3: Addison

Addison

 

 

          They left them. How had that happened? We need to go back, she thought desperately. We need to go back now. She felt a scratching at her throat and began to cough. Her lungs felt singed and her nostrils burned. All around them smoke was beginning to fill the air from a handful of nearby fires. No one seemed to know who had started them or why, but American citizens and invading soldiers alike seemed too distracted to care. Her mom held her hand, but the role of leading had switched to Addison. They stumbled and shifted their way down Courtney, the central street of Merritt Island. There were dozens of cars dead in the roadway with skid marks marring the asphalt, but they were still relatively south on the Island and the worst traffic was always concentrated in the center where all the businesses were. Even so, they had passed at least three head on collisions and one where a pickup had toppled a power line. The air was rank with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. A waving tower of smoke rose from somewhere farther on, and there were still screams and occasional pops that could only be gunfire.

          Up ahead, her father and brother were jogging to make sure everything was clear. They hadn't seen any of the soldiers since they passed the Seven-Eleven gas station where two uniformed men were shouting in accented English at the cashier while others were pumping gas into large jerrycans. "Papi!" Addison called out in a hoarse voice, stumbling again. She rubbed her eyes which were raw and stinging from tears that no longer seemed to come and the smoke that seasoned the air. "Papi!" she called out again.

          "Addison," her mom wheezed, clumsily stumbling and almost tripping over. She put her hands on her knees and shook her head. Her breath came in hurried and shallow rasps. "Addison, I can't go any more."

          "Yes, you can," her daughter pleaded. "You have to!" Addison knew her mom hadn't ran in over two decades. The exertion had to be grueling but they had to get out. She saw what they did to Michael.

          Michael. Addison bit her lip and trembled as she began to feel salty tears well up in her eyes and fall. He was like one of her brothers. He looked out for her and gave her advice and came to hang out with her when she was bored. She couldn't believe -

          No. She couldn't permit herself to think about it. Not right now. What happened was already done with. It broke her heart, but she needed to help her family. The others had stayed behind; that was their choice.

          "Mom, come on! We need to go! We can't stay here!"

          Beth Rodriguez put a finger up to her daughter. "Just," she rasped. "Just one minute. I can't breathe."

          "Papi! Mom has to rest!" Addison called out. She looked around apprehensively, but all she could see were a few other shadows much farther down the road and abandoned vehicles. Most of the population on the south end of the Island were long gone or locked within their houses. She hated that they were alone. It made her feel like an easy target. "Papi! Wait" Her father finally looked back and he and Jake hurried back.

          "Beth, come on! We'll slow down the pace but we need to keep moving. If we don't get out of here now, we may never get the chance."

          Jake stood stone-faced with rage and frustration. He had wanted to stay with the others but their parents had ushered them down the street as quickly as possible as soon as the paratrooper had landed on the roof. Her father had told her brother to run, and her mother had grabbed her by the arm to pull her away. She could still see the moment as clear as if it were happening. She had run a few feet, turned and saw Michael and Ryan sprinting the other way, toward the man. Not away like they should have. It was then that she started struggling. Her mother's fingers had clinched tighter on her arm, and Addison tried to pry them off but couldn't. She began screaming, begging. She watched Michael take a hard punch to the face as Ryan jumped on the man. But then it was there. Pointed directly at him. And Sarah was too far to get there in time.

          She had screamed and fell to her knees. Jake had tried to go back, but their father had grabbed him and held him back, saying there was nothing to be done. She didn't remember much after that. Things had just become mechanical. It was all a blur. Somehow they had gotten her back to her feet to run. Jake protested and fought to go back, but their father wouldn't let him. They had made it to Courtenay and hadn't stopped running.

          A coughing fit had come upon Addison again and with every heave her lungs felt crushed. None of this would seem real if not for the pain. That was the only detail preventing this all from being a bad dream. In dreams, the pain doesn't last.

          "You ready?" Ben asked Beth, eager to be back on the move. His wife still clutched at her knees and breathed short, labored breaths.

          "I can't do this," Jake said, his voice scratchy from the smoke. "Mom, Dad, I love you, but I have to go back."

          "Jake, it's dangerous back there," their mother argued, though her voice was weak.

          "Yeah, and it's dangerous out here, too. I have to see for myself. Maybe I can convince them to come with us. I'll never be able to live with myself knowing I never went back." Jake started to move away, back down the way they came. One step, then a second. He still faced his family, but he was still moving away.

          "Ben, do something!" Beth coughed desperately. "Stop him!"

          Ben looked at his son. A mixture of pride and betrayal hung in his dark eyes. "I can't make him do anything, Beth. I love you, son."

          "No, Ben! You can't let him go! Jake, get back here!" Beth Rodriguez straightened up and tried to walk to her son but faltered and fell to a knee. She began to sob uncontrollably.

          "Jake," Addison said quietly, "you are coming back?"

          Her brother nodded. "I'll try to get some of them to come, too. We'd do better in a bigger group. And they have all the food and water. We'll catch up!"

          "I'll go, too," Addison offered.

          "No!" came both of her parents voices, strict and final. "I'm not letting both of my children go," her mother said, still choked with tears.

          She decided she wouldn't leave even if she had their blessing. Her mother was struggling to stand while her father helped, his face drawn in a  hurt she had never seen before. Her mouth opened a little in shock. He's already mourning his son.

          "I'll be back," Jake promised, turning and starting to jog away.

          "Jake," their father called out, loud and desperate. He turned. "I love you!"

          "I love you, too. Keep going, we'll catch up!" With that, her brother turned and ran off, his figure growing smaller with every step. Addison felt close to vomiting, but her stomach was too empty to release anything.

          "This isn't real," she said quietly to herself. No one replied. There was no comforting response. "Mom," she urged again, turning away from the vanishing shape of her brother. "We need to go. Like, right now."

          Beth looked up and grimaced in pain, but slowly she began to shuffle her feet. The trio of Rodriguez moved forward, regardless of how slow, they were at least moving.

          A distant rumble turned Addison's attention to the east, but she couldn't see anything beyond the night sky. Another, fainter grumble in the darkness. Somewhere in Cocoa Beach she knew hell was being released, but that wasn't her concern. All that mattered was getting through Courtenay. Everything else was beyond her consideration for the moment.

          They shuffled along on edge. Their heads turned at every sound. Chaos could be heard off to the north and to the east, but around them things were quiet. Too much so for Addison's comfort. The loud hums of planes and shouts and screams had all given way to a silence that was foreboding and unsettling. They came to an intersection and crossed the street quickly. Some sickly sweet scent lingered in the air. It was unpleasant and pungent. As they walked it became more pronounced and a noticeable trace of ammonia complimented the original scent. Addison wrinkled her nose and frowned as it grew stronger. Running parallel with the road was a deep retention ditch full of overgrown weeds. In it she made out some kind of amorphous mass. As they grew closer the smell increased. "Papi, what is that?"

          "I can't really see," Ben replied. "Let's just stay away from it and keep going." The shape was just off from the sidewalk, and Addison let go of her mother for a moment to check it, ignoring Beth's whispered urges for her to get back. She got closer, her shoes whisking across the unkempt grass. Then she let out a shriek and took a hasty step backwards and fell. She squirmed away as her heart hammered heavily in her chest. It was a body of an old man. His slight facial hair along his jaw line was white and coarse above an slacked mouth full of crooked teeth. His eyes were partially open, staring blankly ahead. On the green shirt he wore there were two splotches of dark stains that were heavy on the fabric and glistened in the moonlight. Another stain, long and dark ran from the center of his pants down a leg in a snaking river that reeked of the heavy scent they had caught. The poor man had pissed himself as he was gunned down.

          "Papi," she whimpered, still scuttling back fearfully. Her father's strong hands clasped around her shoulders and he whispered to her.

          "It's okay, I've got you. There's nothing we can do for him. Let's just try and get out of here. Shh, it's okay."

          She wasn't made for this. As her father helped her up, she started wishing and praying that it would all be over. She wanted to wake up now and have it all be over. Once it was, she could go take a shower and let herself forget about this nightmare and never revisit it.

          But she couldn't wake from reality. The dead man was still dead. Jake was still gone. No one was coming to wake them.

          "Let's cut across this street here," Ben Rodriguez began, but his voice tapered off at the last word. Two soldiers, clad fully in black, stepped onto Courtenay from a side street. Their boots were tall and laced high, heavy knee pads and elbow pads were strapped onto their joints, their gloves glimmered in the light, each had a vest tightly compacted with pouches for equipment, their helmets were fastened, and most unsettling was their balaclava masks, that hid all of their face except the eyes which were protected by goggles. They spoke in a foreign tongue as they moved, their weapons firmly in their hands in front of them.

          Ben put his finger to his lips as he looked to his wife and daughter, but one of the soldiers cast a sideways glance and pointed instantly, shouting something.

          "Run, Addison!" Ben commanded, giving his daughter a hard shove. She nearly lost her balance and stuck her hands out to brace against the concrete sidewalk. She looked back, startled and hurt. The two soldiers were racing down the road, shouting something with harsh voices and gesturing, but it was her parents she looked to. Her mother's make-up ran in smeary trails from her eyes and her expression was distorted by grief. Her father waved her away frantically. "Go, Addison!" he shouted.

          Without much time to think, she obeyed. She found her footing and began to run as quickly as she could. Her long stride carried her away swiftly, but she faltered and turned back around. Her father was on his knees with his hands on his head as one of the masked men grabbed his wrists and was binding them together. Her mother was screaming something at Addison and trying to push the soldier away. She waved her arms, shouted something, but  a rifle butt came down hard on her between the shoulder blades and she went to her knees wailing. Addison screamed but turned and ran. She ran as fast as her body would allow. She didn't want to look back; she couldn't. There was nothing for her there. Not anymore. It was Jake she needed to find now. Her brother was her hope.

          She didn't know if they were following her, she dared not stop and look. Her shoes padded against the concrete and asphalt. The only thing she could hear was her pulse and the only thing she could taste was the salt from her tears. Sweat began to bead at the nape of her neck, but she didn't feel it. Nothing mattered to her. Nothing but getting to Jake. She angled quickly to the right, cutting through several unfenced yards. Without any true pattern, she began weaving through the yards and between houses. The windows of the homes seemed to follow her, black lifeless eyes like those of the old man. They followed her trail as she fled.

          Only one dog barked at her as she passed.

          Her lungs were on fire and a cramp had woven itself firmly into the right side of her ribcage and she had to stop. She began coughing violently and bent forward with a fear she may gag or vomit. Her breaths came rapidly and she straightened herself up while placing her hands atop her head. As she calmed down, she examined her surroundings. The houses looked familiar. She wasn't far from her house now, only two blocks. She shifted her torso and let out a small shriek. The pain in her side twisted like a knife blade when she moved. Wincing, she took a few hesitant steps forward. Almost there, she told herself.

          One step, two, three. It was becoming easier with each stride. The stitch was beginning to fade and the pain less fierce. Four, five, six. She could do this. She could make it.

          A gloved hand covered her mouth while an impossibly strong arm wrapped around her waist. No! she wanted to scream out at the top of her lungs, but all she could do was make muted and strangled sounds. Her feet left the ground and she began to squirm, shake, and thrash to try and break free. The pain in her side shot back up again, but she didn't care. Her fingernails dug into the thick black fabric covering the arm around her. Jake! Miguel! Someone, help me! she wanted to cry as loud as her voice would let her, broadcast it as far is it could go, but the gripped material on the palm of a large glove kept her mouth sealed. She tried to bite but it only resulted in a violent shake from her assailant.

          She began to lose energy. Her motions became less spastic and less frequent until she was spent. All willpower had fled her and she had no more tears to shed. There was nothing to do but accept it.

          No one was coming to save her.