Running back inside, Jon had one last place to look. Beside the dining table, he unlocked and opened the door to the garage. He brought out his phone and turned on the flashlight to show one car. The blue Chevy. Dad’s black Ford was missing. Fuck! was all Jon could think and say. FUCK! The fucks turned to heavy breaths. Panic. His chest burned, and his stomach churned as the realization that he was alone came crashing down on him like a tidal wave, an unstoppable tsunami ten times as hard-hitting as the feeling in his grandparents’ cellar.
He threw his phone into the dark garage. It made a snapping sound as the casing crashed to the oil-stained cement. The light whipped around before settling, facing upwards to the rafters where spiders spun webs.
They’re dead! They’re gone! Oh, God! They’re gone! Oh, God!
Jon’s breath paused as his tears let loose. His bottom lip quivered from both despair and anger, anger at being too late. A lump in his throat choked him. Dizziness fell over him. He fumbled back into the kitchen and began to wobble as his feet began to carry him like unstable stilts to the front door, stumbling him back into the morning outside.
The silent houses all around the cul-de-sac didn’t move or make a peep to Jon’s screams for his parents. They sat staring like statues. Franklin Court was empty, except for one disheveled young man whose yelling was making him even more disoriented. All around him the world spun like a whirlpool, sucking him in and drowning him deep into the heartbreaking end to his journey.
Images flashed in Jon’s head. White Haven College. Emily. The Mirchs. Grandma. His parents. Memories. Their brightness blinded him until he dropped the rifle and collapsed on the grass of his front yard.
The green grass was wet from the rain that was now picking up to its full descent from the skies. His face, glasses and all, smacked against the moistness with a hard THUD. Alone. I’m all alone.
“NO!” Jon banged his fists on the ground, grass staining his hands. Wet dirt flung on his palms. POUND. POUND. Tears streamed down his red, hot face. All by himself, Jon wept as he lay in the yard.
How many days had it been since it all started? Jon didn’t know, and now he didn't care. It was all over. He was too late. His friends, grandparents, and now his parents were gone. All gone. Nothing more than memories now. Ghosts. Why couldn’t Jon do anything? Why couldn’t he have saved them? Perhaps it was destiny. A brutal fate set in stone.
Why? Why did this all happen? How? There were a thousand questions but only one that could be answered: what would become of Jon?
Chapter FORTY-SEVEN
A Rude Awakening
Flashes of light came and went. Jon’s dizzy head bobbed as he floated across the cul-de-sac. Someone or something was carrying him, but he had no strength to lift his head up to see what. He thought he heard voices. A woman’s, then a man’s. He couldn’t understand what they were saying.
The cul-de-sac flashed before Jon’s eyes. Here then gone as the voices faded in and out.
The world became black.
***
When Jon woke up, he wasn’t floating or met face to face with the wet grass and dirt from which he made his bed. Instead, the sight of tan carpet beneath white lights lingered below his wobbling, tired head.
Electricity?
At first, he thought he was in a dream, some subconscious journey back into his basement when times were better. But as he blinked and focused his eyes, Jon found that it was the real, waking world.
It wasn’t until he looked up and tried to cover his eyes from the blinding white light that he realized his hands were taped together around the back of the chair he woke up sitting in. His legs were also taped around the chair’s legs.
What the hell? Where am I? Jon thought as his movements against the tight tape brought his focus in. It felt like duct tape. He could feel the hairs rip from the skin on his arms as he maneuvered himself.
The room he was in displayed other white lights that sat atop tripods. They each faced a wall, each appearing to have pinned up pieces of paper with black-typed text on them. Jon couldn’t tell what they read as the harsh brightness forced his eyes into a squint. It was easier to look down at the carpet instead.
There was no sound other than the faint noise of rain.
The carpet. Jon looked back up at the walls, trying to make out the shape of the room. Familiar. He thought for a moment and attempted to hop the seat up and down as the tape gripped his wrists and ankles.
The chair creaked as his body thrust upwards in the spotlight. The chair’s legs began to shift and lift from the carpeted craters as the wood inched to the right. His glasses bounced off and on his nose. Jon turned his head as far as he could to see stairs behind him, which were identical to the stairs in his basement. Same location and all. The pieces of this place were coming together in Jon’s mind. I’m still in the neighborhood. It couldn’t be his own basement, but he was in a Franklin Court basement, nonetheless. Jon knew this because he used to go over to his friend Dylan’s house at the front of the neighborhood. His house had a similar layout.
He jumped the chair again, trying to turn around to face the steps. Wiggling and lashing around inside the prisoned seat, Jon jerked the wooden chair too much. He fell sideways with his head only centimeters from the wall. Thud.
“Shit!” he cried out. Now he was screwed. His hands twisted. His feet shook, but the tape held strong, wrapped tightly around him as his shoulder dug into the carpeted floor. The white light lit up half of his face. More of a prisoner than ever, Jon lay with his heart rate rising.
Whose house could I be in? There was no one else outside. . .
Then, a noise. A thud. It sounded like it came from the opposite side of the room where the storage closet would be.
“He’s awake!” a girl’s voice shouted from behind Jon’s fallen body.
“Alright, alright. Keep it down, okay?” a man’s voice said in reply.
Stepping in front of the white light, two figures walked in front of Jon. Shadows were looking down at him. Jon’s eyes could make out a tall man and a girl who was less than half the height of the man. She was holding a crossbow or bow and arrow of some sort.
They both knelt and picked Jon up, chair and all. He let out a groan as his body tilted up and back into the spotlight of the white LED.
“Jon, right?” the man asked in a deep voice.
Jon gave a weak nod in reply.
“We’re Dominic and Rae Cooper. We live across the street from you. Do you remember us? You and I went to Hillcrest together. My sister was a sophomore when we were seniors. Do you remember?” the man, who must’ve been Dominic, asked.
Jon didn’t have the energy to compose a thought or a memory. “Where are my parents?” was all he could muster.
The two shadows looked at one another and then back at Jon.
“We don’t know where your parents are. I’m so sorry,” the girl, Rae, said. She spoke like she didn’t want to disappoint Jon.
“Jon, can you tell us what happened to you? Have you drank any bottled water recently?” Dominic asked.
Jon shook his head as he stared at the carpet, completely and utterly disinterested in revisiting his experiences. Not another second could be spent going through the story again, especially not with these mysterious former high school classmates. He didn’t have a clue when he’d last drank bottled water. Who cares? “I just want to know where my parents are. If you don't know, just kill me.” He said it like he meant it, which he did.
“Jesus Christ, we’re not going to kill you! We’re glad you’re not sick, we need you alive! There’s a lot we need to tell you. I’m sure everything’s been a living hell for you like it’s been for us, but I think you just need some time to rest and let us help you the best we can,” Dominic said. He sounded genuine. “But we need to know, is there anyone in your house that drank bottled water? Anything like that? Are you able to remember?”
Jon shook his head again as anger showed itself in his mind. What the hell is this
guy on? He let out a sigh. His head was a drum, and his mouth was dry. All this talk about bottled water wasn’t helping his thirst.
“I need some water,” Jon said. “Hand me one of those bottles of water, please. Untie me and give me some water.”
“No, no, no! Rae, can you get a glass for him, please? And bring down the scissors,” Dominic said.
“Sure, I’ll be right back,” Rae said with her soft, feminine voice.
Why not a bottle? They’re right fucking there! What the hell is going on? But Jon was too weak to say it out loud. Talking took too much energy now and he couldn’t spend it on his frustration.
Rae handed the crossbow to Dominic and left from beneath the spotlight. Jon could see her hair bouncing on the back of her neck. Her scent was sweet as she passed by. Fruity and pretty. Something girly.
“We have to be careful with what we drink now, Jon,” Dominic said, still in the shadows with his weapon aimed down. “It blows my mind how people like us have made it this far without sipping the tainted shit.”
Jon’s swallow felt like walls of sand scratching the sides of his throat. He didn’t respond to Dominic as he was still confused and angry.
Rae came down the steps behind him after a few seconds. Glass of water in one hand, pair of scissors in the other. Her feminine scent emanated as she passed by Jon. Strong sweetness. She handed the scissors to Dominic who placed the crossbow on the floor.
“We’re sorry we tied you up like this Jon, we just had to make sure you were ok. I’m going to cut you lose, alright? Can I trust you?” Dominic asked as he got down on his knees. His facial features were more visible now as Jon could see his dark, buzzed hair that connected to a black beard. A young face behind the scruff. He didn’t recognize him right away.
“You can trust me, I’m not gonna touch you,” Jon replied.
Dominic snipped off the wrist tape. It peeled off Jon’s skin, pulling brown hairs off his arms. Then, his legs were cut free. Jon rubbed his wrists and took the glass of water from Rae. Sink water. Nice. It flushed the desert from his gullet. Nothing was better than wetting his whistle.
“He seems to be normal. No aggression,” Rae said.
“Guess we hit the lottery with Jon,” Dominic said, now standing up.
“Thank you.” Jon took another hardy sip from the glass.
“We should head upstairs to the kitchen. It would be better up there, so we can tell you what we know,” Dominic said. “Rae, could you please?”
Rae nodded and walked over to the other light in the basement that shined onto the wall of printed papers. When she entered the spotlight, Jon could see her beautiful dark-brown hair that draped over a white and black striped shirt. Jean shorts. Smooth legs. She grabbed some papers off the wall and bent over to pick up cardboard boxes. She turned back toward them. Rae looked clean and unharmed. Beautiful. Brown-eyed and beautiful, but Jon had no energy left to get swooned by a woman. He could see her attractiveness but had zero motivation to go beyond that.
“Let’s go,” Dominic said, turning off the light. He did the same with a spotlight above Jon. Now, all three of them were in darkness. “Are you good to walk?”
“Should be,” Jon said. He got up from the chair. His legs were weak, but he managed to straighten himself out. He followed Dominic and Rae up the steps as he held his glass of water.
Chapter FORTY-EIGHT
Answers
The rain was steady.
Dominic and Rae’s forest green and white camouflage-painted crossbow sat loaded on the kitchen island next to Mr. Barnes’ Remington.
With a depressed tone, Jon explained his journey from the last few days at White Haven College to finding his way back to his lonesome home. He left out the details of the Mirchs and his grandma, not wanting to re-open the scars that were yet to start healing. He couldn’t face all of that anymore. No parents. No friends. No one. There wasn’t an ounce of energy left in his tale.
“I think you may feel a little better after we tell you what we know. It may not satisfy you after all you’ve been through, but it will be enough to give you an idea of what caused this,” Dominic said.
Grey light streamed in through the windows and onto the piles of articles and printouts. Jon, Dominic, and Rae sat at the dining room table above bold and black headlines that were scattered everywhere. CNN. New York Times. FOX News. They all put their biases aside and seemed to have the same message.
IS THERE SOMETHING IN YOUR WATER? STICK TO TAP, NEW STUDIES FIND.
BOTTLED WATER NOT AS CLEAN AND FILTERED AS YOU’D THINK.
Jon’s eyes gazed upon the headlines as they went from mainstream sources to mysterious sites with more sensational titles. Uncensorednews.com. Uncutnews.com. FreedomNewsFighters.org. There were even sites based outside of America. Jon wondered how they even got their information.
ENGINEER AT MAJOR WATER COMPANY EXPOSES HAZARDOUS PARASITE IN SPRING WATER.
DEADLY PARASITE FOUND IN CALIFORNIA SPRINGS.
WATER COVER-UP IS COSTING LIVES, YOU COULD BE NEXT.
MAJOR WATER BRANDS ARE KILLING PEOPLE AND NO ONE IS DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT.
“Have you heard of anything like this before, Jon? Do these articles ring any bells for you? Maybe you saw something on the news before all of this went down?” Dominic asked, pulling up different articles.
In the light, Dominic looked more familiar to Jon. He wore a plain undershirt stained with his sweat. Below, he had on jeans with brown hiking boots.
With the buzzed hair and beard, Dominic didn’t look the same from high school. As far as Jon could remember, Dominic was the lanky dude who took AP Bio or Chemistry classes with him. Mr. Schlansky’s class? Perhaps they had a lab assignment or two together. They weren’t close, but Jon remembered he was a pleasant classmate. He never started or wanted any trouble. Kept to himself most of the time.
VIDEO DETAILS HORRIFIC WATER PARASITE AND WHAT IT’S CAPABLE OF.
CEOS REFUSE TO STEP DOWN AMID BOTTLING CONTROVERSY.
MAINSTREAM MEDIA BOUGHT OUT TO NOT COVER BOTTLING METHODS OF MAJOR CORPORATIONS.
WATER BUG COULD REACH GLOBAL PROPORTIONS, NO WORKABLE CURES IN SIGHT.
“I can’t say that I have. I’m not really one to watch the news all that much. All I saw was the rioting in New York and the plane crash in Los Angeles,” Jon said.
“Oh, there were more plane crashes than the one in Los Angeles, believe me,” Dominic said, rubbing his head, overwhelmed. “I don’t think you even know the half of what’s going on. We’ve got a real mess on our hands.”
Jon took a reluctant sip from the glass. The headlines struck him and caused his thoughts to pick up speed again like an old motor with a fresh tank of gas. He fetched a Ritz cracker from a box and popped it in his mouth.
“I had to print out everything I could find online. When the power got knocked out, I was burning some videos onto a DVD. All we have now are the printouts from across the internet. Everything has to be saved and archived for the future. Do you understand?” Dominic was serious.
Jon nodded. “How were those lights powered in the basement? Batteries?”
“Exactly. Gigantic D-cell batteries,” Dominic replied. “We’ve got enough to last us for a little while as long as we use the lights sparingly.”
“Why did you shine it on me?” Jon asked.
“I’ll get to that in a minute,” Dominic replied.
Jon took a slow sip. Christ. “Tell me what’s happened.”
Dominic let out a breath. A sigh. He shuffled through the articles that Rae helped organize.
You could tell they were siblings. They had the same eyes. Dark and striking, almost black. Rae’s hair was a tad browner than Dominic’s locks. Jon couldn’t remember much of her when she was a freshman in high school. He might not have met her before.
Together, the siblings piled the pieces of news to form a chronological series of events.
“Alright, let me see where I should begin. There’s a lot to cover.
” Dominic held a pile of papers and slapped the edge of them on the dining table, straightening them out.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Jon said, swishing the water around in his dirty, unwashed mouth. “Take all the time in the world. I’ve got no family to see or places to be.”
Neither Dominic nor Rae said a word in response. Their faces painted the picture of understanding. It was as if they were saying, sorry, we’re in the same boat.
Maybe they lost their family too, Jon thought. At least they have each other. I have nothing left. Jon’s eyes watered, but he quick blinked the tears back into their ducts.
“So, we’re not exactly sure when this all started. The sickness that is. There’s no patient zero or anything like that that we’re aware of,” Dominic began. “As far as it’s been reported, sometime earlier in April is the period we’re working with.”
“Ok,” Jon said.
“Are you familiar with how water is taken from springs and bottled?”
“Somewhat, I guess.”
“Well, are you aware that most of the water we drink out of plastic bottles comes from California?” Dominic pushed over a picture of the state itself beneath the headline DROUGHT RIDDEN CALIFORNIA CONTINUES TO BE STRIPPED OF NATURAL SPRINGS. The map of California was colored with different shades of red. A key above labeled the shades as different levels of drought. Pink: moderate drought. Lighter red: Severe drought. Red: Extreme drought.
Jon shook his head.
Dominic’s finger lay on the extreme drought shading of the central coast. “Right here is where most of the major beverage companies get their groundwater. They use California groundwater for their products. As you can see, the region is crippled by drought. Extreme drought.”
“Right.” Jon was intrigued.
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