by Stevie Kopas
Miguel turned and walked away without another word. Jack looked up at Evans, his vision blurred by the tears filling his injured eyes. Evans wouldn’t look at him.
“Hey, Evans. Give him his souvenir from the Crescent City and drive me back. I’ve got more work to do,” Miguel called from outside.
“You did this, Abbot,” Evans said, crouching down in front of Jack. “You should have listened to me.” He laid out a few rolled cigarettes and a pouch with some jerky to the left of Evans.
“Please…” Jack choked out again. “Where’s Scarlet?”
Evans shook his head, pulling a final item from his pocket and dropping it to the floor at Jack’s feet.
“Good luck, Abbot.”
Evans walked away and Jack heard a door slam somewhere in the room. He let out a wail of pain as he adjusted his body and extended an aching arm. His fingers were barely able to grip the object, but he finally gained some traction and grabbed it. He felt it in his hand; it had been a long time since he’d held a real, physical photo of any kind. His heart thumped in his chest and he hoped he could hold back his vomit. He didn’t think his jaw could take the retching.
Jack brought the Polaroid closer to his face, he stared for a moment as his eyes adjusted, and then the sobs came. He dropped the photo and slammed his head back against the wall, ignoring the flashes of white before his eyes and the pain that accompanied his actions. He slammed his head back once more and let out a tortured scream. The screams kept coming from somewhere deep inside of himself. After what he’d seen and experienced in his life, he didn’t think that part of him… the place where the deepest pain of your soul lived… he didn’t think it existed anymore. But there was still a small bit of it left, and with every painful scream and sob, it was killing him from the inside out.
Jack could feel himself on the verge of passing out again, and before his vision went dark, he managed to take one last look at the Polaroid on the floor beside him. As his eyes fell upon the image of what was once his wife, chained and shackled in that filthy room, the final piece of his heart broke and he felt hope again for the first time in a very long time.
As Jack slipped back into unconsciousness, he hoped he would never wake back up.
Gordon & Elena
Gordon gets off the subway at 33rd and Park and walks to a coffee shop just down the street. He’s already consumed four cups of coffee this morning and figures a fifth won’t kill him; since he’d quit smoking his coffee addiction had taken center stage. As he stands in line, he wonders, in the year and a half since he’s quit, if he’s already spent more money on coffee than he has on cigarettes in his entire life
He sends a couple texts to some friends, but as usual, his prepaid service provider fails to deliver the messages. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, jealous of the other patrons who happily text and surf the web from their AT&T or Verizon smartphones. He turns his attention to the wall-mounted TV; the news was always on no matter where he went these days. Images and video footage of the latest media-hyped news story played on the screen. What seemed to be just another nasty Flu season had taken a turn for the unfortunate. Last month, any child under the age of twelve across America went to bed one night and didn’t wake up. They were alive, but they were in some inexplicable coma. He couldn’t help but shake his head at the Breaking News in bold, red letters:
Experts Still Baffled by Mysterious Illness Affecting Children
Media outlets and fanatics were calling it the ‘Doomsday Plague,’ and Canada and Mexico had closed their borders to the U.S. in hopes of keeping their own children healthy. So far the rest of the world’s young ones remained up and about, healthy as horses, leaving the medical community at a loss.
“It’s those fuckin’ anti-vaccers.” A guy behind Gordon says, looking up at the television.
Gordon turns to him, amused. “You think?”
“Yeah, that or the terrorists.”
Gordon rolls his eyes. “You don’t say.”
“But honestly, I think it’s just some big conspiracy, ya know? Probably population control.”
Gordon places his face in his palm, shaking his head. “Christ Almighty.”
“Ah, what are ya? Some kind of liberal?” The man scowls at Gordon when he doesn’t get a response. “Whatever, I’m not worried, the kids will be fine. It’s just like that Ebola thing last year. You’ll see.” The guy waves a hand and turns his attention back to his smartphone.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but clearly you don’t take this seriously. That’s just sad.” A woman with oversized sunglasses butts in.
“Lady, was I talking to you?” The guy doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks to her.
“No, but you’re so loud that you might as well invite the whole coffee shop to join your conversation. They’re somebody’s children, bed-ridden and dying for all we know. You obviously don’t have kids.”
The guys laughs and finally looks at the woman, “Who’d bring children into a world like this?”
“People like you make me sick.” She points a finger at the man before storming off, clearly offended.
The guy looks at Gordon who has remained silent. “Some people, right?”
Gordon shrugs, “Whatever, man.”
He finally orders his coffee, a delicious Dark Roast with half and half. He adds two Raw sugars to the cup and checks his phone for the millionth time. He asks one of the Baristas for the WiFi password and then takes a seat, realizing he’s given himself a huge head start this morning on time. He opens up Facebook and scrolls through the monotony, quickly growing bored and opting for a game instead. As the app loads, he thinks about the day ahead of him.
Get divorced, eat lunch, play guitar, get drunk.
He loses himself in his thoughts as he stares down at his steaming cup of coffee. Who would have thought he’d be getting divorced at twenty-nine. A time when most people were fulfilling their dreams, he was having his crushed beneath the polished shoes of a Wall Street chode that had slept with his wife. Multiple times.
He finds himself clenching his teeth and tries to relax. Every time he thought of his failed marriage he just wanted to punch something. And what was Elena’s excuse? She blamed Gordon, of course. He had all these dreams of becoming a rock star, and what twenty year old didn’t? His band was good back then, his dreams teetered on becoming reality at any moment, but unfortunately for Gordon, dreams were just dreams. As the two became more comfortable in their marriage, their individual dreams faded and what stood out was what they’d do together. In the end, even that amounted to nothing but bitterness and the strong desire for a redo.
Gordon snaps himself out of his pity party and glances back up at the TV. To his surprise, the Breaking News has suddenly changed.
407 Children Dead From Mysterious Illness
“Damn,” he mutters as he opens a news app.
He scans the headlines, the first five stories all about the sudden and baffling deaths of children across the country; the numbers creeping into the thousands in just minutes.
He can’t help but look up and try to find the guy who was in line behind him. He wonders if he feels differently about the situation now, but then Gordon remembers he doesn’t really give a shit what other people think.
***
“Please don’t tell me you’re spending the weekend in New Jersey. Of all places, Elena!”
Elena rolls her eyes and pulls her phone away from her ear. “Mother, you’re shouting again.”
“Sorry, dear. But you know how much I loathe that place.”
“Please, it’s not my fault Lilly moved back there. I don’t like Jersey as much as the next person.”
She gazes out the window in the backseat, watching the hustle and bustle of the late morning streets. She tunes her mother out, missing dearly the sounds of the city. Cracking the window, she lets them in.
“Elena, are you listening to me?”
“No, actually, I
wasn’t.” She answers honestly, but her mother is not amused. “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay? Let me get through this morning and spend the weekend with my best friend.”
“I only want what’s best for you, sweetheart. I can have someone pick Lilly up for you, you don’t have to spend the weekend in…” Elena’s mother pauses as she tries to remember the city.
Elena sighs, “Hoboken.”
“Yes, that place. Just come home and we’ll all have a girl’s weekend. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“No, no, actually that sounds terrible. I’m getting off the phone now, mother. We can talk about all the fabulous plans you have for my life after I get divorced.”
Elena ends the call and drops her phone in her lap. She leans her head against the window and picks at the stitching on the leather seat in front of her. Her mother had insisted one of her father’s drivers take her into the city.
“Maybe I should move to Jersey just to piss her off,” she says to the driver.
He chuckles, “your mother is one woman whose bad side I try to stay off.”
Elena smiles in response. “I should try that sometime. Maybe she’d stay off my case.”
The driver returns the smile and chuckles again.
“I’ll tell you one thing, though, this traffic is not something I missed,” she mumbles, sighing and glancing down at her phone.
No notifications. Titus hadn’t returned her calls for over a week and it had been even longer since she’d last seen him. She was starting to worry that he wouldn’t be there like he’d promised when she’d informed him about her and Gordon splitting up. She begins to get antsy in the car as her thoughts run wild.
“I’m going to get out here, it’s only a few more blocks,” she informs the driver.
“You sure?” The driver asks.
Elena smiles, “Absolutely, I can’t sit still for this long. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
As Elena struts down the street, she can’t help but think of her father. He hadn’t spoken to her in months except to express his disappointment in her, once again. She’d messed up, and she wasn’t afraid to admit it.
She married Gordon in secret at twenty years old, and to her parents’ dismay, she refused to have any sort of postnuptial paperwork drawn once they’d found out. Her father insisted, but Elena refused. Her mother had taken her side, preaching to her father about young love and true happiness, then retelling the story of how she and Elena’s father had met. How many times had she heard the same awful story? Now, Elena and Gordon’s story on the other hand… once upon a time Elena truly believed that one day she’d tell her own children about the way they’d met.
A weekend getaway with some friends to the city, one of the biggest local bands was playing, and as soon as Elena had spotted Gordon onstage, it was love at first site. Convinced he was destined for greatness, she married him two weeks later. Her father said she’d be divorced and broke in no time and swore to cut her off, but Elena and Gordon had miraculously made it almost nine years. And they’d only made it this far because Elena’s mother couldn’t bear to see her without a dime to her name and kept the money flowing. Plus, their anniversary was just two months ago, a week before Gordon discovered Elena’s affair.
Elena approaches her destination and feels the knot of despair forming in the pit of her stomach. She swore up and down she’d never get a divorce, yet here she was, about to walk in to her father’s lawyer’s office and seal the deal. She checks her watch and notices she has some time to kill before the appointment.
“I’m always late anyway,” she mumbles, and makes a beeline back the way she came, hearing the sweet sounds of a Macchiato calling her name.
***
The coffee shop is near silent, everyone’s eyes are glued to the TV set or frantically scanning their phone screens for more information. The president is due to make a statement within the hour and at the moment, a representative from the CDC takes questions from reporters as they shout over one another to be heard.
Gordon notices a woman at the table beside him with her hand over her mouth. Her eyes are wet and she sits perfectly still. Her phone rings and rings, yet she doesn’t pick it up. The ringing begins to grate on Gordon’s nerves.
He points to the phone sitting on the table, “Are you… uh…” he makes a pick up the phone motion with his hand and looks at the woman.
She snaps out of her daze and quickly silences the device. She looks up at him and shakes her head. “I can’t. My niece… she’s been in the hospital.”
Gordon looks down at the floor and mumbles an apology before turning away, regretting that he invaded her personal space. She grabs her bag and rushes out the front door, nearly knocking down the well-dressed woman walking in. Gordon pays no attention to her. Instead, his eyes remain fixed on the television set. He watches as the numbers on the scrolling ticker are nearing the hundred-thousand mark; all across the country kids were flat-lining for inexplicable reasons. It gave Gordon a true feeling of dread.
He takes a sip of his coffee, shaking his head.
Our nation’s children are dropping like flies and here I am, enjoying a hot Cup o’ Joe.
“Jesus, how tragic.” A familiar voice breaks him from his trance and he looks up to find his soon to be ex-wife standing beside his table.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, a bitterness in his voice.
Elena rolls her eyes and sets her bag down on the table. “Watch this for me, will you?”
She walks to the counter and places an order that Gordon can’t hear above the sudden murmur of voices in the coffee shop. Everyone is speaking at once, on their phones and frantic. Gordon considers leaving Elena’s bag on the table and getting out of there, but when he looks back at the counter she’s already received her beverage and is on her way back to him.
“I really thought I’d have this hour to myself,” he mumbles as she takes a seat across from him.
Elena ignores him and pulls her iPhone from her bag. “Wow, this is unbelievable,” she says, scrolling with her thumb, her eyes wide. “Have you read the latest?” she asks Gordon, turning the phone screen toward him.
He reads the text aloud. “Recently deceased children come back to life.” He laughs, short and slow at first, but as he considers the statement he can’t hold in the loud guffaw that follows. “They’re coming back to life? Get the fuck outta here.”
Elena gives him a nasty look and pulls her phone back. “That’s what it says.”
Gordon puts his hands up and makes claws, “Oooh! They’re coming to get you, Elena.” He chuckles some more and wipes his eyes. “Thanks, I needed that laugh this morning.”
Elena finds no humor in the situation and grows irritated.
“Seriously, El, you can’t believe everything you read on the internet.” Gordon takes a sip from his coffee, a crease forming in his brow. Even though he knows it’s bullshit, there’s an uneasiness in his stomach that he chalks up to Elena’s sudden appearance. Her face is wrought with concern, her eyes rapidly scanning the phone screen. Gordon reaches out and puts his hand over the screen.
“You’re not seriously buying into the whole ‘dead coming back to life’ thing are you?”
“And so what if I am?” Elena snaps at him, eyeing Gordon up and down. His green shirt appears to have been plucked from his bedroom floor and his faded jeans are torn and stained with who-knows-what. She takes a jab at him, “I see you wore the clothes you slept in. How thoughtful of you and not embarrassing for me at all. Thanks so much.”
“Yeah, no problem. I wake up this fabulous every day,” he fires back, his words dripping with sarcasm. “You’re the one dressed for a funeral. Today’s just like any other day for me.”
Elena bites her lip and sips her Macchiato. “Touché.”
They sit in silence for a few moments, distracted again by the television. The news plays live footage from around the country now, the scene almost identical outside of every hospital they display
on the screen. Most places have called in the National Guard while others opt for local law enforcement in order to control what appears to be extreme rioting.
Elena shakes her head, her eyes misty. “How awful… all those people, losing their kids like that. I’d be freaking out and demanding answers, too.”
Gordon rolls his eyes. “Uh, doesn’t look like they’re demanding answers to me.” He points at the television. “That looks like total anarchy.”
The tension in the coffee shop grows thicker, nobody seems to want to move for fear, if they look away even for the briefest moment, that they’ll miss something on the television. The images are like a train wreck, nobody is able to even blink until a shot of some self-proclaimed “expert” on the situation fills the screen. Nervous whispers float around the room. Gordon listens as his fellow java-drinkers converse; they’re already beginning to jump to their own conclusions on what the situation at hand might actually be.
Terrorism. The Rapture. Aliens. Gamma Ray Burst. Zombies.
Gordon erupts with inappropriate laughter and quickly silences himself as the whole room scowls at him. His face reddens and he sinks into his chair. A smirk continues to tug at the corner of his mouth, but he resists.
Elena sighs, embarrassed to be sitting with him. “Can you control yourself?”
“Did you hear what that guy over there said? A gamma ray burst? Seriously? Does he even know what he’s saying?” He snickers. “How can you not find that funny?”
“Because I don’t think it’s funny that hundreds of thousands of children, if not more, have dropped dead this morning.”
Gordon nods and remains silent.
Elena notices people are walking faster than usual outside as they rush by the storefront in different directions. She frowns, observing them as they bump into one another and just continue on, faster than before, their faces fixed with worry.
“Thank God I’m getting out of this city after our appointment. I thought I missed it, but now, with all this,” she motions towards the large storefront windows, “I’m not so sure this is where I want to be.”