Braving The Risk Read online

  She walked over and offered it to Carl. “Thanks,” he said.

  “No problem.” Tara then fingered the strap that held the rifle on her back. “It’s going to be scary when this thing runs out of ammunition. It’s kept me alive for so long. If I’d had known the world was going to hell in a handbasket, I’d have loaded up.” She sighed. “And maybe Michael and I would have…” Her voice trailed off.

  Carl looked at her sad eyes. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I thought your spiel at the Rally for Rights was that we should have been ready?” Tara said with a playful grin.

  “Well, point taken.” Carl thought of his speech at the Rally for Rights in the city. It was his first opportunity to deliver his warnings to a large audience. The world, however, decided that would be all Carl would get, as the EMP had hit right at the tail end of his speech.

  “I had a little bag in my car to help me out in case of a disaster, but I couldn’t get to it.” Carl sighed. “Best laid plans, right?”

  Before Tara could reply, the sounds of feet on the mall floor outside drew them back to the store opening. “Our company’s arrived,” Carl said as he marched for the store doorway.

  Preston huffed loudly. This wasn’t working. At least, this wasn’t working well.

  “Mister Preston, are you okay? You sound sick,” Shyanne said with worry.

  Preston coughed. He almost quipped, I’ve got an elementary school girl riding on my back. How the hell do you think I’d be? But he clamped his mouth shut. This little one was not at fault. Besides, he had suggested hauling her up on his shoulders. Earlier, he had tried picking her up and making a break for it, but he quickly lost stamina and had to put her down. So, instead he decided to carry her on his back.

  It actually worked, and Preston was able to cover quite a bit of ground, passing up store after store. Soon the food court was no longer in sight. However, Shyanne’s body still weighed down on his back. Preston was a grown man, but he was hardly a strong one. He rarely exercised, and when he did it was little better than riding an exercise bike or walking through his suburban neighborhood. He counted on his natural metabolism to keep him skinny, as well as his love of salads and fish and distaste of most meats. He never thought he’d have to bulk up to the level of, well, an U.S. Marine.

  He sucked in bigger breaths, figuring the added oxygen would help keep him moving. The farthest exit had to be close by. A few more minutes should be enough to carry them the rest of the way. Fortunately, the skylights of the mall supplied adequate sunlight to allow Preston to view his surroundings as he carted Shyanne.

  Still, Preston found it unbelievable that he had to count on a sunny day to see inside a modern American mall. On any other day, this place would be well lit, thanks to the shining lamps and light posts stationed throughout the property, as well as the lights inside the stores. Now this place was as dead as a tomb. With the electrical grid fried, the lights never would come back on again.

  He also found it ludicrous that he had to run for his life like this. Hell, he had been running for his life for almost two days straight. He was used to a world where the police were on patrol, or at least on call, and big public retail areas such as this were protected by security guards. There were men all around with badges, batons, tasers…and guns.

  I always gave the law a hard time, Preston thought. He believed those in authority often misused the power they wielded. He had protested police brutality in urban neighborhoods at a Rally for Rights more than once. He also had condemned city and state politicians for not investigating crimes committed by police and had spoken out against Homeland Security arming police with military grade weapons. Those arguments were often among his most controversial. At times, he was threatened with death on social media. More than once he had returned to his car to find a tomato or a potato had been thrown against it.

  He briefly recalled one of his speeches as he walked. If there was one day, just one day, where your city streets didn’t have police on it, you know what would happen? The city would become almost ninety percent less corrupt! I know, that sounds funny, right? But if you want to be serious about this, we wouldn’t have more crime, we’d have less crime!

  Preston’s stomach tightened, not just from the retreat through the mall, but from a feeling that perhaps he had been too harsh. He wondered if in some perverse way, he had been granted his wish, like something out of The Twilight Zone. He had been granted his wish, only to be shown that the world he envisioned wasn’t what he thought it would be.

  Preston slowed down. Up ahead, he spotted a collection of exit doors at the far end of the mall corridor, nestled near a clothing store. The sign above the storefront read Marianne’s. This was part of a popular clothing chain. Just like the other stores, however, it was lifeless. The lights were dead and human activity was nonexistent.

  Preston debated whether to proceed through the store and look for an exit out into the open. Marianne’s appeared big enough to have its own entrance and exit to the outside.

  On the other hand, he didn’t want to stay in this mall any longer than he had to. Besides, Carl told him to flee for the farthest exit. What if Preston kept going into Marianne’s and Carl decided not to look for him there?

  “Hey. I think we made it.” Preston then coughed. His throat had been dried out from the constant flight through the mall. He sank to his knees. “C’mon, get down.”

  Shyanne obeyed. Preston found it hard to rise, but he did so, though he grasped his chest and breathed heavily for a while.

  “Mister Preston, are we going to leave Mister Carl?” the little girl asked.

  Preston cleared his throat. “Well, we’re just going outside one of those doors. Then we’ll wait outside until Mister Carl shows up.”

  Even so, Preston wasn’t sure how long he could wait for Carl. What if Carl was killed? What if both Carl and Tara didn’t make it? Preston would have no way of knowing unless he went back to investigate, and he couldn’t do that with Shyanne. Hell, he didn’t want to go back into a dangerous situation in any case.

  That last thought rattled him. Carl was a brave man. Preston wouldn’t dispute that. But Preston had to be frank with himself – he was not a soldier and not a fighter of any kind. Even with a gun on his belt, it was purely for self-defense, to ensure he would live for another day. True, he did rescue Carl once, on a neighborhood street after Carl had been struck in the head with a rock, but Preston was right there with him. It was not hard to drag Carl into a nearby SUV for shelter. The SUV was right there. Preston didn’t have to lug him far. Basically, Preston understood the turf, who was after them, and where they plausibly could seek shelter.

  Going back to Carl here was a whole other matter. He didn’t know what would await him. Five brutes looking to skin them alive? What if they all were there? What if Carl couldn’t pick off any of them? Preston had no idea what lay in store, and probably wouldn’t until it was too late for him to turn back.

  Carl would want you to protect Shyanne, he reasoned mentally. It was a sound reason to stay out here with Shyanne. Still, part of him still squirmed at talking himself out of helping Carl.

  He pointed to the left-hand door closest to the mall. It was close to an old pay phone hanging off the wall. Preston almost laughed. Pay phones were practically extinct since cell phones had come along, and it was almost impossible to find one anywhere. In fact, the last time Preston had laid eyes on one was when he was fourteen years old. Ironic that he should spot a piece of technology that nobody used because they didn’t need to, as opposed to all the tech around him, such as the darkened lights, that weren’t in use because the EMP made it impossible.

  He began walking toward the door. “Looks like this is our ticket out of here. Don’t worry.” He smiled, hoping to reassure Shyanne. “Just stick with me until Carl and Tara come for us.”

  “Want me to teach you how to be funny?” Shyanne asked as she walked beside him.

  Shyanne’s comment reminded
Preston of yesterday, when they were crawling underneath heavy brush to find open space to escape a bullet-riddled neighborhood. Back then, Preston had trouble understanding one of Shyanne’s “knock knock” jokes. He rolled his eyes. Humor wasn’t his thing, at least not kiddie humor. He preferred the satirical comedy monologues of late night television when he was looking for humor. Still, he wanted to keep this little girl occupied. She would worry about Carl and Tara otherwise.

  Children. Amazing. I never thought about having one, at least not very often. Preston had been so occupied with his political activism that he barely thought of starting a family. But perhaps it was a good thing. If he had a child, he or she would not be very old. Instead of fleeing for his own life, he’d be stuck trying to care for a young family when all usual supplies of food and water had been cut off. He cringed. He knew he never would be the survivalist Carl was. How could he care for others when he didn’t understand how to handle this new world himself?

  Just then, the door Preston was approaching shook. The white beam of sunlight coming from underneath the door suddenly was covered up. Preston’s heart raced. Someone was the other side of that door!

  Chapter Three

  “Shyanne! Hurry! This way!” Preston then pivoted off his right heel and started rushing towards Marianne’s. He didn’t even think. Instinctively, he knew neither Carl nor Tara could have walked or run around the mall to meet him over here. Someone else was approaching from behind that door, and Preston wasn’t going to stick around to find out if they were friend or foe.

  Shyanne ran beside Preston. In fact, she quickly sped ahead of him, to Preston’s relief. The girl would duck inside first and immediately find cover. She made it across the store’s threshold as the door swung fully open.

  Preston picked up the pace and didn’t look back. He just hoped the new visitors did not immediately turn in his direction.

  Preston followed Shyanne into the first set of clothes racks. This area of the store was well stocked with mens’ pants and jeans. In seconds, Preston ducked down between two racks of jeans. This store, or at least just this sector of it, had not been looted.

  Shyanne slowed down to let Preston catch up to her. Preston held a finger to his lips. Shyanne nodded. She understood. Preston then crouched down and crawled back to the edge of the racks of jeans, close to the glass window that made up part of the storefront. He hoped he would be concealed under the jeans long enough to see who had entered the mall.

  Two men about twice Preston’s size were looking around. To Preston’s horror, they were part of the same group of men who they had discovered in the grassy field. The pair had been mostly undressed when Preston first had laid eyes on them, but now they were dressed in dirty button-down shirts over ratty jeans. The man to the left appeared young, while the other looked about fortyish, with balding hair and a face that looked as mean as a bulldog’s.

  The older man was yelling at his companion, but Preston couldn’t make out complete sentences. He just caught “running,” and “which way” and “can’t have vanished” and “dumbass” and “roast your balls if you don’t.” It was a hell of a weird experience, but Preston pieced together enough of the diatribe to know the older man had figured out Preston and Shyanne were close by, they just didn’t know where.

  Please, turn around and go the other way, Preston pleaded mentally. If these two would walk away and leave, he might still be able to take Shyanne and leave the mall.

  But instead the younger man pointed to the clothing store, swinging his long blonde locks as he pivoted. Then he nodded with a grin as if he had thought of something smart. His older partner yelled at him again and then turned and stormed up to the clothing store entrance.

  Shit!

  Preston backed up quickly under the hanging jeans. “Shyanne! Shyanne!” he harshly whispered, “We have to get out of here! Crawl that way!” Preston pointed to the space behind them, toward the mall’s right-hand wall. “Hurry!”

  Shyanne dropped down and started crawling in between the next two racks of jeans. Preston followed. Between the darkened store lights and crawling on their knees, they should be well concealed from their two pursuers.

  Unfortunately, he was so panicked that he pushed too hard against the bottom pole of a jeans rack, causing it to shake.

  “Hey!” said the young man. “I thought I saw something!”

  “What did you see?” barked the older man. “This store is so goddamned dark you can’t make out shit!”

  Preston stopped. Did they spot him?

  “I don’t know. I thought it was over there!” replied the young man. Down on his knees and hidden under a mass of clothes, Preston did not know if the pursuer was pointing his way.

  “Fine. You think the little maggots went this way? We’ll take a look,” grumbled the older man. Preston then heard approaching footsteps, followed by a crashing sound. The man must have knocked over a rack of jeans. But it sounded as if it came from a few yards away, far enough that Preston felt brave enough to keep crawling. Hopefully, the two men would not hear him.

  Up ahead, he discovered Shyanne was lying against the wall. She had made it, but looked terrified. She didn’t know what to do.

  Preston pointed to the left and jabbed his finger back and forth. The little girl got the message and started crawling again. Preston followed.

  The pair crawled for the next several minutes while the two intruders kept pushing down rack after rack, covering the floor with dozens of pairs of jeans and shirts. “Damn it, Drake! I don’t see shit!” the older man said, kicking into a pile of jeans on the floor.

  “Ron, I could have sworn I heard something,” Drake, the young man, replied.

  “I bet this goddamned place has rats.” Ron looked up at the ceiling. “The vermin are going to start showing up everywhere now that the power’s out.”

  Drake giggled. “You afraid of rats, man?”

  “Shut it. I’m not afraid of anything,” Ron replied as he paced around Drake. “Now let’s keep tearing this place up. Cyrus said the maggots could be anywhere. We gotta flush them out.”

  “I sure hope there’s a woman with big hooters.” Drake laughed as he pulled another rack of jeans down to the floor. “Hoo-wee! That Sarah woman was amazing. What happened to her?”

  “She overdosed, nimrod,” Ron replied. “I told you not to dope her up.”

  “But she was a fighter. She needed a little said…said…”

  “Sedative!” Ron cried as he slammed another jeans rack to the floor. “A sedative. And I told you, you didn’t need to give her that much! I told you, John told you, Scott told you…”

  “Okay, okay! Look, I’m a high school dropout. Cut me some slack,” Drake replied.

  By now Preston and Shyanne had reached the end of the clothes racks. One more step, and they would emerge into an open space that separated the jeans from the dress shirts section. Fortunately, the chatter of the two men muffled Preston and Shyanne’s crawling and they could gain a little distance. Even so, the discussion sent shivers down Preston’s spine. These two sounded as if they had drugged and raped a woman, likely the woman who laid dead in the grass. Coupled with that naked man’s move toward Shyanne, Preston trembled at the thought of what they might do to a young girl.

  I can’t let them get their hands on her, Preston thought. But the two of them had reached an impasse. Even in this darkness, there was enough dim light spilling over from the mall skylights through the door that they could be spotted.

  Fresh sweat dripped down Preston’s face. Think! Think! They would be spotted any moment for sure if they stayed here. But where else could they go?

  Then he spotted a swinging wooden door. Preston looked up. Even though it was mostly unreadable due to insufficient light, Preston was sure the sign above read “Changing Room.” It was their only chance.

  Preston crawled next to Shyanne and whispered, “In there!” He turned his head toward the open doorway. Shyanne understood and scampered inside.
Preston crawled in after her.

  Once inside, Preston took hold of Shyanne’s arm and raced her to the farthest small cubicle within the changing room. Then he yanked the wooden door open and thrust her inside. Quickly, he shut the door and locked it.

  “Onto the bench. Hurry!” The changing room sported a white wooden bench along the wall. Shyanne climbed onto one end while Preston pulled himself onto the other. This way, the two intruders would not see their feet.

  Unfortunately, he realized that this changing room could be their coffin if Drake and Ron decided to walk in here. There was no other exit. Preston may only have bought himself and Shyanne a few more minutes of life.

  Shyanne crawled up to him. In this darkness Preston could not make out her face, though the man imagined she was frightened.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is all I can do. We just have to wait.” He placed his hand against the top of her head. He felt her nod. She still had confidence in him, even if he possessed little in himself.

  Preston kept the girl in his arms while he waited. His heart pounded. He was sure the two men would storm inside the changing room and open up each of the room’s changing stalls looking for the pair. He could not imagine what he would do next, except perhaps plead for Shyanne’s survival, even if it meant the men had to take his life in return.

  Then he remembered he still had his gun on his belt. He wasn’t totally defenseless, but he only had two shots left, and it was almost pitch black in here. Aiming well was impossible, and once his shots were gone, if he should fail to kill the pair, he would be at their mercy.

  Please, he thought. Please don’t come in here.

  Lying on his belly, Carl gazed at the bat in his hand and read the baseball team’s name printed on the wood. “Houston Astros,” he said softly. “My brother would love to have this bat. Baseball was always his thing.”