by Carl Hose
That’s when the chick ran out in front of him. Instead of running her over like he’d planned to do to anybody who got in his way, he slammed on the brakes, stopping just inches from spreading her all over the pavement.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
Before he could take off again, Wanda came to the passenger side of the car and jerked the door open, sliding into the car before Johnny could stop her.
“Let’s go,” she said, breathing hard.
“What the fuck . . .”
“Drive, will ya?” she said.
Johnny hesitated a moment, thinking he should shove her right back out the way she’d come, then shrugged and said, “Just don’t be fuckin’ cryin’ and shit, you got that? I don’t need no chick bawlin’ on my shoulder.”
He jammed his foot on the gas pedal. The car’s tires screamed against the pavement. The momentum threw Wanda backward, against the seat. She was about to complain, but Johnny shot her a look that stopped her in her tracks.
A Blackhawk roared overhead, flying so low to the ground that Johnny and Wanda both felt the car shake.
“What’s happening?” Wanda asked, the tone of her voice a little too whiny for Johnny’s taste.
“I don’t have a clue,” Johnny said. “Do I look like the fuckin’ eyewitness news?
He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw helicopters setting down right on the streets of the city. Military trucks, jeeps, and armored vehicles were converging on New York, dropping soldiers with weapons readied for combat. Johnny may not have known what was happening, but he knew whatever it was, things were going to be drastically different after today.
Four
“I just don’t like it,” Jed said. He and Dalton were sitting on Dalton’s front porch, drinking beer and watching a line of military vehicles move along Route 73, heading toward the crash site. “Military vehicles rollin’ into town just don’t sit well with me. The military gets involved, there’s bound to be a snake in the grass somewhere.”
“I’d be inclined to agree with you,” Dalton responded. “Doesn’t seem they’d be interested if there wasn’t something they wanted to keep from us, does it?”
“It’s more than a meteorite, I’ll tell ya that. When’s the last time the military got this worked up over a hunk of rock?”
Dalton lit a cigarette and took a thoughtful pull. “Still not ready to buy the spaceship theory, though,” he said.
“I ain’t sayin’ it’s a spaceship, but somethin’s goin’ on those military boys got a hankerin’ for, that’s for sure.”
* * *
Henry and Ed were eating lunch at Edna’s. They hadn’t moved from the stools they’d occupied at breakfast. The conversation hadn’t changed much either. The only perceptible difference was the addition of a couple of BLTs. The two of them looked up with mild interest when Sheriff Colbrook entered the cafe, then turned their attention back to lunch and the topic of conversation for the day.
“Hi, Sheriff,” Abigail said from behind the counter. “You hungry?”
Colbrook took a stool at the end of the counter. “Don’t have much of an appetite, Abby,” he said. “Coffee’ll do.”
Before Abby could reach for the coffee pot, a disturbance from outside drew everybody’s attention. A couple of military trucks and jeeps came to a stop outside the front of the cafe. Colonel Edgewater climbed out of the lead jeep, a cigar stuck in his mouth. He stood for a moment and looked up and down Main Street, then he cleared the distance between the convoy and the entrance of the cafe in a few strides.
Henry and Ed looked star struck. They could only stare at the colonel in stunned silence. Abigail did the same. Colbrook glanced at the man without much interest, then said to Abby, “Can I get that coffee?”
“Oh, sure, sorry,” she said, filling his cup.
Edgewater strode past Henry and Ed without so much as a glance. He took the stool next to Colbrook and turned up his own coffee cup, signaling for Abigail to fill him up.
“Can I get you—” she began.
“That’ll be all,” Edgewater said curtly.
She filled his cup and hurried off.
“We’ll be setting up a perimeter,” Edgewater said to Colbrook, not bothering to look at him as he spoke. “No one will come or go without my say so. I’ll expect full cooperation from you and your deputies, without any complaint.”
“We’ll do what we can not to step on your military toes,” Colbrook said.
Edgewater faced the sheriff then. “Are you getting wise with me? I’ve got a job to do here, and one way or the other, with or without your cooperation, that job is going to get done.” He paused long enough to take a sip of his coffee. “I can see you don’t like me much, and that’s okay, I’m not here to make friends. You will, however, respect me, and you will cooperate with the United States Military in whatever way is required. Are we clear on that?”
Colbrook didn’t bother to look at Edgewater. The man irritated him to no end, so much so that he almost did something he never did; he almost lost his temper. What stopped him was the certain knowledge it would lead to nothing good. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times, bit back his anger, and said, “We’re clear.”
“Good,” Edgewater said, the harshness of his tone lessening when he realized the sheriff wasn’t going to pursue the matter. “That’s real good.”
Edgewater turned back to his coffee.
* * *
“You got another of these?” Jed asked, holding up an empty bottle of Corona.
“I believe I just might,” Dalton said.
“Mind if I have me another? I sure do like these Mexican beers.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Dalton said. “In fact, I have a feeling we might need a couple more before this day’s passed us by.”
Dalton stood and stared at the southern horizon to take in the sight of the military hoopla taking place at the crash site.
“Yep, a real to-do, ain’t it,” Jed said.
“Sure looks like it,” Dalton agreed.
Five
“Son of a bitch,” Johnny muttered.
Wanda was scrunched down in the seat, her bare feet on the dashboard. As focused as Johnny was on the traffic and getting as far away from the city as he could get, he couldn’t help but notice the smooth skin and firm calf muscles of Wanda’s legs. The girl was in shape, there was no denying that.
“You got a cigarette?” she asked, catching Johnny staring at her.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, not the least bit embarrassed at being caught.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tossing them onto the dash so Wanda had to lean up to get them.
“You got a light?” she asked.
He looked over at her and shook his head. “You want me to fuckin’ smoke it too?”
He took out a lighter and tossed it to her.
“This fuckin’ traffic,” he complained, turning his attention back to the vehicles lined up in front of him.
“What’s goin’ on?” Wanda asked.
“I look like an encyclopedia to you?”
“Jeez, what crawled up your ass?”
“You crawled up my ass,” he said.
“You tried to run me over.”
“You ran out in front of the fuckin’ car.”
Johnny saw an opening in the traffic and jammed his foot on the gas, cutting off a vehicle in the lane next to him as he moved into the right-hand lane and made a few hundred yards before he had to step on the brake again.
“So, what’s your story?” he said, glancing over at Wanda. “Besides the fact that you’re a whore, I mean.”
“Fuck off,” she shot back.
“What? You ain’t a whore? Gimme a fuckin’ break, and don’t be so sensitive.”
“A girl does what she’s gotta do,” Wanda said. “That don’t make me a whore.”
Johnny shrugged. “I’m not judgin’. I was just makin’ an observation.”
They found themselves in a run-down neighborhood that looked as if it hadn’t been populated in some time. There were hardly any cars in sight that looked like they’d run, and the brick tenements lining both sides of the street looked empty, with doors and windows standing open or busted.
“Nice neighborhood,” Johnny muttered.
“Yeah,” Wanda agreed. “Look, maybe we should get back on the highway.”
“We need to find a place to stay ’til the traffic dies down,” he said. “I’m gonna kill somebody if we stay on the fuckin’ road.”
He turned at the end of the block and drove until a Super 8 came into view. He veered into the parking lot and shut off the car.
“You comin’ with me?” he asked, his hand resting on the door handle.
“What else have I got to do,” Wanda said, shrugging.
They walked to the office together. A fat woman with greasy hair and glasses sat in an overstuffed, bug-infested chair behind the counter. She was big enough to dwarf the chair. She stuffed her face with pizza slices and flipped through a tattered copy of Cosmopolitan.
“I’m payin’ for one bed,” Johnny said to Wanda. “You can sleep with me or on the floor. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“Well, aren’t you just Prince Charming,” she responded.
“It ain’t like you’ve never slept with a strange guy, now, is it?”
The fat clerk looked up with mild interest, wiping a thick strand of cheese from her mouth. “What can I do for you two lovebirds?”
“We need a room for the night,” Johnny said, taking out his wallet and laying a one-hundred dollar bill on the counter.
The fat clerk struggled to raise herself from the chair. The beached whale was practically stuck, and Johnny almost laughed.
She finally managed to break free. She took his money, made change, and slid a key across the counter. “Room thirty-one, second floor. Sheets are clean.”
“I sure hope so,” Johnny said.
The room turned out not to be as bad as Johnny expected.
Wanda fell back on the bed, spreading her arms out like wings as she let out a relieved sigh.
A siren screamed by outside. Johnny went to the window, parted the curtains, and took a peek. He could see their car from the room, which made him feel better.
He turned away from the window, lit a cigarette, and said, “We gotta find out what the fuck’s goin’ on out there.”
He turned on the TV. A blonde newscaster was on, staring at the studio camera with a professional smile and a twinkle in her eye.
“. . . authorities refuse to comment any further, but it appears in many parts of the country the military has taken control . . .” the blonde newscaster reported as a series of live shots of military vehicles and soldiers flashed across the TV screen.
“Are you seein’ this shit?” Johnny said.
Wanda was still lying back on the bed, oblivious to the news report. The blonde newscaster came on again. “It seems a number of meteorites have struck across the country, but many wonder why the military has assumed such a strong position . . .”
Johnny changed the channel until he came to a black newscaster doing his best to look good while he maintained an appropriately grave expression. “More reports are coming in by the minute,” the newscaster said, “detailing more acts of violence . . .”
Wanda had propped herself on her elbows to stare at the TV. Her eyes were wide and her skin had taken on a pale tone as the reality of the situation began to take effect.
“This is fuckin’ crazy,” Johnny said.
He switched channels again. A veteran newscaster in his 50s, with a fake tan and wrinkles his numerous surgeries couldn’t hide, was reporting the news as casually as he’d talk about the weather. “We have reports that police agencies throughout the country are working under military command at this time, and there have been talks of a nationwide curfew, though it’s unclear . . .”
“I ain’t gonna be under no fuckin’ curfew,” Johnny said, glancing at Wanda and doing a double take when he saw how rough she looked. “You look like hell,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said. “Got another cigarette?”
She kicked off her heels and extended a long, shapely leg. Johnny lit two cigarettes as he watched her roll her torn stockings down. Wanda caught him staring but made no attempt to scold him, so he didn’t bother looking away. He was sure she played it up for his benefit. When the stockings were gone, he dragged a chair over beside the bed and straddled it backward, facing Wanda and handing her one of the cigarettes.
“You never gave me an answer,” he said. “What’s your story?”
“Besides being a whore, you mean?”
“Hey, I didn’t mean it bad, ya know. I’ve just been around the block a few times. I know things.” He took a long pull on his cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling. “My name’s Johnny, by the way. What’s yours?”
“Cheri,” Wanda answered.
Johnny frowned. “I look like I was born yesterday?”
“Wanda, okay? It’s Wanda Kowalski. Not flashy enough for the street, so I go by Cheri. You got a last name, Johnny?”
“Boscoe,” he said.
“Well, Johnny Boscoe, I know a few things too.” She looked him over. “I know you’re a guy in a five-hundred dollar suit who hasn’t made it to the top of the ladder yet.”
“I’m on my way, honey,” Johnny came back defensively. “At least, I was before all this shit hit the fan. God knows what the fuck I’m doin’ now.”
Wanda smiled at him. It was the kind of playful, seductive smile that told a guy like Johnny he might get lucky. Never slow on the uptake, he said, “It looks like we’re gonna be together for a while. How do we pass the time?”
Wanda stood and peeled off her top, uncovering pale breasts with hard pink nipples. Johnny smiled for the first time since waking up that morning, because for the first time since waking up, he saw something he recognized.
“That’s as good a way as any,” he said.
He stood, kicked the chair aside, and took Wanda in his arms, kissing her hotly as he guided her down on the bed.
Six
The street outside Edna’s was crowded with military vehicles and soldiers standing around smoking, their M-16s slung over their shoulders. Inside the diner, the locals were gone. The once-quiet diner had become home and headquarters to the military. Abigail was doing her best to take orders and deliver food. Edna Jean was doing the same, while Joe worked the grill as fast as he could, flipping burgers with one hand and dropping orders of fries and onion rings with the other.
Abigail grabbed two orders from beneath the heat lamp as Joe replaced them with two more. She carried the food to a corner table, passing a heavyset soldier who waved and said, “Can I get another Coke over here?”
Sheriff Colbrook entered the diner. He stood and looked around, frowning at what he saw.
“Be with you in a minute, Sheriff,” Abby said, rushing by him on her way to deliver an order.
“Take your time,” he said.
He headed for a clear place to stand at the end of the counter. Edna brought a pot of coffee over. The sheriff held a hand up, palm out. “None for me, thanks,” he said. “Looks like business is booming.”
Edna’s face was creased and worn. “I could do without it. What can I get for ya, Jeff?””
“A cheeseburger with the works is fine,” he said. “No rush on it.”
“If I can feed all these animals,” she said, indicating the crowd with a jerk of her thumb, “I can damn sure feed you.”
Edna went off to fill his order and Abigail came breezing in behind the counter.
“You taken care of, Sheriff?” she asked.
“I’m good, Abby, thanks.”
A chorus of angry voices rose outside as two soldiers b
egan shoving each another. Sheriff Colbrook looked but showed no interest in breaking up the fight. They could all kill each other for all he cared.
“Ya know, Abby, maybe I could use a coffee after all,” he said.
She smiled. “Comin’ right up.”
* * *
A cloud of dust kicked up behind Dalton’s truck as he swung onto the dirt road heading toward the crash site. Jed sat beside him. Ahead of them were three military cargo trucks and six armed soldiers.
“You better slow down some,” Jed said. “Those fellas don’t look too friendly.”
“They’ll get over it,” Dalton replied.
He didn’t bother slowing down until he was a few hundred yards from the roadblock. By that time, the soldiers were moving into a defensive position. Dalton eased his foot onto the brake and came to a stop. One of the soldiers came around to his side of the truck.
“How you doing?” Dalton asked, waving and giving the soldier a big, friendly smile.
“Only authorized personnel beyond this point, sir,” the soldier responded. His features were set in stone. Dalton’s friendly demeanor was wasted on him.
“Just came to see what all the commotion’s about,” Dalton said, not about to give up so easily. He knew full well the odds of making any headway were nonexistent, but he hadn’t driven all the way out here to turn around without making at least some effort.
“I can appreciate that, sir, but this is as far as I can allow you to go,” the soldier told him, glancing at the other soldiers for support before returning his attention to Dalton.
Dalton looked at the roadblock and back to the soldier. “Must be some kind of big deal, huh?” he asked. “I mean, all this military . . .”
The soldier’s knuckles tightened around his M-16. The other soldiers fanned out around Dalton’s truck Three took up post on the passenger side. Jed watched them move into place. He tapped Dalton on the arm without taking his eyes off the soldiers on his side of the truck. “I don’t know, Dalton, these boys don’t look to be in the mood for chat.”