He was a good shot. Always had been. From the time he was a boy until the time he disappeared from the face of the earth, John could fire a weapon. He had 10 good shots in that clip and another load. But he had to be fast. He moved closer to get a good aim. It was dark and the human beings gone wild, didn’t even carry any flashlight, or fire.
They probably were adjusted to the dark.
Who to hit first was the question in John’s mind. He aimed at the three men having their way with the motionless Meredith. It was a semi-automatic handgun, chamber engaged, John took aim as best as he could in the darkness lit only by the moon.
Three consecutive shots were dead on, taking out two of the assailants, and the third was hit in the shoulder. At that point John had to hurry and shoot the others. He took down the two females off the side.
Three more to go and they started to scurry around. They weren’t an easy target now and John had to move closer to where Meredith was to get a good shot. Weapon in hand, he raged forward ready to fire, ready to take charge. He had counted eight people. Six men, two women.
He didn’t see the ninth. He never saw the ninth.
As he raced in, directly center of them, he hovered above Meredith, in a protective stance. One hand on Meredith, he extended his arm in an aim. Finger on the trigger, ready to depress, John only got to fire one shot.
He felt the excruciating slamming pain to the back of his shoulders and John, with the force of the hit, went down, landing on Meredith. Beneath him he could feel her breathing. She was still alive. The blood from her chest seeped through onto his shirt. He cocked his head, reached out his hand for the gun and when he did, he saw Grant. The young man was off to the side; his bloody and motionless body was curled in an unnatural position, as if a rag doll just tossed aside. That brief second of looking at Grant afforded his assailants the chance to take control again. Just as his fingers grazed the gun, a bare foot slammed down on his hand and his legs were grabbed. Suddenly, he was yanked backwards, and John was literally dragged from Meredith.
He was pulled with such of force, his chin and arms ground against the pavement. He could feel the skin scraping from him.
How far did they pull him? It seemed like a mile, but it wasn’t, Meredith was still in his peripheral vision. John was maybe twenty feet away from her when the three of them stood above him.
When they grabbed him and flipped him over, John’s head collided hard with the ground.
Immediately everything faded, his vision blurred and filled with specks of light until John’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out.
TWENTY-EIGHT – Healing
DAY FOUR AR
There were a lot of things in the medical bag that Malcolm found useful. Problem was, he should have used them earlier. When he woke in the morning, an hour later than he wanted to, his arm was swollen, and it was beet red. He opened the bag found the ibuprofen and took not just one, but downed a handful and washed them back with a pint of bourbon. He took the antibiotic ointment and lathered the wound then rewrapped it. After that he took some antibiotics. Malcolm held on with weakened confidence that it wasn’t that bad, his life depended on it.
He wanted to rest. He was tired. His head pounded like he never experienced, he knew he was still fevered because felt cold. Shivering constantly, everything was a blur, and he just couldn’t focus clearly on anything. His mind, though not as sharp as he wanted it to be, wallowed in how badly he felt. But more than that, more than being sick, getting home was on Malcolm’s mind. And he would do it. Even if it was the last thing he ever did. He would get home or die trying to get there.
A natural well fed the water fountain in the center of the gated community’s park. It no longer flowed upwards, in fact, the pool of the fountain was thick and filled with algae and swarming life forms that resembled snakes. The water fountain pump did work. It took Nora about thirty minutes of work to get enough water to fill one third of a bucket. She boiled it and ran it through the purifier bottle, saving a little to wash dishes.
It had been a while since she ate off a dish, nearly ten days since her awakening. She fixed a meal for her and Jason, opened a bottle of wine she found in the house, and they ate a simple meal on the patio. Nora placed some of the items she found in the house on the table.
“You did a nice job,” Nora sat back, referring to the small section Jason cleared in the yard.
“I loved this yard. It’s just so weird, not long ago I was swimming in the pool. Sitting here like this, the world… was normal. It’s shell shock.”
“I hear you.”
“So.” He placed down his glass. “Aside from finely aged wine, what do you have?”
“I found a blast from the past.”
“Nora, everything is a blast from the past.”
“True.” She set a plastic CD case on the table. “How’s that?”
Jason laughed. He lifted the CD. His picture was on the front with three other young men. They all wore the same clothing, and they were young. Possibly teenagers. “Okay, you win. Blast from the past. It was a Christian Boy Band.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
“Ever hear of Trinity?”
“Nope.”
“Then that answers your question,” Jason said.
“So you sing well.”
“I like to think so,” Jason said. “I won a Dove.”
“That’s awesome.”
“And you’re stalling. What else did you find?”
“Some things that didn’t make sense,” Nora picked through her pile. “This certification states that they were inoculated against the virus on November 12.”
Jason folded his hands and nodded.
“Here’s what I don’t get. We have Harrison saying he flipped the reset switch in December. We have the PX shut down in November. Base itself, a little later. Nashville, completely, one hundred percent closed down, and it looks like a jungle. Here not so much. And that picture. The baby is like a year? It’s Easter. They had baskets. The reset button was hit months before that. Yet, they’re all dressed up and happy.”
“I have a theory.”
“Oh, I’ll call you Meredith,” Nora joked.
Jason smiled and lifted a finger as he stood. He came back with a foil pack and opened it.
“What are you doing?”
He dumped the small tan square on the table. “Let’s say this is Nashville.” He pulled his glass closer. “This is Louisville. That plate… Cleveland.” He raised his fist. “Nashville infected.” He slammed down his hand and pieces went everywhere.
“I’m lost.”
“The virus spread out from Nashville. It bled from there. Some places sooner, some places later. Some not at all.”
“Maybe we just need to find where the crumbs didn’t go.”
“This isn’t scientific. This is a visual aid to accompany my theory.”
“What if I’m right?” Nora asked. “What if the virus crumbs never hit somewhere. What if we are just in a dead zone?”
“Then we’ll know when we leave. Which, by the way, thank you. Thank you for staying an extra day or two.”
Nora sipped her wine and shook her head. “I have a strong feeling my family isn’t there.”
“You should have faith, Nora.”
“I do. But… that still doesn’t mean they are there. A lot of time has passed. More than we realize.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, the baby’s picture, the one on the hall table. She looks to be about three. So that’s at least three years. I was the breadwinner in my family. My husband wouldn’t be able to afford that house. He moved.”