Shock Wave

by Keith Taylor

  Nothing happened. There was no sound. For a moment Karen thought the car was a dud, but then she heard a soft beep from the dash, warning Ramos that he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. It was only when they began to creep forward that Karen remembered it was a Prius. It was running on its batteries.

  As Ramos picked up speed on the empty highway Karen scanned around the back of the car, searching for anything that might be useful. What she really wanted were some warm clothes, but instead her eye caught something else. Down in the passenger footwell on the other side of the car she noticed a brown paper grocery bag, and – careful not to disturb Emily – she stretched over to grab it with the tips of her fingers. “Hang on, we got something here.” She made a final lunge to reach it, pinching the paper between her fingers and dragging it close enough to lift. “Jackpot. Looks like the driver packed himself a lunch.”

  Ramos smiled. “Perfect. I’m so hungry I could eat my own arm. What do we have?”

  “Looks like candy and soft drinks, mostly. I get the feeling the owner of this car wasn’t a member of a gym.” Karen dug through the bag with undisguised excitement, and then a thought struck her. “Hey, is this stuff safe?”

  “Depends what you mean by safe,” Ramos replied with a chuckle, and then he caught Karen’s I’m in no mood expression in the rear view.

  “Don’t worry. Anything in a wrapper should be fine, but I’d steer clear of fruit with edible skin. It’s only the fallout itself that’s radioactive. It can’t pass that radioactivity onto anything it touches, so the only risk is in eating the fallout itself.”

  Karen set aside a six pack of sugary soft drinks, a baggie of bland trail mix and an apple, and then she saw them, hidden at the bottom of the bag behind a bundle of tissues, and her heart skipped a beat. For a moment all the terrible things that had happened over the last twenty four hours faded from memory. Everything was right with the world, and all the horror seemed inconsequential compared to what was sitting there waiting for her, calling out to her.

  It was a half dozen Twinkies.

  “Oh my God,” she gushed, tearing the wrapper from the first and stuffing it whole into her mouth. She spoke again, her voice muffled, spraying crumbs from her lips. “I haven’t let myself eat one of these in about ten years.”

  She reclined in the seat, eyes blissfully closed, chewing on the mass of sweet creamy sponge even as she unwrapped the second. “Oh, Twinkies, how I missed you.” It was just as delicious and terrible as she’d remembered, and exactly what she was craving.

  “Umm, you might want to go easy on those things,” Ramos warned, watching in the rear view as Karen took another bite. “Pace yourself.”

  “Are you my personal trainer now?” she laughed, the sugar already lifting her spirits. “Today isn’t the day to worry about my waistline, Doc.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just we tell patients to stick to bland foods for a few days after radiation therapy. In your condition your stomach will be pretty delicate, and it might reject anything with too much…” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of her in the rear view. “Yeah, there it is.”

  Karen had stopped chewing. Half a Twinkie sat tucked in her cheeks as she took slow, deep breaths, fighting off a wave of nausea. The color drained from her face.

  “Doc, I think I’m gonna—”

  She slapped at the power window controls, and with a sudden lurch she bounced Emily’s head from her lap and made it to the window just in time to lean out and vomit down the side of the car.

  “Yeeeeeaaaah,” Ramos drawled, trying to block out the sound of Karen’s retching. “I tried to warn you. Radiation sickness and Twinkies don’t really go together.”

  ΅

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AS TALL AS HE'D EVER BE

  JACK DREAMED ABOUT the end of the world.

  He was standing in the living room of his poky apartment in Excelsior, looking out through the dusty bay window on a dark and overcast San Francisco. The clouds above the city were a deep blue and black, a bruised sky that threatened to burst at any moment, and as he watched it he felt a strange sense of foreboding.

  He didn't know how, but he could sense that something was wrong with the familiar view. Something terrible was about to happen out there, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was watch, powerless and impotent, trapped behind the glass, a bystander as events unfolded, and it wasn't long before the danger made itself known. He felt his eye drawn to an enormous angry storm cloud looming over downtown, and as he watched he saw something punch through, black and ominous, falling swiftly toward the city below.

  Even at this distance Jack knew what it was long before it hit the ground. He knew what was about to happen, but no matter how hard he slammed his fists on the window the people walking outside didn’t seem to hear him. They wouldn’t look his way. He couldn’t warn them. All he could do was stare at the missile as it plummeted silently toward the ground.

  He looked back down at the street, and his heart began to pound as he saw them. Karen and Emily were walking hand in hand along the sidewalk beneath his window. They were smiling, swinging their arms, chatting without a care in the world, and behind them the missile continued to fall. Jack pounded on the glass with his fists until it felt like his bones were breaking, but he didn’t even make a sound. Even when he screamed at the top of his voice there was only silence.

  He turned back to his tiny, messy living room, desperately searching for something, anything he could use to break the window. He tossed aside papers and flipped tables on end, and finally he settled on the heavy wooden rocking chair that used to sit out on the porch at the old house, back when they’d been a family. The chair was so heavy he could barely lift it, an antique given to Karen by her father, carved from thick mahogany. He grunted with effort as he hefted it over his shoulder, and with all his strength he swung it at the window.

  The chair shattered into a million pieces of kindling with the first blow. A shock of pain radiated up Jack’s arms from the impact, but the glass didn’t even tremble, didn’t even scratch. It was as if he were trying to break through a solid steel wall.

  Jack dropped the splintered remains of the chair and went back to beating his fists against the glass, screaming silently in the vacuum until it felt as if his vocal cords would spring from his throat. His fists bled, and he barely noticed the tears of frustration streaming down his face.

  Now someone else appeared beside Emily, and suddenly… suddenly he’d always been there, walking alongside them. Jack pressed himself against the window, tears streaming down his face as he longed with every fiber of his being to be down there with them.

  It was Robbie, standing in his pajamas, a wide smile on his face and eyes gleaming with excitement. He stood a foot shorter than his little sister in his socked feet, as tall as he’d ever be, his beaming face hidden beneath a thick mop of brown hair that swallowed combs, that always seemed as if it was being tousled by an unseen hand.

  Robbie raised his arms to Karen, squeezing his hands into tiny fists, begging to be picked up and spun around, and he shrieked with delight when his mom obliged. From two floors up Jack could hear his laughter. It was all he could hear, even when his own cries were silenced.

  “Airplane!” Robbie squealed, his voice cracking with delight as his legs swung out behind him.

  And then Emily finally saw him. She tugged at her mom’s skirt and pointed up at the window.

  “Mommy, it's Daddy!” she yelled, smiling up at him. “Hi, Daddy!”

  Karen looked up and noticed Jack pounding on the glass, and now all three of them waved happily, smiling at him, oblivious to the danger. Oblivious to his terror.

  And then the missile reached the ground.

  There was a flash, brighter than anything he’d ever seen. The world vanished in the glare, blinding Jack for a long moment, and as the mushroom cloud blossomed above the city Karen and the kids just stood and watched, pointing and staring in wonder as if
they were watching a fireworks display. They watched as the buildings exploded into matchwood and the roads were torn from the ground in strips. They watched as cars and trucks were tossed into the air like toys, as the air itself ignited and began to burn with an unimaginable heat. They were still smiling. Still happy, right up to the moment the shock wave reached them.

  “Jack!”

  He opened his eyes with a start, his heart thumping in his chest and his hands clenched into fists. A sheen of sweat had left his shirt clinging to his skin.

  He looked around the car, wide eyed and with no idea were he was. Out the window there was only darkness, and then a brief flash of white passed through the car as they sped by a streetlight. Jack turned away from the window, blinking and confused, and it finally began to come back to him.

  He was in the truck. He’d handed Garside the wheel and gone for a nap in the back beside… he fumbled for her name for a moment in his half-awake fug of confusion. Young girl. A little quirky. Carried a gun...

  Cathy! He’d gone to sleep beside Cathy.

  She looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. “I think you were having a bad dream. You OK?” she asked with concern. “You were yelling pretty loud.”

  Jack rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, stifling a yawn as he pulled himself up in his seat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I do that sometimes. I know it’s a little weird.”

  Cathy chuckled and shook her head. “If you think that’s weird then you don't know weird. When I was a kid my grandma lived with us, and she used to sleepwalk into my room in the middle of the night.”

  “Well, that’s not so strange,” Jack replied, trying to distract himself from the memory of the nightmare. When he closed his eyes all he could see was Robbie’s smiling face, just as the shock wave hit. “I think a lot of people sleepwalk every so often. My brother used to do it all the time when we were young.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Cathy agreed, “but most people don’t sleepwalk into your bedroom and take a leak in your toy chest.”

  Jack gave her a double take, checking for a hint that she might be joking. “She peed in your—?”

  Cathy held up her fingers. “Five times. Five times I got that little midnight surprise before my dad finally let me put a lock on my door.” She laughed at the memory. “There’s nothing worse than waking up to find a confused old lady peeing over your soft toys with her lacy nightdress bundled around her waist.”

  Jack grinned. “Oh, I don't know. I can think of at least one thing worse than that.”

  “Oh you think so, do you?” she asked, doubtfully. “What could possibly be worse that your grandma peeing all over your favorite toys?”

  Jack stretched, letting her wait for a few beats before replying. “Just be thankful she was only going number one.”

  Cathy snorted with disgusted laughter. “Oh, gross!” She leaned over the headrest to the front seat. “Doug, did you hear that? Jack just said that—”

  Garside sighed. “Yes, yes, toilet humor. It’s all extremely hilarious to Americans, I’m sure. Maybe for an encore you can regale each other with a chorus of flatulence, or perhaps burp the alphabet.”

  Cathy sat back and smirked, pushing up the tip of her nose with a finger. “Sir Douglas is not amused, Mr. Archer. From now on we must refrain from all mention of bodily functions lest we offend his highness.”

  “Lighten up, Doug,” Jack chided. “There’s nothing wrong with a little laughter to relieve the tension.” He turned to Cathy and winked. “In fact, I feel a little tension building up right now. It’s… oh, wait for it, here it comes.” He tucked in his chin, opened his mouth and let out a long burp into Garside’s ear.

  Cathy burst out laughing, and Jack leaned back in his seat with a satisfied grin. “If you want me to do the entire alphabet you’ll have to pull over and get me a Coke.”

  Garside narrowed his eyes in the rear view. “How you people ever became a superpower is quite beyond me. I’m not sure how you found the time to build the world’s largest economy and perfect this comic mastery.”

  “We multitask, Doug,” Jack laughed, leaning over the seat in front. In the front passenger seat Boomer was coiled up, her legs twitching as she dreamed. Garside had his hand at the scruff of her neck, gently scratching the folds of fat behind her collar.

  “Not afraid any more?”

  Garside looked down at the dog, almost surprised to notice his own hand. He quickly snatched it away, and for a moment it looked as if he might say something cutting, but then he returned to Boomer’s collar and gave her another scratch. “Well, I… I suppose I’m warming to the idea of dogs,” he said. “This one, at least, doesn’t appear to be a slavering beast intent on murder.”

  “No, she’s a big softy,” Jack smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure Brenda will be pleased to hear you’re getting over your fear. Maybe you guys can finally get a dog of your own when you get home.”

  “You never know,” Garside replied. “Though that all depends if we even get to her. I’d be amazed if this thing makes it all the way without us having to stop and drill an oil well.” He tapped the dash. “In England we have this incredible new thing called fuel economy. Maybe you’re not familiar with it, because apparently your carmakers aren’t. This silly penis extension seems to get about ten miles to the gallon.”

  Jack leaned over the seat, sucking air through his teeth when he saw the needle hovering just above the red line.

  “Ouch. You can blame that on good old fashioned American muscle, Doug. Enough torque to kick start a dying star, but as thirsty as a drunk uncle at a wedding. Have we passed any gas stations recently?”

  Garside shook his head. “Not since we left the highway, no.”

  “OK, we should keep our eyes open.” He looked out the window, and for the first time noticed that they were on a narrow, single lane road. “Wait, how come we’re not on the highway? How long was I out?”

  “Just an hour or so. As for why we’re not on the highway you should ask your partner in comedic crime back there,” Garside said. “She’s giving the directions. I’m just the chauffeur.”

  “We had to get off, genius,” Cathy insisted. “If we’d stayed on the 5 we’d have ended up driving right through downtown Sacramento, and unless you’ve got a few radiation suits hidden in your pocket it’s probably not a great idea to head in that direction. And besides, this might be my first apocalypse but I’ve seen enough movies to know that everyone heads for the highway when the shit hits the fan. It was only a matter of time before we hit a hundred mile tailback or, y’know, some kinda weird Max Max raiders who want to kill us for our guzzleine.”

  Jack sat back with a shrug. “OK, apart from the Mad Max thing I take your point, but where the heck are we? This barely even looks like a road.”

  Cathy reached into the net pocket in the back of the driver’s seat and pulled out a folding California road map. She unfolded a half dozen panels, spread the map out on her lap and flipped on the overhead light. “We’re here. No, wait…” She traced her finger along a road that looked just like a hundred others. “Sorry, here. I think. More or less.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “More or less?”

  Cathy shrugged. “That’s as good as you’ll get out of me. I can read orienteering maps, but when it comes to roads I’ve been ruined by Google just like everyone else. I’m used to seeing a little blue dot that tells me where I am.”

  Jack pulled the map from her lap and found the road she was pointing at. “So we’re on Route 36?”

  “Yeah, I’m 99% sure,” she nodded. “Though I haven’t seen any signs in a while. Pretty soon we should reach Lake Almanor and take a right onto the 89, then after a while that leads to the 70. After about four fingers that turns back into the—”

  “I’m sorry. Four fingers?”

  “Yeah, four fingers.” She laid her hand palm down across the map. “See? One, two, three, four.”

  “You know there’s a distance scale in the co
rner of the map, right?”

  Cathy waved his suggestion away. “Anyway, after however many miles is four fingers the road turns back into the 89 for some reason, then we follow it all the way down to Lake Tahoe. After that there are a bunch of other roads, but I haven’t worked that part out yet. Should be simple enough.”

  Jack gave her a bemused smile. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m just brimming with confidence.” He peered at the map, trying to work out exactly how far they still had to drive before Modesto.

  “OK, looks to be… umm…” His eyes flicked back and forth from the scale to the knotted, winding roads that wove their way through the mountains. “I’d guess it’s something like… If it’s an inch to ten miles, then…” He whispered a few numbers under his breath as he ran a finger along the road, then he stopped, reached up and switched off the light.

  “OK, maybe counting in fingers is simpler.”

  Cathy smirked. “Told you so. There’s no point trying to work out the distance on these roads.” She started to fold the map. “I used to drive this way down to Reno with my dad all the time when I was a kid, and the roads twist about so much that half the time you’re headed back the way you came. The rule is you just keep going until you see a mountain you don’t recognize, then you know you’ve missed your turnoff.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to play it your way,” Jack reluctantly agreed. “I’ve never been to this corner of the state. So, you see anything you don’t recognize yet?”

  “Well… I mean, it’s nighttime. We always drove during the day, so right now your guess is as good as mine.” She looked out the windshield ahead and frowned. “Though now you mention it,” she pointed out the window at the glow of lights a couple of miles down the road, “that looks like a town up ahead.”

  “Looks like it, yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “Ummm… well, it’s been a few years since I’ve passed this way, but I don’t remember ever seeing a town this side of the lake. Hang on, let me just check the map again.” She stared at it as if she were trying to read a foreign language, slowly mouthing the names of the towns along the road.