by Jeff Olah
Roland Mayhew blew into his hands, rubbed them together, and increased his pace.
The long block ahead was scrubbed clean of anything without a heartbeat, and watching the two men scamper over the fence and into the rear yard gave him a warm, almost satisfied feeling. He realized the twin explosions somewhere near the north entrance to the school would probably take some work to repair, but the fact that Mitchell Blake’s rage was focused elsewhere only added to the delight.
To his left and right, more soldiers than he could count. Eighty-four men and women willing to lay down their lives for a cause. A cause he invented to put the unraveling world back in proper perspective. He sold them on the fact that without some level of order, their chance of survival dropped by seventy-three percent.
And he wasn’t completely lying. There was an argument to be made about the fact that the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. He didn’t know the exact numbers, but the exact numbers didn’t matter to those just trying to live. He needed them; however, they needed him even more. A weapon was only as good as its aim.
To his left, Cory Shift walked with his head down. The twenty-something former high school guidance counselor had quickly become his default right-hand man. The tall lanky introvert was trustworthy to a fault, but didn’t always see the big picture. He had to be continually convinced that whatever Roland had planned was ethically and morally justified. He was the most difficult nut to crack, but also the most reliable. If the young man gave his word, not another question needed to be asked.
Pulling a two-way radio out of his coat pocket, Roland handed it to his young soldier. “Make sure Marvin is ready. Have him drive straight through, I don’t want a single second of delay.”
Cory took the radio and disappeared into the crowd, his voice barely audible as he moved away. “Marvin, I need an ETA. We’re thirty seconds out …”
With less than fifty yards to the coming intersection, the man from the opposite end of town could be heard shouting into a bullhorn. Mitchell Blake, the well-dressed psychopath, had threatened to drive Roland and his people out of the city, and although his words were lost to the distance, Roland knew exactly what was happening. He planned for it. Hell, he was almost excited to see this day finally taking shape.
Through his nose, Roland pulled in a deep energizing breath. He visualized how the rest of the evening would play out. He would live in his own reality, one that he created. That was the only way. Go through the problem rather than around it, that’s what this world had become. And if you aren’t willing—well then—there really isn’t anything else. He was ready and more than willing to make the necessary sacrifices.
There was a brief moment of pure silence back dropped against the darkening city, and then a second voice. Another man, possibly one of those he’d watched for the last few weeks. Or maybe someone else. Either way it didn’t matter, this would all be over in a few hours.
To his group of followers just over his shoulder, Roland said, “Who’s ready to go home?”
Hoots and hollers came in successive waves as he continued forward, rounding his shoulders and puffing out his chest. Roland briefly closed his eyes and nodded his head. He loved this, almost expected it. And although these people were willing to lay down their lives, they actually meant nothing to him. The bonds that typically grew from common circumstances and proximity no longer held his interest.
Approaching the corner, he began to slow and a knowing hush slowly fell over the crowd. He had given them details of what he figured may take place if Mitchell Blake were foolish enough to show his face, but now that it was here and the earth-rattling explosions were real, he wasn’t so sure.
Roland raised his right hand into the air and started toward the left side of the street. He had sold these people on the fact that this city was theirs, that tonight he would prove it and that tomorrow they would come to realize that paradise still existed. They would become gods among men. He again quoted Hemingway in his final speech before leaving the residential neighborhood they’d called home for the last five weeks.
The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
Those following stopped ten yards back. The eighty-four men and women stood by in tentative silence as Roland stepped quickly across the sidewalk and then to the somewhat dated brick building. He leaned in close, balanced on one foot, and pitched his head around the corner.
With the city continuing to fall toward night, he narrowed his eyes and looked out toward where he imagined Blake and his miniscule army would have taken a stand. Unable to make out much beyond the three vehicles that protruded into the intersection four long blocks away, he stepped back and waved Cory over.
“I need an update, it looks like Blake indeed has the tools he bragged about.”
Out of the crowd, and running as if he knew he was being summoned long before Roland had called, Cory appeared. He was out of breath and although the situation called for it, he looked a bit more shaken than normal. Staring down at the walkie in his right hand and swallowing hard, he was apparently trying to compose himself. “Tobias … he’s with Blake.”
Roland waited for Cory to finally look up. “Yes, I figured.” He took a step toward the much taller young man and then motioned back over his right shoulder. “But we have a job to do and nothing is going to stop that. Least of all that giant buffoon.”
“So, we are going to—” Before Cory had a chance to complete his thought, Roland had already turned away
Again moving back to the corner, Roland took in a long breath through his nose and stepped out into the street beyond. He walked quickly to the island at the center of the roadway, came to a stop, and closed his eyes. With his massive group of followers twenty yards back and now mostly hidden under the cover of darkness, he felt comfortable out in the open.
He didn’t have to wait long as his suspicions were confirmed. The man from the opposite end of the city couldn’t go more than a few minutes without reveling in the sound of his own voice. Even from nearly four football fields away, Mitchell Blake’s voice coming through the bullhorn was as clear as if he were standing on the sidewalk fifteen feet away.
“Ethan Runner … unfortunately you and your friends are simply in the wrong place at the worst possible time. There is more to what’s happening in this city than I can explain at the moment; however, for now all you have to understand is that I’m going to need you and your friends to vacate. You’re going to have to find somewhere else to take up residence and it’s going to need to happen tonight. The sooner the better.”
Mitchell Blake paused to take a quick breath and then continued. “It’s simple supply and demand. There are plenty of other places for you and your friends to go, and the resources afforded by this city are only going to last me so long. So I’m going to graciously allow you and your friends to pick up what belongs to you, cut your losses, and just walk away.”
It was all happening exactly as Roland had expected. He again waited and listened.
After a long moment of silence, Blake started once again. “Listen, I sincerely hope I didn’t harm you or any of your friends in there. It was more of a way of letting you know right out of the gates how serious I am. And although your sister isn’t necessarily my favorite person, I never had any intention of harming her, not now and not then. So, as long as you and your friends go, we won’t have any problems. But it’s going to have to happen right now. My people and I have some work to do that involves destroying that building. I’ll give you ten minutes to get clear, starting now.”
Roland shook his head and cursed under his breath. He walked at a brisk pace back to Cory and then stood before his followers. As he began, his voice quickly escalated to something just shy of shouting. “This is going to happen. You all know why we’re here and what your individual jobs are … it’s time to go to work.”
203
Griffin rushed the group of ten into the gym and stood at the door. He looked toward
the head-high window that overlooked the rear yard and thought that he had seen someone or something crossing the lot. His thoughts drifted back to Ethan and the pair of explosions that had begun whatever this was. With a quick head count, he turned to Tom and narrowed his eyes. “Whatta ya think? We go or we wait?”
Tom looked as though he didn’t understand the question. “Go where? We don’t even know what this is, what’s happening out there. And Ethan, we have to wait for …”
Tom’s voice trailed off. He appeared to have lost his train of thought. He turned to the others who had broken off into smaller groups. They were now talking in hushed tones and eyeing the hallway with nervous expectation.
When it was apparent that Tom wasn’t going to continue, Griffin said, “How far are we from that place you keep talking about?”
Tom shook his head and looked back at Griffin. “What?”
“That place. That abandoned mall where your friends—”
Obviously pulled back to the moment, Tom interrupted, “Harbor Crest, you mean Harbor Crest?”
“Yeah,” Griffin said, “I guess so.”
“You mean the place that I’ve been begging Ethan to go to for the last three weeks? Is that the place you’re asking about?”
Griffin waited. He could see that their present situation had his friend twisting in the wind. Tom hadn’t spoken out of turn once in the last thirty days. In fact, he’d been hoping, and at times urging him to let the real Tom come out and play. Griffin knew that there was no place in this new world for those that second-guessed themselves or their actions.
“Yeah,” Griffin said, his face hardening, “that place.”
“Ethan has said multiple times that this is where we’re staying. We should have left here weeks ago, and you know it.”
Since the first day of the outbreak, Griffin had been working on himself, trying to fit in with these people and all of their individual personalities. He would remind himself that bending was much easier than breaking. When they needed him to be strong and do what the others couldn’t, he stepped up. When they needed him to allow the others to do the same, he backed away. And when they needed his shoulder to lean on, he offered it without question.
There were many times over the past forty-seven days where the threat of death was more real than anything else. Today was no different, well almost no different. Today Griffin was done being the person they needed him to be; today he was simply going to be the guy that kept them alive—whether they liked it or not.
“You looking to run the show?” Griffin’s voice came out louder than expected, although the stunned look on Tom’s face was exactly what he had intended. Without actually having to say the words, he now had the younger man’s full attention. “Because if you are, you shouldn’t be here complaining. You should be figuring out how we get everyone out of here alive. That’s what Ethan’s doing, like it or not.”
Tom rubbed at the growth on his chin, and appeared to be thinking of a response, but then quickly diverted his eyes and dropped his head. And for a brief second, Griffin felt the need to say something. Let his friend off the hook while still keeping him focused. But as fast as the thought came to him, it was gone.
“Emma.” Griffin locked eyes with Ethan’s sister and motioned toward Zach. She gave a thumbs-up and nodded.
And then turning back to Tom he said, “Follow me.”
They moved out into the hall and Griffin handed Tom his two-way radio. He then extended his right hand and offered an even grin. “Get them to the portables, let Ethan know where to meet, but don’t wait. There isn’t time for anything else.”
With a look of uneasy confusion, Tom looked over his shoulder and then back to Griffin. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t need me and you know that. You kept that woman in there alive through the worst of it, now you just need to turn it back on. That instinct that got you through the first two weeks is all you need.”
“What about you?”
Griffin looked back into the hall. He was out of time, they all were. If he didn’t go now, he may as well just give up. And that wasn’t part of his plan, never was. “I’m going after the weapons, just get them to the portables.”
As Griffin turned to walk away, Shannon moved away from the others and around Tom near the door. “Where’s Ethan?”
Griffin breathed out hard and rounding his shoulders, shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Is he okay? Because you know, he wasn’t in any shape to be playing the hero again.”
She was right. Ethan was far from who he had been a few weeks ago. Griffin could see that his friend was trying to regain the confidence and trust of the others, but he wasn’t so sure that now was the time. Running into the unknown in his current condition may actually do the opposite. “He’ll be fine, you know he will.”
Griffin was lying, not only to spare Shannon any undue stress, but also in hopes that he might actually believe it.
She looked back into the gym as Tom began to circle the others, taking a flashlight from Emma and powering it up. “What is this?”
“Just a precaution, I told him to take you all out to—”
Shannon shook her head and motioned toward the front of the school. “No, I mean what is this?”
His head darting from Shannon, to the gym and then back over his shoulder, there were too many things pulling at his mind. He was sure that whatever the next hour held, he and the others needed to leave their present home. He was also certain that without the two black duffles he’d hidden away in a janitor’s closet, their chances of survival dropped to near zero. Then there was the small matter of actually getting all twelve of them away from the war zone that had come to their front door.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But we do need to leave—”
“Leave?”
Shannon didn’t need to elaborate, he knew what she was asking. And although Ethan had run off on his own—taken it upon himself to do things his own way—there was no way Griffin was going to leave his friend behind. “Tom’s going to get you all to the portables … and I’m headed upstairs.”
She cut her eyes at him and biting her lower lip, breathed in slowly through her nose. “You’re going after Ethan and Boone?”
That wasn’t exactly the plan, but it was what she needed to hear. At least for now. He’d make sure that Ethan and Boone both made it to safety, but there were a few other things that had to happen first. “Just go with Tom, make sure everyone gets out. I’ll go for Ethan, you have my word.”
204
His shoulder-length sand colored hair whipped at his face and neck as he crossed the asphalt. He could feel the cold night air pulsing through the thick growth along his chin and below his nose. His arms and legs were heavy and his breathing labored. And as his heart pounded against the inside of his chest like a wild animal attempting to escape its cage, Bryce only prayed that his friend was still here. That this wasn’t all for nothing.
When he was only ten years old, his mother had taken him to the movie theater for the first time. She let him sit in the passenger seat of that fresh-off-the-lot Corolla and even allowed him to choose the music they’d listen to on the trip from their tiny two-bedroom bungalow on the east end of town. The Foo Fighters and Green Day had never sounded better.
There was something strangely cool about his mother singing those lyrics, at the top of her lungs, word … for … word.
Thursday afternoon, the early matinee began at two o’clock. They arrived at one-forty-five and quickly made their way to the window. The pretty red-head sold them one adult and one child. He didn’t care though, he also got to pick the movie. The day couldn’t get any better. Batman and Robin, popcorn and an extra-large soda. This was heaven, or at least what he hoped it would be.
Bryce remembered the excitement. It was nearly too much to handle. He wanted to sprint away from the concession stand and get to the theatre, but he also didn’t want to lose a single piece of popcorn.
So instead, he opted for something closer to a fast walk. And then two steps ahead, he turned to his mother. “Can we sit in the front row?”
She smiled, attempting to keep pace. “That what you want?”
“Yes please.”
He sat mesmerized by the giant screen. Through each of the six trailers and the one-hundred twenty-five-minute movie. Time in the darkened theater seemed to rush by and with each new scene, he wanted for more.
When the credits finally slipped up from the bottom of the screen and Bryce moved to stand, his mother reached for his arm. “Let’s sit for a minute.”
He looked up at her, now curious. “Okay?”
“Did you like it?” she asked.
The ten-year-old Bryce cracked an anxious smile and wiggled in his chair. “Yep, my favorite movie ever!”
“I’m glad.” She paused a moment, looking at the screen through narrowed eyes. “You still want to be an actor one day?”
If it were possible, his smile widened. She knew this had been his dream and although he never had the sense that she was supportive, today something seemed different. “I do mom, I really do.”
“Okay, listen to me.” Her face changed. The half grin she had sported now faded into something else, something he didn’t recognize.
Bryce straightened in his seat and tried to match her gaze.
“You can do whatever it is you want in this world. There is nothing that is beyond your capabilities and don’t ever let someone tell you that you can’t. If you want to be an actor, then you go out there and be an actor. Be the best actor ever. I know that someday you’re going to be something special, you’re going to do things that make people feel the way you do right now, I promise.”
He didn’t completely understand what she was trying to do that day, why she’d taken him out of school and allowed him to have more fun than any other day in his life. He also didn’t initially appreciate what that day in the theatre would do for his self-confidence or his motivation for success. His path was set and although he hadn’t realized it at the age of ten, he never really had any other choice.