16. Wilder
Chapter sixteen
Wilder
M aybe I’d died and gone to heaven. I was okay with that, I thought, because Rosie’s bare ass was tucked against my crotch, her hair tickling my lips. My nose itched, and I stroked her head to flatten her hair.
“Rosie?” I made myself open my eyes, sniffing the air. “Did you leave a candle on in the kitchen?”
She mumbled, obviously well asleep.
My back ached as I reluctantly left our bed, slipping my boxers and cargo pants back on. We sort of rushed in here last night and must not have blown out one of her favourite scented candles. Shadows stretched through the living space and my watch read midnight on the dot. An acrid smell still hung in the air. I placed my fingertips against the dark glass of a vanilla scented candle, but it was cold.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
Wrenching open the kitchen curtain and the window, smoke filled my nostrils. Flames licked at the base of the building, what looked like a stack of pallets and boxes and garbage fueling the fire. Movement in the darkness beyond caught my eye as I coughed.
Someone standing in the bed of a truck yelled and I caught a glimpse of a finger pointing up at me. “Up there!”
Several trucks formed a semi-circle around the front entrance of the building.
“Shit.”
I ducked, but it was too late. They’d seen me in the window and now they knew someone was up here.
Who the hell were these people, and why did they want to smoke us out? Or worse.
I jogged to the bedroom.
“Rosie,” I yelled, because there was no use in staying quiet. “Rosie, baby, we’ve got to go!”
I ripped the comforter off of her naked body, tossing her clothes at her while I stuffed my pockets and holstered my firearm. She rubbed her eyes, fumbling into the rumpled clothing.
“Wilder? Tell me what’s happening.”
“Okay. But keep moving, okay?”
She nodded, buttoning up her pants.
“The building is on fire, at least in the front, and we’re not gonna be around to see if it spreads.”
“But-but we aren’t ready to leave! Everything is in boxes!”
Swinging my pack over my shoulders, I practically dragged Rosie into the hall.
“Here.” I helped her into her own pack. “Turn.”
I shoved bottles of water into the outside pockets, and the food that weighed the least for the most calories. The camp stove and propane fit neatly into the last available space.
“Great. We’re packed.”
A faint flickering glow filled the kitchen window, Rosie’s expression of fear visible as she saw the danger first hand. The dresser felt empty for how easily I moved it, opening the door to the hall with haste. I heard nothing but faint yells at the street level. Good. That meant my latch at the lobby end of the hall was still secured, and we’d go the other way. Rosie clung to my hand, gripping my fingers until I could barely feel them. She could cut the circulation right off so long as I knew she was by my side.
We descended the stairs, taking us past the lobby. Going out that way would be the quickest route from the building, but it led us right into the waiting arms of these strangers with violent intentions. We’d go further, back to the basement level, and go out through the parking garage.
The second I opened the door into the underground garage, smoke flooded towards us.
“Fuck, they must have started another fire.”
“They?! They who?”
“I sort of left out the fact that someone is trying to smoke us out.”
“What?!” Rosie’s voice was shrill.
I couldn’t blame her.
I shoved a bandana into her hand, quickly uncapping a bottle of water and dribbling it on the fabric. “Stay low and cover your mouth.”
We moved into the grey haze, coughing despite our efforts to stay below it all. If there was a fire on this side of the building too, then that meant the group outside was bigger than I thought. Was this the camp that kid, Jonesy, mentioned? He’d fucking screwed us. Walking out of here on foot wasn’t going to cut it.
“Try some of the car door handles, okay? Nothing too tiny or that looks like it’s gonna break down in ten kilometres.”
“We don’t have keys.”
“That’s not a problem,” I said, squeezing her hand before reluctantly letting it go.
I bypassed a smart car which would barely fit our packs and two brand new electric vehicles. I tugged the handle of a minivan, triggering a shrill alarm that echoes around the garage.
“Oh, fucking great.”
We were running out of time. I kept one eye on Rosie as she focused on the task I’d given her. Tears streamed down my face as the smoke swirled. No matter how many times I tried to wipe them away, they kept coming. Beams of light cut through the smoke, a truck with roof-mounted lighting braking a few metres from the parking gate.
“Get this fucking gate open! I want to see the piece of shit that murdered my brother.”
A deep thump at the metal door next to the gate gave me pause. Another and the door bounced on its frame. Did they have a goddamn battering ram?
“Wilder!” Rosie called over the alarm. “This one is open!”
The door burst open and two men entered the garage, back lit by the bright lights. I was hidden by the rear wheel well of an early model Cherokee. Rosie scrambled into the driver’s seat of the SUV she’d gained access too and quickly disappeared from my sight. I hoped the air quality would be slightly better inside there for her while I dealt with these guys. Leaving my pack tucked beneath the truck, I skirted around the Cherokee as the men walked directly down the centre of the parking garage. They wore respirators as defence from the smoke, clearly having thought this whole plan through. That’s fine, I've done a lot of thinking lately too.
“You check that side, Glen. I’m sure I saw movement.”
The men split, making my job so much easier. I followed Glen, noting the bulge at his right hip, indicating that he was armed. When his buddy was out of ear shot, I hastened my steps, keeping my weight low and mostly on my back foot to stay silent. Glen paused, peering into the back window of a BMW just one stall away from Rosie. I acted quickly, grabbing him from behind in a strong chokehold. He flailed, feet coming off the concrete for a moment as scrambled for the gun that I’d already relieved him of. My bicep burned as I squeezed, counting down the seconds as the man grew progressively more limp. I lowered him to the ground, removing his respirator before tucking his body behind the Beamer. Rosie’s round eyes caught mine through the window of her hiding spot as I fitted the breathing apparatus around my mouth. I nodded in her direction, a silent promise that I’d get the job done, before moving toward the remaining man.
Squinting through the smoke, I moved through the cars, sprinting through the empty stalls to take cover behind the next vehicle. Somehow I’d lost track of him, and I didn’t feel like playing hide and seek.
Holding my firearm low and ready, I spoke loud enough to be heard over the alarm and the rumble of the truck engine beyond the gate. “Let’s go then. You said you wanted to see me!”
I held my breath, waiting for a reply.
None came, until a guttural yell sounded behind me. There was no time to react, the man body checked me, sending us both down. My spine bore the brunt of the hit, the man’s body landing next to me instead of on top of me, thankfully. I wanted to jump up, but my back burned. I turned on my side to see him coughing, his ventilator dislodged from the tackle. The man’s face was clean-shaven and gaunt. A large group meant less supplies to go around. Suddenly, only having Rosie and myself to feed didn’t seem so bad.
“You killed my fucking brother,” he snarled, pulling a knife from his belt and scrambling toward me.
I kicked out, knocking him back as I got to my knees. The grip of my own knife was comfortable in my palm.
“I had no intention of killing your brother until he fired his weapon accidentally. He was a threat.”
“That’s not what the kid said.”
“I don’t know what he told you, but it wasn’t malicious. He caught me off guard, and I acted.”
I knew this man couldn’t be reasoned with, knew he was hurt no matter the series of events that led up to his brother’s death. I was buying myself time. Catching my breath and waiting for the pain in my back to subside.
“Your brother lost because of shitty gun control.”
“That’s a fucking lie!” he raged.
I kept my breaths slow and even while the man only riled himself up more. He lunged, slashing his knife wildly at my midsection. Relying on instinct, I threw up my forearm, turning to the side in time to grab his wrist and prevent a stab wound. He threw his weight against me, pushing us backwards as we grappled for control. My ass hit the hood of a vehicle, allowing him to bend me backwards, pinning me with his legs. I pushed against the paint, my sweaty palms not allowing me purchase. My energy faded as he raised his knife that shone orange in the light of the growing fire.
I thought of Rosie alone in a vehicle. Thought of Addams and everyone else I’d lost. I’d never let Rosie watch me die. Not on my back like this. Gathering my strength, I drove my right knee up towards his groin, drawing a deep ‘oof’ from his chest. He recovered quickly, striking out with his blade and slashing through my jacket. Pain bloomed across my shoulder as I fell to one knee and I knew he’d cut the skin.
“How does that feel you motherfucker?!”
He was on me again, pinning me to the ground, spittle misting my face as he raged. My head felt foggy, and I realised my own respirator was no longer in place. Our fight felt painfully slow, as though it was happening underwater. He smashed the handle of his knife against my wrist, disarming me. I’d underestimated his acuity in hand-to-hand combat, and I might pay the ultimate price for it.
Rosie appeared out of the smoke, a brick held between her two hands as she raised it up above the man’s head.
“Get off of him!” she screamed, striking down and landing a glancing blow.
He howled in pain, a line of blood trailing down his temple. Turning, he refocused his anger on Rosie.
“No,” I gritted, pushing myself up to standing.
My shoulder throbbed as I grabbed my gun and pointed it at the back of his bleeding head. A perfect red target. Behind Rosie, two, maybe three people entered through the damaged door. How the fuck could I protect her from so many threats?
I’d die trying.
Focusing all my attention on hitting my mark, I exhaled. But before I could pull the trigger, his head exploded, and he fell to the ground with a heavy thump. Rosie screamed, and the two shadowy forms winding their way into the garage behind her crumpled one after the other.
“Wilder!?” Rosie pointed at me.
I glanced at my weapon.
“What the fuck just happened. I didn’t do that.”
“Wilder!” Rosie yelled again, still pointing and taking a step back.
Had I hit my head? The weapon I held couldn’t have done that.
“Ditched the uniform too, bud?” a familiar voice asked at the same time I realised Rosie was gesturing behind me.
A hand landed on my shoulder.
I turned, confusion and shock ripping through my like the fire ripped through the building we stood beneath.
“Addams?”
“Hi,” he panted. “This your girl?”
I could barely form a sentence. “I thought…you were…where the hell have you been?”
“Long story. Let’s go.”
I was talking to Addams. Ethan was alive. My heart knit painfully back together.
“We found an unlocked car,” Rosie interjected. I winced, pressing my left hand against the cut on my shoulder. “But we don’t have keys.”
My plan to hotwire a car during a building fire seemed ridiculously optimistic.
Rosie pulled a set of keys from her pocket and pressed the keyfob, the lights on the SUV she’d hid in flashing.
She grinned. “It’s hers! The apartment we’ve been staying in.”
A man's voice called in from outside, “You guys okay in there? We should check on ‘em.”
A woman argued back, “I’m not fucking going in there! Place is going up like a tinderbox.”
“You guys get in the car,” said Addams, “I’ll get the gate.”
Parking garage gates had a mechanism near the motor to lift the gate in power failures.
I couldn’t argue. Rosie led me back to the car, shoving me into the back before getting in the driver's seat and starting the engine.
“How much gas does it have, Rosie?” I asked.
“Um,” she hesitated, “a quarter tank.”
“Fuck.”
“It’s enough, it’s all we need, Wilder.”
“It isn’t. For all we know those trucks out there are full to the brim.”
Addams returned, Rosie climbing over the console to surrender the driver’s seat.
“We need one more thing, man,” I said as he stuck his head inside, smoke billowing in behind him.
“There are jerry cans. Full ones in a storage locker just on the other side of that wall.” I raised my good arm to point at the door.
Rosie shook her head. “There isn’t time, Wilder. We’ve been lucky enough!”
“It’s liquid gold. We need it,” I pleaded.
Rosie’s hands shook. “This is the key. It’s locker 403.”
Addams didn’t hesitate, obviously not yet at his quota of heroics for the day.
“Fuck me,” I said as he darted off.
The timber-framed building groaned, no one else running into the building after their crew. Losing four people, five if you counted the guy from the storage lockers, was probably enough.
“C’mon,” Rosie said, legs bouncing with nerves.
“There he is. Here he comes.” Rosie immediately moved to the passenger side with him barreling toward us.
He hustled, barely slowed under the weight of the red jug in each of his hands. He all but tossed them at my feet before jumping in and revving the engine. Punching the gas, Addams sped out of the stall and towards the gate.
“Oh my god,” Rosie squeaked, holding onto the passenger door.
“Hold on, darlin’.”
“Don’t fucking darlin’ her,” I growled.
Addams only laughed, clearing the gate a second later.
“Yep! That’s your girl.”