by J. Thorn
Byron dug in his pockets for the satellite phone. The black plastic shone in the winter glaze, the display temporarily cold and dead. He made the call and finalized the plan. For security’s sake, Byron considered smashing the phone to pieces on the hard sidewalk, but hesitated. He shoved it back into his pocket and hoped he would not need it again.
***
“That smells great,” said Jana.
One of the guards had unlocked her door earlier in the morning, and she’d wandered from the room. The commander stared at her. Jana’s hair fell down upon her shoulders. She wore a tight T-shirt, holding her breasts high. Her jeans rode low on ample, curvy hips. Byron snickered as the other soldiers stole glances.
“Come, join us,” said Byron.
He surveyed the damage he had done to her delicate face the night before. When the swelling went down and the purple bruises subsided, she would heal, except for the missing teeth.
“I’m sore, you son of a bitch.”
“I am truly sorry you brought that pain upon yourself. I am not enjoying much of the torturing of women, I hope you see this.”
Jana drew her finger across a swollen lip and winced.
“I’m not convinced of that.”
Byron handed her a cup of hot coffee. Jana held it to the corner of her mouth with care, and attempted to pour it into her throat. The liquid struck the open, raw wounds of her mouth and she dropped the cup to the floor. She glared at Byron through tears of pain.
“It will heal faster than you think.”
“Don’t talk down to me. I’m a nurse. I know what it will take. And I know that teeth don’t grow back.”
“Can we move past the hostility and work together?”
“As long as I’m your prisoner, there is no such thing as ‘working together’. You’d better remember that if you let your guard down for one second, I’ll do my best to cut your throat.”
Commander Byron smiled. The grizzled warrior relished the threat and became excited by it. He motioned to the guards. They appeared on each side of Jana, and one of them grabbed her by the shoulder.
“There is no need to spill any more blood, or coffee. Both are valuable liquids, are they not?”
Jana got the message and let her body go limp, sliding back into the chair. The guards stepped back but stayed within arm’s reach of her.
“Beautiful and wise, a nice combination.”
Jana rolled her eyes.
“Today we are marching back towards your house. We must find John and then report to Father. If you do not incite a fight, you will not find one. My men are expert marksmen. They will eliminate any threats to our movement on my command. Gather your things together. We leave in twenty minutes.”
“I thought we were going to Reggie’s house,” protested Jana.
“Sometimes plans change, my dear.”
“Christ. Why can’t you let us be?”
“I have my orders, and I will follow them. When man discards orders, society breaks down. Go pack your things.”
Jana turned and stomped into the storeroom. She packed a bag of loose clothes, given to her by Sally. Jana thought about her and Jay, and then decided that it would not do any good to speculate. She tossed pieces of beef jerky, her battered cell phone, and a bottle of water into the bag. Then the commander searched and removed any potential weapons from her possession. However, with the modern world brought to its knees, he found no reason to keep her phone.
Commander Byron and his two guards had their backs to Jana when she exited the storeroom. The one on the left looked over his shoulder to let her know they monitored her location. Jana sighed and lamented the slim possibility of her escape from their hands.
The group set off at a fair pace and, for a man with a cane and limp, Commander Byron made good time. The foursome stuck to the main avenues and traveled east, away from downtown Cleveland. The guards kept their rifles angled toward the side of the road, and the Commander walked directly behind Jana.
They covered nearly seven miles during the daylight. As five o’clock neared, the early arrival of the November night swallowed the day. The group stopped at a crossroads. A bank stood on one corner, with a service station across from it. On the other side of the street, a Phoenix Coffee sat next door to a Chinese restaurant. All of the businesses contained gaping windows and no movement.
“The Phoenix. I like the name of that place. Maybe they will have more coffee,” said Byron, nodding toward the guards.
The two soldiers held up a hand, signifying that Jana and Byron were to wait outside until they could secure the building.
Byron removed a silver cigarette case from his pocket. He opened it and drew out a hand-rolled smoke. He offered one to Jana, but she refused it.
“I pulled this from a dead soldier in the hills of Kabul. The bullet that killed him entered his heart inches from the pocket that held this. I cannot read the inscription on it, so I often look at it and try to imagine what it says. Some days it is a message of hope, and other days it is one of vengeance.”
“I’m cold,” said Jana.
“I didn’t think I would make it out of that godforsaken country alive,” he continued. “Afghanistan is the most wretched place on earth. In the summer, it is dusty, hot, and filthy. In the winter, the cold will burn your fingers and toes right off. And the women, they cover themselves from head to foot. There is no, shall we say, recreation for a soldier in that place. The tobacco, in this case, kept me sane.”
Jana sat on the curb, staring at the remnants of a Styrofoam cup while the commander spoke. She thought about the person that purchased the cup, in another lifetime. He was on his way to work perhaps, stopping in for a quick shot of caffeine and a buzz to start his day. Before the rest of her daydream could unfold, the two soldiers came back out of the coffee shop.
“All clear,” the soldiers said to Commander Byron.
The foursome spent an uneventful night in the Phoenix. In the morning, the commander managed to find undamaged beans. They’d brought the car-battery power with them and were able to get a drip machine running. Most of the shop sat in shambles, as an explosion had taken place in the main sitting area, leaving a substantial gap in the roof. Wind blew snow and rain through it, which ruined most of the product in the store.
They headed east again. Jana recognized the streets themselves, but struggled to recognize the places. The buildings sat void of all life. She never realized how much humans influenced the mosaic of the neighborhood. In the afternoon, they picked up Mayfield Road. She felt the closeness of Plainfield Road, their final destination. However, the Commander’s pace slowed. The toll of the hike had robbed him of his energy. They took longer and more frequent breaks. His limp became more pronounced, and they covered half as much distance as they had the day before.
A “For Lease” sign hung by one corner in the front window of a deserted flower shop. The door slanted off its hinges, sticking in the sidewalk out front. Shattered glass spread out from the epicenter of the front door.
Inside, most of the cooler units and display cases stood empty. The lingering smell of roses lifted Jana’s spirits. She found a handful of dried flowers in one corner and scooped them into her bag. Unlike the previous night’s stops, the back room of the flower shop sat in disarray. The floor held two inches of water that poured in from an open back door and hole in the roof.
“Looks like we’ll all be sharing this room tonight,” said Byron.
Jana sat in a corner and pulled her knees up to her chest.
“We are a mile from your home. Tomorrow we will arrive. I must remind you that if you try anything, anything at all, I will have these men fill you with holes. I have an order, but I will not jeopardize us for you.”
Jana ignored him. She rolled her eyes and kicked the remains of a vase across the littered floor.
“I have to go,” Jana said.
“Escort her,” Byron said to the soldier nearest him.
“Can you show some decency? W
here am I going to go?”
“Nowhere, because you will be escorted. Go with her.”
The man followed Jana through the store and out the back door. She found a half wall separating one parking lot from the next. Jana stepped over it and squatted. The soldier could see her from the shoulders up. Jana stared right through his cold eyes while relieving herself. She stood and pulled her pants up at the same time, providing a glimpse of her ivory flesh. The soldier’s eyes never left hers.
Each man took a corner of the store for their personal sleeping space. The soldier that escorted Jana outside sat across from her while the other one stood guard at the front door. The commander fell asleep. His snores rattled the existing glass inside the shop.
“If you come near me, I will slit your throat,” said Jana, who possessed no weapon except her own rage.
With a burning stare, the soldier grinned through yellowed teeth.
***
“Sir, there is movement on Mayfield.”
“Where?”
“A mile or so out. The flower shop.”
The sergeant overseeing the house on Plainfield Road stiffened.
“Radios off. Get a patrol to recon. Do not engage and do not reveal yourselves. Get back here in one-hundred-twenty minutes with an update.”
The soldier trotted away. Another joined him as they moved south on Plainfield toward Mayfield Road.
Chapter 34
“There is heavy shit going down.”
John opened his eyes and thought for a second that a rebellious Viking warrior had escaped from Valhalla. Sully’s red hair surrounded his upper body, urged on by the dry winter air. He braided his beard in various places. A black, leather vest struggled to hold the bulk of man inside it. Numerous patches and symbols covered the vest, many of which meant nothing to John. Sully wore a black holster over one shoulder and rested it on his left hip. His eyes revealed turmoil, but a certain level of excitement as well.
“Why bother to help after you ditched us at the Jigsaw?” John asked the question and pulled back from Sully, fearful that he may have offended the red giant.
“Pure luck, brother. Its like I tried to tell you before. We were in the area, heard gunfire, and jumped in the fray. Didn’t know it was you until I put my crosshairs on your chest.”
John laughed with an uncomfortable tick. “Don’t know whether to thank you or run.”
“You might wanna do both,” replied Sully.
Crystal appeared at Sully’s right and whispered into his ear. Sully’s expression did not change or betray his thoughts. She walked back behind the stage to check on Alex.
“He’ll be okay, but he ain’t goin’ anywhere. Dude’s lost a lot of blood and we got no way of fixing that. Only time can replenish it.”
“How long?”
“Crystal thinks maybe a couple days, or maybe a week or two. It all depends on the shape his body is in and how quickly it can heal. Settle in, dude. We’ve got plenty of beer and women to go around.”
John’s face flushed and he balled his fists at his sides.
“I can’t wait.”
Sully handed a beer and bottle opener to John. He paused and raised one eyebrow.
“Huh?”
“Its like I tried to tell you. I gotta get to my wife. I know she’s alive and I think I know where she’ll be.”
Sully popped the top off of the beer and let the bottle cap roll through his feet and over the edge of the stage. It took a suicidal jump and landed with a puny clink as it hit the concrete floor of the first row.
“I’m listenin’.”
“I need to get back to my house on Plainfield. If she’s alive, I know she’ll be there too. Can’t say for sure, but I think our neighborhood was one of the first to come under attack. It’s been long enough that I doubt they’re patrolling that street anymore. If she’s still alive, and I think she is, she’ll be there hoping I return too.”
“And then what?” asked Sully. “You gonna hang your Christmas decorations?”
John’s face dropped.
“It’s what I gotta do, and I can’t wait weeks for Alex to get better and join me. I’m asking that you either let me go alone or that you join me.”
Sully put the beer up to his mouth. The end of the bottle disappeared into a cavernous mouth. John watched Sully’s facial scars twitch with indecision. With the back of his left hand, Sully wiped the beer froth from his beard.
“Fuck me. I’m always up for spilling blood.”
John sighed and sat back on his milk crate until his head rested on the wall.
“Can we leave now?”
“Slow down there, cowboy. I gotta get the boys rounded up, decide who’s going, smoke a blunt. Got lots of things to do before we go marchin’ into another firefight. Let’s party tonight and we’ll push out at the crack of dawn tomorrow. How’s eleven a.m.?”
John’s mouth twisted toward a grin, and then pulled back to a thin smile.
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Why don’t you go and check on your buddy. Crystal says he’s come around. He’s weak, but at least you can tell him what’s going on.”
Crystal appeared next to John and took him by the hand. He followed the sway of her hips up to the flaming-dragon tattoo on her lower back. Stretch marks crawled out from under frayed jeans and behind the top of laced panties. Crystal spun to smile at John, revealing crow’s feet and streaks of temple gray.
John followed the woman through a maze of old sets and stage props, which had not been used for productions in quite a long time and probably would not be for many years to come. He walked under the yawning hole in the ceiling, which allowed the smoke from the fire ring to escape.
Crystal stopped in the doorway of a dressing room and held up one arm, pointing to Alex’s cot. Once John entered, she disappeared back toward the stage.
Alex was on his back, boots off and sitting on the floor underneath the cot. A musty, blue moving blanket covered him from feet to neck. John saw scraps of tape stuck to it in various places, artifacts of the ancients fleeing suburbia. He crept into the room and heard Alex’s breathing, uneven and ragged, but consistent. As John approached, Alex’s head tilted up.
“Ah, it’s you. I’d much prefer a biker babe in a Catholic schoolgirl’s outfit.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I only wear that for Jana.”
Alex began to laugh, but it took a violent turn toward a cough. When the bout ended, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. John winced a little.
“Sorry, man.”
Alex pulled his hand from underneath the blanket and waved it at John.
“Not your fault. You shouldn’t have to warn a man before you make him laugh.”
“So what’s the deal? Is there anyone here that can give you an accurate update on your situation?”
“Our talkative friend Crystal gave Sully a report. From what I could understand, through beer spittle and secondhand smoke, I was hit in the leg, shoulder, and chest. The leg wound grazed the surface, and the other bullet went clean through my chest. It may have hit a lung, enough to cause me minor discomfort. He said that Crystal is worried about my shoulder because the slug is still in there. I’ve lost so much blood that if she tried getting to it, I could bleed out. On the other hand, if she leaves it until I start to heal, there is a high risk of infection. So that’s where we are. I’m not sure I’ve decided what I want them to do.”
“Are you sure they’re going to give you a choice?”
“No, not really. I’ve got vials of drugs we took from my office that haven’t been smashed to shit through our little adventure. I’m thinking about asking Sully to let Crystal try digging it out. I can dope myself up real good and, if I do go, I’ll go out on a nice high. I can’t imagine letting infection eat me from the inside out. No one should have to go that way. Well, almost no one.”
Alex shook his head and coughed again into his hand. The faint odor of decay floated to John. He reached o
ut to touch Alex, and was repulsed by the feel of his cold, clammy skin.
“You sound pretty set with your decision.”
“Well, I’ve been laying here with nothing else to think about. I can’t even think of finding my family if I’m not healthy.”
John looked around the room and spotted a feather boa hanging from a dusty coatrack. He walked over and shook it free of dust mites and spiderwebs. John wrapped it around Alex’s head like a bandana.
“I’ll see if I can get the road whores to party with you.”
Alex ignored John’s attempt at lightening the mood.
“You don’t have to wait for me. Go. Do what you need to do.”
“Sully said he’ll come with me, bring his guys and firepower.”
Alex coughed again. The fit brought a star-shaped burst of red to his palm.
“Rest up. Hopefully I’ll be back here with Jana and I can introduce you two. I think you’d get along great.”
Alex smiled and looked at the ceiling. He avoided John’s eyes. “Yeah, good luck, bro.”
***
Sully and his gang partied throughout the night. Beer appeared from behind doors and from under furniture. John overheard the guys talking about the timing of the Apocalypse. The cold winter would keep the beer chilled well into March, before they would have to worry about it going skunk. By that time, they could get the bud in the ground and be smoking homegrown by June.
John sat on a chair, nursing a beer throughout the night. The men did not exclude him from the dice, cards, or fondling of women, but they didn’t go out of their way to include him either. John laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He sat amongst a group of lawless outsiders existing on the periphery of society, scoffed at and ignored by the mainstream. And now, he himself was on the outside: the taxpayer, the good citizen, the husband, the homeowner. John wondered how long it would take for the roles to reverse completely. If the Keepers of the Wormwood gained control, who would they rebel against? John realized that it did not really matter to the bikers if they “won”. They would be happy allowing the Holy Covenant to control society the same way the capitalists and lawmakers had before them. From their perspective, nothing really changed except that they had fewer enemies. The Covenant removed the middle ground, leaving two factions-- the Church and those that resist it. In a strange way, John felt relieved that his world became black and white. The grays made people lazy, apathetic, and depressing. A woman approached John from his left and sat on a milk crate, shaking him from his contemplative state.