“I knew it!” Jack seems more triumphant than furious.
“You’re saying this . . . now?” Allison asks. “Now, Tommy?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What am I supposed to say to that?” she asks.
“I’m really sorry. All those times—I never had the courage to tell you even though I wanted to.”
That’s enough for Jack. He drops the camera and lunges at Tommy, slamming him to the floor and wrestling with him. Jack doesn’t punch him like Tommy might’ve expected. But he grabs at his throat and Tommy is forced to hold him off in a stalemate for a few moments while Allison tries to intervene.
“Stop it, guys!” Allison begs them.
Suddenly a voice ends the conversation. Not in a loud, booming curse but in a soft reflection. They all stop and look and see Dan at the doorway mumbling something.
It’s Skylar. Something’s happened. She’s gone.
Tommy listens and waits for the worst.
What he hears instead shocks him. It shocks all of them.
38
ALL APOLOGIES
“It’s easy talking to you.”
“I just like asking questions.”
“You like listening to them too.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Jack doesn’t have the patience to listen to my rambling thoughts. They drive him crazy.”
“He’s already crazy. You can’t be driven to a place you’re already at.”
“You’re a bit crazy too. It makes sense with your friends.”
“Does it make sense you’re dating him, Allie?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes nothing in this world makes sense. I sorta came to that conclusion when my parents divorced. I thought they were meant to be together. They were all I’d ever known about love and marriage and all that. And one day—it was gone. One day I blinked and it was no longer there.”
This distant memory surfaces in Allison’s mind as she separates Tommy and Jack. Only hours ago she assumed she had lost them. But now, in some weird way, she fears she is losing them again.
Skylar unconscious. Dan sick with worry. Tommy and Jack wrestling around with one another and their anger. And Lauren already gone.
The group is disintegrating in front of her very eyes. And for the moment, in this church in the dark shadow of what used to be Wilmington, North Carolina, Allison wonders if she’s breaking apart too. Or if they’re just all pieces strewn about on the floor waiting to be picked up. Waiting to be put back together.
Waiting with no hope of any answer.
But a strange voice silences Tommy and Jack’s fury.
“Katie Murphy.”
Dan says this in a tone so faint and dark that they almost don’t even hear it. But they do, especially Tommy, who says, “Dan” in a way that’s warning him to stop.
Behind Dan, Skylar lies there, no longer in her wedding dress, no longer conscious. Dan’s face wrinkles up with frustration and anger.
“You guys want a confession? Here’s one,” Dan says. “It was after the LSU/Alabama game. I gave Katie a ride home. It was just that moment—we both got caught up in it and without thinking. It happened. We had sex. We did it.”
Allison has no idea where this is coming from and only hopes Skylar isn’t listening.
Why in the world is he saying this now? Just like Tommy and his terrible timing.
“You and Sky were taking time apart,” Tommy says. “It wasn’t cheating. We talked about this.”
It didn’t count.
But they all seem to know and realize that yes, it does count. It will always count.
“I tried to tell Sky before we got married. When we went to counseling. When we were supposed to tell each other everything, when we were supposed to not hold anything back. She deserved the truth—she still does.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Allison says. “Stop talking.”
If anything will push Skylar further into her black fog, this will be it. So just shut up, Dan. Don’t try to control the issue like you control so many other things except Skylar, the one person more controlling than you.
Dan shakes his head at her, his face so earnest. “Everything matters now. Don’t you see that? I’m a liar. In every way.”
The new groom looks down at his new bride with a gaze that’s both loving and sad. He brushes her blonde locks away from her face, then gives her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he tells her softly. “I’m sorry I waited until now to tell you, Sky.”
Jack is standing and brushing himself off as he shakes his head and curses.
“So, Tommy. Confession time was a great idea. What did we learn from this? Huh? You’re an idiot.”
Jack leaves them and heads out of the room. Normally Allison would follow, but not this time. She looks at Tommy, not angry at him but just confused. Then she goes over and sits beside Skylar.
She can’t take any more confessing. By anyone.
39
THIS IS NOT A TEST
Men don’t share their emotions. This is one of the things Tommy’s father tried to teach him, though Tommy has always tried to steer clear of being like his father. But the older he’s become, the more he’s realized that he can’t help it. It’s part of his DNA to be and act like Don Covington. So Tommy’s naturally drifted toward being someone who hasn’t shared a lot and hasn’t dug too deep.
But today and tonight are all different.
Tommy enters the kitchen looking for Jack. Thankfully he finds his friend sitting there drinking a cup of coffee. He slowly walks over and then points to a chair nearby. Jack nods, so Tommy sits.
Tommy takes a deep breath, then begins to share something he normally would have tried to bury down deep.
“Look, you know I love you like a brother. During these last seven years when you haven’t been able to pull the trigger, Allie and I cultivated a friendship. I was her go-to guy to help her try to figure you out. She would cry on my shoulder about you. Over time, I started getting powerful feelings for her. I fell in love with her, Jack.”
He’s about to continue but a woman enters the room and opens the fridge. Tommy lets her grab a bottle of water and smile at them then depart before he continues.
“I’m so sorry, Jack. I literally said, ‘Please, please not this. Not her. Anyone else but her.’ It’s been seven years of misery for me. Carrying this around, not saying a word. I know you love her—of course I know that.”
He just wants to hear that it’s okay, that it’s all right. That they’re all right. He wants Jack to give his laid-back “That’s cool, man” and then have him say let’s just forget about everything else. But Jack doesn’t do this.
He’s not doing a thing.
Which is understandable considering everything.
Tommy rubs his hands together. They feel sweaty.
“I just wanted to say sorry. That’s all.”
There’s more to say. A lot more. But Tommy doesn’t have the words. And Jack probably doesn’t want to hear them anyway. He sure looks like he doesn’t want to hear them.
I just want to go find a mattress like the kind Skylar’s sleeping on and drift off and not think of any of this.
“I get it,” Jack finally says.
Tommy nods. It’s enough for now. Tommy stands and leaves Jack by himself. There’ll be more time to talk later. Now he just needs to figure out their next step of action.
Tommy stops at the doorway and looks in to check on Skylar. She’s pale, like a child with a deadly illness. She shivers, yet sweat soaks the mattress that Dan and Sam stand next to. Then Tommy hears someone singing.
It’s Sam.
She sings a soft melody, something that sounds like a lullaby. He doesn’t recognize it, but it doesn’t matter. It sounds like something real and something sweet, something from the days before the dark came. It sounds like life. It almost makes him cry because everything in the last ten hours or more has been so dark and dreary.
> Sam sings and tries to comfort the sick bride on her deathbed.
Soon the song ends and the darkness seeps back in. Tommy hears Dan asking the nurse about the wound, then watches as she checks it.
They all can see the obvious. The wound is worse. It’s horribly infected with grisly black veins that spiderweb out. The puncture wound doesn’t just look black. It looks charred over like the skin of a hideous burn victim.
Dan covers his face as tears come. Tommy puts an arm around his friend.
“There’s nothing I can do,” Rachel tells them.
And that’s all. There’s no hopeful but that comes. But wait until the medicine kicks in. But wait until the doc comes by. But wait until we send her into ICU.
There are no more buts that are ever going to come. We butted ourselves out of a civilization by being harmless and careless and soulless.
Soon another song begins. But this one doesn’t seem to bring as much hope as the other one. This one only seems to haunt.
Tommy leaves the room, having seen enough misery for the moment.
Misery, however, awaits in other places. In seemingly every place Tommy can step into.
It’s amazing what fear and despair and anger and confusion can taste like, how they can feel like they’re shifting around in the body. Tommy has never felt more alive than this moment, but he knows that’s maybe because death is so close. He’s never felt so cold inside his gut because of the angry fire burning all around him. He’s never felt many of these emotions and it’s an awesome and terrifying thing.
There’s a larger room that was probably used for Sunday school, though that’s all Tommy’s imagination offers for most of the rooms. This room? Sunday school. This one? Um, another Sunday school. Oh, and the one with all the kids’ stuff? Nursery.
They’ve got a television on and some of the survivors are watching a channel. There’s an actual channel playing. It can’t be cable or anything like that. Maybe it’s like they did in the old days with televisions that picked up signals from the air with those weird antennas. The screen is hazy but they can see enough. They don’t want to see what the screen is showing, not really, but they look on like witnesses to the world’s great car crash.
Tommy looks with them.
People running on a street. Terrified. Shuffling around like animals, like ants. Some carry suitcases and bags. Some trip and get trampled. Others stand on the side of the street screaming at other people or themselves or whoever. The faces have fear and panic and confusion all over them, the same feelings Tommy and everybody else have inside their souls.
Total and complete chaos.
A voice begins to talk.
“International reports are coming in from Lagos to Cape Town. St. Petersburg is the latest to confirm that churches are being attacked.”
They see an image of a building burning. Probably a church. Then another, this obviously a church with its towering steeple.
Why the churches? Why?
“There’s a local relief center staged at the Cape Fear Bridge, and rescue teams are bringing in food and supplies—”
The screen scrambles and flickers on and off. Then there’s just static from the speakers as the emergency broadcast symbol appears on the screen. Tommy has never seen it before except in comedy sketches or movies. But turning the channels, that’s all they see. The same emergency tone and symbol on each channel. And a message that seems to tell them they’re all doomed.
“This is the Emergency Broadcast System. This is not a test. Emergency services are temporarily unavailable.”
Everybody in the room just watches, not saying a word, surely thinking the worst just like Tommy is.
Tommy doesn’t want to see any more. But his mind can’t shut off the voices inside.
This is the Emergency Broadcast Soul. This is not a test. Your life is basically over and you also just told the love of your life how absolutely crazy you are about her. And you haven’t seen her since. So yeah. The end is here and you’re forever a total loser, Tommy. Loserrrrrrrrrr.
Tommy looks around the room and suddenly notices a couple in the corner, cuddled and asleep.
It’s Allison and Jack.
This is the Emergency Broadcast Psyche. This is not a test. She chose Jack. Perhaps you need to choose the river or the great big devil monsters outside or something—anything better than this scene.
He just wants to get out of this room, but before he does, Sam stops him.
“My biology teacher told me that by stimulating a part of the brain with electrodes you can make a person fall in love with a rock,” she says with a friendly smile. “I bet they have some electrodes lying around here somewhere.”
Tommy nods. He likes this girl. He’s glad she was stubborn enough to stay by their side and get this far.
40
WAKE-UP CALLS
The day burns, the crowds thick, the drinks overflowing.
I never want this day to end. These days. These friends. These moments.
I want to be twentysomething my whole life. Not worried about the future or about finances or about my ultimate fate. God and family and my fortune can be put on hold for the moment. Just so I can listen to music and drink beer and laugh and talk about my favorite reality show and what I just tweeted about.
Every day is a hashtag waiting to happen. The biggest question is which one.
What’s going to be the next hilarious video to find on YouTube?
What’s going to be the next sort of fun outing with the gang?
How can I spend my check fast enough?
It’s not about next year or next month; it’s about now. These songs, these feelings, these moments.
Nothing else matters and I sometimes wonder if it ever will.
Time. Oh, if Tommy could only have a little of it back.
Time is not their friend now. It seems to wait like a rabid animal crouching in the darkness.
Tommy can’t sit still, so he heads out to the lobby in the back of the church where he can pace and think about what they should and shouldn’t be doing. Soon he’s joined by Jack and Dan. The three guys back together again.
Well, Mr. and Mrs. Chapman. Here’s the church you two wanted for Skylar.
The thought is twisted but so is every single thing Tommy can see. Dan looks like Skylar has already died while Jack remains his intense, silent self. Sam joins the group but doesn’t say anything. This is one of those times when talking is way overrated and unnecessary. There’s nothing to say except the obvious.
The one to break their silence is Rachel.
“The antibiotics aren’t working,” she tells Dan.
Dan seems to already know this but still looks stunned and heartbroken. “What do you mean?”
“The infection’s spreading,” the nurse says. “It’s acting like a venom.”
Tommy looks at Jack and Dan. Just that word freaks all of them out.
“You thought she needed antibiotics. Now you’re saying you’re not sure?”
“I’ve never seen anything like this. She needs an antivenom like Anascorp or at least a doctor who can help. I’m sorry.”
“Do you think anybody out there in the church is a doctor?” Tommy asks.
“I tried. I asked everybody.”
“I’m taking her to the hospital,” Dan declares and starts walking away until Tommy grabs him.
“Wait a minute.”
Tommy knows Dan’s ready to do anything, including die. The look on his face confirms it.
Dan jerks his arm to get free of Tommy. “It’s just on the other side of the freeway,” Dan tells him. “We’ll make it.”
They stare at each other, Dan not about to back down.
“The other side of the freeway?” Tommy asks. “We almost didn’t make it thirty feet.”
“I’m not saying it’s a good plan—but it’s the only plan that’ll save Sky.”
“It’s only a couple of hours until dawn,” Jack says in an exasperated, tired ton
e.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
Tommy realizes what Jack’s talking about.
“Those things—they have only attacked at night. Whatever they are, maybe they’re nocturnal.”
Dan thinks about it and seems to understand that maybe they’re right.
“Does Skylar even have a couple more hours?” he asks the nurse.
She nods. “I’d wait till morning.”
The nurse soon leaves them, wanting to go back and keep watch over Skylar. Dan finally agrees to wait—for the moment.
“We leave for the hospital the second the sun comes up. Got it?”
Tommy’s never seen Dan so decisive and so reckless. But he’s never seen Jack want to rip his head off, nor has he ever seen Allison so withdrawn.
They’re already dying, all of them, in their own little, awful ways.
The restlessness drives Tommy back toward some of the meeting rooms. He finds Pastor Shay in a small room just off the sanctuary, watching old news footage on his tablet. It almost appears as if the pastor is trying to hide out in here. Tears line the man’s face and he appears deeply moved. Or deeply disturbed. Or maybe both. Whatever Shay is watching, it’s prompting a profound reaction. That’s all Tommy knows. He walks inside and takes a seat to watch the footage with the man.
The news, now hours old, is awful. The world is being wiped away slowly but surely, like the notes on a dry-erase board being rubbed off bit by bit. Tommy doesn’t cry like the pastor but he does feel sadness and fear. He just doesn’t know what to do with them. Crying isn’t going to change anything.
The pastor shuffles in his seat and leaves the tablet on a chair beside him while he folds his hands and closes his eyes. Tommy expects him to say something, but there’s only silence. The muffled audio from the news report is the only thing he can hear for the next few moments.
When the pastor opens his eyes, he looks at Tommy. “That’s the first real prayer I’ve ever said. Do you know how powerful it feels?”
“Can’t say that I do,” Tommy admits.
“It’s not too late for us to believe, you know. God still loves us. I know that. I believe that, now more than ever.”
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