Radio Nowhere

by Lee Beard

  “Back off, Hank,” Gina said, setting the bowl on one of the white-cloth-covered tables. She set the pan on the floor and slid into the chair. Hank sniffed the pan’s contents once before tearing into it. “Don’t act like I never feed you,” she said, patting his side. She glanced out the window at the setting sun and picked up her fork.

  After dinner, Gina let Hank outside one last time before locking the front door for the night. She had gotten into the habit of keeping the doors and windows locked after a close call with a half-naked delirious man while on a trip to the store. She’d come out empty-handed on her search for dog food when he stumbled by, babbling wildly to himself. He ran off, making a beeline for the city limits. Though he didn’t look like he was planning to stop anytime soon, Gina preferred to be safe rather than sorry.

  When the house was secured, Gina picked one of the flashlights off of the table at the bottom of the stairs and went up with Hank. The floorboards creaked as they made their way to the last door on the left, the only open one in the hall. Out of habit, she locked the door as soon as she shut it before changing into her sleep shirt and climbing into bed. Hank hopped up in the bed and curled up next to her, sighing contently.

  Sometime during the night, Gina awoke to thunder. She got up to peek out the window, and sure enough, it was pouring rain. Lightning streaked across the sky, burning brilliant images into Gina’s mind. “Some storm,” she said absentmindedly.

  Thud. She turned her head toward the door. Something hit against the outside of the house. Thud. She glanced at Hank, still snoring. Thud. No, she was definitely not imagining it. A chill ran up her spine. Thud. Hank lifted his head, ears twitching forward. He whined as the thud sounded again. “It’s just a shutter or a branch or something,” she told him, sitting back down on the bed and reaching over to scratch his ear. “Nothing to worry about.” THUD. The house shuddered and Hank jumped to his feet and bounded to the door. Thump, thump, thump. Someone was inside. Gina’s heart pounded as she felt around under her pillow. Where was it? She leapt off the bed and crouched next to her bag. She dumped the contents and fished around for the knife. Thump, thump, thump. The footsteps were getting louder. She threw the contents of her bag around, desperately looking for the blade. Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump. The steps were speeding up on the stairs. Gina shook a folded shirt desperately, flinging the knife across the room. It glinted in the lightning as it skittered on the floor, sliding deftly under the armoire in the corner of the room. Hank barked at the door as the footsteps echoed in the hallway. Thump, thump, thump.

  Gina ran across the room, fell to the floor, and jammed her arm under the armoire. She felt blindly around for the knife, accidentally knocking it out of her reach. Thump, thump, thump. Thump. She looked over her shoulder at the gap at the bottom of the door. Lightning flashed for a moment, revealing the shadows of a pair of large shoes on the other side. Gina stretched for the knife, her eyes never leaving the door. The knob jiggled. THUD. The entire room shook at the force of the hit. THUD. The door groaned and creaked as if in pain. Gina reached desperately for the knife, shoving her arm as far as it would go under the wood armoire. Suddenly, she felt the smooth metal tip of the knife. She grasped it right as the door gave in. She wheeled around on the floor with the knife hidden behind her back, looking up at the towering intruder. Hank alternated between snarling and whimpering and backed into the corner. Lightning lit up the room. The intruder was dripping wet and reeked of tar; steam rose from his shoulders. The face was charred and partially melted, yet unmistakable. Dirk. She screamed.

  Hank flew at the intruder just to be caught by the throat and thrown forcefully into the corner. The dog screeched once and didn’t move again. Gina froze when Dirk turned toward her.

  “So,” he hissed, taking a clumsy step forward, “Looks like my dear stepdaughter has been an even worse girl than we thought.” His bones cracked and groaned under the weight of his melted flesh. “Looks like we’ll have to teach her a lesson.” Gina lay with her back to the armoire, petrified. “Did you really think that fire would get rid of me? That by running away you’ll be ‘free’ from me?” He stumbled closer, throwing his seared head back to laugh. “That’s the secret, dear: I’ll never be gone. You can never get away. I’ll always be here, waiting, watching. I own you.” He snarled and reached down for her. As soon as he got within reach, she slid the knife from behind her back and plunged it into his decomposing chest. He looked down at the knife and grinned wickedly through rotted teeth.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” The exposed bones of his fingers closed around her neck and ripped her off of the floor, slamming her head into the wall. She clutched at his wrist and kicked her feet as he squeezed tighter and tighter. He pulled the knife out of his chest with his free hand and gave another vicious smile.

  Gina awoke with a scream. She bolted upright in bed and looked wildly around the room, startling Hank. Empty. There was no storm, only silence punctuated by wind, whipping outside the window. The dog sat up as well and Gina clutched him to her, heart pounding. You can never get away…

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isherwood, PA

  “Do you have any allergies?” Millie asked her neighbors’ broken garage window.

  “Huh?” Zach called from somewhere inside. The sound of something metal sliding and bouncing off the concrete floor echoed from inside, and Zach swore.

  “You okay?” Millie asked.

  “Yeah, peachy.”

  “I mean, I just think it would be a good idea if we’re going to travel together to know each other’s limitations and such. It wouldn’t do much good if I accidentally killed you with peanuts or something.”

  “Only way you could do that is if you fired them at me out of a cannon.” Something in the garage clicked, and a bike wheel appeared in the window. Millie reached up and grabbed the wheel, guiding it carefully out so as to not catch it on any stray glass shards. There weren’t any poking through the thick quilt that Zach draped over the sill after busting out the pane and clearing the debris, but Millie moved carefully nonetheless. She turned the wheel sideways to grab the seat and pulled it through the window. Zach appeared as the bike hit the ground, stepping up on something and adjusting the quilt on the sill. “What kind of people don’t have a regular door leading out of their garage?” He muttered, swinging his leg carefully through the window. “And who chains their bike to the wall in an enclosed brick room?” He hopped down from the window, bypassing the crate he’d used to climb in the garage in the first place. “Someone was way too paranoid about their stuff getting stolen.” He grabbed his backpack off the ground, took the black mountain bike from Millie, and began to wheel it around to the front of the garage toward the street. “I’m allergic to pollen. Or ragweed, or something. But no food allergies.”

  Millie picked up her purple backpack up off the ground, slipped it onto her shoulders, and followed. “Good, that makes it easier.” When they reached her bike standing in the middle of the street, the pair mounted their bikes and kicked off down the street.

  “How about you?” Zach asked, adjusting the speed setting of his bike.

  “Strawberries make me break out in hives,” she said, nodding down the road. “Highway is that way.”

  “That sucks, strawberries are awesome.”

  “They really are. It used to drive my Nana insane whenever I would get into the strawberry jam, because I’d always puff up just enough to swell my eyes shut, but it was worth it.”

  Zach chuckled. “Sounds like the time my neighbor Connie got stung by a bee. I thought they’d never get her head back to normal size.”

  They rode in silence for a while longer before Millie spoke up again. “So,” she began slowly, shifting on her seat, “What’s your story?”

  “Huh?”

  “Or like, are there any interesting or pertinent facts about you I should know?”

  “Well…” Zach glanced at her, testing the waters. “Everything, obviously. I�
�m Captain Interesting. Women come from miles around to hear my tales of interest. I’m like the James Bond of interesting and pertinent stuff.”

  “Your sarcasm is enthralling.”

  “Who said I was being sarcastic?” Zach glanced at her again. “You first.”

  “Ok.” Millie cleared her throat. “I’m half Filipino and I play the violin.”

  “Part Norwegian and I play the rock tambourine.”

  “Wait, really?”

  “Nah, no ancestor I know of ever set foot in Norway. My people thrive where there’s plenty of sunlight. Or, at least, we did until we all died out.”

  Millie’s face fell slightly. “…how are you so…nonchalant about all this?”

  Zach shrugged, turning onto an empty road that led up a large hill. “I don’t know. I guess I got all my shock and horror out early. Plus, I saw it while it was happening, and figured how it was all going to go pretty early on.”

  Millie nodded, focusing on pedaling.

  “My favorite color is blue,” Zach offered after a moment.

  “Mine’s orange.”

  “I hate snakes.”

  “Me too.” Millie switched gears on her bike to make it easier to go up the hill. “What do we do if we come across one?”

  “Run away, I’d assume.”

  As they crested the hill, Millie stopped, looking out over the landscape. Cars lined the highway, crashed into one another and the ditch indiscriminately; thick smoke rose from somewhere in the distance, blurring the scene to the south. Millie realized she’d been holding her breath, and exhaled.

  “Never ceases to amaze me,” Zach said quietly, putting a foot on the ground.

  “Yeah,” Millie replied, “I can see why.”

  “…well, guess we’d better get to it,” Zach said, easing his bike forward down the gradually sloped hill, heading for the highway’s congested on-ramp.

  *

  “Sir?” Zach awoke to one of the nurses gently shaking his arm. At some point in the night he’d slumped over in the chair beside his mom’s hospital bed and must’ve dozed off. He glanced up at the nurse who gave him a look of pity. “I’m sorry, sir, but there aren’t any available cots or I’d bring you one.”

  “It’s okay.” Zach rolled his neck slowly, grimacing. “Any news?”

  The nurse gave a small smile, moving to check his mom’s monitor. “The doctor will let you know as soon as he knows anything.” She made a couple of notes on the chart and turned back to Zach, brushing a black strand of hair out of her face. “Would you like something to drink? Or a blanket maybe?”

  Zach looked up at her again, meeting her yellowed eyes with dread. “Nah, I’m good for now.”

  “Ok. Just press the call button if you need anything.”

  As the nurse disappeared through the door, Zach turned back to his mother. Her normally medium skin was pale and clammy, and she hadn’t woken since Zach had found the right hospital the previous day. His stomach growled angrily, sending hunger pangs shooting through his abdomen. He stood up and fished his wallet out of his pocket.

  “I’ll be right back, mom.”

  *

  “Got any hobbies?”

  Zach snapped back to the present. "Oh, yeah. A few."

  "Like what?"

  "I used to fish sometimes. And swim. I'm from Watertown, so I guess it makes sense."

  "I used to spend almost every single day in the summertime at the pool when I was younger," Millie said. "I'm a little out of practice, but I always used to love it. Never been fishing, though."

  "Fishing is fun enough," Zach replied. He sped up to get in front of Millie as they approached a narrow gap between some cars. "You have to be really, really quiet, though."

  "Ah. I wouldn't have been very good at it." Millie mused.

  Zach chuckled again. "How about you?"

  "I read some, and watch old movies with my dad…" Millie trailed off. "That was kind of our ritual, just the two of us. Sometimes Nana would jump in, but more often than not it was just me and dad, making fun of old movies and eating pizza."

  "That sounds like a lot of fun." Zach said sincerely, pedaling a little harder to get up another hill.

  "It really was," Millie replied.

  After almost a solid hour of biking, they came across a detour in the road. Police cars blocked all the lanes; some were crashed into by other vehicles. Further up ahead, two eighteen wheelers lay on their sides, the cabs burned out almost entirely and the cargo spilled across the highway.

  "I'd sure hate to be the guy who’d’ve had to clean that up." Zach dismounted his bike, and began to walk it around to the blockades. Millie followed suit, avoiding eye contact with the corpses in the vehicles lining the road. Even with most of the vehicle doors closed tightly, the musty smell of death permeated the landscape. Zach suddenly paused, and put his bike kick stand up. Millie watched as he crossed to the corpse of a gray-haired police officer, and knelt down beside it.

  "What are you doing?" She asked.

  “Looting.” Zach removed the belt from the corpse’s waist with some difficulty and gingerly removed the revolver. He fiddled with it for a moment before hitting the latch that flipped the cylinder open. A bullet fell out, making a “plink” sound as it hit the asphalt. Zach grabbed it and put it back into the gun. “Five bullets. That’ll do, I guess.” He crossed the road to remove the belt of another policeman. He pulled the gun – a heavy semiautomatic pistol – out of the holster and checked the magazine. "Here," he held the belt out to Millie. "There’s only a couple of bullets in this one but I don't know what we're going to come across, and you need to be able to defend yourself."

  Millie eyed the gun with distrust. "That's okay," she said shaking her head. "I've got my bug spray, I think I'm good."

  "Bug spray might work, but a gun is infinitely better." Zach raised an eyebrow and continued to hold the belt out to her.

  The girl shook her head again. "Really, I'm okay. I'm… not comfortable with guns."

  "Suit yourself.” Zach tossed the second gun and belt into the tall grass on the side of the road with a loud thud. He knelt and opened his backpack on the ground; he pulled a funny-looking radio out of the bag and put the first belt in.

  “What’s that?”

  “Hmm? Oh, uh,” Zach picked up the radio and stood up, showing it to Millie. “It’s a transmitter radio. It’s broken, but I’m going to try and fix it.” He set it back in his bag and swung the pack onto his shoulders.

  “Do you know a lot about technology?” Millie asked as they re-mounted their bikes.

  “Nah, not really. Just radios. I listened for broadcast signals for the first two weeks, but heard nothing, so I gave up.” Zach stood on his pedals to get some momentum going up a small incline. “I think I’ll try again sometime, though.”

  *

  The all-but-empty vending machines spit out a coconut protein bar. Zach wrinkled his nose and unwrapped it. He gagged slightly at the taste, but choked it down anyway on the way back to his mom’s room. As he rounded the doorway, his stomach dropped. The monitors his mom was hooked up to were beeping wildly and doctor stood next to her bed; nurses moved quickly and passed each other and the doctor instruments.

  “Mom!” Zach called, the protein bar falling from his hand.

  “Sir please stand back,” a nurse said, turning and trying to block Zach’s view.

  “What’s going on, what are you doing?” Zach cried, pushing past the smaller woman. A male nurse that stood a good foot taller than Zach turned from the bed and tried to usher him outside. “No,” Zach said, trying to get back into the room. “Tell me what’s going on! Mom!”

  “Sir, you need to calm down,” the nurse said gruffly.

  “No! Let me in there NOW!” An orderly appeared from somewhere behind him and grabbed Zach’s arm. “Let go of me!” Zach spun on the orderly, shoving him back.

  “Sir if you don’t cooperate we’ll be forced to call security,” the nurse said, blocking the doorw
ay. Zach strained to see around the nurse’s shoulder. Suddenly, the beeping from inside the room stopped, and a singular long beep replaced it.

  “Mom!” Zach yelled, barreling past the nurse and knocking his shoulder against the door frame. The doctor and nurses stepped back as he approached the bed. “No…” he whispered, not daring to touch her still form. She was gone.

  “I’m so sorry, son,” the doctor said quietly after a moment. Zach staggered back, bumping into the male nurse he’d just pushed past. He turned around and left the room, making a beeline for the hospital’s exit.

  *

  Zach glanced over his shoulder out of habit as he and Millie combed the aisles of the ransacked grocery store. The light streaming through the windows up front barely reached the back of the building where Zach searched through a collapsed display, so he held a flashlight tightly in his teeth as he rummaged. The smell of the rotting dairy section at his back was nauseating, but he breathed through his teeth and kept digging.

  Finding nothing of use, he took the flashlight out of his mouth and stepped back, accidentally kicking a tin of cat food loudly across the floor.

  “Zach?” Millie called from across the store.

  “Just me,” he replied.

  “Okay. Just checking.”

  Zach went back to scanning the all-but-bare aisles. The girl seemed sane enough, albeit a bit paranoid. But then again, who wouldn’t be in her shoes? He reached the end of the last aisle and turned the corner. He saw a pair of doors leading to the back room and wheeled his mostly-empty buggy over to it. He parked the buggy and stepped in to see if there was anything worth keeping stashed away. The batteries in the flashlight he carried were starting to give out, so he hit it a few times to stop it from flickering so much. The back room was dark, the only light coming in from a row of small windows at the top of the tall, far wall. Zach waded through a fallen stack of empty crates and boxes until he found a half-empty box of cans. Most had messed-up labels and some only had label remnants, but none of the expiration dates printed on the cans were past. He put the flashlight between his teeth again, picked up the box, and kicked his way through the debris. Suddenly, he tripped. His teeth clenched painfully as he caught himself with the box, one of the handles breaking as he hit the ground. The flashlight flickered as he turned back to see what he’d tripped over. Staring back at him was the shriveled, bug-eaten face of a bagboy. The corpse’s mouth was open, shrieking silently at Zach. The flashlight fell into the box and shut off. Horrified, he got to his feet and fled with the box back to the main room.