Under a Broken Sun

by Kevin P Sheridan

  "Tommy," Marilyn said, inching forward.

  "Marilyn, leave him alone," I said. Who knows where he'd fire that gun.

  With a yell of pure rage, Tommy turned down the tunnel and fired off two quick shots. A metal clip pinged out of the gun and landed next to him.

  Tommy bent over and picked up the clip. Then a car, at the other end of the tunnel, exploded, echoing a thunderclap down toward us. That caused another to go. Then another. Like a string of fireworks tied together, coming right towards us.

  We ran down the side of the mountain just as the last explosion sent debris out of the tunnel like a cannon. Marilyn covered the baby's ears as we stumbled down a path, probably the same one Tommy followed up to get away from his dad.

  Halfway down, sweating from the escape, the heat of the flames, and the burning sun, I took off my T-shirt and wrapped it around my waste. Marilyn stumbled behind me and nearly dropped the baby onto the pine-needle covered trail. “Watch it,” I said.

  “I need a carrier, this kid’s heavy.”

  After about an hour we came out of the woods into farm country. “That’s my house up there,” Tommy said. It was a typical two-story farmhouse, front porch, barn in the back. A couple of cows lay still in the field making it hard to determine if they were even alive.

  The air grew heavy with the smell of cow shit and death. I could almost taste it, and in the back of my mind I could imagine the life forms rotting in the hot sun. If that guy in the car couldn’t take the heat, or had a heart attack, or whatever, and no one was around to save him, how many others are there like that? Road kill took on a whole new meaning.

  We climbed the steps to Tommy’s porch, opened the creaking screen door and stepped inside, exhausted from the hike and sweating like pigs from the heat. We collapsed on the couch, except Marilyn, who, cradling Eve in her arms, had to lower herself slowly. “What do you have for the baby?” She asked Tommy.

  “Not much. There might be some milk in the fridge. I haven’t opened it up except a few times since the power went out. It might still be good.”

  Eve let out a wail. “It’s worth a shot. I don’t know if we have a choice,” Marilyn said.

  “If it’s bad,” Ashley chimed in, “it could kill her.”

  “What the hell do you know?” Marilyn shot back.

  I had to intervene. “Hey. We’re not doing this. You guys keep bitching like this and I’ll leave both your asses behind. Tommy and I’ll go find a strip club somewhere.”

  Tommy looked at me and snickered, walking into the kitchen. I started to fall asleep, but when I went to lie down on the couch, a flame of pain shot up through my back. My skin felt like it was cracking, being pulled apart. I sat up and Ashley looked at my back. “Holy shit, Adam, you’re fried to a crisp.”

  She was right. My shoulder was red, bordering on purple. My skin felt hot to touch, not warm, but hot. Blisters were already starting to form underneath the skin. “Jesus,” I said, “We were only out in the direct sunlight for what, ten minutes?”

  That’s when I noticed it. All of us. Burned faces, arms, every part of our body that was exposed. I took my dad’s list out of my pocket. “Aw fuck,” I said to myself.

  “What?” Marilyn asked.

  “I forgot the sunscreen. I got it back in Philly, but buried it in my bag and never thought about it. We haven’t been out during the day since then.”

  “But why did we all burn so fast?”

  "The magnetosphere's fucked up. Gotta be. A disruption in the magnetosphere allows more ultraviolet rays in and at a much higher level of intensity. More chance of skin cancer.

  “Fuck me,” Ashley said softly. “We are gonna die.”

  “Not from one exposure, but yeah, if we’re not careful, this shit will spread like wild.”

  Tommy came back in carrying a glass of milk and one of those snot-suckers that moms use on their kids – a big blue rubber bulb with a long nozzle.

  “What the hell is that?” Marilyn asked.

  “Best I could do. Milk’s still good, but just barely. It’s warm – won’t last another day or so. Worst case we still have cows.”

  “They won’t last another day or so either,” I reminded him.

  “No biggie. If they’re dead we can still cut open the udder and get the milk.”

  Ashley threw her arms up and stood up. “Okay, that’s enough for me. Thank you.”

  “No, we need to get supplies. Is there a Wal-Mart or something nearby?”

  Tommy gave the bulb to Marilyn. “About two, three miles down the road.” Eve latched onto the nozzle as best she could, but Marilyn had to squeeze the bulb to get anything out. Eve cried out in frustration.

  I looked out the window – dusk settled in. “Ok, Tommy and I will go out and get some supplies. You two stay here. Sunset is the best time to move.” I turned to leave and Ashley caught me.

  “I don't wanna stay here with her. She hates me.”

  I turned to look at her. “Ashley, Tommy’s the only one who knows where the Wal-Mart is. He has to go. I may have to break in and maybe even fight off other looters, so I have to go. If you go, you leave Marilyn all alone. Who knows what other weirdoes may come around? Plus you can’t carry anything with your shoulder still sore. Tommy, you got your dad’s rifle?”

  Tommy nodded. “Right here,” he said, putting it on his shoulder.

  “Give it to Ashley.”

  He didn't. "You crazy? This is a vintage 1944 M1 Garand."

  "I don't give a fuck if it's a goddamn laser rifle. I'm not leaving the girls here unprotected."

  He paused, but although he was my height, my cuts should've told him I don't give a fuck about pain. Hell, I welcome it. He backed down, unslung the rifle and handed to her. "It's a semiautomatic. That means you just point and pull. But it's my dad's. Don't fuck it up. Safety's right here."

  I turned back to her. “You two guard the house. Anything weird come in through any window or doors, shoot it. Got it?”

  She took the rifle. “I’ve never shot anything before.”

  Tommy loaded ten shells into a clip and snapped the clip in. “Just make sure you fire from the hip. Shoot from the shoulder and it’ll hurt worse. “

  Marilyn spoke up, “No way guys, nu-uh. You are NOT leaving me with her and a rifle.”

  “She’s not gonna shoot you.”

  “Like hell! How do you know she won’t turn into a Wheezer or something herself?”

  I reached into the gym bag and pulled out another small O2 tank. “Here,” I said, laying it on the couch next to Marilyn. “Use this. Both of you. A few hits every hour should work.”

  Eve had fallen asleep on the couch, Marilyn rubbed her back. I knelt down in front of Marilyn and kissed her lips. “We’ll be fine,” I said, mustering my best reassurance smile.

  She didn't smile back. "Be careful."

  I touched her cheek, taking in her blue eyes and soft skin like art at the Louvre, then I nodded and stood up.

  I looked at Tommy and said, “You got any horses?”

  “Three out back.”

  “They alive?”

  “Should be. They were last time I checked.”

  “Let’s saddle ‘em up.”

  11.

  Two or three miles turned into five or six. The sun had completely set by the time we saw the large dark building. What seemed like overly large fireflies, bouncing and dancing around, surrounded the dark structure. As we got closer that we saw the torches held by a mob of people.

  Their voices mixed together shouting and cussing, with one lone voice rising above them, shouted through a long plastic cone like cheerleaders use: “Please do not enter the building. Supply rationing will begin tomorrow at six a.m. At that point you will be given your ticket for your rations.” Then the voice got urgent. “Stop or we will fire.” Then gunfire. Distant light from the gun nozzle appeared like Morse code. The voices turned to screams. The firefly torches went frantic. Some ran away from the firing rifles, some ran to
wards them.

  The horses bucked behind us, Tommy struggled to hold them still.

  “Shut them up,” I hissed at him.

  “They’re not war horses, man. They’re not used to this.”

  “Fine, then let’s tie them up. We’re going down there.”

  “Say what?”

  “You heard me.” I climbed off the horse with a grimace, my sunburn exploded with every move. Needed aloe vera, something to soften the crispiness. Dad didn’t have that on his list. I crouched low and eased down the slope towards the still-full parking lot. Behind me, Tommy slid down the embankment, the horses tied safely to a light pole.

  We ducked between cars as the crowd grew more rowdy. I could see the guys with the automatic rifles standing in front of the store – they weren’t cops, they were National Guard.

  “Please disperse and return tomorrow morning at dawn for your rations.” The soldier with the megaphone shouted. “We will fire if needed. You have been warned.” Many stood fast. Some climbed on top of the truck bed where the soldier stood, only to be yanked down by another soldier. The main guy started again, and this time he sounded more like a tune set on repeat: “The United States is now in a state of Marshall Law. All citizens are to be in their homes at precisely eight o’clock. Anyone caught outside after that time is subject to arrest and detainment. We will begin rationing of goods and supplies tomorrow at dawn from this location. Please disburse and return tomorrow morning at dawn for your rations. We will fire if needed. You have been warned.”

  Tommy turned to leave, saying, “I’m getting the fuck outta here. These guys mean business.”

  He had a point. There was nothing we could do now. But I wasn’t traveling back empty-handed. We might as well die here if we failed.

  “Wait. Let’s hang with horses for a few hours, let things settle, and then we’ll find another way in.”

  “Are you crazy? They shoot, asshole. They will kill us if they see us.”

  “They won’t shoot us; they’ll just fire warning shots. Maybe we’ll get arrested. They’re only firing over the crowd to get them to break up. We need to get supplies. The baby will die without it. WE’LL die without it.”

  He let out a breath of frustration. “Fine. We’ll hunker down back near the horses.”

  After a couple of hours of much needed sleep, we awoke in the middle of the night to silence. National guardsmen still patrolled the Wal-Mart, but the crowd disappeared. I woke up Tommy, who sprung to life like he just had forty-thousand volts through him, shouting "Anna!"

  "Dude," I said, "you were having a nightmare. Who's Anna?"

  He stood up and brushed himself off. "My sister," he said. "Dad..." He didn't say anymore. He grabbed the reins of his horse and walked down the slope. I followed him.

  We walked around the perimeter of trees towards the back, trailing the horses behind us. Once we got to the side of the building, the trees started to thin out, and we stood only fifty feet or so away from the side walls. No soldiers patrolled the area, but if one did decide to show up, we’d be an easy catch.

  We tied the horses to a tree and crept to the building, crouching low. We snuck around to the corner in the back and peeked – one guard in front of the loading dock probably a hundred feet away.

  “Now what, hotshot?” Tommy asked. “You gonna take him on? Or how about you distract him and I’ll rush in.”

  “How far can you throw?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You play baseball? How far can you throw?”

  “Yeah I play baseball. Outfield. I can throw pretty far.”

  I looked around and picked up a decent sized rock – a little larger than a baseball but not as big as a softball.

  “Toss this,” I said pointing to the woods in front of the soldier. “Right there. Like a pop up so he can’t tell where it’s coming from.”

  Tommy stepped away from the wall, reared back, and launched a beautiful sky-high pop-up that landed square in woods in front of the patrolling soldier. He un-shouldered his rifle, an AR15 automatic, and walked to the tree-line on his guard. We watched him stick his nose in the woods, then take a step in, then another. I turned to Tommy: “Let’s go.”

  We ran along the far wall to the loading dock. We tried the bay door, but it wouldn’t move. Tried the back door, locked solid. No rear windows. “What the heck do we do now, dumbass?” Tommy hissed.

  “Hold it!” came a shout. We turned, and soldier pointed the muzzle of his AR15 right at my chest. I raised my arms and Tommy did the same.

  Something about the guard struck me as strange. Even the lamest weekend warrior at least seemed a little bulky. This guy couldn't have been more than five-six at most, maybe a buck twenty-five soaking wet. I walked down the steps that led to the rear door to stand in front of him. My six-three frame almost buried him. Tommy followed behind.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” The guard said. He started another sentence but didn’t finish. I grabbed the gun and yelled for Tommy to duck. Tommy hit the ground and while the guard and I struggled for control of the gun it went off, blowing several holes in the rear door. We both stopped struggling in surprise, but I took quicker advantage of the moment than he. I wrangled the gun away from him and in one fluid motion clocked his face with the butt of it. He dropped almost as fast as Tommy, but this guy was out.

  “C’mon,” I said to Tommy, helping him up. “Get up and help me lift this guy out of here.”

  “Where to?”

  “Inside.” I walked back up the stairs to the rear door and kicked it near the handle. It flew open. Tommy and I lifted up the body of the guardsman, who let out a low moan as we did so. We carried him up the stairs of the dock and into the darkness.

  A torch, even a fucking lighter would've been helpful. You’d never think that a place so big could be so dark when there’s no power at all. It took forever for our eyes to adjust, and the adrenaline pulsing through my brain didn't help. Someone must've heard the shots.

  I grabbed a roll of twine near the loading dock and returned to the soldier, just stirring awake. Tommy held the AR15 at him, finger off the trigger like a pro. I bound the soldier’s hands behind him, then his legs, tying the best knot I knew, which probably sucked. Still, I pulled it tight enough to cause him to suck in air through gritted teeth.

  Something stuck out of the soldier’s back pants pocket. A piece of paper. Curious, I pulled it out and opened the door to the let in some of the night’s moonlight. The paper had typed lettering on it – it didn’t look like it came from a computer. All it said was this:

  THE TIME OF CHRIST HAS COME

  THE BATTLE FOR ARMAGEDDON IS IN CHICAGO

  JOIN FORCES, SPREAD THE WORD

  MEET US THERE IN ONE WEEK’S TIME

  REV. JESSE HILL

  GOD BLESS, AND GOOD LUCK

  I grabbed the soldier’s shirt and brought his face to mine. “Where the fuck did you get this?” I shook him out of his stupor. “WHERE?”

  He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Everyone has them. Everyone knows about you and your kind. You can’t stop the return.”

  “You were surprised when your rifle went off. You’ve never fired it in your life. You’re not a real soldier are you?”

  “A soldier for Christ. Yes.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Forty-five. Coming tonight. For supplies. They will kill you and your kind.”

  “How’d you get the weapons?”

  “You’d,” he started to drift off again, “you'd be surprised. How easy.”

  He passed out again. I dropped him down to the floor. These “soldiers” weren’t National Guardsmen at all. They’d stolen everything they had, or were gun nuts just waiting for this day to come. Demented looters. Dangerous and demented organized into religious zealots.

  Tommy stood behind me. “What do we do now?”

  “Grab some stuff and get the hell out of here. We’ve got to get on the road to Chicago.”
<
br />   We grabbed another gym bag and a backpack for each of us. Navigating pitch black aisles slowed us down; we had to feel the merchandise for something that would work. I always thought being deaf would be the worst handicap, but I began to think being blind would suck more.

  We found diapers, then a whole shitload of dry goods. A smell like decaying road kill came from meats rotting somewhere. We swept jars of baby-food into the backpack. I thought about the milk, but if the meat smelled that bad, the milk definitely wasn’t going to be any better.

  The back door opened and we heard voices from the rear of the store. I ducked. “Fuck, Tommy, get down!” Lights bounced around the walls and ceiling. Torches.

  Then we heard a voice barking commands: “Vaughn, dry goods up ahead two-hundred feet. Dennison, camping gear to the right seventy-five feet. And Terrelli, get the guns and ammo. Everyone else grab clothing, sun screen, and anything else you can find helpful.”

  He was checking off items right from my father’s list. But how did they know?

  No time to figure out. Footsteps came closer, in the aisle next to us. We made our way to the back where the light was, when we heard a shout. “Reynolds! Over here! McGwire’s tied up!”

  Boots shuffled on the floor as the group gathered in the back. No good going that way. I grabbed for Tommy’s shoulders, but he wasn’t there. “Tommy,” I whispered. “Tommy!”

  “Spread out and search every aisle. Finds these fuckers,” Reynolds said.

  I made my way to the front doors, feeling along the way for something to break the front doors with. Tommy’d have to find his own way out. I didn’t have time to wait. I rammed into a checkout counter, which nearly took my balls off, then limped to the front of the store. I could see the torchlight bobbing behind me in the aisles, coming towards me. I grabbed something in front of me but it was too light. Grabbed something else – a weight or something. Must’ve been ten pounds. Perfect. I moved to the glass doors, reared back, and heaved.