The Hallucigenia Project

by Darren Kasenkow

  Joey thumped down onto the roof with a heavy hand several times. “Go!” he called out before easing back into the interior. Vanessa didn’t need to be told twice. She jumped off the brakes and slammed down on the accelerator, turning as tightly as the wheels would let her to bypass the bullet ridden patrol cars with cops strategically cushioned behind the seats in the hope of not catching hot lead between the eyes.

  “Push this thing as hard as it will go,” John said while reloading the gun.

  “As long we got road to spin on I’ll keep us moving,” she said breathlessly, “but all I see is one giant shit storm.”

  A couple of seconds later they were almost bumper to bumper with Klementina and Aaron, and when John looked further ahead he thought that Vanessa had been generous in her observation. Though the traffic wasn’t as thick as what lay behind them what was there was in total disarray. Parts of the road had been replaced with blast craters deep enough to swallow a truck, and stretching out to the horizon were broken and scattered vehicles in various states of disassembly. Bodies lay strewn in all directions, while the drivers and passengers that were lucky enough to have dodged the demonic hailstones were running for their lives on either side of the highway.

  Every time they reached a decent speed they were forced to slow down to stealthily steer between the heart wrenching destruction, and every time John checked his mirrors to see if any red and blue lights were back in pursuit. The combined marksmanship of Joey and Aaron, however, seemed to have been successful. There was nobody attempting a tail, not for the moment anyway.

  Up above the red hue of the clouds had lightened somewhat, and judging by the growing blue patches in the sky and lack of audible hissing and explosions, the meteorite shower appeared to be retreating. Though the sounds rushing in through the windows began to feel almost normal there was no getting used to the sight of singed and burned bodies, some whole and some mere lumpy pieces, decorating the way forward.

  “Make sure her eyes stay closed,” John instructed Joey.

  “You got it,” Joey answered.

  “This can’t be real.” John couldn’t be sure if Vanessa was talking to him or whispering to herself. “What I’m seeing, that’s not right…”

  A single meteor flashed in the distance and then the sky became eerily quiet, but now that the van was reduced to an almost crawling pace the quiet of the heavens simply made room for the cries of the wounded and dying to filter in through the windows, mixing with the stench of spilled fuel, burning rubber and seared flesh. John felt a wave of sickness at the pungent aroma that threatened to disrupt memories, and quickly brought the windows back up while switching off the fans.

  “When your brain is confronted with something that’s not in the playbook it doesn’t have any solid ground to store the information,” he said as they rolled past a burning car that had been severed in half, the driver’s charcoaled hands still on the wheel. “It doesn’t look real because for a few moments it isn’t, not until you’re able to process it anyway. That’s the beauty of shock, it tricks you into bubble of non belief. Whatever lets us think doesn’t want it to be real.”

  “Or,” Vanessa said slowly, “it knows it’s real but doesn’t want it to be.”

  They were starting to speed up again now and through the smoky haze they could see Aaron’s arm shoot out through the window and point to the right as the rear indicator came to life. It looked like they had made it to the turn off, and against all odds the damage was minimal and any cars with engines still working were now reanimated and racing for any semblance of safety, clearing enough of a path to steer off the highway and journey into the land of the living.

  Reaching the bottom of the off ramp they accelerated down a long, narrow road and then turned once more. Where before there were concrete barriers and clumps of empty land there was now rows of weather beaten houses and overgrown lawns. It looked to John like the kind of street that would normally be alive with the buzzing activity of kids not wanting to be couped up, but smoke seeping from randomly destroyed roofs and brick walls assured him the day was far from normal.

  The violence in the contrast was astounding, rows of quaint homes with bikes dropped on lawns and flags flapping in the wind broken by crumbling architecture that looked as though a monster had attacked with a giant hammer. Surprisingly they were the only vehicles moving on the street, though the sound of countless sirens flooded the ambient background with rising and falling wails.

  A lonely figure or two were beginning to dare to step outside and look up at the sky, eyes wide with shock and fright even though the blood red of the sky was slowly being replaced with a sun drenched blue. John finally began to relax his grip on the gun and felt the surroundings moving slowly as if he were a passenger in a strange and threatening dream.

  “The sky’s beginning to clear,” he said to nobody in particular.

  “I’ve never been so scared to see the sun,” Vanessa declared as she peered through the shattered windscreen.

  Joey shuffled behind their seats and poked his head through to the front. “That was one hell of a traffic jam I’ll give you that.”

  “One hell of a way to roll a car too,” John replied.

  “Yeah you’re probably right.” Joey stared down at the floor as if suddenly processing just how close he had come to finality for the first time. “I’ve shared my time on the New York streets with some of the hardest men around let me tell ya, but I don’t know how many of them would’ve waited for us like you did while the fucking sky was falling to pieces.” He reached out and gently squeezed Vanessa’s arm. “Thanks for the world class driving.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she replied.

  “How’s Talitha doing back there?” John asked.

  “A little tense but braver than any kid I’ve seen before. Eric’s not doing so good though, his leg looks like it’s busted up pretty bad.”

  “It’s bad but it’s not broken,” Eric winced from the back of the van.

  Joey turned back with a playful rise of his eyebrow. “As soon as that adrenaline wears off you might find you’ve got a change of opinion.”

  Talitha opened her eyes and for the first time since the appearance of the highway patrol, if that’s what they really were, she lowered the headphones to rest against her neck.

  “I don’t think the sky’s angry anymore,” she said while frowning down at Eric’s leg. “Sometimes angry things can’t see right or wrong. Sometimes angry things is just what they are.” Her eyes became fixated on the thick dark blood and scraped flesh that highlighted the tear in his jeans. “I don’t like pain, but it can show us a new and wonderful way.”

  Eric shuffled closer, reached up and rustled the top of her hair. “Remember what we talked about the other night?”

  “You mean about the music?”

  “You betcha, and where it comes from.”

  Talitha scrunched her nose with concentration and tried to remember. “Little songs to whisper secrets and big ones to shake the world, but without pain there’s no song at all.”

  “You’ve got a good memory.”

  “I’ll have a better one soon,” she replied softly while gazing through the cracked window. “But first the Earth will have her song.”

  The statement brought an unsettling silence to settle in the van as they trailed Aaron and Klementina deeper and deeper into the quaint maze of streets that, if it weren’t for the occasional displays of fresh smoking ruin nestled amongst the bizarrely untouched homes, might have been a softer side to the harsh glitter and frantic pace of the Miami cityscape.

  Movement was beginning to erupt all around them now, spilling from doors both stunned and shocked at nature’s unexpected kiss. There were families huddled tight and lone figures stepping out into the sun to stare slack jawed at what was left of the houses and yards that had hosted balls of fire big and small. It was a dichotomy of epic proportions, with untouched homes nestled beside burning timber and upturned soil and each street tr
avelled hosting the lucky, who were beginning to gather in curious groups, and the unlucky, whose remains would need to be scraped into plastic bags once emergency services could make their way through the growing panic of the suburb.

  Watching from the van tempted the illusion of touring a morbid make believe film set as part of some demented theme park, only nobody had tickets and there was no way of getting off the ride. They turned yet another corner and began to slow to a crawl.

  The street was lined with lush green trees shaped with overhanging branches to throw long late morning shadows across the footpaths and ended in a cul-de-sac. This time there was no damage to be found, and John noticed that the houses were not only bigger here but architecturally older with a soft air of distinction.

  Vanessa checked her mirrors as the sound of jets whistled unseen from somewhere high above. “This here is a dead end so I hope they know what they’re doing.”

  “It’s okay,” Eric assured her, “the house at the end of the street is where we want to be.”

  Sure enough, Aaron tapped his brakes and then eased onto the driveway at the end of the street. A large roller door began to lift but there was little to reveal thanks to the darkness that waited on the other side, a darkness that swallowed the lead vehicle and triggered Vanessa to come to a stop while wondering what was supposed to happen next. Thick curtains draped the inside of the windows of the two story house so there was no telling if there was anyone inside or not, but if there were occupants they were probably watching the van from one of the many cameras mounted across the façade.

  “Looks nice and cosy,” John said.

  “We just had a shoot out with the police in the middle of a shit storm,” she replied with concern. “Only one way in or out kinda makes me want a little more than cosy.”

  Suddenly Aaron appeared from the mouth of the shadow, stepping into the sunlight with gun in hand and eyes sweeping the surroundings. Content there was nothing to worry about for the moment he pointed to the garage with a nod of his head, and so Vanessa rolled the van up the driveway while flicking on her lights. There was an instant drop in temperature as they too joined the shadows and parked beside the lead vehicle.

  Beams from the headlight revealed a large and barren concrete room with a single door at the rear wall. With the shutter locked back down and engine off, the tomb like ambience was only broken by the sound of nervous breathing until Klementina stepped up to slide open the van door. For the briefest of moments there was a trace of vulnerability simmering in her eyes, but it was replaced so quick with her trade mark confidence that John wondered if it had ever really been there.

  “We’re going to get you inside where it’s safe okay?” she promised Talitha.

  “Eric hurt his leg but Joey helped him,” she replied, “then John and Vanessa made sure we could get away.”

  “Talitha’s right,” Eric said through pain gritted teeth. “In the middle of it all they waited for us, and if I had any doubts about Vanessa at the start they’re long gone now. She can drive like nobody’s business.”

  Joey began to ready Talitha’s chair for her exit but suddenly paused and looked up at Klementina. “What happened out there, is that like… the beginning of the end? I mean, we all know there’s no happy ending to this fairy tale but I wasn’t expecting, well, it, to kick off already.”

  “The truth is that none of us saw this coming,” Klementina sighed, “not this early anyway. I don’t think the big show’s started just yet because if it did we’d probably be red mist and star dust by now. The water breaks and the pain begins long before the new life is pushed out.”

  Aaron appeared by her side and lifted Talitha’s wheelchair onto the floor, then opened the driver’s door and extended his hand. “Welcome to our little rendezvous shack, where we can pretend we didn’t just swap bullets with some pissed off cops and drink coffee as though enjoying a pleasant day out in the suburbs.”

  “That’s real kind of you,” Vanessa offered with just a little twinge of suspicion.

  “I wasn’t joking about the coffee,” he assured her as she stepped out of the van and took in the surroundings. “Follow me and I’ll make us both a cup. I’d offer you something stronger but a trip to the liquor store wouldn’t be a very good idea right now.”

  With head still reeling and nerves visibly on edge Vanessa hesitated for a moment, but when he winked at her as though they shared a secret joke and gently placed a hand upon her shoulder the suspicion fell from her face as she followed him to the rear of the garage and through the door.

  John watched them depart and then joined the others by the side of the van. Considering the rip in reality that had just left them battered and bruised he expected everyone to be on edge and fighting to lead the conversation, but instead things were remarkably quiet and reserved and he could only guess that it was a side effect of the need to personally process the implications that nestled in the wake of the fireballs. It was one thing to talk about the end of the world as though it were some distant philosophical hurdle, and another thing entirely to smell the molten iron of confirmation.

  Whether it was said out loud or not there was also the fact that a line of a different kind had now been crossed, with little to no chance of return. How many shots had they fired at the cops, and how many had found their mark and punched through their uniforms? Now, in the tension filled calm of the garage, it was impossible to tell, but John knew there was at least one shot he could count for sure.

  He had once carried a badge, had dedicated his life to the thin blue line until an impossible situation wrapped tightly with red tape had kicked him back to the civilian curb, and when he had left the hotel that morning never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he would be unloading a weapon at those who, albeit supposedly, enforced the law.

  As far as the guilt that came with it, well, that was going to come down to whether or not they really were police. The uniforms fit and the lights on the roof were the right colours, but to him there’d been a distinct smell of military attitude. Either way the man he had shot was part of force that didn’t forget easily, and there was no way of knowing if he had even lived. Things were not going to get any better from here.

  Klementina crouched down and examined Talitha with the kind of care and concern that could convince an outside observer that they shared the same blood. Happy that all seemed okay, she reached her arm beneath Eric’s shoulder to help support his weight while Joey did the same from the other side. John gripped the back of the wheelchair and began to guide their precious passenger towards the door as a strange feeling began to wash over him. It was the feeling of belonging to something, of being accepted as part of close knit group. Maybe, he thought, in a strange house in a foreign land on a day like no other, he really was becoming part of the family.

  “Things sure went flying off the rails,” Joey said, “and I gotta say I had my doubts, but we made it.”

  “You think we’ll be safe here?” John asked over his shoulder.

  “If you mean from the government we should be okay for the time being,” Klementina said through short breaths as Eric’s weight strained her arm. “If you mean from hellfire and brimstone then all I can say is I hope so.”

  “Fire and brimstone doesn’t usually come with hope,” he replied as he pushed open the door and waited for Eric to be carried through.

  Soft classical music began to fill the air, sad violins and haunting piano that seemed so very alien to the adrenaline infused emotions that John harboured, and as he carefully steered Talitha into the awaiting room the sense of disconnect only grew stronger. With a hard wood floor and paintings on the walls it felt as though he had stepped into an art gallery or museum. In the far corner stood a marble statue that looked at least a few inches taller than he was, a twisted pot bellied creature whose open mouth hinted at either a silent laugh or scream. The white, polished surface had been defaced with red sloppily painted letters, and as they made their way across the floor he could
just make out the words.

  Where even angels fear to tread…

  A wide archway waited on the other side of the room. He pushed Talitha through and came to a sudden stop thanks to the sight that was revealed. The area was far bigger and the walls were covered with gold framed paintings just like the previous room, only this one had three large black leather sofas positioned around an antique coffee table and a bay window that looked out to a long stretch of vacant land. What had stopped him his tracks however, was the small group of expectant faces that stood along the wall to greet their arrival. The majority were women who looked to be in their early to mid twenties, with two serious looking guys nestled in the middle. Each and every one of them was transfixed at the girl in the wheelchair.

  At the end of the line a young woman with a freshly shaved head and skin that looked as though it had been too close to the sun stepped forward.

  “We thought the day was going to be lost,” she said.

  “Sundown is still a long way off,” Klementina replied while helping Joey lower Eric down onto one of the sofas. “It’s great to see you Courtenay.”

  “You too,” Courtenay answered before walking across the floor to give Klementina a gentle hug. “There’s a team on the roof keeping a check on things and all cameras are operational, meaning there’s no way in or out without us knowing about it.”

  “Are communications working?”

  “Barely.”

  “That’s good enough, because things are going to have to move a little quicker that we expected.” Klementina wiped the sweat from her brow and took a moment to catch her breath. “Some water for everyone would be great. Oh, and I’ll need you to call down Sonja too. We could really use her handy stitch work.”

  John kept his grip on Talitha’s chair as Courtenay directed the others off into another room. He took a moment to study the various works of art that covered the walls, finding intricate black and white etchings of dark biblical scenes mixed with faded colour renditions of planetary systems, strange objects falling from skies and snapshots of medieval characters reaching up to the heavens in a search for what looked like hope.