Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone

by D. T. Peterson

  "They must know something we don't," Sean muttered.

  Michael shook his head. "No, they're used to that. I think for the first time, the military is in the same boat as everyone else."

  Sean thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah, that does not make me feel any better."

  Michael noticed that Gresson had kept his head turned away from the soldiers. Once they had passed, Michael asked him, "Why didn't you want them to see who you were?"

  "We don't have the time for me to answer their questions," Gresson said. "Considering the state their chain of command must be in, they're probably feeling a bit independent, maybe even alone. Who knows what they would be willing to do to get answers with no one there to tell them 'no.'"

  "You think they would attack a president?" Michael asked, unconvinced.

  "No, but they might attack someone they thought was impersonating a dead one."

  "Still, you seem to be able to handle yourself in a fight."

  "There are only so many bullets I can dodge, Michael."

  Michael didn't think Gresson was being literal, but he couldn't help wondering, How many bullets can you dodge?

  After stopping to eat, the group continued to follow the highway throughout the afternoon. A cold front had moved in and rain was on the horizon. Sean laughed when he noticed the oncoming clouds.

  "I almost complained that we should've checked the weather before heading out. Forgot there's no more weather channel," he said.

  "We'll keep walking until it's close. Then we'll look for shelter," Gresson said.

  The sun was already touching the horizon when the rain arrived overhead. As soon as drizzle started to fall, the group got off the highway and approached an old gas station. There were a few others on the street running in all directions to escape the rain. The station was relatively far from any residential areas and appeared to have been left untouched, even long before the events of four nights ago. Gas stations had long been relics of the past. Seeing the heavy-chained padlocked door in front, Gresson went to smash a window with his elbow, but Michael grabbed his arm.

  "Wait. If you break the window, we'll be dealing with rainwater all night," Michael said.

  "I realize that, but do you have a better option?" Gresson replied.

  "I might," Sean said. "There's probably an office window in the back. Break in through that and we might have a better chance of keeping the water out."

  Gresson nodded and said, "That might work. You could turn out to be useful after all, Sean."

  Sean chuckled and explained, "I worked at one of these when I was a kid. Spent a lot of time... uh... napping in the office." Alice shook her head.

  They found an office window on the side of the building. It was just big enough for a person to fit through.

  "I'll find a rock or something," Adam said.

  "Don't bother," Gresson replied. He pulled out his gun and fired a shot, breaking the glass. The others standing beside him jumped with surprise.

  "Hey! Maybe next time say something like, 'I'm about to fire a gun.'" Sean said.

  Without a reply, Gresson crawled through the broken window, pushing aside the glass. Inside he found a desk, a locker, and a filing cabinet, with miscellaneous papers scattered across the floor. He landed on the desk, then jumped to the floor.

  "Come on," he said. The others made their way through the window one-by-one until the entire group stood together in the small office. They went through the office door into the gas station's consumer area. Rain had begun to fall harder and it made a steady noise against the windows and roof. Michael found plastic wrap and tape, went back into the office, and covered the broken window, which was already letting in quite a bit of rain. The rest of the group explored the rest of the station. The owners had not left any food, but a few miscellaneous items still remained.

  "Poker, anyone?" Adam asked. He held up a deck of cards he found on one of the shelves.

  "I'm in," Sean said.

  "Same here," Michael said.

  "I'll try to fix up a light source," Gresson said. His support was welcomed by the group, though it drew their surprise. They were having a difficult time shaking off their first impression of the man.

  The group sat in a circle and began to play a game of Texas Hold 'em. They used paper clips Marie had found in the store as chips. Gresson soon joined and supplied them with a makeshift light. It was a tin can filled with lit paper that had been drenched with lighter fluid. Gresson continued to add more fuel to the fire as the night went on and the small fire was enough for everyone to see their cards long after the sun had set.

  Chapter 12

  Maryland - August 8, 2072

  Everyone woke up the next morning with aches. They had little to sleep on besides paper towel rolls serving as makeshift pillows. Gresson hadn't slept much at all. He was certain he had heard something just outside the gas station, but each time he had looked out the window, there was nothing there, at least that he could see. The darkness and rain impaired both his sight and hearing.

  The rain had not stopped and the dark clouds outside cast a gloomy tone over the landscape. There was no way to tell for sure what time it was, but they had probably slept past dawn. Gresson was determined not to waste the rest of the day.

  "We will find clothes in Baltimore," he said. "If we go now, we should get there by the end of the today."

  "Well," Sean said, emerging from the office, "I found these two rain jackets, at least. They were in that locker." He held them up, one yellow and one red. He gave the yellow one to Alice and the red one to Marie.

  "Alright, let's go," Gresson said. He started to walk to the office.

  "Wait, why not just break through the front door? Doesn't matter anymore," Michael suggested.

  "We might as well keep this place in as nice a shape as we can. Who knows if anyone else will need it," Gresson replied.

  "Wow. You are confusing," Sean said.

  "Humanity will not survive this if everyone only thinks for themselves," Gresson said.

  "Yeah, sure. I just mean, you don't seem like the guy the Cases' were talking about. Waving around your gun and shooting people? I'm starting to doubt your story..." Sean said, turning to Alice and Michael.

  "It's not all peace and happiness. If any of us want to survive, we have to realize that not everyone will. That's a lesson all of humanity is soon going to learn the hard way," Gresson said.

  "So.... once again, you are confusing," Sean said.

  "I have no desire to hurt anyone. And, if there are those who need help, perhaps we need to be that help. But if anything or anyone gets in the way of our objective, I have no qualms with firing my gun. If we do not survive, then it's possible that no one does. That is not a threat. It is a fact."

  "Okay... great. Thanks for clearing that up," Sean replied sarcastically.

  They all crawled out of the office window and were soon drenched by the heavy downpour.

  "This way!" Gresson shouted over the rain. They followed him back to the highway and continued their journey.

  The group had limited conversation that day. The rain and occasional thunder made talking difficult. What small talk they had ranged from discussing the poker game the night before to expressing their desire for dry clothes.

  After about an hour of walking, Sean turned to Michael and said, "Hey! How many days has it been now?"

  "What?" Michael asked.

  "How many days! Since, you know, the blackout?"

  "Uh, wow, I can't even remember. It was the third, I think, when the blackout hit. What's today's date?"

  "No idea. Hey, Gresson! What's today's date?" Sean asked.

  "The eighth," he replied.

  "Five days!" Sean exclaimed. "Seems like it happened yesterday. And yet, it also feels like we've been walking for years now."

  "I don't know how much farther I can walk. My legs are killing me," Marie said.

  "I'm sorry, honey," Michael said, then he turned to Gresson. "Hey! Maybe we sh
ould take a day off tomorrow while we're in the city. It's been almost a week of non-stop walking."

  As Michael made his suggestion, Sean whispered to Marie, "Hey, at least you're in shape. I hadn't walked more than a mile for years. I can't even feel my legs anymore."

  Gresson looked over at Michael and replied, "We don't have the time for a break."

  "And we don't have the energy to keep up this pace. Can we at least take a late start tomorrow? Maybe avoid some of this storm?" Michael said.

  "Maybe," Gresson replied.

  As they came closer to city, the highway became more crowded. No one recognized Gresson, however. Even if they could see through the rain, he had put up his coat collar for added rain deflection and to avoid the need to make another speech.

  It was late in the afternoon when the group saw the outskirts of Baltimore in the distance. Small fires were scattered on the horizon, but none were nearly as terrifying as the inferno they had seen in New York. After another hour, they were nearly within the city and the already dark sky grew darker as the sun set behind the clouds. While the rain during their journey had been loud, it was trifling compared to the noise now in front of them. Shouts, hollers, crashes, and the occasional distant gunshot could be heard. Order had yet to come to Baltimore.

  "It's going to be chaos downtown," Alice said.

  "If we..." Gresson started, but was interrupted by two gunshots just ahead of the group. Others on the highway scattered, but before the group could react, several rifle-armed thugs ran up to them from the side of the road. One of them was pulling along a limping young man who appeared to have just been shot in the chest.

  "Who are you?" Michael asked the thugs, trying to maintain confidence. Privately, however, he was terrified. He desperately awaited shots from Gresson's pistol.

  "My name's Damien, pal. And this is my crew. We don't gotta name, but uh... we sure got everything else!" the apparent leader of the gang said and laughed. This was followed by hollers and fist pumps from the others. They held up some of their valuables, no doubt much of it stolen from the city. After a few moments of putting their camaraderie on display, the armed men composed themselves. Damien said, "You know what, though? There's one thing we don't got at the moment. Something I know me and my boys here really need. Can ya guess what it is, man?" When he received no reply, he said with a wide smile, "We need some 'company,' if you know what I mean." The others behind him immediately responded with laughter. "So, is that your girl there, man?" Damien asked Michael, pointing a finger at Alice. Sean and Adam managed to stand in front of Marie, hiding her from the thugs view.

  "I swear to god, if you even think about..." Michael shouted.

  "Oh, I'm thinkin about it, man! Whatcha gonna do?" Damien nearly screamed.

  "Hey Damien, looks like there's another chick behind those two assholes," one of Damien's companions said. "Looks like a young one."

  "What's with you and the young girls, Ronny?" Damien jokingly asked. The others laughed heartily at Ronny's expense.

  The limping man groaned, "Hey, I thought that was Damien's thing." The immediate silence that followed strongly implied there was some truth to this statement, or at least some related past event. The limping man was thrown to the ground. He grunted as he hit the wet asphalt.

  "I shoot you in the goddamn chest and you still got the balls to run your mouth," Damien said. He picked the young man up and placed a pistol against his temple. "I think it's about time I put one in your skull, Jake."

  As Damien said this, Gresson slowly folded down his collar and cracked his neck. He calmly said, "I think you should let him go and move along. It's in your best interest." His hand reached inside his coat and gripped his gun.

  "And who are you to tell me what's in my best..." Damien said as he stepped toward Gresson, dropping his victim. He stopped once he recognized him. "What the hell?" he questioned softly.

  "Damien, what's up?" one of his companions asked.

  After a moment of stunned silence, Damien laughed. "This guy looks just like that president who got shot. Goddamn creepy, man."

  "Who?" another thug asked.

  "President..." Damien started.

  "...Gresson," Alice, Michael, and Sean finished in unison.

  "Yeah, and he's dead." Damien said, unsure.

  "Not quite," Gresson replied.

  Damien blinked his eyes in bewilderment. He raised his gun without confidence and said, "Well... well if you try to tell me what to do, I'll... I'll make sure you die this time."

  "Put the gun down, Damien," Gresson said. He had now raised his gun as well. As if on cue, the other rifle-armed men behind Damien began to raise their weapons. One of them over-zealously pulled the trigger.

  Within seconds, the firefight was over. It was unclear who was alive and who was dead, but everyone was on the ground, either from being shot or attempting to avoid it.

  Gresson caught his breath, realizing he had been shot twice in the left arm. His gun was still raised by his right hand as he saw that all but one of his targets were dead. Across from Gresson was Damien, with holes in his chest but still enough life in him to stay sitting up. The only other person next to him left alive was Jake, covering his head and unscathed except for his previous chest wound.

  Gresson aimed at Damien and pulled the trigger, but his gun was out of ammo. The faint click of the empty gun wasn't heard by Damien over the rain, but it was obvious to him that Gresson could no longer shoot. Damien smiled. He reached for his nearby pistol. Gresson struggled to stand up, planning to make a desperate lunge. Damien picked up the gun, aimed it at Gresson's head, and opened his mouth to say something clever.

  Before he could, his head exploded into a gory mess. Chunks of brain and skull bone scattered across the asphalt. Gresson stumbled from shock as Damien's lifeless body slumped to the wet ground making a small splash. He turned and saw the women with the red face tattoo standing nearby with her shotgun. She pumped it, as if to punctuate her kill. After a few seconds of regaining composure, Gresson nodded at her in thanks.

  Gresson jumped up and looked over at the others in his group. No injuries were apparent, except for Marie who was holding the right side of her neck, which was covered in blood.

  "Marie!" Adam shouted, noticing his sister's wound. He raced to her side, quickly followed by his parents. Sean went to join them, but Gresson held him back.

  "I'll help her. Go see what you can do for him," Gresson said as he pointed toward Jake, who was holding his bloody chest. Sean nodded and rushed to Jake's side. Nearby, the woman with the shotgun was checking the thugs for any survivors, though her still readied shotgun gave away that she had little intention of aiding them if any remained alive.

  Gresson pushed Michael to the side and kneeled over Marie. Slowly, he moved her hand away from her neck. It was bleeding, but the fact that she was still breathing gave Gresson some comfort.

  "I need a cloth or something," Gresson said. Adam immediately tore off his shirt from under his jacket and handed it over. Gresson used it to wipe away some of the blood. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the wound was superficial. Her vital arteries were safe.

  "Can you talk, Marie?" Gresson asked.

  "Yeah," she said softly. "It burns pretty bad. Am I gonna be okay?"

  Gresson nodded. "Yeah, you'll be fine. We just need to get something to patch this up. For now, just hold this against it." He handed her Adam's shirt.

  The Cases cheerfully talked among each other, relieved that Marie was alright. Gresson walked over to Jake and Sean.

  "How are you doing?" he asked Jake.

  "It hurts like hell. But I can breath, so it can't be my lungs, right? And I'm alive, so it can't be my heart either?" he replied, wincing in pain.

  "You are a lucky son of a bitch," Gresson said. He lifted Jake up, who moaned, and saw a blood stained hole in the back of his rain-soaked shirt. The bullet had apparently passed just outside his heart, and from the looks of it, had hit nothing but the fles
h on the side of his chest. "Very lucky. It passed right through you. We still need to get you patched up. Where's the nearest hospital?"

  "Hell if I know. I'm not from around here. Besides, I don't think the doctor is gonna be on call today."

  "We don't need one. Just supplies. I can do the rest," Gresson said.

  "Great. I still don't know where to get any, though."

  The red face-tattooed women spoke. "If we go into the city, I'm sure we can at least find what we need at a house, or maybe a pharmacy."

  "Let's go," Gresson said. "Michael, how is Marie?"

  "She's alright. The bleeding isn't so bad anymore," Michael replied. He and his wife helped their daughter to her feet.

  "Good. We need to go find medical supplies for her and Jake."

  "Okay."

  Gresson and Sean helped Jake up, but froze when they saw the blood on the ground. There was a large puddle of it and now that Jake was standing, they could see it running down his side. Gresson immediately tore off Jake's shirt. The wound on his back was much larger than he previously thought. Jake was loosing a lot of blood, fast. Gresson began to tie the shirt around Jake. Sean reached in a small bag he had taken from the gas station and handed Gresson a roll of paper towels. Gresson tied it tight against Jake's wound with the shirt.

  "Gresson..." Sean said. Gresson followed Sean's gaze and saw that some of his own blood was on the shirt. He wiped away the blood on his left hand that had drained from his arm.

  "Are you alright?" Sean asked.

  "We need to go. Now," Gresson commanded the group. Gresson went to put Jake over his shoulder, but the tattooed woman pushed him away.

  "I've got this. Fix yourself up," she said. Gresson paid no attention to his own wounds, but did not resist the woman's help. She put Jake over her shoulder and began to walk toward the city, followed by the others.

  Chapter 13

  Baltimore - August 8, 2072

  It was only a few minutes until they had arrived at the edge of the city, but Jake was running out of time. The paper towel roll on his back was dark red, no longer able to soak up any more blood. Now drenched in both blood and rain, the towel roll was also failing to keep pressure on the wound. Seeing this, Sean contributed his shirt and replaced the roll. Seeing two others bare-chested besides himself, Jake softly commented, "This is a weird place for that kind of party, guys."