Chapter 12 (Prescott)

Prescott and his friends flee the capitol.

Waking up with a jerk Prescott briefly panicked. Clutching in the darkness he felt the pipes and wire ways  and remembered what had happened. At the moment the capitol was silent and he momentarily relaxed. Moved the ceiling tile aside he crawled towards the opening.

 Taking hold of a pipe he swung down onto the toilet. His cramped legs let go and he landed onto the toilet harder than he had intended to. The SBR hit the pavement and the porcelain toilet pinged.

 Prescott cringed and his heart thudded rapidly. His breathing sounded  as loud as an untuned lawnmower and he struggled to hold his breath.  

 "Easy." he whispered to himself.

 The aide dropped the magazine from his SBR and hefted it gauging the weight. He couldn't remember how many shots he had fired while retreating up the capitol steps. Determining that it was nearly full he eased the magazine into the well and slowly stood up. 

 Easing open the bathroom door he stuck his head out of the door and peered down the hallway. He checked both avenues then noiselessly slipped out of the room. His wingtips clicked on the marble floor so he took them off and padded down the hall in stocking feet.

 Passing a janitor's closet he heard whispering. Prescott softly knocked with a single knuckle and the whispering died. A choked sob sounded inside the room. A locking device clicked and the door opened a fraction. 

 "Prescott here." the aide whispered.

 "Thank God!" a man's voice said.

 The door opened further and Prescott could make out a SWAT officer in the gloom. He was cradling a woman who was silently sobbing.

 "Just the two of you?"

 "Yes. They're all gone I think."

 Prescott didn't know if the man meant their comrades or the creatures. Maybe he meant both.

 "What's your name, Trooper?"

 "Garza. The woman is Claire. She's pretty catatonic."

 "Okay, can you both move? Are you injured? We need to get out of here. This city is a dead zone. We can only assume that we're in the center of it. How are you on ammo?"

 "Nearly full, Sir. I was gathering civilians and secretaries into an office when they breached the building. Claire was in shock and huddled in a corner when I found her. It happened too fast for us to make it back to the others so we hid in here. The people I got into that office didn't make it. We could hear it. Jesus." the SWAT office explained; lamely trying to remain stoic.

 "You did just fine, Garza." the aide assured the young man "Claire is alive because of your quick thinking. Be proud of that." 

 Prescott figured the woman was too far gone to be of any use but he didn't want Garza faltering during their escape.

 "Claire? Do you want to leave?" 

 "Uh huh." the girl replied as she clutched the trooper and rocked in his arms.

 "Listen, Claire." Prescott said "I need you to carefully listen to everything I say. Nod if you understand me."

 The girl nodded at him. Her huge brown eyes welling with tears.

 Precott placed a hand on the brunette girl's shoulder and she jerked involuntarily.

 "Okay, honey. It's okay." the aide soothingly whispered.

 "We're going to leave the capitol and you have to stay right behind me. No talking. No arguing. You're going to be my shadow. Mr. Garza is going to watch our back so you need to focus on me and where I go. Don't panic. Don't scream. And if I start running you start running. Okay?"

 The girl nodded and Garza rubbed her shoulders. 

 "We can't outrun these things so we're going to avoid them. Only engage if there's absolutely no other course of action to be taken. Move fast but with stealth. My biggest concern is getting out of this building and across the street. That's going to be the most difficult part. Once we're in a residential area we can hide or hold up. That's the only thing I'm concerned about right now."

 Garza nodded and the girl briefly looked hopeful. Prescott gestured towards the trooper's footwear.

 "Take those boots off, Garza. We need to be as quiet as possible."

 Garza staring unlacing his boots while Claire stared at her own panty hosed feet.

 "You're fine, honey. Can you do this?"

 The girl nodded and stood up. Garza kicked his last boot off and quietly checked the load in his AR-15.

 "Okay." Prescott said "Let's do this."

 The entrance to the capitol was the goriest scene Prescott had ever seen. Bodies were tangled in the aluminum safety fencing and blood coated nearly everything. Spent brass cartridges were everywhere and they softly tinkled underfoot.

 Claire winced as broken glass cut into the soles of her feet but she doggedly followed Prescott ignoring the pain and bloody footprints she left behind.

 "I hope we don't catch anything from this blood." Garza mentioned.

 Prescott paused and looked down. Claire bumped into him.

 "Avoid it." the aide replied.

 Garza grunted and sidestepped a pool of congealed filth.

 Ducking through the shattered opening of what had once been a glass door the trio emerged into the sunlight. A few stringy clouds slowly floated overhead and the scene screamed normality until they looked upon the capitol grounds.

 The once tidy barricade now resembled a carefully built sandcastle that had been kicked to pieces by an unruly toddler. A light dusting of snow covered the carnage and Prescott could feel the cold sting of the pavement.

 The square belonged to the dead. Nothing moved as Prescott scanned the street. Then Garza nudged him.

 "Two o'clock." the trooper whispered. 

 The aide observed the quadrant then saw a man wearing a tee shirt and nothing else listlessly bumping against a shop window. Nodding in assent Prescott ducked while jogging towards a police cruiser. Using the vehicle as cover he looked behind him to watch Claire and Garza. They slid behind him wordlessly and Prescott pointed towards W. Mifflin Street. 

 "Once we get around that block we'll be in a residential neighborhood."

 "Mansion Hill." Claire responded.

 "Good girl." Prescott replied; happy to see she was coming around.

 "Why don't we find a car and take Washington Avenue out of the city?" Garza asked.

 Prescott looked annoyed. "We set up roadblocks on Washington. And it's a major route. It's bound to be congested. East Johnson Street is a straight shot out of the city. Plus," he said wiggling his toes his socks "we need some footwear."

 "One last bad stretch and we'll be home free."

 Claire and Garza didn't seem too convinced but Prescott didn't give them a chance to second guess him. The half nude creature turned the opposite way and the trio trotted across the road, backs hunched and weapons at the ready.

 After crossing Mifflin they crouched down at the intersection of North Pinckney Street. The one way street was empty except for a large yellow school bus and a few sedans parked in an angled lot. They eased up the street using the buildings as cover. 

 At East Dayton Street Prescott paused to let the young woman catch her breath. Claire clutched at him and he patted her affectionately. 

 "You're doing great, Claire." he praised "Fantastic in fact. Are you sure you're never done this before? Were you Special Ops? SEAL?"

 The girl blushed and pushed her head into his chest. He wrapped a protective arm around her and watched the street. Pounding could be heard in the distance. Prescott judged it was at least a block away.

 "How's our six, Garza?"

 "Stellar." the trooper replied while holding his rifle in the ready position.

 "One more crossing, honey."

 Claire looked at him hopefully while he stood up.

 "Are you ready?"

 "My feet are cold." she replied while rubbing the appendages.

 "We'll get you fixed up soon." Prescott promised "Let's jump this last hurdle. Okay?"

 Claire smiled brightly and nodded. 

 "Atta girl." the aide said as he grinned at her.

 Moving quickly they skirted a group of tangled cars and hopped the curb on the other side of the street. Ducking under a low hanging crabapple tree with bare limbs the trio slid between two stately houses and emerged into a small backyard. A few cedar waxwings took flight at their arrival.

 Prescott crouched behind a large recycling bin and listened for a moment. The pounding down the block was the only sound as far as he could tell. The snow in the neatly landscaped yard was undisturbed.

 "What is that?" Prescott asked as he motioned towards a small building in the back yard "A studio? Maybe a guest house?"

 "In this neighborhood it's probably a yoga retreat. Rich people, huh?” Claire suggested.

 Prescott had no idea what a yoga retreat was but the building looked secure and unmolested. He crossed the yard at a fast trot and twisted the doorknob. It was locked. The aide retrieved his wallet and fumbled with it before selecting a credit card. Within seconds the door was open and the three capitol survivors had slipped inside. 

 The building turned out to be an art studio with a small kitchenette. It was filled with bright landscape paintings and comfortable looking wicker furniture. Garza removed his sidearm and cleared the small back bedroom and the tidy bathroom. 

 "The grid is still up." Prescott remarked; grateful for the heating.

 Clair drank water straight from the tap then collapsed into a chair. Her feet had left bloody prints across the tiny kitchen's floor. 

 "Let's get those feet cleaned up." the aide suggested as he rifled through cabinets for antiseptic.

 

 After cleansing their wounds Claire curled up on the couch with a cashmere afghan and fell asleep instantly. Garza discovered a small minibar and uncorked a bottle of red.

 "Want a glass?" he asked Prescott.

 "I'd love one." the weary looking man replied.

 Garza filled a stemless glass and handed it to the thankful Prescott.

 Drinking deeply he let the wine roll over his tongue. After swallowing he acknowledged the trooper.

 "Excellent vintage."

 Garza nodded and emptied the glass. He filled another then sat down next to Prescott. Digging in his pockets he produced a pack of Camels and lit a cigarette with a shaky hands. Garza offered the pack to Prescott but the aide declined.

 Shrugging his shoulders in a "Your Loss"  manner the trooper inhaled deeply and reclined into the plush cushions.

 "I'm going to scavenge in the main house. Can you watch the girl?

 Garza exhaled and nodded.

 "Give this studio the once over. Pack up some food and water. Look for meds, batteries, flashlights, vehicle keys, and anything else of use. If we're lucky there's a car parked in the alley."

 Garza nodded intently. He waited for further instruction in silence.

 "What size shoe are you?"

 "9 1/2." Garza replied.

 "Me too." Prescott stated as he took another sip of wine. 

 "I'll find something for Claire also. We need some parkas too. And I'll try to find hats and gloves while I'm in there. It's not getting any warmer outside."

 Prescott reluctantly placed the wineglass on a tile covered end table. He sorely needed another glass but they had needs that he should provide for. 

 "You'll keep an eye on Claire?" he asked; already protective of the girl.

 "I got this. Go do your thing, Prescott."

 Glancing at the girl one final time the aide snuck out of the studio and quietly approached the house.

 Just as the studio had been secured the main house was locked tight. Prescott used his card on the lock and once again was able to secure entry. The back door led into a bright galley kitchen and he paused while listening. A furnace ticked somewhere in the bowels of the large home but besides that mechanical chatter the richly appointed home was silent.

 Shouldering his weapon the aide cleared the bottom floor room by room. In a large foyer closet he found a large cache of footwear and parkas. Tossing aside some noisy ski parkas he found a supple leather coat and a grey woolen fisherman's jacket. Near the rear of the closet he found a simple black parka with large stag horn toggles for Claire.

 The owner of the house had been a footwear fanatic (size 10 1/2) and within minutes Prescott had discovered a sturdy pair of Gore-Tex hiking boats and a light pair of kangaroo hide upland boots. The lady of the house had focused on formalwear and the selection was slim. Finally Prescott found a pair of running shoes and chose them. He stuffed the coats and footwear into a large reed basket that had been in the foyer corner and placed it near the rear door.

 Climbing the steps to the upper level the furnace still tick tick ticked in that redundant mechanical song. At the landing Prescott squatted in silence. Nothing.

 After clearing the top floor he entered the master suite. In the king sized bed an elegant silver haired man was curled into a ball. A silk robe neatly arranged around him and an orange pill container was clutched tightly in his hand. He had been dead for some time as the sweet odor of decay was just becoming evident. 

 Prescott rifled through a dresser drawer and stuffed a few pairs of woolen socks into his suit coat pocket. There were four doors in the master suite which he methodically cleared. The last door led into a rich study. Above the fieldstone fireplace were two handsome scrimshawed double barreled shotguns. He took the weapons off the rack and placed them on a walnut desk. After digging through the drawers he located a wooden ammo box filled with ammunition. In the corner was a canvas architect's bag. He dumped the blueprints and paperwork onto the plush throw rug and loaded the guns and ammunition into the handsome bag. Shouldering it he descended the steps and left the house.

 "Everything good?" Garza asked as Prescott slipped back into the studio.

 The aide nodded. "Try these on." 

 Garza scooped up the hiking boots and selected the woolen cruiser. 

 "Claire, here you go." Prescott said as he handed her the toggled parka and the running shoes. 

 "Thank you, Prescott." the woman said as she started to put the shoes on.

 "Wait." the aide said; remembering the woolen socks.

 Claire put them on and then the shoes.

 "They fit?" 

 "A little big. It's okay."

 "Good." he replied.

 Halfway through lacing up the kangaroo boots Prescott swore.

 "Damn! I forgot hats and gloves!"

 "Well make it. Besides," Garza said while smiling "we have heated leather seats!"

 The trooper held a BMW FOB in his hand. 

 "Did you start it?"

 "No. But it unlocked the doors." the trooper mentioned.

 "SUV?"

 "No, just a sedan."

 "It will do." Precott replied; snugging his last lace then tying a double knot.

 "Look at this!" the trooper said  while pulling one of the shotguns from the confines of the canvas bag.

 "We'll have to shorten them up." Prescott suggested.

 There's a small tool shed near the BMW." Garza related "Let me find a hacksaw."

 

 As Garza shortened the barrels of the shotguns with a hacksaw he had found in the tool shed Claire helped Prescott load a picnic basket with edibles and bottled water.

 "What are we going to do?" Claire asked as she filled a pillowcase with medicine and bandages from the bathroom cabinet.

 Garza panted as he sawed at the steel barrels. Listening quietly.

 "Before we lost control of the capitol I set up two safe houses for the governor. The closest one is a lodge on Castle Rock Lake. If everything went according to plan there should be a small detachment of armed guards there at this moment. It was a retreat for a wealthy Chicago artist around the turn of the century. Now it's just a rental for the rich and privileged . The property is remote and best of all fenced. There's a large generator and if we're lucky they were able to fill it with supplies before things got ugly."

 "Why not try reaching out to National Guard bases? Or other metro precincts?" Garza asked.

 Prescott shook his head. 

 "The Guard bases were abandoned and locked down to secure our border on the Mississipi and to maintain control in the larger cities. We'll need more than a credit card and some party tricks to gain entrance. As to the precincts, any still standing will probably be in the middle of the same mess we're currently trying to escape. The lodge on the other hand is remote, guarded, and God willing, well stocked. Low population equals low threat. I'm not forcing you two to do anything. If you'd rather stay here to search for family and friends, so be it."

 "My family is from West Virginia. I moved here for the job." Garza said "One step at a time. I'm no good to them if I'm dead." 

 "Claire?" Prescott asked.

 "I'm from Minneapolis."

 The men avoided eye contact with the woman. Her family was as good as dead.

 "Sorry to hear that, Claire." the aide whispered.

 "Dad died a few years back. Mom was the only one left. She's probably okay. She has a doberman." 

 Both men nodded in agreement. Anything to reassure the brave girl. Prescott patted her thigh and picked up one of the shotguns.

 "Have you ever used one of these, Claire?"

 The girl shook her head.

 "Okay. The first thing you need to know is that you always point the barrel in a safe direction. You never put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to discharge the weapon. Lastly you never shoot unless we tell you to or it's absolutely imperative that you do so."

 While Garza loaded their supplies into the BMW Prescott took a few minutes to show the woman the functions of the weapon and how to use it.