“Air Force. I was in communications.”
“Deployed?”
“No. Never called up.”
Falk nods slowly.
“What about you?” Beck asks.
“Army. Infantry.” Falk doesn’t offer any additional details. They continue to stare at each other until Caesar speaks up again.
“If the landlines are dead, we’ll have to gather more information another way,” he says. “We’ve got a car nearby.”
“I’ve tried several,” Falk replies. “All of the batteries are dead.”
“We’re parked just a couple of blocks from here,” Beck says. “Let’s at least give it a try.
After listening to Beck’s car try to turn over for a couple of minutes without starting, everyone gathers in the street to discuss our next move.
“We should stick together,” Beck says, “at least until we figure out what’s going on.”
Falk glances at me, but I’m not sure if he’s looking for my opinion or not.
“We did come out looking for people,” I say quietly.
“Yeah, it makes sense,” he says after a moment of silence. He looks back to Beck. “Do you have any supplies?”
“Just what’s in the car,” Beck says. “Back at the house I have more.”
“Weapons?” Falk isn’t messing around.
“Just a couple,” Beck says.
“My Glock is back there, too,” Caesar offers. “I didn’t bring extra ammo, though.”
“Should we go get them?” Ryan asks.
“Yes,” Beck says. “Let’s collect what we can and search for more people. Emory’s campus might be a good place to look.”
“We’ll follow you,” Falk says with a nod.
The three men walk off down the street, and Falk and I trail behind. My leg is cramping up a bit, but I try not to let it slow me down.
“How did you know that guy was in the military?” I ask.
“The smell.” Falk glances at me out of the corner of his eye and his mouth twitches into a slight smile. “Knew he wasn’t army.”
“But you were?”
“Yes. Did four tours overseas.”
He doesn’t seem interested in offering more information, and I don’t ask. Maybe he’ll tell me more about it later. The rest of the trip is silent as we walk to Beck’s house, just south of the Emory campus. It looks like it was a nice, suburban community with a Panera and a Chipotle, but the entire area has been leveled.
Beck stands in front of what I assume used to be his house, staring toward the university. I can only determine what used to be there by the piles of red brick. Otherwise, it’s flattened.
“Holy shit,” Beck mumbles.
Caesar is poking around inside a black Toyota pickup parked at the curb. The back end has been smashed by a blue compact car, but the front seems to be intact. He ducks out of the vehicle with his hands full.