Apokalypsis Book One

by Kate Morris

  He went inside and paid the babysitter. Then he locked the house, set the alarm system, and checked on Connor upstairs asleep in his bed. He washed up, brushed his teeth, thanked God again for having gotten his braces removed, and crashed in his bed.

  Roman tossed and turned as he thought about Jane Livingston. He rose and went to the window. There was a soft orange glow coming from a light on upstairs in the farmhouse, and he speculated that it was her bedroom. He wondered if she was thinking about him, too. Probably not. Compared to Jane Livingston, he was about as exciting as watching paint dry.

  He returned to his bed, clicked off his bedside lamp and laid there without closing his eyes. This night was supposed to go so differently. He’d foolishly thought that Jane would be swept off her feet by him and give him the time of day. He’d been attempting this since the beginning of the school year. After spending all summer spying on her when she’d visit with Destiny or was out walking in her grandmother’s apple orchard, he’d finally worked up the nerve to insinuate himself into her life. Damn Randall for screwing up his plans. What the hell was going on with him? His behavior was so irrational and unlike him.

  Roman turned onto his side and squinted his eyes in the dark trying to stay awake. His eyes were tired and burning. He rubbed them and thought of Jane again. It reminded him of the look he’d seen in her light eyes in the car and before in the pool house at Terry’s when the fight was over. What he couldn’t understand before, he did now. With absolute clarity, Roman understood that what he’d seen was fear.

  Everyone was speculating. The news channels, the politicians, the doctors. The only problem was that nobody knew any of the crucial answers. Food, water, shelter. Basic survival was going to go a lot further now than expensive cars, social status, or how much somebody had in their bank account. It would sure as hell get him a lot further than the theories of people who had no idea what they were doing. They were all wasting their time.

  He’d always felt a sense of destiny, even as a small child. He would ruminate from time to time that something big was going to happen in his life. He just hadn’t known what it was going to be. Now he knew. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this, though. This new existence was not something great or fantastic or exciting. It was a dreary existence without much hope or promise for the future. He had so little to live for now.

  Chapter Five

  Jane rose at six-thirty after a night of sleeplessness and tossing and turning then dressed for her job at the barn. Nana Peaches had breakfast ready for them and waiting in the kitchen. She was at the stove.

  “How was your night? I heard you come in. Eleven-thirty?”

  “Um, yeah, I think it was around eleven or twelve,” she answered as she set the small table for just the two of them. She wondered what time Roman got up and what he did for his little brother for breakfast. Then she shook her head to clear that bunch of nonsense from it.

  “How was the party?”

  Jane wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. So much had happened. “Fine, I guess. Some boys got into a fight, and it pretty much ended after that. It was weird.” It wasn’t the only thing last night that was weird.

  “Boys can be like that, Jane,” she told her as she placed a plate with a stack of French toast on the table. Then she brought over bacon.

  “Yeah,” she agreed distractedly. Her mind kept wandering to Roman and their odd interactions last night.

  They sat and ate together, her grandmother poured her orange juice but coffee for herself, and Jane picked at her food.

  “What’s on your mind?” her grandmother asked, startling Jane and causing her to jump. “Must be something big to have you so up in the clouds today.”

  She pursed her lips and said, “This boy at the party…” Jane wasn’t even sure how to describe Randall’s behavior accurately but tried her best. When she was finished, her grandmother nodded and took a sip of her coffee.

  “Sounds like he was on drugs, Jane,” she said.

  Jane nodded vigorously and then shook her head, “No, no, I don’t think he was. I mean, it seemed like that, but he isn’t one of those types. He’s tested a lot ‘cuz he plays football. I don’t know. It was weird, Nana.”

  “Steer clear of him and anyone he’s hanging out with, Jane,” she warned, although she didn’t need to. Her grandmother had no idea how difficult it was for her at school. She’d never tell her, either. Nana Peaches didn’t need the added stress of knowing she was the most bullied social outcast of the entire school. Plus, her grandmother was no wilting flower. She’d storm into the principal’s office first thing Monday and give him an ‘ear whipping’ as she referred to them.

  “Okay, I will,” Jane answered. “We don’t really run in the same circles anyway. It won’t be hard to avoid him. It was just…odd.”

  Her mind traveled back to the previous evening, and Jane had to suppress a shiver.

  After breakfast, she washed the dishes and put them away. Nana Peaches told her she was going later to play bridge with her friends, Dot and Sukie. They’d pick her up and bring her home since they knew Jane worked most weekends, and they only had the one vehicle.

  “I’m off to the barn now!” she called up the stairs to her grandmother.

  “Be careful. And make sure you eat some lunch!” she hollered back down from her bedroom where she was probably getting dressed for the day.

  “Yes, ma’am,” she returned and left.

  The stables were always a busy madhouse on the weekends. It was mostly the only days of the week when the kids who owned the horses came out to visit with them. Someone already turned out the horses in the main barn who were allowed out. Some were never allowed to roam free outside. They were high dollar show horses that the owners didn’t want dirty or kicked by a lesser horse, in their opinions. She didn’t question things. She just showed up and did her job.

  She cleaned out six stalls and bedded them with fresh sawdust. Then she filled seventeen stall buckets full of clean water and dropped their hay into the racks of each for later. She went out next to the indoor riding arena to turn out the four horses kept in stalls there, as well. A girl close to her age who owned a big gray Thoroughbred was standing on the ground chasing him in circles while holding onto his bridle so he couldn’t escape her. She was also hitting him with her riding crop. He wasn’t loving it, either. She kept yanking on his reins, which was probably hurting his mouth and could potentially cut his tongue.

  “Need a hand?” Jane offered as she approached.

  “This stupid idiot sidestepped when I was using the mounting block, and I nearly fell,” the girl ranted.

  “Here, I can hold him for you while you get on,” Jane offered and stepped closer.

  “Do I look like I need help? Why don’t you stick to what you know?” she retorted angrily.

  Jane smirked at her and walked away to fetch the four horses for turnout. She shook her head at the girl’s stubborn pride and her abusive attitude toward her horse, which Jane had never had a single problem with to date. He was easy to handle compared to some of the other high-strung breeds in the barn. She’d ridden him quite a few times. Her family paid for him to be ridden once every week to keep him in shape, and so when another worker or one of the trainers couldn’t get to him, it was her job. After she finished turning out the four to the front pasture, the pasture for the ‘retirees’ as Mrs. Goddard called them, she returned to the riding arena. The girl was lunging the gray. He was lathered and blowing hard. If she thought running him would settle him down, Jane had news for her. The horse just didn’t like her. They were like that from what she’d learned working here. They had pretty good memories, too. He probably remembered that she was nasty with him, that she didn’t treat him kindly, and that he disliked her. All in all, also from what Jane had observed, he was a good judge of character.

  She went back to work and cleaned another ten stalls. They weren’t too bad, and the work went quickly because those horses were turned out more oft
en, so they made less of a mess in their stalls. Soon, it would grow much colder, and Mrs. Goddard would crank up the heat in the barn where the show ponies were kept so that they didn’t grow their heavy winter fur overnight. Then Jane would have to put winter blankets on the ones who got to go outside. Most of the show horses that didn’t get turned out would still get full slickers for the winter. It all just added extra time and effort to her job, but it’s what the boarders paid for. And she, in turn, got paid more in the winter months, which was cool.

  “Jane,” Mrs. Goddard said, tapping her shoulder. Jane had her earbuds in listening to music. It helped to pass the time and kept her going when her muscles got tired from cleaning stalls.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Lindsay is having trouble getting her horse saddled, and Mrs. Deerfield would like you to lunge Pilot for her. She’s coming in an hour and would like him lunged before she gets here,” she told her and rolled her eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jane said with a conspiratorial grin.

  She found Lindsay in the second barn aisle with her horse tied incorrectly to the cross-ties, which was causing him to act cranky. Jane checked his bridle, which was already on. His saddle, lying upside down on the concrete aisle floor where it was undoubtedly getting scratched up, was more than she got paid in three months of work at the stables.

  “Here’s the problem,” she told the younger girl. She wasn’t a total tyrant most of the time unlike some of the other kids who came to the stables.

  “What’s wrong with him today? He’s being nuts,” Lindsay said.

  “Well, this isn’t his bridle,” Jane told her, lifting the headstall just enough to allow the bit to fall out of his mouth. Then she hung it behind her on a stall door. “This is a correction bit called a Kimberwick. He doesn’t need anything this severe. He just takes a good old snaffle.”

  Lindsay’s parents were paying for a half-lease on Cricket, a Dutch Warmblood, and she wasn’t as experienced as some of the other kids. A half-lease meant that she didn’t own Cricket, but her parents paid to use him exclusively and were having her trained on him, as well, especially for the show season. Then he would be hauled to various events where Lindsay and sometimes one or two more kids would ride him in their different show classes.

  “Sorry, Jane,” she lamented. “Geesh, now he probably hates me.”

  Jane chuckled, thinking of the difference between her and the snotty girl in the riding arena beating her horse into submission. “No, Cricket likes you. I can tell. He’s a good boy. Aren’t you?” she said and rubbed between his eyes on the white star marking his fur. “Plus, you always bring him a carrot. They don’t forget stuff like that. Did you already pick his feet?”

  “Yep, I got that part right,” she answered with pride.

  “Good job,” Jane told her. Lindsay was the typical Jackson kid. Her parents were workaholics and hardly ever around. Like many others, she seemed lonely.

  She fetched the horse’s correct bridle and helped Lindsay get him tacked up the rest of the way, including the saddle and tightening the girth, which a lot of the younger kids struggled with.

  When she was done and had walked with Lindsay to the indoor arena, she snagged Pilot, a dark bay Thoroughbred, from his stall and lunged him. It was entirely unnecessary. He was always chill once the rider was on. He just got antsy and pranced in place in anticipation of the ride while being tacked up. It was just a habit. She believed his owner was about half scared of him, probably because he was so tall at seventeen hands. When she was finished, she tied him in his stall so he couldn’t eat his hay but would be ready and waiting for his owner to arrive.

  At three o’clock, she left the riding stables and zipped home for a quick shower. Then she dressed in her work uniform, which was a pair of black cotton chinos and a white, button-down, long-sleeved cotton dress shirt. She finished it with black leather Mary Jane’s her grandmother insisted on buying. They were cute, but Jane could’ve just worn black loafers like some of the other workers there. The shoes looked like something from the 1940s. Nana Peaches wanted her to have good shoes that were made well with lots of padding, so she’d splurged and bought them for Jane. They were close to a hundred dollars, and she loved them. They had a low, chunky heel, which made her two inches taller, an added benefit. When she was done dressing, she French braided either side of her head, wrapping the one on the right around to join the other in the back, and secured the remainder in a ponytail that hung over her right shoulder. It was a good thing she wasn’t a girly diva, or she’d never make it to work at the restaurant. Reddish tinted lip balm completed the simple look, and she was out the door. She made it there by four o’clock with a few minutes to spare and clocked in. Mr. Contuccini was there. He was the owner, but Luigi’s was originally his in-laws’ place from 2021 to just a few years back, and he never changed the name because people knew it as Luigi’s and always would. Hands down, it was definitely the best Italian food in the area. Maybe even in the whole state.

  “Looks like this weather is gonna make for a slow night,” he commented as the rain from last night picked up again.

  “Maybe,” she said, hoping he was wrong. She needed the tip money. Saturday night was the restaurant’s busiest night, but he was right. There were only about thirty people dining in the restaurant. It was still early, though. Most of the time it got busy around six in the evening and on.

  Luigi’s was a small, mom-and-pop Italian restaurant that used to be just a grand old mansion owned by a brick company’s CEO and founder. Mr. Contuccini’s in-laws converted it to a restaurant a long time ago and lived on the top floor. After a long time and many years of hard work, they’d finally moved out and built the home of their dreams in Florida to retire and left the business to their only daughter and her husband. Mr. Contuccini expanded the restaurant, adding three more rooms, but kept it all aesthetically and architecturally accurate to the original design. All the same family recipes were used, and most of their business came from locals and tourists. Antiques were used for décor, but also served as useful storage like dining hutches and cabinets. During the Pro Football Hall of Fame festival in Canton, the place would be teeming with tourists. However, the second floor was empty. Jane had gone up there one time and had been creeped out by it. She pulled on her black apron, stashed an order pad and pen in the front pocket, and got ready to work.

  She liked working at the restaurant, and none of her co-workers treated her like she was a piece of dirt under their shoes. They were all hard working and not anything like the spoiled rich kids at her school who were relentlessly cruel.

  Jane worked for about an hour waiting tables and even helped in the kitchen when it was slow. She mostly stuck to salad prep.

  Lila, a single mom and fellow waitress, came up to her in the kitchen and said, “Hey, there’s a guy out there who asked to be seated in your section.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Don’t know, but he’s cute,” Lila said and flexed her perfectly shaped eyebrows as if to accentuate her point. She wore strappy red high heels that matched her red lipstick and was probably the sexiest woman Jane knew. She just oozed sex appeal and had long black hair and brown eyes. With her standard short black skirt, white shirt, and the bright red spiky heels, she looked like an Italian model. Jane sometimes wished she was a little more like her. Fat chance.

  “Is it just my dad?”

  “No, I’ve met him. It’s definitely not your dad. Your dad is pretty hot, though.”

  “Ew, gross,” Jane commented, getting a chuckle from her friend.

  She hoped it wasn’t someone from school. So far, the people from school had never come in here to torment her. They kept their reindeer games to school property and apparently the occasional bonfire/pool party. She purposely didn’t hang out in their favorite spots like the mall, coffee shops, the movie theaters, and one of the local parks where they all sneaked into the woods to make out and smoke pot. Or so she’d heard from Dez.

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sp; Jane said, “Thanks. I’ll get his order as soon as I drop these salads.”

  “I’ll take them,” Lila offered.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She pushed the swinging door separating the kitchen from the bar area with the antique mahogany bar and glorious display of crystal decanters and equally ornate glasses and went around the corner to the rear seating section, her section. It was one of the smaller rooms with only enough space for seven tables. Sometimes they’d set up a big family back there and push tables together. Those were always the hardest to handle. Everyone talking at once, kids needing endless soda refills, the overbearing wives. But most of the time, their customers were great.

  She snagged a pitcher of water and headed to the table facing the big picture window that looked out over the small pond. It was one of the nicer tables in the place, in her opinion, with that great view. She nearly dropped her silver pitcher when she took a step past the man where she could look down at him.

  “Roman!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  Jane looked around furtively, hoping he wasn’t with a group or that a bunch of them would be joining him. That would be even worse.

  “Hi!” he said with a big smile that exposed bright white and perfectly straight teeth.

  She looked back at him again, “Hi,” Jane returned quietly.

  “Hi!” a little boy said.

  She hadn’t even noticed he was sitting with someone.

  “Jane, this is Connor,” Roman said, introducing her to his little brother across the table from him.

  “Hi,” she said in a much quieter tone and was surprised when the kid reached out to shake her hand. She took his and shook it in return. Then she smiled. He was cute, had huge dimples, crooked front teeth, and shaggy blondish-brown hair. He had Roman’s eyes, though, big and blue and slightly tipped at the corners. Roman’s blue eyes stood out so much, though, because of his pitch-black hair and tan skin.