The grass shifted, but stopped as the sound of the biker’s steps faded away from her. Mary kept her hand over her and Erin’s mouth for a few more minutes until she was sure she they were gone.
Mary rolled onto her back. The grass scratched against her exposed arms and legs. Erin crawled up next to her and Nancy’s breathing was quick as she hyperventilated.
“Mary,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“What do we do now? Where do we go?”
Erin rested her head on Mary’s chest. Mary had her eyes closed and could feel the warm sun shining down on her. Her body felt tired, expended.
“Let’s just lie here a few more minutes,” Mary said.
Day 9 (Mike’s Journey)
The airport terminal was stuffy, and the springs in Mike’s cot squeaked when he rolled over. It smelled like a musty towel, but it beat lying on the ground. He pushed himself off the cot and rested his boots on the floor. He’d slept with his shoes on ever since the fire at his house.
Nelson and Sean were still sleeping on their cots and the To family, Fay, and Tom were sound asleep as well.
Mike lighted a candle and weaved around the cots toward the kitchen door. He pulled his pocket watch out, running his fingers along the smooth surface before he opened it, checking the time. 7a.m. The watch snapped shut and he quietly pushed the door open and headed toward the front to meet Clarence.
Clarence sat crouched behind one of the check-in counters. He leaned up against the wall with a rifle over his lap. Whoever was on watch could see the entire front of the airport and could stay well hidden from the vantage point he had chosen.
“How was your shift?” Mike asked.
“Quiet. One guy walked by, but never came in.”
“What would you have done if he had?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Mike could see the struggle on his face. It was something Mike had experienced himself, back in his neighborhood. He tried helping. He tried giving advice, but it fell against deaf ears. When the people around you begging for help resort to strangling you, it’s time to fight back. Mike hoped that it wouldn’t come to that for Clarence.
“The longer this goes on the more desperate people will become,” Mike said.
“I know.”
Mike watched Clarence fumble the rifle awkwardly in his hands.
“You know I’ve never even fired one of these things before,” Clarence said.
“You haven’t?”
“Firearm training isn’t a part of the TSA program.”
Mike grabbed the rifle. He flipped it on its side exposing the safety lever and making sure it was clicked on and pointed away from them.
“Rule number one when handling guns. Never point it at another person unless you’re ready to pull the trigger.”
Mike brought the rifle up to his shoulder and peered through the sights, scanning the front of the building.
“When you aim you always want to bring the gun to your eyes, not the other way around. When you’re handling a rifle or shotgun keep the butt of the gun firmly tucked against your shoulder. It’ll help with the recoil when you fire. When it’s time to shoot, you want to squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it,” Mike said.
Mike handed the gun back to Clarence. Mike watched him keep the end of the barrel away from the two of them and he brought the rifle up to his shoulder.
“And know where the safety is. You don’t want to be in a situation where you forget it’s on and when you go to squeeze the trigger nothing happens,” Mike said.
Clarence’s thumb found the lever on the side of the rifle and flicked the safety off. He put his finger on the trigger.
“Wait,” Mike said.
Clarence lowered the rifle, taking his hand off the trigger.
“Rule number two: never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Just keep your finger extended beyond the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” Mike said.
“Right,” Clarence said.
Mike grabbed the rifle out of Clarence’s hand and clicked the safety back on. He threw the rifle strap over his shoulder and clapped Clarence on the back.
“We’ll take it out back for target practice after breakfast,” Mike said.
“You’ve taught people to shoot before?”
Mike paused, trying to overcome the lump forming in his throat.
“Yes.”
Tom and Fay gathered the empty wrappers and cans from breakfast and threw them in the garbage, which was overflowing.
“It’s your turn to take it out,” Tom said.
“Fine,” Fay replied.
Fay tied the open ends of the trash bag together and lifted it out of the can. The bag caught on a crack in the can and split open, dumping trash all over the floor.
“Goddamnit,” Fay yelled.
Tom laughed. Walking back through the kitchen, his laughter echoing through the food court.
Fay threw up a middle finger. She picked up the pieces of trash and dumped them back into the can. Once the mess was cleaned up she dragged the can to the front of the airport.
The can slid across the pavement until she reached the dumpster on the side of the building. She placed the can right next to it, and just then heard a gunshot go off. She immediately ducked for cover.
“Shit,” she murmured.
She glanced around looking for the source of the shot, keeping her head covered. She squinted further down the tarmac and saw Clarence, rifle in hand with Mike behind him, aiming at something in the distance.
Fay covered her ears as the gunshots continued to ring out. She walked to them and could see that both Mike and Clarence had ear protection on. She screamed their names and when that didn’t work she threw an empty soup can at them. She hit Mike square in the back.
Mike took the earpieces off. Clarence clicked the safety on and leaned the rifle up against his shoulder.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Fay asked.
“Mike’s teaching me how to shoot,” Clarence said.
“He’s pretty good,” Mike said.
“Well, it took me a couple tries, but I finally got one.”
Fay walked up to them and saw a row of soup cans set up thirty yards away on top of a luggage carrier.
“You really think this is a good idea? I thought we weren’t supposed to bring attention to ourselves,” Fay said.
“Most people run away from gunshots, not toward them,” Mike said.
Fay grabbed the earpiece off Clarence’s head.
“Where’d you get these?” Fay asked.
“Found them in the ground control locker rooms,” Clarence said.
“Can I try?” Fay asked.
“Sure,” Mike said.
Fay put the earpieces on and Mike grabbed the rifle from Clarence. He showed her how to hold it and gave her the same advice he’d given to Clarence.
Fay brought the rifle up to her eyes. She kept the stock snug against her shoulder. Her finger hovered until she finally rested it gently over the trigger. The sights along the end of the rifle shook slightly as she tried to balance the gun. Once the gun felt steady she lined up her shot, squeezed the trigger, and the can went flying.
“Shit,” Clarence said.
“Nice shot. You’re a natural,” Mike said.
“What?” Fay screamed.
Mike patted her on the shoulder and gave her a thumb up. She smiled and then noticed the crowd behind her. Everyone had gathered outside. They were all looking at her and cheering. Fay’s smile slowly faded. She handed the rifle back to Mike and took her ear protection off.
“Where are you going’?” Clarence asked.
Fay ignored him. She ran between Jung and Jenna and headed for the side door, which led her to the food court. Once she was inside she sat on her cot, her shoulder feeling the strain from the recoil of the rifle.
Clarence walked in behind her, panting from the short jog he made running after her.