SEVEN DAYS Page 20

  “Me too,” said Hector.

  “You youngins ain’t leaving me behind,” Old Pete added.

  “All right then,” Rick replied, “but we need to move quickly. And Anthony, I don’t want you to question me again. If you can’t take orders, you better stay behind.”

  Anthony tightened his jaw. “I’ll be honest with you: What you did down there was wrong, and I won’t pretend it isn’t, but Jacob is family to the rest of us. This is an emergency—and when the time comes, I won’t hesitate. I may disagree with you on everything else, but on this one thing, I’m with you, Rick.”

  Rick hesitated for a few more moments before he nodded. “All right, we need to keep a low profile and move quickly. Something is about to give, and I don’t want to be down there when it does.”

  TWENTY

  Day 7

  Rick and his men moved quickly through the town, scanning each face as they went. They took extra caution as they rounded each corner, carefully looking for the familiar red bands of the patrolling soldiers, but they found none—much to Rick’s surprise. He had assumed that after snapping the neck of one individual and shooting three others that the Red Sleeves would appear in force on the streets. Even as they approached the city center, there were no signs of any armed soldiers—it was almost like they had disappeared.

  Then something changed. Cheers erupted from a crowd of people at the end of the street in front of them. The cheers continued to spread, like a ripple from a drop of water. As the news reached more people, the cheering grew louder; some applauded—a few even jumped into the air with joy. Rick withdrew his men into a dark portion of a building and studied the expressions of people as they received the news.

  Moments later, a teenager ran past them, shouting at the top of his lungs, “The Federal Government is here! The Federal Government is here. It’s all over! We’re saved.” The young man’s voice faded into the distance until it finally disappeared. The mob of people around Rick and his men cheered, one man threw his hat in the air. People hugged and danced, tears appearing at the corners of several very dry eyes.

  Another man ran down the road, this one carrying an official document. “All those whose last name begins with A through G need to go to Salisbury Park. All those with the last name that begins with H through O need to go to the Willow Park. All those with the last name P through Z need to go to Jackson Park. There you will receive rations, toiletries, medical supplies, temporary shelters, hot showers, and further instructions…” The man then repeated himself as he continued his trek down the road.

  Anthony grabbed Rick’s shoulder, a smile spread from ear to ear. “I told you, didn’t I? Let’s go get the others. And here we are acting like a couple of jackasses. Hah. A hot shower—can you imagine?”

  Rick very slightly shook his head.

  Hector joined in Rick’s pessimism. “I don’t know, hombre. It seems too good to be true. What do you think, Boss Man?”

  Rick shrugged his shoulder, shaking Anthony’s grip from his arm. “How quickly you’re ready to grasp at the faintest sign of hope. The same person who assassinated the Mayor is behind this new information. It is the same person that has accused every public official that stood against him as being a terrorist.”

  Anthony frowned, “This is good news—heck, this is the best news we’ve had all week. Think of the boost this will give the Congregation. They need to hear this. I can be back there in half an hour. In an hour, I can have them down here. We need to get everyone to the parks before all of the good stuff is claimed. And with more people down here in the city, we’ll find Jacob that much quicker. We’ve got questions, and now it appears that there are people who’ve got answers. We’ve got to—”

  “Finding Jacob is the only thing that we’ve got to do,” Rick barked. “The Red Sleeves must have all been recalled to the parks. As soon as Jacob hears the news, I’m sure he’ll start heading to Jackson Park—he’s probably already there. We don’t have much time. We’ll have to split up: Hector and McCurdy will approach the park from the west, and I’ll approach from the east. Old Pete, I need you to get into a building to provide sniper cover for our retreat. We don’t have any way to communicate, so once we separate, every group is on their own. Move quickly. If you start taking heat, EVAC to the tree line. I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen, but we need to get Jacob out of here before it does. Keep your head on a swivel and move quickly.”

  Anthony shook his head, the bitterness evident in his voice. “You’re going to feel like one hell of an idiot when this all blows over. Why are you so paranoid? You don’t have to worry anymore. It’s all over. You can trust the government.”

  “Yeah, just like the Jews didn’t have to worry once they were forced into gas chambers disguised as showers. Anthony, I know you don’t believe me, but you’re going to have to pretend as if I know what I’m doing. If the Federal Government is really here, then you’re right—I’ll look incredibly stupid. But if I’m right, then I‘ll have not only saved your life but the lives of everyone important to you.”

  Anthony looked down. “Fine, we’ll play it your way then.”

  Without another word, Rick took off at a jog, the rest followed. They weaved in and out of the energetic crowds that had taken to the streets, fighting to keep up with Rick. The people no longer seemed intimidated or hesitant to bump into them, despite their guns and red bands. Some individuals even seemed to purposely get in their way, almost as if things had returned to normal and that the Red Sleeves no longer had any authority.

  Rick set a rigorous pace that tested the other’s endurance. Before long, they were sweating in the August sun, their lungs burning from exertion. At a large junction in the road, Rick gestured with his right hand. Hector and McCurdy broke off from the group and headed down another street while the rest continued. After another block, Old Pete broke from the group and headed into a tower of a large church. In another five minutes, Rick and Anthony reached the park.

  “You stay here, Anthony,” Rick ordered. “Keep a low profile, but be sure to scan the faces of everyone going in and coming out of the park. If you see Jacob, you’ve got to grab him—that might be our only chance. Get him out of here and back to the tree line—don’t worry about the rest of us.”

  “What…” Anthony said through gasps of breath, “are… you…going…to do?”

  “I’ve got to get to higher ground.”

  Rick headed off towards a sizeable two-story school building. He entered the school grounds and ran inside, his hands systematically grabbing for the silenced pistol at his side. The building was dark, the only light coming from distant windows. Despite its initial appearance of being abandoned, there was fresh sign of dirty boots on the floor. The boots headed various locations, but the majority seemed to head towards a set of stairs. Rick took the steps two at a time, careful not to sacrifice his stealth for speed.

  Once he reached the second floor, he broke away from the foot sign and headed towards the classrooms farthest north, thinking that if Jacob was here, he would most likely be as close to the food aid as possible. Since he’s traveling alone, Rick reasoned, he’ll have a much easier time pushing through the crowd.

  From this vantage, he could see tens of thousands of people huddled together in the massive park, their faces betraying their overwhelming excitement. Some of them were singing and dancing, shouting with cries of joy. Others had taken to chanting, “Where’s our food! Where’s our food!” Most of the tents in the park had either been trampled or taken down to allow more people to squeeze in. Close to where Rick now stood, there were four stationary semi-trucks, their trailers pointed out towards the crowd. On the side of the trailers, in cryptic handwriting, someone had painted “Federal Aid.”

  He scanned the faces carefully, but there were so many that it quickly overwhelmed his vision. He pulled out a monocular from his gun belt, which allowed him to distinguish more detail, but made it difficult to scan the area quic
kly. His search became more frantic as the minutes ticked by. More and more people were entering the park by the second. After almost an hour of scanning the faces, when the park was almost full of bodies that stood shoulder to shoulder, Rick’s hope began to fade. There were thousands of people, and they all kept moving. It was impossible to find Jacob amongst them from up so high, and from so far away. Rick knew that even if he stepped into the crowd, he would only be able to see a few faces around him. And I would stick out—there are no other Red Sleeves in the crowd. This last thought shot adrenaline through his body. Where are the Red Sleeves? Why aren’t they in the park helping to keep order?

  He returned to the hallway where he had seen the foot sign on the floor. He followed it back to a classroom that was on the other side of the building. He pushed the door open, slowly revealing more and more of the room. On the far side of the room, against the window, there were three individuals, two of which held assault rifles. The third sat on a seat in front of a heavy machinegun that was pointed in the direction of the park. One of the Red Sleeves was hooking up a set of wires to a battery.

  Rick shot the first Red Sleeve in the skull with his silenced .22. The body collapsed and blood gushed from a small wound near the temple.

  One of the other men grabbed the bleeding man, cradling him in his arms. “Dad, what happened?”

  Rick shot the kid next. The boy slumped into his father’s half-hearted embrace, and before he even knew what had hit him, he joined his father in death.

  The third man turned towards Rick, his hands reaching for a pistol at his side. Rick fired twice more, hitting the man in the chest both times. The man let off a yell of pain before collapsing to the ground.

  Rick pressed the silencer against the man’s head. “If you yell again—you die.”

  The man was older, seemingly more experienced than the other two. His eyes were wrinkled and heavy laden, like a war veteran. Blood spilled out of his wounds and onto the floor—slowly at first but more steadily as the moments passed.

  “What’s all of this?” Rick growled. “What’s the Mayor up to? How come there are no Red Sleeves in the park?”

  The older man laughed, his voice sounding strained from a life of smoking. “And this is how I die. I’ve been a good person my whole life, but just as I chose the wrong side, that’s when my ticket gets punched. Oh, hell, we’re all going to die anyway.”

  “What is this machinegun nest doing here? Why is it pointed at the park?”

  “The machinegun nest is for the strays, the explosions are supposed to kill most of them. They won’t have to suffer very long—that at least seems humane. They’ll be here one moment, blink, and then be gone the next.”

  Rick leaned closer to the man, “What kind of explosives?”

  “Fertilizer mixed with diesel fuel and then wrapped up with nails or ball bearings. I don’t know exactly; I didn’t make them. All I know is that as soon as someone hooks these two cables to this battery, the blasting cap will explode and set off the charge. There are at least a couple dozen bombs out there set to explode—each one ignited by a different group of Red Sleeves. They’re planted in the trashcans.”

  “When are they set to go off?”

  The old man struggled for breath as he leaned back. “It shouldn’t be long now—they’re just waiting for everyone to arrive at the park. Then they’re going to open the food trucks, revealing that there’s nothing inside.” The man coughed, and spurted, his eyes closed for a moment before they reopened. “And then all hell is gonna break loose. I didn’t want any part of this, but the Mayor said that my wife wouldn’t receive any food if I don’t. What choice did I have?”

  “You still had a choice.”

  “Well, at least I don’t have to see this through—”

  The man was interrupted as a final bullet was fired into his forehead. Rick stood up and looked out the window, his adrenaline now pumping fiercely through his veins.

  Then Rick spotted him—his nephew. He stood apart from the crowd, towards the rear of the park. He was not singing or shouting like everyone else, but he did not appear worried either. His gaze was transfixed on the trailers in the distance, his body posture suggesting his skepticism. Jacob’s tall, skinny body was next to a green trashcan that apparently was out of service, or so said a small sign tacked to it.

  That trashcan is the only trashcan close to my location. That has to be where one of the bombs are planted—hopefully, it’s the one I just disabled.

  He kicked at the window, shattering the glass. He kicked again and again until he was able to make a hole large enough for him to pass through. He used the butt of his gun to clear out the rest of the glass before he leaped outside. His legs buckled under him as he landed, and then he rolled, his M4 jabbing him in the ribs as he did. As he stood up again, he could hear someone’s voice to his far-left shouting in excitement, “They’re opening the trailers! They’re opening the trailers!”

  Time slowed down as Rick sprinted. He was only moments away from Jacob. The trailer doors squealed as they were swung wide, revealing...nothing inside. Rick leaped into the air, tackling Jacob in one robust movement just as the first bomb went off. The shock of the explosion shook the ground, breaking windows of nearby buildings and cars. A massive plume of black smoke curled up into the sky. Bodies were torn apart, sometimes in multiple places. Limbs flew through the air. More explosions followed, each one sounding and feeling closer and closer.

  Rick pulled Jacob’s panicked body towards a large boulder located near a park trail. With each explosion, they could feel the heat from the flames and a physical push on their bodies, forcing the breath from their lungs. For a few moments, the explosions became so constant that it felt impossible to breathe. A chunk of fiery debris flew through the air, striking the top of the large boulder. The debris continued to fall; several trees had been consumed with flames.

  It seemed an eternity before the explosions stopped.

  Rick grabbed Jacob’s arm, forcing the youth to stand. “We need to move!”

  Jacob narrowed his eyes as he attempted to understand his Uncle. His ears were ringing, and his vision had gone foggy. “What…where…?” His mind had gone completely blank.

  Rick stood up and shouldered his rifle. “Let’s move!”

  Jacob nodded and stood, but as he looked out over the park, all thought left him. The scene was chaotic and bloody—charred bodies were everywhere. There were survivors, hundreds of them, most of them badly burned or littered with shrapnel. They clawed the ground, their faces splattered with blood and smoke, and twisted in futility, like worms that had been caught in the sunlight. Suddenly, as if their voices had just been switched on, Jacob could hear hundreds of screams of pain. The sound was overwhelming and shrill, demanding Jacob’s complete attention.

  Rick grabbed Jacob’s shoulders. “Jacob, look at me.”

  Jacob’s eyes slowly drifted to his Uncle’s forceful expression.

  Rick pulled his face even closer. “Keep your eyes on me and nothing else. Do you understand? Look at me!”

  Jacob forced himself to focus. “Yes…yes, I’m with you.”

  Rick ran towards a main road, Jacob followed closely behind. Then the shooting began. It started as a drizzle, but soon it was pouring out across the park. Survivors disjointedly ran for cover, several of them tripping over each other in the confusion. A few raised their hands in surrender, but this only seemed to give the Red Sleeves a larger target to shoot.

  Just as Rick and Jacob reached the road, three Red Sleeves appeared on the second floor of a building to their left—all of them hefting assault rifles. Without breaking his stride, Rick fired his M4, missing twice before finally hitting one of the men in the throat. The soldier coughed and spluttered, blood ejecting from the wound. He collapsed to the ground, his rifle forgotten. The other two men retreated back inside the building.

  Rick continued down the road at a sprint.

  Anthony
stood up from his hiding spot, his rifle aimed directly towards them. He fired. The projectile whizzed past Rick and Jacob and into the soft chest cavity of a Red Sleeve chasing after them. The bullet immediately forced the man to the ground, blood spurting from a sucking chest wound. The man attempted to shoulder his rifle, but before he could, Anthony fired again, this time splitting the man’s skull.

  Rick and Jacob reached Anthony, both of them now breathing heavily.

  “Move!” Rick yelled.

  The three of them ran through the street, occasionally glancing back to see if anyone followed. After countless blocks, Rick led them into a corner of a half-burned building. Anthony seemed to be in the worst shape and showed it by pinching his side and wincing in pain. After a few more moments, he threw up. Not much came up, but it was enough to leave the man spitting and coughing for several moments longer.

  Rick held up his hand, “Get down.”

  Moments later, a truck that had been fitted with an M60 whipped past them.

  “They’ve sent out patrols,” Rick whispered.

  Anthony wiped the corner of his mouth. “What… happened?”

  Rick looked at Jacob, who looked down at the floor, and then back to Anthony. “The Mayor just slaughtered most of what was left of the city.”

  Anthony shook his head. “I can’t…believe…I killed that man.”

  Rick grabbed Anthony by the shoulders, forcing the man to meet his gaze. “You saved our lives—that’s what you did. I didn’t even know that bloody Red Sleeve was there—he would have gunned us down before I could’ve reacted.”

  Anthony vomited again, this time spraying Rick across the shoes. After a few moments of dry heaving, Anthony was able to speak again. “Why would the Mayor do this? Why would he…do this?”