Firefight - 5/30

It turns out the loot was, in fact, too good to be true.

Tony looks wide-eyed at Alex’s crumpled body lying on the ground, a growing pool of crimson coming from what was left of his head. The blood splatter on the car in front of him shines under the scene light. Alex had just been talking to them a moment ago. He stands stock still in shock before Annitta drags him behind the car.

“We have to go, now!” She yells, her voice raspy from the dehydration.

Marcos returns fire, aimlessly spraying in the direction the shot had come from. He has limited ammunition, but he will use it all if that is what it takes. He swings his head around wildly as he reloads, searching for the rest of the group. Lucie had grabbed them as soon as Alex was shot, but he didn’t know where they ran to.

“We are so close”, he thinks to herself, snapping a second magazine into the rifle. He isn’t a gun expert, but the shot that hit Alex didn’t sound like a machine gun. He is sure he has them outgunned.

A round of bullets returns in his direction from multiple sources, but slower succession. Outgunned doesn’t matter when you are severely outmanned.

He peeks up and sprays another round in the direction of the shots. Already halfway out of ammo, these next two magazines would have to count. A bullet enters his right arm as he reloads, causing him to drop the rifle. It clatters to the ground at his feet. Struggling to pick it up with one arm, he fumbles with it as a stray shot hits next to his head.

“Crap, crap, come on just…” his thoughts fill with panic as he hears another round of fire coming from a rifle close by. Tony is firing back as well, screaming more expletives than he even knew.

Marcos watches a bullet enter Tony’s chest, dropping his hulking form to the ground. Another round puffs more blood from his stomach as he lies still.

“Just buy more time,” he thinks while finally managing to slam the third magazine in. To hell with preserving the ammo, he just needs to slow them down. He runs to Tony’s side, spraying the magazine down range as he does and sliding in next to Annitta.

“Tony, Tony, oh shoot,” Annitta starts, dragging herself closer to the car. Marcos huddles next to her. She is holding his stomach with one hand while trying to pull Alex’s gun out from under his body.

“You got a line on them?” she asks Marcos.

“No… I’m… dangit,” he says, failing to help her get the strap off Alex’s shoulder.

“We've got to just go, run for it,” Annitta says, looking around for any possible escape.

Marcos realizes it too late.

“The freaking light.”

The same light that had originally drawn them in was giving whoever was shooting a clear view of them.

“What a dumb trap to fall for,” he thinks.

He pulls Tony’s pistol from its holster, right hand shaking as he does. It isn’t a hard shot for him normally, but his dominant arm has a bullet in it. He sprays at the light, barely hitting it before running dry. The area around him is plunged into darkness.

“Go go go, scatter!” he yells, sprinting in the opposite direction from the gunfire. The area around him is plagued with bullets, but they weren’t as accurate in the dark.

There are no footsteps behind him, Annitta wasn’t following, but there is no time to turn and check. With that little light the moon is providing, he dashes between cars, left arm flopping uselessly as he does.

“Lucie should lead them southwest,” he thinks, before turning and running full bore, in what he thinks is north, spraying the rest of the penultimate magazine into the air as he does, hoping to draw their attention. There is nothing more he can do for the others but be a distraction now.

More gunfire comes from behind him.

“Please work, please,” he says out loud while trying to get the final magazine in. Blood covers his left side as he struggles, dropping the gun once more as footsteps approach. He doesn’t have time to be cautious, weighing the option of shooting his group against missing a chance at his hunters.

“Annitta, is that…”

To the south, Lucie, Kat, and Rachel flinch, hunkering down as more gunfire erupts. It sounds further away than the last exchange had been. Tony had taken his rifle back right before they were ambushed, so stealth is their only hope now. Kat is holding the child close to her, stroking the back of her hair as she shakes. Lucie grabs them both by the hand and continues to move, creeping along the opening they had found between the rubble. They try not to make any noise as they navigate through the dark.

They are feeling the lack of water, but know they can’t stop. After what happened, their only salvation will be reaching the bridge, escaping the Black Zone. It had always been the case, but now it was more urgent than ever.

It’s a long night of sneaking.

There is no other gunfire to be heard through the evening, but as they continue, there is the distinct sound of a loud voice growing. It’s hard to make out the words at first, but it slowly becomes clear.

“Welcome to Memorial Bridge outpost. Form orderly lines at the check-in counters. Violence will not be tolerated.”

The announcement played on a slow loop, the words ringing on repeat in their heads as they walked. Slowly, light became visible on the horizon, but it takes a couple of hours before they make it through enough of the city to see the river.

On the near shore, a building with a large speaker is playing the recording, blasting the area with high-powered lights and the distinct hum of a generator. Armed soldiers stood around, casually chatting, unthreatened by the world around them.

If they could have run, they would have, but slowly they finished their walk, eventually getting spotted as they came into the light.

“Hands where we can see them, slowly approach,” one of the soldiers yells, holding his gun at attention but not pointing it.

They put their hands up, with Kat’s staying at Rachel’s height as the young girl refused to let go. They are searched for weapons and escorted to a check-in counter, where they are asked to provide their name and residency before being allowed to board a boat across the river. It wasn’t a surprise that the bridge itself had not survived the earthquake.

Lucie mentions the ambush during check-in, begging the soldiers to send someone to help the others, but is informed that there is nothing to be done. Her protests are quickly silenced under threat of not being allowed across.

They board the boat and are unceremoniously ferried away, back toward a civilized society. The rotten stench of the destroyed city faded away, replaced by the cool breeze coming off the water.

Rachel curls up into Kat's lap, quickly falling asleep with the rocking of the boat. Lucie looks back at the city and says a silent prayer for those who remained.

In less than a year, they would see each other again. Reunited in death at the end of the world.

Three days later.

Rachel looks up at the towering wall of pictures, reading the sign above them that states:

“Lost but not forgotten.”

She didn’t know how the picture had ended up in her backpack; all she knew was that the wheelchair man, Lance, had carried it with him. Lucie had told her that it would be rude to throw it away, so she had kept it with her for the couple of days it took for them to be transported to the Green Zone.

There is an empty spot along the bottom where she sticks the photo and a drawing, putting a tack into each of them to hold them in place.

She steps back to look at her work.

Her parents and sister stand on one side of the drawing, flanking Alex, Annitta, and Tony in the middle. On the right are Marcos and Lance, with Julie’s photo placed just off to the side.

If nobody else would, at least she wouldn’t forget them all.

She takes Kat’s hand and the two walk back to their new apartment.