The Survivor Chronicles: Book 1, The Upheaval (29 page)

She felt half asleep on her feet as her head bowed, and her eyes closed. The press of people against her was almost comforting, despite the stench of body odor and the oppressive heat of the day. The low murmur of voices lulled her even further.

She almost jumped out of her skin when a stream of loud shouts pierced the air. It sounded as if two or more men were fighting somewhere in front of them, but it was difficult to discern exactly where it was coming from. Rapid fire, of what she thought was some kind of automatic rifle, blasted loudly in the stifling air. She was pushed roughly back as terror spread through the mob. Like cattle ready to stampede, she thought worriedly. Al grabbed hold of her arm, holding tight to her as they were pushed roughly back ten feet.

“Remain calm!” a voice blared over the bullhorn. “Please! Everyone remain calm. The situation is under control!”

She wondered what the “situation” was as they were pushed back another foot before the mob eased. Her heart lumbered in her chest, she struggled to inhale. The press of bodies no longer seemed comforting but as volatile as a ticked off rattle snake.

She wanted out of the line now, but there was nowhere else to go if they planned to gain entrance into the stadium. She looked at Al, but whereas she felt half crazed, he remained unfailingly calm as he stood on tiptoe to survey the crowd. He wasn’t an overly tall man, and she was sure age had shaved some height off of him, but he was taller than her and able to see more than she could above the heads.

He dropped back down, shaking his head at her. He pushed back a strand of lank gray hair that fell into one of his eyes. “This isn’t good,” he muttered.

“What did you see?” she demanded in a low whisper.

“I can’t see anything, but I don’t like this. There’s no one controlling them.”

“What about the soldiers…?”

“That’s who I’m talking about. I can’t even tell if they’re actually soldiers and not just some men and women with camo’s and guns. Even if they are soldiers, who’s controlling them? Who’s in charge? Who put these regulations in place so fast?”

Mary Ellen glanced over the crowd, but she didn’t see any of the men or women who were patrolling the parking lot. It was bad enough to have to be anxious about people like the man by the bread truck, but she didn’t want to be concerned about the ones who were supposed to protect them too.

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid in my old age,” he frowned.

She really hoped so, but at the same time she couldn’t bury the doubt rising inside her. What moments ago had been a welcoming place now seemed frightening and overwhelming. “If Rochelle’s not here, I think we should leave.”

He pondered her words before finally responding. “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

“But you just said…”

“I know, and it does worry me, but it could just be my mistrust of the human race as a whole. This could be the safest place we find.”

“Or the most unsafe.”

He nodded as he surveyed the crowd. “We’ll give it a chance, but if we don’t like what we discover, I’m all for leaving.”

They crept steadily closer to the gate. The going was achingly slow, but after the events of the day she found herself surprisingly unruffled by the pace. She searched the people around her, none of them were familiar to her, but they were far from home. The people gathered around looked just as uncertain as Mary Ellen felt, and more than a few of them were in far worse condition than she was. The badly injured, when discovered, were brought to the front of the line and rushed into the stadium, but the ones who weren’t as bad off were left in the lines with them.

She kept an eye out for Rochelle, but she didn’t see her daughter anywhere in the crowd. The closer they got to the gates, the more concentrated the security became. But now instead of eyeing them with some measure of relief, all she felt was alarm as she watched them searching people at the head of the line.

She stepped to the front, bracing herself as a set of distant brown eyes settled upon her. Though the man was wearing a Foxboro police uniform he seemed far too young for it, and he was obviously out of his depth. “Anything in your pockets?” She shook her head in response to his question. His eyes were deeply shadowed, his shoulders hunched as he looked her over from head to toe. She thought she should take offense to a man being the one that did this as he quickly patted her down, but she found herself too numb to care, and she was pretty sure this kid didn’t even realize she was a woman right now.

He nodded at her and turned to Al. Mary Ellen tilted her head back as she took in the immense structure of the stadium before her. There had been banners hanging from it, but most of them had been knocked down by the tremors. She studied the remaining ones that marked the achievements and victories of the Patriots. She’d watched some football, as Larry had followed it, but it had never been something she’d really paid attention to.

“Keep moving!” someone commanded, startling her out of her contemplative mood.

She glanced at the cold, large man beside her before hurrying forward to join the line filtering past a grouping of tables. A pen was thrust into her hand; she stared at it for a few seconds before bending to place her name into one of the notebooks that had been placed upon the table. Though Al felt his family was gone she added his name too.

“No one will come here for me,” Al reminded her as he reached her side.

“Someone has to know,” she muttered as she dropped the pen down.

“Know what?”

“That you were here, that we were here. Even if it doesn’t matter, even if they don’t know who we are, someday someone will see our names and know that we survived for this long. That we counted.”

He smiled as he squeezed her arm. “You’re right.”

“Keep moving people! Keep the line moving!” someone called from the back.

Mary Ellen stepped away from the table, following the line that wound past the stadium toward some of the stores and hotels. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the flow. She couldn’t tell if they were being herded somewhere for a reason, or if everyone was going this way simply because that was what everyone else was doing. Either way, she continued to follow because she didn’t know what else to do right now.

“You know what the kicker of it is?” Al asked.

“You mean there’s something worse than all this?”

“Yeah.”

She frowned at him in confusion. “What could that possibly be?”

“I’m a Giants fan.”

She was unblinking as she tried to process his words. And then, when they sank in, she burst into laughter. Loud, echoing laughter that drew the curious and horrified looks of the people around them. But once she started, she couldn’t stop. It had been a long time since she had laughed, she couldn’t even remember the last time, and now that she was doing it she couldn’t seem to stop. This laughter felt wonderful, and though she tried to stifle it, she was unable to as she laughed until tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Al grinned at her. He grasped hold of her arm as she bent over and laughed until her stomach hurt. It felt good, this release in so much chaos and disorder. This brief moment of actual joy at a time when she hadn’t been sure she’d ever find or experience joy again. For the first time she realized that no matter what happened she would survive it, that there would always be a reason to go on. No matter how small or trivial that reason may be, she knew now that there would always be something good to find in all the misery surrounding them.

CHAPTER 21

Riley

Foxboro, Mass.

Riley brushed back her straggling hair as she glanced over her shoulder. Apprehension trickled through her as she held Xander’s hand and followed him past the stadium, restaurants, and toward one of the larger bars and hotels. Military and police personal continued to usher them onward, standing beside the line and yelling out commands.

Her chest ached, the pressure of impending tears had not eased as it clenched around her heart and compressed the air in her lungs. She enfolded both her hands around Xander’s as she took comfort in his strength. She was awed by the way he continued stalwartly onward. He may have teased and tormented her as a child, but he’d always been protective and loving toward Carol. She knew that he’d loved Carol as much as she had. Yet, where all she longed for was to sit down, curl up in a ball, and sob out her despair, Xander was dragging them all with him, forcing them to go on whether they liked it or not.

It was his steady, soothing strength that was keeping her on her feet right now.

He stopped suddenly, pulling her behind his back as three men with terrifyingly large rifles ran past them. Riley eyed them warily, the hair on her neck stood on end.

“Come on, Ri.”

He tugged briefly on her hand, drawing her attention back to him as he started to make his way forward again. She stayed close, trying to avoid the crush of the crowd pressing against them as Xander wound through the mass of people.

“Where are we going?” Lee asked.

Riley shook her head in response and Xander didn’t even look back as he lifted up on his toes to survey the crowd. He pulled her closer, looping her arm through his as he pulled her back to let another group of men with guns go by. “Where are they going?” she whispered.

Xander shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Lee murmured. “They’re necessary to keep everyone calm. Just keep moving.” Riley wasn’t buying his words, she was beginning to think that this had been a very bad idea and she didn’t like being here. She stared worriedly at the people surrounding them as they shuffled their way forward again. The crowd began to disperse as they reached a long hall that wound through the inner workings of the stadium. It was covered with paper that fluttered in the breeze created by the passing people. She frowned at it, uncertain what was going on until Bobby broke away from them and eagerly hurried over to it.

“It’s the list,” Xander muttered.

Riley simply continued to stare at it for a minute before she joined Bobby. Some of the papers were notes to loved ones, listing a time and place to meet in case they couldn’t find each other right away. She’d gone to the Vietnam Wall a couple of years ago for a school trip. This ramshackle set up reminded her of that, as she stared over the poems and letters and fliers stuck to the wall with tape.

There were some photos, not many, but a few of lost loved ones or loved ones who people were searching for. A purple teddy bear propped up next to a piece of paper with the name Linda on it brought tears to her eyes. Riley turned away; searching the crowd, she spotted what she sought about thirty feet away. A table with notebooks and markers set up on it had been pushed against the other wall.

Riley ripped a sheet out and grabbed hold of a red marker. Her hand shook as she wrote Carol’s name down; she didn’t write her last name though. If, by some miracle, Carol’s parents managed to get here, the last thing she wanted was for them to find out their daughter was gone from a piece of paper on the wall. She encircled the name with a large heart and drew a small angel in the corner. She’d never been much of an artist, but she was passable at it, and the angel came out better than she’d expected.

She tore off some tape and found a bare spot on the increasingly crowded wall. Her hand lingered on the paper as she stuck it to the wall. She couldn’t bring herself to turn away. She knew that Carol was gone; she understood that this paper had no link to her friend, but for some reason she felt as if she was losing her last connection to the girl who had been a constant in her life for as long as she could remember.

She didn’t realize that Xander was beside her until he took hold of her hand and pulled it away. He stared at the paper before turning his attention to her. His hazel eyes were inscrutable as he studied her. “I didn’t see our parent’s names anywhere,” he informed her.