Chapter
16
Jacob
followed the others back down the hallway, into the stairwell, and out a roof
access door. Jacob used a sleeve to wipe his forehead; it was raining again and
hot. The humidity made the air feel heavy and sweat instantly built up under
the vest on his back. The rain drizzled in and tapped at the rubber and pea-stone
surface of the roof as Tyree led them to the north corner. Just before he
reached the end, he crouched low and waited for them to gather around.
“I’ve
seen them down there all around those streets. So watch yourself,” Tyree said,
before turning back and moving slowly toward the edge. He moved right to the
end, and then squatted back on his heels behind a stubbed wall that ran the
perimeter of the roof.
Jacob
hung back as Murphy scooted next to Tyree and looked out over the edge. “What
am I looking at?” he whispered.
Tyree
reached into a light backpack he’d carried with him up to the roof and pulled
out a red collapsible toy telescope that he handed off to Murphy. Murphy looked
at it in his hand. “Really? How old are you, man?”
“Gimme
a break, I found it in one of the apartments,” Tyree said.
Murphy
grinned and extended the scope. He looked out over the edge of the building and
down at the dark streets. Jacob watched him scanning from left to right before
lowering the scope and looking back. “Okay, again, what am I looking at?”
Tyree
pointed in the distance. “See out there at the end of this road—the bridge? We
gotta go all the way down this street about five blocks, under the Skyway, and
then under the el tracks. After that, we’ll get to the cemetery wall; it’s
about eight feet high. There’s lower spots than that, but there’s barbed wire
at them places.”
“Walls
and barbed wire? What kind of cemetery is this?” Jacob whispered.
“Come
on, man, it’s Chicago. Don’t act like you never heard of fences to keep folks
out,” Tyree said.
“Okay…
back on topic. What’s it look like inside?” Murphy asked.
“It’s
big, man—like a park; lots of places to hide, trees, and small lakes. A road
goes right down the middle, almost all the way to Jackson Park. From there,
it’s right to the golf course and lakeshore.”
Murphy
scanned with the scope and handed it off to Stephens, who took his spot near
the edge of the roof. Murphy moved away, pulling Tyree with him. “This harbor;
you sure there will be boats there?”
Tyree
shrugged. “It’s a harbor, ain’t that where they stay? Summertime, docks should
be full this time of year. Papa used to keep a boat there; he used to take us
out all the time before he went in the chair and had to sell it. But I ain’t
exactly been out fishing lately, ya know.”
“Okay,
so you and your brother, you have weapons?”
Tyree
shook his head. “James ain’t my brother; he’s my cousin… and no, just the pump
gun and we can’t take that. Nana wouldn’t give it to me, anyway.”
Jacob
reached down and un-holstered his pistol. He looked at Tyree and held it to
him. “Take this; I’m no good with it,” he said.
Murphy
nodded. “Okay, good, but you’ll need to find a bat, bar, or whatever; you and
your bro—cousin need to be able to fight. Let’s get back downstairs. I want to
be moving while it’s still quiet.”
***
The
old woman stuffed bags of food and bottles of water into their already over-stuffed
backpacks. Jacob looked away while the boys hugged her and promised to return.
He didn’t want to be torn again by thoughts of his wife and daughter… where
they may be, if they made it to the island, were they evacuated, or were they
on the bus that was attacked on the road? He wanted to push it out of his mind,
but he wasn’t trained to act like the soldiers that were guiding him, the ones
that could turn off emotion and fight. Jacob tried to mimic them but he failed.
Now
there would be another burden on the two men in uniform—civilians like him to
slow the soldiers up and possibly cause more problems. Jacob hoped it wouldn’t
be too much. He watched as Tyree released his grandmother, turned away from her,
and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away tears.
“It’s
okay,” Stephens whispered to him. “We’re gonna send someone back for ’em.”
Tyree
clenched his jaw and nodded his head before looking away. He reached down and
put on his backpack. “I know,” he whispered. He stepped off toward the
stairwell, leading the way with a small flashlight.
When
they reached the bottom of the stairs, Stephens untied the door.
“Dark
from here on out; go on and cut that light,” Stephens whispered.
After
the light was cut, he took the lead position and opened the door to the dark
lobby. As Jacob had done before, Tyree kept his hand on Stephens’ armor and was
led helplessly into the lightless lobby. James did the same, holding Tyree.
Murphy gave them a moment to move ahead then looked back at Jacob. He flashed a
thumb up then dropped his goggles and stepped into the dark with Jacob holding
his gear.
They
moved slowly, but it wasn’t graceful or quiet. Jacob heard one of the boys
breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating. Trying to calm him, Stephens
whispered, “It’s okay, bro, I got you; we’re almost out.”
Objects
were kicked across the floor, causing gasps; their shoes seemed to slap heavily
on the tile and bounced eerie echoes off the walls. Murphy suddenly stopped and
Jacob bumped into him, his rifle clacking against the back of Murphy’s pack.
Jacob felt Murphy’s gloved hand push him back against a wall. He sensed, and
heard, the boys standing next to him. One of them was trembling; his legs were
shaking, every movement making a noise. “Just relax, I’m here,” Tyree
whispered.
“Wait
one; we’re gonna pop the door, peek outside, and we’ll be back for you all,”
Murphy whispered.
Jacob
heard them quickly step away. The door opened and the clang of a chain on the
south side rang as it was pulled tight. Jacob could see a faint slice of
moonlight cut through the narrow opening in the door. Stephens was kneeling
down with the bolt cutters in his hands. He stretched them through the opening
and strained to squeeze the arms together. After a loud
clang
, the chain
was cut and fell to the hard concrete.
Slowly,
Stephens pushed the door all the way open, walked out, and pressed against it
while keeping his rifle up. With the door fully open, blue light spilled into
the lobby. The rains had stopped and the sky was clearing, allowing some stars
to peek through. He pointed at the men along the wall and signaled for them to
move. Jacob reached out a hand and helped guide James to the door. Two steps in
and the boy panicked.
“No,
I can’t,” he said, pushing off violently and sprinting for the stairwell. They
could hear his footfalls and the stairwell door fly open and slam shut.
Tyree
turned to go after him just as Stephens raised and fired his rifle. The bright
muzzle flash filled the void in the lobby. “Leave him! There’s no time; move
your ass!” Murphy shouted. “Get out here!”
“No,
we gotta go back,” Tyree yelled.
Murphy
grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him forward. “You stay and you’ll lead
those things back to the building!”
Jacob
stepped out, pushing Tyree ahead of him, and Murphy quickly shut the door, shoving
hard to feel the lock catch as it closed before he knotted the chain through
the handle for extra security. Murphy then slapped Stephens on the back,
indicating he was ready to move just as two rounds impacted the building
directly above his head. Stephens already had his rifle up and was returning
quick-aimed shots of twos while Murphy pushed the others ahead.
Jacob
stopped and pivoted while attempting to raise his rifle. Murphy reached out and
shoved him forward yelling, “Run!”
Stephens
lowered his weapon and cut away at a sprint, catching up fast, already passing
Jacob and pulling ahead. Sprinting with his head down, Tyree was close behind
him. Jacob ran down the right side of the street, struggling to keep up and
feeling the pain in his ribs and hip. Murphy moved alongside him and turned out
as Stephens stopped at a street corner, then pressed against a building to look
down the street to the left.
Murphy
pushed Jacob ahead. “What happened back there?” Murphy whispered.
Stephens
briefly looked back over his shoulder. “I saw three of ‘em and one had a
rifle.”
“You
sure it was one of them?” Murphy questioned.
“Nope,
but I know it wasn’t one of us,” he answered. “Corners clear. Cover me while I
move. Send ‘em when I get to the other side.”
“Roger;
got you covered,” Murphy snapped back.
Stephens
looked left and right one more time before sprinting to the far side of the
street. Murphy waited a count of ten then slapped Tyree to follow. After
another brief count, he slapped Jacob.
Jacob
ran into the center of the street and nearly fell while clumsily moving
forward. Struggling under the weight of the vest, he had to concentrate on his
footfalls but felt as if his legs were wobbly and he would fall at any moment.
He ran full speed, stepping up onto the opposing curb. Failing to slow down and
not seeing clearly, he lost his footing and slapped face first into the
building.
Tyree
caught him as he bounced back. Looking around, Jacob felt the sting on his face
but shook it off, aimed his rifle out, and waited as he heard Murphy running
across the street. Murphy dropped against the wall between them then slapped
Stephens on the back and pushed him forward, telling him to move out.
Out
of immediate danger now, they walked ahead slowly and hugged the left side of
the street. The neighborhood changed to small storefronts, mixed in with the
apartment buildings. They crossed another street and fell in alongside a three-story
brick building.
Cars
were crammed in tight along the fully congested street. Ahead, Jacob could
begin to see the Skyway overpass. They paused and knelt to look down at the
slowly descending elevation of the street as it dropped under the highway.
Jacob strained his eyes trying to see into the dark shadows below the overpass.
As he looked, the shadows appeared textured and to have movement. He blinked
his eyes and looked away, trying to focus. They appeared like smoke as the
shadows moved and twisted to roll in on themselves.
“We
have to find another way,” Stephens whispered. “I don’t wanna go down there.”
The
smoke moved up the road in their direction. As the mass caught the moonlight,
they materialized into a wide-bodied parade of men and women pressing against
each other shoulder to shoulder and spreading out as they escaped the confines
of the tunnel. As they moved into the light, the mass picked up speed, spread out,
and flooded the open ground like water running from a hose.
Murphy
turned to the building and Jacob followed his gaze; the windows were barred and
there was no time to cross the street. Jacob spun to look behind them at the
way they’d come, and saw it would be a long run to the corner to get to any
cover. Murphy grabbed Jacob’s arm. “No time… into the street,” he whispered.
“What?
No way!” Tyree said from where he hid behind Stephens.
“Get
under the cars. We have to let them move past us,” Murphy ordered as he rushed
hunched over to the curb. Jacob ran up the street in the direction of the
approaching mass, following Murphy. Searching for the right spot, they found a
long and wide delivery truck with cars pressed against it on either side.
Murphy removed his pack and tossed it under the back bumper before dropping to
his belly and low crawling in after it. Jacob followed and did the same then he
felt Tyree and Stephens crawl up close behind him.
Jacob
crawled onward, thankful that the vehicle was high enough that he could lift
his head. Murphy was nearly to the front of the vehicle, under the engine. He
was lying on his back with his rifle on his chest, head to the side. Jacob
moved to his heels but stayed on his belly. He laid his head flat against the
damp pavement just as the first of the
Others
moved in alongside the
truck.
They
didn’t shamble along or stagger like drunks; they walked calmly, like mall
walkers or pedestrians on a busy sidewalk. They didn’t moan or breathe heavy,
no talking or simple chatter; just moving one after another to form lines that
twisted through the maze of congested cars. They smelled—not like human body
odor or retched flesh—but like sulfur, burning rubber, or the fresh spray of a
skunk—only sweeter and not so pronounced. It wafted under the truck and
surrounded Jacob and Murphy.
Jacob
lifted his arm and forced his face into his sleeve. A car alarm far ahead
sounded, probably as one of the black-eyes bumped into it. The mass seemed
stimulated by the noise; their pace picked up and they moved along at a near
jog. When they thinned out, stragglers ran to catch up. Jacob looked at the
dial on his watch; they’d lain under the truck for nearly twenty minutes—the
mass seemed endless. Every time he thought they’d all passed, another group
would move out and run to join the others.