Swarm (Dead Ends) (4 page)

Twenty years from now, if I’m alive God willing, I’ll probably refer to this as my “contingency plan”, boasting that I was prepared for this very thing to happen all along and that blind luck had nothing to do with it. Right now however I saw it for what it was – a fortuitous gift that I shouldn’t let get to my head because I probably won’t get that lucky again. Reverse Darwinism – the theory that dumb people who do stupid things are somehow given a waiver that protects against their own demise – only works in incremental amounts. If you start abandoning your higher reasoning abilities on a regular basis, the universe will have no choice but to eliminate you from the equation, if for no other reason than to protect itself from the limitless potential for destruction that your moronic mind possesses.

I decided the best course of action for me right now was to stay put until the throbbing that seemed to blanket 90 percent of my body subsided to a level that would allow me to think clearly and hopefully make smarter decisions. Even though sitting still meant I would be alone with my increasingly morbid thoughts, my body gave me no choice in the matter. I quickly melted into a deep, almost catatonic sleep. As my eyes clamped shut, I remember saying a little prayer that whatever kind of pain-induced coma I was clearly sinking into would make dreaming impossible. I didn’t need any subconscious reminder of the twenty layers of deep shit I currently found myself in.

I was awoken to the feel of a gun pushed into my face hard enough to collapse the inside of my cheek into the space between my upper and lower teeth creating all manner of pinching and pressure-related pain. The gun was so cold I almost mistook it for something that was searing hot, attempting to pull away from it before it burned me any further. But as I pulled away the gun followed.

“Don’t move” a voice whispered. It was male and its intonations gave off nervousness and unease in waves. “We don’t want to hurt you but we have to make sure you’re not one of them.”

“One of who?” I countered, still groggy from what was actually a really great nap. “Those squishy brain eaters down there?”

“Quiet!” whispered the voice, angrily. “They lock onto sound and follow it for miles if they have to.”

I lowered my voice now, “If I was one of them would I be talking to you now? I’m pretty sure that gun is on the verge of dislodging a molar. You mind?” I attempted to make eye contact without moving my head.

“I’m sorry but we have to check for bite marks, just to be certain. Then I promise I’ll never point a gun at you again. I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“Good to see I’m not the only one on board with the whole zombie theory” I joked.

A single chuckle gave way to a stern voice, “My daughter is going to check your wounds now. I urge you to comply. If you attempt to hurt her in any way I won’t hesitate to use this.” He pushed the gun even harder into my cheek, a feat I would’ve thought impossible until now.

“Hey, no problem man” I said in the softest voice I knew how. “I understand. I won’t move unless you tell me to.”

“Zoe, it’s OK sweetie. Come and check the man like I taught you. It’s alright.” He motioned with his hand, his voice so calm and reassuring that it actually calmed me down as well.

The young girl cautiously began pulling up my sleeves where she methodically checked my arms in a reassuring bedside manner that belied the fact that she was probably in kindergarten. After checking my legs, she nodded towards her father, an unspoken bit of communication that they clearly had plenty of opportunity to practice. The tip of the gun, now warmed by my body heat, released from my face and a hand extended into a formal handshake greeting that would seem normal if not for the chaos surrounding us.

“My name is Paul and this is my daughter Zoe. We’re sorry that we had to meet like this but pleased to meet you nonetheless.” A sullen smile slowly formed on his face, a respectable effort given the circumstances. His angular jaw created a dark shadow on his neck in the now setting sun. His balding but closely cropped hair and perfectly straight, brilliantly white teeth seemed out of place in this concrete warzone.

“You too” was all I could manage to croak out. “Sam” I said, shaking his hand with what little strength I had.

I was hurting everywhere and even a simple handshake had sent spiraling waves of pain through most of my body. I’d been in survival mode for what felt like days and talking just seemed so foreign to me at the moment. I looked down at Zoe, a mess of long brown hair, red cheeks and deep blue eyes. She was intently sucking on a ring pop, watermelon from the smell of it, the gravity of the situation clearly lost on her young mind. Her worst day before all of this happened probably involved dropping her ice cream cone on the sidewalk, going to the barber shop for the first time, or perhaps attending her first day of school. I avoided addressing her directly to keep from making her nervous, as well as to not interrupt the sugar-induced fantasy land in which she currently resided. If sugar was the way she chose to deal with the things she could not understand, then more power to her. It’s clearly better than crying given the state of things.

I looked back to Paul and he looked at me. There were clearly a million questions we were dying to ask one another but neither one of us could seem to muster up the confidence to actually ask them, perhaps fearing that the answers - or the questions for that matter - would be too much too soon. I glanced at the wedding ring on his left hand. He was unknowingly spinning it with his right thumb and forefinger, a nervous tick or perhaps a memory that he was trying hard to hold on to or even harder to forget. He noticed my gaze and self-consciously pulled his hands in towards his body, giving me a sullen look and quick back and forth shake of the head that seemed to say “my wife didn’t make it and I don’t want to talk about it.” I wondered what he had seen or done or worse what Zoe had seen or what lies Paul had to tell his daughter just so she wouldn’t fall apart like he was clearly doing on the inside.

“So are you a doctor or something, ‘cause I could really use a prescription for Valium right about now.” I was attempting to lighten the mood a bit.

Paul smiled as he looked down at Zoe, stroking her hair with the love and care that only a father can give to his daughter. “A dentist actually but I did go to medical school. Couldn’t decide between psychiatry and dentistry.”

“I think you made the right choice. I’d guess it’s a lot easier to diagnose physical pain than it is mental pain.”

“Amen to that.” He seemed a little more relaxed now, perhaps because he could tell I wasn’t a psycho or a looter just trying to take advantage of a bad situation.

I nodded towards the entrance, “have you been inside yet?”

“Yeah, there are a few more people. Most of the employees took off when they realized all of the radio and TV reports weren’t a prank. They took most of the guns but there’s plenty of freeze-dried meals and jerky. But we’re saving those in case we need them. For now, there’s plenty of perishable food from the café that can keep us for weeks if no one else shows up.”

“You plan on staying a while?” I asked in an almost accusatorial tone that surprised even me. It clearly caught him off guard.

“Uhhh…. yeah” he responded in a “no-duh” sort of way. “We’ve got food, shelter, and access to TV and radio to follow what’s going on though its nothing but static right now. It’s the only thing that makes sense at the moment.”

I knew he was right but even with everything that had happened I still wanted nothing more than to get to the coast and hear those waves lapping up onto the sand before it was too late. I didn’t know the extent of what was happening but if my life was going to end any time soon, I wanted it to be on the beach –
my
beach – where I could at least die happy.

I tried my hardest to push any ideas of leaving this place behind out of my head. I was always a loner, better suited for life on my own. Other people always felt like a burden to me – a weight that held me down and prevented me from doing whatever I wanted whenever I pleased. But based on my actions earlier today, I realized that you
can
teach an old dog a new trick or two. No more running away. Maybe these people could offer help in ways I couldn’t imagine. If nothing else, they would be emotional support. We’re all experiencing this crazy
even
t together and misery certainly loves company. For the first time in my life, the thought of being alone actually scared me.

The air was getting cold and I was in serious need of a real meal. I shivered and turned to Paul, who was attempting to wipe the remnants of sticky sugar and fake coloring off of his daughter’s lips and mouth. Zoe didn’t pull away as most kids do when mommy or daddy is trying to clean them up. She barely even noticed, still dutifully sucking away at the sugar-filled novelty that had clearly become her salvation.

“Well, I guess it’s time to meet the lucky survivors” I said in the plainest voice I knew how, making sure to keep my words bereft of any whimsy or humor. Laughing may be my coping mechanism but I was keenly aware that other people may view it as insensitive, annoying, or a sign of serious mental instability. And they’d probably be right about all three.

“Are you okay to climb?” Paul asked. “You look pretty banged up.”

“Yeah, I don’t think the pain can get much worse at this point. I can handle it” I said confidently even though I was dreading movement of any kind at the moment.

My body creaked, cracked, and popped as I slowly made it to my feet with Paul’s help, his firm grip giving me some much needed guidance. Just as I managed to make it upright, a shot rang out – I had all but forgotten about the mysterious gunshots I had heard before clumsily escaping to the roof – and Paul’s grip went limp, his face a mixture of surprise and fear as he slumped over, blood already pooling up in his abdomen before he went to his knees. I attempted to grab him as another shot rang out, ricocheting off the tin roof seemingly louder than when it had first left the gun. I didn’t have the strength to hold on as his lifeless body slowly cascaded over the roof, hitting the scissor lift, then the pavement with a final thump that I knew spelled instant death, if the bullet hadn’t already taken care of things.

I grabbed Zoe, who looked as though she were suffering from a puzzling mixture of shock and relief, and carried her like a football as I hurdled roof segments until I reached the top. I could feel the bullets as they whizzed by, narrowly missing us on several occasions. I asked Zoe as calmly as I could where the roof access was and she pointed towards a tier of roof containing heating and cooling ducts that was only accessible by ladder. Luckily we were now shielded from below by the roof overhang but I still hurriedly got us up the ladder in case this mysterious shooter tried to follow, knowing full well that my injuries would prevent me from going as fast as I would like. Zoe grabbed my hand and led me to the door which I could’ve missed had I not been aware of its existence. She reached for the key which had been taped to the side of the air ducts and unlocked the door. Once inside, I locked the door, making sure to ask Zoe if there were any other keys I should know about, and made sure it was secure.

After a painful bit of climbing and shimmying, we arrived in a room which judging by the complete lack of décor, had to be the employee dining room, complete with an old microwave, a fridge that looked like it belonged in a studio apartment, and a glaring red coffee pot that did a passable job of compensating for the room’s lack of color. The door leading to the rest of the store was open and I walked out onto the top-floor landing to survey what was left of this bastion of hick consumerism. The bottom floor was chock-full of garish displays no doubt meant to keep people in the store and spending money. The focal point was a fake snow-covered mountain populated by stuffed animals ranging from elk to grizzly bear. The display was encircled by a low wooden fence that made the whole thing look like some creepy zoo exhibit. I imagined people standing there staring at these motionless animals, waiting for them to move or perhaps imagining them moving so they could fill them full of lead and hang their “trophy” on the wall for everyone to see whether they wanted to or not. There were dead bodies everywhere but not enough of them to occupy the many cars that sat lonely in the parking lot. A full size bright yellow prop plane hung from the rafters, for what purpose I don’t know. Perhaps it was to distract people from looking at the price tags too intently. I imagined being able to remove it from the rafters and fly the hell out of here, hopefully making it to the ocean before running out of fuel. Racks of clothing and rows upon rows of fishing poles filled out the space; a wet dream for sportsmen and weekend warriors alike who wear hats with fishing hooks in them and buy boats on credit instead of saving for their children’s education.

I wanted to know who else was in here and warn them of the armed man who would inevitably attempt to scavenge for supplies but it dawned on me that Zoe just lost both of her parents within days of one another. I didn’t think anything I could say would help her but it was my duty to try.

“Zoe honey, are you ok?” She was clinging to my pant leg with what I’m certain was all the strength she possessed. She managed to nod her head, confirming that she was alright. Clearly she was anything but. I checked her for any signs of blood but she came up clean.

“My daddy’s dead” she said with conviction rather than sadness.

“I know Zoe, and I’m sorry about that.” I released her grip from my leg and kneeled down to her level, “I tried my hardest to save him but I had to make sure you were alright. I’m so sorry honey.”

She mumbled something that couldn’t be heard as tears began rolling down her cheeks.

“What Zoe? I can’t hear you sweetie. Can you speak up a little bit?” I wiped away a tear on her cheek as she looked me in the eyes, clearly hesitant to keep talking. The pain I felt for this girl was more intense than anything I had gone through today. “It’s ok. You can talk to me. I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you, ok?”