Victor Methos - Plague

“Into the mall.”

“Nah,” a third one said. “She in one a these cars. Start lookin’.”

She could see their feet from underneath the car. They were going slowly up and down the rows, checking each car.

“Look under ‘em too,” one of the men yelled.

They began glancing underneath the cars as well. They were twenty feet away and on a different row, but they would get to her eventually.

Holding her breath to make as little noise as possible, she began crawling toward the entrance to the mall.

The gravel that was displaced underneath made little scraping noises and to her the sound was as loud as jet engines. She would stop every few seconds and look back to see the sneakers getting closer and closer.

She had moved out from under an SUV when she got to a Prius. It was too low to the ground for her to crawl under and she eased her way back to a different row and underneath a large Toyota truck. She was nearly to the other side when she heard the shoes hit pavement behind her and she froze.

She looked back and saw the sneakers checking the car next to the one she was under. Its door was unlocked and the man opened it and began going through whatever was inside.

Sam, lifting herself off the pavement as far as she could go, which wasn’t more than a half an inch, began to crawl to the other side of the truck. She could feel the sunlight on the back of her hand as she made it across. She cleared the truck. Now she would just need to stand, keep low, and make it around to one of the entrances to the mall. She had heard from someone at the hotel that the mall itself was open but the shops were closed. The owner had wanted to give all the shop owners the option of closing or remaining open.

A sound echoed in her head. It was unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. Like something she knew intimately once but had forgotten.

It was her cell phone’s ringtone.

She rolled from under the truck as the man in the car next to her jumped out, standing still a moment to find out where the sound was coming from. Samantha was on her feet and at a full sprint toward the mall.

“Right there, you blind motherfucker!”

She kept running, not looking back, feeling the strain in her legs as she pushed herself as hard as she could. She made it across the parking lot and was near the door when she felt an impact against her back. She flew forward into the glass doors and bounced off and onto her back.

A man stood above her, panting. He pulled the knife out from his hip.

“You run…fast bitch. Now we gonna have some fun you and me.”

He knelt down and Sam thrust out with her hand, jabbing her fingers into his eyes as far as they would go. He yelped in pain and pulled back. She rolled on the ground and got to her feet as the other two men arrived.

She backed up slowly against the glass doors, feeling for the handles. She felt the grating and tugged. They were locked.

“Fucking cunt!” the man yelled as he rose, his hand pressed to his right eye.

He came at her and then stopped. Her heart was pounding so loud she didn’t hear the commotion behind her as two police officers opened the doors. They pushed her out of the way, a shotgun pointed at the man’s head.

“Get the fuck outta here, asshole,” the cop said.

The men looked to each other and then backed away and walked through the parking lot into the street. The cop turned to her. He lowered his weapon as the other cop behind him did the same.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, out of breath, “thank you.”

“Get inside. There’ll be more of ‘em.”

“More of who?”

“Them. Whatever you wanna call ‘em. We been callin’ ‘em huis. Come on, let’s go.”

Sam entered the mall behind the officers and they locked the doors. The mall was empty and the lights were off. The two officers kept walking without looking back and got down the hall and to an elevator. Sam didn’t feel she had any better options, especially considering that those men were probably outside waiting for her, so she got on the elevator too.

They rode to the second floor and walked to the main offices. A few other people were scattered throughout the space. None of the others wore police uniforms. An older man with a potbelly walked up when he saw them enter.

“Who’s this?”

“She was attacked by some huis outside.”

The man gave the two officers an awkward glance, like they had done something wrong, and then stuck out his hand. Sam shook.

“Papale Garrett, how ya doin’? Sorry you had to run into trouble out there. Huis is gettin’ worse by the day. Huis is just what we call them lawless folks that’s out on the streets.”

“Are you the police?”

“Well, I guess so. Now. We found them uniforms at the police station an’ we help out when we can,” he said, looking to one of the men that had helped Samantha. “Well anyway, if you got someone to come get you, you should call them now. Afternoon and night is the worst time to be out, so you should get all your business done in the morning.”

Sam looked around the space. There were clothes, food rations, jugs of water, and gasoline along with dishes piled next to a sink.

“Do you live here?”

“Good a place as any,” Papale said. “Got water, electricity when we need, we got each other. There’s the food court downstairs with enough stock to keep us fed for a year or two. Seemed as good a choice as my own house.”

“Food is being given away at aid stations, along with water and anything else you could need.”

He chuckled. “Young lady, the day the government does somethin’ right is the day I take up ballroom dancin’. There ain’t enough food to feed a preschool at them aid stations. The lines go on for blocks and by the time you get there, they outta everythin’ but flour and sugar. Soon they’ll be outta those too.”

“They get resupplied every other day.”

“If that’s true, I ain’t seen it. Once they run outta food, they close and they leave.”

“That has to be some kind of mistake.”

“Mistake or not, that’s what they’re doin’. Now if you’ll excuse me, I got some work to do thawing some chickens for tonight’s dinner. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like or you can have someone pick you up.”

“Thanks.” Samantha pulled out her cell phone. All the men in the office were staring at her and it became apparent that there were no women in the mall with them. She smiled a friendly smile to them and then walked out the doors to the corridor.

“Where have you been?” Wilson’s voice said on the other end.

“I was attacked, Ralph. A group of men chased me down the street when I was walking to the hospital.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I ran into the mall and there were other people here.”

“Whole damn city’s gone to hell. Did you know our vaccine shipments were attacked? They burned the crates. Two guards were injured.”

“Maybe they thought it was something valuable.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Ralph, how are the aid stations doing?”

“Fine. Why?”

“I heard that they’ve been closing and that there’s not enough food for everyone.”

Wilson was silent a while. “You better get to the hospital. I’m sending down a military escort for you. We need to talk.”

Ralph Wilson sat in an administrative office at the Queen’s Medical Center and stared out the window at the abandoned streets below. He pictured kids out here, people jogging, teenagers heading down to the bus stop to get to the beach for the day’s surfing. But there wasn’t any of that. There was fluttering garbage and stray dogs and every once in a while, a group of men out prowling the streets.