by Wade Ebeling
The schoolboy laughter ended abruptly when they saw her in the room staring daggers into them. Maggie’s mouth was agape, frozen in the same rictus of shock that framed Ms. Pearl’s face. Her eyes shifted between the two panting men and the orthoscopic socks of their elderly neighbor, who lay still on the blush pink carpeting.
“What in the world…is going on? Why was she screaming?” Maggie demanded at once, while using her best agitated mother voice.
“This is my place, and…and…well, she was threatening us…with a knife!” Jason offered defensively, piecing together the words without looking her directly in the eye.
“Maggie,” Allen said softly, walking over to lead her out of the apartment. “She went crazy. We were going to help her…We tried, honest. But she just wouldn’t listen…”
Maggie shot up a hand to halt his forward progress and took two steps back from him, nearly all the way to the doorway, like she might turn and run away at any moment. “What in the fuck are you talking about? Help her? Help her what? What did you guys do to her?” she screamed.
Thinking quickly, Allen grabbed a dusty, hand-knitted brown afghan from the back of the floral-patterned couch and threw it over Ms. Pearl’s head and upper body. He then turned to face Maggie, saying, “Jason wanted to use this apartment. We came over here to help her move over to an empty one.” He paused to see if she was buying into the story. “She freaked out on us, and started waving a big knife around,” he added, pointing to the blade on the floor and flailing his arms around like a wild person. “She must have had a heart attack, or something, Babe. She crashed to the ground, busting her head open on the table. Then she was all quiet…just stopped breathing…”
“I checked to see if she had a pulse and everything,” Jason interjected, picking up on the lie like it was second nature. Standing up close the covered body’s head almost seemed to prove this.
”Why where you two laughing?” Maggie challenged. “And why was she screaming like that again?”
“She just flipped out! I’m telling you, it was really crazy. She just lost it. I mean…it was so weird. Then she just dropped dead,” Allen said confidently, with Jason nodding at all the right moments.
“Why were you laughing?” she asked again, softer this time. Maggie searched Allen’s face while he responded.
“I don’t know,” Allen said honestly, and not at all apologetically. He could not hide the fact from appearing on his face that he didn’t really know why he was laughing. “I don’t know what to say…I feel like an asshole, but you didn’t see her go off.” He took a probing step towards Maggie.
Maggie found the answer to be half-assed, but sufficient. She was still upset about them laughing at the poor woman’s fate, and she really could not fathom what was funny about the situation. Eventually she just convinced to herself that the laughter was probably just a crazy reflex, born from a crazy event, and witnessed by two crazy men. “Are you sure she is dead, Allen?” All of the anger in her voice had gone.
“Hell yeah, she is,” Jason scoffed. Once he saw the red haired woman’s piercing glare, he dropped his head again. “Sorry, Mags, didn’t mean to...I already checked, though. No breath, no pulse.” Allen was surprised by the amount of genuine sorrow showing in his voice.
“Come here,” Maggie said, motioning Allen to come closer, and then hugging him tight. Her fingers brushed against the gun on his back, breaking the hug. “Where did you get that thing?” she asked coarsely.
“I gave it to him,” Jason informed her, unaware of the inherent dangers. “Was gonna give it to Mason…” the sorrow was still there “…, but that bitch, Chloe, took off somewhere with her new…”
“Karl?” Maggie asked the obvious.
“Yeah,” Jason spat, the word filled with venom, having just heard his nemesis’ name spoken aloud.
“I’m sorry, Jason. I didn’t know,” Maggie sighed. All of the redness had washed from her face. She was no fan of Jason’s, but he was a good father, and he had gotten a raw deal from the court system and Chloe; who Maggie liked even less than Jason. “You know where they went?” she asked, sincere concern warming the features of her face.
“No…Maybe that damn cabin she was always throwing in my face,” Jason said, the thought dawning on him for the first time; he had been in a drunken stupor ever since finding them missing. “She would never tell me where it was…That bitch,” he finished.
“Hey, why don’t you run back down and make sure that Danny is still okay?” Allen asked of Maggie. He was going to add that maybe she should come back up and go through the food when another, more pertinent, thought came to him, “I just thought of something.” He swiveled his head back and forth between Maggie and Jason to get both of their attention. “Jason, you should start eating your meals with us.”
“Why?” Jason asked, so Maggie didn’t have to.
“Well, we should pool all our food together. If we all ate at the same time we would waste less food and fuel to cook it. That reminds me of something else, propane. I know where to go get a bunch of bottles of it. If we hurry, before someone else thinks of it,” Allen said assuredly.
“That sounds about right, I guess. I already cook for the three of us, and there are always leftovers. We can’t just put them in the refrigerator anymore…” Maggie said, with Jason nodding a happy agreement. “But we can talk about that later.” No one in the room had an appetite at that moment. “Where are you going to get all this propane? The gas station?” she guessed, steering the conversation away from the subject of food, and the dead body in the room.
“Nope,” Allen said mysteriously. “Tell you what, you think you could cook for a couple more?” he asked, a smile widening.
“Hmm? How many more are we talking about?” Corinne asked back, furrowing her brow.
“Just two,” Allen said, now almost laughing again.
“You’re talking about the Brown brothers, aren’t you?” Maggie said, rolling her eyes in semi-fake disgust. “They aren’t staying with us!” The firmness in which this was said meant that it was not going to be up for debate; now or ever.
“If I can convince them to come here, you might want to act a little nicer. We could really use their help. I think we are all going to be targets soon. The more people we have that can shoot…the better.” Allen was trying to say this so she understood that this was not up for debate, either.
“Do you think it’s going to get worse than it already is? The military, or the Department of whatever, is enforcing the curfew and martial law. Won’t they handle it if people start going totally crazy around here?” Given where they were having this conversation, if what he had said was true, different concerns crept in on Maggie. “Who is going to take care of Ms. Pearl?” she asked, with a hushed tone.
“Jason? Why don’t you tell her about the police station…and your neighbors?” Allen requested.
After his slightly embellished story of the police station bombings, and of his neighbor’s burning house, Maggie seemed to warm to the idea of having more people around. Allen helped her to understand that they would need help in protecting themselves. Maggie was still adamant about the brothers not staying in the same apartment, so Jason agreed to let them live upstairs with him. Allen finished the debate by saying that the bed left behind in A5 could be pulled over to sleep on.
Four men could make short work of knocking a penetration into the fire wall and tearing down the useless interior walls; as well as creating some new fortifications in the two-storied refuge. Maggie went downstairs to start emptying Jason’s van into two piles. One pile was of anything that would go upstairs and the other was the food that would go in the Moore’s below.
Allen and Jason rolled up the body of Ms. Pearl in two sheets and carried her down the creaking stairs to the growing crowd. Despite living like shut-ins for the past week, almost every tenant was nonchalantly standing around the courtyard. Word carried quickly from building to building, something had happened up in the old w
oman’s place.
None present voiced any concerns about Ms. Pearl’s death. After Jason attempted to explain the new fabrication to the crowd, Lynn Donner, the single mother of two teenage girls and one ten year-old boy, kept mumbling something about who was going to be kicked out next. Allen called her out by name, asking if she wanted to help bury the body. Lynn quietly said that she had to get back to her kids; all but a few followed her lead. Those who remained, thought that helping dig the hole might endear themselves to Allen and Jason, or, at least, it might get them to forget about the due rent money.
After several shovels and picks were brought out from the maintenance shed, and after a brief discussion over where to bury the body, they got to work. The chosen spot for the grave was just beyond the garden; they all remembered her there anyway. Allen and Jason took care in being the only ones that carried the body. Someone glimpsing the caved-in side of her skull or broken wrist would bring about a lot of unwanted attention.
By the time the work was finished and the tools put away, Jason had a cool beer in all of the workers hands as payment. Those assembled, dispersed into the different directions of the compass, each heading off to one of the four buildings. Allen helped Jason carry up all of his belongings, putting the boxes into his old apartment, then he helped Maggie carry down the surprising amount of self-canned meats, vegetables, and cases of supplement shakes found in his new one.
That night, Danny and ‘Uncle’ Jason played boisterously in the living room while Maggie and Allen cooked a large pot of spaghetti and biscuits for dinner on the grill sitting outside the front door. A jar of Ms. Pearl’s green beans got used as the side dish. They all stayed up late, postponing the plans to go see the Brown brothers until the following day. Right after Jason left to go to bed, Allen scrambled to put in a few hooks in a master bedroom closet to mount the new rifle on. Maggie made sure that he knew she was not happy with the rifle being in the house.
It was already past eleven o’clock at night when Allen set the alarm to four a.m. on his motion charged watch with glow-in-the-dark green hands. He knew that early morning raids were the most dangerous, and he was taking it upon himself to take the first sentry duty. Allen figured he could pack a day bag while scanning out the windows and waiting for Jason to wake up. He made a mental list of what tools he might need for collecting the propane, and any other supplies they might find. It took little effort to clear his mind and fall asleep; his training proving useful once again. After the ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice had been acquired, it never left.
……..
Monday
Murda led his group out of the darkness and into the light of dawn breaking. It had taken nearly a full night of walking to navigate the tunnel. Brush piles had collected into long debris fields inside the passageway, making progress slow and painful. The group took seated positions on the large rocks along the sides of the narrow trough that the concrete had given way to. They emptied their pockets and shared the last of their candy bars and soda pop. Murda told them all to rest up as he scaled the rock embankment to steal a look at the immediate surroundings.
A large industrial complex spread from the north to the east across expanses of parking lot. To the west was a thin strip of woods. Beyond that, there was an apartment complex. The choice was obvious to him, so he hopped back down the rocks to join the rest of the gang. Murda told them they would have to be ready to move again shortly. Soon, very soon, they would need to go looking for more food and water. Only one thing was certain, it would not be a hand out.
Chapter 13
Allen made breakfast for Maggie, Danny, Jason, and himself using the last of the fresh eggs and cheese, which he placed on biscuits left over from dinner. He woke up his family with a delivered plate, so they could eat the food while it was still hot. Danny started wolfing it down immediately, only saying, “thank you” after being prompted. Maggie appreciated the effort more than the actual food.
He told her that she needed to get up and bolt the door gain after he left. She begged him to be careful, after promising to get up in a minute. Allen made a plate for Jason before heading out to go wake him, once he had put on the load bearing vest, day bag, and rifle.
The weak morning light greeted Allen outside. It was just after dawn, and the sky was showing off with a display of warm colors lighting the suspended ash in the sky. This was his favorite time of the day. Nothing stirred beneath the brightening layers of atmosphere, and the day felt like it was made just for him. He paused, with his eyes closed, letting the sun, speckled behind the trees to the east, gradually warm his skin. The humidity, pulled from the moisture in the ground, wetted his breath, warning of the clinging, daytime warmth that would be the order for the day.
He intentionally stomped his way up the stairs to give Jason ample warning. After banging on C2’s door, Allen heard Jason yell something indiscernible from behind the door in C3. Quickly remembering that Jason had no bed in the apartment, it being just his storeroom, Allen spun around. Jason opened the door shortly after, surprising Allen by being completely dressed.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jason said tiredly. “Damn bed is so hard.” Allen offered him the plate of food and the hung-over man greedily took it. “Thanks, man. How do you flush the toilet with no water?”
“Well, you still need water,” Allen replied, laughing at how childish Jason was in some ways. “Was there a bucket in the bathroom?”
“Yes…What, she was just going in a bucket?” Jason asked, with a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
“No…You fill up the bucket with water from the creek in the woods,” Allen pointed east for his benefit. “Then you pour it fast into the bowl, it will kind of flush it. If you do it quick enough you don’t need that much water,” Allen said, leading them down the stairs and over to the maintenance shed where they would collect the needed tools for the day.
Jason was eating too fast to answer, so he just grunted an, “Um huh.”
“Let’s take my truck.” Allen led them to the west parking lot, tools in hand. “Hopefully the brothers still have both of their trucks. If I’m right, we will need them.” They loaded the pry bars, bolt cutters, mash hammers, and sharp chisels into the bed of the charcoal black, extended cab truck that had a matching aluminum cap. After Allen unlocked the truck with two presses of a button on the key fob, they climbed into the front seats. Allen tossed his day pack onto the narrow bench seat in the rear before starting the engine.
It was a short drive that seemed to last forever. Scenes of horror abounded up and down every street. Houses burning or already burnt became the norm, and dead bodies were lined up along the roads and in the yards. Some of the corpses were covered with tarps or blankets, others had their naked flesh exposed to the elements, the bodies puffed and distended to the point where gender could not be discerned. The most horrific part was that some had already burst, yellow-green pus splattered across white concrete and grey flesh. Other than the dead, no one else seemed to be around.
Allen had to backtrack around blocked roads and business parking lots at least half a dozen times. Great patches of homes, and even the occasional strip mall, were just gone, like a giant had come along and swiped them from the land. All that was left of these areas was charred remnants and a lingering stench of burnt plastic and hair. A few criminals hung from trees and the arms of the lamp poles, most of these had small, hand-painted signs hung around their necks proclaiming their guilt. “Looter” branded one, “Rapist” the next.
As they wound their way through the streets of the Brown brother’s subdivision, a deep, eerie quiet descended. The fallen ash on the road was undisturbed here, dulling the rumble of knobby tires against asphalt. Allen stopped at the last curve before the brother’s house would come into view. To continue driving would mean having to drive over several bodies in the street and on the sidewalks.
Exiting the truck after turning it off, Allen said, “Wait here, Jason. Looks like these guys are shooting first.�
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“Those two crazy sons-of-bitches shot all of these people?” Jason asked incredulously. “You think they all came up from the Detroit? They didn’t say shit about that on the radio…”
“Can’t believe anything you hear anymore. Besides, given that they are all black, it kinda looks that way to me. Derek and John must be sniping at anyone they can see from their house. I hope they don’t just shoot me, too…They might have just gone off the deep end,” Allen said honestly.
Allen moved into the yard of the house on the inside of the bend in the road. He strafed along its side, inching closer to the front corner. Making sure to not expose himself, he took a deep breath to yell out, but the rotting stench of decaying corpses gagged him. Allen dry heaved heavily, making him gulp in even more of the foul odor. He turned away from the house, walking back in the direction of his truck, and hopefully, up wind. Jason sat in the cab of the truck laughing as the spittle streamed out of Allen’s mouth and tears welled in his eyes. It took several slow, deep breaths, sucked as if through a straw, to calm the gag reflex.
“Okay, screw that,” Allen managed between gulps.
Jason could not hear him over his own laughter. “What?” he shouted through the truck window, wiping laugh tears away.
Allen just flipped him off, and went back to the corner of the house. Ready for the disgusting odor this time he drew a lung filling gulp, cupped his hand to his mouth, and shouted a nasally, “Hey Derek! It’s me, Allen! Can you hear me?!”
Allen resisted the urge to peek around the corner. The sun was rising behind him to the east, and his head, backlit by the sun, would appear as a nice dark shadow for anyone looking down the barrel of a gun. Two minutes passed and Allen was about to pull the, inadequate to the task, t-shirt down from his mouth to shout again.
Just as Allen prepared himself for another stomach-churning gulp, he heard a faint, “Who’s there?” coming from down the street and around the corner from where he stood; it sounded like John.
