by Tim Meyer
She looked horrible. To Matty she was beautiful, the goddess of his dreams. To everyone else she was a heroin addict badly in need of a fix.
Lilah pretended like Chuck didn't exist, and Matty followed her lead. He looked to his mother for guidance, but she was barely holding her own shit together. Bob seemed concerned, but not overly attentive. His mind had wandered elsewhere, perhaps toward the troubles ahead. Tina hung in the background, stalking around the perimeter of the group. She had a different look about her since Costbusters met its demise. He knew why, but kept his concerns to himself. No need to complicate an already complicated situation. Matty turned to his father last. He stared toward the burning city in the backdrop, scratching the beginnings of a bushy beard.
Jarvis looked worried, the only one in the entire group. He hovered over Lilah, checking her pulse without her permission. She shot him a glance, and he put his hands up to show he meant no harm.
“She needs a doctor,” Brenda said.
Sam laughed through his nose, and the group turned to him, surprised he had been paying attention this whole time. “Let's call and make an appointment.”
“Dude has a point,” Chuck said. “I haven't seen too many places open for business.”
“Honey,” Bob said to her, “the odds of us finding a doctor—a real doctor—is...”
“Absolute shit,” Chuck added. “Looks like you're gonna have to ride it out, little girl.”
“Who are you calling little girl?” Lilah asked. She jumped to her feet, which was not the best idea. Her world spun and she lost her balance. Matty caught her before she fell, wrapping her in his arms, tight against his chest.
“You should sit,” Matty suggested in her ear.
She listened and he helped her back to the curb.
“Not a little girl,” she whispered over and over again, like some personal mantra. “Not a little girl.”
Her eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings and her head swayed back and forth like a tree in a hurricane. Matty knew it was only a matter of time before she passed out again, or worse—suffered another seizure.
“You need to rest,” he said, stroking her hair.
They sat huddled together, Lilah resting her head on Matty's shoulder. Poor hygiene had gotten the better of her and an odd, not overly pungent, smell found his nostrils. In the background, Matty could still hear the occasional gunshots coming from the city, accompanied by intermittent screams. Children crying. Maniacs laughing. The world had gone to Hell.
“Not a little girl.”
“She needs medical attention,” Jarvis said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Or else this is only going to happen again. Worse next time. What she really needs is medicine.”
Bob squeezed his forehead. “I don't understand. What medicine? For seizures? You think she's epileptic?”
Jarvis waved his finger in the air. “No, no. Flumazenil. Romazicon. Or some other receptor antagonist.”
Bob stiffened his back. He recognized the titles, but couldn't put his finger on their purpose. “What are you saying?”
“He's saying the girl has a drug problem,” Sam replied. “Isn't that right?”
Jarvis told them, “Yes.”
“Whoa, dude,” Chuck said. “Who are you? Dr. House?”
Lilah shivered in Matty's arms and he gripped her tightly, wanting to never let her go.
-9-
The aurora lit the horizon, casting faint shadows across the road. The group was on the move; a power walk had turned into a light jog. Sunlight crept up behind them faster than they had predicted. Matty meant to stay tuned to these sorts of things, but the sick girl occupied his mind. They had less than an hour to find shelter, and the road ahead didn't exactly promise them hope.
“This isn't going to work,” Sam said to Tina. She was jogging next to him. The two had fallen back, farther behind Matty and Lilah. The poor girl couldn't keep the pace much longer. Sam could see she was minutes away from another episode. “We're not going to find what he's looking for at the local Rite Aid.”
“No?”
“No,” Sam confirmed.
“Well, look on the bright side. At least if it all goes to shit, you won't be the responsible one.”
He chuckled even though he didn't feel like laughing. “I guess.”
“What do you think of Jarvis?” she asked, keeping her voice down, making sure no one else could hear them.
“I don't know. He's all right, I guess.” Sam had agreed with the man on two things: one, Lilah needed help and two, she needed it now. It was only a matter of time before she'd seizure again.
“I can't put my finger on him,” Tina said. “I don't know if he's a doctor or a drug dealer.”
“You mean was. Was a doctor or a drug dealer.”
Tina glanced at him, wrinkling her lips and narrowing her eyes. “Semantics, mister.”
“We need to get used to 'was' and forget 'is',” Sam told her. “We're not who we were.”
“You've become quite the philosopher Costbusters.”
Sam glared at her.
“Sorry. I know it still hurts.”
He glanced at the ground. “I really thought that was it for us. That Costbusters was the end all be all.”
“Still think that?”
Sam thought about it. How could it be? “No, I don't think it is.”
“You mean 'was'?” she asked, jabbing him with her elbow.
“Aren't you the ball-buster tonight?” he said, a faint grin finding its way onto his features. “It was the answer. It's not anymore. Happy?”
“Very.”
“So Jarvis?”
“What about him?”
“You don't like him?”
“I didn't say that.”
“Well, you didn't say you did.”
Tina rolled her eyes. “God, what is it with you?”
“What?”
“I don't know what to make of him. He seems like he knows too much about this withdrawal stuff.”
“He didn't really go into detail about how he knows this stuff. Did he?”
“No. I find it weird now that you mention it.”
Jarvis had told Bob and Sam how the medication would work, how it would help Lilah. Sam couldn't remember too much about the medication he had studied once upon a time ago, and took the man's word for it. Bob, much in the dark about these sorts of prescriptions, nodded his head and said “sure” a lot. Jarvis also told them what he learned being an animal in Malek's zoo. Blood, the drug-infused cocktail a former meth cook named Rollins manufactured, had been given to all his disciples, especially those closest to him. Malek had used the drug in many fashions, mostly injecting the drug into the “meat” or the cooked parts of their victims. The drug was also given as a reward. If one of Malek's followers brought home some good “meat” or reaped important materials from neighboring towns, he rewarded them with a small vial of Blood. “It was like some super speed, only there was a moment of—what I'd call downtime—where you're all chill,” Jarvis had told him. “Totally fucked up, whatever was in it.” Chuck corroborated all of this, claiming the two had overheard many conversations between Malek and his followers. They had also seen Blood in full effect. They didn't elaborate on some of the things they had seen, but Jarvis told them the drug had made the cannibals “hungry.” Jarvis went on to say what he thought Rollins had put in it, and rattled off the list of medications that would battle the horrible withdrawal symptoms Lilah was experiencing. He told them she was acting like someone dependent on benzodiazepines, almost to the letter. He recalled Rollins saying something about being low on clonazepam, a benzo used for coping with panic attacks, seizures (ironically), and anxiety, a solid concoction for keeping calm and controlled.
“I guess we shouldn't jump to conclusions,” Sam said.
“Guess not. We've been wrong about people before,” Tina said, nodding ahead. She was talking about Lilah of course, another one of old Sam's highlights. She liked new Sam a lot better
so far. Although it had only been a few days, new Sam made far less mistakes.
“Well, if we left it up to Soren, he would have tortured the girl.”
“Maybe things would've turned out better.”
Sam glanced at her dubiously. “Maybe they would have turned out worse.”
Tina smiled. “I like the way things played out. They look cute together.”
“It's something all right.”
“What? Poppa doesn't approve?”
Sam stared at his son and his first... girlfriend? He didn't know what else to call her.
“I don't know...”
“Talk to me.”
“Matty isn't...”
“What?”
“He's not...”
“Spit it out, man.”
“He's not a lady-killer.”
“A lady-killer?” She cracked up, an unexpected high-pitched squeal. “That's the best you could come up with?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Is he a virgin?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“That's a yes.” Tina laughed again, this time she covered her mouth.
“I'm glad you're enjoying this.”
“I am. Have you given him the talk yet?”
“Of course.” Sam cracked a faint smile. “I'm not that bad of a father.”
“No,” Tina said. “You're not.”
Sam's smile quickly faded. “You mean it?”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “I do.”
“Well, thanks.”
“No problem.”
They stared at each other, exchanging comforting smiles.
Twenty minutes until sunrise:
Purple light soaked the forked road ahead. Behind them, dawn waged war against the sky, conquering the horizon, golden tones stabbing against the black receding night. No one in the group was comfortable with their situation, being close to sunrise with no destination in sight; no one knew at exactly what point the harmless golden glow would turn heinous, when the human barbecue would begin. They had to think and act fast, or else join the ranks of corpses they had passed along the highway, the blackened bodies they had found melted into the seats of their vehicles.
A sign they had seen miles back stated Philadelphia was only ten miles away. They had avoided Camden, hearing more terrible sounds resonating from the notorious city. The plan was to find the nearest pharmacy and find Lilah the drugs she needed to get well. But the direction away from the city led them down roads with no stores of any kind. Nothing but trees and open fields, nothing that provided them with adequate shelter and the tools to help Lilah through her sickness. They came to a fork, and each choice looked less promising than the other. The road on their left led straight into darkness, away from the small glow creeping over the horizon. Choice number one seemed like it would buy them more time, but no places of refuge appeared visible. Illuminated by solar-powered streetlights, the road to their right looked promising. It seemed a little more lively, and up ahead in the far distance, they could barely make out the shape of what appeared to be a building. Maybe it was a small town. Maybe it was one lone building. But whatever it was, it was better than walking to their fiery deaths.
Bob led the group down the promising path, his arm resting on his wife's shoulder. Sam eyed them with a smidgen of jealousy; this had been the first time he'd seen the two together for more than a few minutes. Seeing Brenda in his arms, happy—the way she used to be with him—stirred past memories, reminded him of the good times they had, even though they were few and far between.
He glanced over at Tina, who only paid attention to the road ahead, mindful of potential hazards that could emerge from the woods on either side of them. She had mentioned packs of wild dogs more than once, and how a large pack could overtake them with ease. Sam didn't give much thought to it. Maybe dogs died the same way humans did when exposed to the sun's almighty rays. Would animals know what's going on? Would they know traveling by day was no longer acceptable? It was an interesting thought and he suddenly realized there was much to learn about this new world. Even though the climate refused to change—fall still felt like fall—the ecosystem surely would as soon as species began to die out. If they are effected, he thought. Birdsong of variety whistled from the trees to his right and he wondered what the winged creatures were saying to each other. Were they warning each other of the impending dawn? Or instinctively, did they already know?
A small town formed on the horizon. A wave of relief washed over him, as with the rest of the group. Tina concentrated on the woods as if expecting the trees to sprout arms and grab at them. Sam touched her shoulder and she whipped her head toward him.
“What's the matter?” he asked in a low whisper.
She ignored him, returning her attention on the trees.
Weird...
Everyone was tense and on edge, except Sam who relished his newfound attitude, inviting the numb in. Even when Lilah was on the ground, twitching like a fish on a dock, he felt nothing, no sense of urgency, no desire to help. He couldn't put a finger on his emotions. Had the destruction of Costbusters destroyed a piece of him? It was the only logical explanation for his dull spirit. A piece of him died in that explosion, he was sure of it. He didn't know if he'd ever feel like himself again.
Or maybe you feel guilty, he thought. Everything that happened was your fault. Wasn't it?
Maybe. Maybe that's why taking a backseat and letting someone else drive had been so easy. He had caused everything to fall apart. He was responsible for keeping those people safe, protected from the dangers outside.
And he had failed.
Some of them had been slaughtered like farm cattle. The rest had been forced to travel with Soren, what Sam considered a trip toward certain death. He thought about Becky and Dana, wishing he was next to them, holding them like when they were his little girls. He hoped they were safe. If anything happened to them, he only had one person to blame and it wouldn't be Mouth. He thought about what he might do to himself if they found his daughters' charred corpses like they had so many others. He was barely able to live with himself now and he couldn't imagine what guilt of that magnitude would bring.
The group pushed on, the small unnamed town becoming clearer in the dusk. Most of night had been kicked aside by the impending morning light. It was only a matter of minutes before the sun was upon them.
“Hurry!” Bob said, breaking into a sprint.
The rest of the group followed, picking up their pace. Tina rushed to Matty's side and helped him with Lilah. The girl did the best she could, but it wasn't fast enough for Tina's liking. She threw Lilah's other arm over her shoulder and the two of them lifted her toward the finish line. Sam bustled in tow, his mind dodging in a thousand different directions. He ignored the rumbling in his belly, realizing he hadn't eaten anything in almost a day. Lightheaded and dizzy, he retrieved a bottle of water from his pack. He swallowed the last few ounces in a few short swigs and tossed the empty plastic bottle on the side of the road.
“Look!” he heard Jarvis yell. “A pharmacy!”
Sam followed the man's finger and located the building, a simple construction no different from the other small businesses on the long stretch of road. The road they had traveled intersected the downtown area, doctor and law offices surrounding both sides. They were shaped like small ranches, and if Sam hadn't noticed the signs out front shouting out their business, he would've suspected they had stumbled upon a suburban neighborhood. Past the business houses, a few higher buildings stood, no taller than four-stories. Their concrete facades with wrap-around windows differed from the ranches, which had matching vinyl siding and louvered shutters, each with their own unique coordinating colors. A grocery and a pet store neighbored the pharmacy.
The group went directly for the pharmacy, but Sam stopped to have a look through the pet store window. The place was dark, but he could make out the long rows of empty cages. Unlikely they had escaped on their own. So
meone had sprung the animals loose.
“Are you coming?” Tina asked, holding the door open. Everyone else headed inside.
Sam turned away from the window and walked toward the pharmacy. As he ducked inside with Tina following closely behind, he couldn't ignore the intense heat crawling over his exposed flesh.
“Anything left?” Bob asked as Jarvis rifled through the long rows of prescription medications.
“Nothing that does us any good. Found a shitload of Viagra, not likely to help anyone though.”
“Must be an old people's community nearby,” Chuck joked. He held up a box of diapers targeted for the elderly.
Ignoring Chuck, Bob turned back to Jarvis. “Looks like you were right.”
“I hate to say I told you so,” he said, “but I told you so.”
Sam tossed a bag on the cashier's counter. “Found a bunch of pain meds. Might come in handy down the road. Couldn't find much of anything else.”
“This place has been picked clean,” Jarvis added. “Not that they would have had what we needed anyway.”
“So where do we go from here?”
Jarvis cracked his knuckles. “You're not going to like it,” he said, and told them their next move.
Matty held onto Lilah tightly, fearing she would forever slip away if he let go. Stroking her long, greasy hair, he listened to Jarvis and the others speak about what to do next. Whatever the case was, they needed to find Lilah the proper medication and quickly. The girl did not look well; her eyes grew dark circles around them, her flesh was moist and clammy, and she shivered despite complaining about how hot she was. Heat radiated from her forehead, sweat bubbling from every pore. None of them smelled good, but the stench coming from Lilah rose above the others. Matty figured it was the traces of vomit on her clothing. He hated seeing her like this.
“There's a methadone clinic close to Philadelphia, just outside the city,” Jarvis told the group. “I work there. Worked. There are detox centers all over the city, but this one is close. We'll have to backtrack a bit, but I'm fairly certain we can get there and back before dawn.”