by Kirk Withrow
John shifted his gaze toward Reams and thought that whatever was happening must be serious to have such a big guy so spooked. It also occurred to him that if what Reams had said was true, then his own inability to keep a level head nearly cost him his life. John prided himself on his ability to ‘stay in the game’ no matter what kind of hell or chaos reigned around him. It was a trait his father had burned into him from an early age.
During a particularly memorable exchange after an 8 year-old John climbed a tree only to get stuck for over an hour until his father helped him down, Ben Wild said, “Son, if you find yourself in an impossible situation without the means to get yourself out, and everyone around is losing their shit, you must keep a sharp, focused mind. You understand, son?” Though at the time he did not, he now understood with the unmistakable clarity that comes only from experience.
His father went on to say, “If it truly is an impossible situation, then it doesn’t matter either way, and it’s a damn sight better to go out on your feet like a man than groveling on your knees. More likely, however, you will see the situation with a clarity that will show you a way out. The key to this is to be willing to accept the situation for what it is at that instant and nothing else. Stick to the facts, and keep your emotions out of the picture – they will only complicate things. If you are fueled by the fear of what may come next then you have already closed your eyes to what is happening now. Every course of action you come up with will lead straight to what you fear most, and you will find yourself paralyzed in a state of inaction. Doing nothing can be every bit as dangerous as doing something stupid. Remember this—it is a lesson many men are only given one chance to learn.”
Realizing he owed Reams his life, John stood and walked toward the big man with his hand extended in a sign of goodwill. Sensing movement behind him and more than a little jumpy from the events of the last few days, Reams swung the large pipe around with the strength of a major league slugger in a home-run derby. His reflexes kicking in, John ducked as he rolled to the side before coming up to a combat base – his hands outstretched to indicate he was not a threat. With startling speed, Reams redirected to aim a second blow at his would-be attacker before recognition swept over his countenance.
“Take it easy,” said John nervously.
Exasperated, Reams replied through short, gasping respirations, “Damn it, man! Don’t sneak up on me like that! I nearly knocked your damn fool head off! Glad to see you’re not always so slow, John. Keep moving like that and we might just make it through this.”
With the threat of being crushed by the massive man abated, John thanked him for saving his life, and asked him for his help yet again. “Reams, I can’t thank you enough for risking your neck out there to save me. I keep kicking myself for letting my mind drag me so close to death. I guess it was all just too shocking to accept. I let my emotions overwhelm me and couldn’t comprehend the horrible reality of the situation. Listen, I hate to ask for anything else, and I know you don’t owe me anything, but I was wondering if you’d help me out again?”
Continuing, he said, “You see, I’ve been trying to contact my wife and daughter since I got here but I can’t get through to anyone. The last time I talked to them was three days ago, and it wasn’t the most positive exchange. On my flight in I was kind of hoping they might be waiting for me here but deep down I knew that wasn’t likely. The thought of me flying makes my wife Rebecca pretty nervous. She said they might just come to the airport to greet me, though I think she was being sarcastic. At least I pray that was the case now; I truly hope they stayed far away from here. Funny how quickly the mind shifts, huh? You haven’t seen them here have you? A blonde woman, small frame, athletic build, about five feet tall, striking green eyes, and an eleven year-old girl with curly blonde hair and a smile that melts anyone that sees it? You’d know if you saw them,” John finished expectantly with a fragile smile adorning his face for several seconds before the pain flooded back in to drown out any semblance of happiness the smile might have held.
John did not think it possible for a person to wear a more forlorn look than that he saw on Reams’ face earlier, but the expression Reams now displayed in response to this question proved that sentiment wrong. “John…” was the only word Reams could utter as his throat began to tighten as if trapped in the ever-encroaching jaws of a vise grip. He did not need to say another word, because his expression clearly said every word his mouth could not.
Upon grasping the entire meaning of Reams’ reaction, which had been a sincere one full of sorrow and empathy as if he alone knew the horrible truth, John’s small, tentative, and hopeful demeanor instantly dissolved, leaving only a rising anger as he leapt forward. “No way, Reams, that’s bullshit! They are fine! I just need to check the parking lot to make sure her car isn’t here, and then I need to get home to help them,” said John with the frantic edge of a man about to crack.
As John reached for the first tool chest, he said, “Reams, give me a hand with this. We can go to your place as well! We can get your family, too! We have to hurry!”
Reams did not move as he watched John struggle to dislodge the huge chest.
“Help me, dammit!” John exploded as he continued his futile attempts to dismantle the barricade. Finding his voice again, Reams said quietly, “John, stop.” When John showed no intention of ceasing his effort, Reams continued with escalating volume. “John… John…John!”
This time it was John who rounded on Reams in an equally startling display of ferocity. “Listen to me, asshole! My wife and kid are out there, and I’m going to find them! I could really use your help but if you’re too chicken shit then just stay the hell out of my way!” Despite their physical size difference, in that instant the two men seemed almost equal. Reams did not flinch or waver under the barrage, nor did his sincere, somber expression falter.
Reams did not reciprocate the rage and frustration that John exuded as one might expect when one animal aggressively challenges another. Instead, the attack was greeted with starkly opposing emotion as a single tear rolled down Reams’ left cheek like a bucket of water destined to douse the inferno raging between the two men.
“I’ll help,” croaked Reams, “but first you need to listen to me, John. You go running out that door now and you’ll be the same as Hasker before you make the airport fence.”
Sensing the truth in those words, John deflated and sank back against the barricade, sobbing quietly with his head hung low.
At that moment the long fluorescent lights in the room blinked and flickered a few times before finally accepting their fate, leaving the two men stranded in a vast sea of all-encompassing darkness. Though only three days had passed since the start of this nightmare, the fragile, life-sustaining network comprising the electrical grid had already failed.
The two new friends sat with their backs against the barricade in the darkened room that served as the office in the maintenance hangar. It was now illuminated by a small battery-powered lantern Reams discovered previously in one of the planes in for repairs.
Neither of them spoke for what seemed like hours, until Reams broke the silence, saying in his slow, subtle southern accent, “Some shit ain’t it?”
Reams looked straight ahead, and John noted his flat expression remained absolutely static – unmarred by even the slightest pretense of emotion. Thinking that described his experience over the last few hours about as perfectly as anything he could imagine, John replied saying only, “Some shit,” before falling quiet again. It was Reams who eventually broke the silence again.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Reams rhetorically; as if it was the first time he actually gave the situation any serious thought. “It’s like we're surrounded by a bunch of somnambulists in some horrible nightmare.”
“Say again?” said John. “What are you talking about?”
“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” replied Reams, “only a shit-ton of those homicidal, hypnotized monsters instead of just the one.”
The bewildered expression on John’s face made it quite obvious he was no closer to understanding what Reams was talking about, so he continued. “It was an old, silent, black and white movie from Europe in the ’20s or ’30s. This crazed doctor had this sleepwalking guy hypnotized, and he would send him on these death errands. I wonder if there was a crazed madman behind all of this shit? I say 'was' because if someone was behind this he clearly lost control of his puppets some time ago. I hope they tore him apart and shoved his ass back into his own cabinet.”
Still at a complete loss as to what Reams was talking about, John realized part of the reason he liked the guy. The fact he could recall an obscure black and white silent horror film from nearly a century ago in the face of probable Armageddon seemed incomprehensible. Nevertheless, Reams ability to do so right after saving him from an unspeakable monster meant the man was either totally insane or the most levelheaded, 'cool as ice' person in existence. Either way he was certainly effective and did not appear to be fazed by the madness John was just beginning to accept.
“No offense, but you don't really strike me as the silent classic film type of guy. How the hell do you know about this Caligari business anyway?” asked John.
With an embarrassed shrug, the mechanic replied, “Me? I don't know shit about old, silent movies. Other than that one, the only silent movies I ever remember watching were my old man’s porno tapes on mute! No, I used to date this Goth chick that was into all kinds of creepy shit like that. She begged me to watch it with her once, and it was surprisingly tough to pull away once I started. Even compared to the random violence and evil shown in gory detail in horror movies today, at least before all this shit, it was pretty scary. I bet it really caused a stir back when it was made. If we do make it through this shit, I bet there won’t be too many more horror movies made. I wonder how that girl is? If she isn’t one of them, I’d love to know what she thinks about all this. If she is one of them, I wonder if she thinks at all?”
His scattered, irrelevant thoughts made it interesting to listen to Reams, and added to the reasons John was glad he ran into him. The fact that Reams called up such normal thoughts under the current, completely abnormal conditions was comforting to John in some way. Maybe this plague, or whatever it is, won’t wipe out all traces of what life used to be. “The Caligari strain…,” muttered John as he reflected on what Reams just said.
After what seemed like another eternity, John broke the impenetrable silence. “Reams, what in the hell is really going on here? I mean, I know you said you don’t know, but you have managed to stay safe and alive here this long. I need you to tell me everything you do know so we can try to figure this thing out and plan our next move. We can’t stay here forever. We have the vending machine there and a five-gallon water jug for the water cooler, but that won’t last forever. Besides, we need to see how the rest of the world is faring. I need to see…” John’s voice trailed off.
With a deep, bottomless sigh that carried the entire weight of the situation on its back, Reams replied, “Yeah, I know. I’ve been trying to leave here for the last couple days, but every time I get to the door I just stand there. That’s what I was doing when I heard you coming, just standing there. I might have been there for hours, I don’t even know. It’s just that what I’ve seen in the last few days… Who knows, maybe I couldn’t leave because I was supposed to wait for you, if you believe in all that fate business.” John sensed the big man’s fear – something he found more than a little unsettling. Reams did not look like the sort of man who would be scared of anything, so this hit John with as much force as if the big man had just struck him with a sledgehammer.
Reams continued, “John, I truly hope your family is okay, but you have to understand how bad this thing is. What you saw out there earlier isn’t even the beginning. Before we do this I need you to see something, to understand something. John, it’s real bad out there, and from what I’ve seen I don’t think too many folks around here are going to pull through this thing. If I’m going with you, I need to know you understand and accept what we are dealing with. We are going to need a damn good plan to get out of here, and we’re going to need a damn good plan for whatever we find once we get there—no matter what that is.”
John absorbed the meaning of the big man’s last statement. Thankful that his implications had not spurred John into another aggressive fit of rage, Reams stood and motioned for John to follow him toward the stairs leading up to the small roof access door. He opened the door and stealthily inched over to the edge. Reams handed John a pair of binoculars scavenged from the plane in the hangar below. He motioned for him to scan the fence and the surrounding areas. Raising the binoculars, John began to do so but froze almost immediately, his face going ghostly pale for the second time that night as he saw what had become of the airport parking lot less than two hundred yards away. Reams was expecting this because he had experienced it only a couple of days ago. It pained him to watch the paralyzing agony flood through John’s body, but he knew it was necessary and might just keep him alive. He knew John would need some time to come to terms with the horrors that lay beyond the lenses of the binoculars—time without those very horrors trying relentlessly to tear him apart.
Reams witnessed countless people ripped to shreds because they weren’t afforded such a luxury. Upon seeing one of the execrable things, so many people just stood unmoving as if in a trance, only to be mauled by the very thing crippling them with fear. Later, Reams reflected on this intriguing behavior that subserved the propagation of the horrid plague and, in a way, it reminded him of the ability of vibrantly colored, sweet-smelling flowers to draw insects in to unknowingly participate in the propagation of the plant. The comparison made Reams wonder if he might be losing his mind that first night.
Now he knew, with the painful reality of past experience, exactly what was surging through John’s entire mind, body, and soul. Even as he was experiencing the mental bludgeoning vicariously, he was still grateful John was able to endure the emotional barrage of what he was seeing without those bastards trying to feast on him as his mind struggled to grasp what it was witnessing. After a few long moments Reams heard John take a shallow, strained breath.
“My God,” John managed to say in choked voice that barely sounded human. He turned away from the binoculars and placed his face in the crook of his elbow.
“I know, man. You see why you needed to see this now?” said Reams. What lay beyond the fence was more horrible than words could describe. Bodies, people, things—all pressed against the fence, all clawing ferociously to get in. There were perhaps fifty or sixty of them in perpetual motion, making the fence itself look alive with the wriggling movement of a snake.
Beyond them were more ‘people’ shambling about without obvious direction, like they were searching for a set of lost car keys or a missing contact lens. In the distance, John saw what appeared to be several fires burning now. Though it was night, the light seemed to fill most of the sky along the horizon.
Without realizing it, John began peering through the binoculars again, holding his breath as he scanned the macabre scene. When he had seen enough, John’s body slowly loosened, and the binoculars fell away from his eyes. Not unlike a passerby gazing upon a gruesome accident scene, John had to willfully force his eyes to close and look away.
As John turned, Reams could see that his eyes were full of tears, and he wondered how much he had truly been able to see through the flood. Judging by the pale, almost green hue of his skin, Reams decided it was enough.
John collapsed forward and heaved as the weight of what he had seen finally percolated through his entire being before culminating in his stomach. Recovering, John slowly raised his head, and said, “What the hell are we going to do?”
Though Reams had no response to offer his new friend, his resolute gaze conveyed a strength and determination John found to be more reassuring than any words the man could have mustered. The two new companions returned to th
e inside of the dimly lit hangar and began working on a plan for their escape. After a few moments to compose himself, John said, “So what do we know about these things?”
Reams considered the question before speaking, and then began to share what he had learned over the last few days. “They don’t seem to have any ability to reason or remember, and they don’t seem to tire out. Once they have their sights set on something they pursue it relentlessly, no matter how futile, unless something else grabs their attention. The only things I’ve seen draw their attention are people or something indicating the presence of people.”
Reams continued, “And there is no talking them down either, you have to take them down. The only way it seems this can be done reliably is to smash their heads in—brain ’em. I hit one with a crowbar so hard it lodged in its stomach, and it acted like I just invited it in for dinner. It kept coming, maybe even faster, until I pulled the crowbar free, swung again, and lodged it in its head.”
Not having much to contribute on the subject, John added, “Hasker’s the only one I’ve seen up close. I was on a Native American reservation about five hundred miles west of here for the last couple of weeks. I am a physician, and I was working in the local clinic. There was no indication that anything unusual was happening. The population there is rather small and isolated despite the vast area of land. While modern technologies like cellular, internet, and cable exist there, they are rather sparse and unreliable with frequent, sporadic outages. The last communication I had with anyone off the reservation was the phone call to my wife, three days ago.”
With those last words John again found himself floundering under a torrent of emotions that threatened to pull him under permanently, but he stiffened his resolve and continued, “Surely there is an ongoing relief effort by law enforcement or the military? What has the government’s response been to the situation?”