Authors: Mark Campbell
The
white-suits
stopped firing and ran towards the
Starbucks
, breathing frantically through the
ir
suit respirators
.
“I thought Charley-Ten’s group already cleared this block!”
one of the suited soldiers yelled as he ran.
“Those fucking weekend soldiers can’t get anything right!”
another white-suit angrily replied.
Ho
well ran through the Starbucks
, clutching his duffle tightly
. Tables lay
on th
eir side, chairs were scattered
, the pastry case was
emptied
, and the shelves were wiped clean.
He slid across
the counte
rtop and fell on the other
sid
e, landing on a
toppled espresso machine. H
e
groaned and for
ced himself back onto his feet, still clutching his bleeding side
.
The white-
suits ran through the
front door
,
scanning the looted shop with
their rifles.
“Where did he go?
” one of the soldiers asked out loud.
H
owell searched frantically until he spotted
a door
in the corner
a few feet away from him.
“There he is! He’s behind the counter!”
“
S
top running
, civilian
! We’re here to
take you to safety
!”
Howell crouched behind the counter and ran towards the door.
Bullets peppered against the front of the counte
r and shattered
the glass display case
, narrowly missing him.
Howell
slammed against the door
and swung it open against
a large metallic
supply rack. He shut
the door
behind him
and toppled the
supply rack
against the door
, barricading himself in. Breathing wildly
, he backed away from the door
but
he couldn’t shake the feeling
that he wasn’t alone in the dark storeroom.
T
he
doorknob
rattled
as the soldiers tried to open the door
.
“
He’s blocking it!”
Bullets punched through the wooden door and
ricocheted off of
the makeshift barricade, narrowly missing Howell as he
dove down to the floor.
He heard a woman whimper
behind him and turned
.
L
ight stre
amed in through the bullet-
riddled door and af
forded the dark room minor visibility
. Howell’s eyes adjusted to the faint light and he
saw the
woman hudd
led up in the corner
. The front of her shirt was
caked with
vomit and her eyes were
hazy
. She
stared at
Howell
with a sweaty face
, wheezing.
Howell crawled ove
r towards her, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her closer.
She shrieked loudly and
stared
at him, terrified.
The
white-suited
soldiers
slammed
repeatedly
against the door.
“Quiet!” Howell snapped. “What the fuck is going on here?”
She looked at him,
baffled by his ignorance.
“Did
n
’t you pay attention to the news
? The Muslims bombed us with some sort of biological stuff,” She cried, hacking. “Everyone is getting sick! And th
e soldiers are–
”
Muslims
, Howell thought with distaste.
Could it be possible?
Could they have planned a
n attack on the same day
as
his?
Howell’s mouth twisted in a sardonic grin and he slowly shook his head.
The woman
pulled
her wrist free from his gri
p and stared at him,
sobbing
and coughing
.
“The soldiers are shooting at us!!! We tried to-tried to get-go out down the 401 but- The army won’t let us leave! They’re rounding up people
and forcing them inside buildings at gunpoint!
”
The storeroom door started to buckle
and splinter
.
Howell stood and stared
at the door.
“And now you led them right to me! They’re going to
t
ake me and lock me away with the others! You idiot!” the woman screamed, s
obbing, coughing. “They didn’t know I was hiding in here
before you came,” the woman
stammered
in
-between rattling coughs.
Howell slid the 9m
m out from his waistband, aimed it
at the door
, and fired
four shots in rapid succession. The woman
covered
her ears and screamed.
Return gunfire
tore through the
door and
ricocheted off of
the makeshift barricade,
narrowly
missing Howell as he duc
ked back down onto the ground.
The gunfire
ceased and empty clips fell against the floor as the white-suits frantically reloaded.
“
Shit! He got my thigh!”
one of the
white-suited soldiers
cried.
“
His suit has been
compromised!”
another
shouted
.
“No! It’s
–
”
Gunfire muffled the soldier’s screams
.
The remaining white-suits turned
their weapons back
towards the
door and
vindictively
opened
fire, ripping it to splinters
.
Howell, keeping low against the ground,
aimed his pistol at the door
and
he p
repared to make his last stand.
The
sick woman suddenly stood up. H
er long
dark
hair
was matted down with
sweat.
“I’m… going to… find a new spot… Don’t follow me…” she stammered
as she staggered towards the back
of the
dark
storeroom.
Before Howell could say anything, the woman burst through
a
fire exit at the
back
of the room
that he didn’t notice before.
Sunlight flooded into the storeroom and sirens filled the air as the door opened.
Howell shielded his ey
es with his forearm, squinted, stood, and walked towards the open door. He stepped cautiously through the door and found himself in an alley.
Howell
ran
along
the alley
with his duffle clutched tightly against his chest. Blood soaked the side of his shirt and his chest pulsated with sharp pain. H
e could feel the glass
shards working their way
deeper i
nto him with each step he took.
The woman
ran a few feet ahead of him and kept turning her head towards him, giving terrified glances.
Howell
continued to limp after her, gripping the pistol with one hand and the duffle with the other
.
“
Stop following me!
” the woman screamed before erupting into a coughing spasm. She tripped, stumbled
against a dumpster
,
and slid down onto her knees.
She
vomited
bloody bile on the pavement and
stared d
own at it with wide eyes. S
trands of salvia h
ung
from her pale lips
as she gasped for air.
“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Howell asked
as he took
a c
autious step towards her.
Helicopters
hovered overhead and sirens honed in
.
A single gunshot reverberated down the alley–
The woman’s head erupted and splattered Howell with bloody splotches; Howell flinched. She collapsed against the pavement.
Two white-suits stood at the end of the alley with their weapons pointed towards him.
Howell
aimed the pistol at–
“
Stop or you’re dead,
”
a voice behind Howell ordered.
“Drop the gun and p
ut your goddamn hands above your head.
”
Howell cursed and dropped the pistol to the ground
. He slung his duffle
over his shoulder and
slowly
raised his hands above his head.
“
Turn around you piece of shit
.”
Howell turned and faced two
soldiers wearing white hazmat suits. He had
a defiant smirk
plastered across his blood-
splattered face. “What are you going to do, shoot me in cold blood
, too
?
Do your worst, you fucking pig scum.
”
One of the white-suits
stepped forward
and slammed the butt o
f his rifle into Howell’s face.
Howell’s n
ose cracked and blood flow
profusely. H
e gave
a sa
vage scream and collapsed
down onto his knees
, clutching his broken nose
.
The white-suit
stepped back and aimed
the rifle at Howell’s head
.
“
Rot in hell
,”
the white-suit said as his
fingertip tighten
ed
around
the trigger.
“
Mike, stop
,” the other
white-suit
said, stepping forward.
“Fuck protocol!
This bastard killed Tillman, Kirk,
”
Mike yelled; the rifle trembled in his hands.
Kirk p
laced a han
d on Mike’s trembling rifle.
“
He killed Tillman, and you don’t want him to pay?”
Mike
asked as he angrily turned towards Kirk
.
Howell stayed on his knees, holding his
broken nose
.
“
I want him to pay, but I want him to suffer
even more
,”
Kirk said, smirking behind his suit’s
silver reflective facemask. “
A bullet to the head is way too fast
and easy
.
”
Mike hesitantly lowered his weapon.
“
I say…”
Kirk trailed off and pointed
up at one of the skyscrapers.
“That’s much worse. Just imagine that hell.”
“
Yeah, let him stew in there with the others, that’s good,”
Mike said.
“What are you goin
g to–”
Kirk
slammed
the butt of his rifle against Howell’s head.
Howell’s j
aw shattered and he slumped facedown
onto the pavement, unconscious.
The two white-suited soldiers
brought Howell down
the alley
by his legs
and
pulled him
out onto
Fayet
teville Street. White vans cluttered the street
. Civilians, disarmed police off
icers, and rescue personnel
were herded out of
the back of the vans at gunpoint
with their hands raised above their heads
and
led
into
nearby
skyscrapers
by white-suits. Nearby, white-suited soldiers unloaded multiple rolls of clear plastic sheeting and stacks of plywood off of the back o
f
flatbed trucks.