by James Bierce
Looking up at the sky, Curtis knows they won't be sleeping in the cabin tonight. A thick, dark band of clouds was pouring in from the west, obscuring nearly all of the light from the already diminishing sun.
Their trip to the beach had been filled with nearly constant chatter between the two brothers, both of them excited about the prospect of finding treasures washed up from the bottom of the ocean. The trip back, however, was silent. Neither of them had actually witnessed anything, but they both knew something significant had happened.
As they walk into the clearing that surrounds the cabin, Curtis sees Sarah waiting for them by the front door. With the radio in one hand and two raincoats in the other, Sarah holds out the coats to Matt and Ben. "Why don't you two gather up your stuff and put it in the truck. It looks like its going to rain again tonight."
"We're not sleeping inside tonight?"
"One more night in the truck, I promise." she replies.
Curtis waits for them to leave, then turns to Sarah. "I have to tell you something..."
"Me first, but let's go inside."
Maybe its the fact that its so dark inside, or maybe he's just getting used to it, but the cabin is actually looking halfway decent. Its certainly roomier than the bed of their F150 pickup. A good washing tomorrow and they should be able to move in — that is if the well out back is still operable.
"It looks great." he says.
"That's not what I wanted to talk about."
He notices that she's almost shaking. "Okay, what is it?"
"I tried to call Annie, but my phone went dead. There's no signal at all."
"Yeah, I can't say I'm surprised. It probably happens all the time during these storms."
"That's not all. The radio went out too, every station."
"Did you try the truck radio?"
"Its out too, and so is the satellite radio."
He holds out his hand. "Let me see it for a minute."
He starts flipping from one station to the next, hearing the same monotone static on each one. Switching from AM to FM doesn't yield any results either, or the weather band. He switches it again, and then slowly changes the frequency, listening closely to every dial setting.
"What are you listening to now?" Sarah asks.
"Shortwave. You can pick up signals from all over."
Hearing raindrops on the roof overhead, she glances outside to make sure her kids aren't getting soaked before they climb into the truck. To her surprise, they're already inside. Its usually a battle.
Curtis switches the radio off, then sits down on a wooden chair covered in a decade of dust and cobwebs.
"Nothing. All the channels are dead."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, but its not good."
Since their encounter the night before, Larry was all the more determined to leave Hood Canal for good, but the fact that he felt that way was heart-wrenching. This was where he was born — it was where he grew up, got married, and one day hoped to raise a family of his own. Today those hopes and dreams are gone, leaving behind only an emotional scar as a reminder of what his life almost was.
In a strange twist of fate, it felt as though the world only consisted of Beth and himself, just as it had during most of their childhood. Their father had left when Larry was six, and Beth was only an infant. That resulted in a string of stepfathers and boyfriends in and out of their lives — some of them horrible, and some of them wonderful. It was the latter that hurt so much. With them came the promises of a normal life, of summer vacations and Christmas parties — all of them eventually ending in disappointment when he suddenly realized they wouldn't be coming back. To make matters worse, their mother didn't seem to notice his heartache and disappointment, or care if she did notice. That cycle of broken promises ended the day he met Jennifer — or at least he thought it did. He was beginning to wonder if this was all part of that same cycle, a small section of an endless loop he's only now beginning to recognize.
Afraid of being seen in the canal during the day, the group have spent the last sixteen hours hiding in the winding channel of a small, but deep creek — tucked out of sight from the rest of humanity. Now that they were once again in the cover of darkness, Larry was determined to make up for lost time.
"Mind some company?"
Larry turns around and sees Sean halfway up the ladder to the pilothouse.
"Not at all, come on up."
Sean sits down in the chair next to Larry, taking in what little view there is. There's no fog tonight, and the moon hasn't yet risen overhead to illuminate the shore on either side of them, or the water in front of them.
"Its dark tonight isn't it?" asks Sean.
"Yeah, but I don't really want to run the main lights. Might arouse too much suspicion."
They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, each one feeling obligated to say something, and both wondering if smalltalk was appropriate in a time like this. Finally, Larry breaks the ice.
"So you're from Colorado?"
"No, that's just where my dad ended up. I grew up in Oregon, just outside of Salem."
"And you work at the prison with Jake?"
"I used to. I doubt I have a job anymore — considering what happened and all."
"What did happen exactly? I've only heard bits and pieces from Beth."
Sean nervously shifts around in his seat, folding and unfolding his arms — like he's had too many cups of coffee.
"Its all a bit of a blur to tell you the truth... I guess it started a couple of weeks ago, the regular supply shipments stopped coming in. Just the laundry service at first, then soap, toilet paper — that kind of stuff. That didn't go over so well with the inmates, as you can imagine, but about a week ago the food shipments stopped too. Things got a little interesting."
"What, like riots and stuff?"
He gives Larry a small, awkward grin — which Larry considers inappropriate considering the seriousness of the subject.
"I guess it started that way, yeah. I can't really blame them really, they knew what was going on outside the walls, at least as much as we did. If you're hungry you're capable of some serious shit."
Sean begins coughing, a slight, shallow cough — then controls himself again. Larry notices it, he's even alarmed by it, but he tries to hide his suspicions from Sean.
"So what did they do?" asks Larry, trying to speak as nonchalantly as possible.
"Its not so much what they did, its what we did. The second day of rationing we had a small group of prisoners escape, maybe six or seven at the most. They headed straight for town — stealing cars, stealing food, killing people that got in their way, just going nuts. The next day the boss brings all of us in for a meeting, telling us that we're the only chance the town has, that if any of these people get out they'll destroy the town."
"So what did you do?"
"We went in and killed what was left of the prisoners, or at least we tried to."
"Jesus."
"Yeah, that's what I said."
"You said some of them weren't killed?"
"A bunch of them got out. As far as I know they're tearing the hell out of the town as we speak — the warden got that part right."
Larry doesn't know what to say. He's trying his best not to judge the man sitting next to him — after all, he might have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.
"So what do you think is really going on?" Sean asks him.
"With the virus?"
"Or whatever it is."
"I don't know, I guess its like the flu or something, only a lot worse."
"I've heard entire cities back east are gone, wiped out overnight." says Sean.
"I think we've all heard those stories."
"Yeah, its probably a bunch of bullshit."
Larry points to the starboard side, toward the east. "You notice anything strange over there?"
Sean looks, but can't see anything, just the blackness of night. "No, I can't see a damn thing.
"
"Exactly. You don't find that odd?"
"Why should I?"
"About fifteen miles in that direction, as the crow flies, is downtown Seattle. And about five miles in the same direction is Bremerton. That sky should be lit up like a baseball field."
"Fuck..."
"Oh, that's not the eerie part. Just ahead of us, about a thousand yards away, is Bangor, the naval ballistic sub base. Its a little quiet, don't you think?"
Sean peers into the night ahead of them, trying to spot some glimpse of light from the shore, but there is none. The only light around is coming from their boat, and the stars overhead, which seem unnaturally bright.
"Those stories you've been hearing, the ones about cities dying and the end of civilization... Yeah, I think they're bullshit stories, created by people like you and I that don't know what the hell is going on —but they might be right."
Sean begins coughing again, this time more forcefully than before. His eyes quickly turn bloodshot.
"Everything okay over there?" asks Larry.
"Yeah, its just allergies. I've had them all my life. Its this fucking damp air."
"Still, it might be a good idea to wear a mask, just in case."
The expression on Sean's face suddenly turns hostile, and even in relative darkness its noticeable to Larry.
"I'm not sick. Its just allergies." Sean says sharply.
"I'm not making accusations. I'm just simply..."
"I haven't even seen a sick person. I certainly haven't had a wife die of it."
In that instant, Larry knows Beth was right, it was best not to let anyone else know about Jennifer — its just too bad she never passed that wisdom onto her husband. He looks Sean directly in the eyes, but the look coming back is filled with venom.
"How long is your shift?" Sean asks.
Larry tries to stay as calm as possible on the outside, but inside he'd like to throw Sean overboard for what he said. "There are no shifts. We're going to Port Townsend. We'll spend the day there, maybe top the tanks off if the station is open."
"Why don't you let me take over when you're done, we can push straight through to Astoria that way."
"I appreciate the offer, but we're spending the day in Port Townsend."
"Uh huh..."
Larry can feel him staring, and for the first time tonight he's painfully aware of the gun Sean has strapped to his side. Sean stands up, still staring at him, then turns around and walks to the ladder. "I'm off to bed, just holler if you need me."
"You can count on it."
When Jake walks out of the only bedroom on the boat, and into the main cabin, the first thing he sees is Sean dressed in full uniform — complete with a sidearm and pepper spray. Beth and Larry are outside on the deck behind him, with a look of concern on their faces.
"What's going on?" Jake asks Sean, still trying to wake up.
"Look who decided to finally get up! Get your shit on, we're going to shore."
"Where are we?"
"Port Townsend. The captain wants to see if we can buy fuel."
"What time is it anyway?"
"Quarter after six. You brought your gear, right?"
"Yeah, I brought it."
Beth walks into the cabin, giving a courteous smile to Sean as she walks by him. "Can I talk to you, in private?" she asks Jake, walking past him and into the bedroom.
"Sure..." He turns around, winking at Sean.
After they leave, Sean yells... "Don't you two make too much noise, this boat has thin walls!"
Beth waits for Jake to enter, then closes and locks the door behind him.
"Wow, you really are in the mood..."
"Shut up and listen." she whispers. "You have to get rid of Sean, today."
"Whoa, where did this come from?"
"Larry had a talk with him last night, and he all but threatened his life."
"Wait, this is Larry we're talking about. You know how Larry can be..."
"This is different, he even brought up Jen. Thanks for telling him that by the way."
He sits down on the bed, completely overwhelmed. "Do you have any idea what you're asking? You're talking about tossing him out like he's a stray dog or something. This is my best friend."
"He's sick."
"I've known him for years, he's fine."
"No, I mean he's really sick. He's got this flu or whatever."
"He has allergies."
"Are you willing to risk your life on that? Are you willing to risk mine? He's too much of a liability."
He gets up and paces what little floorspace there is, a million thoughts running through his mind.
"Alright, any thoughts as to how this might happen? If you hadn't noticed, he's armed for war out there — and I doubt we'll be able to talk him into staying, especially if he's gone all psycho on us."
"Go to the store with him, acting completely natural, and we'll leave his bags on the dock."
"And then what?"
"Make up an excuse, say you forgot something on the boat. By the time he figures it out we'll be gone."
"Fuck, this can't end well. He's gonna be pissed."
"You'll be fine, just get dressed." She gets up and walks to the door, then turns around again. "Do whatever it takes, just don't let him come back."
Port Townsend isn't like most towns along the Washington coast. The other towns have either modernized or fallen apart from years of neglect, but Port Townsend looks almost exactly as it had over a century ago. Thanks to strict building codes and city ordinances, every house and business in the historic district uses the same architecture and paint colors as they did during the Victorian age, giving you the impression that you've traveled back in time — aside from the occasional hybrid car or smart phone that is.
Walking down the dock toward downtown, Jake is trying to keep his cool, and trying to tell from Sean's face if its working. While his physical expressions aren't giving anything away, Sean's mood has been cheerful all morning, indicating that he's probably oblivious as to what's about to happen.
"You see anybody?" asks Sean.
Jake looks at the streets in front of them, a perfect view of the hill that makes up downtown. "No, it looks empty. Might be too early."
"Its Wednesday morning, it should be busier than hell."
"That was before. Things are different now."
"Ain't that the truth. That must be the store up there on the left."
"Did Larry tell you what to do if they're closed?"
"Yep, find the key to the pumps."
If Jake's mind weren't filled with anxiety he'd probably find the situation humorous. Here they were, two prison guards, planning to steal diesel from a dock, and their getaway vehicle maxes out at ten knots.
"It says open on the window." Sean points out.
"It looks dark inside though — in fact the whole city looks like its out of power."
Sean tries the handle, but its locked. He looks in through the window, but can't see anybody inside, just half-empty shelves. As he knocks on the door and window, Jake walks to the intersection behind the store.
He'd never liked living in town, he always preferred the peace and quiet of living in the country, where the only constant noise was the wind. As much as he disliked the bustle of the city though, standing in the middle of one with no sound or activity at all was decidedly worse. It was like looking at a still photograph, where everything looks like it should, but its somehow lifeless and without character. He notices the cars still parked along the streets, and a cat sitting on the front porch of a house washing itself. He sees everything but people.
"There's nobody inside. I'm just gonna break the window." Sean hollers.
Jake walks back toward the store. "Whatever you do, make it quick. This place gives me the creeps."
Sean takes his nightstick out and puts it through the window beside the door, then reaches in and unlocks the deadbolt.
"I always wondered what that felt like..."
Jak
e follows him inside, an uneasy feeling building in his gut. The store is mostly empty, with no sign of food anywhere. It looks as though they weren't the only ones looking to replenish their supplies. As Sean heads behind the counter, looking for any sign of the keys, Jake sees it as a perfect opportunity for a getaway.
"Shit, I forgot the list that Beth gave me."
"From the looks of the shelves I doubt we're gonna find any of it anyway."
"You never know. Besides, she'll be pissed if I didn't try."
"Just hold on a minute and I'll head back with you."
Jake can feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and the pain shooting through his jaw as it clenches. This isn't going to plan.
"I'll be back in just a second, then we'll both look."
He starts to head out, and then just as he makes it through the door he hears Sean.
"You leaving me behind?"
"Yeah right." Jake says, hoping to pass the remark off as a joke.
"I think its best if we both stay — you know, for security and all. It might be in both our interests." His tone is serious, even somewhat threatening.
Jake is still standing just outside the door, with a slight smile still plastered on his face. "Did I do something?"
"No, but your brother-in-law said plenty last night. I'm just looking out for myself. You understand, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so. We're in this together though, all of us."
"Right, so lets find the key and get the hell out of here."
Jake slowly walks back inside and joins Sean behind the counter. "Are we okay? I'm not really sure what's happening."
"We're fine, we just have work to do."
All Jake can think of are Sean's bags waiting on the dock beside the boat, and what his reaction would be if he saw them. He hates the position he's been put in, and he's pissed at Larry and Beth for placing the burden on him.
"We're still friends, right?" Jake asks, extending his right hand for Sean to shake.
"Always."
As Sean extends his hand, Jake grabs his stun gun with his other hand and pulls the trigger, sending the electrodes directly into Sean's neck. He hits the ground instantly, his body shaking from the electricity coursing through his nervous system. Jake watches him for a moment, in disbelief at what he just did — then he sees Sean's hand reach down to his side in an uncoordinated effort to unsnap his revolver. Jake bends down and jerks his arm away, then unsnaps the gun himself and takes it.