Climbing down the backside of the hardware store, Ethan was able to leave the scene mostly undetected. There were a few that had taken notice, although they were so far behind that he wouldn’t have to give them a second thought. Staying along the storefront, he moved quickly in and out of the darkened alcoves and headed south toward Second Street.
Beginning to jog, he moved off the sidewalk and listened as the sounds from the park were overtaken by something else. It was the same monotonous guttural tone, but was coming from somewhere else. Somewhere not far away. And as he rounded the corner of Bridge and Second, he found out exactly where.
Sliding to a stop in the middle of the street, Ethan instinctively reached for his weapon. Moving his hand along his right side, he pulled back a handful of nothing. And as the error of his prior decision began to set in, he looked for an exit. “Maybe Griffin was right?”
As far back as he could see—well beyond the supermarket and possibly as far as City Hall—they were coming. What brought them here and why was a question he’d have to contemplate later. Right now, he needed to find a way past the biggest congregation of Feeders he had yet to run across.
To the right, he could continue along Second and possibly make his way back through the old farmland near the city limits. It would add at least another hour to his trip, although he may not have another choice. Going back wasn’t going to work either. He was lucky to have escaped the park the first time; he didn’t think giving those things another chance was any smarter than coming out here alone in the first place.
One last glance at the advancing horde and then Ethan started again. He jogged back to the long sidewalk that ran the length of Second Street. Approaching his former high school, he looked out over the parking lot and recognized many of the vehicles left behind by the unfortunate souls who never made it out.
Turning to look over his shoulder as the crowd exiting the park joined those from Bridge Street, Ethan stepped back off the curb and into the street. If he cut through the alley running parallel to his apartment building, he could shave a few minutes, but would be running into the unknown. He and the others had avoided this part of town since day two. He didn’t like that plan.
Continuing to make his way along Second, he chose to stay in the middle of the street. He liked being able to see at least thirty feet in all directions. No surprises, nothing to catch him off guard, and without a weapon, this was all he had.
Again checking the advancement of the crowd at his back, a single gunshot rang out. Struggling to place its origin, Ethan stopped and listened for what was sure to follow. There was never just one shot. Not in the last few days anyway. Usually it was two or three in quick succession and then running and then more shooting.
He waited.
Nothing. No more gunfire. And although he wasn’t able to get a definitive location, he knew exactly where it was coming from. The others had decided to come for him. He’d been gone for too long and they assumed he was in trouble. And as the streets continued to fill with Feeders, he knew they were right.
. . .
His ears still ringing, Griffin stood in the back of the pick-up and stared across the wall at the kid as the dogs ran off. Ben smiled from atop the armored truck and held the nine millimeter at his side. “Griff, your plan’s not working. We’re all gonna need to go find Ethan.”
As the armored truck slowed to a stop against the opposite side of the block wall, Carly sat in the driver’s seat. She set the parking brake, looked through the window at Griffin and waved him over. Sliding out of the cab and into the back, she opened the side door and shot him a look. “Let’s go Griffin, we’re doing this my way.”
He couldn’t argue, and with more of those things pouring into the supermarket’s rear lot, now was probably a good time to vacate. He jumped out of the truck bed, moved to the wall, and quickly scrambled to the other side.
Meeting Ben at the rear door, Griffin said, “You couldn’t help yourself, you just had to fire that thing, didn’t you?”
Shannon held the door open and looked out over the lot. “Let’s go guys, get in.”
Ben shook his head as they moved inside. “I only fired one round. Those dogs were pulling more of them off the street. I just scared them away, and oh yeah… you’re welcome.”
Griffin smiled and moved through the cabin. “Thanks.” Sliding down into the driver’s seat, he turned to Carly. “I’m pretty sure I know where he is, but getting there is a different story. Is there another way to get to the bank, other than the obvious? Any shortcuts you know about? Now would be a good time for one.”
“No,” Carly said as she moved into the passenger seat. “If we have to go right through them, then that’s what we do. We’re not leaving Ethan out there—we’re going to find him, no matter what.”
Shannon moved in and kneeled down behind the driver’s seat. “I have an idea.”
“Yeah?” Griffin said. “I’m all ears.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I know how to pinpoint Ethan’s exact location.”
“Okay?”
“Those things—they’re drawn to us. Those of us still living. They can’t stop themselves. It’s like magnets drawn to one another. And we’ve already determined that they have a heightened sense of smell.”
“So, what does that have to do to with finding Ethan?”
“We just need to get out ahead of the current. Watch where they’re going, find their magnet. That’s where Ethan will be. He’s their magnet.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I know,” Shannon grinned as she looked around. “It’s a silly comparison, but I think—”
“She’s right,” Ben said. “Those things are drawn to us
just
like magnets, they’ll go wherever we lead them, so maybe we can use that to our advantage.”
Griffin released the parking brake and pulled to the end of the lot, nosing out into the street. “Kid, what do you have in mind?”
“Let me drive. I’ll get us right where we need to be. You guys just be on the lookout for Ethan.”
His head was spinning. They’d driven by the front of the station at least a half dozen times over the last five days. They’d driven in and parked a few hours ago. Someone got out and then ten minutes later, they’d pulled back out into the street. And as the massive vehicle drove away, the diesel engine taunted him as it disappeared into the night.
Frank folded his arms, sat back against the wall, closed his eyes, and rested. He’d made the decision to put his rescue in the hands of others and although he regretted it now, he was sure if he would have kept the keys, he would have walked out of the building days ago. But he’d also most likely be dead.
. . .
Back behind the wheel, Ben pulled alongside the curb and waited as the others got in position. “It looks like they’re all definitely going toward something. They usually scatter if there’s nothing to hunt. I’ll bet Ethan is down there somewhere.”
Griffin slid into the passenger seat as Carly, Cora, and Shannon covered the rear and side windows. As the massive vehicle slowly drifted out into the street, they each kept one hand over the door handle and scanned the area outside their respective window.
Nodding toward the right sidewalk near the old pastry shop, Ben said, “I’m going around them there. Once we get to the front, they’ll probably start coming after us, so hold on, I’m going to push through. Just like the last time.”
“Okay,” Carly said, mainly looking at Griffin. “Anyone sees Ethan and you say something
before
you get out to go after him? Are we all in agreement?”
They all agreed.
Ben’s eyes widened as he got a full view of the street ahead, of just what they were dealing with. At least twenty bodies wide and stretching three long blocks, he had trouble even putting a number to them. A few hundred? Possibly more, many more? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it. But that’s all he could think about. There were too many. For what they were trying to do anyway. Running away from them was easy, going straight through was a different story altogether.
Pulling the rig to within twenty feet of the crowd, Ben bumped up onto the curb and took down a row of still-standing tables and ripped the red canvas awning away from the storefront.
“Hold on.”
Those in the massive horde who were closest began to turn toward the disturbance as Ben wheeled to the center of the wide sidewalk. They started back in the direction of the armored vehicle even as Ben drove the pedal into the floorboard. The engine raced as the truck accelerated, and plowing into the first row of Feeders, the already mangled bodies were tossed back into the street.
Rebounding against the seat belt and as the crowd grew to twice its size, Ben pointed out the windshield. “Griff, you see anything?”
“You kidding? I can’t see a damn thing.”
“I’m starting to think—”
“Wait,” Griffin said. “There
is
something out there.”
Gripping the seatback, Carly leaned into the cab. “What, you see him, is it Ethan?”
Ben cut the wheel aggressively to the left and ran through a small group of six, rocking the truck and sending Cora away from the rear door and onto her back.
“Sorry guys,” Ben said. “I’m not seeing anything out there, but the ones up front are starting to turn back.”
“No kidding,” Cora said as she got to her knees and again held tight to the door handle. “Feels like we’re driving through World War Three.”
Griffin looked back. “We are.”
Off the sidewalk and into the street, Ben began to let off the gas as the crowd was now too dense to drive straight through at their current speed. He was able to stay at an even pace and slowly push through, although as he scanned the streets beyond where Second Street dead ended into Bridge, there was still no sign of Ethan.
“You guys see anything?”
“I see us getting stuck,” Carly said. “Is there any way you can—”
“Wait,” Griffin said. “There’s something goin’ on out there, straight ahead down on the right.”
The others left their respective doors and slid in behind the cab. Cora and Shannon held tight to the passenger seat as Carly remained at Ben’s side. They squinted into the night, but were all just as confused as Ben. “What is it? What are you talking about? I don’t see anything, just that other group coming in off Bridge Street.”
“That’s it,” Griffin said. “They were already coming this way and don’t even seem to have noticed us. They’re filtering into this group, but also seem to be focused on something further down the street.”
“Like Ethan?” Cora said.
“That’s what I’m thinking. It could be anything or it could be nothing, but there’s a reason why both of those crowds are moving that way.”
Ben slowly pressed the gas pedal, increased their speed to just above a fast walk, and glided back toward the curb. “But I thought Ethan was headed back to the bank? Wouldn’t that put him on the opposite side of town?”
“Don’t know. If this is him, we need to get over there. If it’s not and he’s back at the station or the bank, at least we can assume he’s safe.”
Carly leaned in. “Why would you think—”
“Because it looks like every single one of those things found their way here. Right out there on that street. I mean, if there are more than a handful left anywhere else in this town, I’m buying you all dinner.”
“Dinner?” Cora said.
“Well, this thing has to end at some point. And when it does, I’m buying the biggest, juiciest steak I can find. And you’re all welcome to join me.”
“Somehow,” Shannon said. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon. We need to get comfortable with this new reality.”
“Wow,” Ben said, “what a buzzkill.”
“Just being realistic. There’s no point dreaming about stuff that’s never going to happen.”
“Never?” Carly asked.
“Well, not anytime soon.”
“Yeah right, how on earth would you know—”
“Wait,” Ben said. “Oh my God—it’s him.”
Sitting alone in silence for days at a time had his mind again playing tricks on him. Frank closed his eyes and listened for the truck to return. Even imagined it did. But ten minutes after hearing it pull away, it was quiet. More quite than it had been since the first night. Since he first realized that this is where he may take his last breath.
Rolling onto his side, Frank reached for the bars and pulled himself up. He stood and walked back to the front of the cell. Light now poured in through the crack in the lobby doors and partially illuminated the hall. If his calculations were right, tonight would be a full moon. And his calculations were never wrong.
Squinting, he slowly scanned the hall from one end to the other and then looked back around the cell. He was searching for something—something he could use to grab the small office trashcan ten feet away. The contents of which would get him out of his self-imposed prison. He may die the second he walked out the front door, but at least it would be on his own terms.
He could fight. He wasn’t twenty years old anymore, but he also wasn’t the typical fifty-eight year old. Now he just wanted something he didn’t think he’d need five days ago. Tonight he only wanted a chance.
The coat rack in the corner. Standing a few feet from the door, he hadn’t figured it would be of any use. But now, looking at it in a different light, he found that it may just be helpful after all. Two feet from the lobby doors, he wasn’t going to reach it without some luck and it would most likely take a good bit of time. But what else did he have to do?
Removing his belt and his coat, he looped the sleeve of the coat around the end of the belt and tied a knot. Up against the cell door, Frank leaned in and reached between the vertical bars. He held the opposite arm of the jacket in his left hand and grabbed the weighty belt buckle with the other.
Pulling it tight, he made sure there was no chance they’d come apart. He checked the distance, held the buckle up high and tossed it toward the six-foot coat rack.
“Damn.” His makeshift tether smacked into the ground eighteen inches from its intended target. He needed more distance. But it looked doable. This wasn’t over. He wasn’t giving up—not yet.
Frank pulled it back and this time pushed his left arm through the bars up past his shoulder. Taking the buckle in his right hand, he mimicked the movement a half dozen times.
Throw with the right, shift his weight to the left and stretch out as far as he could
.
“Here goes nothin’.” As the moonlight through the crack in the doors glinted off the buckle, he watched it glide past the leg of the rack and hook itself ever so gently around the lower support.
“YES!” Victory. He pumped his fist and smiled, but was a bit surprised. He had expected this to take much more time. He figured he’d wear out his arm and give up without actually making this work. Or his back would tighten and he’d go back to sitting against the block wall listening to whatever the night outside had to offer.
Carefully, Frank moved to his knees and switched the sleeve of the jacket into his right hand. He took a deep breath, held tight to the cell door with his left and began pulling. Before the rack had moved three inches, he sensed a problem. He stopped pulling and laid the end of the jacket on the floor. He then stood, walked to the far left corner of the cell, and found the issue.
“Okay, this is still a go. I hope.”
The third leg of the weighty coat rack was caught behind an extension cord that disappeared behind the door. He could continue pulling it forward, although with the awkward angle it now sat, failure was almost certain.
Stepping back, he surveyed the hall and the placement of the trashcan. He didn’t necessarily need the coat rack to cover the entire distance, but he did need it much closer than it was now. Six feet, just another six feet. If he could somehow figure out how to move the heavy rack another six feet, the rest would be easy.
Back to the cell door, Frank groaned as he squatted to the floor. His knees cracked and his back reminded him of the past five days. Reaching for the jacket, he clutched the sleeve and again began to pull.
For every three inches the top portion of the rack traveled, the legs moved less than one. As he continued to pull, the rack moved up onto two legs and rocked to the right under its own weight. He paused momentarily as it settled and then scanned the white linoleum floor. He was estimating where the rack would finally come to rest once gravity finally took over.
Holding tight to the coat sleeve, he gently pulled back and to the left. The rack pitched up onto one leg and then twisted awkwardly to the right, sending it into the wall directly across from the cell door.
As the rack detached from his makeshift tether, it slid down the wall and pitched forward. Frank held his breath as it moved away from him, striking and overturning the small plastic trashcan. As the rack rebounded off the floor and rolled to within a few feet the cell, he watched the keys shoot out across the slick floor and slide into the darkened corner fifteen feet away. Out of reach for good.
Slumping to the floor, Frank released the jacket. He turned his back to the cell door and sat in silence. Other than the distant sounds of the night and the sighing of the brick and mortar as it settled, nothing moved.
After ten minutes, Frank again moved to his feet. He stared through the hall toward the doors to the lobby. “Why?”
Gripping the bars, he squeezed down tight. Rocking back and forth, he shook the door as arthritic flares shot through his joints. His knuckles turned from white to red as explosions of pain raced up his hands and forced him to release his grip.
Leaning in, Frank pulled his jacket back through the door and united the knot. He slipped his belt back on, moved to the cot, and sat down. Breathing a sigh of defeat, he folded his arms into his chest and dropped his head.
“Okay, I give up. You win. I’m done.”
His stomach now taunted him as it growled. He was hungry. Beyond hungry and he was tired. Out of the corner of his eye, the two cans of tuna and what was left of the saltines sat alongside the empty grocery bags. Without a can opener and not much in the way of energy, he dreaded the thought of attempting to open another one by hand. Hell, he wasn’t even sure his sore fingers were up for the task.
At slightly less than one hundred calories per can, was it worth the effort? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think. He just wanted to sleep.
Closing his eyes, Frank tried to clear his mind. He thought of his wife and tried to picture her face. She smiled at him. She began to talk to him, but her face quickly disappeared. It was replaced by the shattering of glass and then the familiar groans he’d been trying to block out for the last five days.
Frank didn’t have to see it to know what had happened. It was obvious. The building that had protected him from those things since the first morning had been breached. They were in and they were coming for him.