Apokalypsis Book Three

by Kate Morris

  “Right, guess not. Well, you can’t exactly surf anywhere around here.” She laughed. “I still can’t believe they’re building an indoor football arena. I’ve never heard of a high school having their own dome. Now, that’s some craziness right there. These people are insane about their football.”

  Wren observed, “Yes, they are obsessed, aren’t they?”

  “You can say that again,” he joked.

  “They are obsessed, aren’t they?” she mocked with sarcasm and a smirk. She heard her accent coming through thicker and thicker. That happened sometimes when she was overly tired. Or when Uncle Jamie had a few beers, which he rarely imbibed.

  He smiled, his eyes, the same dark color as his hair, lighting up, “So, you aren’t trying out for head cheerleader anytime soon?”

  She laughed, then cupped her hand over her mouth to prevent Hope from being awakened. “Hardly. I doubt they let girls like me cheer for their all-star team.”

  “I’m sure you’d be the prettiest one on the field,” he praised, making her smile. He always said sweet things like that. He was the only one. It was hard to receive a compliment when she basically only hung out with him. Her new friendship with their neighbor Lila only happened when they moved here a few weeks ago. She should’ve started school on time, but, of course, the government hadn’t transferred her papers from her previous school correctly. Her uncle’s friend, Roger, told him about the lead at the construction site he’d heard about. He lived somewhat close by, but she hadn’t met him yet. He was retired from the same line of work as Jamie. Her uncle had met him for beers at a local tavern, though, about a week ago. Jamie had a lot of connections throughout the country and quite a few other countries, too, as he used to be in the military, as well.

  “Speaking of school, you’d better hit the hay, Wren,” he said in his utmost fatherly tone.

  “Yep,” she agreed and patted his shoulder before leaving. “I’m really proud of you, Uncle Jamie.”

  “Me?”

  “Yep, you.”

  “Why me? I’m proud of you,” he corrected. “You’re one tough kid, Wren.”

  She smiled and said, “Because you work so hard, come home, and work hard some more. Because you’re great at your job and don’t complain about having to hang out with a seventeen-year-old kid all the time.”

  “You’re the one that’s great, Wren. And very brave,” he corrected again. “Now, go get some sleep.”

  “Yep,” she said and grabbed a quick shower before crawling into the small twin-size bed in the equally small bedroom. There wasn’t room for a separate bed for Hope in the second bedroom of the trailer, so she was forced to share her already small bed with a kicking toddler sometimes.

  There weren’t band posters on the walls or memorabilia or pictures of her family. The only thing Jamie allowed her was a large pegboard with a world map on it where she’d stuck push pins to mark the places they’d lived. There were many pins stuck in the cork.

  Piling her wet braids on top of her pillow, she pulled the warm blankets up over them both. There was a chill in the air, and not just from the Ohio weather. Wren couldn’t put her finger on it. Something just felt off.

  She was always uncomfortable starting a new school, which she’d done fourteen times in the last three years due to her uncle’s plans. But this felt different. Something just didn’t seem right, and she hoped it didn’t spell inevitable disaster. She also hoped that if something were about to happen, it would happen to her and not the man who had sacrificed so much to keep her safe.

  Chapter Three

  Elijah pulled his car into the slot marked for the quarterback and at once felt like a super-douche for parking there. It was the best spot in the whole parking lot, under the shade of a large maple tree, and close to the buildings just past the faculty parking lot. It seemed as if he shouldn’t carry special privilege like that just because he was the quarterback of the football team. Shouldn’t the kid with the highest GPA get that spot? They’d even offered him the use of a car, but he knew that the team cars supplied by the boosters were low-jacked with tracking devices to keep tabs on the players so that they wouldn’t be out past curfew in them or hanging out in places that weren’t deemed acceptable. No thanks. He’d play for them and win like he had last Friday night at the home opener, but they sure as hell didn’t own him.

  He drove his own car, which was, admittedly, a piece of shit loud muscle car from the 1960s that needed to be restored, but it was his. Unfortunately, it broke down a lot and needed repairs all the time. But he loved the purr of its V8 engine and even the black puff of smoke that came out of the tailpipe sometimes when he fired up the ’68 Dodge Charger with the HEMI motor. One of the girls in his school who was a big-time environmental nutjob had spit on it when she’d been walking by to go to her electric car. He’d just laughed. Some people just didn’t get it. Sure, the black paint was faded, probably needed re-painted and some restoration work done to it. The seats needed to be redone. The hood scoop was even faded and had a couple actual chips of paint. But, someday, he’d have the money to have it painted. Not today, though. For now, it was faded black with rust and aging. It was enough that Alex had let him have it after their father was killed. It had belonged to their father, and he’d kept it in a storage unit. Alex had said it was cheaper to let Elijah just have it than it was to keep paying for the storage unit or buy him his own car. Last weekend, they’d put new brakes on it which was why his brother had to drive him to school a few days. Then his brother had lectured him about not riding the brakes and that he’d better not ruin the clutch or he’d have to get a part-time job to repair it. Elijah didn’t care. He loved his car. It was a symbol of freedom. He could go wherever he wanted. Sort of.

  At least parking in his special spot, he didn’t need to worry about it getting door-dinged or bumped by some new driver in their first week after managing to pass driver’s ed. He got out and locked it. Being the school’s star quarterback didn’t mean someone wouldn’t steal his shit. It was still considered a pretty rough school. They had three police officers in the building at all times, plus metal detectors.

  “Whattup’, QB?” Jeremy shouted in his face, slapping him on the back as he must’ve spotted him crossing the long paved lot.

  “Nothing, safety pin,” he joked, using his nickname and his position on the field. “Do anything exciting over the weekend?”

  “You’d know if you’d stop livin’ like a freagin’ monk, bro’,” Jeremy teased and wrapped an arm around Elijah’s neck as they walked. It was obviously uncomfortable, so he stopped almost immediately because he was about four inches shorter than Elijah.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got the warden to deal with if I screw up,” he said, referring to his brother.

  Jeremy laughed. “I got my mama, dude. You’ve met her. I’m scared of that woman. My dad? I can handle him. Mama? Nuh-uh, no way, ma’ brotha’. She’s scary fierce. She’s quick to whoop an ass.”

  “Dude,” he said, his eyes catching sight of that new girl, Wren, crossing the parking lot twenty yards away but parallel with them. He momentarily forgot what he was saying. “Jeremy, everyone’s scared of your mom. I’m scared of her, too. Get real!”

  “No doubt,” he said. “But, I did go to a party and hung out with Chastity for a while.”

  “Does the name fit?”

  His friend gave him a telling look, to which they both chuckled.

  Then Elijah asked, “Does Brittany know that?”

  His friend threw back his head and laughed loudly.

  “Hell, no!” he said of his current girlfriend, of which he flew through by the dozens. Elijah wasn’t sure how his friend hadn’t literally dated every girl in their school already. Heck, he’d even dated a lot from neighboring schools. “And don’t say nothin’, man.”

  This time, Elijah laughed. Then he glanced over to find the new girl looking their way. Jeremy was loud and didn’t care who heard them most of the time, and Elijah had just go
tten used to his big personality over the last three years.

  “You need to stamp a bar code on their wrists or something,” Elijah suggested. “You’d be able to keep track of who’s who that way. Just scan them with your phone or some shit. Create an app for it and call it something like: Chicks I’ve already banged.” Elijah flashed his hand in front of them like a scrolling text. “Red means you already hit it. Green means go, bro’.” His friend laughed even harder this time.

  Elijah looked over to find Wren talking with the principal, who’d flagged her down. That was odd. He never knew the principal to come out of his office for something. He was lazy. That was the nicest version of the criticisms he could come up with to describe him. The man never left his office except to sneak out every day at lunch. Elijah had seen him smoking weed once behind the workout center when he’d gone there to get some leg work in during his lunch hour. He hadn’t told anyone, though. He wasn’t a snitch. Plus, he had that scholarship to keep him quiet and on the down-low until he graduated and got out of town.

  Jeremy exclaimed and even jumped in the air once, “Bro’, that’s brilliant! Maybe I should develop an app for that.”

  “Yeah, retire a millionaire at eighteen,” Elijah joked.

  “Niiice,” his friend said with a toothy grin. “Hey, catch you at lunch, man.”

  They punched fists, and Elijah hung back, trying to overhear the conversation taking place between the principal and the new girl as he approached the building closer. It was the usual crush of people before the first bell.

  “…how do you not understand?” she was saying.

  “I need more information…”

  Wren interrupted him with what Elijah could only describe as impatience, “No. You don’t! You were given the only information you need. Don’t make me have my uncle come in here, Steven.”

  Elijah’s eyes grew huge. She’d just disrespected their principal, used his first name, and stormed off without waiting to be dismissed. What the hell? She obviously wasn’t too intimidated by adults. Principal Russo couldn’t believe what just happened, either. He glanced up to find Elijah stopped in his tracks staring.

  “Mr. Brannon,” he said sternly, causing Elijah to snap out of it. The principal coughed twice and wiped his nose on a white handkerchief. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir,” he said, grimaced at his principal’s handkerchief, and hurried away. He, unlike the new girl, was a lot more intimidated by adults. Not necessarily intimidated but definitely cajoled by them into doing what he should be doing and had never considered breaking the rules or being disrespectful because he needed them more than they cared to trifle with him.

  So, he left their principal, hoped he was still flying under the man’s radar, and went into the building through the metal detectors and past the two, armed police officers, Rick and Grant. They both offered congrats on the good game. They were cool. He got along great with them. The third cop, Officer Peterson, hated him for some reason. He must’ve been working the hall scene today instead of the door. Good. Jeremy said Officer Peterson was just jealous because he’d wanted to be quarterback at this school when he was young and had blown his knee his freshman year of high school and had never played for the school again. Now he was middle-aged, slightly chubby, and worked as a campus police officer for the school he’d once been so enamored of. Elijah felt bad for him and always tried to be kind. It wasn’t a sentiment that was ever returned, though. The man always openly glared at him with hatred.

  He rushed to first period, not because he was in danger of being late and sent to Principal Pothead’s office, but because he wanted to see her. She was already at her desk next to his.

  “Hi, Elijah,” one of the jersey chasers said, trying to gain his attention.

  “Elijah, are you going to homecoming?” another asked.

  School dance? No way. He’d rather do two-a-day practices again like they did most of the summer. He ignored the girl and just kept going to his desk where he dropped his pack on the floor next to his seat.

  “Hey,” he said softly as more students filed in. That sounded totally lame like he was some cool guy who had game. He had game, alright. On the field. Off the field? Not so much. And to prove his point, she ignored him. This girl was clearly a lot cooler than he was, even with his card-carrying membership to the favored, golden boy status. However, she was his Chem lab partner and still hadn’t talked to him, not one word. They were supposed to be working on a paper together, too, but he hadn’t even gotten her phone number so that they could work out a plan to get together and start it. He’d asked a few of his friends if they knew where she lived or if they had any contact information for her because she always bailed out of their shared classes so fast that he never caught up to her.

  “Hey, hi, Wren,” he said, taking a more direct approach.

  This got her attention because her head snapped up. She was wearing a baseball cap and had pulled her ponytail through the hole in the back. She stared at the linoleum floor between their desks.

  “What?” she asked as if she were surprised to be greeted.

  Again, she was wearing clothing that seemed too warm for the mild weather they were having. It was only September. If she was cold now, she should see February. That thin hoodie wasn’t gonna get it, even with the thumbholes.

  “Nothin’. Just hi,” he answered like a tool.

  “Hm,” she murmured and looked back at her book.

  She had her notebook on her desk and looked raring to go, although their classmates were all still talking and laughing. He’d seen her turn in a big stack of papers to Mrs. Kinsey last Friday. She must’ve done all of their first two weeks lessons in her first week and got caught up.

  Feeling his eyes on her, she turned her head and body slightly more to her left so she wouldn’t have to look in his general direction. Crap. She’d been tough on Principal Pothead, but she wasn’t giving him the time of day.

  “Hey, you’re my Chem lab partner,” he pointed out and felt really stupid after saying it. “Um, yeah, I guess you knew that.”

  It got her attention, though. She gave him a side glance but still mostly kept her eyes down. He didn’t even know what color they were. She always wore either hoodies or ball caps. A lot of the kids had already labeled her a weirdo or an emo girl. She disappeared at lunch, never rode with anyone to or from school, and he had no idea where she even lived. She was…untraceable, a ghost.

  “So?” she asked.

  It sounded odd, her ‘so.’ It sounded more like so with an ewe at the end like so-ewe as in two syllables.

  “Uh, we need to get started on that paper. Mr. Sorenson is a stickler for turning stuff in on time.”

  “I already started it,” she answered.

  “Oh, good,” he said. Not good. He didn’t want anyone doing the work for him. He would never agree to something like that. Jeopardizing his scholarship by turning in half-assed work wasn’t about to happen. “Well, I’ll need to see your work so that we…”

  “I’ll just give you a copy tomorrow…”

  “No, I think we should really work on this together,” he corrected quickly before she could blow him off again. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I don’t know you. I’m not gonna trust you to do it the way I’d want it done. I’m not turning in anything done by someone else that I don’t have a say in.”

  He watched closely as her lower lip pushed outward. Then Elijah noticed her right hand resting on her thigh as it curled into a fist. She was irritated. Good. She was starting to irritate him, too.

  “So, when can we get together? I can come over to your house and…”

  “No,” she blurted and looked directly at him.

  It was like someone hit him in the gut. Her stare was direct, too, when she wanted it to be. But it wasn’t just the directness of her stare. It was the unusual color of her blue eyes. He just got a flash of them, though, rimmed in smoky black eyeliner, before she, unfortunately, s
wiveled in her seat to resume staring at her paper.

  “I’ll…I’ll come to your house,” she offered as if it pained her to do so.

  “Sure,” he said. “Gimme’ your phone, and I’ll sync mine to yours and…”

  “No,” she said and shook her head vigorously. “Just write down your address. I’ll come over tonight at seven.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said, not sure what her problem was. That was borderline paranoid. He tore off a piece of his notebook paper since he didn’t have a laptop from which to work and couldn’t afford one. “Sure. Here.”

  She took the paper, brushing her fingertips just slightly against his palm and wadded it up as if it were trash and stuffed it into the front right pocket of her baggy blue-jean overalls. He felt a little insulted.

  “Great,” he murmured, starting to dread that he’d suggested working with her. Now he wished she hadn’t transferred to their school. He could’ve had his own lab desk, no partner, and done his own work without one. He didn’t want her dragging him down with her if she was a slacker. She was starting to become a pain in his ass.

  “Great,” she mimicked as if equally irritated and proceeded to ignore him for the remainder of their class.

  He skipped lunch and instead drank down three protein shakes made available in the workout center, the massive complex detached from the school about a hundred-yard jog away from the campus. It was made quite clear that when the players wanted extra workouts during the school week that their teachers would comp them the time to do so, even if it meant skipping class. His next class didn’t matter anyway. It was Economics, which was an elective and super easy. Mostly they did self-study in a workbook laying out budgets and boring stuff like that. He could teach a class on budgeting. He and his brother had been-there-done-that for the past few years.

  As he was jogging to the gym, a flash of movement caught his eye. He saw someone skirt around the corner past the big brick building housing all their workout equipment, indoor running track, swimming pool, physical therapy rooms, and basketball courts. The athletics department was serious about keeping their athletes in top shape.