“It's like everyone just got up and left.” I remark.
“Or they were taken.” Roger retorts.
“What if it's true? What if the government is taking everyone to those camps?” Grace asks.
“I don't know but this is really creeping me out,” I reply.
We continue through the park past the playground. The swings slowly floating back and forth pushed by the wind.
“How could this happen and we not hear about it? How does word not get out?” Grace asks.
“I don't know. I mean you would think some news agency would be reporting this stuff.” Over replies.
“What did I tell you, it's all part of the same deal, the government controls the newsman. You think they would let something like this get out. Scaring everyone into not trusting them?”
“Ya but what about the internet?”
“O ya, like, hey my family got kidnapped by the government hash tag prisoner of war.” Roger retorts.
“You see that?” Over asks. We turn to where he is pointing. A trail of dried blood on the sidewalk.
“Jesus Christ,” Roger exhales, following it down the path. Reaching into the parking lot on the other side of the park where it suddenly stops.
“What happened? Did they shoot people who tried to get away?” Grace asks almost whispering to herself.
None of us answer her we try to take in the incredible almost zombie apocalypse like scene.
“Look!” We follow Grace’s finger as she points to a warehouse. Its door swinging softly in the wind as a man lays at the bottom of its frame half in half out. Roger takes off at a dead sprint. Going against ever cell in my body I follow close behind. I can tell he’s dead from twenty feet away. Roger leans down checking his pulse.
“He's dead… What the fuck is going on!? He looks like he’s just some regular guy!”
“I don't know but I don't think we should stay much longer.” Over says impatiently. Roger steps over the man into the building. “What are you doing?” Over hisses.
“I'm checking it out, someone else could be hurt.”
We follow, walking through the lobby of the warehouse past a double set of the kind of doors you see at a butcher counter. It's hot, with the sun hitting the metal roof, the entire building acting like an oven. An unbearable wrenched smell fills my nose. Like a bologna sandwich that was stuffed into a hot pocket then left in a gym locker for a month.
Hitting the lights we are greeted with what looks like about fifty dark grey almost blackish boxes about eight feet long, four feet high and four feet wide.
“O God what is that smell?” Grace asks.
“Now I know I’ve seen these somewhere,” Roger tells us looking to the boxes. Walking up to one just left of the door he flings it open.
Eyes, pale blue lifeless eyes peer back to us. Their owner a man in maybe his mid thirties with short blonde hair and a terrible soul patch lies motionless.
“FEMA” Roger mutters almost talking to himself. “They’re FEMA boxes, all of em. Saw a video on the internet about em.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Over cries.
“Ya know those conspiracy people, his name escapes me. But they’ve been talkin bout em. Some people down in Texas got asked by the government to let em keep boxes on their land few years back. All they did was keeps boxes there. Thousands of them that looked just like this.”
“What are you saying, the government did this? You know how crazy that sounds?”
“Well if you believe the internet then yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Plus who the hell else could have a warehouse full of coffins? Looks like it’s either go to FEMA camps voluntarily or be drugged there and possibly shot in the process.”
“We need to go this is too real.” I interject
“But where?” Grace asks. “We can't go home can we?”
“Canada?” Over asks.
“Canada? Huh I don't know, maybe just the country. Some place off in Montana till this all settles down.” Roger suggests
“So we just need a car right now. We need a car and a way out of Chicago” Grace says the fear in her voice incredibly clear.
“Well we could take our pick from the parking lot back there but... I don't know. Should get more out of the city before we start driving maybe? You think?” I ask.
“Could probably pass by military better,” Roger says.
“I agree, we would draw more attention driving down the street than walking. We could get out of the city before it's dark and drive through the night.”
Grace nods in agreement as we pause waiting for anyone else who might have a sudden epiphany.
“Ok, lets head north. We’ll still stick to the alleys and back yards until we get outta the city” Roger orders.
CHAPTER…
Roger starts at a brisk pace out of the warehouse. The sounds of gunfire distant from the southeast. Walking four blocks in dead silence, as if having a conversation would bring the entire war on us.
“I wonder where Mike is,” Grace says. An instant shot of pain flows through my head just under my left eyeball.
“Uaaahh I don't know he was just in basic he's probably still training.”
“Do you think he's safe?”
“He's probably safer than us right now,” just the very notion of him takes every bit of my strength to not show my jealously of her even mentioning him. “Hey I’m sure in a few weeks this will all be over and we’ll see him again good as new.”
She only nods watching her feet as we walk. Oblivious to the migraine she’s just given me, the stinging pain behind my eyes growing.
I hear Graces stomach growl, like a whale at the bottom of an empty ocean. She looks to me “I might be a little hungry,” she says. The left corner of her mouth giving the slightest upturn.
“Hey we should get something to eat. I’m starving and so is Grace,” I yell to the others.
“I hear ya, you see that grocery store up the street?” Roger asks.
I look down the road to a Target. “You think we’ll be able to get in there?” I ask now fully feeling my hunger creeping through.
“Well one way to find out I suppose.”
We walk up to the store, the doors locked with a no trespassing sign taped to them.
“Ha who wasted their time putting that sign up,” Over laughs as he picks up part of a cement parking block.
“You think there are alarms?”
“Well if there is I’ll just get my flat screen T.V some other time,” he laughs as he chucks the brick at the glass. Bouncing off, it spiders but stands firm. “Well that’s a bit anti climatic,” he frowns as he picks the brick back up.
“Jesus just give it to me.” Roger hisses.
“Whoa, whoa look out we got a badass over here!” Over jabs handing him the brick.
“That’s right!” He retorts then focusing on the glass says. “It’s the bottom of the ninth”. Roger smiles as he sets up like a baseball pitcher. “Seventh game of the world series, Roger an all star player and all around athlete has the possibility to end the game and win the World Series. With one man on third he checks the wind”…
“For fuck sakes just throw the damn thing,” Over yells
Roger cracking a broad smile as he winds chucking the brick as hard as he can. “Umph!” he gasps as he sails the brick straight through the window. “He’s done it, he’s done it! Roger a world series champion!” Cupping his hands around his mouth as to make crowd noises, “hhhaaaaa, hhhhhaaaa the crowd goes wild!”
“If I find any Ambien I’m gona grind up in your food,” Over laughs at him.
“Are we ready?” I ask.
“I think so unless Roger is not done celebrating.”
“Can’t I even get a good job or anything?”
“Hey I broke it most the way you just finished it off.”
“O, we woulda been out here a good hour waiting on you to break it.�
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“Bullshit.”
“Hey don’t be mad that I’ve got a ninety mile per hour fast brick!”
I turn leaving them to argue. Grabbing Graces hand we jump over the glass into the store. The muggy air hits me as we walk pass the junior clothes section.
“Jesus it’s hot in here,” Grace gasps.
‘Ya I’m guessing the freezer stuff isn’t good any anymore.”
“O my god!” Grace yells letting go of my hand she runs off.
“What are you doing?” I yell chasing after her. Losing her in between the granny panties and sports bras. Half expecting her to jump out from one of the racks of clothes and scare me. Roger and Over finally make it to me.
“Where’d the girl go?” Roger asks.
“She took off, who knows what she’s doing.”
“Oh, well can I ask you something”? Over asks.
I nod.
“Now I almost broke that window right? Roger finished it off but I broke most of it.”
I roll my eyes, “yes, yes Over you broke most of it.”
“There ya see. You ain’t nothing without me. You might have been the closer but I was the opening pitcher that went nine and two thirds scoreless innings.”
Roger rolls his eyes. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”
I hear one of the freezer doors slam shut halfway across the store.
“I think we found her,” Over says. We walk towards the freezers.
“She better not be eating any of that. No way in hell it’s still good with the power off.”
Turning to the freezers we see Grace attacking a gallon of chocolate chip ice cream with a spatula.
“Hey, I’d be careful you’re on your way to a pretty bad brain freezer,” Roger laughs.
She looks up startled, “Jesus I didn’t see you there, guess the freezers are on a different power source or something.”
“You save some for us right?” Over asks.
“Yep about a hundred gallons. I think we should just stay here for the next hundred days. We’ll just live on ice cream and play with the water guns all day.”
“That sounds pretty tempting,” Roger says pretending to mull it over.
“Will what are you waiting for? It’s chocolate chiiiipppp!” she goofily sings. Her beautiful face smiling as she waves a spatula full of ice cream at me.
It’s like we’re back home. Back at McDan’s. I squeeze Roger, Over and the whole city of Chicago out of my brain through my ears and nose. It’s just us. Just me and Grace with each step towards her I feel myself more and more entranced. Like the ice cream with each step I feel myself melting. Melting into a powerless probably unhealthy but so delicious puddle. Taking the spatula she gives me the part with the bigger chocolate chips.
“Good right?” She smiles
“It’s better than good.” I grab the bucket from her.
“O, o now that that takes some balls!” she laughs
“I’m sorry but it’s my favorite.”
“O hell no!” She grins reaching for it. I pull it away.
“I don’t think you understand what you are doing,” she threatens.
“O what, are you gona do beat me up?” She stands there trying to make up her mind. And in a second she takes the spatula slapping my leg surprisingly hard.
“Holy shit, that hurts!”
“O you don’t even know, that’s just the beginning!”
I attack this time reaching for the spatula dropping the ice cream it’s almost melted goodness spilling onto the floor mixing in with the white and black speckled tile. She tries to pull it away and we struggle for a second as I slip on the ice cream.
A startling crazed “Ahhhhahaha,” from down the aisle.
I turn to the crazy sound. A man stands there. He looks to be in his forties, with blonde, thinning hair that’s wildly unkempt, a patchy shallow beard with distant piercing blue eyes that even when they look straight at me they still don’t seem to see me. He’s nearly butt ass naked, his slight beer gut of a stomach layering over whitey tighties with only what looks like hospital booties to accent them.
“Oooo nnnooo, you kiddies gots some ice cream ons ya!” he squeals out in a soft high pitch voice.
“Can we help you?” I ask.
“Gona be attracting bugs in here, you and your sticky situation,” he lets out a startling high pitch laugh.
“What’s your name?” Roger asks firmly.
“Were you gona pay for that? Cause I don’t thinks you was gona pay for it.” He continues ignoring the question.
“There isn’t any one here, it would just go bad.”
“Ya that’s bad, stealins bad. You should feel bad. Should call them coppers on yous, you an your sticky clothes.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
His eyes detach from us looking over our heads. I turn but no one is there.
“Whatcha think coppers? We arrest them for theiven and stickyin up their clothes?” His eyes fixated towards the end of the aisle as if waiting on a ghost to answer.
“These sticky clothes they’s been stealin an attracktin bugs. Remember what mama said? When mister kitty died cause we’s huggin em too hard? Had to throw it out cause it’d be attratin bugs in the house. Mama hates bugs. Dear lord in heaven, just thinking bout bugs makes me all itchy too!” He says as he adjusts his tighty whities with a snap of the spandex.
“How’d you get here?” Grace asks
“O’s I was just sittin in my room eatin my cereal, cheerio by cheerio. They’s packing everybody up. Takin em someplace safe, they musta forgot me. Dam white coats. Dam white coats always be pushing me around saying it was to make me safe. Dam sinners is what they is. Mama always kept me from em, said them white coats is a bunch of sinners.”
“Where’s your mom?” Grace asks.
“Mama?” He asks with a squeak in his voice. Like we caught him off guard. “Mama, she’s in hell.” He says as if talking about the weather.
“What do you mean?” Grace asks.
“Well what you thinkin I’m meaning bitch, she’s gone straight down to hell.”
“Why?”
“Cause she’s a sinner, sinner just likes you. She always talked bouts why God hates sinners and then I walk into her room one day just sinnin away.”
“What was she doing?”
“What’s she doin? Well one summer’s day I was sittin in my room playin with the coppers when I hear mother yellin the lord’s name in vain. Just yellin it, curses too… Sinner,” he spits out. “I goes up to see what the commotion is all abouts, thought she’s been in trouble so had the coppers come with. Open the door and there she is. Her an preacher man theys wrestling! Least think they was, they was getting each other all sticky! I yells mama yous getting preacher man all sticky! She hollers at me, telling me to get out. Now I couldn’t’ do that. Not when she was possessed by the devil like that. Not when a servant of the good lord himself was gonna be getting all sticky. Bugs was gona start crawlin on him, they’s gona bite him. How’s a preacher man suppose to preach and tell peoples abouts the lord with all them bugs on him? So I stopped her.”
“How’d you do that?”
He freezes like he had to reboot to answer. His head snaps up as he looks behind us again. “What’s that coppers?” He asks. “It’s what? It’s closin time? Well shoot where’d the day go? You busy bessies best be getting outta the store cause theys closing up!”
“What happened to your mother?” Grace asks again
Lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “The stores closing you best be getting outta here before they turn the lights out on you!” The man starts to creep slowly towards us. His eyes fixed on Grace.
“We aren’t going, we have to get food.”
“Yous gona have to come back tomorrow when we open. We gotta close up, get home to our mamas.” He continues to slowly walk towards us his eyes never waver from Graces, never b
linking. He gets about fifteen feet away.
Roger pulling his gun, “that’s close enough I think.”
“Ooooo you don’t wants to be doin that boy George!”
“And why’s that?” Roger asks.
They man’s eyes break from Grace’s. Shoving his hand into the back of his underwear, pulling it back out in the shape of a gun. “Now I didn’t want to have to do this.” His eyes widen, his mouth curtailing into an almost impossibly large smile as he slowly continues to creep towards us.
“Hey! I said that’s close enough!” Roger’s voice giving way to a slight tremble.
The man flings up his hand pointing it directly at Roger. “When they turn the lights out on you, your sins are the only things that know the way through the darkness. Now coppers get em!” He screams twirling around into a dead sprint, and runs into the toy section laughing manically.
We stand silent and stunned.
“Do… do we go after him?” Grace asks
“Not unless one of us has a PhD in crazy, what we need to do is get the hell out of here. I’ll head to the packaged food they should would still be good,” I offer.
“That sounds good, I’ll go find some bowls and silver wear. Grace could you come with probably best to have some sort of buddy system with that guy here,” Over asks. Grace nodding in reply.
I head to the end of the aisle towards the can goods. Turning the corner my feet slipping out from under me as my head bounces off the tile floor now covered in, uhh I think an odd mixture of ketchup and soy sauce. I look down to a painting going most of the way down the aisle. Like so many pictures on my fridge at home, a mural about twenty feet long. It’s, it kinda looks like a story. The first part a woman and a small boy standing in front of what looks like a church. Smiling little red ketchup smiles, holding little red ketchup hands. A little farther down, it’s what looks like a man added to the picture, the child in the middle they are all smiling and holding hands.
“O LORD WHO ART IN HEAVEN!” I hear the crazy SOB shouts from what sounds like halfway across the store now. Trying my best to ignore the chill going down my spine I continue down the condiment art show.
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