“Yikes,” he finally said in total disbelief.
“That about sums it up.”
“What happened to the survivors?”
“What do you mean?”
“The survivors you met in Denver. Where’d they go?” Zephyr asked.
“What do you mean ‘where’d they go?’ I assume they’re still there.”
“None came with you?”
“Oh. Well, I wasn’t exactly advertising my taxi services like I was for you and I don’t think anybody would’ve come with me even if I had,” Merrick said. “Everybody I met led me to believe they wanted to be there— that it was the smartest place they could be.”
“How so?”
“I think they’re all hoping help is coming and they don’t have any intention of missing it.”
“What about you?”
“Not really sure what to think,” he said. “But I guess I wouldn’t be on the road right now if I really believed that.”
“So what’s your plan then? Just keep driving?”
“Yeah, I guess. Why the hell not, right? Nobody seems to have a better plan and besides, I’ve always wanted to see the country. Now I’m finally doing it.” He swallowed another mouthful of beer. “What about you? How’d you end up on the highway with three wheels and that stupid gun?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m a busy guy, but I’ll clear my calendar,” Merrick quipped.
“All right, fine— just remember you said that.”
So Zephyr told him everything, and when, at last, he was finished with the story, he slumped back into his seat.
For some time, Merrick said nothing. He just sat there, one hand scratching his puffy beard as the road unraveled before them and Jordan slept. Just as Zephyr was going to ask if he’d been listening, the man spoke.
“Jesus Christ, kid. What a total shit show.” It was so stupid and yet it was the way he said it, his voice imbued with genuine compassion, that nearly triggered tears in Zephyr’s eyes. “Hey kid, I just want you to know that I’m sorry about giving you a hard time earlier. Jesus. You have every right to be careful. What the hell is this world coming to?”
Zephyr pointed out a sign that promised food, gas, and lodging several miles up and Merrick nodded.
“So, do you think it was the Rapture?” the boy asked.
“Seems like a pretty good explanation, no?”
“I guess so.”
“Yeah. Sure does,” Merrick paused. “Only problem is that I saw everything go down. I was awake when the shit hit the fan and I don’t want to burst your bubble, but nobody flew up to Heaven. Not by a long shot.”
Zephyr turned to face him, his eyes wide. “You saw it?”
“Yeah. Friend of mine threw a party and I was there. Bunch of us were still up drinking, playing Magic, listening to music, whatever. I was talking to this chick Hannah. Blonde hair, huge knockers.” He glanced at Zephyr and smiled and when the boy didn’t smile back he continued. “So anyway, she was showing me her stupid new phone and she was gonna take my picture and add it to her contacts. A few seconds later, she was a big mess of clothes on the ground.”
Zephyr was about to ask for more details when Merrick continued.
“It wasn’t God, I can tell you that. There wasn’t any floating, lights, angels, music— nothing of the sort. Just this loud sucking noise. Like all the air in the house was being siphoned out. It wasn’t exactly going outside, though. It was more like it was being drawn inside her. One second she was smiling at me, the next her face was a total blank. But not her eyes. Man, I swear I saw understanding in those eyes. And, help us, fear. Fear, kid, and it’s no lie. Then her pupils rolled back into whites and she blinked out of existence with this weird pop.” He stuck his index finger inside the hollow of his cheek and pulled. “Everybody in the house went the same way. Everybody except me.”
Now it was Zephyr who found himself speechless. All the evidence of the event lay dormant like some forgotten crime scene. The leftover clothes, abandoned homes and stalled cars. He had moved between these remnants, these reminders, for days and had come to accept, if not believe them. Yet, it was all the aftermath of some unseen thing. Except, the man riding next to him had seen it. And his retelling offered no closure and no solace.
They pulled off the interstate five minutes later and drove into another non-town of the kind that always seemed to loiter on the outskirts of such highways. Under the smile of the sun, there’d be nothing extraordinary about the place, just another rundown conglomerate of structures; just some dirty, shallow microcosm of the real world. By nightfall, however, it was all but invisible save for the beam of their headlights, and the display gave Zephyr chills. No glowing neon. No buzzing fluorescents. Tree branches swayed with the wind but no lights shone on the gas pumps, no windows stood illuminated, and no signs promised goods or sales with the glitz that only the spark of electricity can offer. The place was off the grid. Dark. Unnatural.
Merrick pulled the cruiser into a small parking lot home to a single-story motel whose name escaped the reach of their headlights. The place held maybe a dozen rooms that stretched to either side of the front door, itself a gateway to what was presumably a small office.
“Well, I guess we can forget about getting gas,” he said as he killed the engine.
“Yeah, doesn’t look too good,” Zephyr said and then nudged Jordan, who woke with groggy disregard.
“Hi,” she mumbled and stretched. “Are we there?”
“Yeah, we’re somewhere, anyhow,” Zephyr said. “We’re gonna stop at a motel for the night so we can get some sleep in actual beds.”
“Can I sleep with you?” she asked.
He grabbed his gun. “Yeah, of course. Come on. Let’s get inside. It’s cold out.”
“There’s three of us remember,” Merrick joked, but they ignored him.
The office was dark, but they eventually discovered keys to adjoining rooms, and when Merrick suggested they share them, Zephyr reluctantly agreed. He swept away a grizzly image of a naked man slinking into bed beside Jordan in the middle of the night. Just stop it, dude. It’s not gonna happen, he told himself. It was instinctual now, though, borne out of this new reality, and he realized with disappointment that his optimistic outlook on the world had likely been stripped of him forever.
The rooms held no power and more importantly no heater, but the water still ran cold as the midnight breeze. Zephyr removed his shoes and sank into the bed, too tired to disrobe, Jordan beside him, the extra blankets layered over them. I wouldn’t mind taking a shower tomorrow, even if the water is freezing, he thought, closed his eyes and drifted.
When they woke in the late morning, the three of them raided a liquor store of chips, drinks, bread, mustard and Swiss cheese. The refrigerator was still cool, so the area must’ve dropped power recently, the boy thought. They carried the food back to the hotel room and made sandwiches.
“This is a long shot, I know,” Zephyr said between big, hungry bites. “But you said you were drinking when it happened. Do you think you could’ve maybe imagined some of it or something?”
Merrick snorted. “What you’re really saying is, you think I’m full of it.”
“No, not at all. I just… I just don’t want to believe you, I guess.”
The man chugged the remainder of his beer, crushed the can with one hand and then tossed it on the carpet without a glance. “Look, was I drinking? Yes. Was I drunk? Probably. But not that kind of drunk. And believe me, I sobered up in about three seconds after that shit went down.”
“No, I believe it. Just thought I’d ask.”
“Trust me, kid, I wish I had blacked out and imagined the whole thing. I’d be happy to trade up this little road trip of ours, as much fun as it’s been.” He bit into a candy bar. “I wasn’t exactly the King of Colorado or anything, but I had a nice group of friends. One or two of them more than friends. They’re all gone now, just like everybody else.”
“Zephyr said he’s gonna help find my mom,” Jordan interrupted.
“Did he now?” Merrick asked. “I’m sure he will then. You two just have to keep an eye out for her wherever you go.”
“We will,” Jordan said.
“Do you have family?” Zephyr asked.
“Just a brother in Nevada. Parent’s passed away a while ago. No kids or anything like that.”
“So have you thought about going to Nevada?”
“Yeah, I’ll get around to it. I’m not too optimistic, but it’s as good an excuse as any to drive around the country, I suppose. First stop is New Mexico, though, right?”
Zephyr smiled. “OK, yes. Good.” He met the man’s eyes, and he was glad he found them. “Merrick, thanks for helping us. And thanks for going with us.”
His new friend gasped. “Jordan, did you hear that? I thought I heard a thank you, but it can’t be!” He cradled his ear with one hand. “Did I really just hear actual gratitude from the little shotgunner over here?”
Both Zephyr and Jordan laughed.
“Can we go now? This town gives me the creeps,” she said.
Sometime later Zephyr and Jordan waited in the cruiser as Merrick cursed and shouted from the rear. The boy was reminded again that real life was oftentimes opposite to the part-time realities portrayed by Hollywood, especially when the unessential details were concerned. Take, for example, the process of filling up on gas. Not a problem in any movie regardless of circumstance or environment. Arnold Schwarzenegger could surely siphon fuel from a rolling battle tank and transfer it to a jet airliner as it took flight and he could probably do it without space gear on the surface of Mars if need be. But cycle back to reality, take away the current of electricity and the convenience of plastic cards and you might as well blow up the gas pumps too because there was simply no accessing all that fuel.
They weren’t in dire need of gas. The cruiser still held a quarter tank and they had a few full spare cans in the trunk, one of which now lay on the ground beside Merrick’s feet as he fumbled with its nozzle, read and then reread the accompanying directions. Still, they’d all feel better with a couple spare tanks in the trunk.
“Mother—you piece of— who the hell designed this?” Merrick spat from somewhere behind them as Jordan giggled. “If there’s any justice in this world, you’ve vanished forever so you can’t do any more harm!”
Whether by dumb luck or genuine comprehension, Zephyr couldn’t say, the older man finally figured it out and they left the station behind. A couple hours later, they crossed into New Mexico.
20
Little Green Men
They drove on as the highway grew and the trees around faded into rocks and desert. The landscape rolled by before them. Blackened, charcoaled vegetation as far as the eye could see. Fires, of course, but the flames had burned out well in advance of them. They saw more abandoned cars, trucks and enormous diesels by the hundreds in the miles that raced ahead of them, but no people. Always, Merrick maneuvered carefully around or between the obstructions without interruption. There was but one exception.
“What the hell is that?” the man asked and slowed the cruiser.
Directly in the road ahead rested a gargantuan white thing. From a distance, Zephyr thought it must be a boat. Perhaps someone had dragged it in tow before it became unhinged. Yet as they edged ever closer, he realized with sudden horror that it wasn’t a boat at all, but the huge, splintered wing of an airplane, one oversized wheel still attached, now turned forever upside-down as though grasping for the sky it once kissed.
“Holy hell,” Merrick said.
“What? What is it?” Jordan asked.
“I think it’s an airplane wing,” Zephyr replied.
The older man whistled. “Bingo, kid. Jesus, would you look at that?”
They coasted to a stop before it. The wing was colossal. It stretched across both lanes of the highway and then overhung the blackened desert weeds off one side. It was white with remnants of blue paint, but most of it had scraped or burned away to the primer beneath. The boy wondered if the landing gear had been triggered by the pilot or knocked outward with the impact of the crash.
“Where’s the rest of it?” Jordan asked.
All three of them surveyed the radius of the wreckage and found no other remnants. No hulking chunks of steel. Not shattered glass. Not even a solitary seat. There was just the mammoth wing. And it was enough. Not only a reminder of the event itself, which had become a lingering shadow in the wake of survival, but their first unavoidable blockade. It could not be passed with any car. The highway’s shoulder sloped into dirt and rocks that were too steep and rough for the cruiser. They would have to climb over the wing on foot and find another vehicle on the other side or turn back and search for another route.
“OK, so we’ll back it up a bit, exit, then we can get back on going that way,” Merrick said and pointed to the opposite side of the highway. “It’ll feel a little weird, I know, but it’ll work.”
“If you say so,” Zephyr agreed. In truth, it sounded like fun, he allowed himself.
It wasn’t. They retraced their path, exited one of the onramps and then re-entered the freeway against traffic. There were no speeding cars to dodge, but even so their progress felt surreal and unnatural, if not altogether dangerous.
“It’s kind of invigorating, don’t you think?” Merrick said as he revved the car forward.
Jordan perked up. “What does inviger… invigergerating mean?”
“Like, exciting,” the man replied.
“Totally!” she said, smiling.
The more Zephyr learned about Merrick, the more he liked him. Even before the event, he was one of those men destined for eternal bachelorhood, happy in his small, decidedly geeky, certainly niche existence. Although he looked like he belonged in a metal band, he adored classical music, and delighted in the stories of superheroes, his favorite being the Green Arrow. He told the boy that he’d borrowed money from his parents, presently vanished, several times over so that he could keep his failing comic shop afloat — not just because he loved it, but because however few, others did, too. The business had proven secondary to the fandom.
“Dying art — people would rather watch the movie adaptations these days — and I love those, too, don’t get me wrong,” he said as they drove, “But kid, you haven’t lived until you’ve trekked alongside Lobo on his quest to beat the shit out of Santa Claus. That’s the kind of stuff you’ll never see on the big screen. Especially not now.”
After some prodding, the man confirmed that his recent travels weren’t as spontaneous as he originally indicated. He hoped, he admitted, to build his collection, amassing rare comics and collectibles as he explored the country.
“You’re thinking I’m ridiculous, or shallow, I know,” he said and sighed. “You’re probably right, but it’s what makes me happy, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with holding onto a little happiness now, ya know?”
The boy thought about it and nodded. They were all drifting through a new reality they didn’t understand. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with embracing old passions, especially ones so innocent. Anyway, if nobody ever came back, men like Merrick might be considered catalogers of history in the centuries to come.
“So what are you gonna do if we find this aunt of yours?” the man asked.
Zephyr shifted in his seat and tugged on his safety belt. He thought about it and wasn’t sure how to respond because he held little hope of her survival. At last he said, “Eat a home-cooked meal, to start. After that, I don’t know.”
“I could use a home-cooked meal, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, me too,” Zephyr agreed.
“Me three,” Jordan offered.
She was probably gone. Vanished. Evaporated. Or— what was it Merrick had said?— sucked back into herself until she blinked out.
“Here’s a question for you,” Zephyr said. “Why do you think some of us are still here if you
don’t think the event is religious? Why wouldn’t all us have just disappeared together?”
Merrick shrugged. “Don’t look at me, kid. I don’t have the answers. I mean, I guess it could be religious, but if you saw what I saw, I think we’d be on the same page about that. I don’t know. The way they went. It lacked…” He struggled for words and finally said, “There was just no love in it.”
No love. That somehow resonated with him. He stared through the bug-soaked windshield and contemplated it. Would the believers and the saved be swept away to Heaven with terror animating their faces? Zephyr didn’t think so.
“What you should be trying to figure out,” Merrick said, “is what all of us have in common.”
“What do you mean?” Zephyr asked.
“Lots of people are gone. Maybe millions. Or even billions. We, on the other hand, are not. All of us. So what’s the same about us? What is special about the three of us that is keeping us here? You understand?”
Zephyr nodded.
“We’re all white!” Jordan nearly screamed, amazed by her own deductive powers.
“You’re right and that’s exactly the kind of thinking I’m talking about,” Merrick replied. “But there are definitely others out there. Mexicans for sure. I haven’t seen any black people yet, but I’ll bet we will.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he drove. “Here’s another thing. Why aren’t animals affected?”
“Yeah, I’ve already wondered that. Maybe they are, though. We’ve seen some, but I haven’t exactly been counting. Their numbers may have dwindled, too, for all we know,” Zephyr offered.
“I’ve seen lots of dogs since this all happened. I don’t think they’ve been reduced,” Merrick said. “But let’s suppose they have. Then the question we need to ask again is, why? And let’s also suppose this thing— the event, as you called it— goes on indefinitely. Eventually, someone’s gonna need to figure out which animals have and haven’t been affected by all this, if any. Maybe Beagles are extinct but Huskies are totally unaffected. And if that’s the case, again, why? There has to be some kind of commonality between all this stuff that we aren’t seeing.”
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