Richard Cox - House of the Rising Sun

“I have a feeling we’ll be on the move soon,” Billy said ominously. “Warehouse or no warehouse.”

As they approached the last house in the row, Thomas saw someone had scrawled a message with black spray paint on the broken and crooked garage door:

Then they turned northeast, where a loose and continuous group of walkers seemed to be headed for the warehouse. The building was so tall Thomas could already see the white shape of it above the tree line. A few minutes later they departed the highway and turned north, except for Billy, who went on toward the warehouse entrance. After another quarter mile or so, a grove of trees rose up beside the road.

“This is where we’re going in,” said Tim. “We’ll stay well back until we figure out where the sniper is today. He’s difficult to spot.”

Eventually Tim stopped in a small clearing, shaped like an oval, smoldering with smoke-dimmed sunlight.

“We’ll wait here for Billy,” he said and stood next to Miguel.

Which sounded like an innocent and simple task, but soon the twins’ eyes looked feral and they shifted restlessly on their feet. Natalie bit her nails. Larry seemed captivated by the rolling clouds of smoke. Skylar looked lost, as if she had disconnected from reality. Seth watched the warehouse with the precision of a military veteran.

The murmuring of the crowd floated toward them. Thomas found himself wondering, if real life was a script, how he might write these final few scenes. Because after everything that had happened, like traveling to Tulsa and back, like the theft of his food supplies, after yesterday’s journey to Melissa, it was obvious the end was near. They would gain access to the warehouse or they wouldn’t. There would be food and water or there wouldn’t. But whatever happened over the next couple of scenes would probably decide the outcome. And in this case there was no studio executive ready to impose a happy ending. No profit to be made or stakeholders to please. Which meant this story was free to reach the conclusion it deserved. Every film, after all, was a question answered by its ending. If you wanted to write something important, something true, you were obligated to deliver honesty… even if the truth left moviegoers feeling devastated. Even if your most endearing characters didn’t survive.

Even if you were the kind of writer who could never be honest with himself.

“Dad,” Brandon eventually said. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Me, either,” said Ben. “My stomach is yucky and I’m kinda dizzy.”

“Hold on,” Natalie whispered. “I think someone may be coming.”

“You’re right,” Tim said. “There may be a patrol in the trees.”

Tim was looking in exactly the opposite direction from where they had parted ways with Billy, which meant it probably wasn’t him.

Eventually, Thomas heard what sounded like steps crunching through leaves and twigs. Was it a warehouse guard? Would he fire at them? How would a bullet feel when it tore into you? As a screenwriter Thomas had never written the interior suffering of his characters. Those details were left to a director and his actors.

The unknown person wasn’t trying to be quiet, and soon they realized he was a lone refugee. Tim put up his hand and called out to him.

“You there!” he said. “What’s your business here?”

“Help me,” said the man. “I need help.”

Tim crept forward with his weapon at the ready and motioned for the rest of them to stay back.

“If you need help,” Tim said, “come this way with your hands in the air.”

“Please,” said the man. “I was supposed to be back days ago, but there was trouble at Marie’s. Anthony knows me. I’m Jimmy.”

Eventually the man was close enough that Thomas could see he’d been beaten and his arms haphazardly bandaged.

“What do you mean?” Tim asked. “Why were you supposed to come back here?”

“Do you guys not work in the warehouse?”

“No,” said Tim. “We’re here to get inside. Where the food is.”

“We did the same thing you’re doing,” Jimmy croaked, obviously in pain. “We came here with guns and fought our way in.”

“Why the hell did you leave?” asked Tim.

“To bring food back to the others. We didn’t plan to stay in the warehouse forever.”

“And you think the guards will let you back inside?”

“Of course. We left men behind.”

The next tactical move was obvious. The only question was who would approach the warehouse and who would remain behind. And while they stood there, deciding how to proceed, Thomas heard someone else approach. This turned out to be Billy.

After a brief discussion, Billy announced a plan that did not go over well with Seth.

“I think we put together a small team and approach the warehouse at their mercy. Jimmy out front and the women behind him. Me and Seth and Thomas will each follow one of you.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Seth said. “I am not sending my wife out in front of me.”

“Finding this guy is a stroke of luck,” said Billy. “They aren’t going to shoot him, and they aren’t going to shoot women, either. Especially not her.”

He thumbed in the direction of Skylar.

“What if he’s lying?” said Seth. “Using us somehow?”

But Thomas knew Jimmy wasn’t lying. That sort of unearned plot twist would be a cheat.

“If he’s lying,” said Billy, “he’s the first one down. We’ll jump in front of the women before the sniper can shoot again and pull them back to safety. But that’s not gonna happen. I just spoke to their leader and he’s about to bring food to the crowd. They’re giving up.”

“Then why don’t we go out front with the rest of them?” asked Seth. “Instead of this chickenshit approach?”

“Because as soon as that idiot wheels supplies out the front door, he’ll have a riot on his hands. Those hungry people ain’t gonna wait in line. If we want any chance at the food, we have to do this now.”

Seth glared at him. Larry looked relieved, like he was happy to sit back while others put themselves in harm’s way.

“I think Billy is right,” Natalie said. “I don’t think they’ll shoot unarmed women. And anyway, I’m ready to help. So far I’ve barely done anything.”

“Same here,” said Skylar. “I’m happy to be out front.”

“But someone will need to stay with the boys,” Natalie said.

“Miguel and I will make sure they’re safe,” said Tim.

“Me, too,” said Larry.

In The Pulse, a character like Natalie would never have left her children behind, let alone put herself in harm’s way. This was where Thomas had gone wrong, and why Skylar had flown here to correct him. Just because women were less physically strong than men didn’t mean they wanted their safety gift-wrapped for them. Most healthy humans longed to be valued, to be needed by someone else. Whether you were a man or a woman didn’t matter. You contributed where you could, even if it meant putting your own safety at risk.

A minute later they marched out of the woods in the order prescribed by Billy. Jimmy first, the women next, Thomas, Seth, and Billy in the rear. As they marched, Billy yelled their demands in a loud and commanding voice.

“We are not here to fight! But we deserve a right to eat the same as you! We are not here to fight, but we must protect our families! I repeat: We are not here to fight!”

Thomas was so nervous he could barely put one foot in front of the other. He watched the roof of the warehouse and eventually saw movement. There appeared to be two snipers. One scrambled toward the side of the building while the other held a gun trained on the approaching group.