Staying Alive

18

The last thing Max remembered was leaving the farmhouse. He’d passed out into a deep, dreamless sleep from which he remembered nothing.

Next thing he knew, everyone was shouting.

Max’s eyes were open in an instant. Up ahead was a rudimentary roadblock made of tree trunks dragged into the road. If that college kid had gotten through, coming from the west, then that meant the roadblock was new. Brand new. That meant there was someone there.

Shit, this wasn’t good.

It’d looked like they’d crash into it. But Chad slammed on the brakes just in time, and the van came skidding to a stop.

“What do I do?” said Chad, sounding frantic and worried in the driver’s seat.

“Keep your heads down,” said Max.

Everyone did as he said.

“Guns as ready as you can get them,” said Max. “Or knives.”

It’d be hard to get their rifles ready in the confines of the cramped van. But if it came down to it, they could open the windows and stick the rifles out. If it really came down to it, they’d open the doors and get behind them for shelter.

Max’s hand was already on his Glock.

His leg was killing him, but he’d ignore it as best he could. He was pretty sure he could walk again now. He’d gotten enough rest. For now, at least.

And if he could walk, he could fight. Maybe not as effectively as before. But he’d do it.

Max was scanning the surrounding area through the slightly-tinted windows of the minivan.

“Should I turn around?” said Chad frantically.

“Not yet,” said Max. “Keep the engine on.”

“Shouldn’t I turn around?”

“Not yet,” said Max.

This time, Chad listened.

In the row of seats in front of him, Max saw Mandy reaching for her Mora knife. She pulled it from the plastic sheath.

That was good, thought Max. It meant Mandy was already getting over having killed that woman in self defense. If they lived through this incident, it would serve Mandy well. It would serve them all well. No one could afford to hesitate when defending themselves.

“We didn’t pass any other roads,” said Georgia. “There’s no other way.”

That was exactly what Max had feared.

“We’d have to head really far east, then north, before we could go west again,” said Mandy. Her hand was clutching her knife handle. “We’d use up too much gas…”

Max knew she was right. She’d spent more time with the maps than anyone else.

The whole area was getting overrun with people. They needed to get out. And fast. They couldn’t waste time driving east, even if they weren’t factoring in the gas. With the gas, they might never get out.

It was either get through this roadblock, or die trying.

There was no other way.

“I think I should turn around,” said Chad. “There’s got to be someone out here…”

“Don’t turn around, Chad,” said Max. “Don’t even think about it. Everyone, we’re going to have to get through this roadblock. Keep your eyes on the trees. Try to see if there’s any movement.”

They hadn’t been shot at yet. That seemed like a good sign. But it didn’t mean much. After all, if the roadblock creators intended to steal vehicles, for instance, it wouldn’t do them much good to shoot at them. They’d destroy the van in the process, rendering it useless for themselves.

No. If someone wanted the minivan, they were going to come close and take it by force, doing as little damage as possible to the vehicle.

Well, let them try, thought Max.

He gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg.

“What do we do?” whispered Mandy.

“We wait,” said Max. “Everyone, keep as silent as possible. Keep your heads down. They might shoot at the windows.”

Everyone fell silent. The time started to tick by. Impossibly slowly.

No one appeared. No movement.

“Maybe we should get out and move the logs,” whispered Chad. “Maybe they’re there by mistake?”

“No chance,” whispered Max.

“Yeah,” whispered Georgia. “Tree trunks don’t move themselves.”

“Well, maybe they put them there and left. Whoever they are.”

“Why go to all that work?” said James, speaking too loudly.

“James,” whispered Georgia. “We’ve got to stay quiet.”

“Sorry,” whispered James.

“Look,” whispered Sadie. “Over to the left.”

She had her head down as low as she could get it in her seat, and she was pointing off towards one of the trees.

Max saw it. A flash of movement.

“I hope it’s not the militia-style group we saw back at the farm,” whispered Georgia.

No one responded. Max was studying the trees where Sadie had seen someone. A full minute went by, and then another, and there was nothing.

But someone was out there, hiding in the trees.

Finally, the person in the trees moved again. This time, Max got a better look.

“It’s a woman,” whispered Max. “And she’s wearing civilian clothes.”

“Armed?” whispered Georgia.

“No rifle that I can see,” whispered Max.

“See anyone else?”

“No.”

“This is killing me,” said Chad. “We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to turn back, or try to go through.”

“Hold on, Chad, hold on.”

“Another one!” said Sadie, forgetting to whisper.

Max looked where she was pointing, to the other side of the minivan.

This time, there was no doubting what he saw.

It was a man, big and burly, wearing a dirty workman’s jacket, jeans, and boots. He was close enough to see his face, which was red and weather-beaten. He was in his mid 40s, and looked like he’d spent a lifetime working outdoors. He carried a shotgun, the sights raised to his eyes.

Max didn’t know why, but there was something in the man’s face that seemed trustworthy. He didn’t have a hint of malice in his eyes. Not that you could tell a book by its cover. Certainly not these days.

“Keep your eyes on the other side,” whispered Max.

“What do I do?” said Chad, speaking at full volume again out of nervousness.

“Nothing,” said Max. “Keep your eyes peeled. I’m getting out to talk to this guy.”

“Are you crazy?” said Mandy. “He’s got a gun.”

“I’m going to see if I can negotiate,” said Max. “We’re not going to shoot someone just because he has a gun. Not until he’s a threat, that is. Chad, if things go wrong, get everyone out of here. Turn the van around and drive fast.”

Before anyone could protest, Max was moving as quickly as he could to the minivan’s sliding door.

He held his Glock as he got down. Pain shot through his leg as he put his full weight on it, but he managed to stand straight. He slid the van door closed behind him. If something went wrong, if gunfire broke out, the van door might provide some protection for those inside. At least that was Max’s thinking.

But if things went south, Max wouldn’t be able to get back into the van easily. Maybe not at all.

The man with the shotgun was only about fifteen feet away. He was walking steadily towards Max, not varying his pace. He trained his shotgun onto Max’s chest.

Max held his Glock down, pointed towards the ground. He didn’t want to start things off with the threat of violence. Not unless he needed to.

Maybe what he was doing was crazy. But it seemed like the only solution. They needed to get through this roadblock, and a full out gunfight could have disastrous consequences. Maybe the only option was talking. That was what he was hoping for, at least.