by Matthew Fish
I follow the country roads until I hit 24 West… as I pause at the stop sign, I take a deep breath in to calm myself and begin to speed down the small highway.
“You are exceeding the speed limit,” the computer warns as I reach speeds near ninety miles per hour. “Disregard it; however, warn me if another car approaches.”
“Understood…”
It is early evening when the GPS tells me to exit off of 24 West and head north on 11. I feel much more comfortable being back on the country roads. It seems as though my speeding has gained us time. We passed very few cars, mostly farm vehicles. I reached for my gun every time, however I know that it was a necessary evil. I follow 11 north for twenty miles and pull off on Country Road 220. I follow the road for a bit until I reach a driveway that is obscured by tall bushes and overgrown fields of high grass. Had it not been for the map, I would have easily passed it over. I begin to drive down the rough rock road.
“Too much…” Cherie whispers in her sleep.
“We’ll be safe soon,” I say, although I do not know if she is coherent enough to recognize what I am saying.
After rounding a corner, I bring the car to a stop. I strike my fists against the steering wheel. In the orange glow of the fading sun I can make out the burnt remains of a building.
“What’s… what’s wrong?”
“Stay in the car, Cherie,” I say as I put on the glasses and step out of the car, gun in hand. I begin to walk to what remains of the building. The smell of smoke and burnt wood hangs heavy in the air. A layer of smoke, like a fog, hangs low against the evening grass. I’m no expert, but by guessing I would imagine that this happened recently… perhaps, even earlier today.
Before I can investigate any further a low rumble fills the air, quieting the loud drone of the crickets. A car emerges from the tree line and begins to head my way. I begin to run back to the car. A man in a black suit steps out, he holds a gun in hand, but does not aim it at me.
“Ethan Chase!” He shouts as he commands me to stop. “I just want to talk. My weapon is pointed down!”
I turn around to see that this is true. “What do you want from me!?”
“It is time you went home! All of this can be worked out!”
I am a short distance away from the car. I know that this man is a Hunter—I also know that they are not always known for their honesty. “How do I know that you will take us home safely?”
“Only you can return—the girl is too much of threat. She hasn’t been on her meds. Surrender the girl and I promise you can home. Aren’t you tired of running? Don’t you want to get back to your comfortable life—your apartment!?”
“Alright…!” I shout across the field as I prepare myself to do something stupid.
“I knew you’d see reason!” The man shouts back as he begins to approach.
I point my gun at him and fire two shots as I begin to run back to the car. Unfortunately, both the distance and my aim cause my bullets to fire off harmlessly into the dirt causing tiny wisps of dust to fly into the air.
I reach the car as the man begins to fire his weapon.
“Windows down,” I say as begin firing my gun.
“I don’t like this noise,” Cherie says as she plugs her ears and curls up into the seat—at least she is out of range of the gunfire.
Since I lack the accuracy to hit the man, I start aiming at his car. I fire a few bullets until I manage to take out his front tires. He pauses and looks back—he knows that I have just stranded him for a while and that he cannot give chase. He begins to run towards the car, gun firing off rounds. A few hit the door but bounce of harmlessly. I start to wonder exactly where Noah got this magnificent piece of machinery. I put the car into reverse and begin to back away, I take aim at the man one last time and fire—I hit him and he takes a bullet to the knee. A spray of red shoots forth as he falls to the ground… I think to finish the job, but the grass he has collapsed into is too tall. I figure, regardless, C-Shapes now knows that I was here—whether he lives or not. However, he will not be chasing us down any time soon.
I begin to speed down the road—although I do not have a destination. I look over to Cherie briefly, she has completely passed out.
“GPS… I need a town sparsely populated—close by.”
“Routing to Lawson Missouri, arrival time forty-five minutes at this current speed.”
“Any cars on the road…?”
“No cars are currently near out destination.”
As I close the distance, I keep looking back into the mirror. The terrain has turned back into farm land—large open straight roads. I am so worried that at any moment more Hunters will appear on the road despite what the GPS says. I did not expect them—I do not know how they found out about Noah’s hideout. It only strengthens my belief that there must really be some important information in that metal case he gave me… that or he tipped off the wrong person at the C-Shapes Research Facility… either way, from my end, all I can see is that whatever plan he had is quickly unraveling and it puts Cherie and I in even more danger now.
Before reaching town, I take West 196 Street. It seems like more comfortable territory to me. The roads have been pretty much abandoned. Large vines spread across the road making it difficult to figure out exactly where it is at times. I hit a large pothole and the car warns me that the road I am on might be Unstable. I spot a cluster of tall trees in the distance over the high prairie grass. I take a chance and drive down what I think is a driveway. I feel better once I hear the sounds of rock and gravel strike against the bottom of the car. If the driveway is in such a state, then hopefully the house is vacant. I need to get Cherie somewhere safe so she can rest.
I put on my glasses and pull my gun out as I reach for the door. The house looks abandoned from the outside—the paint has peeled and sections of wood are visible beyond the siding. However, it looks structurally sound. The roof is still in good shape. I try the front door, however it is locked. I think of attempting to kick it down. However, I realize that I might need that lock in the future. I make my way to the back of the house, all the windows seem to be intact—another good sign. I find a rusty old cellar door. I pull it up with a little interference from some vines that would rather it stay closed. I set my glasses to ‘identify’ and begin to make my way down the stone steps. I stumble around for a bit in the dark until I find a pull string for a light. I close my eyes and wish for the best as I give it a pull—thankfully, the basement is bathed in a pale white glow. I find cans of food stacked up to the ceiling on wooden shelves. I quickly pass by row after row of bottled water. Perhaps things are going to be alright after all. I make my way up the stairs and into the main room of the house. I turn on the lights—so far my glasses do not detect any signs of life. The living room looks like a normal rural farmhouse… kind of like the one my grandfather had when I was a kid. The house is old, full of cobwebs and dingy white paint and hardwood floors that look rather neglected. An old TV sits in the center of the room next to a fireplace, a plastic covered couch sits in the center. I search the small kitchen, the refrigerator still works. It looks like whoever lived here simply left… perhaps they went Aggro. I search the dining room; a large table with a crocheted stained white cover sits alongside a row of windows. I carefully make my way up the creaky stairs. I find three rooms, all empty. The main bedroom has a large bed in the corner and a chair that faces the window. One of the two smaller bedrooms looks like it was some kind of office, the other, a child’s room. I find a bathroom, complete with a claw footed white bathtub. I give the knob a turn and hot water pours from the faucet. Not only is the house clear—but it seems to be in perfect shape. I place the gun back in my pocket and make my way to the front door.
I rush out to the car and carry Cherie inside of the house. I lock the door behind me as I carry her up the old stairs.
“Did we make it?” She mutters.
“You’ll be safe here,” as I sit her in a chair and attend to the bed. I pull the
sheets and give them a shake. A flume of dust fills the air. I do not know if I’ve really made things any better or worse as she begins to cough.
“Be… safe… here.” Cherie says as she slumps over in the chair. “Nap…”
I carry her into the bed and take out two more pills from the Ibuprofen bottle. I hand them to her as she pushes me away. “Take these and I promise you can sleep.”
She places the pills in her mouth and swallows them before I can get her any water. I shake my head as I place my gun atop the dresser beside the bed. I need to get into town—to get a few things. I figure it would be best if I didn’t go in armed… although I’m not sure if that is the right decision or not. This type of situation has never exactly been in my daily routine.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Cherie, but she is fast asleep.
I take the car and drive into Lawson. It looks mostly like a ghost town. I see a few houses with their lights on. I see a child playing in the yard with a flashlight. Something I haven’t seen in quite a while. As I enter the center of the small town, I find a grocery store. I get into the glove box and pull out some of the paper and coin currency.
I carefully enter the building, noting a little metal sign that says ‘no Unstables.’ I would expect no less.
“Good evening,” I say as I pass an older man with a long beard. He is wearing flannel shirt and has a rifle strapped to his back.
“Evening…” He says as he eyes me.
“You take paper and coin currency?” I ask as I grab a shopping cart.
“That’s about all I take, other than barter—you don’t look familiar. What business you got in Lawson?”
“I had family that used to live in the area… my grandfather. I said as I stop what I am doing and engage in conversation—I have a feeling that there will be trouble otherwise. “I’m originally from St. Louis, but with things getting so bad out there I thought I’d bring my girlfriend and move into my grandfather’s old house. You get much trouble from your Unstables out here?”
“We handle it if we do, we don’t need no Hunters,” the man says as he nods. “We’re pretty remote here so you should be safe. You have any interest in joining the militia? We could use more young blood.”
“Yeah, I could do that,” I say, obviously I have no intention—but sometimes it is best to just go along with it. “I don’t have a weapon though… You get many Aggros?”
“Rifles are in the back,” the man says as he points the far wall. “We get about one every two or three months or so… only about six hundred of us left in the area.”
“I’ll take that over the shit that has been going on in St. Louis any day.”
“I don’t blame ya,” the man says as he nods. He then reaches his hand out. “Elliot James, folks around here call me Eli though.”
“Good to meet you,” I say as I shake the man’s wrinkled, tough hand. “Benjamin McCormack.”
“I’ll let you get to your shopping Benjamin—was planning on closing down within the next hour.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say as I nod. “I’ll be quick.”
I make my way through the medicine aisle and pick up more Ibuprofen and different things I might need such as bandages, and any other type of meds they currently have available. I find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and slip it into the cart with a bottle of shampoo. I find some black hair dye and a pair of sunglasses. I pick up some a few pairs of jeans and some plain colored shirts that I believe are in Cherie’s size. I grab A few flannel shirts and some jeans and overalls for myself. I figure if we’re going to fit in, we should at least dress the part. I pick up a camouflaged jacket and a rifle with a few boxes of ammunition.
I grab some milk, fresh eggs, and a bag of potato chips. I figure from what I saw in the basement we should be able to survive for months—but these are things I know that Cherie likes.
As the man checks me out he stops as he comes to the rifle. “This is a good one… my cousin Jack—he took down 3 Aggros with this rifle. He died a few months back… a drunk driving accident of all things. Even with all this shit going on in the country, we’re still managing to kill ourselves doing dumb shit.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say as I nod. “I’ll make sure it gets some good use.”
“It’ll serve you well—just don’t do anything dumb,” the man says as he releases the gun and hands it to me. I place it over my shoulder. He finishes checking me out and I hand him a large sum of paper currency.
“We meet at the town hall in two days, it’s about two blocks down—can’t miss it. There’s a sign. There’s only about fifty of us, but we can handle things.”
“Got it,” I said as I begin to pick up the paper bags. “I’ll be there.”
“We appreciate it,” Eli says as I head out the door. I shove the items into the trunk and head back to the farmhouse. All the while I have the GPS make sure that I am not being followed—‘she’ informs me that there are no cars active anywhere in the vicinity.
I place the eggs and milk into the fridge and rush up to the bedroom. Cherie is asleep, although she is still shaking. A small pool of vomit is on the floor next to the bed. I go to the bathroom and grab a towel and clean up the mess. I hope that nothing is seriously wrong with her.
I place an arm on her shoulder and she shudders. “Cherie…”
“I couldn’t keep the sea inside…”
“You should eat something,” I say as I rub my hand up and down her shoulder. She feels cold.
“Just water please…”
I take one of the gallon jugs and begin to pour her a cup; she instead—takes the entire gallon and starts to drink from it. She almost manages to finish the whole thing off before she hands it back to me.
“What can I do?” I ask, frustrated. I need her to be better.
“What can I do,” she whispers.
“Just get better…”
She does not answer. She has fallen asleep again.
I go into the bathroom and open up the bottle of black hair dye. I follow the instructions, but to my dismay, when I get out the shower I do not look much different than my picture from the warning broadcast. The old man did not seem to recognize me, so maybe they aren’t broadcasting the info this far out. Maybe, for some reason, they want people to believe that I’m still loose in Chicago with a nearly Aggro Unstable. I remember—fear is a great way to control people. Still, I can’t afford to take chances. I notice that I have a small bit of stubble growing. Perhaps, I should just let it grow.
I pull the car around to the back. Leaving it out front and exposed seems way too risky. I grab a few items from the car, the flashlight, the metal case, the few boxes of the handgun ammo and Cherie’s suitcase. I cover the car up with tarp that I find in the basement. I place heavy bricks around it. I press the alarm button on the key ring. I figure keeping it safe will be my best bet if we ever need to get the fuck out. I then remember to solar panels and cut two strips down with a knife from the kitchen. I am glad I remembered—it would be shame to try and escape in a car that would not run.
As nighttime comes, fireflies emerge from along the high grass… thousands of them. I wish that Cherie were able to see them—maybe tomorrow. If all goes well, hopefully we should be able to stay here for a while. It isn’t so bad here. The stars are bright and beautiful. The house is in better shape than I could have asked for. We have provisions. I just need her to get better—and I think after that, everything will be right on track. At least for our purposes… Noah’s situation will have to wait, unfortunately—especially if he is right.
I lock up the house and make sure it is secure. I bring the rifle into the bedroom and place it beside an old antique dresser with crystal knobs and elaborate carvings of deer. I climb into bed behind Cherie; I place my arms around her. She begins to shake and shudder violently. I try and hold her closer, thinking that she is cold—she feels cold.
“I’m being shocked…” Cherie says as she squeezes my hand tightly�
��almost too tightly.
It then dawns on me… I feel foolish for not noticing it earlier, she is going through withdrawals. Of course… anything that messes with your mental state is going to have withdrawals. I remember from back when I was on Clonazepam… after my parents died. I was only on the medication for a few months and I thought I was going to die, if I hadn’t tapered off slowly there was a chance I could have.
“You’re going through withdrawals,” I whisper as I hold onto her tightly. There is nothing more that I can think to do. “We’ll make it through this though.”
“Make it through this… though.”
11. Withdrawals
The next day I force her to eat some soup. She has a difficult time. After she manages to keep it down, I pour out a couple of Ibuprofen from the bottle and she takes them with a large amount of water. All I can think is—this would have been a good thing for Noah to warn me about. Then again I suppose he had to cram as much information as he possibly could—especially once we had to run.
“Well, you’re fever has gone down,” I say, although I know it doesn’t make her feel much better. She still looks absolutely miserable.
“What have you done to your hair?”
“I don’t want people to be able to recognize us,” I reply, I guess it is a bit more noticeable than I had thought.
“How do you feel today?”
“I feel…” Cherie pauses. “I feel sick… but I feel clearer. My mind is clearer.”
“That’s at least good, I mean that’s something.”
“It doesn’t make me very happy though,” Cherie says as she looks out the window. “The view… it reminds me of my apartment—with the tree right outside the window. That’s strange.”
“Yeah,” I say as I nod. “I noticed that.”
“Is it early?”
“It is actually late afternoon,” I say as I sit beside her. “You’ve slept for nearly twenty hours.”
“Is this where we are supposed to be?”
