“What do you want?” said Rob.
“I’m a messenger.”
“A messenger? What the hell are you talking about?”
The man just grinned at him.
Rob pointed the gun at the man’s chest. It was a clear message. He wanted to show that he meant business.
“Let’s try this again,” said Rob. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right now.”
“Because I’m part of something bigger,” said the man. “I’m just one head of the hydra. Just one part of the beast. Cut off one head and the rest comes back, stronger than you could ever imagine.”
“Speak to me straight,” said Rob.
“I am. What more do you want?”
“I want answers. You’re just giving me questions.”
“There’s a new tide coming. A new wave. A new ocean, even. A new law and order. A new resurgence. Everything will change. Nothing will be the same. The world will be fire and nothing more. And it will all be under our control.”
Rob had had enough of this nonsense.
“You’re in a gang, is that it? Is this your idiotic credo or something?”
The man looked Rob in the eye, pointedly spat on the ground.
A split second later, the man had turned around and was sprinting in the other direction.
He’d gotten on Rob’s nerves. And he’d given what seemed like a threat. Maybe not an explicit threat. But a threat nonetheless.
Rob wasn’t having it.
He started running after the guy. His feet were slamming into the ground. His arms were pumping.
But the guy was already putting considerable distance between them. And it had been mere seconds.
Rob was already out of breath. He still had a lot of extra weight.
His muscles were already burning.
He was in better shape since the EMP than he had been in years. But not in good enough shape.
There was no way Rob was going to catch up to him.
But he couldn’t let him get away.
What if that guy came back with his gang?
For the first time in his life, Rob actually felt responsible for something. He was responsible for the lives of Jim, Aly, and Jessica.
He was doing his best to live up to his new responsibilities.
Back before the EMP, he was always losing jobs because he shirked his responsibilities. But that was because the responsibilities weren’t real. They were just things that some boss told him to do. They were just things that he had to do to make someone other than himself some money. All he got out of it was a few measly dollars that he usually had to spend on beers after work just in order to relax.
Now, the responsibilities were real. Lives were on the line.
He felt like a new man.
And this new man wasn’t going to let this guy get away.
Now he had resolve. He’d never had that before.
Rob stopped dead in his tracks.
He planted his feet.
He brought his arms up. Straight out in front of him. Both hands on his handgun.
He took careful aim.
He took a shallow breath, holding it in as he squeezed the trigger.
The shot was a good one. Excellent, really.
The bullet struck the running man in the leg. Back of his thigh.
He screamed, lost his balance as he tried to keep running forward. His limbs went flailing, all lost together in a jumble.
The man hit the ground hard, his arms folding under him and failing to protect his face from the gravel driveway.
Rob was over there in a flash. He pushed his knees into the small of the man’s back, putting all his significant weight onto him.
Rob didn’t waste his breath on talking. First, he frisked the man, going for his pockets, ankles, and under the shirt, in case there was a holster.
Rob found a knife in a pocket. A cheap gas-station flipper, with flimsy-looking steel and a weird handle that’d been molded in China out of the cheapest materials.
In the other pocket, Rob found a gun.
“You should have pulled this on me,” growled Rob, pocketing the gun after checking to make sure that the safety was on.
The man grunted something.
“What’s that?” said Rob. “I can’t hear you.”
Rob got up for a second, grabbed the man’s shoulders roughly and flipped him over so that he lay on his back. Rob got back down, pressing his knees into the man’s stomach and chest.
“Now you’re going to tell me exactly what you meant by those threats,” growled Rob.
The man tried to speak, but Rob’s weight was too much for him.
Rob let up a little, adjusting his knees so that the man could speak.
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“You’d better,” said Rob. “Because it doesn’t make any difference to me whether or not I shoot you dead.”
Rob pushed the muzzle of his gun into the man’s temple. Hard.
Rob wasn’t really that much of a tough guy. But he knew that his size and shape were intimidating enough. He knew that if he acted a certain way, people would think he was
Or at least he hoped.
But it didn’t seem to have any effect on this guy who was on the ground and bleeding from his thigh that had a bullet lodged in it.
“I’m not telling you anything.”
And with that, the man moved his hand rapidly. From somewhere, he produced a long knife. A fixed blade.
The knife’s steel glinted in the limited sun.
Rob thought he’d checked everywhere. But apparently not.
The knife swung up at him.
Rob swung his arm, trying to deflect the blow by striking the man’s arm below the hand that held the knife.
But it wasn’t enough.
The blade caught against Rob’s arm. It was sharp, and dug into the skin.
Rob had brute force. He had size. But he lacked hand-to-hand combat skills. If he tried to deflect the knife another time, he might get stabbed. And die.
He had no choice.
He pulled the trigger before anything else could happen.
The gun kicked.
His ears rang with the sound of the shot.
Blood erupted.
Part of the man’s skull exploded inwards.
The man’s body fell still. His arm fell heavily to the ground. He wouldn’t move again.
Rob looked down at his hand. It was covered in some kind of bloody discharge.
Rob was in a state of some type of shock. He’d never seen the insides of a human head before.
And it wasn’t a pretty sight.
Instead of getting up or wiping his hand, Rob just stayed there, as if he was frozen.
His head seemed to turn by itself. His eyes followed the path he’d taken down the driveway, towards the lake house.
He could see the door, and it swung open.
He didn’t immediately recognize the man who stepped outside.
It wasn’t Jim or Aly or Jessica.
Who was it?
His brain seemed to be moving slowly.
Was it Aly’s uncle? What was his name? Jordan? The drunk.
No, it wasn’t him.
The man wore a policeman’s uniform.
Then it hit him.
It was the new guy.
Andy? Was that his name?
Yeah, it was Andy.
Rob’s semi-frozen mind registered on the fact that Andy shouldn’t have been doing what he was doing.
Andy, the stranger, had a huge amount of stuff with him. Stuff that he hadn’t had when he’d arrived at the lake house not that long ago.
He was loaded down.
He wore a huge backpack that looked like it was stuffed to the gills.
He carried a full trash bag in one hand.
“Hey!” shouted Rob.
Andy turned, saw Rob, and hurried off towards the lake.
“Hey! Get back here!”
Rob stood up, his hand and gun still covered in gunk.
It sure seemed like Andy was stealing a lot of their gear.