"Do you have a plan? You seem like the type of guythat can handle himself. I don't want to be caught in here when it goesbad." The lady began forking the food into her mouth after speaking. Itwas as if articulating the words out loud had made the situation real andkicked her into high-gear.
Zeke laughed. "Always be prepared. You must havebeen a Boy Scout when you were a kid."
With a mouth full of breaded meat and gravy, the ladysaid, "Nope... I was a Brownie? So what's your big plan? A man like youmust have a plan."
"The plan? The plan is to rest up and be ready tomove when it all goes down."
The lady ate another bite of food, her delicate,soft-hands seeming out of step with the look in her eyes. She had the look ofstubborn survival, undercut with a side of grief. It was an old look, not thesort of thing you'd expect to see on a housewife's face. Without having to ask,Zeke knew her story. Her family was dead, and she was shuffling on. Had shelost a husband? Kids? More than that? It didn't matter. Zeke had no one tolose. He could be strong enough for her, if she would let him.
"How do you think it's going to happen?" thelady said.
Zeke leaned back against the hard, plastic seat, raisinghis arms above his head and stretching. He pulled his sealed bottle of wateroff the floor, unscrewed the top and tipped it back. "I think that when ithappens, it's going to happen fast. There will be chaos, and that's when wehave to make our move. Without a vehicle, we don't get out of here. Withoutweapons, food and water, even if we get out of here, we'll only be able tosurvive for a few days at most."
Zeke pressed the side of the fork to the mystery meat onhis plate, separating a bite-sized piece with minimal pressure and popping itinto his mouth. "When it goes down, we'll know it's going down. In themeantime, eat, drink, be merry, save your water bottles and keep them filled.We'll keep someone on watch at the front of the Coliseum. When things go south,we'll all get out of here together."
"What about weapons?"
Zeke swallowed his meat, salt and grease clinging to histhroat like desperation. "Look around. Everything is a weapon. The key isto keep them off of you. Killing them is good, but keeping them off of you so youcan escape is just as good if not better."
"How many people do you have going on this littlefield trip of yours?"
"Well, there's me and my man Louis over here."Zeke was about to slap Louis on the arm, but he saw that Louis had finallyfallen asleep. His tray leaned precariously on his lap, so Zeke picked it up asgently as he could and set it on the concrete ground. "Then we've gotthose guys over there as well," he said, pointing towards Brian.
The lady turned her head and looked at them. The look onher face let Zeke know that she wasn't thrilled that they were being includedin the package. "Seriously? Kids?"
Zeke took a sip from his water bottle and nodded hishead, as if there would be no negotiating.
"What makes you think you can keep those kids alive?"
"I can't. But there's vehicles out there that can.You ever heard of a Stryker?" Zeke asked.
"You mean like someone goes on strike? My husbandalmost went on strike last year." Zeke didn't know what she was going tosay next, but whatever it was it caught in her throat and would not come out.
Zeke thought it best to forge ahead, so he said,"Yeah, well, a Stryker is an armored personnel carrier. They call it anAPC in the military. It's pretty much impervious, runs on eight wheels, and canwithstand all sorts of small arms fire. It's got room for ten. We get thosekids in there, and we should be able to get out of the city. So what do yousay? You want to come with us?"
The lady looked over her shoulder again, eyeing the kids.Disgust was etched on her face, and something else. That's when Zeke knew thatshe had lost more than her husband. She had lost it all.
The lady looked back at him and said, "If it comesdown to me or those kids, I'm not saving them. You got that?"
She had lost everything, including her compassion. Zekeknew the feeling. Hopefully, he could help her find it again. "They're notyour responsibility. No one can make them your responsibility."
The lady locked eyes with him. Brown eyes, clear asglass, not a speck of madness in them. "If those kids get bit, someonebetter take them down. Or else I will."
Zeke didn't have much to say to that. He knew that therewere dead children out there, faces pressed against the chain-link fences. Theidea of having to kill one of them had never crossed his mind. The idea ofhaving to kill a living child on the verge of turning made his skin crawl.Putting a gun to the head of an adult trying to feed on you was one thing,putting the gun to the head of a child that you could hold at arm's length was another.
"You understand?" the lady said.
Zeke nodded his head, and then the sadness flooded intoher eyes, the logical, cold-blooded part of her, diluted by the cut of grief.She pulled a tiny bottle of wine from her purse, unscrewed the aluminum cap andtook a sip. She held it out to Zeke. He shrugged his shoulders and took it fromher. It tasted like acidic grape juice. It wasn't a PBR, but it would do thejob.
"Good, now I don't feel like such analcoholic."
"That makes two of us."
For the first time, the lady smiled, lips parting likeclouds, teeth like rays of
