Ryan Westfield - Getting Out

Like buying maps.

Whatever, he’d just have to work it out along the way. How hard could it be, anyway? He mostly remembered the route. Something like take 476 N, obviously, and then basically head west at some point… He didn’t remember exactly where.

Some roads might be blocked off. Some might be impassable. That was where the maps were going to come in.

Max cursed himself again.

But he had to keep moving. He had to keep preparing. He checked his watch, and decided he wanted to be out of there in fifteen minutes. Max’s watch was a purely mechanical analog watch, winding itself from the movements of Max’s wrist. It had cost a pretty penny, but in situations like this, it was worth it, although truthfully Max didn’t know if regular digital watches would continue to work or not.

Max kept his flashlight on the lowest setting to conserve its battery. When he didn’t absolutely need it, he hit the button to turn it off. He would be able to use this battery, and his four spares, before his flashlight became nothing but an obsolete metal cylinder. Possibly never to work again.

Society might fall completely apart. It might not. It might rebuild itself. All Max knew was that he wanted to be far, far away from everything when people were figuring out whether or not they were going to kill each other and fall into chaos, or work together to rebuild.

Frankly, Max didn’t have high hopes for humanity. He’d seen the way people were these days. He’d seen them in the super market aisles screaming at each other over petty disagreements. He’d seen the news, seen people shooting each other over nothing. Husbands were murdering wives and wives were murdering their children. The world wasn’t the same as it had been, and it was clearly sinking into some awful state from which it might never return. The EMP might just be the final nail in the coffin, the event that pushed everything and everyone completely over the edge once and for all.

Max had finished his last pass of his apartment. He didn’t even look behind him into his old apartment. It wasn’t like there had been a lot of happy memories there. Max had nothing there that he wanted to take with him. Well, maybe the pictures of his parents.

But if he couldn’t eat it or shoot it, or use it in a similar way, it had to stay behind.

He was in the lobby outside his apartment door, heading towards his car. He still hadn’t run into any of the neighbors. That was probably for the best. He didn’t want to be forced to take anyone with him. Not that he would. This was the time for hard decisions, and Max was ready to make them. He only had enough food for himself.

“Help!” screamed someone, a female voice, shrill and terrified.

The sound was clearly coming from his neighbor’s apartment across the lobby. Mandy and Ted had moved in about a year ago, but Max hadn’t seen much of them. He liked to keep to himself, anyway. Ted had moved out last week, during a huge screaming battle between the two of them. It wasn’t Max’s business, so he’d just turned up the volume on his music player as he did his exercises.

Max paused, his arms full of two paper bags of the last of the kitchen goods.

She screamed again. It was one of the most haunting sounds Max had ever heard in his life.

Adrenalin started coursing through him.

His gaze was fixed on Mandy’s closed door. Who knew what kind of horrors were going on behind it.

This was it. This was the start.

Was Max going to do the practical thing and leave, ignoring her cries for help? Was he going to save himself or attempt to help a woman he barely knew? Was he going to risk his life getting involved in a situation he knew nothing about?

Max indistinctly knew there’d be more situations like this. He’d have to make this decision time and time again on his journey. Which leg was he going to start off on?

His breathing was ragged and his heart was pounding as he stared at her door, the paper bags still clutched in his arms.

Mandy had been sitting on her sofa, contemplating her headache and the strange military truck that had disappeared, when two men had kicked down her back door.

They must have climbed up the fire escape.

Mandy had screamed as loud as she could.

But they rushed over to her and the big one pointed a pistol right into her mouth, jamming the cold steel muzzle of the gun into her.

“Say another word and you’re dead,” he mumbled at her. He sounded drunk or high. He was big, built like a bodybuilder.

Her thoughts were racing, but they weren’t clear. Everything seemed to be happening too fast. Her body felt cold, freezing cold with the fear of death.

The other man was overweight, with a huge belly and something like an overly exaggerated bad posture. He had a pistol in his hand too.

Neither wore masks.

Mandy couldn’t help it. She screamed once more.

“Screw you,” growled the man with the pistol, hitting her hard in the head with his other hand, formed into a fist.

The blow hurt, but didn’t knock her out. Her vision went blurry, but she managed to fix her eyes right on him. She had a strange thought circling her head—she wanted to memorize his face. Whatever he was going to do to her, she wanted to know who he was, and she wanted him to know that she knew.

She couldn’t believe the audacity of these men, coming in without masks. She’d be able to identify them to the police later for sure. Unless they killed her. Maybe that was what they planned to do. Maybe the gun wasn’t a meaningless threat. Maybe they were going to rape her and kill her.

Mandy’s heart was beating like it was about to explode out of her chest.

“Ready for some fun?” muttered the bodybuilding type guy to his friend.

The friend walked closer and leered at Mandy. His face was a blur to Mandy, but she saw that he had a fat face and a small nose. She couldn’t make out the rest of it. The man with the gun in her mouth had sharp features and a long nose, and short, military-style hair.

“You go first, man,” growled the bodybuilder. “I want to watch.”

“You’re a sick man,” said the other.

Mandy made a noise, which was hard to do with the gun in her mouth.

“Don’t worry, honey, we’ll take care of you. And don’t worry about the cops, they’re busy…”

The other chuckled. “Everything’s turned off. And who knows when it’s going to be back on. We’re going to have some fun while we can.”

The fat one started undoing his belt. To do so, he put his gun down on the coffee table.

“Trust me, you’re going to like it. We’ve been watching your stuck up ass every day when you come home from work…”

They’d been watching her? They knew where she lived? This wasn’t just a random attack?

And they were doing all this just because the power was out? None of this made any sense to Mandy. If they had been watching her, that must mean that they were local. Surely they would know that Mandy would turn them over to the cops at the first opportunity.

She tried to calm herself down. She didn’t want to be raped, but she didn’t want to die more.

Suddenly, there was a noise at the door, as if someone was kicking it.

“Shit,” said one of the men.

“Don’t worry about it. Just some noisy neighbor.”

“Don’t you make a damn sound,” said the one with the gun in her mouth. “Don’t worry, this’ll be more fun if you’re alive. But it’s not strictly necessary.”

Who were these sick monsters?

Another sound at the door. Then another.

Was someone coming to rescue her?

She didn’t know who it could possibly be. Surely it wouldn’t be Mrs. Kerns, trying to kick down her door, having placed her cane carefully against the wall in the hallway.