by Cross, Amy
"You look like that," he says, staring at me.
"Like what?"
"I don't know how to describe it. Just... like that".
"Just stop asking dumb questions, okay?" I say, turning and heading through to the kitchen. It's as if, in the absence of any other form of entertainment, Henry's decided to keep himself occupied by following me around and asking me stupid questions. I wish I could hide my irritation better, but unfortunately my lack of tolerance is probably goading him to continue. I just want everything to go back to normal. It's insane how a lack of power and a silent apartment can conspire to make me so nervous.
Suddenly the room shakes. Just for a second, everything seems to rumble, and there's a distant boom. Looking up, I see that the ceiling is shaking, as if something huge just passed straight over us.
"Elizabeth?" Henry shouts from the front room.
"What?" I reply cautiously. The shaking has stopped, and now I'm standing completely still, listening out for any sign of it coming back. I swear to God, it was as if the entire structure of the building was being rocked.
"Holy shit!" he shouts. "Elizabeth, get through here!"
I pause for a moment. "Why?" I ask, even though I can tell from his tone of voice that something's seriously wrong.
"Just come here!" he shouts. "Elizabeth, seriously! You have to see this!"
I take a deep breath as I remind myself that I'm older than him, so it's my job to keep him calm until our parents get home. This is what being an older sister is all about, right? Grabbing my glass of juice, I head through to the front room. It's starting to get properly dark outside, and the apartment is getting gloomier by the minute, but there seems to be some kind of bright haze in the distance.
"What is it?" I ask, seeing that Henry's standing by the window. I've got this terrible, growing sense of doom in my chest. Whatever's going on outside, I'm not sure I really want to know. After all, it's clearly not going to be something we can fix, so why should we worry unnecessarily? We need to just stay here, avoid anything that might upset us, and wait for the whole problem to be fixed by the people who are paid to fix things. "What is it?" I say again, loitering uncertainly by the door.
"Come and see," he says, seemingly unable to stop looking at whatever's caught his attention outside. Henry's usually pretty hard to impress, but right now he seems kind of over-awed. The last time I saw him this shocked, it was when he unlocked a hidden level on a video game.
"Why don't you just tell me?" I ask. When he doesn't reply, however, I reluctantly make my way to the window. As soon as I'm standing next to him, I realize what he's looking at. In the distance, almost as far as the horizon, there's a huge fire. Something's burning a few miles out of the city, sending thick black smoke billowing into the darkening evening sky.
"What is it?" Henry asks.
I stare at the flames. "I don't know," I say eventually.
"It's near the airport, isn't it?" he continues.
"Yeah," I say. "I mean, maybe. I'm not sure".
"Mom and Dad -"
"Mom and Dad left the airport hours ago," I say quickly, trying to cut off any unnecessary speculation. Still, I'm starting to shake with fear. "They're in a car somewhere between there and here".
"Okay," he says, "but what the hell was that? Was it a plane?"
I watch as the fire continues to rage in the distance. "I don't know," I say. "Maybe".
We stand in silence for a few minutes, just watching the bright yellow and orange fire as it continues to burn. It's kind of hypnotic, in a way; as the city gets darker and darker, while the flame burns brighter and brighter. Whatever's burning, it seems to be fueling a fire of massive proportions.
"You know what else is weird?" Henry asks after eventually.
"What?" I say, still staring at the fire.
"It's been, like, five minutes," he continues, "and I don't hear any sirens or anything".
"Huh," I say. Standing and staring into the distance, I become aware of the room getting gloomier. At this rate, we're going to be in total darkness within the next half hour, and then what the hell are we supposed to do? Glancing back across to the hallway, I close my eyes and find myself hoping and praying that maybe our parents will come walking in at any moment. That's the only thing I can think of right now. If they don't come back through that door soon, I have no idea what we're supposed to do next.
THOMAS
Oklahoma
"This is fucked up," Joe says as he parks the truck in the forecourt of Dan Adams' petrol station. "Where the fuck is everyone?" He looks over at me. "You alright, Thomas?"
I nod.
"What's got your goat?" he asks, grinning from ear to ear. "Today's a good day, kid. Trust me, you go through life getting beat up by cops, you don't often get a chance to turn the tables and show 'em how you feel about 'em. Today was the kind of day that comes along rarely in a man's life". He pats me on the shoulder, before climbing out of the truck. "What's wrong, little brother? We did a good thing back there. That guy was suffering. I put him out of his misery".
"We should call someone," I say. "Let them know".
He shakes his head. "You know what cops are like. They won't understand. They'll lock me up. Don't worry, someone'll find him. Besides, he's dead now, so it ain't like he's suffering. Come on. I'll shout you an ice cream or something. Fill the tank up".
I watch as he struts toward the door that leads into the building. It's weird, but I always used to admire Joe; I used to watch his confident, happy-go-lucky way of walking around, and I'd hope that one day I might get to be the same. In our small rural community, he was always the cool guy. Right now, though, I hate him. I hate him more than I've ever hated anyone in my life. I just don't understand how one human being could be so mean to another. No matter what that cop might or might not have done to Joe over the years, no-one deserves to be killed in such a painful way. Joe had an opportunity to do the right thing, and he went the opposite way instead. I guess he's not the man I thought he was; I guess he's just a thug.
Getting out of the truck, I wander around to the other side and grab the pump, before sticking it into the truck and pulling the handle. For a few seconds, gas starts flowing into the tank, but suddenly there's a grinding sound and the whole damn thing thuds to a halt. I try again and again, but it resolutely refuses to work. Frowning, I put the pump back on the rack and grab the next one, but the same thing happens. It's pretty clear that the whole damn place has been emptied out. In fact, it looks completely deserted.
"There's no-one fucking here!" Joe shouts, coming back out to the forecourt. "I guess the guy's jerking off somewhere. Well, I hope it's worth it, 'cause I ain't paying for no gas when I can get it for free. You done?"
"The pumps are empty," I say.
"What do you mean, empty?" Joe asks, coming over and grabbing the pump from my hands. He squeezes the handle several times, but nothing comes out. "What you do to it?" he asks. "You drop it or something?"
"I didn't do anything," I tell him. "There's no gas".
"Of course there's gas," he replies, slapping me lightly on the back of the head. "This is a gas station, dummy". He pulls a frozen ice cream from his pocket and shoves it into my hands. "I got that for you," he says, as he grabs the other pump and finds that it, too, isn't working. "It was supposed to be a reward for your pumping skills, but I guess you can still have it".
"Did you leave some money on the counter?" I ask, looking down at the ice cream.
"Did I leave some money on the counter?" He laughs. "Did I leave some money on the counter? Yes, Thomas. I left some fucking money on the fucking counter, neatly piled up for Dan Adams himself to find when he gets back. I also left a note, explaining what I'd bought, and a glass of fucking milk in case he's thirsty. Jesus fucking Christ, Thomas. You think this guy doesn't owe us a fucking ice cream after all the years we've been paying over the odds for fucking gas around here?" He slams the pump against the side of the machine, hitting it so hard that the
whole thing rattles. "So where's the fucking gas, anyway?"
"I guess no-one filled it up," I say, placing the ice cream on top of the other pump.
"You don't want that?" Joe asks.
"No. I'm not a thief".
He sighs. "Whatever. I'm going back inside to see if I can find out what the fuck's going on. I tell you one thing, though. If we can't get any gas, we're turning around. I'm not risking the trip to town if I don't know we can get back tonight. The one thing worse than spending the night at home would be spending the night in that dump of a town".
Figuring I'm not gonna help him rob a gas station, I walk around the side of the building and take a seat in the dirt, staring out across the field and watching the wind turbines in the distance. I swear to God, there's a part of me that wants to just tell Joe where to stick it, and walk home instead. Sure, it'd take the best part of a week to make the journey, but at least I'd show him that I'm not gonna sit around and watch him act like an asshole. Still, there are probably better ways to make him see that. Maybe I can change him; maybe I can make him understand that what he's been doing is wrong. If he keeps going this way, he's gonna end up being a total, unbearable asshole, but I can't help thinking that maybe he's got a decent heart buried deep within his rotten chest.
Lost in my own thoughts, I barely even notice the sound of an approaching car. I mean, I notice it in the background, but it remains kind of abstract until suddenly the brakes squeal and I realize we've got company. Shuffling over to the corner of the building, I peer back at the forecourt and see a woman stepping out of a small, old car. She looks to be about Joe's age, fairly attractive but with the kind of trampy clothes that people tend to wear in cities. Making straight for the gas pumps, tottering on ridiculously high heels, she tries first one pump and then the other, before slamming them both against the machines in frustration.
"Looking for gas?" asks a familiar voice. Joe emerges from the building, with bags full of cigarettes and liquor in his arms, and a sickening grin on his face. He's obviously feeling pretty pleased with himself right now. I guess for a guy like Joe, this is all his Christmases come at once.
The woman stares at him. She's wearing sunglasses, so it's hard to make out her expression, but she's got bright red lipstick and she seems to have a very still, very calm kind of demeanor. She looks kind of classy, too, so she probably sees Joe as being some kind of rough animal.
"I'm afraid we're all out of gas," Joe continues. "Might have a bit of a party going, though, if you're interested". He glances around, but doesn't seem to spot me as I remain just around the corner. Watching Joe from a distance, it's even more obvious that he's a total sleaze. "Thomas!" he shouts. "Get your ass back here!"
"Who's Thomas?" the woman asks nervously.
"Thomas's my brother," Joe says, leaning against the truck. "He's probably off taking a leak somewhere. The kid's just a streak of piss anyway".
"Is this place shut?" the woman continues.
"Yeah," Joe says. "Kind of. I don't quite know where the owner's gone, but he seems to have taken off at short notice. Pretty inconvenient, huh? I swear, some people just don't have a good work ethic these days. Makes it a lot harder for the rest of us, if you know what I mean".
"Do you know where I can get some gas?" the woman asks. "I'm almost dry". She seems kind of highly-strung and nervous. If someone told me she was a bank robber being chased across state lines, I wouldn't have a hard time believing such a fanciful story. She just comes across as being so skittish and strung out.
"You don't look dry," Joe says with a smile. "There's no gas here. Place is clean out".
"Just like every place I've passed since yesterday," the woman replies.
"Seriously?" Joe laughs. "Well, then we're all fucked. If the gas stops flowing, civilization's gonna collapse down around our ankles by dinnertime, isn't it? There'll be fucking riots in the streets". He pauses for a moment. "I'm sorry, M'am. I didn't mean to use such coarse language".
"The roads are pretty empty lately," she continues, glancing back the way she came. "I swear, you're the first people I've seen in two hundred miles".
"Is that a fact?" Joe asks.
"Do you have any gas I can borrow?" she replies.
Joe sniffs. "Got some at home".
"Where's that?"
"Not too far. You got enough gas to cover about ten miles?"
"Maybe".
Figuring I have to go out front eventually, and realizing I can't take any more of their inane back-and-forth banter, I wander around the corner and head over to the truck. Frankly, the last thing I want to do is hang around while Joe makes flirty small-talk with some random woman, but I figure he might cut it out a little if I'm sitting right there. My best bet is probably to just wait it out, let him fuck her around the back, and then hope that he's content to turn around and head home.
"Here's my little brother right now," Joe says. "Thomas, this is... Huh, you know what? I don't think I know this fine lady's name".
"Lydia," the woman says.
"This is Lydia," Joe says, turning to me. "That's a nice name, isn't it?"
I shrug as I get into the truck and pull the door shut.
"You'll have to excuse Thomas," Joe continues. "He doesn't really know how to treat a lady. He hasn't been versed in the finer side of life. He ain't as experienced as the rest of us".
"I guess he's just a kid," she replies.
"Fuck you both," I mutter under my breath.
"Well, Lydia," Joe continues, "I've got a suggestion for you. If you like, you can follow us back to our place tonight. We live on a farm with our parents, but don't let that put you off. I have my own room, and it's kind of separate from the rest of the house. It's not exactly the lap of luxury, but you can join us for dinner, and I might be able to swing you some spare gas. My Dad's a farmer, so he has plenty stored away for a rainy day. How does that grab you?" He waits for a reply, but the woman seems hesitant. I don't blame her; if she's got any kind of sleaze-radar, she should have taken a pretty instant dislike to my brother. "It's not a trick question," Joe says eventually. "It's an offer. You don't have to take it, but it's the finest hospitality you'll get around here for a fair few miles". He rattles the bottles he just stole from the gas station. "If you like a drink," he adds, "we've got that covered too".
Lydia smiles. "You think I'm the kind of girl who'd just follow a strange guy home?"
"I'm not strange," Joe says. "Give me a chance, I'll prove it. Anyway, I figure you've got no choice. You need gas".
She pauses for a moment. "I guess," she says eventually, though she's clearly dubious. I don't blame her; I mean, it'd be pretty stupid for her to just come back to our house, but maybe she's desperate. Hell, maybe she's dumb! "But I've got a gun in my bag," she adds, "and I'll use it if you try anything".
"Okay," Joe says, banging the side of the truck before coming around to the driver's side. "I like a girl who's direct and to the point. You just follow us and we'll be back at our place before sundown. Deal?"
Without saying anything, Lydia turns and gets back into her car. Joe climbs into the seat next to me and starts the engine. From the grin on his face, it's pretty clear that he thinks he's gonna get some action tonight. For the sake of my faith in humanity, I hope he's wrong. I hate the idea of a guy like Joe getting lucky so easily. He doesn't deserve to get any action at all.
"I swear to God," he says with a smile, I'm gonna tap that ass tonight if it's the last thing I ever do. I wouldn't even mind if I keeled over from a heart attack right after, you know what I'm saying?" He smiles as he waits for me to say something. I guess he thinks I'm gonna look up to him and think he's a hero; the truth, though, is that he's starting to make my skin crawl. "Yes, Sir," he continues after a moment, "you'd better wear ear-plugs in bed tonight, kid, 'cause I'm gonna make the house shake 'til morning. I hope you're proud of your older brother".
"Why would she sleep with you?" I ask, staring out the window. "She's pretty. She's not go
nna get into bed with some redneck fuck-wit she meets at the side of the road".
"Watch your mouth," he replies.
"I suppose you could always tell her about the cop," I say, turning to him as he steers us onto the main road and we set off, with Lydia's car following close behind.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"The cop you killed," I say. "You could tell her about that. You know, just to turn her on. Just to really impress her".
He doesn't reply. Instead, he just keeps his eyes on the road and we drive on in silence for a few minutes.
"Shut up," he says after a few minutes of silence, and that seems to be the limit of his interest in talking about the matter.
ELIZABETH
Manhattan
There's a shuffling sound from the other side of the door, followed by a kind of clinking noise as Mrs. DeWitt opens the spyhole. An old lady who lives alone, she usually keeps herself to herself, and I don't think I've ever actually spoken to her properly before. This isn't the kind of building where people stop and chat socially in the hallways and elevators; it's the kind of building where people get on with their own lives and rarely extend the pleasantries beyond an occasional polite nod. Still, she's the nearest neighbor we have, and I figure she might have a little more experience with this type of situation.
"Who's there?" she calls out. "I can't see a damn thing. It's too dark!"
"It's Elizabeth Marter from down the hall," I say, standing in the pitch-black corridor. I wait for her to reply, but there's nothing. It's so weird being here not only in complete darkness, but also complete silence. No air conditioning hum. No sound from the elevators. Nothing. I never realized before how noisy the building could be, even at night. "I just came to see if you know when the power's coming back on," I continue eventually. "It's been a while now".
The door opens and a bright stream of torchlight shines directly in my face.
"I don't have a clue," Mrs DeWitt says. "How would I know? The way things are going, I wouldn't be surprised if we have to live the rest of our lives like cavemen".