Black Mariah: Morris, Indiana (Black Mariah Series, Season 1)

by Marie D. Jones

  There was no response. Jolene waited and was about to give up when the static broke.

  “CROW copying and confirming ...” Static. “... we were hit ...” Static. “... at least a hundred casualties ...” Static. “... headed South ... before they come back ...”

  Then, in a sea of rising static, the voice was gone.

  Jolene and Brian stared hard at the handheld radio, willing it to spring into action. It began scanning frequencies again. Jolene let out a sigh that bordered on a moan.

  “Fucking shit,” Brian spat.

  “CROW, I did not copy last. I did not copy last. Please repeat. Did you say casualties? Human casualties? Over.”

  They waited.

  Moments later, the static was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal that pierced the silence and made them both jump again.

  Then the squeal, and the static, gave way to permanent silence.

  “Why the fuck didn’t he say his location? Aren’t you supposed to say your location?”

  Jolene nodded. “Under normal circumstances, your call sign might give it away. W for east, K for west, followed by a number to give your region. But C-R-O-W. Novelty sign. No way to know. And mine? I got licensed in the West, never changed it when we moved here.”

  Her voice trailed off, her eyes far away, remembering.

  “There are other people out there, I mean, at least one. And there are other places hit, not just us,” Brian spoke quietly, his voice threatening panic.

  “He said casualties, Bri. He had to have meant people. People are dead ... but where are the people around here? Why are they gone? He said, ‘before they come back.’ Who are they?”

  “What the hell is going on, Jo?”

  Her eyes darted in the direction of the family room, where little Mags slept on the couch.

  “All I know is at some point,” Jolene said, leaning forward, “that child is going to wonder where the hell her mother is. I can get away with telling her she’s at the damn doctor for another hour, but then what?”

  Jolene got up and went to the refrigerator.

  “Help me get rid of some of this crap in here. It’s going to rot.” She threw Brian a Dr. Pepper and a tub of Greek yogurt, then fetched him a spoon out of the utensil drawer. She popped open a soda for herself and handed him the spoon.

  “You not eating?” Brian said dryly, taking the spoon.

  “Not hungry.”

  “Don’t you have that old generator?” Brian asked between gulps of soda.

  Jolene forced a smile. “Yeah. Know how to fix it?”

  Brian shook his head, no.

  “We can find generators or grills and lanterns at Home Shed. I have a key,” Jolene said. “Morris is filled with campers. We could find plenty of food and supplies. The powder, whatever it was, it didn’t kill us ... It didn’t kill everyone. We’re not sick, so it has to be fairly safe by now.” Jolene felt herself about to lose control. She stopped talking. She didn’t want to lose it now. Not now.

  Brian nodded. “Yeah, yeah, we can try ... maybe give it a few days and if nobody comes, we head out? At least to the next town that has power, and we can try our phones again.”

  “Brian, you don’t think this was on purpose, do you?”

  “You know me. The tinfoil hat guy, the one who believes life is just one big government-backed conspiracy. With everything going on lately, I can’t help but think we just became guinea pigs in somebody’s science experiment,” Brian’s voice cracked with emotion.

  “There’s no evidence of that. We— We wait a day, maybe two? Then, depending on what happens, we either go scout supplies and hunker down. I know how to shelter-in-place. Or we pack up and head out, go south. Towards the city,” Jolene said. She reached for his hand and grasped it.

  They were still holding hands when the noise began.

  “Wait.” Brian held up his right hand, his left still clutching Jolene’s. She immediately looked up, listening. A hum, no, a buzz. A buzzing ... somewhere outside ... getting louder.

  Brian let go of Jolene’s hand, grabbed the shotgun off the table, and got up, moving towards the back patio doors.

  “Stay there.”

  Jolene got up to follow and Brian pushed her backward.

  “Stay. There.”

  “Dammit, Brian, I’m going, too,” Jolene protested.

  “Mommy?”

  “Shit,” Jolene ran into the family room, looking back at Brian as he slipped out the patio doors into the backyard.

  Mags rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked around. “I want Mommy, I want Mommy!” Jolene encircled her in her arms and rocked her gently.

  “I know, honey, I know. But she isn’t home yet, and she might be stuck at the doctor’s.”

  Jolene suddenly drew Mags away from her.

  “Do you know which urgent care doctor your mom went to?”

  Mags shook her head no. It was a long shot, Jolene knew, but maybe, just maybe, Anne had gone to Derryville, a good forty-odd miles away, and not to the smaller, closer clinic in Grove’s Corner.

  A shotgun blast outside jolted Jolene back against the couch. Mags screamed.

  “Jesus Christ. Mags, stay here!”

  Jolene raced towards the kitchen, only to find Mags right on her heels.

  “Mags, I told you to go back into the family room!” she said it with such force the little girl broke down in fresh tears.

  “No ... no ... I’m too scared. I wanna be with you, Jo, please.”

  As Mags stood there trembling, Jolene suddenly flashed back in her mind to another place, another time, and a little boy in a hospital bed screaming out for her, calling for her over and over and over.

  A man’s voice, shouting from the woods behind her house, broke the spell.

  It wasn’t Brian’s.

  5

  She couldn’t hear anything. No buzzing. No voices.

  “Brian?” She called out tentatively, hoping to God he answered, but wondering whom the other voice belonged to.

  There was no answer. Jolene turned back to the house. Mags huddled inside under the kitchen table.

  “Brian?”

  Jolene contemplated going into the woods beyond her property line, in the direction of the voice and the gunfire, but there was Mags. She couldn’t leave her behind, not now.

  There was no way in hell she was taking Mags with her.

  The woods were silent. Nothing moving. No birdsong or insects chirping and chattering. It was way too quiet to be normal.

  “Brian?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Then, a scream. Mags’ screaming. Jolene whirled and tore into the house to find Mags in the living room staring at the open front door. There, standing in front of her, was a man Jolene didn’t recognize, dressed top to bottom in camouflage, his face covered with a navy ski mask. He had a double-barrel shotgun and a black bag slung around one shoulder.

  Jolene swore at herself for forgetting her Glock. Second time today. She slowly approached the door, putting Mags behind her own body.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  The fear was so raw, she was going to puke. She put one hand on her lurching stomach.

  “Dammit, Jolene, it’s me. Gary! Gary Bradley, from Super Star Auto Parts.” He pulled off his mask and stuffed it in his back pocket.

  “Gary? What the fuck? What are you doing here? How did you get in? I could have blown your brains out!”

  “Damn glad you didn’t, Jolene. The door was unlocked. Brian told me to come get you.”

  Jolene felt the desire to puke instantly replaced by relief ... sweet relief, at the mention of Brian’s name.

  “He’s okay? I heard shots—”

  “Yeah, he shot that son of a bitch down, right outta the sky, Jo. Wait ‘til you see it.”

  “See what?”

  “Come on and I’ll show you. He’s with the others.”

  Jolene’s knees turned to rubber.

  “There are others?”

&nb
sp; “We went and checked house to house. Looks like there are only seven of us left here, Jo. Well, eight with this little sprite. Isn’t that Annie’s girl?”

  Jolene turned to Mags. “Yeah, Mags. Mags, this is Gary. He’s gonna take us to see Brian and some more people. Get your doggy.”

  Mags looked from Jolene to Gary and back to Jolene, fetched her doggy, and grabbed Jolene’s hand.

  “Does he have my mommy with him?” Mags whispered to Jolene.

  Jolene looked at Gary, who shook his head and looked at the floor.

  “Mags, your mom must still be away. Her house was empty, so she must still be away. That’s a good thing, do you understand?”

  “Let’s go find the others,” Jolene said, grabbing her purse, the Glock tucked safely inside. She closed and locked the front door behind her, not sure why. It was only them now. People she knew. Her neighbors.

  They stood in a circle in a clearing in the woods about a quarter of a mile beyond Jolene’s property line. In the center was a large metallic object with four arm-like appendages now akimbo. It was banged up pretty good and completely sheared apart near what might have been its tail end. Pieces of metal scattered the ground like shrapnel.

  Jolene recognized all of them. Gordon Beasley, the old-timer and former Marine who lived five houses down from her. Alex Jordan, a young biker type with a boyish face who ran Jordan Guns, the local shop his family had owned for years. Janey Sweet. And Siri.

  Siri Queen.

  Jolene’s eyes met Siri’s and there was no love lost between them. Brian stepped between them, anxiously, as if sensing a potential confrontation between Jolene and the gorgeous, petite blond woman her husband cheated with before their divorce. The woman her husband had been screwing the day Jolene’s life came crashing to an end.

  “Jo, look. We’re not alone after all,” Brian said, smiling.

  Jolene let go of Mags to bend down and inspect the object on the ground.

  “Drone. When Brian shot it down, a couple of us were following it through the trees. It was hovering around out here in the woods,” Gordon said, his voice deep and authoritative.

  “What, like a remote-control thing?” Janey asked, staring at the mangled craft.

  Brian answered. “Right. No markings on it, so we don’t know whose drone it is. Could be government, military, personal toy ... Who knows?”

  Jolene examined the drone closely. “Hard to believe this once flew. Brian, you got off a good shot. Was it the only one?”

  Brian shrugged, looking around. “Only one so far.”

  “I heard a buzzing a while ago and went outside, that’s when I saw it moving towards Mill’s Woods,” Siri offered.

  Jolene ignored her, turned to Brian. “Why would a drone be out here buzzing around?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Maybe it was looking for survivors,” Alex said, his voice low.

  Jolene surveyed the thick woods separating them from their town.

  “How far would the person operating it have to be to keep it in range?”

  “I used to fly remote control planes as a kid,” Alex responded, “and you had to be within a certain range. But these are hi-tech doggies, they can be operated from satellites now, for all we know.”

  “Raytheon has a satellite office ninety miles from here. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of theirs. Bigger question is, why is it flying over our crappy little part of Shitkick, Nowheresville? Gotta have something to do with what happened ...” Brian spoke softly, almost as if to himself.

  “Maybe it was just surveying the damage, of, you know ... To see if it worked?” Janey said, looking around from person to person.

  “Maybe,” Jolene’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Maybe we should go inside and have this discussion.”

  “Maybe we should get the hell out of the area before they send more,” Brian countered, looking squarely, defiantly at Jolene. “If they sent one, don’t you think they’ll wonder what happened to it, and send another?”

  Jolene took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I’m not leaving. Not yet. We don’t know what happened or how widespread this is. We need to stay put, shelter-in-place, and wait for help. I’ve got plenty of supplies and water. I’m sure we can find a few generators and more food and water around—”

  “You mean raid our own neighbors’ houses?” Siri asked.

  “You have enough food and water for all of us for at least two weeks? Cuz that’s the minimum we recommend at PERT disaster prep class. Two weeks,” Jolene snapped back.

  Siri didn’t answer.

  “I don’t know,” Janey said, looking up at the sky above the treetops. “I have the creeps. I feel like we’re being watched.”

  “We probably are,” Brian said, turning to Jolene.

  “I’m not leaving,” she said, staring him down.

  “Jo ...”

  Jolene looked at each of them, except for Mags.

  “You guys agree? You want to leave and take our chances out there?”

  One by one, they nodded yes.

  Jolene was silent for a moment, staring into the woods.

  “I go on record as saying it’s a bad idea. But fine. I suggest we all go pack up as much extra food and water and clothes as we can carry and make a plan. We can meet at my place in an hour.” Jolene turned and walked homeward, taking Mags by the hand as she did, not even bothering to wait for an answer or a response.

  It wasn’t that she thought she’d get a response one way or another, and she wasn’t up for arguing if she did.

  She just had a strong desire to throw up again, and she wanted to do it in private.

  Jolene stopped at Anne’s on her way back home and let Mags grab some clothes and a pretty, beaded necklace that belonged to her mother.

  “Got everything you need, sugarplum?” Jolene asked.

  Mags was stuffing her clothes into a pink plastic Hello Kitty backpack. The sight made Jolene’s heart ache as if a knife had sliced through it. She remembered a blue plastic backpack—

  “Can we leave my mommy a note, in case she comes home?”

  “Of course, that is a great idea, Mags.”

  Jolene found scrap paper and a pen in a kitchen drawer and wrote a quick note to Anne, telling her that they were heading south to find help and that little Mags was doing well. Jolene informed Anne to keep her cell phone on. She let Mags draw a big heart and scrawl her name, too. Then, they quietly left the house.

  Within an hour, they all gathered in Jolene’s living room. The blinds were drawn over the broken bay window. It was getting darker as evening approached, and a few candles were providing dim, spooky light while everyone went through their gear. Gordon brought a big generator for power, but Brian warned against using it.

  “The last thing we want to do is have this house stand out like a sore thumb to any drones. We stay on candle power, and only what we need, no more.” Nobody argued with him. Not even Jolene, although a part of her wondered if having the lights blazing might attract other survivors. For now, she kept her mouth shut.

  Jolene pulled out her survival kits and divvied up the pouches of food, water, and medical supplies. Everyone would carry something. Brian and Alex had found three Red Ryder wagons at the local school playground and pulled them up to the front door so they could load up the heavier stuff, including the generator, and one wagon would be for Mags when she got tired.

  “Not too crazy about pulling out of here at night,” Janey said.

  “We need a plan. Let’s just sit a while and get our bearings. We can wait until morning,” Jolene said, almost pleading.

  “But if they know we’re here now, and I’m sure they’re wondering what happened to their little toy we shot down, we may not have time to wait,” Brian countered.

  Jolene glared at him.

  “He’s right, Jolene. We need to look at all sides here,” Gordon said, zipping up his pack. “There are benefits to staying ... We could assume they think our town is down, an
d not come back. But that drone bothers me.”

  “We don’t even know who we are dealing with,” Gary said. He looked bewildered, and Jolene thought he might cry if provoked.

  “This is the kind of shit you read about in novels or see on TV shows. Only there are no zombies out there, I hope,” Siri said.

  “There are no zombies, period, Siri. And please remember there is a little girl present,” Jolene said, directing her gaze at Mags, who was sleeping on the couch, clutching her doggy tight.

  Siri recoiled, fighting back tears.

  “Fuck,” Jolene said. “I have to pee. You guys decide.”

  She grabbed her purse, rushed off towards her bedroom and down the hall into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. In the small, dark room, Jolene leaned her back against the door and slid down to the floor, her purse clutched between her knees and her head resting in the palms of her hands.

  “God fucking dammit,” she whispered and began to sob, her body shaking violently, her back hitting the door with each forced intake of breath. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t get air in her lungs and she felt panic coming on.

  She closed her eyes and suddenly she was back there again, back in the hospital room, leaning over him and wondering why he wouldn’t open his eyes, why he wouldn’t say “Mommy” and rise into her arms like he’d done a thousand times before ...

  “Jo, we gotta get going.”

  It was Brian’s voice, just outside the door.

  Jolene cleared her throat. “Be right there.”

  She let her pulse return to normal as the vision faded, but not the memory. She couldn’t leave this house. She couldn’t leave his toys and clothes and what was left of him. There were times she even swore she could still smell his little boy scent on the pillows, and hear his laughter echoing down the halls.

  She reached into her purse and took out the Glock, fumbling for a magazine. She stared at the outline of the gun in the dark, wanting so badly to finish the job she had set out to do before Anne came. To stop the memories and the visions. To die here ... in her home. Their home.