Hayden started to walk backwards. He knew he had been lucky slipping out of the town earlier. He didn’t want to push that luck under a hail of bullets. I don’t need a car… I can head northwest on my feet, make it to that gravel pit by noon tomorrow if I move fast.
He continued watching through the binoculars as he made his retreat. The gunfire stopped, but someone was still screaming. No, it’s more than just one person now. People were shouting to be heard over the wail of others. Orders were being given, and mass panic seemed to be answering. The shooting resumed, and Hayden could see the white blobs merging together, heading for the east end of town.
What the hell’s happening there?
The sensible side of him said to run. Turn around right now and start heading for that gravel pit. The brave side—the lazy part of him that wanted to drive instead of walk—insisted he press on. Keep going. Slip into that vehicle compound and steal a car while everyone’s preoccupied killing each other.
He stopped moving altogether.
What are they shooting at? Why is everyone yelling and crying?
He gripped the binoculars tightly, one of his fingers triggered a button he didn’t realize was there. The white blobs disappeared, and the shapes of human bodies became more defined. He’d inadvertently shut off the binoculars’ heat-seeking feature. Soldiers were gathering together in greater numbers, drawing weapons, and moving east. Bright flashes of white appeared in the moving throng of green and black, and the sound of their weapons firing met Hayden’s ears a few seconds later.
He saw a body torn to shreds. Bullets punched through cloth and flesh, and a black mist of blood trailed out from behind. Another person standing next to it was mowed down in a second hail of fire. My God. They’re killing the survivors… They’re murdering the residents of Brayburne in cold blood.
He had to do something. He needed to help those people. Hayden started stumbling forward, and then he saw the impossible. The first victim started to rise back up, the second one joined it moments later. The soldiers cut them down again. Hayden lowered the binoculars away from his face and stared at them dumbly. His hands were shaking terribly. He closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. I didn’t see that. No one can rise back up after being shot so many times. Shots continued firing. People kept screaming.
Hayden looked through the lenses again. The green and black shapes of the soldiers came back into view. They were backing up, continuing to fire at the corpses lying on the ground.
The corpses rose again.
Chapter 34
“Why are you turning around?” Fred Gill asked. He pressed his left hand against the Jeep’s passenger dashboard and held on to the door with his right as the vehicle turned in the middle of Main Street.
The soldier driving muttered something into the small microphone extending from his helmet and glanced over at Fred quickly. “There’s an incident occurring. I’ve been ordered to take you back to HQ until things have settled.”
“An incident? You mean all that shooting? It sounds like World War III breaking out.”
“That war started weeks ago, sir. This is something entirely different.”
“Then turn this thing back around and take me there. Can’t you hear those people screaming?”
“You’re the only civilian doctor we have on the base. We can’t afford to lose you.” They passed more armed soldiers running towards the east end of town. Most were men and women that had never picked up an assault rifle or saluted a superior officer in their lives. They were volunteers—survivors fitted into military uniforms with the sole purpose of helping other survivors.
“At least take me back to the medical tent. Those people lying in their beds we’ll be terrified listening to all this.”
“Not until the perimeter is secure.”
Fred had lived most of his adult life in Brayburne. He had never once heard the term perimeter applied to its outer edges. The Jeep screeched to a halt in front of the Town Hall. It was the oldest building in Brayburne, constructed decades before Fred Gill had been born. It was shaped like a giant cube with only a few small windows set on each of the four floors. It had always reminded Fred of Uncle Scrooge McDuck’s money bin—a monstrous block of a thing, a fortress made of faded red brick. And it had been just that when it was built in the nineteen-twenties; Brayburne’s town hall had originally been a bank. Now that the world no longer needed money or small-town government, the Bin—as Fred and a few other Brayburne old-timers called it—was the military’s headquarters.
“This way, sir.” The soldier had already run around the front of the vehicle and was pulling Fred out of his seat. “There’s a secure area inside where you’ll be safe until this is over.”
“You’re throwing me in the clink?”
“Sir?”
“The only secure area inside there is the jail cell. It’s where we used to let the drunks sleep it off.”
The soldier pulled insistently at the old doctor’s arm. “It’s for your own safety, sir.”
He wanted to argue some more, but the screams and gunfire coming from the east end of town were getting louder, much closer. Let the army handle that, he thought. There would be time after to help patch up the wounded. “Lead the way, young man.”
They were met at the main doors by a rush of men charging out carrying heavy artillery. One soldier had what appeared to be a rocket launcher nestled in his big arms. Fred stepped aside before they could trample over him.
“Sorry about that, sir.”
The kid was nice, Fred thought—a whole lot nicer than many of the other soldiers occupying his town. “What’s your name, son?”
“Corporal Stevens, sir.” They rushed by the main reception area.
“Do you have a first name, Corporal?”
“Adam, sir.”
If any of them got out of this alive, Fred promised himself he’d put in a good word to the youth’s superiors. “How long have you served in the army, Adam?”
“Three months, sir. I just finished training.” He looked embarrassed.
“Hell of an initiation, hey?”
They rushed past offices and came upon the jail cell at the back of the building. To Fred’s surprise, there was somebody already inside, sitting on the single cot. “Joanna Hensky?” He asked incredulously. “What is Brayburne’s mayor doing locked up in jail?”
The middle-aged woman had a pinched look on her pudgy face. Her body appeared tense, her back ramrod straight. “I came here… it was suggested I wait here until whatever it is happening out there gets worked out.”
Fred wasn’t entirely convinced of that. He had a feeling she had come on her own; the local politician wasn’t known for her bravery, or for being a particularly good mayor either. The corporal opened the cell door and Fred went inside. He sat beside Joanna and looked at the soldier questioningly through the bars as he clanked the door shut again. “You’re locking us in?”
Joanna produced a ring of keys from the head of the mattress. “We can get out whenever we want. Whoever’s outside won’t be able to get in.”
“Why would they need to get in when they can just shoot us from outside?” He stared at the woman. “Joanna… what the hell’s going on?”
She placed the keys back on top of the flat pillow and set her shaking hands onto her lap. “They don’t have guns. I don’t think they have any weapons at all.”