Pestilence

51

Howie shouted for his daughter but didn’t get a response. She apparently couldn’t hear anything else over her own screaming and crying.

He tried shaking the box, but nothing happened. The door on the outside was locked with a padlock that he could hear clink every time he pushed on the door. He pressed on the backside of the box. Leaning into it, he thrust back with his leg, and the metal gave a little. The box wasn’t against the wall as he had originally thought.

Howie kicked again and again, and the metal caved a little each time. He kicked at least five more times before the corners of the box bent and gave way. After a final kick, the side was bent enough that he could push it off. It crashed to the floor, and he crawled out, his head spinning and the blood draining out of his nose.

He climbed off the counter the box was sitting on, then ran to the door where the screaming was coming from and opened it.

A guardsman, the only one in the room, was trying to tear Jessica’s clothing off. Red handprints marked her face, and she was fighting as hard as she could. The guardsman heard the door open and turned as Howie sprinted at him.

The blow knocked the wind out of both of them, and Howie landed on top of him. Howie had his hands around the guard’s throat, and some of his blood dripped into the other man’s opened mouth and eyes. The guard screamed, trying to wipe away the blood.

Howie got a good grip on the man’s throat, and his eyes bulged when Howie’s grip tightened. He wasn’t trying to get the blood off himself anymore, but, making hoarse, guttural sounds, he was scrambling to pull Howie’s fingers away. Howie didn’t let go, his arms straining like serpents wrapped around their next meal, until the man’s body went limp beneath him.

He stood and turned to his daughter, who was crying and holding torn clothing to her body. Holding his head away, he put his arms around her, and she cried for a long time. He wasn’t sure how long because he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

“We need to go,” he said.

He took the guard’s rifle, which was propped against the wall, and put the strap around himself as they opened another door that led to a dark hallway. He walked slowly to make as little noise as possible but couldn’t hear anyone else. As they rounded a corner, he heard laughter coming from another room.

He motioned for Jessica to wait in the hall and then glanced in. Four guardsmen playing poker were drinking and laughing, their rifles stacked neatly on a table across the room. He lifted the strap of the rifle off himself and walked calmly into the room, pointing the barrel at the first guardsman’s head.

“I want the keys to any jeeps outside.”

They sat silently, glancing at each other, until a blond one with a cigar in his mouth took the cigar out and said, “Fuck you. You want-”

The round tore into the side of his head and burst his brains over the table, staining the playing cards red. The body fell to the side into one of the others. The remaining guards didn’t move.

“I don’t have time. The keys, now, or I’ll kill all of you and find them myself.”

After the men were locked away in boxes in the room he had woken up in, Howie and Jessica exited through a side door. The building was just a warehouse. Out front were two jeeps and a Humvee. He unlocked the passenger door to the Humvee and helped Jessica inside. He got into the driver’s seat, started it, and pulled away.