"Where you going?"
"I'm looking for a cat."
"A cat?"
Roger explained witnessing the wreck, the young waitress who was late for work and worried about her cat. Then about the woman he'd tried to give a ride home, how soldiers on the interstate had mowed her down with machine guns.
"So you're going to her apartment. The waitress's."
"Yeah."
"Think she'd mind if I used her shower?"
Roger shook his head. "I'm hoping she has some food, too. I haven't eaten since yesterday. Got some pulled pork in the back, but it's not safe to eat at this point."
"I could eat, too."
"Hop in."
Danny opened the door and climbed in the passenger seat. "We should find a gun store," he said. "I have a feeling things are about to get crazy in this town."
"Good idea," Roger said.
Danny smiled.
~ ~ ~ ~
Ted was screaming and Sherman sprang up from the pillow coughing violently to find the house filled with smoke and red sooty flames licking the rails. The intensity of the heat drove him off the mattress and against the back wall. He froze for a moment, glancing down the stairs, the side of which was engulfed in flames. They were trapped.
"Hey help me!" Ted screamed. "I'm burning up!"
"What happened?" Sherman called down.
"How the hell should I know? Just help me!"
"I can't get down there!"
Sherman moved across the landing to Lillia's bedroom door and rapped on it sharply.
"Lillia! The house is on fire! I'm comin' in!"
He barged into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Drake and Kate awoke immediately, both wide-eyed and confused in their beds. Lillia lay unconscious on the floor.
"Lillia," he said, kneeling beside her and shaking her shoulder, then louder, "Lillia, wake up, honey!"
"What's going on?" Drake asked.
"The house is burning down. We can't get down the stairs. I don't know what to do."
That was a lie. He knew there was only one option: jump out the window. He thought about coming around the side of the house and finding Ted swallowed up by the hedges. Ted's back looked like it had taken lashes from a whip, but he hadn't broken a bone. The children were sitting up on that patch of roof from which Ted must have fallen. It was dangerous, and the children would be terrified, but he had no other choice.
Then he remembered something else. The excess rope on the staircase, still knotted to the rail above Ted.
Kate began to cry and Drake, noticing Lillia, jumped off the bed and came to her side. "Wake up, Lillia!" he cried.
Sherman patted Drake on the arm and stood. "Keep trying to wake her. I'll be right back."
He went to the door and put his hand on it. Warm but not hot. He opened it and came back out to the hall, closing it behind him to block the dense cloud of smoke from the children's noses.
It felt like an oven out here and the smoke was so thick he could barely see where to go. It was early morning, and the only light he had to go by came from the flames.
He stepped onto the mattress and realized he didn't have a knife. Down in the foyer, Ted had succumbed to heavy, throaty coughing and wheezing. He took deep, hitching breaths, trying to muster the energy to scream for help but inhaling more toxic smoke in the process. He would be unconscious soon, which was for the best. Sherman couldn't imagine the agony Ted must be experiencing. At the top of the steps, Sherman could barely take the heat. Down there, Ted was probably cooking.
Amidst the smoke and the heat, Sherman found himself craving a cigarette, and that gave him an idea.
He grabbed up the blanket from the mattress and cloaked the upper half of his body with it, covering as much of his face as he could. Then he jogged quickly down the steps to the nylon rope, which ran taut over the rail and down to Ted's wrists but hung loosely in a coil on this side.
He used his cigarette lighter to burn the rope right up next to the knot. Meanwhile, the immense heat was burning his face and heating the fronts of his pant legs to near-unbearable temperature.
When the rope snapped off the rail, he scooped it up and started back up the stairs. He hesitated when Ted let out a half-cry for help, then, with the heat stinging his face like a thousand wasps, he reach through the rail and lit fire to the rope that bound the man.
Then he bounded up the steps and dove through the bedroom door to fresher, cooler air. Immediately his knees buckled and he collapsed next to Lillia, startling Drake and sending him scrambling backwards.
"Close the door," Sherman managed between coughs. "Hurry."
Drake jumped up and did as he asked.
"She won't wake up," he said. "What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know, honey." Sherman climbed to his feet, still coughing. "We gotta get out on the roof."
"What about Lillia?"
"I'll carry her."
"Okay," Drake said.
He ran to the window and pushed it open, securing it with the stopper. Then he called to Kate and she climbed off her bed and joined him.
Sherman helped them through one by one, then instructed Drake to hold onto Kate and make sure she didn't fall. He went back to Lillia, tried to wake her a final time, and then picked her up and carried her to the window.
Getting her through proved difficult. Her dead arms flopped around, catching against the sill. He called to Drake to hold her lolling head as he pushed her through and then to pull while he braced her back with one hand and hooked an arm under her thighs.
When she was mostly out, save for her legs, Sherman climbed through as well.
He tied a loop at one end of the rope.
"Okay, kids, I'm gonna lower you down one at a time. You need to hold on to this loop as tight as you can, and when I tell you to let go, let go. Okay?"
"Okay," Drake said.
"Okay, Kate?"
She nodded, still crying and now shaking.
Drake volunteered to go first. Leaving Kate to sit against the wall, he took the looped end of the rope and crawled down to the gutter, lying flat on his stomach parallel to the ledge.
Sherman sat squarely and readied himself. Drake grabbed onto the gutter and then let first one leg, then the other, over the side. Suddenly he disappeared and the rope pulled tight. Sherman gripped it hard and leaned back to keep the weight of the boy from pulling him down the slope.
He lowered the rope rapidly but steadily, keeping an eye on the slack, but before he reached the end, the weight released from the rope.
"Drake!"
"I'm okay!" Drake called back. "I let go! Send Kate down!"
"Kate, are you ready?"
She shook her head and didn't move.
"Honey, we have to do this. They ain't no other choice. The house is burnin' up fast."
Indeed, the bedroom had already started to fill with smoke and Sherman could hear the fire raging right outside the door. It wouldn't be long before walls and sections of roof started to collapse, before the roof on which they sat became a hot plate.
Beside him, Lillia remained unconscious.
~ ~ ~ ~
She was lying on a hardwood floor between two rows of tall bookshelves, feet up in the air, kicking around playfully. She read about helicopters, their mechanics, their physics, how they worked, how they flew.
Then she floated up from the floor.
~ ~ ~ ~
Sherman pulled the rope through its loop to make a bigger loop and then he wrapped it around Kate's chest, under her arms. He pulled it snug.
"I'm sorry, honey," he said. "I know you're scared. It'll be over in just a second."
When he picked her up and lowered her over the ledge, she screamed and kicked her legs out, causing him to lose his balance, almost sending them both off the roof.
He let her go and lay back against the shingles, lowering her as fast as he could. His feet were on the gutter and it made popping sounds as nails came loose. Drake was calling up
to him, "Lower! Lower! Keep coming! Almost there! Okay, I've got her!"
He dropped the rope and scuttled back up the roof to Lillia. Smoke now billowed out the window, blackening the hem of her nightgown. He dragged her the rest of the way out and then sat there, holding her head against his chest, breathing deeply.
"Nervous day in Louisville, ladies and gentlemen."
He pulled his cigarette case out of his pocket, popped it open with one hand, and pulled out the longest partial. Closing the case, he lost his grip and dropped it. It rattled down the roof and into the gutter.
"Sherman!" Drake called up. "How are you getting down?"
He lit the cigarette and took a long drag.
"Only way we can," he said, not loud enough for Drake to hear.
A loud crash came from inside and hot air shot out the window. Sherman pulled Lillia up into his lap and scooted down to the ledge. He stood, leaning back to make up for the extra weight.
Then he jumped.
~ ~ ~ ~
Whitney sat with her hands in her lap, staring at her plate.
"Hayden!" Barry yelled with a mouthful of food.
"Just let him sleep, Barry."
"He came home drunk last night, didn't he?"
She nodded.
Barry scooped a forkful of eggs and stuffed them in his mouth. Then he chewed on a piece of bacon.
"I'm gonna rob the city."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't know what you mean."
"The city is under quarantine and everyone of means has fled. They left behind their homes, their cars, and most importantly their businesses. Banks, jewelry stores, pawn shops. Can you imagine all the cash, all the gold, all the diamonds people left behind? It's a free-for-all. All I need to do is collect, then find a way out of the city."
"What if the world is ending?"
"If you're counting on that, you might as well kill yourself now."
She sniffled. "I'm scared, Barry. I want to leave."
"Didn't you hear me? I said the city is quarantined. There's nowhere to go."
"But you said . . . there's got to be a way out. We're going to die, Barry!"
Barry sighed. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, got up, and came around the table. He stood behind his wife and rubbed her shoulders.
"You should eat."
"I'm not hungry."
Down the hall, Hayden emerged from his room and went straight to the bathroom, slamming the door.
"Ouch, that's too hard," Whitney said.
He smiled, pet her on the head. "You know, I'm going to be very busy from here on out," he spoke softly. "I may not have time to come home most nights."
She was crying. "You can't do that to me, Barry. I'm terrified. I don't know what to do. I don't want to be alone. Please."
In the bathroom, the shower came on.
"Thanks for breakfast," Barry said.
Then he wrapped his hands around Whitney's neck and squeezed, watching her naked legs kick out from her bathrobe, listening to the splashing sounds of Hayden in the shower.
Waking Up Falling
Lillia sensed she was falling before she opened her eyes, and when she did she caught a glimpse of Drake's pale, terrified face before shutting them again. She felt Sherman's bony arms wrapped around her, smelled his rancid clothes, and behind the rush of wind in her ears she could hear the roar of the fire behind her.
Kate screamed and Drake called her name. Then, suddenly, she was no longer falling.
I'm dead, she thought. I'm dead now.
"Holy Jesus," Sherman said, his mouth right next to her ear. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!"
~ ~ ~ ~
Hayden stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. His head was pounding He wiped the steam off the mirror and inspected the bruise on his cheekbone. Those two frat boys had put up quite a fight, but Hayden handled them well. A kick in the ribs for one and two punches for the other. Everyone at the party had looked stunned. A scrawny five-foot-eight kid against two football players, and he put them on the ground so fast half the crowd missed it.
In twelve years of studying Tae Kwon Do, Hayden had never used his skills outside the dojo. Sometimes he broke into the high school gymnasium after hours to use the exercise equipment and practice, but that was it. None of his friends knew he could fight. Not even his dad.
His dad knew he took Tae Kwon Do, but to Barry it was just another boring subject of polite dinner table chatter, like strangers stuck sitting together in a crowded restaurant. He had no idea what Hayden was capable of. Hayden hadn't even known until last night.
It happened in the front yard of C.J. Norton's house. Right by 3rd Street on a busy evening. Cops could have rolled past any second, but a group of people had gathered outside to stare up at the object and talk about it.
An argument unrelated to the object began to swell between a girl and one of the guys Hayden ended up taking down. At first everyone ignored it, but as the arguing turned to yelling and the yelling to screaming, more and more people turned away from the enormous alien rock in the sky to better understand the context of the fight.
Hayden was the last to tear his eyes away from the object. A loud pop was what drew him to the crowd, then the wave of gasps and some girl saying, "Oh my God, I can't believe he hit her."
Before he realized it, Hayden was pushing his way through the ring of people. Someone spilled a solo cup full of cold beer all down his back. He didn't know if it was an accident or not, and before he could address the subject he spilled out into the open center of the crowd and found a girl cowering, covering her face and crying, in the arms of another girl. A few paces removed stood a thick-necked frat boy being grappled by a friend of equal size and stature.
They both saw him coming and came forward, their struggle set aside immediately at the chance to fight someone small and wimpy.
The rest took place in an instant, and before anyone could say anything Hayden took off down the street to his car.
Hayden brushed his teeth and got dressed, then pulled his wallet, keys, and loose change from the pocket of his dirty pants--he’d slept in them last night.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, he found his mother lying dead on the floor.
~ ~ ~ ~
In the middle of the night, Roger and Danny loaded up on handguns and took one .12 gauge shotgun apiece from a gun store, filling shopping bags with ammunition. Roger felt stupid, but he'd played too many video games not to get a certain thrill from having a pistol sticking out from the waistband of his pants.
The roads were empty, which made turning around easy after realizing they'd passed Stacie's apartment. They found her building on a little road behind a large multiplex that housed, among other things, a movie theater and a grocery store.
When they stepped up to Stacie's front door, Danny began to kick at it.
"Whoa, whoa!" Roger said.
Danny stopped. "What's the problem?"
"People might still live here, man."
"So what?"
"I've got the keys."
"Well why didn't you say so?"
Danny stepped back and lit a cigarette. Roger tried several keys until the deadbolt turned. He unlocked the knob itself and they entered.
The apartment looked like it was occupied by an old woman. Antique furniture, flowery print on the sofa and seat cushions, a grandfather clock standing in one corner, dozens and dozens of family photos hanging on the walls, intermixed with way too many clocks for a girl in her early twenties.
"Nice place," Danny said.
He crossed immediately to the kitchen area and threw the door open. His head disappeared inside for a moment and then he came out with a pickle jar in his hand, a block of cheddar cheese in his mouth, and half-full bottle of wine tucked under his arm.
"Mmm'gonna take a shower," he mumbled through the cheese.
Roger flopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote off the coffee tabl
e, and turned on the TV.
". . . said that government officials in conjunction with the U.S. Marine Corps and NASA are attempting to make basic contact with the object. A spokesperson for the White House stated that no immediate plans are in place to launch a preemptive attack, but the president did say in his address to the nation late last evening that he would 'do whatever it takes to protect American citizens.'"
That was the last Roger heard of the news coverage. He was fast asleep on the couch.
When he awoke again, Danny had raided the refrigerator. He sat at the kitchen table with food spread out all around him.
"I think I might just live here," he said with a mouthful of food.
Roger sat up, coughed. "Have you seen the cat?"
"Nope."
"Did you look for him?"
"I don't think I'm into the cat thing."
Roger got up from the couch and came to the table. He made a peanut butter sandwich with whole wheat bread and took a banana from a bowl on the countertop. He sat at a stool and ate, then downed a glass of water.
Danny finished off the bottle of wine, then wandered to the couch and was soon snoring.
On top of the microwave was a small framed photo of Stacie with Sprinkles in her lap. He was solid white, slender. His big green eyes stared at the camera with seeming intent.
Roger started to get up and look for the cat, but seeing Stacie's face again brought back an image of her hanging upside, piercing screams set against the sound of the expressway, the rush of wind coming off that enormous spaceship--if it was a spaceship.
This was the first time he'd stopped to think about the object and the trouble not only he and the city of Louisville faced but the entire world.
And what were those lights he'd seen in the sky last night?
He thought about the military barricade on the interstate. If he were going to escape the city, it would have to be through the woods. Mount Washington was quite a hike, but he could make it.
This Danny kid, though, apparently lived an hour south of Louisville. Maybe they should stay here for now, wait it out in a dead waitress's apartment. Either that or find some other abandoned place, likely one not so nice. Besides, the very feel of Stacie's apartment spoke of a very lonely young woman. Surely the odds of someone showing up to look for her were minimal. And even if they did, Roger might be the only person left in the city who could tell them what happened to her.
The Object: Book One (Object Series) Page 7