Authors: Doug Vossen
Skyfire (7 page)
Dear Lucy,
The noise is unbearable. I’m going fucking nuts. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you and the kids. I failed. I tried, I really did. When all this started, I thought it was just a spike in the crime stats for a few days. I was wrong. We were
ALL
wrong. It’s so much more than that. I see what’s happened to everyone else around me. Whoever hasn’t been affected yet is well on the way. I am ending this now because if I don’t another one of those things will come back. It’s making everyone fucking crazy, baby. I don’t know what’s going on.
Tell John and Mikey that Daddy loves them and that they need to be the men of the house and take care of Mommy now. They are good boys and will become good men. Baby, you need to keep them safe. I am so sorry. I love you.
Love,
D
PS: To anyone living who finds this - before it all went dark there was talk over the radio of the military setting up a defensive perimeter down by the ferry to the Statue of Liberty. They said if you make it there they will provide a safe place and means to get to refugee camps outside the city. Be careful. I don’t understand anything that’s happening.
As she opened the entry door to the police station, the sunlight hit Callie like a punch in the face. It was just before 6am.
Usually I’m just getting home from work now.
She began walking in the direction of the Hudson River, meandering back to the east and south, along Hudson Avenue. Liberty State Park was six and a half miles away.
Guess I know what I’m doing today.
HUGHES
“Trent, wake up! WAKE UP!” Jessica poured water on Trent’s face as he lay on the sidewalk.
“Fuck!” Trent reached for his sidearm and stuck it in Jessica’s face. “I was about three seconds from shooting you! Be more careful.”
Jess sniffled. She looked terrified. “Trent, do you even know what happened?”
“Shit, where are we? This isn’t where we went to sleep. Why is my stuff here? I was robbed after you woke me up earlier. Those black things, where are they? Where did you run off to? Are you OK?” Hughes was frantic.
“You didn’t feel that last night?” pleaded Jessica.
“What are you talking about?”
“The red feeling.”
“OK, hold on one second.” Hughes reached into the top flap of his assault pack, pulled out the flask and shook it vigorously. It was just as full as it had been prior to meeting Jessica.
Yeah OK, so that happened then. What the hell? I gotta keep my shit straight so she doesn’t freak out, but I have no idea what the fuck that just was.
“Trent, what was that?”
“I don’t know. I saw something. I felt like I was here but somewhere else. I saw things I’m not completely sure were real. My only explanation is that I was sleepwalking for some reason - which I have never done before. What’s your take on it? What did you see?”
“The red feeling was everywhere! Just like when my mom died! It kept going faster and faster. It was so scary, Trent.”
“The red feeling?”
The fuck are you talking about?
“Yes. What feeling did you feel? What color was it?” Jessica asked.
“I don’t know. Everything was dark and foggy. It was like a horrible nightmare that felt more real than anything I have ever experienced in my life. I thought I was chasing after you and then I went down and it happened. Then you woke me up. Where are we?”
“A few blocks from where we went to sleep,” said Jessica.
Hudson and 54
th
. What the hell? How long was I out?
Trent glanced at his watch. It was still stopped at 4:07am. “Jessica, what time do you have right now?”
She studied her watch. “It is… It’s… 5:48am.”
“What the hell? My watch has a pretty new battery and it says…”
Shit, I’m losing it.
“Um, yeah, sorry, I actually have 5:50 too. You’re absolutely right. Forget it. We need to keep moving. We’ll find out more when we figure out exactly where the military is set up. If we keep walking now we can be there before it gets dark.”
“Trent, I’m hungry.”
Right, food. She’s a kid. Probably used to having her mom prepare breakfast every morning before hopping on the school bus.
“Yeah, OK. Let’s just find a spot off the main part of the road to sit down. I’ll make us something.”
“OK.” There was a soft, understandable sadness in Jess’s voice.
Trent holstered his H&K USP Tactical pistol, slung his carbine over his shoulder, and donned his assault pack. They moved fifty meters down the road and turned into a small alley between two rundown row houses. The alley looked just wide enough to be used as a driveway.
This is as good a place as any.
“Alright Jess, how does beef ravioli sound?” Trent pulled out the first MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) from inside his assault pack.
“Gross!”
“OK, hold on. Let’s try again . . .” He rooted around the provision-filled plastic bags. “How about beef enchilada?”
“Double gross!”
“OK, one more shot.” Trent gave a wry smile. “Bingo! Cheese and vegetable omelet!”
“My mom always says be nice to people and say thank you when they give you something, but there’s something that’s just weird about dinner and breakfast food in a plastic thing that came out of your smelly old bag. Is there anything else we can do?”
God, kid’s a damn picky eater for the middle of an apocalypse.
“Look Jess, I’m sure when we get to the military’s safe zone they’ll have better stuff. Trust me, you’ll love it. Until then, just get this disgusting food in your body so you can have some energy. If we see anything cool on the way we’ll stop and grab you something.”
“OK. How do you eat this thing?” asked Jess.
“I’ll show you. You take one of these.” Trent grabbed one of the small plastic sleeves containing the chemical surface that heats MREs. “All you do is rip the top part open and add water. Normally, there’s a box that comes with the meal and you put the heater and the plastic food container in the box while it warms up. But I threw all the extra stuff away to make room for more important stuff. We can improvise.”
“Wait, I wanna do it.”
“Sure. Here, rip that top part of the heater bag,” instructed Trent.
“Done.”
“Stick that omelet in the plastic inside the bag you just opened.”
“It’s really tight,” said Jessica.
“I know, usually they go in the box together.”
“OK, done.”
“Add water up to this little black line,” said Trent.
Jess poured water from the same canteen she’d used to wake Trent into the heater bag containing the omelet. She immediately felt the food heating in her hand. “Cool!”
“Careful, that thing gets pretty damn hot. Better put it down now. Just rest it up against the building and let it sit for three to five minutes.”
Jessica held on a little longer, mesmerized by how water made the pouch increase in temperature. She liked the warm feeling of the bag against her hands in the chilly morning air. “Ow!”
Trent laughed. “Yeah, that’ll happen sometimes. Just put it anywhere.”
They leaned against the brick siding of the house, enjoying the silence, staring blankly at the sky. Trent lit a cigarette and began thinking about the best way to get from West New York to Jersey City without a car. He decided to go back to Boulevard East, walk past the turn-off for the Lincoln Tunnel, through Hoboken and into Jersey City.
If we can get to Willow Avenue in Hoboken, it’ll be pretty mindless from there. Totally doable before lunch. Alone, anyway. With her, we can make this happen before it gets dark . . . I wonder what unit got sent there. I sure as shit hope it’s not the National Guard. God, seriously, if you’re a thing, please don’t put me anywhere near a guardsman today. I’ve played enough handball in my own shit the last few days. I don’t need any more headaches.
“Is it ready yet?” asked Jessica.
“Yeah, it should be good.”
After I get her set up I’ll just cut a corner off this beef ravioli and eat it cold, like I used to.
He carefully removed the vacuum-sealed plastic container with the omelet from the heater bag, cut it open with the knife of his Leatherman, and handed it to Jessica. “Here, Jess. Just grab the plastic and squeeze the food out the top a little and take a bite.”
“This is weird, but also kind of cool.”
Trent smiled.
Right now
I’ll call any small distraction a win.
“Take your time eating. Then we’ll start walking.”
CALLIE
It was a brisk morning. As Callie walked down Hudson Avenue, she again felt the sativa take hold.
I’m fucking starving. What should I do? God, I could so go for a barbeque chicken pizza from Park Avenue Pizza right now. Does it make me a bad person that I just read a dude’s suicide note after seeing his body and now all I can think about is pizza? Whatever. What’s that smell?
Callie detected a scent of cigarette smoke mixed with god-awful food.
Smells like a karaoke bar in Korea Town. Oh shit! People!
“Ew, this is NOT an omelet!” said a little girl’s voice.
A man laughed. “It could be worse, have you ever tried a kale shake?” he said.
“What’s a kale shake?”
“It’s what you make for yourself in a blender when you’re older and want to be healthier and lose weight. It tastes like ass mixed with shattered dreams.” The man again laughed.
OK, I don’t think these two are like the people at the police station…
“I don’t get it,” said the girl.
Callie knelt behind a car parked on the side of the road. She continued listening.
“Yeah, hopefully they come up with better stuff than that when you get older. If you could invent something that tasted awesome and was good for you, you’d be rich.”
“Like fiber crackers? My mom buys those and I hate them,” said the girl.
“Yeah, like if those tasted good. You done here, Jess? Let’s get going. We have a long way to walk.”
Do they know about the military down at Liberty State Park? I think I should see what they’re doing. Three is better than one, right?
Callie heard rustling in the alley ahead, followed by the sounds of zippers and crumpling plastic.
“Trent, I’m pretty cold.”
“I got an extra sweatshirt in my pack. It’s going to be huge on you. Do you like the Jets?”
“The Jets suck.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not entirely wrong. Maybe one day I’ll see them in a Super Bowl. Here you go. I’ll take this other black one for now.”
Callie clutched the cold, carbon steel finish of her holstered firearm. She had butterflies as she began to stand from her eavesdropping position. “Hello?” she called, walking toward the alley. “Is someone there?” She peered around the wall and caught a glimpse of the side of a man’s face. He was about six feet tall. She pulled herself back behind the wall. “Hello? I’m not here to hurt you. Are you guys OK?”
“Jessica, stay here and don’t move until I say,” said the man.
“Okay, Trent. I won’t,” the girl replied.
JESSICA
“Trent, what’s happening? Who is that?” asked Jessica.
“I’m not sure, hold on. I’m going to check it out.” Trent peered once more around the alley, grasping the pistol grip of his carbine with his left hand, his thumb on the top portion of the selector lever.
“Trent, it sounds like a lady out there who doesn’t want to hurt us.”
“Look Jess, sometimes things aren’t what they seem.” Trent began walking out toward the street. “I’m coming out. Don’t try anything stupid.”
“I won’t. You shouldn’t either. I have a gun!” said the woman.
Trent emerged from the alley in a non-threatening manner. “Yeah, me too. Mine’s bigger and I guarantee I’m faster with mine. Can we agree on the whole not shooting each other thing? We’ve seen enough bullshit in the last day.”
“Deal,” said the woman as they walked up to each other.
Trent extended his right hand. “Trent Hughes.”
“Callie Kennedy.”
Trent lit another cigarette and offered one to Callie. She declined. “So, what’s your story?” he asked.
“It’s a really long one. Unless you want to find a place to sit down for a three hour conversation, we should keep moving.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Liberty State Park.”
“Is that where I see all the helicopters flying to?” asked Trent.
“Yeah, it is. At least I’m pretty sure it is.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Well, I was high as fuck in a police station about thirty minutes ago. Everyone there was dead and I read the police chief’s suicide note. In the note he was nice enough to inform me that the military was setting up some kind of defensive position close to the ferry to the Statue of Liberty,” said Callie sarcastically.
“Wow, seriously?”
“Yeah. Also I woke up in a morgue yesterday afternoon, so I got that going for me,” added Callie.
“Trent, is it OK?” yelled Jessica from the alleyway.
“Yeah Jess, come on out and stay behind me. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Who is this lady?
Jessica wondered
. She looks kind of scary.
“Hi, I’m Callie.”
“I’m Jessica.” Jessica peered out from behind Hughes.
“You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise,” Callie said.
“I am not scared,” Jessica said firmly.
“Have you eaten?” asked Trent.
“No, I’m absolutely starving.”
“Well, I can give you some of this MRE. Want some?”
“What is it?” asked Callie.
“It stands for Meal Ready to Eat. The military makes them. They’re good for a scenario where everyone in the street is dead except you.”
“Are they good?” asked Callie.
“Do you like the taste of shit?”
“I love it, but only if it’s fresh and viscous,” Callie quipped.
Eww, this woman is gross,
thought Jessica.
Trent started smiling and laughing louder than any human being should have after having been exposed to the most violent, bizarre few days of his life. Something about Callie put him at ease. He no longer felt the need to caress the grip of his carbine, nor did he want to speak to her in a guarded tone.
Jessica wasn’t sure what to make of this new woman.
Trent’s looking out for me, and he thinks this lady is OK. I really don’t have a choice. I hope she’s really nice.
“So, are we doing this? Let’s get to Jersey City,” said Callie.
“Yeah, feel free to kill this while we walk.” Trent handed over the last half of his MRE.
“You know, I just don’t think I’m that hungry yet. That shit looks so goddamn gross, man.”
I guess the lady wasn’t really that hungry then…
They walked south and east as the sun continued its rise. Moving back to Boulevard East, they paralleled the Hudson River as they headed toward the Lincoln Tunnel. The crisp, cloudless sky made a fine backdrop for the sun, arcing along its trajectory toward the hills of western Jersey.
Trent looked down and to his left, onto River Road, as they walked. He became nostalgic. “Wow, I never get over this. When I was a little kid in the 80s, the whole area by the river down there was nothing but industrial waste. I remember the smell of highly concentrated gasoline and industrial chemicals really well. It was like if a gas station had sex with a cleaning product factory, and whatever came out just sublimated into the atmosphere. Now look at it. It’s goddamn beautiful. Condos, restaurants, jogging paths. I love it around here.”
“I don’t know man, I grew up in Ohio. We didn’t have this shit.”
“Cool, what part of Ohio? I’ve been there.”
“You never would have heard of it. It’s a shithole I never want to go back to. Why were you in Ohio?”
“Good god, I was in this awful place called Bucyrus a few years back when I was job hunting. Nothing but a Holiday Inn, three boarded-up restaurants, and a gas station where I bought beer. There must have been a Dominos somewhere too; I remember waking up in the hotel with pizza on my chest from when I fell asleep in front of reruns of
Law & Order: Criminal Intent
.”
“No way! I know Bucyrus, my aunt used to live there! They have this weird-ass bratwurst fest once a year in the summer when the white trash comes out to play.”
“Sorry, I missed it,” Trent joked.
“Why Bucyrus? I worked my ass off to move away from Ohio. It’s such a dump!”
“Well, GE’s got this light bulb manufacturing plant there and they offered to train me as a manager.”
“Shut the fuck up. What’s the real reason? Was it a chick?” asked Callie.
“OK, fine. Here’s the real reason: GE’s got this light bulb manufacturing plant there and they offered to train me as a manager.” Trent couldn’t suppress a grin.
“Perfect. That’s not weird at all. Completely normal, Trent.”
“Yeah, clearly the universe had other plans for me. God, that place was a shithole. Why were you in such a rush to get out of there? No family? Friends?”
“Not really. New York was a good place to start over.”
Start over from what?
wondered Jessica. Her childlike enthusiasm for knowledge held strong, despite the circumstances. “Callie, start over from what?”
Callie turned to Jessica. “There were some bad things going on there when I was younger. It was a good idea to leave.”
“Was it hard to leave your home? A lot of people can’t bring themselves to venture too far away from where they grew up,” said Trent.
“What, like you?”
Trent laughed. “Yeah, I guess I did come back home. But I was all around the world for ten years.”
“Doing what?” asked Callie.
“Military stuff.”
“Did they send you over . . .?”
“They did,” said Trent.
“Wow, I…”
“Whatever, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. It was all bullshit anyway.”
I’m confused.
Jessica didn’t fully understand what the adults were talking about.
Trent felt awkward, as he often did when prompted to discuss his past without alcohol in his system. He wanted to change the subject. “So, was it hard to leave Ohio?”
“You know what? Surprisingly, no. Not at all. I mean, it sucks any time you leave something familiar, no matter how shitty it is, but it was totally worth it. Everyone makes it out to be like it’s fucking impossible to start over somewhere and that moving is this huge ordeal. It’s not. Just fucking move if it sucks somewhere. I don’t just mean the bad stuff I was trying to get away from. Look at me. Look at the tats. Look at the clothes. Me living in that region of Ohio would be like living in Saudi Arabia and saying ‘I’m a transgendered she-male who really likes revealing clothing, super gay music, and having sex with dudes. I don’t understand why no one accepts me here!’ I mean, it’s kind of bullshit too. Most people are stupid attention-whores who don’t get it. Their immediate reaction is to fight back and ‘raise awareness.’ This is a huge fucking country, just find a place where there’s people like you and go to that place! I bet you there’s more than one choice; pick the one with your favorite weather. I mean fuck, this shit ain’t Oregon Trail! All you need to do is save up for a plane ticket, not risk dying of dysentery on a Conestoga wagon!”
Wow, that makes complete sense,
thought Jessica. She was starting to like this woman.
By mid-morning they were passing the traffic helix leading into the Lincoln Tunnel. It towered over the group, a reminder of the single most notable landmark in Weehawken. Meanwhile, the fractal presence over Lower Manhattan continued to pulsate rhythmically in complete silence. The presence seemed to either reflect or emanate light. No one could tell. The only thing certain was that this entity above the city was completely unidentifiable.
“Dude, what you think that thing is?” asked Callie.
“I have absolutely no idea. This is easily the craziest thing I have ever seen in my life. In fact, there’s been a lot of that going on lately,” replied Trent.
Yeah, no duh you stupid dummy,
thought Jessica
. I am so scared of the bad feelings that came to us this morning. I just can’t understand why they won’t talk about it. How do they even know we’re going to find something down by where they say they will? My feet hurt. I just want to go home. I miss Mommy so much.
A lump hardened in Jessica’s throat. She felt a surge of tears welling and tried desperately to restrain it.
I’m a big girl. I can’t just start crying every two seconds. I need to be strong, like mommy told me.
She gripped the backpack slung over her left shoulder just to feel the lump of mass belonging to her little stuffed duck, Duckaboo. The tighter she gripped the pack, the calmer she felt. It was as if she felt her mother’s presence in the stuffed animal.
I AM strong. Just because I’m a little girl doesn’t mean I have to be a weakling.
Jessica continued walking alongside Callie and Trent, not understanding half of what they discussed. She pretended she was following along; she did not want to feel left out. She always felt left out at home and school. It felt great to be among people treating her as an equal for a change, even if she wasn’t. She glanced at a Jersey Transit bus that had plowed through the protective railing on the corkscrew-shaped on-ramp into the Lincoln Tunnel. There were at least twenty-five bodies around the accordion-shaped bus. Blood and broken glass littered the area. On the side of the bus she saw an advertisement with the message “PROSTATE CANCER does not need to mean the end of intimacy” covering the entire length and height of the vehicle.
I know cancer’s bad, but what’s a prostate? I want to ask but I’m afraid they’ll think I’m dumb or just some little kid. Forget it, I want to know.
“Trent, what’s a prostate?”
“Ask your m-” Trent stopped himself.
Callie chimed in. “A prostate, honey, is a magical, walnut-sized gland that all dudes have in their privates.”
“How come we don’t have one?”
“Well, it’s because dudes need it to pass come through their dickholes during sex. We don’t have dickholes. It is also a great source of pleasure for them when they get busy.”
“Jesus Christ Callie! She’s a little kid!” Trent held back laughter at the absurdity of what Callie had just said.
“Oh whatever, Debbie Downer. It’s the end of the world and I’m high as shit. Let the kid learn about fucking. If she’s curious enough to ask, she’s for sure old enough to know. You want to know about sex, dudes, what it’s all about, right?”
“Callie…” said Trent.
Jessica wasn’t sure if she wanted to know any more.
“Well,” said Callie, “babies come from when a man puts his privates into a woman’s privates. It can feel really incredible or not so great. And there’s a lot of ways to do it. The most important thing is that whoever you’re doing it with has your permission. It’s not ugly, it’s not scary, it’s not bad - unless someone does not have permission. Other than that, it’s basically the coolest, best feeling in the world.”
“OK, but what does intimacy mean and why does prostate cancer stop it?”
“Intimacy can mean many different things. I look at it as when I’m really close with someone emotionally. But the bus means putting a dick inside a vagina to feel good or make a baby.”
“Then why does the cancer make it so you can’t do that? Is the prostate in the boy privates?”
“Sort of, honey. It’s up a guy’s butt!” Callie sounded a little too cheerful.
God,I want my mommy so bad right now
.
“Gross!” said Jessica.
“Not gross at all. Completely normal. I just want you to promise me one thing: you don’t go off and start doing this stuff until you’re much older and we’ve had a few more talks about safety and what to do.”
I’ve known Callie for just today and she’s already treating me like a little sister. What a nice lady. Even if she is VERY weird.