by James Sperl
In this, he would not disappoint.
Mr. Stitch and Ludi had been standing on either side of the front door. Inferno nodded to them, setting each one in motion. They rallied the other guards in the room, all of whom had retreated to corners and doorways while Inferno conducted his interrogation. Before he knew it, a six-person security force surrounded him.
He just needed to attend to one more detail before he went outside.
She had curled into an unmoving ball on the well-worn love seat since Ludi escorted her there more than an hour ago, eyes glazed and body slack. Inferno thought she had looked better, but then again, who hadn't? He raised her chin to meet his gaze.
“It's the beginning of a new day,” he said. “And you're here to witness it.”
She only glared at him with an even mix of hatred and glassy-eyed dependency.
“But I have good news. We know where your friends are. Soon we'll all be together again, one big happy family, right on through to the apocalypse.”
For a moment it seemed as if she would say something, but in the end, she either thought better of it, or she couldn't muster the strength. She gave Inferno a wan smile and let her eyes drift blankly to the floor.
“Good girl. Enjoy your brief respite from Rage. I apologize for having to bring you down, but we can't have you geared up at the moment, can we? It's nice, don't you think? My special blend. I hear it's like floating on a cloud of cotton over a swelling sea. But I wouldn't know. I never use my product. Why would I, when there are so many human lab rats willing to do it for me? But don't worry. You'll be raging again before you know it.” Inferno brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Float on, Valentina.”
Standing upright, Inferno produced his neoprene skull mask. He eased it over his damaged and scarred head, which was coated with a thick layer of burn gel. The mask made suction sounds as he slipped it over his face, the noise causing Valentina to coil into an even tighter ball. He pulled the hood to his sweatshirt over his head and donned a pair of coal-black sunglasses; then he nodded to Mr. Stitch, who opened the front door.
Inferno stepped onto the porch in waning sunlight, quieting the hundreds of desperate people who had gathered to see him. Expressions ran the gamut from surprise to shock to revulsion to elation. No one said a word for the briefest moment. Then applause erupted.
The cheers rose in volume as did the arms of those who provided them. People reached for Inferno, his mere presence messianic, but the wall of security separating him from them kept them at bay.
Inferno raised a hand. The ovation petered to a smattering of claps. He looked out over their eager faces and absorbed their fear.
Then he told them what he wanted them to do.
CHAPTER 51
Clarissa thought the first thing she would notice upon entering New Framingham's daycare center—a wisely re-purposed Babies R Us—would be the noise. It turned out to be the smell.
Babies indeed cried, and toddlers ran amok, screaming and shouting in oblivious, post-world glee, but it was the odor that arrested her. It wasn't potent, but the scent of feces, urine, and alcohol—all of which were barely masked by what smelled like Glade air freshener, “Fresh Linen” scent—lingered in the air.
A woman positioned behind a desk not fifteen feet from the front door looked up from sorting papers and offered a genial smile. Clarissa returned it, noticing in the moment that all of the cash register stations had been removed and that the woman's desk comprised three of them repurposed to form a customer service island.
“Hi!” said the chipper woman, who somehow managed to maintain a cute, blond bob in spite of things. “Dropping off?”
Clarissa gave the baby a glance. “What? No. No, I'm just coming over from the jobs market.” She held up an index card, which was date-stamped and signed. “It says you have positions available.”
The woman's shoulders slackened, and she allowed her head to drop nearly to the desk surface. “Oh, my God, do we ever.” She held out her hand to take Clarissa's card. “We've been short-staffed for weeks, but kids keep on a-coming.”
Clarissa stepped up to the desk and handed the woman the card. The woman gave it a cursory glance and nodded to herself.
“Have you got daycare experience?”
Clarissa shook her head. “None. But it says that none is required.”
“It isn't,” said the woman, who held up an assuring palm. “We just ask so we know what level of training a person needs.” She turned her attention to the baby, who was captivated by all the children running around. “She's beautiful, your daughter.”
Clarissa knew what she wanted to say—what she should probably say—but instead, she thought she would try out a new response.
“Thank you.”
The woman flicked the index card with a finger, which made a loud snapping sound. “Let me see if I can find the shift manager. I'll be right back.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The woman shuffled through an open play area, stopping briefly to stoop and listen to a little boy, who wanted to show her his Duplo creation. She gave a thumbs up, tousled his hair, then disappeared behind a row of shelving.
Clarissa was amazed by the store's transformation. Divided into clearly marked sections, each denoted a specific age group up to five years old. Zero-to-six months old and six-to-twelve months old children were set up near the back of the store, which Clarissa thought was smart. It kept the littlest of the littles away from entryway foot traffic and Sleep Zone noise.
One-to-two-year-olds had been designated a section to the far right of the store, while two-to-three-year-olds utilized a cordoned-off space on the left. From Clarissa's vantage point, she could see two workers playing simple number games on a dry-erase board with them. Tiny voices cried out what they saw.
The older children were the big winners. Front and center of the store, the three-to-five-year-olds enjoyed a generous play area where they were allowed to go bonkers. Age-appropriate toys lined the perimeter of the matted space and were stored either on shelves or in any one of several soft-shell bins. Clarissa tried to count all the children, but it was like trying to count bees swarming a beehive. If she had to guess, she would put their number close to a hundred. Maybe more. That was a lot. The exhausted expressions on the five workers who monitored the play area all but verified this.
Despite the controlled insanity, Clarissa felt comfortable here. Yes, there were a lot of children, but it was a joyful madness shared by a whole demographic of people who were, by and large, unaware of what went on outside New Framingham. Sure, the older kids had likely seen things and perhaps asked questions, and maybe their parents had tried to explain what was happening the best they could, but if the children were traumatized by the answers, it didn't register in their smiling faces and shrieks of delight. Clarissa thought she could use some of that unbridled happiness in her life right now. The baby that wriggled in her arms reminded her she was off to a great start.
The woman reappeared from the back followed by a young man so striking it caused Clarissa to do a double take. When she left to get the shift manager, Clarissa had a preconceived idea that the person the woman returned with would be a squat soccer mom with banged hair and a too-red lipsticked smile. Not a second tier male Vanity Fair model.
The pair weaved among the arranged shelves until the woman was back behind the desk.
“This is Dustin Taless,” she said, seconds ahead of his arrival. “He's kind of the head honcho around here.”
Dustin smiled through a held blink. “I'm just the manager. Hi. Dustin.” He held out his hand. Clarissa shook it, once she shifted the baby to her left side so her right hand was free. “So Yvette tells me you want to work here. That's great. You'd be surprised how often our job listings get overlooked.”
“Really?” said Clarissa, who tried not to stare too much into Dustin's smoky-blue eyes. “I would've thought people would want to work here. It seems so happy.”
Dustin shrugged. “Then y
ou would be wrong.” He grinned playfully. “Truth of the matter is that most people find kids stressful, and life is already stressful enough with things the way they are. If anything, our daycare is an oasis for parents. A chance for them to regroup and reclaim their sanity after they drop their kids off. You know, just like how it was before.”
Clarissa giggled but stopped abruptly. She worried that she sounded like a crush girl.
“I see you have one of your own.” Dustin reached out a finger to the baby. “Your first?”
Clarissa swallowed. “Yes, she is.”
“She's adorable. You and your husband must be so proud.”
“Oh, it's just me. I'm not married. No boyfriend either. It's just me and her. And our friends. But no. No husband.” Shut up, Clarissa! “We found her, I mean. On the road. So now she's with us.”
“Yeah? That's incredibly selfless. She's one lucky baby.”
Clarissa smiled, but all she wanted to do was find the nearest hole so she could crawl into it and die. Fortunately, Dustin ignored her swooning ramblings. Had it really been so long since she had met a handsome man her age? Had she forgotten how to act in front of an attractive member of the opposite sex? Clarissa decided she didn't want to know the answers to those questions when she realized she had to stop to think about the answers.
Dustin was obviously a good looking guy. Anyone who appreciated shoulder-length sandy blond hair—which he had pulled back at the moment—a lean physique, and kind eyes would likely agree. Standing at just over six feet tall, he wasn't buff, but he wasn't a beanpole either. In fact, Clarissa thought he was perfectly proportioned, so much so that she had to erase the lascivious thoughts about him from her mind before she continued with the interview.
“So, as I was telling her,” she said, nodding at the woman Dustin had called Yvette, “I don't have any experience in daycare. It just seemed like something I could do.” She glanced at the baby. “Especially now.”
“Not to worry,” Dustin said. “Lots of the folks here don't have previous experience. The only real requirements we ask that people have are patience and a love of children. If you can manage both of those things, congratulations, you're hired.”
Clarissa looked from Dustin to Yvette: Is he serious? Yvette nodded.
“Oh, and it also doesn't hurt if you can be a kid yourself. This is probably one of the only jobs in the world where acting childish is encouraged.”
Clarissa grinned curiously. “You make it sound so...fun.”
“Good! It should be.” Dustin indicated the children behind him, who romped and played. “Our goal is to give these guys a place where they can ignore the outside world, a place where they can continue to be a kid and forget about the childhood they're losing.”
If Clarissa's heart thumped any harder, she feared it might explode from her chest. She was that close to reaching out and touching Dustin to see if he was real.
“They see and hear enough scary stuff out there. If a child can come in here, have fun, and play until he or she vomits from exhaustion, then we'll have done our jobs.”
Clarissa burst into laughter. “Okay, I think I can do that.”
A pair of mothers entered the daycare. Yvette excused herself and intercepted them away from Dustin and Clarissa.
Dustin folded his arms. “You new to New Framingham?”
“Yeah,” Clarissa nodded. “Just got here a few hours ago.”
“Pretty overwhelming, huh?”
“Just a touch. I undershot my expectations by a mile. This place is much more complex than I would've thought. Jobs? A security force? A daycare? I had no idea it was so organized.”
Dustin nodded his understanding. “It caught me by surprise too, and I've been here almost since the beginning. I watched this place go from literally nothing to a thriving community almost overnight. It's amazing what people are capable of when they set their minds to it.”
Clarissa smiled in lieu of a profound response. “So...were you serious about hiring me?”
“As a heart attack. Alive and willing are two of our chief qualifications, and you appear to possess both of them. So welcome aboard.”
Life was a pendulum. Not hours ago, Clarissa had lamented coming to New Framingham. Now, not only had she found a job, but it was something she thought she would enjoy, and all within whispering distance of some serious eye candy.
“Great,” she said. “When...when do I start?”
“Why don't you come by tomorrow morning. Take some time today to get yourself acclimated. In fact...” Dustin shot Yvette a concealed look as if making sure she wasn't listening. Clarissa didn't think she was; she chatted with the women that had just entered without so much as a sideways glance. “I'm off shift in twenty minutes,” he continued. “If you like, I mean, if you're free and all, I could take you and the little one around, show you what's what.”
Clarissa wondered if Dustin could see the fireworks detonating over her head.
“Sure,” she said in the calmest voice she could wrangle. “That would be great.”
* * *
The Barnes and Noble looked almost exactly how Clarissa remembered it.
The sameness of it caught her off guard. Some of the stand-alone book kiosks used to promote new arrivals and bargain sales had been moved out to accommodate tables and chairs, but the rest of the store looked just like the ones from Oregon before the Sound.
Dustin approached the tiny French-style bistro table, where Clarissa and the baby rested. He carried two ceramic cups. He set them down on the faux-marble surface, clattering the tiny spoons inside each one.
“And here we go,” he said, taking a seat on an oak straight-backed chair.
“Is that coffee?” Clarissa said, her eyes blossoming with hope.
“Don't I wish. We've been out of coffee for awhile now. Got lots of tea, though. I hope you like Earl Grey.”
“Earl Grey sounds perfect.”
Clarissa took the mug with both hands and held it under her nose. She inhaled the ribbon of vapor that snaked into her nostrils and silently mourned plans to visit London, which now seemed like a fantasy. She sipped the tea then let her eyes wander over the store, marveling at the way people interacted with one another as if nothing had occurred to change their lives forever.
“What is it?” Dustin said.
Clarissa looked at him, her brows furrowing into a near V. “I'm sorry?”
“You had this look on your face. Like you couldn't believe what you were seeing.”
“Did I?” she said, jutting her head forward. She smiled guiltily and sat back. “I guess I'm having trouble getting used to the idea that civilized societies can still exist.” She held up her tea as evidence. “I mean, come on, tea? I can't tell you the last time I just sat down and enjoyed a cup.”
“I don't know. It's not so strange, is it? We hear stories all the time of other communities like this one around the country. I've even heard that Las Vegas and Minneapolis are fully functioning cities with power, though not without an insane amount of crime and violence. But they're giving it a go. Further evidence that the good in man is still trying to prevail.”
Clarissa wasn't so sure she agreed. “If you say so. After having been on the road for the past two-plus months, I'm having a hard time being convinced of that. But this place is starting to change my opinion.”
Dustin leaned back and crossed his legs then waved to a couple across the room. “So you just arrived today. From where?”
“Oregon. Been making our way east in a roundabout way almost since the beginning.”
She considered, however briefly, delving into Rosenstein and how the mysterious research company had prompted the journey, but she decided she needed a break from talking about it.
“Well, I'm glad you found us,” said Dustin.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Dustin grinned sheepishly, and it was the first time Clarissa detected a crack in his shell of masculinity. Since she met him, he had projected an unsha
kable—yet unpretentious—image of a man who carried weight in New Framingham. Someone who was so embedded in the community and so unaffected by its tenuous grasp on normalcy that little appeared to bother him beyond the impossible task of trying to keep people happy.
But in the brief time she had spent with him, Clarissa began to notice a deterioration in his self-assurance. He fidgeted more when he spoke to her and had difficulty maintaining eye contact. On one occasion, when she had asked how married couples dealt with the Sleep Zone, she thought he had blushed. It was an innocent question, but his bumbling response and generic answer of “They just do” left Clarissa with the distinct impression that Dustin's offer to show her around New Framingham was less a gracious courtesy and more a personal desire.
In essence, she felt that Dustin Taless liked her.
“So, uh...the little one here,” he said, clearing his throat. “You said you found her?”
Clarissa tucked the edge of the blanket under the baby, who slept soundly despite the clamorous voices that filled the room.
“We did. In a grocery store. Her family...”
Dustin nodded somberly. “I understand. What's her name?”
Clarissa lifted her shoulders. “She doesn't have one yet.”
“You haven't given her a name? How come?”
Clarissa didn't want to get into the details. She still felt the group was owed some say even if Andrew didn't. But he was probably right about them not caring if she handled the duty solo.
“I'm not sure, really,” she said.
“So let's do it. Right now.”
“Huh?”
“Seriously. Pick a name.” Dustin shot forward onto his forearms, flush with enthusiasm. “Our identity is one of the few things we have left in the world. A person can't start off life without a name. So what's it going to be?”
“Uh...” Clarissa felt like a spotlight had just been shined on her. She could almost feel its heat. “I...I don't know.”
“Oh, come on. Nothing springs to mind?” Dustin pointed out the door in the direction of the daycare. “If I asked any of the girls over there what their doll's name was, every child would come back with something. Are you telling me you've never thought of having kids and what you'd name them?”