Exodus: Book Two: Last Days Trilogy (4 page)

Kyle had wasted too many hours and too much daylight to get north to highway twelve. He had tried every smaller road for access. He also had trouble finding an open gas station. He finally gave up on the smaller roads. Their closings seemed inconsistent anyway. Kyle was so frustrated he decided to try a main thoroughfare. At least that might get him close enough to Chicago to walk in. Once there, he wouldn’t have any problem ‘borrowing’ a car. By now Chicago was a ghost town.

Nevertheless, it was sooner and not later that Kyle ran into another roadblock. But Kyle didn’t stick around to hear the millionth ‘Sorry, road’s closed.’ Before he could be stopped, Kyle pulled his truck off to the side of the road, turned it off, grabbed his keys and gear, and got out.

He started to walk, muttering that the grass and the shoulder were free country, even if the highways weren’t. He passed a long line of cars on his way to the barricade, then kept going.

“Sir!” A soldier, a sergeant, called out. “Stop!”

Kyle turned around.

“Sir, where are you heading?”

“Into Chicago,” Kyle answered.

“Chicago is being evacuated. No one gets in.”

No shit, he thought, then smiled. “I thought everyone just had to get out.”

“Sir, I have to ask you to return to your vehicle.”

Kyle huffed. “And I have to find my daughter.” He looked at the name tag. “Sergeant Wilson. She’s in there.”

“If she’s in Chicago, she’s probably out.”

“I am so tired of hearing that.” Kyle snapped. “You people know nothing. And I can’t argue. I have to get my daughter.” Kyle kept walking.

“Sir.” Sgt. Wilson trotted up, attempting to keep pace. “This area is under martial law. You can’t go in there.”

Kyle moved on.

“You will be placed under arrest.”

Kyle kept on moving.

“Sir, this is a stop or I’ll shoot situation.” Sgt. Wilson grew aggravated.

“Tough.” Kyle called out.

“Stop right now or I’ll shoot.”

Kyle adjusted his bag, walked on and spoke over his shoulder. “I have to try to get in there. If you have to shoot me, shoot me. I’m not turning back.”

Bang.

A chunk of the floor chipped off and fell into the hole. Seconds passed. Splash.

“Okay, try it now, Marcus,” Reggie said, as she scooted out of the way.

Marcus grabbed the flashlight and poked his head into the hole. “Grab my legs.”

“All right. But don’t count on me holding your weight for long.” Reggie secured his ankles.

Marcus inhaled and moved an arm into the hole. “I fit.” He shined the flashlight down.

“What do you see? You must see something!” He came out. “What?”

Marcus smiled. “Steps. I see steps. We have to hang, then drop, but they’re there.”

“I’ll get our stuff.” Reggie scrambled to her feet and raced into the storage room. She tossed her purse into the partly open duffel bag, grabbed it and the briefcase, and hurried back to the stairwell.

“I’ll go down first, okay?” Marcus handed her the flashlight. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck.” Reggie grinned.

Marcus extended his legs into the hole and inched down on his belly, trying to grip the floor. He looked over his shoulder and down. “I need light.”

Reggie slipped her hand into the hole and shined the light.

Marcus took a breath and let go. He landed and stumbled down three stairs, damp from the ruptured pipe above.

“You okay?” Reggie asked.

“Yeah. Toss me our things! Whenever you’re...” He tried to catch the flying duffel bag, and missed. Before he could ask, the briefcase flew down also, and he grabbed it. “Now you. Climb out like I did...”

A few seconds later, Marcus saw Reggie’s dangling legs. He reached up and guided her down. “Good job.” Marcus handed her the briefcase and tossed the duffel over his shoulder. “Let’s get a move-on.” He grabbed the flashlight.

“Why?” Reggie asked. “We’re out of here and... hey!” Reggie looked to her left as soon as she hit the bottom step. “Where’s the door?”

“Not there.” Marcus tugged her in the opposite direction. Their feet splashed on the wet ground. “The hallway that leads to the garage is right... here.”

“Shit.” The door was blocked with chunks of concrete and wood.

“No, not bad,” said Marcus. He grabbed the briefcase from her and set it and the duffel on the ground.

“Marcus, we’re trapped again.”

“Reg, please.” His tone shushed her. “We dug a hole. We broke through a concrete floor. This is nothing. A little debris. We can do this. The door’s right there.”

Reggie smiled. “Our way out.”

A new wave of nausea surged through Kyle’s knotted up stomach. A god-like baritone voice caused him to think he was dead. But then he recalled his ride to the hospital and his subsequent bitching. The complaining didn’t last long, terminated by another voice saying, “Put him under now.”

Lights out. Anesthesia, Kyle thought. He never handled that well.

Sometime later, Kyle struggled to open his eyes to a familiar voice. One blurry eye, then another. George Leon came into focus. “George?”

“Morning, Kyle.”

“What... what are you doing here?” Kyle tried to sit up. His stomach flopped.

“They called us. Eliza sent me. I’m here to get you.”

“Where am I?” Kyle asked.

“Toledo. They said they won’t be pressing charges. They’re releasing you to my custody. How’s the leg?”

Kyle looked at his bandaged thigh. “Sore.”

“Could’ve been worse. That boy had authority to shoot you dead.”

“Real kind.” Kyle covered his face with his hand. “I failed. I didn’t get them, George.”

“You didn’t fail,” George said. “A man who tries is never a failure. You tried. Now let’s go home.”

Kyle swung his legs slowly over the bed. He saw he was wearing a hospital gown. “My clothes?”

“Eliza thinks of everything.” George held up a grocery bag. “When they said they were operating, she knew you’d need these.”

“Thanks.” Kyle took the bag. “What about my truck?”

“Getting that back may be hard. It’s been impounded by the Army.”

“Shit. It was hard enough getting it back from Medina County.” Kyle shook his head. “Well, I’ll just use Reggie’s. Have you heard anything?”

“News is saying they got out of Chicago.”

“I don’t believe it, but we can hope.” Kyle sighed, then hobbled on crutches to the bathroom to dress.

Reggie and Marcus grunted as they yanked at the door. “That might work. I’ll check.”

“Sure. Go on.” Marcus held out his hand for her.

“Thanks.” Reggie climbed the remaining pile of rubble and shined the flashlight through the cracked door.

“Well? Well? What do you see?” Marcus asked.

She slipped back down, looked at him and smiled. “...Fine.”

“Are you joking or being serious.”

“I swear.” Reggie grabbed the briefcase. “The corridor’s clear.”

“Must be the one to the parking garage.” Marcus tossed the duffel bag over his shoulder.

“Which level are you parked on?” Reggie asked.

“Um... I’m not.”

“Reg, just go.” Marcus waved out his hand.

“Please don’t tell me you’re parked in the Westing parking lot.” Reggie slipped through the door. “Watch out, it’s a little bit of a jump.”

They climbed up the rubble, slipped through the open door and jumped the three feet down.

“Now. Where are you parked?” Reggie asked.

“In the Westing lot.”

“Uh!” Reggie shrieked.

“Reg, stop that. This way.” He led her down the corridor.

“I can’t help it. We have to go through downtown, don’t we? I hope all those people aren’t still standing outside of the Institute.”

“Why would they be? The building’s gone.”

“Let’s hope your car isn’t.” Reggie slowed when they neared a set of doors.

“This takes us to the garage. We’ll only have to walk across to get to the ramp that leads to street level.”

“Then we’ll just blend in, right?” Reggie snickered. “They’ll probably arrest us for vagrancy.”

“We have to call our parents,” said Marcus. “Too bad that flip phone died.”

“For a cheap piece of technology, it worked.”

“Yeah it did.”

Reggie halted when she saw the emptiness of the garage. “What day is it?”

“It’s Friday... ” Marcus looked at his watch again. “...morning.”

“Why is this garage empty on a Friday morning?”

“They probably shut it down for fear of collapsing.” The sun was peeking through the ramp not far ahead of them. “We’re out.”

“Let’s run.” Reggie trotted backwards.

“Reg, don’t.”

Too late.

“Air, Marcus!” Reggie ran up the ramp, and then shrieked as she poked her head outside. “I’m blind!”

Marcus followed at a trot. He squinted in pain as he kept Reggie from rubbing her eyes. “I tried to stop you. We have to adjust.”

“I can’t see.”

“Keep blinking.”

“Is that a scientific thing?” Reggie blinked.

“No it’s a... Reg?” Marcus blinked his sight back.

They focused to a bright sunny day on a downtown street. No people. No movement. The only cars in sight were either wrecked or abandoned, some with doors ajar. The only sounds were the eerie blowing of paper debris in the Chicago wind.

“Was there a plague?”

Marcus grabbed Reggie’s hand and walked her into the street. They looked up and down the long, empty boulevard.

“Do you think they closed down this entire section of town?” Reggie asked.

“I don’t think so. But it’s so quiet. Do you hear anything?”

“Nothing.”

Marcus took a deep breath and bellowed, “Hello!” His empty greeting careened off the empty streets and buildings. “Oh, shit. I’m in a bad remake of
The
Omega
Man
.”

“Oh no, Marcus, tell me a plague didn’t wipe us out.”

“Reg, a plague didn’t wipe us out. I’m positive.” He started walking. “Beside it wasn’t that long ago I texted Herbie. I’m sure he would have mentioned a plague.”

“Oh, shit, Marcus,” Reggie said. “It’s creepy... listen to our footsteps.” Reggie banged her foot loudly. The stomp reverberated like a wrench hitting a pipe. “This is really weird. Hello!”

“Let’s just head back to the Institute to get my car,” Marcus said, dazed.

“Marcus, something terrible happened, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Marcus took a step, his feet scuffling through the scattered papers. “I just know that...” Marcus stopped talking when a newspaper blew up at his chest and stuck to him. “Something is not...” He grabbed at the paper and turned pale. “Reg.”

“What?”

He showed her the headline.
FIRE FROM THE SKY! Chicago Prepares for Evacuation
. “That’s why they stopped digging,” he murmured.

Marcus shoved the page of newspaper in his back pocket. “We have to get out of here.”

“What did it say?” Reggie asked, as Marcus pulled her down the street. “When’s the fire supposed to come?”

They turned the block. “Westing is this way. Not far.”

“Marcus, when?”

“Today. At noon.”

Reggie shrieked.

“Westing.” They arrived on the Institute grounds. “Please,” Marcus pleaded, “please let my car be in the parking lot.” He pulled Reggie in the direction of the lot, but stopped in front of the main building. “Oh, will you look at that,” he said with disgust. “Only the apartment wing was destroyed. That sucks.”

“No, you know what sucks? You made us take the escape route,” Reggie said, laughing.

“I thought it was the best... yes!” Marcus spotted his car. “It’s here.”

“If we would have just gone my way, which was the front door, we would’ve gotten out,” Reggie said, still smiling.

“But what if the whole building exploded?” Marcus said.

“It didn’t.”

“But what if did.” He neared his car and bent down at the back end.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my spare key.” Marcus unscrewed the license plate, reached behind it and retrieved the key that was taped to it. “Here.” Marcus moved to the passenger’s door and opened it.

Reggie tossed in the briefcase, and then got in. “Hurry, Marcus.”

Marcus raced around the car, tossed in the duffel bag and got in. He started it up, then pushed it into gear, motioning his head to the phone charger between the seats. “Grab my phone from the briefcase, plug it in. Call home.” Turning to look behind, Marcus peeled out of the parking spot.