by Jeff Olah
“Frank, what the hell have you been eating?”
Frank smiled. He rested his hand on Ethan’s shoulder and began to laugh. “When was the last time you slept?”
“Still, this is ridiculous. What was that, like a hundred yards?”
“You need something to eat and definitely at least a few hours of sleep.”
“Yeah maybe. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed …”
Ethan paused. Standing up straight, he leaned into Frank and wiped the first few beads of sweat from his forehead.
“Frank, you see that?”
“See what?”
“The doors, there are people in there.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah I’m sure, let’s go.”
162
As the coming storm began to move into the city, Emma helped Tom fold the large canvas. They hurried through the door, down the stairs, and laid it out across the open floor of the stockroom. Searching for something to write with, Emma came across three bags of unopened potato chips. Holding them up and pushing away from the dusty cardboard box, she turned to Tom.
“Barbecue, Sour Cream and Onion, or Regular?”
Tom looked up from the canvas and cut his eyes at her. “What?”
“Chips, what’s your pleasure?”
“Really, we’ve known each other for what, like ten years, and you don’t know what kind of chips I like? I would have hoped for more from you Emma.”
She was laughing before he even finished.
“Yeah, I think you may be a bit off on your timeline. I know I can be difficult to be around, but wow, ten years?”
“Okay, maybe like seven—eight tops.”
She liked this side of him. It reminded her of her father and of Ethan, forever spewing sarcasm, no matter the situation. They had a way of putting her at ease that was unmatched by anyone else. Until she met Tom, the real Tom.
“How generous of you.” And then pausing and looking at the three bags she said, “So, what’s it gonna be?”
“How about we go downstairs, get a bowl, and mix all three together?”
“Seriously?” she asked. “You know that with everything that’s happened over the last two weeks, my OCD is on permanent overdrive. What are you trying to do, push me over the edge, see what happens when I finally lose it?”
“That wasn’t my original plan, but now that you mention it, it may be fun to see what you’d be like.”
Emma looked over her shoulder and into the hall. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Tom finished folding the last corner of the canvas, set it on the shelf behind him, and regarded Emma with a crooked grin.
“Do what?”
“Let’s go downstairs and see if we can find a bowl.”
“I was messing with you, I just wanted—”
Emma turned and started down the stairs. She reached the last step and waited as Tom hurried out of the stockroom and stood looking down at her from the upper hall.
“Come on, hurry up,” she said. “I’m hungry.”
Tom made his way down the narrow flight of stairs and as he turned into the bagel shop, Emma had already begun digging through the cabinets inside the kitchen. She opened and closed three doors before coming away with her prize.
“Ah ha, this should work.”
Out of the kitchen and now standing at register number three, Emma held the fourteen-inch bamboo mixing bowl up to the sliver of daylight slipping in from the gap above the entrance. She ran her hand along the inside and then set it on the counter in front of Tom.
“Now where’d I leave those chips? Oh yeah, upstairs.”
She ran her hand over Tom’s chest and shoulder as she moved past him, and then took the stairs to the stockroom two at a time. Her light footfalls were barely audible as she ascended the wooden steps.
Tom’s head on a swivel, he called to her from the first floor. “Are you planning on staying up there, or should I just wait for ya down here?”
Her voice echoed off the thin walls as it came down the stairwell. “Neither, come find me.”
More soft footfalls and then as Tom turned the corner and started up the stairs, he only briefly caught a glimpse of Emma shooting across the hall and onto the second set of stairs leading to the roof.
“Where are you going? It’s raining?”
Her voice again, now fading and winded as she ran up the last few steps. “So what? Maybe I have finally lost it. Why don’t you come on up and find out?”
Tom followed her up the two sets of stairs and pausing at the door, only leaned his head out. The rain was now coming down in sheets, beating against the rooftop like a hundred-thousand sticks battering a massive snare drum.
“You’re insane!” Tom yelled. “Get back in here!”
With her arms out at her side and her feet skipping off the rain-soaked rooftop, Emma danced. She then tilted her head skyward and began to sing. Her voice came out smooth and soft, although it appeared most of the lyrics had escaped her.
In between subdued verses, she turned to him and motioned him over. “When are you ever going to get the chance to do this again?”
Tom didn’t respond, he only stood in the doorway—rain skipping off his forehead—staring back at her.
It was now or never; she’d made up her mind and wasn’t going to wait for the perfect moment.
That moment was now.
Emma slipped her arms in through the sleeves of her sweatshirt and in one motion pulled it off and tossed it aside. She grabbed the corners of her cotton tank top, untucked it from her pants, kicked off her shoes, and continued to slowly dance and sing.
Tom took two steps out away from the door and also removed his jacket. He smiled as the rain began running down his arms and chest. He paused for a moment, just standing and watching her, taking in the moment, and now hoping it wouldn’t end.
Turning his head toward the sky, Tom let the rain wash away the events of the past few days, both literally and symbolically. He walked slowly to Emma and took her hands in his. Attempting to match her rhythm, he felt awkward and heavy.
Emma looked into Tom’s eyes and moved her hands to his shoulders. “Thank you.”
“You know you’re crazy, right? Incredibly beautiful, but still crazy.”
She didn’t respond. She just continued to peer into his eyes.
With the moment playing out a bit too long and threatening to disappear, Tom leaned in, put his hands on her hips, and kissed her.
Emma kissed him back, but only for a second. She then quickly pulled back and narrowed her eyes.
“Tom, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I … I just thought that maybe you were …”
Emma just looked at him without speaking. She studied his face and the look of confusion as he began to drop his hands to his side.
“Boy are you easy to mess with.”
“What?” Tom asked.
Emma ran her hands down his arms and guided his hands back to her hips. She pulled him in close and put her lips against his. Staring into his eyes, she slowly placed her arms over his shoulders once again and kissed him. The rain intensified as their bodies came together. Reaching for his collar, Emma helped Tom out of his black Henley and his t-shirt below.
“Wow,” she said.
Emma hadn’t yet seen Tom without a shirt, and up until today she was a little more than preoccupied to take the time to imagine what it would be like. However, she nearly lost her herself at the sight of his well-defined chest and the shadowed outline of his abdominals. It wasn’t necessarily something she sought out in men, although in this case, it added fuel to the already out of control fire burning within her.
Tom kissed her rain-soaked face and then moved to her neck. He reached down, took her hand, and while spreading out his jacket, guided her to the floor. He helped her to lay back and then kneeling over her, slowly began kissing her stomach.
Emma arched her back, freed her arms, and pulled off her tank top. Her han
ds shook as she grabbed Tom’s head and brought his face to hers. Again she kissed him, this time with a passion she didn’t know existed within her. Holding him close, she whispered into his ear in between kissing his face and his neck. “Thank you … thank you for saving me … out there … and here.”
Her breaths were quick and short. The rain running from his body to hers, now seemed to simmer as it pooled between their bodies. Stroking Tom’s arms, Emma gradually guided his hands back down to her waist, and as he leaned back, she moved her lips to his chest.
Tom quickly removed Emma’s clothes, as she helped him out of his, rushing to toss them aside as if they were two teenagers experiencing this for the very first time. They made love under the pounding rain while the world beyond continued to fall deeper into the contrasting nightmare that had become their new reality.
They laid under the darkening sky for what seemed like hours as mid-afternoon crept closer to night. With her pulse beginning to return to normal, Emma gently kissed Tom on the forehead, rolled onto her side, and held his hand. Desperately lost in moment the two had shared, she closed her eyes and imagined a future much different than the one they were sure to face.
Returning her kiss, Tom said, “We’re gonna get through this Emma; I promise you that.”
163
Ethan raised the AK-47’s scope to his right eye and studied the mall’s main entrance. Of the fourteen glass doors, twelve were boarded from top to bottom. The remaining two—those at the center—looked to be the only ones that were still functional. Beyond the glass and looking back in his direction, an elderly gentleman held a rifle in his left hand and appeared to be speaking to someone just over his shoulder.
“Whatta ya think?”
Frank pointed off into the distance, to an area just beyond a stand of six motorhomes. “I think we’re gonna need to move, and like soon.”
A dozen, maybe a few more, that’s what Ethan counted. They appeared to be heading along a path that would lead them away from where he and Frank now stood, but directly toward the elderly man behind the glass doors.
Back to the scope, Ethan eyed the man as he also took notice of the crowd. Setting his rifle aside, the man quickly pushed open the set of double doors, stepped out into the light rain, and pointed toward the crowd.
“IF Y’ALL ARE COMIN’, YOU’D BETTER GET A MOVE ON!”
Frank looked back over his shoulder to where Shannon had parked the SUV. “How you want to do this?”
“You and I go in, we see who these people are and then we’ll decide.”
“If they’ll have us.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, “if they’ll have us.”
The man near the doors shifted his focus from Ethan and Frank to the crowd and then back to Ethan and Frank.
“WHAT’S IT GONNA BE BOYS? THIS OFFER HAS AN EXPIRATION.” And then turning back to check the crowd one last time, he said, “YOU GOT TEN SECONDS, MAYBE FIFTEEN.”
“You good with this?”
Frank nodded.
“Okay, let Shannon know we’re going inside and we’ll update her in a few.”
They were on the move, running across the wet asphalt as the man’s voice again boomed through the parking lot.
“WEAPONS POINTED AT THE GROUND.”
Ethan and Frank complied as they continued running toward the entrance, now able to see another two men just inside the doors with weapons of their own. The first unidentified man shouldered a pump-action shotgun, while the second stepped out away from the doors with a pair of forty caliber handguns.
As they drew to within twenty yards, Frank said, “These guys look serious, you think we may have made a mistake?”
“I doubt they’d come looking for a fight. There’s plenty of targets outside this mall they could have gone after, the kind that don’t shoot back.”
Approaching the walkway, the tall elderly man stood at least a few inches over six feet, but couldn’t have weighed in at more than two-hundred pounds. He wore a close-fitting hooded sweatshirt and a pair of dark colored jeans. His black leather boots hadn’t seen more than a few weeks’ worth of use, and although he wore a ball cap, his greying hair that spilled out from the back and sides spoke to his age. Holding up his right hand, the man said, “That’s far enough.”
Ethan looked back toward the crowd.
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “We’ve got ya covered.”
Ethan again turned to the crowd, which now numbered over two dozen, and then back to the man. “Okay?”
“How many weapons?”
Ethan lifted his rifle and then motioned toward Frank. “Three.”
“No,” the man said nodding out toward the lot. “How many total, the SUV, the white sedan?”
“There are ten of us. We’ve got five rifles, seven pistols, and a few boxes of nine-millimeter rounds.”
The man ran his hand over his face and eyed both Ethan and Frank separately. “You all okay with handing them over, just until we get to know you?”
Ethan leaned to the left, attempting to get a look inside the doors. But it didn’t matter, there wasn’t really any other option at this point. The crowd filtering in from the opposite side of the building all but assured that.
Stepping forward, Ethan held out the AK-47 and then the nine-millimeter. Frank did the same, handing his to the man on the right as Ethan turned his over to the man on the left. And turning away from the crowd, the group of three rushed Ethan and Frank inside.
The tall man closed and locked the doors as one of the others activated a security gate that dropped down, shielding the entrance from the charging horde. He turned to his two friends and asked that they get back to their station before stepping away from the doors and turning to Ethan and Frank.
“I’m Jonah, welcome to Stateline.”
Ethan nodded. “Thank you, I’m Ethan and my friend here is Frank.”
“Where you all coming from … where you headed?”
“Colorado, headed to California.”
Jonah bit into his lip and peered over Ethan’s shoulder. “We better get away from these doors. They’ll move away once they can’t see us anymore. You boys hungry?”
Ethan and Frank followed Jonah away from the entrance and into what remained of a discount watch store.
“What about our friends,” Ethan said. “You gonna let them—”
Jonah smiled. “They’ll be okay out there for a bit. We’ve got eyes on every inch of this place.”
“Okay, what do you need from us?”
“First off, you’re going to have to excuse my lack of discretion, but what’s your plan? What are you looking for? You said you’re headed west, why make a stop here? If you’re looking for supplies, I may be able to help you out a bit, but you need to understand that I also have people here that are counting on the protection and security that this place provides. They contribute and they share in what we have.”
“I understand,” Ethan said. “We’re just looking to ride out the storm, maybe just stay the night.”
“And your friends out there, any of them I need to be concerned with? Anyone infected? Anyone looking to cause trouble?”
Ethan’s first thought ran to Boone and how all of this might play out. The details of what took place back in Colorado had to stay with him and his friends; there wasn’t anything about that time that Jonah and his people needed to know.
“We aren’t here looking for any trouble, just a place to rest our heads for the night.”
Jonah stared at Ethan a moment, then turned and looked back over his shoulder. “You give me your word that there won’t be any problems?”
Ethan nodded and held out his hand. “You have my word.”
“Alright then,” Jonah said. “Let’s go get your friends out of the rain.”
Out of the watch shop and moving further into the mostly untouched outlet mall, Ethan regarded Jonah with an anxious grin. “Our weapons, we handed them over but uh—”
“Nothing to worry
about, every weapon that comes through the doors here is locked away until they are needed. And while you are here they won’t be needed … for anything. If that’s something you’re unable to live with, well then, we may need to have a separate conversation.”
“No,” Ethan said. “I trust you.”
He was lying, but for now, it was what he needed Jonah to believe.
164
From the rooftop helipad sixty floors above the devastated streets of Los Angeles, the actual severity of the outbreak was something he’d almost forgotten. There were no screams and no tearing of flesh at this altitude, only the thoughts and implications of what was to come in the next several hours. Standing just outside the door leading back to Marcus Goodwin’s suite, James Dalton peered into the distance.
Far beyond the steel framed monoliths and hardened sidewalks that comprised the heart of the city, multiple fires continued to scorch the suburban landscape. He could see them, but without proper context, they had absolutely no meaning. And with the individual attacks of the first few days mostly just a memory, the city’s interior was quiet.
Much too quiet.
As Dalton returned to his tablet and the door at his back began to open, Goodwin’s voice preceded him. “Dalton, what’s the status?”
He knew what Goodwin was looking for and also what he wasn’t. And with the message he’d received only minutes ago, he also knew this wasn’t the time for anything other than what was asked.
“Sir, the Skatt is airborne, although it most likely won’t have the fuel required to return home.”
Without turning to face him, Goodwin continued through the doorway toward the helipad and quickly slowed to a stop.
“That’s not going to be a problem. Crash that unmanned, flying piece of garbage into the side of the mountain, I don’t care. I only need the intel from Team One before you do.”
“Mr. Goodwin sir, the last transmission from the site was a garbled distress signal from one of the four men, but we have the location of each tracking device.”
“Well?”
“Two have been stationary for over an hour, one has more recently gone cold, and the last one is moving toward Blackmore.”