by Mark Tullius
26 Pills
January 21, 2059
Steven was half asleep as he carried his baby boy into the kitchen, his slippers dragging over the tile. He pulled his child against his robe and shushed him. “Come on, buddy,” Steven whispered. “Not now, dude. It’s too early.”
Mattie whimpered, but got quiet when Steven took the bottle from the fridge. “Here you go, little man.” Steven headed into the living room. The soft, electronic chirp of a cricket came from the black screen. He eased into the recliner and said, “Beach.” The screen flashed to a sunny day, gentle waves lapping at the shore, deep blue skies above.
Mattie snuggled into Steven’s chest, closed his eyes as he sucked on the bottle. This was their time, the few moments before work with his boy. Steven worked seven days a week to pay the mortgage on the house, but he’d need to work eight to hold onto it, especially now that he’d been stuck with his dad’s legal fees. The man had been dead over a year, but the bills kept coming in.
Steven eased his head back and closed his eyes. The lull of the ocean and Mattie’s soft breaths let Steven drift into the memory of when Loralei and he moved into the house. They drank wine on the floor and slept under a pile of winter coats. Loralei said this would be the place they’d one day die.
Tap! Steven snapped awake, the baby bottle plopped onto his lap. He turned to the window expecting he’d see the Controllers.
It was a bird, a kind he hadn’t seen since he was a child. Nothing but crows dared the skies of San Angeles.
Mattie yawned, his eyes blinking to focus. Steven set the empty bottle on the carpet and eased his son towards the window. “Look, Mattie. It’s a blue jay.”
The jay picked up a nut from the ledge and cracked it in its beak. Steven checked for Mattie’s reaction, but the boy was back asleep. The bird hopped off the ledge and flew towards the dying tree out front.
The clock said he still had forty minutes before he had to leave for work. He thought of going back to sleep, but decided to show Mattie the bird, that their neighborhood wasn’t all death and gloom.
Steven set Mattie in the basinet, listened to the house for a few seconds – nothing but the lapping waves. He headed into the kitchen, reached on top of the fridge and brought down a small pill bottle, shook out the contents. Only four Coralmine pills left. There’d been 30 when he bought them five days ago.
The pills were free to every Blocker. They increased productivity. Loralei refused to have them in her house, said they caused too much stress and anxiety.
The tab dissolved on his tongue, the effect immediate, everything clearer in a rush. Not crystal, but so much better than the fog Steven stumbled around in.
He stepped over to the laundry and took off his robe, changed into the black shirt and pants, scuffed up leather shoes. The pill bottle went in his suit jacket he’d left hanging by the door. Steven swigged some stale coffee, grabbed a tiny filtration mask, kissed Mattie’s forehead, slid the mask over his fine red hair. Mattie smiled through the plastic visor and opened his deep blue eyes. The left was a little lazy, just like Steven’s father’s, the man responsible for Mattie even being here.
Steven started to stand but was jerked back down, Mattie’s hand clutching his tie.
“You’re getting strong, buddy.” He peeled off Mattie’s chubby fingers and gave him another kiss. Steven wrapped the brown blanket under Mattie and said, “Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
The moment Steven stepped outside he felt like a new man. He ignored their yard of dirt and dead leaves, once a garden before the Block was erected and cut off all but a sliver of sun.
The Block’s glimmering black wall was all there was to the east. It drew everyone in and never let them leave. We’re all moths.
Steven reminded himself he’d come here to show Mattie something delicate and good. He walked Mattie into the yard, noticed the tree was empty. He checked the cables for the jay, ignored the buzzing of foot-long saucers peppering the sky. The bird wasn’t up there either. There were no bushes to hide in for miles.
Steven, still looking up, kicked something, fell forward. He caught his balance. Mattie squirmed out of the blanket. “Oh God,” Steven said. He’d tripped over the bird, lying flat, its left side a diseased mass. Steven nudged it towards the trash incinerator. He’d throw it in later with gloves.
Right now Mattie deserved a walk. The neighborhood was relatively safe, especially this early. Steven took the usual path, the one Loralei used to walk to work, back when she’d leave the house.
Mattie kept his eyes on his father, uninterested in the decaying trees. Steven searched for words of wisdom, something about appreciating everything around you. He tried to remember all the things his dad had told him. The man had risked everything to help them and died because of it. The burned out remains of the clinic were at the end of the street. The Controllers had torched the place after Steven’s father had been charged with sterilization tampering.
Steven had spent so much of his life in that building. It’s where he met Loralei ten years ago, the cute little tech who would smile, but hardly talk. His dad had trusted her with everything, loved her as his own. That’s why he’d performed the surgery. She desperately wanted a child. Mattie was the final gift Steven’s father would ever give. Six days after he was born, the clinic was raided and everyone arrested. Loralei’s name popped up in the files. The Controllers scanned her, knew she’d been sterilized and it’d been reversed. They gave Loralei ten seconds to make a choice: testify or have Mattie taken away.
Loralei told them everything. Steven’s father was executed the following week.
“Steven Cooper!” a deep voice boomed. “Return to the sidewalk!” It came from a metal speaker in the light post.
Mattie burst into tears and Steven leapt back onto the sidewalk. He didn’t even realize he’d wandered off the curb. The pills usually kept him completely focused. He wanted to shout that there weren’t any vehicles out, that it was safe, but it’d only make things worse.
The speaker on the light post said, “Jaywalking violation. Automatic withdrawal of $452.”
“Of course,” Steven muttered. He calmed Mattie down and crossed at the corner, tried to stay upbeat. He hummed a song his father used to sing to him.
They turned back onto their street. A woman paced their yard. Loralei. Her eyes popped and she sprinted at them, her robe flapping behind her. Loralei pointed at their house. “Get inside!”
Mattie cried.
“Lower your voice,” Steven said.
She leapt for Mattie, her fingernails digging into Steven’s forearm. “Now!”
Steven shielded Mattie with his back. “What is wrong with you? I could have dropped him.”
“Why the hell are you out here? You promised!”
There was always someone listening, even outdoors. Steven yelled, “We were on a walk. Where do you think I’m going?”
Loralei forced him towards the porch. “We said no going outside. We agreed.”
“It’s not going to kill him.”
She took Mattie. “It’s okay, baby.”
Steven said, “You need to calm down. You’re scaring him.”
Loralei took a deep breath and blew it out. “You promised you would never do this.”
“He’s my son, Loralei.”
“Then act like it. Protect him!”
“You need to stop getting so hysterical and paranoid.” Steven’s hand was shaking. He felt sweat beads on his neck even though it was chilly.
Loralei stomped her foot. “I’m not paranoid! This is our child! Look at you,” Loralei said. “You’re jittering. You’re on those God damn pills, aren’t you?”
Steven clenched his fist. “Of course I’m not. Don’t turn this on me.”
Loralei shook her head in disgust, entered the house. Steven started to follow, but she slammed the door in his face. Steven grabbed the knob, almost threw open the door, but stopped. He could hit the baby. He backed off the porch, his heart thumping so
hard he felt it in his head.
Still had another twenty minutes before he had to leave for work. He closed his eyes, breathed. Loralei would be upstairs in a few minutes, and he’d be able to get his stuff and go.
The diseased bird was still by the incinerator. He walked over to the garage, scanned his palm and it opened. He grabbed a pair of work gloves and a lead-mesh bag. The gloves were snugger than usual.
Steven walked back to the incinerator and squatted down next to the bird, its healthy side up. When he was a boy, he used to see blue jays like this all the time behind the clinic, back before the skies turned to ash. The news said it was due to a meteor shower colliding with the moon, the particles drifted into our atmosphere. That’s what the newscasters said. But everyone knew it was the factories outside Zone 45. Black gunk poured out of the stacks night and day for over a year until they built the iron walls to hide the truth, forced everyone to move down into the valleys so they couldn’t see what was being pumped into the sky.
A distant boom reverberated through the streets. A rumble shook the ground. Steven nearly fell onto the bird. He turned and saw flickering orange lights coming from the Block. He shielded his eyes, squinted, saw the black solar panels had been blown out about halfway up the massive wall. Fires inside.
Sirens blared, and Steven covered his ears, the rough fabric of the gloves dragging across his skin.
“Residents, return to your homes immediately,” The speaker on the light post announced. “This is not a drill. All residents return to your homes immediately.”
Steven stood and saw something racing out of the block. A motorcycle kicking up dust. It drew closer. Sparks flashed around the bike.
A Controller on top of the Block was shooting. Steven found himself walking towards the bike barreling over the hill and down his street. A bullet pierced the back tire. The rider launched over the handlebars and slid across the pavement, the mangled bike following, finally crashing into a parked car.
The rider tried to roll over but fell back. Steven ran into the street.
The speaker on the light post said his name. “Jaywalking violation. Automatic withdrawal of $452.”
Steven knelt by the rider, saw his own reflection in the mirrored visor. “Just lie still.” But the rider wasn’t staying put.
“They’re coming,” a young woman said.
“Just relax.”
“They’re going to kill us all.”
“Okay, just lie back. You could be bleeding inside.” Steven looked around, didn’t see any blood on the street or around her body.
“Resident Steven Cooper, step away from the fugitive,” the speaker commanded.
“Please. Help me,” the young woman said.
“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“This is your second warning,” the speaker said. “Step away from the fugitive.”
Steven looked back towards the Block, saw three Controller vehicles zooming out of the gates.
“Take me inside,” the young woman said. “You can’t leave me here.”
The Controllers were closing in.
Steven scooped her up and carried her into his yard.
“Resident Steven Cooper, you are in direct violation of security command.”
“It’ll be all right, it’ll be all right,” Steven repeated.
Loralei threw open the door. “What are you doing? Who the hell is this?”
“Get out of the way!” Steven pushed past Loralei and set the young woman onto the couch.
“Residents, a known fugitive is being harbored in home 1312.”
“Steven, get her out of here. Now!”
The rider pulled off her helmet. She couldn’t have been a day over sixteen. “Thank you.”
“What happened to you? Why are you running?” Steven asked.
“Who cares? Get her out of here!” Loralei said.
“We were just protesting the new ordinance when the Controllers opened fire. They shot Timothy in the head. They just shot him. We weren’t even doing anything. We just had some signs. We were singing a song, and they just killed him.”
“This is your final warning,” the speaker said.
Steven swiped hair from the teenager’s eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Kate.” Her jaw clenched as she shook her head back and forth through the tears. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help him.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Sirens grew louder. The Controllers had arrived.
Mattie cried from upstairs. Loralei must have put him in his crib.
“Oh God, they’re coming,” Kate said.
“Yes, and you have to go!” Loralei gripped Kate’s arm, yanked her. Something popped in Kate’s shoulder. She screamed.
“God damn it, let her go!” Steven said.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Loralei said. She stumbled back towards the front door.
“Residents, you have ten seconds to send out the fugitive or we will use force,” a Controller said through a megaphone.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Steven said.
“You can’t send me out there. You can’t!” Kate said.
“No one’s going anywhere,” he said. “Just tell me what happened.”
“We were just singing, and people started gathering around. A family joined us.”
Loralei threw open the front door, her arms raised. “This isn’t what you think! She forced her way in. Please help us!”
“Get down on the ground!” a Controller yelled.
“They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?” Kate said. She was trembling, her eyes locked on the window. A buzzing grew louder. A steel saucer hovered near the dead tree. Two metal flaps opened underneath the saucer. A tiny missile.
“Loralei, get away from the door!” Steven yelled.
“Oh God, no,” Kate cried.
Steven stood, ran for his wife who was refusing to get down.
“Just take her!” Loralei screamed.
Steven was only three feet away when he heard the whoosh of the missile cutting through the air. A blinding light filled the room as it rocketed inside their home. Loralei’s head splattered into a thousand flecks, the ringing in his ears forced him to his knees. He looked down, saw the severed white bone of what used to be his left arm.
He tried to turn back to Kate, but stopped at the window. Another missile. Another whoosh. A flash.
Then nothing at all.