“Ok,” I reply.
“Let’s go.” We scramble out from under the bus sprinting to the awning. We repeat this over and over, maybe a dozen times, moving from shelter to shelter. The lake finally coming into view the dock less than half a block away we see a group of militia through the glass doors of a pink houseboat.
Finally making it to them.
“Whoa, whoa!” One man yells raising his rifle.
“The president is dead,” Roger yells back the man motions us to him. We run down the dilapidated dock jumping onto the boat.
“Cargos on board let’s get out of here,” he yells to the front of the boat. The engine kicks in as we depart from the docks. “You are some lucky bastards, we were just about to leave without you.”
“I don’t think luck describes the last couple days,” Roger replies blankly. The man shrugs, he walks to the font of the boat.
Roger turns to me instantly wrapping me in a bear hug. “We did it. We did it Will, we made it.” He says sobbing into my shoulder.
“No. No we didn’t. Half of me is back there and half of you is back there. We didn’t make it… I didn’t make it”
He stops mid cry, clearing his throat. “No, I’ve still got him. He’s right here he says pointing to his chest. And grace is here too, no matter how cliché it is I will always carry the three of you with me. And I know you will to.”
“When we get into Indiana we can head to Canada.”
“No,” I huff.
“Ok than where do you want to go, Montana? Wyoming?”
“Home.” I answer.
“Home? What? I thought you live close to Chicago?”
“Ya I’m about a half hour south.”
“No, no you can’t do that. You’ll just be going right back into the thick of it.”
“I don’t care, I’m going home. We can just part ways when we dock in Indiana.
“Will, I know your hurt… confused but you can’t go back. Not yet at least. Why don’t you just wait a few days for it to all calm down?”
“I just want to sleep in my bed ok?”
“Ya but you will die there Will.”
“That’s gona have to be left up to God.”
“It’s not your fault.” “You did everything you could… we did everything we could, I know this is hard for you. But Jesus Christ you can’t let Grace dying be the end of you.”
“I could have saved her!” I blurt out wrapping my arms around Roger.
“No, no we did everything we could ok?”
“No you don’t understand. I…”
“We’ll hit the other side of the lake in an hour,” a militia man says cutting me off.
“Just think about it Will, we can talk when we get to the other side of the lake.”
CHAPTER…
“This should work,” Roger says looking over the truck. Reaching into his backpack producing a screw driver. He slowly walks around the truck breaking each taillight and side light. “We are just gona use the side hazard lights, it’ll be dark but it’ll be the safest bet.”
I say nothing as I put a Virginia slim in between my lips. The air has turned cool almost cold, you can tell fall is coming soon. The wind whips up to a gust stealing embers off the end of my cigarette as I light it. I look over the water the small swells tumbling over themselves on the rock beach. The lights of the house boat just off shore heading back to the city. I look out over the water, and even though the skyline is gone every few seconds the light from an explosion softly brightens the horizon. Huh, if I didn’t know any better you’d think it was just a storm over Chicago, instead of well a shit storm over Chicago.
“I think we’re about ready,” Roger reports to me. He opens the door. “You ready?” He asks, holding onto the door.
“Ya,” I reply stepping up into the truck, he slams the heavy door for me.
Roger taking the screw driver jamming it into the key hole. He turns it, the engine seems to fight, but it starts. Taking out his pack of Marlboro’s he lights one. I turn the radio on.
“Every American is here by ordered to report to mobile stars locations station along Interstate I55 and I94. Failure to do so will…” I switch the radio off.
“We might get something a little happier farther out. I doubt anyone else, is broadcasting anywhere close to here,” he says. He pulls the gear lever down as the transmission shifts roughly form gear to gear. “I always loved trucks like this, just a real American truck.” I give no reply as we pull out of the docks. Pulling out another cigarette I light it with the cherry of my last one. “You’re gona look like that old lady if you keep chain smokin like that.”
“As long as you promise to blow me up with my oxygen tank so I die with some dignity.”
“It’s a deal,” Roger replies. “We’ll take the side roads to Elle ok? I’ll drop you off, and 24 hours. He stops the car in the middle of the road turning to me. Will in 24 hours you meet me right where I drop you off. I’ll wait from ten till the sun comes up ok. I’ll give you some time to clear your head and we will head to Canada, ok? I nod turning back to the window rolling it down the rest of the way. Cool air gushing in and out to the sound of the waves breaking on the beach lining the road. Laying my head on the door I rest my eyes. My cigarette out the window I watch through almost closed eyes as the sparks fly away. I let it slowly slip from my hand closing my eyes completely.
CHAPTER…
…
CHAPTER…
We come to jolting stop. “Will?” Roger asks as he gently shakes me awake. “We’re here.”
I shake myself awake getting my bearings. It’s…. Jesus it’s the intersection where my parents met their maker. “I’m going to be right here Will, I’ll be back right here to pick you up.” He smacks my shoulder, “look at me William.” I turn to him. “You are going to be standing here waiting for me when I come back, you cannot stay in this town you got it? It’s only a matter of time the war comes this way. Don’t make me come looking for you, you hear.” I nod opening the door to the truck I slink out. “One day will!”
“Ok Roger, Thank you.”
“Roy, my name... my real name is Roy, call me Roy and thank me when I pick you back up.”
“Ok Roy,” I reply as I shut the door he slowly pulls away like when your mother drops you off at a friend’s house and waits to see if you get inside. I turn towards my house, lighting up another slim. The whole town completely dark, completely abandoned. The streetlights have all gone out just the moon. Walking to the ditch I see my parents cross the deflated balloon still attached to it lying shriveled on the ground. Sinking to my knees I pick the balloon up running it around in my fingers.
“Hey… Hey dad… mom. I… I’m gona stop by here in a bit. I’m just gona come visit you. I gotta run home real quick first but I’ll be back.” I snap the balloon off the string stuffing it in my back pocket. God, I just need a few minutes with them ok? I think I’ve deserved that at least. I have no problem going the hell but I need to see my parents just for a second. So I can say goodbye, that I love them. I take the long way home, Route 66 the last time I’ll ever walk home. The memories of every walk home down this road flood into view. Biking from Mike’s when I was little, every drunken stumble going home from a party at Grace’s. Huh it’s funny, funny how sentimental you get when everything is about to end. So much so that a shit road on the edge of the country can almost bring me to tears. The air has gotten down right cold; it must be about three in the morning, early completely silent beside the wind blowing through the trees.
Walking up to my house the head hole showing an empty living room. A yellow note stuck to the door swings back and forth in the wind. By the authority of the President of the United States, the mandatory mass relocation of American citizens in close proximity to any major metro area has been ordered. Report to a stars program facility immediately or face the penalty of treason.
I try my key in the door but it lists
easily inward, the handle hanging. A soft silent squeak as it floats open. The moonlight bouncing off the kitchen floor casting the living room in a faint glow. I turn as I start to walk up the stair. The first step giving off a loud creak. Instantly I’m brought back to every time I’ve tried sneaking out to hang with Mike. Three steps, if you take three steps skip the fourth and jump from the seventh I was home free or free of home I guess. It probably never mattered because dad would be shaking the house struggling to breathe between snores. Walking up the stairs and into my room I instinctively try to flip on the light but nothing happens. Blindly I search for the bottle of vodka from mine and Graces “date”. Looking back the obvious flaws in my best made plans showing through. The beginning to her end, I think. Looking to the window I see it. The moons light caught swirling, bouncing, reflecting through the clear plastic bottle. Stubbing my big toe as I move towards it, unfazed I grab it quickly breaking the seal I pull from it. I drink and drink the liquid escaping my mouth as it mixes with my tears going down my throat. Three days, three days I think to myself pulling the bottle from my chin. I appreciate the irony God. Believe me it’s not lost. But… Where’s my life, Where’s my resurrection? How can I possibly take these shattered pieces and build a life. When everything in my life has amounted to a half pack of cigarettes and a fifteen dollar bottle of vodka and an expectation to make things better. Screwing the cap back on I light my cigarette. I just wanted her. I didn’t want to be rich. I didn’t want to be famous. I just wanted to have her, to slowly decompose with her over the next sixty years. That… That feels more romantic than it sounds but it’s the truth. Pulling my jacking from my closet I leave the room. Three steps, three last steps I think as I skip the fourth and jump from the seventh. A distant helicopter sounds off in the distance. I turn back to the living room. This is it Will. An end of an era I guess. I walk out the front door and head to Route 66.
The winds died down a bit but the air still strangely cold for late August. Every few steps I take a swig from the bottle. I look up; it’s quite amazing that just turning off the lights make the stars looks incredible.
CHAPTER…
My heart pounding as the lights slowly edge across the sign. This is it Will. The lights hitting the sign fully, one Mis … A flash of light across the sky, catching me off guard. Huh, a shooting star, never knew God had such a flair for the dramatics. I think, watching the light fly through the sky, the truck passing from underneath me. Hm it’s weird. Something’s different, it’s either the slowest shooting star I’ve ever seen or it’s… Seconds before it reaches the horizon directly in front of me, it disappears. Than immediately after an almost unbelievable bright light. Not blinding from where I am, but for as second, and this seems crazy but I swear for an instant I saw the Chicago skyline. Sitting back down on the railing, the horizon slowly turns to a fiery read. As if the sun is just starting to rise from the north. The Light slowly growing… A snap and crackle breaks the silence. It’s not loud, like thunder from a lighting bolt a mile or two away. The fire still slowly spreading.
“Huh…”
I would just like to thank you for taking the time to read my very first novel. Having spent the better part of a year and a half writing, erasing, and searching the internet for where in the hell I’m suppose to and not suppose to put commas, I must say that I am glad to have something finally out there and on the interwebs. I hope you enjoyed this and if so inclined feel free to email and tell me what you think about it at [email protected]. If you would like to help out a new author, the best thing you can do is simply give this book a review. Or just send any assortment of unmarked bills to the po box I will discuss in our emails. Have a great day and keep on reading!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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