by Rob Lopez
He woke when Scott shook his shoulder. The Syrian coastline lay ahead, the blue waters of the Mediterranean shimmering in the sun. Turning in his seat he saw Walt sagging in his seat, head back, mouth open. Scott, gray faced and weary, drew a finger across his own neck. Rick sighed deeply.
“I can see the Russian airbase,” called Kowalski. “A few more minutes now.”
“Forget it,” said Rick. “Keep going.”
“What?”
“I said forget it! Walt’s dead. Just get us out of this goddamn place.”
Crossing the coastline, they passed over waves that broke on the beaches. Offshore, two Russian missile cruisers sat anchored in the bay. Their elaborate superstructures, festooned with aerials, were blackened by fires that had turned two sleek and majestic warships into lifeless hulks, listing and low in the water.
“Where to now?” asked Kowalski.
Rick imagined the US fleet in the Gulf had met the same fate. All that military might, all the bases and their capabilities, had gone up in smoke. Trillions of dollars spent on the greatest command and control systems in history were now worth nothing. From the highest ranking admiral to the lowest grunt, everyone was stranded. They were all on their own now.
“Take us home,” he said.
27
Josh couldn’t pinpoint where the smell of burning was coming from, but it was pervasive. There was no smoke anywhere, but the still, hot air was heavy and suffocating. The wind had dropped to nothing. The heat at night made sleeping difficult. It was impossible not to do so without having the windows open, but Grandma worried about security. Strangers drifted by on the street during the day, some dragging suitcases. There was talk of setting up barricades and checkpoints at both ends of the street, but there were few volunteers willing to sit for hours in the heat of the sun, away from their houses, and none willing to sit through the nights, which were pitch black. Grandma loaded up Grandpa’s revolver and insisted they slept in the same room together. Josh lay awake for hours, listening to her snoring. Daily life had become surreal. The streets were so quiet that Josh could hear conversations in nearby houses, and occasionally arguments as short fused tempers flared. Kids used to play on the street while adults, who had nothing better to do, got to know their neighbors better than they ever wanted to. Polite talk got more serious as disagreements were aired, and the kids soon got bored and disappeared inside. The shortage of food meant less and less visible activity as people saved their energy and worried about supplies. As soon as night fell, however, everything stopped and it was like the world had ceased. No more lights in windows or late night TV shows. No sound from the nearby rail line or highway. If he wasn’t listening to his grandma’s snoring, Josh listened to those of his neighbors, carried freely out of their open windows. Or from their porches, for those who dared to sleep outside, unable to bear the oven-like interiors. Josh remembered when he and Lizzy used to camp out in the garden, but the darkness felt too sinister for that now, and his sister refused to go into the garden anymore, on account of knowing that Grandpa was buried there. Josh didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to feel the same way.
That was the beginning of the first argument in the house, when Grandma suggested the digging of a latrine pit in the garden. Unable to flush, the toilet had become unusable, but Lizzy was adamant that there was no way she was going to go anywhere else. Grandma tried to reason with her, then got snappy, and Lizzy put on a foot stamping performance that almost earned her a slap. Josh saved her ass from getting a paddling by offering to go to the creek with the bucket and bring back water to pour into the toilet. Grandma assented, though the tension between her and her granddaughter remained. It was not something Josh had ever witnessed before. Coming to Grandma’s for a night or two had always been a blissful experience, and Lizzy, being the cute young one, had been treated with something approaching reverence. And then they went home.
There was no going home now, and the strain was showing on Grandma’s face. She’d aged visibly and looked tired all the time.
Josh was glad to get out of the house. Carrying his bucket in the shade of the oak trees that lined the street, he hefted the nine iron he’d liberated from the garage. He didn’t remember Grandpa ever playing golf, but he was grateful for his hoarding habits. If the punk kid by the creek tried to steal his water today, he’d wrap the nine iron round his neck. That was the fantasy he’d played over in his mind when he’d been unable to sleep. In fact, it was one of the thoughts that prevented him being able to sleep. The injustice and the shame burned, inflamed by the lonely darkness. He wanted payback – to not be so weak.
In broad daylight, much of that anger dissipated. He was just a kid with a golf club, not some avenging warrior. He felt conspicuous as he passed folks sitting out on their porches. Disinterested eyes tracked him as he walked by.
Among the single story houses in the neighborhood were larger, more lavish homes. Every time Josh came to visit his grandma, another small house was being demolished, the builders utilizing the lot to throw up a medium size mansion as wealthy new owners took advantage of the fact that house prices here lagged behind the more affluent districts like Dilworth. The chairman of the neighborhood association stood outside one with two other guys, pointing and talking, like he was trying to sell it to them. Josh lowered the golf club down by his leg, trying to make it less obvious. He fully expected a reprimand, even though the group all toted shotguns. It wasn’t like he could pretend he was going to play a round.
Trying to look casual, he sauntered by.
“We’ve got to get the bodies out,” said the chairman.
“Joe, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“You got a better one? Those people deserve a burial.”
Josh stopped, arrested by the subject matter, and the chairman looked at him, clearing his throat. “There’s nothing for you here, kid. Just run along.”
Josh looked towards the house. “I’m not a kid,” he said quietly.
“Doesn’t matter. This shouldn’t concern you.”
“No point sugar coating it, Joe,” said one of the other men. “This concerns everyone. Two elderly folks just died of heat stroke in their own home. People need to be warned.”
The chairman sucked his teeth. “I don’t want a panic. We’ve got a lot of old folks here.”
“All the more reason to let them know.”
“These new builds are like hot boxes,” said the third man. “They’re not designed to manage without air conditioning.”
“Yeah, but the bodies,” said the chairman.
“They’re cooking now.”
“And it’ll only get worse the longer we put it off.”
“Fine. You go right on inside and pull the bodies out. I’ll bury them.”
The chairman frowned, hesitated, then hitched up his jeans and strode towards the house. Opening the front door, he leaned in cautiously, then wheeled back out, retching.
“I told you they were cooking,” said one of the other men smugly.
Josh drifted off lest they ask him to go in next. Hauling one body to a grave had been more than enough for him.
Directing his thoughts to the creek, he hefted the nine iron again, preparing himself for a confrontation. He imagined the kid with the baseball bat waiting there for him. It was a ridiculous notion, considering the kid had his own container now, but then he remembered the gang looking on.
Maybe they’d claimed ownership of the creek.
That also seemed absurd. There was water there for everyone and it hardly seemed likely that taking another bucketful would make a difference, but Josh slowed his pace, his mind filled with images of a picket line held against him. His resolve wavered and he paused. He thought about going back and asking the chairman for an escort. He considered the possibility of digging a well in his garden instead. Eventually he turned down another street, looking for another place to access the creek.
Near the highway that bordered the northern
part of the neighborhood was an old supermarket building that was up for lease. Behind it ran the creek, but Josh hesitated again when he saw people clustered around the building. Moving away into the shelter of the trees at the back of the lot, he found a quiet spot by the creek. Looking behind to make sure no one was sneaking up on him, he dipped his bucket.
“People use that creek as a toilet,” said a voice.
Josh jumped up, waving his club. In front of him, on the other side of the creek, a teenage girl stood calmly in the shade of a tree, looking at him. Seeing Josh’s reaction, she giggled. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.
Josh stared, wondering why he hadn’t noticed her. Her dark clothes and dark hair blended into the shadows, and she was pretty enough to make Josh avert his gaze for a moment. “Doesn’t matter,” he stuttered.
“What? That I scared you, or that people shit in the creek?”
“Both,” muttered Josh.
“You’d better check your bucket, just in case.”
Josh glanced into the bucket. The water looked just as murky as it always did. “It’s fine,” he said.
“You from this neighborhood?”
Josh looked up. The girl didn’t look much older than him, but she had a nose ring and a confident gaze.
“Kind of.”
The girl looked wistfully through the trees at some of the houses. “Looks a nice neighborhood. I’m Skye, by the way.”
“Josh,” grunted Josh, feeling awkward.
“Hi, Josh.”
Josh mustered a smile, feeling her eyes on him again. “Hi.” She was unbearably cute and he felt like a dork as he struggled to get his words out. “You’re not from round here, then?”
Skye shook her head, and Josh was mesmerized by the swish of her hair. “I’m from Cincinnati,” she said. “Mom wanted to come look at some property down here and we got stuck on the highway. Came here with everybody else and someone opened up the building for us. Kind of like a refugee center now.”
“Huh,” said Josh dumbly.
“Some church folks brought us some food. It was nice. I like this neighborhood.”
Josh coughed. Part of him wanted to get back with his bucket, but the other half didn’t want to go yet. “Not my neighborhood, really. Staying with my grandma.”
“Cute,” said Skye, “so we’re both outsiders. We have a connection.”
Josh blushed. “Yeah. Kind of.”
Skye laughed, and to Josh it sounded as fresh as a mountain stream.
“We should hang out,” said Skye.
“Yeah,” said Josh, and Skye laughed again.
As much as he wanted to stay, Josh couldn’t think of anything else to say. His brain seemed to have frozen. Skye, appraising him with keen eyes, said, “I guess you need to be getting back.”
“Yeah,” muttered Josh. “My sister, and stuff.” He gestured with his bucket.
“Okay. Maybe we can talk again.”
“Sure. Uhm. When I get more water.”
“Cool. It’s good to talk. Gets boring here.” Skye shuffled her feet, suddenly looking shy. “I’d give you my number, but, you know...”
They both laughed, and to Josh it felt as intoxicating as a physical embrace.
“I’ll be back,” he said, feeling more confident.
“I’d like that,” said Skye.
There was a moment of awkward silence. “Gotta go,” said Josh with his best attempt at a casual shrug.
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you.”
“Sure.”
Josh turned away, giving her a little wave. She waved back, eyes shining in the gloom of the shade.
He practically skipped all the way home, his heart buoyant. A drone in the air made him look up and he saw an ultralight soaring over the streets, its wings a vibrant red. He waved at it and the helmeted pilot waved back. Josh wanted to jump up and fly with him.
Mr Henderson sat out on his porch, head in his hands.
“Good morning, Mr Henderson,” called Josh.
He got no reply, but he was too happy to care. Back in the house, he tossed the golf club into the umbrella stand.
“I’m home, Grandma.”
Grandma was mixing flour and water into a sloppy dough. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Someone’s happy,” she said.
“I got the water.”
“I’m afraid all we can manage is some tortillas today and a tin of hot dogs.”
“That’s okay.”
“You hate tortillas,” said Lizzy, coming out of her room.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Grandma was worried about you.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure you should go out on your own, Josh,” called his grandma.
“Why not?”
“It’s not safe anymore. The Henderson boy’s been stabbed.”
Josh’s smile faded.
“We think he’s going to die,” said Lizzy. “He got in a fight on the highway.”
Josh’s insides froze. “I didn’t go near the highway,” he lied.
“It’s better that we should stay together,” said Grandma, kneading the dough.
Josh thought of Skye. “Grandma, I can take care of myself. And we need the water.”
Grandma turned on him, her face stern. “You’ll stay in the house, and that’s the end of it.”
28
Lauren had shown April how to handle the Ruger, and had made her practice dry-firing it. Glancing at her now, she wasn’t sure it was enough.
They were back on the tollway, making their slow way south with the other refugees. Along the highway, individuals and small groups were strung out, some pulling mobile luggage, others pushing shopping carts. They were not alone, however. Sitting on side embankments or posted on overhead bridges were others, watching and waiting. Like vultures.
Lauren recognized them as predators looking for easy pickings, waiting to swoop. Most were young men. Suitcases broken open with their contents spread on the highway showed where they’d struck. A woman in a gray pant suit sat disheveled and sobbing at the side of the road. One of her high heeled shoes lay broken by a torn bag. “They took my laptop,” she cried. “Why would they do that?”
Lauren maintained her pace as she strode past. “Walk with us,” she told her.
“They took everything I had,” the woman continued. “Where are the police? Why aren’t they stopping this?”
“Shut up and walk with us,” called Lauren back to her.
April leaned in to her. “What are you doing?” she asked. “We don’t need another mouth to feed.”
Lauren indicated the predators waiting on a nearby bridge. “Safety in numbers,” she said.
“She ain’t no good to us,” said April. “Look at her. She about ready to quit.”
The woman didn’t get up and Lauren wasn’t ready to slow down and coax her into moving. “Okay, forget it. Let’s try and catch up with that group up ahead. And look alert. Make the bastards think we’re not worth the trouble.”
“Get my gun out and they’ll know we ain’t worth it.”
“No, keep it hidden for now.”
“I get it,” said April, nodding. “The gray man look.”
Lauren turned to her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Prepper logic. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, so you be like a gray man. You blend in. Except we’re gray women. We don’t look like we’ve got much, but we’re not going to trigger someone’s defenses by looking like a threat.”
“We’ve got bags. That’s enough to make some people want to take a look. And in case you hadn’t noticed, that woman was in gray.”
“The color don’t matter, it’s the type of clothes. With a suit and shoes like that, she’s just screaming to be robbed.”
“You know, you could be accused of blaming the victim, there.”
“That PC shit don’t matter no more. We’re in a real world situation now.”
Laur
en couldn’t argue with that, so they walked in silence for a while, looking around to let the watchers know they couldn’t be snuck up on. Fatigue made Lauren’s eyelids heavy, however, and it was getting harder to stay truly alert. The previous night had been uncomfortable and cold, and in between watches, Lauren found it hard to sleep. She wished she could have crawled into Daniel’s stroller. He certainly looked comfortable in it, and when he wasn’t sleeping, which he did a lot of, he was simply staring. Lauren was so used to children complaining, fidgeting or running around that she found it a little creepy. Cute as he was, there was something not quite right with Daniel.
“How long have you been prepping?” she asked April.
“Only a few months.”
“Why?”
“I told you. Living where I lived, it seemed a pretty good idea.”
“It’s just strange. I mean, did you have any idea this was coming?”
“Are you kidding me? If I’d have known that, I’d be in the mountains by now. Why you asking?”
“No reason, really. I was just wondering if there were any signs I’d missed. Some kind of premonition, maybe.”
“Something that would have made you stay at home?”
“Maybe. I haven’t been paying attention to many things. Even when my flight was canceled, I never thought to check whether there was anything I needed to know.”
“It was on the evening news.”
“See? I could have checked that.”
“There wasn’t a lot of information. Just telling people to look out for some great northern lights.”
“It’s not just that,” sighed Lauren. “I just feel like I’ve had my head up my ass for months now. Well, years actually.”
“You’re thinking about your kids, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of an obsession.”
“Tell me about it. Before I had Daniel, I never gave a crap about anything. Afterwards, it’s all I can think of. Guys get it easy.”