Prepper

Chapter Twenty-Four

Walking out I see the evacuation lineup winding away like a writhing tentacle out to the parking lot. There it bends left and starts to wrap around the outside of the mall. In the distance the individuals meld into the undulating, polychromatic appendage. All those people congealed into the singular purpose of escape.

There must be thousands of people all queued up for evacuation. From where I stand I see hundreds and hundreds more milling about the parking lot, which is crammed with vehicles. I turn and scan the expressway that runs east-west across the northern perimeter of the parking lot. It's completely gridlocked, many cars already parked askew on the shoulder by those who could not wait any longer. More people still are abandoning their cars in traffic as I watch and head toward the mall on foot. The sheer magnitude of the logistical problem of getting all these people out of here is now patently obvious. I don't think it can be done.

As much as I want to care-- as much as I would like to give a shit about the plight of all these people-- I just can't find it within myself right now. Emotionally, I am spent and that part of me has shut down because I cannot endure more of that pain and still hope to function. I need to function. I withdraw inward and try to create a hard shell around what has become an exposed, raw emotional nerve. However, shutting everything out proves to be exceptionally difficult.

I pass an elderly lady walking with a little girl. The girl appears to be no more than six years old. They are both clad in only pyjamas. The little girl has pig tails, big eyes and a forlorn plush rabbit dangles loosely from her tiny hand. Her lips are blue and her teeth are chattering. The temperature has recovered little since last night, my own breath lingers before my face as I watch them. I make eye contact with the little girl and a fresh wound opens up inside of me. I strip off my fleece and hand it to the lady.

"Keep her warm." I say and leave without another word trying to distance myself from them as fast as possible. I am desperate for some solitude, but I don't think I can find it here. I keep my head down and try my best not to brush into people on the crowded sidewalk, but it's nearly impossible. I side-step onto the unused roadway for more space.

Walking for a while, I finally reach the end of a long line of closed stores and dark facades. The crowd has thinned out and I can return to the sidewalk without worrying about people entering my fragile bubble of personal space.

I turn right and begin to hike past one of those ubiquitous, trendy book stores with the attached cafe. Although it appears closed, I can see people moving around inside. Coffee would hit the spot, maybe clear the remaining fog from my head. The extra heat would be welcome too, especially now that I've given away my last warm layer of clothing. Chances are, my lips are now blue.

Inside, it appears the book store is closed, but the cafe seems to be in full swing. At least half the people inside are in uniform, black rifles are leaning against books, rucksacks under tables. Soldiers are flipping through magazines and smoking. I spot a familiar young man behind the counter. I notice his left arm is in a sling.

"Corporal Hartt!" I say approaching the counter, a little louder than I intend due to my excitement. I'm quite overwhelmed with emotion as I realize this kid has likely saved my life more than once in the brief time I have known him. Leaping over the counter for a bear hug doesn't seem unacceptable at this point, but I settle for a warm handshake. "Changing employers?" I ask.

"Connor! Good to see you back on your feet. Last time I checked on you, you were dead to the world."

"But not entirely dead."

"Close. Can't say the same for your car."

"I suppose not. Hey, what happened to the guy in my back seat?"