Warfare Season: An Apocalyptic Thriller (4 page)

From
the alley, Austin observed the scene through a gap in the tall wooden
fence.

“
You
want me to put my gun down? Show me your warrant.” His gun
wasn't raised, but it was clearly visible, resting in his hand.

“
Put
the gun down! The area is under evacuation procedures.”

“
Show
me your warrant or get out of my yard.”

Harley
effortlessly stood by, almost obliviously.

“
Stop
resisting!”

“
Oh,
I'm resisting?”

The
soldiers cautiously moved closer.

“
You
might want to back up,” Gerald said, raising the gun.

They
opened fire, dropping Gerald to the ground.

He
lurched forward. Then he lost his balance and fell backwards. Blood
was pouring down his arms from the upper body gunshots. A good deal
of blood had also splattered across his neck and face, leaving his
complexion soaked in an uneven puddle of gore.

Two
soldiers surrounded him, while two more took Harley away.

Austin
made a run for it. He crossed the street undetected and walked
through the next alley.

His
uncle's place was seventy-five miles north. He figured he could
average about fifteen miles a day if he didn't run into too much
trouble, although the blisters aching through his shoes would be
brutal.

The
sun was setting. It would be dark soon. He would feel better in the
dark, as long as he could still see where he was going.

A
large SUV swung down the alley and headed his way speedily. He
thought about hiding behind the trash cans again, but they had
already seen him, anyway. The driver looked at Austin as he drove by,
but he didn't say anything. Then the SUV stopped, just a few yards
behind Austin. The driver got out of the vehicle and opened the back
door.

Austin
thought about running, particularly if the driver was pulling a rifle
out of the car. He kept walking; his head looking over his shoulder.

The
driver got back in the SUV and sped away.

He
got to the end of the second alley. He would now have to cross a busy
street. He took a look around the area, and then he stepped out and
crossed the street as soon as he saw an opening.

The
closed drug store half a block to his left was being looted.

A
military vehicle was approaching from around the corner. He was
barely out of the street when the vehicle started moving toward him.
He started down the next alley and looked back. The military vehicle
zoomed past him and pulled into the parking lot of the drugstore,
towards the looting crowd.

He
sighed in relief and moved forward, encouraging himself every step of
the way.
Five days
, he
thought.
Just five days, and then I'll be there. If I can
make it one block down, I can make it a mile down, and then ten
miles, and so on. One step at a time. I can do this.

It
was fully dark. Even though it was the city, the power outage had
brought down the street lights.

Austin
couldn't remember what the weather forecast called for regarding the
next week. But since it was May, rain was unlikely. Where he lived,
rain was always more common in April than May. Either way, rain was
the least of his concerns. In fact, it would make him less visible.

He
pulled out his phone and tried calling his uncle. There was still no
signal. Text messaging didn't work either.

He
had spoken to his uncle before about coming to stay with him in a
scenario such as this. But he still wanted to confirm it. Showing up
unannounced could get him shot and killed. If other desperate people
were trying to evacuate the city to head for the country, there would
be trespassers on the farm, and he might be mistaken for one of them
if he just showed up.

An
emergency camp was approaching straight ahead. He would have to go
slightly out of his way in order to avoid the large number of
military personnel that were camped out in front of it. He turned
left and walked around.

*
* *

Inside
the emergency camp, there were now seven hundred people crammed in
together. Enough of the guards were busy enough to not notice Thomas
trying to escape. It was also widely assumed that no one would dare
attempt to escape.

Another
fight had broke out. Thomas couldn't hold back any longer. He would
escape or die trying. Fortunately for him, the emergency camp being
used was not escape-proof. Although the conditions on the inside were
like prison, the building structure itself was not designed like one.

He
managed to climb out a window by sneaking into one of the off-limits
backrooms.

He
watched the headlights move across the outer wall as a pair of
military vehicles pulled out of the parking lot to go out and collect
more civilians.

The
damage he had endured from being on the losing end of too many fights
had left him moving slowly and uncomfortably.

The
main gate was being patrolled by soldiers, so he climbed a fence in
back. He paused when he got to the top, trying to remember how he had
managed to get past the barbed wire. He had done it before as a kid,
but that was a long time ago.

He
figured it out and made it to the other side.

Now
the bigger problem would begin; how to survive on the run.

*
* *

After
walking around the camp, Austin managed to get back on track,
avoiding the streets and back roads for the most part.

He
spotted a cemetery a block away to his left, then stopped, struck by
a memory. He walked toward it slow and easy. After scoping it out, he
made his way inside by scaling a wall and jumping a short fence.

He
had known a group of people that had told him stories about sleeping
in the cemetery, and if they had gotten away with it, there was a
chance that he would as well.

It
was late. He would have to try.

Not
having an odometer made him have to guess at the distance he had
traveled so far. It felt like ten miles, but in reality, it was
really more like three.

Blisters
had already formed on his lower ankles. It had been a month since he
had walked more than one mile at a time.

He
walked deeper into the graveyard. He wanted get to the center in
order to avoid any onlookers from the streets.

Military
vehicles would swerve around the corner and briefly shine their
headlights in Austin's direction as they made the turn, but they
never seemed to notice him.

He
sat down and popped open a can of beef ravioli. Although he preferred
it hot, he had gotten used to eating it cold and out of the can since
he was sixteen years old when his parents would have guests over for
dinner and he would have to wait it out in his room for hours at a
time; something that happened often. He used one of the disposable
plastic spoons he had brought with him.

Even
though he had chugged water before he left, the three miles of
walking had already left him feeling dehydrated. He drank a 16oz
bottle of water in a matter of seconds.

Already
exhausted, his shoulders were slumped. The empty bottle of water was
dangling in his hand as he stared straight ahead, still trying to
catch his breath. He was in good shape, but the anxiety made his
breathing more rapid than what it should have been.

He
was tired, but not sleepy. The ground was his bed. Bringing a pillow
and sleeping bag along with all his other stuff would have been
simply too much. Thanks to a very unaccommodating childhood friend he
had growing up, this wouldn't be the first time he had to sleep
without a pillow or blanket.

As he lied there staring up at the sky, he began to
doubt that sleep would ever come, but then he would just think about
those times when he would crash over at his friend's place; the
unaccommodating one. He had also done it before at camp; again, in
his childhood. If he could coax himself into a slumber back then
under those conditions, he could do it now.

His
major concern was being spotted by the groundskeeper on night patrol.
It was possible that there was no one on duty that particular night,
especially with everything that had been happening. After all, not
even the grocery stores were open.

He
brushed an ant off his arm and closed his eyes. He practiced deep
breathing exercises, trying to get his pulse to slow down.

The
air still retained its smoky fragrance from the recently extinguished
fires throughout the town.

The
thought of quitting and turning himself into the emergency camp was
continuously running through his mind, and if things got much worse,
he would probably have to resort to that. Or would he?

For
a minute, he had begun to convince himself that he was suffocating,
but then he realized that he was suffering from an anxiety attack.

Eventually,
he managed to ease his mind somewhat and drift into a sleepy state.
But the anxiety was still there.

As
he began to doze off, an almost epiphany-like feeling swept over him;
a horrid epiphany. He started to process everything that had been
happening. Feeling way in over his head, he began to question his
choices and he started to doubt his decisions. What if he didn't make
it out of the whole mess alive? Even if he did, life would never be
the same.

It was daylight. He woke up
surprised that he had actually gotten some sleep. He looked at the
digital clock on his cell phone: 7:50.

Another ant crawled on him,
passing over his shoe. Under normal conditions, he would shudder at
the thought of bugs crawling on him all night as he slept, but now,
it was the least of his concerns.

He skeptically opened his
bag, anticipating a horde of ants to be crawling through all of his
stuff. They were not. He sighed in relief and pulled out a pack of
pop tarts for breakfast. He followed that with a few sips of water,
and then he headed out of the cemetery the same way he came in.

He got about five steps out
before a voice from across the street shouted at him. It was Thomas.
“Hey!” he signaled Austin, trying to get him to wait.

Austin kept walking, but
Thomas kept jogging until he caught up with him.

“
Hey, could you help
me out?”

Austin drew his
switchblade, drawing the attention of Thomas to it.

“
Oh, I don't want any
trouble,” Thomas said. “Because I saw that you have the
big bag there, and I could just really use some food.”

Austin looked hesitant.

Thomas smiled. “I'm
not gonna rob you, man. I would have just sneaked up from behind you
if I was gonna do that.”

Austin put his switchblade
away. “I really don't have that much.”

“
Could you spare what
you can?” he asked.

Austin reluctantly agreed.

“
Okay, let's not do
it here, though,” Thomas suggested. “We need to get off
the main street. There are military vehicles patrolling this area
like you wouldn't believe.”

Austin turned right.

“
No, this way,”
Thomas insisted.

Austin turned and walked
onto a one-way side street, directed by Thomas.

Austin grabbed a pack of
pop tarts and handed it to Thomas.

“
Can I get a water
bottle?” Thomas asked, looking inside Austin's bug-out bag.

Austin handed him a water
bottle.

Thomas opened the cap and
started drinking the water right away. “It's been crazy.”

Austin nodded. “It's
been too crazy for me. I'm actually thinking about going to one of
those emergency camps.”

“
Don't go to any of
those.”

“
Well, pretty soon I
might not have much choice.”

“
I just came from
there. That's the last place you wanna go.”

“
How did you get
out?”

“
It's not that
complicated to get out; not the one I was in, anyway.”

“
So I guess the
complicated part is staying out, because they'll throw you right back
in with serious consequences if you get caught,” Austin said.

“
Can I get some
more?” Thomas asked. “What else you got?”

Austin handed him a can of
beef ravioli and a plastic spoon. “I've gotta get going.”

“
Wait, can I get
something for the road?”

“
I already gave you
something for the road,” Austin responded. He was trying to
sound as polite as possible while trying to be firm at the same time.

“
I could still use
some more.”