by Ryan Schow
You hesitate, you’re dead.
Truth.
Will I die? Here I am, swallowed in fear, lamenting the loss of Macy’s innocence, wondering if I have what it takes to survive and Macy’s up ahead talking with Rex about a life without The Kardashians.
Seeing her taking the end of the world in stride, I shake loose these toxic thoughts and push forward, realizing I can’t hang behind or I’ll drag everyone else back with me. I want to be closer to my baby, my brother. Stanton.
“A life without the Kardashians would be a peaceful world,” Indigo chimed in, expecting a quick response but getting a confused stare from Macy instead.
“Well I like them,” Macy says, a little breathless.
“So it seems,” Indigo replies.
“You don’t?”
“Name one thing they ever did that added to the community, to mankind or to the furthering of a society of impressionable young women looking for a role model,” Indigo challenged almost without expression.
“For starters,” Macy says, “they made it okay to have a big butt.”
Up ahead, I see a smile slowly creep onto Indigo’s face. Macy watched for the response, then grinned when she saw the archer’s face light up.
“Yeah,” Rex says, “I’m going to miss the Kardashians, too.”
“Shut up, Rex,” I say, and everyone starts to laugh.
Then Rex busts out with the lyrics of a famous Sir Mix A Lot tune: “I like big butts and I cannot lie…” and that brittle edge of hopelessness no longer feels so cutting. It’s a swift moment that’s sure to pass, but for now, I revel in it.
My gaze jumps from Macy to Rex to Stanton, and then it slides back to Indigo. Here we are, in the middle of hell on earth, surrounded by loved ones and an uncanny savior, and I can’t stop marveling at how swiftly we’re moving into the fierce unknown.
We don’t have anything right now but each other for strength and our determination to live. But with all of us smiling and Rex’s odd sense of humor to thank for that, the more hopeful side of me thinks it might just be enough.
2
Rex seems to have some sort of crush on Indigo. Macy’s talking to Rex, but Rex is looking at Indigo and Indigo isn’t paying attention to either of them. Knowing Rex, any moment now he’s going to find a way to tell his latest conquest one or more of his war stories.
The truth about my brother isn’t as glamorous as the tall tales of his escapades in the sand. In Afghanistan, Rex was taken hostage for what I gather was somewhere between a week and a month before he was rescued. He won’t tell me how long it actually was, but with what he survived, I wonder if he even knows how long he was in there.
After he was rescued, Rex spent a little over two weeks in a triage center trying not to die. Many men would come back from Afghanistan changed, broken even, but not my little brother. The second Rex was discharged from the hospital, he went right back to the war.
When I asked why he did this, he told me he was going to have to leave the war behind one way or another. Best to leave having fought rather than leave it as a beaten man who almost died. In a screwy sort of way, I understand this. How for him this rationale made perfect sense.
As much as he never talks about the details of his capture, not with me and certainly not in the company of other girls, Rex has this amazing ability to weave some high lies into some believable truths. He’s so convincing. So animated.
All this just to hook up with strangers.
When I confronted him about his “philanthropic ways,” he told me he was simply turning lemons into lemonade. He was dating a blonde high school girl who was eighteen by a day back then.
“What will you tell her parents when she misses her period?” I’d asked.
That was the first and last time we ever conversed on the subject. Looking at Indigo, though—if it should come to that—I’ll drag the subject up again and stay with it until I feel better, which might be never.
On the bright side, and much to my delight, not every girl falls for Rex’s lofty narratives, his interesting sense of humor or his charm. And thank God. I almost lost him to the middle east; I’m not quite ready to lose him to girl. Then along comes Indigo...
Someone who’s vastly different from my brother’s little cadre of youngsters.
Will my little brother’s charm work on someone like her? Looking at this young woman, measuring her obvious disinterest in him, her incredible focus on the road ahead, I’d venture to say probably not. The kind of girls who fall for Rex are always checking their hair, their lipstick, their teeth. Indigo seems like she’d rather shoot someone than fix her hair.
Fortunately for all of us, Rex’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, and he says nothing about his military exploits. This has me studying Indigo. For some strange reason, I think I’m enamored by the girl.
No, I’m sure of it.
Staring at the back of her head, I wonder, what is it that drives her? There’s something dark and ferocious propelling her forward. Even when she’s standing still, behind her eyes she looks like she’s charging forward, ready to pulverize anything or anyone in her way.
I shake my head, look away, try to think of something else. My stomach rumbles, causing me to hang back a bit. No need reminding everyone we have nothing to eat, no place to live, and no backyards for which to dig holes we’ll later call toilets.
I want to say something to Stanton, or Rex. Discuss our grim situation hoping one of them might be able to chase away some of my mounting anxieties, but first things first: we need someplace to call home. Indigo offered to help, so we’re taking her up on it. If we can solve this one problem first, then all the other little problems might seem a bit more manageable. Certainly not so overwhelming.
One thing at a time, Sin, I remind myself yet again.
Indigo finally turns and looks at Rex, who sees this and gives her one of his trademark grins; her response is a decisive frown.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she says. That smile falls right off his face, making me grin inside. “I need to ask you a serious question.”
“Okay…”
“I need your help,” she tells him.
At this point I’m eavesdropping, picking up my pace just enough to close the gap between us, but not enough to reveal my intentions.
“I’m listening,” Rex says.
“I’ve been tracking these guys for a few days,” she tells him.
“I gathered as much.”
“The one I shot at but missed, back where you guys were attacked, he got away. He may be heading back to their little gangbanger’s squatter palace. Which is a Walgreen’s if you can imagine. We need to get to him, interrogate him. See if there are more of them. You seem to have a tolerance for this sort of thing—”
“What sort of thing?”
“War.”
Smiling, he says, “Ah, yes.”
“You a soldier?”
“Did a few tours, but I’m retired for now.”
“You’re too young to be retired.”
“We’re all retired,” he says. “Seriously, look around. The daily grind isn’t about punching a clock as much as it about not getting our clocks punched.”
Her mouth twitches and I can tell he thinks it’s cute. He gives her a very subtle smile, pleased with his play on words. The fact that she doesn’t roll her eyes encourages him, I’m sure.
“Can you fight or not?” she asks.
“That’s a silly question,” he replies, deadpan, his eyes fixed on her.
“Sure it’s not, soldier,” she quips, returning to her confident, purposeful, isolated walk. “Just know things are about to get a little bloody.”
“Bloody for whom?”
“Not us if we play our cards right,” she says, not meeting his eyes.
Hearing this conversation between them, I’m starting to wonder if she’s got a handle on things, or if she’s about to get us into the kind of trouble we were fortunate enough to have just es
caped.
“How’d you find us in the first place?” Rex asks.
“I wasn’t looking,” she says.
Rex’s got his eyes on a pack of travelers moving quickly through the streets ahead of us. One guy is across the street on all fours in the gutter throwing up. Some pre-teen girl is sitting on the curb a few feet from him picking her teeth with a dirty Teddy Bear tucked in her armpit.
“Yet you found us anyway,” Rex replies.
“Lucky me.”
Rex now turns and glares at her.
“I told you I’ve been tracking these guys,” she finally admits.
“Why?”
She gives him the look. “If you’ll let me finish? Please? My God, you’re like a dog with a hard-on. And not terribly bright.”
He frowns and says, , “Well your communication skills suck.”
“I get that.”
“What did they do to you to turn you into…this?” he asks, motioning to the whole of her.
“And suddenly he’s a little smarter than he looks.”
The jab makes me smile. Yeah, I definitely like this girl. I like that she’s keeping Rex on his toes, even though I’m not exactly sure I like where her head is at.
“Vigilantes never start out as vigilantes,” he says. “They’re made.
“Is that how you see me?”
“You put an arrow in the guy’s head from fifty yards out.”
“My grandpa taught me to shoot.”
“Congratulations?”
Indigo shakes her head, and I have half a mind to smack my little brother, but he’s a grown man, perfectly capable to make his own choices and mistakes if he wants. Looking away, almost like she’s somewhere else, like she’s trying to decide how to say it, she finally says, “Those cretins did the unthinkable.”
Everything about my brother changes: his demeanor, how tall he’s standing, the way he’s looking at her—everything…it’s just…different.
If Rex is anything like me, we’re both wondering what could be so bad that she resorted to tracking these guys down and killing them with neither reluctance nor mercy.
“I spent a lot of time in the middle east,” Rex says. “Not to sound like one of those jack hounds who’s always trying to one-up everyone, but what you call unthinkable here is very different from the unthinkable there.”
“Well I wasn’t in the middle east, but bad is bad and what these guys are about to do is worse than bad. I can feel it.”
In a rare moment of kindness, or compassion rather, Rex softens his eyes and says, “I’m sorry, Indigo. For whatever happened to you.”
Indigo doesn’t say anything for a few blocks, not until Macy asks how much longer.
“Me and Rex are going to grab a few things at the Walgreens on the corner of 22nd and Irving,” Indigo tells her, “and from there it’s only a few blocks more.”
I have a feeling that what Indigo plans on grabbing are the balls and throats of these creeps who seem to possess very little regard for the lives of innocents.
“Please tell me there’s food there,” Macy replies, “because my stomach is currently digesting itself.”
“I think there’s food there,” she answers. Then: “Maybe even a few rolls of toilet paper.”
“Perhaps we could find a shovel, too,” Rex says. “That way we can dig a toilet wherever we land.”
She looks at him, not a trace of humor in her lovely eyes, and says, “This isn’t a joke.”
“I’ve been in the thick of it before, Indigo.”
“Is that supposed to encourage me?”
“This is home. Not some hell-hole overseas. The landscape and our enemies are different, but in the end, war is war. You have to be flexible. Which I am. And you can’t think long term, not while you’re up to your tits in it, which I’m not.”
“Cute,” she says, while I’m just shaking my head.
“Long term is fifteen minutes from now,” he continues, undeterred. “Me? I’m on a minute-by-minute basis. That’s all about to change, though. On the off chance that you haven’t noticed, the only reason we’re able to walk around out in the open without getting blown to smithereens is because that explosion in the sky was an EMP that wiped out the drones.”
“You think?” she says.
“Listen,” he tells her. “What do you hear?”
She listens. We all listen. Where we’re at, the only sounds we hear are our own footfalls on the asphalt.
“EMP,” Rex says again.
“Electromagnetic Pulse,” Indigo replies.
“As of this moment, we’ve got a different set of problems we can’t fix right away.”
“Such as?”
“Food, water, shelter.”
“Not a problem just yet,” Indigo says, confident. “What else?”
“Ummmmm, we’ve just been blown back to the stone age, in case you haven’t figured it out.”
“I’m young, but not naïve.”
“Perfect.”
“Before we worry about that, we’ve got to clean up these problems. Which is why we’re going to the Walgreen’s. The point is, I need to know you have my back in this.”
He snorts out a hearty laugh, then says, “Of course I’ve got your six.” She looks at him, somber. He gives her a steadfast nod. Then: “Look, you saved our collective bacon back there, so I’m happy to return the favor.”
“We may have to kill some bad people,” she says, her voice low, like she’s trying to hide it from Macy.
“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” he asks with a cocky grin.
“We’re not killing anyone,” I hiss at them.
“Stay out of this, sis,” Rex says.
Behind me, Macy and Stanton are talking. Not paying attention to any of this…scheming.
“Killing people isn’t exactly my forte,” Indigo finally admits.
“For being green, you certainly look the part,” Rex tells her, not looking at her when he says this.
Now it’s Indigo’s turn to steal a look at Rex. When he turns to meet her gaze, she doesn’t pull away this time, and he doesn’t smile.
“At the Walgreen’s,” she says, her words bleak, her expression truly grim. “That’s where they’re at.”
“What’s your angle?” he asks, lowering his voice even more.
“A Charles Manson style interrogation.”
Grinning, he says, “Man, they must’ve really done a number on you.”
“You have no idea,” she grumbles.
3
When the Walgreen’s was in sight, Indigo pulled everyone aside and said, “Me and Rex need to clear the store first, make sure no one is waiting in there for us. Then we’ll check for food and supplies.”
“We’ll all go,” Macy told her, eager. “We’re stronger together.”
“Stealth is sometimes better than brute force, Macy,” Rex told his niece. “What we need from you is to watch our backs, make sure once we’re inside we’re not followed in and trapped. So if anyone looks like they’re coming in behind us, stop them.”
“How?”
“Fire off a warning shot,” Rex said, preparing himself. Then, looking at Macy, he said, “And preferably not at their head. Not unless it’s completely necessary.”
“What if there are people in there?” Macy asked.
Rex thought about this. He expected people to be in there—had envisioned it ever since Indigo told him there would be blood—but he wasn’t sure if he should tell her what he and Indigo were planning.
“We’re counting on there being people inside,” Indigo said, fessing up.
“Bad people?” Stanton asked.
“We’ll see. If they are, though, I’m pretty sure we can handle them. But if there’s shooting, and someone other than me or Rex comes rushing out that door, put a bullet right through their heart. Don’t think. Just do it,” Indigo said while looking right at Stanton.
“We’ve got your six,” Macy said, sounding much older than sh
e was.
His niece was taking all this a bit too casually, Rex thought as he looked at the young blonde. It hadn’t hit her yet. The killing. All this death. When it does, all her carefree bravado is going to crack and she’ll most likely need years of counseling.
He’d seen it all too many times before.
Right now all they had was battlefield counseling, and that was more straightforward: hold it together, push the line, point and shoot until you need to reload, then do so again and again and again until the enemy is either dead, or you’re on your way to a better place.
“See to it,” Rex replied, pulling his eyes off Macy and putting them on Stanton. Then, to Stanton, motioning to Macy, he said, “Don’t let her kill anyone else if you can help it.”
“Hey!” Macy said.
“This is not a game,” he snapped, feeling a creeping tension working to push its way out of him. The part of him that knew war understood it, embraced it, became it. Even though his shoulder was throbbing down deep where he’d been shot and he had a righteous headache, all that was falling behind him in favor of what he had to do next. “You hang back and let Stanton take the point, followed by Cincinnati, and then you, Macy.”
Begrudgingly, she acquiesced.
“Good.”
“You ready?” Indigo asked.
“Is a frog’s ass watertight?” he asked.
Indigo took point, but not for long. At the store’s alcove and glass door entrance—Rex on one side, Indigo ten feet away on the other—he said, “Lose the bow and arrows.”
“They’ll be fine.”
“Not in tight quarters,” he whispered, low and serious. They’d both taken a knee and were now glowering at each other. “You try to turn, snag something on something, you could get us killed. I’m not dying for you in a freaking Walgreen’s of all places.”
“I said I’m fine,” she snapped. “You just worry about you and I’ll worry about me.”
“You’re not listening, little girl,” he hissed. “Take it off, leave it here, or go back to wherever it was you came from and let me handle this.”