Survive (Day 4)

by A. R. Wise

  “Divorced.”

  “And the kids stayed with you?” she said, impressed. “Must mean you’re a pretty good dad.”

  “Or she was a pretty bad mom.”

  June nodded and then asked, “Was she?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Touché.”

  “I’m teasing. Pearl wasn’t a bad mom, she just…” he shrugged. “She wanted a different life.” He glanced over at his daughters. “Her loss.”

  “Does she still live around here?”

  “No,” said Roy. “She moves around a lot. Last I heard she was in Arkansas.”

  “Sounds like my mom.”

  “Your mom moved around a lot?”

  “We all did. Like I said, it’s a long story. Let’s just say that if your ex is anything like my mom, then your girls are lucky to have at least one sane parent.”

  “You know, we’ve got nothing but time here. I’d be willing to listen to a long story if you’re willing to tell it.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Were your parents in the military? Is that why you moved around a lot?”

  “No. They were as far from military as you can get. More like hippies, except without the peace, love, and understanding.”

  “Drugs?” he asked, as if peering into her psyche.

  She nodded.

  “That’s tough. Sorry to hear it.”

  “If it was just drugs, I could deal with it.”

  “Then what was it?” he asked, and then immediately apologized. “Sorry if I’m prying. I don’t mean to. I’ve always been bad about that.”

  “No, it’s okay. My parents were in a cult.” The last word came out almost inappropriately loud. She covered her mouth while looking at the sleeping girls. It was as if the admission required her to yell it out loud. “Sorry. It’s crazy to say. Most people don’t believe it, and if they do they’ve got a million questions, so I don’t talk about it much.”

  “What sort of cult?”

  “The sort that travels around like gypsies, like a communal, mobile, life-affirming naturalistic – whatever the fuck. They used to have all sorts of different names for it, but it was always bullshit. They just wanted to get away with not paying taxes, and not sending their kids to school, and being jackasses all the time. They were super religious, but then they’d go and swap wives and do drugs. The girls had to wear hijabs, and couldn’t talk during sermons. We had to do whatever the men said. And I mean whatever they said.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. How’d you get away?”

  “One day we were at a gas station, and I went to the bathroom and never came back. I didn’t even mean to run away. It wasn’t something I planned. It just sort of happened. The door to the alley was open, and past that there was a neighborhood. I could hear some kids playing, and I just ran until I couldn’t run anymore – until my legs gave out. A woman found me on her lawn and called the police. I had to tell them everything. It was the single worst and best day of my life, all at once. Or at least it was. These past couple days haven’t exactly been a picnic.”

  “Is that why you got the tattoos?”

  June touched the rising phoenix on her breastbone and said, “Sort of. My dad forbids tattoos and piercings, and jewelry of any kind. Once I was free, I was scared. It was like I wasn’t free at all. It felt like any minute he’d show back up at my door to take me away. I didn’t do anything that would’ve made him mad, and then one day I finally snapped. I got this one.” She pulled her shirt’s collar to the side to allow her shoulder to peek through, revealing an elaborate lace of tattoos that formed a circle of unmarked skin. In the center of the bare skin was a simple, black dove.

  Roy came closer to inspect the small tattoo. “Allie’s got one like that on her ankle. She got it her first year in college.”

  “The guy who did mine said lots of girls get it when they first leave home. They put it somewhere inconspicuous – it’s like a secret rebellion against their parents. Flying free. It’s kind of generic, and I know lots of other people have the same one, but out of all the tattoos I’ve gotten, it’s still my favorite.”

  “It’s funny, I’ve been a guidance counselor for twenty-three years, and I’ve helped thousands of kids with family problems. You’d think I’d have a grip on what it means to be a kid, but my daughters still teach me things every day. When Allie got her tattoo, I was floored. And the way she hid it from me felt like – I don’t know. It felt sort of deliberate. Like she wanted something private – something she didn’t share with me. It felt like a slap in the face. I don’t feel that way anymore, but I did at first.”

  June said, “It used to make me mad when I saw girls rebelling against their families. I was like, ‘Fuck off. You think you’ve got it bad.’” She shook her head and gave a dismissive chuckle. “But now I think a lot of girls go through that sort of thing. It’s natural.”

  “You’re right, it is. But as a parent, I can tell you most of us try to do what we think’s right for our kids. And when they rebel, it feels like a slap in the face. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to excuse what your father did. That’s a whole different thing.”

  Allie stirred. She moved slow at first, but then awoke with a violent start, throwing her blanket off and sitting up in terror. She looked around, eyes wide and fearful.

  “It’s okay, Allie,” said her father. “You’re fine.”

  Allie wiped her eyes, blinked several times, and continued to look around in a state of confusion. Her gaze settled on June, and she calmed. She took a deep breath, and then looked down at her sleeping sister.

  “What time is it?” asked Allie.

  “About nine,” said Roy after checking his watch. “You hungry?”

  “Are we safe?” she asked, ignoring his question.

  “We’re safe,” he said.

  She stood and went to the vent, breaking the bars of light streaming in, and disturbing the particles of dust that floated within the shafts. She peered outside. “How can you be sure?”

  “It’s okay, we’re fine,” said Roy. “All we have to do is be patient. Eventually the infected will move on.”

  “So that’s your answer? Just sit here and wait?” Her burgeoning anger was fueled by fear and uncertainty.

  “That’s all we can do, honey.”

  Someone, somewhere in the seemingly vacant neighborhood, screamed out in terror. It was a woman, pleading for help, and then in pain. It woke Rose, but the girl didn’t sit up. Instead, she stayed laying on the floor, her eyes wide. Neither Roy nor Allie noticed the child was awake, but June locked eyes with her. Rose stared, paralyzed in fear, as the woman’s fearful screams turned to weeping, and eventually faded away entirely.

  Day Four – 12:16 pm

  Porter was awoken by the sound of grunting and sudden light.

  His neck hurt, and he found himself in a heap on the cold floor, his head aching.

  There were five soldiers outside the glass wall that caged him. The double doors of the room were open, providing light to the otherwise dark space. Three of the soldiers carried a body.

  “Who’s that?” asked Porter, but received no reply.

  A soldier opened the door of the cell beside Porter, and then the others tossed an unconscious, male helper to the floor inside. After securing the door, the soldiers left without acknowledging Porter, plunging the room back into darkness.

  It didn’t take long before the door opened again, bringing back the sunlight as more soldiers came in carrying another body.

  “Another one?” asked Porter, a smile emerging as he watched the uninfected men transfer a woman this time. “Where’d she come from? Hello? Stop ignoring me.” He slapped the glass, and one of the soldiers pointed an assault rifle in his direction. Their eyes locked, and Porter saw fear in the young man’s eyes. Something had rattled the soldier.

  “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “There’s nothing to be scared of. Just let us help yo
u,” said Porter. “Trust me, it’s better this way.”

  “I said keep your mouth shut.”

  The doctor who’d saved Porter came in, harried and disheveled.

  “Jeff,” said Porter, smirking. “What’s going on?”

  Dr. Harding ignored Porter, and instructed the soldiers, “Put her in the same cell as the other one. We’re going to need the space.”

  “Jeff, don’t ignore me. Tell me what’s going on?”

  The doctor was focused on the new prisoners. Porter moved to the corner of his cell, near the door and the next cell. He pounded on the wall to get the doctor’s attention. “Jeff! Hey, Jeff. Doctor Harding!”

  “Shut the hell up,” said the young soldier aiming his M4 Carbine at the glass.

  “Jeff!”

  “I said shut up!” The soldier advanced, and gave the cell door a swift, hard kick. Dust fell from the concrete ceiling as the cell wall scraped against it. A dirty boot print stained the formerly clean glass.

  “Stop,” said Jeff as he interceded. “Porter, get to the back of your cell and sit down, or I’ll let them kill you. I’ve got plenty of test subjects now. Don’t push your luck.”

  Paulson entered, appearing even more frazzled than usual. His eyes darted from Jeff to Porter, and then back. “We’re going to have to pack it up.”

  “What?” asked Jeff.

  The soldiers imprisoning the female helper paused. One of them asked, “What’d you say?”

  “We’re packing it up,” said Paulson. “They want us to move south.”

  “Who wants us to move? Who’s in charge?” asked Jeff.

  “Johnson’s command. We don’t have a choice. Something’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?” asked Jeff.

  “There’s been a…” Paulson looked at Porter, a mix of fear and hatred in his eyes. “There’s been some sort of change. Same as these three.” He pointed to Porter and the other two prisoners. “Camp Panther went down, forty miles southeast. The infection’s… evolved.”

  “Then what’re we doing with her?” asked the soldier in the opened cell.

  “Take her back out. Look for Taylor, find out where she wants the prisoners. If she wants them,” said Paulson.

  “Wait,” said Jeff. “We can’t just…”

  Paulson put his hand to Jeff’s chest, and raised his brow. “There’s more,” said Paulson softly, and then looked at the soldiers.

  Jeff quieted, and waited as the soldiers carried the female prisoner out. Porter stayed at the back of his cell, innocently eavesdropping.

  “What’s going on?” asked Jeff once the soldiers had left.

  “There’s been contact from China. They’ve got a…” he hesitated, raised his brow, and finished warily, “solution – of sorts. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “Is it a cure?” asked Jeff.

  “No,” said Paulson. “Quite the opposite.”

  Day Four – 2:33 pm

  “They’re up to something,” whispered Roy as he peered through the vent. It was their only view of the outside world.

  Helpers had been mobilizing since noon. Most of them were moving away from the school in vehicles packed with stolen supplies. At first it seemed to be a good sign, as if they were moving on to some other unfortunate town, but now it was clear something else was happening.

  The helpers started announcing warnings through bullhorns. They were lighting fires.

  “This is your last chance to get help,” said one of them. “Come out, or die.”

  The helper was far off, but his amplified voice carried throughout the neighborhood. Helpers walked along homes, banging their fists against the sidings and screaming out dire warnings.

  “You’d better come out.”

  June caught the scent of gasoline.

  Roy whispered, “They’re going to smoke us out.”

  “What’re we going to do?” asked Allie, her panic rising.

  “Daddy,” said Rose. “I’m scared.”

  “We’ve got to run,” said June.

  “I’ve got a car in the garage. We can try to drive it out of here.”

  “You don’t think they’ll be ready for that?” asked Allie, questioning his plan.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” he said. “We can’t just stay here and wait to burn. Allie, start packing up some food. We can’t bring it all, but get what you can. Rose, you stay with your sister.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Allie.

  “I’m going to make sure the house is clear.”

  Allie held her father back. “Wait. What? Hold on.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m going to go down there and make sure we’re safe. I’ll start loading the car. I want the three of you to stay here, and I’ll have you hand down the supplies.”

  “I’ll help you,” said June.

  Roy nodded thankfully to her, and then headed for the ladder.

  “Wait,” said Allie, uncertain what to say but unwilling to let him leave. “Why don’t you let her go make sure it’s safe.” She nodded in June’s direction. “You stay up here with us.”

  “Allie, it’s going to be okay. Stay with your sister.” He pulled away from her grip.

  “Dad, wait.” She grabbed at his shirt again, near tears as she held onto him.

  He turned to her, put his hands on her shoulders, and said, “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, no, no,” she desperately grasped at him, tears forming in her blue eyes.

  June’s heart ached for the girl.

  “Dad, no,” said Allie.

  “Daddy, what’s wrong?” asked Rose as she began to cry in sympathy for her sister.

  Outside, the helpers pounded and shouted. The familiar smell of smoke reached the attic, faint but foreboding.

  “We have to hurry,” said Roy. “Honey, you’ve got to let me go. We don’t have time for this.” He forcefully pushed her hands away. She recoiled, acting wounded. Rose was sobbing now, her cherub face marred by sadness. Roy turned away, and pulled the dowel from the folded ladder. He pushed the ladder down. The hinges creaked as the hatch opened. He paused and listened for signs of helpers in the house. Once certain it was clear, he looked at June and asked, “Ready?”

  She nodded, and cast a quick, apologetic glance at Allie and Rose.

  Roy extended the ladder to meet the floor in the hallway. He hurried down, and June followed. Once out of the attic, Roy folded the stairs back up to hide the entrance. Allie stared down, angry and terrified, as her father closed her in.

  The smell of smoke was stronger in the hall.

  “We’ve got to hurry.”

  “I know, we can’t leave the girls up there for long. Let’s get to the garage. Once we know it’s clear, we can start loading up. If we get caught, we’re running.”

  “What?” asked June, dumbfounded by his command.

  “If we get caught, we’re both running out of here. If you try to get back up here, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if they see us, we’re going to draw their attention away from this house. We’re going to run as far and as fast as we can. That way Allie and Rose stand a chance of getting away. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. Understand?”

  June didn’t respond, and instead stared through the window in Allie’s bedroom. She could see cars driving along the street, packed with supplies.

  “Understand?” he asked pointedly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” He led the way to the stairs.

  The house was empty, but that was hardly a relief. The first floor stank of gasoline. The helpers had doused the outside. Soon the entire neighborhood would be an inferno.

  Roy went to the kitchen and opened the door to the garage. “It’s clear. Start loading up the car with whatever food you can find in the cabinets. I’ll go get the girls.”

  June did as she was told, although her hands began to tremble. Her heart raced, and it seemed as if she cou
ldn’t pull in enough air to satisfy her lungs. She was afraid that she was having a panic attack – something she hadn’t experienced since escaping her father.

  She ignored the signs of an impending attack, and focused on loading up paper shopping bags with cans and boxes of food from the pantry. She wasn’t paying attention to what she was grabbing. The sounds of helpers raiding the neighborhood kept her on edge. Tires squealed on the road. Men and women shouted about surrender and death. Then she heard someone’s feet crunching through the foliage outside the window. A quick glance revealed a person’s shadow passing in front of the curtains drawn over the window above the kitchen sink. Someone was outside, mere feet from June.

  She covered her mouth and stood stone-still.

  The person walked slowly, and then halted. June was in the corner of the kitchen, her back against the counter near the open window above the sink. From that vantage, she could nearly see through the French doors in the dining room that led to the backyard. The doors’ vertical blinds were rotated open, but drawn, providing bars of sunlight that fell over the kitchen table. June saw movement from outside, but it was difficult to tell exactly what was happening. It didn’t take long for her to figure it out.

  “Hey, you! Come here,” shouted a man as he chased after the survivor outside the kitchen window.

  The survivor tried to run, but was confronted by another helper nearby. She screamed, and then tried to push past the man in the backyard. June saw bodies fall to the grass. She pressed herself harder into the corner to hide. If she moved, they would have a clear view of her.

  All she could do was listen as the victim screamed in terror, and then pain.

  “It’s over,” said a calm man. “It’s okay. It’s over. You’re better now.”

  “Fuck you,” she whimpered, and then spit.

  “Come on,” said one helper to another. “Let’s keep searching. There’s bound to be more of them.”

  The helpers left their victim frightened and bleeding in the rocks that separated Roy’s yard from the next. She cried out in agony, and gripped a fresh wound on her arm. Her blood was vibrant red, and flowed across her lily-pale skin to the grey stones. Her transformation wasn’t immediate, and she was left to weep for the life slipping away from her.