The Loki Variation

by James Riley, Sabrina

  The sound of a car door closing and an engine growling broke over the airwaves, and the silence afterwards seemed awkward. Then the woman returned.

  “Okay, people are being advised to stay in their homes. What we know so far is that a state of emergency has been declared, so please remain calm and wait for further information.” She sounded defeated. Another awkward pause and the emergency broadcast system buzzer repeated, followed by the same recorded message from earlier. Apparently there was nothing more that could be said.

  Derek had lost his focus on the other cars outside of his truck, and when he became aware of them again, he noticed that the traffic moving in the other direction seemed to be even denser than before. His lanes were still mostly clear, he had passed a handful of other cars.

  Something in the other lane caught his eye just up ahead. Someone was on the roof of a car. He was hunkered down, arms drawn in, and then suddenly he was leaping to the ground. Immediately, people were bursting from their cars, trying to escape the confinement. It was impossible to tell who was being chased and who was chasing. Derek saw several people fall, victims to the speed of the others.

  Derek floored the gas pedal, the speedometer was nearing 75. In his rear view mirror, he watched the wave hysteria of spread out, heading in both directions from where it had started and it was catching up to him. The speedometer was now almost touching 85 m.p.h. Suddenly, cars that had been stopped in the Westbound lanes were lurching across the median, and landing directly ahead of Derek’s barely controllable truck. People were frantically trying to escape the violence that was swelling towards them, and the East bound lanes were inviting as a means. Derek veered to avoid colliding with the vehicles, and hugged the outside edge of the road. Up ahead, there was a small incline, and Derek could see the shoulder of the road disappear on either side, and adding that to the guard rail that began, he knew he was headed for a bridge. The cars couldn’t cross the median at that point, if he could get ahead of them at the bridge, he would be able to keep coasting without slowing enough to put him at risk. Ripley was standing up now in the backseat, her legs planted widely, trying to control her balance as Derek tore down the street, swerving obstacles.

  Although the windows were closed, Derek could hear screams and engines whining. He heard glass shatter, and he heard hellish shrieks that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The pandemonium was directly beside him now, the surge of panic was spilling over into his path, and suddenly there was another truck in front of him. It had pulled out so fast Derek hadn’t had time to blink, and the other truck was blocked, stuck directly in the path of Derek’s, the driver’s side facing him.

  As Derek slammed his foot on the brake pedal, he found it odd that his thoughts seemed to have sped up. He was acutely aware of so many things at once. The sickening sound of his tires squealing on the cement, the smell of burning rubber as a result. He could see the driver of the other truck, a balding, middle aged man who looked like he could have been a high school science teacher or a computer programmer somewhere, eyes huge, mouth hanging open watching Derek’s truck barreling at him. He was aware of Ripley, who had been thrown towards the front of the truck by the rapid deceleration, and he could hear her nails scraping the plastic center console as she fought to gain her balance. Then he was aware of his hands, seemingly of their own accord, spinning the steering wheel to the left, the view outside the windshield blurred, and his stomach dropped as the truck became airborne.

  The truck was plummeting, the sky and ground doing cartwheels outside the windshield. Derek was aware of the fact that the vehicle was rolling, end over end, but the motion seemed surprisingly smooth to him. He remembered that Ripley had been in the car, and he wanted to look for her, but he couldn’t turn his head they way he wanted to, centrifugal force held it in place.

  There was a heart stopping crunch of metal and glass, and then it was still. He was hanging upside down by his seatbelt. He reached his arms to the ceiling to support himself for a moment and felt wetness. He was too disoriented to understand what exactly that meant, but he knew he needed to get out of the vehicle. He felt for the seatbelt latch and pressed the release. He fell, his entire weight landing on his head and shoulders as gravity forced him down. Darkness was edging into his vision; he relied on his hands to find an escape. The glass in the windshield was gone, and he was able to crawl out of the car through the opening. He crawled several yards away from the still running truck and then collapsed in the shallow water he was in, letting his vision clear.

  Ripley had already been outside the truck, and had found Derek before he had the soundness of mind to look for her. Her cold nose was touching his face and neck as he lied there, mentally taking inventory of his body parts and trying to focus on any pain.

  There was pain, but nothing that would kill him. He raised his hand to his head, there were a couple of raw spots, a small amount of blood ending up on his fingers. But he felt strong enough to stand, and did it slowly. He swayed a little, coming to a full stand, and he put out his arms to balance.

  Suddenly, it seemed as if someone turned the volume back up in his ears. Sound came rushing to them, when before it had seemed so silent. Ripley was whining, pacing a few feet in front of him. He could hear screams, and tires, and engines, and then gun shots. He remembered what has caused him to run off the road, and that he was just a few stories below the bridge. The bridge was filled with panicking people, and others; the ones from whom everyone else was running. He was standing in a marsh, on the east side of a slow, shallow river, completely unnoticed by the mayhem above, and this was his chance. He bolted back to the truck, reached through the busted passenger window and pulled out his backpack. Slinging it on his back, he whistled for Ripley and started running under the bridge, following the direction he had been going in the first place.

  Chapter 7.

  Nora kept up as Sasha jogged through the smoke back to the car. She threw the hurricane box and the shotgun between her and the passenger seat as she swung her legs under the steering wheel and closed the door. Nora was already in, buckling her safety belt. Sasha turned the key in the ignition, and twisted to look out the back window as she put it in reverse. The smoke was not as dark anymore, but it was spread out, making everything further than ten feet outside the windows disappear. That was why she didn’t see the dark figure until it was too late. She rammed into it, gasping as it fell below her back bumper.

  She looked at Nora, stunned. Nora was still looking out the back window, and then turned to face Sasha. Her eyes didn’t meet with Sasha’s, though, and instead focused on something just behind her head, outside the window. The look on her face told Sasha all she needed to know. As she turned, she saw another dark figure, close enough to the car to be clearly visible. It was a man, bent low as he walked to the car. His fists were clenched at his side, and Sasha was reaching for the shotgun. His eyes met hers, and a chill went down her spine. His eyes were startling. The irises were completely black, surrounded by bloodshot yellow. There was no color, no blue or green or brown. Pure black. She felt the cold metal of the gun, and was bringing it around, aware of the small space she had to work in, but it didn’t matter because the man was coming through the window already.

  His hands were in her hair, pulling hard. She stomped her foot on the pedal and the car lurched backwards, and she felt the fists let go. When she looked up again, he was still there, just out of arms reach as she was backing up as fast as the small car would let her. She thought she could see others, too; shadows in the smoke moving behind him. One of Sasha’s hands on was on the steering wheel, trying to keep the car in a straight line while going too fast in reverse, she was fighting with the wheel, it was threatening to send the car into an uncontrollable spin. The other hand was unsuccessfully trying to get the heavy shotgun oriented so that she could at least try to aim it at the threatening shadow, who was keeping up with the car.

  Suddenly the steering wheel stopped fighting. Nora’s frail hands
were wrapped around it, knuckles white. Without even glancing at Nora, Sasha let go of the steering wheel, brought the shotgun up, pumped it and then pointed it out of the broken window. Her finger squeezed the trigger.

  The man jerked, but didn’t quit running. She pumped the shotgun again, the empty shell tumbling into the floorboard. He was almost close enough to grab the side mirror, Sasha’s foot was still pinned to the floor, and the car was still speeding backwards. She raised the gun, not having to aim at this distance, and squeezed again. The man with black eyes fell. Dropping the shotgun on her lap, she grabbed the gear shifter and threw it into drive, and took the steering wheel back from Nora. She gunned the engine again, sending the car over a curb and into a deserted yard as she spun to turn towards the neighborhood’s exit.

  She tore back through the neighborhood, cutting through lawns, avoiding the menacing dark figures in the smoke, except for the few she ran down, cringing as the tires bounced over the bodies. Nora was looking straight ahead, feet on the dash in front of her, clinging to the sides of her seat for dear life.

  The smoke started to clear, and Sasha could see the exit. She pulled out onto the main road, turning so hard that Nora would have ended up in her lap without the seatbelt, and she kept her foot pressed down until she could no longer see the neighborhood in the rearview mirror.

  Passing abandoned parking lots and an eerily quiet schoolyard, Sasha started going through possible places to go. She had acquaintances all over the city, but not one of them stood out as someone she would trust in a situation like this. Then Ben’s face filled her mind.

  Ben was one of the men she had dated in the past couple of years. But he was the only one who had ended it with her instead of the other way around. She was loyal, honest, and a hopeless romantic, but hadn’t found anyone who had come close to matching her in that way. She usually got bored, or felt suffocated after long with most men. Ben seemed to be different, more trustworthy. He was self-disciplined and sometimes aloof, but they had always had fun together. Sasha had started thinking she could enjoy a relationship with Ben, and then he had told her he needed to focus on his career before he started falling for her, and had left her. He had joined the Navy, and Sasha had assumed that what he really meant was that he didn’t want to be tied down to a girlfriend while he was touring the world on a ship, visiting exotic ports with exotic women.

  He had tried to remain in contact with Sasha, but it was mainly though mutual friends that she heard anything about him. She had heard recently that he had come back from his 6 month tour of duty, and was staying on base at Mayport Naval Station. She knew that if she could find him, he would help her. She didn’t know who else to go to, and she surmised that the Navy had to be prepared for an emergency like this, whatever it was.

  The road she was on winded through an old forest, Spanish Moss hanging from the branches and over the road. She was driving towards the only bridge separating them from the beach side of town, where the base was. She pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

  Chapter 8.

  Running through soggy marsh was difficult, more so for Derek than Ripley. She led the way, staying close enough for Derek to keep up. They had veered away from the road, but Derek was confident that he was still headed east, paying attention to the direction of the sun. Even in the early fall, the Florida days were hot and humid, and the morning was almost over, the sun bearing down him from her position.

  His lungs were burning and his lips were dry, but Derek forced himself to keep moving as fast as possible. He kept his eyes on Ripley, who, every so often, stopped to wait for him with her tail hanging low behind her.

  She gave him a moment to catch up again, and then ran into a dense cluster of foliage. He followed her, pushing palm fronds and brush away with hands, and then saw the chain link fence. Putting his fingers through the wires, he saw that he was standing behind a small store, the back entrance was just across a narrow concrete road for delivery trucks. He followed the fencing until there was a place where the chain link had come loose enough to pull it up from the ground. He climbed over it, dropped back down on the other side, and held the fence up for Ripley to pass underneath and join him. He cautiously walked toward the building, holding his hand down at his side to keep Ripley right beside him. There were no movements anywhere around him, they were alone. He edged the corner of the building, and came around the front. It was a small convenience store, set back from the road, which was marked with a sign that said A1A. He knew that was the street that followed the east coast through most of Florida; he had reached the ocean.

  Ripley was panting heavily, and it made Derek realize how thirsty he was too. The store was closed and locked, but the entire front wall was made from panes of glass. A few abandoned cars littered the street and parking area. A SUV had smashed into a light pole, pushing it over and pulling electrical lines to the ground. It was easy to see that most of the inhabitants on the beach had tried to escape too, signs of bedlam were all around, but there was not a person in sight. All he needed was something to break the glass with.

  He looked around him for anything he could use, but there was nothing strong enough to get him inside. The car that was stopped closest to him had a door that was not shut all the way, he stepped off the curb to pull it open. The car was immaculately clean inside, there was nothing useful in it. As an afterthought, he opened the glove box and saw the trunk release button. He pressed it and then ran to the trunk, pulling out the tire iron and heading back to the glass.

  Seagulls were glaring down at him from the gutter of the store, but they flew off, startled, as glass shattered to the ground. Derek scanned the area around him once more, then crunched through the safety glass and went into the store. Ripley followed him.

  There were no lights on in the store, but the sunlight pouring in from the front windows was more than enough to see with. He went straight back to the cooler doors in the back of the store and pulled out two bottles of water. He found the fountain drink area, grabbed a paper cup and poured cold water into it, setting it on the ground for Ripley. As she lapped it up, he opened the other bottle and poured the liquid down his throat. When they had finished rehydrating themselves, Derek knelt on the ground and removed his backpack.

  He opened it, then turned it upside down, dumping the contents. Digital music player, paperback book, magazines, a few CDs meant to play in his truck, a cell phone charger, notebook and pens, all useless. Almost everything in it was worthless now, stupid things meant for entertainment. He left everything on the floor except his wallet and then took off his sweat soaked collared shirt and stuffed it inside the backpack. His undershirt was drenched too, but it would dry quickly and it might help him stand the afternoon heat still to come.

  He went through the aisles of the store, tuning out the blaring alarm that had no one would hear, and picked items off the shelf as if he were shopping. He dropped granola bars into his backpack, some prepackaged sandwiches, packets of cookies and crackers. More bottles of water, then he was going to see what the store offered in regards to first aid, but was stopped dead in his tracks by a sound at the front of the store. Footsteps on broken glass.

  He ducked behind the shelf, and Ripley stayed rigid, ears twitching to hear the sounds Derek couldn’t hear. He started backing up, moving towards the coolers in the back, pushing Ripley back with his hand. He remembered the tire iron he had left on the ground and wanted to get to it. He froze when a voice called out.

  “Sorry, son. I didn’t want to scare you.” A raspy southern accent echoed in the empty store. Derek stood up, keeping a finger hooked through Ripley’s collar, and his eyes landed on a man standing in the shattered glass just inside the store. He was wearing a sleeveless tee shirt, and his belly was hanging over his belt. His graying hair was dripping wet, sticking out from under his baseball hat. His face looked exhausted but friendly.

  “I’m Lawrence. I saw you break the glass, I knew you weren’t one of them. Are you hurt? I got first aid stuf
f in the truck.” He took a step forward.

  Derek let go of Ripley, and cautiously stood all the way up, not taking his eyes off of him.

  “No, I think I’m okay. Lawrence? I’m Derek, this is Ripley.” Ripley stepped in front of Derek, as if she heard her cue to introduce herself.

  Lawrence looked relieved, and knelt down, looking at Ripley. She padded up to him, tail swaying, and let him pet her head.

  “This is a beautiful dog, it’s good to see survivors. Where are you two headed?” Lawrence asked, still stroking Ripley.

  “I gotta get to the Mayport Naval Base, do you know where it is?” Derek asked. His suspicions about Lawrence all but disappeared when he saw how trusting Ripley was towards him.

  Lawrence grunted as he stood back up, pulling up on the back of his faded jeans.

  “Well, yeah. Just up A1A to the north. Why the base though? If there’s even anyone left down here, they ain’t gonna be letting anyone in.” He readjusted his hat and waited for Derek to answer.

  “My family is on a cruise ship somewhere out in the ocean, I have to find them. The Navy has to be able to contact them. I think. And they have to know what’s going on, right?” Derek sounded desperate.

  “Well, son, I can’t say for sure. Yesterday I would have had faith in the military, but after the way things have changed today, I don’t know what I have faith in. Are you walking?”

  “I crashed my truck.”

  Lawrence clicked his teeth, and looked down at Ripley again.

  “Why don’t you just ride with me? I’m going to try to make it up to North Carolina, I have a cabin there. It’s not real big, but it’s out in the mountains and it’s stocked. I don’t know how far this has spread, but there’s not many people out that way, should be safer than here.”