James Hunt - Broken Lines

The Jeep tore out of the driveway and into the street. The crowds around the house had scattered and Anne looked behind her watching the smoke rising from all of the windows of the house into the night sky.

They were almost to the end of the street when Ray popped out from behind one of the parked cars. He held both hands in the air, one clutching a rifle in his right hand.

Ulysses slammed on the brakes, coming inches from hitting him.

“Thought I’d offer my services,” Ray said, running to the side of the Jeep.

Ulysses shook his head at Anne, but she unlocked the door and he climbed in the back seat with the kids. Ulysses jammed the shifter back into first, hit the clutch and took off down the road.

Mike gasped for breath. He squirmed, thrashed, and elbowed Tim in the ribs, but nothing would loosen his grip.

The world around him was beginning to fade. He could feel the heat from the flames burning his flesh. He caught a glimpse of a picture of his family through the flames, the fire swallowing them up and crumpling the photo into ash and smoke.

The pop that he heard sounded distant and faint when Mike’s head hit the floor. The blackness started to clear a little. He felt a hand on the back of his shirt pulling him backwards. He could see the damage of the fire more clearly than before. The fire danced along the walls. The floor above the stairs collapsed sending a flurry of sparks into the air. Then he saw blood dripping from the side of Tim’s head and watched his body catch fire.

The heat was the first thing Mike felt. He was sweating profusely. He threw the covers off him and caught a glimpse of the bandage on his arm. He jerked his head up to get a better look, but fell back down on the pillow. He placed his fingers gently onto his temple and felt the bandage wrapped around his head.

“Thank God. You’re awake.”

Nelson came in and set a tray down on the nightstand next to the bed. Mike watched him examine the bandages.

“Looks like they’re in need of a fresh wrap,” Nelson said.

“W-what? Where’s Anne? Where are Freddy and Kalen? Where’s my—”

Nelson pushed him back down when Mike started to rise. Mike tried to resist, but was too weak.

“You need to rest. I was barely able to pull you out of the fire,” Nelson replied. “Here drink some of this.”

Nelson tilted a glass to Mike’s lips and he drank thirstily. The water spilled, hitting his chin and rolling onto his chest. Nelson pulled the glass back and rested it on the table.

“What happened?” Mike said.

“When I heard the gunshots I took Sean down to the cellar. When I saw the smoke coming from your house I ran over. By the time I got over there the whole place was on fire. The front door was knocked down and I could see you and Tim on the floor. At first I thought the two of you were both unconscious, but then I saw Tim choking. There was a pistol on the ground and I picked it up. When I got to the door I—”

His throat caught.

“I killed Tim and dragged you out of there,” Nelson finished.

Mike watched Nelson close his eyes and take a few breaths before he looked at him again.

“Did you see my family get out?” Mike asked.

“No, but I heard a few people talk about it today. Most everybody left after what happened, but a few stuck around. I think a lot of people were afraid the fire would spread to the other houses, but it just collapsed on itself.”

Nelson saw the stab of pain shoot through Mike’s face.

“Sorry.”

But Mike wasn’t thinking about the house. He forced himself upright and swung his legs to the side of the bed.

“I have to get to Ohio,” Mike said.

“Whoa, no, you need to rest. I think you have a concussion.”

“Tim didn’t hit me that hard.”

Mike rose to his feet and then immediately fell back down on the bed. He felt dizzy. He clutched the sheets into a ball-sized fist on the bed, trying to anchor himself down.

“Look whatever it is you want to do there’s no way you’ll survive the trip in your current state. You need to rest, at least for tonight.”

Mike eyed the tray on the nightstand. There was fresh gauze and an unopened can of peaches. It was one of the same cans Mike had given him a few days ago. He picked it up and rolled it in his hands.

“Hey, I’m just repaying a favor,” Nelson said.

When Mike walked out in the afternoon heat the next day and took a look at the smoldering wreckage of his house he wasn’t sure what to expect. The roof and second floor had completely disintegrated. Only pieces of the couch, kitchen, and garage remained intact.

He sifted through some of the ashes looking for anything that was salvageable. He looked for any food, tools, or ammo left behind that would still be useful, but had no luck. The one thing he really wanted to find though was a picture. He had hoped at least one of them survived. They didn’t.

“Find anything?” Nelson asked upon his return.

“No, but we need to get moving. It’ll take us three days to make it to the cabin.”

“We?”

“There’s nothing left here, Nelson. If you and Sean stay you’ll starve to death, or be killed by the next gang of raiders that comes through here.”

“You think we can make it?”

Mike closed his eyes and thought of the last glimpse of his wife. He could feel her lips on his and the whisper of “I love you.” He saw his children lying in their beds, sleeping with the morning light cascading into their rooms.

“We’ll make it.”

Copyright 2014

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