Almawt Virus Series (Book 2): Days Since...Xavier [Day 853]

by Wilson, Robert

  “Where you headin', little lady?” Grant asked.

  “I'm not a lady. I'm a girl,”

  “Oh, I'm sorry. What's the story with them books?” Grant chuckled.

  Xavier rolled his eyes at Grant’s horrible attempt at a joke.

  “I'm just doing what they say. Liberry to the gym. Nuthin' more, nuthin' less.”

  “Well then, you have a wonderful day.” Grant waved her on.

  They waited for her to move beyond their sight. The rolling of the wagon’s wheels gradually faded. Xavier and Grant looked at each other. Grant threw his hands up—defeated and unsatisfied—as Xavier began to walk off, but he couldn’t give up on him.

  “You know…” Grant sighed. “Actually, you're right. I can't make you do anything you ain't wanna do, but hear me out. You at least owe me that.”

  Only because it’s you. Xavier stopped and turned toward Grant. “What?”

  “This is our chance. If we play by the rules, we gotta shot.” Grant approached Xavier and rested his hand on his shoulder. Xavier backed away, and Grant's arm dropped to his side. “I know this don't feel right to you, but someday maybe things will be back to normal, or at least close to it. Trust me. I ain’t ever led you wrong.”

  “It wouldn't be like this if Dad was here.” Xavier’s eyes fell to the floor.

  “That’s why you’re not seein’ straight, boy. This whole thing’s too personal for you. Things prolly would be different if he was here, but he’s not, and he didn't leave another choice but to move on.”

  Xavier looked up and scowled at Grant.

  “I’m not sayin’ anything bad about your dad. I know things got worse when he left. Not a coincidence either. Your dad's a good man.”

  “I know, and when he returns, we'll be back in charge.”

  “Then let's wait for him. For now, we’ll just act like everything’s good. I mean it.” Grant perched his hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “Hang in there. You know, if you don’t like what happened to Sam, then don’t become another Sam. We need to play it smarter.”

  “I get what you’re saying, but this whole arrangement goes against everything my dad built. He wouldn't have wanted this. They're doing what they want, turning this place upside down.”

  “Why you say that?”

  “Look where we’re heading. Nothing’s sacred to them. Principal Ricard's office was untouched like my dad wanted it until they came. Now Haverty took it over. What happened to not disrespecting the past? Doesn't that matter anymore?”

  “You’re right. On that one, you’re right. I just need— Let's see where this takes us. You need to swear you ain't gonna say nothin’ in there. Just hang back.”

  “Alright,” Xavier nodded—his jaw bulging. I’ll play nice for now.

  …

  As Xavier and Grant sat inside the waiting room, they could see the changes. The diplomas and certificates, obtained through Principal Ricard's years of public service, were now stripped from the walls. His family photographs disposed of—gone forever. The metal placard that read, Victor Ricard, no longer hung above his door. The memorial that Xavier's dad preserved in his honor was destroyed.

  “See what I mean?” Xavier whispered. “Everything’s gone. All of it.”

  Grant turned his head, eyeing the assistant that sat just outside the door to the office. “I know. Just…”

  “This isn’t right.” Xavier was careful to keep his voice low. “I still remember him getting sick. He was the first person I knew that caught it.”

  “I knew the man. His boy came home from Syria, and that was it for the man. They say that’s how he got it—that his boy gave it to him.”

  “He'll see you now,” Haverty's assistant announced.

  Xavier and Grant stood from their seats and made their way into the back office. The first few steps into the room felt awkward. This isn't right at all. His dad would be disappointed if he knew.

  But he couldn’t say no, not after what happened to Sam. No simply couldn't be an answer to a request from the Second Alliance. His heart raced. His nerves were bent. The office still had the same basic feel, but Haverty's presence overshadowed his memory.

  The large oak desk seemed diminutive, better suited for a dollhouse when compared to Haverty’s size. His clothing—stressed and exhausted trying to compress his girth. One could almost see through the material straining to hold together over his immense frame. A tan fedora, several sizes too small, covered the back portion of his head—his patchy hairline receded underneath it. He was sweating, simply from breathing. Those beads of sweat oozed in and out of his neck rolls, pooling at the top of his shirt, unable to squeeze between his skin and cloth. He blotted himself with a handkerchief.

  “Sit down. Eat.”

  “Thank you,” Grant said, as they both complied with Haverty's order.

  The plates that sat before them were filled with food, slightly picked over by Haverty, but still much more than they were accustomed to.

  “Don't be shy. I ain’t bitin’.”

  Xavier gave pause. One bite would be surrendering to the Second Alliance. Refusal could be construed as defiance. Damn it! He was hungry. Play it safe. They began to shovel the food into their mouths.

  “Y’all my guys. This here town's gonna be... well, the talk of the town.” He snorted. His potbelly rocked the desk as he laughed. “Get it?”

  The two guests nodded agreeably. “Sorry. We’re just hungry, that's all,” Grant responded.

  “Hell, I bet two meals a day ain't too popular right now. Didn't have a choice though. Y'all were gonna run outta food if the change didn't happen.”

  A cigar rolled around in between his stained teeth as he tongued it from right to left to right. His grin was menacing. His demeanor was unassuming. It was difficult to peg him. Under more favorable circumstances, Xavier might even like him.

  Haverty raised a mug to his lips and spit—a few flakes of tobacco riding the brown goo to the bottom. Xavier cringed, almost losing his appetite. “How rude of me. Lemme get this outta here while y’all eat.” He opened a drawer to the desk and set the mug out of sight. “How is it?”

  “The food? It’s great.” Grant said while nudging Xavier as discreetly as possible.

  Xavier looked up from his plate. “It’s good.”

  “Good, Good, Good. Glad we could get off to a good start here.”

  Haverty lifted himself from his chair and walked to a small table against the wall. He poured himself a shot of clear liquid from a glass bottle. Putting it to his nose, he winced then smiled. The liquid raced down his throat as he threw it down. “Damn!” He dabbed at his skin with the handkerchief again. “I got some big plans fer y’all,” Haverty continued. “Fixin’ this place right up. Fixin’ how things are done here. I’m thinkin’ everyone’ll be happy with it.”

  He moved just behind Grant and patted his shoulder, knocking him forward with his large hands. Grant coughed, expelling an uncomfortable something from his throat. He breathed deeply—all was okay.

  “Gas is gettin’ scarce ‘round here. Not even really sure how y’all still have it, but yeah, I need ya both to be leavin’ here shortly. Goin’ on up to the capital.”

  Xavier stopped eating and looked at Grant with wide eyes. What is he getting us into?

  “Don’t worry son, there'll be an S.A. Guard escort. Be takin’ State Route 50 into downtown. It’s all S.A. territory. Y’all know where that is?”

  “Yessir,” Grant said, nodding enthusiastically.

  “And, you?”

  Xavier shook his head. “Route 50?”

  “River Road,” Grant whispered.

  Xavier nodded.

  Haverty moved over to the maps that hung on the wall and pointed to River’s Edge Academy. “Here we are, ‘n’ this the way y’all be headin’.” His finger followed a bold line that snaked alongside the Ohio River. “And this here is the end of the line.” The finger rested on Paul Brown Stadium. “Y'all ain’t gonna find any more them Bengal t
igers down there. Just the S.A., recivilizin’ the world.”

  “What're we goin' there for?” Grant asked carefully.

  “Like I said, that gas ain't gonna last much longer.” Haverty sat back down in his seat and folded his hands. “Through our deal with you folks, we gotta protect y'all. And in return, we expect food ‘n’ supplies. For us to get the most outta this place, the S.A. needs it to be efficient. River’s Edge’s important to us. Gonna be our western post for awhile.”

  Grant nodded.

  “Sittin' before me right now, or so I hear, are the two best maintenance guys in town.”

  “Damn straight!” Grant pounded the desk with his fist. The plates jumped. Xavier almost laughed, but his mouth was full.

  Haverty chortled. “I ‘preciate that fire. We’re thinkin’ a couple of solar panels’ll go far here. I’m needin’ both of ya to take a look ‘n’ see if they can be put to use. I’m no electrician, but the two of ya are, ‘n’ I’m expectin’ y’all to get them workin’.” Haverty looked intently at Grant, silently insisting on their cooperation. “Gonna be able to save a lot more people from this hell if we’re efficient like that.”

  “We got it. Won’t even be a problem. We gotta few solar panels here that were salvaged from some highway construction signs. We're familiar with the stuff.”

  “These ain't little makeshift solar panels. They're the big ones.”

  “That should make it easier.” Grant looked at Haverty.

  “Good, Good, Good. Y’all be leavin’ within the hour. Finish up with them lunches ‘n’ get your stuff together. Grab up a bag with a change of clothes ‘n’ such. It’ll be one night in paradise. Nice shower ‘n’ dinner’ll be good for ya. Paul Brown’s nice.”

  “How long’s the walk?” Xavier asked.

  “It’ll take about three hours or so. Give or take. Sure there’ll be a stop to eat ‘n’ what not.”

  “That's not too bad, I guess.”

  “We appreciate the big lunch you gave us.” Grant said.

  “It may be y’all’s last.” Haverty laughed out loud from behind the desk.

  Xavier once again looked to Grant, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

  “I’m just foolin’. We’ve held Route 50 for awhile now. Y’all be fine. Hang back ‘n’ enjoy the views.”

  What in the world is wrong with this guy? How can he joke like that?

  “Grab up your plates ‘n’ head on out. Be in the courtyard no later than two. Simon’ll be the escort. He’s good. Listen to him ‘n’ he’ll keep ya alive. Alright?”

  “Yessir!” Grant said. The two guests stood from their chairs and shook hands with Haverty. “We'll be ready.”

  “Don't let us down here. Seriously, a lot ridin' on y'all's trip. Make sure those panels work. I mean it. Make it work. And Xavier, there'll be a big surprise at the end for you, son. Now go on, get outta here.”

  Grant and Xavier lifted their plates from the desk and left for the resident quarters to finish their meals. Grant continued eating as they walked the hallway. His plate rested on the top of his chin just below his lips as he bulldozed each bite into his mouth.

  “We still have an hour before we have to go,” Xavier said.

  “Maybe you do,” Grant said, as he managed to get the words out between bites, “but I gotta look at some things before we check out these panels. Gotta make sure this will work.”

  “Are you heading to the shop then? Do you need me?”

  “Nope, I’m good. Make sure you pack up your gear.”

  “What’s my surprise?”

  “No idea. Lucky you though.”

  “Yeah...” Lucky me.

  “See boy, Haverty ain’t so bad.”

  “Maybe...” But I doubt it.

  “Courtyard at two o’clock. Do what you gotta do, but don’t be late.”

  …

  The sleeping quarters were empty. Xavier maneuvered his way past the cots and personal belongings of his roommates. It felt eerie with everything set up and nobody around—like the abandoned houses where so many supplies had been plucked. That moist smell that lingered in the room while it was crowded was essentially gone. At this point though, it was probably impossible to eliminate.

  The strong afternoon sunlight poured in through the skylights in the old classroom. It hit right on Xavier’s footlocker as he sat down to finish his lunch. When the plate was empty, he set it on the floor beneath his cot.

  It wasn't often that Xavier got a break during the day. The constant repair work and maintenance usually prevented it. The trip he was about to embark on kept running through his mind. He ran his finger along the floor pattern trying to remember the route to downtown. Three hours seemed to be reasonable enough—five honeycombs by the floor’s scale. He bobbed his head. You can do this. Armed escort and Grant. Nothing to it. He eyed the tip of his finger. It was covered with a gray film. He wiped it off with his shirt.

  Xavier stood up from the footlocker, entered his combination, and lifted the lid, propping it open with a broken broom handle that he kept inside. Occasionally, a pain in his fingers would remind him to fix the tension on the hinges, but he never did.

  He stuffed a set of clean clothes and his toiletries bag into an old book bag. I should change while I have the chance. He grabbed another fresh set of clothing and slid into them. Much better. The ticking of his clock perked his ear. He hadn’t meant to leave it out. I can't believe one of those asshole Guards hasn’t snatched it up. He wrapped it in a t-shirt and placed it carefully inside the footlocker.

  The contents of the chest were sifted through over and over again. Xavier didn’t want to forget anything. Of course, he didn’t want to overpack either. It would be hot and the extra weight would drag at him. He loaded what he needed—That's just enough to get me through a night—and set his bag on the ground next to the cot and secured his footlocker.

  His cot was inviting. He lay down. The cracks in the ceiling kept his interest as he tried to discern objects from nothing like clouds in the sky. His blinking became heavy. The whites in between his eyelids became less and less until they were gone.

  “Dad! She’s throwing up again.”

  “I know, Xavier! Hold on! Yes, sir … I understand, but ... Yes, I know … Please, I’m just trying to get a hold of my wife … I understand, but that’s already been done … I’ve already left three messages.”

  “It’s everywhere!”

  “Xavier! I’m on the phone! Get her another bucket or something! No, not you sir … Her name is Janet Finch. She’s a doctor … Please try and find her … Yeah, I’ll hold.”

  “Dad! She looks terrible. She’s white.”

  “Get her another wet cloth and put it on her forehead.”

  “She already has two.”

  “Xavier! Just do it!”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  “Is she still breathing?”

  “Yes... Mom isn’t coming. Can’t we just take her to the hospital?”

  “I already told you the hospitals aren’t taking people anymore. There isn’t enough room. Your mom’s probably on her way back already.”

  “Yeah, right. She broke her promise. Again.”

  “Xavier, don’t you dare. Your mother went to help peop— Yes, sir. I’m here … You can’t find her? What do you mean? … Well, where the hell is she? … I know you don’t know … Is she still working there? … You can’t tell me? Why not? … Sir, please. I need to know wher— He hung up on me…”

  “Dad.”

  “What!”

  “I don’t think she’s breathing.”

  “What the hell, boy!” Grant barked at Xavier.

  “What?” Xavier sat up and rubbed his eyes, “Crap, I fell asleep.”

  “Get yourself up! We gotta go now! Somethin’ told me to come and get you.”

  “Sorry. I really didn’t mean to. Are we late?”

  “Not yet, but real close!” Grant clapped his hands at Xavier. “Come on! Come on! You got everythin
g you need?”

  “I’m pretty sure.” Xavier got up from his cot and flung his bag over his shoulder. “Change of clothes and my bathroom stuff. Do you think I need anything else?”

  “That’s all I grabbed.” Grant shook his duffel bag. “Not sure we’ll need anything else.”

  “Then we’re ready?”

  “Born ready. Keep your head on a swivel and listen to the S.A. Guard. What he says goes. Don’t forget it.”

  Xavier nodded.

  “Listen to him and we’ll be good. You nervous, boy?”

  “A little bit, but I'll be fine.”

  “Come on!”

  Grant’s steps were quick, entirely rushed. Xavier traipsed just behind him—his mind preoccupied with the dream. He was tired of being let down. His mother and father guilty of the charge—the death of his sister the sentence.

  It was getting harder and harder to trust anyone. Xavier wanted to with Grant, but his optimism seemed so blind. His unwavering hope made Xavier wonder if he even knew the world had ended. To him, it seemed that the Second Alliance could do no wrong when clearly their practices were questionable. What is Grant seeing that I can’t? Am I wrong? This journey could be the luck—that change Matt’s always talking about.

  The distance between him and Grant continued to draw out. Get your head in the game. Xavier’s gait grew to a jog as he worked to close the gap between them. He noticed the duffel bag Grant carried seemed heavier than what he let on. The arm holding it was tense. The right side of his body seemed rigid. He was off balance. Grant's arm didn't swing. Curious, Xavier broke into a sprint, catching Grant just as he opened the door to the courtyard.

  “Let me carry that for you,” Xavier said, as he reached for Grant's duffel bag.

  “Boy, don't get so grabby.” He smacked Xavier’s hand away. “I ain't too old to carry my own gear.” Grant rose up onto his toes, looking down on Xavier jokingly. “You ain't so big yourself anyways.”

  Xavier laughed. “It looked heavy.”