Desolation (33 page)

 

The man groaned in pain and pulled the trigger.

 

The shotgun blast flew high and pelted the roof of the cargo
hold.

 

Before the second man could react, Jerri unloaded three rounds
into his back.

 

The man jolted with each shot and collapsed on the ground,
dropping his shotgun beside him.

 

Jerri, panting, quickly pointed the pistol back towards the man
who had opened fire on her.

The man was struggling to stand as blood ran down his leg and
pooled at his feet. He was trying to load another shell into the chamber
with badly shaking hands.

She pulled the trigger.
‘
CLICK
’
The pistol was depleted.
She pulled the trigger three more times in a futile panic –
‘
CLICK’

‘CLICK’
‘CLICK’

 

Fortunately she didn’t need to shoot him again; her first two
shots were sufficient.

The man coughed up a spurt of blood as his knees buckled. He
dropped the shell he was trying to shove into the chamber and collapsed
on the pavement.

Jerri saw a multitude of shadows running towards her in the
distance and heard shouting.

She picked up one of the shotguns and quickly chambered a fresh
round. With air burning in her lungs, she ran the opposite way across the
tarmac and ignored her injured leg as it ached and throbbed with each
stride.

The group behind her grew closer.

Jerri took a hard right and ran into an alley in-between two empty
aircraft hangars. The alley was overgrown with grass and vines. The steel
paneling on the sides of the hangars were covered with rust and were
coming loose in many places.

As she ran through the alley, vines and saplings slapped against
her skin. Each lash against her swollen leg felt excoriating but the
adrenaline from the pursuit gave her the power to overcome the pain. She
darted around a toppled air-conditioning unit and came to the end of the
alley.

She found her escape cut short by a chain-link fence that
surrounded the expanse of the runway.

“
Fuck!
” Jerri shouted, terrified. She slammed the butt of the
shotgun against the ramshackle fence. The fence swayed violently with her
blow and drew her attention down to the ground.

The chain-link was not secured along the bottom of the fence.
The ties that once fastened the chain-link to the rail had rusted off.

Jerri heard the crowd as they started to sloppily enter the
alleyway, flattening underbrush and snapping saplings in their wake. She
dropped the shotgun and quickly got on the ground. She pulled up on the
chain-link with both hands and rolled underneath it onto the opposite
side. She reached back under the fence and retrieved the shotgun she left
behind.

Looking up, she saw an ominous sign attached to the fence:

 

Her stomach knotted at what could have been a costly mistake
before things went to hell. She stood, placing most of her weight on her
uninjured leg, and frantically searched for any sort of shelter.

A long narrow street ran next to the airfield. The pavement was
cracked, the streetlamps were shattered, and mounds of old trash in red
biohazard bags were piled on the curb. Countless five-story tall tenements
lined the side of the road and solar power arrays crowned their rooftops.
Most of the buildings were dark and abandoned, some were caved-in, but
there were a few that showed signs of inhabitants and had their front
entrance lights on.

The building across the street from Jerri was one of the few that
had its main entry and most of its windows lit. It wasn’t her first choice
for a hideaway, but the other two buildings next to it were dark and had
their front doors boarded-up and sloppily spray-painted with
‘QUARANTINE’ in large orange letters.

She heard her pursuers closing in on her.

 

Without wasting another second, Jerri ran across the street
towards the tenement.

 

A jeep turned from an adjacent street and was approaching
quickly from the distance.

Jerri bounded through the grossly overgrown courtyard, past a
row of moldy wooden park benches, up the cracked cement staircase, and
to the front door. The building’s doors were massive and looked like they
came off of an old cathedral. A sign above the door read: HOPE
BUILDING – DORMITORY 28.

She tried turning the knob…

 

The old door creaked loudly as it opened and Jerri ran inside,
closing the door shut behind her.
45

T
he building’s lobby looked like that of a cheap hotel. Blue
carpet, worn and covered in mysterious stains, covered the floor and the
walls were adorned with tacky pictures of sunsets and oceanic vistas.
Trash bags and dirty clothing were piled along the sides of the room and
swarmed by roaches. Flickering fluorescent lights dangled from the
ceiling. A single unmanned reception desk adorned with a placard that
read SECURITY sat against the far wall of the room, unmanned, inbetween an elevator that had an ‘Out of Service’ sign on it and a staircase
that had its door open.

An archaic framed poster hung above the desk:

 

“Typhus?” Jerri said as she stared at the notice signs plastered
over the poster. She wasn’t even sure what the disease was but the
quarantined buildings started to make sense.

She heard the jeep squeal to a stop outside and then heard bursts
of sporadic gunfire and shouting.

 

Jerri buried her nose in her elbow to help mask the stench of
mold and decay and hurried into the staircase.

 

Stale, humid air hung in the dark stairwell. The paint was peeling
off the walls and the iron handrails were rusty.

Jerri hurried up the stairs as fast as she could, skipping two or
three at time. The shotgun grew heavy in her arms and her legs felt weak.
She ran past the second floor door… the third… and up past the fourth.
By the time she reached the fifth floor she heard footsteps quickly
ascending up the staircase behind her.

She slammed against the fifth floor door and nearly smashed
through the rotting wood.

 

The door gave and struck the wall, punching a hole in the damp
drywall.

 

Jerri entered the hall and slammed the door shut behind her.

The fifth floor hallway was long, narrow, and had puddles of
water standing on the soggy carpet. Leaking water and sewage pipes ran
the expanse of the ceiling. Doors lined both sides of the hall but many of
them were covered with plywood.

A handful of people wrapped in blankets and shawls were sitting
in the hallway, trembling, coughing, as they sat in somber silence. They
froze at the sight of Jerri and quickly scurried away into their rooms like
roaches, locking their doors behind them.

Jerri ran halfway down the hall, turned towards the staircase, and
brought the shotgun up against her shoulder. She kept the barrel pointed
towards the stairwell door and kept a finger curled around the trigger.

The door creaked open…
Jerri opened fire.

The buckshot spread wide and peppered the door, splintering
away large sections of wood.

 

Jerri stumbled backwards and nearly dropped the shotgun,
forgetting how tremendous the recoil was with that type of weapon.
“Drop your gun! We’re friendlies!” a man shouted from the
stairwell.

 

“I doubt that,” Jerri replied as she racked another shell in the
chamber.

“Look,” the man hollered from the stairwell. “We watched you
step out of that plane and we saw what you did to those two men! Trust
me we’re on the same side!”

“Side? What sides? Who are you?!” Jerri shouted as she held the
shotgun steady.

“I’m Lt. Willow with FEMA! I’m here with three of my men. I
know you don’t know what’s going on but we’re not the only ones who
heard what you did and time isn’t on our side. I here to extradite you to
safety before more of them show up,” the man said.

Jerri heard murmuring coming from behind the door she was
standing next to.

“I’m going to step out now,” Lt. Willow explained as he
cautiously opened the stairwell door a second time. “If you want to shoot
me then go ahead but I’m one of the few here who mean you no harm.”

Lt. Willow walked out into the middle of the hall holding a
Beretta pistol in his right hand. He was tall and lanky with ghostly pale
skin and sandy blonde hair; he looked like an apparition. His black FEMA
uniform was soiled and wet. Sores and scabs were visible on his face and
his hands.

Jerri could tell that at one time he was probably quite handsome
but now the sight of him made her cringe.

 

Lt. Willow’s eyes lit up at the sight of her and a smirk formed
across his crackled lips.

“Look at you…” he said with admiration. “Your complexion…
your hair… you’re… beautiful. You’re beautiful
and
healthy.” He took a
step forward. “I have to ask… Where did you fly in from?”

“…Camp 6,” Jerri said with slight trepidation. She took a step
backwards.

 

She listened as the murmuring coming from inside the apartment
next to her grew more agitated.

 

Lt. Willow looked like revitalized by the news. His eyes lit up and
a smile washed over his face.

 

“So one still stands,” Lt. Willow said wistfully as he held out a
hand towards her. “Come on and let’s get you out of here!”

Suddenly the apartment door next to Jerri flung open and a
gangly man covered with rashes lunged out at her wielding a crude
homemade knife.

“Fucking government whore!” the man said as he shoved Jerri to
the ground. “You should’ve stayed down there with the rest of the
cowards!”

Jerri fell against the wall and dropped the shotgun.

 

The man quickly leaned down and started to raise the knife above
his head–

 

Lt. Willow opened fire.

 

The bullet struck the side of the man’s head and erupted out the
other side, slathering the wall with blood and chunks of gray matter.
The man dropped the knife and collapsed on the soggy carpet.

Other apartment doors started to crack open and residents
peeked out into the hall. The people started to murmur angrily amongst
each other as they stared at the slain man in the hall.

Lt. Willow ran towards Jerri and reached a hand down to help her
up.

 

Jerri batted his hand away and got back on her feet, quickly
picking her shotgun back up.

 

“Let’s go,” Lt. Willow whispered harshly. He turned and made
his way back towards the stairwell.

 

Jerri followed.

 

People covered with rashes and sores started to walk out of their
apartments and congregate in the hall...

 

“Back in your rooms!” Lt. Willow ordered as he shoved through
the growing crowd.

The orders fell on deaf ears.
Lt. Willow raised his pistol and pointed it in front of him.
“I said get back!” Lt. Willow shouted.

The crowd didn’t budge and continued to stare daggers at him as
he forced his way past. They were eerily silent aside from the persistent
rattling coughs.

“Get out of the fucking way!” Jerri shouted, terrified. She pointed
the shotgun at the carpet and pulled the trigger; this time she made sure to
anticipate the recoil.

The startled occupants in the hallway shuffled back against the
wall and hesitantly allowed them to pass.

Jerri followed Lt. Willow into the stairwell and closed the door
behind her. She jumped as a bottle shattered against the other side of the
door.

Two men stood waiting in the stairwell with pistols. They were
wearing black riot armor that read ‘FEDERAL POLICE’ in reflective
silver lettering and wore bulky ballistic helmets. One of the officers
coughed violently, face covered with lesions.

Jerri stared at them, confused.
“What in the hell happened here? Have you lost any and all–”

“I’ll explain later,” Lt. Willow interrupted. “Right now we need to
keep moving.”

 

One of the officers handed Lt. Willow a helmet.

 

Lt. Willow took the helmet and quickly put it on his head,
fastening down the worn straps.