Fall of Man (Book 1): The Break

by Sisavath, Sam

  Chapter 19

  The katana had taken a nice chunk out of Zoe’s humeral head. That was where the bulk of the pain was coming from, though the blood that covered most of the left side of her chin, flowed down her arm, and sprayed parts of Fiona was the direct result of the extremely sharp sword piercing through flesh and muscle. For the most part, it looked worse than it really was, though of course that was open to interpretation. To Zoe, the shock of getting stabbed with a sword—which also happened to have come from an unexpected place, above her—was probably just as severe as the pain and sight of her own blood flowing freely. Cole wished he could have said he’d never lost that much blood or been skewered quite as emphatically, but he’d be lying to himself.

  “Remember that time in Mogadishu?” the Voice asked.

  Don’t remind me.

  “Why? It made us stronger.”

  Barely.

  “Barely counts.”

  Zoe was unconscious and lying on the reclined seat of the Grand Caravan as Cole tended to her wound with the first-aid kit from Dante’s apartment. It was reminiscent of when she’d done the same for him back at Dante’s bathroom. Only, well, he was conscious then, and he hadn’t lost nearly as much blood.

  Outside the Dodge, Cole imagined it was taking Fiona most of her strength to keep Ashley from running back inside the car and into her mother’s arms. Even now, Cole could hear the eight-year-old sniffling, just barely keeping herself from full-on bawling.

  When he was done, Cole cleaned some of the blood from Zoe’s seat, then the surrounding floor. He didn’t get all of it—and didn’t try to—but got enough to make the scene less gory. Not for himself, but for the others. Unfortunately for him, Cole had seen more blood than this before.

  He dampened the same rag he had found in the glove compartment and wiped the specks of blood from Zoe’s chin and cheek. She woke up while he was doing that, her eyes fluttering open, the dazed look of someone still in pain very evident on her face.

  “You’re alive,” Cole said. It seemed like the best thing to say; the only thing that mattered at the moment.

  “Where are we?” she whispered. Just talking clearly took a lot out of her.

  “A garage.”

  “In Bear Lake?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Close?”

  He shook his head.

  She sighed and closed her eyes for a bit, before opening them back up again. “Bad?”

  “No,” he lied.

  “It feels bad.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Ashley?”

  “She’s fine. We’re all fine.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and closed her eyes again.

  This time she didn’t open them back up.

  Cole finished cleaning her, occasionally glancing over his shoulder and out the front windshield of the Grand Caravan at the closed steel door on the other side. The garage was part of an auto body shop, and every inch of it stank of years’ old grease and motor oil and human sweat. The important part was that its door was made of heavy 12-gauge steel and could be locked from the inside. The only other way into the place was through a side door that connected the garage to a small office. Cole had slid a heavy Craftsman tool shelf over that after locking it. If someone was determined enough they could pound their way in, but Cole didn’t think that was going to happen.

  The crazies were insane, but not stupid. Assaulting the shop would make too much noise and bring even more crazies. More competition. More dangers. There was no unity, no we are the world bullshit among them. They didn’t care who they killed, non-affected people like him or affected like them. That was his advantage.

  “You think so?” the Voice asked.

  As long as they’re willing to kill each other, then yeah.

  “What if that changes?”

  I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, Cole thought, though the possibility left him more than a little cold.

  When it didn’t look like Zoe would snap out of her unconscious state for the second time, Cole scoured the backpacks lying around and found a bottle of generic Vicodin in one of Dante’s bags.

  “It’s my aunt’s,” the teenager said when Cole showed it to him outside the minivan.

  Ashley was back inside the car with her mother, with Fiona accompanying her. Dante had remained outside in his wheelchair, looking over a map of the city. Cole wanted to tell him he didn’t need to do that; Cole knew every street and highway out there and exactly how to get to Bear Lake. But he didn’t, mostly because he wanted to give the kid something to do.

  “Painkillers, right?” Dante said.

  Cole nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “Good stuff?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “She had them hidden in her dresser, in her room.”

  “From you?”

  The teenager shrugged. “From everyone, I guess. But it’s hard to hide something from a cripple that’s stuck at home.”

  “Is that what you are?”

  “What? Cripple? Yeah, pretty much.” Dante chuckled. “It’s cool. I’ve come to terms with it. You don’t have to dance around the subject.”

  “How long have you been in that chair?”

  “Since before I could remember.”

  “Always?”

  “Just about.”

  Cole looked back when Fiona leaned out the open side hatch of the parked minivan. “How is she?” he asked.

  “Still asleep,” Fiona said.

  Cole handed her the Vicodin and a bottle of lukewarm water. “Make her take two when she wakes up.”

  Fiona turned the bottle over in her hands. “The good stuff.”

  “And how does she know that?” the Voice asked, chuckling.

  Cole ignored the question and said to Fiona, “Stay by her side. We’re going to stay here for the rest of the night.”

  “Is that smart?”

  “No, but we’ll just have to make do.”

  Camping out at the garage hadn’t been Cole’s first choice, but it was either that or let Zoe bleed to death in the minivan. Fiona had been doing her best to keep Ashley’s mother from bleeding out, but Zoe had already lost too much blood. Cole didn’t like the idea of staying at one place for too long and putting a target on their backs.

  He couldn’t see them, but they were out there. The crazies. None had appeared as they found, then backed up into the open garage, but they were out there.

  Watching, and waiting.

  Patient. So goddamn patient.

  “What now?” Dante asked him.

  “We hunker down,” Cole said. “And we stay alert.”

  He hated the idea of losing another day without reaching Bear Lake and Emily. Even though he’d last seen, kissed, and said his good-bye to Emily yesterday morning—not even forty-eight hours ago—it felt like two years.

  Or two decades.

  It didn’t help that the goddamn phones were still not working. He couldn’t get any bars on his mobile, and the landline inside the auto body shop’s garage just gave him a dead tone. None of the others had a working cell phone, either. Whatever had turned everyone into crazies had also done a real number on the technologies of the world. What could possibly do something like that? A part of him thought it had to be an attack of some sort, but he couldn’t fathom the kind of weapon that could achieve something like this.

  Instead of driving himself crazy thinking about Emily or the reasons why any of this was happening, Cole decided to occupy his time by securing their temporary hideout. He’d done a half-assed job of it earlier, but only because he didn’t have any choice. He’d had to keep Zoe alive first.

  The garage was linked to the office by a steel door with a one-foot-by-one-foot security glass at the top. The door was strong enough that it could withstand some kind of prolonged assault, but the glass was another matter. Thankfully, it was small enough that it would take an extremely slim man or woman to squeeze through. If one of the crazies attempted that, he’d lea
ve himself open, and he didn’t think any of the maniacs out there were stupid enough to do that. Whatever had turned them crazed, it apparently hadn’t done anything to strip away their intelligence. Did it make them smarter? He didn’t think so. But it certainly hadn’t made them dumber.

  After pushing the Craftsman tool shelf out of the way, Cole stepped into the adjoining office with the Glock in hand. He hadn’t seen anyone through the security glass earlier, but there was no telling who—or what—was waiting for him on the other side.

  It turned out nothing, and no one, was.

  There was blood on the floor and walls, but no signs of bodies. The front door was closed, and Cole quickly locked it, before pushing a chair underneath the handle. Not exactly the world’s strongest barricade, but it would do. At the very least, it would give him an early warning system in case someone tried to come in. The front door was identical to the one that separated the office and the garage—metal, with a one-foot-by-one-foot glass at the top.

  Cole peered through that security feature now.

  The city had darkened quickly outside, making the cars parked in the lot outside harder to make out than when he’d first driven past them to reach the garage. The streets beyond were quiet, and Cole couldn’t detect anything that even looked like movements. Not that he allowed the absence of crazies to convince him they weren’t out there.

  “Tread lightly, buddy,” the Voice said. “They won’t show themselves until they have a bead on you. So let’s not give it to them.”

  The office was dark, but Cole could see where he was going and what he was doing as he searched the place. There was a bathroom in the back, but it was empty—and stank of shit rather than blood. He wasn’t sure if that was preferable or not.

  There were some forms on the counter, including someone’s insurance card. A pen, the front half covered in blood, lay on the floor next to an old swivel chair that squeaked when Cole pushed it out of the way. He searched the drawers but didn’t find anything of much use. Someone had left a couple of tools, along with a sack lunch that was already smelling.

  Because he couldn’t help himself, Cole checked his phone again while sitting in the squeaking chair behind the counter. Like the last four times he’d looked at it, there were no reception bars.

  He brought up the texting app anyway and punched in:

  M. COMING HOME. STAY SAFE.

  He pressed Send, then stared at the No Connection pop-up. He scrolled down and selected Keep Trying anyway, before putting the phone back into his pocket. If the cell towers ever came back online and Emily had her phone, then the message would get to her.

  “Hope springs eternal,” the Voice said.

  Cole got up and went back into the garage, where he pushed the Craftsman tool shelf into place against the door.

  Back in the minivan, the women were sleeping, but Dante was eating a fresh turkey sandwich. He held one out, still in its plastic wrapper, to Cole when he climbed inside.

  “Thanks,” Cole said as he settled into the driver’s seat up front.

  “I didn’t put any condiments on it,” Dante said. “Didn’t know what you liked.”

  “You got mustard?”

  “You betcha.” The teenager dug out, then tossed a packet of generic mustard to Cole. “I kinda thought you’d be a mustard man.”

  Cole squeezed the mustard onto the sandwich. “Why’s that?”

  “You just kinda look like the type.”

  “What does a mustard type look like?”

  “Like you.”

  Cole chuckled and took a bite from the sandwich. It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever tasted, but it would do for tonight. He glanced back at the women as he ate. Ashley sat next to her mother, leaning against Zoe’s good shoulder, while Fiona snored softly in a seat farther back, next to Dante.

  “When did they fall asleep?” Cole asked.

  “Ten minutes ago, I think,” Dante said. “I guess they’re tired. Guess I can’t blame them. A lot of excitement for one day. Heck, for one lifetime.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me? I’m good.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I didn’t have to push anyone while we were running for our lives. So I guess I don’t have much reason to be as tired as them.”

  Cole took another bite from the sandwich while watching the teenager for a moment. He still didn’t think Dante was going to be much help in getting to Bear Lake and Emily, but the fact that the kid knew and accepted what a burden he was made Cole like him. If nothing else, Dante wasn’t acting like a spoiled, entitled brat. The only thing worse than someone who over-exaggerated their competence was someone who didn’t recognize their incompetence.

  “Get some rest, kid,” Cole said.

  “Not sure if I can.”

  “Try anyway.”

  “You know why they haven’t attacked yet?” Dante asked. He was chewing slowly on his turkey while looking out the open side hatch of the Grand Caravan.

  “Why?”

  “They don’t want to expose themselves. To get in here, they’d have to attack the shop. But that means revealing themselves to the others. It would take a lot of effort to get inside; time for the other crazies to sneak up behind them. So they’re not attacking, because, as crazy as they’ve become, they didn’t all of a sudden get stupid.” He paused for a moment, before continuing. “They’re smart. Maybe too smart.”

  Cole smiled. The kid was just putting into words everything he was already thinking.

  “You’ve been thinking a lot about this, huh?” he said.

  Dante flashed a wry grin. “Not a lot of things to do when you’re confined to a wheelchair.”

  “What else have you come up with? About these crazies?”

  “They’re just theories…”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Dante hesitated.

  “We’re just two guys in a car, locked in a garage, talking,” Cole said.

  The teenager grinned. “Yeah. Two guys locked in a garage.”

  “What other theories have you come up with?”

  “They’re predators. They say man is the ultimate apex predator. Have you heard that?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve killed just about every other living creature that’s walked or crawled or been born on this earth at one point or another. We’ve put a ton of them on the extinction list. So what happens when that apex predator loses all inhibitions? When he gets it into his head that he should be the last one standing? And everyone is fair game?”

  “What happens?”

  “I don’t know,” Dante said, “but I’m terrified just thinking about it.”

  Chapter 20

  Besides his dwindling turkey slices, Dante had also packed a stack of Lunchables with ham, cheese, and crackers. Everyone took a box and devoured their contents while Cole took his outside the minivan and walked around to stretch his legs.

  A few minutes later, Fiona climbed out of the Dodge to join him.

  “My legs are cramping up just sitting in there all day,” she said before he could protest her moving around in the semidarkness with him.

  She had left the side hatch open, and Cole watched Dante, Zoe, and Ashley taking turns making different versions of ham and cheese and cracker sandwiches with each other’s Lunchables, then showing their creations off to one another. Zoe had woken up and was famished, and looked better. Or as better as one could look after having a katana shoved through her shoulder, anyway. He wasn’t sure how useful she would be when they had to move again, though.

  “Kinda late to be thinking about that now, don’t you think?” the Voice asked.

  Yeah, kinda.

  “Should have left her and the cripple behind. The daughter and girl, too.”

  I couldn’t do that.

  “Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?”

  We going to do this again?

  “That’s my job, remember? I’m here to keep you from making stupid decisions.” The Voice laug
hed. “Though, I’ll admit, I’m doing a pretty shitty job of it these last couple of days. But hey, I’m just getting my sea legs back.”

  Cole wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but he was able to ignore the Voice’s comments and focus on Fiona while she did yoga stretches on the floor next to him. She was surprisingly limber, and he recognized a couple of the poses. He winced, thinking about how much they would hurt if he tried them.

  “Zoe told me your wife’s name is Emily?” Fiona was asking him.

  Cole nodded. “Yes.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t have to add the yes part. I figured out the answer when you smiled from ear to ear.”

  Cole didn’t bother pretending she wasn’t right. Every time he said or even thought of Emily, he couldn’t help but smile. It was impossible not to. She’d changed his life in so many ways. She was, and still is, the best thing that had ever happened to him. He used to think that kind of sentimental thinking was just fodder for dumb country songs. Used to.

  “Must be nice,” Fiona was saying.

  “What’s that?”

  “To be in love. Not that I’d know what that’s like.”

  “You’ve never been in love?”

  She shook her head and stood up for some more arms-heavy poses. “No. Never.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s true.”

  “How old are you?”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Close. Twenty-four.”

  “And you’ve never been in love.”

  “Nope. Not once.” She finished up and let out a loud, relieved sigh. “I’ve tried, don’t get me wrong, but it was just never there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Huh?”

  “How do you know it was never love?”

  “Because I hear people talking about being in love. Butterflies in the stomach, always thinking about them. Then like you just now, smiling from ear to ear at the mention of their name. That’s never happened to me.”

  “You’re young, and you have plenty of time,” was what Cole was going to say but didn’t.