by Mike Kilroy
Human nature is a bitch.
Bray felt the rage well up inside him. Help her? He wanted to rip her limb from limb, to tear out her jugular, to jam a knife in her throat. Or worse. He really wanted to torture her for what she had done, hang her from that tree and watch the blood and the life drain out of her. He wanted to slowly milk what little life was left in her in a drip.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
But he refrained.
He had a conscience.
Her name was Maggie.
Maggie looked up at him, her eyes drilling into his eyes. She had so much compassion, even in these difficult times. Bray wondered where that came from. This was the same person who had brutally murdered a woman in an alley shortly before The Ejection, and now she was willing to help the person who had threatened their lives and contributed to the destruction of their home and the loss of their weapons.
Bray figured that evil part of her was brought out by her addiction, by the demons that dwelled inside of her. She was able to put a cap on that dark side easily.
Bray wasn’t so adept at bottling up his devil.
“We can’t do anything for her, babe,” Bray said softly and with remorse. “She’s already dead.”
Maggie turned her head back to Maris, who lowered hers and clenched her teeth against the pain.
“He’s probably right,” Maris said weakly. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry don’t cut it!” Bray bellowed.
Maris reached behind her and pulled out his revolver, holding it out to Maggie. “I saved one gun for you.”
Maggie hesitantly grabbed the handle of the revolver as Bray erupted into laughter.
Both sets of eyes trained on him. “Of all the guns, you hid away that one. Great. Awesome.”
“What’s wrong with it, Paul?” Maggie asked.
“There’s only one bullet in the chamber.”
“Why is there only one bullet in the chamber?”
Bray didn’t answer. How could he? He couldn’t tell his wife he played Russian roulette with it because of his despair, letting fate decide if he lived or died. He couldn’t tell Maggie that he held it to her head, thinking it was loaded, to kill her and them himself in his darkest hour. He had forgotten it was loaded with just one bullet when he pressed it to her temple and squeezed the trigger. He thought it was loaded and he surely would have killed her.
He couldn’t tell her that. Instead he stomped away toward the street and looked at the houses burning all round him. He saw a man stumble down the road and fall face first into the pavement. That man died right there, right in that spot. There were other dead bodies strewn across lawns that once hosted cookouts and volleyball games and Cornhole contests.
These houses once were full of joy and family; now they were just reminders that the world had changed and it would never be right again.
Bray walked back to Maggie and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her to her feet. “We have to go find someplace safe.”
“What about her?”
“Just leave me here,” Maris said. “This is as good a place to die as any.”
“Do you believe in God?” Maggie asked Maris. It drew a raise of the eyebrow from Maris, who coughed, a swirl of red in the sputum.
“Why?”
“Because if you believe in God, then you must believe in heaven. And if you believe in God and heaven, you must believe in Satan and hell, and we are most surely in hell right now.”
“I don’t believe in God,” Maris said weakly, her eyes beginning to flitter about. The light of the flames danced off her pale face and Bray could tell she only had minutes left.
“I hope there is,” Maggie said as she knelt and caressed her face with the back of her hand. “And I hope you did enough good things in your life before this so you can go to heaven.”
Maggie stood, but Maris reached out and grabbed her arm. Bray took a few menacing steps toward Maris, but she put her other hand up to calm his fears. “Go to Halcyon. Paul knows what I’m talking about.”
Bray knelt and pried Maris’ fingers from Maggie’s arm.
“Good. Let’s go, babe.”
Maggie stood and looked down at Maris again. She had pity in her eyes. Bray groused. There was no more time for pity. “Let’s go! The sooner we leave the better.”
They left Maris there to die. She coughed up more blood and leaned her head back against the bark of the oak. As they rounded the corner of the burning house, Bray glanced back at Maris, who looked up to the sky and said, “It’s time.”
***
They had walked for miles—stumbled really. They were tired and hungry and thirsty. Their lips were cracked, their faces pale and Bray’s eyesight had begun to blur.
Maggie shuffled along as if she was a zombie. She had no expression, just a dull gaze forward.
The sky had begun to darken as they wandered. With each step the world around them plunged deeper into blackness.
Bray blinked wildly, trying to focus. A settlement of tents and the dim flicker of campfires were set against the horizon. Bray grabbed Maggie’s hand, cold and boney. “C’mon. Maybe they have food.”
“Maybe they will kill us,” Maggie’s voice was weak and breathy. She said it almost as if she desired it. He figured either way she would find some respite to her misery.
They quickened their pace, walking as fast as their weary bones would allow, toward the settlement. Once they reached the outer tents, they were noticed by suspicious eyes.
Finally, a man, tall and muscular with a moustache crawling above his thick lips and jutting jaw, approached. He stood in front of Bray and Maggie, examining them through his steel-colored eyes.
Bray cleared his throat and forced a smile on his lips. “Maybe you can help out a couple of poor, hungry souls?”
Chapter Six
One Year Later: Everything Has a Price
Bray had felt pain before. When he got that tattoo on his neck, he gritted his teeth against the burn and blinked away the tears that had formed in his eyes. He didn’t think something like getting a tattoo on the tender skin of the back of the neck could hurt so much.
He felt pain when he was in the academy. He remembered lying in bed, the muscles in his legs seizing. He slept little those night, his calves and quads barking at him.
He didn’t mind that pain so much because he knew it was for a purpose.
Since Bray was a little boy, he wanted to be a police officer. He wanted to wear a uniform and catch the bad guys, make them pay for their crimes and bring justice to the world.
So fucking naïve.
The pain he felt now as he stumbled through the field was more intense than any he had felt before.
And it didn’t come from the arrow that was stuck through his right hand, dripping blood onto the burnt, brown grass.
It was from profound loss. Maggie was dead.
Murdered by one of the bad guys.
He felt like crying. But this was no time to cry.
He wept anyway, tears running down his thin cheeks and into his thick growth of tangled black beard.
Sweat dripped from his long strands of hair as he walked. He didn’t know how he kept his feet moving forward, but he did, his left hand clutched tightly around his right wrist.
Finally, he couldn’t walk any farther.
He dropped to his knees onto a dusty patch of land where grass once grew, but was singed and burned away by the sun. He toppled to his right side, the dirt matting to the side of his wet head in a cake of mud and grit, and he closed his eyes.
He thought he may never open them again. He thought perhaps that was a good thing.
He would see Maggie again soon.
***
Bray forced his eyes open; a bright light hovered above him.
For a moment he thought he was in heaven, that the glowing beam above him was God and he cracked a slight smile.
Maybe I should have taken my confession more seriously.
But, as Bray quickly discovered
, it was not God. It was a strange sight nonetheless and almost as rare as seeing Him these days.
It was the first time Bray had seen light cast from an electric light bulb in more than a year. It shone from under an alabaster glass shade attached to a cream white ceiling and he stared at it until his eyes burned intensely enough that he had to look away.
He lay on a doctor’s exam table in a small room with bright, mustard yellow walls. An IV was stuck into his left arm. Set on a table attacked to the wall on his right was a bloody arrowhead and a bolt with fletching at the end of it. He peered down at his right hand to see it wrapped heavily in gauze, a spot of red seeping through on his palm and on the top of his hand.
Bray tried to sit up, but the room spun violently. He heard muffled voices from outside the room and then saw the door swing open and a woman step through.
“You’re awake,” the woman said. She looked healthy and had a bright smile on her face. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She wore a white coat and snapped on latex gloves as she approached.
She grabbed his bandaged hand and began to unravel the gauze until his wound was exposed. “Looks good. No infection. Let’s hope it stays that way.” She wrapped it tightly again, all the while staring into Bray’s eyes with a strange, inquisitive look.
“What’s your name?” Bray asked.
“That was gonna be my question.”
Bray began to speak, but paused; then out of nowhere the name, “Blackburn,” fell from his lips.
“Blackburn? Just Blackburn?”
“Yes. For now.”
“Well, Blackburn, it looks like you’ve been through the ringer. You’re quite a frail man right now. We’ll get you back on your feet.”
Bray’s eyes darted around the room again, and then set back on the woman. “I told you my name; what’s yours.”
“Halle.”
“Just Halle?”
“Yes. For now.” She winked.
“Is this a hospital?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you in charge here?”
“Not exactly.” She winked again.
“Where am I?”
Halle replaced his IV bag with a fresh one and then pressed her index and middle fingers to his neck. She then placed her wrist against his forehead. “You need to rest. You’ll get your answers when you are feeling better.”
Halle moved toward the door, but Bray called out to her, “Halle.” She stopped and looked back with a grin. She stared expectantly at him until he said, softly, “Thank you.”
***
When Bray awoke, his arm was free of the IV and a new bandage was wrapped around his hand, this one clean and white.
He sat up and his head didn’t balk at the movement.
He swung his legs over the side of the table and stood. He felt refreshed and strong. His head, which had pounded for months, was finally clear.
It was focused enough to allow him to fully feel his loss. The love of his life was gone and someone was going to pay.
But first, I need some answers.
Bray walked toward the door, but it opened before he reached it. Halle was startled by Bray. “Well, you look a sight better,” she said, smiling.
“I feel much better. Can get those answers now?”
She nodded. “Follow me.”
Halle led Bray through the halls of what was obviously once a doctor’s office and then they spilled outside into the warm sun. Bray could hear the din of conversations melding into a hum as people bustled in what was once a parking lot, but now was a makeshift town center.
They sold and bartered clothing, blankets, fruits, vegetables, bread and water from tables that lined the center of the asphalt square. It was busy on this crisp, sun-drenched morning and no one gave Bray a second look as he and Halle strolled along.
He looked back to see the building tower into the azure sky. It was once a medical center that appeared to be converted to house an entire community.
“We’ve built a nice place here,” Halle said as they stopped at the edge of the parking lot and began walking back toward the building.
“I’d say so. How did I get here?”
“Our patrol found you.”
“And they dragged me all the way back here?”
Halle smiled coyly.“Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?”
“They were going to leave you there, but I insisted they go back to get you. We can’t de-evolve. We have to keep our humanity. It’s all we have left.”
“I would have left me there, too.”
Halle cocked her head. “I doubt that. You seem like a compassionate man.”
Bray snickered. “You don’t know me.”
“I don’t know. You look okay to me.”
“Who runs this place?”
“Jay. But he’s out on a supply run. Those generators don’t run on positive thoughts.”
“When will he be back?”
Halle laughed. “It’s hard to tell with Jay. He’s kind of a free spirit. Bold to the point of reckless sometimes, but he’s kept this place running for nearly a year now. It wasn’t easy at first. There were some growing pains to be sure. Some tough decisions needed to be made, but it worked out in the end, I guess.” Halle patted Bray on the shoulder and smiled that disarming smile of her again. She had a way of making Bray feel at ease. He couldn’t afford that. He had to get and edge and keep it.
No friends in this Armageddon.
She grabbed his shoulder this time and squeezed. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
They had converted a lab into a kitchen and Bray’s stomach leapt at the smell of vegetables frying in a skillet. He was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, but he wasn’t going to turn down a stir-fry.
Can’t be picky in this Armageddon.
Bray ate quickly, stuffing the zucchini and broccoli and onions and tomatoes into his mouth. He barely chewed the food.
“Don’t eat too fast and too much,” Halle warned. “You might perforate your stomach.”
Bray nodded and slowed. It felt good to eat a full meal again. He and Maggie had scraped by on what little food they could gather from the land—roots mostly. Rarely when they begged did they receive enough to fill their stomachs.
It was a hard life, but Maggie had made him promise to not kill. Killing would have made their existence so much easier, but he listened to his wife, despite his better judgment.
Now, she was gone.
He tried not to blame her, but he did in a callous way. His promise to her likely led to her death.
Bray finished his vegetables and leaned back in his chair. Halle seemed to take delight in his savoring of the meal. “So, what were you before The Ejection?”
“Well fed and happy—mostly.”
“No. What was your profession?”
“I was a cop. A detective.”
“See. I knew you’re a good guy.”
“Judging by your skills around a flesh wound, you were a nurse?”
“Not exactly,” Halle said, chuckling.
“What then?”
“A surgeon. Neurosurgery at UPMC Passavant. Not a lot of need for a brain surgeon now.”
“Not a lot of need for a cop now, either.”
“So, what happened to you out there?” Halle asked as she ran her fingers through her hair than hung down like yellow silk. Bray was amazed at how well everyone here looked, from the good doctor all the way down to the cooks who prepared the food.
Halcyon? Fuck that. Who needs Halcyon when there’s a place like this?
“What happens to most assholes now, I guess. Shit catches up to you.”
Halle looked at his hand. The bandage was still clean and Bray was finally able to move his fingers without searing pain.
“An arrow through your hand? Can’t say I’ve seen that one after The Ejection,” Halle said.
Bray bit down hard and he felt the rage well up inside of him again. He supposed Halle could see it, too
, spilling out of his eyes like lava from the mouth of a volcano. She backed away a bit from the display. He tried to control it—he’d need to at least pretend he wasn’t willing to kill every last one of this lot if it would help he attain the revenge he sought—but failed at completely bottling it up.
“This … man did this to me. He killed my wife with an arrow through her eye. Just like that, she was dead and for no reason. We were no threat to him.”
“I’m sorry.”
Bray could tell she meant it. Living here hadn’t beaten the humanity out of her yet. She still had feelings, genuinely good ones.
Sucker. When this place goes to pot like the rest of the world, she’s gonna wish she didn’t care so much.
Halle stared down at her empty plate. Bray could tell she was at a loss for what to say next. He imagined that was natural. What do you say to a dude who just lost his wife? It was a hard thing before The Ejection and even harder now.
“It’s okay. I’m gonna kill him.” His words drew her attentive eyes to him. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe next month or a year from now. But he’s gonna die.”
Bray wondered if he should have said such a thing to Halle. After all, he had just met her and he was a stranger in this community. They nursed him back to health and gave him food and he tipped his homicidal hand.
Halle, though, didn’t react as he expected.
She smiled. “At least you have something to strive for and you’re not just living for the sake of living.”
The detective in Bray was taking over now. This had turned into an opportunity for an interrogation. It was obvious to Bray that there were deeper issues here, problems below the sunshine and rainbow surface of this alleged utopia.
“Is that what you are doing? Living just for the hell of it?”
Halle shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s much better here than, well, probably anywhere else.”
“But?”
“It’s just surviving. Not living.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Not for me. Everything comes with a price.”
***
Bray watched a man fumble with the keys. Finally, the man—average in almost every way—found the correct one and unlocked the door, lowering his shoulder softly into it to swing it open.