Page 4 of Citadel

There are seventeen of us now living in the hotel since a couple have left and a couple have died. Ranging in age from sixty to sixteen, we’re a random assortment with no real ties except necessity. It’s not a bad group overall, although I don’t love any of them except Breanna.

Everyone is excited over the cans of food. We open some baked beans and some mixed vegetables to eat with our fish for dinner.

It’s almost fun. The food is good—that canned taste that’s still familiar even though I haven’t had it in years—and the others are joking and laughing.

Not me. I barely talk when I’m around other people. Only answer questions with short answers. They think I’m shy. Maybe not real bright. But the truth is it’s a strategy I’ve developed to keep people from paying attention to me. Hide my body. Don’t meet anyone’s eyes. And only speak when necessary.

I’ve got plenty to say even if I may never have anyone to say it to other than Breanna.

Our perch in the hotel has always been a safehold since we’re surrounded by the ocean and it’s impossible to reach without a boat. We don’t even keep guard. We’ve never needed to.

No one knows we’re here, so no one knows to come get us.

Maybe we’ve gotten too complacent, but we have no warning at all. The first sign of danger is a muffled yell from Geo, who went downstairs to take a boat for an evening fish haul.

It’s enough of an alert for us all to jump to our feet. Vern hurries to the stairs to call down to make sure Geo is all right.

There’s a gunshot. It’s loud and sudden and makes me jerk. Then Vern falls in a slump on the ground.

It’s such a shock—so out of the blue—that we all stand and stare for a minute as blood begins to seep from his chest onto the floor.

Then a stranger comes up from the stairwell. Big and ugly and brandishing a shotgun.

Someone is here. In our hotel. As unfathomable as it is. And they just killed Geo and Vern.

We do have a couple of guns among us, and Fran runs for one of them, but the man shoots her before she reaches it.

I don’t know what happens after that because there’s nothing left except to run. I grab Breanna’s arm and drag her with me as I race for the back stairwell. On the way, I lean over to grab the strap of my bag. I don’t have much stuff left in the world, but all of it is in that bag.

There might be another man coming up these stairs, but there’s no other way to get down unless we’re willing to leap out a window opening into the ocean.

We’ll probably have to swim if we have hope of getting away, but it will be safer to jump from the level below us.

We reach the eighth floor without encountering anyone. There are voices and violent sounds from the floors above and below us.

I know who this is. Those other men I saw earlier. The ones who showed up and joined the first man with the wolf eyes. They must have seen me on the boat and somehow deduced we have a safe sanctuary somewhere out in the ocean.

And being the type who raid and destroy, they decided to attack so they could take what we have.

We have almost nothing, but that’s evidently enough for them.

Breanna is in shock, but she’s moving with me as I drag her to the back side of the hotel, opposite where our boats are moored.

When I look out the window, I expect to see nothing but water. We can jump in and try to swim back to the shore without being spotted.

It’s a long shot. But it’s the only one we have.

Instead of empty water, there’s a boat rounding into sight. My heart sinks until I see it’s my little boat, and the man in it is the first one I encountered on the coast. The wolf-eyed man.

He’s headed back to land. Whatever assault is happening here, he might have gotten roped into it. But he’s not participating. He’s leaving.

“Hey,” I call out. It’s a risk but one I have to make.

The man turns and sees me. Pauses for a few seconds. Then changes course and rows over to where we’re hanging over the side of the building.

When he’s close enough, he makes a gesture. An obvious one.

We’re to jump.

---