No Easy Hope - 01 (22 page)

‘Where the hell did you come from?’ he says. I told him about the compound here, and asked him to come back with me. Alan didn’t want to go at first; he had survived the last three months by staying out of sight in the basement. He had at least another year’s worth of food, and didn’t want to take any chances by leaving. After arguing with him for about ten minutes, I convinced him to at least come and see the place, and if he didn’t want to stay, then I would personally escort him back to the gun shop. Finally, he agreed.

I pulled the duffel bag out of my waistband and unfolded it on the floor. ‘What’s that for?’ Alan asks me. I told him it was to bring ammunition back to the compound with me. He asked me how I planned on paying for it, considering that everything in the store was his property. I told him he could have his pick of any supplies we had at the compound once we returned. All of a sudden, Alan goes ape shit.

He points his gun at me and starts accusing me of being a thief. ‘I know what your doing!’ He says. ‘You gonna take me back somewhere and kill me! Then you gonna come take my property! I ain’t gonna let you! Get out! Get out now or I’ll shoot ya!’.

 I tried to tell him he was wrong, I didn’t mean him any harm, I was just trying to help him. He wouldn’t hear it. He just kept telling me to leave and threatening to kill me. He backs up to the door and unlocks it, all the while pointing his gun at me and not looking at the door.

He opens the door and there are at least seven or eight creeps standing on the other side. Alan is still howling like a mad man at me, and before I could do or say anything, the one closest to the door grabs him and takes a bite out of his neck. Alan rears up and pulls the trigger on the shotgun, putting a load of buckshot in the ceiling. The damn creeps start spilling through the door, falling on him. The only weapon I brought with me was a hatchet.”

Ethan stopped for a moment. He lowered his face into his hands and rubbed at his forehead. Andrea sat down beside him and placed an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry honey, I had no idea. I feel so awful, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Ethan sat up and kissed his wife on the forehead. “It’s okay babe, you didn’t know. I would have been pissed at me too.”

Tears shone in her eyes as she looked at her husband. Ethan held her delicate jaw in one big hand and gave her a gentle kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

“You don’t have to tell us the rest, you’re home safe and that’s all that matters.” She said.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I made a promise, I intend to keep it.”

Suddenly, I regretted pushing Ethan on the subject. I had no idea things had gone so badly for him.

“Hey, it’s cool man, I’ve heard enough. You don’t need to say anything else on my account.” I said.

Ethan was thoughtful for a moment.

“You know, I think I want to say it. Just so I’m not the only one who knows about it, you know? My old man said you have to talk about things like this.”

Andrea stood up from the couch and kissed Ethan on the cheek.

“The water is boiling, I’m going to get started on dinner.” She said.

“Thanks babe.” Ethan replied.          “You guys okay if I go on?” He asked Emily, Justin and I.

We all agreed and encouraged him to continue.

“So all these creeps are beating down the door, and three things go through my head at the same time. Number one: why were all these fuckers waiting outside the door? Number two: why did Alan go all crazy on me like that? Number three:
fuck me running, I have to get that goddamn door shut!

I pull my hatchet out from my belt and slam it into the head of the closest creep, who happens to be tearing out Alan’s throat. I try to pull it out, but the damn thing is stuck. Alan is fighting and kicking this whole time, but can’t do anything to get them off of him. After a second or two, I give up on the hatchet and pick up the shotgun he dropped when they pulled him to the ground. I put double-ought buckshot through the heads of five more creeps before I run out of ammo. There were still two more of them, and I could hear moaning from outside the door. More were on the way.

I looked around for a weapon, and the only thing I saw of immediate use was a display case full of tomahawks. I broke the glass with the shotgun and grabbed two of them.  I turn around and the last two creeps stop taking bites out of Alan and look up at me. Alan is dead, and there is blood and gore all over the place, both from him and from the five creeps whose brains I splattered all over the wall. The stink was incredible. I ran at the first one and buried a tomahawk in its skull before it had a chance to do anything other than hiss. The second one reaches out and grabs me by the pants leg. Let me tell you guys something, don’t ever let those things grab you, because they are strong as a motherfucker.

So anyway, the thing grabs me and I try to pull away. I can’t get loose, it just holds on and starts lunging forward, trying to take a bite out of my leg. I turn the last tomahawk sideways and jam it in the things mouth, pushing it away from me. We just stood like that for a minute, straining at each other. I can hear the moaning outside getting louder, footsteps are crunching in the gravel not ten feet away. I let go of the tomahawk with one hand and reach down for the one stuck in the other creeps head. After a few seconds of wrenching it around, I manage to get it free and promptly cave in the skull of the one holding my leg.

Right as it hits the ground, I see two more about to come through the door. I jump over the pile of bodies and slam the door shut in their faces. I turn the knob to set the dead bolt and stagger away. As I’m going backward, I trip over one of the bodies behind me. I hit my ass on the floor, then slip in a puddle of blood as I’m trying to stand up. Finally, I get to my feet, and I can see more of the damn things at the front window pounding and pushing on it, trying to get in. I figure the only chance I had of surviving the day is to head down to the basement and pray for daylight, so to speak.”

“Can I ask a question?” I said.

“Shoot.” Ethan replied.

“How did you and your wife know the guy who owned the store? I mean, you two lived in Charlotte, right? Alexis is a bit of a drive from there.”

“He was a friend of my father’s.” Andrea called over her shoulder as she stirred something in a pot. “They served together in Vietnam. They used to go skeet shooting together.”

I nodded. “Sorry to hear about what happened to him. Where you guys close?”

“Not especially.” Ethan replied. “I met him a few times when he came over to Andrea’s parent’s place. Seemed like a nice enough guy, if a bit odd. Had some funny political ideas, conspiracy theories and such. I always figured he was just a harmless old kook. He might have threatened to kill me, but nobody deserves what happened to him.”

Ethan leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him, his expression grim and tight.

“I can’t help but feel responsible for his death.” He said. “If I hadn’t come into his store that morning, he’d probably still be alive.”

“Don’t you start that shit.” Andrea scolded from the kitchen, pointing at Ethan with a wooden spoon. “The only thing that got Alan killed was Alan. If he had acted like a reasonable human being, instead of like a paranoid, delusional asshole, then he would be sitting next to you on that couch enjoying our hospitality.”

Andrea put down the spoon and knelt down in front of Ethan, holding his hands in hers.

“Besides, he pointed a gun at my husband and threatened to kill him.” She said, a fierce light in her bright blue eyes. “Nobody threatens my family. Nobody.”

With that, she kissed Ethan on one of his big knuckles and went back into the kitchen to finish dinner. Ethan stared after her for a moment, a strange expression on his face.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I go down into the basement and bolt the door. I spend a few seconds looking for a light switch, and finally I hit a chain hanging down from the ceiling with my head. I give it a tug, the light comes on, and it’s like, hoooolyyyyy shit.” Ethan made a sweeping gesture with his arms.

“The basement is more than twice the size of the store upstairs. He must have knocked down the wall between his store and the one next door. The place had to be at least four thousand square feet. Every spare inch of space is packed with shelves full of food, ammo, guns, gear- you name it, the shit is probably down there. If the ATF had ever raided the place, they would have gone nuts. A third of the guns down there are illegal as hell. Some of them even have silencers, if you can believe it.”

I perked up when he said that. Could Alan have known? After all, even Gabriel didn’t know how far back the conspiracy to cover up the Phage went. Maybe he knew something about it. My musings were interrupted by Justin jumping out of his chair and began playfully slapping Ethan about his head and shoulders.

“Duuuude! Do you know what that means!” He shouted.

Andrea stepped in from the kitchen and cracked him on the back of his leg with a wooden spoon. The happy, elated look immediately left his face as he collapsed into his chair, hissing in agony. Andrea reached under his leg and rubbed the offended area while Emily hid a poorly concealed smirk behind one hand.

“Now Justin, I’m sorry I had to do that, but I can’t have you waking the baby.” She said.

“Right, sorry about that. I just got excited, is all.” He relaxed as the sting of the blow faded.

Ethan, meanwhile, stared at his friend in mute sympathy. When he continued, his voice was noticeably quieter.

“Right, so I take a tour of the place, and there is enough hardware down there to outfit a fucking army. The problem is, how do I get it all past the creeps without ending up on the dinner menu?”

“What all was down there?” Emily asked.

“Guns, bullets, bullets, and more bullets. Grenades, knives, food, a curiously large collection of porn, and three grocery store pallets full of toilet paper.”

Justin and Emily exclaimed at the same time.

 “Toilet paper!” Cried Emily.

“Porn!” Shouted Justin.

 Andrea stepped into the room, brandishing her wooden spoon. Everyone immediately went quiet. All in attendance, myself included, stayed still and silent until the pretty, freckle-faced threat went back into the kitchen to stir the macaroni and cheese.

“So how did you get out of there?” Justin asked.

“I knew I couldn’t go back upstairs, and I figured the big steel security door at the basement entrance would be strong enough to hold off the creeps if they tried to bust in. The only thing left for me to do was wait, so that’s what I did. I ate some canned food, loaded up one of the assault rifles and set it by the door to make me feel better, and spent a couple of hours digging through Alan’s stuff looking for anything interesting. Finally, I find a bottle of Jim Beam and a couple of clean glasses. I took the booze into a far corner of the room, stacked as much crap between me and the door as I could, and sat down to rest with a couple thousand rounds of ammo, a good rifle, and a bottle of Kentucky’s finest.”

Andrea stepped into the room. “Dinners ready, ya’ll mind eating around the coffee table?” She asked.

The aromas from the little kitchen had been growing increasingly appetizing, and we were all eager to eat. Andrea mixed the macaroni and cheese with a little dried basil and onion powder, put a sprinkle of cumin in the corned beef hash, and salted the kidney beans to perfection. I never would have believed that such a simple meal could taste so good. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was hungry enough to eat the ass-end of a cape buffalo. Either way, the meal was thoroughly enjoyed by all. After everyone finished eating, Ethan helped Andrea wash the dishes in a plastic tub, then Andrea opened another bottle of wine.

“So what happened after you barricaded yourself in the basement?” Emily asked, as Andrea poured another round of pinot.

“I poured myself a few fingers of whiskey, ate some canned spaghetti and meatballs, and eventually fell asleep. The next morning when I woke up, I could hear thumping and moaning coming from upstairs. I figured they must have broken the windows at the front of the store. I wanted to get out of there, but I had no way of knowing how many of those things I’d be facing if I opened the basement door. Even with all the ammunition down there, I didn’t favor my chances if I had to shoot my way out.

I spent that day and night in the basement reading old paperbacks and eating Alan’s food. The next morning, the noise from upstairs had stopped. I loaded a pistol and opened the basement door. I didn’t see anything on the stairs, so I crept up into the store real quiet. I looked around as much as I could without walking in front of the windows, but the only thing I saw was what was left of Alan’s corpse and the creeps I killed the day before. There wasn’t much left of Alan. The bastards that broke the windows worked him over pretty bad.”