by Tara Brown
Louis and I sit at the back to avoid Ms. Mara, and Vanessa, who is still getting a lecture, as the rest of the kids from our field trip start to put down blankets and sit. We’re a small cluster of twenty Americans, far from home but not far from the US. We’ve discovered that from some parts of Vancouver Island, you can see the States. “Close neighbors” is how Ms. Mara describes us but from what I’ve gathered, the Canadians don’t seem to be under the same impression. I kinda feel like maybe they don’t like being our neighbor.
“Hey, guys,” Mitch, another classmate, whispers and comes to sit next to us. “Is there room for me?”
“Sure.” I move a bit closer to Louis, hoping to suck some warmth from him while making room for our other friend. I’m freezing, so sitting between the two big guys in the group is no loss to me. Regardless of the Canadian ladies smelling of sunscreen, the chill in the air is noticeable. I assume the humidity on the coast makes it worse. But maybe it’s because we’re in Canada and my brain automatically considers that to be chillier, though we’re only a few miles from the border. Like the wind knows it should blow harder in the North.
I suppose if we were in Anacortes, where we boarded the ferry to come to Victoria, a city on the southern tip of Vancouver Island in western Canada, it might be this nippy. Or near to it.
All in all, it makes me miss home. The Pacific Northwest isn’t for me. It’s about the only thing I’ve really learned on this trip. Sasha and Jamie back in Laurel always say they’re going to come here after high school and live in Seattle and go to college. I see now the plan won’t work for me. Permanently muggy is not my idea of a nice time.
The sun sinks behind the hills completely, taking with it the line of light and the last of dusk, leaving the buzzing mass of people sitting in darkness. Phones working as flashlights illuminate certain parts of the crowd. Parents hurry kids into position, getting them settled with snacks and jackets.
Girls light their faces up with screens and Snapchat and Instagram, and boys make loud jokes and mock wrestle and tease each other, trying desperately to steal the girls’ attention from their phones.
“You excited?” Mitch asks.
“Yeah. I love fireworks. You?”
“Yeah. I’m super tired, but I’m glad we’re getting to see this.” He yawns. “I had the worst sleep last night.” He pauses, shaking his head at himself like he’s being silly or doesn't want to tell me. “I think it was a nightmare actually. My mom was screaming at me about something. Telling me to run. I don't know.”
“I had a weird mom-nightmare too,” Louis says, leaning across me and sounding a bit bewildered.
“It must have been that movie we were watching in our room. What was it called again?”
“Oh yeah.” Louis laughs and squints at me like he’s thinking. “We watched that movie you talked about on the bus. The old one.”
“Practical Magic?” I can’t recall what else we were talking about on the bus.
“No, the other one. Uhhhh—”
“Sleepwalkers!” Mitch says with a clap as he recalls it. “That was freaking weird.”
“It was.” I chuckle but I’m interrupted by a shimmer in the air that breeds a spark of anticipation in the crowd as we wait for what was described to us as the best fireworks show this side of the border.
The man who directed us here made a point of saying it was far superior to the one in Vancouver’s harbor. Ms. Mara had sounded impressed, but I knew that tone well. It was the one she used to pretend she cared when students were telling her something she honestly didn't give a shit about. She was a master of that response now.
I’m about to say something else when the shimmer happens again, followed by a small light shooting up into the air. A single silvery firework that does nothing but die off at the end of its climb.
We all pause, the crowd silences, the anticipation grows, and just as I’m about to squint in confusion, it hits. It takes off all at once.
And it’s great.
It’s insane actually.
The lights and rockets shoot into the sky, bursting and booming, reverberating the ground so violently I feel it inside me. We gasp and ohhhhhh and smile in sync.
Children clap and couples kiss and everyone is amazed, even the girls taking selfies. There’s no denying the fact we are all impressed.
It’s the best fireworks show I’ve ever seen.
A purple one bursts into a flower with a red one right behind it, sparkling and booming as a green one somehow forms a bit of a stem on the flower. The white lights brighten the whole field and the tremor inside me is felt all the way to my toes.
In the middle of it, I pull my phone from my pocket and take a small video of the craziness to show my brother when I get home.
“Good idea,” Mitch says as he gets up and raises his phone, standing off to the side.
The lights burst and blossom in my eyes, making the whole crowd gasp. It’s so bright, I swear I’m warmer from the light they let off. It seems to go on forever, one after the other until finally it ends in a grand finale that has everyone cheering.
Louis turns to me, his eyes wide and glistening with excitement. “That guy wasn't kidding. I was doubtful when that one shitty little firework went off at the start. I was thinking, Oh man, we got conned. But damn! That was amazing.”
“Amazing.” I open Instagram to load up the small video of bursting lights.
Instead of my feed, a red pop-up hits my screen.
CNN ALERT
I tap the tiny X to close it, but it opens the link.
“Stupid phone,” I grumble as it opens my Safari and takes me to the CNN website, leaving me a bit confused by the headline. I almost tap the article to open it but worry it’s fake. I’ve never seen a pop-up like this on Instagram. “Did I just get hacked?” I show Louis my phone.
“What, why?” He takes it. “What is this?”
“I don’t know, some weird link.”
“America panics as Western Europe joins Asia and has gone dark now as well?” He reads the headline that confused me then lifts his eyes back to mine. “What does that mean?”
“I don't know. What’s gone dark? How does a country go dark?”
“Western Europe isn’t a country, dummy.”
“You know what I mean. Like the sun isn’t hitting them or what?” I lift my eyes to the dark sky here and do the math for time differences. “It’s early morning in Europe now, right? Maybe the sun hasn't risen yet. Or maybe it set early.”
“The sun setting early in Europe requires a CNN alert in Canada?” he asks dubiously. “This sounds like a hoax. What did you click on? Were you looking at porn?”
“Uh no.” I scoff and almost remind him I’m a girl. But the argument would be invalid. I know loads of girls who watch porn. “I clicked on Insta to load the video of the fireworks then CNN popped up.”
“CNN popped up from Insta? That doesn't make sense.” Louis starts moving his fingers faster than my eyes can keep up. In the glow of the screen, he makes varying faces, scowling, biting his lip, and wrinkling his nose as he moves through my apps and the internet.
“What is it?” I ask the moment he pauses and his expression changes to one of shock.
“Okay, kids, pretty impressive, huh?” Ms. Mara stands up and turns to us all, but my eyes are stuck on Louis.
“This makes no sense. This literally makes no sense,” he repeats himself but in a completely different tone before handing me back my phone which is now on Facebook, showing a video I’ve never seen before.
“What is this?” I ask. “Who is this? This isn’t one of my friends.”
He’s looking at something else on his phone, ignoring me.
I tap the “play” icon as the video shows a man biting another man, ripping his flesh. “Gross! What the hell? Is this that homeless dude in Florida again? People in Florida are so weird.”
“What is it?” Mitch asks as he kneels next to me once more.
“I don’t k
now. Some homeless guy in Florida I think.” I hold my phone so he can see.
“Oh my God,” Louis cuts me off but continues to ignore me, staring at his own phone and talking to himself. “Holy shit!”
“What?” I pry too loudly, earning looks from everyone else who is paying attention to our teacher.
“Something you care to add, Mr. Bijoux?” Ms. Mara asks sternly from where she stands in front of us.
“No, ma’am.” Louis dims the screen display on his phone so she can’t see the glow from where he’s holding it behind the back of one of the other kids. But up close, I see his expression doesn't change from horrified as he scans and reads and moves onto the next articles faster and faster. His eyes are so wide they might pop out of their sockets.
“You’re freaking me out. What did you see?” I whisper, getting dizzy watching him scroll and tap and text through the internet and his friends and Facebook until he stops.
Mitch leans in too. “Dude?” Mitch nudges me, forcing me to nudge Louis.
“You guys, this is insane.” Louis turns to me again, his dark-brown eyes wide with what appears to be terror. “We have to get out here, now!”
“What? Go where?” My heart races. “What’d you find?” I’m scared and I don't even know what’s going on.
“Ms. Mara?” Louis stands and says loudly, “We have a situation.” He’s still ignoring me and moves to where she is giving instructions on how we will return to the bus and go to the hotel. “There’s something you should see.” He hands her his phone, making it brighter.
Our teacher is about to protest but her eyes are drawn to the screen of his Galaxy phone. “Louis, this is disgusting.” She pales, lifting her hand to cover her drawn lips but not turning away from what she sees. “Is this a prank?”
“No, ma’am. It’s on all the major news outlets. It’s in chats. It’s everywhere, and it appears communication with the rest of the world has ceased.” He’s somber and scared but taps his phone as though he’s showing her other news pages.
“This is real?” Her eyes widen and my stomach aches. “Is this back home?”
“I can’t tell how close it is, but it’s everywhere else. Europe, Asia, Africa, and eastern US.”
“Holy shit!” she whispers and turns, lifting her own phone and running away. I don’t know what’s happening, but it appears she is leaving us alone in the dark. In the middle of a field. In Canada.
I’m about to panic too when she stops on the grass a ways over, illuminated by her phone. I can barely make out what she’s doing besides pacing and talking animatedly, shouting even. She keeps touching her face and shaking her head, making the glow of her phone’s screen flash back on and shine a light on her for a moment. The Canadians around her are staring. She’s causing them to panic. More phones begin lighting up.
“Uhhhhh,” Mitch says loudly, giving me a look. “Ms. Mara?”
“Come on, we have to go!” Louis starts running after her. We all follow, leaving the blankets behind.
None of us except Louis knows why, but we chase her as she runs in the direction of the bus. She’s going faster and speaking louder to whoever she’s on the phone with. The streetlights begin to cast her silhouette, making me worry more.
The Canadians around us are acting weird too. Voices are becoming panicked and louder. People are running, leaving behind blankets and chairs. Kids are crying as they’re carted off or dragged away.
Faces with glowing phones are popping up around us. They’re hurrying and having rushed conversations.
I’m so lost.
My stomach aches.
Ms. Mara ends the call, pausing in her sprint to pace and call someone else, again shouting and panicking. She does this three times while we follow her, all of us visibly confused. We stop when she does and run when she runs.
“Guys!” Louis shouts back, keeping pace with Ms. Mara, “You need to call your parents, everyone! Tanya, call your mom. Tell her to go home and take your brother with her.” I’m following the glow of his phone but not his words.
“Why? Is it war?” I gaze down at the video on Facebook still showing on my screen. “What’s happening? Is the zombie video real? Louis?”
“Zombie?” Vanessa asks, huffing breath and walking closer to us, tapping her phone to life.
Louis doesn't answer any of our questions. He’s rushing and texting and talking to someone on speaker, ignoring us.
“What’s happening?” I ask, checking my Facebook feed again. Everything in Billings seems normal. No one is posting anything, which isn’t crazy. My friends don’t really use Facebook anymore and my grandma hasn’t posted anything either.
Glancing around at the glowing phones of my classmates, my heart is in my throat. “Does anyone know what’s going on?”
“Come on, everyone, keep moving toward the bus!” Ms. Mara shouts. I’m pretty sure she wiped her eyes.
This is serious.
Other kids are gasping and shouting and making calls as they see what Louis saw.
I go back to the CNN article, noting it’s hours old. There are no updates. Going back to Facebook and Instagram, I see the same thing. All the posts are old, by hours. I tap back to the news, which appears to be just one video of a man attacking another man. As I scroll, I find it’s more; it’s dozens of videos of people attacking each other. And weird videos of hordes of people standing together, covered in blood but frozen.
There’s a video of Barcelona where someone films from a condo as the city street below goes crazy. Explosions and car accidents and people running.
I end up on YouTube watching a horde of them, people, running after a couple of men. They catch one. I look away, disturbed by what’s shown.
My fingers tremble as I text my mom, assuming she’s at the hospital working. Hey mom, you guys okay there?
She ignores my question and asks her own. Where are you?
Victoria, BC. Still in Canada, is everything okay there?
No, don't come home. Stay in Canada. I stare at her response, lost on what she means. Stay in Canada? Why does she want me to stay?
Stay in Canada? Is Mason okay? I ask.
She answers but doesn't explain. He’s here with me at work, he’s fine. We’re staying safe. We won’t go home. I spoke to your dad. He’s fine too. I love you so much but don’t come home unless you have to. Try to find somewhere safe to be. But if you have to, come to the hospital. Come find me.
What kind of parent tells their kid not to come home?
Not my mom.
She’s a curfew freak and obsessed with my location services on my phone. My stomach burns as I try to understand. Louis, who doesn't seem much better off, has that confused and frightened stare when he meets mine. Mitch is just as bad.
“Did you guys reach your parents?” Mitch asks, his expression lit up by the cell phone in his trembling hands.
“Yeah. My mom said not to come home.”
“Yeah.” Louis swallows a lump in his throat. “Mine said shit’s gone downhill fast. She just saw one of the neighbors go nuts on one of the others. Same weird rage as the videos. She’s in the house, everything’s locked, and she and my sister are hiding.”
“Uh, that’s not rage, dude.” Mitch points at his screen. “That’s a zombie, bro. And that’s not all.” His tone is one of disbelief. “Check out this video.” He holds his phone up and plays something I struggle to understand. It’s a video of what looks like Atlantic City, on the beach by the pier. People are running like mad, some chasing and others fleeing. The bloodbath is real and crazy. And then a drone flies through the air, gas shooting out of it. The gas becomes a thick mist. A horde of bloody people running down the beach freeze, then twitch and shake as if they’ve been electrocuted. When they stop, they remind me of motionless figures in a wax museum. Some fall over but they don't move or relax. Their bodies are stuck in whatever pose they were in when the fog touched them.
“What the fuck was that?” Louis takes a step back.
>
“I-I don’t know.” Mitch stares at it. “I don't understand.”
“What was that fog?” I don't believe what I’m seeing, and my brain has no answers to possibly explain this.
“Skynet,” Louis whispers as if I should know what that means. “Or maybe it’s a terrorist attack.”
“Can’t be. It’s the whole world, dude. What terrorist attacks the whole world?” Mitch has a point. “They lost contact with Asia first, right after videos like this leaked out. Then Eastern Europe. Western Europe is silent. The last transmissions coming out of everywhere have been about the biting and the mist. Now, apparently, the Eastern Seaboard has been taken over. One vlogger said we’ve completely lost New York. He was there when the people started to turn. He said it looked like they were rewiring themselves, just like in Terminator when a new terminator takes over the body.” Mitch seems to agree with Louis on something. “He said they’re coming West. It’s coming West. And his last update was hours ago. No one has updated in the last five hours. On anything.”
“Are we safe here?” I ask, not sure what the hell we’re talking about. Not sure of anything. I don't have a response for this moment. My phone is filled with images and videos of people attacking and eating other humans, and explosions and accidents and madness, all over the world, but my brain screams that it’s a lie. It’s impossible. “Will it come here?”
“I don't know.” Mitch shakes his head but his eyes answer with worry.
Stepping from our little huddle, I dial my mom’s cell as my stomach clenches into tighter knots.
“Tanya?” my mom whispers.
“Mom?” I whisper back, not sure why I’m whispering.
“Stay there, baby. Stay in Canada.” Her voice is so low I barely hear her. “The city is going crazy. Your dad is safe at home. I have Mason and Buster here at the hospital. We had to lock up the doors. We can’t take any patients. There’s a broadcast telling people to stay home, lock up their sick and leave the dead. Don't go outside or engage, there’s some kind of virus. But it’s the emergency response, just repeating itself.”