by J. D. Palmer
Chapter 27
We are on the road again. Driving fast yet I feel as if we are moving at a crawl. Hours pass. My mind, as usual, returns to my home. I would be willing to bet my mom is in the garden, harvesting the last of the vegetables before the frost sets in. I wonder if Jessica helps her. They were always quiet around each other. I know they liked each other. But my mom was so formal with Jessica, less relaxed than she was when it was just my sister and I. And Jessica was—
A car honks and it jolts me from my revery. Josey pulls alongside the Bronco, Steven hanging out the passenger side, yelling and pointing wildly. I look where they are pointing. There, flying low over what must be San Francisco, is a helicopter.
“Holy shit.”
I hit the brakes and Josey pulls over too.
We pile out of the car and watch, mesmerized, excited beyond all reason to see this relic of the past.
“What is it doing?” Josey is shielding his eyes, following it as it zips in and out of buildings. None of us answer. None of us knows. It hovers for a second before turning and disappearing into the city.
We stand around, waiting for it to return. Waiting for something. Anything. The wind picks up, a colder breeze than any of us have felt in quite some time. Malevolent clouds have formed off in the distance.
I shiver and glance around at the others. They scan the horizon with stony faces, wanting to hope but being one too many times bitten.
“Let’s go.” I put an arm around Beryl and we walk back to the car. I feel John’s gaze as he slowly gets into the back seat of the other rig. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. He wants to go find the people. But he knows my answer to that.
We drive along slowly, eyes peeled for movement. It’s more crowded now, cars stacked in rows on the freeway forcing us to take exits and crawl through neighborhoods. A light rain begins to fall.
“There.” Theo leans into the front and points over a building.
“I don’t see anything.”
His face is stony, eyes scanning the horizon. “I’m pretty sure I saw it flying over there.”
We wait. Josey has stopped behind me, he trudges up to our car, hand shielding his face against the light rain. I don’t think he enjoys precipitation too much. “Theo saw the helicopter, we’re waiting to see what it’s up to.” He nods and trots back to the brothers.
“Are you sure you saw—”
Then I see it off to our left. It’s not too far off, cruising low over the freeway. Now that it’s close I can tell it’s a military craft, dark green with a sharply angled cockpit. Large guns sit beneath the small wings. It suddenly veers, changing course to come our way.
“Get down. Huddle down!”
We squirm into the seats, hands holding guns, and I pray that they didn’t see us. I hope the other car is doing the same. The heavy thuds of blades churning air gets closer and turns deafening as the helicopter sweeps over us.
The helicopter pauses over us and then moves down the street in the direction we were heading. Abruptly it turns around, sitting sideways as it hovers fifty meters away. A hiss from Beryl and I turn to her. She is staring out the window at the figure of John. He stands in the middle of the street in front of his car waving his hands at the helicopter.
“Out! Spread out!”
I jump out of the car and I hear the others following. Steven is already out of their vehicle and stands a few paces back from his brother, one hand nervously clutching his gun.
“Spread out! Get under cover!” I grab John and shove him behind the car. “The fuck are you doing?” I almost hit him. I turn back to the helicopter, waiting for it to make a move. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds we stare at each other as the rain gets thicker and the wind stronger. Then a slow turn and it arcs away over the building.
We stay outside, drenched, listening as the sound dwindles into the distance.
John starts to say something and I snap at him. “Get into your fucking car.” We’ll have plenty to say to each other later. Right now I want to get us to some place hidden from view.
I weave down small avenues, burrowing into the suburbs of whatever city we find ourselves in. A dumpy motel sits at an intersection and I pull the car under a tree. I storm out of the car and across the road to the motel, fury making me get away from the others.
The lobby door is open. I grab a bundle of keys behind the desk and march back outside. The rest of the group stands next to the cars in a half ring. I speed back across the street, fully prepared to lay into John.
He’s already getting it.
“Did you see the size of those guns? If they had wanted to they could have killed us all in two seconds. But you had to get out of the car and fucking wave. What the hell, man?” Josey’s anger is soft, a venting of frustration. When Steven starts speaking it is volcanic.
“You didn’t ask. You just went. You didn’t think about the rest of us.” He steps closer to his brother. “How would you feel if they had killed someone because of you. Tell me!”
John has his chin raised, a stoic figure taking the abuse. “We can’t live in hiding. That’s not living at all.” He looks at me. “Guys, we have to try.”
I step towards him. God, his attitude pisses me off. “We can’t afford to take that chance, asshole. If you think I’m going to let you…”
The anger drains out of me. Not because I agree with John in any way. I’m just tired of it all. Tired of battling him over trust.
I look around the group, the six of us sopping wet standing beneath a tree. Beryl’s arms are wrapped around herself and Josey looks miserable.
“This is stupid.” I wave my hands around, look to John. “This is so fucking stupid. Look at us. Can’t you see what we are?” I pause. I want this to sink in. “We are the people, John. Right now we are the ones you keep looking for. We can trust each other. And if you can’t see that then maybe you’re better off on your own.”
I don’t say it with anger. It’s just matter-of-fact. Steven looks taken aback and Beryl looks at me. But I keep my gaze on John, unwavering. He has to hear this. He can’t risk our safety so callously.
“John, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t. I just can’t keep having this fight with you. And I’m not going to.”
He stares at me and I can’t tell if he’s more angry or hurt. Or maybe just shocked. I am. I feel like an asshole. But I know it had to be done. And I pray to the gods that he doesn’t leave.
We take the keys and find two rooms each with two beds. John and Steven go into one and the door closes. Theo takes the bed closest to the door and Beryl is already depositing our bags on the far bed. Josey looks at me and I wave him over. “You can bunk with us or find a room of your own. Your call.”
He shakes his head. “Sleep alone in a dead city or sleep with Theo. Great choices.”
He stays with us.
I eat some cold canned soup and a tomato for dinner. I don’t taste anything, my mind is too busy. I replay the scene. Could I have said something different. My intentions were good. Can’t he see that? Dammit can’t he see what I see?
I head outside. Beryl is sharpening a pair of knives, one of which she passes to me as she walks by, a sad smile on her face. I stick it in my boot without thinking. Theo catches up with me.
“What are you thinking?”
I start to unload stuff out of the car. “I’m thinking the way ahead is probably compromised.”
He starts to help me unload. “The plan?”
“Stick to side roads. Take the long way around the city. Get far away from here in a hurry. Back to the old plan.”
I look at him, brow furrowed, perplexed. I feel old compared to this man, and Josey, and the brothers. Fuck me but I wonder if Stuart and my captivity didn’t provide me with the mind needed to survive.
“Why didn’t they land? Try to talk to us?”
I don’t answer for a bit. Just us unloading. Finally, “In this world? Two reasons. Either they have no interest, which
is weird, or they want to meet on their terms. Meaning not so nice. Get me?”
He nods, but I think that, like the brothers, he doesn’t quite understand my distrust. Or my disdain for trust in general.
I pray they never have to.
I take the watch for the first couple hours of the night. I stand in the shadows by the lobby and watch the parking lot. If I sat down I think I’d probably sleep. Even if the ground is wet and cold. Even with unknown shadows and unknown whispers in the wind.
My legs are tired and sore from driving all day and then standing for hours. I’m cold. The breeze has coated my left side with rain and my clothes soak in the clammy grip of the weather and turn it into chills. I don’t move. I’m being masochistic, I think. Part of me feels like I deserve to be punished. Another part of me wants to throw open the door to John’s room and make him stand watch the whole night.
After a few hours I heave myself off of the wall and take creaking legs back to the room. Theo is snoring loudly and it doesn’t take much to wake Josey. He curses me and Theo under his breath as he pulls on a coat and steps into the rain. I take off my wet clothes and crawl into the bed next to Beryl. I rest my head on the pillow and pull the scratchy blankets to my chin and stare at the ceiling.
Sleep is an elusive creature, even as exhausted as I am. I toss and turn in the stale motel sheets. I can’t stop thinking about the day. The worry I have for these people. But also guilt. Keeping them away from other contact. I’m like a child who doesn’t want anyone to play with his toys. Am I that petty?
I roll over and try to get comfortable, promising myself that I’ll make amends with John tomorrow. Or should I? He’s the one who should apologize for this shit. He could have gotten us all killed… Dammit! I sit up and rest my head on my knees. I might as well get up and let Josey get some sleep.
A cold hand worms out from beneath the sheets to grip mine. Shit. “Sorry if I’m keeping you awake.” She doesn’t respond. Her hand grips mine and slowly pulls me back down into the bed until I lay along her back. I’m shocked, my head cocked back at an angle as I stare at the mess of her hair. I see a shoulder shake, a spasm as her body reacts to my touch. I go to pull away and she grips my hand harder.
I shift in closer, my nose in her wavy dark hair, arm wrapped around her cold body. The closeness. The feel. The two hearts beating, and still beating, and hopefully beating tomorrow. Disquiet is banished from my mind as it is reminded, gently, that we are free. Free, and not alone.
I breathe her in, the smell of the rain and her sweat mingled, and take solace in the respite she gives me. I don’t know what kind of sacrifice it took for her to break down these walls. But she does it for me. She does it so I can have some peace in a time where another moment of turmoil threatens to push me over the edge into an abyss in which I simply stop feeling everything.
I hold her. That’s all I can do. The warmth of my body all I can offer in return for her offering my soul shelter in this storm.
I hold her, and I sleep.
I awake to the sound of the brothers arguing. At least I think they are arguing. Staccato Japanese is rising from whispers to something louder in the light of dawn. I disengage from Beryl and pull on damp clothes. God I’m tired. But if they’re fighting then there’s a problem. I should talk to John, anyways.
I slowly open the door, eyes closed tight against the early morning light. The brothers are standing over by the cars. They stop talking when they see me. I raise a hand and start to walk towards them when an invisible fist punches me in the sternum. I drop to the ground, writhing in pain, unable to breathe. I hear indistinct pops and see Steven fall into the side of the car. He crawls towards the crumpled form of his brother.
Thuds as boots pound the pavement towards us. I am still choking, my chest convulsing as I try to force a breath in. My head is fuzzy, only fragments of action penetrating the fog. The doors to our rooms are kicked in, muffled shouts from inside. Theo’s body is hauled outside trailing wires to a taser. I see hands hogtie him before I’m jolted unconscious by the too familiar sting of electricity coursing through my body.
Chapter 28
I come to in a dorm room. I think for a second that there is still shooting going on and I jolt upright. Pain resonates out from my chest. The small window is streaked with rain. A storm is raging outside, thunder quaking in the distance. A poster with ten rules for partying covers a wall above a frilly box with flowers on the side. Small polaroid pictures of two young women are taped around the window. Clothes are everywhere. Pants and shorts, bras and t-shirts and a million shoes. The bed I’m on seems to consist of a large purple comforter with feathers sticking out everywhere.
“Kids these days. Can’t clean worth a shit.”
A skinny young man with a shaved head and dressed in army fatigues watches me from the door.
“Bet she was hot. Hot girls were always the sloppiest when I was in college. Couldn’t believe it, you know, you’d be fucking and there’d be trash and ants and fucking shit all over the place.”
I sit up, try to say something but my chest feels like it’s been crushed. I touch it, waiting to feel the wetness of blood, wondering how I’m still alive.
“Rubber bullets. Sorry about that. We weren’t sure about you.”
“Who are you?” My voice comes out in a rasp.
“Not my job to say. Come with me. I’ll introduce you to the Captain.”
I get up, wiggling my foot in my boot. My knife is gone.
Well shit.
I follow the man down a long hall that stinks like beer and vomit and death. We exit into a courtyard surrounded by brick buildings. Vehicles ranging from a small truck to a backhoe to a fucking tank make a neat row at the edge of the grass.
It’s freezing outside. Rain slashes at our arms, tiny pinpricks of cold that makes me turn my head down and to the side. I’m not offered a coat and I don’t ask for one.
The courtyard is filled with people. Most wear military gear but there are others clothed in heavy black clothing.
“Har.”
Beryl gives me a small wave. She and Theo and Josey are standing beneath an awning off to the side. Two men with guns stand nearby. My guide leads me to them and then disappears into the fray.
I scan the crowd. The chaos has order. Everyone has a purpose. And it’s not just men, I count at least five women out in the rain. It gives me hope. After Camelot part of me wondered about the survival of women. Worried what kind of world would be left without them. And it’s odd, seeing them now after so long. The crowd moves and reacts and breathes in a completely different way compared to the group of men at the golf course. I try to see why.
Less anger?
I don’t know.
“What?” Josey is concerned.
“Nothing.”
Perhaps I should try to focus on more important matters.
“Where are the brothers?”
Josey shakes his head. “Don’t know. Was hoping you did.”
I shake my head and we sit in silence. I find the captain in the crowd. Or at least I figure it must be him. A man of medium height with a shaved head and a beard walks around telling people what to do. He doesn’t wear a shirt, a sleeve of tattoos running the length of both arms and across his back. He is seemingly impervious to the cold, water matting thick chest hair before dripping down flexed abs. A tall, skinny woman dogs his steps. She is rangy, short shorts emphasizing powerful legs. The man points to the back of a flatbed truck and chats with another man. The woman who follows him drapes herself over sodden shoulders and leans in to bite his ear. An errant hand squeezes his buttocks.
Beryl snorts. The men standing guard over us laugh. I look around our group. Josey and Theo are eying the women working with what I’m sure they think are casual eyes. God dammit.
I turn my attention back to the commander. He disengages himself from the woman and helps unload a crate from the truck. He points at the driver of a small backhoe and directs him into place. The
n he startles us all by hopping up onto the top of the truck and stomping his feet.
“Who are we?!”
It’s a sight. They all stop what they are doing and raise fists to the air.
“Last standing!” They scream it. I get chills even as I try to remain aloof.
They love it. He paces around the courtyard like a feral cat, shaking hands and back slapping and sometimes getting in the face of someone derelict in their duty. They are a well oiled machine. I’ll give them that. A mix of military and who knows what. Maybe just people happy to take orders from someone who seems to know what he is doing.
The man approaches and Theo steps up to stand a foot past Beryl. I guess he is serious about being her protector. The man pauses and calm blue eyes scan the group. Take in Theo’s bodyguard stance. Beryl’s stony silence. The scars on my face and neck.
“I think I owe you all an apology.”
Not the words I was expecting.
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder towards the rest of the group. “I tell them not to take any chances.” He pauses, waiting for us to say something. We don’t. “My name is Mickey. I’m Captain here. This is Sheila.” He gives a grin. “She’s been recently promoted.”
“Where are our friends?” I’m not in the mood for chit chat.
Mickey turns tired eyes to me. He takes out a can of tobacco and slowly slaps it with limp fingers until it’s packed, carefully stuffing it into a lip just recently vacated by a previous dip. “You’re all American, right?”
“Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?”
He smiles at me, his body relaxed. He strikes me as a man who rarely yells or screams, someone who always talks calmly right up until they punch you in the face.
“Means a whole lot. Look, I’m just making sure we’re all friends here. Where are you from?”
I should play nice. I know I should. Hell, he’s being nice. But I feel like being obstinate. Maybe because he knocked me out or maybe because he made us wait outside. Maybe because my teeth are chattering and his aren’t.