Commodity (6 page)

“I think I can,” I say.  “How will we bring stuff back?”

“We’ll have to just bring what we can carry for now,” he says.  “There are bound to be shopping carts or something we can use.  I’ll figure out a better way later.”

Falk and I go back inside where he unwraps the bandage from my leg, cleans the wound again, and bandages it back up.  It’s painful but not unbearable, so I decide I can make the trip.  Despite Falk’s rather foul mood, I don’t like the idea of being left alone in his apartment.

We head off down the street with one of Falk’s rifles strapped over his shoulder.  He keeps a slow pace so I can keep up as we make our way to the shopping center.

There is no sign of another living being, not even when we get to the main road.  It’s slow going with my limping, and we have to dodge a lot of cars that have smashed into utility poles or are just parked up on the sidewalk, and there are bodies of men everywhere.  I keep my eyes on the ground as we pass the cars.  I don’t want to see the passengers inside—or worse yet—no one inside.

Falk takes the side streets, looking for signs of life.  There are none.  Every time we pass another neighborhood, I keep thinking we’ll see someone this time, but we don’t.  We only see more bodies—all men.

The empty cars in the street bother me the most.  I can’t help but wonder who was in them.  I also can’t stop myself from checking the back seats for child restraints.  Every time I see one, I shudder.

Still no signs of women or children.

Falk leads me to a strip mall parking lot.  One half of the mall is completely destroyed, right down to the ground.  The only stores standing are a nail salon and a sandwich shop, and the windows are broken out of both of them.  The bodies of two men hang out of the smashed building, their blank eyes staring at the sky.

“What’s going to happen to them all?” I ask.

“Cleaning up would be a big job,” Falk says.  “In a couple of days, it’s going to be a lot worse.”

“Did you have to go there?”

“It’s true.”  He shrugs as he climbs through the broken window of the sandwich shop, carefully avoiding the bodies.  “Hopefully, someone will start organizing—putting things back together.”

“We haven’t seen anyone at all.”  I follow him inside but don’t get past the entrance.  There’s nothing but rubble inside.

“Maybe they’re in hiding.”  He doesn’t sound convinced or convincing as he maneuvers around debris trying to get back behind the counter.  Everything inside is smashed and useless, so we go back outside.

“Maybe we’re the only survivors.”  I can only whisper the words, barely able to comprehend the thought.

I look up at Falk as his face tightens and his lips smash together.  He looks like he’s about so say something right before he focuses in the distance.

“We’re not,” Falk says.  “Look.”

I follow his nod with my gaze and see three men in dirty jeans and flannel shirts appear from around the corner of the strip mall.  One of them points to us, and they all start heading in our direction, waving.  As they approach, I can see they’re all in their early thirties, and their clothing is filthy.

Falk stands up straight and touches the gun at his hip briefly before letting his hand fall back to his side.  He’s tense and alert, like he was when we first stepped out of the hotel.

“Don’t say anything.”  Falk looks at me with those intense eyes as he speaks.

“Why not?”

“I’ll explain later.”

The three men stop as they get close to us, and Falk takes a step in front of me.  I watch him closely as they interact.

“Hey there!”  One of the men in the group moves ahead and addresses Falk.  “What the fuck happened around here?”

“I was hoping you would know.”  Falk takes a step forward and offers his hand.  “Falk Eckhart.  We haven’t seen anyone since it happened.”

“Beck,” the dark-haired man says.  “Beck Majors.”

Beck is slightly taller than Falk with a more slender build.  He’s got that rough-and-ready look I associate with old cigarette or whiskey commercials.  He would have looked completely in place if he had ridden up on horseback.  He points to the other two men as he introduces them.

“This is Caesar and Ryan Tucker.”

“My brother and I just came here for the weekend,” Caesar says.  He’s a medium-sized, broad shouldered guy with a shaved head.  “Beck had gone on about how we needed to visit, but I think we picked the wrong time.”

“Phones aren’t working at all,” Ryan says.  He’s much smaller than his brother and obviously younger by several years, and they look nothing alike.  He’s got a scruffy beard, round eyeglasses, and a beret on his head, giving him a hipster vibe.  “I’ve got a short wave radio that isn’t picking up anything, either.  I’m not so sure this is isolated to Atlanta.”

“Where were you when it happened?” Falk asks.  “How did you keep from getting caught up in it?”

“We were exploring the storm drains near Decatur,” Beck says.  He rubs at a smudge on his jeans, and I wonder just what they’ve been walking through.  A distinctly unpleasant smell comes from the group.  “Caesar and Ryan are big into spelunking, so I said they ought to see what the city has to offer.  Felt the ground shaking, but we were pretty deep in, and it took a while to get out.  Some of the exits were blocked by rubble from the street.  When we got back to the surface…well, we saw all this.”

Beck waves his arm in the direction of the street.

“Where were you?” Caesar asks.  “Any idea what happened?”

“None,” Falk admits with a shake of his head.  “We were downtown at the time.  Took shelter in a MARTA tunnel.  When we came back out, everyone was dead.”

“How did you end up out here?” Beck asks.

“I live near here,” Falk replies.

“Who’s this?” Beck asks, indicating me.  He runs his tongue over his lips and gives me a smile.  “I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

I swallow and start to respond, but Falk beats me to the punch.

“Hannah,” Falk says tersely.  “Where are you headed now?”

Beck glances back and forth between me and Falk and raises his eyebrows.  Ryan shuffles his feet, and Caesar stares at me closely.  He widens his eyes, and I know he’s recognized me, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I was going to head home,” Beck says.  “Try the landline.”

“Mine was dead,” Falk says.  “What area are you in?”

“Near Emory.”

“You a student?”

“Faculty,” Beck says.  “I teach anthropology.  Caesar and Ryan live in Valdosta, right by the Florida border.”

“What do you do there?” Falk asks as he turns to the other two men.  His questions are starting to sound like an interrogation, and Beck’s eyes narrow as his friends respond.

“I’m a state trooper,” Caesar says.  “Ryan’s been working at the local airport, saving money for school.”

“I’m going for a law degree,” Ryan says, but Falk doesn’t look at him.  His eyes are on Beck, and the two men are staring each other down.  The silent interaction is unnerving.

“You were military,” Falk says with a very matter-of-fact tone.

“Yeah, briefly.”  Beck’s throat bobs as he swallows.

“What branch?”

“Air Force.  I was in communications.”

“Deployed?”

“No.  Never called up.”

Falk nods slowly.

“What about you?” Beck asks.

“Army.  Infantry.”  Falk doesn’t offer any additional details.  They continue to stare at each other until Caesar speaks up again.

“If the landlines are dead, we’ll have to gather more information another way,” he says.  “We’ve got a car nearby.”

“I’ve tried several,” Falk replies.  “All of the batteries are dead.”

“We’re parked just a couple of blocks from here,” Beck says.  “Let’s at least give it a try.

After listening to Beck’s car try to turn over for a couple of minutes without starting, everyone gathers in the street to discuss our next move.

“We should stick together,” Beck says, “at least until we figure out what’s going on.”

Falk glances at me, but I’m not sure if he’s looking for my opinion or not.

“We did come out looking for people,” I say quietly.

“Yeah, it makes sense,” he says after a moment of silence.  He looks back to Beck.  “Do you have any supplies?”

“Just what’s in the car,” Beck says.  “Back at the house I have more.”

“Weapons?”  Falk isn’t messing around.

“Just a couple,” Beck says.

“My Glock is back there, too,” Caesar offers.  “I didn’t bring extra ammo, though.”

“Should we go get them?” Ryan asks.

“Yes,” Beck says.  “Let’s collect what we can and search for more people.  Emory’s campus might be a good place to look.”

“We’ll follow you,” Falk says with a nod.

The three men walk off down the street, and Falk and I trail behind.  My leg is cramping up a bit, but I try not to let it slow me down.

“How did you know that guy was in the military?” I ask.

“The smell.”  Falk glances at me out of the corner of his eye and his mouth twitches into a slight smile.  “Knew he wasn’t army.”

“But you were?”

“Yes.  Did four tours overseas.”

He doesn’t seem interested in offering more information, and I don’t ask.  Maybe he’ll tell me more about it later.  The rest of the trip is silent as we walk to Beck’s house, just south of the Emory campus.  It looks like it was a nice, suburban community with a Panera and a Chipotle, but the entire area has been leveled.

Beck stands in front of what I assume used to be his house, staring toward the university.  I can only determine what used to be there by the piles of red brick.  Otherwise, it’s flattened.

“Holy shit,” Beck mumbles.

Caesar is poking around inside a black Toyota pickup parked at the curb.  The back end has been smashed by a blue compact car, but the front seems to be intact.  He ducks out of the vehicle with his hands full.

“I don’t think my truck is going anywhere, battery or not,” he says, “but the important stuff survived.”

He holds up a gun in a holster and a bottle of amber liquid.

“Is that the Glenlivet?” Ryan asks.

“Fifteen years.”

“First positive thing I’ve heard all day!”

All three of them laugh, and I find myself cracking a smile as well.  I guess it really is the simple things when it comes right down to it.  Falk doesn’t seem entertained by the idea, and he gestures to me to join him.

Caesar hands the bottle to Beck and follows.

“Are you still planning on heading to Washington?” Caesar asks.  His voice is low, and I’m fairly sure Beck and Ryan don’t hear his question.  Falk stares at Caesar for a moment without a response.  “I’ve read the reports.  I know who she is.  I assume you are part of her security detail.”

I bite down on my lip, remembering that Falk didn’t want me talking to these guys too much.  I should have asked him why when we were walking, but I didn’t.  I look over to him for direction and see him nod at Caesar once.

“It makes sense to head that way,” Falk says.  “It’s the most protected place in the country, and they’re bound to have more information than anyone we find here.  Getting there is obviously an issue now.  Whatever took out the electricity and everything else must have impacted lead-acid batteries.  If I can find a vehicle that uses lithium-ion batteries, it might work.”

“What do you think happened?”

Falk glances at the sky but doesn’t offer a verbal opinion.

Caesar looks over to me.

“I assume you’d like to keep your identity under wraps.”

“I’d prefer it, yes,” I respond.  “It’s just easier that way.”

“I’m not going to say anything,” he says, trying to reassure me.  “I don’t think either of those guys would care, but there’s no telling who else we might run into.”

“I would appreciate it if you don’t say anything.”  Falk’s voice is steady and stern.  “She’s still under my protection until I can get her to the right people in Washington.”

“You’ve got more faith than I do,” Caesar mumbles.

“It’s good to have a direction,” Falk responds coldly, “with or without faith.”

I look back and forth between the two of them, trying to make sense of their conversation.  Falk doesn’t seem interested in explaining, and I figure I’m going to have a lot of questions for him when we’re alone again.

Beck approaches, abruptly ending the discussion.

“There isn’t a whole lot inside the house that’s salvageable,” he says.  “I did pull out my Berretta and my AR plus two boxes of ammo.  I can’t get to the kitchen safely, but there is a Publix nearby.  We’d have better luck finding food there anyway.”

“Why don’t you go check it out,” Falk says, “and bring back whatever you can carry.”

“Are you giving me orders already?”  Beck’s got a half grin on his face as he looks at Falk, his head tilted to one side.

Falk doesn’t move or respond, and the air around us suddenly seems electrified.