Apartment 905, Sahin, Ned [black female authors .TXT] 📗

I leave this lovely pair alone and walk through the perimeter of the rooftop. I check the surrounding buildings as well as the streets. I don’t see any humans. There are only Ricas roaming around.

I glance over the main street and try to see if our path to the truck is clear. If we move fast, going five blocks should only take minutes even if we are chased by Ricas.

I go to the other side of the building. I see a glass statue in front of a reddish building in an unusual shape. It looks like an Art Museum. It’s probably the museum the couple went to. I don’t see anything moving around the building. If that’s the center for vaccine distribution, I would have expected guards and snipers all around. Things don’t add up.

I think about altering our plan slightly to make a stop at the museum, but I abandon this idea quickly. Even if they have the vaccine as they claim, it doesn’t sound like a safe plan to get it from the company that possibly started the outbreak in the first place.

All I hope is the couple is safe.

Chapter 35

“Kathleen, wake up…” I say while gently touching her arm. She is still sleeping on the couch cuddling with Rose.

Dawn breaks slowly lightening up the city. The morning breeze shakes the artificial plants on the roof. A new day in the apocalypse is beginning. We should get going before the city or whatever is left from it wakes up.

I gently shake Kathleen again. She slowly turns her head and tries to open her eyes.

“Time to go, sleepy survivor,” I say.

She smiles and rubs her eyes. “It’s so beautiful.” She looks at the first lights of the sun glimpsing between the buildings on the horizon. It resembles a postcard scene.

The night was chilly, but we had uninterrupted sleep. The city was quiet. It must be the silence of the dead.

An explosion breaks the silence.

It’s too powerful that the shockwave broke several windows in the buildings around us. I run to the edge of the roof. Kathleen jumps off the couches and follows me. Rose goes crazy while growling and circling the roof.

The museum is in flames. Half of it has collapsed. We see people running out of the side door on the other half. I see dozens of Ricas sprinting toward them. Some of them have already reached their targets.

“Shit!” Kathleen says. We are both shocked. Our plan of getting to the truck in the morning silence is not going to work anymore. This could still be an opportunity, though.

“Let’s wait for Ricas to go to the museum. Then we get down and run to the Humvee,” I say.

We pack our backpacks quickly. Kathleen tries to calm Rose. She puts her in the large front pocket of her bag. She zips the pocket loose enough for Rose’s head to stick out.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to take her with us?” I ask. A cat can be unpredictable, especially during a dangerous road trip where we have to stay low-key.

Kathleen shares a confused look with me. “I am not leaving her here!” It looks like the decision is not up for debate.

We check the streets around us one more time. I think all Ricas already made their way to the museum. Our side of the city looks empty.

I hear Ricas roaring, rifles firing, and people screaming around the museum.

We climb down the fire escape stairs and run the opposite side of the museum to get to our truck. We don’t come across any humans or Ricas this time. Despite the last two days, luck is on our side today.

I start the engine and back the truck up. We get back on the highway in seconds. There is about a mile of the highway that circles downtown before merging with the Westbound interstate. I am afraid we will have to pass near the museum.

“Can’t we use another road?” Kathleen asks. She is afraid too.

“Do you know an alternative route? I don’t want to get lost on the side roads,” I say. Kathleen shakes her head. I speed up. If the highway is not clogged up, we should be able to pass the museum in a jiff.

We go about half a mile before seeing the crowd. The road is not jammed with cars, but it’s packed with people. They must be the survivors of the museum explosion.

They wave their hands to get our attention and gesture for a ride with us. Those are the lucky ones. I see some people who are being beaten by the Ricas on the hillside of the highway.

Several Ricas are about to jump over the barriers and get on the highway.

“Don’t stop!” Kathleen yells.

I agree with her. I go to the far left road on the four-lane highway to avoid the crowd. A woman with a baby in her arms gets on our way. I steer the wheel and slide onto the emergency line. It feels like losing control of the truck for a second, but I manage to steer back to the left lane after passing the woman.

“Oh no!” I say. I see the couple standing a few yards away from the crowd. I slam on the breaks and stop about a hundred yards away from them. The couple runs to us. Kathleen rolls down her window.

“Guys, can we jump in?” the man asks while trying to catch his breath.

“Get in! Quick!” Kathleen yells and rolls up her window.

Other people who saw us stopped running in our direction. His wife closes and locks the back door on time. Somebody punches her window.

“Please! Take me in!” he says.

I push the gear forward and get the truck moving after spinning the rear tires.

“Stop! I have vaccines!” the guy yells, trying to hold onto the truck with one hand while raising a briefcase on the other. I push the breaks again. We all