Last Days Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  Marcus nodded.

  “Well?” Reggie stepped back and smiled as she modeled her outfit, a full U.S. Army ensemble. “What do you think? I think the ‘Militant Reggie’ look works. Don’t you?”

  “It certainly answers the big question… Is Reggie a lesbian?”

  “What?” Reggie gasped. “Who thinks I’m a lesbian?”

  “I’m joking.”

  “Good, I’m proud of you for that.” She moved to the duffel bag at the end of the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look weird.”

  Marcus sat up. “I’m fine.” He swung his legs over the bed, and then stood. “But I need to speak to you. It’s important. About last night…”

  “If it’s about all the deaths, don’t.” Reggie held up her hand. “It’s frightening. And....” Reggie took a deep breath. “Right now I don’t want to be frightened. So go on, tell me, but don’t frighten me.”

  “It’s not about that. It’s about us.”

  “Us? Last night? Marcus, what do you mean?”

  “Us... in this...” He pointed. “Bed.”

  Reggie shrugged. “Unless something happened that I don’t know about... Marcus, you didn’t...”

  “What? No.” He shook his head. “We slept together, Reg.”

  Reggie just stared.

  “Slept,” he repeated.

  “Okay.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “We were tired, perhaps.”

  Marcus huffed. “No, I’m serious. Can you be serious for one second? We have two beds, why did we sleep in the same one?”

  “For me, I was scared,” Reggie replied. “You make me feel safe,” she shrugged, “and maybe, because the past few nights we’ve been cuddling. I like the closeness.”

  “Exactly my point. It feels right.” Marcus snapped his finger. “Which brings me to my talk.” He moved closer to her. “I want to do this with you more often. I want to do this with you all the time. It feels too right, too natural. I want to... I want to be with you more, Reg.”

  “Marcus...”

  “No. Don’t say anything sarcastic. We kissed… not last night, not like when we were ten or fifteen, but we kissed. And you know, I thought it might lead somewhere. But then things happened. It never came back up. I’m bringing it back up.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “With all that’s going on?”

  Marcus’ head dropped. “Especially with all that’s going on. With the world so up in the air, you’re the one thing, Reg... The one thing that I am certain about.”

  “Oh my God,” Reggie whispered. “You’re serious.”

  Marcus nodded. “Very. Marry me.”

  “What?” Reggie blasted. “Can’t we go steady or something first?” She suppressed a laugh. “You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Marcus, we’ve barely kissed. We haven’t had sex.”

  “There’s more to marriage than that.”

  “Exactly,” said Reggie.

  “And we have it. You and I. We have it. The companionship. Chemistry.”

  “Marcus.” Reggie shook her head. “You’ve done the marriage thing enough. You don’t want to do it again.”

  “Yes. I do. And maybe, the reason my marriages didn’t work was because they were the wrong people.”

  Reggie rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty obvious.”

  Marcus stared, then sulked. “You know what? Forget it.” He turned.

  “Marcus, why are you so offended?”

  Marcus jerked his head back at her. “Because I love you, Reg. I want you in my life. I thought... I really thought, especially after this past week, that you wanted the same.”

  “I do.”

  Marcus looked up. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded and walked to him. “But you’re throwing me off a little with the marriage thing. Marriage is not what I want to do. I never planned to get married ever again. So, I can’t make any promises. Plus,” she paused, “now don’t get mad, but...” she leaned her face close to his. “...your track record sucks.”

  Marcus snickered.

  She continued softly, “we can take it one step at a time. How’s that?”

  Marcus’ face was inches from hers. “That works.” He brought his lips to hers. “Like this.”

  “Like this.” Reggie smiled, inching her lips to his. Just as they kissed, a loud knocking jolted them apart.

  “Swell.” Marcus shook his head.

  “My father.” Reggie raced to the door and opened it. “Daddy!”

  “Hey!” Kyle bundled her in his arms. “Thank God you’re all right. Hey, Marcus.”

  “Hi, Mr. Stevens.”

  “We’ve been through a lot.” Reggie said, pulling back from the hug.

  “I bet.” Kyle stepped into the room and shut the door. He was carrying a bag. “We have to hurry. Things are getting bad. Roadblocks and...” Kyle spotted the still-made bed and frowned.

  “Mr. Stevens,” Marcus said, nervously approaching, trying to keep the guilt out of his voice. “It’s, um, not what you think. See, I’m kind of neurotic about making my bed in a motel.”

  “He’s lying, Daddy,” Reggie stated. “We slept together last night. I don’t know why he’d lie, I’m a grown woman.”

  Marcus was horrified as Kyle’s eyes pinned his. “Mr. Stevens… Reg,” Marcus clenched his teeth, “I can’t believe you told your father that.”

  Kyle scoffed. “I can’t believe you slept with Marcus.”

  “Hey,” Marcus defended.

  “Marcus?” Kyle squinted. “Reggie, if you want to lose your second virginity, why not with someone who wouldn’t do it so... so... textbook.”

  “Hmm,” said Reggie. “That makes sense. But, don’t worry, Daddy, we didn’t have sex. Only slept in the same bed. We’re saving sex for after we get married.”

  Marcus nodded a ‘so there’ look to Kyle, and then asked Reggie, surprised, “We’re waiting?”

  “Married?” asked Kyle.

  “Marcus proposed.” Reggie folded her arms.

  Kyle glared at Marcus. “Don’t even think about marrying my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you felt that strongly about me.”

  “I never minded you until you murdered your assistant.” Kyle winked. “Let’s go. But before we do, we need disguises. There’s roadblocks. And you, Marcus, are a wanted fugitive.” Kyle handed them a bag. “Reg, I brought you the ‘Lester’ costume from Halloween. And Marcus... yours is the best I could do in a pinch. Your mother picked it out.”

  Marcus peeked in the bag. “Oh no...”

  Reggie looked. “Oh, you’re gonna look awesome.” She turned to Marcus and kissed him on the cheek.

  Kyle turned away, grimacing. “Don’t do that in front of me.” He shuddered. “Please.”

  Los Angeles, CA

  They grew in the worst section of urban blight, in the darkest spots, in the shadows of vacant buildings, the haven of vandals. They grew like magic. Orange trees, tall and wide. They sprouted through the concrete streets, a sign of life in a dying world. The residents were drawn to these trees, and the green growth all around them. In the wake of tragedy, the downtrodden residents celebrated the mystery and miracle of them. And they especially celebrated Devante, who sat, glorified, in the midst of them.

  They gathered around him, while word of his appearance spread fast and drew more and more people to his flock. And Devante went nowhere. He sat in the center of the people, their children surrounding him. The news media was, of course, in the center of things, mixing in amidst the crowd.

  It wasn’t Dodger Stadium. It was Devante and the people. People of all races.

  Devante picked an orange from a tree and handed it to a little boy. “Watch,” he said to the boy and pointed to the tree. Two oranges grew back in its place. “It is yours. All yours,” Devante declared. “This city, the ‘City of Angels,’ as you call it, is shined upon. The people her
e welcomed me, and you see what happens. You will never be hungry in this neighborhood. More trees will grow, everyday. You see what happens when you believe?”

  The little boy gawked up at him. “Are you living here?”

  “For tonight.” Devante crouched, eye-level with the lad. “I will stay amongst you tonight. Then I must move on. I and others must spread the word. I will return. Fear not. For there are those who wish to take my life. They will not win. Our army of believers grows strong in the war to stop the world’s end. And you, my soldiers, are shined upon in your battle.” Taking another orange from the tree, Devante sat back down in the center of the people and spoke to them.

  Interstate Thirty West, the Indiana-Ohio Border

  “Justice for God,” Leonard O’Neill began his address to his nation.

  Kyle, Reggie and Marcus listened through the static of the weak truck radio.

  “That’s what they call their movement,” O’Neill continued. “Ironic, isn’t it, that these terrorists would give their movement such a name. In the wake of all that has happened. In all we have witnessed. More than two hundred thousand are being detained at this time. Hopefully, by tomorrow’s newspaper, you, the public, will have the list of those we are still searching for. The United States Government is offering a reward for information leading to their arrest.” He paused. “But there is one name, one person in particular that we are searching for. A name you know well. Evidence is overwhelming that the plot to assassinate our government leaders was not only devised by him, but funded, supplied and initiated by him. Five million dollars, for the capture... dead or alive... of Dr. Marcus Leon.”

  “Okay,” Kyle shut off the radio, “Heard enough? Still think I was exaggerating?”

  “Daddy, you know I didn’t. Thanks for the disguises,” Reggie said, smiling through her mustache, speaking through false bad teeth. “I just love my ‘Lester’ costume. No wonder I won first prize,” she said waxing in the rearview mirror. Not only did the outfit sport a beat up flannel shirt, buttoned to the collar, but a hunter’s cap with dangling ear flaps. “Marcus? Did you know I won best costume three years ago, at the Medina County Halloween fair?

  “Swell.” Marcus sulked, annoyed. His mother’s purple pant suit was soft and elegant, it just wasn’t the disguise he would have chosen. Nor would he have worn the too-red lipstick, earrings that pinched and obvious platinum blonde wig. But Reggie insisted. He shifted, legs crossed in the front seat, picking off lint and dirt from his pants.

  “Get ready,” Kyle said as they slowed down. “You know what to do.”

  Reggie nodded.

  Marcus huffed, then sighed.

  Reggie straightened up in her seat as the trio drove closer. Up ahead was a melee of fists and legs and screaming as people were manhandled into military trucks. Those who resisted too much were shot and tossed on a pile in a ditch by the road, which peaked with bodies onto the blacktop.

  “Daddy?” Reggie uttered uncertainly.

  “Silence.” Kyle stopped the truck and rolled down the window. “Morning.”

  “Morning, sir.” Sgt. Darryl Watson, a young-looking black man, poked his head into the open window. His military-cut mustache quivered as if with the scent of quarry. He held a clipboard. “Where you folks off to?”

  Kyle drawled. “Welp, we be headin over ta catch seven-nee-sev. Headin’ on back to Wes Gin-ya.”

  “Folks are an awful ways from home. Reason for the trip?”

  “Looking for our cousin who lives in Indiana. Got a farm there.”

  “Can I see some I.D.?” Sgt. Watson asked.

  “Now, see son, that there’s a problem.” Kyle nodded. “Ain’t nothin’ but a dirt world over there, thought we wouldn’t run into problems. Seems some vag-bonds robbed us. Toke our money, every-thang, lucky we had ‘nuff gas ta make it this far. Ain’t that right, Lester? Ain’t got no I.D.”

  Sgt. Watson lifted his clipboard. “What is your name?”

  “Jed Newman.” Kyle extended his hand through the window. “Nice ta meet ya.”

  Sgt. Watson reluctantly shook. “And you?” He looked at Reggie on the passenger side.

  Reggie snorted sloppily and ran her right palm up and under her nose. “Lester Newman, how ya do?” She held out her hand.

  Sgt. Watson smiled, didn’t shake, but wrote down the name. “And you, ma’am.” He smiled pleasantly, flirtatiously, at the comely black woman in the pant suit.

  “We call her Shirley,” Reggie snickered lasciviously, the false teeth beginning to hang from her mouth, and inching further out with ‘Lester’s’ every word. “Don’t know her name. Rescued her from a bunch a vag-bons. Ain’t that right, Daddy?”

  “Loves us now. We’s her heroes, shore ‘nuff,” Kyle agreed.

  Reggie put her arm around a petrified Marcus, staring straight ahead, and yanked him close. “Don’t speak much. She’s deef and don’t talk none,” Reggie winked. “My kind of woman, yessir, no talkin’.” The thick lascivious laugh returned until it dribbled and died in a disgusting cough, which Lester squelched wetly with his hand. Lester excused himself and wound down the window, and with a prolonged deep throaty noise, gathered up a load of phlegm, his false teeth grinding, and propelled the contents out the window.

  “Sorry,” Lester said with another swipe of his hand, before kissing the silk-clad light-skinned black girl on the lips.

  Marcus cringed.

  Sgt. Watson squinted at Marcus. “You all right, ma’am? Would you like to stay here?”

  “No,” Reggie/Lester snapped. “You’s tryin to take my new girlfriend. We’s gonna get along jes’ fine. Ain’t that right, Shirley?” Reggie kissed Marcus again, a nice fat sloppy one, then caressed his cheek lovingly. “She’s purty. Don’t you think she’s purty?”

  Kyle interjected. “Now there, Lester, if Shirley wants to go with the Military man here, she can. Ain’t nothin’ we can do about it. We don’t own her.”

  “Ma’am?” Sgt. Watson asked again.

  “Now see!” Reggie slapped her hand on her leg. “Ain’t I gone an’ told ya she’s a deef. Ya got ta yell and let her see your lips. Watch.” Turning her face into Marcus she spoke as loud as she could. “Shirley! Does ya want ta go with the military... ” She accented her next word with an abundance of slobber. “People!”

  Marcus’ eyes grew dark as he wiped the spit from his face, then he turned to the Sergeant and shook his head.

  “Move on.” Sgt. Watson stepped away from the truck as if from a carload of lepers.

  “Thank ya!” Kyle lifted his hand in a wave, rolled up the window and kept driving.

  A mile down the road, Marcus ripped off his wig and spun to a laughing Reggie. “Could you have been anymore foul? And take these out of your mouth.” Marcus reached up and snatched the false teeth from her. “God!”

  “Daddy?” Reggie took off her Lester hat. “Will we have to put these back on when we hit Seville?”

  “No,” Kyle laughed. “The border guards are Tony the Plumber from Wadsworth and Joey the bag boy from Super Bear. We’re fine, Reg, they know I was looking for you.”

  “What about me?” Marcus asked. “I’m a wanted criminal.”

  “Yes, well.” Kyle shrugged. “I told them Reggie wasn’t with you. We’ll have to hide you behind this seat, just until we pass through. They won’t be looking for you, so don’t worry.”

  “Behind the seat?” Marcus spun and looked at the space. “Eight inches,” he said, exasperated. “Swell.” Marcus folded his arms and stared through the windshield.

  Seville, Ohio

  Wide-eyed, Janice looked to her father as the shouts of the angry crowd grew louder outside the house. She held her sobbing daughter, Kathleen. “Daddy?”

  George, leaning carefully at an angle, peeked out. “It must be the reward. They want Marcus.” He shook his head at the people out there. “Call the Sheriff.”

  “Line’s dead,” Janice cried. “And my cell won’t go through.”

  George
backpedaled from the window to the dining room. He grabbed his shotgun out of the cabinet and opened the drawer for shells.

  “Daddy?”

  “Maybe I can scare ‘em.” He moved back to the window and dodged a brick which shot through the plate glass. “Damn it!”

  In quick succession, windows throughout the house began breaking.

  “Take Kathleen down to the basement and get yourselves into the cold cellar.”

  “But Daddy...”

  “Do it.” He pumped the chamber. “Now!”

  Frightened, Janice retreated, eyes on her determined father. She raced through the kitchen to the basement door, then down the wooden steps, and finally to the far corner of the basement. There, a door to a storage room was half-concealed by dark and dirt. A good place to hide. Janice shushed Kathleen as they huddled inside.

  Upstairs, George’s shouts dissolved into those of the mob. They screamed loudly, arguing and making it obvious the mob wanted Marcus. The noise built until three shots rang out. Suddenly a thunder of footsteps sounded through the rooms above, then trampled downstairs, accompanied by a chaos of shouts.

  Janice shook, squeezing her daughter tightly, faltering with the barrage of footsteps and the subsequent slamming open of the basement door.

  “Check out down here,” a gruff male commanded.

  The door to the cold cellar opened.

  “Nothing,” another man shouted. “Check over there.”

  The door closed. Inside the storage room, Janice clutched Kathleen, covering the child’s mouth to smother her whimpering. In her fright, Kathleen wet herself. It seeped across the slanted floor and rolled the few inches to the crack of the door.

  “What’s that!” someone shouted.

  The door burst open. A storm of flashlights shined down on the huddling Janice and Kathleen.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Seville, Ohio

  Marcus wasn’t a young man, but he wasn’t old enough to feel as he did at that moment in the pickup truck. He was cramped behind the front seat, knees aching, pain shooting through his shoulder. He wanted Kyle to pull over so he could get out of drag. But he didn’t even ask.