Sunfall (Season 2): Episodes 7-12

by Tim Meyer

  Soren tilted his head to the side. “And what would you have me do? If I didn't give them what they wanted, we'd all be dead.”

  Mouth kept his eyes on the road, pretending the conversation never happened.

  “I realized what needed to be done and I did it. And I'd do it again, a thousand times over. Compassion is a weakness and this world no longer awards the weak. You have to realize that. Everyone in this van needs to, or we're not going to make it to Alaska.”

  Mouth chuckled without opening his mouth. “Alaska. You ever gonna tell us how we plan on getting there? Or, you know, what to expect once we get there?”

  “I don't know exactly how we're going to get there and I already told you what to expect. Everything we need to survive.”

  “What do you mean you don't know how we're getting there?”

  It was Soren's turn to keep silent.

  “Holy fuck. You ain't got a fucking clue where this place is. Do you?”

  “Of course I do,” Soren said. “And I don't need you second guessing me. You either trust me, or get out.”

  Mouth leaned forward and looked up. “Well, chiefy; if we don't find cover soon, we're going to end up a nice smoked brisket.”

  Soren checked the dashboard behind the steering wheel. “We need gas before we find a place to rest. Coming up on empty.”

  “Won't be any need for gas if we're fucking barbecue.”

  The drive down the coast had been surprisingly therapeutic; the silence; the clear roads free from apocalyptic congestion; watching small waves ripple across the black ocean tide under night's authority; Mouth experiencing a moment to himself, alone with his thoughts. Since Soren woke, everything went to hell. No more silence. Aggravation. The roads had become more difficult to navigate, abandoned vehicles populating the highway once again. A small crack of light lit up the horizon, killing the comfort the night sky provided.

  “Just drive, Mouth.” Soren said. “And for once in your life, try to stay quiet.” He massaged his forehead, his fingertips applying firm pressure. “You're not helping my headache.”

  February 2nd, 1985

  Sandborough seated himself in the far corner of the cafeteria. He ate his greasy cheeseburger and french fries as if he had all the time in the world. He eyed the table seating six security guards, no more than thirty feet from him. They laughed haughtily at a joke Sandborough couldn't hear, but wouldn't have joined even if he heard it; he wasn't laughing much those days.

  “Whatever you're thinking, forget it,” Aldo Hood said, sitting down across from him. He immediately grabbed a fork and went to work on the fluffy white mashed potatoes and crispy green string beans, shoveling the meal into his mouth as if it were the first in many days.

  “I wasn't thinking anything,” Sandborough told him.

  “Mm-hm.” Aldo wiped a pasty potato smear off his lips. “You have that look about you. That I'm-going-to-do-something-terribly-stupid look.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I wasn't thinking that at all.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  Sandborough glanced down at his half-eaten cheeseburger as if it were the one speaking. “Your sister.”

  The answer Aldo expected.

  “I think you two should keep a low profile. I don't know for sure, but your relationship is gaining notoriety with the wrong people.”

  “Elias?”

  Aldo snorted in an obnoxious way only his closest friends could stand. “Of course, Elias. He speaks of you differently these days. Not as enthusiastic as before.”

  “Doesn't mean anything.”

  “I've known the man for a long time, Alan. Longer than you. You've gotten inside his head somehow. Mixed him all up. Like he... knows.”

  “I told you, I expected him to be suspicious. He'd be a fool not to. He can't possibly still believe she loves him.”

  “Not what I was talking about.”

  Sandborough abandoned the thought of taking another bite of his burger and pushed the tray aside. “I'm all ears, Aldo. Enlighten me.”

  “I think he knows you plan to sabotage his little operation here.”

  Sandborough rolled his eyes. “I don't see how. We haven't really discussed it further than the other night.”

  “You know these walls have ears. Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if he had the entire facility bugged. Our rooms included. You know what a control freak Elias is. Man needs to have his finger on everything.”

  Solid points, but none that sat well with Sandborough. Elias couldn't possibly know the plans; Sandborough barely knew them himself. The plan was in its early stages, only a few ideas being kicked around between interested parties. Nothing concrete, nothing in place. But, Aldo was right. Elias Wheeler had resources and hated being out of the loop. In all probability, Sandborough's room was bugged, his phones tapped the second he suspected Kyra's affair.

  Aldo shoved half of his steak in his mouth. He chewed on it for a few seconds before swallowing. If Sandborough cared about such things, Aldo's eating methods would have embarrassed him. It was a spectacle to furrow your brow at. Within sixty seconds, Aldo had consumed the entire meal and licked the plate clean.

  “You're a disgusting person to eat with,” Sandborough said.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot. It's mostly why I eat alone.” Aldo turned, and scanned the cafeteria. “Where's our buddy Joe?”

  “Back in the lab. Working on a chemical that reverses the effects of Project Sunfall.” Sandborough thought about polishing off the rest of the burger, looked at it wistfully, deciding it was better not to indulge. The grease hadn't sat well in his stomach and he could feel it clawing its way through his intestines. He'd grab a banana on the way out and eat it later. “It's kicking our ass, but I think we're almost there.”

  Aldo waved him off like Sandborough had told him a story he had heard a thousand times before. “Not like any of these machines are ever going to get used. Waste of time, if you ask me.”

  Sandborough narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”

  Aldo smirked. “Come on! No one is going to unleash these weapons on the public. You'd be crazy to do such a thing.”

  “You don't think Elias is crazy?”

  Aldo smacked his lips together. This particular conversation had grown tiresome. “I know you hate the guy and I'm right there with you, especially the way he treats my sis, but the guy isn't that crazy. Not, I'm-going-to-end-the-world crazy.”

  “I hope I'm there to tell you 'I told you so.'”

  “Do you know what Sunfall would mean if someone launched it? If they found a way to somehow localize the effect to a specific region, the results would be catastrophic. You take away the ability to exist during the day, and the world will go mad. Think about it. It's crazy.”

  Sandborough did think about it. A lot.

  “What am I preaching to you for?” Aldo asked, flicking his wrist. “You know damn well what that machine is capable of. You helped design it.”

  Sandborough smiled.

  “Just listen to me,” Aldo said, leaning across the table as he lowered his voice. “Stay off the radar for a bit. With my sister, I mean. Key and I don't need you dying on us. Or worse.”

  “What's worse than death?”

  “Montana. Mexico. A ton of places. Just promise me. You two won't see each other until I think Elias is off your back. Promise?”

  He stared him down for what seemed like an hour. “I'll see you later, Aldo. I have to go back to work.”

  As he stood up to leave, Aldo stretched out and grabbed his wrist.

  “I'm serious. Trust me on this one. Elias is saying some really weird shit, and I think he might do something you might not like if your relationship becomes a little more noticeable. You have other lives and feelings to consider. Not just your own.”

  Sandborough broke free of Aldo's grasp. The advice had soured his already-crusty mood and he wanted nothing more than to head back to the lab, finish his w
ork, and think about something else other than Elias Wheeler and the power he held over him.

  “I'll take it under careful consideration,” Sandborough said, turning and heading toward the cafeteria's exit. As he shuffled past the security guards' table, he couldn't help but notice their heads craning in his direction.

  “Where'd you blast off to, spaceman?” Mouth asked.

  The others were still sleeping. Soren didn't realize he had lost himself within the reverie until Mouth spoke. He didn't know how much time he had dedicated to the memory, but it couldn't have been long; the sun kept itself hidden behind the horizon, although the sky above had turned a moody black.

  “Nowhere,” Soren said, resting his head against the window, looking out into the shrinking night sky. “Nowhere at all.”

  “You seem different since we left the tunnel. Your conscious getting the best of you?” Mouth navigated around some dead traffic, cursing as he almost clipped an abandoned Explorer. “Seeing ghosts in your thoughts?”

  “I see many ghosts,” he replied, closing his eyes again. “None of them from this life.”

  “You're a weird fucker, Nygaard. Guess you already know this, but it doesn't hurt to say I fucking hate you. Brian was my friend. The others were good people, too. You left them with monsters. But I guess it's all for the greater good,” Mouth mumbled. “Ain't that right?”

  Soren opened one eye to the world. “The greater good,” he agreed.

  -2-

  Matty reached for the switches on the cruiser's dashboard, but Brenda grabbed his hand, deterring him from flipping on the lights or a siren that would attract unwanted attention. She shook her head, and Matty's eyes fell.

  It had been an awkward commute, no one really knowing how to carry on from what had happened outside the pharmacy. They needed to talk about sensitive subjects, but with the seven of them crammed into the squad car, it was neither the time nor the place. Tina took the wheel while Matty, Brenda, and Sam squeezed into the front bench. Bob and Jarvis sat in the back, Lilah resting between them, unconscious and getting valuable rest.

  After Matty's mother turned his attention away from the dashboard, he glanced over his shoulder, watching Lilah's chest rise and fall, the only clue she remained among the living. The pink returned to her lips, but her complexion continued its milky-white campaign.

  “She okay?” he asked. The group agreed to head westward, thinking the others would do the same, but Matty lost interest in their travels after they left the pharmacy.

  “She seems stable,” Bob answered. “I think the Flumezanil is working, but we should seek a second opinion.”

  Tina tried to contain the small laugh, but couldn't. “Well, let me pull up to the nearest emergency room.” She looked into the rearview and found Bob's eyes. “Not exactly possible at the moment.”

  Jarvis looked over his shoulder, out the back window. “Looks like we got bigger problems—the big orange is about to rise and shine.”

  Tina returned her eyes to the road, hoping to find a safe place to pull over. The stretch of road offered little except tall oaks and disorderly weeds.

  Sam placed his hand on his son's knee, giving it three comforting pats. “It's out of our hands, Matty. We'll have to wait and see what happens. Lilah seems like a strong girl. She'll pull through.”

  “I'm worried about her,” Matty said.

  “We all are.” He looked over his son's head and found himself locking eyes with his ex-wife. The slightest curls on the end of her lips told him she wanted to smile, and he wanted to smile too, although nothing about their situation implied happiness. “You know, Matty, when you were born, there were serious complications with the pregnancy. Something happened to the umbilical cord and they had to perform an emergency C-section, which the doctors didn't really want to do, because your mother was a higher risk for blood clots. But, the priority was the baby, so you had to come out, regardless of the risk to your mom. We were really nervous, your mom and I. I mean, more so me. Your mom was tough; she kept telling me everything was okay, it'll all work out, but I was a wreck, worrying about what would happen if something went wrong, and I was left alone to raise you and your sister by myself. And not in a selfish way—I only saw the way your mom was with Becky, how she was destined to become this super mom, and how my 'dad skills' were nowhere up to par.

  “Anyway the surgery went fine and out you came, small and beautiful, with no complications. Easy as pie, the doctor said. They kept warmers on your mother for three days to keep her blood flowing, and she never had a clot. But those three days were absolute hell for me. All I could think about was how something had to go wrong and my worst nightmare would come to life—how I'd never be able to raise two kids on my own and how shitty of a single father I'd be. It was all I could think about.

  “But I'll never forget that day. When your mom woke up, she asked how you were doing and I told her the doctors said you were doing fine. I told her how nervous I'd been, how I hadn't left her side the entire time she was sleeping and resting up. I told her how the blood clots scared the shit out of me and how I don't know what I'd do without her.

  “Your mom looked at me and said, 'the worst is over now,'” Sam said, smiling. “And—”

  “The rest is out of our hands,” Brenda said, gripping her son's hand.

  Sam squeezed Matty's knee. “That's right. The rest is out of our hands.”

  Matty smiled like he knew what they were talking about, but the story still didn't quell his worries.

  Behind the cruiser, a splash of lavender soaked the horizon.

  Mouth stared at the gas pump like it had kicked him in the balls. Son of a bitch, he thought. He turned, facing the dreary, yet tranquil, world behind them. They were somewhere outside of Richmond, the city towering over a small cluster of trees. The road they had chosen ran parallel with the major highway intersecting with the city. They avoided major interstates due to the amount of traffic they had seen. Plus, the incident in the tunnel demonstrated that the better option was avoiding human interaction when possible.

  The gas station's property was overgrown with hip-high weeds and grass and dangling tree foliage from neighboring stretches of woods. He couldn't make out the road through nature's unruly behavior, and turned to the convenience store where Soren and the others had gone “shopping.” There was something desolate about the way the world looked now, and Mouth's spirits dampened as he examined the apocalyptic scenery. His mind couldn't help but return to hopeless thoughts, succumb to the notion that the old world was dead with no resurrection in sight.

  Soren exited the convenience store first, gripping a map of Richmond with both hands. He looked at Mouth as if he expected an immediate report.

  “No power,” Mouth said simply, jerking his thumb at the gas pump.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Unless they have a backup generator somewhere, we're completely fucked.”

  The answer didn't seem to jibe with Soren. “I took some plastic tubing from Costbusters. It should be in the red duffel bag in the back.”

  “So?”

  “Siphon the gas out.”

  Furiously, Mouth shook his head. “No, no. Not from the pump. I'd have to get underneath and tap into the tank directly. Which is a lot of work, not to mention dangerous and dirty.”

  “What choice do we have?”

  Mouth pointed toward the city. “I'm sure there's a lot of abandoned vehicles on the highway. If I can find a way to transport the gas—a can or something—I can siphon some from another vehicle.” He glared at Soren, biting his tongue. He didn't want to start an argument, but he needed to vent. “You know, you could have told me you had a hose. We must have passed six-hundred cars over the last two hours. We could have avoided this whole mess.”

  Soren's eyes narrowed. “I forgot about it until now.”

  Mouth breathed deeply. “Bullshit, Nygaard. You don't forget a thing like that. You wanted to stop here. Why?”

  Soren flared his n
ostrils.

  “You know,” Mouth continued, stepping away from the pump. “If we're gonna be traveling buddies, you better start cluing us in on some fucking answers. I know you're lying. Hiding stuff from us. What's the harm in spilling the beans, telling us everything you know? We're going with you no matter what.”

  Slowly, Soren reached into his pocket and retrieved the key he had taken from Joe's garden.

  “Fuck is that?” Mouth asked. “A key?”

  “A key that unlocks a PO box.”

  Mouth's brow dipped. “Fuck's that got to do with anything?”

  “The PO box is right around the corner from here. Within walking distance. Fifteen minutes by my estimation. Inside, waits our next direction.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I'm in a seriously fucked-up version of National Treasure?”

  “I don't know what that is.”

  “The movie? With Nic Cage? Forget it,” Mouth grumbled, swatting the air. “Okay, here's the deal. I'll get the fucking gas. But it's going to take some time, cutting it close to sunrise. We got about an hour before that big orange bastard rears its ugly head. I'll try to get it done, but I'm not risking my skin if I don't think I'll be back in time.”

  Soren agreed.

  “Head to your precious post office. I'll meet up with you fuckers before day breaks.”

  Mouth walked away, toward the highway, flipping Soren the finger before turning around.

  Soren yanked the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. As if he had expected to find the tall glass door locked, he unzipped his shoulder bag and removed a hammer. Taking two steps away, he cocked the tool back and thrust it forward, the words “United States Postal Service” breaking apart, falling to the ground in hundreds of glittery grains. Soren walked toward the door, shards squeaking beneath his rubber soles, and reached past where the glass stood moments before. He turned the lock and pushed the door open with his foot.