Apartment 905

by Ned Sahin

  She almost looks through my soul with her deep black eyes. I think she is trying to figure out if I am a good friend of her beloved Kathleen. Rose doesn’t know that she is also being analyzed. Would she be a good road trip buddy if Kathleen wants to bring her with us? I am fine with this idea as long as she stays quiet while we are in dangerous territories.

  Katleen turns to Rose and tears start filling up her eyes again. I can imagine the multitude of memories going through her mind now. I put Rose on her arms. Rose leans her head on Kathleen’s chest like she wants to console her. Kathleen hugs her so strong that I think about taking the cat back for a moment.

  I put my arm around my friend’s shoulder. “We will find who did this…” I say. My primary objective all this time was to survive and find my family. After losing Toshi and seeing Kathleen’s grandparents, my anger against whoever or whatever started this outbreak grows bigger.

  Maybe it was just a harmless virus that became deadly after coincidently mutating. It could be a foreign country who started biological warfare. The enemy might be also among us in this country.

  I think about who might have gained something from this pandemic. The people who have multiplied their fortunes since it started are the ones who own pharmacy chains, chemical factories, private medical facilities, grocery stores, and the suppliers of cleaning products. While we still had TV broadcasts, I heard some of them got infected from the virus as well. Especially after the second wave, I am pretty sure most of them are among the 80 percent of the population who couldn’t make it. The rest of those wealthy people are probably hiding in their own islands.

  After talking to the man in our restaurant hideout, I can’t stop thinking about the museum he was going to. If they really found a vaccine, why aren’t they just dropping them in bulk over the cities? They must know that only a small percentage of survivors can make it to this city. Without TV or radio channels, how will people around the country and the world know about this vaccine anyway?

  If they don’t have a vaccine, they must be needing people for some other reasons. They might be using them for experimental purposes for their new drugs. Maybe they use them as a free labor force to sustain their wealthy lives.

  When I think about all those who financially did well after the outbreak, Paizen, the manufacturer of the Oxyrica, seems to be the luckiest one. Even though their so-called cure for the virus turned people into aggressive creatures, they managed to make a significant amount of profit from the drug before its side effects started to surface.

  “It’s peaceful...” Kathleen says looking at the city’s golden silhouette. Since we got on the rooftop, we have not heard any shots or screams. Either the entire city is dead or residents are still hiding in their apartments.

  Even if we are surrounded by Ricas, I feel safe again after a long time. The only door that opens to the seating area on the roof is locked. We made sure it stays closed by moving the bulky BBQ grill in front of it.

  With our fully-loaded bags and the comfort of the patio couches, we could stay here for days but for now, I am focused on having a good rest tonight to be ready to escape through the hell on the streets tomorrow. I hope we will make it to our Humvee safely to get back on the route to the West.

  “Get some rest…” I stand up to give her more space on the couch. She leans toward the other side of the couch and puts her head on the corner pillow. Rose already fell asleep between her arms. I wish I had a camera to capture this graceful moment. After what we went through in the last two days, seeing this scene creates a healing effect.

  I leave this lovely pair alone and walk through the perimeter of the rooftop. I check the surrounding buildings as well as the streets. I don’t see any humans. There are only Ricas roaming around.

  I glance over the main street and try to see if our path to the truck is clear. If we move fast, going five blocks should only take minutes even if we are chased by Ricas.

  I go to the other side of the building. I see a glass statue in front of a reddish building in an unusual shape. It looks like an Art Museum. It’s probably the museum the couple went to. I don’t see anything moving around the building. If that’s the center for vaccine distribution, I would have expected guards and snipers all around. Things don’t add up.

  I think about altering our plan slightly to make a stop at the museum, but I abandon this idea quickly. Even if they have the vaccine as they claim, it doesn’t sound like a safe plan to get it from the company that possibly started the outbreak in the first place.

  All I hope is the couple is safe.

  Chapter 35

  “Kathleen, wake up…” I say while gently touching her arm. She is still sleeping on the couch cuddling with Rose.

  Dawn breaks slowly lightening up the city. The morning breeze shakes the artificial plants on the roof. A new day in the apocalypse is beginning. We should get going before the city or whatever is left from it wakes up.

  I gently shake Kathleen again. She slowly turns her head and tries to open her eyes.

  “Time to go, sleepy survivor,” I say.

  She smiles and rubs her eyes. “It’s so beautiful.” She looks at the first lights of the sun glimpsing between the buildings on the horizon. It resembles a postcard scene.

  The night was chilly, but we had uninterrupted sleep. The city was quiet. It must be the silence of the dead.

  An explosion breaks the silence.

  It’s too powerful that the shockwave broke several windows in the buildings around us. I run to the edge of the roof. Kathleen jumps off the couches and follows me. Rose goes crazy while growling and circling the roof.

  The museum is in flames. Half of it has collapsed. We see people running out of the side door on the other half. I see dozens of Ricas sprinting toward them. Some of them have already reached their targets.

  “Shit!” Kathleen says. We are both shocked. Our plan of getting to the truck in the morning silence is not going to work anymore. This could still be an opportunity, though.

  “Let’s wait for Ricas to go to the museum. Then we get down and run to the Humvee,” I say.

  We pack our backpacks quickly. Kathleen tries to calm Rose. She puts her in the large front pocket of her bag. She zips the pocket loose enough for Rose’s head to stick out.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to take her with us?” I ask. A cat can be unpredictable, especially during a dangerous road trip where we have to stay low-key.

  Kathleen shares a confused look with me. “I am not leaving her here!” It looks like the decision is not up for debate.

  We check the streets around us one more time. I think all Ricas already made their way to the museum. Our side of the city looks empty.

  I hear Ricas roaring, rifles firing, and people screaming around the museum.

  We climb down the fire escape stairs and run the opposite side of the museum to get to our truck. We don’t come across any humans or Ricas this time. Despite the last two days, luck is on our side today.

  I start the engine and back the truck up. We get back on the highway in seconds. There is about a mile of the highway that circles downtown before merging with the Westbound interstate. I am afraid we will have to pass near the museum.

  “Can’t we use another road?” Kathleen asks. She is afraid too.

  “Do you know an alternative route? I don’t want to get lost on the side roads,” I say. Kathleen shakes her head. I speed up. If the highway is not clogged up, we should be able to pass the museum in a jiff.

  We go about half a mile before seeing the crowd. The road is not jammed with cars, but it’s packed with people. They must be the survivors of the museum explosion.

  They wave their hands to get our attention and gesture for a ride with us. Those are the lucky ones. I see some people who are being beaten by the Ricas on the hillside of the highway.

  Several Ricas are about to jump over the barriers and get on the highway.

  “Don’t s
top!” Kathleen yells.

  I agree with her. I go to the far left road on the four-lane highway to avoid the crowd. A woman with a baby in her arms gets on our way. I steer the wheel and slide onto the emergency line. It feels like losing control of the truck for a second, but I manage to steer back to the left lane after passing the woman.

  “Oh no!” I say. I see the couple standing a few yards away from the crowd. I slam on the breaks and stop about a hundred yards away from them. The couple runs to us. Kathleen rolls down her window.

  “Guys, can we jump in?” the man asks while trying to catch his breath.

  “Get in! Quick!” Kathleen yells and rolls up her window.

  Other people who saw us stopped running in our direction. His wife closes and locks the back door on time. Somebody punches her window.

  “Please! Take me in!” he says.

  I push the gear forward and get the truck moving after spinning the rear tires.

  “Stop! I have vaccines!” the guy yells, trying to hold onto the truck with one hand while raising a briefcase on the other. I push the breaks again. We all turn our heads to him. Kathleen looks at me. Then the couple turns to us.

  “Let him in,” I say. I hope the guy is telling the truth. The wife unlocks the door and lets him get in the backseat.

  We hear other people hitting the rear end of the truck and begging us to take them in too. I wish we could, but there is no way to help them all before the Ricas get near. I push the gas to the floor. Engine roars. We quickly get farther away from them.

  In the rear mirror, I see Ricas taking them down one by one. I glance at the guy with the briefcase. He is breathing fast while looking back at the people we had to leave behind.

  We drive about twenty miles without talking. The city is not visible in my mirror anymore. There is a salt land covering both sides of the straight road, which makes us feel like we’re driving on a snowy area in Greenland. This is another cinematic look we are witnessing today.

  There is a chain accident in the middle of the road. There are at least five cars bumped into each other. I don’t see anybody around the vehicles. I pull the truck over to scavenge for fuel. We are at a safe distance from the city.

  “I will be right back,” I say, looking at the couple and the guy in the backseat before getting off the truck. I get off the truck and walk around the collided cars.

  I see dead people in two of them. I am not sure if the virus or accident killed them. I pick up an empty container from the trunk and the sink hose I got from the apartment. I check fuel tanks one by one.

  Others except the briefcase man get off the truck too. They stretch their legs on the salt sand. If it was a normal road trip with friends, we would probably be taking some photos of this unique endless land.

  “I am Carlson,” he says while approaching me. His wife helps Kathleen put peanut butter on the wheat bread for a quick breakfast. The man with the briefcase is still in the backseat.

  One of the car’s tanks has not been emptied. I fill the container and carry it to our truck to do the reverse transfer.

  “I’m Matt. Nice to meet you, Carlson.” I walk back to the truck. “What happened back there?” I ask.

  He looks back in the direction of the city. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “We got vaccine shots. They asked us to spend the night there to make sure we don’t show any side effects... Then…a group of people entered the building around midnight. I think they said they were from that Republic in the West… The company guards argued with them first, but they let them in later… We woke up with the explosion in the morning,” he says, still watching the road we came from.

  He must mean the Highland Republic where we are going to. That’s where my family lives.

  “You think they blew the building up?” I ask.

  “I think so. I heard that the Republic is in war with the company.”

  It looks like there is a power game between the West and the company. I am glad that we were not in the Museum when things got heated.

  He helps me to fill the truck’s tank and load the container with more fuel to use later. We join the others on the white sand for breakfast. The briefcase guy finally comes out of the truck.

  “Are you going to show us what you have in the briefcase?” Kathleen asks while he sits next to her. He doesn’t respond. He grabs a sliced bread and takes a bite from it. He finishes the bread before our curious eyes. Then he stands up and walks back to the truck.

  “Not an extrovert, I guess...” I say. I am starting to think that our decision for letting him in was not the right one.

  He comes back with the briefcase. He puts it in the middle of us and opens it. On one half of the bag, there are two cartoons of needles and vaccine bottles. On the other side, there are papers and folders stacked upon each other.

  “This is what everyone in the world is after right now,” he says while eying each of us. I wonder if he refers to the papers or the vaccine when he says this.

  Carlson leans forward to grab the papers, but the guy closes the bag immediately.

  “I have to take it to Weck Highland,” he says.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Who?”

  “The President of the Highland Republic,” he says after pausing a second while staring at me. He seems surprised that we haven’t heard of him.

  I replay the title in my mind. The word president doesn’t sound right for a person who named the so-called country with his last name. Calling him Dictator makes more sense.

  “We’re not stopping you from carrying out your mission. We just want to see what it is about. Don’t forget how you got here,” I say, reminding him that he has to be grateful to us for saving his life back in the city. I hope he is aware that we can simply leave him in the middle of nowhere if he doesn’t get along with us.

  He relaxes his shoulders and leans back while removing his hands away from the briefcase. I lean forward and pull it to my side. I lift the one side of it and grab a stack of folders from inside. Kathleen picks up the remaining papers. Carlson crawls to the bag to have a closer look at the vaccine bottles.

  One of the folders has a map of the National Parks around the country. Some of them have red circles. The map title reads Distribution Points. I shuffle through documents on my lap. I see pages with photos of anger houses and different species of birds.

  Another folder has a list named Green Zones. I see several addresses listed across the country.

  A document Kathleen holds has shapes and drawings of some kind of chemical formulas.

  “They did this? Paizen created the virus?” I stare at the guy.

  He is quiet again. Then he slowly nods his head.

  “Son of a bitch!” Kathleen says.

  Carlson and his wife let a deep breath out. They shake their heads angrily.

  “Why?” I ask even though I can guess the answer. It’s probably to sell more drugs, especially Oxyrica. Considering the chain of events that occurred in the last few months, they seem to be successful with their goal.

  Carlson lifts a vaccine bottle and rotates it. “This is not what they injected us with.” He is looking at the bottle from different angles. “The one they used on us had a black label with blue stripes and—”

  “I don’t know what they injected you with, but the real vaccine is this,” the guy says, pointing to the bottles. I can hear the confidence in his voice.

  Carlson drops the bottle and looks away while shaking his head again. His eyes are growing with anger. I can imagine how bad it feels not to know what is flowing in his blood vessels right now.

  I turn to the guy. “What is your role in the Republic?” Even though he looks too young to have a higher management role in that so-called Republic, he might still have a role in this nightmare.

  “I am just a carrier. That monster is holding my sister hostage to use me and my team…” He rolls his eyes down when he mentions his team. He scrunches his cheeks and nose
as he stares at the salt ground. He sighs before continuing his sentence. “…to do his dirty work… Our mission was to take this from Paizen.” He raises his head to look at the briefcase.

  He tells more about the West. He explains how the President Weck Highland makes people in the West obey him by punishing everyone who speaks up against him. He uses inhumane methods, like brutally torturing victims. The man tells us that some of his soldiers use rats in a heated bucket on top of the victim’s stomach to make agitated rats chew their way into the flesh. One of the generals who didn’t obey his orders and was killed in this way too.

  Another torture he heard of is to keep the victim in a white cell with white clothes under bright lights for weeks to accelerate his psychological breaking point.

  His cruel methods seem to be keeping him in power and helping him expand the area of Highland Republic, but the man says that a huge wave of unrest is building up across the West.

  We lose our appetites after listening to the man. We pack our food and get back to the truck.

  If nothing gets on our way, we should be able to reach that monster’s land tomorrow.

  I feel like with this briefcase in our truck, we can have leverage against the monster and have a chance to change the timeline of the history.

  Chapter 36

  Nevada’s rugged terrain has been friendly to us so far. The reddish and light brown land is shining under the bright sun in a clear sky.

  We are halfway into the state. The trip on this two-lane highway has been uneventful. We drove by a small RV park and a camp with a few tents. We had curious looks from their occupants, but nobody asked for help or tried to stop us.

  “Everyone agrees on taking a break at this town?” I gesture to the green sign of a town called Battle Mountain.

  “Good idea,” Kathleen says. She is in the passenger seat.

  I glance at the backseat through the rearview mirror. The couple is asleep. Carlson’s head is on his wife’s shoulder while she is leaning toward the window. The briefcase guy seems to be lost in deep thoughts. His narrowed eyes are gazing at a point in the horizon through his window while he supports his head with his palm.