REM

by Valentine, J. D.

  This whole situation was a giant un-benevolent shit show. Why would Ken lose it like that? He wasn't a tweaker. Hell, if Ishita knew he was, she would have sent Ken packing. This didn't add up. None of it did.

  Danny's thoughts stopped in its tracks.

  Ishita and the kids. They should have been back from their vacation already. No, they have been home for over two days.

  He covered his nose as he ran past Ken's body again. Danny's hands had steadied for the most part, and he was able to open the gun safe this time. He grabbed his twelve-gauge shotgun that was already loaded with seven shells of buckshot. His fingers felt on the side to make sure there were extra shells mounted on the weapon. He then stuffed his 1911 in his waistband and shut the safe. He racked a shell into the chamber and stuffed some earplugs in his ears as he walked down the stairs.

  "Ishita!" Danny yelled as he stepped outside.

  The sirens were going crazy outside. More dogs had joined in howling at the chaos. The flashlight on the end of the shotgun clicked on as Danny looked inside Ken's home. A white beam broke up the darkness, showing trash and broken furniture all over the floor. He walked in, weapon up as he reached for the light switch. The lights flicked on.

  Oh God!

  The furniture had been tossed randomly like it was in Kevin's room. Danny could see into the kitchen and saw that the glass door had been shattered. The wall adjacent to Danny’s house was caved in at the center, which Danny guessed Ken had rammed his head into over and over with some force. He kept his eyes on the stairs as he crossed them on his way to the kitchen.

  The light flicked on revealing white cabinets that had been torn open. All the dishes and plates were in jagged pieces all over the ground. A chef's knife was buried in one of the top cabinet doors. It was covered with blood.

  Ken, what the hell happened?

  A creaking came from the living room.

  Danny swung the shotgun to his rear. All he could see was the wall. The sound of footsteps rumbled down the stairs. Danny started to shake as he backpedaled, slamming his back into the fridge. The sound of a door slamming shut came from inside, near the front of the house. Danny heard the deadbolt from the front door engage, and the light turned off in the living room.

  It fell silent, making Danny realize how hard he was breathing.

  "Ishita?" Danny called out to the silence.

  A hollow thud came from the living room. Danny gripped his shotgun tighter. "Hello!" he yelled, his voice trailing off.

  Another hollow thud, this time closer.

  Danny pushed his back up against the fridge. His finger slid into the trigger well. He could hear sliding feet, meaning that whoever was walking was now on the tile. The same tile that was in the kitchen.

  Another thud.

  Danny was breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

  The steps grew louder.

  He took one last breath. A small boy appeared around the corner with his back to Danny. It was one of Ken's boys, Sai. His dark skin now looked awkwardly pale. Another thump made Danny jump. Sai pulled a knife out from the wall laughing as if it were a game. The boy reared back and buried the knife into the wall again.

  "Sai," Danny said in a low voice.

  The kid stopped with his back still to Danny. He lifted both arms to his face and started cutting at something.

  "Hey, kid!" Danny called, with tears starting to run down his face.

  The boy turned and Danny started to tremble. The boy's face had been cut in sharp jagged angles. Parts of his nose and lips hung awkwardly. Sai smiled as he slashed at his arm. He stopped abruptly and looked up at Danny. A laugh came from the boy as he pointed the knife at Danny.

  "Sai, don't do it kid. Please," Danny begged, clicking off the safety.

  The boy cocked his head to the side and gripped the knife tightly.

  "Come on, son," Danny pleaded, his eyes filling with tears.

  No.

  The boy waited for a moment, smiling at Danny, then he charged. Danny shouldered the weapon and fired. The boy's chest split open as the lead shot ripped it apart, but he kept coming. Danny racked the shotgun again. The shell sputtered off, and the new round slid into the chamber. The boy was five feet away. Danny quickly sidestepped and fired, sending a final shot at the boy's head. A limp body slammed into the fridge and then slumped to the floor. Danny racked again and fired into the lifeless body.

  "Why!" he yelled. "I told you to stop."

  He racked the shotgun again. His shaking hands grabbed shells that were on the side of the shotgun. Yelling came from upstairs, and two sets of feet scurried down the stairs. Quickly, Danny shoved more shells into the magazine tube.

  One.

  The screaming grew louder.

  Two

  Danny dropped one of the shells on the floor.

  Shit!

  Ishita rounded the corner screaming. Danny shouldered the weapon and fired. Her head caved in, but her momentum was too much as her limp body slammed into him. He fell back hitting his head on the refrigerator. Ishita fell on top of him, pinning the shotgun to his chest.

  Shit! SHIT!

  Danny grabbed at his 1911. The second boy emerged with a small knife raised. Without thinking, Danny flicked the safety off and leveled the pistol.

  Three concussive blasts came from inside and then it became quiet. From the outside, the home looked undisturbed and all the houses surrounding it were blacked out. More police sirens echoed off in the distance causing a dog to howl back. Suddenly, the dog’s howl turned into a horrid growl. A loud welp left the neighborhood silent.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MAYBE IT WAS a dream. Just a horrible dream.

  Danny ran his hands through his hair as he sat on the top steps of the stairs. He glanced back at Ken’s body that was now covered with a quilt that was now stained red on some spots.

  No, it’s real.

  The house was still dark, but the sun was beginning to rise.

  "Why?" Danny sighed as he buried his face in his hands.

  He thought of the events that had happened and how he cared for these people. Now they were dead. It was so definite and concrete. The flood of emotion made Danny want to cry like a child. It felt like the natural thing to do, but nothing came to him. Instead, he sat there thinking and it wasn’t about any one thing in particular. The thoughts entered his mind and then they were gone in a fury of chaos.

  Should I call Maria? No, I can’t pretend like everything is okay.

  A gentle tapping came from downstairs. Fear made Danny jump up as he shouldered the shotgun. The bottom of the stairs was still dark. Danny thought he could just stay up there and nothing would come get him, but that’s not how it worked. He walked down slowly, keeping the weapon leveled. The downstairs furniture had been stacked up against the front door leaving only the back door accessible. Danny popped around the corner of the stairs.

  Eric looked through the glass door throwing his hands up. "Whoa, whoa! Easy there, chief."

  Danny exhaled as he let the shotgun go limp in his hands. Eric pulled on the door, but it was locked, making him look back at Danny.

  "You mind?" Eric asked as he stepped back.

  A heavy sigh came from Danny as he walked up to the door. He kept his eyes to the floor as he unlocked the door. Eric stormed in, leaving Danny to quietly shut the door behind him.

  "Love what you’ve done with the place," Eric stared at the barricaded front door for a moment and then the cracked wall to the left of the couch. "What the fuck happened? You called me a dozen times."

  Danny just stood there holding the shotgun.

  "And now you have nothing to say." Eric looked Danny up and down. His eyes moved to the front door that was barricaded. "What the hell is going on here and what’s with the gun?"

  Danny swallowed heavily before he spoke. "Do me a favor and be quiet. You want some answers? Go ahead and take a peek upstairs for me, would you?"

  Eric stared at Danny for a moment. "Fine," he
said, sighing as he walked past.

  Danny could hear Eric’s boots as they climbed the stairs and suddenly stopped. Danny looked at the living room. The coffee table was still upside down, but he found the remote on the floor. He turned the TV on and quickly muted it. The caption on the bottom of the screen read "Mass evacuation taking place in Orange County". The view from a helicopter followed the 5 freeway. It looked like rush hour traffic with all the cars packed together on the seven-lane freeway.

  Danny looked at the clock on the wall. It read six thirty-seven in the morning. Eric emerged from the stairs. He said nothing as he sat down on the couch. Danny joined him as neither man talked to each other for a few minutes. They just sat there watching the television.

  Eric took a heavy breath and slowly released it. "We are fucked, aren't we?"

  "More than you think, " Danny said, staring at the ground. "I realize what those guys last night were really talking about."

  "We should have listened." Eric sighed as he ran his hand through his beard. "You wouldn’t happen to have a drink would you?"

  Danny propped his shotgun on the armrest. He stood up, walking to the kitchen. The fridge opened and Danny pulled out two non-alcoholic beers. He walked back and stuck it in Eric's hand, clinking it without the other man's consent and downed half of it.

  Eric took a sip, quickly looking at the bottle with disappointment. "Just that one upstairs?"

  Danny rubbed his temple, taking a sip. "No, his wife and two kids." He pointed with his empty drink at the crack in the wall. "They’re next door."

  "You try the cops?" Eric asked.

  "Went straight to an automated voicemail." Danny laughed as he poured himself another drink. "I keep getting calls from my precinct, but I’m not going in. I think shit just got real."

  Eric downed his fake beer. "It took me thirty minutes to get here. Rush hour traffic was my guess."

  "Eric, it’s Saturday."

  "Well, that doesn’t make any sense. I figured there was an accident on the freeway just holding up the main streets."

  Danny leaned forward. "I think things have gone from bad to worse. Well, I know what I’m doing."

  "What’s that?"

  "I’m packing my shit and going north."

  Eric got up and walked to the kitchen, setting his bottle in the sink. He turned around and leaned on the island facing Danny.

  "So you think you can get to Tahoe before this place becomes a powder keg," Eric laughed.

  "Does this shit seem funny to you?"

  Eric smirked as he looked at the television. "I think Tahoe is a good idea, but right now there is no fucking way you are gonna make it."

  "Like hell," Danny said.

  "Look, chief, there are twenty million people between Los Angeles and San Diego." Eric looked up at the television. "I am afraid that it’s too late to head north. Our best chance is to lay low until this blows over. All those people already sitting in that traffic are already dead."

  Danny’s eyes went wide as he took in the situation. "I can't just sit here. They need me."

  "You're right, they do. But if you leave right now and get caught out in the open, you’re a dead man."

  Danny’s eyes searched around the room. A small panic started to grow inside him. "What am I supposed to do here?"

  Eric leaned further on the island. "Let's get my truck loaded up with a few of your things. It’s only a couple miles up the road using residential streets. I've got everything else we will need at my place. We wait for this thing to blow over, then we go north."

  Danny sat there. His eyes moved as if he were reading a book. All his thoughts were trying to find a logical approach to such an illogical problem.

  "Dan, the longer we sit here, the worse it’ll get. This whole situation seems like it could blow up any second, and we don't want to be caught out on the streets when shit really starts going down."

  "This is really happening?"

  Eric looked Danny in the eyes. "Yes, so pull your shit together."

  Danny swallowed heavily. "Alright...pull the truck to the garage. I'll grab some supplies and stage it outside." He set the shotgun on the island. "Take it for now."

  Eric lifted his shirt showing a small Glock that was holstered below his belly button. "I'm covered, chief."

  Danny pushed the shotgun closer to Eric. "Trust me. Take it."

  Eric grabbed the shotgun and checked the chamber. He nodded and made his way to the door.

  Danny ran upstairs and pulled open the safe. He had a small .22 rifle that he pulled out and set aside. He grabbed all the magazines he had for his 1911 and shoved them in a gym bag. He stuffed a few boxes of ammo and his duty belt in the bag. Danny grabbed his father's old lever action and grabbed all the boxes of .30-30 and shotgun ammo he had. He looked at the .22 and put it back in the safe.

  "I don't think you are gonna do me any good," Danny said as he shut the safe.

  Gunshots came from outside. Danny grabbed the lever-action and the bag.

  That’s a little close.

  He ran to the window and saw Eric standing over a body. Several of Danny’s neighbors ran inside leaving suitcases and cars unattended. Several people just kept packing, ignoring the violence. Eric racked the shotgun and looked up at Danny giving him the thumbs up.

  You are right at home, aren’t you?

  Eric jumped in his truck and backed up running over the body. He shifted it into drive and turned into the cul-de-sac. Danny's eyes shot down the main street. A lone man was running down the road, going right for his neighborhood’s street. The man screamed at the top of his lungs. Danny couldn’t help but notice it was the tweaker from the other night.

  "Damn it," Danny muttered to himself as he set the bag down.

  He fumbled with the cardboard box of rounds and finally pulled out three large rounds, shoving them into the rifle and cocked the lever-action.

  Come on.

  Danny pulled the window open hearing the scream even louder now. Sirens and helicopters filled the background like an orchestra of chaos.

  It’s really happening.

  The man started to round into the cul-de-sac. Danny leveled his weapon and exhaled slowly. The hammer fell forward striking the firing pin. All Danny felt was the recoil as the man slumped to the floor one hundred yards away.

  I told you I’d kill you if you came back.

  Danny racked the action again as he grabbed his hiking pack and started filling it with spare clothes. He moved quickly knowing the impending chaos was ticking away like a clock. A loud echo of gunshots pulled Danny to the window. He could see small plumes of smoke starting to grow in the distance, but a sea of houses blocked their origins.

  Let’s go, Dan.

  He fumbled through a cabinet next to Ken’s body. Danny grabbed a family photo and stuffed it into his pack. He grabbed his gym bag and slung it. Finally, he grabbed his lever action and made for the stairs.

  Just say a few words.

  He looked down at the red-stained quilt.

  "I’m so sorry," Danny said as he patted the blanket. "Find your peace."

  He made his way downstairs. Eric was packing up the pantry with a green seabag. Danny made his way towards the back door when something shined into his eye. He saw the wedding photo of Maria and him. It was still cracked and thrown on the floor from the other night. Danny walked up to it and picked it up, letting the glass shards fall to the floor. He was so happy on that day. Everything seemed so clear, and their love for each other was fresh and pure.

  I'll get to you, I promise.

  Danny pulled it out of the frame and folded it into the breast pocket of his flannel with the other photo. He took one last look at his home.

  Farewell.

  The emotions flooded his system again as his eyes started to water up. He was about to shut the door when he caught Jazzy Bear lying on the ground.

  "Susan would never forgive me if I left you," Danny said as he grabbed the bear and ran outside.


  The truck was still idling in the garage. Danny threw his pack in the back seat and grabbed the box of .30-30 and loaded the lever action. Once it was loaded up, he stuffed the rest of the shells in the box. He ran over to his workbench and grabbed a toolbox and a pair of bolt cutters, which were thrown in the bed. Eric grunted as he walked into the garage hefting the full seabag.

  "Damn, you’re fast," Danny said.

  "Funny, all my ex-girlfriends said the same thing in the bedroom," Eric smirked as he threw the seabag at him.

  Danny almost fell over as he threw the sea bag into the bed. "What the hell is in here?"

  Eric threw him another bag. "The whole pantry." He hefted two bags on his shoulders and walked to the truck.

  "I thought you said you had a bunch of shit?"

  "I do, but I don't want to be eating that shit if I don't have to. Plus, I grabbed all the bologna and cheese you had. I don't want that going bad."

  Danny rolled his eyes. "Just get in the truck, alright?"

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DANNY SHUT THE garage and ran to the passenger side. He threw the lever-action in the back and grabbed the shotgun.

  "Are you thinking backstreets?" Danny asked as he buckled himself in.

  "At this point, it’s probably sidewalks," Eric said as he turned right out of the cul-de-sac.

  Danny looked back at his house as he grabbed a box of twelve gauge ammo from the back seat. The house slipped away as Eric accelerated down the street and made a hard right.

  "Let's take it slow, and keep your eyes peeled," Eric said as he slid a pair of sunglasses on. "If you see something, call it out."

  The truck turned onto the main residential road. Danny could hear the muffled thumping off in the distance. Suddenly, the thumping was right on top of them making Eric slam on the brakes. Two military Blackhawks cut overhead flying close to the ground. Danny could see a soldier in the side opening of the helicopter. He was wearing a skull mask that scanned the freeway with a heavy machine gun at the ready. The choppers made a hard bank and headed north. Black smoke billowed off in the distance as sirens grew louder. A few car horns and gunshots erupted in small bursts that started to melt into one giant sound of chaos.