Elysium

by Jennifer Marie Brissett

  “I’m okay, dad,” she said.

  “I wanna show you how to shop for food,” he said. “There are lots of supermarkets and bodegas with good stuff still left in ’em. In the early days, after the change, most of them were stripped bare, but some still have stuff if you know how to look.”

  He climbed to the edge of the roof and dove off. Adrianne held her breath, stopped herself from looking down, and jumped too. This time with her eyes open, staring ahead as she sailed in midair with a sick elevator-drop feeling in her stomach. She flapped her thin back arms once in a while to remind herself that it was her wings keeping her aloft.

  They maneuvered through the city caverns, between buildings, stopping to rest occasionally on rooftops that her dad knew well. Skimming over the river thrilled her. Seeing all that flowing water without anything to obstruct her view made Adrianne feel powerful, exuberant.

  The neighborhood where her dad led her had many two-level buildings that remained somewhat intact. In places nature had taken over, miniature forests where broken townhouses had given way to the weight of decay. Her father pointed at moving things. Five or six of them. The trees interrupted the view. There they were again, awkward and bow-legged — used-to-be-humans — crazies, throwing rocks at Adrianne and her father.

  “Happens every time I come here. Just stay high out of their range and you’ll be fine.”

  They swooped over the borough. They flew towards an old storefront with windows and door smashed in that looked pretty picked over. They landed anyway. Her dad was a very smart man. He knew that the shelves would be empty. But they always forget the basement, he said. He forced the front door open with his shoulder, and they went inside. They found the door to the basement in the back. The steps down led to a nasty-smelling room mostly filled with empty boxes and dead rats. Her dad kicked around at the boxes until one of them made a thud. Gold mine: a box of canned Vienna sausages! He picked up a can.

  “Always look to see if it’s bloated or not. If it looks like it’s getting ready to burst, toss it, ’cause it’s no good. These, on the other hand, are just fine,” he said. The white of his smile shined even in the dark. Her mouth watered just thinking about the soup they were going to make with the new ingredient. They grabbed a few plastic shopping bags from an open box and put all the cans they could carry in them.

  Upstairs there was a crash, the sound of moving feet. Adrianne and her father stayed quiet in the basement for what felt like a long time, until it sounded like whatever was up there was gone. Her father climbed the stairs, and she followed. All was quiet and still but for the few birds that pecked on the floor, mechanically nodding their heads.

  Outside, Adrianne and her dad found men who weren’t men waiting for them. Bowlegged, twitching and jerking, they had scales all up and down their necks and faces and were swatting at invisible flies.

  Her dad moved in front of her before she could do anything. Adrianne had never seen him fight before. He scratched and punched and threw bricks and rocks. Adrianne was horrified and also mesmerized watching a father fight to defend his child. Adrianne threw one of the cans she was carrying and hit one of the used-to-be-men square on the shoulders. She was aiming for its head. She threw another can and another and another. He father grabbed her from behind and pulled her aloft. A gust caught under her wings and lifted her as she threw another can. When one of the things grabbed at her ankles, she dumped all the cans left on its head. Her dad pulled her up high, and they watched the creatures pick up their treasure.

  After that, her father decided that Adrianne wasn’t ready to go with him after all. He said she was still too young. He left again to look for survivors, leaving Adrianne behind. What he was searching for might not be out there.

  It had been over a month and still no daddy. He was never away this long. The mist was back, too. It choked the sky. Adrianne had set off the flare gun on the roof, and still he hadn’t returned. She had always been afraid to think of the day he didn’t come back. Now the day had come. Adrianne was alone.

  Adrianne heard noises in the night. A large crowd of something passed by the building. She couldn’t see what they were because the mist was so thick. Her flare might have caught the wrong kind of attention. All she could do was hide in the deepest corner with her kitten, her wings covering them like a blanket.

  Adrianne decided to look for her dad. She pictured him hurt, moaning in some darkened alley in need of help. He would never approve, but he was not around to stop her. She had wings. She could fly. And she could be strong, too. Stronger than strong.

  She put together a carrier bundle with food, water, and a few small things to help her on her search. She also made a special secure pocket in her bundle for carrying the cat. The feel of his warmth, the soft patter of his heartbeat, his gentle occasional purrs made her feel less alone. He let her pick him up and place him into his pocket, making only the slightest murr. He was more docile than he should be. She noticed that whenever she stared into the kitty’s green eyes and saw more than a cat. The mist had done its work on him, too.

  The bundle stretched over her neck and tied at the waist so it didn’t get in the way of her wings. She looked at herself in a cracked mirror in their makeshift living room. The frame was made of plastic, and some of the mirrored coating had rubbed off. The image it returned was not to be trusted, yet she looked in it sometimes, marveling at the changes in her body. Adrianne hadn’t looked in it since the wings came in. She was too afraid of what she might see. Her eyebrows were now gone and her hairline had receded. Her face was brown and shiny, her head elongated. Her hand glided over her head. It was porcelain smooth. She was a strange kind of beautiful.

  One final check on the kitty. He slept snugly in his pocket, lightly purring. Adrianne was glad he wasn’t fussing around in there. She closed her eyes to mentally prepare herself for the flight.

  Then she leaped.

  The wind blew her off balance, making her flounder for a few terrifying moments. Spinning, confused, disoriented. Her father wasn’t around to help. Adrianne had to help herself. She straightened out and glided for a while. After a time she felt ready for her journey.

  They floated over the great park that had become wild. The inhabitants of the zoo had gotten loose and were roaming around. A herd of elks ran free. Behind them were two cougars, charging at the slowest and weakest. It was hard to tell how much of this was normal. Some things were affected by the mist while others were not. She wished there was someone to ask why. Maybe the man who had pushed the button knew, if he was still alive.

  Adrianne banked and flew toward the river by way of the bridge. It was still a grand affair, Gothic and sturdy against the purple-gray sky. The piled-up rusting remains of the cars formed a design of twisted metal along its span. The cat poked his head out just enough to catch a breeze on his nose.

  She darted over buildings until she reached the neighborhood her father had showed her before. There was nothing, not even a hint of the creatures that had attacked them before. She spied another busted-out bodega and circled a few times to make sure it was safe before she landed. Memories of the fight she and her dad had the last time they landed here played in her mind. There was not much left inside, but she did find a few cans of cat food sitting on a shelf. She loaded a few in her bag and took to the sky as soon as possible.

  She went deeper into the borough, flying over an unwieldy forest that used to be a green garden and saw things moving in the trees. Whatever they were, they were not human, not anymore. No sign of her daddy, though. She landed on the roof of the old museum to rest her wings. She remembered coming to this museum once when she was little. It was nice inside. A good memory of a time not so long ago. She sat above the frieze of statues etched into the stone. An impressive dome rose behind her. She opened a can of cat food and fed the kitty. He ate greedily, to Adrianne’s pleasure.

  She felt peaceful. The kitty, sated with his meal, curled up to sleep in his pouch. Adrianne was nearly asleep whe
n a click-click-click sounded from behind her. She turned. A swarm of what looked like hundreds of large roaches, almost as big as her cat, were climbing up the stone walls and over the dome. She flew up into the air and didn’t look back.

  Crossing the river she spied something on the water, near a broken dock where the water was shallow and the grasses grew. It was a mass of large feathers, too big for a bird. And there was blood. She looked around and saw no other sign of her father. But this was him. She could feel it. Adrianne thought she was prepared. They had both known that this day might come. But nothing had prepared her for this. Daddy?

  He was gone.

  Their encampment in the office building was empty save for the memories of the man she’d loved most in the world. She let the cat out of his bundle. He shook his head vigorously, getting his bearings. She made a fire.

  It was nighttime and all blackness. Only the light of the waning moon provided any light. Panes of glass from distant skyscrapers fell and broke against the ground, sounding like a leaky faucet dripping ice crystals. She made a little bed out of some old sheets and towels nestled into her daddy’s old spot. It made her feel close to him. It still smelled of him. Then she lay down on her stomach to avoid crimping her wings, folding them back as best she could, but they somehow were always in the way. The cat curled up next to her and murred sweetly. He sensed how sad she was. Water flowed from her eyes uncontrollably until she fell asleep.

  In her dreams she was herself but not herself. She went to the in-between space, neither here nor there, moving in and out of her body with ease, being herself then staring at herself from another’s point of view. There was a rattling of cans. Something was in the building. Daddy? It was by the door. Adrianne edged toward the window. It was dark in the middle of the night and the mist was coming in thick. She wanted to flee but she also wanted to stay. A hope of her father’s return stilled her feet.

  She waited by the window, waited and waited. A blackness came through the door. The presence of it, the height and weight of it. It shuffled and moved with bow-legs. It had her daddy’s face covered with scales and red, red bloodshot eyes. His beautiful wings were gone, or rather his feathers had been pulled out. His third and fourth arms writhed where they had once stretched wide to take flight. The man she knew was gone, replaced by a thing that walked in his skin. He came at her, eyes crazed and wild. He pushed over desks and chairs, reaching out for her. He bared his teeth, which were red with blood.

  “Daddy?”

  It only returned grunts. She knew what had to be done. He would have done it for her. Maybe that was why he had returned. Some part of him that was still her dad, wanted her to do for him what he did for her momma. At least that was what Adrianne made herself believe. Her hand shook as she pointed her flare gun. Every fiber of her body ached as she squeezed the trigger. The gun fired. He howled, waving his flaming arms. He still grabbed for her. Adrianne was too far away. She jumped backwards through the window and coasted into the rising mist … and woke to the sound of rattling cans.

  Quietly, Adrianne gathered her cat into his pouch. He was fully awake and could sense the danger and moved deep into his bundle. His scared green eyes stared into the darkness. He fussed only a little as she dove out the window. From a distance Adrianne could see through the skeleton of her building, now infested with a multitude of the creatures. There was nothing more she could do. You have to be strong. You have to be stronger than strong. She comforted her cat and flapped her wings and flew north.

  >>

  >>

  >> bridge status

  connecting...

  *BRIDGE RUNNING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS*

  *OBJECTIVE AT 0.564853556485 OF COMPLETION*

  ==> ERRORS IN MULTIPLE SECTORS

  ==> FRAGMENTATION

  ==> POSSIBLE DATA LOSS

  ==> ERRORS BYPASSED

  *SYSTEM BRIDGE MAINTAINED*

  >>

  >>

  >> continue

  BRIDGE PROCESS: CONTINUED

  .

  .

  .

  12.

  A scrim of fog settled on the window, making the world outside appear in white silhouette. Weather was not the cause of this, though the winter’s frost had finally come. It was the dust. The unbeatable dust that mixed with the water in the air and made the mist. It seeped underneath doorways, clothes, and skin. Changing people. Changing the world. Changing his wife. Adrian dared not listen as the doctor examined her. He stared through the cold glass pane with the cat who slept silently on the window seat, wishing that Netta and the baby were going to be all right.

  The door to their bedroom squeaked open. The inside of Adrian’s skull felt hot. The news, the news, the god-awful news. He didn’t want to know. He needed to know. So that he could make the plans. He was always full of plans. That’s why everyone turned to him. His plans fixed things. But there were no plans for this. There was no fixing this. Nothing to fix. Nothing to do. Nothing. Only a plain simple truth: his wife’s body was failing, and she was taking their unborn son with her.

  Dr. Thomas came through the door, wiping his hands on a towel. Adrian breathed deep and forced himself to face him.

  “For now, Netta and the baby are stable,” the doctor said. “But she should not be moved. Complete bed rest. That is my suggestion.”

  Adrian swallowed.

  “Are you sure she wouldn’t be safer out of the dust?”

  “You are sealed in well enough here.” The doctor pointed with his stethoscope. “Look, I know that many want you to move underground, but I am not interested in politics, only the health and well-being of my patients. My prescription is firm.”

  “I understand.”

  “I hope that you do,” he said. “Her condition is very delicate. Moving her would most likely kill her and the baby.”

  The word “kill” did the job it was supposed to do.

  “She won’t be moved.”

  “See that she isn’t,” the doctor said.

  Adrian cracked open the door and peeked into the bedroom. Netta dozed sweetly in the bed. Long plastic lines of fluids connected to drip tubes that connected to bags of liquid that connected to machines. The complex spider’s web surrounded Netta, delivering to her frail, failing body life-sustaining medicines. She and the machines were becoming one. He carefully closed the door, leaving her to sleep undisturbed.

  “I will come back in two days to check on her again.”

  “Thank you,” Adrian said, more than sincere. He had to hold back from grabbing the man into his arms and weeping. Dr. Thomas was very busy with all the sick and dying. To take the time to personally come out and care for his wife was well beyond the call of duty.

  He escorted the doctor to the door and watched him put on his head covering. It was a large scarf that wrapped around, folding over a flap that went atop his nose and mouth, leaving a small space for the eyes. It was the fashion these days for keeping the dust off the face and skin.

  “See you soon,” Adrian said.

  “Two days,” Dr. Thomas’ voice echoed distantly from inside his wrap.

  The plastic covering of the first door released pressure with a hiss and closed with a swoomp. Adrian watched as Dr. Thomas bounded through the short vestibule to the outer door, holding his doctor’s case in a bio-bag.

  Adrian returned to his bedroom, inched the door open, and saw that Netta was awake and gesturing for him to come in.

  “Hey baby, how ya feeling?” he said, as if to a small child.

  “You tell me. What did the doctor say?” There was real fear behind her red-rimmed eyes. “How is the baby?”

  “You and the baby are fine. You just have to keep still. That’s all.”

  Adrian crawled through the lines of fluid and curled up in the bed beside her. With the tip of his index finger, he traced along her jawline, down her neck to where layers of dried skin scaled, flaked, and were peeling off. A single drop climbed out the edge of her eye to stream to her h
airline.

  “Shh,” Adrian said, wiping away the tear. “It’s gonna be all right.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Adrian leaned his head against hers and wished he were the woman lying in the bed. He held Netta in the quiet of the beeping machines. Time had no meaning then. They were all together, she and him and their unborn son.

  “I had a dream last night,” Adrian said.

  “Yeah?” she said.

  “It felt so real, like I was really there. I dreamt that my father was showing me how to fly and he had wings like an eagle.” Adrian used his hand to show the swooping and sailing of flight, opening his fingers wide like feathers. “When I woke up I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

  The door signal light flickered.

  “That must be Sheila,” Adrian said and untwisted himself from the cords and lines attached to his beloved and went to greet the nurse.

  Sheila came through the vestibule with two men. Adrian waited as they resealed the plastic door covering and unraveled their various head and face wraps. Sheila’s toothy grin brightened the room, and she stretched out her arms. The cat rubbed itself against her legs. She gently edged it away.

  “It’s cold outside today. Long time since it’s been like this,” she said. She took her things and the coats and wraps from the others and put them away in the closet. Her muffled voice murmured from inside, “I think I’ll make you a nice stew for dinner.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Adrian said.

  “I want to,” she said. “It’ll be nice for a change. Now lemme go check on Netta while you talk with your people.”

  Sheila headed to the bedroom rubbing her arms as she went.

  Kim patted Adrian on the shoulder and shook his hand, then gestured at the other man to guard the door.