Down the Road: The Fall of Austin (19 page)

Keri and Mike avoided conversation at first,
too overwhelmed to say much at all. Also they figured talking might
be just enough noise for something outside to hear, and they didn’t
want to attract unwanted attention. They knew they had minimal
effective offensive weapons. They quietly pinned blankets across
the windows, hoping they wouldn’t do more harm than good.

They muted the television and silently
watched
The Big Lebowski
with the subtitles on. Then
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. Escaping into the world of the
movies together took them away from the unpredictable danger
outside their door, three stories below. It provided a temporary
sense of normalcy, of safety. Like in the good old days, movie
nights provided a sense of relief, a fitting end to a long week.
Tonight, it certainly was good company. But after the sun went down
they agreed the light emitted by the television was too much and
they had to turn it off.

It was then that they shared the basics of
their lives in whispers over the single soft light of a dime-store
candle, at first only the vague kinds of things that could be
safely shared with a stranger. But as the evening progressed, talk
became more specific.

“I’m really sleepy,” Keri said finally, after
her eleventh yawn.

Mike nodded in agreement.

“Do you think anything’s going to happen to
us here?”

“I hope not,” Mike said. He knew the windows
exposed them to danger, and safety was far from a guarantee.

Though they had not stepped back outside
since their initial meeting earlier that day, the sporadic gunfire,
honking of car horns, and distant groans penetrated the walls and
resounded in their ears. This was as relaxed as things were going
to get.

They carried the candle with them to the
bedroom.

“You can take the bed,” Mike said. “I’ll take
the floor.”

“No, no, no,” Keri said. “You need to be as
comfortable as possible. Seriously. The hard floor isn’t going to
help your ankles at all.”

“No, I insist.”

“No,
I
insist,” she said. “Shut up and
lay down.”

Her blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight,
and her dimpled smile even sparked a hint of happiness in Mike’s
heart. His lips were forming the beginnings of a smile as he
averted his eyes shyly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and
slowly lifted his legs up and onto the mattress, being gentle with
his ankles. They were healing, though; it was a good sign. He
fluffed the pillow and laid his head down.

Keri was squatting in the area between the
bed and the closet, her back turned to him as she arranged two
layers of blankets on the floor for her to sleep on. She put a
pillow down and a thin sheet she could cover up with.

Mike hadn’t planned to watch her, but found
himself doing it anyway. At first his eyes were innocently in that
direction, noticing her perfect toes and dainty feet. They were
interesting and harmless enough to look at, but he didn’t expect
nor was able to look away when she suddenly lifted her slinky
one-piece summer dress up her torso and up and over her head. In an
instant her bare back was exposed. Even then he was about to look
away, but certain things just kept keeping his eyes interested.
First it was the cute little ultra-girly white thong with pink trim
and polka-dots that snugly fit her posterior. Then it was the
barely visible silhouette of her right breast in the candlelight.
Then it became the wholeness of her soft and shapely body, topped
with a head of silky dirty blonde hair that waved at the slightest
breeze.

But none of this might have made her stand
out from other pretty girls he had seen if it wasn’t for her
incredible charm.

She replaced the dress she had been wearing
with a t-shirt she had taken from one of the dresser drawers
earlier. It was long and baggy. In lieu of the nightshirt she was
accustomed to wearing to bed, this would do nicely.

All at once she froze like a statue—a
beautiful statue of a finely sculpted alabaster fairy squatting at
the edge of a fountain, Mike thought. All she lacked was the
delicate wings.

After a couple of seconds, without moving her
body, she began slowly craning her head around in his direction.
She must have had eyes in the back of her head or something.

At the last moment Mike snapped his head away
to stare at the ceiling. If she had seen him do it, it would have
been a blur.

“Were you checking me out?” she asked,
suspiciously raising an eyebrow.

Mike focused on her again, wearing his best
manufactured confused expression. “I’m sorry, what did you
say?”

She didn’t buy it. “You know what I
said.”

He sighed. It took several seconds before he
could answer. “Yeah, I was looking. Sorry.”

Her eyes grew larger. “With everything else
going on—at a time like this,” she began, in an almost reprimanding
tone of voice, “you were actually
checking me out
?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m... male. Look, I’m sorry. I
respect you. It won’t happen again.”

She held her stern gaze for a few more
seconds, then broke into quiet giggling. “
Oh, come on
.
Lighten up, man,” she said. “I’m just giving you a hard time.” She
elbowed him once, playfully.

Again, (something else he didn’t intend to
do,) he couldn’t take his eyes off of hers. And the longer her eyes
also remained on his, the more her grin was fading. The expression
taking over wasn’t anger or anything of the sort. It was more
solemn. More vulnerable.

And he imagined he looked much the same way
to her.

She was the one to finally break the stare.
She giggled again, briefly, awkwardly. “You seem like a good man,
Mike Runyard,” she said softly.

Mike blew out a long breath, then turned his
head away and focused on the dark ceiling again.

Keri situated herself under the sheet and lay
on her side. She puffed up the pillow beneath her ear. She blew out
the candle.

Darkness.

There were no noises from outside that they
could hear. It may as well have been lifeless. And maybe it
was
.

Yet in the darkness and the all-consuming
silence, Mike and Keri waited to hear something. Whether that would
be good or bad, they didn’t know.

But there was nothing.

Maybe we’re the last ones left, Keri thought.
King and Queen of apartment B3-13. A republic of two. A nation with
no name. A faction with no future.

“Mike,” she whispered at last. “Are you
sleeping?”

“The evidence suggests
no
.”

She ignored his lighthearted sarcasm. “I just
want you to know that I promise to stick by you for as long as we
reasonably can, okay? You can trust me, and I can trust you.”

“You and me against the world, you mean?”
Mike asked rhetorically, smiling a little. “Then I’m in.”

“Good.”

A minute passed.

“You don’t snore or anything, do you?”

“Don’t know,” he replied. “I’m always
sleeping when it happens.”

“Oh, and you’re funny, too.”

Ten minutes until midnight

Texas State Capitol

Fireteam Arnold secured their gear and
prepared to bug-out. Simply walking out the front gates and down
Congress was their plan. By hiding in plain sight they would blend
in with all other base activity going about their business. And
once they crossed the bridge they would potentially be out of
sight.

The base was abuzz with activity, but not as
much as the previous morning. Their departure would not be noticed
until at least 0600 unless a gatekeeper got suspicious. But Sgt.
Arnold knew most gatekeepers were E-1’s and had to think twice
before harassing a superior about authorization to leave the
premises.

Sgt. Arnold exited their tent, followed by
Specialists Knight and Noble. They began marching in the direction
of the capitol gate, walking with a purpose—walking as if they had
every right and had been given every order and permission.

However, Sgt. Arnold wasn’t wholly surprised
when Sgt. Nickson stepped into their path.

“Arnold,” he said, almost gritting, as if he
despised even the very name itself. “With his charges, Larry and
Curly.”

Sgt. Arnold motioned to Knight and Noble to
just keep walking, and the three of them passed Sgt. Nickson as if
he didn’t exist.

It was worth a try, anyway.

“I’m curious where you’re heading, Arnold,”
Nickson blurted, shuffling his feet to keep pace. “This
after-lights-out
excursion of yours.”

Sgt. Arnold couldn’t keep silent now.
“
Excursion
, Nickson?”

“The only thing going on in camp after
lights-out is gruntwork. And you and your team aren’t grunts. So
what kind of quote-unquote
top secret
fieldwork did you have
to stick your brown nose up Captain Barrigan’s ass to get?”

“What’s the matter, Nickson? Are you going to
resort to petty jealousy because you’ve been given a lesser task?
Our orders aren’t yours, and you haven’t been cleared to be briefed
on them.”

Sgt. Nickson audibly growled.

“I’ve been lined up for a promotion,
Nickson,” Arnold said, grinning widely. The bluff didn’t feel good
because it wasn’t true, obviously, but
boy if it was!
He
would have loved to be able to stick the knife in a little deeper.
“When we return from this op, I’m probably going to be your
boss-man. Get your shovel ready for latrine duty. I’m going to have
you burning the shit in the port-o-potties for a
month
.
Before you can say ‘Gulf War Syndrome’, you’ll be claiming article
eleven just to get discharged. Now, if you’ll excuse us...”

Hell, that still felt pretty good.

Sgt. Nickson froze in his tracks as if he
were wearing concrete shoes. He watched as Fireteam Arnold marched
to the capitol gates by the new perimeter, freely passing military
vehicles and other personnel.

Sgt. Arnold was still grinning when his team
reached the gate. He had told them to keep moving unless a
gatekeeper directly intervened.

And one did.

“Sgt. Arnold, under command of Cpt.
Barrigan,” Arnold told him in his best authoritative voice. “Have
orders to do reconnaissance further down Congress to determine the
capacity of exterior threats.”

“Sergeant,” the young gatekeeper said, “I
haven’t been given authorization for this yet.”

Sgt. Arnold groaned. His fireteam sat silent,
letting their leader work his magic. “Soldier, you think I want to
take my team out in that shit? I would love to have an excuse for
us all to just go back to bed. But if we get delayed because you
were napping while my superior was radioing over the clearance,
which I’m certain he has—”

“Sir, I have not been napping at my
post.”

“Because of you we are already thirty—”
Arnold glanced at his watch. “—Make that thirty-
five
seconds
behind schedule. You can call Cpt. Barrigan and wake him from his
beauty sleep
after
we’ve departed. But right now I’m
ordering
you to open the gate and allow us to pass.”

The private submitted to the chain of
command. “Yes, Sergeant.” He prepped the gate security team. Once
they were in position, he blew a whistle that had the men open the
gate. It opened just enough to let Arnold’s fireteam slip through,
then quickly shut again. There were no immediate threats, but not
all Virals in the area had been neutralized.

The fireteam immediately began jogging down
Congress.

“Well, we’re out,” Sgt. Arnold said. “If
either of you has ever doubted my bullshitting capabilities, now is
the appropriate time for you to bow down in awe.”

“Never doubted your ability to B.S. for even
a second, Sarge,” Noble replied.

Behind a vehicle just yards away from the
exit, Sgt. Nickson had seen everything. He approached the
gatekeeper.

“Private. What just happened here?”

Fearing a reprimand, the soldier nervously
reported the incident. “Sgt. Arnold had been assigned by Cpt.
Barrigan to do some reconnaissance, Sergeant.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“And they allowed a low-ranking private to
know the nature of their mission?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“No, you mean
‘doubtful, Sergeant
.’ A
truthful man would have never bothered explaining himself to
you.”

Sgt. Nickson walked in a fast stride to Cpt.
Barrigan’s immense tent and approached the guard on duty. “I need
to speak to Cpt. Barrigan.”

“The captain left strict orders not to bother
him for anything while he sleeps.”

Gritting his teeth, Sgt. Nickson put a hand
on the guard’s shoulder and forcibly moved him aside. Then he
yelled into the tent, “I have to report that Sgt. Arnold and his
men have gone AWOL, sir!”

A silence ensued, making Sgt. Nickson gulp.
Despite the tent being very dark, his imagination drew a picture of
the Captain rolling from his cot and pointing a gun at him.
Military justice and all that.

“Goddammit, Nickson,” came the barely
concerned muttered reply. “You and your men can go after them at
daybreak. Now go away and let me sleep, you bastard.”

Nickson smiled. “Yes, sir.”

But he had his own ideas.

Thursday, April 15th

12:01 AM

12th Street and IH-35

“I could use some sleep.”

“Parcells, you can sleep when you’re
dead.”

The military Hummer turned off of south IH-35
onto the access road near the capitol, maneuvering through a sea of
stalled cars. Most were wrecked, while others had been lost to
bumber-to-bumper gridlock and simply abandoned. Some engines still
sputtered.

The four soldiers were delivering a special
cargo to the state capitol, a final piece of the TxRP. The
failsafe, the Plan B of the TxRP, was nestled in a steel briefcase
in a hidden compartment in the rear of the vehicle, directly behind
Specialist John Parcells. John was as green as a soldier could be,
and never heard the end of it from the two lifers in the front
seats. They had been in for almost nine years. John had enlisted
only months before in an effort to get scholarship money for
college. But he knew he was never going to go to college. Not now,
and probably not then, either.