Embarrassed by his utter lack of sympathy, Alec picked up some tissues from the ornately decorated box on the checkout counter and walked over to Gabriella. He stretched out his hand, offering her the tissues. “I'm so sorry about your father. I didn’t even stop to think...” Her sobs were more of a whimper now, like a baby that had all but given up hope to be picked up. Her bloodshot eyes sat down in a canyon of periorbital puffiness, yet she somehow replied with kindness in her voice. “It's…It's not your fault Mr. Alec.” She glanced around for a moment and then asked, “What do you think happened to them?” Alec wished he had an answer for her, for all of them. “I'm really not sure, Gabriella. I wish I could say for sure, but I just don’t know. They were taken right in front of us in broad daylight, but I never saw how or by what.” Gabriella looked at him with a questioning stare, the same way Alexa would as a toddler. She would ask him countless questions as she tried to wrap her little brain around the complex world that she was rapidly discovering. Like Gabriella, she expected him to have an explanation for everything. Alec looked at Gabriella and wanted to say more, to make her feel better, but what could he say? “Can I get you a glass of water or anything at all?” He hadn’t really meant to change the subject but the words just kind of came out. Gabriella shook her head from side to side. “No thank you.” She wiped at her runny nose with the tissue Alec had handed her. “If I can do anything for you and your family, let us know.”
Alec checked on a few other patrons, asking if he could help or if they needed anything, but most still hadn’t reconciled the events and flat declined his offer of assistance. Not really feeling any better about himself or the situation unfolding around him, he walked back over to Natalie. She was in the middle of a conversation with two women he had never seen before. She turned and addressed him as he approached. “Alec, the news is saying this happened everywhere. Reports are coming in from across the globe all saying the same thing. Millions, if not more, people all disappeared with no trace.” This was the first time Alec had considered this could be a worldwide phenomenon. The impact of the news and the consequences of what that meant changed everything. “Any news on what could have caused it? Does anything know what is happening? What is the president saying?”
The woman standing to his left, a tall African American woman in a tan colored pant suit answered him, “There are some speculations about alien abductions and the like, but we are still waiting on a statement from the president.” Her answer made him angry, “Aliens? Really? That's the best they could come up with?” The other woman, a shorter heavy set woman in a red blouse and white button up shirt threw up her arms in agreement, “That’s what I said. There ain’t no such thing as aliens. I told Jodi here the good Lord has been giving us signs for years now. Just look at all the earthquakes and hurricanes, and all the evil that’s been happening in the world. I been trying to tell people for years now that we were in the end times. Mmmhhhmm.” Alec nodded his head, doing his best to keep his face from betraying the thoughts bouncing around in his head. This lady was clearly insane.
“Maybe we’ll learn more from the president’s address. Surely there is some rational or scientific explanation for all of this,” Alec said. He caught Natalie eyeing him as if to say “please don’t start an argument.” The heavy set woman pursed her lips, putting one hand on her wide hips and waved the other in the air, “Ain’t no science to it. This is the Lord’s work.” Alec wanted to ask why anyone’s god would cause so much pain and suffering. If she believed so much, why wasn’t she taken with the others? He didn’t ask though. Heeding Natalie’s gaze, he simply said, “Maybe so. If you all would please excuse me, I need to check on something.” He lightly touched Natalie’s elbow as he brushed past her, a sign for her to follow.
Natalie caught his drift and excused herself from the other women. “I think the safest place for us to be right now is home,” Alec told her. “Then what?” she asked, “What are we supposed to do at home?” Alec thought for a moment as they began walking. “Start preparing.” Natalie stopped mid stride and turned to meet his eyes, “Start preparing for what Alec? Are you going to go off on one of your prepper tyrants?” Her voice was full of scorn, but Alec wasn’t backing down. “Listen, I know I may have gone a little over the top these last several months, but if there ever was a time for me to execute one of my survival plans, now’s that time Natalie. Trust me, things are going to get a lot worse before they get any better. We need to be prepared.” As he spoke the words, he realized for the first time how very real all this was. He had planned for all types of apocalyptic scenarios, but this had never been one. There was no way for him to know exactly what he needed to prepare for next, but he would do his best to have them ready.
Chapter 5
Logan woke up lying face down on something soft, but lumpy, like one of those terribly uncomfortable throws that old ladies make. Immediately he knew mistakes had been made. He went to turn his head, to see where he was, but was blocked by a throbbing wall of pain in his head. He let a sliver of light slip through his eyelids and immediately regretted it. “Ow, ow, ow,” he croaked as he reached for a pillow to cover his eyes. More rabid throbbing in his head. He was scared to open his eyes, scared of the light, and scared of what else he might discover. Instead, he just laid there and tried to go back to sleep. It was useless. Sleep had exited the building, leaving him with regret and a hangover in its place. Logan sighed and decided he may as well face up to whatever circumstances he’d put himself in.
He nervously opened his eyes, dreading what he would find. Beige walls, a small TV stand with maybe a thirty-two inch LED TV sitting atop, thick wool carpet, chestnut couch…nope, none of it even the slightest bit familiar. Logan sat up - bad idea. More shooting lances in his head, but he was able to get a better look around the home, or rather the apartment it seemed. It was a fairly nice apartment, nothing he would want to live in, but fairly nice. There was nothing fancy about it, but at least it was clean. It was decorated in what Logan decided to be a trendy style. Really it just looked like someone had gone on social media and attempted to replicate what they had seen. The pictures on the walls followed a general theme, a waterfall theme, which made Logan realize how bad he needed to relieve himself. He looked all around for the restroom, finally locating it directly behind the couch in an unlit hallway.
Still no a clue who’s apartment he was in, Logan gingerly tiptoed to the restroom, squeezing his bladder and internally quieting his rumbling stomach when a female voice called out to him, “good morning.” Logan cringed, stopping mid-stride as he turned towards the voice. It was a pleasant enough voice, not too high or squeaky, but most definitely unfamiliar. “Uh, good morning?” Logan said or kind of asked. It came out more like question. He was afraid to turn his head and meet the mystery woman, but he decided it would be flat out rude not to. Slowly, he turned to meet what he assumed to be the owner of this wonderful abode.
A short blonde woman stood in the doorway, hair slightly disheveled, wearing an orange tank top and what appeared to be men’s boxer shorts. She certainly wasn’t Miss America, but wasn’t bad on the eyes either. Well, he could see how she wouldn’t be bad on the eyes after a few drinks, anyways. She spoke again in an amused voice, “How you feeling? You were quite the entertainer last night.” Logan cringed as to what he might have done in his blackout. “I’ve been better, but nothing a large coffee and syrup covered waffles can’t cure.” His right knee angled slightly inward, like a toddler that really had to go. She must have noticed because she snickered slightly, “Go ahead, I’ll be in the kitchen when you finish.” Logan started to feel flushed, but reminded himself he would never see the woman again, so he just said, “Thanks,” and closed the door to the bathroom.
The sink running may have helped to muffle the sound of Niagra Falls as Logan relieved himself, but he was pretty sure the neighbors down the hall could hear the jet stream of urine blasting into the bowl. The ragged man in the mirror staring at him needed a shower
, some eye drops, and a cup of coffee. Scratch that, a whole pot of coffee. Logan washed his hands, tried to prepare himself for the painfully awkward conversation ahead of him, and walked casually towards the kitchen as if he were going to have breakfast with an old friend. “So, about last night…” He started, but was interrupted by his host. “No need to talk about it. After the bar you passed out on the couch like a frat boy.” Logan found that reassuring, but still hated the situation he had put himself in. He didn’t even know this woman’s name.
Logan scanned the refrigerator door and counter tops, looking for a utility bill or anything that might reveal her identity. She must have seen him, very observant, this one, because a smirk formed on her face. “You don’t remember anything from last night do you?” He considered lying, but wasn’t sure he cared enough to. Instead, he found himself shaking his head with as much sincerity as he could muster. “Ha ha ha don’t feel bad. I didn’t really know if you would or not. You were fun and cute enough for me to take home either way. I’m Jordan” Logan wasn’t really sure how to take that. Cute enough? “Thanks,” he replied sarcastically. Jordan laughed again and offered him a cup of coffee. “Please,” he said, gladly accepting the hot cup of dark roast. “I can make some bacon and eggs if you’d like,” she offered. He looked down at his watch, nearly ten o’clock. “Thanks, but I better get going. I didn’t really intend to get my day started so late.” He didn’t mean for any of the last twelve hours to happen. Her reply was way too nonchalant. “Big plans the day after the apocalypse? The news this morning is all about chaos and violence in some of the major cities.”
This last bit intrigued him. The former was what brought on the night of drunkenness in the first place. “So people are out rioting?” he asked curiously. “News made it sound more like they were going insane. Attacking and killing each other with their bare hands. They’re already reporting tens of deaths from the violence. That isn’t even counting the people that died from the car wrecks and plane crashes from the disappearances.” It was even worse than he thought it would be. Logan padded his pants pocket for his cell phone and was rewarded with a solid thud. He adjusted his weight to one butt cheek and pulled out his phone to find a dark screen. He pushed the power button, and a picture of an empty battery blinked back at him. “I really better get going,” Logan said. Jordan looked up at him, as if she knew something he didn’t. “You going to be needing a ride?” Logan cursed under his breath, now understanding the look. “No, I’ll just hail a taxi. Thanks though.” She shrugged, “No worries, hun.”
Logan looked around awkwardly. “I’m not really used to these situations…”He just wanted to be out of the apartment and back home. The comment earned him another laugh and a smirk on her face. “You could ask for my number and say something like, I had fun last night.” The wrinkles above his head furrowed. He had no clue if the night before had been fun or not, and he had no intention of ever seeing her again. “Thanks, I had fun last night.” He paused in thought. “I would ask for your number, but I probably shouldn’t. Like I said, I don’t normally do this kind of thing.” Now it was Jordan’s to furrow her brow, “Well…OK then. At least you’re honest, I guess.” Logan stood up and walked to the front door, pausing for a moment before he turned the handle. He considered apologizing, but ultimately decided against it. It’s the thought that counts, he told himself.
His guilt began to eat at him as he walked along the sidewalk towards the intersection. He wasn’t really sure what he had to be guilty about. It’s not like he made the woman take him home, and apparently he passed out on the couch anyways. If he was sorry about anything, it was how many gin and tonics he had the night before, and about the resulting hangover.
It was true, what he told Jordan Earlier. The last time he could remember doing something like this was his freshmen year of college, back when he was a big partier. Back then it seemed like every other weekend he would wake up on a strange couch, in an unfamiliar bed, or even sprawled out face down on the floor. That was his former life. Well…at least until last night it was.
Hailing a taxi took longer than he would have liked, but he didn’t have a whole lot of choices at this point. The cab smelled like a mixture of cigarettes and service station cologne. As bad as the smell was, the noise reverberating from taxi driver’s throat was worse. Seriously, how many times could one individual clear their throat? If whatever was causing the itch didn’t clear up after the first fourteen obnoxious times, the fifteenth and sixteenth probably wouldn’t get the job done either.
“Maybe try a cough drop or a sip of water,” Logan suggested. The Indian man driving the taxi looked at him in the rearview mirror, then took a sip of his water, only to clear his throat again afterwards. “For heaven’s sake give it a rest!” Logan wanted to yell, but he didn’t.
Ten minutes later Logan was in his tiny hatch-back car, head still throbbing. Thanks to the car ride, his headache was now accompanied with the usual nausea of a hangover. He felt like he may need to pull over to puke at any moment.
As he drove home, he thought about what the blonde woman had said, whatever her name was, and turned the radio to an AM news station. The radio host was interviewing a panel of guests, asking questions regarding the disappearance. The panel pretty much the exact same things they were saying the night before and the host left a hook just before the commercial break, “…and when we return we’ll talk about the violence plaguing our nation in the wake of the strange disappearance event.” Logan groaned as he suffered through three minutes of ads for quasi-health insurance and the revolutionary new cars that will change driving forever.
The news ended up coming back on when Logan was less than two miles from his house. “Experts aren’t sure what to make of the violence sweeping across the nation. Police and other law enforcement are urging people to stay calm and remain indoors. Some experts are saying there is more to this violence than just fear and outrage for answers about the disappearance of millions of people across the world. So what exactly is happening out there? For this we’ll go live to Megan. Megan, thanks for joining us. Can you tell us anything new about the violence we’re seeing spring up across the nation?” Megan had a multitude of answers ranging from the stress over the event to one outlier of a suggestion that intrigued Logan. He wasn’t sure where she had come up with it, but she suggested that people could be losing control of their bodies as a direct result of the disappearance, as if the two were directly related. “So Megan, you’re saying there is some kind of disease or paranormal force controlling people?” The idea was almost too much science fiction to be true. “That’s exactly what some people are saying. Look, it’s possible there is a connection between the two. We are talking about a global even that caused millions of people to disappear, and now suddenly a chunk of our population completely loses it? I saw a homemade video just this morning that showed a man with red eyes viciously attacking and biting random pedestrians in a park.” The host, Jim apparently, interrupted Megan, “That’s a hoax and we all know it, Megan.” He continued. “Those people are just trying to up their subscriber base by posting some highly-edited video. It’s fake news,” Jim said with certainly. From there, the discussion turned into more of an argument which didn’t sit well with Logan’s headache, so he turned off the radio. He didn’t need to hear anymore. After all, he knew exactly what caused the disappearance and the mere thought of it made him boil with anger.
The screen door slammed shut behind him as he limped through the small house and into his bedroom. He stepped over the mess scattered across his living room, plugged his phone into the charger, and face-planted onto his bed. He wanted a forty-ounce glass of water and a powdered migraine relief pack but didn’t want to get up again. His head still pounded, but there was some relief at being in his own room, in his own bed. “Ding. Ding. Ding-ding-ding.” His phone must have beeped a dozen times, apparently charged enough for all the missed messages to come through. He was nervous to check them. Some of the dings
were text messages, but by the rhythmic dinging sound most of the notifications were voicemails. Logan just wanted to sleep. He wanted to crawl in a dark hole, not listen to the messages. He already knew what they would say.
After ten minutes of sleeplessness and racing thoughts, he finally rolled over, pressing the speaker button for the voicemails. “Pastor Logan, please call me back as soon as possible. It’s Sean…he’s gone...God’s taken him but not me,” the familiar voice of Ceila wailed.
Chapter 6
Zoey sat in a dimly lit corner with her back against the concrete wall, shaking uncontrollably. She was unconsciously rocking herself back and forth. She pleaded to herself to wake up from this nightmare. She desperately wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. More than that she wanted Zachary back, but he was gone. He was gone and her friends were dead. Warm tears rolled down her round cheeks. She unsuccessfully tried to will herself to her feet, contemplating giving up, debating if this life was even worth living. Then she thought about Sam’s sacrifice. He had given his life so that she could have a chance, just like her mom had sacrificed so much for her and Zachary after their dad had left them.
She heard her mom’s voice, a strong voice. “When everyone else is ready to give up, my babies push on and give them hope. My babies are strong. They are positive. They are leaders. Someone others can follow.” Zoey wiped the tears from her cheeks. She checked her surroundings and pushed down against the cold tile floor, standing to her feet. Across the small dark room she noticed two desks for the first time. She hadn’t so much as given the room a thought beyond being clear of abominations. Not after the chaos that brought her to this place. The two rectangular wooden desks were vaguely lit by a few slivers of sunlight, the first of the morning peering through the dirt-covered window to the office. Dawn was finally upon the city, bringing with it not light and warmth, but a few hours of refuge from the night, from the red-eyes. She wasn’t even sure what part of the city she was in. In her desperate attempt to escape the massacre at the stadium, and after Sam…she had become disoriented. She simply ran and ran, trying not to look back over her shoulder, trying to forget Sam’s screams and those wretched shrieks.
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