Under a Broken Sun (11 page)

We ran along the far wall to the loading dock.  We tried the bay door, but it wouldn’t move.  Tried the back door, locked solid.  No rear windows.  “What the heck do we do now, dumbass?” Tommy hissed. 

“Hold it!” came a shout.  We turned, and soldier pointed the muzzle of his AR15 right at my chest.  I raised my arms and Tommy did the same. 

Something about the guard struck me as strange.  Even the lamest weekend warrior at least seemed a little bulky.  This guy couldn't have been more than five-six at most, maybe a buck twenty-five soaking wet.  I walked down the steps that led to the rear door to stand in front of him.  My six-three frame almost buried him.  Tommy followed behind. 

“What the hell are you two doing?”  The guard said.  He started another sentence but didn’t finish.  I grabbed the gun and yelled for Tommy to duck.  Tommy hit the ground and while the guard and I struggled for control of the gun it went off, blowing several holes in the rear door.  We both stopped struggling in surprise, but I took quicker advantage of the moment than he.  I wrangled the gun away from him and in one fluid motion clocked his face with the butt of it.  He dropped almost as fast as Tommy, but this guy was out.

“C’mon,” I said to Tommy, helping him up.  “Get up and help me lift this guy out of here.”

“Where to?”

“Inside.”  I walked back up the stairs to the rear door and kicked it near the handle.  It flew open.  Tommy and I lifted up the body of the guardsman, who let out a low moan as we did so.  We carried him up the stairs of the dock and into the darkness.

A torch, even a fucking lighter would've been helpful.  You’d never think that a place so big could be so dark when there’s no power at all.  It took forever for our eyes to adjust, and the adrenaline pulsing through my brain didn't help.  Someone must've heard the shots.

I grabbed a roll of twine near the loading dock and returned to the soldier, just stirring awake.  Tommy held the AR15 at him, finger off the trigger like a pro.  I bound the soldier’s hands behind him, then his legs, tying the best knot I knew, which probably sucked.  Still, I pulled it tight enough to cause him to suck in air through gritted teeth. 

Something stuck out of the soldier’s back pants pocket.  A piece of paper.  Curious, I pulled it out and opened the door to the let in some of the night’s moonlight.  The paper had typed lettering on it – it didn’t look like it came from a computer.  All it said was this:

THE TIME OF CHRIST HAS COME

THE BATTLE FOR ARMAGEDDON IS IN CHICAGO

JOIN FORCES, SPREAD THE WORD

MEET US THERE IN ONE WEEK’S TIME

REV. JESSE HILL

GOD BLESS, AND GOOD LUCK

I grabbed the soldier’s shirt and brought his face to mine.  “Where the fuck did you get this?”  I shook him out of his stupor.  “WHERE?”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me.  “Everyone has them.  Everyone knows about you and your kind.  You can’t stop the return.”

“You were surprised when your rifle went off.  You’ve never fired it in your life.  You’re not a real soldier are you?”

“A soldier for Christ.  Yes.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Forty-five.  Coming tonight.  For supplies.  They will kill you and your kind.”

“How’d you get the weapons?”

“You’d,” he started to drift off again, “you'd be surprised.  How easy.”

He passed out again.  I dropped him down to the floor.  These “soldiers” weren’t National Guardsmen at all.  They’d stolen everything they had, or were gun nuts just waiting for this day to come.  Demented looters.  Dangerous and demented organized into religious zealots.

Tommy stood behind me.  “What do we do now?”

“Grab some stuff and get the hell out of here.  We’ve got to get on the road to Chicago.”

We grabbed another gym bag and a backpack for each of us.  Navigating pitch black aisles slowed us down; we had to feel the merchandise for something that would work.  I always thought being deaf would be the worst handicap, but I began to think being blind would suck more.

We found diapers, then a whole shitload of dry goods.  A smell like decaying road kill came from meats rotting somewhere.   We swept jars of baby-food into the backpack.  I thought about the milk, but if the meat smelled that bad, the milk definitely wasn’t going to be any better.

The back door opened and we heard voices from the rear of the store.  I ducked.  “Fuck, Tommy, get down!”  Lights bounced around the walls and ceiling.  Torches. 

Then we heard a voice barking commands: “Vaughn, dry goods up ahead two-hundred feet.  Dennison, camping gear to the right seventy-five feet.  And Terrelli, get the guns and ammo.  Everyone else grab clothing, sun screen, and anything else you can find helpful.”

He was checking off items right from my father’s list.  But how did they know?  

No time to figure out.  Footsteps came closer, in the aisle next to us.  We made our way to the back where the light was, when we heard a shout.  “Reynolds!  Over here!  McGwire’s tied up!” 

Boots shuffled on the floor as the group gathered in the back.  No good going that way.  I grabbed for Tommy’s shoulders, but he wasn’t there.  “Tommy,” I whispered.  “Tommy!” 

“Spread out and search every aisle.  Finds these fuckers,” Reynolds said. 

I made my way to the front doors, feeling along the way for something to break the front doors with.  Tommy’d have to find his own way out.  I didn’t have time to wait.  I rammed into a checkout counter, which nearly took my balls off, then limped to the front of the store.  I could see the torchlight bobbing behind me in the aisles, coming towards me.  I grabbed something in front of me but it was too light.  Grabbed something else – a weight or something.  Must’ve been ten pounds.  Perfect.  I moved to the glass doors, reared back, and heaved.

The shattering woke up the whole world.  “Over here!”  Someone shouted.  I ran though the shattered remnants of the front sliding door, turned, and saw Tommy running for me.

“Adam,” he pleaded.  “Wait.”  But I couldn’t.  He had a mob after him armed like the soldiers they pretended to be.  A single gunshot erupted and Tommy dropped like he just ran into tripwire.  He fell and didn’t move, and I didn’t hang around to find out how bad it was.

I ran to the side of the building towards the horses.  I climbed aboard mine, and left Tommy’s bucking and neighing from the shots.  I didn’t want to drag anything extra along.  I still had my backpack but Tommy had half the food.  Including the baby food.  I couldn’t go back empty handed.  Didn’t matter now.  I kicked the horse into a gallop, clung to the saddle horn for dear life, and bounced away, never looking back.

12.   

The sun rose with a fresh smell of nature, and the solitary calls of a bird.   My chin drooped to my chest as I struggled to stay awake; and my mind spun so fast with thoughts and questions that I thought for sure I'd devolve into madness.  I just wanted to fall asleep and wake up in a normal world.  With all the insanity, I never stopped to realize how utterly alone I was.  People think of being alone as being without any other human beings.  But I had Marilyn, Ashley, and, well, I used to have Tommy.  Still, that didn’t clear up the loneliness.   I think you can be surrounded by people and still feel alone, because none of them know who you really are.  Even though Marilyn and I were cutters (
was she cutting now?)
she still didn’t know me well enough to know how I felt.  And that means she didn’t really know who I was.  No one did. 

Not even my dad. 

I clung to the hope that if anyone
had
to learn more about you,
had
to care about you and how you were feeling, it was your dad.  Especially in a crunch like this, right?  Ok, so he never did know me as I was growing up, but he left me that message.   He trusted me with his info.  He must’ve cared. 

I’d find out soon.  But how soon?  The Whackjobs were on the move to Chicago.  They thought the antichrist was there.  They’d burn the city to the ground.  Forty-five of them here, how many elsewhere?  I had to get to Chicago.  I had to leave now.

I came to the top of a hill, and below us Tommy’s house and barn spread out like a painting.  I knew better now and covered myself in sunscreen. 

I could see for miles around on this hill, but there I didn't have the luxury of time to enjoy the scenery.  White streaks of foam dripped from my horse’s mouth, and the air felt as dry as a photograph.  Dark patches along the horse's neck showed the sweat gathering, and matched the stains on my own gray t-shirt.  The horse threw his head back, breathing shallower, pleading for a break.  I looked for any kind of shelter, but the nearest thing seemed to be Tommy’s house.  Maybe that clump of trees up ahead. 
Yeah, I could just rest there for a while.  Let the sun go down some more.  What the hell, I've got all the time in the world, right?

I kicked the horse forward, getting the hang of making it respond to my commands.  I turned to see where I had come from, how far it really was, now that it was daylight. 

I didn’t have all the time in the world.

Behind me, in the distance, clouds of dust spiraled up in the air as troops, hundreds of them, marched in formation from where Tommy and I stood not three hours ago.  Way in front were three men on horses.  One of them had binoculars, and although the horse riders were no bigger than the tip of my thumb, I could see from where I stood that the binoculars were pointing at me.  They were following me.

I kicked the horse into high gear, and reluctantly it obeyed, galloping down the hill to Tommy’s house.  We had maybe five, ten minutes.

I threw open the door, saw Marilyn shoot up, and the baby, asleep on the floor, let loose a startled cry.  “Where’s Ashley?” I asked.  Marilyn sprung up and wrapped her arms around me.

“Oh God, we thought you were dead,” she cried into my neck. 

"You ok?  Where's Ashley?"

“She’s upstairs,” she said.  “With Tommy.”

Ashley came downstairs.  “Adam?”  She ran the rest of way to me and wrapped her arms around my waist, burying her head in my chest.  “I’m so glad you’re ok,” she said.

“Tommy’s back?”

“Yeah, upstairs.  He got shot in the shoulder too.  Like me.”

“Is he ok?  Good enough to walk?”

“Probably, why?”

I looked at the two of them and then started moving, throwing things into my gym bag and backpack.  “No time to explain.  We’ve got to move.  They’re coming.”

“Who?”  Marilyn asked.

“The...whatever they are...those nutjobs that shot Tommy.  They followed us here.  C’mon, move!  Ashley, go get Tommy.  Ask him for a backpack or anything he can spare.  Pack as much as you can but only what we’ll need.  You know the list.”

Ashley shot upstairs.  Marilyn didn’t move.  She simply turned, bent down, and lifted Eve up to her shoulder.  “Adam, I’m not going,” she announced.

I stopped packing.  “C'mon Marilyn, quit fucking around.  We've gotta move.”

She sat down on the couch.

"You're serious."

"It's Reverend Hill's followers, isn't it?"

I nodded.  She looked up at me.  "They won't stop chasing you.  And we can’t keep hauling Eve around.  It’s not safe out there for a baby and she'll slow us down.”

"Then leave her," I said.

"Are you insane?"

I knelt in front of her.  "Marilyn, in ten minutes they'll be here and
they
can take care of the baby."

"I can stall them, redirect them.  I know these people, Adam; I was brought up by them."

“Jesus, Marilyn, these guys will kill you.  They’re serious.”

“They won’t hurt the baby.”

“Bullshit.  I’m not willing to take that chance.  C’mon.”  I grabbed her arm but she pulled it away.

“No.”

“Marilyn.  They.  Will.  Kill you.  No bullshit.”

This time she took my face in her hands.  "This is what I'm supposed to do.  I know it."

I held back the tears, and fought back an army of anger.  Why was she doing this to me?  Now?  "I need you," I said.

"Not as much as you think."

She leaned back and gave Eve a bottle - a real baby bottle.  “Where’d you get that?” I asked her.

“Tommy brought it back for me.  Go.  Before they see you.  I'll be ok."

Tommy?  He was shot.  If he did manage to get a bottle with milk or formula or whatever the hell Eve was drinking, he didn’t find it when we were searching.  He was given it.

“They won’t hurt the baby,” Marilyn repeated.

Ashley came downstairs with Tommy.  In the distance, I could almost hear the marching footsteps on the ground.  I saw Tommy with a bulge in his back where the fresh bandages were.

"You son of a bitch," I said walking towards him.

Ashley pushed him back.  "Adam, what's your problem?"

"You led them here, you DUMB SON OF A BITCH!"

I went for his throat.  How could anyone be so fucking stupid?  “You accepted their gifts.  They probably would've given you a lift.  Made themselves out to be real sweethearts for you didn’t they?”

Ashley pushed me backwards with a strength I would never have guessed she had.

"Dude," Tommy said.  "I didn't have a choice.  What was I supposed to do, just stand there?  They patched me up.  They let me live.  So FUCK YOU if you don't like it.”

He pushed past me.  Ashley looked up at me as she marched past as well.  "Nice, Adam.  Real nice."

I turned to Marilyn.  She smiled up at me and then pulled Eve up to her lips and kissed her softly.  "Go."

I wanted to yell at her, tell her fuck herself.  Scream like a fucking kid.  But I couldn't.  I bottled it up, safe in the thought that I had a little sharp knife that would open that bottle later.  Fuck infection. 

I turned to go.  Ashley looked at Marilyn, a tear forming in her eye.  She bent down, picked up a small teddy bear that was lying on the ground, and handed it to Eve.  Tommy, standing next to Ashley, said, “You gonna be ok, Marilyn?”

Marilyn looked up at him with eyes glistening and smiled.  “We’ll be fine.”