel tighter around my waist. I didn’t care how off it looked, I just didn’t want to lose it. I bent down and gripped the strap of my backpack at the same time another round of fire assaulted my ears. They were closer. They—

  “They're in the school.” I looked at Clyde with a horrified look of horror.

  For, like, the billionth time this week, I didn't want to be right. Then I looked at the fire. Clyde must have lit it to signal Addeline, but what if it attracted attention from some other individuals? From the look of the impending invasion of our rooftop, it looked like it had. Were they good? Bad? Would they take all of our food? Would they take all of our pride? Our lives? How many were there?

  What the hell was going to happen?

  “O, take the twins and go hide.” Mom all but shoved them at me. I was going to have to be the responsible one now.

  I took the two eleven— no, the two twelve-year-olds and crouched behind the AC unit thing. I slipped my bat up over my shoulders so that I could hold it out in front of me. I heard the other two step forward. Mom had undoubtedly taken her handgun off of safety and Clyde loaded his rifle.

  “Shoot.” He said.

  Some of his bullets hit the ground. The was a shuffle as he picked them up.

  They said something, but the words were too far away and too quiet for my ears, one being damaged, to pick up. I should really put something on this thing when we make it out of here. Notice that I didn't say if. Because we were all going to get out of here. Alive, but I don't know about how well. I mean, look at my ear. Well is something that I couldn’t be too confident about, but alive? We're getting out of this alive.

  The gunfire was much closer now. I peeked my head up over our hiding spot. Luck tried to do the same, but I put my hand on the top of his head to stop him. Not today, kid.

  Th
e hatch was opened, which I guess amplified the sound of the weaponry. I ducked back down.

  They could still be friendly. They could still be friendly. They could still be—

  There was chatter from below. Some yelling. Some gunfire. Some more gunfire. And then more incoherent chatter. I could no longer hear shrieking.

  Thank god.

  “Hold it right where you are.”

  Clyde didn't sound like my age anymore. He sounded older. Like an adult. Like an adult with authority. A lot of authority.

  “Clyde? Clyde is that you?” said a southern voice from the hatch. A voice that sounded familiar even to me.

  “Ads?”

  Lucky popped his head up to see what was going on and I didn't stop him, in fact, I joined him. I was just in time to see Clyde fumble with his gun, and almost drop it, but recover just in time.

  There was a guy whose head was barely visible from where I was. I guessed that the stranger was at the top of the ladder and Clyde halted this action. But, now, Clyde’s grip on his gun slacked, and it was lowered past the guys face.

  “Yes, you idiot! Now let us up!”

  Clyde clicked something on the rifle and swung the strap back in its place over his shoulder. He then bent down and offered the guy a hand to help him up. The stranger accepted.

  Clyde pulled him up, and they both did that nod thing that guys do instead of saying thank you.

  The rest came up, and boy were there a lot of them. Five total men, with Addeline bringing up the rear. A six-person team.

  All the men wore bulletproof vests on the outside of their shirts. They all had identical belts with extra clips, or magazines— I never learned the difference— attached to them, along with other goodies I couldn't make out in the low lighting.

  The first guy, the one that Clyde had pulled up, seemed to be in charge. Just by the way the others stood behind him, and… there was a vibe about him. A “leader” vibe?

  He had one of those mustaches that covered his upper lip and went all the way down to his chin on either side. The name of this particular mustache style? No idea. Clyde might know, being a dude and all, but not I.

  Addeline ran straight for Clyde and they held each other for a moment.

  I smiled.

  But it was a short lived moment.

  “Alright guys,” the leader said. “Pack up your stuff and hike up your undies. We leave ASAP.”

  This was when I stood up. I kind of regretted it as soon as I did it, like I should've stayed hidden. It was like when your mom had a neighbor over and you were hiding in the next room and you were starving but the kitchen was past your mom and the neighbor. But the old bat didn’t seem to want to wrap up the conversation and leave so you decide what's the worst that can happen and reveal yourself. The next thing you knew, you were talking about her great niece in Montana, still starving and it's twenty minutes later.

  Or at least something like that.

  “Sparkplug, you and Ant take up the rear. Addy, you're with them. Keep the kids and civilians in the middle. Wires, you and Pedals are on me.”

  Everyone started moving into the formation that the leader, who I was right about being the leader, had instructed. I even tripped over my feet to get in line, and tightened the straps of my pack, feeling severely out-apocalypses by these guys.

  “Okay, men.” The leader clicked his gun and put it back into its case— no, its holster— and pulled out a hatchet from his belt.

  And wow, this thing looked wicked. It was a real apocalypse weapon, with holes in the blade, weird curves, and a spike on the other side of the blade, so that either way he swung it, he could do some serious damage.

  “We're gonna keep this exit silent. Stealth mode, got it?” The leader commanded.

  The other men put their guns away and took out similar weapons. Mom scooted closer into the circle.

  I didn’t think she had anything quiet on her. Only guns.

  Yikes.

  “Roger, Roger.” Most, if not all of the men responded with these two words, in the same monotonous voice.

  That was weird.

  “Okay, then. Here we—“

  “Wait! My Bunny!” Roger’s very cool exit was interrupted when my little sister broke away from the group “formation” and ran back to where she fell asleep. She found her bunny, probably damp from laying on the rooftop, and placed it carefully into her Mickey Mouse backpack.

  I love my little sister so much.

  Roger stared at Vi and shook his head, disappointed.

  Roger, come on. She's elev— no. She's twelve, but still.

  “Alright, then. Here we go.” He gave it a moment, looked over the group, probably making sure there wouldn't be any other delays, then turned and jumped down the freaking hole.

  Like, ow? I mean, I knew he wanted to look cool and all that, but surely, there were other ways.

  This guy’s insane. There was a perfectly good ladder right there and he ignored it and just jumped!

  The rest started going down, but they all used the ladder, thankfully. When it was my turn, I went as fast as my knees would allow so that I wouldn't hold the group up, but it didn't feel fast enough.

  I stumbled at the bottom, and someone helped steady me. I didn’t know who, because the little light we had from the fire was long lost down here. Their hands were cold, so guessed that it was Clyde. I'd rather have him than these other guys.

  I slipped my bat out from between my back and my bag, which at this point I had started doing without even thinking about it, and accidentally hit the back of my head in the process. There was a ‘thunk’ that could be heard, that's how hard I hit it. I ignored what I just did and slowly followed the silhouettes in front of me. I heard Addeline’s tennis shoes hit the ground behind me as she jumped from one of the rungs. Then the two guys. We were all here.

  I tried to do that weird criss-cross walking thing that Clyde did earlier, because no way would I be the one to break the silence. There weren't many girls here and I had to represen—

  I was tackled from the side. There was a shriek in my ear, then nails digging into my shoulders. The same pain that I’d felt on my ankle hours before. Weight on my chest. Drool got on my face. More weight on my chest. Then none.

  “Come on.” One of the guys from the back pulled his hatchet out of an undead’s head, using his boot to hold the thing in place. It came out with a sickening suction noise, a string of blood and who knows what dripping from the end.

  I knew this because the guy had his flashlight mounted to his shoulder, as did the rest of the men. Streams of light were waving and darting in every direction, like a really messed up, completely out of control concert. Crazies were everywhere. It was a war zone.

  “Come on!” The guy repeated, looking more irritated than anything, like he'd rather deal with another Crazy than me. His hand was out, so I got with the program and took it.

  He yanked me up, my feet leaving the ground for a moment.

  Ouch.

  I still had a death grip on my bat. Thank you, instincts.

  There was a shot fired behind the guy, whose name I think was Sparkplug, and I looked around him. Addeline was holding a gun and standing over a finally dead Crazy and the other guy— Ant, I think. She began helping him up, when something caught my eye. Something fast, heading for Sparkplug’s back.

  “Duck!” I yelled.

  He didn't have to be told twice. He hit the ground like he was dead weight, and I stepped forward, swung my trusty purple bat, and hit it in the face? A flashlight beam flashed by momentarily.

  Yep. Its face.

  My arm hurt. I think I swung wrong.

  Sparkplug jumped up, pulled out his gun, and shot the Crazy twice. Stealth mode was abandoned.

  Weirdo.

  I could tell you this, if I had a gun and knew anything about guns, and somehow could aim, I would not be wasting my bullets like that. Come on people! It's the apocalypse!

  I didn't say anything. I just turned an
d ran after the group. Addeline was just ahead of me. The rest were down the hallway, approaching the stairs. Up ahead, in the scarce light, I saw Lucky slip on something, presumably blood, and Clyde catch him, pick him up, and keep on running.

  Roger shouted things like “Go, go, go!” and “Keep up!” at the top of his lungs. Humans couldn't possibly get that much louder. Not while uninfected, at least.

  They hit the stairs, causing a momentary bottleneck situation, which allowed Addeline and I to catch up. The other two? No idea. No time to glance around and check.

  But, they're probably there. Probably.

  My feet hit the stairs right behind Mom and Vi, and my god, I almost tumbled and took the whole group out. There was so much… blood. Yeah, it was all blood. All over the stairs.

  Railing in one hand, bat in the other, I tried to be quick, but it was like trying to run on ice. Not fun, not easy, and not safe. Shoes squeaked. Everyone over the age of twelve let out a swear word or two.

  The Crazies seemed to be gone, but come on. Even as I thought that, I knew it wasn't true. There would be more. There would always be more. Especially since this was a school. The day it all went to hell, nobody knew what was coming, so they all did their normal things, like go to school.

  And since there were nuns here, this was either a Catholic school or deemed some sort of “safe place”. Ha. Safe place. Like those existed.

  Wait, we're going to one. In Washington. That's where we're going, so there has to be at least one left.

  People probably flocked here and that was their first mistake. Early on in The End, you have to isolate yourself. Being in large groups will only end badly. You’ve gotta give it some time, see who can really handle themselves. And, I hate hate hate to think it, but, let the weak separate themselves out.

  Wow. Am I feeling cynical tonight or what?

  We arrived at the gym, but instead of turning left, like the way we came, one of the guys held the door to the gym open and motioned everyone in. These guys seemed tactical, but, not professionally, you know? Like they were security guards, or maybe cops, and decided to raid an army store and play soldier. They were giving each other hand signals and everything, but there was something off about them. Something sloppy.