Yield (44 page)

“
Let
’
s get the hell out of here! Okay?
”
The hulking black man pushes past him and heads toward the front.

Derrick hesitates for just a moment before thrusting the gun barrel back into Chris
’
s face.
“
Be seeing you later,
”
he spits. The Asian raises the weapon up to his shoulder, slamming it into Chris as he passes.

Glass crunches under their savage feet.
It
sound
s
like bones cracking in the distance.

Chris collapses to a knee, his breath roaring out. The teenager coughs and gasps for air. The sick twisting in his stomach almost makes him gag. He glances fearfully behind him before forcing his shaking legs to stand.
“
Devin,
”
he shouts weakly. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is sand.
“
Devin!!
”
Chris yells louder. He stumbles forward in search of the fireman.

As he nears the far end of the store, Devin emerges from the last aisle. Isabel
’
s black bag is slung behind him, stuffed full of food. Abd soon follows, his sling now bulging with bags of wheat crackers and water bottles. Devin
’
s grin fades when he sees the shaken look in the teen
’
s eyes.
“
I
’
m fine,
”
the fireman says reassuringly.
“
That gunshot was up front somewhere.
”
He looks around for Isabel and Terra.
“
Where are
…
”

“
We need to get out of here,
”
Chris interrupts hoarsely. A silent panic screams from his eyes.
“
Now.
”

“
Okay,
”
Devin says, his own eyes narrowing. There
’
s something in Chris
’
s face that worries him. The kid doesn
’
t scare easily, but he looks terrified.

Devin opens his bag and digs through it as they set off towards the front.
“
There wasn
’
t a lot left. I got some snacks, a couple of drinks, and some signal flares if we need them.
”
His hand shakes. It pauses as he touches the gentle curves of another pleasure, slipped casually into the bag.
“
That was about it,
”
he hurriedly continues.
“
Abd grabbed some health crappers and bubble water.
”

“
Wheat crackers,
”
Abd corrects,
“
called Tasaly. And carbonated water. It helps settle my stomach.
”

“
Whatever tugs your sails, mate,
”
Devin says. He looks questioningly back at the 17-year-old. A strange fear is growing in the basketball star
’
s usually frightening eyes.
“
What
’
s going on, Chris?
”

Chris strides faster and faster past the aisle mouths. His athletic limbs speed by the firefighter, angling toward the broken doorway
’
s light.

Shouts of survival break out from behind them. The store
’
s shelves are almost empty. Hands claw and fight for the scraps of food still left, the battle of need over civility reducing man to his truest form.

“
Chris?
”
Devin asks again. The redhead
’
s shorter legs quicken into a jog, struggling just to keep up.

As they duck through the shattered glass door, Chris
’
s heart stops cold
.
Isabel
’
s horrific screams echo back across the concrete. The sound sends tremors into the frigid air, and anyone still alive to hear it.

“
Chris!
”
Isabel
’
s voice echoes from behind. The teen stops several feet inside of the store
’
s entryway, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Broken glass sparkles back bright rays of light setting through the windows. All power is off within the building. Torn bags of food litter the slick linoleum aisles.

To his left, Chris
’
s eyes lock onto a body lying face-down by one of the registers. The contents of both now spread across the floor. He stares in dread at the murdered man and the forming pool of blood around him, quickening his pace down the front of the store.

Chris glances back and forth from the aisles to the glistening crimson. His eyes are unable to break away from the body, even as his long legs continue on. Gruesomely entranced, he doesn
’
t even hear the footsteps before it
’
s too late.

The basketball star slams headlong into two men turning out of the frozen food section.

“
What the hell
’
s your problem?!
”
Derrick Leong screams, pushing the teenager back. Shotgun in hand, the ex-felon eyes Chris coldly. The Japanese symbol for war is stitched into the skin just beside his left eye. Light glints off the steel 12-gauge barrel in his hands.

Fear begins to churn deep inside Chris. The man
’
s eyes aren
’
t just vacant. They
’
re terrifying
—
empty of any doubt or restraint.

Behind Derrick, a heavyset black man with a barbwire tattoo encircling his neck adjusts the large bag over his shoulder. His hardened face looks like it was carved with a hatchet.

“
No worries,
”
Chris mutters in a shaking voice. Slowly, he raises his hands.

Derrick
’
s blinding white eyes flash. Shadows surround them, swallowing the black void around the Asian
’
s tattoo.

Chris
moves to the side. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to block the intense smell of gunpowder and death from the body 20 feet behind them. But it lingers, ravenously beginning to feed upon his courage.

“
Oh, there
’
s reason to worry,
”
Derrick sneers. He loudly cocks his shotgun, advancing on the teenager.
Even though Chris stands more than a foot taller, his large body shrinks away.
The tattooed Asian smiles wickedly.
“
Just a little bitch.
”
Derrick takes a quick, provocative step towards Chris, grinning as the basketball star flinches again from the sound.
“
Aren
’
t you?
”
Derrick leans close to Chris and lays the cold barrel of the shotgun on his shoulder.
“
You scared?
”
he whispers.

Gritting his teeth, Chris
’
s 6
’
7
”
frame stands frozen. His muscles refuse to move.

“
You should be,
”
Derrick continues softly.
“
Just give me your money and this will all go away.
”
The stink of hard alcohol on the man
’
s breath burns in Chris
’
s nose.

The intimidating teen is silent. His mind races. The fearful doubts of courage and consequence blur together into immobility. He finally opens his eyes, trying to summon strength from his trembling body.

Derrick leans back and crushes it instantly. He smashes the butt of the shotgun hard into Chris
’
s right shoulder.
“
Are you stupid?!
”
Derrick shrieks. The shrill sound is like a sharpening knife. He viciously grabs the back of Chris
’
s head and forces it down, screaming each deafening word into his ear.
“
Do
…
You
…
Have
…
Money?!
”

“
No,
”
Chris spits out. His throat tightens. The muscles in his shoulder start to throb, shooting pain all the way down to his fingers.

“
You better hope so.
”
Derrick flings Chris
’
s neck away and grabs at his pockets. The tattooed Asian rummages into the back ones, tearing out a wallet. His evil eyes narrow.

“
No
…
No
…
No!
”
Derrick says, throwing plastic card after plastic card at the teenager
’
s face. He hurls the wallet down the aisle and pushes the gun barrel up into Chris
’
s cheek.
“
Well, what good are you then?
”

Derrick
’
s index finger settles eagerly onto the curved trigger.

Chris
’
s knees buckle as he realizes he
’
s going to die. Thoughts and prayers for his parents are irrevocably forgotten, replaced with his own burning appeals to survive.
Please, God
…

“
Oh, I think you
’
re scared now.
”
Derrick leans closer. Chris can feel the Asian
’
s drunken voice on his skin.
“
Aren
’
t you?
”

Derrick smiles, his face barren of any control. Only rage flashes from his black eyes. Slowly, his finger squeezes the trigger.

A group of looters come around the corner of the front walkway. They stop
,
looking with concern at the confrontation. Several other hungry bodies climb through the broken door and begin into the store unaware.

“
Come on, man,
”
the barbwire thug grunts out, adjusting the heavy strap slung across his shoulder.
“
It
’
s gettin
’
busy in here.
”

Unconcerned, the tattooed Asian starts to pull the trigger again. But the black man suddenly grabs his arm. Derrick spins, glaring back with fierce eyes.

“
Let
’
s get the hell out of here! Okay?
”
The hulking black man pushes past him and heads toward the front.

Derrick hesitates for just a moment before thrusting the gun barrel back into Chris
’
s face.
“
Be seeing you later,
”
he spits. The Asian raises the weapon up to his shoulder, slamming it into Chris as he passes.

Glass crunches under their savage feet.
It
sound
s
like bones cracking in the distance.

Chris collapses to a knee, his breath roaring out. The teenager coughs and gasps for air. The sick twisting in his stomach almost makes him gag. He glances fearfully behind him before forcing his shaking legs to stand.
“
Devin,
”
he shouts weakly. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is sand.
“
Devin!!
”
Chris yells louder. He stumbles forward in search of the fireman.

As he nears the far end of the store, Devin emerges from the last aisle. Isabel
’
s black bag is slung behind him, stuffed full of food. Abd soon follows, his sling now bulging with bags of wheat crackers and water bottles. Devin
’
s grin fades when he sees the shaken look in the teen
’
s eyes.
“
I
’
m fine,
”
the fireman says reassuringly.
“
That gunshot was up front somewhere.
”
He looks around for Isabel and Terra.
“
Where are
…
”

“
We need to get out of here,
”
Chris interrupts hoarsely. A silent panic screams from his eyes.
“
Now.
”