The Survivor Chronicles: Book 1, The Upheaval (36 page)

Yeah, he’d heard it at her age too, but he still didn’t feel right swearing in front of her. “Lock the door,” Carl instructed as he grabbed the keys and hopped out.

John scowled at him as he walked around the front of the truck. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass as more distrustful stares were directed their way. He could almost feel the fire licking up his back, singing his skin, and sizzling him alive. He was truly beginning to dislike people, or at least distrust them greatly. A fact that was apparently shared by the people turned toward them. He had to force himself not to look at the bullet hole in the truck. He didn’t like the idea of being reminded of what people were capable of.

At least there were police over there. It had to be safe.

Even Carl seemed hesitant now as he returned the suspicious stares of the crowd. “Just see what you can find out. If it gets hairy in there, come right back.”

“Did you really just say hairy?” John retorted.

Carl glowered at him as he turned toward the truck and surreptitiously slid the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Just go and be careful.”

John gave him a quick salute. “Yes sir.”

Rochelle rolled her eyes. “I’m going with you.”

“Maybe you should stay,” Carl suggested.

She shook her head as she surveyed the crowd. “They’re already suspicious of us, it will look better if I go with him. You know since I’m a young weak girl and all, they’ll trust him more with me at his side.” John stared at her with a new appreciation as he began to realize that yes she was young, but she was anything but weak. Carl grinned at her as he leaned against the hood of the truck and crossed his legs before him. “I think you might be able to give them more trouble than this guy.” He thrust his thumb at John.

Rochelle released a small snort. “I bet I could too.”

“I'm so glad you joined us. You just make this experience so much better,” John told her, but he was glad to have her at his side as they crossed the road and entered the grassy center.

People stepped away from them so swiftly that John lifted his arm and took a quick sniff. Yeah, it wasn’t the most pleasant aroma but he was no worse than the people surrounding him. He wondered if he had a bulbous growth on his forehead or some other indicator that he carried the bubonic plague. They were simply from a different town; they weren’t from Mars for Christ’s sake.

He could barely suppress a grin as he caught Rochelle sneaking a sniff of her armpit too. She really was growing on him and he wasn’t a fan of kids, especially not pre-teen girls. They tended to get a little carried away and screamed too much for his liking, but this girl was watching the world crumble around her and she was keeping it together far better than he'd ever thought possible for someone her age.

Better than him even, he thought with chagrin. But then, perhaps her age actually helped in this situation. Maybe she wasn’t grasping the full ramifications of everything that was going on, but he doubted that was true.

The crowd parting around them made it far easier to get toward the front of the mob than he’d anticipated. There was a group of policemen, firefighters, and a couple of EMT’s gathered there. A table had been setup and the injured were being treated as names were taken down. Behind the table makeshift tents and shelters were hastily being erected. John hadn’t expected people to actually stay within the grassy area, but apparently that was their purpose as a flap pulled back to reveal a few people lying down.

“Next!” a middle-aged, potbellied man in a firefighter uniform called out.

A sobbing man and woman stepped forward. John turned away before he could hear their story, there was something so broken about them that he was certain it was their child they were looking for, or had already lost. He weaved his way back through the crowd, keeping Rochelle near his side as he honed in on a group of police officers he’d seen by the sign when they’d driven past.

The officers were still there when he and Rochelle broke free of the crowd again. Two men and one woman were huddled together, talking softly as their eyes constantly darted about. They stiffened as John and Rochelle approached. He was acutely aware of the fact that all of their hands went to the guns at their sides and their eyes narrowed. How bad had it gotten around here? John wondered as they both came to an abrupt halt.

“Can we help you with something?” the woman demanded.

He wasn’t entirely sure if they could help them at all, they didn’t even look as if they could help themselves right now. “We, uh… we were wondering if you had any information? Do you know what’s going on?”

“No one knows what’s going on,” the older cop retorted.

“Have you heard anything from anyone outside of this town?” Rochelle inquired shakily. John shot her a look, she was anything but shaky. This must be the “weak” girl she had referred to. He had to admire it as all three of the cops relaxed and the woman offered a small smile.

The woman shook her head, she held up her hand to silence the older man when he started to speak again. “No sweetie, I’m sorry, but we haven’t heard anything yet. We’re starting a list, perhaps your family or friends are on it.”

“We’re not from around here and I was wondering if you had an idea of where we could go to try and get a hold of our families?”

They exchanged a look as they shook their heads. “There appears to be another, probably larger shelter at the stadium. We’ve been seeing flares go up but it’s not safe to travel through the area. The roads leading to the stadium have sustained a lot of damage and there is no way to know the extent of it right now. I would suggest that you stay here until things have stabilized and we know more about the situation.”

The sweat that beaded down his spine had nothing to do with the hazy heat of the day and everything to do with the fact that he thought they might be stopped from leaving. That was their job after all, public safety, and if these had been normal circumstances John knew the police wouldn’t have allowed them to travel those roads. These were not normal circumstances though, and these officers had a lot more on their hands than worrying if three people left this area or remained behind as requested.

How long would it be before they decided to blockade the roads to ensure the safety of the survivors though? What would happen when they tried to restore some semblance of order and normalcy? He doubted there would be any search and rescue crews going out anytime soon. There may never be any search and rescue missions, and they would probably only end up being recovery missions. Even those would likely be few and far between and conducted mostly by loved ones looking for some closure by having bodies to bury.

I’ll never know such closure. He shot that thought down before he found himself unable to function again.

John glanced back over the crowd but he couldn’t see the truck and Carl from here. He hadn’t heard any gunfire though and he knew Carl wasn’t going to let that truck go without a fight. “Thank you,” John muttered.

He grabbed hold of Rochelle’s shoulder and turned her away. She stared questioningly up at him as he hurried her back toward the mob. “I think it’s best if we get out of here while we still can,” he informed her.

She nodded and swallowed heavily as she surveyed the people gathered around them. “You’re right.”

It was harder to maneuver through the crowd on the way back; apparently their out of town status had already been forgotten. He found he actually preferred being a stinking pariah to the crush pressing against them.

“John!”

He turned back, his heart leapt into his throat as he realized he had lost Rochelle within the crowd. Barreling back through, he elbowed and pushed people out of the way. He ignored the looks and muttered grunts he received from them. “Rochelle!” he shouted.

A small hand shot up, waving briefly in between two heads. He started to run, crashing haphazardly through people. There was no way he was going to lose the kid. She may be tough but there were plenty of sickos in the world that would take this opportunity to let their freak flag fly.

“Rochelle!”

“Here!” The hand shot up again, drawing the attention of a large man.

The guy’s hand swallowed Rochelle’s arm as he pulled her forward. The man scowled at John as he arrived breathlessly by the man’s side. Rochelle was gaping up at the man, her eyes wide as she stared at him, and then the massive hand covering her upper arm. “You should take better care of your sister if you don’t want something bad to happen to her,” the man grumbled.

John didn’t bother to correct the man’s statement as he grabbed hold of Rochelle’s arm and pulled her away. “I will,” he promised.

He held firmly to her, unwilling to let her go as he began to push his way back through the mob. He was startled to realize that he was shaken from the experience. He barely knew the kid yet he had been terrified of losing her. He inhaled his first easy breath as they broke free of the crowd.

“Don’t get separated from me again.”

“I won’t.” He was even more surprised by the tremor in her voice. Something had finally rattled her calm exterior. “I was lucky to find the two of you.”

He almost half felt like crying himself as tears began to swarm in her eyes. “A wildfire you can handle, but you get lost in a crowd and you fall apart on me?”

Her lip trembled slightly. “I have no one else, not anymore. I don’t think.”

“We have each other.” God, he was turning into a mush. He wanted to gag himself.

“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way!” she retorted with a grin that was far preferable to the tears.

“Me too,” he admitted.

She looked both ways before skipping across the street toward Carl. John shook his head but promptly followed behind her. “What did you learn?” Carl inquired, staring questioningly at Rochelle as she hopped onto the hood of the truck without placing her hands down. “Hey, paint job!”

“Seriously?” she inquired with a quirk of her head. “It has a bullet hole in it.”

She wasn’t even the least bit bothered by Carl’s glower. “It was a new truck.”

“Was being the operative word.”

Carl’s forehead furrowed as he studied her. “What grade are you in?”

“Seventh. But I test high and read on a college level.”

“I’ll bet,” he muttered before turning his attention back to John. “Did you learn anything?”

John filled him in on what they had learned from the police officers. Carl was thoughtful as he leaned against the hood. “So I guess we head toward the stadium. The least we can do is check it out and see what’s going on over there. Do you know how to get there?” Carl asked.

“Not from here, I’ve only taken the highway and Route One to games and concerts,” John told him.

“We can always follow those.”

They both turned in the direction that Rochelle was pointing. The crowd within the grassy knoll became silent as a green flare soared high before dropping back down. Another red flare flew into the sky followed by two more reds and another green. “Is that normal?”

“Is anything normal anymore?” John asked but a feeling of unease began to grow in his stomach as another green blaze lit up the sky. The frantic firing of the flares made it seem as if the people at the stadium were looking for help instead of trying to draw people in. He held his breath, counting silently to himself as he waited for another fiery green ball to emerge. He was near a hundred when he realized that everything seemed to have become still.

The silence that followed was thick, hushed. The heat of the day seemed even more oppressive in the shroud that encompassed the crowd. The button on the pocket of Rochelle’s shorts made a small screeching noise that caused him to flinch as she slid from the hood of the truck. “We should go,” Carl said.