Stephens nestled into a tight spot against the building and he rubbed his belly. “Damn, that enchilada MRE I was saving would be nice right about now.”
Jacob looked back at him and whispered, “I’d just like a bottle of that water in my bag.”
Tyree pulled a small bottle of water from his knapsack. He twisted off the cap and took a sip before passing the bottle on. Even though his mouth was dry, Jacob sipped sparingly at the precious liquid. He could have all the water he wanted once they reached the lake. His stomach growled; Murphy heard the noise and looked back at him, grinning.
“Me too, brother,” Murphy said.
Jacob sat pressed back against the building and listened to the sounds of battle coming from the city center. Like a violent thunderstorm, the air rumbled and cracked while the ground shook with the impacts of faraway bombs. The sky was now filled with smoke and the scent of burning wood and plastic hung heavy in the air. Helicopters flew back and forth over them as the sun broke the horizon.
Jacob closed his eyes and let the warm sun dry his skin. He was exhausted and knew that he might not get another chance to sleep. His mind raced, thinking about Laura and Katy. Where were they? And were they safe? Were they worried about him? Was he doing the right thing? Should he have gone south like the first sergeant warned him? He must have drifted off and the thoughts became just a small part of his nightmares until a hand squeezing his shoulder woke him.
He looked up into the sweaty, dirt-streaked face of Tyree. The young man held a finger to his lips. Jacob understood and looked across at Murphy who was now sitting with his knees up, his rifle rested across them, and his eyes to the rifle sights. Straining, Jacob could pick up the sounds of movement. The Others were close—and there were a lot of them. He could smell the burnt rubber and sulfur stench. And the sounds, they didn’t sound like crowds of moving people—like a parade, or a crowd in a mall—but more like the rush of flowing water caused by fabric swishing against itself and the gentle plodding of feet against the pavement.
They were still hidden behind the garage—Stephens and Tyree to his left, Murphy just to his right near the fence. In one smooth motion, Murphy rolled to his side and ducked next to Jacob into the concealment of the garage. Moving on his belly, he crawled closer to the men, and then leaned forward.
“The street is packed; they’re moving again,” Murphy said as he looked back at the fence. He placed his hand on one of the clapboard planks. It was loose and pulled back easily. “As long as they stick to the streets, we can cut through the yards. We’re close now.”
Stephens nodded and moved next to the fence. Together, Murphy and Stephens quietly slid their hands up the plank, patiently loosening it, one precise pull at a time. Removing planks and setting them aside, they continued the process on two more boards until they created a gap in the fence.
Murphy pointed to Stephens and signaled for him to move out. Stephens quietly unclipped his rifle from his harness and held it through the gap with one arm as he stealthily moved through. After a long minute, Stephens’ hand stuck back through the gap to flash thumbs up, then an open palm to wave them on; Tyree went next and then Jacob passed through the gap. Stephens shot Jacob a quick hand signal, positioning him to where he could cover the left. Crouched low and duck walking ahead, Murphy moved in behind him.
Tall multi-family homes filled the lot. A beige stucco building was to their front with windows broken all the way to the roofline, and the front door hung wide open. Murphy moved them through the carport and halted the group beside a row of green overflowing dumpsters. Sprawled out in the grass, only feet away, was the body of a woman, her jacket sleeve torn loose, and Jacob could see she held a small revolver in her hand.
He stared at the back of the woman’s head, imagining how she’d gotten there and sad that she had no one to retrieve her body. Looking beyond the dead woman, he saw several more bodies. A barrier stood at the end of the carport: an SUV loaded with belongings. The doors of the vehicle were open to reveal an empty car seat still strapped to the backbench. Removing the woman’s pistol and dropping it in a pocket, Stephens scouted ahead to the SUV and searched for water and food. After a cursory check, he looked back, held up empty hands, and then patrolled on, quickly covering the open terrain and pressing against the beige building.
Jacob ran next, covering the space in a few strides and forcing himself not to look at the woman as he ran past her. He fell in behind Stephens and pressed against the building. He and Stephens waited for the rest of them before the team formed back up and pushed ahead along the side of the building while still hiding in the shadows. They avoided views of the street, choosing instead to stay close to the structures and hidden from the windows.
They continued this movement of leapfrogging open spaces, hugging buildings, and resting in the shadows. They paused often to rest while hiding and scanning their surroundings. As
