Shelter in Place

by Harley Tate

  She raced to meet Owen standing at the end of the hall. Bear bounded by her side, relieved to be out of the apartment and away from the overwhelming stench of death. Lainey stuttered to a stop. “I left…the door…open.” She paused to catch her breath. “Should help with the smell.”

  Owen nodded. “Good idea.” He held open the door and Lainey and Bear went first into the stairwell. The farther they descended, the happier Bear became. By the time they reached the parking lot, he was back to his usual, goofy self.

  Lainey patted him on the head and followed Owen to the van. They threw open the doors and Owen set to work, flipping switches and turning knobs. After a few minutes, Owen turned to Lainey. “Can you drive us to the top of the deck? We need a clear shot at the southern sky.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Which side?”

  Owen grinned and pointed in the right direction.

  Lainey nodded. Directions had never been her strong suit. She hopped into the driver’s seat and Bear clambered into the empty passenger side, plopping down in the seat like a human ready to take a road trip. On any other day, Lainey would have stopped for a selfie of the two of them and captioned it something cute with a #KSBF on the end. She snorted. Hashtags. What a waste of time.

  Instead of worrying about how many likes they got on a staged photo that took hours to produce, people should have been checking their food supplies and coming up with evacuation plans. If Daphne had thought about what to do and where to go, maybe she wouldn’t have been rotting away upstairs. Maybe she would be safe at home with her family.

  The thought sobered Lainey as she thought about her own mother and sister. Had they driven straight into the path of a bomb? Were they dead and decaying like Daphne in her mother’s apartment in Chicago? Had Midge even survived the initial EMP?

  She parked the van on the southern edge of the parking deck, as far from the apartment building as she could manage. Owen called up from the back of the van. “Can you position the satellite? It’ll have to be manual since I’m overriding the program. But keep the van running. I need to use the engine to power my tablet for now.”

  “I can try.” Lainey opened the driver’s door and used the seat as a step stool. It wasn’t a graceful ascent, but after a few grunts and heaves, she made it on top of the van. The satellite dish hugged the top rails and Lainey reached for it with both hands. She tugged it up and hollered down to Owen. “Now what?”

  “Aim for 140 degrees, pointing toward the south.”

  Lainey clamped her teeth together as she concentrated on aligning the dish. After a few stops and starts, she leaned back. “Done.”

  “Give me a minute!” Owen called up, his voice muffled from the roof. After a while, something clanged against the van, shaking Lainey and causing Bear to bark. “It worked! It really worked!”

  Lainey scrambled down and fell into the driver’s side, landing with an oomph. Bear almost licked her face as Owen shoved his tablet through the gap in the seats. His screen filled with the front page of the Daily Mail, a British newspaper that always covered sensational news from the States.

  The first line of the article took up the entire screen: AMERICAN APOCALYPSE.

  Chapter Six

  KEITH

  Outside Keith’s Apartment

  Los Angeles, CA

  Tuesday, 5:30 p.m. PST

  This smell is never going to come out. Keith hoisted four trash bags over the side of the dumpster and watched them disappear. His clothes were ruined. Soaked in God knew what and forever tainted with Daphne’s death. He turned to Jerry and reached for his share of the bundle in the older man’s arms.

  Even wrapped up in layers of sheets and a goose down comforter, Daphne didn’t weigh close to what she did a week before. Keith would know.

  He thought about their relationship. The good times spent hiking in the nearby hills, runs through the park on quiet Sunday mornings, breakfast in the sheets she would eventually rot away inside.

  “If you want a burial—” Jerry began, but Keith cut him off.

  “I don’t.” He hoisted up his side of the bedding and backpedaled toward the trash. “On three. One, two—”

  They lifted together, ratcheting back and then flinging Daphne’s body forward and up into the air. She sailed over the lip of the dumpster, white sheets trailing behind her like a flag of surrender. Keith braced himself against the dented metal, breathing hard and sweating.

  “I can give you a moment.”

  A wave of nausea slammed into Keith and he turned away from Jerry to retch into the corner. This was not how he’d wanted to say goodbye to Daphne. Not forever. She might have broken up with him in a cowardly way, but she wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t deserve to die all alone, waiting for him to come home.

  While she’d puked her guts out, lost control of her body, and writhed around on the bathroom floor as the radiation killed her, he sat in the safety of a closed courthouse, oblivious. He slammed the side of his fist against the dumpster and shockwaves reverberated up his arm.

  What kind of a man forgets the people in his life when everything goes to hell? Sure, he’d told her about the bomb and she’d nodded her head when Lainey explained what she knew, but the second Keith walked out of that library, he’d shoved Daphne out of his mind. Focusing instead on the story and Lainey and chasing down the truth, he’d acted like every reporter he couldn’t stand.

  His life wasn’t about leads and tips and uncovering the truth. It was about simple pleasures and a steady job and a good dog. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned toward Jerry. “I’m not sure I’m ready for all of this.”

  “No one is.”

  Keith sagged.

  A few feet away from the dumpster, Jerry stood with his thumbs in his belt loops, stoic as ever. Over the past three days, they had talked about everything from graduating high school, to failed romances, to what they would do after they left the courthouse. All the while, Jerry stayed calm and shot straight. At fifty-six, the man had experienced almost twice as many years on the planet at Keith and it showed. “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Stay calm. Not let all this crap affect you.”

  Jerry’s brow dipped as he thought it over. “It does affect me. I just don’t see the point of showing it.”

  “Aren’t you angry? Don’t you have any regrets?”

  Jerry snorted. “You better believe it. I’m pissed that I took Metro to work that day and left my truck at home. I’m angry at myself for being lazy and relying on the stupid cafe in the building for lunch instead of restocking my stash. I’m pissed at KSBF for not running the story and giving people a fighting chance.”

  He wiped at his three-day-old beard. “Most of all, I’m furious at the government and their lack of transparency over the attack. They knew, and they kept it secret.”

  “So why aren’t you cursing or crying or breaking into a liquor store?”

  Jerry sobered. “None of that will help. Crying about what might have been will only get in the way.”

  “Of what?”

  “What has to happen next.”

  Keith exhaled a shaky breath. “You mean getting out of the city?”

  Jerry nodded. “We can’t stay here.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to flip the switch.”

  “You don’t have a choice. The power’s out. Half the city is dead or dying. We just dumped your girlfriend in the trash.”

  “Ex.”

  “She still meant something to you.”

  Keith forced a swallow. If he dwelled on Daphne’s death, he might fall apart. He pushed the horror of her death out of his mind and focused on the here and now. Where would they go? What would they do? He thought about the other members of their group. “Lainey has family in Chicago. She said her mother was headed to upstate Michigan, some small town on the lake.”

  “Is that where you want to go?”

  Keith didn’t know what he wanted. His parents were dead,
his handful of friends MIA. Daphne was dead, too. Apart from Lainey, he only really cared about Bear. “Seems as good a place as any.”

  “But is it where you want to go?” Jerry stepped forward again, closing the distance before dropping his voice. “It’s okay to say no. You don’t have to protect her.”

  Keith thought about Lainey and all she’d done since learning about the bombs. Confronting the FBI. Breaking and entering. Rogue broadcasting across the city. She wouldn’t stop just because the bombs detonated. It might take her a few days to come to terms with the new reality, but she would regroup. She would chase the story. Even if it meant exposing herself to risks she couldn’t handle. “She’ll get herself killed.”

  “It’s not your burden.”

  Keith pushed off the dumpster, a new resolution taking root in his mind. Jerry’s prodding had put everything in perspective. “Actually, I think it is. As long as she needs help, I’m going to give it.”

  Jerry cocked his head, gray hair glinting in the afternoon sun as the light cut across the asphalt. “You still love her.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Keith glanced back at the dumpster, finally understanding why no relationship after Lainey had ever worked out. “Lainey’s got a purpose. It might not be one I’d have chosen on my own, but it’s better than nothing. She knows what she’s doing every day. She has a reason behind everything she does.”

  The more he thought about it, the more he committed. “She might get us into trouble, but we’ll be moving forward. Uncovering the truth and finding her family. It’s the best option.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m not ready to shift into survival mode. I need something to keep me going more than breathing another day.”

  Jerry held out his hands in one of those if-that’s-what-you-want gestures and almost smiled. “I understand the power of a persuasive woman, believe me. My late wife could fix me with a look and I’d drop everything to help her.”

  Keith stilled. Jerry hadn’t spoken much about his wife over the past few days, opting instead to gloss over their twenty years together. “You never dated after your wife passed?”

  “I couldn’t even think about it.” Jerry kicked at a loose piece of gravel. “Linda was my everything. Tough as nails, soft as a feather. The whole package. But after the cancer—” he faltered. “I couldn’t put myself through it again.” He straightened up. “Besides, I do this whole crotchety old man shtick pretty good.”

  Keith laughed despite himself. “That you do. Ready to scrub some tile?”

  Jerry grimaced. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Together, they retraced their steps back through the ground floor of the apartment building and up to the third floor. As they neared Keith’s apartment, he held out a hand. A shaft of light lit up the hall in front of his unit. “Did we leave the door open?”

  “Not that I recall. Pretty sure I tugged it shut with my foot.”

  Keith frowned. They had barely made a dent in the cleanup, focusing only on the worst of the bathroom and Daphne’s remains. If Bear had needed to go, would Lainey have risked it? Would she have left the door wide open when she left?

  He eased closer, unease knotting the muscles in his neck. With silent steps, Keith strained to listen. Nothing. They couldn’t be inside. He took a deep breath and pulled the gun from his waistband. He was getting used to the feel of the metal in his hand. With the gun pointed at the floor, he stepped into the apartment.

  From the hall, he couldn’t see anyone. The closet and the bathroom blocked his view of the kitchen, but his bed sat stripped and bare, the living area was empty, and the open balcony door showed no one outside. He stepped another foot inside. The bathroom door was shut just as they’d left it.

  He reached for the handle and pushed it open. Bile rose in his throat and his nostrils flared. Nothing lurked inside except the smell and the last of the mess. Jerry entered the apartment on his heels, motioning toward the kitchen. Keith nodded and let the older man lead as they approached.

  Jerry cleared the cabinets and his shoulders eased of tension. He shook his head to signal all clear. The only space remaining was the closet, one of those double sliding door units that housed everything from Keith’s clothes to his pantry overflow. He slid the door open.

  No one jumped out. He shoved the clothes to the side, confirming the contents.

  They were alone. Keith audibly sighed. “I thought the worst.”

  “Same.”

  He wiped a hand down his face, wrinkling his nose at the smell on his skin. “Bear must have needed to go out.”

  “You think?”

  “I can’t imagine they would leave otherwise.” Keith walked into the kitchen, set the gun on the counter, and yanked open the cabinets. He’d left a twelve-pack of Coke on the shelf, too heavy to carry on his back. All gone. He turned to Jerry empty-handed. “I guess they left the doors open to air the place out.”

  Jerry shrugged. “Good idea.”

  As they stood in silence in the kitchen, Keith could almost pretend the world hadn’t gone to hell. They were just two dudes hanging out on a Tuesday evening, complaining about housework and a lack of suitable beverages.

  “Hello? Is someone in there?”

  Until then.

  He couldn’t place the voice. It might be a neighbor or someone from off the street. Whoever it was, they weren’t welcome. Keith motioned for Jerry to come further into the kitchen where they would be hidden. He reached for the gun as footsteps sounded on the apartment linoleum.

  Chapter Seven

  LAINEY

  Keith’s Apartment Parking Deck

  Los Angeles, CA

  Tuesday, 6:30 p.m. PST

  Lainey’s stomach churned. Based on the reporting coming out of London, America was destroyed. Between the grid collapse across the eastern half of the United States and the bombs leveling most of downtown in every major city, it was chaos. Complete infrastructure collapse. Military disconnected and unable to regroup. Police, fire, and rescue unable to make a dent.

  Aerial images shot from a helicopter above New York City showed miles of devastation. Entire blocks of downtown had been turned to radioactive ash. Endless piles of rubble, blown-out windows, and destroyed buildings. Entire neighborhoods resembled photos from World War II.

  Lainey’s fingers found her lips and they drummed a beat against her chapped skin.

  Authorities predicted millions of deaths from radiation poisoning in the next few weeks. Without power, hospitals would be unable to treat patients. Those injured in the blast would have nowhere to go. She thought about the huddled mass of sick and injured waiting outside the closed clinic. What must hospital parking lots look like today?

  She shuddered and kept reading.

  According to the article, without power, water treatment facilities would be unable to filter major city water supplies. If the water still ran in the taps, it wasn’t safe to drink. Boiling might solve the worst of the problems, but would do nothing for the contaminants immune to heat.

  Gas companies across the country relied on electricity to run their computerized controls. Natural gas would stop running without power to the computer systems. Without electricity, heat, or safe water, widespread panic would ensue.

  If stores remained open after the bombs, they were most likely empty. Thanks to the grid collapse throughout the eastern half of the United States, the trucking industry would slow to a crawl. Even if the giant agro-business corporations who now ran the food supply for the country managed to harvest and package this year’s crops, there would be a massive shortage of fuel, trucks, and drivers to deliver it. Add in the civil unrest and widespread death and all urban areas would turn into battlegrounds.

  Anarchy would reign. Cities would burn. The people who survived the blasts would die from starvation within weeks.

  Lainey turned away. “We have to get out of Los Angeles.”

  “And go where?”

  She wished she knew. Would s
mall towns fare any better? What about farms in the Central Valley? Desert communities in the western half of the state or Nevada?

  Owen scrolled through more stories, navigating to other foreign websites. They told the same story. The UN planned to convene an emergency meeting to discuss aid deployment, but member countries disagreed on the need for aid. It made no sense. The United States sent millions of dollars of aid to countries all over the world, but now that it needed assistance, other countries balked?

  Lainey frowned. She shouldn’t be surprised. Not after what they discovered in the British Consul General’s home. Foreign aid would come too little, too late for most Americans. She pulled back and ran a hand over her hair. Assuming the bomb detonated in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, they were five miles give or take from the worst of the damage.

  She thought about her mother’s apartment. How far was it from the Loop in Chicago? Two miles? One? Another chill coursed through her body and she pointed at the tablet still in Owen’s hand. “Can I check my email?”

  Her handed it over and Lainey navigated to her email’s online access. With any luck, there would be an email from Midge waiting in her inbox, detailing their location hundreds of miles away from any bomb.

  Lainey clicked her inbox and scrolled through a slew of automated emails informing her of sales at Old Navy, Target, and Wayfair. She bit back a desperate laugh. So many aspects of ordinary life would never be the same. There! A single email.

  Not from Midge, but from Rick.

  Lainey checked the date stamp and her mouth fell open. Only hours before he died. She steeled herself and clicked on the message.

  Don’t have much time. You were right about everything.

  Massive conspiracy from the top. Coordinated and planned. Faction in the government. Domestic terrorists. Call themselves SP Soldiers. IDK what that means. Not party affiliated AFAIK.

  Don’t expect aid. Plan will be to kill all high-ranking members of govt and start new. Break the power structure of US. IDK ultimate goal or who’s behind it. Other country(ies) maybe. Homeland involved.