One

by J. A. Laraque

  Reboot

  Christine sat me on her bed and told me to close my eyes. She slid her hand underneath my shirt she pressed her thumb into the center of my back.

  “Concentrate on the pressure,” she said.

  I did not feel like even trying, but she kept repeating that phrase over and over again. I focused on where her thumb was just to drown her out. I just wanted her to shut up. I had the darkness now all I needed was the silence. Then, in an instant, it was as if I had left the outside world and turned inward. It was brief, but for a few seconds there was nothing. The pressure was even gone, as was her voice, her very presence.

  Then it all came rushing back as if floodgates to a damn had been forced open. I opened my eyes. I felt better. She smiled turning me toward her and kissing me.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “I rebooted you,” she answered.

  Christine had helped me and I was grateful and yet at the same time disturbed of her ability to do that to me. For a moment, I felt ashamed for feeling that way and yet the truth was that my mind and control over it was very important to me. I was sure that I would need more “reboots” in the future, but I promised myself I would learn the technique to use on my own, a self-reboot as it were.

  Broken

  My self-reboot only caused me to dwell on what the doctor had said to me. I have heard of causes where a hallucination was so strong that a person can become trapped inside of it forever. What world made more sense to believe in, a world where everyone has disappeared seemingly in an instant or a world where I suffered a mental collapse, was committed and somehow became trapped again.

  I did not want to sit there anymore feeling sorry for myself. I picked myself up from the floor and walked over to the teacher’s desk. There were several notebooks stacked neatly on top of one another. I picked one up and looked inside. It was a book report on The Stand by Steven King. I remembered that book. I wished there was an evil here I could fight against. I wished I had my own Abigail to lead me down the right path, but I had nothing, no one.

  With nothing left for me at the school I climbed out the window and walked toward my motorcycle. The smell of Chicago burning was everywhere. My thought was that perhaps this void world engulfed in flames would eventually burn itself in to inexistence. Part of me wanted to continue my search not just to find out if there was a reason for all of this, but also about the letter Christine was writing to me.

  Home was the best place to go. To continue roaming the streets at night after everything that had happened would be foolish. I revved the engine on my motorcycle before heading east on Armitage Avenue. Passing each car I still looked inside just in case. It was surprising how many apartment building and homes had their lights turned on. It almost made me want to search them, almost.

  I had decided that for now in order to continue my search I would need to accept this world. This was not because I wanted to, but because to believe in what Doctor Leafs told me then I should do nothing because nothing I do would matter. If I were still in that hospital bed then the only way to free myself would be to find out why I am here and to do that I had to go on the only history I knew.

  I reached Lincoln Avenue and could see a cloud of smoke and flames coming from Lincoln Park. I almost continued on. After witnessing the fire, burning on Wells Street seeing another one almost did not matter. I was becoming desensitized, but my curiosity remained intact. I road past Clark Street and realized the fire was coming from the zoo.

  The fire was spread out across the main zoo entrance. There was debris everywhere, but I could not make out what had happened. I parked my bike on the street in front and carefully made my way to the entrance. It was hard to see, the smoke was dark, thick and gray. It was hard to breathe. I covered my face with my sleeve and pushed through the smoke into the zoo. To the right of the entrance, I found the cause of the fire. Standing before it I could not believe what I was seeing.

  A commercial airliner had crashed leaving a trail of destruction from the southeast corner of the zoo leading to the polar bear tank. The plane had broken in half. The rear of it had crashed into one of the habitat buildings. The front half sat teetering on the edge of the polar bear tank. It made sense that if people vanished in an instant it would not be only cars that would continue to function until coming to a stop, but even so, to see a plane broken in half in flames was, frightening.

  I walked closer to the guardrail before the tank and found a way to climb into the planes cabin. Fear was kept in check by curiosity. I slowly stepped over the railing; it was a small jump through the smoke and into the plane. As soon as I was inside I was ready to leave. The smoke was everywhere, choking me. I was not there looking for people, but confirming of what I already knew. The oxygen masks were deployed. This could have happened after the event when the plane started its decent.

  Just like in the street and in Starbucks, items laid on the floor and seats of the plane. The luggage was still stored overhead or under the seats. At the cockpit door I was upset to find it was still locked and intact. While not a pilot I would have been able to read any gauges that may have still been active.

  I was running out of air. With nothing else to see, I started walking toward the rear exit when the plane began to slide into the tank. I ran as fast as I could and blindly jumped from the opening at the rear of the plane. I hit the ground hard and rolled trying to soften the impact. The plane slipped into the tank and fell into the habitat setting below.

  I just sat there for a moment watching the fires continue to burn wondering why I continued to fight so hard to survive. Yet again, another chance for me to free myself came and went. All I had done was to add more scrapes and bruises, and more pain. I pulled myself to my feet. I was going to head back to my motorcycle when something in the distance caught my eye.

  The Helen Branch Primate House, it was the only building I could access that was not destroyed or blocked by fire. I found the entrance unlocked and walked inside to complete darkness. There was something bothering me from the beginning. When I looked into the park and up to the sky, there were no animals. Christine’s fish tank was empty as was the polar bear tank. I had to find out if it was only the people that were gone.

  The smell of the primate house brought some hope, but the silence inside did not. With the door closing behind me the sound triggered something. It was a memory, but it was as if I could see this one like I was witnessing it from the outside. A ghost being shown events of its life. There were people inside now, but they were not clear. The faces were blurred the only ones I could make out were my mother’s and Ashley’s.

  Family Time

  My mother stood near one of the exhibits holding Ashley by the hand. She must have been no older than eight years old. Her eyes were so bright with excitement as she pointing at the apes in the cage. My mother however, looked upset. Her eyes searched around the room until they focused on something. I followed them to find my younger self leaning against the wall near the exit.

  I remembered the day. My mother had taken my sister and me to the zoo. I was upset and spent the trip wandering off by myself mainly to anger her. The look on her face as she walked over toward my younger self reminded me that I had succeeded.

  “Timothy, I will not tell you again to stay next to me and your sister!” She scoffed.

  I knew how upset she was but I did not care. Watching the other families taking pictures having a good time just angered me further. I hated them for being happy. My mother grabbed my arm tightly, she snapped me out of that state.

  “Don’t you ignore me! What is wrong with you?”

  I pulled my arm away which angered her even more. She knew what was wrong.

  “If I have to be here why couldn’t Jonathan come?” I asked.

  I knew the answer. It was less than a year ago that I stopped going to church. I was vague about the reasons why to my mother and father, but they spoke with Miss. Grant and were told the whole story. While they never outrigh
t said it they looked upon Jonathan a bit differently after that. They believed he caused me to leave, but his name could have been replaced with anyone and the result would have been the same. After that, whenever they did not want Jonathan to come with us she would use the same excuse.

  “I’ve already told you, this is our family time. You should not feel you have to be here, you should want to be with your family.”

  “Family time…? Then where is dad? Shouldn’t he want to be here too? Oh that’s right, he’s working again like always.”

  One of the reasons unchecked emotions are dangerous is that when they reach a boiling point you will lash out at whoever is closest at the moment even if they are not involved. It is true that my mother went along with not allowing Jonathan to accompany us, but she did truly believe in spending quality family time with us. I was angry at my father because I did not fully understand what his sacrifice meant. In the end however, I wished his ambition was truly for himself and not because he felt obligated to improve. A reversal from actions based on emotions to understanding of actions based on rational thought.

  “Daddy’s on his way!” Ashley said in almost a cheer.

  I had almost forgotten about Ashley. The innocence in her eyes, her unwavering love, her ignorance, it was just as upsetting as those smiling families.

  “No Ashley he isn’t, just like he wasn’t at your recital last Friday or your play two weeks ago.”

  My anger and hate were unreasonable. I was old enough to understand what it took to raise a family and yet I acted in such a manner. To want to shatter the world Ashley was in just to see her upset was sick. In time, she would understand, but it was not necessary to reveal the way things really are to her at such a young age.

  “That’s enough, Timothy! Your father is working hard every day so that we can have a better life. This isn’t just about you Timothy. A father has to think of his family as a whole before anything or anyone else. You’ll understand that when you are older.”

  I was stunned for a moment seeing how upset my mother was. It was not just because of what I said to Ashley and it was not because I was one hundred percent off base. I had overheard my mother and father fighting a few weeks earlier. My mother asked if there was any way my father could be off for their anniversary but he was scheduled to be out of town. For a moment during that fight she sounded as I did. It was unfair and she was upset but there was nothing that could be done to change things and she had to learn to accept that. I think at that moment I understood that I had to learn to accept things as well.

  “I understand that he hasn’t been thinking about us for a long time. I’ll never be like that, never!”

  She did not see my tears as I ran out the door. I was lying and even then I knew it. There were things in life that had to be done and either the ones you are with understand that or they do not. Either way it will not change what has to be done.

  A Painful Image

  The images faded and I was returned to the darkness. I walked forward; it was so dark I wondered if I would be able to find my way back to the door. A crackling beneath my feet startled me. I jumped then realized I had stepped on something, broken it. I reached down and felt two objects on the floor. I picked up a cell phone, now broken and a digital camera.

  I aimed the camera in front of me and pressed down on its silver button. A bright flash briefly illuminated the room. I fiddled with the switches on the camera and a bright light shined from the flash bulb. I scanned the light across the room and saw there were more phones, purses, cameras and other items on the ground. I lifted the light up to the exhibits and just stared blankly at the empty cages.

  There was no more doubt. I felt sick and exited the primate house. Back outside the smell of smoke and fire only made it worse. I felt myself panicking, fear slowing taking me over. I used anger to fight it back. I tried to convince myself that the fact that animals were also taken that all this must be in my mind, that it was not real.

  Something made me look at the camera. I searched through the stored pictures and discovered the camera belonged to a family. They looked a lot like my family. There were pictures of them together as recent as that day according to the date stamp. The last picture was taken at one eleven. Someone else must have taken it. The family stood in front of one of the ape exhibits. They were smiling, an ape stood right behind them as if posing.

  I felt rage building up inside me. I was upset because they were happy. I wanted them to be in pain just as I was. I threw the camera against the building wall it shattered into pieces. I staggered back to my motorcycle; the feeling of sickness was getting worse. I fell onto my hands and knees before the zoo’s entrance, my body refused to move any further. This feeling was different than anything I had felt before. I was not losing consciousness or fading into a memory. This was purely physical.

  Preparations

  Aunt Jackie taught me many things about dreams and nightmares. However, there was one thing she did not tell me, that you bring your weakened physical state with you into the dream world. At the peak of my ability to control and escape my nightmare I was stricken with an infection. Being bedridden barely able to move was painful enough to deal with during the day, but it was even worse at night, in my dreams.

  It is simple really. If your body is weak but not fully debilitated your mind is busy trying to correct whatever is wrong with you physically. Because of this any abilities you may have had in the dream world are weakened or lost altogether. As nightmares go that week was the worse I had experienced, until now.

  I knew what was wrong with me. I grabbed hold of the handles of my motorcycle and pulled myself up and onto it. I stared the bike and a smile almost came to my face. With all that has happened and the impossibility of it all my issue right then was basic. I was hungry. That afternoon I missed breakfast and had not eaten since. Considering the heat of the fire and the numerous falls I have had it was no surprise my body was ready to give in.

  I made my way down Clark Street; the fire was still spreading from Wells Street out and across the neighborhood. I considered going to Christine’s home to see if it was still there, but something inside of me wanted it to burn so that I could forget about it and move on. I pulled in front of the Walgreen’s drug store; I did not even realize why I had come there. There were many other places I could have gone to in order to find food but I chose there. I walked to the front of the store; I was surprised to find the lights were on as if waiting for me.

  As I walked through the empty store, it did not seem out of place, working there for almost a year I was use to coming in before they opened to stock the shelves and perform other duties. Even though it was September the air conditioner was on which made the whole store as cool as its freezer cases. There were people here. The store is open twenty-four hours, there were various items on the floor, but by then I was used to seeing that.

  I went aisle to aisle deciding the best thing to do was gather supplies that I may need during my search. While the thought of being in that world was terrible, wishing it away or being ill prepared would just be stupid on my part. If I could feel pain and require food and water then I could also suffer the effect of neglect. There was also the chance that I may need to stay in one place for a long time and if so I needed to have basic survival items.

  A sturdy backpack was the first item. Making sure the safety on the M911 was on I placed it in the small pouch in the front of the backpack. Items such as batteries, a flashlight and rope were the next items in. Making a mental list and finding most of the items in the store helped me put things in perspective. I finished my shopping and grabbed a handful of beef jerky. I sat on one of the checkout counters near the front of the store.

  Across from me was another checkout counter. When I worked there, I would sometimes be stationed at one of the checkout lanes. While I hated dealing with people I was good at it. Whenever someone would become irrational, I would just breakdown their argument until they understood my point or stormed o
ut. Either way I would be rid of them.

  Strangely enough it was Jonathan who got me the job at Walgreens. Not long after we started college Jonathan and I began talking again. I had grown during the summer while searching for what college I wanted to attend. I had the grades and my family had the money to send me almost anywhere, but the more time I spent thinking about the road I was heading down the less I wanted to traverse it.

  Seeing other people fret over what college they were going to and what contacts they were going to make made me realize I was foolish for acting that way in high school. Moreover, while I understood my father’s sacrifice I did not want to become like him. My future was to be for me alone. If someone wished to travel with me then they would have to carry their own weight and keep up or be left behind.

  Not a popular attitude to be sure, especially, when trying to date. I had no time for women whose goals hinged on mine. I was honest with my opinions and feelings and I learned as I suspected that most women just could not deal with the truth and I could not deal with a lie. The end result was me working for me and only me, that, and walking alone.

  Jonathan understood, but he was now a bit more goal-oriented. He had fewer choices for college, but got into DePaul as I did. We met in the cafeteria one day and just talked things out. He was reasonable and we were able to put the past in the past. After shaking hands and walking away there was an uneasy feeling inside of me. I just felt that our friendship was doomed to fail and I felt that once again it would be me who brought fourth that failure.

  An Emotional Mistake