29:16:04:59 (2 page)

Chapter Two: Ghost in the Light

Everyone scrambled inside, crouching on instinct as if the next hail of gunfire would come rip-roaring this way. I hadn’t heard gunshots in a very long time. I thought most everyone had run out of ammunition last year, but apparently that wasn’t true.

“Jackson?” Kyle said. He wasn’t asking me a question. We had a plan setup long ago for these situations. He knew what was going to happen.

“You remember how to use it?” I asked. It’d been forever since we held them. The weight always felt odd to me, like it was too heavy. And I never knew if they had been used before, used to kill before. But when the need arose, I always knew they could be used to safeguard me and my own.

“Yeah… yeah… I think so,” Kyle replied.

“Good.” I looked at the girls. Olivia knew without needing to be told, but I directed her anyway. “You lock this door after we leave. Open it for no one. You understand me? No one!”

Olivia nodded. She clearly didn’t want me to go, but knew why I had to.

I waved for Kyle to follow as I took the key hanging around my neck into my hand, and motioned toward the gun cabinet in the living room. I reached the cabinet, placed the key in its slot, and turned. This metal cabinet had been here with the key still in the lock when we first discovered the house. It was like someone had been just about to open it before something dreadful occurred. I shuddered at the idea every time.

The metal sang against the hinges, declaring their disuse as I pulled on the handle. A pair of handguns, a shotgun, and several rounds of ammo sat inside just waiting to be used. I’d only ever shot three bullets from the first clip of the first gun, at someone, something I’m not proud of, but I’d never killed a person. I was thankful for that. Otherwise we only shot for practice.

“Here,” I said and handed a pistol to Kyle. “Just a few rounds, no more.”

He took the pistol with both hands, a nervous energy preparing him for what was to come. Kyle was willing, but I didn’t know if he was completely able to use this weapon.

I reached for the shotgun.

“No bullshit. Are you good?” I asked.

“Yes,” Kyle replied.

I had taught him to shoot not too long after the start of all this. I witnessed him fire and know he could pull the trigger, but he was a dreadful aim. Luckily, he never had to fire at anyone. Handing him the clip, I waited for him to place it into the handle. He shoved the magazine home and pulled back the slider to put a round into the chamber.

Kyle halfcocked an anxious smile. His finger fumbled near the top of handle, and hit the clip release. The clip tumbled to the floor, sending a few shots spiraling across the carpet. He fumbled and cursed as he reloaded, then and tried again.

“Honey,” Susan started but Kyle waved her off.

“I’m good! We’re good! You just stay away from the windows and doors. You’ll be just fine--I promise. I love you,” Kyle said and headed for the front door. “Olivia, keep Susan safe. And lock this damn door!” Kyle opened the front door while kneeling down, scanning the outside like a hawk looking for prey.

“Be safe,” Olivia ordered with an edge of authority in her voice. I nodded, motioned towards the front door, and pushed passed Kyle. The girls followed closely, and before they shut and locked the door Susan mouthed the words, “I love you,”
to Kyle, and followed our orders.

The sun cast a bright glare to the day, shadows poking out through gaps in the buildings. We kept low and moved into the road. Cracks and holes covered the asphalt with grass and weeds nearly knee high sticking out all about. With every passing day, more of nature was overtaking the roadway.

We weren’t the only ones that took notice of the gunfire. Several individuals had popped their heads out open doors and windows. Others had ventured further outside their homes to try and get a better look. I didn’t know most of them, or cared to.

Ricky and Jamie Alexander were one of those people who were always around. They lived next to Susan and Kyle. I didn’t recall their age but they were probably a few years older than Olivia. Those two were also from the group I took care of on day one. Ricky was a talker, and I couldn’t really get him to shut up. Jamie was more of the silent type. She was rather tall for her age, almost taller than I was. Black hair, even darker eyes, and freckles near her dimples.

Ricky Alexander had already been outside and leaned our way when he saw us coming. He was a little taken aback by our firearms, but paused only a second or two. Ricky knew us well enough to know we weren’t the danger. He beeline it straight this way, swinging a baseball bat over his shoulder. It was a crude weapon for a crude kid. He was a stout child and a full head shorter than me. With a swash of red hair and even redder cheeks, Ricky always looked worth bullying, but he was unbeatable in a verbal contest.

“Well, aren’t you two just ready for war? A little too holed up in your house awhile, Jackie Boy, gotta give that blood a little boil?” Ricky asked.

I could stand for a little less of his
cordial
attitude and a little more serious of an appreciation for the fact that there were bullets flying through the air. Then again, he did have a weapon, so at least he was ready.

“Not now, little one,” Kyle replied as he glared down the street, trying to pinpoint the exact location of where we were meant to go. The twitch of his muscles and his incessant blinking made him seem beyond feverous. I hoped I was up for this, and prayed the others were as well.

“Ricky, where did the shots come from?” I asked, giving him a quizzical look that demanded an answer.

Ricky’s mind raced to find a snide comment, or maybe a good one. It was always hard to judge which direction he would take his replies.

Ricky simply swung us his bat off his shoulder and pointed down the road. “Palmers,” he answered.

The Palmer family were a huge lot and good people. I didn’t think they ever raised harm to others, and helped the most they could. It felt wrong, impossible to believe that the bullets came from the Palmers’ house. Yet with how life was unfolding, things had started to happen closer to home. A wave of dizziness hit me and I took a deep, tired breath to steady myself. These damn sleepless nights were taking a toll.

From what I knew, the Palmers were a family of two older siblings trying to handle five younger children. Zoe and Peter were only twenty-five and eighteen respectably. Peter was far stricter of the two, while Zoe remained good-natured for the sake of the children. They didn’t even know if the kids they were taking care of were family or not. Nevertheless, they were surviving, or at least they had been.

“You don’t think…” Kyle leaned in and whispered.

I was thinking the same thing. If someone got desperate enough, hungry enough, mad enough, then things like what we were thinking could happen, and have happened.

I shook my head. There was no point in assuming anything. My mind reset to focus on Olivia for half a second, trying to comprehend the thought of her suddenly being down here and in harm’s way. I tried to push the thought aside, but it refused to budge. I could hear faint cries and laughter in between my ears, driving me into a quiet craze.

“Well, are you going to put that stick to use?” I asked Ricky. I could care less if he came, but the extra support might be necessary.

Ricky’s eyes sparkled and his cheeks brightened just a bit as he contemplated the question. His wheels were turning, sputtering with a comeback. It didn’t usually take this long. Maybe the gun in my hands was hindering his wit. A hard shove from behind brought Ricky back to his senses.

“Course he will!” Jamie exclaimed. His sister stood behind the chunky redhead. Jamie was usually quiet and reserved, but today she seemed far from her usual temperament.

“Okay then. We’ll lead and you two watch our backs. You have anything to use?” I asked Jamie. She held up a large, jagged kitchen knife. The thing looked like it could fall to pieces, but it would have to do. I nodded and set out first, going in the direction Ricky had pointed.

The others who called this neighborhood home watched as we trekked toward the Palmers. Most were unwilling to confront whatever had happened. They were afraid, or just didn’t care enough to leave their homes. These were trying times after all. Less people meant more of a chance at survival. Less people meant more food. Theft, murder, and anything else that would help an individual live a little longer (even just few moments) had been committed before. Just because it didn’t happen here often didn’t mean it hadn’t ever happened.

These streets had been painted crimson before. These people, these scavengers, would be waiting to hear if the Palmers’ were dead. The instant the news became factual was the instant anything in that house was up for grabs. They were too cowardly to face gun power, though. They’d likely stay indoors for hours, until dusk. Then they’d stalk the shadows and steal from the departed. But not today. I wouldn’t let them. I knew the family was still alive, though my gut rumbled in disagreement.

Moving to the sidewalk provided more shelter. Several trees grew parallel to the road along both sides of the street. They had blossomed with a full canopy, shielding most of the sunlight from above.

Up ahead I noticed someone crouching behind one of those trees about a stone’s throw from where we stood. It was difficult to make out who it was with the sun looming directly in front of us. I brought our group to a halt and held up a finger to my mouth. The others acknowledged my direction and crouched down, trying to hide themselves among the foliage.

I snuck up with my shotgun pointed directly at the back of whoever waited by that tree.

“Kelly?” I blurted out on accident as I got close enough to recognize the person. I failed to remove the shotgun from my shoulder, however, keeping it trained on the girl as if she was a stranger.

The comment startled the girl. She swung around, twisting an old six shooter directly at the middle of my forehead. She had madness set in those lines around her mouth and I saw my life flash before my eyes. At least everything I remembered from the last couple years.

“Whoa, easy now,” I said, holding up my hands with the shotgun barrel pointed towards the sky. I felt my heart thunder in my chest.

“Damn it, Jackson! Fucking damn it dude! That’s a real fucking good way to get yourself killed!” Kelly whispered in teeth-grating anger. She shook and didn’t immediately lower her gun. Her blue eyes sparkled even in the shade of the trees. Kelly was slender and young. She lived by herself, a loner, and her fiery mouth didn’t exactly bring many friendships into her life, but she survived. And there was that one time she saved my life, even pulled out the bullet that Frank buried in my shoulder. She’d had my respect, if not my friendship, ever since.

“Kelly…?” I asked. That crazed look didn’t dissipate. She kept the gun steady near my head. Her ragged breaths didn’t ease off and her twitching finger remained dangerously close to the trigger. Kelly hardly seemed present.

“Focus, Kelly…” I said.

“Just two seconds, damn it. Just two mother living fucks of a second, please!” she exploded.

I obeyed the command while keeping my hands skyward. The shotgun began to wavier in my hand, the weight enough to keep me biting my lip to try and keep it steady.

“Okay,” she said. She finally lowered her piece and I was allowed to do the same, much to my arm’s delight. Kelly stood and shouldered herself against the tree as she looked back down the street. “I was outside when the shit started. Saw the muzzle flashes. It definitely came from inside that damn house, man, the fucking Palmers place. Can you believe that shit?!”

She held the gun steady in her hand and a wave of tranquility suddenly overtook her. I could feel it too, this strange surge. The tension evaporated from her body and her breathing slowed. Kelly found some weird energy to lower her adrenaline. Everyone in this city truly did underestimate this girl. If they could just get past the tough exterior and harsh words then they could see her spirit. It was there, buried, allowing her to be whoever she needed to be.

“How many shots you got?” I asked. Kelly’s six shooter was chipped and missing the aim, not worth its weight in a real firefight. I doubted the firing pin even pulled back, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I would only receive a tongue lashing for it anyway.

“Just two,” she hissed.

“Just two…” I squeezed the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache start to grow. A sudden bout of nausea circled my stomach and a grogginess set in.

She wouldn’t be much help with only two shots.

“So be it,” I said. “Mind taking up the rear?”

A gun was still a gun. Even an unloaded gun would make a person react, the sight alone making people duck for cover. A slightly chipped, partially loaded gun with a crazy girl holding it could make the world bend.

“Sure thing Jackson,” Kelly moved to the back of the group, joining the chunky red head and his sister. She didn’t exactly get along with those two, but she was more focused.

“Really?” Ricky asked when Kelly joined them.

“I’ll pull your eyes out fat boy,” Kelly replied.

I glared at the both of them.

“Sorry Jack,” Kelly apologized. I knew for a fact I am the only one she’d ever apologized to. Even the
fat boy
was surprised to hear the words slip from her throat.