Time Clock Hero (22 page)

Phoenix struggled to keep Alaia still and quiet, remembering what it was like to remain motionless during hide and seek games he’d played as a child.  He thought of the stakes of tonight’s game, how losers wouldn’t become seekers, but how they’d become bullet-riddled bodies. The guards coming down the sidewalk – who knew how many? – probably had a friend to avenge.  It wouldn’t matter to them who they killed as long as they killed.

“Wait until we can see them,” Phoenix said.  “Then you can waste them.  You got it?”  He could feel Alaia’s body shuddering.  Her tears rolled down her cheeks onto his hands.  “Hold … hold … here they come.  Four guys.”

Dr. Carson looked over at Phoenix with eyes alert yet fearful, then he nodded towards Darkeem.  “We can save him,” he whispered.

Phoenix let go of Alaia.  He felt her trembling at his side, but he also saw her slowly raise her AK.

The men, all of them dressed in black with their weapons up and ready, stepped into view.

“Hey!” Alaia shouted, and the men turned.

Alaia and Phoenix fired their weapons at such a close range that the flames from the ends of their gun barrels scorched their faces.  Every shot hit home, metal to flesh, with instant results, incapacitating the men in seconds.  They died instantly.

Dr. Carson, concerned about Darkeem, ran from behind the bushes before the last man hit the ground.  He gently grabbed Darkeem and dragged him away from the sidewalk and in between a gap between the bushes.  Darkeem didn’t move.  His eyes weren’t open.  “Throw me your pack, Phoenix – now.”

Alaia set her gun down and knelt down beside Darkeem, taking his hand in hers, and she cried.  His breaths came slowly and irregularly.

Phoenix tossed his pack to Dr. Carson.  “There’s nothing in there except a small first aid kit!”  A few gunshots peeled off from assault rifles somewhere near the entrance.  Phoenix, kneeling on the ground, trying to keep as close to the shrubs as possible, scanned the parking lot near the entrance.  His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.  “We’re … we’re about to have company!”

“Alaia,” Dr. Carson said, “You can’t help me here – help Phoenix.”

“No, Alaia, you stay right there,” Phoenix said, lowering his voice. “But throw me my knife and then put your AK close by.”

Alaia reached for Phoenix’s pack just as Dr. Carson reached into it.

“Please, give me a moment,” Dr. Carson said.  “I’m losing your son.”  He grabbed the small, round, black box, the one that Phoenix had picked up off his jail cell floor.  He opened it and removed the platinum halo attached to the small, black, hard drive.

“What are you---?”

Dr. Carson slipped the halo around Darkeem’s head, snugging it up carefully, and handed the flashlight to Alaia.  “Shine the light, please.”

Phoenix turned to Alaia.  “Where’s my knife?  Anytime now would be okay.  And do not turn on that light.  We’ve got a herd of infected walking through the parking lot.”

“Hand him the knife – and be quick,” Dr. Carson said.  “And get that light on if you want to see your son alive again.”

Alaia did as she was asked, wiping the tears from her face as she did.  She handed Phoenix the knife and turned on the flashlight.

“Now we’re dead, Alaia,” Phoenix said.  “We’ve got … we’ve got twenty deadish guys coming in our direction.  I could use a little help here!”

“Do not move,” Dr. Carson said.  He turned the black box over in his hands and opened a small compartment.  He removed a small scalpel and a small, glass container.  Alaia saw a second set inside the device.  He handed one scalpel and one container to Alaia.  “If you lose this, Darkeem is doomed.”

Alaia watched Dr. Carson enter a code into the flat, black box, the number glowing first yellow, and then green.  “Four, six, six, two, three,” he said.  “Now, Alaia, press the halo against Darkeem’s head with your hands and make sure it fits snuggly.”

“What are you doing?” Alaia asked.  “My son is dying!”

“No, he’ll be fine,” Dr. Carson said.  A green light, a little larger than the others, began to blink.  Dr. Carson touched it gently with his finger, and the color turned to red.  A white number, followed by a percentage sign, appeared inside the red light.  The number started at ten and, with each passing second, increased.  “Phoenix, we need sixty seconds – no more, but certainly no less.  Do you hear me?”

“I hate to burst your bubble, Doc – but we won’t last half that time!”

“What are you doing to my son?” Alaia said, squeezing Darkeem’s hand, her body shaking all over.

“I’m saving him.  You’ll just have to trust me.”

“He’s dying!” 

“He’s only just beginning.”

Phoenix, afraid of the pack of approaching infected, slung his shotgun and rushed out from the sidewalk and led them away from Alaia and Dr. Carson.  The crowd of infected people turned, almost on a dime, and came towards him.  Some of them shrieked and groaned, but all of them seemed to get their feet moving a bit faster with each passing second.

More gunshots rang out near the entrance.  Phoenix turned around, taking only a second in which to do so, and he saw the guards battling another group of infected.  The numbers of infected approaching the entrance looked small in comparison to what he faced; and there were others grouping up in the parking lot, perhaps three or four times as many.  He looked back towards Alaia.  He couldn’t see her or Dr. Carson – and none of the affected seemed to be drawn towards their hiding place.

Phoenix picked up some speed and headed towards the pack closest to him.  He passed them to his right and, careful to keep from getting winded, slowed his pace.  He waved his hands at the infected and ran out towards the darkest part of the parking lot, dragging the herd behind him.  He kept his shotgun slung over his shoulder, holding the sling with his left hand while, with his right, he held his combat knife.

He made a slow circle in the parking lot, gathering as many infected as could.  He kept his eye on the sidewalk where he’d left Alaia, ready to rush to her aid if she needed him.  He turned back towards the entrance of the hospital, slowing down just enough to catch his breath.  The infected followed him.

Phoenix tried to guess the numbers he’d lassoed.   A hundred he guessed, or maybe a hundred fifty.  How many followed him, how many had their blood-filled pupil’s zeroed in on him, he couldn’t tell.  He smiled because he felt like a rock star stepping out onto the stage at Bonnaroo with his groupies in tow. 

The guards at the entrance, busy with the burning entrance and with other infected, saw and heard a man – he could’ve been one of their own – running towards them, holding a knife, screaming for help. 

Phoenix saw the expressions on the faces of the men only minutes before they met their maker.  Some stood their ground, calling for Phoenix to hurry, others broke and ran.  Just as the remaining guards opened fire, Phoenix darted to the right, barely escaping the clutches of the infected.  He ran back towards Alaia, scanning the parking lot in the glow of the burning hospital.  The area looked clear.  But that would soon change.

Alaia sat hunched over Darkeem’s lifeless body.  She sobbed softly and her body shook and shivered in the cold night air.  Dr. Carson had his hand on her back, rubbing it, and what he whispered to her, Phoenix could not hear.

Phoenix knelt down beside Alaia and put his hand around her waist.  He saw a light coming from the small hard drive, if that’s what it really was, and saw that it blinked in a pale, silvery-blue color. 

Dr. Carson had the small scalpel and specimen container in his hand.  “I know this is going to be very hard for you, Detective Jenkins.  But, if you will permit me, I have one more thing I need to do.”

Alaia shook her head.  “Why didn’t I bring him with me?  Why did I leave him with those girls?  Why?”

“We don’t have time, Alaia,” Phoenix whispered with his lips close to her ear.

Dr. Carson took the scalpel and began cutting into Darkeem’s cheek.

Alaia pulled away, wiping her tears and nodding as if she understood exactly what Dr. Carson was doing.  She leaned over towards Phoenix and, after a few seconds, he helped her to her feet.

Dr. Carson took a small sliver of skin from Darkeem’s face.  Just a tiny, bloody strip.  He put it into the small, matchbook-sized specimen box, and inserted it carefully and reverently into the black hard drive.  He removed the halo from Darkeem’s head and set the whole contraption back into its box and back into Phoenix’s pack.  “Phoenix, you cannot lose this halo device, or throw it away for any reason, do you understand?”

Phoenix bent over and picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder.  Then he helped Dr. Carson to his feet.  “We need to move.  We don’t have much time left.” 

“As long as we can get back to my lab and clear it out, we’ll be fine,” Dr. Carson said.

“Phillip Mercer said something different,” Phoenix said.  “He said we only have two days before this thing goes airborne.”

“Two days?”

“That’s what he said.”

“I assure you, Phillip Mercer will pay for---”

“Just stop, okay?”  Alaia said, sniffling.  She picked up her weapon and wiped the tears from her eyes.  “If you two guys are finished babbling, maybe you can tell me how you plan to get us out of Nashville.”

A fine rain began to fall an hour after midnight.  Phoenix, Alaia, and Dr. Carson, exhausted emotionally, physically, and spiritually, felt as if they could go no further.  Their clothes, still damp from the hospital’s emergency sprinkler system, soaked up the rain that fell on them.  They shivered uncontrollably.  A steady wind, appearing just as suddenly as the rain, swept across the dark road in front of them and Phoenix, unable to stand it much more, led everyone towards the next building.

“Bunch of cars here,” Phoenix said, counting them.  Phoenix hurried through the parking lot of the building and stepped up to the double glass doors and peered inside.  His breath and the heat from his face fogged the glass as he pulled out his combat knife and used the handle to knock.

The building was as large as a small warehouse and, just past the two front doors, he saw a small lobby.  Through the lobby, not fifteen feet away, he saw another set of double doors.  Beyond that, a receptionist’s desk and, not far behind it, a small space filled with cubicles.  Two jackets hung on a coat tree to the right.  People must be here.

Phoenix knocked again. This time, he kept up a steady rhythm, tapping loudly with the metal end of his knife.  In the dim after-hours lighting, Phoenix saw shadows moving against a wall on the left of the cubicles.  First he saw two shadows, then more – maybe three more and, within seconds, he saw bodies of infected.  He pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on.  The infected came for the light like moths drawn to a candle.

Phoenix unslung his pack and handed it to Alaia.  He opened it, reached inside, and found a pair of Vice Grips.  He adjusted the bright, chrome pliers and fit them onto the round lock cylinder on the door and squeezed as hard as he could.  The Vice Grips locked into place.

“I don’t have the energy for this,” Alaia said.  “Why can’t we find someplace else?”

Phoenix shook his head.  “Six cars and five infected – that’s why.  And, in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a brand new Jeep sitting in the lot.”

“Whatever you say,” Alaia said.  She readied her weapon, yawned, and drew back a step or two.

“And, Detective Jenkins – in case you haven’t noticed, there’s another set of doors just past this first set,” Phoenix said.  “Nobody ever locks those.  So, once we’re inside, we can lock them down and we’re safe.”

Alaia looked at Phoenix with tired, defeated eyes.  “What?  Like we’re on the last name basis now?”

Just as Phoenix turned towards the door and started to unscrew the lock cylinder, Nashville Electric seemed to have come to the conclusion that it’s residents could no longer pay their light bills.  All at once, every light in the bookstore, every street light, and even the glow of downtown Nashville, went out as easily as two fingers snuffing out a candle.  All that was left was the flashlight.

“Doesn’t change a thing,” Phoenix said, and he cranked the Vice Grips.  The cylinder turned counterclockwise, he heard the set screw snap, and he removed the cylinder with ease.  He handed the flashlight to Dr. Carson and told everyone to get ready.  He took his combat knife, inserted its tip into the hole in the door, and tripped the lock mechanism.  The bolt fell with a Ker plunk.

The infected came through the inside double doors, tangling themselves into a small and convenient mess, just as Phoenix pulled the door open. 

Alaia raised her AK and, with aimed single shots, took out all five of the attackers, placing a bullet into the center of each of their skulls. 

Phoenix and Dr. Carson slid the bodies out onto the sidewalk as quickly as they could and, when they had finished, they locked themselves inside the building.

The smell of books – the paper, the fresh ink – filled the place.  It reminded Phoenix of when he was a boy at school and how he’d take a new text book, crack it, and bury his face into it.  But this was a Bible book store, and that was okay.  He’d been here before when he’d come looking for a new Bible.  His father had paid for it.

To the left of the receptionist’s desk, and just passed a wall dividing the employee section from the sales floor, Phoenix saw row after row of shelves filled with books.

The only thing missing – something absolutely necessary at the moment – was heat.  The lights had just gone out; but it seemed as if the heat had not been running for some time. 

Phoenix kept his eyes wide open, fighting against the sleep trying to close them down, and entered the hall past the cubicles.  Alaia and Dr. Carson followed him through another set of doors and they came out onto a cold, concrete floor.  They’d found the warehouse.  Phoenix stopped everyone and listened.  Then he took his knife and banged on a metal shelf, hoping to draw any infected.  He stopped and listened.  Nothing.  He walked to the right along a cinderblock wall, came to a left turn, and found a large trash compactor that passed through the wall to the outside. Just to the right of it was an emergency exit.

Three large barrels and a few smaller waste baskets filled with paper and broken up cardboard were lined up, ready to be dumped.   Phoenix smiled.

Dr. Carson looked at Phoenix.  “No use just standing here.” He picked up one of the smaller baskets and dumped it into the compactor.  “This is as good a time as any to celebrate global warming.”

Alaia and Phoenix, weary beyond hope and cold, followed Dr. Carson’s example.  Ten minutes later, they had a fire burning in the metal compactor.  Most of the light-colored smoke was carried along through the wall by a draft, discharging safely into the cold, rainy, night air.  The sides of the metal compactor heated up quickly.  Alaia and Phoenix went back to the office and found two plush couches.  They hauled them out of the office and into the warehouse, setting them up within a few feet of the warm compactor.  Then Phoenix disappeared.

“That paper isn’t going to burn all night,” Alaia said to Dr. Carson, and she got up off the couch and walked over to a row of shelves.  She came back with her arms full of Bibles.

Phoenix, who had just returned from having robbed the snack machine, saw her.  “Wait a minute, Alaia,” he said.  “You know, maybe I’m not the best guy in the world or anything – but let’s not burn these.”

“What are you talking a---”             

“You don’t burn the Bible.”  Phoenix took the Bibles from her and carried them over to a nearby table and carefully set them down.  “And I know what you’re thinking.”

Alaia looked at Phoenix and asked him, “What am I thinking?”

“That I’m placing more emphasis on the physical book than what’s in the book.  That if the Bible really meant anything to me, I’d be living it out.”

“You worry too much, Phoenix.”

Phoenix put his hands on Alaia’s shoulders.  “The world is coming to an end and you’re not worried?”

“I’m too tired and dead to worry about your confessions,” Alaia said.  “But I know I need to worry – about you and me.”

“Are you saved?”

“I go to church – went to church.”

“There’s a big difference between the two.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Alaia turned and walked back towards the book shelves with Phoenix behind her.  Together, they walked past the Bibles.

Phoenix stopped.  “Ah, this is what we need.”  He raised his flashlight and used it like a pen, circling the words he saw written on a piece of white cardboard stuck to the shelf.  “Commentaries,” he said with a smile.  “The theologians can’t agree on anything, so let’s burn these.  Here, hold the light.” 

Alaia held the flashlight while Phoenix picked up a stack of hardback commentaries.  One by one, every single Bible commentary, from A to Z, ended up in the trash compactor.  The blue metal sides of the compactor glowed red and the couches were pulled away. 

Dr. Carson slept soundly on his couch.  Alaia and Phoenix, after warming up close to the makeshift furnace, removed most of their clothes and shared a couch together, using curtains taken from one of the offices as blankets.

They passed the night in peace, falling asleep to the crackling sound of burning books and the gentle moan of the night wind and rain as it passed into the north east.