Breakdown: Season One

by Jordon Quattlebaum

  “Nope.”

  “Am I even warm?”

  “Not even a little.”

  The two men continued to pass boxcar after boxcar, most of them empty from what they could tell.

  “So not Ferbies, then. Tell you what, you tell me one item in your cart, I’ll tell you one from mine. Deal?”

  “Sure, Thom. KY Jelly.”

  “Game over. You win. No more questions,” Thom said, holding his hands up in mock defeat.

  Herbie simply cackled.

  “Kidding. I’ve got a sleeping bag, pad, some food, things like that. Guessing a lot of the same things you might have in that bag of yours. Things that make a life on the streets possible, and a bit more comfortable.”

  Thom nodded. It made perfect sense. “Gotcha.”

  “After crossing, we’ll need to head over to the I-35 branch. We can stay off of the main road as much as we can, but it shouldn’t be too bad today. Still early, so I’m guessing a lot of the rougher elements are sleepin’. Need to cut through the train yard here. You good?”

  Thom nodded.

  “Good. We meet up with any of my folk, you let me do the talking. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  The bridge passed quickly, and they were on the north bank of the river in just a few short minutes. The two men cut right, leaving the road to head northeast through the rail yard.

  Chapter 8 – Rescued

  Linus’ mouth was dry, and his body hurt badly. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw a beautiful woman cutting away his suit. She was gorgeous. Caramel skin, thick rosebud lips, light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a white short-sleeve button-up with a pale yellow camisole underneath and a tight pair of jeans.

  His eyes fluttered open again and rested on his nurse’s nicely developed…personality.

  Nearby, a large man cleared his throat. Busted.

  “You’re a lucky man, Linus, to cheat death the way you did. Not everyone gets to survive a plane crash.” The large man took a step so that he was right next to the makeshift gurney.

  “My name’s John, and this beautiful nurse is my wife, Talia. Don’t get any ideas.” Despite the kindness in his voice, there was a flash of warning in his eyes, and he certainly wasn’t smiling.

  Talia continued removing the suit fibers and noted that Linus was wearing one of those fanny packs designed to be worn under your clothing to hide valuables while traveling.

  “Linus, I’m going to help remove this pack so I can get a better assessment of your injuries. It’s important we clean them properly. With our current situation, an infection could be very, very bad. Do you understand?”

  She scooped her hand down and unclasped the pack, and Linus began to protest, “No, don’t, I’ve got it!” and slapped her hands away.

  John was there in an instant, pinning Linus’ arms to the table with an iron grip. Linus let out a shriek of pain, his hands being one of the areas that were burned worse than others.

  Arching his back, Linus tried to knock John’s hands away, and during the scuffle the fanny pack was knocked to the ground.

  “John!” shouted Talia. “Thank you, John, but I could have handled that. Can’t you see you’ve hurt this man?”

  John looked crestfallen as he let go of the man’s arms. “He was attacking you, Talia. We have to be careful with strangers now. Especially now.”

  Talia bent down to retrieve the pack, and Linus’ eyes couldn’t help but use the opportunity to try and peek down the nurse’s shirt. John noticed, and he growled.

  Talia picked up the pack from the ground and lifted it. She gasped as the contents spilled across the concrete floor: stacks of neatly bundled twenty-dollar bills.

  John’s eyes flicked from the money to the man on the table, his police instincts quickly drawing conclusions between the man’s behavior and the contents of the pack.

  “Why so much cash, Linus?”

  Sweat beaded on the man’s brow.

  “I…I was moving to another country. I didn’t know what the infrastructure would be like, so I thought I’d bring cash to pay for a home.”

  John eyed him skeptically.

  “How’d you manage to earn that kind of money? You can’t be a day older than 30.”

  “Professional poker player,” he lied. He was a good player. Good enough to win at the casino most times he played, but not good enough for the big boys in Vegas.

  “Not a great bluff there, Linus.”

  John was big. He was scary. Linus smiled weakly, trying to disarm the situation, and, thankfully, Talia stepped in.

  “How’re you feeling, Linus?”

  “I’m doing alright, all things considered. Hurts like the devil, though.”

  Talia nodded, jotting something down on the clipboard.

  “Level the pain one to ten?”

  “Twelve.”

  More writing.

  “John, would you please go to the medicine cabinet and get two fingers of our finest painkiller for our patient?”

  “Awww. We’re wasting the good hooch on the new guy?”

  Talia’s eyes told her husband that she wasn’t in the mood.

  John nodded dutifully, heading out of the infirmary, presumably to fulfill his wife’s request. Talia trusted him and trusted that he was an excellent judge of character, but when she was in the infirmary, she was the boss.

  Linus followed John out of the room with his eyes, breathing a sign of relief, but the liquor must have been nearby, because he was back in less than a minute with a glass of cheap whiskey.

  He handed it to Linus and stood by the bed, crossing his arms over his well-muscled chest.

  “Now, Linus, what do you remember from before you woke up here?”

  “I was on a plane. Headed somewhere warm. Mini-retirement. We were just taking off, and the plane lost power. There were screams… we touched down hard. Landing gear must have given way, because the next thing I knew, there sparks showering the windows of the plane.”

  He paused to catch his breath, and Talia dabbed the sweat from his brow.

  “Thank you. Our plane ran out of runway. Unable to slow itself down enough with the engines out, we ran headlong into a grassy field. The plane flipped when it hit the grass. Then there was fire. That’s all I remember.”

  Talia nodded and began to wrap the man’s hands with clean bandages.

  John stepped in and asked, “Linus, do you have any relevant skills?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what can you contribute to our community?”

  “Contribute? I have money. You see that. Plenty of money.”

  John sighed.

  “Things are different now, Linus. That money doesn’t mean anything until order is reestablished. Maybe not even then, depending on who does the establishing. The power grid won’t be coming back online for quite a long while. Months, perhaps years, for reliable infrastructure to be established. These supplies my wife is using to help you heal are finite. There isn’t a semi-truck heading down the highway to restock the local Costco. The community we’ve established here was planned for. These people have skills that we’ll need in order to survive, thrive, and affect change. If you can’t contribute to that in a way that is meaningful, we’ll need to send you on your way.”

  John caught another warning glance from his wife but held his ground.

  Linus squirmed, trying to think of what he could offer these people that they didn’t already have. He knew his desk job didn’t offer any transferable skills. They wouldn’t need a mid-level manager.

  John felt a bit of pity for the wounded man and began going over a list of skills they might need.

  Linus had never fired a weapon, couldn’t fix a car, and was rubbish
with a hammer and nails. He couldn’t weld. No medical training. He couldn’t garden, cook, or can food. No animal husbandry skills.

  Linus could sense that John was nearing the end of the list, and he reached out in one desperate attempt to stay.

  “I worked in HR for a while. I’m a shrewd negotiator, and my poker skills give me an insight into when folks are bluffing. Surely that’s something you can use?”

  John thought for a moment and ran through the list of skills present in the community. They did need someone on the outreach team with this skillset, but he just didn’t like the man.

  John’s eyes met Talia’s, and he nodded ever so slightly.

  “You can stay until you heal. In the meantime, you’ll be going out with our outreach teams. You’ll be the lead negotiator. Each day, I’ll give you a list of supplies we’re willing to barter, what we need, and how much. I must emphasize that we cannot simply expect a resupply. You must make each bean count. Understood?”

  Linus nodded, obviously thankful.

  “I understand.”

  “Well then, once Talia gets you taken care of and the painkillers take hold, we can get you out of here to meet the rest of your team. If that’s all rright with your nurse.”

  Talia nodded. “Just keep your hands clean and report back this evening so we can change your bandages.”

  Linus nodded, already plotting to use the end of the world for his own profit and gain.

  Chapter 9 — Hopeful Beginnings

  They watched the fire for what seemed like an eternity, hand in hand, only moving on when parts of the building started collapsing in on themselves. A crowd had gathered to watch the dorm come down.

  Anna looked around at the crowd and turned to Brian. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Why? What’s the big deal?”

  “Look around, Brian. There are, what, fifty, a hundred kids out here? What happens a few hours from now when they realize they’ve got no place to go? Things are going to get crazy.”

  “You’re right, Anna,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “We should help these people.”

  “And how exactly are we going to do that, Brian?”

  He let go of her hand and scratched the back of his neck. He looked around, scanning the crowd. It was mostly made up of dorm residents who, for one reason or another, had waited until the last minute to leave for spring break. The partiers, the last day test takers, the international students with no other options…and the Residential Life staffers, like him. He smiled as he spotted one of his friends from another dorm watching the blaze.

  “Hang tight. I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving Anna with her thoughts.

  She watched him squeeze through the crowd and start talking animatedly with another guy about their age who had a bright red, curly afro and thick-rimmed glasses with sour-apple green frames.

  After a minute or two, they were both nodding and clapping one another on the shoulders. They smiled, and then Brian started to talk.

  “Excuse me! Hey! Listen up!”

  The crowd and the fire were too loud for him to be clearly heard, but Red hooked his fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. The crowd quieted down instantly.

  “Thanks. My name is Brian Leary. I’m a sophomore here at Mizzou, and that,” Brian said, point at the rapidly collapsing dorm, “was my home.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sure, for many of you here, it was your home as well. Clearly, something’s going on in our world that we haven’t been clued in on…and it’s crazy. That doesn’t mean that we have to be crazy. We can be calm, reasonable young adults. We can organize. We can adapt. We can plan. We can survive and take care of one another until help arrives.”

  People began to murmur, and some nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Now, we’re not sure how far all of this stretches, but if the fire department was going to show up, it would have been hours ago. Before we started bucket brigades.”

  There were a few shouted questions, but Brian just kept on going.

  “Tonight, we’re organizing Hudson and Gillett halls. We anticipate being able to find enough room for all of you. I’ll need a line to be formed, and we’re going to start the process of getting you in. This is a time to show the world what we can do, so don’t go all Lord of the Flies on us, okay?”

  Nervous laughter filled the air.

  “Okay then. Get out of here. Try and do something good for a neighbor you see in need, and then report back to the lobby, and we’ll get you a spot for the night. Like my dad always used to say to me in a goofy surfer accent, ‘Be excellent to one another.’ Never really sure where he got that one from. Before my time.”

  The crowd dispersed, and Anna stood and smiled.

  Brian walked over a few moments later, after some more conversation with Red and another ResLife staff member.

  “So, what’d you think?”

  She smiled at him warmly, “I think you just started our little community off on the right foot. Nicely done.”

  Chapter 10 — Follow the Rails

  Thom and Herbie marched on, crossing through the train yard. The smell of the river wafted over them, a smell of fish and sewage, not at all enticing. Thom guessed it had something to do with the wastewater facilities being down and wondered idly if the city sewage was being dumped into the Missouri.

  At the edge of the yard, the duo ran into a small encampment of rail riders. The hobos stood at the appearance of the new arrivals, their faces grim. One man, who had been peeling potatoes into a large cookpot, stopped what he was doing and stepped forward. He still held the wickedly sharp knife in his right hand. He was tall and thin, and his muscles were small, but well-corded. There was no waste to this man; every ounce was muscle and tendon. The right side of his face bore a tattoo of a spider. His right hand had, of all things, a clown inked upon it.

  “Something I can help you gentlemen with?” he asked menacingly.

  Thom’s face paled, and he reached for the tire iron in his belt loop automatically before a glance from Herbie stopped him dead. The old man just winked and began to speak.

  “Listen, friends, we don’t want no trouble. Just here to pass through. Trying to get north of here a ways.”

  “You guys know shit got real yesterday, right?” Spider asked.

  “Yeah man, nasty stuff. Rails still clear?”

  “Mostly. Haven’t been too far up the tracks. Conductor asked us to keep an eye on this train. I think he bailed and tried to hoof it home.”

  Herbie nodded.

  They spoke for a few minutes, mostly about goals, and Herbie told the men they were trying to rescue Thom’s daughter. They were sympathetic, sharing tales of their own offspring and thinking of their safety.

  “Things aren’t safe up that way just yet, but I can send a couple of guys with you as protection. You’ll need to pay a toll, though.”

  Herbie nodded again. He pulled a backpack from the cart and hoisted it onto his shoulders.

  “Gentlemen, the cart’s yours. Price of the toll.”

  Spider hitched a thumb at an older, fatter man and a young, athletic-looking fellow.

  “Clyde, Antonio. You’re to take these two as far as the fork. You’re not back in a few hours, we’ll come looking.” He turned his attention back to Thom and Herbie. “Just keep following the rails east, then you’ll see them fork. Take the fork to the left, heading north. It’ll take you straight where you need to go. Best of luck, brothers. Be good to one another, right?”

  The men bid their goodbyes and headed out.

  Walking for nearly an hour, Thom could finally spot the 435 crossing that would later turn into I-35. He grinned, knowing he was one step closer to his goal of getting home and getting to Anna.

  Herbie elbowed Thom. “You smell that?”<
br />
  “Yeah, man, river smells horrible, smells like—”

  “No, not the river. Been smelling the river all day.”

  Thom inhaled and smelled a strange mixture of odors—a cross between pepper and pineapples.

  He turned south then, to look back across the river, and noticed a yellow-green fog rolling over the water, hovering low over its surface, coming from the agricultural plant. The winds shifted north, and it began to move their way.

  “Uhh, Herbie?”

  “Yeah, man?”

  “That’s chlorine gas. We need to run. Now!”

  And with that, the four men ran for their lives.

  Episode 3: Homecoming

  Chapter 1 – Food Fight

  Anna entered the dorm hall, waiting in line to be checked into her new room assignment. When she finally reached the counter about an hour later, she was given her room key and sent down to the next line. In the second line, she picked up a set of sheets, a pillow, and a mattress, and she was sent up the stairs to move in.

  Room 415. She unlocked the door, stepped inside, and realized immediately that a room that was meant to accommodate two was now going to be living space for four. Two sets of bunk beds dominated the left and right sides of the rooms, with two desks and two dressers shoved randomly into the little space that remained. It was cramped, not cozy.

  Her three bunkmates sat on their beds talking about what they thought was happening. Anna wasn’t really interested in that topic at the moment. She hadn’t slept the night before due to the excitement of the fire, and she was tired.

  She plopped her mattress down on the spring set and collapsed immediately on top of it, a pile of sheets and pillows still in her arms.

  The conversation in the room stopped suddenly, all eyes on the new arrival.

  “Uhh, hello? New roomie? My name’s Josephina, but people call me Sephi for short. Welcome to 415. You going to be all right?”