Free NightFall by Roger Hayden

plaid shirt over his
pocket.
    They stepped out of the car and closed
their doors. The sound echoed throughout the quiet garage. Rob
circled the car, inspecting the tire pressure and searching for
leaks. Everything looked good. The last thing they wanted was to be
stranded in the city, helpless as everyone else.
    “ Ready?” Rob asked Mila,
standing up.
    Mila flashed a resolute expression.
“You bet.”
    Rob took her hand and they walked down
the parking garage ramp to the first floor where there foot journey
would begin. They emerged from the parking garage onto a sidewalk
which led to Park Avenue.
    The path ahead looked on troublesome.
Businesses seemed to be closing their doors and the streets were
full of people and growing by the minute. Hordes had taken up
residency on sidewalks, at bus stops, and anywhere they could find
shade and rest. The seeds of discontent and lawlessness were
planted and looked ready to germinate.
     
    Rob pushed through the crowd while
keeping Mila close. He kept his eyes forward, trying not to make
eye contact with anyone. Most of the crowd moved in unison down
Park Avenue in the same direction as Rob did his best to maneuver
through.
    A group of police officers rode by on
bicycles, trying to keep the roads clear and maintain some
semblance of order. They had resorted to the basics—air horns, to
maintain crowd control. People demanded all sorts of answers to why
the power was off, and why their vehicles and cell phones weren’t
working.
    The police had little to
tell them. “Interference,” they answered.
It was “a temporary glitch.” The utility companies were working to
get everything back on-line.”
    The situation was becoming more heated
by the minute. People bumped against Rob and Mila time and time
again. A lanky, haggard-looking man with a beard and dirty ball
cap, grabbed Mila’s arm mumbling to her. His breath reeked of
alcohol. Mila yanked her arm away and kept walking. A string of
profanity then came from the man’s mouth in her wake.
    “ Keep moving. Just a few
more blocks,” Rob said.
    Swarms of people blocked their way
from all direction. They were packed in tightly among the crowd and
it was hard to breath. Rob pushed on, longing for the cabin. Mila
kept her hand over her pocket where she could feel the bulge of her
revolver.
    They crossed a pedestrian
walkway to the next block, at a corner store. As they passed, a voice shouted from inside as a man came
running out with a carton of cigarettes tucked under his arm and a
sixty-four ounce beers in each of his hands. The store owner, a
heavyset Indian man with a mustache, ran outside and chased the
man. Rob in Mila froze as the shoplifter headed right into their
path.
    “ Stop! You!” the
storekeeper shouted. He pulled a pistol from his jacket and fired
six shots in rapid succession, taking down the fleeing man. The
bottles shattered on the pavement. Mila screamed and threw herself
against Rob.
    Rob crouched down, pulling Mila with
him. The shoplifter collapsed right in front of them, riffled with
bullet holes. The storekeeper approached, gun in the air. Mila
glanced downward. The man lay dead on his side with one leg over
the other. His arms were out, his eyes closed, and his mouth
open.
    The storekeeper went pale
with disbelief. “I told him to stop,” he
said. “Why did he not listen?”
    “ Come on,” Rob said to
Mila, standing. “Let’s keep moving.”
    They held each other’s
hands tightly and moved on. The bicycle cops were quick to the
scene following the echo of gunshots. They shouted at the storekeeper to drop his weapon. A large
group of people had gathered around, paying the scene no mind, even
with the sounds of the police tackling the storekeeper to the
ground.
    “ Only a few more blocks,”
Rob said.
    A sign for the museum was in view. Two
sophisticated women walked by them trying to explain to each other
why their phones weren’t working. “Maybe it’s just a bad reception
area,” one of