Yield (42 page)

“
Our rules now.
”

*  *  *

The clustered hopeless shuffle along the freeway, spreading out as the day wears on. Some stop to wait for help. Others slow as fatigue sets in.

“
Alright, guys!
”
Isabel yells ahead. Her feet grind painfully to a stop, refusing to go even one inch more. She adjusts the duffel bag slung across her shoulders. The wet bag feels ten times heavier than it should. She rubs at the line cutting into her shoulder from the strap.
“
I think it
’
s about break time back here!
”

The pregnant flight attendant puts a hand up to Terra
’
s arm for support. The other clutches the bottom of her pregnant stomach to ease the sharp throbbing in her back.
“
Whew!
”
Isabel winces.

Terra stares straight ahead, her face expressionless. Her eyes are glazed. They stare past and through everything around her
—
and have for miles. Unfocused. Barely blinking.

Isabel nudges the teen, trying to get a reaction. Terra
’
s eyes slowly look over.
“
Making a pregnant woman speed walk,
”
Isabel says.
“
His mama needs to revisit that lesson in manners.
”
The feisty Latina stands on her tiptoes to shout at Devin.
“
Won
’
t get much farther without food and water anyways!
”

Devin reluctantly stops. He fights back a spark of agitation at the delay.
“
Fine,
”
he groans. The fireman turns to Chris.
“
Feel like doing a little scouting?
”

Abd strides back to them from the lead. Chris
’
s unwelcoming eyes freeze him in place.

“
Don
’
t need to,
”
Chris says gruffly. His eyes stay locked on the Arab hovering several paces away.
“
Unlike some here, I grew up in this city.
”

“
Glad to have a guide, mate.
”
Devin smiles, trying to soften the intimidating man
’
s mood.
“
Any stores nearby?
”

“
Off the freeway. There
’
s a market just east of that exit up ahead.
”

“
‘
Bout bloody time,
”
Devin says.
“
Finally some good news.
”

“
Shouldn
’
t we stay here?
”
Chris asks.
“
We
’
ll be easier to spot by the rescuers.
”

The sound of exploding glass echoes right behind them.

Car windows splinter and yield under the assaulting blows. They shatter into millions of sparkling prisms as raiders and vandals eagerly set to their work. Devin looks around at all the refugees walking and pillaging nearby, seeing only desperation and anger in their eyes.

*  *  *

“
They ain
’
t coming,
”
a scruffy-looking man whispers to a tall, desperate shadow walking next to him.
“
No one will know. Just take what you want.
”
His eyes begin to shoot around, weighing justification and risk.
“
We have to defend ourselves. Think about it.
”

“
Survival of the fittest, man,
”
the accomplice responds.

“
Exactly,
”
the scruffy man answers. His dirty mouth curls up into a grin.
“
It
’
s time to play.
”

*  *  *

“
Nobody seems too hopeful they
’
re on the way,
”
Devin says.
“
I
’
ve been a firefighter for a lot of years, and the systems are just not designed for something like this.
”
Devin points toward the cracked edges of a massive blast crater, miles behind them.
“
Too big of an impact area. Compromised resources.
”
Thousands of refugees continue to pour onto the freeway.
“
They aren
’
t coming today, mate. Not for a while.
”

Devin turns back to the girls resting behind them, motioning up towards the next off-ramp.
“
We need to head up. You ladies ready?
”

“
Masochistic Brit,
”
Isabel mutters in objection. A hint of a smile touches Terra
’
s face.

Even though her feet beg her not to, Isabel slowly begins to hike on behind Devin and Chris. Her hand moves down to an aching lower back.

Abd slows. He
’
s also tired. But not from walking. His thin runner
’
s build could walk all day and night if he needed to.
A
bd is tired of the expected uselessness and insults screaming back at him from the eyes of the towering black man. He stops.

A crooked but polite smile spreads across Abd
’
s face, trying its best to exude gentlemanly charm.

“
What the hell do you want?
”
Isabel asks as they approach. She wraps an arm protectively around Terra
’
s shoulders.

“
Just to help,
”
Abd sighs. He grits his teeth to stay the words he wants so badly to shout.
“
May I?
”
he asks. A curiously helpful tone rises to his voice as he points to Isabel
’
s duffel bag.

Her chocolate eyes squint threateningly back. Trust is not something Isabel gives easily. Especially not today. The pain in her back finally overcomes any misgivings.
“
It
’
s nothing that valuable anyway,
”
she says, handing her only possessions to him. Isabel
’
s voice hardens.
“
But you
’
d better stay close, Arab.
”

He takes the bag and slings it over his right shoulder. Abd winces as the weight shifts in his separated socket. Pain shoots down his left side. The jolt turns into throbbing then gradually subsides back into the now-familiar ache. He looks up expectantly, but Isabel and Terra have already sped away.
“
You
’
re welcome,
”
he mumbles to himself.

Abd and the rest of his tenuous fellowship break from the other survivors on the freeway, heading up the exit
’
s off-ramp. Several others follow behind them. Most stay on the rugged interstate, continuing south.

When they reach the intersection atop the crumbling overpass, Devin
’
s body stiffens. Husbands and wives, parents and children are all running chaotically through the streets. Their arms overflow with anything they can carry. Panic and skepticism look back from thousands of eyes as the city embraces a new order of anarchy.

Two thin figures kick out the glass from a broken storefront window nearby, carrying out a television set. One of them adjusts the rifle slung over his shoulder.

“
Might want to stay a little closer up here, ladies,
”
Devin says. He motions down to the others still climbing up the steep incline.

“
Let
’
s hurry up, ladies,
”
Isabel echoes, looking back at Abd with a mischievous smile.

Dark eyes flicker under the shadow of his brow. The Arab
’
s jaw tightens. He forces his feet to move obediently, step by step behind the ungrateful infidels.

“
Jesus,
”
Isabel says, glancing around at the chaos teeming throughout the streets.

“
No. I think he took the day off,
”
Devin says. His sharp British humor seems out of place amid the melee.

A look of protective understanding passes between Devin and Chris. They set out again in front of the others, heading east from the intersection. Rules of law no longer apply within the dying city. Sporadic packs of people push forcibly past one another, their surging elbows and disregard striking without cause or care. A crimson sun hangs low over the twisted metal of sheared buildings. The brilliant sunset glitters back from steel and glass, sparkling like fire along the boulevard
’
s broken dreams.

*  *  *

The front entrance of the market is completely smashed in. A shopping cart is caught awkwardly between the frame and floor. The store
’
s tall windows lie in small, sandy pieces all across the concrete. The dull sounds of panic echo from within. People push in and out around the shattered doors, clutching to whatever they can.

Devin stops twenty feet from the single-story building
’
s double doors. His emerald eyes narrow. Angry voices shout at one another from inside the dark opening. Devin
’
s stomach churns uneasily.

“
Let
’
s do this,
”
Chris says, his voice full of youthful eagerness. The teen turns toward the store.

“
Hold on, mate,
”
Devin says. He quickly puts a hand up to Chris
’
s chest.
“
I
’
m thinking you
’
d best stay outside.
”

“
Excuse me?
”
Chris snaps. He shoves the hand away, staring hard into Devin
’
s eyes. The towering basketball star takes a big step towards the redhead.
“
I can handle myself,
mate.
”

“
I
’
m sure you can,
”
Devin says coolly.
“
But the ladies need an escort.
”
He nods at the people swarming around them.
“
It
’
s like the wild west out here. Look around.
”
Devin turns to the injured Arab.
“
No offense, Abd, but you don
’
t look like you
’
re up for much of a fight.
”

Chris
’
s brown eyes flicker, trying to find a way around the fireman
’
s reasoning. Reluctantly, he sighs. His pained agreement comes out more like a grunted yell.

“
You
’
d better stay with us, boy,
”
Isabel chides. Her left eyebrow shoots up.

The basketball player
’
s eyes soften under her all-too-familiar look. Over the years, he
’
s learned better than to play with that fire. Nothing good ever comes of it.

His weight shifts uncertainly, feeling Terra
’
s eyes now upon him. Chris spins away before she can see the embarrassment rising to his face. The teenager
’
s armor flips on again like an electric chair switch once he realizes she wasn
’
t the only one staring.

A crooked smile cuts across Abd
’
s face. It fades quickly.
“
Why don
’
t I go with you, Devin,
”
Abd
blurts
. He takes a step back toward the fireman.
“
You
’
ll need some help carrying supplies.
”

“
Alright,
”
Devin says. He pauses, his eyes angling up with regret.
“
We could carry a lot more if we emptied out your bag, Isabel.
”