Voices of the Apocalypse: The Collection

by Simone Pond

  “The rest of the Worms are in that building right there, boss.” Jimmy Two Toes pointed.

  “Hurry up and get that launcher ready!” Tiger yelled.

  Jimmy hoisted the launcher over his shoulder and shot a missile across the avenue into the empty shop window. More bricks. More dust. A Worm crawled out from behind a pile of rubble, firing toward the roof. Tiger took one of the riffles and peered through the scope. He squeezed the trigger, taking out the man.

  “Got ‘em,” Jimmy Two Toes shouted, jumping up.

  “Whaddaya excited for?It ain’t over.”Sammy yanked Jimmy back down.“We still got that tank coming our way.”

  “We gotta get off this roof and ambush ‘em,” Tiger said. “Grab the stuff, let’s go.”

  Tiger stopped next to Donna’s dead body, sprawled out in a circle of blood. He knelt down and brought her limp hand to his lips. He wished she had stayed back in the cellar. Now she was gone for good. Just like her bakery. Just like the other shops. Just like the rest of Arthur Avenue.

  Jimmy Two Toes tugged on Tiger’s sleeve and pulled him toward the fire escape. “Come on, boss. Ain’t nuthin’ you can do for her now.”

  “I ain’t leaving her up here all alone.”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Help me get her back down. I’m gonna bring her to the bakery so she can rest in peace there.”

  Jimmy Two Toes and Vick the Bug helped Tiger lift Donna’s heavy body, carrying her across the roof. One of her soft-heeled Easy Spirits came off and Frankie the Fox ran back to get it. Sammy One Punch went first to clear a path. The others carefully maneuvered Donna’s dead body down the metal fire escape. By the time they got to the ground, the men were covered in blood and sweat. Jimmy Two Toes ran off and returned a few minutes later with a dolly.

  “Set her down here, boss,” he told Tiger.

  Tiger gingerly rested Donna’s slumped over body onto the dolly, and headed down the alley toward Bella Donna.

  “I’m coming with you, boss,” Jimmy said.

  “Okay, you cover me,” Tiger instructed.

  As Tiger pushed the dolly through the rubble and busted sidewalks, tears rolled down his face. He didn’t bother wiping them off.

  “You wait here. I’ll take her inside,” he told Jimmy.

  “But boss . . .”

  “Cover me, kid.”

  Tiger lifted up Donna and carried her into the busted up bakery, where he placed her on the floor, resting her hands over her heart. He kissed her forehead and made the sign of the cross before walking back out to the middle of Arthur Avenue. He watched the tank rolling his way.

  “They’ll shoot you down, boss!” Jimmy Two Toes ranover to Tiger, yanking his sleeve.

  “This is my street. I’m not running from these cocksuckers. I ain’t afraid to die.” He held open his arms. “You hear me? I ain’t afraid to die!” he yelled at the tank.

  Jimmy Two Toes tried to pull him back to the alley, but Tiger wouldn’t budge.

  “You go on, Jimmy. Everything I ever wanted is right here on this avenue. There ain’t no place left for me no more.”

  “I ain’t leavin’ your side, boss.” Jimmy patted Tiger’s shoulder.

  “We ain’t leavin’ either.” Sammy One Punch’s voice came from behind.

  Tiger looked back and saw the fellas coming over. The Worms had taken away a lot, but they’d never be able to take away loyalty. The five men stood in a row, barricading Arthur Avenue as the tank inched closer. Tiger began telling them the story about his great-great uncle Pete and how he used to sweep the streets to save up enough money to open his own café. The same story they had heard a hundred times before.

  “It’s gettin’ closer,” Jimmy Two Toes said.

  Tiger laughed. “Ah, forget-about-it.”

  - The End -

  Shelter Down

  SUZANNE SAT IN a brown leather armchair inside Austin’s New Central Library. The spot overlooked what remained of the once spectacular Lady Bird Lake. The diminished water level and rotting vegetation made the lake look like a dying creek. Though she had never been a huge fan of the modern-style building that opened its doors in 2016, she’d visited the library for the last eleven years. Mostly out of obligation to her husband, Mo, the lead engineer on the project. Not once in those eleven years could she ever imagine she’d be living there with a small group of Repatterning survivors. But over the last year, everything had changed in Austin, including the view of the lake.

  Staring at the murky water, her round belly fluttered inside; she was in the home stretch of her pregnancy with only a few more weeks to go. Recently, there had been some heavy kicking action in there, but on that cold October morning the baby was calm. She rested her arms on her stomach, noticing the thick coat of dirt and finger smudges on the windows, and she remembered a time when the glass was so pristine you might smack into it trying to get outside. Years ago, the library had been the most talked about addition to the city of Austin. From morning to night, the building bustled with students, children, mothers, and workers. But since the Repatterning, the place had gone downhill. Technically, it couldn’t be called a library any more since most of the books were gone. Over the last year, the new officials––the Planners, as they were called––had been removing books and historical records, as well as sealing the archives. Before they could destroy everything, Suzanne had put together a team of women to collect and hide as many books as possible. Eventually, the Planners had stopped showing up, but only after they had removed a good portion of the books. Suzanne and the ladies hid away a fair portion before the Planners had moved on to the next library. Only a few people knew the books were hidden in the library’s underground storage wing, including Suzanne, whose husband drafted the blueprints.

  In the early days, Suzanne wouldn’t step foot near the New Central Library. She called it “the blemish” and “the eye sore” behind her husband’s back. The project nearly broke up their marriage. But regardless of how volatile their relationship could get, they’d always work it out. Suzanne would never forget the day back in college when the handsome Israeli student showed up to her Engineering Project Management course halfway through the semester. He had trouble organizing something as simple as a sock drawer, and since Suzanne’s management skills surpassed her classmates, he asked her to tutor him. They hit it off and started dating after a few study sessions. During senior year they got engaged.

  After graduation, both Suzanne and Mo applied to work on the development of the New Central Library in Austin. Mo was hired, but Suzanne was passed over. She began to resent the library, but kept quiet and acted supportive of her husband. She took a crappy project management job at an ad agency, increasing her level of disdain for the library. The only thing that could assuage her bitterness was red wine––by the truckful. She’d drink with her work friends, she’d drink by herself, and sometimes after a long day, she’d drink with her husband. But most of the time, she’d drink alone, suffering in silence. Construction on the library continued, and her underlying bitterness grew into a tsunami of hate––for the library, for her husband, but mostly for herself. At the grand opening ceremony, she drank too much and made a scene.

  Thinking back to those dark days, she could still feel twinges of shame. She’d probably never forgive herself for her drunken behavior on that horrible night. Or the way she grabbed the microphone out of the Mayor’s hand and told everyone that the library wouldn’t have seen the light of day if it weren’t for her brilliant husband. She continued drinking away her days until Mo threatened to leave her for good. Rather than giving up on her marriage, she gave away her collection of corkscrews and wine glasses, and got some help. Things at home got better, and after a few years of sober bliss, she got pregnant. It seemed like the perfect time, but then the city started falling apart. The ad agency closed its doors, and businesses shut down all around them. Instead of worrying about money, she focused on the pregnancy and learning about motherhood. She tried to ignore
all the closed businesses, foreclosed homes, and people leaving town. But it was hard not to notice when Mo lost his job and they couldn’t make the mortgage. The bank took away their house. They were broke, expecting a child, and had nowhere to go. That’s when Suzanne came up with what she called “the ironic suggestion,” which ended up saving their lives.

  “We could move into the library. It’s been empty for months. We can make it our shelter until the Repatterning is over.”

  Mo’s face lit up at the idea. “I don’t mean to gloat, but it really is an outstanding structure.” His grin told Suzanne they both had moved on from the dark days. They were a solid team and would do anything to protect their unborn child.

  In those first weeks, only Mo and Suzanne lived there. But as the Repatterning continued to worsen, soon their friends and colleagues moved into the building. The group of twelve worked together to create an impenetrable compound. They had duties and chores, and trained for potential threats from the Planners or stragglers running amuck. After three months, the place that Suzanne thought would ruin her life had become her new home.

  “Morning, honey,” Mo’s voice came from behind, startling Suzanne.

  She was too heavy to jump up, and her feeble attempt tickled her husband.

  “Easy, sweetie, you might break the chair. And I’m afraid that’s the only one that can hold you.” He chuckled, patting her head.

  “Not funny.” She tried not to laugh, but failed.

  She loved how he could still find levity in such a horrific situation. Weeks away from having the baby, living in an abandoned library with a bunch of homeless friends, and he could still joke around. He was a blessing.

  Mo sat across from her and smiled. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  This was an ongoing joke from their college days. Suzanne always had a very packed schedule and made sure Mo was up to speed on the happenings.

  She leaned back in the chair and rested her swollen feet on the footstool. “I was thinking about doing a whole bunch of this.”

  Mo put his feet up on the stool. He gently nudged her big black boots—military surplus, like everyone else living in the library. One of the women had altered Suzanne’s pants to include an elastic waist, and though her green hoodie was an extra-large, it pulled tightly across her stomach.

  “You want something to read?” he asked.

  “Not right now. I’m just meditating. Remember when the lake was full of fresh water and had all of those pretty flowers? How’d things get so far gone? I thought it would pass, but it hasn’t. It’s just getting worse.”

  He stared off, lost somewhere in a memory.

  Suzanne continued, “I wonder what’s next. They pretty much destroyed everything and there’s no food. Is this a test to see who can survive? Are they just waiting for us to die off?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Maybe you should think about something more pleasant. Like baby names. Have you thought about my suggestions?”

  She laughed, remembering some of the names he had thrown on the table: Hatch, Charger, East, Thor . . . The baby must have liked some of the names because she felt sudden movement in her belly. “Come quick, she’s kicking.”

  “You mean he’s kicking.” Mo got out of the chair and kneeled next to Suzanne, placing his ear on her stomach. “I can feel him! Oh man, he’s really moving around in there. Any of my names will perfect for the little guy.”

  “None of your names are coming near this baby. Besides, it’s going to be a girl. I’m positive. I’ve read enough pregnancy books to know.”

  Mo stood up and massaged Suzanne’s shoulders. She let herself relax for a few minutes, releasing a huge sigh. It was tough getting in a full breath with a baby taking up so much real estate and stress levels on the rise. Things had gotten intense over the last couple months when their original supplies ran out and they needed to find new ways to get clean water, food, and medical supplies for the twelve occupants. Sometimes discussions about weapons and defense training got heated. A lot of the liberal thinkers had strong opinions on guns, but after a few serious break-ins, they quickly realized they’d didn’t want to be the hunted. The toughest part had been convincing Dr. Sarah Clevins to join their movement. They needed to have a doctor among the group, especially one that could deliver babies.

  At first Dr. Sarah (as she liked to be called) didn’t want to join them in the library. Her practice hadn’t been affected by the Repatterning. But when she received an official document from the Planners, with detailed orders to give mandated vaccinations to her patients starting in November, she knew it was time to go. She packed up her medical journals and equipment, grabbed her top technician, Amy, who also happened to be her girlfriend, and left her practice behind. The two women moved into the library in the middle of the night. By morning Dr. Sarah and Amy had set up a makeshift office in one of the research sections of the library.

  “I don’t know why you don’t have Dr. Sarah do a test to tell you the sex of the baby,” Mo said.

  “I want to be surprised. Makes it special.”

  “Don’t you think we’ve had enough surprises?”

  Just as Mo finished that sentence, an explosion went off somewhere in the west wing of the library, shaking the floor. Suzanne leapt to her feet, despite the bulging belly.

  “What the hell was that?” she yelled, grabbing Mo.

  “Go! Shelter down. I’ll see what happened.”

  Mo ran to the lobby, where some of the others had gathered, ready to defend their compound. Over the last few weeks, they had been preparing for attacks. Suzanne had confidence they could contain the situation and deal with any intruders, but she felt incredibly nervous. She squatted down, reached under her chair to grab her Remington compact rifle, and walked to the lobby, ignoring her husband’s orders.

  Her best friend, Betty, was pressed up against one of the pillars. She tried shooing her away. “Suz, what are you doing? You should be in the hiding place.”

  Betty had moved into the compound with her husband, Mike, and their son, Dylan, a few weeks after Suzanne and Mo. Suzanne couldn’t get accustomed to seeing her best friend wearing military gear, or a shotgun strapped over her shoulder. Betty was the type of woman who’d have afternoon tea for the ladies to discuss the latest literary novel for their book club. But over the last few weeks, Betty had become a trained killer––like the rest of them.

  “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I shouldn’t contribute,” Suzanne said.

  “Go to the hiding place and stay there until I get you,” Betty ordered.

  Suzanne shook her head and pressed against the wall, trying to hear what was going on at the other end of the library. If her husband were in danger, she’d run down and help, regardless of the baby.

  Betty scowled. “You’re a pain in the ass. A pregnant pain in the ass.”

  After a few minutes, Mo returned to the lobby with John and Mike. Betty ran over to Mike and hugged him.

  “I think it was just some punks wanting to take out their frustration by blowing up something.” John unloaded his clip and slipped it into his army jacket.

  John was married to Nan, another one of Suzanne’s close friends, and before the Planners had turned the justice system into a farce, he was a Criminal Prosecutor. “In another life, I used to put the bad guys behind bars. And now they’ve taken over the country,” he told everyone when he and Nan first arrived. Before long, he became the group’s leader.

  Suzanne came around the corner. “Any damage?”

  “What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in your spot,” Mo shouted.

  “Never mind me. What happened?” Suzanne adjusted the gun strap on her shoulder.

  Nan entered the lobby with Sheri. The two had been in the kitchen preparing breakfast. It was their week on KP duty.

  Nan snatched John’s hand. “Praise you, Lord! Thank you, Jesus.”

  Dr. Sarah and Amy rushed in. “Everything okay? We heard a blast,” Amy asked
. When she noticed Suzanne, she darted over and began checking her pulse and scanning her for injuries. “What are you doing out here? You need to keep your heart rate down.”

  “Please, I’m okay. I’m just pregnant. It’s not like I’m some feeble old lady!”

  John stood before the group, in his usual leadership stance. “There’s been some damage along the western wall. They blasted a hole the size of a SUV. We’ll need help getting it back together again.” John was good with doling out instructions, which was why he was in charge. He looked at Mike. “Get Dylan and the others down here so we can get to work.”

  Suzanne stepped closer in. “What about the women? We can help too.”

  “Yes, of course. We’ll need some cement. Betty, I want you and Sheri to drive around and scavenge whatever you can. Most stores will be ransacked, but I’m sure you can find something of use. Nan, you continue with breakfast; we’ll need to eat soon. Suzanne, I want you to go with Amy and get some rest.”

  “But,” Suzanne started to object.

  John held up his hand, dirt caked beneath his nails. When he had first moved into the library, his nails were polished and clean. “You’re about to burst. You need to go easy.”

  “I need to do something, or my brain is going to burst,” she protested.

  “Fair enough. Why don’t you take over for Sheri in the kitchen and finish making breakfast with Nan?”

  “Fine.” Not her first choice, but she knew helping with the wall was out of the question.

  “You sure you don’t want to rest?” Nan asked, touching Suzanne’s belly. “I know you’re a firecracker, but Suz, you should be careful in these last few weeks.”

  “Don’t start, Nan. I’m absolutely fine. Just tired.”

  “That’s what I mean, maybe you should rest?” Nan pressed.