by James Phelan
I helped myself to a packet of chocolate cookies and ate them as I wandered through the rest of the apartment. There was one bedroom, which was big and opulent and full of antique furniture. It had a great view to the west; the buildings of Manhattan looked like a vast man-made Lego village. In the wardrobe I found racks and racks of clothes that looked like they belonged to an old guy. Funny, I thought, there are no photos in this apartment, not one.
There was another room that could have been used as a bedroom but there was no bed, just a messy stack of boxes. I had a quick look through them and found women’s clothes and a box of wigs. In one of the last boxes I opened there were some photos, most of them black-and-white. They showed a couple on their wedding day and then on holidays and at parties. I wondered if she’d left him and that was why all her clothes were boxed up, but quickly realized that her things wouldn’t still be here if she had. It made me sad to think what had become of her, so I put the photos away and left the room.
Beyond the two bedrooms was a linen closet that was stocked with half-a-dozen giant water bottles, the kind you put in water coolers. They were all full and I made a mental note to tell the others—they might come in handy one day.
The last door in the hallway wouldn’t open. It seemed weird to have a locked door inside an apartment, and weirder still when I realized there was no visible lock. I tried again; the handle turned but the door wouldn’t budge. It must be locked from the inside, I thought. Must have a slide-across bolt or something . . . It took a few seconds for the gravity of this to hit me: the door was locked from the inside.
My hand moved to the Glock in my tool-belt and I drew it slowly, careful not to make a sound. I stood with my ear pressed against the door, trying to decide whether to shoot it open or go back and get the axe. I felt sick with fear. I didn’t want to turn my attention away from the door and whoever might be behind it, so finally I slid my finger in the trigger and pointed the gun at the door handle.
15
A loud bang like a gunshot woke me and I sat up, breathless.
It was light, the dull morning light of another overcast day. My sheets and T-shirt were soaked with sweat and I sat on the edge of my bed, my forehead resting on my hands. I had a splitting headache and my mouth was dry. I looked around and saw my Spiderman suit hanging over the back of a restaurant chair. The sight of it confused me, but then I smiled as I realized that finding apartment 59C, the photos, the locked door—everything—must have been a dream.
I heard someone stirring and saw Mini in her makeshift bed. It surprised me; I’d thought her bed was empty. Then I noticed Anna and Dave sitting at the table. Dave was reading an old newspaper and drinking coffee, and Anna was having tea and reading Jane Austen. I laughed with relief.
I took a change of clothes to the men’s room and washed with yesterday’s cold washcloth. I soaped up and rinsed my hair in a bucket of water, and returned to the others feeling more alive and hopeful than I’d felt in days.
Mini was sitting up in bed and rubbing sleep from her eyes. She pretended not to notice me as I went over and sat at the table with Anna and Dave. I helped myself to a bowl of cereal, pouring out a small carton of long-life milk. I sat crunching my cornflakes and looking outside at the clouds as they swirled and thinned.
I was about to ask Anna to pass me the juice when I stopped cold. The sweat was back. There, by Dave’s plate, was the Nobel medal.
Where did you get that? I said.
Dave saw me staring at the medal and shrugged. I found it in some apartment yesterday, he said and went back to reading his paper.
Which one? I asked.
No answer.
Dave, which one?
Which one, what?
He didn’t bother looking at me as he read, the paper a wall between us.
Which apartment did you find it in?
Some apartment on the 59th floor—I don’t know which one, it was full of weird crap.
Like what?
Just like old-school crap.
Stuffed animals?
No doubt, he said. He looked over his paper and eyed me like I was annoying him.
Yeah, there were stuffed animals, he went on. It was kinda like an old-school hunting lodge; old rifles on the wall, plenty of old books and stuff. Like from another time.
Anna glanced up from her book to listen in.
But the medal, I said. Where’d you find the medal?
What’s with you?
I just want to know—was it in a case?
You all right?
I just looked at him.
Yeah, he said. It was in a glass case, some kind of display thing in the lounge room. What’s with you this morning—you not sleep well?
Did this apartment have an office—a study?
Yeah, he said. It had a study.
He gave Anna a look like I’d gone nuts, and she just shrugged and went back to reading her book. I wanted to shake the information out of Dave to prove to Anna that I wasn’t crazy.
This study have a desk?
Don’t most studies? Dave said.
An antique desk with a green leather top and an old black typewriter with stiff keys and a chair that—
And a chair that squeaked, yeah, Dave said.
And there was a bedroom with a good view to the west and another room full of boxes and a linen closet and—
And a door at the end of the hallway that was locked, Dave said.
He leaned back, finally looking interested. The girls were now also listening closely to our conversation.
What is it? Mini asked as she sat down at the table.
The front door to that apartment was deadlocked, Dave said. I cut around the lock with the fire axe. You must have gone in there afterwards, Jesse.
Or maybe there’s another apartment just like it? Anna suggested.
No, I said. It was that apartment. I dreamed I was in there, yesterday, then woke up just as I smashed through the door at the end of the hallway and . . .
And? Mini asked. Her eyes were locked on mine and they were as wide as saucers.
What did you do, Dave? I said.
Sorry?
What did you find in there? I asked. What did you see in that room?
He stared at me, his expression puzzled and then annoyed as he realized he’d have to explain himself. He folded his paper and leaned forward. When he spoke it was in the tone my uncle always used when he told off my cousin and me.
I told you about all this yesterday afternoon, he said. Don’t you remember? I told you about it, gave Anna a stack of books, and brought up a few bottles of juice. You wore this stupid medal all through dinner, which was the chicken Mini got from the roof, but it made you sick and you went to bed early.
I looked at the others. Anna gave a little nod over the top of Pride and Prejudice and went back to reading. Mini looked worried for me and Dave had a big stupid grin on his face like he was glad I was losing my marbles.
Sorry . . . I must be going nuts, I said. I looked out the window and strained to replay my dream, but I could only remember up to the locked door. I could picture every detail of that door. Am I such a coward that I’ve started living my life through Dave’s adventures?
Dave checked his watch; it looked like one I’d taken out of someone’s apartment for myself, but then everything was starting to blend together.
Anyway, he said, I’m gonna head out. Do a little scouting.
Anna looked worried and shot me a glance.
Where are you going to go? she asked.
Gonna scout around for good vehicles, he replied. Might see if there’s a way clear to the Boat Basin on West 79th. It’ll give us options. And don’t worry about me—if he can go out there and come back, so can I.
Fine, I said.
Fine? Anna sounded upset. How can you say that? She got up and stalked into the kitchen.
Dave gave me a smile that could have meant anything, so I said: Just try and be back before dark.
&nb
sp; Yeah, he said, as if it was obvious. Look, I want to find out some stuff, like if we had to, could we drive outta here? Drive until we find help?
Drive until the roads are too clogged to go any further—then what, sleep in the car? Mini asked. We’ll be dinner for them!
Meals on wheels, I joked.
Mini looked shocked and I shrugged in apology. Dave seemed annoyed that I wasn’t taking his idea seriously.
We could get an SUV, he explained. A diesel four-wheel drive that can handle going off-road or nudging stuff out of the way. We can get heaps of spare gas, supplies, strap a few spare wheels to the roof.
Spare wheels from where?
Take them off cars of the same type, he said. We could drive inland, upstate, head for some towns up north, maybe towards Boston.
Anna heard the last of his plan as she returned to the table.
I’m not sleeping in a car with them out there! she said. What if we get stuck? No way am I going to be trapped in a car at night.
I remembered the polar bear. I thought we’d be safer with it around—safer from Chasers, anyway. It would sniff them out and warn us, maybe scare them off.
We can sleep in shifts, drive twenty-four seven, Dave reasoned aloud. Or we could park and hole up each night in a different place, a different house or apartment.
And what if all we find is more of them? Then what? Anna said. If we drive and drive we’ll only be stuck in some hick town with whatever food we could fit in the car.
Boston’s not exactly—
Shut up, Jesse, Anna said.
Mini shot me a sympathetic look. Dave seemed to be losing whatever spark he had for his idea.
Think of all the scary movies you’ve ever seen, Anna said. Those people would have been fine if they’d stayed together and stayed put. If this place isn’t too bad, why move? Why tempt the hand of fate when you don’t have to? And what if we move and then help shows up back here? You know, Murphy’s Law.
It was just an idea, Dave said. It’s just . . . I’d like to see what’s out there, beyond our horizon. Find someone else—there must be others out there, hiding, like us.
Then I said what no one else wanted to say: What if we find nothing?
There was silence. It seemed to stretch on for so long that I was afraid if I didn’t hear my friends’ voices soon they might never speak again.
Dave should go out, I said. It’s the smart thing to do.
What’s the point? Anna said, looking straight at me.
To figure out possible escape routes, whether by car or boat—
All the bridges and tunnels are probably impassable, Anna said, cutting me off. We’ve got all we need right here.
That might be true, Dave said, but I gotta know. I gotta see it with my own eyes.
I started to get the feeling Dave was envious of the day I’d spent out there alone in his city.
We made a pact to stick together, Anna said. Everything always starts to go wrong when the group breaks up.
But what if we have to break up one day? I asked. What if we’re separated and we can’t do anything about it? What if one or more of us can’t stand it here anymore?
What if? Anna asked, and her voice sounded different from what I was used to, more mature. What if an airlift comes and sees our sign on the roof and picks up those who are here, but you’re not here and then you come back and it’s too late. What then, huh?
Look, I said, maybe that will happen. But that day is not here yet. It may never come. So we should check out some other places, explore more . . . But we’ll do it together, we’ll be careful. And right now, if Dave has to go and see some things for himself, I think he should. I think if it’s something that he needs to do, then who are we to stop him?
Dave didn’t look convinced by my speech but he seemed grateful anyway.
You went out alone, he said.
Look, mate, I’m with you on this, I said. I went out alone because I thought you should stay here with them, to protect them—
Since when have we been “them”? Anna asked.
You know what I mean, I said. Dave’s . . . Dave’s a big guy who can handle himself and I’m not so sure I could protect you like he can. That’s all I meant.
You did okay out there on your own, Mini said. And we were fine here. I agree with you, Jesse. Dave can go if he wants. We’ll be fine.
Anna left the table again. Dave stood, picked up his bag and disappeared from the room, not bothering with a goodbye.
In some ways it was a relief to know that Dave was out there exploring the city, although I’m not sure the girls would have admitted that. I hoped he’d come back with routes and paths and ideas we’d not thought about before. Or with stories about massive groups of survivors in shelters, protected by authorities who knew what had happened. When he wasn’t back by lunchtime I started to fear the worst and wonder if we’d be all right without him. I didn’t want to even consider if I could survive without all of them.
We kept busy until sunset, creating our sign up on the roof. It was a good day for it; the sky was overcast but for once it didn’t feel like it was about to drop down on us. By the time daylight faded, we were covered in yellow paint and stank of gasoline from our handiwork. If someone flew overhead they would see a yellow “HELP” sign, and if we heard them coming we’d be able to toss a flare into one of the tubs of rags we’d soaked in kerosene and butane. Sure, Dave was out there scouting for us, but I was up here getting organized, and by the time we’d cleaned up and gone into the kitchen to make dinner I knew we had options. I could taste it.
I felt surer about the outside world too. I’d faced one of them; I’d faced that boy. Maybe not all of the Chasers were bad. Maybe they weren’t all killers. That boy wasn’t.
I reckon a Chaser would still kill you if they needed a drink badly enough, Anna said, as if she was reading my mind.
We were back in the Rainbow Room, sitting at our usual table eating spaghetti with tomato sauce. It reminded me of the pasta sauce I cooked with my dad sometimes. I noticed Mini had hardly touched hers.
If they were desperate, Anna went on, if they really needed what you have inside you, then they’d kill.
I nodded in agreement and she gave me a brief smile over the table.
But no matter what they’re like, we’ve still got choices, I said. We could stay here until help comes, or we could go. We could separate—what Dave’s doing now proves that . . .
I frowned and checked my watch. Anna pretended not to notice.
The one thing we have left is choice, I said. And each other.
Anna tried to smile again but almost cracked. She stood up suddenly, went over to her bed and started reading by flashlight. Mini left the table too, and started scrolling through an iPod. I blew out all the candles except for one and took it with me to bed. I tried to read by the flickering light but my mind wandered to the others who’d been with us on the UN camp. If I’d had to choose people to stay with me after the subway it would have been these three.
Anna’s light went out and my candle flickered alone in the dark.
He’ll be back soon, Anna said.
Yeah, I replied.
I want to do something fun tomorrow, Mini said. All four of us. We could play drinking games—Dave would like that.
I’m sure he would, Min, I said and then started to laugh. The others joined in and we laughed so hard that when we finally stopped I couldn’t remember why we’d started laughing in the first place.
I think Dave’ll come back, I said to the others. Actually, I know he will. Sometime tomorrow.
16
We ate well the next morning. Anna cut up fresh fruit into a salad. I got some yogurt and eggs from the snow-covered stash on the roof. The eggs were just on their use-by date so we scrambled up a whole dozen. I felt sorry that Dave had to miss out. We even had fresh bread, baked in a breadmaker we’d found at the back of someone’s kitchen cupboard. It was a little doughy inside but no one complained. I
think even Mini had seconds that morning.
We played Monopoly for a few hours, trying to take our mind off things. We used real cash. I’d never bothered to count it, but there was a duffle-bag full of notes from all the apartments we’d ransacked. There must have been a hundred grand or more. It made the game fun, although Mini was a shark; she went all out at every turn, buying every property she could and never bothering to save anything. Anna only seemed interested in saving up to buy the premium sites, and I kept landing on the Chance and Community Chest cards, which never turned out in my favor. When Anna bought Broadway I tried to land on it—I looked forward to pretending to be in pain when I had to pay her rent—but then I hit one of Mini’s mid-range hotel properties and it cleaned me out of the game.
I spent a few hours going through apartments on the 57th and 58th floors. Part of me realized I was avoiding 59C, the apartment I dreamed about so vividly, but I wasn’t ready to confront it yet.
Under someone’s king-size bed, I found a plastic suitcase full of drugs. White, powdery stuff, as well as some bags of what looked like rock salt and some small blue pills. Dave might know what it all was.
When I showed it to Anna and Mini back in the Rainbow Room they reacted with a mixture of interest and shock. I left the suitcase on the bar.
You should throw that off the roof, Anna said.
Why?
Because what do we need it for? she said. You want to take drugs?
No, of course not, I said. I didn’t add, Not now. Maybe in, like, ten years, if this is all there is. But I didn’t want to think that way. These guys were all I needed.
Just get rid of it. We don’t need drugs.
What about for medicinal purposes? I said. What if one of us is in serious pain, like we have to set a leg or something?