Whiteout (Book 3): The Numbing

by Maxwell, Flint

  “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, y’know,” she said. “Probably was the ‘rages. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.”

  I agreed with her. Wolves would’ve left behind a mess—bones, tatters of clothing, shoes, you know, that sort of thing—but there was nothing, no evidence the bodies had ever been there in the first place. Stone knew this, I knew this, Ell knew this. Whatever happened to those bodies wasn’t natural. I decided to keep my mouth shut about it though. You know, didn’t want to ruin the moment.

  “Regardless,” I said, “we have to be more careful than before.”

  “As if that’s possible…” Mikey said.

  “It’ll have to be,” I replied. “Mia and me both came about a dozen feet away from being ripped to shreds.”

  “Eh, I was a little closer than you were, Grady,” Mia said. “Like not an even inch away. All that stopped them was the window.”

  “Grady knows all about ‘not even an inch’,” Stone said, much to everyone’s amusement, Mikey especially, who slapped him five.

  I frowned. “Hilarious.”

  “I didn’t think it was too bad,” Mia said. “Pretty quick-witted, ain’t ya, Stone?”

  Stone curled his fingers inward, looked down at his nails, breathed on them, then scrubbed them against the material of his jacket. “I don’t wanna brag or anything…”

  Already knowing what Stone was going to say, I mouthed, ...but I was voted second funniest boy in the eighth grade. I’d heard Stone tell people this for I don’t know how many years—too many, that’s for sure. It was a true statement, yeah; Stone was actually voted the second funniest male in our eighth grade class. I don’t know how, it really had me scratching my head, but I guess he probably greased the palms of the voting committee. If you called him out on this, however, he vehemently denied it. It was best to just let him brag.

  If I’m being totally honest, I was a little jealous. Class Clown was a sought-after title amongst the youth, me included, but I failed to finish in the top three spots, and not for a lack of trying. The top three were forever immortalized in that year’s yearbook, which, if he still had his iPhone, Stone could and would show you a grainy snapshot from his camera roll. He flashed that bad boy around like a cowboy in an old western movie flashed his six-gun.

  “Wow,” Mia said sarcastically, eyebrows riding up to her hairline. “You should be so proud.”

  “Oh, he is,” I assured her.

  Stone smiled a shit-eating grin.

  “So there’s wolves out there,” Mikey said, getting us back on track. I looked at him, glad for the mature interruption.

  In the low light of the crackling bucket fire down the middle aisle, I realized how much he’d aged. Not just since the first storms, but since we lost Helga. He was pretty close to her. I think after his mother died, Helga had filled that matronly role. Not completely—no one can replace the woman who gave birth to you—but Helga was there to ease that pain. And then she was taken from him, from us.

  It wasn’t fair, but nothing was anymore. Since that terrible incident, since Helga’s house went up in flames and she went up with it, saving us by sacrificing herself, I thought Mikey seemed at least a decade older than his actual age. He no longer looked like a kid; now he looked like a broken, defeated man.

  I guess I probably didn’t have room to talk. The end took a toll on all of us. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like. Sure, a glance in the mirror would tell me, but we are not really able to decipher our appearances objectively, are we? Nope.

  One summer, after possibly breaking my foot while playing basketball, I would’ve been around Mikey’s actual age then—I took it very easy, like my father had told me to do in lieu of visiting a hospital for x-rays and treatment we couldn’t afford. “Taking it easy” consisted of sitting on my ass for the entirety of the three months. My dad wasn’t much of a cook, and neither was I, so it was pizza three to five nights a week, leftovers in the morning for breakfast, and then Taco Bell and Burger King for dinner the other nights with the occasional Subway thrown in for the nutritional value. Gotta get your greens and veggies in there, you know. Except, my sub of choice was a steak and cheese with extra mayo, and those weren’t particularly healthy for you, were they? That summer, I gained about fifteen extra pounds. Not of muscle either.

  During that dark summer (though not as dark as the one after the storms) I’d study myself in the mirror. Foolish old me thought I was looking pretty good. Filling out into my “man body,” as my grandma always put it.

  Instead of cardio, I lifted weights a few times a week. When I looked in the mirror, my eyes focused on my shoulders and arms, always flicking past the flab slowly but surely growing over my midsection. It wasn’t until a few years down the road, when I saw old pictures of myself, that I realized I looked bloated and out of shape.

  My point is, we’re not the best judges of ourselves, not without at first getting some distance.

  “Mikey, why don’t you go get some sleep?” I asked him.

  “I’m fine.”

  Stone leaned forward, his one crutch skittering along the cold tile. “Bro, get it while you can.”

  “I wanted to keep watch.” Mikey stood a little straighter when he said this, and his not-so-subtle eyes flicked over to Mia.

  She was barely paying attention as she reclined back in her chair, her belly sticking out farther than it was just a few hours ago.

  I clapped Mikey on the shoulder. “I’ll keep watch, Mikey, don’t worry.”

  He shook his head. “After all the noise you made coming here, it’s only a matter of time before they show up… I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”

  “Let the boy keep watch!” Stone said. “You’re not his dad, Grady.”

  It was a thought hovering in the back of my mind. The way I’d clapped Mikey on the shoulder had reminded me of the way my own dad used to clap me on the shoulder. After I’d done him proud, as he would say. This usually revolved around doing something manly in his eyes, like downing a beer and letting out a great belch, fixing a squeaky hinge on our backyard gate.

  It made me feel a bit sad for my father, but a bit more grateful he hadn’t had to live through this. Whatever this was.

  My ol’ dad, his praise didn’t come often, but when it did, he let you know about it, both physically and otherwise. I missed the bastard.

  What I wouldn’t have given for him to be there with me. He died a few years back, in case you’re wondering. I tend not to discuss it much, because it’s tough losing your father.

  He wasn’t a healthy eater, wasn’t a regular exerciser either. His idea of cardio was mowing the lawn. Problem was, the lawn wasn’t very big. The whole thing could’ve been mowed in about ten minutes. Up and down, up and down, a quick run over the devil’s strip, and then you’d call it a day. With no trees around to shade the grass, the front yard was scorched yellow-brown and grew about as much as my beard did (which was barely at all) most summers. His other form of exercise consisted of doing these little half-crunches from the EZ chair parked in front of the crappy TV whenever the Indians or the Browns screwed up. If you know Cleveland sports, then you know they screwed up often. Still, as much as he did those crunches, they weren’t getting him washboard abs any time soon.

  The hardest part of the whole situation was there not being any warning signs. With heart problems, you think you’ll get some chest pains, maybe a few dizzy spells and exhaustion on your trek to the mailbox at the end of the drive. You’ll get these before your most vital organ decides to crap out on you in a thunderclap of glory. These warnings, they’re God’s way of telling you to cut the crap, start eating right, and take the stairs instead of the elevator sometimes, you lazy bastard!

  Or so they say in the movies and TV shows.

  I learned quickly, and am still learning today, that life is rarely like the fictions we so often consume. One minute you’re waking up, throwing on the pair of New Balance sneakers you’ve had since Clinton was in office, an
d the next thing you know you’re on the kitchen floor gasping for breath while the sports section of the morning paper soaks up the coffee spilling from your now cracked #1 DAD mug you got a few Father’s Days ago. Now this once fresh cup of coffee is already becoming an old cup of coffee, and it’ll be a very old cup of coffee before your son finds you lying there all purple in the face, tongue lolled out between your corpse-blue lips. Dead.

  I’ve said it before, but I’m not a big believer in a God or Gods. I do believe there’s…something, however. Why that something would take our loved ones and leave us grieving on this crummy little ball of blue and green, I don’t understand, but that’s the way it is, and that’s the way it went.

  I hated losing my friends and family. I hated the idea of death. I hated it all, so I wanted to prevent that to the best of my ability while I still could, which meant keeping watch.

  “You could sleep if you tried, Mikey,” I said.

  “Fuck,” Mia interrupted, “I could sleep. I could sleep for a goddamn week.” She tried getting up from her chair, rose only a few inches, fell back into the seat, and sighed. I extended a hand, but she nodded toward Mikey and Stone. “Better help him out, boys. It’s not that I think you’re weak, Grady—”

  “He is,” Stone whispered.

  “—but I’m pretty heavy,” Mia finished.

  Eagerly, Mikey stepped forward and grabbed Mia’s other hand, and the two of us got her to her feet. She was pregnant, very pregnant, but she didn’t weigh much. If her belly didn’t stick out like she was smuggling a basketball beneath her shirt, you’d never know. It was safe to say the lack of proper nutrition was a big reason for her almost-gaunt appearance. She’d need to eat a lot of Skittles and beef jerky to make up for it. Luckily, we had enough to go around in the abandoned gas station.

  “Thanks,” Mia mumbled. In the low light of the distant flames, I saw little beads of sweat dotting her forehead. She noticed me looking and wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat. “I know. It’s below freezing outside and I’m over here looking like I just got out of a sauna.” She fanned the bottom of her shirt in and out.

  “I’m so glad I’m a dude,” Stone said. “Periods and pregnancy? I couldn’t handle it. I tip my hat to you, milady.” He mimed taking off an imaginary hat instead of taking off the actual skull cap he wore over his close-cropped-but-slowly-becoming-wild afro.

  Mia wrinkled her nose and feigned a gag, like earlier when Ell and I were getting a little too close to one another. “Please never call me ‘milady’ again.”

  “Deal.”

  Mikey grinned at Mia. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.” He said this without any hint of sarcasm. It made me shake my head, while Stone pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Bro,” Stone moaned. “Bro. Bro. Bro. Rein it in a bit.”

  To our surprise, Mia smiled back. “Thank you, Mikey. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re standing guard.”

  With that, she headed down the aisle, but not before sending a wink toward Stone and I. She knew what she was doing. Those few words, the acknowledgment, was enough to make Mikey perk up. His face looked about five years younger, as if all the horror he’d gone through hadn’t happened. He was a teenager without a care in the world again in that moment.

  I conceded and let him stand watch.

  “Well,” Stone said, stretching, “I’m gonna hit the hay, and I’ll sleep easier tonight, thanks to Mikey.” He winked at Mikey, who was too busy floating on Cloud Nine to catch the mocking tone in Stone’s voice. “We got a big day ahead of us, leaving this shit-can behind. Finally.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thankfully.” But in my head, I reminded myself we had to survive the night first. Night being a loose and debatable term here.

  Outside, with the black sky and the blacker clouds, it certainly felt like night no matter the time.

  I nodded at Mikey. “Whenever you need a break, man, just wake me up. I don’t mind.”

  Stone crutched toward the middle aisle. “I’m sure Chewy will help ya out.”

  I pointed at the dog, who was still curled up around Ell’s legs. “That, I’ll say, is unlikely. He’s ripping away like a chainsaw.”

  “Which part? The front end or the back end?”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Yeah,” Mikey said, “let him sleep. He needs it.”

  We all did.

  So I slept. Only for about three hours, but it was better than nothing. I sat up. Ell was still snoring next to me, although Chewy had shifted up between our heads. His tail-end, of course, was aimed toward my face. That wasn’t exactly the best way to wake, and it definitely paled in comparison to smelling cooking bacon and eggs in the morning, but hey, at least I was still breathing.

  I looked toward the front counter. It seemed Mikey hadn’t moved. He stood ramrod straight, facing the barricaded door, the bug spray in one hand, lighter in the other.

  It was still dark out, and I knew the only thing in my future was tossing and turning, listening for the voices of the phantoms. No sleep would come. Very rarely am I good for anything longer than three or four hours. Back in the day, before all this, I could sleep for twelve, easy. After a shift at the station, I was usually beat, so it wasn’t much of a choice.

  Man, what I would’ve given to go back to those days.

  I stood, careful not to disturb either Ell or Chewy snoozing away, and grabbed one of the thawed candy bars we had scattered around the bucket fire. I added the wrapper and a few sheets of newspaper to the blaze, and the flames danced higher. It reminded me of Helga’s house, and even deeper, of the apartment building on Swan Drive, which in turn led to thoughts of the dead boy. I’d mostly gotten over the whole situation, accepted how I failed in saving him despite trying, but that didn’t change the fact he had lost his life.

  It sucked. A lot of things did.

  I shook my head, trying to empty the thoughts before they could get their claws into my brain. Once that happened, there was no escaping them. I was getting better at it in those days, compared to when the snow first fell. I guess I had bigger things to worry about.

  My grandma always said the past stayed behind for a reason. We had the present to live in, and we had the future to look forward to. She was right. I couldn’t change anything about what had happened. As much as I wanted to find a time machine, turn the dial to that fateful night, go through the right apartment door instead of the one next to it, and save the boy from being crushed by thousands of pounds of smoldering wreckage, I couldn’t.

  What I could do was move forward. Keep going and never give up. It’s what my father would’ve told me to do, and Jonas and Helga would’ve said the same.

  I walked up the aisle. Mikey never took his eyes off the door. I cleared my throat softly so I wouldn’t scare him. He seemed zoned out beyond belief, maybe even sleeping with his eyes open.

  I cleared my throat.

  He faced me, raised his eyebrows. I startled him a bit, I think.

  “Yo, I’m good for a few more hours, Grady. Get some sleep.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m tapped for the night, full up for now, at least. Switch me and I’ll tag you back in before Mia wakes up.”

  He looked away when I said that. Even in the darkness, the red of his cheeks burned like the dying embers of our bucket fire.

  I chuckled. “I won’t say anything, man, I promise. Secret’s safe with me.”

  “She’ll get up before everyone else. She’s already used the bathroom, like, three times. Says the baby pushes on her bladder or something crazy like that.”

  “She’ll understand, dude.” I cocked a thumb over my shoulder at the door and the frozen wasteland beyond the frosted glass. “Besides, how are you gonna protect her out there if you feel like a zombie? And that’s where she’ll really need it. Trust me.”

  Mikey’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about this; then, after a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, I’m tired as hell. Wake me up in two hours, okay?”
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  “You got it.”

  A few minutes later, I heard him snoring almost as loudly as Chewy. Those two, the boy and his dog, they were a match made in heaven. But given time, I thought a Mikey and Mia pairing was definitely possible. At the very least, it had potential.

  Damn those romance novels. They were turning me into a matchmaker.

  I woke Mikey two hours later. By this time, a few rays of light were making their way down through the clouds. Soon everyone else would be awake too. As it turned out, Mia didn’t have a bathroom break during my shift. Mikey made me pinky swear it to him, and I did no matter how ridiculous it might’ve looked. I guess the apocalypse hadn’t stolen all of his youthful exuberance from him, after all. You never broke a pinky swear…unless you wanted to be cursed for years and wake up one morning covered in boils and chicken feathers.

  I don’t know—don’t ask.

  Right as I lay back down, I heard Mia shift. Grunting, she rose to her feet, and I almost got up and helped her, but waited a moment in case Mikey wanted to come to the rescue. Sure enough, he did, and I was glad I hadn’t stolen his thunder.

  I overheard their brief conversation.

  “Thanks,” Mia said. “I can’t move around like I used to. It sucks major balls.”

  “No problem,” Mikey said, laughing. “Can I walk you to the bathroom?”

  Mia chuckled a little uncomfortably. “I’ll manage, I think.”

  In my head, I could hear Stone telling Mikey to rein it in, but Stone was snoring away, sounding like an eighteen-wheeler a little ways down from me.

  “You’ve been up all night?” Mia said. “Really?”

  Mikey hesitated. “Yeah, all night.”

  He sounded convincing enough. Good, because I thought he was about to blow it. But he cleared his throat and sounded more confident the next time he spoke.

  “It’s been pretty uneventful so far. I think the ‘rages must be afraid of me.”

  I imagined he winked here because Mia chuckled again, and it didn’t sound forced this time.

  Still, I cringed a little.