Sunfall (Season 2): Episodes 7-12

by Tim Meyer

  “Nothing...” Catching a look in the armed man's eyes, Braiden waved his hands in the air. “Honest.”

  “Honest?” Soren stepped forward. “Son, I'll carve the honest right out of you.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Tell me the truth and we'll get through this and go on with our lives.”

  Braiden began crying. “Promise?”

  “Swear on my life.”

  “She always told me the guy who lived here was a bit of a weirdo. She thought he was a drug addict or something. So... I came looking...”

  “For drugs?”

  Braiden nodded. “Please don't tell her.”

  “Is there more of this stuff?”

  “The bag on the dresser is full of it.”

  Soren glanced over his shoulder and stared at the small leather pouch like buried treasure. He turned back to the kid, catching him inch toward the door.

  “Are you sure you don't know who Elias Wheeler is?” Soren asked one more time, his lips curling into a smile that weakened the kid's knees.

  “No. I swear.”

  “Not much of a liar, are you?”

  The kid took off as Soren lunged forward, the knife slicing through air and flesh.

  Mouth paced in circles. He looked over at Dana every few seconds, watching her sit on the curb outside 616 Canterbury Lane. He didn't know what Soren was doing in there and what was taking so goddamn long. People began to appear in the windows of their homes, looking at the group of survivors as if they were traveling apparitions.

  As the minutes ticked, the staring competition between the inhabitants and the newcomers intensified. Becky muttered, “This is fucking creepy” over and over again, under her breath.

  Shondra added, “I'm getting chills.”

  Brian told them both to keep calm, that everything would be okay, but when Shondra asked if he had dreamed about this moment, he shook his head and turned away.

  Just when Mouth planned on strolling over to Dana and whisking her away from this potentially dangerous environment, Susan took the curb next to her. Dana didn't look happy about her presence, and Mouth smiled.

  Thatta girl, he thought. Smack that bitch across the face while yer at it, honey.

  Dana rested her chin on her knees and pretended to ignore Susan's presence. Inside, Mouth danced happily. It was when Susan draped her arm around Dana's neck and she didn't shrug her off that his demeanor changed. He felt his flesh warm like a bright summer morning. Rolling up his sleeves, he announced, “That's it” and charged across the street.

  Shondra slapped her forehead and whispered, “Oh, here we go” under her breath.

  “Okay, crazy-pants,” Mouth yelled, shoving his finger in her face. “You and me need to have ourselves a talk!”

  Susan glanced up at him with that irritating smile pasted on her face. She looked back to Dana. The girl avoided eye contact with her at all costs, her gaze fixed on the pavement. Susan and her heinous smile turned back to Mouth. She glanced up at him, the twinkle of the moon in her eyes making them look black and soulless, like a demon from the deepest pits of Hell.

  “What can I help you with, Mort?” she asked.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Mouth yelled. An ordinary woman would flinch at the loud outburst, but Susan remained calm as if she expected this verbal battle. “How dare you try to manipulate a twelve-year old girl! You should be goddamned ashamed of yerself, you... you...”

  “What?” she asked. “What is it you want to call me, Mort?”

  For once, he couldn't come up with the proper insult. Perhaps there was none in the English language suitable for the Susans of the world.

  “A bitch?” Susan asked. “A cunt? What is it? I've heard them all before so make it a good one.”

  Mouth stammered. “Well, you know... Yer all of those things, but that's not why I wanted to talk, so don't try to change the subject on me, Miss Jesus-Christ-Superstar.” He jabbed his finger in her face. “This is about you and that innocent little girl sitting over there. See, when her father comes back and I tell him all about how you tried to fuck—”

  “Sam won't be joining us in Soren's paradise.”

  “Yeah, well that's what you think. He'll catch up—”

  “No, you don't understand. Soren won't let him in.”

  “Okay, crazy-pants, I've had enough—”

  “Just because you've denied Soren as our Lord and Savior, doesn't mean you have to squander the opportunity for the others.”

  Mouth shook his head. The conversation was getting him nowhere. He glanced over at Dana and wondered what was going on in that young, impressionable mind of hers.

  “Yer a fucking screwball,” he muttered. “And if you utter another goddamn word to Dana, I'll snap yer fucking neck, woman.”

  “I'm sorry you see it that way, Mort, but here's some advice to you and your friends; you're only here because you provide some value to us,” she said in a whisper only he could hear. “Once you stop providing whatever it is Soren sees in you, you're out. You understand?” It wasn't much of a question. She glared at him through haunted sunken eyes, which raised the hairs on his neck.

  “Oh yeah? What if I find a nice tree to dangle from?”

  Susan's grin stretched. “Then I'll be more than happy to find you a reliable rope.” She pressed her finger on Mouth's chest. “And I find it curious that a grown man has taken such interest in a little girl.”

  Mouth twisted his lips into a snarl. “Hey now. I'm just trying to help—”

  “Hm. I wonder how the rest of the group will see it when I tell them I saw you trying to grab her in the most inappropriate places.”

  He wanted to separate her jaw from her skull with his knuckles, but the rest of the group was watching. He opened his mouth to tell her what a vulgar woman she was, and if there was a God, He likely hated her. But she opened her mouth first.

  “Don't mess with me, Mort. And everything will be A-O-kay.”

  Wiping the blade clean with a dish towel, Soren stepped through the open patio door and onto the small deck. Once he rubbed the metal spotless, he tossed the towel into the nearby shrubbery. He bounded the stairs two at a time until his feet found the patio. Soren searched the immediate area, knowing he needed something else, something the long trip would require. He had searched every square inch of the house for the item and came away with nothing. He dug beneath the crap littering the floors, looked inside every cabinet, even searched the attic and old boxes of worthless junk; found nothing but bugs, alive and dead. Joe wouldn't make it easy for any person that came looking. Soren needed a sign, something that would clue him into its whereabouts.

  Think goddammit, think.

  Soren rubbed his cheek while scanning the backyard. Rows of shoulder-high bushes acted as gates, surrounding the entire property. There wasn't much else in the yard save for a small shed and a tiny garden ruled by weeds and dandelion heads. He thought about searching the shed when something in the garden caught his eye. A lone cluster of flowers. In the center of the bed of dead vegetation, the vine containing baby blue petals with yellow pistils stood out like a clean diamond on a dirty beach. Soren's eyes immediately fell on the flower and he began to migrate toward it.

  Forget Me Nots, he thought. He recognized them instantly. Of course. Joe, you son of a bitch.

  Forget Me Nots—Myosotis alpestris—were the Alaskan State flower. Soren jogged over to the cluster of flowers and felt his lungs resist.

  Immediately, he dropped to his knees and began digging. Shoveling the dirt aside, he silently commended Joe for his artful thinking. He should have expected such given their lengthy discussions on molecular phylogenetics and advanced biochemistry, but Soren never viewed Joe as someone who could orchestrate a strategic plan such as this. He never struck Soren as anything other than “book smart.”

  His fingers struck something and he stopped digging. For a moment he stared into the dirt as if it were divulging secrets, filling his ears with answers to e
very question he had asked himself over the past few months.

  Turning his attention away from his thoughts, Soren reached the object and plucked it from the earth. He held the palm-sized item in one hand while using the other to brush the dust away. Once cleaned and free from dirt, he grabbed the item with two fingers and held it so the moonlight could do its job. A metallic shine glinted off the key's backside. He tucked the key in his back pocket and started to rise when something in the dirt caught his attention. Peeking out of the soil, a folded sheet of paper containing an “X” on it looked up at him.

  “What in fuck-nut city took you so long?” Mouth asked as Soren emerged from around the corner of the house. “You better have found some good news in there and not spent all that time whackin' the ol' weasel.”

  Bemused, Soren pushed past him, not even giving him the courtesy of a lie. He strode into the center of the street, unable to ignore the stares of the senior residents, their eyes watching him warily from their windows, just as they had upon his arrival.

  “I'm going to speak and everyone will listen,” Soren said, “then you will do exactly as I say, no questions asked.” He glanced at Mouth and repeated, “No questions.”

  The crowd shifted uncomfortably, as if they expected him to ask something immoral of them. There was something unsettling in the way he spoke. His words lacked the same confidence they had come to expect.

  “I want you to knock on these doors and see if anyone has keys to the cars in these driveways. We'll take as many as we can get.”

  “Take?” Shondra asked.

  Soren and the group turned to her. Every eye shared a similar, eerie quality. Even Brian stared at her oddly, but for a different reason than the rest.

  “What if they refuse?”

  He spit on the ground, then popped a cigarette into his mouth. “Then ask again. More convincingly perhaps.”

  He brushed past her, walked up the closest driveway, and knocked on the front door. An elderly woman answered a few seconds later. The woman shook her head, but let Soren inside anyway. A minute later, he emerged from the house, alone and jingling a set of keys.

  -11-

  “Maybe we should head back,” Lilah said, stopping near the door leading into the back stockroom. “Maybe it's not safe in there.”

  Matty shook his head. “We'll be okay.”

  “No, Matty. You don't understand.” She pointed toward a bloody trail on the pavement. It disappeared under the door. “You probably won't like what you see in there.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “That's not the point,” she said. “Why see something horrible if you don't have to?”

  Although he understood her perfectly, he disagreed with her logic. The world had changed and was bound to show him atrocities beyond his most imaginative thoughts. Why hide from it? Savagery had become the standard. Humans were no better than animals surviving the perilous wild. Many textbooks taught him animals either adapted to their environment or perished, and Matty had no intention of leaving the world behind. Not when there was so much left to see and do.

  Like getting laid, he thought to himself. He felt embarrassed just thinking about it.

  “I'm not a kid,” he argued. “I'm fifteen. Almost sixteen.”

  “I know that. I'm not saying you can't handle it. I'm saying why have to?”

  “I just thought... you know...”

  “I won't think any less of you,” she said, flashing a sleek grin. “Come on. Let's head back and—” She grabbed her stomach and hunched over. She gagged and Matty dashed to her side. “Oh shit.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “I don't know. I feel weird.”

  “I'll go get my stepfather,” Matty said. “Maybe he can help.”

  “Thought you said he was a chiropractor?” She laughed, struggling to maintain her calm. “I have a stomach ache, not an outta-whack vertebrae.”

  “Okay...” Matty said. “Still, I should get someone. You don't look well.”

  She waved him off, forcing the smile wider. “I'm fine. I'll head back to the rest of the group.” She looked him in the eyes, but less like a friend, and more like his parent. “You should come too.”

  “But what if there are people alive in there? Maybe we can save them.”

  Lilah shook his head. “Trust me. There's no one left.” She turned and began walking back the way they came.

  Matty watched her. Part of him wanted to follow, the other part of him wanted to go inside, check the place out for himself. Running his fingers across the closed cut Malek had left on his cheek, he knew he could handle just about anything. I'm a man now, he told himself. I need to start acting like one.

  Matty closed his eyes, gathering himself. Once he was calm and his heartbeat simmered, he walked over to the back door and let himself inside.

  “Glad to see everyone's getting along,” Sam said, walking past the group, toward the other end of the parking lot. The keys to the Jeep jingled in his pocket. “Keep up the good work.”

  They couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but his recent behavior suggested the latter. Bob placed his hands on his hips. He opened his mouth like he had something to say, but closed it and saved his breath.

  “Where are you going?” Brenda asked, reading her husband's mind. Bob placed his hand on her shoulder and rubbed gently. She clasped her hand over his and squeezed. “Sam, I asked you a question.”

  Sam stopped as if hitting an invisible wall. “I'm going to find our kids. What the hell do you think I'm doing?”

  “Don't you think we should discuss this as a group?”

  He closed his eyes and envisioned her standing behind him, hands gripping her hips, tapping her foot, her lower lip twitching as she quelled the creeping rage. Sam shuffled his feet, turning toward them. When he opened his eyes, she wasn't in her usual angry pose, but hugging Bob as if she were dangling from a cliff and he were the only thing keeping her from falling. She rested her head on his chest and stared at him, her eyes on the verge of producing tears. Sam felt something twang inside him, starting in his chest and working its way down his arm. At first, he thought his was having a minor heart attack, but he ignored the funny feeling and tightened his jaw. “What is there to discuss? Anyone who wants to come with me, come. Anyone who doesn't, can go eat a turd sandwich for all I care.”

  “You're kind of a dick, bro,” Chuck said. “These people are trying to help you.”

  Sam glared at the newcomer. “I don't need you.” He pointed at Jarvis. “I don't need you.” He found Lilah, approaching the group from behind. “Or you.” He swung his angry finger at Bob. “Or you.” Brenda watched his finger find her and stop. “And I sure as hell don't need you and your fucking bullshit attitude.”

  “Sam, please stop,” Brenda said. “For our daughters' sake. If we're going to find them, then we need to be smart. You need to drop the I-hate-the-whole-fucking-world act and start working with us, not against us.” She narrowed her eyes, an innocent expression Sam saw as an act of war. “What the hell has gotten into you? I know we've had our disagreements in the past, but... fuck, Sam, what the hell happened to you? You used to be logical. You used to use your brain, at least.”

  He felt the last shred of composure leave him. Balling his fists, he rushed forward, unable to control himself any longer.

  “That's it—”

  A thunderous bang interrupted his words, killing the thoughts that followed. At first, he didn't know how to react. His eyes followed the noise and found Costbusters. A giant fireball rushed toward the sky, black smoke following in its wake. Another explosion sounded and the glass doors exploded outward, shattering into a seemingly infinite number of shards. The rest of the windows busted out in the next fiery bang. The concrete exterior crumbled in parts, and when the next explosion went off, most of Costbusters' face tumbled into the parking lot, pieces of building raining from above. Another clamorous eruption thundered throughout the night sky. Fragm
ents of concrete and other debris shot toward the group, landing before their feet. They covered their faces, protecting their eyes from the falling rubble.

  Sam sank to his knees. He felt the life being sucked out of him through his pores. His legs went rubbery, his arms and hands tingling with numbness.

  This can't be happening, he thought, not now.

  He had promised a different outcome the second time around. Costbusters would be the answer he knew all along, the one others couldn't see. He had promised to make them see his vision for a future, a sustainable system in place inside the giant retail warehouse. Now that vision crumbled before him, surrounded in flames and unfurling towers of black smoke.

  “Ohmygod,” someone said from behind him, their voice dying in a whisper. “Matty.”

  Sam turned toward the voice. Lilah. She paced back and forth, throwing her hands over her mouth. She repeated “Ohmygod” several times, closing her eyes. “Matty,” she said, breaking her tune. “He was inside.”

  “No,” Brenda whispered. The color in her face matched the glow of the moon. “He was just here.”

  Sam frantically scanned the area, his son nowhere to be found. He ignored the weakness plaguing his knees and jumped to his feet. With the acrid smell of destruction stinging his nostrils, he took off toward the store.

  “Sam!” he heard to his right. He turned and spotted Tina limping his way. Matty was with her, his arm draped over her shoulder. He couldn't tell who was supporting who; both of them looked ruffled, their clothes slightly torn, their faces painted with black ash.

  Sam sprinted toward them, reaching Matty first. Scooping his son into his arms, he began to weep. He squeezed harder and Matty squeezed back, nowhere near as firm.

  “I'm okay, Dad,” he said quietly, his voice trembling.

  Sam pulled back and stared at Matty, tears running from both of their eyes now.

  “I thought...” He shook his head. “I thought I lost you.” He took the moment in, fixating on his son's face, hoping he'd never feel the way he just had for the rest of his life. Once the moment was over and reality settled back in, Sam looked to Tina. “What the hell happened?”