by Amanda Cyr
“Talk to us, Val. What’s wrong? What happened?”
Val rubbed small circles on his temples with his thumbs. He took a deep breath and moved his hands in front of his mouth as he exhaled. “That was Lee… There was a raid while they were on the train. She says twenty Greys swept the cars and… Raleigh is dead, Patrick and Jude too. She jumped from the train, but… Nobody else made it off.”
“What?” Gemma stammered.
“Why did the Grey Men attack?” I asked. “Did they pick a fight or—?”
“No! Those giants just opened fire! They were shooting at everyone!” Val hung his head, hands tugging at his hair again.
That was exactly how Grey Men kept control in times of anarchy. Seattle wasn’t in anarchy, though, which meant someone was ordering them to treat it as such. I swallowed as the perilous nature of my situation sank in. The S.O.R., or worse, The Council, was pulling strings all around me. How much longer could I avoid their snares?
Behind me on the television, a reporter droned on about changes in the stock market. It was the meaningless jabber that got us through the tense silence. Finally, Val cleared his throat so his voice would come out composed. “Gemma, can you call everyone back?”
“Of course,” Gemma said, jumping to her feet and hurrying off.
Val sank into the sofa when she was gone. He stared at the television, lost in his head somewhere far beyond my reach. I moved to sit next to him, but Val didn’t acknowledge I was there. I hated seeing him in such a miserable state. There was only one thing I could think of which might make him feel better.
“I was born in D.C.”
Val kept his head forward and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. No response. That was fine by me. I went on telling him less significant truths he might be curious about. I told him about how, thanks to my father’s position in the S.O.R., I traveled a lot. I told him about the five languages I was fluent in and even rattled off a bit of Russian for him.
“English is complicated enough, thank you,” Val admitted.
I chuckled. “With a name like Valery I thought you might have some red in you.”
“Mom was Russian. She wasn’t around, though, so I never learned.”
Silence settled in again. Over the chatter of the television, we faintly heard Gemma making calls in the hallway. Things were uncomfortable, and not just because of how beaten up the couch was. I was trying to put together another conversation when Val spoke.
“I got to travel some too,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Nothing fancy or anything. Just a couple of detours while I was working down south… One time, I hitched a ride on a fishing boat in Oregon. Took it all the way to Alaska.”
“Never been there.”
Val smirked. “You wouldn’t like it.”
“Why not?” I asked, not about to ease off and risk letting the tension return.
“You’re not a big fan of the cold, right? Well, Alaska is kind of like upper Seattle, only about thirty degrees colder.” I shuddered, and Val laughed. “It wasn’t all bad. I mean, I got to see the northern lights, which were really amazing… I’ve been to Hawaii, too.”
It was my turn to laugh. I tried to imagine Val in Hawaii. Hell, I tried to imagine Val anywhere he might get exposed to the sun. “Serious? Pale, Seattle kid in the sunshine?”
“To the natives, I looked like a star turning supernova.”
“Bet you burned.”
“I was a lobster by the end of the first day.”
Our laughter ceased when the headline Pioneer Square Panic flashed across the television. Val leaned forward, grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and turned the volume up.
“In other news, Pioneer Square has been blocked off from the public after a riot occurred less than an hour ago. Channel Five’s own Chelsea Rollnick is reporting live near the square. Chelsea?”
“Thank you, Tessa. Due to heavily restricted access to the scene, we are unable to provide any estimation on casualties. Behind me, you can see Grey Men lining this entrance to Pioneer Square. One witness who lives in the area informed us that thirty minutes ago, this area was packed with people. The crowd was apparently ‘rallying peacefully’ when Grey Men swarmed the square and open fired on them. Similar incidences have been occurring all around the city today. These rallies have been started by youths who claim the city will be crushed when the Oxford reconstruction begins early next week. Governor Granne will be holding a press conference at 7:00 p.m. to—”
All of a sudden, there was a quick, deafening crack from outside, like an enormous cable had been pulled too tight and snapped. The television and the lights went out simultaneously. Without any natural light, the entire house was pitch black. Gemma screamed.
The sofa shifted as Val got up. A clamor, a curse, and a heavy thud. I took my phone out and lit up the screen. It wasn’t a lot of light, but it was better than nothing, and enough to let me see Val sprawled on the floor, holding his right knee to his chest. The coffee table was askew, and I realized he must have tripped over it when he got up.
“Val? Nik?” Gemma cried out. She rushed in, holding her phone out in front of her like I was. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Heavy footsteps on the stairs sparked panic. I hurried around the coffee table, one hand already on my gun. Fritzi’s voice set us at ease.
“Is everyone okay?” she asked.
Gemma turned her phone light toward her, and we saw Joey and Brian balanced on her hips. Zoe was right at her side, holding onto Fritzi’s shirttail with both hands. “Gemma, there’s a flashlight on top of the fridge. Go get it,” Fritzi ordered, bouncing Brian as he whimpered.
As Gemma disappeared into the kitchen, I dropped down to check on Val. From the sound of it, he’d hit the table pretty hard, and it wasn’t like him to stay down longer than he needed. “You okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just found the funny bone of the knee or something.”
That was when I heard it. The faint crackle, like tape on a poster slowly peeling away from a wall. It was a familiar sound. Then came the unmistakable chorus of shattering glass.
Wide-eyed, I connected the sounds to memories and ran for the front door. I stepped out onto the porch just in time to watch the first level of the house next to ours go up in flames. Two more across the street were engulfed by enormous fires.
An entire city without power. Everything in the underground dark, save for the homes burning along Second Avenue. Shadows danced on the ceilings, screams of neighbors sent chills through the night, and a squad of Grey Men marched down the street toward our house.
257 Second Avenue East—Seattle, WA
Friday, November 20th, 2076—6:40 p.m.
here had to be fifty Grey Men in the street. More than I’d ever seen in one place. Between the herds of giants was a large, steel cart, teeming with bottles. Rags had been stuffed into the mouth of each one, and Grey Men lit the ends on fire before hurling them into the houses.
I bolted inside. My bag was by the door, and I threw it over my shoulder as I flew up the stairs. I gave a shout back to the others. “Grab only what you need and get out through the back!”
They didn’t ask for an explanation before taking off. Halfway up the stairs to the third floor, I heard the bottles hit our house. Someone shrieked downstairs. The children cried.
I took the rest of the stairs two at a time. Val’s door was open, and I raced inside to gather the pillowcase of medicine, grabbing the bottle of pills Val kept stashed on my way out the door. Bottles continued to crash against the walls. Smoke billowed into the house, but I wasn’t ready to run, yet.
“Nik, let’s go!” Val shouted up the stairs.
I ignored him and fled into the war room. There were boxes of ammunition stored in the shelves amidst various sized guns. I shoved three pistols into my bag along with as much ammunition as I could fit.
I sped back down the stairs, jumping the last five before the landing
on each. The entire wall facing the street was engulfed in flames, the fire rapidly eating away at everything it touched. The first floor was the worst. Chunks of charred ceiling had begun to fall in, but there was Val, waiting by the stairs like an idiot. Under one arm, he had half a dozen blankets, and under the other, he had some of the rifles from the basement. I didn’t waste time scolding him for waiting around.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
“Already gone. We’re meeting by the canal,” Val replied.
We fled through the back door and into the cold, night air. It scorched my smoke-filled lungs and burned my eyes. I didn’t dare look back at Second Avenue, but the sound of our neighbors screaming was enough to make my skin crawl. Cries and desperate pleas for help, either from those left inside or pouring into the streets, rang through the underground and blurred with the wail of distant sirens.
“Boys! Boys we’re over here!” Gemma shouted.
The light from the fires carried to the bridge, where Gemma waved her flashlight along the ground as she called to us. She had also grabbed an armful of blankets and, from the look of it, a couple bags of bread. Anya and Benji were there with her, along with Fritzi and the children. Val dropped the things he’d taken from the house so he could throw his arms around Anya. She shook as she sobbed against his chest, and I heard him repeating, “It’s okay,” as he stroked her hair.
“What about everyone else?” Benji asked with a quiver in his voice.
I wheezed, coughing around the smoke still in my lungs. Gemma explained so I could catch my breath. “We were the only ones in the house. Everyone else is still out there in the city… Almost everyone…”
When she told Anya and Benji about what happened on the train, Anya wailed into Val’s shoulder. I looked at the fires burning in the distance. My mind went into auto-pilot, and I let the training I’d been given for handling disasters take over.
“We’re not safe here. We need to move,” I said, my voice still half a wheeze. “Benji, you know this city better than anyone. Can you think of somewhere we can hideout?”
Benji reached into his coat and withdrew a thick, green notepad. He adjusted his glasses and came forward to show me what turned out to be a condensed collection of city blueprints. It was extensive and something I might have applauded him for making if we hadn’t just run from a burning building.
“There are a couple of options,” Benji said as he flipped through the pages. “A mill half a mile down the river? The workers are on strike. There’s also an elementary school nearby. We could crash there for a bit and relocate in the morning.”
“What do you have in Oxford territory?” Val asked.
As Benji paged to a different section of the notepad, Fritzi spoke up against it. “What are you thinking? That’s ground zero.”
“Exactly. Half the area is evacuated already, and it’s not like there are more Grey Men there than anywhere else in this city,” Val said. Fritzi continued to protest, but Val was already looking over Anya’s head at the blueprints.
Benji pointed out an ammunition factory and said, “Here. It’s on the edge of Oxford, so it’s not like we’re walking in and tying ourselves to one of the pillars or anything. Besides, they’re not going to expect people to go back once they’ve left.”
“All right,” Val said, releasing Anya to start picking up the things he’d dropped. “Benji and Gemma, you two need to get hold of everyone else. Call them and tell them where we’re going and tell them to meet us there as soon as possible.”
Hee & Lian Ammunition wasn’t far from the bridge, and like most of the factories in the city, it was along the canal. After I told the others about the Grey Men I’d seen on Second Avenue, they were keen to stay out of sight. We hurried along the water and avoided the main roads as much as possible until we were in Oxford territory.
Things were quieter in the Oxford District. Homes and shops had been abandoned in haste, leaving so much behind; it looked as though every living soul had simply become invisible, a district full of ghosts. The light from the fires on Second Avenue, fires which had grown, reflected off the copper rooftops of factories and made the roads along the waterfront glow orange.
Waiting by an enormous metal door to one of the factories was Tibbs. He flagged us down with the flashlight in hand. “Man, am I glad to see you guys! The entire city’s dark! What the hell’s going on?”
“I don’t know. There are Grey Men burning Second Avenue, though.” Fritzi panted.
Tibbs took Joey and Brian from her so Fritzi could catch her breath. The children she’d been carrying were instructed to keep quiet so as not to draw attention, but they had been whimpering and sniveling the entire trip. He bounced the boys, puffing his cheeks out to try and make them smile. Fritzi took Zoe from Benji and kissed the top of her head.
“It’s okay, kids. We’re all going to be okay,” Fritzi said. It wasn’t often I heard her take on such a comforting tone, and it managed to help me relax a bit.
Tibbs kept shaking his head, even as he tried to make the boys feel better. The sad crease in his brow, and way his hands shook as he bounced the kids, betrayed his real fear. “Michael is setting up inside,” he said. “Nobody else is here yet, though.”
“Let’s just get out of the street before someone sees us,” I said, ushering everyone toward the door. I understood they were all shaken, but I also understood it was no coincidence the Grey Men chose to burn Second Avenue out of every street in Seattle.
Inside the two-story factory were dozens of conveyer belts, overturned boxes, and monstrous pieces of machinery. Like the rest of Oxford, the stillness of the abandoned space was haunting. Michael had gathered six heat lamps together in the center of the room. The dark red light they cast over him, as he sat with his knees pulled to his chest, made the boy look much older than thirteen.
Michael jumped to his feet the second he saw us. He ran across the factory, cheering. “I knew you’d make it!”
“Of course we made it,” Val said, grinding his knuckles on top of Michael’s head. Michael laughed and pushed Val’s hand away before hugging Gemma. When she was released, Val asked her, “Any word from the others, yet?”
Gemma looked at her phone and shook her head. “Nothing. I’ll go make calls again to find out where they’re at.”
Val wrapped a blanket over her shoulders before she walked off. Thanks to how fast my blood was pumping, I hadn’t noticed the dropping temperature.
“Did the heat go out with the lights? I thought they came from two different sources,” I said, confused as to how this was possible.
“They do. The heating generators at the station work off steam power, and the power plant draws from the canal,” Michael explained. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“This has never happened before,” Fritzi mumbled. She’d been stroking Zoe’s hair nonstop, like some kind of nervous habit. She was better at keeping her panic in check than Anya, who sat by the heat lamps with her back to us, shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly.
“We’ll go check out what’s going on at the power plant once everyone gets here… Nik, what exactly did you see back there?” Val asked.
“Grey Men. I’d say fifty of them. They were throwing firebombs at every house on the block.” I was reluctant to voice the obvious, but I feared even Val might be too shaken up to admit it. “I’m not the only one who thinks they were there for us, right?”
“What?” Fritzi gasped.
Tibbs abandoned his goofy expression for a scowl. “You think they’re torching the city because of us?”
“Lee says Grey Men open fired on their group while they were on the train. That happened right before the Grey Men started burning Second Avenue,” I said.
Val wrapped one arm around his chest and brought the other up so he could rap his fingers against his collarbone. The rhythm was loud and completely erratic. I stepped closer to him, and his tapping settled.
A loud popping noise made everyone jump
and dive for a weapon. The emergency lights in the factory flickered on along the grating in the floor and cast long, shadowy bars over us. The small television sets suspended from the ceiling flickered to life. Loud static feed screeched over the PA system. We moved closer together, prepared to take on whatever was coming after us this time.
The static died abruptly, replaced with the rapid rhythm of five high-pitch pips. The same pips always preceded an important announcement. They repeated three times before the televisions flickered, and a woman appeared on the screens, her voice coming through the PA system.
“Good evening, Seattle. This is Tessa Trench bringing you an emergency announcement, straight from our nation’s capital.”
“All the way from the capital?” Val mused. He must have thought it was because of something they’d done, that maybe they’d caused enough commotion to draw a national response.
Oh, how wrong he was. I knew what was coming. I couldn’t explain how, but I knew this was about me. The broadcast flipped. So did my stomach. I recognized the presentation hall and the redhead behind the podium.
“Good evening, Seattle,” Aiden began.
Hee & Lian Ammunition—Seattle, WA
Friday, November 20th, 2076—7:00 p.m.
turned to Val, whose eyes were glued to the screen, just like everyone around me. Thinking fast, I seized him by the arms, pulling his attention back to me. Everything was about to fall apart. I had to stop it.
“Val, I need you to listen to me,” I stammered.
“Whoa! Calm down, what’s wrong?” he asked, holding me at a distance and staring at me with deep concern in his eyes. Concern and not detest. How long would that last? There was no time left, I just had to say it and hope that somehow, he might understand. I opened my mouth, finally ready to tell him the truth, when it was too late. My military ID plastered every television screen in Seattle.