Beach Town: Apocalypse

by Maxwell-Harrison, Thomas

  ‘We think this is some kind of superbug. The bug developed rapidly, maybe over a day; it seems.’ Jamie lifted the left wrist of the body revealing a tatt. It was purple and green, the first thought that popped into Dean’s head was that it must have been sepsis. Jamie released the lifeless arm and it slumped onto the table; the dull thud echoed in the silent room.

  ‘Sepsis I assume,’ Dean said boldly, feeling confident it was, because otherwise this was a waste of official police time, also the stench of the mucous was making him queasy.

  ‘Yes, but like the bug it developed rapidly, over the course of an hour, just before she died. So why would being struck by a motor vehicle cause this?’ Jamie walked over to the sink and picked up a metal clamp, scissors and two pairs of latex gloves. There was a cough sweet left on the side, he quickly dropped it into his white lab coat. Dean covered his nose and mouth with his hand, the stench was like stale milk and shit, and he gagged.

  ‘Put these on and hold this.’ Jamie passed him the surgical gloves and clamp and proceeded to make a long incision down the length of the girl’s chest cavity, gracefully slicing the greenish flesh and parting the flaps of skin. Dean put the gloves on, and moved in for a closer look, still covering his mouth and nose. Still, the stink stung his eyes.

  Inside the girls dissected chest there was a collection of gelatinous black fluid, it seemed to sac around the lungs, it wobbled, and it made Dean uneasy. He leant on the table, clenched his eyes and tried not to breath the putrid air.

  ‘You okay?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Yes, sorry,’ Dean said. ‘Carry on.’ The room was too bright, and Dean felt lightheaded again. He wished Jamie would hurry up.

  Jamie did so, pointing and talking but the information didn’t sink in, at one point the lights in the room blurred into a massive static screen, then, Deans legs buckled, and he slumped to the floor.

  ‘Dean, Dean wake up.’ Jamie had his arms around Dean’s shoulder and was rubbing and patting his cheeks, squeezing them and trying to bring him back to consciousness. Moments later light poured painfully into his eyes and the room seemed like a nightmare, surreal and disconnected, silent as the grave and full of death.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jamie said. ‘I didn’t expect you to last long. Don’t get up, so I’ll give it to you straight.’ Jamie reached for the cough sweet and chomped it, the menthol smell hit Dean waking his senses, easing the stress.

  ‘Yes, please do, because I can’t see how this contributes to a hit and run.’

  ‘That’s exactly it,’ Jamie said. ‘Being run over obviously doesn’t cause this. Only a severe infection does, which means her cause of death was sepsis rather than being hit by the vehicle. There isn’t any need to investigate, Dean, are you relieved?’

  Jamie smiled and pulled Dean up until he managed to push himself to his feet. He was somewhat relieved but now needed a good reason not to give Jamie a mouthful for wasting police time. Dean had missed breakfast for this.

  ‘Give me a reason not to be,’ he said, tearing the gloves off and tossing them to the bin bag taped on the table leg. Let’s go somewhere else, he thought and started to walk back through the corridor towards the plastic curtains, Jamie followed. Ron now stood with his arm wrapped around the lady at the door, comforting no doubt. Jamie put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s not all good news. You need to inform the CDC, I can but I need someone of jurisdiction to back me up, politics you know?’

  ‘Right, so serious then?’ Dean asked, but Jamie returned to the room of death without replying. It must have been serious, and if everyone in the lobby was in the same condition, they could be on the brink of an epidemic.

  ‘Ron, we’re leaving, now.’ Dean hurried to the elevator and Ron quickly followed behind. The woman stood next to Jamie who led her by the shoulders into the death room, her sobs now obvious, until they broke into screams, just as the elevator doors shut.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sheila’s Proposition

  ‘Harry, might you actually keep an eye on James for once.’ Molly pointed from the sun-baked plastic chair across to the sandy beach where little James had fallen. They were sat on the path under an awning from a shop, James ten or so feet away on the beach. Behind in the small information shop a radio was playing jazz songs and news reports. Molly to the left of Harry drinking bottled fizzy water. Harry had a diet orange juice but hadn’t touched it.

  Kids swarmed the sand playing with kites and building sandcastles. Parents sat and drank and ate ice cream. The surfers were riding the waves. The day was hot, Harry hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. Molly insisted they saved money, but Harry enjoyed seeing James play here, although today it was busy, and passers-by obscured the view now and again.

  ‘Of course, I was seeing how he handled it,’ replied Harry, who planted his orange on the table and made for the busy beach, cutting through the throng of anxious parents, helicoptering around their children.

  ‘Okay little man?’ he asked, helping his son to his feet. Little James Carrington had sand all over his shirt and on his face. Harry felt his pockets for a tissue and luckily found one, quite a clean one too. ‘Hold still will you.’

  James did as his father said and soon the tissue wiped the sand away and his crumpled-up face broke into a broad smile.

  It was always unusual weather on the island, being in the current of western winds and southern heats. Saturday was always busy in town, Harry had to travel through most of it to work at the opera.

  ‘Dad, can I have some more ice cream?’ he asked, using the old puppy eyes trick to persuade, but Harry didn’t need persuading, the sun beating down was making him crave one to, a mint chocolate single cone with flake and sprinkles.

  ‘Mint choc chip then?’ He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. The sun was irritating his legs and if he stood any longer in the scolding sun it would start to burn. The crowds of hatted families strolled by and waiting for a gap to cross back to the table was a nightmare, even the animals seemed to get in the way or the owner and the leash. The day trippers gathered wearing Hawaii shirts, shorts and sun caps around the tourist information where Molly was sat at the table. Looking further down the shopfront revealed empty seats nearer the beach bandstand, Harry considered trying to get a seat, but he knew Molly enjoyed this spot. Finally, after reaching the table, he took a gulp of the fizzy orange. His forehead leaking sweat now, and the ground swayed. It wasn’t usual to feel like this, he thought it must be because he’d drank orange rather than water all day.

  ‘Just going to get ice cream Molly, you want any?’ said Harry, keeping his eyes shaded with a hand. Molly sat croslegged, her thighs reddening and her toned arms looking like a soft cake. She nodded in agreement, quickly returning her eyes to James, who appeared to be taunting some girls who were sunbathing. Birds flocked overhead as the passers-by dropped some crisps. Harry saw the crowds moving towards the bandstand.

  Harry set off down the sidewalk, looking into the shops and restaurants, smelling crispy fries, ketchup and burgers. He was keeping right next to them under the shade and felt a few knocks and bumps of passers-by, some painful accidents, others he wasn’t so sure. In front of the bandstand, the area was packed with families on benches, drunk tourists and a few bikers with black leather jackets drinking and jeering. Usually they kept the idiots under control, but it seemed there was only two of them, for now at least. On stage the band was setting up plugging guitars into amps and microphones into speakers.

  The ice cream parlour overflowing with visitors. The queue extended across the path and down onto the beach. Harry thought it inconsiderate to block the path, so he made a point of pushing through to the bandstand. The teens at the front draped in black with mascara were going wild with excitement. They screamed and shouted, jumping around and smacking each other on the back in a buddy way. Cans of half-drunk beer flew outwards, some towards Harry and some towards the bikers, who responded with groans and then threw the cans back, hitting
the teens but not damping their excitement. Harry tiptoed to see the action; a rapid drum beat that he could feel vibrating in his chest. It sounded like a giant bongo on steroids. Then a guitar squealed, drowning out the screaming teens. A man dressed in a white rob stepped up to the mike. Harry tried to see but the crowd kept pushing him and the noise of screaming and rock was all to invigorating, so he yelled, ‘Wahoo!’ accompanied by an air punch and subsequent head bang. The men around, whoever they were, gave an approving shove to which Harry pushed back. It was all going well, the music pounded, and the guitar was off the rails with tons of hammer ons. The white gowned singer held up a hand and the band went silent, the crowd also, and then he whispered into the mike,

  ‘Pleased to be in Beach Town.’ Followed by a scream. ‘Deeeaaaddd tooowwwnnn!’

  The speakers shook the ground and the entire thing was overwhelming. Then Harry felt his phone buzz, it was probably Molly checking he was okay. He quickly shut the revelry out and the surrounding head bangers gave an aww as he walked away. The screen on his phone said Sheila, and straight away the car incident sprung to mind. Still he pushed back through the now smaller ice cream queue and stood next to the building having to shield his remaining ear from the music just to answer.

  ‘Sheila how are you?’ he answered cheerily, still feeling cocked and ten years younger again. The line was quiet for a second, and then Sheila crackled into audibility.

  ‘I’m good, Harry. I’m sorry to bother you but how do you fancy heading to a job interview with me?’ She sounded hesitant about asking. It was never easy for anyone round here to ask such favours, people kept to themselves.

  ‘I’m down at the beach right now,’ it was his turn to sound hesitant. ‘If you want…you could err, come down here with us, you know, Molly and James are here,’ he said, eager for her to say yes. He just hoped she wasn’t with Wendy if she did. The uncaring partner he had once called her.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not, I have to prepare for this, it’s today and I kind of really need a lift there.’

  Harry smelt something funky in the air and left the side of the store, probably drugs he thought. As he paced back thinking of a response, it seemed difficult doing it today, the city was about three hours away after all.

  ‘Why didn’t you ask me before today, Sheila? I would love to help but this is the only day I have free.’ As he approached Molly, she went from a smile to a frown, noting the time on her watch with a tut. James was still out in the sand, building a sandcastle with his hands. The teen girls were helping him, they looked as excited as James. The sand was crumbling but James kept trying to build it.

  ‘Queue is too big, better wait until later,’ he told Molly as he held the phone to his chest, then returned to the call, sensing a night of guilt if he said no.

  ‘Are you there, hello?’ Sheila asked anxiously.

  ‘Yes Sheila, I’m sorry but it’s not possible, we could meet up tomorrow though?’

  ‘No, Harry! Listen I haven’t got any money and you are the only person I have in the whole fucking world at the moment.’ Her voice sounded shaky, like it was breaking into a tearful one. The tone and timing of the call was one thing, but the bad language, something like this from Sheila meant serious stuff. The last time she blew the local drunk got a beating.

  ‘Okay, what time should I pick you up?’

  ‘Umm, I have to be there for five, so two is fine.’

  ‘Two? Okay, that shouldn’t be a problem, just bear in mind I don’t fancy getting cancer from passive smoking.’ He gurgled a laugh to lighten the mood but was met with silence.

  ‘No, I don’t expect you to,’ she retorted and hung up. Harry stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

  The day was still scorching. In the cloudless blue-sky flocks of seagulls were circling overhead and the golden sand was looking mystical. The sound of the waves rushing against the beach and the background noise of hundreds of conversations was calming Harry.

  ‘Sorry Molly, I need to go help a friend out. I’ll catch up with you and James later, okay?’ The water bottle he had previously bought still sat on the table, he opened it and downed it, feeling the cold liquid soothe his throat.

  ‘I’ll miss you, Harry. Hurry back please,’ Molly said. Harry felt relieved that he could get of town for some time, but he wanted to go with his family, not Sheila. Behind on the radio in the shop, Harry overheard a report about a riot in the city. He ignored it.

  CHAPTER 4

  Lost in Transition

  The two-door silver hatchback came to a stop on the third lane of Beach Town’s only motorway, which led over a sea bridge to the city. The traffic was at a standstill. The turn off to the hospital was busy, but the cars were moving at least. Harry and Sheila sat in dull silence, pondering their own thoughts, each in their own world. Somehow the windowpane seemed more interesting than the rumbling engines and miles of car roofs outside. Some kid, maybe a toddler was crying in the distance, a car clanked into a hurricane of smoke and an ambulance tried to pull right down the siding. Beach Town drivers used the right side of the road. It was hectic beyond reason.

  ‘Anytime soon we’ll be skeletons,’ sighed Harry, who wound the window halfway down, to be met with the smell of a cool breeze.

  ‘It’s not that bad, it’ll improve, just wait and see,’ Sheila said trying to ease her own doubt. But the cars edged forward an inch or two, and then stopped again. A man three cars down got out, shielding his eyes from the hazing sunlight. Then a woman smartly dressed in a grey suit, climbed out her sparkling two door Mercedes sport and the two-stood gazing into the distance. Less people honked and more engines went quiet.

  ‘Might as well save fuel,’ Harry said, keying the ignition off. Sheila looked in the rear-view mirror and saw some young men getting topless and jumping onto their wagon roof. Harry knew she was attracted when she looked at them, he didn’t blame her for looking because her girlfriend Wendy was dismissive and argumentative since she lost her job.

  ‘So, this job then, what is it?’ Harry asked. Sheila swung her head from looking at the men to Harry, who frowned stupidly. She cracked a knuckle and felt her pants pocket just to be sure she had her resume with her.

  ‘Yes, it’s what I’ve always done, assistant managing, you know?’

  Naturally her confidence shone through even though Harry knew she wasn’t going to make it today, not a chance. Harry knew she was at the end of her career as a manager, companies just didn’t have the work on the island anymore for them and Sheila’s financial and criminal background now made her the less than ideal candidate. On the other hand, Harry supposed someone would give her the second chance she needed, the break everyone needs when they do something wrong because they might feel sorry for her. They hadn’t even left Beach Town, and even if they had they’d need to get up to at least eighty on the outskirts to get there on time. Harry checked his watch, ten to twelve, just brilliant he thought. He was rather looking forward to exploring the city and Sheila’s potential office space that was probably littered with sticky notes and the desk probably had chewing gum to the bottom, yuck. More the city, Harry had read about some of the lavish shops along the city street, particularly mens clothing.

  He pushed back into his cushioned seat, the sagging fabric pressing against his back. ‘Damn, need to get this thing sorted.’

  Sheila held a cute kitten type look of disappointment that he seemed more interested in the seat than the job he just asked about. Harry knew he had a short attention span and that Sheila knew it to. The car was fast becoming a hot box, Harry fanned his face with his hand.

  ‘Why don’t we go to the cinema instead?’ Harry said. ‘You can call them and let them know you can’t make it today.’ He pushed his back into the seat and then rolled the window fully down, where a Smokey charcoal smell drafted in. Most people were on the bonnets now, some did handstands and others smoked and chatted. One woman was doing yoga in tight pants. She was sat on her roof, her ass crack slightly showing, but
she soon pinched it back up.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Sheila said. ‘What was I thinking taking an interview two hours out?’ Her sarcasm was followed with her rustling through her bag.

  ‘No chance, get out if you want to smoke,’ Harry said. But Sheila ignored him and pulled out her chap stick, opened and applied it with pouting pop.

  ‘Umm, cherry,’ she said, smiling to Harry. Harry saw Sheila glance to the rear view again, the lads had their shirts on and drinking beer. By the looks of it, the driver was too. Harry felt like joining them, even with the windows open it wasn’t enough to cool the car.

  ‘Screw it, I’ll be back soon,’ she said, stashing her chappy in her bag and dunking it to the back seat. Her succulently sexy black suit would have to win these young men, and their inability to see the age difference.

  ‘Be careful, I’ll take a walk,’ Harry replied before grabbing the keys and they both exited the baking vehicle.

  It felt like a heat wave was passing over, but it was bearable with the salty breeze of the sea. Harry walked slowly past each car. At first people seemed to be having fun and chatting and smoking, but as he moved further up the motorway, the people began to look more miserable and more of them were sat head in hands with water bottles. Harry paused next to a red Jeep, he noticed the man inside was asleep, or so he appeared to be. He considered the heat and knocked on the window, the man was still. Harry peered in, using his hands to see past the glare. The man wasn’t moving at all. The other folks around unaware. Harry tried the door, but it was locked.

  He knocked on the window. Nothing. He pulled the handle without success. By now the obese man behind had notices and ambled over, much to Harrys dissatisfaction. He probably suspected Harry of trying to rob something from the car.