by Amy Miles
7
FLIRTING IS ONLY GREAT WHEN IT’S DIRECTED AT ME.
Sometime during the night, when the only sound I can hear is the steady drone of a nasal foghorn coming from across the room, I notice something feels off. Lifting my head off of my pillow I see nearly sixty occupied cots and sleeping teens. A pig snort catches my attention and I drill Sammy’s sleeping form with a laser glare. Of course, he is the source of the fog horn. I should have recognized it but I never spent all that much time in our room at night.
Pushing back my blanket, I sit up and looked around. I still have on my boots as a force of habit since the world went spiraling down the crapper. You just never know when you will need to run. I grab my jacket from where it hangs off the edge of the bed and swing it around my shoulders, threading my arms through as I peer through the dark. Something is definitely different. I just can’t place my finger on it but I’ve learned to trust my gut and right now it’s rolling hard.
“Go back to bed, son,” one of the soldiers near the door says as I approach.
“Aren’t you a bit too ugly to have a son as handsome as me?”
He glares down at me, his finger twitching against the trigger of his gun, but when his partner kicks him in the shin, the insulted soldier scowls and then rests the weight of his gun on his hip. At least that means he isn’t going to slam that thing into my head...yet. I’m sure that I can stomach a second brain omelet in a single day.
“What do you want?” The partner asks. I can tell he doesn’t give a shit. His eyes are hooded with sleep and I’ve probably rudely awakened him while on watch. Not that I blame him. There is anything riveting going on around this place.
“I gotta take a piss,” I add a little crossed knee action for his benefit.
“Use the toilet over there.”
I turn to follow the direction of his hand and then scoff. “I don’t piss in buckets.”
“Well, you aren’t going to find a tree in here, kid.” Lt. Jacobson, the slightly more likable part of the duo, chews obnoxiously on a large wad of bright pink gum. I catch a faint whiff of watermelon and smirk. He sure is a real man’s man. I feel safer already.
“Look, I don’t want to cause any trouble here, guys. I just want to take a piss so why don’t you just open that door a little so I can slip out and find a tree and I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”
“Not gonna happen.” Lt. Clockman, aka Ugly Face from now on because of the sneer that seems glues onto his features, looks eager to shove my nose straight through the back of my head. I know that I can probably outrun him. He is too stocky and would be slow on the getaway, but he is tall enough to have a long reach. I weigh out my options and decide that I can take him.
I make a lunge for the keys at his belt and almost hook my finger around them before I feel the barrel of his gun slam into my back. I hit chest first onto the concrete floor and groan as a heavy foot immediately stomps down on my spine, holding me in place.
“Bastard,” I growl and fight against his foot. “I should have taken you for a pansy who only hits from behind!”
“Now why would you go and pull a stunt like that, kid?” I turn my face to see Lt. Jacobson kneeling beside me.
“Something’s going down out there and I want to know what it is.” Spittle darkens the floor in front of my mouth. My cheekbone aches as Ugly Face shoves me harder against the floor.
“Even if there was, which there isn’t,” he says, patting the radio at his shoulder which has remained annoyingly silent since we entered the bunker, “you’d be the last person we’d tell.”
“I’ve got rights!”
Ugly Face chuckles and if I could have managed it, I might have been tempted to take a chunk out of his leg just to shut him up. “What rights do you think you still have in a world like this, son?”
He places extra emphasis on the word son just to tick me off and it works.
“Don’t you care that you’re being lied to?” I decide a different angle might work better with these two blockheads. “I’ve got family up there right now. You probably do too. Doesn’t it bother you that we’ve been locked away while they might be dying? You heard the message just like I did. It was a containment breach. Sure sounded pretty serious when those sirens went off.”
When Ugly Face laughs again, it doesn’t sound quite so deeply rooted with mockery. Maybe he’s got a Ma and Pa topside. Maybe he’s got a girl he’s sweet after. Either way, I know that I’ve managed to dig into that thick skull of his just enough to make him question.
His boot shifts on my back and Lt. Jacobson glances up at him. “It has been radio silent for a while,” Jacobson says.
“Shut your pie hole,” Ugly Face rasps back. I wish that I could see his face. I’d give anything to witness his rapid decline into fear but I’ll have to settle with savoring the telltale tremor in his voice. “We’ve got orders and we’re going to follow them.”
“Sure,” I wiggle beneath his boot, trying to ease some of the pressure off of my ribs. The floor isn’t exactly a forgiving surface to be crushed against. “I can see why you’d remain loyal. I mean, it’s not like your commander thinks you can handle the tough stuff. How hard can it be to babysit a few kids? Yeah, I wouldn’t rock that boat either. Let the real men fight to save your asses while you stay right where you belong, taking out piss in buckets.”
When Ugly Face stamps down hard on my back, I realize that maybe I should have held my tongue on that last part, but that isn’t in my nature to sugar coat words. I am a wise ass to a painful fault.
“Is there a problem here, gentleman?”
I nearly groan aloud for a second time when I hear Ember’s footsteps behind me. The girl has balls and I’m torn between admiration and downright annoyance. I’d started to get somewhere with those two idiots and she just ruined the moment.
“Not at all.” Jacobson’s responding grin when Ember bats her eyelashes makes me want to hurl. “This student was just in need of a lesson in manners.”
“Oh,” she glances down at me and I notice a slight widening of her eyes before she looks away, “of that I have no doubt. Roan isn’t exactly known for playing well with others.”
Jacobson lets out a wheezing laugh and then rises to his feet. I’m not really sure how Ember holds a straight face when he winks at her because I am busting a gut, or at least trying to but expanding said gut is made a bit difficult by the damn boot holding me down.
“Is there something that you need, Miss?”
Ember seems to think it over for a moment before stepping over me and moves closer to Ugly Face. I roll my eyes and decided it is far better to stare at the dried bubblegum smear on the floor less than three inches from my nose than to watch her flirt.
“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear your...conversation with Roan and I was wondering if there might be any news from topside. My mother is up there and I’m so worried that something has happened to her. I’ve been tossing and turning and I’m nearly beside myself with worry. I’d sure feel a lot better if there was some way that I could know she’s safe.”
“I’m sure sorry to hear that you’ve been worrying,” Jacobson says, “I guess we could make a call and check for you. What do you think, Clockman?”
Ugly Face shifts his boot, grinding the tread into my spine. I grit my teeth and refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing my cry of pain. “I ain’t doing it just because you’re sweet on her, Jacobson.”
“I’m not...whatever man. Just make the call. You know you’re curious too.”
“Maybe but I’ve got orders.”
“Do you?” I glance up when Ember softly questions him. “I’m sorry to interrupt you but it’s been hours since we heard anything. How do you even know if there’s anyone left up there to give orders?”
Ugly Face applies more pressure to the ball of his feet as he leans closer to her and I feel my ribs begin to grind against my skin.
“She’s got a point, Clockman. We need
to know.”
I hold my breath through the pain and nearly expel it in one great gust when he pulls back and the pain in my chest diminishes enough to allow me to think again. “Fine. I’ll make the call but when they come down on me for it, you’re taking the fall. I ain’t being reprimanded because you’re hot to trot, Jacobson.”
“Oh, that is simply wonderful!” Ember cries and latches onto Jacobson’s arm. Now I know I’m going to be sick!
“Do you mind if I wait here for a moment while you do? There’s a draft over where I’m sleeping and the company is far more pleasant here.”
Un-freaking-believable. Next thing she’ll be asking for is a cashmere blanket and a cup of tea.
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum would probably fall all over themselves to get it for her too. I knew she’d got to Ugly Face too. There was no way a prick like him would put his neck on the line without a bit of thinking involved from his southern nether regions.
Sure, she is hot, and that shirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but they are at least ten years older than her and butt ugly. Keep dreaming, boys. If she’s desperate enough to hook up with someone they will be the last on her list.
At the thought of her hooking up, I frown. Why should I care who she is with?
I catch her eye when Jacobson and Clockman argue over who is making the call. She shoots a haughty “you should have just asked me for help,” look.
The truth of it is that I’m not good at asking for help. Nor am I thrilled that she’s rubbing her hand along Jacobson’s arm. Both place me in a very uncomfortable place of emotion that I would rather not think about.
“What do you think, Clockman?” Jacobson asks, interrupting my self-examination. “I wouldn’t mind the company for a bit, myself.”
“Yeah. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything.”
I glance up in time to see him give Ember a once over and feel a second irrational urge to smash his face in, for being so obvious about it, of course. She might not be my favorite person in the world but I sure as hell don’t want her being treated like a piece of meat either. I wasn’t raised to accept shit like that.
Without glancing down at me, Ember loops her arm through Lt. Jacobson’s and saunters off. When Ugly Face’s boot shifts again I buck against him, trying to throw him off. “Now what are we going to do with you, son?”
I find out a couple of minutes later when I am hurled back onto my cot with my hands zip tied in front of me. My responding glare feels pretty fangless as Ugly Face walks away to leave me to nurse a few new wounds. I’ve had plenty of split lips in my time, and I know a good shiner when I see one, but the new ringing in my ears can’t be good. Ugly Face sure enjoyed roughing me up once my hands were tied.
The idiot never even stopped to wonder why I let him.
“I really gotta stop letting people hit me in the head.” I lay back onto the mattress and keep a firm grip on a set of keys nestled in my palm. I hum to myself for several minutes so that I don’t have to hear Ember’s laughter while I work on a plan of escape.
Technically we have one in place but it’s lame and feels more like a hodgepodge of ideas that I went along with just to get the other to shut up. All of their opinions and input gave me a headache. I get that they need to feel a sense of control about what’s happening to them but at the end of the day, it’s my way or the highway. I just have to make sure that my way doesn’t inadvertently get us all killed.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I finally hear footsteps approaching but when I look up at Ember I fully expect to see another haughty “I told you so,” grin on her face. Instead, she shoots me a warning glance and returns to her cot without a single word.
What the hell is that all about?
Sammy’s snores come and go throughout the long night. Sometimes his nasal foghorn grows so loud I am sure that he could rock the building on its foundations. At other times, he tapers off and I wonder if it’s stopped breathing. That’s usually when the whimpering begins.
Sammy has suffered from nightmares for as long as he’s been here. Usually, they don’t get to me. We all have the dreams. I guess it’s only natural when you have a walking freak show marching past every day, but sometimes, and those are the really bad times, someone sees a person they know and the nightmares are shared around.
As I lie there listening to his nightmares, I know what he must be seeing: emotionless eyes, dangling flesh and arms always reaching for him. He told me once that he always dreams about his parents, about the way they went out. I guess the only saving grace was that they went peacefully. I have a feeling before this is all over that we won’t all be that lucky.
Many of the kids in this room have lost at least one, if not both parents along with siblings, cousins, grandparents and the whole lot. I don’t have anyone but my mom to care about and that means I can remain mostly detached. That means I can make the hard decisions without having to care.
I glance over at Sammy as he shakes in his bed with his knees curled up into his chest and I think about Short Stack. Did their school get evacuated? There was room for the lower grade kids to join us but no one has said a word about them. I hope that’s not being done on purpose. I would feel sick to my stomach if anything happened to that kid.
Right around the time that I am beginning to sag with sleep I hear a knocking on the blast door. It is faint enough not to wake those in a deep sleep but I am instantly awake. Judging by a few other heads that pop up around me, I’m not the only one struggling to sleep.
I hear Ugly Face mutter a curse from his slumped post beside the door before he glances at his arm and studies it for a second before keying in the code. If only I’d thought to look there before I took a beating. Of course, I would be in need of the keys I have in hand once we are free of this basement. If I’m right, and I think that I am, these keys belong to the chains on the front door and hopefully the armory cage.
Three enormous bolts begin to draw back into the doorframe. With a loud clunk, the door swings open. I am already on my feet ready to sprint through the gap when my mom walks through the door with several nurses behind. Their shoulders slump from exhaustion but they move swiftly through the door so that it can be closed behind them. I listen for the locks to re-engage but they remain silent.
In an attempt to appear normal, I sink down onto my cot and watch my mom confer with the group of teachers sitting in the far corner. Several nod and point to the rows of students. Very few remain asleep now.
Each of the nurses is clothed from head to foot in a hazmat suit. None appears to be covered in splatters of blood or soot from an explosion. I watch each as they gently rouse the kids in the first row and began prepping for their blood tests. The nurses seem annoyingly normal as they move with their usual methodical precision as if nothing terrible has happened. I knew it is a lie. It has to be. Something is very wrong on the topside, but despite all of that, they have still come to jab us with freakin’ needles.
“Of course,” I snort and shake my head in disgust.
“What’s going on?” Tyrel rises up from his cot. When he takes a glance at my bound hands he frowns. “Rough night?”
“You could say that.” I jerk my chin toward the nurses. “The vampires are here.”
He turns and gently shakes Isa awake, then begins to wake those nearest him. I just sit with my hands clasped between my legs and note every detail just in case some detail can be useful later.
Tyrel really is a good guy and that sucks. A willingness to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others only makes you weak and eventually dead. I can’t rely on him to be on my team long term so there’s no point in my wasting breath on him. Coleman on the other hand still might come in useful.
I look over at the boy and see that his eyes are wide open but he’s got his back to the door. His eyes no longer hold the puffy redness that I saw earlier. I am right about him. He’s a survivor.
“You gonna explain why you followed me? And why don’t you
go ahead and follow that up with an explanation about what you heard on that radio call you had with your boyfriend?” I say without turning when I notice movement from the corner of my eye.
When Ember settles down next to me on the cot she doesn’t say a word. With her eyes watching everything unfolding before us, she bumps my shoulder and rolls her hand over. There, sketched into the palm of her right hand is a set of numbers.
“You yanked the code off Ugly face?” I blurt out.
She hisses and slams her foot down onto my toes. “Say that again out loud and I will leave your sorry ass tied up.”
I can’t quite decide in this moment if I love her or want to put her in her place. Probably a healthy dose of both but when she produces a small set of nail clippers and cuts through my bindings I know this moment of kindness is going to come back to haunt me. When she moves to rise I place a foot in front of her to stop her from leaving.
“Don’t clench your hand tight when they draw your blood.” She glances down at me with her forehead drawn with confusion. “You don’t want to sweat the code off.”
“As if.” I watch as she heads back to her cot and almost let a smile spill onto my lips before I catch Vaughn watching me.
“Hands off, dude,” he calls. “I already called dibs.”
“You called dibs on every girl here when you arrived, even the ugly ones.”
He shrugs and shoves his feet into his boots as the nurse makes her way down our aisle. “I like to cover my bases.”
“Whatever.”
Over the next hour, I survey the movements around the room. My mom is manning a section of students too far away for me to breach the gap without drawing attention to myself but I have to see her. I need to know what she’s seen and what she knows. I also deserve to know why she’d allowed that creep to shove his tongue down her throat.
“I’ll cover for you.” I turn to see that Coleman has shifted his cot closer, blocking mine from the nurses sight.
“What?”
“I know, ok? I’m not stupid. I saw how you reacted when that nurse walked in. If I had a chance to see my family again I’d do just about anything to make it happen. Let’s call it what it is. I help you and when the time comes you help me hunt down my dad, deal?”