Ryan Westfield - Staying Alive

Georgia, of course, already knew the answer.

She turned the wheel and pulled the van over to the side of the road. She switched off the lights and the engine.

“So what’s the plan?” she said.

“Let me think,” said Max, peering towards the house.

The car was visible now. It was an early ‘90s Jeep. Georgia had actually considered purchasing one for herself, many years back. Instead, she’d gone with the pickups she’d always had. Georgia remembered that Max had had a similar car. She wasn’t sure of the model, though, because by the time she’d seen it, it had been smashed, its metal twisted and its form unrecognizable.

“All right,” said Max, speaking loudly. “I need everyone awake.” He rapped his knuckles on the glass.

“What’s going on?” came Chad’s sleepy deep voice. The others groaned and yawned as they woke up.

“Are we in danger?” said Sadie, sounding worried.

“It’s fine, Sadie,” said Georgia. “We’re just going to get some gas.”

“Everyone awake?” said Max, turning around to see.

Max waited until each person answered.

“OK,” said Max. “Here’s the plan. We need gas. There’s a car up there at the house. We’re going to siphon it into our tank. James, I need you with me. You can move faster than I can with this leg. You OK with that, Georgia?”

“Yeah,” said Georgia. She had her doubts and worries, but she knew that James was the best person for the job. He was young and quick. And he knew how to siphon gas. Georgia had showed him how once.

“Good. I’ll keep guard. I need everyone else with their eyes peeled. I need someone looking in every direction, not just at the house. If anything goes wrong, we’re getting out of here as fast as possible.”

“We’re just going to steal gas from someone?” said Mandy. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“Those are the breaks,” said Max. “We don’t have any other options. If we don’t get gas, we’re stuck.”

“But it’s not right,” said Mandy. “We might be preventing someone else from leaving, and saving their own life. Or their family’s lives.”

“That’s right,” said Max. “But we’ve got to do it. We’re not going to take it by force. We’ll be thieves in the night. Trust me, I’m not proud of it.”

Mandy didn’t say anything more.

“All right, Georgia,” said Max. “Keep the lights off and creep up to that house. Get us right next to the Jeep. The gas cap is on the left side, facing the road.”

“How do you know?”

“I had the same Jeep,” said Max.

With the lights off, Georgia drove as slowly as she could. The van was almost silent. A Prius would have been ideal, but the van wasn’t bad for keeping quiet. Not that Georgia would have ever been caught dead in a Prius in her past life. It just wasn’t her scene. Now, though, everything had changed, and she’d drive anything if it meant keeping her family safe, from a Prius to a tractor.

They were going so slowly that it seemed to take forever. Finally, though, they were there. Georgia got as close as she could to the Jeep. She didn’t need to worry about leaving enough space between the vehicles to open the doors. Max was already in the back. The sliding door would work no matter how little space there was.

“Perfect,” said Max. “Keep the engine on in case we need to make a quick getaway. You ready, James?”

“Ready,” said James.

Georgia knew her son well. She could hear the nervousness in his voice, even if the others couldn’t. And she could tell he was trying to act brave and do the right thing. Georgia was proud of him, but she wished that his life could have become something else. A life where he didn’t need to put on a brave face. He was just a teenager, after all.

“You have the hose?” said Max.

“Got it,” said James.

Max had his gun in his hand as he slid open the minivan door. There was determination on his face, seen through the harsh shadows that the moon cast.

“Leave the door open,” whispered Max. “Don’t speak above a whisper, everyone.”

The last thing Max did before getting out of the van was hand his multi-tool to James. “They might have put a lock on the gas cap door. But you can pry it open with this.”

Georgia’s job was to watch the house, to see if anyone came out. But it was hard. It was hard not to try to keep an eye on James, with the hose in his mouth.

Georgia heard James coughing and sputtering. He must have gotten the gas into his mouth. That was good. It’d be flowing by now, filling the plastic water sack.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” whispered Mandy.

“Everyone watching?” whispered Georgia, ignoring Mandy’s comment. “Everyone still awake?”

“Yeah,” came all the replies.

“I’m worried, Mom,” said Sadie, in a hushed voice.

“It’s OK, Sadie,” said Georgia. But they were empty words, and she knew it. Nothing was OK. But there was nothing else to say.

“Mom!” said Sadie, too loudly.

“Quiet,” hissed Georgia.

“No, Mom, look! The house.”

Georgia had been looking back at Sadie. She turned towards the house.

There was a light on in one of the downstairs rooms.

But that was impossible. The EMP had taken out everything. Not just the electrical grid, but the generators too.

At first, Georgia was too shocked to act.

The light shifted in the room, changing brightness. Then it hit her. It wasn’t a normal light bulb. It was merely a high-powered flashlight. Someone was in there, moving around.

“James!” hissed Georgia, probably too loudly. “Max! There’s someone coming.”

No answer.

“Max!” hissed Georgia again.

“Just a little bit longer,” came Max’s reply.

“We’ve got to go. Now!”

“Just another moment… We’ve almost got it all.”

Georgia was furious. Did Max really think a couple gallons of extra gas were important in a moment like this? After all, her son’s life was on the line. All their lives were on the line.

The door to the house swung open. A near-blinding beam of light swung over the van.

Their eyes were locked.

John had had the luckiest break of his life, but it might not really do him any good.

John didn’t know what to do. Should he try to escape? Up and out through the window? But he’d never make it in time. All this guy had to do was grab his legs.

But maybe he’d just stand there, jammed gun in hand, unmoving.

Of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

He ran at John, moving suddenly. He moved his big, bulky body quickly.

As he ran, he swung the handgun like a hammer in a huge arc. It was coming right towards John’s head.

There was only one thing for John to do. He moved to the side as best he could. He brought the knife up and stabbed with it, thrusting it forward with all his force.

The gun missed John’s head. Instead, it smashed into his shoulder. Pain flared.

The knife went right into the man’s chest. It went deep. It was sickening, how the knife penetrated the flesh so easily.

The man screamed.

John tugged the knife out, puling as hard as he could. It came free.

There was shouting upstairs. Heavy footsteps on the stairs again. More were coming down. It wouldn’t take them long.

In a flash, hardly knowing what he was doing, John was at the window. He hoisted himself up, his hands cupping the concrete window sill. He had to let go with one hand in order to undo the latch and open the window. It opened outwards, leaving an impossibly narrow space. John didn’t know if he could make it, but he was going to try.

He hoisted himself up further, his muscles straining.