by Schow, Ryan
She grabbed the links, but her grip was too far back. The end of the chains raked down the front of her face opening up her skin, causing the blood to boil forward at once. Stepping sideways, she blocked the bat with her forearm, the aluminum denting against her reinforced bones.
The shot would have broken anyone else’s arm, but not hers.
Still, she registered the inputs as pain.
The man with the bat reeled back, staring in disbelief first at his dented bat and then at her. Unable to process what he was seeing, he looked back at the others, almost as if to say, Now what?
Capitalizing on the moment, she jerked the chains out of her attacker’s hands, then tossed them aside and went after the owner of them.
The slightly balding, slightly malnourished looking man backed away from her, astonished by her strength. She didn’t want him. She had to go through him to get to the bat. She ripped it free of the man holding it seconds later. After that, she went to town on them like it was opening day at the ballpark and their heads were softball pitches.
Aaron just sat in the truck and watched, dumbfounded.
“Get out here!” she finally barked at him. She wiped a splash of blood off her face and glared at him.
He scrambled out of the truck, swept up a hunting knife that was dropped in the scuffle, then went after those who’d gotten away. Maria was tied up with three more guys.
“Find out where they’re going!” she said in between swings.
“I can help you,” he said, knife out but standing back, eyes locked on one of the three she was with. She punched one of the men in the chin with the end of the bat, then stepped forward and swung it down on his head with a hollow, brutal clunk!
“Go!” she screamed, sweat pouring off her.
By the time she was done with those two, the others had taken flight and she was able to catch her breath. Looking around, the street was littered with fallen men.
“I found them,” Aaron said breathlessly upon return. “They ducked into a building, but it’s buttoned up tight. That may be where they’re staying. Regardless, I found a back door, but that’s locked too.”
“Did you even try to get in?” she asked, the wounds in her face closing beneath the blood.
“Of course, I did. I told you though, the doors are locked,” he said. “Why didn’t you let me help you?”
“I was fine.” Then turning her back to him, she said, “Can you get this thing out of me, please?”
She heard him gasp.
“You want me to just pull it out?” he asked. There was a small kitchen knife buried in her back just out of reach.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m a quick healer.”
“I don’t know…”
“Grab it, Aaron!” she roared at him. When he jerked it out, she said, “Put pressure on the wound and hold it for a thirty-second count.”
He did as she said. Then, when he was done, she pushed her hair out of her face, turned to him, still sweating, and said, “If you are going to be part of my army, you cannot hesitate like that.”
“I was caught off guard. You don’t move like anyone I’ve ever seen.”
“Of course I don’t.”
“I won’t hesitate again,” he promised her. “But can I ask you a question?”
“As long as it’s not a dumb one.”
He thought about it, then said, “Why did we need to see where they were going?”
“Because we’re going to co-opt whoever’s left and take their things with us after we get the power on.” She flicked him on the head with her middle finger then frowned and said, “That was a dumb question, by the way.”
He rubbed himself where she’d struck him. The reddened skin began to welt.
“Let’s get whatever weapons we can find here,” she finally said. “And when we come back, I want what they have. I want every last thing.”
Working their way through the carnage, they gathered up all the weapons among them, and tossed them into the back of the truck.
“Your face is half bloody,” he said.
“Thanks for the newsflash,” she replied, getting in the truck and starting it up.
“You took a chain down the front of your face if you don’t recall,” he said. “Let me look at you.”
He started to move toward her, but she shoved him back and said, “Hands off the merchandise, pal.”
Shaking his head, he sat back.
“If you want to help me, give me your shirt,” she said.
“Will I get it back?”
“Yes.”
He took off his shirt and handed it to her. She wiped the bloody half of her face, then looked at herself in the rear view mirror and handed it back.
“Thanks.”
He put the bloodstained shirt back on and said, “What about your arm?”
“It’s fine.”
“You’ve probably got a broken bone,” he said to her. “Does it even hurt?”
“I blocked it with both bones, not one,” she said, tapping her forearm. “More strength that way.”
“I saw exactly what happened,” he said, not fooled for an instant.
“Let it go,” she warned him.
Dismayed, shaking his head, he studied the road ahead and was largely silent except to give her directions. When she made a turn he hadn’t given her, a turn she needed to make, he said, “You act like you already know where we’re going.”
“I do,” she confessed. “I just let you talk to feel useful.”
When they pulled in to M&F Power’s lot, she saw more than one man at work there. In fact, there were several men working, and one very weathered-looking woman.
“See anyone familiar?” she asked.
“The old guy with the dog used to work with us,” he said, smiling. “But the guy with the bundle of wiring and those guys working on the trucks and mobile generators, I don’t know them. Don’t know the woman either.”
She parked the truck and they got out to the sharp sounds of the old guy’s barking dog. Aaron waved and the old man nodded back, shading his eyes from the sun.
“Otto,” Aaron said walking his way.
“Aaron?” the man asked with a smile and a heavy German accent. He must have been pushing seventy, he was that old. The dog kept yapping, but Otto hushed him and the mutt fell silent.
“What’s her name?” Maria asked, looking down at the small, gray mutt.
“He’s No One.”
“Oh, she’s a he,” she said. “My apologies. What’s the little guy’s name?”
“No One,” the old man said again, working his mouth like he was a cow chewing a cud. His eyes were watery, a little yellowed where once there would have been white, and maybe a few too many blood vessels standing out.
Shaking her head, thinking she was being polite and he was being rude, she said, “I just thought maybe calling him by his name rather than calling him ‘doggy’ or ‘boy’ might be better.”
She didn’t want to push the issue, but she didn’t want to yield to this grumpy geriatric either.
“No One,” Aaron repeated. “That’s the dog’s name. His name is No One.” Clapping his hands together, he said, “Come here, No One!”
Excited, the dog hustled over to him, whining a little bit, and barking. He jumped up when he got to Aaron, tried licking him, almost like that little pink tongue had a mind of its own.
“Clever,” Maria said. Then: “We need a solar set up. Something this old beast can tow.”
She motioned to the Ford F150.
He looked at it, then said, “That’s a ’66, right?”
“I think so.”
“It is,” he told her, eyes on the truck, taking it all in. “Which engine you got in there?”
“Do you have what we need?” she asked, not wanting to be sidetracked.
Scratching his head, he sized her up. She let him. Then, after a moment, he relaxed, seemingly satisfied. “Got plenty of solar here, but back in storage. Big faraday cage jus
t in case. Lady, you’re sweating a lot. And you got blood smears on you. Are you okay?”
“We had a scuffle on the way here, and I’m a little overheated. Could I trouble you for a bottle of water, maybe two if you can spare it?”
“Got some chicken inside, too, if you need a bite. But I’m only offering ‘cause none of the guys is gonna give me grief for feeding a pretty lady. Aaron, though? I’ll have to check on you first. We’re rationing.”
“This chicken, it can’t lay eggs?” she asked.
“Got lots of chickens,” he said, his chin whiskered over, his mouth slightly sunken in. “Guys just got tired of eating eggs all the time, so we cooked a few of them birds up.”
“If you have some left,” she said, “that would be great.”
“Might have to clean a few bones,” he said, starting for the nearest building, “but come on inside and I’ll get you the water.”
They entered the musty smelling building, walked down a hallway, then in to a break room where they saw two men eating, both of them foreign looking and suspicious.
Maria said, “Hello,” and both men nodded, not even bothering to take the food from their mouths to offer a lady a proper greeting. Watching her while they ate, the way foreigners sometimes do, left Aaron feeling uneasy. At least, that’s how he looked when she glanced his way.
“Take a picture already,” he mumbled, eyes on the men, clearly territorial over her, which she found reassuring.
“Do you mind if I have a bite of that chicken?” she asked.
“Girl yes,” one of them said, a little meat juice on his lip, “boy no.” The man pointed to a leg and nodded for her to eat.
“I’ll tell you how it is,” Maria said, looking at Aaron the entire time she was eating it. When she was done, she wiped the corner of her mouth and said, “It was delicious.”
“That’s messed up,” he grumbled.
She snickered as Otto returned and handed her two twenty ounce bottles of water. The bottles didn’t look new, but the water inside was clean.
“Filtered and purified,” he said, answering the unasked question. Looking at Aaron, he said, “Did you get any chicken, son?”
“No,” he said, pouty but hiding it well. Then: “I just got to watch her eat.”
Otto laughed, then said, “Go ahead and grab yourself some. I got you a solar trailer, too.”
“No boy,” one of the guys said.
“Shut yer crap yapper, Andre,” Otto groused. “I cleared it with Heinrich.”
Aaron took a piece of chicken, began to eat it then sighed like it was the best thing he’d had in months. Perhaps it was.
Maria guzzled the first bottle of water then handed the bottle back to Otto and said, “I’m assuming you want this back?”
He nodded.
“Wipe your mouth and take a sip,” she said, handing Aaron the water. With his shirt, he wiped chicken from his mouth, inadvertently smearing some of her blood on his lips. Using his forearm, he wiped away the rest.
He took a good guzzle, then handed it back and said, “Thank you.”
She finished the water, drinking with less haste. “Do you have everything Aaron needs to hook this system up on site?”
“What are you trying to run?” he asked, his words clunky but precise.
“I’m ten stories up and wanting to run a few strings of Christmas lights, nothing big. Maybe an old fridge to keep meat cool if I find anything worth refrigerating.”
“Ten stories is too high,” he said.
“I can move down to four,” she said, thinking there was a decent bedroom that didn’t stink on the fourth floor, even though she preferred to be higher for the better view. Plus, anyone trying to attack her would have to get through her men and nine flights of stairs before they could even see her, let alone ambush her. By then they’d be exhausted.
“Four is better,” he said.
“Tell me about the solar panels,” she said. “How many are there for starters?”
“Your Ford will move a two panel solar generator, assuming it’s a 428 engine and not the 390, but it won’t be easy and you may ruin the transmission.”
“I’ll be gentle,” she said.
“The solar system delivers sixteen kilowatt hours per day, is fifty amps max and has eight three-hundred thirty-five watt PV modules. Which means for Christmas lights and a pup fridge you’ll do just fine.”
“What’s the weight?” Maria asked.
“Seven to eight thousand pounds,” Otto said. Then, looking directly at Aaron, he said, “You can get this set up, yes?”
“I can,” Aaron said, nodding. “Thank you, Otto. And please thank Heinrich for us.”
They hooked up the solar trailer, secured the connection and then Otto smacked the side of the truck and gave them a shallow nod. Maria returned the gesture and put the Ford in gear. The start was bumpy and tough on the four speed transmission, but Maria wasn’t quick to rush it, and eventually she found the sweet spot. By the time they got back to the apartments, half the day was gone and she was ready to take a nap and let her beaten body recoup.
When they parked the rig around back, she said, “We can search for lighting tomorrow. It needs to be basic, though, like a few strands of Christmas lights. LED’s are preferable. Nothing an EMP would have fried.”
“Hopefully,” he said.
“Yes, hopefully,” she replied. Staring at Aaron, it looked like he had something to say. “What’s on your mind?”
“We did all this for Christmas lights?” he asked. He was thinking of the wasted day, the fight, her getting stabbed, hit with chains and a baseball bat.
“We did it for the chicken,” she said.
He laughed, then said, “No, seriously. This has to be about more than a few strands of light and some chicken.”
“If we can create light, we can draw others. I need others for the army I’m forming. I also need others because I need to see what technical skills everyone has. If we’re to create a community, it will be based on everyone’s value. We need men of value, not just thugs and mouths to feed.”
From the second story window, a huge puff of dirt blew out into the wind, the dust scattering above them.
Aaron looked up and said, “What in God’s name was that?”
“One,” she said, looking up. “She’s in charge of sweeping today. After we get set up inside, I need you to tell me about this group you saw. You mentioned them last night. The ones who killed and burned all those people.”
“What about them?”
“I need to know if there was a short black man with them.”
“I’ve seen one around,” he said. “But I only caught a glimpse of him leaving the house a few days back, and he wasn’t involved in the massacre we told you about. I’ll take you to the house they’re squatting at, and you can check them out later, after dark maybe.”
“I just need directions.”
“You shouldn’t be out alone at night,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
She waved him off and said, “Let’s go inside and see if the guys found anything to eat or drink.”
Chapter Eleven
Nineteen year old Ruby walked through her home, looking at all the dead bodies. Through wet eyes, she saw they’d been hacked to pieces with some sort of butcher knife, or perhaps even a sword or axe. Arms and legs lay on the ground, away from the bodies that held them. Several of the bodies were even decapitated.
She found a corner and threw up, snot drizzling from her nose, tears dripping from her eyes. Twice she forced herself to leave, and both times she stood out front, in the fresh afternoon air, sobbing relentlessly.
When she went in a third time, it was to find her friend, the girl she’d joined this group with. Carrie Weldon. She was in one of the bathrooms, a huge red bloom over her heart, a clean slice across her face where her cheeks and nose were flayed open.
She sat on the linoleum floor beside her and cried for the better part of an hour. She knew who did thi
s.
Jaw-Long, and his crew.
The two factions had been at each other’s throats since they first established the two story building as home base. Ruby’s faction stayed longer than Jaw-Long had told them to, for they hadn’t scavenged enough supplies to leave the city. No one thought he’d do this.
No one could have imagined it.
But there she was, in the middle of a blood bath. Women and children, the elderly, even their Cocker Spaniel, Pippen.
When she tracked down Jaw-Long and his men later that night, it was with so much hatred in her heart she thought she might go blind from her spiking blood pressure. Her eyes pulsed on the edges and she felt blood beating through the main arteries in her neck. In her hand was a snapped rod she’d taken from a car hit by drone fire.
It wasn’t a perfect weapon, but it would have to do.
Night had fallen long ago, and the air was cold. She could see her breath, but she wasn’t yet shivering. She was too juiced for that.
Waiting for one of them to come outside exhausted any patience she might have. She ended up sitting on a stacked pair of five gallon buckets just outside the front door. The second she heard someone fumbling with the lock inside, she scrambled off the porch and hid just out of sight.
The man unzipped his fly, pulled out his cold soldier and let go. That’s when she moved in on him. She drove the rod right into the side of his neck. He dropped his wanker, stood for a second on shaky legs, then tried to reach up and touch the rod. She jerked it out and let him fall down in the dirt he’d just urinated in.
Turning the body over so it was facing the pitch-black sky, she stared at a face gone pale with shock. He saw her, but his shocked expression never changed. She drove the rod down into his heart, really leaning on it to get the job done.
She thought she heard more movement inside, so she grabbed the body and dragged it in to the shadows. A few minutes later, a small black man left through the front door, picking up the two five gallon buckets on the way.
She watched him walk into the night.
Instead of using the street, however, he seemed to move alongside the homes and buildings, always in shadow, like he wasn’t even there in the first place.