But if they hid out in that house, most likely the battle would pass by it, and then they would advance their plan based on who won.
He braved heading down the concrete steps to the street below and walked over to the corner of the loading dock to look to the west. It was as deserted as the rest of the area.
Marty still carried the handgun as he led them all across the street to hide behind the west side of the house. Janice and Alexander each carried a bag of groceries. Alexander stayed with Janice and Emily in the gloom of the moon’s shadow while Marty peered around the corner. Marty knew that entering the house was perilous.
Marty opened the screen door and then placed his left hand on the doorknob. He turned it and eased the door open, resigning himself to any fate that might befall him.
He hoped anyone who previously occupied the house had left.
There was little time to lose.
Inside the house it was dark and silent, lit only by the moonlight through the front door.
One slow step at a time, heel-to-toe, he ventured in, feeling for obstacles with his hands. He bumped something and a sharp pain erupted on his shin. He suppressed an urge to curse aloud and stopped in his tracks, waiting crucial seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Looking around, he glimpsed a flashlight on the coffee table. He grabbed it, turned it on, and swept a beam of light throughout the living room, illuminating a small kitchen and a hallway down to the back of the house.
He saw no one, but someone might be in the back of the house. “Is anyone there? We mean no harm. We need to hide out during the firefight.”
No one answered.
The sound of the gunfire was louder now.
He left the house as quickly as he could, shutting off but holding onto the flashlight, and ran to where the others were, motioning for them to follow him into the house. They all filed in. Marty turned on the flashlight again and shined the light on the decrepit kitchen. “Hide in the kitchen as I check out the rest of the house,” he whispered.
“Quick, ladies, follow me,” Alexander whispered. Janice and Emily huddled on the floor of the kitchen as directed.
Marty swept through the entire house and found no one. He returned to the kitchen. “It’s all clear,” he said.
“You checked the closets?” Alexander asked.
“Of course,” Marty answered, a little indignant. “And the shower . . . Come, let’s hide out in the bedroom closet.”
They all crammed into the closet amidst hanging dresses and shirts.
Marty held onto the flashlight, shutting it off. In the blackness, he could hear Emily whimpering. He judged the gunfire was now outside the house.
The sweat of all four bodies commingled in the cramped and stifling closet. The battle raged on the street, and Marty prayed in silence that it wouldn’t find its way into the house. Emily’s whimpering stopped, replaced by a whistling sound as she exhaled. Marty was familiar with that sound.
“Emily,” Marty said. “Are you all right? Do you have asthma?”
“No.”
“No to which one?”
“No, I’m not all right. But I don’t know what asthma is.” The whistling again—just like with his asthmatic son.
Oh, shit. Well, at least she wasn’t turning into a zombie yet. Or was she?
“Emily, we need to leave the closet.”
“But you said—“. She coughed several times.
“I believe we’re safe now, don’t you Alexander?” He hoped Alexander didn’t choose now to be stupid.
He didn’t. “Yeah. Everyone out of the closet.”
They all left the closet and Marty put Emily on the bed, a grimy pillow propped up behind her. She continued to struggle to breathe, and Marty patted her down to verify that she had no inhaler with her.
“Alexander,” Marty said, “did you take an inhaler at the store?”
“No, but none of us were asthmatic.”
“Emily, I want you to relax,” Marty said. “We’re safe now. Take slow, relaxed, steady breaths. Can you do that for me? Say nothing, just nod.” They weren’t safe at all, but he needed her to relax.
She nodded. Marty could tell she was trying to relax, but it was still difficult for her.
Marty had had practice before with his son. Now was not the time to think about him, though.
Janice said, “Here Emily, drink this.” Marty shined the flashlight on an open can of cola. Janice must have gone to the kitchen, or wherever she found the can, unnoticed by him. The stimulant would help somewhat.
“Drink a gulp in between breaths, Emily,” Janice said. “Have you ever drunk a Coke before? Or Pepsi?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. It might taste bad, like medicine. And it will probably hurt your throat, but it’s very important that you drink it anyway, okay?”
She nodded and took a sip. She made a face.
“Okay, Emily, breathe slowly . . . Okay, take another drink, this time a lot more, okay?”
Janice mumbled something to Alexander, followed by footsteps leaving the bedroom.
Maybe the Coke would help in time, but for now Emily was getting worse. Someone needed to go back to the pharmacy in the supermarket. Feeling her way through the blackness of the living room, steering well clear of where she thought the coffee table was, Janice made it to the front window and peered through the curtains.
Two people in battle fatigues had assault rifles drawn. One person laid flat on the concrete landing atop the stairs, in front of the rear door of the supermarket, weapon pointing east, up the road, to Janice’s right. The other crouched behind the corner to the side of the loading dock, weapon pointing west. Gunfire flashed from that direction, the front of the battle now advancing away from them. Janice hoped to God these were military, as they were winning. Three dead bodies
