Anthony looked at me for a long time before he answered. Could he see through me? Could everyone?
Was this even happening?
“Yes, Aiden. Go join her. When I decide how to move forward, I may need your help again.”
As I climbed the ladder, the rifle slung over my back, I looked up at the sky and marveled at the amount of smoke and ash in the air. Its presence had been increasing gradually for days, but this was like someone had closed the flue of the world. As if the smoke, having nowhere to go, was rolling backward with an odor so sharp it burned my nose.
Eventually I reached the roof and saw Paige lying behind her rifle, eye pressed against the scope. I quietly shouldered my own weapon. The sound in my mind compressed itself to a lone, high whistle. A gunshot fired this close might ignite the crowd, but how else was I meant to get Paige off the roof?
There was a way to solve this riddle if only I had more time.
But time was suddenly more precious than I knew.
“We’ve got a problem,” she said, and coughed into her fist.
Like the rest of us, Paige had realized something was different that morning, and she’d been carefully scanning the northern and eastern trees for movement.
“Someone’s in there,” she said. “At least two groups.”
“Can’t you shoot at them the way you shot at us?”
“Maybe. But what if Jimmy and Bart decided to come back?”
This seemed unlikely, but what if she was right? What if the women had come, too? Was Keri out there, waiting for her chance to see Dead Ed again?
“So what do we do?”
“All we can do is wait,” she said and coughed again. “Even if I knew none of them were friendly, they’re too deep in the trees to get a clear shot.”
I looked where her scope was pointed but couldn’t make out a thing. Also, my throat was feeling ticklish, and I coughed a few times to clear it. The noise in my head became heavy and dense: a ragged membrane of dissonant wails. The window for maximum destruction was rapidly closing. If something didn’t happen soon, it never would.
“Anthony wants to cut and run,” I eventually said. “Maybe you should go down there and talk sense into him.”
“He’s right. We can’t stay here any longer. But I don’t want our escape cut short by whoever is in the trees. Shit, I’ve lost them.”
“Both groups?”
I shouldered my rifle and watched the tree line. I swept right and pointed my rifle at Paige. My finger slithered onto the trigger. Her skull would be beautiful in pieces.
“Oh, shit,” she said, her eye still pressed against the scope. “It is Jimmy.”
I swept back left again. Toward the trees. Violins between my ears, strings shrieking.
“They’re about to walk clear of the tree line,” said Paige. “They’ve got Jimmy out front. And a woman. Two women. Using them like shields, those fuckers. Like the women aren’t even human.”
“You mean you can’t take a shot?”
“Not yet,” she said. “Not unless I can make a clear kill. The sound of gunfire could start a riot out front.”
I finally saw movement at the tree line, and then Jimmy emerged, followed by two women. From this distance they were little more than shapes, but their shuffling gait suggested all three were either exhausted or in bad physical condition.
And behind each one of them was a man carrying a rifle. As the six of them grew closer, I realized one of the men was the fellow who confronted us at the fence. I didn’t recognize the other two.
“Watch the entire tree line,” Paige said. “They could be trying to distract us from an assault. Who the hell are those women?”
As the group continued its approach, I heard someone shouting.
“… deserve a right to eat the same as you! We are not here to fight, but we must protect our families! I repeat: We are not here to fight!”
“I could hit at least one of them,” said Paige. “Maybe two. But I can’t get all three before the other one starts shooting. They might kill Jimmy and those two women.”
Was she asking if I would let Jimmy and the unknown women die in exchange for killing the intruders? If so, my answer was a resounding yes! Only what then? There was still the matter of the 269 rounds. A herd of people I was meant to cull.
“Let’s go down and meet them,” said Paige. “You first and I’ll cover. We should be able to reach the ground before they make it around the corner.”
Did she know I had pointed my gun at her? Would she fire while my back was turned?
I walked toward the stairs and closed my eyes and waited for the blast. But none came.
The ladder didn’t face the tree line, which meant we could descend without fear of being shot. On the ground we hid behind a semi-trailer. Eventually the approaching group stopped at the corner of the building.
“We are not here to fight!” one of the men yelled. “We were in the woods behind the warehouse and discovered this man approaching from the east. He says he’s been here before. He says you supplied him with food and water. Why shouldn’t we be treated the same?”
“Where are your other men?” I yelled back.
“Watching from the trees. They have orders to attack if this doesn’t go well. We are well-armed. I advise you to help us.”
I looked at Paige. Her face was unreadable. With this automatic rifle I might overwhelm the group with a barrage of fire, but that meant killing Jimmy myself. And possibly inviting an attack from their other men.
“Approach slowly,” I said instead. “Make any sudden moves and my sharpshooter will be forced to take you down.”
“We are aware of your sniper. We are not here to fight.”
The first movement I saw was Jimmy rounding the corner. His face was bruised, and blood was crusted beneath his nose and one of his eyes. Then two women followed, and one of them, I noticed, looked familiar, even if I couldn’t place her.
Soon the six of them were standing before us. Anthony had apparently heard and emerged slowly from the open employee door. He stood beside Paige and faced the men.
None of this was turning out the way I had hoped. I was thwarted. Disillusioned. My mind was a universe of chaotic, screaming nonsense, and I swore I could taste, of all things, lemonade.
From this awful disorder Anthony’s composure emerged.
“I am Anthony Williams, manager of this facility. Paige and Aiden have been helping protect our interests.”
“Billy Pate,” said one of the men. He was the angry guy from before, the one at the fence. “This here is Thomas Phillips and Seth Black.”
Upon hearing this exchange, Jimmy appeared to come to life. He craned his neck to look backward.
“So your name is Seth Black?”
Seth was shorter and softer-looking than the two other men. He would have been more at home in a cubicle, I thought, than a battlefield.
“So what if it is?” Seth said.
“You here from Tulsa? Have a wife named Natalie?”
“I’m Natalie,” said the other woman, the one I didn’t recognize.
The defiant look on Seth’s face changed to one of confusion.
“How do you know us?”
Jimmy turned directly toward Seth and smiled. I could see blood in his teeth.
“I’m Jimmy Jameson. You owe me $213,000.”
The look on Seth’s face, upon hearing this news, was something close to horror. I couldn’t know the incredible circumstances that had directed the paths of these two men to cross, or that Seth had come all the way from Tulsa the previous Friday, after the EMP.
And I surely didn’t understand what role Thomas had played in our lives thus far, or in events that were still to come.