But those eyes told a different story. They said that that he was capable of anything, that violence, no matter how extreme, was exactly what he wanted.
This is what had happened, probably, to the majority of humanity. Civilization had fallen and the human animal had risen in its place. This man represented something, something bigger than himself.
Three quick shots rang out.
Cynthia’s ears rang with the sound.
Three bullet holes appeared in the stranger’s chest, red pockets of blood decorating his bare hairy skin.
The stranger seemed to remain standing as Cynthia’s adrenaline kicked up and time seemed to slow down. Then he crumpled to the ground, his arms stuck out at odd angles, an expression of confusion on his face. His eyes remained open, never losing that look.
Cynthia turned to her right, to see John, standing slightly behind her. His gun was raised. He stood still, almost frozen, his finger still on the trigger.
Slowly, he lowered his gun.
Cynthia stared at him. She said nothing, but her expression must have said more than she’d thought.
“You weren’t there in Philly with me,” said John. “You didn’t see what the mob was like. There’s no reasoning with them. If they’re coming this way, we’re going to have to kill them all if we want to stay alive.”
There was a viciousness and callousness in his voice that Cynthia had never heard before, despite everything they’d been through, despite the battles they’d fought together, and the enemies they’d come up against.
Cynthia felt her eyes starting to water.
She didn’t know what she was feeling. She couldn’t identify it. Her emotions seemed to be hidden away, buried by the necessity of survival.
She reached up to her cheek and wiped a single tear away before anyone else could see it.
“There’s someone else!” shouted Georgia.
“They’re coming!” shouted Sadie.
Cynthia turned. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion still.
She saw her friends first before the mob. She saw the determination on John’s face. He looked suddenly much older, the lines on his tanned face merging together as his lips curled. Was it disgust she saw there too, written in those lines, disgust for the mob of humanity that was converging upon them and their camp?
She saw Georgia standing tall despite her injury. Her stance was wide as she shouted commands that Cynthia didn’t seem to hear.
It was as if Cynthia was watching a movie and someone had turned the sound down. Everything felt surreal. A dull roar replaced all the voices. She saw Georgia’s mouth moving, saw that she was shouting, but the words didn’t seem to reach Cynthia’s brain.
Cynthia fumbled with her gun, trying to bring it up into position. But her hands didn’t seem to work properly.
James and Sadie were lying on their stomachs, their rifles propped up over a log.
Finally, Cynthia saw the mob.
Was it twenty men and women? Thirty. She didn’t know. Her brain wasn’t processing things correctly, and she was slowly growing aware of that fact.
Someone was right next to her, shaking her.
“Cynthia!”
John was shouting right into her ear.
“Cynthia!”
The dull roar died away. All of a sudden.
“What?” said Cynthia.
“Snap out of it!” screamed John. His face all twisted up. Anger. Frustration. Intensity.
Everything seemed to speed back up to the right speed.
A mob of armed people, half-clothed and desperate, were converging on the camp.
There wasn’t much time.
What had she just experienced? Was it some kind of stress reaction?
There wasn’t any time to figure it out.
She needed to act.
Quickly.
20
“What’s going on, Joey?” whispered Dan, lying still. He wasn’t moving, just like he’d been told.
“They’re coming,” said Joey, who didn’t make any effort to lower his voice.
Shouldn’t he have been whispering?
“Who?”
“Who knows,” said Joey. “They come in, kill you, take you away. Depends on the day. Depends who you are. Who knows.”
“Why are we lying back here behind the counter?”
“I’ve seen them drive by and simply shoot up the buildings. I was hiding in the hardware store and they drove by with some kind of machine gun and just shot up the place. Nearly died.”
The noise outside was intensifying. A deep rumbling. Sounded like big trucks. Were they the same ones who had driven by his grandparents’ house?
“Who are they?” said Dan again.
For some reason, it was important for Dan to try to make sense of what was happening. It wouldn’t do him any practical good. He knew that. But everything seemed so chaotic. So confusing. If he just had some definite information that he could wrap his head around… Maybe it would make it easier to cope. He didn’t know.
“There’s someone in here!” It was someone shouting from outside.
“I saw someone go in!”
They were deep voices. Sounded like they were standing right outside the door.
Dan hoped Joey had locked it.
Joey certainly hadn’t been the best employee at the hardware store. Even though he was young and short and small, Dan habitually outworked Joey at almost everything he did. He’d sold more than he had, and he unloaded more from the trucks when they came in.
Joey wasn’t the kind of guy Dan wanted to bet his life on.
“Shit,” muttered Joey. “They know we’re here.”
“Did you lock the door?”
“Yeah.”
“At least they’re not just shooting,” muttered Dan.
It wasn’t much of a consolation. And the words sounded hollow as soon as he’d spoken them.
“Is there a back way out?” said Dan.
“There’s no point. They’ll have the back covered.”
“How do you know?”
“They almost got me at the hardware store.”
“Are they soldiers or something?”
“Seems like it. Not US soldiers though.”
That didn’t make Dan feel any better.
“What do you mean? They’re from somewhere else?”
“No, I think they’re Americans. Just not regular soldiers. Maybe they’re rogue guys. Who the hell knows. The point is, they’re going to kill us.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Get to them before they get to us,” said Joey.
“I don’t hear them. Maybe they went away.”
“No,” said Joey. “They’re there.”
Glass shattered. Probably the door. They’d probably hit it with the butt of a rifle.
Dan clutched his kitchen knife. He wished he’d had a gun.
There wasn’t much time left. There weren’t any footsteps yet. But soon the men would be coming in.
“Listen, kid,” said Joey, turning to Dan for the first time. Joey’s eyes locked onto Dan’s. They looked wild and intense. Sweat was on his brow. His hair was dirty and his beard was long and unkempt. His face was gaunt and lean, his eyes bulging slightly. “I gave you a hard time at the hardware store. I’m not going to say I’m sorry. But I’m going to make it up to you.”
“What are you talking about? You never gave me a hard time.”
“I was making fun of you every time you turned your back.”
“Oh,” said Dan.
“I’m going to rush them. You go out the back. They’ll be there, but do the best you can. It’s the best I can do. And if you make it, I want you to remember what I did.”
“Joey,” said Dan. “Wait…”
But Joey wasn’t listening. He stood up, holding his shotgun with both hands, finger on the trigger.