Chapter 6
Barb kept one arm around Cathy’s shoulders as they kneeled beside Hank’s still body.
The sounds of panic swelled around them in waves.
Shouts echoed from street to street. A woman cried out for someone to help her pry open a locked pharmacy door.
A man paced in frantic circles with a dead phone pressed to his ear, begging for a signal that would never return.
Barb leaned close to Cathy’s ear. “We need to move.”
Cathy didn’t respond. Her fingers clung to Hank’s shirt as though her grasp alone might anchor him back into the world. Her breath came in broken gasps.
“Cathy,” Barb said. “We can’t stay here.”
“I can’t leave him.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. I wish to God you didn’t have to, but you can’t stay here. People are starting to panic. It’s not safe.”
A car door slammed in the distance. Someone shouted about foreign interference.
Another voice argued that it had to be a nuclear attack.
Panic, confusion, and anger—all of it circling the streets.
Barb saw the pattern forming. People without answers would create their own, and those who created answers would soon seek followers.
Fear would find leaders quickly, and leaders created mobs.
She steadied Cathy by the shoulders. “Look at me.”
Cathy lifted her face slowly, her eyes swollen and wet, her expression vacant with shock.
Barb held her gaze with calm focus. “I will get you home, and I will take care of you. I promise. Right now, we need to leave this street before the crowd grows. Take my hand.”
Cathy hesitated before her fingers curled weakly around Barb’s. Barb rose first and helped her to her feet. Cathy swayed, staggering under the weight of grief. Barb steadied her with both hands and positioned herself between her sister and the growing chaos.
“Stay close to me,” Barb murmured. “Do not look back.”
Cathy’s voice cracked. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t have to. Just walk with me.”
They moved from the bank’s parking lot onto the next block, avoiding the main intersection where the largest cluster of people gathered. Several men shouted at each other near a stalled delivery truck, voices rising with accusation and fear.
Barb tightened her grip on Cathy’s arm. “Keep your head level,” Barb said. “Don’t make eye contact with anyone unless I tell you.”
Cathy nodded faintly, though her gaze stayed lowered to the pavement.
Barb scanned the street ahead. Her mind shifted into a lived-in rhythm she had not used since writing tense escape chapters in her novels.
She identified chokepoints, blind corners, openings between buildings, and narrow passages that offered cover.
She read shadows and body language, and cataloged every sound.
To their right, a group of teenagers tried to force open the back door of a pharmacy. One boy kicked the metal repeatedly while the others encouraged him. Glass crunched under his heel, and he shouted for someone to bring a tool.
“Should we tell someone to stop them?” Cathy whispered.
“No,” Barb said. “We stay focused. We walk.”
“What if they see us?”
“They won’t. They’re too focused on what they want, not who passes by.”
They moved along the sidewalk quickly, their steps practically silent beneath the rising noise.
Barb directed them into an alley between a hardware store and an abandoned laundromat.
The air smelled of old detergent and damp concrete.
A stray dog barked at the far end, startled by the sudden chaos in town.
They meandered through the back of town, stepping around overturned trash bins and skipping broken glass. Barb kept Cathy close, adjusting their path each time she heard a loud voice or saw a cluster of people.
Near the loading bays of a grocery warehouse, a man stood on top of a dead forklift shouting instructions to a small crowd. “We need to secure supplies before the government cuts us off,” he yelled. “We can’t wait for anyone to save us.”
People gathered around him with uncertain expressions, some desperate for guidance, others wary of his tone. Cathy glanced toward them.
“Eyes ahead,” Barb whispered.
“That man sounds like he knows something,” Cathy said.
“He knows nothing. Desperation looks like authority when people are scared. Keep walking.”
Cathy followed obediently. They crossed behind the warehouse and entered a narrow drainage path that bordered a field.
Mud clung to their boots, but the route was empty, shielded from the worst of the town’s unrest. The air smelled of wet earth and crushed grass.
Cathy stumbled again, and Barb caught her under the arm.
“You’re doing great,” Barb said. “Just keep stepping forward.”
Cathy shook her head. “I can’t think.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I can’t believe this. He was alive. He left the house an hour ago. How is this real?”
“I’m right here. You’re not alone. We will get through this one step at a time.”
Cathy swallowed. “I feel like everything is spinning.”
“That’s normal,” Barb said. “Stay beside me.”
As they continued along the drainage path, Barb’s awareness sharpened.
She looked for irregular movement, scanned the tree line for signs of people hiding or approaching, and listened for footsteps that didn’t belong to them.
She guided Cathy with subtle touches to the elbow or shoulder, adjusting their path around obstacles before Cathy noticed them.
A group of people appeared ahead, gathered around an overturned vehicle. A woman kneeled beside the driver’s window, shouting at the unconscious man inside. A teenage boy tried to break the glass with a rock. Barb steered Cathy behind a cluster of hedges before they could be noticed.
“Should we help them?” Cathy’s voice trembled.
“We can’t,” Barb said. “Not right now.”
“If he’s hurt…”
“There are too many people in crisis for us to help everyone. It would put you in danger. My priority is getting you home safely.”
Cathy lowered her head and pressed her hand to her mouth.
Barb placed a gentle hand on her back. “I know you want to fix this,” Barb whispered. “You can’t… No one can right now.”
They skirted the group and continued toward the outskirts of town. The noise of the center slowly faded behind them, replaced by the quiet hum of insects and the rustle of distant cattle. The contrast unsettled Cathy.
“It feels wrong that it’s quiet here,” she said. “Like the world shouldn’t be peaceful after something like this.”
“It’s not peace,” Barb said. “It’s the beginning. People will understand what happened soon. Once they do, everything will change. This calm won’t last.”
“What will happen?”
“People will panic. They will try to get home, find their families, and gather supplies. Some will be rational; some will not. Some will become threats without meaning to. We have to stay ahead of that.”
Cathy stopped walking for a moment, overwhelmed.
Barb turned to her slowly and touched her cheek. “Look at me,” Barb said. “You’re safe with me. I will take care of everything when we get home.”
“I don’t know how to breathe right now.”
“Then breathe with me. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
Cathy tried. The exhale came out shaky but there.
They continued walking. The terrain opened onto wide fields that stretched toward the horizon.
The sun climbed higher, casting a bright light across the road leading away from town.
Cathy’s steps grew heavier. Barb adjusted her pace to match, steady and patient.
A pair of men hurried past them carrying backpacks.
One muttered that he needed to reach his mother before nightfall.
The other cursed his dead truck and said the government must have been hit first. They barely glanced at Barb and Cathy as they passed, too consumed by their own fear.
Barb kept her body angled protectively between Cathy and other passersby, her hand lightly gripping her sister’s arm each time someone came close. Cathy hardly seemed aware of them.
“Almost there,” Barb whispered.
“I don’t understand how everything can fall apart so fast,” Cathy said. “How can something so big happen without warning?”
“There were warnings. People just weren’t looking in the right places.”
“I can’t do this without him.”
“You’re not doing this without him,” Barb said. “You’re doing this with me.”
They reached the final stretch of road. The gravel crunched beneath their feet, the familiar sound of home echoing faintly ahead. The fields near their property glowed gold under the rising sun. The air smelled of clover and dust.
“You’re almost home,” Barb whispered. “I have you.”
Cathy leaned heavily against her. “I can’t feel anything except pain.”
“I know. Let me carry the rest.”
The last curve in the road revealed the distant shape of their property, quiet and untouched by the chaos behind them.
The barn leaned in its familiar, tired stance.
The house waited in stillness. Barb kept Cathy close as they approached, her own steps firm and sure.
By the time they reached the gravel drive, the weight of being the protector had settled fully across Barb’s shoulders.
The old world had ended in silence, and the new one began with her guiding her sister home.