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“Many people fled from a home full of bodies, or an apartment building reeking of death. Not only did we lose our loved ones, we lost our homes.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
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TED LAY DOWN ACROSS the threshold, ears alert for footsteps. A candle lantern shed the tiniest glow in the dark room. Nixie slept next to him, a broom handle within reach. His eyes kept returning to that stick of wood. Nixie was prepared to fight. He wasn’t. He’d never had that kind of training. It wasn’t what he was meant to do. He was weak and clumsy. At times like this, he felt especially useless. All he could do was hide the children to keep them safe. If the men came looking, he planned to bar the door and hope they wouldn’t wait them out.
That thought made him do a mental inventory. He’d trained the children to fill their canteens as soon as they had access to safe water. Had they all done that? Had Nixie filled the water jugs they carried in the cart for the littlest ones? He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He was a fool. Anyone could come in the same way they did. He should have scouted it better. Set up in a more defensible area. All his second guessing chewed away at him, keeping him from sleep.
The children were restless. He could hear them shifting in their blankets. He forced his breathing to slow down. They could sense his fear. These feral children, too long on their own, could read him easily. Long slow breaths. It helped calm him. A child sighed. Another started snoring softly. Honest fatigue from a long day of dragging the cart finally won.
***
TED WOKE TO THE SOUND of gunfire. Enfilade, salvo, volley, the words bloomed in his startled mind before he registered his surroundings. A few whimpers let him know that the children were awake, too.
“Not close,” Nixie whispered.
The candle had burned out. Ted couldn’t see her in the total darkness of the room, but she sounded calm. “No,” he agreed.
Another spatter of shots was punctuated by a scream. More shots. An angry shout, the words blurred by distance. Then silence. Ted forced himself to breathe. He counted to ten, then a hundred. No more sounds.
“Should I go look?” Nixie asked.
He wanted to say yes. He licked dry lips with a tongue like leather. “I’ll go.” He folded his blanket, handed it to Nixie, took a few deep breaths, then opened the door. A faint light came from down the hallway, enough to see that it was empty.
“Get the children ready, we may need to get out of here fast.”
Nixie nodded, watchful eyes scanning the hall past his shoulder.
Ted tentatively stepped out of the room. He wondered why Nixie stayed with him. She was better at everything than he was. He relied on her more than he should. Nixie was strong and capable. She would have marched down the corridor, broomstick in hand. With that image in his mind, as quietly as possible, he crept down the hall to the stairs. He listened, straining his ears, but there were just the sounds of the air vents. Feeling a little bolder, he walked to the secret entrance and peeked into the blinding brightness on the other side. Nothing. More silence. He was listening so hard, he could hear his blood whooshing through his veins.
He eased through the door. The men must have shoved it wider because it was almost fully open. He stood in the brilliant light of the shelter area waiting to hear a voice or another gunshot. Nothing. A quick glance around the cubby area showed him it was empty. He paused at the entrance to the washrooms, still no sounds. Bravely he entered and checked the stalls and showers. They were empty, too. Back out in the passage, he started up the stairs, placing each foot down mindful of making any noise. Then he heard a groan. It was the sound of someone in pain.
Quickly, but quietly, he ascended the stairs to the lobby. Despite the macabre scene before him, the situation was better than he had feared. Five men down. Five guns scattered as they were dropped. Four were clearly dead, lying in pools of their own blood. The fifth was alive, dragging himself across the floor, a dark trail of blood behind him. Ted was struck speechless for a moment. The man still alive wore a gray, military style uniform.
“Oh no!” Ted ran over to the wounded soldier. “Oh no, oh no.”
The soldier raise a knife toward Ted in a shaky hand.
Ted stumbled to a halt. “I wouldn’t hurt you. How could I hurt anyone? How can I help?”
The soldier applied pressure to a bloody wound in his side with his right hand. The left had the knife. He tipped the knife to point at his destination. A small car crouched on the train tracks. It wasn’t like a regular train car, tiny in comparison.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Ted approached slowly. He had no idea how he was going to get this man into the car. He wasn’t very strong.
The soldier jerked his knife, looking past Ted. The hair rose on the back of Ted’s neck. He turned, heart pounding, hands shaking, expecting the worst. “Toad?”
Toad stood on the edge of the platform watching him, dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Come help me,” Ted called. But Toad didn’t move. “Come over here!”
“Guns,” Toad said. He kicked one sending it scuttling across the floor and off the edge of the platform.
“Yes. They had guns. But look Toad, this is a soldier.” Ted pointed to the gray uniform. “He’s a good guy. Help me move him.”
“Soldier,” Toad repeated flatly.
“I’m sorry,” Ted said to the wounded man. “This will probably hurt.” He grabbed the soldier under the arms and pulled him towards the car. Although he panted and grunted, he didn’t cry out. The man was surprisingly light. Or maybe he was stronger than he realized. He hauled the soldier into the little car. It had seats for six and an open area for driving. The soldier gestured to the driver’s seat.
“Why did they close the stations?” Ted asked as he helped him into the seat.
“Don’t know.”
“Why are you here? Is it because of the men with guns?”
“No, I’m logistics.” The soldier slumped with a groan. “Manny.” He turned, pointing to the platform.
Ted looked back, surprised to see Toad dragging the other soldier over. “Is he...”
Toad tossed the body on the floor of the car. “Dead. Uniform.”
“Do you know who’s taking the adults?” Ted asked.
The soldier smeared blood on the controls as he started up the engine. “Get out. I’m closing the doors.”
Ted took a nervous leap onto the platform. Toad passed him, throwing the weapons in just before the doors slammed shut. The little car vented with a shush before zipping away. Toad glared down the empty tunnel after it.
Ted looked back at the trail of blood and the three bodies on the platform. “We need to leave.”