Dating After the End of the World - 37

“Everyone locked and loaded?” I eye Tessa and Molly, one on either side of me. We look like something out of The Matrix , the scene where Neo and Trinity walk through the metal detectors, their entire bodies covered in various guns, blades, explosives, and ammunition. I can’t even recall how many times I watched that movie with my dad, and I smile at the memory.

Each of us has at least four pistols, a semi-machine gun, a combat knife, two flashbangs, and all the necessary ammunition to participate in a shoot-out for the better part of an hour. I also gave Tessa the one grenade my dad bought off the black market a long time ago. “I’m not even sure if it actually works, and hopefully you don’t have to use it, but if you get in a spot where . . . ya know.”

“I know,” is all she said in response.

“I’m ready,” Molly whispers at my side.

“Let’s do this.” Tessa pats my back, giving my shoulder a small squeeze of reassurance.

“We need to go in quiet. We are severely outnumbered, and we have to assume they’re all armed and may have hostages. First thing we do is take out anyone patrolling the area. We don’t want any stragglers getting the drop on us from behind, and if we get made, then . . . well, we’re gonna be in for one hell of a firefight.” I am drawing out a map of the property in the dirt with a stick, talking through the plan one last time before we make our move.

“What about Greg?” Molly chimes in, her voice laced with concern.

“That’s next. After the approach is clear, we need to take the sniper tower back. If they have someone up there watching, we’ll never make it to the house. So, we . . .”

“You said Greg was probably fine.” Tears well up in Molly’s eyes, and her lower lip starts to quiver.

“I said if. If they have someone up there. We need to plan for everything.”

She nods and lets me get back to it.

“Okay, so then we make a break for the sniper tower and secure it. Molly, you can stay up there with Greg and provide supporting fire as needed. Tessa, you’ll come with me, and we’ll head for the main house. Any questions?” My eyes dart back and forth, watching as both of them shake their heads. “All right, follow me, and stay low.”

The gunfire has ceased for several minutes now as we make our way back through the woods, which tells me the burners are settled in, thinking they have control of the place and everyone in it. I poke my head out of the tree line, scanning in every direction, looking for the slightest bit of movement. When I see none, I wave the girls on behind me, and we quickly slink along the trees, staying low to the ground as we move toward the house. When the brush opens up, I spot the first burner, a lone man pacing back and forth, watching the north and west approaches to the house. He has a single shotgun in his hands and holds it pointed at the ground, a relaxed grip indicating he doesn’t expect any danger.

“Stay here,” I whisper as I get into position.

I count out the number of steps he takes before he does his about-face, the same number each time and always at the same speed, like a human metronome, assigned to a single strip of earth. When he plants his weight and pivots his foot, I follow his shirt up to where it stops, drawing an imaginary bull’s-eye on the back of his neck. This time, I picture Nate’s smug face. I step forward, my body rustling the leaves of the bushes around me. At the sudden sound, he stops and spins around, his eyes going wide as my figure emerges, moving toward him. The man raises a brow and lifts his gun. Too slow. My arm shoots out, my wrist snapping at the last second as the throwing star cuts through the air like a Frisbee, planting itself right into his Adam’s apple. He drops the gun and his hands shoot up to his neck. Gurgling violently, his mouth sprays red with each successive cough. Blood pours from his throat like red wine from a bottle. I could really use a drink right now.

I sprint at him, bringing myself within a few feet before I leap into the air, my right leg lifted. I plant the bottom of my thick-soled boot into his throat, sending the throwing star deeper and severing the spinal cord. The force of my kick sends his body toppling over backward. I use my knife to fish the throwing star out of his neck, prying back and turning his head into something that looks more like the lid of a can after the can opener has gone most of the way around.

I hear gagging behind me, and I turn to see Molly almost throwing up her breakfast at the sight before her.

Tessa is smiling, nodding in approval. “Bad . . . ass,” she whispers.

I smile back and motion for them to follow me again. It’s eerily quiet. If I had shown up now, I wouldn’t even have suspected anything was wrong. But the air still smells of gunpowder, smoke, and blood. The tension of fear and terror are palpable as we move in closer to our target.

The dummy house is a little more fortified, with two men standing at the visible corners of the building and another patrolling from the front to the back of the house in the same steady rhythm as the previous burner.

We duck low, backing into the woods for the cover we need to plan our next attack. “Tessa, Molly, you need to shoot the two guys at the corners. I’ll take the one patrolling when he comes back to this side of the house. If we time it out right, we can drop all three at the same time,” I say, directing them to each of their targets.

“But we’ll make noise,” Molly protests.

“We don’t have a choice. They have their backs to the house, and they’re not gonna turn around.”

“Unless . . .” Tessa starts rummaging around in the leaves, feeling her way with her hands before she comes up with a rock the size of a tennis ball. “We distract them.”

I collect the rock, feeling its heft. I look at the house and decide that a well-timed throw through the window could provide a brief second for an attack. “That could work. But if they don’t bite . . .”

“I know,” Tessa says, “but we have to try.”

I nod in response and get myself situated, determining the force I’ll need to use in order to hurl the stone right through the glass. My heart rate accelerates and sweat builds on my brow. If I screw this up, or they look for the source of the throw instead of turning to the glass, that’ll be the end of all of us. The weight of this burden feels thousands of times heavier than the rock in my hand.

I look at both of my girls, giving them one last chance to back out, save themselves from the possibility of a swift death at the hands of some crazed lunatics. I wouldn’t blame either of them, not in this moment, but they stare at me with a steely confidence in their eyes, gripping the handles of their knives even tighter. They’re ready.

I suck in a deep breath and tune everything out as I gaze at the reflection of the sun glinting off the glass-pane window. I cup the rock in my hand and tell myself this is no different from my throwing stars. Nice and easy. The brush around me rustles softly as I let the stone loose. It arches through the air, appearing to hang above us for an eternity, the anticipation of its path keeping it from flying faster. Then, like a marionette having its strings cut, it plummets down, smashing through the window. Glass particles shatter into the house and tumble onto the porch.

The two burners turn to the window, just as we hoped they would, and then we run—Tessa at the man on the left and Molly the one on the right. Midsprint, the other burner comes around the side of the house, but I’m ready, catching him in the throat at the same time that the two girls leap into the air, snatching the men from behind and plunging their knives into their soft, fleshy necks. They sweep the blades across in a swift slash, painting the sides of the house a deep crimson.

I sigh with relief, tears nearly welling up and falling from my eyes as I look at my two girls, still safe and unharmed. They turn to me, blood covering the blades of their knives. Tessa is smiling, but Molly is trembling and looks like she’s just seen a ghost. The knife slips from her hand, falling into the grass.

“Molly?” I place a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve never killed anyone,” she says, her voice shaking like she’s just come out of a cold plunge.

“Oh, I . . . uh . . .” I look to Tessa for support, but she shrugs, mouthing, I don’t know.

“If we don’t kill these guys, they’ll kill Greg.” I stare at Molly, hoping that truth breaks through the shocked state she’s in.

She lifts her head, her eyes burrowing a hole in the fabric of time and space. That was all she needed to hear. If the kill is for Greg, it’s fine, which kind of worries me a little, but we’ll deal with that later. She plucks her knife from the ground, spinning the blade between her fingers.

“Let’s go,” she says, charging in her fiancé’s direction.

Pkowwwww !

A shot rings out from the sniper tower, kicking up grass and earth as it just misses Molly’s head.

I grab a fistful of her shirt, yanking her back to the ground so fast, she loses her footing and falls right on her ass. Kicking at the grass with her heels, she tries to move for cover.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! I almost just had my head blown off!” she says, bug-eyed and all panicky.

“You can’t just go running ahead. That’ll get you killed. We have no idea how many there are or where they all are. They were smart enough to occupy the sniper tower and use it as a lookout.” I peek my head around the side of the house, spotting a man in the tower with his gun aimed right down at us. I jerk my head back just as another shot rings out. “Shit, he’s trained on us.”

I rack my brain trying to think of the best way to approach. The point of the tower was a perfect 360 view of the property, precisely so someone couldn’t sneak up on it. The only way to make it is a full-on sprint, having the girls provide cover fire, and even then, my odds are low. But with that tower occupied, everyone is at risk.

“Okay. There’s no way to sneak up on him, so I’m just gonna have to make a run for it.”

“Casey, no! You’ll get shot,” Tessa says, grabbing my shoulder and giving it a shake, as though she can work some sense into me.

“I have to try. If you two can provide cover fire, I might be able to make it.”

“Casey, I want to save Greg more than anything, but I can’t let you do this,” Molly says, lowering her head.

“I’m going whether you guys provide cover fire or not. You can either help me, or you can let him have free rein on me. It’s up to you.” I turn back to the corner of the house and lay eyes on the dead burner at my feet. “Help me lift him up. I have an idea.”

The girls look at me with confusion that morphs into disgust as they put their hands on the burner’s corpse, his blood-soaked clothes already stiffening in the cool air.

“Okay. I’m gonna push him out past the house, into the line of sight for the shooter. Once he shoots, I’ll take off running. You two, wait one second and then start firing at the sniper tower. If you can hit the guy from here, that’ll be amazing, but even so, just keep shooting nice and steady till I make it to the dummy house. Never give him a chance to feel comfortable enough to poke his head out and take another shot. Understood?”

They both nod reluctantly, still not wanting me to go through with this.

“The second I’m inside, get back behind your cover.” I look to where I can guess the shooter is—X-ray vision of my imagination allows me to paint the grimace on his visage as he squints one eye down his sight.

With all my might, I push the corpse out into the open. The crack of the rifle rings out. Just as the bullet rips through the soft flesh of his fellow burner, I take off at a dead sprint, kicking up grass behind me. I glance up to see the man reloading for another shot, his eyes going wide as I present him an easy piece of prey, right out in the open. Behind me, gunfire begins to call out in a steady and even thump, bullets splitting wood and shattering glass. The burner drops to the floor, avoiding the incoming rounds. I bear down on my goal, running harder and faster than I ever have in my life. My heart is pumping blood so quickly I can hear it sloshing around in my ears, and then everything is quiet. I don’t have time to look back, but I realize Tessa and Molly are out of bullets, and they’re both reloading at the same time.

Fuck.

The burner pokes his head just above the window line, noticing he has a brief opening. My brain is scrambling, screaming at every muscle in my body to search for cover and hide, but the nearest safe haven is the building ahead. I glance up just in time to see the burner leveling the rifle at me. I cut hard to the left, then back to the right, then I fake to the left and dart farther to the right. Zigzagging erratically, I pray that he’s not a very good shot.

Pkooww !

Before the gunshot can stop echoing through the ether, a searing pain erupts from my ear as a high-pitched whistle passes by in a millisecond. I stumble forward but don’t lose my footing, and I’m back up at full speed just as the girls’ chorus of shots starts up again, carrying me into the old house relatively unscathed.

Leaning against a wall, I suck wind at a rate I never have before. My ear stings, and I reach up and touch it. The contact from my own skin burns, and I pull my hand away. Blood covers the pads of my fingertips, and the only thought running through my head is how one inch would have ended my life.

I creep through the house, unsure whether the burner in the tower has any support down below, but all the way up to the last narrow staircase is clear. The sound of old boards creaking under my weight guides me along the way.

If he only has his long rifle, then he won’t be able to do much once I charge in, but something tells me he has a smaller firearm or a knife ready and waiting. With my pistol drawn and pointed up at the top of the landing, I slowly skulk up the stairs, keeping the gun tight to my chest so my arms don’t breach the frame first. I debate tossing one of my two flashbangs up into the room, but it feels like a waste for potentially one target—plus, I have no idea what’s waiting for us in the main house.

Three stairs from the top, an explosion rings out from my left, wood splintering from the wall across my face. I hit the deck immediately, waiting for another shot to come. He’s scared, and he’s given away his position. I decide to hurl one of my throwing stars into the ceiling, creating a quick, albeit very weak, distraction. I plant my foot on one of the stairs and leap forward, turning to my left as I crash onto the tower floor. Lying flat on my side, I raise my pistol and fire wildly at the only figure I can see standing in the room. Two gunshots ring out in response as my gun clicks empty, and I close my eyes, thinking this is it. But the room is silent, the smell of gunpowder hanging heavy in the air.

I open my eyes to see the burner lying still, both our bodies on our sides as we’re locked in a staring contest that he couldn’t possibly lose. Blood pours out of the holes in his shirt, soaking into the fibers of the floorboards. I can’t seem to move, all my energy having been spent on the sprint here and the ensuing firefight. It isn’t until I hear Molly scream that I remember why I ran up here in the first place.

“ Greg !” Footsteps clamber behind me.

A hand rolls me onto my back. “Are you hurt?” Tessa asks.

I shake my head. She smiles and reaches for my hand, heaving me onto my feet.

Greg is lying on the floor, his hands tied behind his back. He looks to be out cold, the imprint of a rifle butt raised up on his forehead. Molly is in a panic, trying to rouse him. He stirs slightly, moaning out of his forced slumber.

I cut the ties around his wrists, freeing him.

“Greg? How’re you doing?” I ask while Molly and I help him sit up. Feeling his pulse, I check to see how his eyes are responding to the light in the room. His heart rate is slow but rising rapidly.

Greg winces, closing his eyes as he touches the raised bump on his forehead. “What happened?”

“Looks like you got knocked out cold with the butt of a rifle,” I say.

“Who did it? Was it Blake? I swear to God . . .” he starts to seethe.

“What? No, we’re under attack.”

The second the final word leaves my mouth, Greg’s eyes pop open. Fighting through the pain, he’s on his feet in a second, and that’s when he sees the burner, bleeding out on the floor a mere six feet away from him.

“What the fuck? Who is that!?” He points at the corpse. “Where’s JJ? Where’s Mom and Dad?” He heads for the door, but I reach out and grab his shirt, heaving him back.

“Greg, easy. I know this is a lot. But we need you to stay here with Molly.”

“No way. I’m going to find my family.” He pushes me aside, but Tessa jumps in front of the doorframe, blocking his exit.

“Greg! Listen to her. We need you to stay up here.” Tessa shoves his chest with both hands, forcing him back a step.

He sighs heavily and shakes the fog out of his head.

“We can’t lose this tower again. It was a miracle I even got up here in the first place. You need to stay here, protect the tower, shoot any burners you see, and provide cover fire as needed. Got it?” I can see he’s struggling, unable to be okay with just staying put while his family’s in danger. “Please,” I add.

Molly steps forward and squeezes him as hard as she can, tears running down her cheeks as she tries to crawl inside his body—her affection for Greg wanting nothing more than for them to fuse into one being. “Greg, we need to do this, for our family.”

He looks down at her glistening wide eyes, and within the endless depths of the love behind them, he must see the reassurance he needs. He picks Molly up and squeezes her so hard her back cracks a few times. She giggles as Greg gently sets her down. He turns and salutes me. “Consider the tower secure and your six covered, ma’am.”

I chuckle, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, sir.”

We exchange tights smiles and firm nods, and then Tessa and I take our leave, heading toward the main house. This time, with the safety and security of friendly eyes watching from above.

The three bodies are still lying outside where we left them. Even in the cool weather, flies are accumulating in a fury, excited by the newly found food. A hatching place for their larvae, which will become an all-you-can-eat buffet for the maggots that’ll turn them into nothing but bones. Exactly what they deserve.

A scream cuts through the woods, emanating from where the small cabins are. It sounds like a woman, but the scream isn’t for her; it’s something otherworldly, a sound I’ve never heard before. Two quick gunshots ring out, and then the scream magnifies in volume, a hundredfold over what it just was. Neither of us needs to see the two small bodies lying limp in the grass to know exactly what just happened. Another cry pierces the air before a man yells. A gunshot rings out and the world is silent once again. A lineage lying upon the earth, the only place it will ever exist again, erased in seconds.

Tessa looks at me, tears pouring out of her in silent streams as she motions toward the sound, as if to ask, Should we go do something? I shake my head and bite hard into my tongue, trying to channel my focus on the here and now, the pain grounding me to a spot on the porch. I tell myself, There’s nothing you can do for them now , over and over.

I motion with my hands for us to scout around the house, and we check the windows for any signs of burners and meet back where we started.

“Where do you think they all are?” Tessa asks.

“I don’t know. They have to be around here, though. Where would everyone else be?”

We slink into the house; the kitchen looks as though a bomb went off. Tables are overturned; plates and utensils are shattered and strewn across the floor. Our boots crunch over the fragments as we try to avoid them without success.

We hear a loud bump from the master bedroom. Muffled cries escape from under the door. Immediately we both plant our backs to the wall on either side of it, moving slowly, listening for any other sounds. More muffled cries are followed by bumping on the floor, but no voices, and no footsteps.

I bring my gun up and point to the door handle, signaling for Tessa to grab it. I hold up three fingers and rhythmically bring them down.

Three.

Two.

One.

Tessa pushes the door in as I swing my gun around the frame, scanning the room from left to right, top to bottom, in seconds. But there are no burners in here, and then we see the source of the noise.

Tied up in the corner, back-to-back, with gags in their mouths, are Elaine and my aunt. Julie’s in bad shape, blood running down her head, like she put up a fight and was beaten for it.

Tessa and I race to them, quickly removing their gags and untying their hands.

“Are you two okay?”

“Julie’s hurt,” Elaine answers in a whisper, coughing from the dryness of her mouth.

“Let me see,” I say, turning my attention to my aunt, inspecting the top of her head. It’s a bloody mess, but I find the source of it, a nasty open gash a few inches in length sliced across it, like the skin split due to a heavy blow. I examine her eyes, noticing they’re not responding well. She’s clearly concussed.

“Where’s my mom?” Tessa asks.

Elaine shakes her head and points toward the bed, her eyes swimming with tears.

Confused, Tessa rises slowly, approaching the bed as though a creature is ready to crawl out from under it and drag her into the darkness. Then I see the look on her face change.

“Mom!” She can’t help herself, yelling the word as she rushes around the side of the mattress and drops to her knees.

I follow, my heart breaking at the sight. Tessa’s mom lies on the ground, a small pool of blood beneath her head, her hair matted and wet from the sticky liquid.

“Oh my God! Mom!” Tessa shakes her, trying to make her respond.

Grabbing Tessa’s shoulders, I pull her off. “Easy. We don’t know how hurt she is, so don’t shake her, okay?” Tessa nods and slides to the floor, leaning her back against the bed.

I place my fingers gently on Meredith’s neck, checking for a pulse. After a few seconds, my heart nearly stops, a mirror of what my fingers are feeling. Panic settles in, but I keep it deep within, not wanting to alarm Tessa. I hold my fingers in place, keeping up the ruse that I’m counting out her heart rate, the sadness welling up so strongly inside me that I’m not sure how I’ll be able to tell her that she’ll never speak to her mother again.

But suddenly, a tiny bit of pressure makes her skin rise up into the pads of my fingers, sinking back down for nearly two seconds, and then rising again. Oh, thank God. I turn to Tessa, nodding in quick bursts. “She’s okay. Her pulse is very faint, but it’s there.”

Tessa dives onto her mother, holding her in her arms and brushing the hair out of her face. Aunt Julie and Elaine stand over us, tears in their eyes and hands covering their mouths.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“I don’t know. Dale and Jimmy ran out into the yard shooting when the men showed up, but I didn’t see anyone else,” Elaine explains.

Aunt Julie cries from the pain of her wound and from the unknown of whether her children and her husband are alive and well.

I know it’s not a consolation for the rest who are missing, but I tell her, “Greg is safe, by the way. He’s up in the sniper tower with Molly. They have the lookout secured, and they’re watching down on us.”

Her wet, crumpled face, saturated with blood, lights up. “Like guardian angels.”

“Yeah,” I say, thinking we’re gonna need more of those if we’re going to survive this. “Are you two gonna be okay in here? Tessa and I need to go find the others.” I turn to see Tessa staring up at me, a torrent of sadness and worry spilling out of her as she shakes her head.

“I can’t leave my mom,” she cries.

As much as I want her to come with me and finish this, I know, in this state, she won’t be any good anyway, which puts us both at risk.

“Okay. Stay then. Keep everyone in here safe.”

“I’ll come with you.” Aunt Julie takes a sudden step forward but nearly topples over, catching herself on the bedpost. Elaine steadies her and helps her sit.

“No, Aunt Julie. You’re too injured. Just stay here.”

My aunt slumps her shoulders and slowly nods. She doesn’t want to agree with me, but she also knows it’s for the best.

“Are you all going to be fine in here?” I ask the room.

“The real question is, Are you going to be fine out there?” Elaine says, reaching for my hand. She holds it and pats it with her other.

I take a deep breath and exhale at the prospect of facing this on my own, but somewhere deep inside me, I sense I will be. It might be pure delusion, but I can still feel it.

“Yeah,” I say.

“I know you will. You were the strongest little girl I ever met, and now you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known.” Elaine gives me an encouraging nod and lets go of my hand.

I smile and tell them to take care of each other before leaving the room and making my way back out into the kitchen.

I debate whether to check upstairs or downstairs first. Upstairs is noisier; the stairs creak more and there are a lot of corners, but I have windows I can jump out of if needed, and there’s more light. Downstairs has the armory and it’s quiet, but it also leaves me trapped.

I decide the armory is the spot my dad or Uncle Jimmy likely would have gone to, not wanting the burners to take it over, so I descend into the depths of the house, keeping my noise to a minimum.

The closer I get to the bottom of the steps, the louder a pair of voices become. I recognize neither of them, and I slowly poke my head around the corner, hoping to get a glimpse of the scene before being noticed.

Two men stand near the entrance to the tunnel leading back to the armory, chatting it up like they’re on watch duty at a mall. Scanning the rest of the room, I see one of the cell doors is closed, bloody handprints stained across several of the bars. My stomach drops as I wonder who’s locked in there, and whether they’re alive.

I grab two of my throwing stars, tried and true for taking down people quietly, and palm them. After a deep breath, I emerge around the corner, hurling the objects one after the other into the burners. The first one strikes the man on the right directly in his open mouth. A second before, he had started laughing at a joke the other burner told, and now the glint of silver disappears into the blackness of his throat before a stream of blood begins to pour out of him. He chokes, his body trying to dislodge the object from his throat, his tongue flailing as he grabs at his neck. The burner heaves up air, only accelerating his choking on his own blood.

The other burner takes the star directly in the chin. My aim was a little high and now he looks like a member of the Mursi Tribe, the glinting, pointed disc jutting from his face as he lets out an agonizing scream.

With my knife in hand, I sprint at him, my sudden movement catching his eye. He’s bewildered by my presence and the searing pain I’ve inflicted and almost forgets to respond. His expression changes from a glare of surprise to one of anger. Stamping his feet, he tries to rip out the object from the bone. At the last second, he snaps to attention and raises his weapon, pointing it at me. I have too long of a distance to close, my outstretched arm with knife in hand is still two full body lengths away from making contact with his skin, and I have no choice but to throw it at him. It flips over on itself, tumbling through the air like a gymnast, before the handle smacks into his forehead, sending him reeling back. The blade clangs against the concrete floor.

The burner brings his gun back up, but the second of time I bought myself allows me to slide forward. Dipping below the gun, I punch him directly in the balls. His hands involuntarily grab for them as he lets the gun drop to his side, the shoulder strap stopping it from hitting the ground. I sweep the back of his leg, making his kneecaps smash into the floor and his arms splay out, catching himself on all fours. Jumping onto him, I plant both of my feet on his back, riding his spine to the ground like a skateboard. His chin ornament drives into the concrete, and a muffled scream emits from his sealed mouth. I raise my boot and stomp his head. The structure caves and cracks, like an egg that’s been dropped onto the floor. A pool of red spills out, the yolk having been released from the shell.

“Casey!?” a familiar voice exclaims.