Last Days Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  For the first time, Kyle fully understood the phrase ‘God forsaken place.’ When he heard the news, he pulled off to the side of the road.

  All that morning, as he headed to Route 30, the radio news was rife with FEMA self-testimonials: how efficiently they were evacuating Chicago, how eighty percent of the people were already out, how FEMA’s Jack Ross assured the population that nothing was coming from the sky, nor were there military threats from other countries. Finally, just five minutes before, FEMA went on record to state that the evacuation itself was merely precautionary, since a truly biblical debacle was the only thing that would justify it, and that it appeared nothing would occur.

  Then someone mentioned that all rescue efforts at the Institute had been stopped. No one was looking for Reggie and Marcus. Not only that, the news speculated that Doctor Leon and Reggie were already out and on the run. Kyle wanted to believe it, but his feelings were mixed. Marcus was a wanted man, wanted for the murder of his assistant, for the abduction of Reggie.

  Hogwash, Kyle thought. How could anyone buy that?

  After a five-minute break to hyperventilate and fume, Kyle fired up the engine. Now he had even more incentive to find his daughter. He had to search her out. He had to. No one else was going to do it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Westing Biogenetic Institute

  Chicago, Illinois

  Reggie and Marcus had only a sorry-looking pile of displaced rubble to show for their hours of digging. Escaping was hard work.

  Reggie’s hands bled at the knuckles, but the worst pain was under her short fingernails from grasping at debris and tossing it out to Marcus.

  “Reg.” Marcus held the candle to the hole. “Come on out. My turn again.” He sidestepped a rock as it flew out. “Nice.”

  “My last burst of energy. I think we’re making progress...” Reggie giggled. “I’m coming out.”

  “You did good.”

  “Yeah.” She brushed herself off with a less than enthusiastic tone.

  “Here.” Marcus handed her a Gatorade. “Take a drink.”

  “I’m fine.” Reggie sniffed, handed him the flashlight, and walked over to the sink. She turned it on and splashed her face, lifting her tee shirt to dry off.

  “Did you hurt yourself? How are your hands?”

  Reggie held them up. “Hurt.”

  “I’m sorry.” Marcus caressed them. “I’ll dig now. Maybe by morning we can get our...”

  “No. Don’t dig.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Why? You want all the credit for getting us out?” He gave her the candle. “Well, watch how big the pile gets when I get another shot.”

  “Marcus...” Reggie said, sadly. “It’s no use. We hit another wall.”

  “No.” Marcus slid out. “We were doing so good.”

  “We were doing real good.” Reggie swung out her hand. “But it’s another wall.”

  “Damn it.” Marcus closed his eyes, and then smiled weakly. “At least we have oxygen.”

  “But we’re low on food. We have to find a way out.”

  “Yeah, and it won’t be long before they send wrecking crews in here.”

  “How long do you think?”

  “A few days.”

  “Can’t we survive that long?” Reggie asked.

  “Yeah, we can. But the wrecking crew won’t be looking for survivors.”

  Reggie was speechless.

  “The crew digging must’ve made some progress.” Marcus stepped away. “God! If we could just get a break.” Frustrated, Marcus kicked at an empty soup can, sending it rattling across the floor to the stairwell. Marcus turned to Reggie. “I’m sorry I...”

  Clink-clank-clink-clunk... SPLASH!

  Marcus’ head jerked toward the stairwell, then back to Reggie. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Like little kids racing for the ice cream truck, Marcus and Reggie bolted for the collapsed stairwell, nudging each other out of the way for position. They dropped to their knees and saw it: at the bottom of the collapsed stairs, a triangular opening about a foot wide.

  “That wasn’t here before,” Marcus said.

  “No way. We were both here a million times.”

  “It must have opened last night in all that shifting.” Marcus’s eyes scanned the room, then stopped at a piece of concrete. He picked it up and tossed it into the hole. Silence, then another splash. Marcus grabbed Reggie’s cheeks and kissed her. He smiled, peered at the hole, caught his breath and calmed down. “All right. It goes down. But... how can we fit through there?”

  “We have to make it bigger.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  Reggie hesitated, then placed her hand inside the triangle formed by the staircase and felt the hole. “Wait.” She stood up, raced into the room and returned with a large piece of concrete. She handed it to Marcus and repeated her actions, coming back with a second chunk of wall.

  “Why do we need more concrete?” Marcus asked.

  “It’s heavy. It’s sturdy enough to pound the hell out of the floor, to chisel away at the hole until it gets big enough for us to slip through.”

  Marcus stared for a second. “Will it work?”

  Reggie shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “But if the floor’s too weak, it may break through. We could crash down.” Marcus said.

  “Yeah but at least we’ll be down there,” Reggie nodded. “So what, we break a bone. At least we’ll be out.”

  Chuckling, Marcus adopted Reggie’s attitude, picked up his piece of concrete and started to pound on the floor.

  Fox Lake, Illinois

  Kyle had wasted too many hours and too much daylight to get north to highway twelve. He had tried every smaller road for access. He also had trouble finding an open gas station. He finally gave up on the smaller roads. Their closings seemed inconsistent anyway. Kyle was so frustrated he decided to try a main thoroughfare. At least that might get him close enough to Chicago to walk in. Once there, he wouldn’t have any problem ‘borrowing’ a car. By now Chicago was a ghost town.

  Nevertheless, it was sooner and not later that Kyle ran into another roadblock. But Kyle didn’t stick around to hear the millionth ‘Sorry, road’s closed.’ Before he could be stopped, Kyle pulled his truck off to the side of the road, turned it off, grabbed his keys and gear, and got out.

  He started to walk, muttering that the grass and the shoulder were free country, even if the highways weren’t. He passed a long line of cars on his way to the barricade, then kept going.

  “Sir!” A soldier, a sergeant, called out. “Stop!”

  Kyle turned around.

  “Sir, where are you heading?”

  “Into Chicago,” Kyle answered.

  “Chicago is being evacuated. No one gets in.”

  No shit, he thought, then smiled. “I thought everyone just had to get out.”

  “Sir, I have to ask you to return to your vehicle.”

  Kyle huffed. “And I have to find my daughter.” He looked at the name tag. “Sergeant Wilson. She’s in there.”

  “If she’s in Chicago, she’s probably out.”

  “I am so tired of hearing that.” Kyle snapped. “You people know nothing. And I can’t argue. I have to get my daughter.” Kyle kept walking.

  “Sir.” Sgt. Wilson trotted up, attempting to keep pace. “This area is under martial law. You can’t go in there.”

  Kyle moved on.

  “You will be placed under arrest.”

  Kyle kept on moving.

  “Sir, this is a stop or I’ll shoot situation.” Sgt. Wilson grew aggravated.

  “Tough.” Kyle called out.

  “Stop right now or I’ll shoot.”

  Kyle adjusted his bag, walked on and spoke over his shoulder. “I have to try to get in there. If you have to shoot me, shoot me. I’m not turning back.”

  Bang.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Westing Biogenetic Institute - Chicago, Illinois

  A ch
unk of the floor chipped off and fell into the hole. Seconds passed. Splash.

  “Okay, try it now, Marcus,” Reggie said, as she scooted out of the way.

  Marcus grabbed the flashlight and poked his head into the hole. “Grab my legs.”

  “All right. But don’t count on me holding your weight for long.” Reggie secured his ankles.

  Marcus inhaled and moved an arm into the hole. “I fit.” He shined the flashlight down.

  “What do you see? You must see something!” He came out. “What?”

  Marcus smiled. “Steps. I see steps. We have to hang, then drop, but they’re there.”

  “I’ll get our stuff.” Reggie scrambled to her feet and raced into the storage room. She tossed her purse into the partly open duffel bag, grabbed it and the briefcase, and hurried back to the stairwell.

  “I’ll go down first, okay?” Marcus handed her the flashlight. “Wish me luck.”

  “Luck.” Reggie grinned.

  Marcus extended his legs into the hole and inched down on his belly, trying to grip the floor. He looked over his shoulder and down. “I need light.”

  Reggie slipped her hand into the hole and shined the light.

  Marcus took a breath and let go. He landed and stumbled down three stairs, damp from the ruptured pipe above.

  “You okay?” Reggie asked.

  “Yeah. Toss me our things! Whenever you’re...” He tried to catch the flying duffel bag, and missed. Before he could ask, the briefcase flew down also, and he grabbed it. “Now you. Climb out like I did...”

  A few seconds later, Marcus saw Reggie’s dangling legs. He reached up and guided her down. “Good job.” Marcus handed her the briefcase and tossed the duffel over his shoulder. “Let’s get a move-on.” He grabbed the flashlight.

  “Why?” Reggie asked. “We’re out of here and... hey!” Reggie looked to her left as soon as she hit the bottom step. “Where’s the door?”

  “Not there.” Marcus tugged her in the opposite direction. Their feet splashed on the wet ground. “The hallway that leads to the garage is right... here.”

  “Shit.” The door was blocked with chunks of concrete and wood.

  “No, not bad,” said Marcus. He grabbed the briefcase from her and set it and the duffel on the ground.

  “Marcus, we’re trapped again.”

  “Reg, please.” His tone shushed her. “We dug a hole. We broke through a concrete floor. This is nothing. A little debris. We can do this. The door’s right there.”

  Reggie smiled. “Our way out.”

  Memorial Hospital, Toledo, Ohio

  A new wave of nausea surged through Kyle’s knotted up stomach. A god-like baritone voice caused him to think he was dead. But then he recalled his ride to the hospital and his subsequent bitching. The complaining didn’t last long, terminated by another voice saying, “Put him under now.”

  Lights out. Anesthesia, Kyle thought. He never handled that well.

  Sometime later, Kyle struggled to open his eyes to a familiar voice. One blurry eye, then another. George Leon came into focus. “George?”

  “Morning, Kyle.”

  “What... what are you doing here?” Kyle tried to sit up. His stomach flopped.

  “They called us. Eliza sent me. I’m here to get you.”

  “Where am I?” Kyle asked.

  “Toledo. They said they won’t be pressing charges. They’re releasing you to my custody. How’s the leg?”

  Kyle looked at his bandaged thigh. “Sore.”

  “Could’ve been worse. That boy had authority to shoot you dead.”

  “Real kind.” Kyle covered his face with his hand. “I failed. I didn’t get them, George.”

  “You didn’t fail,” George said. “A man who tries is never a failure. You tried. Now let’s go home.”

  Kyle swung his legs slowly over the bed. He saw he was wearing a hospital gown. “My clothes?”

  “Eliza thinks of everything.” George held up a grocery bag. “When they said they were operating, she knew you’d need these.”

  “Thanks.” Kyle took the bag. “What about my truck?”

  “Getting that back may be hard. It’s been impounded by the Army.”

  “Shit. It was hard enough getting it back from Medina County.” Kyle shook his head. “Well, I’ll just use Reggie’s. Have you heard anything?”

  “News is saying they got out of Chicago.”

  “I don’t believe it, but we can hope.” Kyle sighed, then hobbled on crutches to the bathroom to dress.

  Westing Biogenetic Institute - Chicago, Illinois

  Reggie and Marcus grunted as they yanked at the door. “That might work. I’ll check.”

  “Sure. Go on.” Marcus held out his hand for her.

  “Thanks.” Reggie climbed the remaining pile of rubble and shined the flashlight through the cracked door.

  “Well? Well? What do you see?” Marcus asked.

  She slipped back down, looked at him and smiled. “...Fine.”

  “Are you joking or being serious.”

  “I swear.” Reggie grabbed the briefcase. “The corridor’s clear.”

  “Must be the one to the parking garage.” Marcus tossed the duffel bag over his shoulder.

  “Which level are you parked on?” Reggie asked.

  “Um... I’m not.”

  “What do you mean you’re not?”

  “Reg, just go.” Marcus waved out his hand.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re parked in the Westing parking lot.” Reggie slipped through the door. “Watch out, it’s a little bit of a jump.”

  They climbed up the rubble, slipped through the open door and jumped the three feet down.

  “Now. Where are you parked?” Reggie asked.

  “In the Westing lot.”

  “Uh!” Reggie shrieked.

  “Reg, stop that. This way.” He led her down the corridor.

  “I can’t help it. We have to go through downtown, don’t we? I hope all those people aren’t still standing outside of the Institute.”

  “Why would they be? The building’s gone.”

  “Let’s hope your car isn’t.” Reggie slowed when they neared a set of doors.

  “This takes us to the garage. We’ll only have to walk across to get to the ramp that leads to street level.”

  “Then we’ll just blend in, right?” Reggie snickered. “They’ll probably arrest us for vagrancy.”

  “We have to call our parents,” said Marcus. “Too bad that flip phone died.”

  “For a cheap piece of technology, it worked.”

  “Yeah it did.”

  Reggie halted when she saw the emptiness of the garage. “What day is it?”

  “It’s Friday... ” Marcus looked at his watch again. “...morning.”

  “Why is this garage empty on a Friday morning?”

  “They probably shut it down for fear of collapsing.” The sun was peeking through the ramp not far ahead of them. “We’re out.”

  “Let’s run.” Reggie trotted backwards.

  “Reg, don’t.”

  Too late.

  “Air, Marcus!” Reggie ran up the ramp, and then shrieked as she poked her head outside. “I’m blind!”

  Marcus followed at a trot. He squinted in pain as he kept Reggie from rubbing her eyes. “I tried to stop you. We have to adjust.”

  “I can’t see.”

  “Keep blinking.”

  “Is that a scientific thing?” Reggie blinked.

  “No it’s a... Reg?” Marcus blinked his sight back.

  They focused to a bright sunny day on a downtown street. No people. No movement. The only cars in sight were either wrecked or abandoned, some with doors ajar. The only sounds were the eerie blowing of paper debris in the Chicago wind.

  “Was there a plague?”

  Marcus grabbed Reggie’s hand and walked her into the street. They looked up and down the long, empty boulevard.

  “Do you think they closed down this entire s
ection of town?” Reggie asked.

  “I don’t think so. But it’s so quiet. Do you hear anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  Marcus took a deep breath and bellowed, “Hello!” His empty greeting careened off the empty streets and buildings. “Oh, shit. I’m in a bad remake of The Omega Man.”

  “Oh no, Marcus, tell me a plague didn’t wipe us out.”

  “Reg, a plague didn’t wipe us out. I’m positive.” He started walking. “Beside it wasn’t that long ago I texted Herbie. I’m sure he would have mentioned a plague.”

  “Oh, shit, Marcus,” Reggie said. “It’s creepy... listen to our footsteps.” Reggie banged her foot loudly. The stomp reverberated like a wrench hitting a pipe. “This is really weird. Hello!”

  “Let’s just head back to the Institute to get my car,” Marcus said, dazed.

  “Marcus, something terrible happened, didn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.” Marcus took a step, his feet scuffling through the scattered papers. “I just know that...” Marcus stopped talking when a newspaper blew up at his chest and stuck to him. “Something is not...” He grabbed at the paper and turned pale. “Reg.”

  “What?”

  He showed her the headline. FIRE FROM THE SKY! Chicago Prepares for Evacuation. “That’s why they stopped digging,” he murmured.

  Marcus shoved the page of newspaper in his back pocket. “We have to get out of here.”

  “What did it say?” Reggie asked, as Marcus pulled her down the street. “When’s the fire supposed to come?”

  They turned the block. “Westing is this way. Not far.”

  “Marcus, when?”

  “Today. At noon.”

  Reggie shrieked.

  “Westing.” They arrived on the Institute grounds. “Please,” Marcus pleaded, “please let my car be in the parking lot.” He pulled Reggie in the direction of the lot, but stopped in front of the main building. “Oh, will you look at that,” he said with disgust. “Only the apartment wing was destroyed. That sucks.”