Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (134 page)

***

Mike splashed the gasoline all over the basement. He poured it on the walls, the floor, the couches, shelves, everywhere. He threw the can in the center of the room and backed up all the way to the stairs. He pulled a match from his pocket.

The head of the match scratched across the box and ignited into a tiny, yellow flame. Mike tossed it on the ground and watched the fire spread in a red glow around the basement.

He rushed up the basement stairs and down the hallway to the kitchen where the garage entrance was. Smoke rose from the basement, chasing him. He turned the corner into the kitchen when the front door finally gave way and Tim burst inside.

Before Mike could get a shot off Tim threw his pistol at him, sending the gun ricocheting off Mike’s shotgun. It gave Tim just enough time to fly into Mike, slamming him into the wall.

Tim sent his fists into Mike’s ribs. Mike doubled over with each vicious blow.

Mike grabbed the butt of the shotgun and smacked it into Tim’s head, relinquishing the assault on himself. Mike’s fist landed against Tim’s jaw. Tim countered with a left cross. Mike blocked it. Tim grabbed Mike’s head with both hands, and then head butted him. Blood spurted from Mike’s nose and he fell to his knees.

Tim came up behind Mike and put him in a headlock. Tim’s muscles ripped through his arms, squeezing Mike’s neck, chocking the life out of him.

Mike stretched out his arms trying to free himself, gasping for breath. The smoke from the basement was getting heavy now. The flames had crawled their way into the halls and were marching down toward the front of the house where the two men were.

“You kill my wife and think you can get away with it?” Tim asked.

***

The smoke had filtered into the garage. Ulysses looked at Anne and then reached for the keys in the ignition. Anne’s hand jolted forward to stop him.

“Wait!”

“Anne, we have to go now.”

She looked at Freddy and Kalen in the back seat; both of whom were coughing from the smoke filling the garage. She let go of Ulysses’ hand and he started the engine.

Ulysses pumped the gas pedal a few times before the engine roared to life. Anne reached up to pull the cord above them that sent the garage door flying open and Ulysses slammed on the gas.

The Jeep tore out of the driveway and into the street. The crowds around the house had scattered and Anne looked behind her watching the smoke rising from all of the windows of the house into the night sky.

They were almost to the end of the street when Ray popped out from behind one of the parked cars. He held both hands in the air, one clutching a rifle in his right hand.

Ulysses slammed on the brakes, coming inches from hitting him.

“Thought I’d offer my services,” Ray said running to the side of the Jeep.

Ulysses shook his head at Anne, but she unlocked the door and he climbed in the back seat with the kids. Ulysses jammed the shifter back into first, hit the clutch and took off down the road.

***

Mike gasped for breath. He squirmed, thrashed, and elbowed Tim in the ribs, but nothing would loosen his grip.

The world around him was beginning to fade. He could feel the heat from the flames burning his flesh. He caught a glimpse of a picture of his family through the flames, the fire swallowing them up and crumpling the photo into ash and smoke.

The pop that he heard sounded distant and faint when Mike’s head hit the floor. The blackness started to clear a little. He felt a hand on the back of his shirt pulling him backwards. He could see the damage of the fire more clearly than before. The fire danced along the walls. The floor above the stairs collapsed sending a flurry of sparks into the air. Then he saw blood dripping from the side of Tim’s head and watched his body catch fire.

The heat was the first thing Mike felt. He was sweating profusely. He threw the covers off him and caught a glimpse of the bandage on his arm. He jerked his head up to get a better look, but fell back down on the pillow. He placed his fingers gently onto his temple and felt the bandage wrapped around his head.

“Thank, God. You’re awake.”

Nelson came in and set a tray down on the nightstand next to the bed. Mike watched him examine the bandages.

“Looks like they’re in need of a fresh wrap,” Nelson said.

“W-what? Where’s Anne? Where are Freddy and Kalen? Where’s my-”

Nelson pushed him back down when Mike started to rise. Mike tried to resist, but was too weak.

“You need to rest. I was barely able to pull you out of the fire,” Nelson replied. “Here drink some of this.”

Nelson tilted a glass to Mike’s lips and he drank thirstily. The water spilled, hitting his chin and rolling onto his chest. Nelson pulled the glass back and rested it on the table.

“What happened?” Mike said.

“When I heard the gunshots I took Sean down to the cellar. When I saw the smoke coming from your house I ran over. By the time I got over there the whole place was on fire. The front door was knocked down and I could see you and Tim on the floor. At first I thought the two of you were both unconscious, but then I saw Tim choking. There was a pistol on the ground and I picked it up. When I got to the door I-”

His throat caught.

“I killed Tim and dragged you out of there,” Nelson finished.

Mike watched Nelson close his eyes and take a few breaths before he looked at him again.

“Did you see my family get out?” Mike asked.

“No, but I heard a few people talk about it today. Most everybody left after what happened, but a few stuck around. I think a lot of people were afraid the fire would spread to the other houses, but it just collapsed on itself.”

Nelson saw the stab of pain shoot through Mike’s face.

“Sorry.”

But Mike wasn’t thinking about the house. He forced himself upright and swung his legs to the side of the bed.

“I have to get to Ohio,” Mike said.

“Whoa, no, you need to rest. I think you have a concussion.”

“Tim didn’t hit me that hard.”

Mike rose to his feet and then immediately fell back down on the bed. He felt dizzy. He clutched the sheets into a ball-sized fist on the bed, trying to anchor himself down.

“Look whatever it is you want to do there’s no way you’ll survive the trip in your current state. You need to rest, at least for tonight.”

Mike eyed the tray on the nightstand. There was fresh gauze and an unopened can of peaches. It was one of the same cans Mike had given him a few days ago. He picked it up and rolled it in his hands.

“Hey, I’m just repaying a favor,” Nelson said.

***

When Mike walked out in the afternoon heat the next day and took a look at the smoldering wreckage of his house he wasn’t sure what to expect. The roof and second floor had completely disintegrated. Only pieces of the couch, kitchen, and garage remained intact.

He sifted through some of the ashes looking for anything that was salvageable. He looked for any food, tools, or ammo left behind that would still be useful, but had no luck. The one thing he really wanted to find though was a picture. He had hoped at least one of them survived. They didn’t.

“Find anything?” Nelson asked upon his return.

“No, but we need to get moving. It’ll take a three us three days to make it to the cabin.”

“We?”

“There’s nothing left here, Nelson. If you and Sean stay you’ll starve to death, or be killed by the next gang of raiders that comes through here.”

“You think we can make it?”

Mike closed his eyes and thought of the last glimpse of his wife. He could feel her lips on his and the whisper of “I love you.” He saw his children lying in their beds, sleeping with the morning light cascading into their rooms.

“We’ll make it.”

The smell in the room was unbearable. The number of people in the relief center, combined with no showers, no A/C, and the summer heat beating down on the building made the air thick with human stench.

Katie’s hands were dried with dirt and grime. The white paint on her fingernails flaked off in chips. The only jewelry still on her was the wedding band around her left finger. The diamond ring was stolen, but she managed to keep the gold band.

Katie watched the bodies shuffle in between the cots spread out on the floor. The dark circles forming from the sleepless nights weighed heavy under her eyes. All she could think about was her family. She had no way of contacting them, no way of knowing if they were alright, no way of telling them that she was alive.

It had been almost two days without a fight breaking out, but people were getting edgy again. She knew it was just a matter of time before the fuse ran out. The food rations had decreased dramatically, along with access to the water tanks.

Guards armed with automatic rifles kept watch on them. They patrolled the border of the room and two were stationed at the food and water counter.

An elderly man with hunched shoulders and liver spots dotting the top of his bald head approached the guards barricading the food rations. He looked two steps from death. He pointed toward the counter, his finger trembling in the air.

“Sir, dinner rations will be served at 6pm. We will notify the group when it’s time to approach. Please return to your space.”

The old man didn’t walk back. He inched a few steps forward, still pointing at the counter behind the guards. Each of the guards was a good foot taller and one hundred pounds heavier than the old man.

The same guard that spoke to him let out a sigh. Keeping his rifle in one hand he grabbed the old man with the other and walked him across the room. Everyone stared at them. The guard wasn’t forceful, and the old man didn’t resist, but the sight made everyone feel uncomfortable, some more than others.

“Hey, dick, just give him something to eat.”

The comment came from a young man in his twenties. His shirt was stained with sweat rings. His hair was untamed and his face was smudged with a week’s worth of dirt.

The guard ignored him. He continued escorting the old man across the room.

“He’s hungry!” the young man said.

The guard released his grip of the old man and brought both hands to his rifle. He brought the gun to his shoulder, aiming the barrel at the young man’s head.

“We’re all hungry, and all of us will eat, but not until 6pm. Understand?” the guard asked.

The young man didn’t back down. A few others gathered around him. The other guards converged on them, their rifles aimed and ready to shoot.

Katie gripped the edge of her cot. Her knuckles turned white against the faded blue padding clutched in her hands.

Katie slowly rose from her cot and backed away from the center of the room. She inched her way to the back wall. A few people followed her lead, but most of the room gathered in the center, either out of defiance or wanting to see what would happen.

“Everyone disperse and return to your beds,” the guard said.

“You think you have the right to tell us what to do?” the young man said.

“I’m warning you.”

Katie’s back bumped against the wall. She felt herself trying to push her way through the concrete. Her heart beat faster. She wanted to leave. She had to get out.

The crowd around the young man grew, and with it the young man’s boldness. He stepped closer to the guard. The rifle still aimed at his head.

“You’re warning me?” the young man said.

“Stand down.”

“You gonna shoot us?”

“Stay where you are and stand down!”

Katie jumped as a hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Mrs. Miller, we need to leave,” Sam said.

Sam’s jacket was off, exposing his shoulder holster, his pistol sitting in it. The top button to his collar was undone and his tie hung loosely around his neck. Sweat collected on his forehead.

The young man continued to move toward the guard. Each step was slow, deliberate, testing the waters before moving forward.

“You have enough bullets for all of us?” the young man asked.

The young man reached his hand into his pocket, slowly.

“Put your hands up!” the guard ordered.

Katie felt Sam pulling her along the edge of the wall. She could tell that he was heading for the door. Her eyes kept glancing to the center of the room.

The young man’s hand lingered in his pocket. The crowd around him had grown to fifty plus people. All six guards’ fingers itched over their rifle’s triggers.

The moment the young man jerked his hand out of his pocket the guards open fired. A spray of bullets sent him hurtling backwards to the floor. Everyone outside the circle of guards ducked to the ground, while everyone inside the circle sprinted toward the closest guard to them.

The gunshots echoed through the room. The massive flood of people rushing to grab the guards’ guns, or raid the food and water, sent the room into a frenzy.

Katie’s arm almost pulled out of her socket once Sam started running. The two sprinted out the door with screams and gunfire exploding behind them.

The two of them ran through the herd of people fleeing the relief center. Outside people scattered everywhere. They put as much distance between themselves and the Red Cross relief center as they could.

The streets of downtown Pittsburgh were dead. Abandoned cars filled the streets. Broken windows lined the storefronts, their shelves completely looted. Trash littered the sidewalk and overflowed.

              After running a few blocks Katie ripped her arm from Sam and stopped. She bent over trying to catch her breath. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday and was severely dehydrated. Bits of white crust formed at the corners of her mouth.

“Wait… Sam… I need… a break.”

Sam pulled a half-full bottle of water from his pant pocket. He held it out to her. The water was warm, but she gulped it down. She let a mouthful linger for a moment, letting the water splash around her arid mouth. She handed the bottle back to Sam who screwed the cap back on and returned the bottle to his pocket.

“How’d you get your gun back?” Katie asked.

“All of the guards disappeared except for the ones in the food hall. I rummaged through the weapons they confiscated and found my side arm. I figured it was just a matter of time before the other guards took off or the place became overrun.”

“What do we do now?”

“We need to keep moving.”

“And go where, Sam? That place was supposed to be safe. Those people were supposed to help us!”

She threw her hands up in exhaustion, pointing at her surroundings.

“There isn’t anything left, Sam.”

Katie leaned against the vehicle behind her. Her purple blouse was torn and dirty, her pinstriped pants stained with the three-day-old blood she wiped from her hands.

“I’ll get you back to your family, Mrs. Miller. I promise,” Sam said.