Watts held the medicine bags on his lap. “I live in Fishtown.” He gave them the address.
In silence, they drove through the city, passing by limp bodies, two muggings, and a gaggle of people beating on a lone jihadist with whatever impromptu weapon they had. The man screamed in his foreign tongue, begging for mercy. None was given.
They arrived at Fishtown. It was a hipster neighborhood nestled against the Delaware River. Nightclubs, bars, art houses, and restaurants lined the streets. On a normal Monday night, lines of people ran from the door all the way around the side of the building. Tonight, it was a ghost town.
The Land Rover crept through the vacant streets, as if it were hallowed ground. Their headlights bounced across the few neglected vehicles on the road. The EMP exploded early enough in the day that traffic was light in this part of town. The only places that had attempts at breaks-in were the smoke shop and a couple of bars. They turned into East Flora Street and rolled to a stop in front of the brick row houses that were so common in Philly. The neighborhood had a lower middle-class vibe to it. It wasn’t a bad place to be; it was just dull.
They didn’t know much about Watts, only that he was the father of Trinity’s supposed boyfriend. Grappling with the idea of her baby daughter in the dating pool proved challenging. It would’ve been a topic worthy of a family dinner and still might be. Naomi wanted to scowl at her daughter, to tell her to never skip school, to never lie to her, to never make such a stupid decision ever again. But beyond the anger, what clenched Naomi’s heart was love. She just wanted to hold her daughter the way that Cathleen Ryan held Becca.
Watts stepped out of the car, toting his two duffel bags worth of pills. They rattled with his every step. He set one by his sneaker and pulled his key out of his pocket. He fiddled with the lock while Calvin and Naomi waited by the car. Calvin had gotten smart enough to shut off the car engine soon as they stopped. The less noticeable it was, the better. Resting the shotgun on her shoulder, Naomi joined Watts by the door. It opened into a dark house.
“Krystal?” Watts called out as he stepped inside. “Greg?”
The house was quiet. A large plasma TV hung on the wall. The couch was a little ruffled but altogether clean. A few dirty dishes were piled in the sink. They stepped inside.
Naomi felt the hair on the back of her neck stand.
“I knew I should’ve changed the locks,” a hostile female voice said behind them.
Watts twisted back slowly. “It’s just me.”
“Who’s the girl with the gun?”
“A friend.”
The unseen woman grunted. “Hand your weapon back to me. Stock first.”
Naomi carefully fed the weapon from under her armpit into the stranger’s hands. Once that was through, the woman walked around them. She clenched the shotgun by its middle and held it by her side. In the other hand was a snub nose revolver. She wore a heavy unzipped down jacket over a nurse’s scrubs. Her ebony face was unrelenting in its anger. Her dark hazel eyes were squinted in suspicion. She kept the gun on Naomi. Naomi kept a straight face, but on the inside panic and fear ruled.
Every muscle grew taut as she looked down the chromatic barrel. She’d never been on this side of a gun before. It was horrifying, knowing that this stranger was one trigger pull from ending her life. Naomi couldn’t do anything about it either. She didn’t know how to disarm someone. She only knew people and how unpredictable they could be in times of disaster. Nevertheless, to most of the human population, murder was a last resort. No one wanted to have blood on their conscience. By looking at the sweat on the woman’s forehead and upper lip, the way her shoulders were ridged and the slight tremble of the revolver, she wasn’t ready to take that plunge. Then again, if Naomi acted too hastily, the woman might misfire. It was almost a dance before the victim and assailant. As long as you didn’t step on each other’s toes, everything should be fine.
“I’m Dr. Baxter, a psychologist and author. You may have seen my program on television. It’s called ‘Finding Comfort in the Little Things.’”
The woman almost started laughing.
Naomi smiled too. “Rather ironic in the present circumstance.”
The woman addressed Watts. “Why is she here, and what does she want?”
“She wants to talk to Gregory,” Watts said and shut the door to keep any more cold air from invading the house. “He was last seen with her daughter.”
“Not quite,” Naomi interjected. “From what I know, it was Gregory’s older brother that picked her up from school today.”
“Daniel?” The woman was still trying to figure it out. “How old is your daughter?”
“Thirteen,” Naomi said, letting it sink in. “Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you about the whole thing.”
The woman lowered her gun, and Naomi felt like she’d just escaped prison and tasted freedom for the first time.
“Daniel, why in God’s green earth would you do such a thing?” the woman asked as if the man was in the room with her. She looked to Naomi. “My boy just got out of the state penitentiary for dating a minor.”
Naomi’s morale sank as she imagined a million possibilities as to what could have or could be happening to her daughter. None of them were PG. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream. She kept it locked away behind the pale face of a worried mother. Worried as to what could have happened to her little girl.
“All I know,” Naomi said slowly as she gathered her thoughts, “is that he was supposed to pick her up to go visit Gregory.”
The woman set aside the revolver and shotgun and rubbed her creased brow. Aging before your time was one of the many perks of being a nurse.
Naomi took a step forward. If things went sour again, she wanted to be able to grab the revolver before the woman could. The woman didn’t notice. Good. It was a small victory. “Gregory said he was staying at his uncle Forester’s house. I should’ve known he was telling me a lie.”
“Have you tried to contact him since the blackout?” Naomi asked
The woman shook her head shamefully. “It’s too dangerous out there for a woman right now. I was going to try in the morning. Maybe then the police will do their jobs.”
Naomi remembered the jihadists gunning down both civilians and police alike. She decided not to voice that fact, thinking it would only cause more stress in the woman’s life. Lord knew it certainly caused stress in Naomi’s.
The woman sighed. “I can give you Daniel’s address, but I don’t know how far you’ll get.”
“I think I can manage,” Naomi replied.
The woman looked her up and down, judging what she saw and finding it lackluster. “He’s in the Badlands, honey. It’s the only place that would take him.”
6
7:12 P.M
A perfect storm of fear and worry sucked up Naomi. Knowing that her daughter might be in the Badlands sent a shiver down her spine. She had heard the stories: gang violence, prostitution, recreational usage of illegal substances, and a place where outsiders were not welcome. It was about fifteen minutes from Fishtown.
“Daniel has an apartment in Kensington,” the woman explained. “He might have invited Gregory, but I don’t know. Either way, I suggest you get your daughter and get the hell out.”
She didn’t have to say that twice. It was already nightfall, and the chance that any of the police went to secure the Badlands after the blackout was slim to none. It was probably the last place they wanted to be sending backup. Scarier still, most people at this point in the night knew the police weren't coming. They might not have known about the terrorist faction, but that was not as big of a deal as knowing that there were no laws and no cameras. No nation had ever been this exposed since the Dark Ages. In highly populated areas, anarchy favored the brutal, and Naomi would be going to the most brutal part of town.
She looked at Watts. Her face was serious and fierce. “Can I have your gun?”
The pharmacist looked at her like she was crazy. “I�
�m going to need that to protect my boy.”
“Shouldn’t you be going after him then?” Naomi asked.
“He can survive one night,” Watts replied. “I’ll make the march in the morning.”
When the woman told her the apartment number, Naomi’s heart sank again. It was at the heart of the Badlands. There would be no way to hide the Land Rover. Without much else to say to the couple, Naomi went to the door. Watts called out her name. She turned back and quickly caught the pill bottle he tossed her.
“Antibiotics,” Watts said and tossed her a few more bottles of various meds. “That’s for getting me out of the pharmacy. Hold on to them. They’ll be worth more than gold soon.”
Naomi thanked him. She bounced down the steps and toward the Land Rover. Calvin was waiting for her. He didn’t do well at hiding his disappointment. “No Trinity. God help us.”
“We might know where she is,” Naomi said.
Calvin looked at her like a lost dog trying to find some glimmer of hope.
“She’s in Kensington. The Badlands,” Naomi explained.
Calvin cursed. “How are we going to get her from there? They’ll kill us for this car. This thing is practically a red target.”
“We have to try,” Naomi said, doing her best to stay strong.
“That doesn’t make it any easier.”
Calvin put the car into Drive and left Fishtown. He drove parallel to the Delaware River. Chunks of ice bobbed across the surface.
They drove through the streets of Philly. The chaos was rising. They entered into the Badlands. Tonight, despite the cold, terrorists, and snow, the predators were hunting. Gangsters walked the streets. They jumped on cars and smashed windows. A fire engulfed a police cruiser. A gas station owner gunned down two people trying to shoplift. The houses and abandoned warehouse lined the streets. They busted into a computer store and took what they wanted. Naomi saw multiple muggings that were interrupted by the sight of the Land Rover. Like running zombies, hordes of people charged after them. Calvin stuck to side roads and alleys. Most of these led to junkie dens. There were people smashing into cars. Others made a roadblock and shot at anyone who neared. The place had become a war zone. Snow and debris drifted in the air. The snowfall worsened and blinded them. A man jumped in front of the vehicle. Calvin swerved to keep from hitting him. The man got mad. He threw a tire iron.
Another with Molotov cocktails tossed them at various buildings and stores. The ironic part of the whole situation was that it was their own neighborhood they were destroying.
After getting spit at, cursed at, and almost catching on fire due to a liquor flask with flaming cloth inside, Naomi tried to keep positive. She put on a hard face, not wanting to give these people any pleasure.
The Rover reached the apartment complex and stuck to the alleys. They found a storage unit for an abandoned warehouse that had its door open. They pulled in there and got out. They pulled down the draw door to hide the car and realized that the lock had been broken. Nevertheless, they didn’t plan to spend any more time getting their daughter than needed. If she was even here.
They got out and put their hoods up. The snow was falling thick now. So far, it had been at least three inches. Naomi’s hands were numb from the cold. She opened and closed them to keep them warm. Her nose leaked. Her head hurt. She only wanted this hell of a day to come to a close. It seemed like her body was starting to work against her. Her joints ached. Her eyes watered. Her cheeks felt numb in the cold.
They snuck through the alleyway like two shadows in the night. Keeping close to the corner, they peered out into the street. A large gang of loud-mouthed men and women took turns hitting cars with bats and screaming profanities. One had a can of spray paint and decided to tag everything he saw. He even got one of his friends. Naomi and Calvin looked both ways. They crossed the street and got to the apartment building. It was more like a tenement house than a complex and had a few buildings standing parallel to one another. This had a dented intercom and metal bars on their doors and windows.
Calvin gave the gated door a pull. It opened with a rusty, screeching sound. They both noticed the broken lock. They stepped into the complex and moved up the stairs with careful steps. A few of the first-floor apartments had been broken into. Upstairs, they heard a woman screaming. A few men shouted at her to shut up. Running down the stairs was a skinny man with no shirt. His big eyes were crazy. He slammed into Calvin, knocking them both over. The man scrambled to his feet and flew out the door. It was only when the door was closing before he looked back and saw who Naomi and Calvin were. Two strangers. Two outcasts. Defenseless targets. Desperate parents.
The higher they ascended, the darker it got. Naomi pulled out the lantern and cranked it to life. It gave them a small glow of light. They pushed through a door and went up to the top floor.
They reached apartment 58. The hallway smelled of marijuana. It was almost intoxicating as they moved deeper in. As they approached, they realized that the door was slightly cracked open and a beam of light spilled out.
Without a word, she stepped into the living room. Junk littered the floor. The chairs were flipped over. The window had a baseball-like crack in the middle. A few flashlights cast beams across the room. The place had been ransacked. On the couch was a boy, probably around fourteen. He wore a tank top and cargo pants. His arms were like noodles and he had a black eye.
“Gregory?” Naomi asked
The boy didn’t respond. He looked like an urchin. She got up close to him to reveal that his eyes were closed. One was black and his lip was busted. Naomi gently shook his shoulder. His eyes went wide, and he scurried up the couch to where his back was against the wall.
“Calm down,” Naomi said, putting her hands out so he would see she wasn’t armed apart from the lantern. “Are you Gregory?”
The boy passed a nervous glance between Calvin and Naomi. He said nothing and looked like he was two seconds from running out of the door.
Naomi introduced herself and Calvin. “We’re looking for our daughter, Trinity.”
The boy’s eyes went wide. He pointed to the bedroom door.
Calvin hiked his thumb back at it. “She’s in there?”
The boy nodded many times.
Something about this felt wrong.
Calvin took point.
Naomi followed behind. As they started for the door, they heard the words, “I’m sorry.” The little boy ran out of the apartment.
Calvin slowly turned the doorknob to the bedroom.
The tension swelled like a musical number.
He opened the door and saw posters of scantily clad women up on the walls along with different posters of various rappers. They all had the explicit content rating on them. Incense candles lined the room as if it were part of some romantic séance. Trinity sat on the bed. Her stare was distant. She wore her schoolgirl outfit with her jacket crumpled beside her. Sitting next to her was a tall man, over six feet, with muscles the size of Naomi’s head. He wore a gold chain and had a bald head. He was in the process of unbuttoning Trinity’s shirt the moment Cal entered.
The man got to his feet. “Who the fuck are you, and how did you get into my house?”
Calvin froze for a moment. He looked past the man and at Trinity.
Tears falling down her face, she said, “Dad?”
“Come on, honey. We’re going home,” Calvin said.
The men stepped between him and Trinity.
Calvin sized him up though he didn’t stand a chance. “Back away from my daughter.”
The man chuckled. “So that’s who you are. This little whore’s parents? You’ve got a very beautiful little girl. I’ve spent the whole afternoon getting to know her.”
The words sent Calvin’s fist swinging. The man pulled back his head just in time and charged into Calvin, grabbing him by the waist and slamming him into the wall. The wall cracked behind him. The man pulled away from Calvin and decked him across the face. He hit the floor and spit o
ut a tooth. The man put his foot into Calvin’s stomach. He curled into himself.
Naomi stood in the doorway, watching for about a second before she charged forward and grabbed Trinity’s hand and pulled her from the bed.
“Mom, I’m--”
Naomi shut her up with a look. “Run. Now!”
Trinity darted for the hallway as Daniel turned his attention to her.
He smirked. “I know you. You were on the morning show.”
Naomi took a step back. She needed to stay long enough for Trinity to get to safety. If there was safety. The man loomed over her and started to take steps forward. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Suddenly, he dashed at her. Naomi twisted back to the kitchen and went straight for the knife rack. Her hand coiled around a hilt. The man grabbed her hair and yanked her back, spilling the knife box onto the floor. She twisted back and slashed across his chest. The shirt and skin opened. The man staggered back and looked down at his torso as blood slipped down his shirt. First he looked horrified, and then he looked mad. Madder than a raging bull. Rage turned his face red. He lunged at Naomi. She staggered back to the couch and aimed the knife at him.
“I will kill you!” she shouted. The words didn’t seem like her own. It was like some other force was working through her, controlling her actions, and she was just a spectator.
The words caused the man to stop. He smiled at her and then started laughing. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Take another step and you’ll find out!” Naomi barked.
The man put his hand out to grab her. Naomi’s knife stole his fingers. He staggered back and looked at his hand, which was two fingers short. He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly shut up by a chair slamming down on his head. The first hit caused him to crumple to his knee. The next hit caused him to fall. Calvin tossed aside the chair. His chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. With the top of his hand, he wiped blood away from his busted lip. His nose was swollen and his posture favored the left side more than the right. He spit on the unconscious man. Blood leaked out from Daniel’s bloody finger stubs and stained the floor.
Aftermath (Book 0): Aftermath Page 6