Waking Up to Nothing Part 5

Boarded buildings and entryways, high wooden planks, and large sheets of corrugated metal gave the illusion of a walkway as people lined up with their goods. Many risked their lives hoping to bargain for something better, anything that would buy them an extra day. Some traded weapons for food and supplies or essentially anything that once required money.

At first glance, it almost appeared like a street market. It was easy to forget the infinite number of zombies on the other side of the wall. I turned my head away from it on a bitter swallow. Taking in my surroundings, I noticed the entire area was heavily monitored. There were several men and women patrolling the area with assault rifles. Some walked with the crowd, instilling fear and control with their every step while others remained more inconspicuous and hidden in the shadows. I fell in step beside Grace, watching her move through the crowd like a local.

Desolate faces were marred with hunger and depression. Their dull, sallow eyes searched for a spark of hope. Malnourishment clung to their paper skin, and it was enough to bring a tear to my eye. I wiped it away like sweat before anyone caught my moment of weakness.

Though it did not stop anxiety from creeping into my skull as I envisioned my little brothers begging for someone to save them. I was reminded of the lost children who were wandering the world, orphans surviving this perilous, unbelievable thing we now called life.

Forcing the feeling aside as we approached a man who concealed his face under a black mask, I trailed closely behind Grace. Like her namesake, she was pleasant as she greeted him. The backdrop of the ruined city behind him was a haunting indication that this boarded walkway was only a smidge of protection. My thoughts drifted to a time when this city was thriving and beautiful with lots of boisterous life pouring through its streets.

I watched Grace speak gently to the man, taking his hand in both of hers. The black Fmask fit snugly across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Only the faintest silhouette of his facial features was visible. His deep, pitted eyes were pools of drowned misery and sorrow. His free hand held a small child who was attached to his leg and a smaller child was attached to the other. Three more older children sat to the side with hunger in their bellies, tears in their eyes, and fear in their hearts. Each was a sullen husk of once-happy beings.

From their conversation, the man was offering two of his five children because he could not take care of them. My chest tightened as my heart winced. It was a fate no parent wanted to endure, yet he was standing here contemplating the impossible. I couldn't fathom the constant waves of dread weighing on his heart. It was heavier than any stone.

This life did not spare children. The smaller the more threatening.

We finally disconnected from the man before I suffocated in his aura of agony. We were coming up on a woman with an athletic build. She was average height, most likely of Hispanic descent, but covered in lean muscle. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail underneath a wide-brimmed hat. She was offering her skills as a scavenger. Her stance was no-nonsense, and with a firearm on her hip and an assault rifle to her right, it was hard not to believe her.

"Hey, Lucinda," Grace said, bumping elbows with the woman in greeting. "How's it been today?"

She sighed, wiping sweat from her brow. She took off her hat for just a moment to fan herself. "The same as before. After that incident with the robbers, word is getting out and people are afraid to come here to trade or find sanctuary."

Grace's head hung low, pausing for a beat. "It's a sign of the times. I fear things will only get worse before they are better."

Lucinda nodded her head in agreement, her determination unwavering as her fingers dusted the firearm on her hip. "I feel worse for Gaige over there having to sell his kids."

Grace's gaze teetered between Gaige's awful dilemma and the scavenger Lucinda. She spoke so low it could have been a whisper. "I am sure it is taking everything in him to do that. Take care, Lucinda."

She tilted her hat to us as we parted.

The closer we approached The Cap the more it looked like Lucinda had described. Some sought asylum while others searched for missing family members or any news about the world's status. Upon entering the wide, open space we noticed an intense group standing on beaten crates in the design of a stage.

It was chaotic. They were shouting, cursing, and throwing their fists in the air. The passion in their eyes was a contrast to the chill in their hearts. Some were spreading the news, providing crucial updates about the world and a list of other sanctuaries in Orange County. This infectious disease couldn't be limited to only California. From the account of these informers, the majority of the United States had been plagued. There was nowhere to hide.

Grace linked our hands together as we pushed through the crowds. Armed militia remained close by ready to attack at the first sign of an uprising. Despite their role, their presence aggravated the crowd further. People were asking questions but not getting many answers.

Grace faced me, hot fire burning in her eyes. "We've got to be in and out. The crowd is getting nasty."

After weeks of dealing with a crumbling world, people were beyond patience and hope. It was hard to remain tightly wrapped together when your belly is growling with every step and your mouth is so dry it hurts to swallow. Adding zombies to the mixture was next-level stress.

Grace picked up the pace, her hand gripping tighter as we brushed against hostile bodies threatening to rip us apart. We held each other like our final lifeline. Grace did not stop until we were a safe distance from the crowd. At that moment, a glass bottle sailed through the air knocking a woman on stage in the eye. She had announced the facility was low on water and sleeping pads.

She was the messenger, and the crowd was growing extremely fearful and uncertain. A younger man who had shared the stage with her jumped to her defense as people threw more trash. At that moment, three guards closed in at various angles prepared to unleash a hail of bullets.

Grace started a conversation with the woman before us advertising fruits, more specifically the apples that I liked so much. The chocolate skin around her eyes crinkled as she smiled. Dark curls framed her small shoulders. She was petite in stature with a gentleness to her that was rare to see during these times.

"Hi Evelyn, this is Perris," Grace said, gesturing in my direction. "She's the one who loves to eat your apples."

Smiling weakly, I kept the crowd in the background of my senses.

Evelyn grinned nonetheless. "Here take all of these. I know it's hard to get up here. Grace says you two have a long journey."

I took the sack filled with red apples. My stomach hollered from gazing at their shiny, red skin. Afraid to take one juicy bite, I slipped them into my knapsack.

"There's been unrest in this area for days," she said. "We are being overwhelmed with the amount of people arriving. People don't want to go back to life outside the walls, but we're running low on everything."

"Evelyn, you should find safety," Grace warned. Her teeth worried her lower lip. "The crowd looks like it's going to get rowdy soon."

"Oh, I am," she assured, already packing up her things. "I was waiting on you because you said you'd return today."

Evelyn's soul was too soft to deal with life outside of the walls. People like her deserved to be spared. Though, it was hard to decipher if she was safer inside or out.

Grace grasped Evelyn's hand as a series of emotions scribbled across her features from fear to love and concern. "Take care, Evelyn. Please."

Grace brought her attention to me, eyes stern and her posture settled. "I wanted to retrieve some more intel, but it looks like we'll have to cut our trip short."

We prudently examined the dangerous crowd with the only goal of making it as far away from the area as possible. Filling our packs with as much as they could hold, we ducked off into the crowd. We became one with the crowd, punching our fists in the air and keeping our eyes low. We'd finally escaped out into the pathway that led us inside The Cap.

I held my breath, afraid to exhale. There was a man standing beside Gaige with a gun pointed at his head. The man was wearing a brown ski mask with red spray paint. Even from our spot several yards away, I could see the meatiness of his arm. The man was stocky with bulging muscles peeking from under his shirt sleeves. Black ink crawled down his arm, wrapping around his elbow to end at his wrists. Despite the threatening situation, the intricately beautiful design was prominent against his olive skin.

Gaige was not perturbed by the loaded gun at his head. He dropped to his knees, clutching his daughter close to his chest. He immediately shoved the other child to the older siblings. Each of them was paralyzed with fear. Gaige was begging the man not to take his daughter. His eyes were watery, open pools drowning in heartache. He broke down into a full sob.

The tattooed man laughed, pushing the nose of the gun further into Gaige's head. "You can't change your mind now," he taunted.

Gaige's hands visibly tightened around his precious daughter. My mind felt detached and my body inched forward as if I were in a trance. My feet moved on their own. I had no plan, but I knew we could not sit on the sidelines and let this man kill Gaige and steal his children...or worse.

Gaige was forced to stand on his feet as his daughter was ripped from his clutches in the same motion. The sorrowful sound that erupted from the depths of him was nearly unbearable.

"Please, she's only five years old," he pleaded. "She's just a child. It was a mistake..."

She was his baby.

The area was frozen in suspense. The only sound was the distant crowd beyond the walls, which was still a growing concern if it didn't settle. Shifting the weapon from Gaige's head to his daughter, the area came alive with gasps and shouts. From the corner of my eye, I could see Lucinda kept her hands close to her own weapons ready to draw them at any moment. Even some of the patrolling guards emerged from their shadows for a closer look.

My heart thundered loudly in my ribcage. My ears throbbed from the thumping and my hands felt numb even as I rubbed my fingers together. I was spacy, I knew the scene before me was real but I felt I'd been caught in a dream.

Gaige dropped to his knees, arms reaching out for her as his fingers grasped air. As the masked man snatched the little girl from her father's reach, Grace made her way between Gaige and the robber. I had to be dreaming because I found myself at her side. My heart was a wild pumping machine. My unfastened mind tried to hold the strings of reality as I registered I could die behind this. Yet, my soul knew I could not stand by and watch them perish.

Behind the comfort of his mask, the man's eyes glittered upon seeing us defy him. He was entertained. "I can work with this too," he mused.

Grace's eyes were liquid fire reflecting the passion boiling inside her. It was enough to give me the strength I needed to stand beside her. "Let him and his daughter go."

His head tilt curiously. "Oh? Because you want me to?"

He towered over us, yet Grace still squared her shoulders. "Do not hurt them."

Our masked assailant lowered his head, coming within inches of our faces. I watched tiny fibers from his mask sway as my breath kissed it. Beady, dangerous eyes stared to intimidate. The suspense was going to kill me if he didn't. But Grace didn't move, so neither did I. Then, in the next breath, he grabbed Grace by her nape and tossed the child back to Gaige.

My body was light years ahead of my brain, already in movement trying to grab Grace. The man successfully kept me at arm's length with ease.

"Grace!"

"Perris!"

Attacking him was like trying to knock down a wall. He slid his meaty fingers around her throat so she'd stop fighting him. I heard the sound of several guns clicking as their chambers loaded. Panic emerged from all crevices of the marketplace. In a split second of clarity, I thought of Lucinda as my aid. My hands went for the weapon on my hip as Gaige was securing me from behind stilling all movement.

The cold, metal end of the gun was now pressed against Grace's head.

Everyone was icy once more, even Lucinda, bracing ourselves for the worst. The masked man was not alone as some of his comrades oozed from their hiding places in the shadows. The few guards still in the area were forced to drop their guns upon the ambush.

I pulled against Gaige's still arms to no avail. "Please," I whispered.

The man put his hand up to his ear, pretending he could not hear me. He was making a mockery of us. "I'm sorry hun, could you say that again for me?"

Tears threatened to spill over my eyes. I swallowed the thick log in my throat, trying to project my voice. At first, there was nothing even as my lips formulated the words. I tried again. "I'm asking you not to hurt her."

His laugh boomed in the tense space. He began to disarm her, shoving her gun and knife into his pockets. Holding her by her hair, he pulled her up to her feet and sucker-punched her in the stomach. She doubled over for so long that I thought she was down for good.

When she could stand to her feet, Grace shook her head once, silently begging me not to get more involved. "I'll go," she said suddenly. "I'll go just let them stay."

I felt nausea rise in my gut. "What? No, wait!"

"Perris, stop!" she shouted.

I moved on autopilot, breaking free from Gaige's arms. Almost instantly, I was in front of the burly man. My gun was pointed at the space between his eyes. I tried to shield Grace from him, though it was futile. Slapping me so hard my head snapped, he grabbed me the same as her, fingers squeezing tightly around my throat. I had no choice but to drop the gun.

"Now I have two for the price of one," he announced to the bystanders. He snatched his gun from his hip, angling it to someone behind us. "Put that shit down you can't shoot me."

We heard Lucinda yelp in pain as someone from the ski mask crew hit her. She was washed in torment and helpless against the perpetrators. Gaige remained a safe distance away, keeping his children close. The father was beaten with more grief than when we first arrived but it was better this way. I was being kidnapped in exchange for a child's life. It wasn't how I envisioned my death but I had to have hope.