Drink in case of Emergency

by Oliver, Carl

  “That’s a good girl. You let ol’ Greg take care of you now.” Licking his lips one more time, Greg took another step.

  ****

  The small plaque by the stairwell door read “Floor 68” as the four friends stopped their long climb to take a quick break. The bottle of whiskey they had polished off on the way up did nothing to help their fitness, not that anyone had expected it to. Scott remembered that he had read once about an annual race that occurred in this very stairwell. People actually paid to race up 108 stories, for what reason, although Scott had no idea why.

  Being just over halfway up, they had been walking stairs for the better part of an hour. They had already taken two breaks prior to this one. First, because Justin was sure he was going to barf, which he didn’t. The second break was because Chris claimed he had to take a shit, which he did. Justin went with him, as they decided even with liquor protection and firearms, it would still be wise to travel in pairs. Based on the look on Justin’s face when they returned, that particular 47th story bathroom had a powerful aromatic addition to it.

  Tyler was finishing off the second bottle of water he had brought with him as they took their break. “Whew. I thought finding Charlie’s house was a bit of a hassle, but that doesn’t even compare to what you’ve got us doing for your zombie bucket-list item.” Scott let out a long sigh before responding.

  “I totally forgot about the elevators until we were in the lobby. This is like, the most impractical building ever.”

  “Now that the elevators are dead, you mean.” Chris clarified.

  “Who the fuck wants to say they work on the 68th floor of the Willis Tower, anyway? It’d be totally baller if there was just a big strip club on the 69th floor though. Like, a gentlemen’s club in the middle of an office building. If they could ever get it approved it’d be an instant success.” Tyler looked up the stairwell as he said this, almost as if he were imagining what such an establishment would be like.

  “Willis 69.” Justin said, his sole contribution to the conversation.

  “That’s a sweet name. Well, another million dollar idea down the tubes because elevators are dead.” Chris pushed himself to a standing position and began the climb up the stairs again. “This piss better be the greatest piss ever pissed. That’s all I’m saying.”

  ****

  Eighteen blocks away, exactly across the street from the alley where Mr. Gold Chain was slowly creeping towards Jessica, a shadowy figure crouched behind a dumpster. The figure’s bright blue eyes blinked a couple times, and then looked through a tactical scope. Through the scope, those eyes could see Mr. Gold Chain licking his chapped lips, and Mr. Fedora finally get an arm around a short girl’s throat. Classic sleeper hold, this guy has done this before.

  Fucker.

  A small, black fingernail flared out and switched the safety off the rifle, then the same finger rested delicately over the trigger. The figure took a slow, deep breath, locking it’s sight on Mr. Fedora, who was struggling less and less as the short girl began to fade into unconsciousness.

  Turn and look at me, I want to see your shitty face.

  Almost as if Mr. Fedora could hear the figure’s thoughts, he turned, showing the taller girl her friend, now unconscious. His mouth broken into a wide grin, like a five year old boy who just caught his first fish and wants to show it off to the world.

  Without blinking, the figure squeezed the trigger as she pursed her thick lips and slowly blew out her breath. The silencer softened the crack of the rifle, but the heavy whisper still echoed between the buildings and down the street.

  Through the scope, the figure could see Mr. Gold Chain flinching at the sudden crack and then turn in panic when he heard the meaty slap of the round colliding and going through Mr. Fedora’s face. He turned back in panic and confusion, staring at the handgun in the tall girl’s hand.

  The figure felt a smile crawl across her face as she narrowed her sights in on the dumbfounded Mr. Gold Chain’s face. The look of shock and fear on a man who had considered himself a predator not ten seconds earlier caused the shadowed figure to feel a rush of euphoria. She brought her finger to the trigger again.

  Just before she was about to pull it, the tall girl who had been catatonic came alive. The pistol she had lowered to face the ground was quickly leveled at the chest of Mr. Gold Chain. His face twisted in a final snarl of rage as he began to lunge forward in a final attempt at survival. He was able to move another single step closer before the first slug slammed into his chest. The second and third slug caused him to fall to the dirty pavement in a heap.

  Hmmmm, may have underestimated you.

  Clicking the safety back in place, the figure shouldered the weapon and stepped out of the shadows, sunlight playing off her auburn hair. She still held back, watching as the tall girl ran over to her friend, who was coming to, on the ground. The short girl had fallen back when Mr. Fedora died, landing next to his body. Her new clothes had soaked up the dirt and grease of the alleyway, as well as a substantial amount of Mr. Fedora’s blood.

  Seeing that her friend was okay, the tall girl finally put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Hello?” She called out, “Who’s there?” The figured stepped out of her adjacent alley and into the street, her natural smile filling her face. Her bright, cheerful voice penetrated the morning air.

  “Hello! I saw you were in a bit of a bind, so I helped out. I hope that’s okay. My name is Brooke.”

  ***

  The view from the 103rd floor observation deck was impressive, but Scott demanded they continue up to the rooftop area for the effort to really count. He did have a good point, they already came this far, it would be a little disappointing to give up at the 103rd floor instead of going all the way up. Chris and Justin were breaking open the door to the rooftop access while Tyler and Scott were doing the ‘gotta pee real bad’ dance in the stairwell.

  When the door finally was opened and sunlight spilled inside, Tyler and Scott pushed past their friends and out to the edge of the observation deck. Tyler instantly pulled down his fly and began peeing through and into the barrier. Scott continued his ‘gotta pee’ dance a little more, as he looked around.

  “Dude, what are you doing?” Justin asked.

  “Ohhhh, it feels so good. This is the best idea ever. We’re so high, I bet I’m even peeing on some clouds!” Tyler shouted. Scott continued to dance, holding his hands up in a rectangle shape and looking through them, framing the scene before him.

  “I came this far, I want the best possible view when I let this bladder go.” Finally he found a spot of panoramic view that seemed up to his standards. Scott unzipped his fly and let his stream fly through the air.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.” a soft moan of satisfaction escaped his lips. The sound of bliss that can only be achieved through the release of some kind of bodily fluid. He stood there, positioned strategically between two of the vertical bars that were there to prevent people from jumping.

  From behind him, Chris and Justin could see his stream being pushed sideways by the wind. Chris was a little thankful that it wasn’t a windier day, he had heard that the updraft from the wind pushing against the building for one hundred floors was one of the reasons that they gave up on using blimps to get people around in the city. The gusts were too dangerous. He just hoped that a gust didn’t push Scott or Tyler’s sprays all the way back up and into their faces. It would have been less than favorable to come all this way just to get pee in your face. Not that it is ever an agreeable time to get pee on your face, but climbing over one hundred flights of stairs to do so would be worse.

  After what seemed like five minutes, Scott finally turned back to the group, a big smile on his face.

  “I don’t mean this to be disrespectful, but you honestly look like you just got laid for the first time.” Chris said, without a note of disrespect or sarcasm in his voice. Scott had a quizzical look on his face. Part happiness, part conquest, part curiosity.

  “You do have a little b
it of a glow to you, dude.” Justin agreed.

  “I’ve been holding that piss in since we were on the street.” Scott’s quizzical look turned to a smile.

  “And you’ve been guzzling water the whole way up.” Chris reflected aloud, more to himself than as a question. It really did start to make sense when he thought about it. The satisfaction you get from emptying your bladder seems to be directly proportional to how full the bladder is in the first place. The longer you hold it, the better it feels when you do finally let it out. Scott just smiled in response.

  “Well, what do we do now?” Justin looked around at the faces of his friends. Tyler and Scott had broad grins on their faces, while Chris had a small smile of contentment. The question hung in the air for a full thirty seconds. Everyone looked back and forth at one another. Finally Chris unslung his backpack and spoke as he began digging something out from the bottom.

  “I believe this is a fine time for a toast.” Chris pulled out a dark bottle with a faded label. He stood and handed it over to Justin. Examining the label, just could make out the word “Brandy” and the date “1946”. Chris had apparently pilfered the exceedingly old bottle of brandy from some store or home they had passed in the last few days.

  “Sounds good, what do we toast to?” Scott said through his calm grin. Everyone looked to Chris, who was pulling out four snifter glasses as well. Clearly he had planned for this, and because of this, his friends expected him to have the words for the occasion as well. Chris let Justin open the bottle and poured a generous amount into each snifter and passed them out. Chris reveled in the ceremony of this, inhaling deeply over the glass before opening his mouth.

  “Gentlemen, these last few days have been exceedingly...exhausting. We have traveled many miles, accomplished impossible tasks, and made a few new friends along the way.” Justin and Scott nodded in response to this last point. “We are not going to be the saviors of this world, and I’m not really sure if we’re going to survive past today for that matter. Regardless of how this all ends, I wouldn’t begin the apocalypse any other way. Now we stand on this iconic landmark, which is fresh with the waters of our travels...” Tyler broke into a laugh at this, Scott smiled and snickered, but Chris continued. “For today, for this moment, my life is perfect. And I am glad to have shared so much of it with you. To the end of the world.” Chris held his glass up and upended it into his mouth, gulping the brandy in a single swallow. His three friends gave a cheer in agreement and followed suit, downing their drinks in the same fashion.

  Twenty seconds later, Justin and Tyler had puked up their brandy. Scott was about to do the same, over the railing so he could say he puked off the Willis Tower too. Chris hadn’t moved from where he stood, looking thoughtfully at the empty glass in his hands, and then around him. He missed his friends regurgitating on a national landmark, his eyes were affixed to the panoramic view of the city.

  To the survivor, the spoils.

  On the edge of the observation deck, Scott began puking over the edge of the tower. One hundred and seven stories below, on the street, the puke was falling on the heads of the last dozen zombies that were being led into the lobby of the Willis Tower.

  After another ten minutes, the four friends began making their slow descent to the city below, unaware of the danger that was about to greet them.

  The entire world stopped for Jessica. For a full twenty seconds she believed that time stood still. She remembered seeing Amy hang lifeless from the arms of Mr. Fedora, and then in a split second, they were both on the ground. Jessica wasn’t sure what was happening, but she heard a noise, and there was blood everywhere. She remembered thinking that it could have been her. That Mr. Gold Chain was only five feet away now. If he reached her, it was all over. That dark red blood, full of life, nothing like the purple mess that came out of the zombie Amy had just helped her slaughter. Oh, sweet Amy, she taught her so much in so little time. And she was totally going to rock those orange shorts too. The idea of Amy never getting to wear those shorts steeled her resolve.

  Jessica felt the solid weight of the gun in her hand. A moment before, it had weighed a hundred pounds, she had almost let the burden drop from her fingers. Now it felt small again. Small and deadly. She raised her arm and put four rounds into Mr. Gold Chain’s chest.

  Time sped back up, and it suddenly registered to Jessica that Amy was moving slightly. Dropping the gun, she ran over to Amy’s side and began shaking her arm. Amy’s eyes fluttered and slowly came into focus. Jessica felt overwhelmed with joy, which turned to panic when she heard a loud voice shouting behind her.

  Turning quickly, she realized with fear that she had dropped the gun.

  Why was she so stupid to drop the gun? There could be more than two of them.

  Turning to look east toward the sound of the voice, Jessica was blinded by the midmorning sun. Another second or two passed before it registered to her that this voice she was hearing belonged to a woman. This lessened her panic to a dull unease.

  Amy was rolling groggily off of Mr. Fedora’s corpse while Jessica helped her up. The source of the voice finally stepped far enough out of the far alley so Jessica was able to make out a silhouette. She was tall, at least taller than herself. As the woman drew closer, Jessica could see that she had bright auburn hair that looked as though it was on fire in the morning sunlight. She had full lips that were in a wide grin, bright white teeth showing beneath.

  “Hello, I’m not sure if you heard me. My name is Brooke. Those guys weren’t friends of yours, were they?” The woman’s voice was soft and cheerful. It reminded Jessica of every beauty queen she had ever seen answering one of those scripted questions about world peace.

  As she came closer, Jessica was able to finally look her over. She was on the taller end, maybe 5’10 or 5’11. She had wavy auburn hair that fell over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her enchanting ice colored eyes lit up what was already a beautiful face. She wore a charcoal gray trench coat that seemed to hug her slight curves, along with what looked like designer jeans from here. Her dainty feet were barefoot at the moment, which seemed strange to Jessica. Looking back up, Jessica finally noticed the large rifle slung over her shoulder.

  Suddenly it dawned on Jessica what had happened. So Jessica did the only thing she could think to do in the situation, she began to cry.

  “Oh god...you...you saved our lives.” While Jessica cried and blubbered out her words, Amy worked herself into a sitting position, still dazed and unclear about what was going on. Rubbing her neck where Mr. Fedora had choked her out, Amy finally registered that a woman was walking toward them. Slowly and carefully, she reached behind her, groping for a pistol that was no longer there.

  “No problemo. You ladies need some water, food? I know a great coffee place down the street. I mean, obviously the machines aren’t going to work, but we could make something happen, or at least grab a bite to eat.”

  Amy stopped hunting for the pistol, deciding that this Brooke probably wasn’t all that dangerous. Although it hurt her throat to speak, Amy was still able to croak out, “I need a drink.”

  Jessica reached back and picked up her backpack that had fallen in her initial shock and fear. Pulling out a large water bottle, she twisted off the cap and offered it to Amy. Amy took a small sip which she spit out in a the exaggerated gesture that typically only befalls the victim of shocking news.

  “Wine. I need wine.”

  “A lady after my own heart. There’s a great place just a block away.” Brooke said in her velvety smooth voice. She walked the final ten paces and offered her hands to help the two women to their feet.

  ****

  Brooke led her two new friends to the bar she had promised was only a block away. Each grabbed their own bottle of wine and they sat at a table on the small patio outside. Over the next half hour, the three women had exchanged their stories.

  Up until a few days ago, Brooke had been an astrophysics student at the University of Chicago. The night of the plague, sh
e and a couple she was friends with had gone out to celebrate the meteor shower.

  To Brooke and her classmates, a meteor shower like the one that had happened on Thursday was a big deal. Naturally, a small celebration turned into a lot more. She had been almost a full bottle of wine in, but Dr. Aresh - the Ph.D. she was working with, was leaving her and the rest of the group in the dust. Dr. Aresh was almost two bottles of wine deep, which confused the entire group. None had ever see him have a single drink before, much less get wasted. The fact that was setting up to ruin the night was that Dr. Aresh was a sad drunk.

  Somewhere in the middle of the second bottle of wine, Dr. Aresh began crying. Crying and confessing. He started off stammering that he had tried to notify NASA of what he had found the day before. He tried to sound the alarm, but nobody would listen.

  Dr. Aresh’s specialty was the planet Saturn. He could rattle off any and every fact about Saturn, as well as all the best solar system jokes (pretty much all using “Uranus” in the punchline).

  Apparently, two days before, he had been watching Saturn remotely through a telescope in the Arizona desert, when it happened to pass through the supernova wave that was causing the meteor shower on Earth. As it passed through the wave, the rings of Saturn were pushed noticeably off course.

  Dr. Aresh had initially thought that it was just a glitch in the system, but when he checked several other telescopes across the globe, they found the same result. Whatever this wave was, it had the potential to do serious harm to all life on Earth. It was impossible to tell for sure how Earth’s atmosphere would affect the wave. If it would protect us all, or simply be swept aside like a cloud of smoke.