Someday Soon

by Brandon Zenner

  As he inspected the bodies for the face of Karl Metzger, his heart beat with trepidation, praying to his own gods that Bethany was not among the dead; but neither friend nor enemy lay among the corpses. Two out of the four vehicles he’d witnessed fleeing Hightown were parked on the side of the road, the gas caps hanging from the open valves.

  Fuel. The things people kill for.

  The pavement twinkled with bullet shells reflecting the sun, but there was no indication of a battle, no bullet holes in the vehicles, no retuned fire from the line of men. This was an execution, through and through, and by all appearances, committed by their colleagues.

  The area seemed tainted, inhabited by corrupt spirits, and despite the press to move onward, Simon first checked the two vehicles. He found what he’d been hoping for: one of their radios. The keys were still in the ignition, and when he turned the electricity to life, he grabbed the receiver. As expected, a code was needed to access the frequency the Red Hands used. He turned the radio off and went back to his truck.

  Deciphering the route became more difficult now that he was trailing two vehicles instead of four. As night approached, he abandoned the pursuit, partially because seeing the slight nuances of bent grasses, broken twigs, and nudged vehicles was exponentially more difficult in the dark and inside the cabin of the truck, but also because he felt exposed with his headlights beaming against the crushing shadows. As it became too dark to see without the lights, he found a thicket of stalled vehicles and parked alongside them, to make his home for the night among the dry old corpses occupying the neighboring cars.

  With the absence of light, he found the only activity to distract his thoughts from the demons in his mind was to attempt deep meditation. The task was impossible for long durations, as his mind wandered to Bethany, to Karl, to Brian, to Winston, to Connor, to Carolanne, to Jeremy, and to the idea that this entire rescue pursuit could be in folly. A romanticized vision … a heroic endeavor … his death.

  The strength he carried dissolved at night in lows, and then was brought back up again by focusing his attention to his breath, letting his gaze wander on a glint of moonlight on the dashboard. Remain in the present moment, he told himself. Do not think of the future, the past, what could come, what might never occur … It was impossible at times.

  Despite the outward negative forces, he’d been trained for this. The two years spent in isolation in the cabin, the thousands of mental demons he fought when trapped inside for months as the snow fell. He breathed, in and out, and focused on the absence of thought, on nothing and everything. Soon, he realized he could sleep. His brain had burned to the last of its fortitude, and if he wanted to continue this hunt with a rational mind, in folly or not, he had to put aside his racing trepidations and manage at least a few hours of sleep.

  ***

  When the sun rose, with the green of the grass vibrant again, the sky pale forms of yellows, blues, and reds, the urgency of the plight arose. Simon filled the fuel tank while eating a high-calorie survival bar and continued the journey. Miles upon miles of nothing but destruction, overcome by dust and earth. It had been two years since Simon’s last journey far from Alice, and the world had decomposed into a crumbling trash heap. That’s what humanity had become: trash. All garbage. Thousands of vehicles parked wherever they stopped, plant life clinging to their rusted sides. Bodies overcome by flowering greenery, their bones woven through by creeping weeds like threads from a needle.

  The interstate was becoming a forest, trees obscuring street signs and dilapidated rest stops. In another year, two tops, it would be impossible to determine much of the landscape as not belonging to a jungle. This could be humanity’s chance to right itself, to begin fresh. There was enough fertile land to support flourishing plant life, enough edibles found in the wild to help people endure.

  The path went straight for hours, and with them Simon thought about the craziness of this all, that he was driving across the country to save one person and eliminate the others, while seeing how nature found a way to bounce back better than ever with the absence of human life.

  His trail of thought was cut off as a crater enveloped half the road, relatively new judging by the young sprouts inside the blackened pit. In the center was a strange mass of machinery, twisted and burnt. A round, half-broken section the size of a small car, and then a longer cylindrical device double in length. Small sections of bright metal emerged from the wreckage, reflecting the sun. A satellite, no doubt. Simon wondered about radiation or spilled chemicals as he passed, but his worry subsided knowing the wreckage was old.

  It wasn’t the first downed satellite he’d seen—there was one west of Alice that he’d viewed through binoculars, but this was the closest he’d been to one. Close enough that he could have read the country of origin if it had been written on the side before its fiery downfall.

  Then something strange occurred; the tire tracks veered off Interstate Forty. Simon stopped and took a long look at the two roads ahead—the interstate and the exit. The long grasses over Forty moved delicately in the wind, unbroken and untrod. The map didn’t give a good indication of where the exit could lead, but it was no longer heading toward Odyssey, unless Karl had knowledge that the road ahead was undrivable.

  He turned onto the exit, following the tire marks, and came to a town. The vines of thousands of plants had reduced the façades of the buildings to rubble, slowly weaving themselves through bricks and mortar, until the structures became little more than dust. The trail of the fleeing tires followed to the opposite side of the town, where at the end, a large warehouse construction store had a tree emerging from a collapsed roof.

  No more than a mile further, two dark forms lay on the side of the road. Simon slowed, looking out the window at the lifeless bodies. New corpses to blend with the old. Both were male, and neither was tall enough to be Karl Metzger, so Simon didn’t bother to stop and inspect them closer. For whatever reason, the Red Hands were eliminating their own, shedding their skin to emerge as a new form of the same snake.

  God, I wish I had Winston here to keep me company, he thought as the hours went by, and the sky began to dim. He didn’t want to spend another night in the truck, without a fire, alone with his thoughts.

  Judging by the map and the signs he could read through the overgrown brush, he had entered the northern border of Texas a little time ago. The Lone Star Colony was far to the south, near the water, and he had no reason to believe he was traveling there. By his current perception, the line of pursuit might take him to Haddonfield Maximum Security Prison, where he knew the Red Hands had a stronghold. It was the logical assumption.

  The grassy terrain was changing to dry and arid soil, and blown sand overtook the road. Soon, he’d have to stop for the night, park the truck in another thicket of …

  … was that a light?

  Up ahead …

  He pulled over and killed the engine, spying the faint flicker of illumination. There was no smoke to give the indication that it was a fire. By all appearances, it was artificial. Simon opened the door, enjoying the warm breezy air and the smell of desert sagebrush.

  He hugged the side of the road, rifle in hand, and climbed a small hill. The land all around was flat, and the small incline provided adequate vantage. Through his binoculars he saw a wall, more of a fence, the color of which resembled the arid soil. The light emerged from somewhere inside, and although it was hard to properly determine in the fading evening, it looked as if the tire tracks followed straight to this walled-off city.

  Then the light turned off, and the area was again shrouded in the developing starlight.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Passenger Seat

  In Karl’s long absence, Marianna had fared better than he had anticipated. Left without the stern leadership of one of his top officers, like Liam Briggs, Captain Black, Bishop, the Priest, Sultan, or Mark Rothstein, the soldiers had kept reasonable order.

  They arrived before sunset into a deserted land. Al
l the men had been ordered to retreat to Odyssey, where they were told to await Karl’s arrival. Odyssey, though, would soon fall. It was inevitable against the overwhelming force of the colonies. Karl’s new hope was that all of his men would perish. Better they be dead than left alive to interrogate, to give rumor that perhaps he was alive within the walls of Marianna. If he wanted to survive, his notion of the world he had once longed to possess must change. For now, this meant a warm meal. Plenty of water. Copious amounts of hard alcohol and tobacco. And an eternity to spend with Bethany.

  He parked near the warehouse and said to Liam, “I’ll get her to bed. You get a meal going.” He motioned with his head to the trunk, but Liam was still asleep. “Liam …” he said, then spied the blood-soaked floorboard by his lieutenant’s feet. “Shit,” Karl said, and shook his head. “Sorry, old sport.” He patted Liam’s shoulder. “The ride must have bumped something loose.” He checked Liam’s pulse just to be sure, but could tell by the temperature of the man’s skin that he had expired at some point in their drive.

  Karl opened his door and stepped out, stretching his back. He let out a yawn, then opened the trunk and stood smiling down at Bethany in her disheveled form.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he said.

  She blinked rapidly behind the dark circles around her eyes, but didn’t speak. Her gag had been off for hours, but still she didn’t say a word. Not a sound. She hadn’t eaten or had a lick of water.

  “Come on now,” he said, sliding his hand around her bicep. “Easy does it, come on out.”

  He helped her to her feet, and she faltered, her eyes fluttering up in their lids. He caught her and was about to lay her on down to let the blood rush back to her head, but then she regained her strength and her eyes opened.

  “You need food, water. Come on.”

  He cut the binds around her ankles, and they began walking across the dusty lane.

  “What,” her voice squeaked out, barely audible, “do you want with me?”

  “Come again?”

  “What …” She licked her chapped lips. “Why are you doing this?”

  He smiled. “You’re special to me.”

  “Special?” Her voice cracked into something close to a laugh, but a tear had formed and slid down her cheek. “I’ll never love you … I’ll never feel anything but repulsion at the thought of your hideous face.”

  His grip tightened around her arm.

  “Oh, I understand. It will take time. Years, maybe. And love is such a silly word.”

  “Your army is gone. You’re all alone. That piece of shit in the passenger seat is dead, and you don’t even care. Was he a friend of yours? Are you capable of feeling any human emotion other than joy at seeing people die? And what makes you think the colonies don’t know about this place? They’ll find you. They’ll kill you.”

  “Look who’s suddenly chatty?”

  “It’s true, you can’t hide from them.”

  “I intend to do just that. At least for a duration, until this whole thing blows over.”

  “Blows over?” Her voice was incredulous. “Blows over! You’ve killed thousands, you’ve murdered, executed, kidnapped—”

  “I’ve done no such thing. I’ve survived. With survival comes obstacles and tribulations, all of which I’ve risen above. Some things, such as my deceased officer in the vehicle … well, those things come with survival.”

  They were on the far edge of town, with the central pond in view around a cluster of buildings that were more like shacks.

  “You can’t keep me forever,” she said. “You can’t keep me locked away like a toy.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Have you ever been with a woman? I bet you haven’t. I bet—”

  “You remind me of Charlotte.” He paused, waiting for her to ask who Charlotte was, but when she didn’t, he continued. “I was twelve … no, thirteen. She was the same age, give or take. I had served a duration at a juvenile detention center; I believe that time was for robbery, but I do not recall. Anyway, I was released. My mother and father came to sign me out. Pick me up. In the parking lot, me holding my backpack, when we were far enough away from the detention center, my dad turned and gave me a swift punch. It wasn’t the first time I felt his knuckles, but it was the worst sting of my life up to that point. ‘Walk,’ he told me. ‘Walk home.’ My mother was crying, shaking her head, saying, ‘How did such a monster come from my body?’ They got in their car and drove away.

  “So, I began the five-mile journey home. I remember the day like it was yesterday, the spring air both cool and warm at the same time. The blue sky without a puff of clouds. The way my legs and feet took to the pavement, three miles in, feeling strength in my muscles. It was wonderful. After two months of staring at cement walls, allowed outside only in a trampled muddy lot where the boys got into fistfights, angry over the physical and sexual abuse from the counselors and guards, this walk was glorious. I was free to explore parks, gardens … the world was open, mine for the taking. I was a mile away from my home when schools were getting out. And then I saw her, my dear Charlotte.”

  “I don’t care about your twisted ex-girlfriend,” Bethany cut in.

  “She was so much more than that. The moment my eyes glanced upon her slender frame, her pale complexion, jet-black hair, the fire in her eyes … I knew she was mine.”

  “I ain’t her, so you can—”

  “Would you like me to find that gag again?”

  Bethany didn’t answer.

  “For weeks, once I was again reintroduced to the public-school system, I would sneak out when I could, run two towns over to watch my Charlotte leave her school. She’d laugh and talk with her friends, books in her arms, her long black hair blowing in the breeze. She was the depiction of teenage innocence.

  “My father spent a duration as a carpenter, when he wasn’t too drunk to operate the tools. But mostly, his gear sat around collecting dust in the garage. The back of our property bordered on woods, where I spent my youth climbing trees and hunting small animals with BB guns and knives. One day I got my dad’s shovel and started digging a hole. I realized later that somewhere deep in my subconscious I knew what I was doing, but at the time, I rationalized that I was just having fun, being a boy. I dug and dug, and then used my father’s saws and hammers, and strips of timber he’d brought back from job sites. I fortified the walls. Had a nice little room underway. All of this when I was thirteen. You should be impressed; most boys are still playing cops and robbers.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more,” she said.

  “Oh, but you do. You need to understand the way things are. So, this little underground room was shaping up, tall enough for me to stand in. In the meantime, I watched my Charlotte from afar. Followed her bus one day. Saw her home. For many evenings, I stood outside her windows in the night, watching her eat dinner with her family, everyone smiling, laughing. She had to be mine. I still told myself that little room was all for fun, a hideout, but I knew that it was for her and her only. There was no way around it. Our fates were intertwined, the same as mine and yours.” He motioned between them.

  “In hindsight,” Karl continued, “I was not able to make it hospitable enough for her to survive for a long period, despite my best efforts. At night, before I fell asleep, I would fantasize about having her out there, if only for a few days. It would be my crowning achievement. I was waterproofing the room when my father found it. He saw his tools covered in a tarp, dirty, his wood cut to size. When I got home from school, he greeted me with an open hand across the cheek. “Don’t touch my tools,” he said. “What you diggin’ that hole for anyway? A place for you to bury more of the neighborhood cats and dogs? They’ll lock you up for good, you go off doing that again.” He marched me out in the woods, made me pour gasoline in the pit, absorb into the wood, and stood sipping a beer as he passed me the matches. “Do it, or I’ll knock you silly,” he said.

  “At night, I still fantasized about Charlotte, po
ssessing her, having her close by, alive or dead, flesh or bones. I would start a new room somewhere else, a better bunker. I spent the summer finding a spot, to no avail. When school started back up, well, Charlotte was gone. Nowhere to be seen. I watched the kids go in and out of the building, day after day. My only guess is that she moved.”

  “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

  Karl opened the door to a small structure, half cabin and half plywood walls. The interior was a single room with a cast-iron stove and three cots against the walls. It was littered with empty bottles and food wrappers. He moved a cot aside and felt along the floor until he said, “Ah-ha, here we go.” He pried up a loose floorboard and placed it aside. Beneath was a circular doorway. “I haven’t had the chance to witness this marvel yet,” he said. “It was discovered after my departure. Whoever made it and when they made it remains a mystery.” He opened the circular doorway and said, “After you.”

  Bethany shook her head. “No.” Her voice trembled. “There’s no way I’m going down there.”

  “From what I’ve been told, it’s rather impressive. Enough room for a dozen. More than enough storage for food and water. Once we hear that Odyssey has fallen, we can spend a few weeks below the ground, waiting for the colonies to search Marianna. They will find it deserted, and after they travel back to their homes, many, many miles away, you and I can start our happy family, together forever. Perhaps one day I’ll let you out to breathe fresh air, but that’s yet to be seen. Come now.”

  “I’m not going down—”

  “Did you not learn the lesson from my story? I will never allow for another Charlotte, do you understand? I will not spend years fantasizing. You’re going down there where it’s safe. You belong to me, and I will never let you go.”