The second I need.
I raise my left revolver and slide down the hammer twice with the side of my right hand. One of the guard’s fingers tightens on his gun and fires harmlessly into the brick wall.
Good thing I was careful.
A small stream of smoke rises into the air from the tip of my barrel. Both guards go down.
“Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine: et lux perpetua luceat eis,” I whisper lightly. These aren't the first people I've needed to kill since the plague, but I never enjoyed taking a life. I push the release on the revolver and open the chamber with a flick of the wrist. On instinct, I empty the two spent rounds and reload them.
More men will be coming, and I will need every round ready. I turn to the two women, still standing there blindfolded. The one tilts her head up to try
and determine what was going on through the small gap along the bottom of her blindfold.
I quickly rush behind them while pulling out the long knife from my boot. With two upward thrusts, their hands
are freed and they pull down their blindfolds. They are both lovely women, but this wasn’t anytime to gape.
“Who the hell are you?” the pale
red-head exclaims. I reach along my back, pull out my spare .38 pistol, and toss it to her.
“Name’s Nichols.
I'm on your side. No time for formalities; can you handle that?” She looks it every briefly and nods. The other dark skinned woman runs up to one of the dead soldiers and pulls the pistol from his holster. She slides the chamber back and gives me a nod.
“Let’s get the hell outta here,” she says. “We have to rescue the others, too.”
The three of us run out of the alleyway and head across the open sidewalk and back into the stadium. A small group of guards turns towards us as we rush into the stadium at a sprint.
“Hey!” the one yells, fumbling to raise his weapon. The three of us fire several rounds before they can manage another word. The four guards drop. I reload my weapon, and we continue our jog down the concourse and up a broken escalator.
“You two have any idea where they are?” I ask between heavy breaths at the top.
“No,” the red head says, glancing quickly at me. Her eyes are a color you rarely see.
BANG.
A chunk of cement from the nearby wall shatters away. More gunshots continue and pepper the area around us. The black woman is the first to dive into the safety of a concession stand within the wall of the stadium. We follow right behind her. The menu above explodes from the gunfire, and pieces of plastic rain down on us. I fire a few blind shots over the top. We
are trapped.
Desperate times.
I reach into my back belt and unclasp a black sphere with a pin. I pull the pin with my teeth, and continue to hold the clip down.
“Is that?” the redhead asks.
I nod. Desperate measures. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day. I hurl the grenade over the top of the counter and cover my ears.
Chapter 11: Caitlyn
The door slams shut and Carter thrashes his body against the steel. He needs to calm down, or he is going to get us both killed. I walk to the wall and press my face against it then lift up. The blindfold falls to my neck. A flickering fluorescent bulb above me illuminates the small space.
“Carter,” I say in a low voice.
He stops struggling and stands there panting. I walk in front of him and rise to my toes. My face is a fraction of an inch from his. I lift my chin, grab the blindfold with my teeth, and pull it down. His pupils focus on me.
“Thanks,” he says. I nod. “We have to get out of here.”
I look around the concrete room. It probably was once a closet, but now it is a makeshift jail cell, and a pretty good one at that.
“There’s no way out,” he mumbles and takes a seat on the steel chair bolted to the floor along the back wall. His eyes soften in a way that tells me he may cry. There isn’t time for that.
Besides, one time with Walter, we were in a much worse predicament.
Walter. I haven’t thought of him in weeks. I do miss him sometimes. We went through so much together. Maybe I did love him... but now is not the time.
I look to the door. There is no way for them to see inside here. This could give us all the advantage we need. I drop to the floor, and by pushing my shoulders back, I am able to bring my bound hands under my backside and to the back of my knees. I pull my knees in close to my chest and then bring my hands around my feet and to the front. Carter tries to do the same, but he isn’t flexible enough. His hands are stuck behind his back. I rise to my feet.
“Now what?” he questions. I move around the closet. I need something sharp to cut the zip-tie.
A scrap of metal.
An air vent.
Anything to scrape at the plastic trapping my wrists together.
The room has nothing other than the chair with sides that are rounded and smooth. This will be complicated. I only have one last trick. I told Walt about it once; he even thought I was crazy.
That says something.
Carter looks back to me, hoping for some idea. I move my ear against the door, close my eyes, and concentrate. Two voices speak lightly outside the door. My courage still needs to re-build. I need
to find the part of me that I let die several weeks ago. A part that I can't seem to let die. That won't die.
After listening for a few more seconds, I turn to Carter.
“After I make my move, charge the first guy. I’ll take the second.” I hope there’s only the two. I'll have to improvise if there are more.
I hear footsteps from outside, coming closer to the door. You can do this. Remember how you survived for five years. By inhaling with a closed mouth, I pull the inside of my right cheek between my molars. A mass of flesh sits between my teeth.
And I bite. I bite, hard. My eyes water as I feel the chuck of tissue separate from my mouth. A warm liquid fills my mouth. It gathers in the corners of my mouth and beneath my tongue.
The handle of the door slowly rotates. I press my back against the wall and try to relax my face. Carter stands. I hold up one finger and then point to myself. Wait until my move.
The door opens and two guards stand with their rifles at the ready. Glancing past them, I don’t see any more. Perfect. The closet is small so they have to get close to us and one in front of the other.
As I expected, his eyes go from me and then to Carter. They see him as the real threat. Underestimating the girl is a perpetual problem for them. He points the gun directly at Carter; the guard behind him points his to the floor. Wait. Wait.
“Come on you two; we are going-” He gestures with the gun, and it no longer points at Carter. It’s time.
I quickly inhale through my nose and open my mouth slightly. With a jerk forward, I spit all of the blood building in my mouth into his face. He yells and his gun goes off harmlessly into the cement. Carter lunges forward, slamming into him while I rush the second soldier. This guard tries to bring up his gun, but I shove it aside with my bound hands and clasp his head, aiming my
thumbs. I line up one thumb with his eye socket and push with all the strength I have. He screams and falls backward to the ground with a thud.
I collapse on top of him and continue gripping his skull. My hands lift up while clutching his hair and bring his head into the floor until he stops screaming. Reaching to his belt, I retrieve a knife with my hands. I turn to Carter. He stands above the other soldier whose face
is covered in a mix of my and his blood. Carter turns his back to me, and I quickly cut the plastic tie. He grabs the knife from me and then cuts my own bond.
“Damn, Ryan was right,” he says to himself while grabbing the soldier’s rifle. His eyes meet mine.
“About what?” I inquire, grabbing a weapon from their bodies.
“Nothing,” he says. Adding two clips to his pocket. I know what he means. A commotion of feet begins in the other room. We both bring our rifles up to the entrance. I spit out a bit of blood still
seeping from my cheek onto the gray floor. A shadow appears at the entrance.
“What the hell is going on in-” the soldier never finishes his sentence. Both of us drop him with several bursts, and he falls dead instantly. We run out of the room.
Carter and I make our way back along the cement corridor of the stadium and move down the second floor concourse. The seats of the stadium are to the right and the vender shops are to the left. More gunshots echo from the outside, and we follow the chaos. Others have chosen not to go quietly either.
When we turn a corner, at least six soldiers crouch behind several souvenir carts and fire into a concession stand within the wall of the stadium. They have their backs to us and focus their weapons at the stand. Which of the others is behind there? While unseen, Carter and I sneak up behind the two closest soldiers. Carter grabs one around the neck with his arm and squeezes; the guard flails
as he struggles to escape Carter's grip. I use a knife on the one in front of me. He simply drops.
I'm back in the wilderness.
We peer over the souvenir cart towards the stand within the wall. Four more guards fire into it. Whoever is behind there continues to blind-fire from over the counter.
“Caitlyn, we’ll go through the seating behind us and flank them. Follow-“
A small black ball flies from behind the counter towards the small group of soldiers. I almost don't see it. It’s a…
I dive forward, grabbing Carter and pulling him low beside the seats.
BOOM.
Some small debris rains down on us, and we slowly rise back to our feet. With wide eyes and quick breaths, we both nod at each other, unscathed. The soldiers are not so lucky. The gunfire has stopped, and I see several of their motionless bodies.
Who the hell managed to get a grenade? David? Ryan?
Smoke from the blast covers the area and three figures emerge from the haze, jumping over the counter. To the left and right are Paige and Jo. They look fine. In the middle is a man I have never seen before. He has a worn white hat and a long coat that goes to his knees. In each hand, he carries revolvers. He looks like a damn cowboy.
Paige runs up to Carter and throws her arms around him. Carter kisses her forehead. She releases him, and her hands return to the rifle strapped around her shoulder.
There will be time for pleasantries later.
“You are?” Carter asks.
“Nichols.” The cowboy tips his hat. “But I believe it’s about time we get out of here.”
“Where are the rest of them?”
“I heard Ryan and David when we were taken outside,” Paige says. “We were blindfolded; I’m not exactly sure where they are.”
We stand for a few moments while looking around the field and the other side of the stadium. The place is huge. They could be anywhere on this level or the levels beneath and above us. It will take forever to-
BOOM.
An explosion lightly illuminates the other side of the field, and our feet feel the rumble. We share glances.
I smile softly. None of us makes very good prisoners.
We take off running around the concourse of the stadium towards the explosion. A few guards emerge from the side, but we quickly put each one down with a series of shots. Most of them still have no clue that we are all free.
Two figures appear around the corner, I raise my weapon to fire. The others do the same.
“Wait, wait, wait!” the voice yells. My eyes focus; it is Nate and Laura. That was a close one.
“How'd you two get out?”
“I forgot I had a few of these in my pockets.” Nate says, flipping one of his bombs in his hand. “I think they thought they were flashlights or something. We just ran into Kevin. Apparently, Tori and Darrel are free too. Kevin went to get the SUV while Tori and Darrel went for Ryan and David. They saw them through a window in a box seat.”
“Good. Let's get to the vehicles,” Carter says, “Those four will be able to take care of themselves...”
A soldier appears in the doorframe from the right; the other aren't paying attention – too busy concentrating on our next move. I turn my rifle towards the soldier, but Jo is in the way. I lunge forward, pushing her to the ground and begin to fire while I am falling. I aim as best I can.
The soldier fires at us. The ground comes quickly, and the air in my lungs violently escapes as my chest collides with the ground. I look up to where the soldier was, ready to fire again. His body
is falling down the frame of the doorway. A streak of blood follows him.
“Nice shooting,”
Nichols says. He reaches his hand forward and pulls me to my feet. “You’ve got some instincts, sweetheart.”
I do have instincts. I’ve finally accepted that truth.
I need to embrace the animal that I have within me; they need me to. Every time I try to bury it deep within, it always comes back. When Walter died, when they tortured me, when I… when I killed Sara, I tried to put it behind me. But in this world, I’m always going to need it. Maybe one day, if it ever should come, when we aren’t always in danger, I’ll let it all go. That's what I want in my heart.
However, that day is not today. Not as long as my friends are in danger and that Matthews still sucks air.
I reload the clip sluggishly into the rifle. Guns aren’t my specialty, but I am going to do whatever it takes to save their lives.
And
my own.
Our group runs outside. The white SUV travels down and skids to a stop right in front of us. Kevin is behind the wheel.
“Get in, now!” Kevin shouts. A few pops of gunfire blast from behind us. The back window of the SUV shatters, and Kevin quickly aims his pistol out the open passenger window and fires back. We pile in while firing back at the guards. Dozens of guards start to appear on both levels of the stadium. I'm the last one in and Kevin slams on the gas while I shut the door. “Can anyone else hot-wire a car?”
“I can,” Nichols says.
“There's a fleet of cars up ahead. We all aren't going to fit in this. Get it started and follow me,” Kevin states. After a turn around the stadium, we approach the lot with vehicles lined up. Nichols hurries out. Jo follows him, and I decide to go, too.
Kevin parks the SUV, and those inside prepare to provide cover fire through the windows. Nichols rotates his gun and bashes the driver's side window of a black sedan. He unlocks the door, wrenches it open, and jumps into the vehicle. I crouch beside the sedan, and shoot at the growing number of soldiers in view. Some are on the ground level, and even more appear on the walls of the higher stadium levels. I move closer to Nichols and use the open door as cover. He lies underneath the driver’s side while his hands strip and twist some wires. A bullet shatters what remains of the window and covers us both in glass.
“Can't you do this any faster?” Jo asks, steadying her rifle on the hood and firing desperately.
“I'm going as fast as I can,” he shouts from under the wheel. I bring down a few targets, but even more appear in the distance.
He needs to do this faster.