Aftermath (6 page)

“Paige, come on!” Chad hollered. She looked at Chad, then back at the construction worker. She had been so close to getting it out.

All around her came cries and yells, as the crowd squirmed on the ground.

And then the tone was over. The construction bolted to his feet, his face concealed beneath that mask of rage. Veins bulging from his forehead. He grabbed Paige, and heaved her onto the ground.

She caught most of the fall with her elbow, but damn that hurt. And then he was on her.

A blur flashed by, as Chad leaped across the construction worker, knocking him off Paige.

Paige scrambled back. All around her the Crazies were laying into each other, snarling, and mauling.

The construction worker rolled Chad beneath him, grabbed the large knife from Chad’s belt, and stabbed it into Chad’s leg.

“NO!” Paige hollered, as she unslung her bow, and quickly loaded an arrow. She fired, and the arrow planted in the construction worker’s neck.

She raced over to Chad, as the construction worker tumbled off him. A blood spot spread down Chad’s pants leg. It was bad.

“Shit,” she muttered, pressing down on the wound. Blood seeped through her fingers.

“Look out,” Chad managed to mutter, as a Crazy man charged at them.

Paige grabbed the gun from the construction worker’s hand, then spun around firing two shots at the Crazy. The Crazy dropped to the pavement. Paige turned back to the construction worker, and dug through his back pocket. She fished out his wallet, and flipped through it to his drivers license. There was his address.

She shoved the driver’s license in her pocket, then turned back to Chad. “Can you walk?” she asked, helping him to his feet.

He groaned, nodding his head in response. Together they hobbled over to the bikes. She draped him across the seat, then tucked the gun in her pants, slung the bow and arrows over her shoulder and wheeled him away on the bike.

***

The sun was setting, as Paige peeked in the doorway of the hotel’s lobby. Even in better times, the building had been in decay. And right now it was a disaster, with furniture upended, and cabinets toppled over. Outside, most of the three-storied building’s stucco walls had collapsed.

Paige lugged Chad in the door, and over to a far corner of the lobby. There she set him down. He was out. She gently patted his cheek.

“Chad,” she whispered, trying to get his attention. “Chad. Hey. Can you hear me?”

He groggily opened his eyes, staring up at her. “You’re not gonna die, Harding. You hear me,” she insisted. It was as much for her, as it was for him.

Chad nodded, gritting his teeth together. The shock had worn off, and now he was feeling the wound.

She slid the large hunting knife from her belt, then slit his pant leg over the wound. Blood continued to flow freely. She dug through her backpack, and pulled out the roll of duct tape. She tore off a length of it, then wrapped it around the wound.

“Just hang in there, okay. I’m gonna check out the building, and make sure we’re safe.”

He managed a nod, but was quickly losing consciousness. She just shook her head in frustration. Why had she been so stupid?

Then a commotion outside brought her attention to the door. Those things were swarming past the large window on the front wall next to the entrance. Luckily it was too dark inside for them to see in. But she needed to block that window.

She spotted a heavy display case near the check in counter. She headed over to it, then scooted it across the room, and backed it up against the window.

Just to the right of the check in counter was a staircase. She hurried up it.

***

The access door to the hotel’s roof squeaked open. Paige slipped through it, then headed across the flat roof top deck and over to the edge.

The third-story vantage point gave her a sweeping view of downtown Burbank. And it looked like hell. Fires blazed from skeletons of buildings and cars, and bands of Crazies swarmed down the streets.

Paige just stood there, watching it all for a moment, before heading back downstairs.

***

Paige headed back down the stairs, and into the lobby. It seemed a lot darker with the window blocked, but there was still enough light for her to find her way around.

She crossed over to Chad who had blacked out, but his heavy breathing assured her that he was still alive. Outside, a band of Crazies raced past the building, their howls and screams echoing off down the block.

Paige sank down against the wall, pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. It was the first time since the initial attack that she actually had time to process everything. And it was overwhelming. The grief. The loss.

She pulled her wallet from her pocket, and dug out a picture. It was a selfie of her and Brad, taken several years earlier. Her hair was long, and pulled back in a ponytail. It was also missing the blue streaks. They were standing outside somewhere, on a bright sunny day.

The two of them looked happy, as they playfully mugged for the camera.

She sat there for a moment, just looking at the picture, as tears slowly filled her eyes.

Then slowly the picture slipped from her hands, as she dropped her head to her knees and just cried.

Day Three

“Remember to pump your hands,” a sixteen year old Brad hollered from the sidelines.

It had been a warm fall day, not unusual for this time of year in Los Angeles, and Brad was spending his Saturday helping his fourteen year old sister practice for the track tryouts.

Paige sprinted past him on the dirt track circling the football field, trying to mimic the pumping motion he’d shown her.

“That’s it, Paige. Looking good,” he hollered.

Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail, swaying back and forth as she slowed to a stop.

“Can we take a rest, coach,” she panted, heading over to her big brother.

“Mmm, let me think about that. Nope.” But that was followed by a smile, as he handed her a bottle of water.

“Jerk,” she laughed.

“Seriously, Paige, you’re looking good out there,” he smiled, patting his sister on the back.

“You think I have a shot at varsity?” she asked.

“I think they’re idiots if they don’t,” he nodded.

Paige smiled, nodding her appreciation for his support. “Hold that pose,” she said, hurrying over to her jacket, and pulling her iPhone from the pocket.

She hurried back to Brad, then pressed her cheek up against his and snapped a selfie of them. It would be the shot she had later printed out, and carried around with her in her wallet.

“Thanks coach,” she smiled.

“Anytime.” Then he put his imitation coach voice back on. “Now move it, O’Connor. Ten more laps.”

She playfully punched him on the arm, before jogging back onto the track.

***

Chad’s eyes squinted open. The morning sun peeked around the edges of the cabinet blocking the front window. Paige had the Los Angeles map spread out in the middle of the floor. She glanced at the construction worker’s driver’s license, then traced her finger along the map till she located the address. Chad’s groan caught her attention.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing a bottle of water from her backpack and heading over.

“Hey,” he managed to groan back, as he struggled to sit up.

“Easy there,” she said, handing him the water. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” he responded, propping himself up. Then his eyes drifted down to his leg, wrapped in duct tape. He smiled, shaking his head. “Nice.”

“Told ya we’d need that stuff.”

“How is it out there?” he asked.

“Crappy,” she replied, “but at least it’s quiet. That thunder noise happened a couple hours ago, so now everyone’s looking around all dumb.”

Her bluntness got a chuckle out of him. “We should get going,” he said, struggling to stand.

“Get your butt back down, Harding,” she shot back. “You’re staying right there, and resting that leg.” She pulled the gun from her pants, and handed it to him. “Here, take this.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’ve got that guy’s address, so I’m gonna get those guns he said he had. I’m also gonna get some antibiotics for that leg.”

“You’re going alone?”

“It’s not like I’ve got a choice,” she replied.

Chad nodded, giving her a smile. This girl was a rock star. “You’re a crazy girl, O’Connor. You know that?”

She smiled, nodding. “I’ve heard it a few times.”

“So how’re you feeling?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’ll live.”

Despite the strong front she was putting up, it was pretty obvious this girl was hurting. And Chad knew her well enough to sense this. “It’s okay to grieve, Paige. No one’s gonna think any lesser of you.”

Paige just shook her head. “No. I appreciate it, but I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

She exhaled. “I can’t, Harding. Cause I’m pretty sure once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Chad looked at her, then nodded. He got it. “Did you get any sleep?” he finally asked.

“Not really. Those things were making a lot noise. And I also had to keep watch over my traveling buddy, who managed to get himself stabbed.”

Chad chuckled. “Why don’t you get some rest now? Wait till it’s dark to go out.”

“Cause that leg of yours isn’t gonna make it till dark. We need to get you some antibiotics, STAT.”

Chad glanced down at his taped up leg. He nodded. “Okay, doc. But you take the gun.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got the bow.”

“Have you ever shot one?”

“No. But I think I get the general idea. You slide the long thing with the feathers against this string thing over here.”

“Just bite me,” she interrupted his smart ass reply, as she headed for the door. “Try not to get stabbed in your good leg while I’m out.”

“Try not to shoot your butt off with that gun,” he grinned back, nodding to where she’d shoved the gun down the back of her pants. Then he added, “Be safe out there, Paige.”

She smiled, giving him a nod. Her way of saying thanks. And then she was off.

***

Paige pedaled down what had once been a vibrant commercial street. She maneuvered through piles of debris and rubble, which until two days ago had been the walls of coffee shops and restaurants.

She passed charred and crushed cars, many of which still had the corpses of their drivers inside. And there seemed to be way more corpses on the street than she had seen the day before. All victims of the Crazies, she assumed.

If the Invaders’ goal was to annihilate her species, they were well on their way. She had no idea how many people were left in the city at that point, but it couldn’t be that many. In a way, this almost came as a relief. It meant less people trying to kill her if their rage triggered again.

***

Paige pedaled across a lonely bridge spanning over one of LA’s many freeways. She glanced below, where six lanes of charred and wrecked cars stretched on forever.

Absolutely nothing moved below. It was almost like staring at a 3-D snapshot. Just cars, and more cars. Just there. And not moving. The freeway had been jammed, as usual, on the Saturday afternoon when the attack occurred. And now those cars would be forever locked in that traffic jam.

And there were bodies. She could see some of them leaning out their windows. Others were laying on the pavement between lanes. She was crossing over a graveyard.

She reached the far side of the bridge, and continued on. Up ahead on the right stood what had once been a nice three-storied apartment complex. And now most of it had been reduced to rubble.

Paige pedaled up to the apartment complex, and parked her bike alongside the outdoor stairwell. She pulled the construction worker’s driver’s license from her pocket, and took another look at the address. It was on the second floor. She headed up the stairs.

***

Paige ducked beneath sections of ceiling, which barely clung to tangled nests of wires in the dim hallway. She avoided several bodies, as she worked her way down, checking apartment numbers as she went. Then she stopped at one. The door was cracked open, but she could read the number on it. Apartment 203. She took another glance at the address on the construction worker’s driver’s license. This was it.

Paige stepped into the apartment. Plaster debris and chunks of ceiling lay everywhere. She slid the pistol from the back of her pants, then quietly crossed the living room to the short hallway. It went in two directions. To the left was the bathroom, and to the right was the bedroom. She veered right into the bedroom, easing in the door, and giving it a quick scan. The place was in shambles, with chunks of ceiling piled on the bed and carpet.

She crouched down, searching beneath the bed. It seemed like the obvious place to hide a gun. But there was nothing. She turned, and headed over to the closet, shoving aside piles of clothes which had fallen from their hangers. There she found them. Buried beneath the clothes were several boxes of ammo, two rifles, a pair of binoculars, and another pistol. She shoved the pistol, ammo, and binoculars in her backpack.