Family

by Matthew Costello

If there were someone racing her way, she wouldn’t see them, and they’d easily collide.

  Still, she ran.

  And in her careening race toward the lobby, she kept her hands out to each side to guide her, to keep her going straight down the hallway.

  But as she got closer, the fighting ahead, the people shooting—and what they were doing—became clearer.

  Everyone packed tightly together, shooting out into the darkness while others—women and men—held flashlights behind them, pointed out, into that darkness.

  The gunfire is constant.

  And more steps. She saw a man stand up, and back away, his gun down.

  Out of ammo, Kate guessed.

  She saw a woman slide into his place and begin shooting as he stepped back, digging in his pockets.

  Closer still, and she slowed.

  Where was Simon? Where was her brother?

  Could something have happened to him?

  In just those few minutes… could something bad have happened?

  *

  Simon stood to the back. The reception desk sat behind him, in front of a big room with glass walls that now reflected the explosive firefly lights made by all the guns.

  The smoke cloud made it hard to breathe as it hung over all the people shooting.

  No one looked at him. No one said anything.

  He looked around.

  This isn’t everyone.

  No, he guessed only the people here were those doing the fighting, and those who held the flashlights pointing outside.

  While everyone else hid.

  And Simon thought, Maybe I should be hiding as well?

  Maybe that’s all we can do is hide.

  One man barked orders, directing people, like the coach of a football team, “You—go here; and you—over there!”

  Simon kept watching all these people shooting.

  Because he didn’t really want to look in the other place.

  He didn’t really want to look outside.

  Until he felt that he had to, taking a deep breath even with the gun smoke stinging his eyes, burning his lungs.

  He looked out—and saw them.

  And… and…

  It was like a movie.

  So many Can Heads. Some still dressed like ordinary people, with only a few rips and stains on their clothes.

  Others naked, their blood-stained bodies lit by the lights, showing wounds, cuts.

  As bullets hit them, the Can Heads would reel back.

  But—still watching, like it was a show—Simon saw that if it didn’t hit them in the head, or the chest, the Can Heads would leap forward, now even more crazed.

  They all became like a giant mouth, a living jaw of creatures, their hands reaching, their howls as loud as the gunfire.

  Until Simon saw a pair of Can Heads leap into the opening together, crashing through the jagged, broken glass of the entrance, and grab a man.

  The man standing up, as if surprised. An old guy, gray beard.

  Waving his rifle until it fell to the ground as they yanked him out so fast, his gun sliding like a hockey puck across the floor.

  And since everyone else had to keep firing, had to keep the lights trained on the Can Heads, the gun slid all the way over.

  To the reception desk.

  Simon reached down and picked it up.

  The old man’s weapon, now warm in his hands. A few moments before that man had been firing it, holding it tight.

  And now he was out there, lost, vanished.

  Devoured.

  Now holding the rifle tightly, Simon took a step away from that desk. Toward the army of people fighting the Can Heads.

  I have a gun, Simon thought. I have to help them.

  *

  Kate looked at the madness before her.

  Did she really just see one of the men in front yanked away, pulled out into the sea of Can Heads outside so fast?

  Her stomach tightened; she felt as if she might throw up, dizzy from the smells and the noise.

  Simon,” she said, a near whisper.

  Just for herself. To remind herself about what she was doing here.

  Have to find my brother.

  Until—a horrible moment—she saw he was one of them… Simon was one of those people shooting.

  No.

  How long can they do this, she thought? How long before one side—or the other—wins?

  She made her way closer, ducking under people with lights, no one paying any attention to her at all, no one yelling at her or her brother to get the hell away.

  Everyone using all their attention to stay focused on this terrible battle.

  Until she stood beside him, and she crouched down.

  Simon kept firing.

  She noticed that pools of blood seemed to be all over.

  Human blood? Can Head blood?

  Did it matter?

  She leaned close.

  “Simon!” she yelled.

  And when he didn’t seem to pay any attention to her, lost to the battle like all the adults, as if he too was—God—an adult, she yelled his name.

  “Simon! Mom’s alone! We have to get back to Mom.” Then, “With the gun.”

  Only then did he turn, his eyes glistening, watery from the smoke that filled the night.

  “Simon!” she shouted again as loudly as she could. Then, just the one word which she hoped would be enough, would remind him of something important that could get lost in this madness.

  “Mom! Mom, Simon!”

  A nod. He backed up.

  Both of them backing up as she took his hand, no objection to her doing that. More steps, the gun lowered.

  And just as no one could pay any attention to their arrival at this stand against the Can Heads, no one noticed when they finally were away from the seething, shooting mass, when they turned and started running back to their mother’s room.

  And all Kate could think: Will this night ever end?

  Until, slowing so she didn’t miss the open door to her mother’s room, they came to her room.

  The door open.

  She held her breath then.

  After all, anything could happen…

  And with Simon trailing, she walked in.

  “Mom. I found him, and—”

  Simon spoke in the darkness.

  “I got a gun. I think it still has bullets.”

  Kate could hear the pride in her brother’s voice. And then she had to wonder, Bullets? How many?

  Would they be enough? Would there ever be enough?

  Then, her mother’s voice.

  “Good. Come closer. Stay with me.”

  Kate released Simon as she went to the bed.

  But her brother went to the window, the closed blinds.

  “Simon,” her mother said.

  She’s back in charge, thought Kate.

  And that was good.

  *

  “Simon, come away from the window.”

  Christie tried to keep her voice gentle, talking to her son holding a rifle.

  “Don’t let them see that we’re here.”

  Christie could see the bare outline of her son standing by the blinds, a dark shape, on guard. She thought that she might have to repeat the order, but then Simon took a step back.

  Now what? Christie thought.

  She wanted to ask Kate what was it like, down there where people fought the Can Heads.

  But her two kids had seen it. That was enough.

  Then, What do we do now?

  Kate sat close. And with just the distant sound of gunfire, no one said anything for a long time.

  CHAPTER 12

  Doing What Must Be Done

  Eventually the gunshots stopped.

  The lights flickered on in Christie’s hospital room, but by then Kate was asleep next to her.

  Simon had also fallen asleep in a tattered reclining chair.

  Neither awoke when the room lights came on. Christie used her cane and got to the light switch, shut
it off, leaving just the small light on the wall under the bed on.

  The hallways grew quiet, though—in the distance—Christie could hear sobbing.

  People have been lost.

  In the battle, the war last night, when the power went out and they couldn’t get it on again.

  People have died.

  And though the idea of sleeping seemed impossible—not with the swirl of thoughts she had—her fatigue was greater.

  And amazingly she could close her eyes.

  Closed tight, and before she knew it, time went by as if it didn’t exist.

  *

  And then it was morning. The kids still asleep.

  Karen came in the room, her face locked into a stony expression, her eyes looking everywhere but at Christie.

  She didn’t question that the kids were here. Didn’t say anything at all at first, as if the terrible events of last night hadn’t happened at all.

  But then she must have felt Christie looking at her, and finally the woman let her eyes trail up and meet Christie’s.

  “Karen,” Christie said.

  Thinking, What else can I say? What happened last night? Did we lose people?

  How many?

  We lost…

  Is it true, she wondered, are we now a we?

  But Karen thankfully spoke, the words sounding normal. Life in this world going on.

  “Will be a little late for any food. After last night…”

  The nurse looked at Simon, the rifle at his feet. It seemed as if she might say something then, but instead turned back to Christie’s bed.

  “Going to be a while before the doc gets in. I mean, he—”

  She stopped, the words unable to keep coming.

  “I know,” said Christie.

  Then, “I’m doing much better. Think I’m good with a cane.”

  A nod. As if the state of Christie’s recovery didn’t matter much.

  And Christie had to agree. Compared it all the bodies outside.

  Because she knew that—out in the lot, near the fence, on the fence—there had to be the corpses of so many Can Heads.

  Thank God it’s so cold.

  Then, as soon as she had that thought, God? Did I really in my mind thank God?

  For this world?

  For my son being able to get a gun and use it?

  For this universe twisted into something primal, prehistoric, human against human. Except everyone knew all too well they weren’t human?

  And the outcome of that war?

  Far from certain.

  “Okay,” Karen said, “You just rest here. Until he comes. It’s a mess out there…”

  Christie nodded.

  She’d wait. To talk to the doctor. But first, she knew she’d have to talk to her kids.

  *

  Kate awoke first, turning in the bed, having slept through the lights coming on, the chat with Karen—some amazing ability to block all that out.

  She looked at her mother, then around the room, as if not understanding how she got here.

  She reached for Christie’s hand and held it.

  “Morning,” Christie whispered.

  Then, as if checking she hadn’t misplaced something, Kate raised her head a bit, spotted Simon on the chair, then lay back again.

  “You okay?” Christie said.

  A nod.

  As if anyone could be okay after a night like that.

  A sound from the chair. Simon turning over, and then his eyes opening.

  “Hey,” Christie said.

  And not a moment after seeing her, Christie watched as Simon’s eyes trailed down to the floor, down to the gun.

  He took a breath.

  And then, as if they had planned this next move, Kate released her hand and slid off the bed.

  Simon released the recliner so it was upright, and then he too stood up.

  “May not be any food for a while,” she said.

  Christie almost added, after last night.

  But that wasn’t necessary. They had been in it.

  Seen it.

  Kate moved around the bed so she came to stand beside her brother. Once—not that long ago—it seemed like all they did was bicker.

  Not anymore.

  Christie hoped for the day where they’d do that again: whine, complain… fight over such unimportant things.

  And without any sign that they had in fact worked this out, Kate took the lead.

  “Mom, we have to do something.”

  A nod from Simon—totally on board.

  And even Christie was surprised by her own answer—the realization happening just then.

  “I know…”

  Dr. Martin walked into the room and Christie could see the fatigue in his eyes. And blood spatters on his white jacket, as if bit by bit, the civilized life of this place, this hospital, was slipping away from him.

  “You three…” he said, his voice phlegmy, sounding worn down by the events of the night, “…you okay?”

  Christie nodded.

  It took a minute for him to look up and take in the fact that Christie sat, fully upright, in the bed. Simon standing by the bed, Kate by his side.

  He stopped.

  From what little she knew of him, the doctor seemed perceptive.

  After last night, he knows something is up.

  Christie—having rehearsed it in her head—didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Doctor, we have to leave.”

  He shook his head. “Y-you’re not ready. Still need days.”

  And now she did exactly as she planned.

  Christie slid out of the bed, Simon moving to the side to make room for her as she swung her legs over, and out.

  Then slowly to the floor.

  Kate handed her the cane, and Christie stood up. As if she was proving something to the doctor.

  “No, I’m not ready, Doctor. Could use—what—weeks recuperating? But after last night, we don’t have weeks.”

  Then unexpected—but powerfully touching—Kate’s voice, strong, steady.

  Her daughter’s new voice. “We need to leave here.”

  For a moment, no one said anything, but when she glanced at Simon, she thought he’d add his words as well.

  But instead, her son stood there as the three of them gave the doctor some time to respond.

  “Okay. Last night. It was…” The doctor looked away, eyes staring into some unfathomable distance. What had he done to help people?

  What had he seen?

  How many had they lost?

  Then, as if returning from a journey, he came back to Christie, but now also looking to Kate, Simon. Taking note that they were all together. “But how will you drive?”

  “I can do it,” Kate said. “I got us here.”

  Then Simon spoke.

  Sweet, beautiful Simon.

  “She was good. She can drive.”

  A nod.

  Then, “We’ll take our chances,” Christie said. “Better than staying here, waiting for the next attack, the next failure.”

  And now the doctor walked over to the bed as if this discussion had made him so tired, and he sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Okay. You’ll leave… I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “We’ll need our car. The guns we brought. Any food you can spare.”

  He shook his head. “That… will be hard. You’ve seen the people out there. No way they’d give you anything like that.”

  Then he took a breath. “But I’ll try to get something for you. But it won’t be much, won’t last long.”

  “And… some antibiotics? I mean, I’m mending well.”

  His eyes locked on hers. “We have so little. And how much will we need in the days to come? I dunno.”

  “Whatever you can,” Christie said.

  Finally the doctor stood up. “When will you do this?”

  Christie looked from Simon to Kate, then back to him. “As soon as we can. An hour… bit more if necessary.”

 
A nod.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to the people outside. They won’t like it. Giving you the guns, the ammo…”

  “They’re ours,” Simon said.

  The doctor smiled at that. “Yes, they are. Simon. Still—trust me—it won’t be that easy. Your car has the gas your came with. Can’t give you any more.”

  “That’s okay” Christie said, not at all sure it was okay at all.

  “Right, then. Let me tell them. You can get ready. Then I’ll come back when it’s all set, okay?”

  He started for the door out of the room then—just at the doorway—stopped and turned.

  “One more thing. When you leave, best do it quickly. People these days… can change their minds.”

  “We’ll just go,” Christie said.

  “Yes. Good.”

  And then, moving slowly, as if feeling the burden of this place, the doctor walked out of the room, leaving them alone.

  two

  The Road Ahead

  CHAPTER 13

  Survival

  After struggling to get dressed, Christie felt a jab of panic.

  Is this insane? she thought.

  When simply walking, getting dressed, doing just about anything seemed so difficult.

  But then she only had to look at her kids standing by the window, ready, waiting.

  The looks on their faces saying that whatever they went through last night, they would not go through again.

  And I won’t let them go through that again.

  Then they waited for the doctor to return, and that waiting itself felt terrible, as if something might happen that might stop them.

  But finally he came in, his face grim as Karen followed close behind.

  The doctor carried a canvas satchel, while the nurse had a powder blue plastic bag with the hospital’s name—something patients could use to take personal things home with them.

  The nurse shut the door.

  “Okay,” the doctor said. “I have your weapons.” He looked at his nurse. “Wasn’t easy. They weren’t… happy.”

  Kate walked over and took the canvas bag, placed it on the bed, and began digging through it. “The bullets?” she asked.

  “What?” Christie said, using her cane to walk over to the open bag.

  Her daughter turned to the doctor. “We had a whole lot more than what’s here.”

  The doctor nodded. “They said they ran through so much last night. That’s all they could spare.”