Chapter 15
The next day Kevin and Monique made numerous phone calls to the police station, the courthouse and a lawyer. The phone lines were becoming unreliable, and often nobody would answer the phone. When they did get through, they got little information on the status of Joe’s case. All they knew was that he was being held in the Abitido Jail.
Monique decided that they should check up on Joe’s apartment. They took the baby and the dog for the short hike up Pochatok street. As they approached the apartment, three jets screamed overhead.
“Are those military jets?” asked Monique.
“It looks like it. What do you think they’re doing?”
“I have no idea. It’s not like they can bomb the virus.”
Kevin pointed at the old brick apartment building. “Is this it?”
“I think so.”
“How are we going to get in?”
“Maybe the superintendent will let us in,” said Monique.
“Isn’t Joe the super?”
“Oh yeah. Somebody here must be able to let us in. Let’s try his apartment just in case.”
Kevin pressed the buzzer for 501.
A voice crackled through the speaker, surprising both of them, “Hello?”
“Um…hello,” Monique stammered, “We’re friends of Joe’s, and we wanted to check up on his place. Who are we speaking to?”
“I’m Ayesha. I’m not supposed to let in strangers.”
“Is that a little girl’s voice?” Kevin whispered.
“It sounds like it,” she whispered back.
“Is your Dad or Mom there?” she asked.
An adult’s voice came through the speaker, “How do you know Joe?”
Kevin answered, “Blender? It’s Kevin, we met last week.”
The door buzzed open. Kevin held the door for the stroller and the dog. They took the elevator up to the fifth floor and knocked on Room 501.
A man with a long thin nose and greasy brown hair opened the door. “Kevin, come in. This must be the infamous baseball throwing Monique I heard about.”
Blender, Ayesha and Zach introduced themselves to Kevin, Monique, Olivia and Roxie.
Kevin and Monique sat on the couch and relayed the story of Joe going to jail, the charges being dropped and how they had been unable to find out when he might be coming back.
Blender told them that both of his parents had succumbed to the virus. He didn’t want to be alone, so he came to be with his friend, Joe. He had begun cleaning the apartment while he waited for Joe.
“Then yesterday, Ayesha and Zach showed up,” he said. “They were living here for a bit with Joe before he went to jail. They say they escaped their foster home and took the bus here. Personally, I think they missed me.”
“Not likely,” Zach chimed in. He was tapping at his phone.
“I can’t believe he’s in jail all the way in Commerce City,” said Blender.
Ayesha was petting the dog. “How do we get Joe back?”
“I think I should drive up to Commerce and at least visit him.”
“I want to come too,” said Ayesha.
“It’s too dangerous, dear,” said Monique, gently rocking the baby.
“It’s too dangerous for you too, Monique,” said Kevin, “Things are happening fast out there, I think it would be safer for the baby if you stayed here. Besides, it’s a five-hour trip.”
“The thought of driving for five hours with the baby doesn’t sound like much fun, but you want me to stay at home alone?”
“You’ll have the dog.”
“Why don’t you stay here?” asked Ayesha.
Monique looked at Blender, “I don’t want to impose…”
“Hey, it’s not even my place, but there’s lots of room. You’re welcome to stay and you can help me look after these brats.”
Zach was still looking at his phone. “We can take care of ourselves.”
“One little problem in this plan,” said Kevin, “I’m going to need a car.”
Monique stopped rocking the baby. “What about the neighbour’s blue Jeep?”
The next morning, Kevin went back home and borrowed the blue jeep. He drove it out of Ingerwood towards Commerce City. Although it was late September, it felt like summer was still hanging on. The highway was not busy, and he had trouble finding a gas station that was open. He made it to the Abitido Jail before nightfall. Abitido was a medium security facility that featured double seven-metre high fences. The parking lot outside the administration building was almost empty.
He walked up to the front doors and pressed the red button beside the door. Nothing happened so he pressed it again. Above him a video camera with a green blinking light stared at him. He waved at the camera and pressed the button again.
“How can I help you?” said a voice from the speaker above the door.
“I’m here to visit one of your prisoners.”
“You need to call ahead to make an appointment.”
“I tried; you’re not answering my calls.”
There was a brief pause, then, “Visiting hours are over.”
“Please,” he pleaded, “I’ve driven a long way to see my friend.”
“Sorry, visiting hours are over.”
“When are your visiting hours?”
“Try again tomorrow.”
“When I come back tomorrow, then can I visit him?”
“Not likely.”
Exasperated, Kevin started to walk back to his car. He noticed a man standing outside one of the side doors lighting a cigarette. Kevin walked over him. “Excuse me, can you please tell me what’s going on here? Why can’t I visit my friend?”
The man took a long drag from his cigarette. “I don’t know what to tell you, pal. We are short-staffed. Some guards have died from the virus and others just stopped coming to work. We don’t have the manpower to facilitate visits.”
“But my friend hasn’t even had his arraignment, and the charges were supposed to be dropped. Can they just keep him without his day in court? Is that even legal?”
“It’s a state of emergency, buddy. They can do what they want.” He pinched off the ember and put the last half of his cigarette in his chest pocket. “Sorry, man.”
“Wait, give me two minutes,” said Kevin. He ran back to his jeep and grabbed a piece of paper. He wrote a quick note and handed it the man.
The man took it, opened the door and disappeared into the building.
It was getting dark, and Kevin was too tired to drive all the way home, so he decided to find a hotel. He drove into Commerce City until he found a small motel that was still open. The Manor Motel was a long one-story building with 25 rooms and a reception area at the end. The grumpy, old motel owner would only accept cash. The rooms were cheap, so he didn’t mind the lack lustre service.
There were only four other vehicles in the parking lot including the silver sedan that was parked in front of the room next to his. As he unlocked his door, his neighbour’s door opened and a man with messy red hair walked out. He stared at the ground as walked slowly to his car.
“You, okay mister?” asked Kevin.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled. He got into his car and drove away.
When he entered his room, Kevin realized the low price he paid for the room was barely worth it. The once red carpet was blackened with stains and almost worn down to the floor beneath. The wood panelling covering the walls was warped away from the wall in places. Cracks snaked across the ceiling and white paint was bubbled up in the corner. There was a chain securing the television and no clock radio on the bedside table. The bathroom wasn’t any better. There was black mould on the walls of the shower and he could see some of the grey backing through the mirror. Fortunately, there was cool running water which he splashed generously on his face.
He decided to not take his chances under the bed sheets and lay on top with his clothes on. He stared at the ceiling and prayed. He prayed for Monique and Olivia that they would be sa
fe. He prayed for Joe, that he would find peace. He prayed for himself that he would be a light in a darkening world.
Is this it, God? Is this how it ends? Have you gotten fed up with this sinful world and decided to end it? Or is this part of the Tribulation – the beginning of the end days? Why was I not taken up in the Rapture? What do you want from me, God?
He fell asleep thinking, and praying and asking God unanswered questions.
Kevin woke from the sound of his neighbour’s door opening and closing. He turned the television on, but the few stations that were still running had reruns of old sitcoms. He fell asleep again.
When he awoke a second time, he wasn’t sure what had woken him. He went to the window and opened the curtain. The silver sedan was parked beside his again and the other three vehicles were parked in the same spot. There was a large rusty red pickup truck parked at an angle by the reception.
That’s when he heard something from the room beside him. He held his ear up to the panelled wall, and confirmed that what he was hearing was crying. It was muffled crying, but the man next door was definitely crying.
Is this what God wants me to do – help my neighbour?
He left his room, walked over to the door beside his and knocked. The crying stopped, and he heard the man click in the chain lock and the door opened as much as the chain would allow. The man’s face appeared in the opening. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The man’s eyes were red and wet. “Well, I’m not okay, if you must know, what do you want?”
“I just thought if you need someone to talk to…”
“I don’t need to talk to anyone.”
Kevin could smell his sweet liquored breath. “Do you have any more whiskey?”
“No, just cinnamon schnapps.”
“Care to share?”
The door closed, the chain lock was disengaged and the door reopened again.
“You might need to bring your own chair,” the man said, “These finely furnished suites only come with one chair in each.” His attempt to have a snooty accent was hampered by his drunken slur.
Kevin ran back to his room and returned with his chair. The room was a mirror image of his room. The only difference was that there was someone sleeping under a blanket on the bed. The man, who introduced himself as Lorne offered him the bottle of schnapps. “Sorry, no glasses.”
Kevin put the bottle up to his lips and took a sip. The sweet liquor burned as it went down.
“That’s it?” The man said loudly, “if you want to drink with me, you need to take a swig, not a sip.”
Kevin obliged and the schnapps felt like molten lava. He coughed and sputtered.
Lorne let out a bellowed laugh. “That’s the spirit! Burn, baby burn!”
Kevin took a few breaths to try to expel the hot fumes. “Aren’t we going to wake…”. He pointed to the bed.
“She won’t be waking up for a very long time.”
“Oh.”
Lorne took the bottle back and took another swig. Then he reached over to the desk and grabbed a box of After Eight chocolates. He took the lid off and handed it to Kevin. The cool chocolate mint was soothing.
“Are you married, Kevin?” asked Lorne.
“Yes I am, and I have a baby girl, Olivia.”
“Well I don’t have kids. My Agnes couldn’t have any. It was sad at first, but you learn to live with these things. You adapt. We loved each other, and we travelled lots of places together, played cards and went to parties. We had lots of friends and went to church. I had a good job as a horticulturist. We lived in six different houses in five different cities. We fought, we laughed and we loved. But we always had one thing that remained the same.” He took another swig of schnapps.
“What’s that?” Kevin asked.
“Every Friday night we would sit and talk. She would have her cinnamon schnapps and I would have my After Eight mint chocolates.”
Kevin looked at the almost full box of chocolates. “Is that Agnes in the bed?”
“Yes, that’s my Agnes,” he said.
“She’s not going to have schnapps anymore is she?”
“Agnes got sick a couple of days ago. She had a major headache and couldn’t get out of bed. I took her to Commerce City Hospital, where they said she had the Scourge and would be dead in a day or two. She didn’t want to die in a hospital, so I started to drive her home. It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive, and she was just getting worse. I was afraid we wouldn’t make it home before she died. We stopped at this crummy motel and when she laid down in the bed she seemed to be doing better. Tonight is only Thursday, but she wanted to have her schnapps one last time with me. I left to go get the schnapps and mints, but when I returned, she had already died. So, I pulled the blanket over her head and opened this bottle of schnapps.
There were sounds of yelling and breaking glass outside, so Kevin went to the window to look out. When he pulled the curtain back, he saw a bottle with a flaming rag sailing through the air towards him. He scrambled back and yelled at Lorne, “Get back!”
As he yelled, the window shattered as the bottle crashed through. It hit the end of the side table and exploded sending liquid flame across the table and onto the bed. Lorne and Kevin rolled to the back of the room. The blankets on the bed and the curtains were engulfed in flames.
“Are you okay?” yelled Kevin.
Lorne stared at his wife on the flaming bed, and said nothing.
Kevin grabbed him by the arm. “We have to go, now!”
Just as they were about to run across the flames to the door, another Molotov cocktail crashed into the room. The fire spread across the carpet making it impossible to cross to the door. Kevin took Lorne by the arm, lead him into the washroom and closed the door. Lorne calmly sat on the edge of the tub. Kevin took the lone towel and wet it down in the sink before shoving it in the gap at the bottom of the door.
He looked at Lorne sitting with a lost look on the edge of the tub. “Get in the tub, Lorne.”
He obliged and crawled into the tub and Kevin followed. He closed the curtain and started praying, “God, please help us now in our hour of need. Let us not fall by the hands of wicked men…”
“Wait!” Lorne interrupted. “Are you a praying man?”
“Yes, I believe in God and…”
“Can you do me a favour? That guy that hung beside Jesus on the cross – he asks at the last minute for God to remember him in paradise.” Lorne held one hand to his stomach and the other still clutched the schnapps. “I’m not a bad guy that deserves to die, but I’m kind of like that guy, asking at the last minute to go to Heaven.”
“What do you mean the last minute? We’re not dead yet!” said Kevin.
Lorne moved his hand away from his stomach to reveal a large piece of glass protruding from his abdomen. Blood seeped out and dripped into the tub. “I am.”
“We need to get something to stop the bleeding…” Kevin went to get up out of the tub.
“No!” yelled Lorne. Then in a calm quiet voice – “Don’t bother. I’m not going to make it. It’s okay, I’m going to be with Agnes…”
His breath was becoming more difficult, and Kevin could hear blood starting to fill his lungs as he spoke in a raspy timbre. “I have no one, Kevin. I have no kids and my friends are either dead or old.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys and handed it to Kevin. “I live in a big house on the outskirts of Commerce City. There’s lots of food, its fully furnished and it has a big fenced-in property. I’d like you and your wife and daughter to have it.” His breaths were short and laboured. “The address is on that orange key fob. The alarm code is the year of our wedding nearly 50 years ago – 1973.”
“I don’t know what to say, Lorne I…”
They could hear sirens wailing outside and smoke was creeping through the gaps in the door.
Outside the door the firemen were yelling and spraying water on the fire.
Lorne looked Kevin in the eye as he took his final breaths. Kevin repeated the words of Jesus to the man hanging beside him, “Verily I say unto thee, today thou shalt be with me in paradise.”
Lorne stopped breathing and sagged into the tub.
Chapter 16
The next couple of months at the Abitido Jail went by like a blur. Joe didn’t antagonize anyone else since Rafael. And, since he sucked all the fun out of a good beating by not fighting back, no one else bothered him.
The dark stubble on his face grew into a full beard and he started to lose his little paunch.
His friendship with Benaiah grew, and his wounds began to heal. Joe’s anguish dulled and his depression diminished a little, not unlike their food rations, which diminished a little every week. Many of the prisoners got sick and died from what he assumed was the Scourge. Every time one of them died, two guards would come and put the body on a stretcher and take it away.
One morning Joe and Benaiah sat across from each other eating their breakfast of oatmeal and crusty bread. Benaiah was doing most of the talking, as usual. A large man with a curly moustache stood guard by the door. The cafeteria was half full.
“How long have you been here, Joe? Two months?”
Joe nodded. “Something like that.”
“Why haven’t you been arraigned? Do you even know what you are being charged with? There is something called justice, and what about the right to a fair and speedy trial?”
“Whatever, I don’t care. I’m guilty anyway.”
“That’s for the courts to decide. Your innocent until proven guilty.”
Joe changed the subject. “What kind of name is Benaiah?”
“It’s the kind of name my mother gave me. Its Jewish. I miss my mother. I miss my wife and two children. Did I tell you I have two children? Well, they’re not children anymore, they’re adults now. One of them is married. Nice girl. I’m not sure if they’re even still alive. You know I haven’t even heard from...Oh yeah! I almost forgot. You got a letter.”
Black Flag | Book 1 | Surviving The Scourge Page 9
