Ryan Westfield - Staying Alive

“The drawbridge?” said Miller, smiling proudly. “Thought of it all myself.”

Max nodded, as he looked out towards the trees in the distance.

The two stood together, side by side, looking out across the huge, overgrown yard toward the tall trees.

“You know,” said Miller. “Your grandfather helped my dad out a lot once. I don’t know the details or anything. I think it was something like a big financial loan, but I’m not sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Just glad I can repay the favor, is all.”

“We appreciate it,” said Max. “We’re dead tired.”

“I can tell.”

Suddenly, Max saw something. It was movement between the trees. Someone was out there, wearing a bright red shirt.

His first thought wasn’t, “shit, not again. I can’t deal with this.” No, somehow Max’s mind went right to the practical, right to what had to be done.

“You see that?” said Max, pointing.

Whoever was out there, they were too far away to hear Max.

“Shit,” muttered Miller. “Not again. I don’t want to have to shoot anyone else.”

“You might have to,” said Max.

“Don’t get me wrong. I will,” said Miller, wincing as he said it. “I just…”

“I know,” said Max. “No one likes to… unless they’re sick.”

“Maybe they’ll just move on through,” said Miller. “There’s no sign yet that they’ll attack us.”

“I hope so,” said Max.

The figure in the red shirt was clearer now, but still very far away. Whoever it was, they weren’t even remotely a threat yet.

But as Max continued to watch, he saw more figures moving through the trees.

They emerged from the trees, moving as a pack, coming straight towards Miller’s home. It was getting clearer that they were after the house, and whatever it contained, whoever they were.

“Shit,” said Miller. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“We had three guys attack us,” said Max. “They took the farmhouse. We almost didn’t make it…”

“We’ll be fine,” said Miller.

“We had six people with guns,” said Max.

“We’ll be fine,” said Miller. “Don’t you worry. I’m a good shot, and so is my wife. Even my son… But he’s never shot anyone…”

“We’ll help,” said Max. “You’re letting us stay in your home.”

Miller turned to him and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to let someone else fight my fights for me.”

“We’re talking about the safety of your family,” said Max. “It’s even more than that… we’re talking about the lives of your wife, and your son, not to mention your own.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Miller. “But you’d all better leave. You don’t want to get mixed up in this. Maybe you had the right idea leaving the area. We’re too close to the cities. Too many people are coming, looking for a way out.”

“This is crazy,” said Max. “You’d do better with six extra guns.”

But Max could tell that he wouldn’t change Miller’s mind. It showed in his face, and Max knew that Miller wasn’t the sort of person who was going to put others at risk, even if it meant risking his own family.

Max didn’t agree with the decision, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Plus, he didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he and the others would be better off the sooner they could get away from this mess.

“Come with us,” said Max, trying one more time. “You’ve got a car or truck, right?”

Miller nodded. “A truck.”

“Great, then follow us on out of here. We could use a guy like you with us on the road, someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“We’ve got all our supplies,” said Miller. “We can’t take it all…”

“You could take a lot of it,” said Max. “You’ve got six sets of hands that can help you load it all quickly.”

Miller shook his head adamantly. “I’m not leaving my home,” he said. “I just can’t do that.”

Max finally knew there was nothing more to say. There was no good words could do. He didn’t know if the Millers would make it through the rest of the day alive. But it wasn’t his battle.

“Mandy, Georgia!” called out Max, moving closer to the home.

“What is it?” came Mandy’s sleepy voice as she poked her head out the window. She looked like she’d just been woken up. Her eyes were blurry, and her hair was messy and undone, hanging around her face. It was a strange time for such a thought, but Max was suddenly struck again with her beauty. The thought distracted him, and it took him a moment to speak.

“We’re leaving,” he called out.

“What?”

“We’re leaving. Now!” Max waved his arms urgently. “Get everyone. Get everything.”

There wasn’t time to wait around. They needed to leave as fast as possible.

“If you head that way,” said Miller, pointing. “You can drive across the property for a quarter of a mile and get around both roadblocks we set up.”

Mad nodded. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

Max was already limping towards the van, and Miller was already up his drawbridge-ladder.

Max had the minivan started by the time the first of his group was down the ladder. He rolled down the automatic window on the passenger’s side and yelled at them to hurry up and get in.

They all moved sleepily and slowly, until they saw the figures off in the distance. The figures were staying still, possibly waiting until the right moment to move in and attack. If that was what they were going to do. If the Millers were lucky, nothing would happen at all.

“Why aren’t we staying to help?” said Chad, to Max’s pleasant surprise, as he got in the car.

“I offered,” was all Max said.

“They should come with us,” said Mandy, getting into the seat behind Max.

“He won’t,” said Max.

“Are you OK to drive, Max?” said Georgia.

“Yeah,” was all Max said.

He had the van moving before the last door was closed. He used the rear view mirror to check to see that everyone was there.

Maybe it was because of his exhaustion, or the surreal nature of the situation, but these thoughts kept popping into Max’s head, thoughts that weren’t directly related to the practical. The last one had been about Mandy’s beauty. This one was about how when the EMP had first struck, Max had been concerned about one person and one person only—himself. Himself, and no one else. Now he was going so far as to check to make sure everyone was in the van. He was concerned for the lives of people he hadn’t even met until two weeks ago. He felt responsible for them, and he didn’t even know why. Maybe it gave him a purpose. Maybe it gave him something to fight for.

The van was moving slowly across the bumpy road.

Max adjusted the mirror again, trying to see out the back. But he couldn’t see the men, not from this angle.

“Can anyone see them?”

“Nope,” said Chad. “We’re too far away. Last I saw, they were just standing there.”

“I hope they don’t hurt the Millers,” said Sadie. “They’re so nice.”

“Mrs. Miller gave us supplies on the way out,” said James. “She gave us a big bag of rice, and even some beef jerky.”

“Just don’t eat it all yourself, James,” said Sadie. “And she gave us water bottles, too.”

That was good, that they had more food and water. But Max’s mind was on the Millers’ imminent danger.

Miller was sure to be inside by now, his drawbridge-ladder hoisted. He’d have his gun in his hand, and so would his wife. Maybe his son, too.

But Max couldn’t think about them now.

“I can’t believe they’re staying,” said Mandy.

“They’ve made their decision,” said Georgia.