Anthony Puyo's The Compelled

by Anthony Puyo

  Jack straightens up, feeling a little uneasy. “. . . Hell, I guess you’re right. And there’s no way I can make it there, without my bird anyhow . . . I was headed to SETI. Was told there was intel there to be gathered. That’s all I know.”

  Charlie, baffled with the revelation, “What the hell? This is getting crazier. What information could they possibly have that you are sent on an undisclosed mission to SETI, a damn UFO agency? Are you telling me Russia, China, the government aren’t the ones to blame? But little green people are?”

  Jack’s eyes light up. “Whoa, I didn’t say anything about no aliens. That would be jumping the gun here. What we do know, is SETI’s got radio telescopes. Maybe they picked up on something and tried to get it to us. It could be the source of the current in the sky; it could be something about the ionosphere itself. I don’t know. All I can say: is it’s not good to speculate. All that does is lead to kooky ideas.”

  Hearing what Jack had to say threw everything in a tailspin. It leaves more questions than answers in the minds of the group—especially Charlie’s. Charlie was a Green Beret, and he knows how secret the military can be on its missions. He also knows, if a mission is hiding behind secrecy, it’s done for a specific reason—which usually has nothing to with national security.

  A possible cover up in the making? Charlie thinks. But what could the government be possibly trying to hide? Half the population, if not more, is gone. So why? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless—the government knew something beforehand but never warned the public.

  But even this idea doesn’t hold much water to Charlie. This is a world epidemic. And if the United States’ government knew something, then it’s very likely other country’s governments also would have known. The argument stales in Charlie’s mind.

  Time has passed and Craig is ready to move on. The question is proposed to Jack if he wants to follow. With his bird down and no way to communicate back to base, he decides to tag-along—for now.

  They walk cautiously down the old streets of industrial downtown. The group of five seek the sign Craig’s wife, Melissa, talked about. Craig feels they’re close. His only concern is if they’ve left that location. But there’s no way of knowing. Even if he had a cell phone, they’re no longer receiving a signal. All Craig can do is pray to God they’re still around. He couldn’t bear missing them again.

  The morning’s cold is leaving fast, giving way to a nice, clear, sunny day. Charlie and the bunch, walk in a cluster. Up till now, there hasn’t been any trouble. The group walks and talks, getting to know one another. Of course they keep a keen eye, knowing the tides could change rapidly.

  Charlie makes his way by Isabell. He pulls out his sidearm, a nine-millimeter Beretta. “You ever shoot one of these?” he asks, knowing what the answer is going to be.

  She turns her head to the side. A small breeze places her straight hair over her face. “No.”

  Charlie happily explains. “It’s on safety with this little button, you see? If you have to use it, make sure you lift it. After that, it’s fairly easy. You grab it with both hands. Wrist straight—to keep it sturdy, then squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it now, or it will throw off your aim. Just squeeze.”

  She follows the instructions closely with the gun in her hands. Her engagement makes Charlie more eager to teach.

  Doc watches Charlie’s interaction with the girl. He’s pleased for his fellow soldier, who’s the best in his eyes. Doc got his training from the ranking officer right before the second invasion of Iraq. They shared the same flight to Fort Bliss in Texas. That’s where their relationship began, and it only grew with every mission they partook in.

  Now to see Charlie with that light in his eyes, the one he lost seven years ago and never seemed to retain; it’s a special thing to witness for Doc.

  They walk by the many abandoned cars, burnt down old buildings, and corpses which are foul in odor and quickly becoming feed for the birds.

  Freeway 41’s overpass is overhead, when the group notices the sign. It’s an advertisement for a new gym opening up February 5th. The day the incident happened. The sign reads: A strong body and mind lead to a strong heart—Stay fit!

  “That’s the sign,” Craig declares with excitement.

  “It’s only a block away,” Charlie inserts.

  They keep walking with Craig leading the way. He has high spirits in his steps. A few yards up the road, the group encounters the first bit of life. Remarkably, there are three bums sitting by a dumpster near an alley entrance, laughing and talking while sharing a bottle of rum. Somehow, they have survived this long, and without a care in the world, they went back to doing what they always have. Except this time, there was no need to beg.

  Craig and company reach the sign. He along with the others, stop and gaze over the surroundings. Craig knows his wife and son are out there in one of those old structures.

  But which one, he thinks.

  His heart is feeling flooded. Craig hasn’t seen his family in over four days. In this madness, it was far too long. But now he’s close; so close he could feel the touch and warmth of them.

  “Which one of these buildings is she in?” Charlie asks, his hand covering up the bright son from his view.

  Craig daggers around with squinted eyes, “I’m not sure.” He keeps scanning till a half-domed brick and tin shop, about 200 feet away, catches his attention.

  “Wait. That’s the one . . . It’s got to be. She said the guy had a truck with huge wheels.”

  Craig’s anticipation grows. He hustles—hobbling to the entrance of the building. The group follows his lead.

  Battered and bruised with bandages on his neck, an almost mirror image of his heart as it too is a little beaten, Craig Bainy stares at the door for a few seconds—making a wish. He then lifts his arm to knock. “Please,” he pleads under his breath.

  “They’ll be here, Craig.” Charlie says, putting his hand on Craig’s shoulder. Lord, let them be here for my friend.

  Craig knocks, then waits. There’s no answer. He repeats.

  Doc lifts his rifle and points. There’s approaching shadows on the west side of the building. The others ready their weapons, except for Craig. He sincerely hopes this isn’t another misstep on his part. The shadows reveal their source. Chet and Rico come out into the open—weapons drawn.

  “Who the hell are you, and what do you want?” Chet utters.

  Craig answers. “I’m looking for my wife, Melissa, and my boy, Ryan.”

  Just then, the front door opens—catching everyone’s attention. Bodo stands with his automatic rifle pointed at all of them.

  “Is one of you Craig Bainy?” Bodo asks, with a stern look and deep voice.

  How does he know my name? . . . Are they here? Craig, with non-hostile eyes, says, “I’m Craig.”

  Bodo’s tough demeanor evaporates and out of it shines a smile. “She’s been expecting you. They inside towards the back.”

  An overwhelming energy fell over the loving husband and father. Is it true? Is this really happening?

  Bodo moves out the way letting everyone in. They all introduce themselves as they walk by.

  The place is grimy with an oil smell to it. Jars and cans with burning oil rags are set up throughout the room, offering little light. It’s romantically fitting in its own way.

  Craig follows the trail of burning canisters. The excitement increases inside him. Is it finally going to happen? The moment had eluded him before, leaving him jailed in regret.

  His hobbled steps become faster, his breaths harder. Craig’s love could be measured by the sweat and pain that emits from his body as he moved further down the halls.

  Seeing the end of the corridor, his anticipation blooms, tears fill his heart and overflow every inch of his interior—eventually—seeping out his eyes.

  “Melissa,” he hollers down the hall.

  Melissa sits with Ryan in her arms. She hears something. It sounds like her name. Her eyes widen.

  It
can’t be.

  She hears it again. Then again. Her name resonates faintly in the place.

  Melissa lets go of Ryan, standing, staring in the direction of the voice. Her brown eyes piercing, her face filled with uncertainty. Melissa wants to believe, but she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. She looks down at Ryan, putting her hand out to be grabbed. The seven-year-old, wearing ear muffs, doesn’t know what’s going on. He grabs his mother’s hand and rises to his feet.

  She begins leading him to the voice. Her heart begins to pound. The moment sinks in. “Craig!” She says. Its him! Her hands begin to shake, the rest of her body quivers. “Craig!” Melissa says, again. This time, her voice displays the shaking and emotions she feels.

  Then—out of the darkness—for the first time since the world had changed, they appear to one another. No longer just in the mind, as in the past, through memories and imagery of things to come. This time—it is real.

  They stop in their paths, grasping the moment, letting their emotions surface in full. Not letting another second come between them, they run to each other’s arms, hugging tightly, kissing passionately—lovingly. Their faces rub, their warm breaths embrace. He slides his stubble cheek against her soft skin, nestling his nose into her curly, dark hair, smelling it, smelling her.

  Melissa put her face into his neck, feeling him, kissing him. They exchange the words of lovers many times, as if to catch up for all the lost days and moments. At last, they are one again, and it is certain this time.

  “Dad!” Ryan says, wrapping around his father’s waist. “I love you, Dad!”

  Craig bends down and holds him. “I love you too, son. I love you too.” As the others stand and witness the reunion, joy fills their hearts.

  The world has made a large rift into everyone’s life, so it’s nice to see one of those wounds heal right before their very eyes.

  Eva halts next to the usually quiet and emotionless Jason. The young man sniffles and turns his head away. Eva who has tears of her own, notices. “Jason, are you crying?”

  “Umm . . . no. Dust got in my eye.”

  Eva smiles proudly and gives the man-child a hug. “It’s okay you know. Women respect a man who can cry.”

  Everyone in the room claps as happiness scours the murky dwelling. For now, the world is once again, a beautiful place.

  16

  Revelations

  Craig sits on the floor next to Melissa. In the dimly lit shop, they catch up on things.

  Craig looks deep into her dark-brown, glistening eyes of hers. She gazes back into his. Their love didn’t need reigniting, but the separation has surely enhanced their feelings for one another.

  The seven-year-old, Ryan, wore his earmuffs, still recovering from a fever. Though he wasn’t one-hundred percent, he is feeling much better. The cheerful, animated kid, plays in front of them with some action figurines Bodo gave him.

  “What happened to your face—your neck?” Melissa asks.

  Craig grins warmly. “It’s a story. I’d like to say it was a good fight, and I won. But you would see right through that.”

  Melissa giggles. “You may be a wimp, but you’re my wimp.”

  “True . . . For now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Me being a wimp. I’ve decided to drop the suit and tie. I’m going to start working out and become a star of the apocalypse. What do you think?”

  “Normally, I would say ‘Don’t quit your day job,’ but that’s no longer an option.”

  “Oh, is that so?” he points to himself playfully, “You don’t believe in this.” Craig begins to tickle her. She squirms with laughter into his arms. They kiss romantically.

  “I was beginning to think we would never see you again,” she blurts.

  Craig gapes over her with new eyes. Her wavy long hair, the small mole under her left eye, her thin lips. She’s gorgeous. He moves in, kissing her again.

  “I was never going to stop. You, Ryan . . . you’re everything to me. Even the world; the way it is. I don’t mind living in it as long as we’re together.”

  Craig slides his hand gently on the side of her face. They stay silent for a short while.

  Craig peers over at Ryan who has a runny nose. It didn’t stop the kid from playing.

  “He looks to be getting better,” he says.

  Melissa replies, “He had me worried for a while. But Bodo and the guys got him medicine.”

  “That was nice of them. Good people?”

  “They are Craig, we’re lucky to know them.”

  Craig kisses his wife on the forehead. They sit there in a bit of silence enjoying their son’s innocents.

  The subject of Jessie isn’t an easy one. Craig knows how close Melissa was to her sister. But he also knows she needs to talk about it. Grieve a little.

  With sympathy in his voice, Craig expels, “I’m sorry about Jessie. She was a very good, compassionate person. I know you loved her very much, and I know your sister felt the same for you. And everyone who knew her could see that.”

  The air left Melissa’s lungs in response.

  When the event happened, it surprised everyone. Most survivors weren’t given sufficient time to grieve for loved one’s. Melissa was no exception. There were times when Ryan was resting, usually in the night, she grieved for Jessie. For Ruben as well. But it wasn’t proper; not for her. But now with Craig back, she could finally let up her bravery and let her tears out for the day. Because Jessie deserved more than a small moment, for all she had done—for the person she was. She wouldn’t have asked for more or for Melissa to harp over it. Jessie would have been happy if Melissa kept on surviving. That’s what she would have wanted: her kid sister not to give up.

  Melissa speaks, softly, “Growing up in the orphanage was tough at times. Jessie watched over me, never letting me get too down. I remember when she left there at eighteen, I was eleven, I cried so much. She promised she would come for me as soon as she could. I didn’t have a choice, I had to accept it. On her first visit, a week later, she brought me a wonderful blue and red dress. She told me, it was what I was to wear the day I was coming home. Her plan was to give me hope; and it did.

  “Jessie visited me every free moment she had. But I wasn’t satisfied. I would be upset at her, because I was lonely without her. It took me a while to understand having two jobs was strenuous. I wish I had known then. I didn’t see the signs—I’m not sure I could have understood anyway.

  “There was a time Jessie would visit me with dark rings around her eyes, and she had lost a significant amount of weight. She always said ‘Pretty soon, be patient.’ I thought she was homeless, maybe never coming for me. I began to think she had just told me those things to keep me happy and not lose confidence. Then one day, after not seeing Jessie in four weeks, Philip, the orphanage director, said I had gotten adopted. I couldn’t believe it—I was devastated. It tore me up to think I would never see my sister again.

  “Jessie had been out for six months, and she told me she would come back for me, but of course, she hadn't. There were stories in the orphanage of kids who were related that had been adopted never getting to see their siblings again.

  “I cried more than I ever had that night. Feeling I would never even get the chance to tell her goodbye. My only thought was to write her a farewell letter. The next morning, I gave it to Philip to give to her. I knew I could trust him; he was always kind. He agreed, then walked me down the hall to meet my new guardians. I was extremely nervous. I wore the dress Jessie had bought me, I didn’t want to, but Philip insisted on it. He wanted me to make a good impression.

  “My heart was broken, my stomached turned, my palms were sweaty; being eleven, I didn’t even know how to feel . . . to meet these people who had read my file and wanted me. I remember seeing Phillip with a face that suppressed his sadness for me. He stood by the door to the front office and lobby. He asked if I was ready. In fear, I squeezed my teddy and nodded yes. He opened the door and this emotion came over
me, I began to weep. I could feel all of the other nights’ emotions come back. I can remember Philip urging me to look up. There were all these people I had interacted with over the four years I was there. They had flowers, a banner that said congratulations, and everyone was smiling, clapping. I was scared—confused. I walked through the small crowd. And there, at the end of the gathering, with a cake in her hands, and a smile on her face, was my sister Jessie. Six months working two jobs, she finally made enough money to get a place. She needed it to adopt me. My sister kept her promise. She had always been my hero, and that day she became my mother. That’s how I saw her. And now I sit here . . . and she’s gone.”

  Melissa leans into Craig’s chest weeping in her recount of the past. She says in a whisper, holding the cross from her necklace. “I love you Jessie. I love you so much. Thank you for everything. And Ruben, you too, you completed my sister. Me and Ryan owe you our lives.”

  Melissa squeezes Craig’s hand tightly. “Ruben saved us. It’s so sad they never had children. It was my fault.”

  “Don’t say that, it’s not your fault.”

  “It is, and that’s the truth, even if she never said it. She raised me for nine years and during that time, she couldn’t keep a relationship. It was because of me. Jessie gave too much of her time and energy to me.”

  “Even if that were true, I’m sure having you around, safe, doing well, meant more to her. You were all she had. Not to mention, I know she loved Ruben. They were as perfect a fit as you and I. Everyone knew, they didn’t have kids because they were waiting. I don’t want to sound mean or insensitive but maybe they were lucky not to have them.”

  A nerve is struck with Melissa. “How could you say that? We have Ryan?”