Complex City

by G H Edwards

  Claire walked on the balls of her feet to the nearby dresser. She fished out and slid on one of Michael’s old T-shirts. Ironically, it was an old yellow shirt he had gotten when he had run a half-marathon to raise money for gerivirus research. She saw this and hoped Michael had forgotten what the shirt was for. “Hey, I need to show you something,” she said with uncertainty.

  “I’ve seen the shirt, shitload of good that race did, huh?” Michael huffed.

  “No, not the shirt. When I went out this morning, after the storm, I found something.” Claire said.

  “Is it the cure to gerivirus? Because that would be great.” Michael said sarcastically as he laid his head back on the pillow.

  Claire laughed nervously. “Umm…maybe.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Michael stared at the nearly unreadable magazine page. The page had dried and had so many creases that it was difficult to even see the pills they were trying to sell. But the large white letters on the orange background were still readable. Claire had shown him everything on the page; the page number, date, “Miami Fashion” at the bottom, and the back with the fashion models. Michael examined the page for what seem like an hour. He flipped the page over and flattened it with his hand. Claire watched his face to see if he felt the confusion and anger she had. She watched his pale lips as he mouthed the words to himself. She wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have told him. Maybe this would be too much for him, maybe he would think she was playing a trick on him.

  Michael finally stopped looking at the page and turned to her. “You don’t actually think there’s a cure out there, do you?”

  Claire didn’t know what to say; did she really think that? “I don’t know” was all she could come up with.

  “Claire, this is probably an advertising scheme. Just a way to get your attention so you’ll buy their stupid pills,” he said weakly.

  “What company in their right mind would make a sick joke like this? And what kind of people would ever buy from a company that would do this?” Claire said, reciting the argument she’d been having with herself.

  “This is from Miami. Enough said. That’s a messed-up city. I mean, they poison their own citizens, and the cops—”

  “And the cops just let them do it. I know, I know.”

  “Well, there you go.” He paused then said, “Babe, I want there to be a cure just as much as you do—shit, more.” He chuckled weakly. “But we both know there isn’t one. Because if there was, I’m sure one of us would have heard of it. And I’m damn sure the doctor would know about it. We didn’t go to some quack on the corner. These guys see and treat people with geri all day.”

  “But what if it’s so new that we haven’t heard of it? Maybe it takes a while to get news from Miami.”

  “Then why would it already be in a magazine? And besides, we get news from Miami all the time.”

  “What if they have the cure, but they’re keeping it for themselves?” Claire stammered.

  “Claire, you’re starting to sound ridiculous. No city can keep a cure for a disease that’s killing millions. Even though Miami is super messed up, they still must follow the Central’s laws. This is some kind of prank or kids goofing around. So let’s just drop it for now.”

  Claire didn’t look satisfied.

  “Okay, okay,” Michael conceded. “We can discuss it later. We’re going to have a rough few days, so I’d like to go back to sleep.” He wrapped a thin arm around his wife’s shoulders.

  Claire let herself be guided to the bed. Nearly on autopilot, she lay down and covered herself up. Her mind was still racing through the possibilities. Although she was confused, she also was excited. She felt maybe there was a glimmer of hope. She was stunned that Michael wasn’t more excited or confused about the page.

  She knew she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep’ she felt like she had just woken up, finally. She waited for Michael to fall asleep before she went to the desk and looked at the ripped page again. She took out a blank sheet of paper and pen and retrieved her phone. She knew she would get a lot of resistance, so it was time to make a plan.

  CHAPTER 11

  “I know it’s been a tough few weeks since the diagnosis, but there’s no reason to act crazy,” Claire’s mother, Diane, pleaded.

  “It’s been a little more than a ‘tough few weeks,’” Claire said.

  “Well, have all the test results come back the same? Are you still doing the treatments?” Diane asked, looking concerned.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Michael said quietly.

  “You just want to stop doing the treatments and go to Miami because a piece of trash said there was a cure?” Diane said, sounding more and more exasperated.

  Claire, Michael, and Diane sat around the kitchen table, which hadn’t been used much since Claire had moved out several years before. Claire’s mother had set out a variety of drinks and finger foods for the rare occasion of having guests, but no one was touching anything. She was only in her midforties, but looked much older despite her obsessive use of anti-aging surgeries and treatments. She blamed her wrinkles on the stress of what she called “raising a child on her own,” even though her husband, Claire’s father Joe, had died when Claire was already fifteen. Growing up, Claire felt it was more Claire taking care of her mother than the other way around. Diane smoked almost constantly, and although Claire could never verify it, she was pretty sure she drank as much as she smoked. Claire always had hounded her mother about her bad habits, only to be brushed off and dismissed. Claire and her mother were never very close. Even after her father’s death, the two still never bonded like Claire felt they should. But she knew she and her mother were very different people. While her mother cared tremendously about things like her appearance and status, Claire wasn’t interested in anything like that. She tried to think back to the days before her father had died to see if her mother had always been this way, but she couldn’t remember. Something she now realized, though, was that her mother didn’t smile anymore. She could have sworn her mother smiled much more when Claire was younger, before the death of her father.

  She watched as her mother threw her hands in the air emphatically, making her points, and for the first time in her life, Claire saw her mother as something other than her mom—she saw her as a widow. Claire had been so locked up in the death of her father that she’d forgotten that her father was also her mother’s husband. Everyone always said Diane had been “a rock” through the whole thing, and Claire now saw that that might not have been a good thing. She was sure her mother must have grieved, but she must have done it behind closed doors. Sadness overwhelmed Claire as she realized she’d never thought of her own mother’s grieving. She wanted to reach out and hug her and just agree with whatever she wanted. She felt an almost kindred connection form between them as she thought that they both might be widows soon.

  Claire looked at the table, trying not to cry, and saw Michael’s hands. They were bony and pale, like all the color had been sucked out of them, and it took the muscle with it. She knew he was running out of time as she rubbed her fingers over the valleys the bones had formed.

  “Mom, we’re going to treatments, and they’re making Michael feel a little better, but that’s not going to cure this,” Claire said quietly. “This is just a bandage over a bullet hole. Going to Miami is the only way he might possibly get cured.”

  “You don’t even know if there really is a cure out there! And how do you think you’ll get there? They haven’t flown planes there for years, and it’s not like you can catch a bus!”

  “I was thinking we could drive there,” Claire said, feeling almost embarrassed.

  “Drive there? Claire, you don’t even have a car. You probably have never even met someone with a car.”

  Although Houston was enormous, very few people owned vehicles. Although licensing, insurance, taxes, and parking were outrageously expensive, the main reason people didn’t drive was that the city ran a vigorous and convenient mass transit system. No matter th
e time of day or the location, there were always multiple options to travel without the need to drive. Plus, having never grown up with vehicles, the residents had little desire to change what they were familiar with.

  “Uncle Matt has a truck. I’m going to ask him if I can take it,” Claire said regaining her courage back.

  “Uncle Matt had a truck, years ago, when his store was open. But he got rid of it. There was no need for a truck after the store was bought out.”

  “He still has it. It’s parked in his storage unit. He showed it to Michael last year, and they even started it.”

  “You don’t know how to drive. Heck, I don’t even know how to drive. What makes you think you can suddenly jump in the driver’s seat and drive all the way to Miami?” Diane said fervently as she put out her cigarette and promptly lit another. “The roads between here and Miami probably don’t even exist anymore. And how do you expect to drive over a bridge when you can’t even climb a stepladder without a panic attack, Claire? Oh, what am I even saying? You won’t even get to a bridge because you won’t even be able to get gas! How are you going to get gas, Claire? Have you thought about that?”

  “We can bring gas in cans.”

  Claire’s mother huffed. “And where are you going to get gas around here? Are there even gas stations for regular people in the city? Even if you could get gas, it won’t matter because, you’ll crash and kill yourselves on the way because neither of you knows how to drive.”

  “I know how to drive.” Michael said weakly. “We had to learn how to drive trucks when I was in the army.”

  Claire gave him a warm smile. In the beginning, he had been resistant to the idea of going to Miami but with surprisingly little convincing he came around and was helping organize the trip. At first she wondered why it had been so easy to convince him until he had conceded one evening that he felt that the trip to Miami was really their only hope.

  Claire’s mother was becoming exasperated. “Well, you know about the Billies, right? They’re inbreeds! They’d love to catch a pretty young girl like you and keep her tied up forever.”

  Claire rolled her eyes at the mention of the Billies. Stories of the Billies were always circling around like urban legends. The official story repeated in schools and on TV was that the Billies were kicked out of the cities for obscene, criminal acts like child rape and kidnapping and banished to the country. Legend had it that the Billies had formed much smaller cities and had begun to procreate, but with a shortage of people, incest had become the norm, and after a few generations, the only Billies left were deformed and evil. Every once in a while, a story appeared on the news, stating someone had left the city and was kidnapped and held in a Billy city as a child maker or slave. Sometimes a murder was committed within the city or a person disappeared, and the Billies were blamed. When Claire was young, she was very worried about the Billies coming into Houston. She’d ask why people could leave if the Billies were out there to catch them. Her teachers and parents told her that everyone was free to come and go in the cities if they wanted to, but they just didn’t see why anyone would leave. Over time, Claire’s fear of Billies began to fade when she started to ask more complicated questions such as, “If the Billies are criminals, why aren’t they in prison or why doesn’t anyone save the kidnapped people?” Claire could never get straight answers, and she started to doubt the stories. When she had seen the police take Shelly and everyone blamed the Billies, she decided the Billies were just urban legends. But as she sat in front of her mother, she hoped she was right.

  “And even if you did make it to Miami,” Diane went on, “that place is terrible. You’ve seen the news. It’s like a war zone there. And if they aren’t releasing the cure to Houston, what makes you think they’ll give it to you?” She was nearly in tears now. “Claire, you’re going to get both of you killed.”

  Claire began to feel bad. Although she hated seeing her mother upset, she knew she needed to keep her resolve. There was a long pause before she finally said, “If we don’t go, Michael is dead. You know it and we know it.”

  Tears built in the corners of her eyes. This was the first time she had put it so bluntly. “There’s no other way out of this,” she continued. “The treatment might extend things, but it won’t fix it. I know you both think I’m obsessing about this ad, but it’s the only chance we have. This ad is the only glimmer of hope. I’m not just going to sit here, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Michael to die.” Diane let out a loud sigh. “Mom, if you had the chance to possibly stop Dad from dying in that accident, would you have taken it?” Claire said, looking directly at her mother. The mention of her dead husband made Claire’s mother visibly weaken. “I’m going to do everything and anything I can to save my husband. I’ll walk to Miami alone if I have to, but I won’t sit here quietly and wait to become a widow.”

  There was a long silence in the small kitchen as everyone’s heads were lowered in sad reflection. Both Diane and Michael knew there was no stopping her.

  CHAPTER 12

  Claire and Michael were unaware how much work it would be not only to get the truck but also to get it fixed enough so it would drive. Claire’s uncle, Matt, had insisted that Claire and Michael were insane. Many times he explained that the roads and bridges most likely weren’t even there anymore and that the truck was barely drivable. He described in detail the complex system of roads and highways they’d need to navigate with no help from anyone. He warned them that if they were to miss just one turn, they could end up living out their days in a Billy camp somewhere near Chicago. But Claire was practiced and ready for his verbal assault. Michael’s family had been just as incredulous, but she knew that no matter what any of them said, she presented the only possible solution. With time, she had worn them down just like she did with her uncle; in fact, she even enlisted his help in the repairs of the old blue truck. The only condition her uncle had given them was that they bring lots of firepower with them, just in case. That wouldn’t be a problem since, like most residents of Houston, the families had an arsenal, and they were more than happy to lend it to the young couple.

  Michael insisted on helping his uncle-in-law fix the truck, but he usually was too weak and was only able to watch the repairs. It had taken two months, lots of favors, and many illegal acts to acquire the many required parts. Claire watched as Matt had taught Michael how to drive the truck and even make some basic vehicle repairs. She helped by researching and printing everything she could find about common vehicle maintenance and anything related to driving across the country, which was very little. She also assisted by solving the problem of what they would eat and drink on the long trip. By the time the men were filling the gas containers, she was getting coolers and jugs. Slowly the truck went from immobile to making practice runs around the alleys of Houston. Claire’s and Michael’s confidence rose despite her uncle constantly stressing that the truck was old and they’d be lucky to even make it out of the city.

  With the truck as ready as it ever would be and the cab filled with food and drinks, the couple said goodbye to their families. Each family tried their best in a last-minute effort to convince them not to leave, but Claire and Michael held firm. When Michael was saying goodbye to his mother, Claire feared he might crack and decide to stay, but he toughed it out. None of them had ever seen someone leave Houston before, so the idea of venturing out seemed like suicide. Claire was incredibly proud that her husband was so strong despite being so ill and having been told many times that he wouldn’t make it.

  Finally, after the long and tearful goodbyes, Michael and Claire snuck out of town under the cover of early-morning darkness. As Michael slouched behind the wheel, Claire sat in the middle of the bench seat with her hand on his leg as he drove. Claire was initially shaken, sitting so close to the glass of a vehicle. She felt very unsafe, almost naked, like she was sitting on the hood of the truck instead of inside. She kept her eyes on the multiple cans of gasoline and bags of supplies that were tied down in the bed of th
e truck. Along with the supplies in the bed, the cab of the truck was full of food, jugs of water for the truck, and grapefruit juice for them. The truck, which they had named Ol’ Blue, lumbered along, squeaking and groaning as they made their way out of town.

  The roads leaving the city were all large highways and were well lit and smooth. After nearly an hour of driving, they approached the edge of the city. Like an invisible fence the giant skyscrapers stopped, and Michael slowed the truck to a jerking stop. The highway lights had ended, and the lanes suddenly became a two-lane broken-looking road. In front of them was inky darkness, thick and complete. Claire had thought she was prepared for the trip, but when she saw the beat-up, dark, empty road in front of her she thought maybe this was a mistake. She had suggested that leaving in the daytime was a good idea, but everyone else insisted that it was dangerous. While leaving the city wasn’t illegal, it could have brought a lot of attention to them, and Michael and Claire didn’t want that. They were two young adults, one nearly on his deathbed, driving a truck that didn’t belong to them and that they weren’t insured to drive. Presented with these facts, Claire had agreed to leave in the dark, but now she thought she was right to want the sun.

  “Holy shit,” Michael said under his breath. They could only see a few feet in front of them before the darkness took the road away.

  With all the courage Claire could muster, she said, “What are you waiting for?” with a slight laugh.

  As if easing into a cold pool, Michael crept Ol’ Blue out of the light and onto the dark, cracked road. The old headlights of the truck dimly lit the dark stretch in front of them. Claire felt like the road was lined with Billies, which she thought she didn’t believe in. They soon found that the road was drivable but bumpy. Over time they were able to speed up to forty miles an hour, but they were bounced around by the seemly random cracked and buckled sections of the skinny road. Michael switched lanes often to find smoother patches but found that each side was just as bad as the other. Claire looked back at the city as they drove away. The lights from the thousands of giant skyscrapers loomed high over them. She felt a sadness in her heart as they sped away from the only home she had ever known.