Viktor coughs mid-drink. He hacks out a good amount of the beer he’d been trying to get down.
Elie whistles. “No. Nope. Sorry. You don’t need a couple of old engineers. You need theoretical physicists. And a lot of time. And a lot of money.”
Viktor wipes alcohol from his lips and shirt. “M-theory, and the superstring theories that underlie it, is hypothetical. Even if it’s true, then those strings and the way they shimmy-shake create particles. Or represent particles. If the vibrations can be called frequencies at all, and I’d guess they can’t, we’re talking about the sounds of creation. Hell, they aren’t even sounds. Not really.”
“It’s way beyond our scope. Even when dealing with two brilliant, handsome gentlemen such as your father and myself.” He smirks.
Caleb stares at the ceiling. Pouts. Lets his head fall to the table with a dull thud.
Viktor rubs Caleb’s back. “Hey, bud. It was a cool idea at least. You wanted to set up a decoy or something, right? So the Corrupted would go after it and not us?”
Caleb mumbles, “Mmhm.”
“So you want a distraction. Is there some other way to distract them?”
Caleb shrugs. His arms hang at his sides.
“Come on, Caleb,” Viktor sys. “I’m sure you can think of something.”
Elie and Dierdra switch spots. The mother insists. She brushes Caleb’s hair with her fingers. The boy bangs his head against the table.
Viktor and Dierdra look to Jack.
Jack holds up a hand. He’s just thinking. It’s weird, but so is he. Let him be.
After more headache-inducing pounding, Caleb bolts upright. “Us.” His forehead is bright red from the thumping. “Us!”
Jack and Catarina cock their eyebrows.
Jack twirls his index finger. Okay, yeah, spit it out.
Caleb paces around the table. He scratches his head. Thinking, but anxious. He points at Jack and Catarina. “We’re the decoys. We’re the distraction.
“The Corrupted are gonna come down right on our heads. That gives Three and his brothers time to maneuver around them for the kill. Because they know we’ll buy them time, even if we don’t mean to. Even if it means we all die.”
Everyone is quiet. There’s a terrible, uncomfortable lull.
Then, “Shit.” Caleb shrieks. “Shit!” He jumps. Slams his feet.
Viktor and Dierdra let him be this time.
Caleb flops into his seat. Lets his head fall to the table with another thud. He feels duped. Betrayed.
Jack takes a drag from his American Spirit. Hands it to Catarina. She does the same.
Jack says, “I knew it. I tried to warn you. Three is such a dick. But, oh, no, we gotta trust the ancient monster. He’s goddamn Yoda except with tentacles. Don’t try to kill him, Jack. He’s going to help us. Blah blah blah.”
Caleb takes Elie’s tumbler of Jameson.
Elie in turn steals Jack’s cigarette.
Caleb holds his stolen glass of whiskey. Twirls the amber liquid in the glass. Watches the motion of the fluid and the little whirlpool it creates.
He downs Elie’s drink with a gulp.
Without a cough or hiss, he sets the empty glass back down on the table. He eyeballs his kin like General Patton surveying a battle plan.
Jack nods to him.
Caleb nods back. “We’re going to kill them all.”
Chapter 30: Null
They spend a few hours drinking. Can you blame them?
Then they sleep.
Viktor and Dierdra fight the nightmares in their bed.
Caleb does much of the same, alone.
Jack and Catarina toss and turn in his bed without realizing it.
Elie twists on the couch downstairs.
Mental anguish for all.
* * *
They awake with a feeling of unease, but none of them remember the dreams.
“Thirty-six hours from eight last night, when we left Three,” Jack says. “It’s one in the afternoon now. Nineteen hours left.”
Caleb drinks a glass of water. “Nineteen.”
“You gonna try to talk to Zarifa again?”
“No.” Dierdra slides a plate of eggs and hash browns under his nose.
Her demeanor is one of curious acceptance. She’s not excited for her children. But she intends to treat them seriously. The last thing they need, she reasons, is a line of skepticism from Mom. “Eat. You’ll need the energy.”
Jack chuckles. “We’ll need more than that.”
She squints at him. Hands him an overloaded plate of eggs, grits, and bacon. “Close to more, good sir?”
“Perfect.” He takes the plate. Gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. Bows his head. “I’m sorry about last night. I wasn’t thinking. This thing in my head...it...”
Dierdra cups his cheeks in her hands. “Forgiven.” She plants a kiss on his forehead. Shoos him away. “Eat. Eat.”
He obliges her. Sits. Shovels food into his mouth.
Catarina enters the kitchen a few minutes later, yawning.
Jack says, “Literally the first time in our lives that she’s woken up later than me, and it’s the apocalypse. What happened to punctuality, lady?”
Catarina flips him off. “Eat a hot bowl of dicks.”
Dierdra says, “Coffee?”
“Guh, please. Won’t be functiony... Can’t function otherwise.”
Jack crunches into a piece of bacon. “You’re adorable when you’re incapable of coherent thought.”
Elie walks in next. “Couch is comfy but goddamn did I get a shitty night’s sleep.”
Viktor opens the door from outside. White undershirt and face stained with grease and grime. He’s been working on the Charger. “So, waking up at one in the afternoon. That a Jewish thing?”
Elie rolls his eyes. “Thing is, bunch of dirty goyim tricked me and my lovely daughter into drinking too much. Drugged us chosen people, one could be led to think.”
“It’s a Slovak thing,” Viktor says.
“It’s an Irish thing,” Dierdra says.
Elie asks Dierdra, “Coffee?”
“Working on it.”
Viktor kisses Dierdra. He turns to Jack and Caleb. “Who wants to help work on the Charger?”
Jack finishes the last bit of eggs on his plate. “What’ve you told your job about this extended vacation in hell? Both of you, I mean.” He jerks his head at Elie. “Aren’t they gonna be pissed?”
Viktor shrugs. “Told them pretty much the same thing we told your school after Halloween. Family business. Touch-and-go. Sick kids. We call them when we can work. Call them when we can’t. Us dads have been dedicated for a long time. We’ve earned a certain amount of trust from the bosses.”
Elie chuckles.
Caleb clears his plate. “What. You tell them me and Jack and Catarina have random whooping cough or something?”
“Well, no,” Viktor says with a hint of apology in his voice.
Elie says, “We told them you three had a complete psychological breakdown.”
The kids stare at him. Angry.
Viktor clears his throat. “So...the Charger?”
* * *
It’s sunny outside. Jack says, “Stupid sun. When are they gonna put that thing out? Doesn’t fit my mood at all.”
What with the end of the world coming and all.
He says, “Shit, Dad. You couldn’t’ve been a little more creative?” He and Viktor lean over the black two-door hardtop Charger’s Hemi V8 engine. “I mean, really. After the insanity of Halloween, couldn’t you have just said we were on vacation or something?”
“Didn’t think of it.” Viktor tightens a glistening valve cover that looks to Caleb like a silvery Twinkie.
Caleb pokes the logo on the front of the car’s grille that reads “Charger R/T.”
From a glance at the Charger and its coke bottle curves, it’s clear the machine needs very little work. The car looks like it wants to just go. It’s begging to be driven.
V
iktor says, “I’m a bad liar, Jack. What do you want from me? Besides, it’s pretty close to what we thought happened.”
Jack steps back. Lights a cigarette. He crosses his arms. Eyes his father. “You still don’t believe us?”
“No, we do. We’ve seen too much not to. That night. How you came back. Patrick. The voice. The headaches. The dreams. We believe you.” Viktor grabs a rag from the back pocket of his jeans. Wipes some of the grease from his forehead. “But I’ll admit we didn’t at first. That much I’ll cop to.”
Jack inhales. Exhales.
Viktor punches his eldest son in the shoulder. “Hey, the bosses bought it at least, right? Can’t fault the results.”
Jack cracks a smile. “Guess not.”
“You should quit smoking those things. They’ll kill you.”
“Dad, much bigger things are trying to kill me.”
Viktor grips Jack’s shoulder. “Now, my boy, you are truly Slovak. Depressing and realistic.” He gets down on his haunches and taps Caleb’s back. “Want to start her up?”
Caleb says, “Hell yes.”
Viktor clasps his hands together. Walks to the door of the house. Pokes his head into the kitchen where the rest of the Tribe is. “Taking the Charger for a spin.”
Caleb hops into the driver’s seat. He reaches for the key with excited fingers. Turns it. The big Hemi engine roars to life.
Beautiful.
The three Svoboda men pour into the front seat. Jack pushes Caleb into the middle and puts himself behind the wheel.
Caleb moans. “I wanna drive... I can drive. I’m an excellent driver.”
“Bet you are,” Viktor says. “But the cops don’t look at it as a ‘can’ issue. Your brother at least has his license.”
Jack grins. He adjusts to this new machine’s feel. Pops the car in reverse. Backs onto the street.
Caleb crosses his arms in dissatisfaction.
Jack says, “Glad you’re acting like a twelve-year-old again.”
Caleb turns the radio on. AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” pummels the Charger’s upgraded sound system.
Jack says, “Perfect.”
“Where are we going, boys?” Viktor throws an arm around Caleb. Leans back. Feels the sun on his face. Like a much younger version of himself. He smiles so wide that nobody in the world would believe him if he said the end was very goddamn nigh.
Jack guns the engine. “Anywhere but here.” They shoot away.
Caleb has just one thought, Perfect.
Seventeen hours until the Corrupted arrive.
The three Svoboda men are joyriding.
And that’s just fine.
They cruise by Fort Hamilton Park and its voluptuous trees. Then they head north on the Belt Parkway. The windows are down. Their hair flaps and flutters around their faces. Jack opens the Charger up and blows past other drivers.
To their left, the Hudson and its hidden horrors gleam. A blue mirror shining bright with the sun’s reflection.
Caleb digs his fingers into the dash. Watches with intense curiosity as the road turns into a blurry, white-lined track.
Jack cranks it. They hit eighty. Eighty-five. Jack laughs. He doesn’t weave in and out of traffic. He makes the Charger juke and sidestep other cars.
Ninety.
Viktor lets out a howl. “I wasn’t even sure she’d go this fast. God. Damn.” He tousles Caleb’s hair.
Jack eases off the gas. They drop to a respectable—and mostly legal—seventy. They follow Shore Parkway along as it hooks right. Then onto Shore Road. Jack swings them down Ridge Boulevard, back in the direction of home.
They take their time. Leave the windows down. The music blares.
Jack only guns the engine a few times. Mostly to scare people with plastic foreign cars. Plus one asshole on a bike.
* * *
Jack, Caleb, and Viktor saunter into the kitchen.
Dierdra says, “Where’ve you guys been?”
Viktor claps his hands. “The Charger drives like you wouldn’t believe.” He slides his arms around her waist. Kisses her cheeks instead of answering her.
She pushes him away a little. “Oh, I’m thrilled for you.”
“Yeah, us too,” Elie says. He tilts his head toward Catarina.
The Schriebers are now caffeinated.
Catarina says, “So, that whole end-of-the-world-thing. Guess we don’t need to be too concerned about it, huh?”
“Everything’s fine,” Caleb says. “We have fifteen hours to prepare, plan, and make the shelter. More than enough time.”
Viktor says, “What shelter?”
“The basement. That’s where you adults are gonna stay until we deal with the Corrupted and the Hroza.”
Elie takes his coffee mug to get a refill. “You’re gonna be hard-pressed to get me to live in a basement.”
Viktor and Dierdra wait, hands together.
Caleb presses his thumb and forefinger together at the bridge of his nose. “You’re just going to have to warm up to the idea, Mr. Schrieber. It’s the safest place.”
“Dad,” Catarina says, “he’s right. We don’t know what’s gonna happen when those things get here.”
Elie cocks an eyebrow at her.
She begs. “Dad, please.”
Elie bounces the mug in his hands. “Sorry. I’m not staying locked up somewhere. Especially if the area’s going nuts. I want to be able to run and move and you just can’t do that in a basement. I’ll help you guys build whatever it is, but I’m not staying down there.”
“You realize that you’re going to be far more vulnerable up here, don’t you?”
“Up here I can run. I prefer that. No offense, Caleb.”
“Caleb,” Viktor says, “maybe Elie’s right.”
Jack says, “Yeah, dude. He might be. More options up here.”
Caleb stomps. “No. We have to lock this place down. We have to make it safe.” He looks to the Tribe. His eyes glisten with tears.
Jack knows exactly what Caleb is afraid of. And he has a feeling it’ll come to pass no matter what precautions they take.
Chapter 31: No Such Thing As Safe
Jack drills another screw into a basement window frame to secure steel bars. “Oddly enough, this is more work than I thought I’d be doing a mere twelve hours before evil cosmic bastards land in Brooklyn.”
Catarina says, “What did you think we’d be doing?” She secures steel bars on her side.
Jack wipes his brow. “Talking. Planning. Figuring out what we’re gonna do.”
“It’s just after eight now. They won’t show until morning. Plenty of time.”
“Yeah. Guess Caleb’ll be talking our ears off soon as we’re done.”
Catarina drives her final screw in. “Have you ever thought that maybe Caleb—”
“Doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. He’s twelve. And he’s a powerful kind of scared right now.”
“So why’s he calling the shots?”
“He isn’t. He’s thinking defensively. Listen, I agree with your dad. Wouldn’t want to be locked up somewhere. But we aren’t locking anyone up. Just giving my folks another layer of defense if they need it. And your dad if he wants it. Securing the house is the right thing to do. Making a shelter down here, ditto.” Jack drills the final screw in. “All done with the windows.”
The basement looks more like a prison than a sanctuary.
Jack brushes Catarina’s long hair back from her face. Tucks it behind an ear. He gives her a smile. Wraps his arms around her.
They hold each other.
* * *
Upstairs, Viktor, Elie and Caleb are setting more bars into window frames.
“Neighbors are gonna think they’re in the wrong part of town,” Viktor says. “Hell, the people at Home Depot probably think even weirder things.”
“They’ll certainly wish they were somewhere else if those things come back,” Elie says.
Caleb’s voice is humorless. “Not if. When.”
Viktor and Elie exchange a glance.
Dierdra hollers from the kitchen, “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Jack and Catarina emerge from downstairs.
“All done down there,” Catarina says. “Just gotta move whatever food and supplies you want. But that’s cake.”
Jack opens the fridge. Grabs a beer. He points to Catarina.
“Yes, please,” she says.
Jack puts a beer in front of her. Sits. Opens his own. “What’s for dinner?”
“Tuna noodle casserole with cream of mushroom and American cheese. Your favorite, if I’m not mistaken,” Dierdra says.
Jack chugs some beer. “Excellent. Thank you.”
The rest of the Tribe joins them in the kitchen.
Elie rubs his chin. “Windows are done. Both front and side doors have metal bars that can be lifted. Supplies are ready to be hauled downstairs.” He arches his eyebrows. “That’s about it.”
Viktor grabs beers for the adults. “Short of setting up a force field, this place is as monster, or riot, proof as it’s going to get.”
Caleb’s glum and as lost in thought as ever.
Viktor pours two fingers of whiskey into a glass and slides it under the twelve-year-old’s nose.
The boy lifts the glass and sips. He enjoys the burn that works its way down his throat. The warmth that settles and spreads there.
Viktor leans toward his son. “You’ve got to enjoy the time you have,” he says in a whisper. He rubs Caleb’s shoulder.
Caleb looks to his brother. To Catarina. To Elie. To his mother. To his father.
He climbs onto his chair. Raises his glass.
The Tribe raise their drinks in response.
Caleb begins a toast, even though he’s aware something terrible is going to happen soon. He remembers a Dylan Thomas poem from school:
“To us. To our minds and what we’re capable of. And woe unto anyone or anything that thinks we might go gently into that good night. Because we will not.
“Do not go gentle.”
The Tribe cheers and drinks. “Do not go gentle.”
Caleb puts his hands up like a prize fighter.
Jack grabs him on one side and Viktor on the other. They sit the boy on their shoulders. Parade him around.
Caleb lets go and enjoys the time he has.
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