original route changed, but our plan did not. I was pissed about what Jen had done--unnecessarily putting us in danger like that--but I hoped that some good would come of it, and the noise of the gunfire and horn would draw people away from the museum.
I took a left onto Broadway, then a right onto 5th. I had to drive up on the sidewalk, because this is where the head-on collision had taken place. This was also where I wrecked my car. The cars were all still there, but not the bodies. The old man I hit with my car might have lived, but there was no way the man in the other wreck survived. They were both gone. There must have been other healthy people out disposing of bodies.
I escorted Jen to the front of the museum. She pulled in close with the passenger side of the pickup near the front door. She got out, pulled out the garbage bag of stuff and the shotgun, and ran inside. I sat in the van and watched to make sure she was in, and then I pulled the van to the side of the building on North Street underneath a window. I got the passenger side in as close to the building as I could; I even scraped off the side mirror in the process.
When I got out, I could see Jen inside at the window breaking out a pane of glass. I fed her the extension cord, and then I ran around and got back into the van. Stepping into the back, I started up the generator. Then, I grabbed the rifle and the Captain Morgan, hopped out, and locked the doors. The sound of the generator was noticeable inside the van, but not as loud as I thought it would be.
I was about to run to the front door, when I noticed that the corpse of the woman I'd hit with my car wasn't in the street anymore. Someone was definitely removing the bodies. It made me wonder if we still had a city government, or if it was a group of regular citizens.
I didn't have time to think about it right then. I went around to the front of the building. Across and up the street, the delivery van was on its side at the newspaper office. In the museum lot, the little red truck was resting on the splintered sign. It was so quiet and still and unnerving. I went inside, relieved we were able to get in so quickly and without any interference. I locked the front door and looked around.
The place was as I'd left it. No one had been in. I walked through the small gift shop and permanent collection toward my office. The extension cord was hanging down the side of the wall below the window in the giftshop.
"Jen?"
No answer.
She was in the office sitting in my chair.
"C'mon, Jen, we need--"
She held up a hand. She was on my office phone. Her red bandana was pulled down around her neck like a kerchief. I pulled my own mask down.
"We need to--"
"Shhh," she said.
I left her to her call, grabbed the end of the orange cord, and tugged it through the broken window and into the office.
"It's just ringing," she said.
"Who are you--"
"Shhh."
The office computer equipment and modem were plugged into a power strip. I unplugged it from the wall and plugged it into the orange cord. The light on the modem came on.
Jen hung up.
"I was checking on my brother," she said. "He lives near Kansas City. Nobody answered."
I went straight to the phone and dialed my mom. I listened to it ring and watched Jen turn on the computer.
"What the hell were you thinking back there?" I said.
"I won't put up with that shit," she said, not looking at me.
"You could have gotten both of us killed.
"You didn't have to stay."
"You know, if what they say is true, and they're just running on base instincts, then we're going to see a lot more of that," I said.
"Then you're going to see a lot more killing," she said.
The phone rang almost twenty times, so I hung up.
"It's working," she said. "I'm online.”
I got out my laptop and plugged into the power strip and one of the other ports on the modem.
"I'm on CNN’s website," she said. "No new stories
I took a left onto Broadway, then a right onto 5th. I had to drive up on the sidewalk, because this is where the head-on collision had taken place. This was also where I wrecked my car. The cars were all still there, but not the bodies. The old man I hit with my car might have lived, but there was no way the man in the other wreck survived. They were both gone. There must have been other healthy people out disposing of bodies.
I escorted Jen to the front of the museum. She pulled in close with the passenger side of the pickup near the front door. She got out, pulled out the garbage bag of stuff and the shotgun, and ran inside. I sat in the van and watched to make sure she was in, and then I pulled the van to the side of the building on North Street underneath a window. I got the passenger side in as close to the building as I could; I even scraped off the side mirror in the process.
When I got out, I could see Jen inside at the window breaking out a pane of glass. I fed her the extension cord, and then I ran around and got back into the van. Stepping into the back, I started up the generator. Then, I grabbed the rifle and the Captain Morgan, hopped out, and locked the doors. The sound of the generator was noticeable inside the van, but not as loud as I thought it would be.
I was about to run to the front door, when I noticed that the corpse of the woman I'd hit with my car wasn't in the street anymore. Someone was definitely removing the bodies. It made me wonder if we still had a city government, or if it was a group of regular citizens.
I didn't have time to think about it right then. I went around to the front of the building. Across and up the street, the delivery van was on its side at the newspaper office. In the museum lot, the little red truck was resting on the splintered sign. It was so quiet and still and unnerving. I went inside, relieved we were able to get in so quickly and without any interference. I locked the front door and looked around.
The place was as I'd left it. No one had been in. I walked through the small gift shop and permanent collection toward my office. The extension cord was hanging down the side of the wall below the window in the giftshop.
"Jen?"
No answer.
She was in the office sitting in my chair.
"C'mon, Jen, we need--"
She held up a hand. She was on my office phone. Her red bandana was pulled down around her neck like a kerchief. I pulled my own mask down.
"We need to--"
"Shhh," she said.
I left her to her call, grabbed the end of the orange cord, and tugged it through the broken window and into the office.
"It's just ringing," she said.
"Who are you--"
"Shhh."
The office computer equipment and modem were plugged into a power strip. I unplugged it from the wall and plugged it into the orange cord. The light on the modem came on.
Jen hung up.
"I was checking on my brother," she said. "He lives near Kansas City. Nobody answered."
I went straight to the phone and dialed my mom. I listened to it ring and watched Jen turn on the computer.
"What the hell were you thinking back there?" I said.
"I won't put up with that shit," she said, not looking at me.
"You could have gotten both of us killed.
"You didn't have to stay."
"You know, if what they say is true, and they're just running on base instincts, then we're going to see a lot more of that," I said.
"Then you're going to see a lot more killing," she said.
The phone rang almost twenty times, so I hung up.
"It's working," she said. "I'm online.”
I got out my laptop and plugged into the power strip and one of the other ports on the modem.
"I'm on CNN’s website," she said. "No new stories
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