Ring of Fire

by David Agranoff

  Scott took a closer look at him. The trapped man had no whites in his eyes. The same crazed look of the bus driver. Berserker or feral, whatever you want to call them, he was already gone. The feral man struggled and tried to reach through the broken window at Scott. He wanted to help the man but he reminded himself, they don’t have shoot-to-kill orders because there is a cure.

  Scott got closer to the door. The man’s wild hunger was driving him to buck and fight in place. There was nothing rational remaining. He looked barely human. He needed to be put out of his misery. Scott knew he wouldn’t want to be like him.

  “I’m sorry, buddy.”

  He only returned a desperate scream.

  That was enough. Scott went back to the bike and pushed. He would fire it up when he got to the end of the pileup. The wreckage of cars ended at a Humvee that was turned sideways blocking the two lanes in the center. He stopped and went to put on the helmet. It was a struggle to fit it around the gas mask. The air looked slightly cleaner but from here the freeway lead directly into Mission Valley where the smog hangs on a typical day. The freeway was five lanes across and for now he was happy to see open road down the center lanes.

  He swung his leg over the bike and realized that he saw a body. Legs and combat boots. Scott stepped away from the bike into the haze. A soldier in a gas mask sat up against a Humvee. The head of the soldier dripped onto the body. A gun was locked in a dead hand. He had shot himself. With a closer look, Scott could tell his leg had been mangled, looked like it had been in a trap or bitten. Scott knew it was teeth.

  “Hello?” Scott stepped closer to the Humvee. “Anybody in there?”

  Scott waited but heard nothing. He climbed up on the back of the truck and looked inside. It was empty. The windshield was cracked. A dead feral was inside for some reason and the side door was left open.

  “You gotta get to Jake,” he whispered to himself.

  Scott jumped back down, took one step towards the bike and turned around. He keeled by the dead soldier. He had been a private. The name on his uniform said Morrell. Scott said a prayer for him and reached to his hand. The pistol was a Glock, not standard issue but clearly this national guardsman’s personal weapon. A spent clip laid beside him. Scott grabbed it by the barrel and gave it a tug. It didn’t move. The grip was tight. He thought he might have to break the fingers at first.

  After a little wiggle the gun slipped out into his hand. Scott ejected the clip, it looked fully loaded. It was a high-capacity magazine designed to hold 12 bullets, which was illegal in California. Poor young man had put number twelve straight through his own head. Morrell had a belt holster. Scott took that too. He stood back up and put the belt and the gun on.

  He adjusted his gas mask tighter as he got on the bike. It would be slow twisting and turning around the wrecks and he intended to avoid checkpoints where he could. He turned on the bike and the roar felt comforting as he sped into the unknown.

  ***

  Tiffany and Damian sat in the living room eating microwaved Spaghetti O’s. They were very quiet, understanding that mom was not in the mood. Victoria was thankful that they were aware enough to know that she was scared and nervous. They were not normally this quiet even when eating their favorite meals.

  She had not gone back into the kitchen since she got the two bowls out of the microwave. It was irrational she knew, but she itched all over, afraid those crawly things were still on her skin. She had obsessively scrubbed her hands and face with the sanitizer a third time before opening the cans.

  “Where is Daddy?” Damian asked. He sounded scared. He was born early and not expected to gain enough weight to survive the first month of his life. He was their miracle boy. No matter how many hurdles seemed to crop up he jumped them all. His struggles brought the trauma she endured with her parents’ death back to the surface. They were grateful that he was mostly unaware that he was challenged at all.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” Victoria whispered. As the sun fell, she gave up on the idea of Jake returning. The horrible sounds coming from around the city had her hoping he just stayed safe at the station. Having the windows closed kept out most of the sound of screams and gunfire, but a few times they sounded nearby. Something she never expected to hear in San Diego.

  Tiffany dropped her spoon in the empty bowl. She was not happy about the meal, but she ate it. She silently stood up and walked to the living room. Victoria and Damian watched her go. The little man shrugged.

  “When is everything going to be nice again?” Damian asked between bites.

  Victoria wished she had a real answer. “I don’t know, baby, but hopefully soon.”

  Damian kept eating and Tiffany turned on the TV to static. She switched the input over to the Xbox. She was that bored. She hated playing on it. Tiffany fell onto the couch with a plop and half heartily played the game. Victoria knew she needed to eat herself, but that required going back into the kitchen.

  “Mom!”

  Victoria jumped up at the desperate sound of her daughter’s voice. Two headlights spun across the window as a car turned into the driveway. Victoria ran to the front door and looked out the window that went up the length of the door.

  It was Jake’s car. Forgetting for a moment about the smoke and ash in the sky, Victoria felt such relief tears welled up in her eyes. She forgot caution and opened the door and ran to the car. The assault on her lungs and eyes surprised her. The smell had gotten much worse.

  The windshield was cracked, blood was smeared around the car. Victoria’s eyes got wide as Andrew, the pilot from the station, got out of the passenger side. He had his shirt pulled over his nose. He ran off into the haze. Jake got out of the car and ran to Victoria. They hugged for a long moment. She coughed, her lungs rejecting the air. She didn’t want to let go.

  “Thank god you’re back.”

  Jake pulled back enough to see Tiffany and Damian standing in the door way. He pulled Victoria with him and they all met in a group hug.

  “Everyone gets one bag. You have twenty minutes tops.”

  Victoria pulled out of the hug to push the door shut and meet her husband’s gaze. “What happens then?”

  “We have to get out of here.”

  “But, Dad. . .” Tiffany started to argue. He shook his head and pushed her towards the stairs.

  “Just grab clothes, OK? Enough to last a week.” Jake kneeled down by his son. “Just a few toys, I hope we’ll be back soon.”

  Damian nodded and ran up the steps.

  “Jake the roads are—”

  “Impossible, I know.” Jake had not turned back to her.

  “The freeways are closed.”

  He turned back to her. “Andy went to get Adam. He’s gonna—”

  Victoria shook her head. “Oh, no we are not going to. . .”

  She didn’t have to say it. She hated flying of any kind and certainly despised the feeling of being in the helicopter. Andrew seemed young for a pilot, her reasons were endless.

  “No, no there has to be some other—”

  “Stop!” Jake yelled. Victoria was stunned. Jake was calm by nature, she had only seen him raise his voice a few times. Always with his brother. A closer look and she saw his hands shook. She had not seen fear in his eyes like that ever. His last football injury, when she came down to the locker room he was scared but this was different. This was deep and primal.

  “What happened out there, baby?”

  He leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor. She sat down beside him holding his hand. “You see the blood on the car?”

  She nodded.

  “I had to do things. Hurt people, I think.”

  Victoria was confused afraid to press him. “What do you mean?”

  “They’re sick, crazy and everywhere.” Tears poured out of him. “We have to get out of here. Whatever it takes.”

  Victoria pulled him into a hug. He cried, but he felt the clock ticking. They had to be ready when Andrew got back.

/>   ***

  Austin struggled to open her eyes. She had passed out, but had no idea how long she was out for. Her hearing had returned. She could hear voices and felt the motion. They bounced around a bit and it was clear they were driving. As her eyes opened she saw two soldiers sitting across the vehicle from her. They were in the Humvee, the third soldier was driving. Her hands were still behind her back. She moved her wrists apart to test. She was still zip-tied.

  She remembered the accented voice, hearing more clearly didn’t mean she could place it.

  “She’ll clean up real good.”

  “Nice ass and titties,” he said. They both laughed.

  “Hey, knock it off,” the driver yelled back from the front cab.

  The taller guy with the accent leaned into the cab. “They all gonna die anyways, chief.” Then he slid the panel shut that separated the two parts of the cab. The two soldiers laughed. Austin thought about saying something. She wanted to yell fuck you at the assholes. Yell for help. Maybe the driver would help her?

  She held her eyes just barely open, and hoped they wouldn’t notice in the low light. The shorter of the two was a fair-skinned red headed kid who barely looked old enough to drive. He moved closer to her. She could see his name, Jase.

  As he got closer, she closed her eyes. He was right over her. He ran his finger down her cheek. Her heart raced. She had to stay cool, but her heart beat almost out of her chest. She felt the urge to scream, jump, anything to get away.

  “You are purdy ain’t you?”

  She felt the tip of his finger move across her cheek to her bottom lip. The urge to scream was now a raging fire.

  “Real purdy,” he whispered.

  Austin snapped. She opened her mouth and bit on his finger. Jase screamed as Austin felt the bones in his finger snap. She latched on, biting down like a steel leg hold trap until he threw an awkward punch with his left hand. Austin snapped back. Jase shook his bleeding hand. The taller soldier laughed.

  “We got ourselves a fighter,” said the tall one. Austin looked at his name tag, Ambrose. He had thick dark eyebrows that threatened to come together, a burly beard and acne that adult hood had not fixed. A face his mother was really not in love with. Dumb, ugly and dangerous.

  “I like me a fighter.”

  Austin yelled “Help!” He put his hand over her mouth. The Humvee stopped.

  “Shut your bitch mouth or I’ll really make it hurt.”

  The panel to the front cab opened. The driver dipped his head back.

  “Keep it in your pants you stupid shits, we’re on mission.”

  Ambrose kept his hand over her face. It smelled awful, like he didn’t wash his hands after the last time he wiped his ass. Austin fought to hold what little food she had in her system. She saw her backpack near the front panel. She had two knives in there but it might as well have been in New York with her hands tied.

  “Ambrose, leave her be.”

  “Cool your jets, Osborne, we can share.”

  Osborne stared at him, but Ambrose never turned back. Ambrose kept his eyes locked with Austin. She looked around him, at Osborne silently pleading with him. She hoped he saw her terror and cared.

  “Ambrose,” he said his name like an order. “This is still America. I don’t know about you but I signed up to protect—”

  “Bullshit!” Jase said, still nursing his finger. “She almost bit my hand off. She’s a goddamn feral.”

  Austin wasn’t sure what he meant, but she knew it wasn’t true.

  “That’s bullshit.” She looked at Osborne. “He was touching me.”

  Ambrose shook his head. “This bitch is infected. She ain’t feral yet, but she gonna be any time now. You watch.”

  Osborne looked at Jase who still held his bleeding hand. “So, that mean your homeboy here is infected too.”

  “Fuck that, I ain’t infected!” Jase yelled.

  “I’m not infected,” Austin said quietly. She thought about telling him that she had AIDS, Herpes and he would piss fire for a month, but she was not sure that would slow him down. If he came closer, she was just going to have kick. Her only option to fight.

  “And if she was infected your orders are to kill, not fuck them.”

  Ambrose finally turned to look at Osborne. “I’m sick of your shit.”

  Osborne didn’t get a chance to rebuttal. The radio in the cab came to life.

  “Mayday, mayday! All units to the harbor!”

  Austin fell back into the bench as they picked up speed. Ambrose screamed as he strapped on a helmet. Jase was slower, trying to test getting his finger into the trigger of his rifle.

  “Fuck yeah.” Ambrose put a bullet into the chamber of his AR-15. “Berserker hunt. Let’s go kill some muthafuckers!”

  Austin didn’t believe in God, she had no one to pray to. She prayed not to a god but to the universe. Help me, please.

  ***

  Will could see the panic in his young producer’s face.

  “No, you heard that right, San Diego, I can’t take this. I wish I could take some calls, you know, get the pulse of the street. If I stick my head out the door here at our studio I can’t see goddamn thing. Can’t breathe. Can’t drink the water. Now we can’t communicate. Phones are down. Internet? What the hell is that? We are back to the stone ages of radio here. I love to talk out of my ass but that is all we have. We are isolated, so I probably know less than those of you out there. I don’t know what is happening with the fire, the water or the military checkpoints. I don’t know squat. That said, it is not why I am giving up.”

  Panic overtook Alex’s face. “Hey, Willy, why don’t we play the audio of your interview?”

  “Alex, stop. I know what you’re trying to do. I thought I could just go on. . .”

  There was sorrow in Will’s voice. The bravado that was his trademark was gone. “I know over the years I gave Jeff a mountain of shit.”

  “So, I’m gonna play that audio.” You could hear the fear in Alex’s voice.

  Will pointed at him in the booth. “Big Al, you play that video or cut me off, so help me I will beat your ass.”

  Alex shook his head. He mouthed the words, “Yeah right,” from behind the window. Alex was younger and bigger, but Will didn’t care.

  “Don’t come here trying to help Jeff.”

  Alex took his headphones off in disgust. It didn’t stop Will.

  ***

  Robbins stepped back in from the attached garage. Now that night had fallen he had hoped to find plywood that he could nail over the windows. He would tear down a cabinet if he had to get it done. He took the empty can of green beans and stood over the recycling bin. He laughed as he dropped it in there.

  These stupid things we did to convince ourselves we were being responsible with the planet. Reused bags, buying items in bulk, reducing and reusing. All tricks to convince us we were doing something, but here they were. Reaping what we have sown.

  Robbins tied his dreadlocks back and sat on the couch. He had not sat down in hours. He opened the bottle of water he sat out for himself. He gulped it down. It tasted divine.

  “Big Al, you play that video or cut me off, so help me I will beat your ass.”

  Robbins turned his attention to the radio. Did he just hear the host threaten the producer? There was a pause.

  “Don’t come here trying to help Jeff. No matter how much we made fun of him, he was like a brother to me. We killed him. He’s dead. ”

  Robbins sat up, couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “He attacked us. He was crazy. In life, Jeff was a blowhard, but it was an act. Our listeners like the idea that we are just a couple bros talking ball. It is entertainment. He was not asshole and neither am I. Inside, Jeff was a great guy. Something made him crazy. Something made him wild, first he was sick but it got worse. . .”

  Robbins only half-listened as he turned the pages of his latest notebook that he left on the coffee table. He saw it first at the water plant. He had wr
itten about in Tipping Point. The farms use harsh chemicals and it ends up pushing downstream. He opened to pages he had written on the subject months ago. He ran his fingers over the words he wished he had gotten out to the world.

  ‘No one knows the long term impact of the pollution flowing down stream into our taps. . .’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Martin turned the lights on in his office. He knew he would spend a few late nights here but on this first day he expected to be home by now. He didn’t have a wife and kids, but he was three dates into a relationship with a beautiful young lawyer he met at a fundraiser. He had not thought about Mavish all day. Not one time until this moment. Because he promised her he would call when he got home. He doubted she was in this situation watching her phone, waiting for it to ring.

  He knew that her parents back in India had a marriage arranged for her, and they didn’t want her dating while doing her law internship. He thought they had something, but it was hard to tell. Her beauty was smoldering, and she was exotic, but she was taking her time getting to know him.

  There was a knock on the door. Lisa from communications. Martin smiled and waved her in.

  “We have a problem.”

  “We have a million of them, I assume you are talking about something new.”

  “The mayor, he won’t answer the door.”

  Martin had told him to go lay down, that they would wake him if anything changed.

  “I told him to nap unless we have those Wi-Fi towers working, and we don’t have anything for him to do.”

  Lisa wasn’t accepting that answer. “Martin he didn’t look good, sweaty, anxious. . .”

  “If he looked good right now that would be more of a—”

  The sounds of a struggle came from the outer office. A primal scream, the kind that came from the ferals as Lewis had called them. Gun shot. It thundered through the office. Martin froze, but Lisa ran out the door. Lisa screamed. Martin didn’t want to follow. He wanted to hide under his desk. He didn’t want to know what happened. He couldn’t handle anything more.