Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (23 page)

Twelve

Jesse Manteo and Ricky Pastori, along with Gianna have turned up outside the police precinct. The building looks worn and rugged. Police cruisers sitting outside of the building are destroyed. Some are still a blaze while others smoulder quietly in the corner of the car park. The place looks like it has been ransacked, and by the look of horror on both Ricky and Jesse’s face, they are thinking the same thing. The glass doors to the precinct are rendered useless with gaping holes where the glass once stood. Bullet holes pepper the surrounding walls as the sign of a struggle plays out in front of them.  Rows of dead police officers lie on the floor. None of them burnt, all of them shot.

‘Fuck happened here?’ says Gianna.

‘That stupid wannabe army, that’s what happened here,’ says Ricky.

‘You recognise anyone?’ asks Gianna.

‘No, not yet,’ says Jesse.

The three of them are careful not to step on any of the dead. Jesse cranes his head to the side, trying to see the dead men’s faces without turning them over. None of the dead at the front of the building look familiar.

‘No one I know yet,’ says Jesse.

‘Let’s go inside then,’ says Ricky.

Jesse rolls his eyes, looking a tad nervous.

‘You mean in there?’ he says.

‘Of course. Where the hell else would I mean?’

‘It just doesn’t look safe that’s all,’ says Jesse.

‘This whole fucking city isn’t safe,’ says Gianna.

Ricky nods his head, grabbing at his chest as he does so.

‘We owe it to every man and woman in that building to go inside. We need to identify them,’ he says.

‘Why? You expect us to send letters to the deceased’s family?’

‘No, but we need to know what we are dealing with. A bit of recon won’t hurt you know,’ says Ricky.

‘What?’

‘If we know how they died, then we can prepare for what weapons we will need to take these fuckers out!’

‘They have a tank! That’s all we need to know,’ says Jesse.

‘And we have the art of surprise, and big balls. Real big balls’

Thirteen

London, England

Steven is sitting on the hard tarmac next to his turned over family estate car on the M5. He’s sobbing into his hands, his knees raised up to his chest. He’s grabbing at his legs as if his life depended on it. He grips at them with every sob, tears running down his cheek. He isn’t even aware of the commotion on the motorway. He hasn’t forgotten what happened. He saw those lights like everyone else. He saw the tarmac split into two when one of the lights in the sky rushed downwards and exploded on impact against the road. He saw countless cars flip into the air. He witnessed plenty of dead people on the road. He just didn’t care about them. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to care about those people. For while they were dying, the only person he ever cared about was dying too. She lay motionless in the back of the car now for two hours. That’s how long Steven had stayed there, and that’s how long he had been crying.

He knew his wife was dead. That’s why he was crying after all. He just couldn’t believe she was gone. He didn’t want her to be gone. It pained him inside. It hurt when he breathed, so crying was an act of torture for him.

‘Please God, bring her back,’ he says, crying into his hands.

He remains in that position for a few more minutes. His crying can be heard from a few hundred feet away. A family of three are watching on as the devastation unfolds. A man is unpacking some belongings from his trunk. A woman is seeing to some possessions in the front. A little boy is watching from a distance. He stares at Steven from afar. A slight but full tear runs down his prim cheek. He rubs his tiny hand on his face, wiping away the emotion. He decides to walk. After a few minutes he reaches Steven and now stands in front of him. Steven doesn’t realise anyone is there. He carries on crying when suddenly he hears the little boy burst into tears. Steven looks up and see’s the freckle faced little boy, his eyes moist under the dim light from the destruction around them.

‘What’s wrong Mister?’ says the boy, still crying, still upset.

‘Nothing little man. Nothing at all. Where’s your parents?’

The little kid turns around and points to a car in the distance. Steven can see the boy’s parents looking busy packing things into rucksacks.

‘Why are you crying?’ asks the little boy, rubbing his eyes red raw.

‘Someone I know died,’ says Steven.

The boy’s eyes narrow as he spots the foot of Steven’s wife sticking out of the window of the toppled car behind Steven.

‘Is that the person?’ asks the little boy.

‘Yeah,’ says Steven.

‘My dog died. When our car crashed, he went flying out of the window. I loved Rex,’ says the boy.

Steven looks behind the boy and sees a dog next to a tree. He then see’s the windshield of the families car and realises the boy is telling the truth. Suddenly he feels a little sadder, this time for the boy.

‘Daddy had to snap the dog’s neck. He was waddling around , yelping. Daddy said it was for the best. It made Mommy cry,’ he says.

Steven remembers the sound. It was about the same time in which he was cradling his wife a few hours prior. He remembered the sound of the dog yelping being cancelled out by his own wallowing.

‘Who broke your wife’s neck to stop her yelping?’ asks the boy.

Steven couldn’t help smiling, even if it was the wrong time.

‘No one. She died peacefully,’ he says.

‘Dad says I can have another dog someday. Will you get another wife?’

Steven smiles again.

‘Probably not,’ he says.

‘Oh. Do you want to meet my mum and dad? Maybe they can help you find a new wife?’

Steven nods his head.

I’d love to meet your mum and dad. I’ll take you back to them, just wait a few minutes while I grab some things,’ he says.

Fourteen

Albany, New York

Mrs Novik reaches the top of the escalator. She waits there for a few moments until Clare appears from the left escalator parallel to her. She waves her hand gesturing something. Mrs Novik had never been good at understanding such sign language and shrugs her shoulders.

‘Move forward,’ Clare whispers.

‘Okay’

Both women move forward as quietly and silently as they can. The top part of the mall is a lot quieter than they had thought. They follow the instructions on the note that they had found on the man that Clare had shot. They turn right and come across a row of shops and boutiques. None of them seem to house anything of any particular use. Everything in the mall seems to have been scavenged and looted. It annoys Clare something rotten.

‘What the hell is up with this place. You would have thought that at least SOMETHING would have been left. It’s not like we are months into the end of the world, it’s only been a damn week!’ says Clare, her voice slightly raised.

‘Typical humanity I guess. I bet as soon as the shit hit the fan, people were looting like mad. It didn’t take much to cause a riot before the flashing Beacons, let alone after them,’ says Mrs Novik.

‘I hear you there,’ says Clare.

Both women continue to walk down the row of shops. They peer into a few of the buildings and still see nothing of interest.

‘So no supplies?’ says Mrs Novik.

‘Looks that way,’ says Clare.

‘So what are we going to do?’

‘Well the note said something would be here, so we need to see what it is. Maybe the guy had a cache of supplies hidden. We need to check, we can’t leave anything behind.’

Suddenly both women hear something in the distance. It sounds like someone crying. Clare puts her finger to her lips. Mrs Novik understands that sort of sign language. Her body tenses up as she reaches for her gun, so does Clare. By now both women have their guns drawn.

‘Where is it coming from?’ asks Mrs Novik.

‘Over their!’ she says, slightly louder than she would have liked.

‘Daddy?’ says the crying voice in the distance.

‘Shit, what was that?’ says Clare, her gun and torch trembling in her hand.

Both women move closer towards the sound of crying in the distance. Clare grips her handgun tightly as the sweat drips off her hand. She can feel her heart beat in her chest. Could this be a set up? She has a feeling she’s seen something similar to this in a horror movie. The bad guys set a tape recorder to play in a dark parking lot, a mother lost her child and heard the crying, then she investigated and moved closer to the crying but was then axed to death by the killer. Could this be a re-enactment of that event? She hopes not.

‘Hello?’ says Mrs Novik.

Clare quickly turns her head to give Mrs Novik a stern look.

‘It could be a kid,’ she says, trying to justify her actions.

‘It could be a set up,’ says Clare, still gripping her handgun.

‘What?’

‘You never know,’ says Clare.

As they continue to walk down the row of shops they see a little girl approach them. She has blonde hair that looks like it hadn’t been washed in a while. Her face resembles a chimney sweeps as it is covered in dirt. Mrs Novik quickly holsters her gun, while Clare continues to point it at the little girl.

‘What the hell are you doing? It’s only a little girl Clare, put down your gun!’

‘Anyone else with you Missy?’ shouts Clare.

The little girl rubs her eyes as the beam from the torch hits her face.

‘You alone?’ asks Clare, starting to sound impatient.

‘Where’s daddy?’ asks the girl.

‘ARE YOU ALONE?’

‘What the hell are you doing Clare?’

Suddenly a gunshot is heard. Mrs Novik covers her ears and looks at Clare. Clare turns her head slightly. Some blood trickles out of her mouth. She collapses onto the floor. The gun in her hand clangs off the concrete and swivels around in circles for a moment. Everything seems to happen in slow motion as Mrs Novik darts her head forward and sees the little girl being scooped up by a man. The man grabs the girl and raises his gun. He aims it steadily in the direction of Mrs Novik.

Fifteen

The National Guard swarm the surrounding area as quickly as they got there. In a flash they had set up a command center. Within a few minutes the troops had been briefed. A couple of moments later the plan was being executed. The lights went on. They burnt at the spiders and insects on the wall. A spider’s web collapsed as the light penetrated through the window. A few men inside the building looked at each other in panic as they heard the PA system buzz on.

‘This is the National Guard of the United States of America. You are surrounded. We have reason to believe that you are in possession of weapons of mass destruction. You have five minutes to disarm your weapons or we will come in. Once we come in, we have the authority to shoot to kill. This is your first and final warning. If you do not comply,
we will be forced to use aggressive tactics
,’ says the voice on the loud speaker.

Mr Conway is in his office pacing. He can hear the PA system from there. He starts to feel rattled. He starts to question himself. An advisor is next to him, drinking a glass of whisky.

‘Everything will be alright Sir. We wanted this to happen,’ says the advisor.

‘I don’t follow you. How did we want the National Guard finding out about our outpost? How did we want the National Guard finding our base?’

‘It’s all part of the plan Sir,’ says the advisor.

‘A plan that will get us killed none the less,’ says Mr Conway.

He grabs the glass of whisky out of his advisor’s hand and swigs it in one gulp. He slams the glass down on the desk and pulls out a briefcase.

‘Key?’ he says.

His advisor starts fishing around his pockets and pulls out a key card. He hands it over to Mr Conway. Mr Conway slots it into the case. The hinges on the case buckle and suck out. The lid flips open, revealing a small black box inside. Mr Conway grabs a key from his pocket and slots it into the black box. He turns the key clockwise. A red light flashes on the box. After a few seconds it goes green.

‘In five,’ says the advisor.

‘Got it,’ says Mr Conway.

They wait four seconds.

‘One,’ says the Advisor.

Mr Conway pushes the button. A small beeping sound goes off. The office starts to shake as if an earthquake is ripping through the base.

The National Guard stationed outside start to move into position when the shaking ground startles them.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ says one of the soldiers to one of his fellow comrades.

‘Fuck, look over there,’ he says, pointing to an adjacent field.

A herd of sheep are scattered across the field when a massive rocket comes flying out of an opening in the grass.

‘They fired the nuke, they fired the nuke!’ screams a soldier into his two way radio.

The rocket launches into the air and in a matter of seconds it has disappeared from view.

‘I repeat, nuke has been fired!’

Another rumble can be heard, and after a few seconds another rocket fires out of the opening in the grassy knoll followed by a cluster of smaller rockets that spiral up into the air.

‘Fuck, fuck! Another nuke has been fired! Shit, more rockets, more rockets! They keep coming, they just won’t stop! God help us,
god help us all!
’