July 18th | 10:09 PM | 27 degrees

They left Franklin lying on the counter in the office.

Ryan and Carlos waited out in the hall, both trying to comprehend what had happened and what it meant, if it meant anything. Ryan knew his mind was connecting dots where no lines were needed, but Franklin’s death felt like a toppled domino at the start of a line. Or maybe in the middle, knocked over by previous dominoes that had fallen days earlier. Either way, he knew it wouldn’t be the last one to fall. More would follow. He could only hope that they weren’t in the shadow of the next one in line.

Howell came out a few moments later and closed the office door behind him, his walkie squawking as the guards on the roof spoke to him. “I get that,” he replied, “but if you see anyone approaching I want you to shoot, you hear me? These people aren’t going to give you a warning shot. Don’t give them one.”

There was silence from the other end, then the voice said, “Understood.”

For a second Howell didn’t say anything, then he let out a long breath and clipped the walkie onto his coat. He looked at Carlos. “Get your things and head to the auditorium. Terri’s right. Worst comes to worst, someone has to get everyone out of here.”

Carlos nodded, then became aware that Howell was staring expectantly at him. “Wait, me?”

“I was more thinking your wife, but yes, you. The two of you understand what’s going on better than anyone. We’re gonna need that if we want to stay alive.” He nodded down the hall. “They need someone who thinks ahead, who thinks about figuring out the next problem instead of worrying about the now.”

Carlos forced a laugh. “You’re talking like you’re not coming with us.”

Howell said nothing.

“You can’t be–“

Howell held up a hand. “The town elected me to lead and protect its people and I swore an oath to do so. I haven’t lived up to that oath these last few days. I was too worried about keeping everyone happy, comfortable. If I would have listened to your wife when this whole thing started, maybe things would be different. Maybe I could have got this place up sooner, put some more thought into defending it. Might have even convinced Darren to join us somehow, I don’t know. What I do know is that I didn’t listen. A scientist with a PhD told me exactly what was going to happen and I didn’t listen to her, not even when the proof was right there in the thermometers. I just laughed at her and told everyone not to worry. I wasted so much time.

 “But, hindsight’s 20/20,” he went on. “I can’t change what I didn’t do then, but I can do something now. Someone’s got to try and talk some sense into Darren before this gets any worse, and like I said, I swore an oath. At the very least I can give everyone a few more minutes to get out. I just need your word that you won’t abandon everyone if things get crazy. That you’ll do whatever it takes to get them out of here and keep them safe. Can you do that?”

Carlos swallowed hard, then nodded.

Howell looked at Ryan. “What about you? I know we’ve not exactly seen eye to eye in the short time I’ve known you, but can I count on you?”

Ryan looked the mayor in the eyes, thinking about how much he had disliked the man only a week earlier. How was it only a week? Back then, Howell had been a slow-to-act, people pleasing politician, someone who seemed only to care about his image for the next election cycle. But now, now Ryan saw him in a wholly different light. Now he saw a leader–a real leader–one who could admit his errors and put his life on the line to make up for them. Maybe Howell had always been that man and the dark had simply caused his better qualities to shine brighter than his flaws. Or maybe the darkness had changed him at a more fundamental level, forced him to reshape himself into the leader Honey Grove needed.

Regardless, there was no question in Ryan’s mind that the man standing before him wasn’t the same one who had called that town hall meeting so long ago.

“Yes,” he answered, immediately feeling the weight of the word settle onto his shoulders.

“Good.” Howell studied Ryan for a second, then added, “Someone very wise once wrote that we have to work together in order to survive this, that we can’t do it as scattered, separate tribes. I trust you and the Riveras can stick to that advice?”

Ryan recognized the quote from his first and only article for the Honey Grove Herald, a line Rivera herself had said during the interview. He nodded. “We’ll do whatever we can.”

Howell winked at him. “Just don’t make me look bad in your next piece.” He looked back to Carlos, “Now, I’m sure you can get that wife of yours to make the same promise. God knows she’d never do it if I asked her.”

Carlos smiled. “And here I was thinking you’d become a man of courage.”

“Real courage is knowing which battles to fight and which to walk away from. And that woman is a battle that scares me even more than Darren. Now go get her out of that damned library and make sure all our people get through this in once piece. If things go south, I’ll meet back up with you all on the interstate.” He nodded to them both and walked back into the office.

---

The library was empty.

“Kit?” Carlos called. He stepped into the small librarian’s office and returned a second later, shaking his head.

“Maybe she went to the bathroom,” Ryan suggested, fighting back the worry beginning to rise up in his chest. The table Rivera had worked at was still littered with open books and papers, an empty coffee mug, a bottle of Tylenol, but Rivera was nowhere to be seen.

“She would have left Beasley in here,” Carlos said, heading toward the door on the far side of the room. The library was built between the school’s two hallways with doors connecting both, so it served as a shortcut between both. “You check the auditorium. I’ll look upstairs. Maybe she finally decided to get some sleep.”

As Ryan went out the opposite door and followed the hall toward the auditorium, the school’s PA system clicked on and Howell’s tinny voice filled the hallway. “Hello everyone, this is your mayor. We’ve got a small emergency going on right now, a security situation that requires all of our attention. Nothing to worry about–” Howell paused, the staticky hiss of the microphone still coming through the speakers. “No, scratch that. No more half-truths. You deserve better than that.

“About an hour ago Darren led an attack on our gas station,” he continued after a breath. “Some of our people lost their lives trying to defend it, but in the end, Darren won that battle. We don’t know for sure but we think he’s likely coming for the school next, and if he does I want to make sure we’re ready for him. Anyone who’s willing to help us man the doors, I need you to come to the front hall right away. If you’ve got guns, bring them.

“Everyone else: head to the auditorium as soon as you can. Pack a bag of clothes, some food, anything you might need for a day or two. Maybe longer. Mr. Greene–I think Eddie’s in here somewhere–Mr. Greene, if you can hear me, I want you to get those buses out in the shop warmed up and ready to go just to be on the safe side. Someone will be by shortly to let you know what to do next.

“Alright everyone, calmly get yourselves to the auditorium and hang tight. Be aware, be alert, but don’t be afraid. Darren only wants the school, he doesn’t want to massacre his whole town. As long as you stay calm and follow instructions, I promise you we will all get through this unharmed.”

The PA system clicked off just as Ryan reached the auditorium. The lights were off inside, the clang of the door echoing up into the darkness. “Rivera?”

The only response was his own voice. Rivera–vera–vera.

A few minutes later, a stream of people began trickling into the auditorium with duffel bags and rucksacks full of belongings. A cloud of nervous energy followed them inside, worried conversations and questions bouncing off the cavernous walls. An older man who Ryan assumed was Mr. Greene came through with a keyring jangling at his belt and a flashlight lighting his path. He made his way to the stage and passed behind the thick curtains, and a few seconds later the auditorium lights flickered to life. Then he crossed the stage again with one of the keys in his hand and went to unlock the door leading into the garage, where he would get to work on preparing the buses for everyone’s speedy departure.

At least everyone who was accounted for.

“Where are you?” Ryan whispered.

When Carlos finally walked in through the door the auditorium was halfway filled with people on the brink of panic. He approached Ryan with three backpacks strapped around his shoulders, the shortwave radio clutched under one arm, and Beasley pulling against her leash in the other. “Find her?”

Ryan’s stomach dropped. “She wasn’t upstairs?”

“No.” He dropped the bags by the door and set his radio in a seat, then sighed and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “She had to hear the announcement, right? Looks like everyone else did.”

“Yeah.” Ryan hesitated. “Unless . . . she stepped outside or something.”

“With the weather like this? I doubt it.” A pause. Carlos narrowed his eyes. “Ryan, she hasn’t stepped outside before, has she?”

Ryan opened his mouth and then closed it. Then he opened it again. “I mean, she might have.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan stammered. “Probably to look at the world before it’s all covered in snow, get one last look at–“

“Son of a bitch, she’s smoking again, isn’t she?”

“Maybe once,” Ryan said, then quickly added, “She’s just been so stressed about everything.”

“Don’t make excuses for her!” Carlos snapped. “Where?”

“She usually goes up to the roof–” Ryan winced, realizing his mistake.

“Usually? How many times–” Carlos stopped himself and took a breath. “OK. Where else does she go?”

“That’s the only place I know of. The only other unlocked doors are the front ones–but she would have seen Terri and Franklin if she was there–and maybe the one at the cafeteria.”

Carlos wound the leash around his hand and started for the hall. “I can’t believe you’ve been covering for her this whole time. Do you know how long it took to get her to quit?”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, jogging to keep pace with him. “She didn’t want you to know and I didn’t think it was my place to say anything.”

“You’re a reporter, for God’s sake. Isn’t it your job to spill stuff people don’t want everyone to know?”

“Not always,” he mumbled, feeling slightly defensive at the remark but knowing he had no right to be. He also knew that Rivera was definitely going to murder him as soon as they found her.

The cafeteria was, as they expected, deserted. Trays of half-eaten food and abandoned cups of steaming coffee dotted the tables, but everyone else had clearly heard the announcement and left in a hurry.

“Kit?” Carlos called. He walked toward the kitchen, where the door leading outside was.

Ryan approached one of the barricaded windows and peered through a gap in the plywood, cupped his hands around his eyes to better see out into the night. Floodlights on the roof projected cones of illuminated snowflakes that lit the ground and extended out toward the school’s yard. The snow was already starting to stick on everything but the concrete. Metal picnic tables gleamed with a layer of white maybe a quarter of an inch thick, and in a few places he could see shoots of grass sticking up from where it had started to accumulate.

What he didn’t see was Rivera.

Just before he pulled his face away from the glass, a flash of movement caught his eye and he froze, searching for whatever it was he’d seen, for the red-orange pinprick of light he knew would be glowing from between her fingers. Instead he saw a beam of light slash through the falling snow and go out. A flashlight. But whoever had turned it on was way out in the yard, too far to belong to anyone stepping out for a quick smoke.

Carlos came back from the kitchen. “The door’s locked so I don’t think she went out this way. What is it?”

“I see someone,” Ryan said.

“Is it her?” Carlos rushed to another window and looked outside.

“I don’t think so. They’re straight ahead, maybe halfway across the yard. Looked like someone with a flashlight–There!” The beam of light arced up into the sky, then quickly dropped back down out of view and disappeared behind some large block-shaped structure.

“Shit,” Carlos whispered.

“What? You think it’s Darren?” Ryan asked, lowering his own voice.

“Only one person I can think would be messing with the generator right now.”

Ryan looked out again and saw that the large block the person had gone behind was the school’s massive generator. He was about to suggest they do something, despite having no idea what, when a second beam of light shone down from above and bathed the generator in white. The guards watching on the roof had apparently seen the intruder’s light, too.

Before Ryan had a chance to feel relief, a gunshot cracked from up above him and he instinctively ducked beneath the window frame. A second shot rang out a few seconds later, followed by a third, and Ryan covered his head as if that would do anything against a slug of metal traveling faster than the speed of sound. He was fairly certain the bullets were going from the roof down toward the intruder, but he wasn’t willing to bet his life on the intruder not firing back. Franklin probably thought he was out of harm’s way, too, before he was struck by the bullet that ended his life.

But no more gunshots came. Ryan cautiously lifted his head and could feel his heart thrumming against the floor like a bass drum keeping time in the silence. Complete silence. One that was much quieter than it had been before the shots had shattered it. Now that the sound was gone, it left a sonic void in his mind that made him realize his ears had tuned out what had been there before, the droning noise of an engine that had stopped running. The generator was off.

“We need to find her,” Carlos said, rising to his feet. “Now.”

They hadn’t even made it to the doors when the fluorescents above their heads flickered once, then went completely black. The EXIT sign above the door emitted a weak red glow that was somehow scarier than total darkness.

Ryan dug his phone out of his pocket and activated the flashlight, his skin crawling from the lack of sensory input. Screams echoed to them from the direction of the auditorium and he could only hope they were in response to the power going out.

Carlos took off down the hall at a sprint, Beasley right on his heels and Ryan doing his best to light the way with his phone and run fast enough to keep up. His thoughts outran all three of them. He imagined Darren’s people opening fire on a crowded auditorium, pictured blood and death and the flashbulb explosions of gunfire as a crazed mob bought their survival with the lives of the innocent. It couldn’t happen. Unless it did. Until it did.

They ran until they reached the library, where Carlos veered toward the door to check one more time to see if Rivera had made her way back there. He slammed his shoulder into the heavy door and they both spilled inside. Ryan’s vision went white as a flashlight swept up from the middle of the room and blinded both of them.

“Kit?” Carlos gasped, shielding his eyes.

“Hold it right there!” A man’s voice, jagged with adrenaline. “Not another step.” The light moved away and left them both blinking away the bulb’s afterimage, until they could see the beam settle on another man standing in the dark–Howell, his hands held up and a look of defeat in his eyes. Beneath the flashlight Ryan could make out the silhouette of a handgun, and as his vision cleared more and more with each blink, he saw who was holding the weapon and felt his blood turn to ice.

Darren was already here.