State of Panic: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (6 page)

Murphy just rolled his eyes. He was obviously used to hearing all manner of questions about weapons and what was or wasn’t allowed in the country. He didn’t even bother to answer.

“What kind of firepower does this put out?” I asked. I had seen and fired a Remington rifle but nothing like these two.

“The Colt M4 Carbine, 700 rounds per minute. The AR-15 is 30 rounds every fifteen seconds.”

Murphy then disappeared into another room. I looked at Edgar. Luke was staring out the window, making sure that no one was coming. When Murphy reappeared he had what looked like two large briefcases in his hands. He set them down against the wall and then went into the kitchen. I shuffled over and peered in. He opened the fridge, it was dark inside. He pulled out a bottle of beer, popped the cap off with a twist and chugged it down in one hit. As he closed the fridge, I could see he had several photos of his daughter Ally tacked against it using fridge magnets. There was a sign on the wall with the words:
The only easy day was yesterday
.

I’d always been fascinated by anyone that had gone into the military and was willing to put their life on the line for their country. Besides cops, I didn’t think there was anything more courageous than laying down your life down for another. Though there was a mystique surrounding the teams. SEALs weren’t superhuman but they were the closest we had to guys who knew how to live and work in the most uncomfortable environments. They had the mindset, the skillset and drive to survive when others would want to roll over and die.

“Murphy. Do you think those guys got away?”

“Who?”

“Robertson and the men from the lumberyard?”

“Who knows?”

“After what we just went through I’m thinking they were smart to leave,” Luke muttered.

He was at it again. I didn’t blame him. Logically, hiding in the woods or making a run for it made sense. But he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. We had no idea if they had escaped, or the full extent of what the country was going through.

“And go where? The chances of us being able to survive out there are slim. We don’t know where those bombs went off or how far the fallout has spread but we know it can’t be anywhere near here otherwise these idiots wouldn’t be sticking around. So my guess is this place is a safe zone for now. Besides, it’s home and I damn well am not going to sit back and watch a bunch of knucklehead baldies fuck up my town.”

“You said Dan had a bunker.”

Murphy slammed a magazine into the M4.

“That he does.”

“Hey, I’m all for raising a little hell but there are a lot of them.”

“Luke, there are more town folk than them.”

“But they won’t fight,” Luke said. “Hell, they are just regular folks. Even we are. You and Dan are the only ones besides the police that are trained for this type of violence.”

“Don’t underestimate what people will do to protect the ones they love. And anyway, that’s why we have got to work together. Right now we may be the only chance this town has of fighting back. Now we can run off with our tail between our legs and maybe we will get to live another week, heck, we might even be able to hole up in Dan’s underground bunker but eventually violence will come knocking. No matter what you have heard about violence not solving violence, at times it’s the only way. Whether you like it or not, it’s time to fight.”

Murphy grabbed up a bag of ammo.

“This is insane. Surely we can reason with them?” Luke asked.

Murphy chuckled and pointed outside. “You think back at the library they were looking to reason with us?”

Luke looked at Edgar who shrugged.

“I’m not a violent man, Luke, but this is my home. I grew up here. My family is here.”

“So… about leaving, that’s a no?”

I could see the look of reservation on Luke’s face. I felt the same. I wasn’t ready to battle with a bunch of skinheads. We might have had anger issues and this might have been one hell of a way to unleash pent-up frustration, but killing another human? I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

“Are we going?” Edgar asked.

“Not yet. I have to contact Dan.”

W
e remained
at Murphy’s for another hour while he tried to make contact with Dan via a ham radio system. He sat at a desk pressing the button on the side of the mic.

“Come in Dan. This is Murphy.”

All the came out of the speakers was a hum, and the odd crackle. He repeated himself over and over again. While he was doing that I went to get some food. Anything I could scrounge from the cupboards. Luke was sitting in the kitchen having a cigarette, staring at the Glock on the counter. I found a few cans of tuna, a bottle of pickled eggs and some crackers. What did this guy live on? I blew my cheeks out and closed the pantry.

“Did you know this was coming?” Luke asked in an accusing tone.

“No. I mean, they spoke about things but I assumed it was just talk.”

He scoffed and blew out some smoke.

I sighed. “Look, I know you and I don’t see eye to eye. But we need to put that shit aside and work together.”

“Can you imagine getting dropped into enemy territory in the middle of the night? You know, skydiving in and releasing your parachute at the last minute, then wading your way through a humid jungle just to observe and report back your findings. You hear all these horror stories from veterans about getting ambushed. Tortured by the Vietcong. I’m not sure I could handle that. I think I would just shoot myself first,” Luke said. He took a strong pull on his cigarette and then reached for the gun.

“Be careful with that. It’s not a toy,” Edgar said coming into the room.

“And how would you know, old man? You’ve spent your entire life under a truck. What danger is to be found there?”

“I did my time in the war.”

“Oh really? You’re a vet? What war?”

He never replied.

Luke scoffed. “Yeah, just as I thought. The only war you’ve seen, old man, is the argument between you and your old lady after she got it on with some other dude. Yeah, I heard about that. Rumor is, it was Billy’s old man. I bet he gave it to her real good.”

Edgar backhanded Luke across the face, then pulled him up and slammed him against the wall. “Hey, hey, Edgar, calm down.” I rushed in to try and intervene but he wasn’t listening.

“Yeah, old man. I was just joking.”

“You ever mention my wife, I will fucking end you. You understand?”

Luke threw his hands up in the air. “Okay.”

He held him tightly against the wall, Luke’s feet almost dangling off the floor. He caused such a ruckus that Murphy came into the room. By then Edgar had released his grip. I backed away. For someone in his early fifties and as quiet as he was, the guy had some serious kehoners on him.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Edgar brushed past Murphy and he looked at me and I just grimaced. Luke was muttering something under his breath.

“Any luck?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“It’s a small unit. We can take it with us, right?”

He nodded.

We began loading up the Glocks, rifles and ammo before heading out. “Take as much food as you can. Keep to canned goods. Down in that bottom cupboard in a box is beef jerky. Grab that.” I looked underneath. He wasn’t joking. The guy had been drying out stack loads of meat. It was encased in airtight containers. I popped them open and started filling my bag with handfuls of the sweet-smelling, chewy meat.

As we busied ourselves, Luke didn’t bother helping. He was pissed off by the way that Edgar had reacted. Leaning against the wall near the window, he blew smoke rings.

“Uh, guys. Guys,” Luke stammered.

“What’s up?”

“I’m guessing these aren’t the Avon ladies.”

His nostrils flared and I knew it was trouble. I bolted over to the window and peeked out. Coming up the driveway were four skinheads.

“Murphy.”

He was out in the hallway zipping up one of the bags. He got up and grabbed his Glock, he loaded a magazine and put the gun behind his back. A few seconds later we heard the sound of boots coming up onto his porch. Murphy didn’t wait, he unlocked the door but kept the chain on it.

“Can I help you guys?”

“Possibly.” One of them went to push his way in but Murphy pressed back against the door.

“Look, we don’t want trouble.”

“Open the fucking door now or I will blow a fucking hole in your head.”

“You don’t want to do this. Walk away.”

Murphy gave them a chance. I heard them scoff then the one guy began kicking at the door.

What happened next occurred so quick, I just stood there with my jaw hanging down.

Murphy undid the lock and as he opened the door in one smooth motion he pulled the Glock from behind his back. Four bullets later and they were dead. The first three went down fast but the other tried to run. He’d made it halfway down the driveway before he collapsed. All of them were shot in the head.

“Come on, help me get ’em around back.”

Killing was as easy to him as breathing.

Luke and I stood there staring while Murphy and Edgar went out.

“Are you going to help?” he called out. I hurried out and looked down at one of the bodies. A dark hole in his head seeped out thick blood. I didn’t recognize them. My eyes darted to the driveway to check if there were any more. If they had made it this far west in the town, for all we knew there could have been another fifty down the road. Had they heard the gunfire? I took the dead guy’s wrists and Luke grabbed a handful of jean around his ankles and we hauled him around the rear of the house. Murphy had a shed with a metal door on the front. He unhinged the lock and swung it wide. Inside was an old lawn mower and a few garden tools. Murphy dumped the guy he was holding, went inside the shed and grabbed up two large cans of gasoline. He brought them out and set them down nearby. He then proceeded to drag the next guy into the shed. He fished through the skinhead’s jacket and pulled out a knife. He pulled a packet of cigarettes and tossed them. Luke went and collected those.

Ten minutes later they were all inside doused with gasoline.

“Luke. Lighter.”

“I need it.”

“I’ll give it back.”

Luke reluctantly handed it over. Murphy flipped it open and a flame came to life, and then he tossed it inside. A sudden burst of fire and the wooden shed was engulfed in flames. It was followed by a loud explosion.

“My lighter.”

Murphy walked past him. “Time to quit.”

Luke stared back at it. I think he was more surprised by the reality that he had just seen his lighter get tossed into the fire than the fact that four men had just been turned into human kebabs.

“Why would you do that?” Edgar asked.

“They might come looking for them. It’s a shed, not my house.”

We went back around to the front of the house, collected the bags and headed down the driveway. Edgar was about to step into the road when I pulled him back. There were others further down going house to house.

“Great, how do you suppose we get past this rabble?” Luke asked.

“You’ve got a weapon.”

“What?”

He shoved one in Luke’s hand.

“Use it.”

Had it not been evening, I was certain that we would have been spotted lingering in the shadows. We waited until the next group approached another house before making a move.

“If we get separated and you can’t get back to City Hall, go to the library. Smash one of the lower windows. Chances are they won’t look inside.”

“No, they’ll probably just set it on fire, for the heck of it,” Luke said.

Crouched down behind a vehicle holding a Glock in my hand seemed surreal. Murphy indicated with two fingers when to move. None of us hesitated; we moved fast and stayed close together.

Further down the road we saw a man step out of his house with a woman and three children. One of them was a teen. They were all carrying bags, except two of the kids that were too young. They hadn’t made it a few yards when five skinheads encircled them. The reactions were fast and quick, the father tried to hit one of them but he missed. The skinhead brought down a metal bar on the man’s arm. He screamed. They didn’t seem to care that the younger kids were under the age of ten, they just unleashed a brutal beating on them. When they stepped back, the family huddled together in the middle of the street, frightened and in tears. A skinhead with a knife moved to cut them when another stopped him.

“No, these are mine.”

He brought up a metal pipe and was about to bring it down hard when a gun went off. The bullet knocked him down instantly. At first I thought it was Murphy but it wasn’t. Out from one of the houses nearby came a guy with a rifle. After he had taken down the other skinhead standing near the family, he unloaded bullet after bullet as the rest of them ran at him. When the gunfire ended, he was the only one standing. The family remained frozen in place.

“Move!” Murphy shouted to them as he broke out from his position and ran towards them. The guy with the gun was an African American, he turned the gun towards Murphy.

“Whoa! I’m on your side. You need to get out of here now, all that gunfire is going to attract them.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that he turned around and walked back into his house, slamming the door behind him. It was the first sign that townsfolk weren’t going to just take this lying down. I raced over to where Murphy was, all the while holding my gun slightly low and looking around. Murphy told the family they either needed to get back in the house or come with us.

They stared blankly back at him. Shocked. Bruised and battered, they looked as if they were unable to process what had just happened.

“Move!” he yelled. That seemed to snap them out of their comatose state. They turned and hobbled back to their house. The father had taken the full brunt of the beating. His face was covered in blood, his clothing drenched. I caught sight of the youngest girl who had taken a hit to the ear and was bleeding. She looked at me and I know in that moment she thought I was one of them. I’d never felt so ashamed to have ever associated with the group. It wasn’t about brotherhood.

These were acts of senseless violence against humans.