Ryan Westfield - Getting Out

The other men followed suit.

Mandy held her gun on them, as if she knew how to fire it.

Max walked forward and picked up the guns. He examined them. She saw him open one of the guns and check for bullets. It was a revolver, she thought. The other guns looked different, more modern.

Max stuck one in his waistband and one in his pocket. He held another awkwardly with his good hand and pointed it at the men.

“How you doing, Chad?” said Max.

“Awful,” said Chad, loudly, nearly shouting. “They took my damn meds from me.”

“What are you taking?” said Mandy.

“Vicodin,” muttered Chad. He sounded as if he was in serious withdrawal.

Mandy could see it in Chad’s face. He was suffering. But she didn’t have much sympathy for him. He’d enjoyed the highs, and now he had to deal with the lows.

“Great,” said Mandy. “I told you, Max. He’s on serious shit.”

Max didn’t answer her.

The men were looking at each other. They looked terrified.

“Get down on your knees,” shouted Mandy.

They did as they were told, sinking their knees into the mud.

“Please don’t kill us,” said one.

“Yeah,” said the other. “You know, I’ve always been a big fan of hockey. I hear that’s big in Russia…”

“So you’re a traitor, are you?” said his buddy.

“No, it’s not like that. I’m just saying if they’re taking over, then I might as well get with the new sports. They’re going to need Americans to run their Russian hockey leagues or whatever.”

“Idiots,” said Max. “You think we’re really Russians or something?”

“You’re not?”

“I told you that from the beginning. But don’t get any funny ideas. That doesn’t mean she isn’t one hell of a shot. And we’re more than willing to shoot you. Now where’s the Jeep you stole from me?”

“Right where it was before.”

“You idiots didn’t even move it? Is everything still in it?”

All the men nodded.

“Amateurs,” muttered Max, more to himself than to anyone else.

“All right,” said Max, to Mandy and Chad. “Looks like this pleasant little detour is over. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Chad managed to get himself off the ground. His oversized body was covered in mud, both dried and wet. His hair was matted. He looked terrible. His face had gone all blotchy, and it was puffy yet gaunt at the same time.

“See you… Jeep…” said Chad, not really paying any attention to them.

He rushed off as fast as he could across the field, headed towards the Jeep, towards his pills.

“I guess he’s going to get his pills,” said Mandy coldly.

“Come on,” said Max. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” said Mandy. “I’ve got a few more questions for these idiots.”

“What could you possibly want to ask them?”

“Don’t we need information? We haven’t talked to anyone else. I want to know what the hell’s going on.”

“What’s going on? Everything is broken. Nothing works. Society is collapsing. That’s what’s going on.”

“I want to hear it from them.” She still had her gun trained on them, even as Max was starting to walk away.

“So,” she said to them. “Tell me what you know.”

Max paused and looked back.

“They don’t know anything,” he said. “They’re idiots. They thought we were Russian spies.”

“What do you know?” repeated Mandy.

“Honestly, nothing,” said one. He seemed to be the smartest of the group. “Nobody’s come through here. We figured the US had been attacked.”

“Hmm,” said Mandy. “Quite the astute conclusion.”

They didn’t seem to know what that meant.

“Where’s everyone else in this town?” said Mandy.

“At home. Everyone’s hiding.”

“Then what are you men doing out?”

“Well, there’s no sheriff. He died a month ago from a heart attack, and I guess we never got around to getting a new one.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Well we just went ahead and deputized each other, I suppose. That way we’re responsible for the safety of these parts.”

“Are you all just idiots or something?” said Max.

Mandy didn’t say anything at first. But a thought came to her.

“And how’s everyone doing?” she said. “Is everyone all right?”

“Is everyone all right?” said Max. “Are you crazy? Come on, let’s get out of this podunk town. We’ve got places to go and things to do. And I’m starving.”

Mandy looked at the men. One of them wore an uncomfortable expression that she couldn’t quite read.

She’d always had a good read on people, and truthfully she knew that despite her own anger, these men had just been trying to protect themselves and more importantly their families. They’d assumed the worst, which wasn’t really that far off—or it might not have been. After all, Mandy and Max had no idea what had happened.

Mandy knew that these weren’t cruel men. Not deep in their hearts. They didn’t want to hurt Mandy, Max, or Chad, despite what they’d already done.

And something was wrong. She could see it in the man’s sad face.

“Who is it?” said Mandy, looking directly at him. She lowered her gun, pointing the muzzle at the ground. “Who’s sick?”

“Who’s sick?” said Max. “Are you crazy? Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“It’s my dad,” said the man, who noticed that Mandy had lowered her gun. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s not right.”

The other men lowered their heads in sadness.

“He was on dialysis… We were taking him down to Philly twice a week. Obviously that’s not possible now…”

“That’s a long drive,” said Mandy. “Come on, take me to your father. Maybe we can help.”

They men looked at each other hesitantly.

“Come on,” said Mandy, waving her arm. “Take me to him. Come on!”

They got up slowly and started to walk towards her.

Max walked back to her. “What are you doing?” he hissed in her ear. “Don’t you remember what they just did to us? Now the guy supposedly has a sick dad that you want to help?”

“You’ve got to do something,” hissed Sadie in his ear.

James had the scope of the gun to his eye.

His finger was on the trigger, but he couldn’t bring himself to shoot. That wasn’t right. He had to speak first, but he was terrified.

And worst of all, his mother had counted on him. Counted on him to protect himself, Sadie, and the possessions. Without the gear, they were screwed, and James knew that well. He understood the gravity of the situation. Even Sadie did now. She’d stopped checking her dead phone every five minutes.

While James was sweating, while his heart was pounding, the man was quickly loading gear into his SUV.

“You need to do something,” hissed Sadie, again.

James knew she was right.

“Stop right there,” he cried out.

The man froze. He was on the way back to the pickup, his arms empty.

“Who’s out there?” he called out.

“Don’t move a muscle,” shouted James. He made an attempt to make his voice sound deeper and more manly that it might have otherwise been. Not that he wasn’t a man, but he didn’t always sound like one.

“Who’s out there?” shouted the man.

He moved his sunglasses up to get a better look. He started peering right where James and Sadie were hiding, but James was pretty sure he wasn’t seen.

“Who’s out there?” shouted the man again.

To James’s horror, the man didn’t sound scared. He didn’t look scared. His posture was relaxed.

He was one of those huge muscular gym rats, who wasn’t intimidated by anyone.