by Jeff Olah
“I think I need to lay down.”
Quick footsteps and then Tom was standing over her in the hall. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
Emma put her back to the wall and slid down into a sitting position. She drew back her hair and wiped a line of sweat from her forehead.
“I’m okay, I think I just need to rest for a little bit.”
Now kneeling, Tom held Emma’s hand. He quickly looked over his left shoulder into the stockroom and then further into the hall. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead and then softly kissed her cheek.
“There’s an office on the other side of that door, although our view of the street gets cut in half. But I think you’re right, you need some rest.”
She did need to rest, that was obvious. They’d both slept less than a few hours per night for the last several days. But Tom’s concern had less to do with their sleep patterns and much more to do with the fact that she was burning up. As another line of sweat began forming at her hairline, he wiped it away and stood.
Tom quickly checked the office, and gathering a few items from the stockroom, helped Emma to her feet. He laid out the large canvas and used his jacket to prop up her head.
“Let me get you some water.”
Emma smiled, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to her. She returned his kiss and scooted over to the wall beside the window. “Thank you.”
Tom stood beside the window in the office for a long moment before turning to Emma and motioning toward the street. “They’re still out there, but those guys don’t look like Blake’s men.”
Emma swallowed hard and again ran her hand over her forehead. “Can you leave the door open?”
“Sure,” Tom said, “I’ll be right back.”
Tom disappeared through the door, propping it open as he moved back to the stockroom. Digging through his pack, he pulled free a bottle of water and on the way out of the stockroom, grabbed a few packages of crackers.
“Emma …”
“Yeah?”
Back into the room, Tom took a seat on the floor next to her and handed her the water. She drank a few mouthfuls, but stopped short of half the bottle. She stared at it and then looked back at Tom.
“Sorry.”
Tom shook his head. “Don’t worry, drink up; we’ll find more. And you also need to put something in your stomach. I’ve got your favorite.”
Somehow that brought a smile to her face. “Yeah?”
Tom brought his right hand from behind his back. “You did say that dry salty crackers were your favorite, right?”
Just lying on the floor next to him made her feel better. She sat up a bit straighter and put her back against the wall alongside the window. She took the crackers from Tom, opened the first pack, and watched the group of men out on the rainy street.
“What are they doing? And why does the street look so empty?”
“I’m not sure, but the tall one has something in his right hand, maybe a phone.”
Emma tore through the first package of crackers and moved on to the second, having trouble forming her words as she choked down the dry snack. “But how would he even—”
Tom nodded. “Or … it could be a two-way radio.”
“What?”
“Like a high-powered walkie-talkie. As long as it has power and someone on the other end, it works.”
“Okay, yeah I remember. Just in a bit of a fog, but I’m feeling a little better.”
After finishing the salty treat, Emma moved to the side of the window and cupped her hands around her eyes. She located the men standing near the intersection, and as the rain began to finally give the city a break, they turned and started to walk away.
The man out in front led the others away from the building and patted the taller man on the shoulder. As he spoke to the others—his head skipping from one man to the other—he pointed back toward a small group of Feeders that had finally moved into the street.
“Wait,” Emma said, “that one, the guy wearing the black beanie, I think he might be one of Blake’s men. I know I’ve seen that face before.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you’re just still feeling—”
“No, I’m sure. I’ve seen that face before … somewhere.”
“Okay,” Tom said, “but we only met Blake once and it was just him and the two others.”
Emma pulled back from the window and took another slow sip from the bottle, staring at the ceiling as she searched her mind. She sat quietly for a moment and then closed her eyes. A pained look shot across her face and she dropped her head to her chest.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked. “You not feeling too well?”
“That’s not it.”
“What then?”
“I do remember that man’s face. I only met him once or maybe twice, but I’ll never forget it. His name is Cecil Philips. He was private security for the company I worked for, and specifically for the man who owned our company.”
“You mean the man who you think started all of this?”
“Yes.”
Tom narrowed his eyes and peered out the window. “You think it’s a coincidence?”
“Not at all.”
“Why would he be here?”
“I don’t know, and that’s what scares me.”
170
Helen followed Ben and the others to the indoor fountain, and although no longer operational, the beauty of the crystal-clear water surrounding the decorative pink flamingos wasn’t lost on her. She sat along the edge with Carly and Shannon, first running her hand through the cool water and then tracing wide circles along the terra cotta tile.
“Ms. Helen?”
Zach now stood before her, his backpack hanging unevenly from his small shoulders. He stared up at her and struggled to offer a half-hearted smile.
Wiping her left hand on her pants, she leaned in and reached for his arm. “Hello Zach, is everything okay?”
“Yes, Ms. Helen … I … I just …” His voice trailed off as he bit his lower lip and looked over his left shoulder and into the food court.
It had to have been the tenth time she saw him checking the area in only the last five minutes. She hadn’t yet spent much time with the boy, although her heart sank at the thought of what he’d been through in the last two weeks. He seemed to be in good spirts; however, Helen had a good idea of what was troubling the boy.
“I think you and I are looking for the same thing.”
Zach curled his lips and now smiled without hesitation or regret. “Huh?”
Helen leaned in again, this time placing her mouth near his ear. She whispered so only he could hear, “Ethan, you’re wondering where he is and when he’s coming back.”
As the words came out, she felt less like she was addressing his concern and more like she was voicing her own. There were many things she wanted to say to her son, so many things she needed to say, especially now.
As she pulled away and gave Zach a quick wink, he nodded quickly and again looked over his shoulder.
“He’ll be back soon, I promise. But how about for now you go ask Ben to throw the ball around. I hear he’s a pretty good ballplayer.”
Zach smiled, but didn’t speak. He wiggled out of his backpack and dropped it on the floor. As he began digging through—pulling out first one glove and then another—Helen reached down and offered to help him remove the hooded sweatshirt he was given by one of the more generous residents of the outlet mall.
Feeling her hand on his back, Zach jumped. He quickly turned and moved away, his eyes as wide as silver dollars. “No thank you.”
As the boy trotted off toward Ben, Helen let out a long slow breath and turned to Carly. “I can’t imagine what he’s been through.”
Carly set aside the bottle of water she was sipping from and reached for Helen’s hand. “We’ve all been through it, but you’re right. He’s just a little boy, out there all alone. You know I hate to say it, but maybe Ethan doing what he did, maybe there was a reason
it had to happen that way.”
Helen’s eyes began to cloud over and before she could speak, Carly gripped her hand even tighter. “Helen, I’m sorry. That didn’t quite come out the way I wanted. It’s just that with all that’s happened, maybe in some way—”
“No,” Helen said, “it’s not that. I don’t feel sorry for myself and don’t spend much time thinking about what’s happened to us. I can’t, I just can’t. It would tear me apart and if I start down that road, I won’t care anymore, about anything. I need to live for my son and for my daughter.”
Carly let go of Helen’s hand and kissed her on the head, pointing back into the food court. “They’re back.”
Ethan and Jonah stepped from the dim lighting of the food court out into the area alongside what used to be home to a massive discount clothing store. Ethan appeared to be leading the way and motioned toward his friends as they approached.
Looking around, Ethan nodded to Ben. “Where’s Griff?”
Ben peered back over Ethan’s left shoulder. “He and Frank went with Boone. You know, the men’s room.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “I get it.”
Zach hurried over and now stood quietly between Ethan and Jonah. He dropped his backpack and his glove near the edge of the fountain, waiting for Ethan to acknowledge him.
Ethan looked back toward the bathroom and then regarding his mother with a cautious smile, he said, “Jonah wanted to say a few words.”
“Would you like to wait for your other friends?”
“No,” Ethan said. “I’ll give them a heads up when they get back.”
“Okay,” Jonah said. “I’ll keep this short, as you’re all probably in need of a good night’s sleep.” He looked to Ethan and then to the others before beginning again. “I don’t want y’all to get the wrong idea, but we have a process here that we don’t deviate from, not at all. It’s nothing personal against your group, but it’s what works for us.”
Ethan rested his hand on Zach’s shoulder and motioned out toward his friends. “Thank you Jonah, we’re grateful for everything you’ve already done. Whatever you need from us won’t be a problem.”
“Good.” Jonah looked back toward the food court. “My people have the shops on the opposite end of the building set up as their living quarters, and usually keep this area locked down until sunrise. I’m hoping that won’t be a problem with you and your friends.”
Ethan gave a thumbs up. “It’s better than sleeping out there, and we’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”
Jonah regarded the group with a pause and then a slow nod. “Just so you’re aware, there are people in my group that will be in there making breakfast by six in the morning, so you all may want to scoot off to bed real soon. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day.”
Ethan looked back over his shoulder and with no sign of Frank or Griffin, he turned to address Jonah; however, the older man had already started back in the other direction. And as the others went back to their previous conversations, he pointed Zach to Ben and followed their host. “Jonah …”
Continuing to walk, but looking back over his shoulder, Jonah motioned toward the gates that separated the food court from the other areas inside the massive outlet mall. “These will be coming down shortly, so be sure to get what you need for the night. Pillows and blankets are stacked on the last two tables, have a good night Ethan.”
Although generous, the older man was frugal with his time as well as his words. He couldn’t put a tag on it, but there was something off about the grey-haired gentleman. Ethan had never directly cared whether or not he was liked, but this was something new. Jonah didn’t appear angry or upset, just indifferent, and for whatever reason, that wasn’t sitting well.
Back to the others, his mother had stepped away from the fountain and was making her way toward him. She stopped twenty feet away and motioned toward the bench that sat outside where the gates would eventually come down. Ethan followed her and reluctantly took a seat.
Ethan spoke first. Expecting a lecture, he swallowed hard and stared into her eyes. “I don’t really want to get into it … any of it.”
“That’s fine, but I need you to make me a promise. I know why you did what you did, but it still hurts. I need to know that you aren’t going to try something like that again.”
“I no longer have a choice, so it doesn’t really matter what I want.”
“Really Ethan? Are we a burden to you, is that what you’re telling me?”
He knew what she expected him to say, what he should say, but he also needed her to understand where he stood. “That’s not what I said.”
“Then what is it? Why are you so distant?”
“You want to know?” Ethan pointed at the left side of his head. “Do you really want to know what’s going on in here? It ain’t pretty, trust me.”
“I’m your mother, of course I want to know. I want to help you.”
Ethan dropped his head. His words came out slow and deliberate. “I don’t want this, any of this. I never did. I just need to be done with it already.”
Helen cocked her head to the left and narrowed her eyes. “Ethan, I think we all feel the same way.”
“No, that’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t understand what it’s like having to live with all these thoughts; it’s absolute hell. Having to think about it every single second of every single day, just waiting for something to happen. Something bad that takes one of you away. Sooner or later it’s gonna happen again and there won’t be a damn thing I can do to stop it. And when it does, it’ll be my fault … just like before.”
She stared up at him with tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes and reached for his hand. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat.
“Okay,” Ethan said, “now you know.”
171
As they prepared to touch down along Blackmore’s newly constructed private heliport, visibility was near zero. The spinning blades had whipped the dense snowfall into a menacing haze that shrouded the rear courtyard and gave the illusion that the nine men aboard Goodwin’s chopper were the only remaining humans on this mountain.
Avoiding conversation with the others, Dalton’s focus shifted quickly from the unforgiving storm to the device he held tight in his left hand. He tried and failed more than three times to access Blackmore’s system, before finally overriding his previous commands and locking out whoever was on the other end. Sighing loudly, Dalton gave a thumbs up and melted into his seat.
Without missing a beat, Goodwin stood, moved quickly toward the cockpit, and with fire in his eyes, began to shout, “JUST TO THE RIGHT, PUT US DOWN OVER THERE!”
As Nicholas guided the tortured bird to the heliport, Goodwin moved back through the cabin and took a seat across from the six men dressed in black and grey fatigues. He had yet to acknowledge their presence, but now spoke only to them. Again barking above the pulse of the rotors, he couldn’t force the words from his mouth quickly enough. “YOU WERE ALL ONCE SOLDIERS, AM I CORRECT?”
Not a word from the other side of the cabin.
Goodwin leaned forward in his seat and quickly eyed each man individually. “SHALL I REPEAT THE QUESTION?”
The last man on the right appeared to be turning a shallow shade of green as he dipped his head to the side and wiped at the corners of his mouth. The others spoke quietly under their breath, but avoided directly answering what appeared to be a rhetorical question.
Continuing, Goodwin shook his head and nodded toward the center of the cabin. “I understand Dalton tossing his lunch from the rough ride over, although the rest of you might as well have stayed back at headquarters. If you aren’t willing to do the job I hired you for, you are of no consequence to me. The fact that I have to walk through vomit to get to the pilot is ludicrous. Pull yourselves together; you have a job to do.”
One of the men offered a weak “Yes sir” and then just as quickly silence again filled the rear cabin.
“When this bird hits the ground you will do as I have instructed … to the letter. If you are unable or unwilling, lay your weapon at the door and we’ll see how well you fare out on this mountain alone. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?”
“YES SIR!” They all barked back in unison.
These men weren’t soldiers and everyone aboard knew it. They were private security for BXF, and although trained for a specific job, this wasn’t it. They were in well over their heads, but with resources at a minimum, Goodwin had no other choice.
Outside, the storm continued to dump buckets of snow as Dalton confirmed the location of those who remained inside Building One. He moved quickly from one camera to the next, assuring every door remained in the unlocked position.
Next, he tracked the exterior cameras, switching to infrared and positioning the final three so that he had a complete view of the rear wall of the facility. The last signal Dalton received would put Richard Daniels within one-hundred yards of where they had touched down, possibly closer, much closer.
As the chopper came to rest, Dalton turned to Goodwin. The man who only minutes before had threatened to throw every other person out into the storm was now smiling. He was finally home. The last time Goodwin drove away from Blackmore, he was told in no uncertain terms never to return.
Richard Daniels and his team wanted nothing more than to keep Marcus Goodwin from the facility he built. They called him a sociopath and blamed many of the early failings on his rushed initiative. And although they may have been right, it no longer mattered. The world now belonged to Goodwin. He was responsible for its survival and ultimately its imminent destruction.
As the storm above rapidly began to deteriorate and the dark grey sky pushed in overhead, Goodwin moved to the door and slid it open. His breath froze as he stared out toward the billowing smoke that crept away from the entrance of Building One.
Back to the six men seated across from Dalton, Goodwin pointed out over the rear courtyard. “You have thirty seconds to get to your positions. No one takes a shot at Daniels or his people without my order, no one. Your first priority is keeping the perimeter free of those things. Once I exit this chopper, I will be unarmed. If one of those beasts gets within ten feet of my position and they are not terminated, I will personally feed you to them. I don’t have to tell you how serious I am.”