Hell's Children: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (5 page)

J
ack lay motionless
in the darkness, paralyzed with fear and disgust at the cold-blooded murder he’d just witnessed.

“Come on, dudes,” Blaze shouted, waving Jack’s sword over his head. “Fun’s over.”

The mean-looking girl jumped up on one of the cars and howled like a dog, bringing disgusted looks from the various boys and girls.

Blaze barely glanced at her. “Alice, quit screwing around and let’s go,” was all he said.

Alice stuck her tongue out, hopped down, and joined him in the big Humvee. After they left, Jack stood up and stared silently at the body in the street, stabbed through with his own sword. Something made for looking at, not for killing.

He turned around and started walking.

As he made his way across the field in the direction of the rendezvous playground, he thought about what he’d seen. There was more to it than simply Blaze being a crazy murderer. The violence had been controlled, with a purpose: to keep everyone in line, to instill fear. Saying he was nuts was a shortcut to a satisfying conclusion. In the new reality, where every house was a mausoleum, labels like
crazy
became harder to apply to people.

Then there was the matter of the sword. Jack would have loved to have brought it with him, but weight was an issue, and a sword was useless against a gun. So he’d left it on his bedroom wall. Now Blaze had it and was going around stabbing people. It turned Jack’s stomach.

When he arrived at the playground, the place seemed empty at first. Then Pete crept out from behind a slide with Mandy and said, “Hey, what happened back there?”

Jack looked briefly at Mandy but didn’t hold back. “Bunch of people our age, same ones from earlier today. That dude with the red hair was there.”

“Blaze?”

Jack nodded. “He killed that one guy for trying to make a deal with us. Left him dead in the street.”

Mandy gasped.

Jack said, “Looks like Blaze is making some kind of army. Wants as many older people as he can get. On the plus side, you’d probably get to eat regularly. On the other hand, you’d have steal food, and you might get killed.”

Pete snorted. “Screw that guy.”

“Yeah,” Mandy said.

Jack smiled briefly at her serious expression. Any reason to smile was good. “Hiking’s out of the question, and I’m freezing. We need a car.”

“Just one problem,” Pete said. “To get the keys, we need to go into houses—maybe houses with other kids in them, or some adult who hasn’t … you know.
Yet
.”

Jack kept his face carefully neutral. His mom had died only yesterday. “We’ll do what we have to.”

Together, they slipped into the next neighborhood, this one filled with high-end townhouses. Jack’s house had been built in the eighties. His parents had alternated semesters teaching at the university and mostly rejected extravagant living, preferring to save as much money for their son as they could.

“How about there?” Mandy said, pointing at the closest house—a corner unit with leafless rosebushes in front and on the sides.

Jack nodded. “Sure.”

Mandy ran up and checked the door, then ran back.

“It was locked,” she said.

The next house was also locked. As was the next. The one after that was wide open. A second later, they knew why. Lying in the tall, frosted grass was an emaciated man in his underwear, gnawed on by animals and dead for who knew how long.

“Jesus,” Pete said, backing away from it. “If he lived here, I’m not going in.”

“Me neither,” Mandy said staring at it with a worried expression.

Jack shook his head. “Fine, stay out here with the dead body. I’ll be right back.”

Cautiously, he went in and shut the door behind him. After waiting a minute, listening for sounds, he turned on his flashlight and squinted against the too-bright light. The air smelled fresh when he lifted his nose and sniffed. It would have been nice to stay, but there wasn’t a wood fireplace, and he had to admit the comfort of a warm car beckoned to him.

Quickly, he searched all the places someone might put a set of keys and found them on a hook in the kitchen.

“Got ’em,” he said when he came out.

Nearly all the parking places were filled, and Jack was momentarily at a loss to find the right car.

“There it is,” Pete said unnecessarily when Jack pushed the lock button, causing a newish four-door to beep and blink its lights.

Jack tossed him the keys, and Pete climbed behind the wheel. When he turned the key, it made an unhelpful clicking sound and the dashboard lit up, but that was it.

“Now what?” Pete said.

“We keep trying.”

For the next thirty minutes, they went door to door looking in houses that had already been broken into. Well, Jack did, and sometimes Mandy. Most of the houses stank of death, and a few had bodies in the living rooms. Pete refused to go into any of them. Which was fine. The keys were usually easy to find, so Jack was never inside for very long.

Every car they found was dead, but the last one—a newish four door—had started to turn over before running slowly down.

“I think we got something,” Jack said. “Now we just need jumper cables and …” He popped the hood and looked at the battery. “And a screwdriver. My knife has one built-in. Search the other cars for jumper cables. My parents used to keep a set in the trunk.”

Pete’s eyes were a little wild. “Are
you
gonna get the keys? I’m not going in any houses. I told you!”

Jack raised his hands for calm. “Relax, will you? Just bash the windows, like that kid we saw. Then look for a button. Or just unlock all the doors.”

“But I don’t have a bat.”

“You can use a rock,” Mandy said. She ran over to a lamppost with a ring of garden stones around it, grabbed one, and brought it back. “Like this!”

She threw the rock through the driver-side window of a nearby car. Predictably, it smashed in.

Jack smiled. “Yeah. Like that.”

Ten more minutes and they had jumper cables. Another five, and Jack had a spare battery. He connected it the way his dad had shown him: red to red, black to black, but it didn’t start. They found another battery, but that didn’t work either. Two more cars and the results were the same. The rushing around kept them warm, but Jack was starting to feel like they were wasting their time.

“One more,” Jack said, hooking up a battery he’d snagged from a big SUV, thinking maybe it had more oomph. This time
he
got behind the wheel. “If it doesn’t work, we’re walking.”

It worked. A little sluggish, but it started.

“Yay!” Mandy shouted, jumping around.

Jack let it idle and got out. “I figure with half a tank, we should be good.” He stared at Pete curiously. “How did you start that car yesterday?”

“My mother made me run it every three days, that’s how. It was almost out of gas.”

Jack was impressed.
Score one for Team Pete.

Five minutes later, happy with the charge, Jack put the SUV battery in the trunk and their packs in the back seat with Mandy. Then he and Pete got in front, with Pete behind the wheel.

“You sure about this?” Pete said. “I almost got killed last time.”

Jack looked at him steadily, taking his measure. “You’ll be fine. How did you mess up before?”

“I tapped the gas when I meant to push the brakes. I was trying to use one foot, like you’re supposed to.”

“So use two this time,” Jack said. “Figure out the other way later. Also, no lights. Just drive slow.
Real
slow.”

Pete nodded, put the car in reverse, and jolted them out into the lane. Jack and Mandy jerked forward against the seatbelts, then back again when Pete slammed on the brakes.

“At least I didn’t hit anything,” Pete said sheepishly.

He put the car in drive and jerked it forward again while turning the wheel. Just barely, he managed to avoid hitting the bumper of a red minivan.

“Slower,” Jack said. A second later he added, “And stop jerking it back and forth.”

“Do you wanna drive?” Pete said, voice rising.

“No. Take a right up there.”

Pete took the right up there, then a left, then drove for a mile and took Route 28 when instructed to. They hadn’t seen any roadblocks yet, and Jack wondered if Blaze and his gang had been dismantling them. Most were civilian-made, not government. The government had mostly gone the route of the grocery store workers—stayed home, hid, and hoped the plague would pass. It was the regular citizens who’d blocked everything off. This had the benefit of keeping anyone with the Sickness out, but it also kept people trapped in their homes. And in the end it wasn’t a benefit at all, because everyone still got sick.

“There’s a car coming,” Mandy said, pointing between the seats.

It took him a moment to see it, but she was right. Down the road, heading their way in the opposite lane, was a car with its lights off. Blaze and his gang had driven with their lights on, rap music thumping through the closed windows like they were on vacation in a world with no parents. This other car seemed more like their own—kids hiding out from the predators of a world with no parents.

The two vehicles slowed as they converged. The other driver was maybe ten years old, his face a mask of fear. There was a smaller boy in the back seat, his face pressed against the glass, staring at them.

“Freaky,” Pete said after they’d passed. “How does he even reach the pedals?”

“Maybe has something tied to his feet,” Jack said. “But yeah, that was weird. Now pay attention—we’re coming up on the next turn. There, on the right.”

Pete took the turn and found his first roadblock: two cars parked across the exit ramp between concrete walls.

“Shit,” Mandy said.

Jack looked back at her. “Hey, no cussing.”

“But I always cuss.”

“Well, not anymore. You too, Pete.”

Pete stared at him. “I didn’t say anything!”

Jack pointed between the first two cars and said, “See if you can nudge it open there in the middle.”

Pete swallowed nervously, then gingerly edged the car forward until the front bumper was very close to the gap. When the three cars touched, they rocked forward against their seatbelts, but the cars didn’t move.

“More gas,” Jack said.

Pete grunted and gave it some more, bringing a frightening crunch from the front as the hood buckled under the strain. A little more and the tires started spinning, then smoking, and then he gave up.

“Wait here,” Jack said and got out. He approached the cars and scooted over the hood of the lowest. On the other side, running along the ground, were long wooden beams jammed through the drainage holes of each wall. Concrete had been poured messily on the other side—uphill—creating a four inch berm that tapered off with the grade. The tires on that side had been removed, leaving only rims, and the rims were jammed up against the beams. If they wanted to pass, they’d need a jack, or possibly a sledgehammer. And lots of time.

“It’s no good,” Jack said when he got back to the car. Quickly, he described the situation. “Let’s try the next exit.”

The next exit had a barricade, though not so thorough. A school bus was angled across the lane. Sometime in the past it had been pushed aside, creating a barely passable gap. Pete scraped through it, setting Jack’s teeth on edge. After that, they continued at an easy clip and didn’t run into any more roadblocks.

Five minutes later, Jack pointed and said, “Take a right up here, back towards 50.”

“What’s 50?” Pete said, slowing to take the turn.

“How long have you lived around here?”

“Since I was little.”

“And you don’t know 50? It’s a major road.”

Pete shrugged. “I don’t know road names. I’m not old enough to drive, remember?”

Jack didn’t know a lot of public schoolers—cabbages, he reminded himself. Most of his interactions with them were at his karate classes, and even then, very limited. Those kids had been brash and whiney, and sometimes shockingly stupid. They didn’t talk about the same sorts of things as Greg and Lisa. Usually stuff about football, or video games, or YouTube. Whenever he’d tried talking to them, they’d smirked or outright laughed every time he said something with three or more syllables.

Eyeing Pete, Jack had to remind himself the boy was cut from the same cloth. A decent enough guy, but ultimately clueless.

“What?” Pete said, looking faintly offended.

“Nothing. Just keep driving.”

“Who died and made you boss?”

“Everyone who mattered died,” Jack said, feeling tired. “I might not be your boss, but I’m going to find my friends. You’ll like them. Whether they like you, we’ll see.”

“Will they like me?” Mandy said.

Jack smiled. “Of course.”

Minutes later, they arrived at a garden-style apartment complex called Rolling Meadows. Unlike many of the other neighborhood entrances, there weren’t any cars blocking the way, so they had no trouble. Greg and Lisa’s apartment was around the back through a security gate that had been removed since the last time he was there.

“You sure your friends are here?” Pete said after they parked.

“No,” Jack said.

“I’ll keep the car running.”

Jack glanced at his new friend, Pete, then back at Mandy, and then at the two packs on the seat next to her. Everything he owned in the world was in them.

Keeping his face blank of expression, he reached over and turned off the car.

“Best not to waste gas,” he said, and carried the keys out with him.

At the third floor, he stopped outside the Mitchells’ door. There was a note taped to it:
Friends, family, we’re at the Welcome Center.

Jack knocked anyway, then tried the door and found it locked. He sniffed the air and noticed two things. The first was the faintest tinge of death in the air, but it could have come from any of the apartments. He didn’t think the twins would let their parents rot in the house unless they were forced to. The second was the smell of burning wood.

Back in the car, Jack said, “We need to go around front.”

Pete, who’d dozed off, blinked tiredly and simply nodded. In the back seat, Mandy lay curled up, fast asleep.