A Tale of Two Earths

Chapter 8: Nestor and Vlatko

"Check the door," Nestor whispered to Vlatko.

They were huddled behind an abandoned, white, work van in the southbound lanes. From where he sat, Nestor was able to see Darla, Myron, and the black SUV beyond.

"It's open," Vlatko cried back.

"Keep it down and start it up," Nestor said. He could see Darla gingerly stepping out of the truck. Squinting through the sunlight, he saw the two men in black body armor do the same. That has to be hot as balls, Nestor thought.

"No keys," Vlatko said in a disappointed tone as he crawled out of the van.

Automatic gunfire cried out. Dropping to the sweltering asphalt, Nestor cringed and forced his eyes shut. Nestor couldn't pull himself to look back, he did not want to know the outcome.

"Let's go," Vlatko shouted and grabbed Nestor by the arm.

Using the van as cover Vlatko and Nestor sprinted towards a restaurant on the far side of the road and found themselves in a drainage ditch deep enough to lay in and remain unseen. From there they crawled North to the boundary of a county park and ran for the forest. Before he dipped into the scrub brush, Nestor turned back to the truck. He couldn't make out what was happening. A single shot rang out and he dove in.

Sharp palm fronds sliced into exposed flesh as Vlatko and Nestor crawled parallel to the road. All around, mounds of fire ants erupted with small angry armies.

Vlatko held back his curses.

Behind them, tires screeched to life and the sound of crunching of metal signified that an accident had occurred. Nestor's gut dropped and he stopped crawling. He had to know what was going on.

Peeking out from between two large cabbage palms, Nestor was surprised to see that Darla had made it. She was huddled behind the very same van that had offered him and Vlatko a moment of safety. Sadly, she too had ventured inside looking for a set of keys.

"Get out of there, go, go, go," Nestor said under his breath.

"Not good," Vlatko whispered, pointing out to the wreckage.

The hulking black SUV had met head to head with the small pickup, with the pickup suffering the brunt of the damage. Pinched between the two vehicles, Myron flopped back and forth like a loose piece of lettuce on a bloody burger. In an attempt to pull himself up, Myron slapped the hood of the pickup and raised his torso only to fall back down with a thud. The men in body armor appeared from behind the SUV.

"Get down," Vlatko barked, forcing Nestor's head into the sand.

"We are down, I can't go any more down," Nestor said pushing Vlatko's hand away. Nestor scanned back to Darla who was running across the southbound lanes towards the restaurant. You're going the wrong way, he thought. He wished there was some way to communicate without drawing any attention.

One of the armored men leveled his assault rifle to Myron's helpless, flopping head. The bullet that ended Myron's suffering sent a wave of shock up and down the street, and ripping through the cabbage palms.

The weight of their predicament suddenly sat heavily on Nestor's back, pinning him to the sandy Florida soil. These men weren't mindless zombies, they were calm, calculating, and didn't care that Nestor and his friends were normal people looking for safety. Nestor knew that he and his friends were on their way to a heavily armed facility. They had not yet made it to the parking lot and things had already taken a turn for the worse. They weren't going to meet up with Tommy's dad, Nestor thought; they were going to die.

Vlatko tugged on Nestor's shoulder and mumbled something about going deeper into the brush.

"No," Nestor said, refusing to budge, "they're going for Darla."

The second gunman had taken up a shooting stance, aiming at Darla as she ran awkwardly across the street towards the restaurant.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Vlatko's heart raced. He wanted to disappear into the forest and get as far away from this madness as possible. Vlatko could not bear to watch another friend die.

"You have a gun," Nestor said frantically. "Use the gun!"

"Oh right," replied Vlatko. He shifted to his side and produced the firearm. "But from this distance I don't think..."

"Just use it!" Nestor commanded.

Slowly, Vlatko took aim at the man who threatened Darla. He focused all of his energy on keeping a steady hand.

"Don't aim just shoot, distract them," Nestor burst out frantically. He knew the gunman had her in his sights. There was nowhere for her to go, no reason to rush. As soon as the trigger was pulled, she would be dead.

POP!

With eyes closed, Vlatko fired. He didn't mean to close them, it was out of his control. Vlatko had operated many different guns, many times before; but he had never pointed one at a person with the intent to kill. Upon opening his eyes Vlatko saw a red faced Nestor. He looked very angry. He also looked like he was shouting something, but Vlatko couldn't hear a word of it. It was in that moment that Vlatko realized he had never fired a weapon without proper ear protection before. A high-pitched whine drowned out every last bit of sound. This however, did not affect his vision. Undeterred, the gunman was still bearing down on Darla's location. Vlatko pulled the trigger two more times, this time with open eyes.

His shots missed, but appeared to have executed the desired effect. The gunman straightened upright in frustration. Throwing his hands in the air, the gunman turned back to his partner who pointed up the road to where the shots originated from and the two opened fire into the scrub brush.

Nestor winced as bullets pounded through sand, palm, and tree bark. He realized that all of the rounds were hitting yards away, not even close.

"They can't see us," Nestor whispered to Vlatko.

Nestor and Vlatko watched as the two gunmen stepped back behind the cover of the crashed vehicles and scanned the tree line. The men exchanged hand gestures before splitting up. One stalked across the street in Darla's direction, while the other crept North to the tree line.

"Oh crap," Vlatko tried to aim the gun, but the pressure was too great and his hands shook uncontrollably.

Nestor put his hand on the barrel and eased it down. "No more, you'll give us away," he said.

"We're gonna die," Vlatko whispered.

"Maybe, but they'll have to find us first," said Nestor. He planted his palms in the sand and pushed back, disappearing into the cabbage palms.