Yield (66 page)

The sound of the metal zipper teeth slowly unclasping shreds into broken innocence.

Chris groans, trying to shake the fog of sleep from his mind. Caught somewhere between his dreams and a nightmare, he feels something tugging at him from behind. His eyes widen once he realizes what they want.

He reaches back for the Beretta
’
s grip, but it
’
s already too late.

The gun barrel is pointed up into a scared and dirty face. A man dressed all in black stands several feet from them holding Isabel
’
s purple Huskies bag. His angular eyes are broad with fear.

“
Not again,
”
Terra whispers. Hate burns from her sapphire eyes. The teenager
’
s finger squeezes against the trigger.
“
Never again.
”

“
I
…
I
’
m sorry,
”
the thief cringes.
“
I haven
’
t eaten. I
…
”
The man covers his face, cowering from the rage he sees pulsing from the girl.

Chris gets to his knees and puts his hands slowly up toward Terra
’
s. Her hands shake. Still the trigger continues back.

“
Terra!
”
Isabel screams.

“
Please, Terra,
”
Chris says calmly.
“
It
’
s alright. He
’
s probably just hungry.
”

“
I won
’
t let them touch me,
”
she says. Her eyes flash with a need for justice, even through her own tears.
“
Never again
…
”
Violence throbs within her. It consumes all shreds of restraint
,
calling her tortured soul to defend. She stares unsympathetically at the thief, readying to fire.

“
Look at me, Terra!
”
Chris yells. He tries gently to pull her hands off their target, but they won
’
t budge.
“
Remember what I said? What I promised? I won
’
t let anyone hurt you, Terra. Not again.
”

Her hands ache to let loose vindication, and erupt the fatal power from what was powerless only hours before.

“
Please. Just put it down,
”
Chris whispers. He feels her hands tense again. His eyes shoot wide.
“
Put it down!
”

The weapon bucks violently backward as it fires. The blazing red flames of ignited gunpowder send the chamber barrel hurtling back in her hands. Tears of immeasurable pain run down Terra
’
s face. She watches the bullet scream without regret into the cheek of her attacker.
Never again
…

His lunging body barely misses a fatal wound.

Images of her mother flicker in Terra
’
s mind. Through the flames, white-eyed animals look down at her hungrily from the shadows
…

The world fades away
,
leaving
only the evil that cowers in front of her. Terra takes aim again.

Chris jumps up, pulling her finger off the depressed trigger. He forces her arms down, his own body now
shaking
.

Terra looks up at him. Her sapphire eyes plead for forgiveness. She releases the gun and falls forward into his arms. Sobs quake through her. The beautiful woman
trembles
against him, all strength rushing out of her.

“
Crazy bitch,
”
the thief sputters. He holds a bloody hand to the side of his face.
“
It was your filthy kind that did this, chink!
”
He kicks the bag back to them and scrambles away into the shadows.

“
What
’
s he talking about?
”
Isabel whispers to
Devin
.

He
shakes his head.
“
I don
’
t know.
”

The warehouse
’
s awakened inhabitants stare back at them. Shattered peace flashes from dozens of accusing eyes.

The fireman cocks his head, about to tell this pissy horde to sod off when his ears suddenly twitch. The sound of electronic static grows louder from somewhere behind them. An alert tone bleeps several times in the distance. Its piercing cry is mixed with voices thick with distortion. He strides toward the noise, hearing the words become more distinct in the static.

“
Hey, I got something,
”
a young boy cries by one of the other drums. He holds a small wooden radio on his lap.

“
Turn it up,
”
Devin says. The muffled voices are infuriatingly close to being understood. Isabel quickly joins him, still wiping the sleep from her eyes. She leans her body against him, drawing from the fireman
’
s body heat.

“
Not
‘
til I get something to eat,
”
the boy demands. He pulls the radio protectively back to his chest.

“
For God
’
s sake, child
!
”
Devin blurts. All their answers are muffled in the boy
’
s dirty shirt. He glares defiantly up at the redhead, his lower lip pouted out.

Devin
’
s green eyes dart around for his bag. The black canvas is on the floor fifteen feet from them.

“
Here,
”
Isabel smiles, gently handing the child two granola bars.

Devin stares questioningly back.

“
What?
”
she asks. Her hands rub against the sides of her bulging stomach.
“
I keep snacks on me in case I get hungry. I am pregnant, you know.
”

The boy sets the radio on the concrete in front of him. He turns it up loud enough for everyone in the warehouse to hear.

“
…
.broadcasting
…
.
”
the crippling alert tone fades in and out. It digs into the sound waves before slowly losing ground to a familiar voice.
“
…
from Queen Anne, on the north side of the Seattle ruins,
”
the reporter continues. Kevin Green
’
s voice rises reassuringly through the static.
“
We
’
ve driven across the dead city for hours, and may be all that
’
s left. I don
’
t even know if there
’
s anyone left to hear this
…
”
he pauses.

The bodies once scattered across the warehouse now cluster around the radio. Re-stoked fires illuminate dozens of eager faces.
“
There was some sort of tone blocking our broadcast. But we
’
ve patched around it at our north Seattle tower. We don
’
t know what it was or why we were prevented from relaying the details of today. What we do know is this
…
”
The static hisses.
“
Yesterday at 12:22
P
.
M
., Eastern Standard Time, a preemptive declaration of war was issued against the United States of America
…
by the allied countries of China
…
Russia
…
North Korea
…
and Iran
…
”

A choir of gasps echoes around the warehouse. The words eat through doubt and hope alike.

“
The first strike was comprised of four maximum-yield nuclear detonations
…
with zero points just above ground level in Washington
,
D
.
C
.,
New York
,
Los Angeles
…
and Seattle
…
”
Kevin
’
s voice
grows quiet
.
“
These blasts were soon followed by a demand for the immediate
…
and unconditional surrender of the United States
…
”

Devin closes his eyes. His stomach starts to spiral
,
plunging downward with mankind
’
s descent into a third World War.

“
The allied countries have threatened more attacks if the U.S. does not comply with those demands
…
”

Bodies listen in silence to the rustle of papers through the radio. Its truth irreversibly changes everything in its path.

“
May God save us all
…
”

Isabel looks on, her hopes burning with the ashen drums. The cries of those around them begin with a despairing fury. The sound is heartbreaking. Empty.

As the warming fires burn down inside their metal prisons, the last of the warehouse refugees collapses. They drift
—
not to rest, but into a bleak and exhausted purgatory. Their eyes are lost, their dreams uncertain.

The thundering of rain on the steel roof creates a monotone static all around them. It drowns out the whimpered cries and pleas for help from the forgotten.

Devin
’
s head rests atop the black munitions bag. His body shakes. The polished concrete floor feels like packed snow. Isabel lies between him and Chris, curled protectively around the baby inside her. Terra lies close to the basketball player on the other side. His blue, white, and red letterman jacket covers her like a patriotic blanket.

The fiery embers finally sputter and die. Shadows reach out from the dark.

Mischief awakens.

A shape in filthy clothes emerges from the black. Slashes of white glance around as the last of the bodies succumb to sleep.

He moves silently across the rear of the warehouse, his hands trembling. The shadow stops at the largest cluster of people. Without a sound, he rummages through their bags and belongings. The shade moves quickly from person to person, stealing every valuable and memory he can. His frayed pockets soon overflow.

The white slits dart around for more treasures, spotting another odd group on the other side of the warehouse. He moves like night itself. The shadow slows next to a solid-looking redhead and a fearsomely tall black man. He can
’
t tell for sure, but it looks like the redhead
’
s dress shirt is spattered with blood. The thief
’
s stomach flutters, wondering if he shouldn
’
t leave well enough alone. His fingers twitch. The shadow turns to leave, but his feet quickly stop in their tracks.

Barely perceptible in the darkness, even to his sharp eyes, he sees two smaller and more attractive bodies in the men
’
s company. The thief rubs at the coarse stubble along his face.

He leans closer, breathing in a particularly inviting
ginger
scent from a Hispanic woman
’
s long, thick hair. His hands twitch again. Almost on their own, they begin to reach out towards her. The shadow looks back at the two intimidating men rustling just feet away. His eyes narrow. Quickly, he lifts the woman
’
s purple bag into his arms.

The sound of the metal zipper teeth slowly unclasping shreds into broken innocence.

Chris groans, trying to shake the fog of sleep from his mind. Caught somewhere between his dreams and a nightmare, he feels something tugging at him from behind. His eyes widen once he realizes what they want.

He reaches back for the Beretta
’
s grip, but it
’
s already too late.

The gun barrel is pointed up into a scared and dirty face. A man dressed all in black stands several feet from them holding Isabel
’
s purple Huskies bag. His angular eyes are broad with fear.