by J. Bengtsson
“Then I’ll drive you to a store in a twenty-mile radius… or a thirty-mile radius, if that’s what it takes to keep you out of prison.”
Wait, was he being a mini dictator because he was worried about me? Ah. Maybe I was being too harsh? I glanced his way, feeling nothing but irritation when I looked at him. I wanted to explain to him why it had to be this store in particular. That this was the only one for miles around that carried the type of survival supplies I needed to keep us alive. But I couldn’t tell him that without revealing why I was stealing in the first place. The fact of the matter was, I needed Jeremy to help me save RJ.
“Just… please trust me. It has to be this one.”
Jeremy rotated in his seat, staring. The tsking look on his face reminded me of my mother’s. I was a naughty, insolent girl who needed correcting. And maybe, had my apartment not come down on top of me a little over an hour ago, I would have bent to his coercion. But I wasn’t the same girl who had nitpicked my way through dinner last night. Today’s Dani would do whatever she deemed necessary—including looting—to keep RJ breathing.
“You understand that some of those people have guns, right? Are you really willing to get yourself killed for your favorite facewash?”
That Jeremy thought me so shallow that I’d risk my life for Aveeno was the final nail in his coffin. I no longer cared what he thought of me or if he would wait around and drive me back to the scene. I could get back to RJ without him.
My jaw tightened. “I don’t have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. Every single person in that store has a choice—and they’re making the wrong one. Don’t be like them, Dani. You’re better than that.”
Not today I wasn’t. Today I was a soldier, going to war for the man who’d wrapped his grateful arm around me and called me his hero. As long as RJ lived, they could throw me in jail because I’d know in my heart it had all been worth it. But if I did nothing at all and RJ died, I’d never be able to look myself in the eye again.
Jeremy must have taken my moment of quiet reflection as his chance to change my mind. He put his car in gear. “I’m going to play my get-out-of-jail-free card on you,” he said, rolling forward. “You can thank me later.”
“Stop the car,” I demanded, opening the door.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he blasted. “Shut your door.”
“No!” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’ll jump if I have to.”
“You’re crazy.” He slammed on the brakes. “Go, if that’s what you want. Get arrested. Get shot. My god. No one needs supplies that bad.”
“I do,” I replied, tears of frustration threatening to fall. “I need them.”
“Why? What can be so important that you risk arrest? That you risk your life? Tell me that.”
I wanted to scream at him, to tell him RJ would die without me, but if he thought this was bad, what would he do if he knew I was planning to go back inside the parking garage? Jeremy had tattler written all over him.
I opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
Jeremy shook his head, as if what little hope he still had of being able to salvage something with me had been dashed when he understood the full scope of my mental instability. I let that remain his last thought of me as I climbed out.
Jeremy was gone the second my feet hit the pavement.
There was nothing like a wily band of looters to speed up the shopping process. Typically, I was one of those looky-loo shoppers, who pushed my cart up and down the aisles with no big plan and no big hurry. But today was a wee bit different. Not only was I on a timeline to save RJ, but the situation inside the store was deteriorating quickly, and lawlessness was setting in.
Having a plan and knowing the layout of the store worked to my advantage. I stuck to the periphery, staying low and out of the way of the hardcore ‘shoppers.’ I also avoided the more sought-after areas of the store, like the electronics department and the pharmacy. Much to my surprise, the camping section had not yet been picked apart. You’d think after an earthquake, this would be the first place people would head, but obviously the looters in this store were thinking more long-term survival, like iPhones and TVs with built-in apps.
Grabbing a survivalist-type backpack off the shelf, I began my shoplifting experience by shoving the most basic of supplies into its spacious openings. Lanterns, flashlights, batteries, a first aid kit, space blankets—really just anything I thought might help us get through the night. The only knife I could find was a Swiss Army one, not really going to help the cause, but I swiped it anyway… because I could. Oh, god. I was going to hell.
I’d just managed to wipe those shelves clean when another aftershock hit. Falling to the ground, I protected my head as the world around me rattled. They were getting less intense in strength, but that offered little solace given the fragile house of cards above RJ’s head.
Once the shaking stopped, I watched my fellow looters pick themselves back up and continue the important work of pillaging. These were some hardy souls… But so was I, and until I got something to chip away at the concrete holding RJ down, my shopping spree wasn’t over.
I arrived in the tool aisle, only to join a handful of others filling their carts.
“What do you need, hon?” one woman asked, so welcoming.
“A hammer and chisel.”
“Hammers are over there, but no chisel.”
It was like she’d taken inventory. Disappointed there was nothing of use to free RJ’s foot, I nonetheless swiped the last two hammers off the wall and waved them in the air for her to see. “Thank you.”
“No problem, hon. You have a nice day now.”
I chuckled. This just proved that, when done right, shoplifting didn’t have to be an unpleasant experience. Still, the longer I was here, the more danger I was in. Making my way toward the store’s exit, I stayed low and plucked things off the shelves that might prove valuable while avoiding the place with the most value of all, the pharmacy. A Z-pack or a bottle of painkillers would go a long way to getting RJ through the night, but I was already pushing my luck and didn’t dare head in that direction. The pharmacy was where the diehard looters came out to play.
A pang of guilt gripped me as I exited the store with the stolen contraband slung heavily over my shoulders. I pushed the shame aside, telling myself I would be back to confess my sins, just as I had all those years ago as a five-year-old gum-stealing thief. The consequences this time around would be stiffer, that much I understood, but I hoped maybe they would take into consideration the desperation that had necessitated the action. If not, I’d take my punishment knowing I’d done it to save a life. My chest clenched—if it wasn’t already too late.
I looked around the parking lot, hoping maybe Jeremy had had a change of heart and had circled back around to get me, but he hadn’t. And I didn’t blame him. If the roles had been reversed, and he had asked me to risk my life for J.Lo, I wasn’t sure I’d be all that eager to risk arrest either.
The pack on my back was awkward and heavy, making the nearly two-mile journey back on foot feel endless. After surviving what I had today, my body was depleted. God, I missed Jeremy’s car. And it didn’t help matters that I was also carrying a gallon of water in each hand, the weight of which forced me to stop and rest every fifteen minutes or so. But even as day turned to night, I forged on, arriving back at the apartment complex only to discover that rescue workers were still standing around. Even the giant crane was no longer plucking people off their balconies. It was an eerie sight, almost as if the trapped had been left for dead. And while I understood the reasoning behind the stall, I couldn’t help but be horrified for those who really needed saving. I knew then that I’d made the right decision by going in search of supplies.
The flapping of signs off to my right caught my attention. The crowd behind the caution tape hadn’t just doubled; it had swelled into the hundreds. And as I drew nearer, I understood why. The signs—they all had RJ’s name on them.
I love you RJ
We want RJ out AnyDayNow
I would’ve relished my role in the fandom had I not been so worried about him. It had been at least three hours since I’d left. So much could have happened in that time. But I couldn’t focus on that. I had to believe he was alive and waiting for rescue. What would he think about the outpouring of love? Would it make him stronger, or would he shrink further into himself? It made me wonder why he’d been in hiding in the first place. What was the reason he’d chosen to isolate himself, when clearly he was loved by so many?
Leaving the fans and their signs of hope behind, I walked the length of the barrier, trying to find a way back in. In the time I’d been gone, they’d fortified the area with concrete barriers and police officers strategically placed inside the perimeter. I understood the reasoning. For the safety of everyone, they needed to keep the onlookers out, but it just made my job harder. Not only did I need to make my way to the hole undetected, but I also had to get past the barricade.
I spotted my firefighter, Parker, among a gathering of men and women still waiting to go in. I wanted desperately to talk to him, to find out what was happening, but I had a sense if he saw me with a huge backpack on my back, he’d know instinctively what I was doing and report me to his superiors. No, this was my mission to complete, and the only way to do that was to keep it covert.
Sticking to the outer areas of the makeshift wall, I found a place to wait undetected until I was given some sign. I wasn’t sure what that might be, but I was sure I would know it when I saw it. All I needed was a distraction that might allow me to duck behind the barriers and disappear down the rabbit hole.
My chest tightened at just the thought of going back in there. Since leaving RJ, I hadn’t really given much thought to entombing myself once more. I’d been entirely focused on the task at hand. But now that I was lying in wait, the terror was slowly setting in. When I’d left RJ earlier, I hadn’t known what I knew now. I hadn’t known that our small pocket of safety had been supporting the weight of half the building. One more aftershock was perhaps all it would take to bring the rest of it down on top of us.
A popping sound, possibly from an erupting gas pipe, served as the distraction I needed. With the focus elsewhere, I darted past the barriers and ran toward the opening in the earth. Toward uncertainty. Toward danger.
I went for him.
You better be alive in there, RJ Contreras. You promised me.
11
RJ: Fading Fast
Albert never spoke again. I called out his name over and over, even dropping a string of f-bombs to spark his ire, but there was nothing. No movement. No sound. Albert was gone. Suddenly the walls around me closed in. I had been left to navigate alone in this desolate underground. The pain from his loss hit hard, so much harder than it should have for an old man I barely knew. But Albert had made a mark on me, and something had changed.
The importance of our short time together could not be understated. I’d always thought I preferred solitude, even craved it after those crazy AnyDayNow days. I’d come back to an empty home, and the silence seemed a welcome reprieve. But there was something to be said about the power of human connection, and now that I’d had a taste of it, I couldn’t imagine living without it. Things I’d thought I didn’t want—a wife, maybe a few kids—suddenly made perfect sense to me. I wanted what Albert had had. If this experience had taught me anything, it was that life wasn’t meant to be lived alone, not when death was such a solitary endeavor.
Dusk descended on the parking garage not long after Albert’s passing. Whatever miniscule light I’d been afforded at the beginning of the ordeal was ripped from me as I was swallowed up in desolate darkness. In the pitch-black, desperation reigned supreme. My best guess was I’d been trapped inside for three, maybe four hours, and still no bulldozed walls. No first responders calling my name. No signs whatsoever of any help coming my way.
It was hard to rationalize the reason why. I knew Dani was trying—that she’d put everything she had into getting me help—but what if there was no help to be had? What if the world outside the parking garage was worse than the one inside? Visions of an apocalyptic landscape took shape with every aftershock that rattled my prison. The quakes had leveled off in intensity since the first two big ones Dani and I had ridden out together, but regardless, I braced for the impact each time another one rumbled to life, certain the rickety ceiling would take its last bow or that the ground would open up further and devour me whole.
With each bleak hour that passed, I could feel my strength wavering—my future fading away. All the things I should have said. All the things I hadn’t done. What had I been waiting for? Why had I thought time would stand still long enough for me to get my shit together? It wouldn’t… It hadn’t. I’d been so dumb, wasting time I didn’t have. All these months I’d been locked away in my apartment being a fucking baby when I should have sucked it up, swallowed my pride, and jumped right back into the game.
There was a lesson in there somewhere, but right now, with chills racking my body, I really wasn’t in the position to ponder. Instead, I focused on Dani, imagining her warm skin against my shivering body. She’d heat me from the inside out like she’d been doing since the day we met.
Dani. Talk about a wasted opportunity. Come to think of it, why had I wasted it? It wasn’t like I couldn’t have had her if I’d put my mind and body into it. Getting women into bed was a particular skill set of mine, right up there with knowing how to pick the tastiest watermelon. To be fair, my chances were bolstered by the fact that women loved sweaty musicians hot off the stage. I supposed that gave me a warped confidence in my abilities. Maybe as Chad Woodcock, I wouldn’t be turning them on so easily. Maybe I’d actually have to try.
Not that I’d ever tested the theory. When I went off the grid, I purged myself of anything that had to do with my former life, and that included the enablers—the women who put up with my shit for the opulent benefits it afforded them. If they left me, they left the lifestyle too. So they stayed until I’d had my fill, and then I’d kick them to the curb for a new woman and a new cycle of exploits.
But the minute I moved into this shitty apartment, all that changed. Chad Woodcock had no special privileges afforded to him. He was just an average Joe with no known gifts to speak of, and yet, Dani had seen through all that today. She’d looked inside and seen that the douche next door was worth saving. It was maybe the first time in my adult life that a woman had judged me for me and not for the lifestyle I lived.
It made me rethink every encounter with her over the past five months. She’d fascinated me from the start—that sassy-assed balcony warrior who treated me like a commoner and had zero tolerance for my shit. God, she’d been such fun to rile up—the barky Pomeranian bitch-slapping my Great Dane. She was just so over-the-top nippy that I couldn’t help but turn that energy back on her, in the most negative of ways. What I should have done—what I’d wanted to do every day since seeing her sunning in a bikini on our balcony—was to pin her to her reclining chair and give those luscious lips of hers a try. But I’d been so preoccupied with my own problems that I’d abstained from creating new ones. Clearly that had been a mistake because I now understood that this girl had been placed on this earth to save me from myself.
Come on, Dani. Be my hero. I’ll make it worth your while.
I believed in her. If anyone could make it out alive, it would be scrappy Dani Malone, a woman who wasn’t afraid to be brave in a world that had, very recently, tried to claim her. There really was no better advocate. If Dani made it out of this parking garage, I knew she’d be tirelessly campaigning for my release, using that mouth of hers for good, not evil.
I dozed on and off, and each time I awakened, I could feel my deterioration. Weakness was setting in. I was cold. I was hot. I was in pain. I was not. The ‘not’ part came later as numbness set in. It was then I started really considering my fate. I was slowly dying.
It wasn’t the way I’d thought it would be. So sad. So lonely. The unfairness of it all. I wanted to live, but the decision was no longer up to me.
It was after one of these wakeups that the anger set in, and I raged at the world, screaming at the top of my lungs to be saved.
But no one ever came.
12
Dani: To the Rescue
Like a soldier evading capture, I zigzagged my way to the hole in the ground, expecting at any moment that I’d be struck down by enemy fire. But there was no chase. No bullets ringing out through the night. No voices calling me back. The reality was that no one even saw me bolt past the barriers. Maybe I wanted the intervention, someone to talk some sense into me. But no. Jeremy had tried that, and it hadn’t worked.
Arriving at the opening in the ground that I’d escaped from earlier in the day, I stood there a moment contemplating my decision. I was willingly going back into a place of death and destruction—for him.
This wasn’t me at all. I was sensible—usually—and smart. I did not lean on men to set my world straight. So why now? Why him? Why was I risking everything to give a man I barely knew a chance at life? And RJ Contreras, of all people. He wasn’t exactly known as a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy. RJ had a reputation that preceded him, one that would have pursed my mother’s lips like she’d chewed and gagged down an entire lemon piece by piece.
My mother. The things I’d done today… Oh, man, she could never know. I’d never hear the end of it, in life or death. I could almost hear her speaking at my funeral. Dani got her dumbness from her father’s side of the family.
Disappointing my mother in death seemed an acceptable way to go, so I dropped to my knees and prepared to insert myself back into the earth. First things first. I pushed the two water containers through the hole I’d climbed out of earlier and watched them slide down the dirt slope, fortunately staying intact on the way down. Easing the straps off my shoulders, I tried the same easy-does-it approach with the backpack only to discover that you can’t shove a monstrously overstuffed bag through a narrow hole. After heaving and ho-ing to no avail, I tried a new approach. Getting back to my feet, I sat down heavily on the bag, my full weight enough to tip the scales and send the backpack through the hole. I didn’t have time to celebrate because as my bag went through, so did I. Unlike the graceful descent the water jugs took, mine was a tumble for the comic books. Caught up in a dirt avalanche, I somersaulted head over foot all the way to the ground, landing with a thud at the bottom of a debris pile as a meteor shower of concrete and hell rained down on me.