“Was our…friend here, maybe?” I asked.
Naomi shook her head. “We haven’t seen him since the day he opened the doors.” It’d taken our food and grocery requests via the intercom, but that was it. We hadn’t even seen how it had disappeared that day. Everyone who followed the alien back into the gym watched as it gradually vanished into nothingness.
“Damn aliens and their technology,” I grumbled. “Damn us for writing about them as science fiction. Giving them ideas to create the actual gadgets and devices we write about.”
“Now you’re sounding like David,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “We did tell the alien not to come back unless it was time to let us free or if they had David’s family,” Naomi reminded me, staring back at the plank of wood.
We were interrupted by a sudden, resonating boom in the distance and the ground moving beneath our feet. Naomi and I grabbed each other for support as we tried to discern the source of the shaking. Simon darted into the safety of my tent as Naomi and I ran outside to get a glimpse from the clear dome.
A colossal, bronze cloud of dust and debris expanded in the distance. We stared out of the dome, squinting. I couldn’t tell what the cloud was, or what it had been before.
The shaking stopped as abruptly as it had started, and Kisana and her family joined us. “What was that?” Marie asked, clutching her husband’s arm.
“Another building exploding,” Naomi said, eyes still focused on the dust cloud. “I think that was the city’s government office building. But I can’t be sure. We’re too far away.”
“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” I offered, sharing an empathetic glance with Marie. “We heard something like this one of our first nights here.”
“Did they do it?” Joel asked, joining us in squinting outside at the rising dust cloud.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.” The memory of last night’s dream sank into my brain again. It was too much of a coincidence to see an explosion the day after dreaming about one.
Everyone inside the gym filed out to watch the debris cloud. David joined us at Naomi’s side. “Here they fucking go again,” he said, his gaze anxious.
“Maybe it was a gas leak inside the parking garage,” I said. “A car’s gas tank could have been leaking this whole time, and something sparked.”
He shook his head, and then fiddled with an end of his mustache. “Doubtful. It’s more plausible that the simplest explanation is the real one, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but…They’ve kept us alive. They’ve killed others, yet kept us alive. What sense does that make?”
“There were people in that building?” David asked.
“No. Well, we have no idea.” I stopped myself, embarrassed that I had mentioned my dream like it had been real. I stared out at the dying weeds just beyond the scope of the dome. A dusty breeze swirled around them. “They said they were testing our architecture before. Why would they continue? Why a government building?”
David frowned. “I wish I knew.”
We stared out at the gigantic dust cloud for another ten minutes, watching as it slowly dissipated into the San Francisco air. We didn’t say anything to each other, and even the children were silent as they clutched the arms of their parents. When the cloud finally disappeared enough for us to see beneath it, all that remained was a pile of rubble. It faced the sky like a defeated warrior after a hard-fought battle.
People began to head back into the gym for food or shelter from the view before us. Everyone seemed deep in thought, their steps unhurried. Matt joined David, Naomi, and me at the dome’s sloped edge, shuffling his feet with every step.
“Do you think you guys could ask the aliens for some exercise equipment next time you talk to them?” His voice was hushed, as if he were afraid to ruin our solemn mood. “You know. Some dumbbells, barbells, a workout bench, and maybe one of those manual treadmills or stationary bikes—stuff like that.”
David nodded, and then averted his gaze from the dissipating cloud. “Yeah, definitely. That’s a great idea, Matt. We need to stop sulking so much about this shit. Exercise equipment would be great.”
Matt nodded and left the three of us to our silence. Everyone probably had figured us “council members” needed to convene. I didn’t know what we were supposed to convene about. There wasn’t a damn thing we could do about buildings exploding around us like fire crackers.
I sighed, and then faced David and Naomi. “I had a stupid dream last night,” I told them. “It was about a shed full of people that were being kept captive like us. Only they were left to their own hunger and thirst and violent ways until the aliens finally just chucked a bomb into their shed and blew them to smithereens.”
“And you think that’s what happened today?” Naomi asked quietly.
I shook my head. “I dunno. I just thought it was too much of a coincidence. I don’t know what to make of it honestly.” I went back to staring out at the pile of rubble.
“It is a bit strange,” David admitted. “But what sense does it make for the aliens to want to control your dreams? Unless, of course…” His eyes met with the hard cement beneath us suddenly. “Unless they meant it as a warning.”
“‘Be good or else we’ll fuck you up’? Is that the message?” I stared at him. My voice had an edge to it. I wasn’t sure whether I felt anger or fear churning in the pits of my stomach.
“I don’t know, Sam. I’m just thinking aloud.” His eyes met mine briefly, and then retreated back to the wall of the dome.
“We don’t even know what they want from us,” Naomi added. “They haven’t told us to do anything in particular, or act a particular way. It’s like we are just hamsters running around in wheels to them. What could they possibly gain by trying to threaten us?”
I shook my head again. “Hell if I know. This is all so fucking ridiculous.” I then turned away from them. “I’m gonna go find my cat and get us something to eat.”
Walking back into the gym, I realized just how separated everyone had become now that we had more room. Each tent had at least five feet between the next, and most of the built-in benches weren’t used for sitting anymore. Rather, they were now division lines. We’d asked for fabric camping chairs last week, so people were using those to loaf around in. It was quiet inside, the mood sullen.
My eyes swept around the room, looking for Kisana. I didn’t see her anywhere, but then again, it was a Sunday. Sundays were always family time for her, even here. She told me she hated the Sunday tradition, but never quite knew how to tell her family that.
I found Simon in a tight ball in the corner of my tent. I coaxed him out and fed him, rubbing his ears as he relaxed. As I walked toward the food pantry, Marge stopped me. She wore a simple cotton house dress and a worried expression. “Sam, may I have a moment?”
“Of course,” I said, taking a seat on a nearby loafing chair. I didn’t know whose it was, but it didn’t matter. I gestured to the chair next to it.
Marge took a seat at the very edge of the chair and took a deep breath. Her brow furrowed. “Bruce isn’t doing well. He needs to see a doctor.”
“What’s wrong?” She expected me to sit up suddenly, frantic, but it didn’t faze me much.
“He hasn’t been able to get up out of bed today. He says he’s too tired. I had to fight with him yesterday to get up. His head always hurts him. I’ve been giving him the liquid morphine he asked for, but it doesn’t seem to do much for him. I’m worried.”
“He’s been getting pretty weak, I know. How is his breathing?”
She wrung her hands in her lap. “Not good. It sounds very labored. He sounds congested.”
I nodded, and then met her worried gaze. “I’m sorry, Marge. I told you his cancer had come back. That since he wasn’t undergoing treatment, there was a very high chance of it spreading. His immune system is too weak to fight anything off, especially given all this…stress.”
“It was…in his mouth before?”
I sta
red down at the arm of my chair, picking at a loose, white thread. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to face her directly. “Throat too. The doctors suspected that if it were to spread, it’d strike either his lymph nodes or…his brain.”
Her voice wavered. “Which is it?”
“I’m guessing his brain, due to the head pain. He had some head pain last time, but morphine and even Vicodin were generally strong enough to take care of it.” I reached out and put my hand over her clasped palms. “The congestion is probably pneumonia. He had a bad case of it last winter too.”
My touch seemed to relax her. “Can we get antibiotics for it?”
“We could, but I don’t recall the name of what he took last year.”
“I know of a couple. Could we get them all and try them, see which helps?”
“Sure. He might even remember. He’s good with that stuff.”
“Yes he is.” She clasped my hand between both of hers.
“This whole experience has been tiring on him. I’m sorry, Marge. I wish there was something we could do about the cancer here, but there isn’t.” I finally raised my head, meeting her watery gaze. My heart clenched unwillingly. “There’s no way he’d survive chemo and radiation again.”
She didn’t speak for a moment. Her eyes drifted down to our stacked hands. “No, don’t be sorry,” she said, smiling weakly. “I’m glad to have gotten to know him, no matter how much time we have left.”
“Good, I’m glad. I know he appreciates you so much.” I returned the weak smile. “Thank you, for everything.”
“He’s a good man. He’s a bit…stubborn but beneath it all, he’s a good man.”
“I know, Marge. I know.” How much has he told her about our relationship and how strained it’s become? I didn’t have the heart to ask her right now.
“How much time do you think he has left?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“Hard to say. How’s his sugar been?”
“Not good. Even with the insulin.”
Bruce hadn’t been on diabetic insulin since he was finishing his last rounds of chemo and radiation. His levels had remained stable with pills. A week ago, his levels spiked again, so we decided to get some. We had the aliens deliver a whole refrigerator’s worth of it. Luckily they had found an old fridge that wasn’t quite defrosted all the way, so it was still somewhat cold.
“That’s partially because of the pneumonia,” I said. “And partially because his body’s working overtime trying to fight the cancer. Increase the insulin. Get some antibiotics. Keep him extremely hydrated, and we’ll see.” I paused, realizing that she wanted more of an answer than that. I wished I had some inkling. “He might have anywhere from a week to a couple months, depending on if we manage to fight the pneumonia off or not. He might eventually slip into a coma.”
“You forgot one thing,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“We shall pray.”
“He’s not very religious, just so you know.”
Marge clasped my hand again. “I know. We’ve had this talk. He’s okay with it as long as it does us some good. That’s enough for me.”
“Well, okay then.”
“Thanks, Sam,” she told me, standing up. “You’ve been the best daughter to him.”
“Is he awake now?”
“No, not when I left him, at least.”
“Let me know when he wakes up? I need to see him, but I don’t want to disturb his rest.”
“Of course.” She gave my hand one more squeeze, and then tossed me a quick smile as she flittered back to Bruce’s tent.
I sat alone in the fabric chair. A part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to speak to him when his body was undergoing so much stress. He’d just ask me a bazillion questions that I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t a fucking doctor. I didn’t know what Marge would tell him and what she’d keep from him. It was best to leave that decision up to her.
Food didn’t sound good to me anymore. I wanted Kisana to walk up to me with a smile lighting up the corners of her face, helping me forget this entire day had dawned. But family days lasted until the sun went down. I stood up and ambled out to my tent. The tent fabric rustled beneath my fingers as I opened the flap and then closed it again. I stared at the zipper. Reading and napping didn’t appeal to me either.
I wandered over to the puny half-dead tree that was near my tent. Kisana and I had decided to try and bring it back to life. We watered it regularly and even asked for some potting soil and vitamins. We dug up some of the dry, hard soil and replaced it with the potting mixture.
I sat down on the ground next to the tree and put my head in my hands. Simon wandered over and purred at my feet.
A tiny pearlescent winged bug landed on a dry tree branch, and started crawling toward the heart of the tree, seeking sanctuary from our weird, artificial air. I wondered how the bug got inside our dome, and debated squashing it. I was worried it might eat the tree’s leaves that barely clung to life.
One bug couldn’t do much harm. It might be special, like a super-bug, with the ability to somehow penetrate our invisible shield and seek out our pathetic little tree in the midst of such a tragic city.
Chapter 14
“What if we’re the only people alive in all of San Francisco?” Kisana asked me a few days later as she tossed a chunk of warm potato in her mouth.
We sat together, side by side, eating boiled potato wedges on the table near my tent. Naomi had cooked up an entire box of overgrown potatoes the aliens had come across. After cutting off the rotten parts, there hadn’t been much that was salvageable, but what she had managed to save was pretty tasty, especially when mixed with some ranch seasoning mix.
I shrugged. “I guess we figure out how to rebuild. Get people to move back into the city.”
“That’s assuming we’re even alive still by the time the gas dissipates.” Kisana’s gaze was centered on a dust cloud just outside our barrier. Another tall building exploded this afternoon. The dust was just starting to settle now as the sun began setting around us. We’d seen another two explosions since the destruction of the government building. The force from the initial explosions and the ground rumbling beneath us were almost becoming familiar to us. Yet, we always stared at the settling rubble all day afterward, as Kisana and I did now.
I guess the truth was that we had nothing better to do but wonder how our last days would carry out. It was obvious that the aliens were holding something back from us. We just didn’t know how terrible the truth really was. Our single contact still hadn’t spoken to us. It asked us to lay our list of requests by the metal hatch it still used to deliver our goods and then shut down the intercom. We demanded it to tell us what they were doing to the buildings around us, but it never responded.
“Maybe they’re fattening us up to feed to their green, slimy kids,” Kisana said, chuckling softly.
“Man, if they are, they better find a way to make us some cheeseburgers or something. Burgers, chili cheese fries, steak, barbeque chicken, pastrami, fried zucchini, and pizza. I could go on…” I shot her a smile.
“Fresh pasta! Spaghetti, fettuccine alfredo, manicotti!”
“Shrimp scampi!”
“Now we’re talking.” She returned the smile, and the two of us laughed together as we finished our potatoes.
Her face became serious again. “How’s your dad, by the way?”
“Not good.” I swallowed the mouthful of food I had in my mouth. “He’s on antibiotics and a high dose of insulin, but his sugar levels are still spiking. He’s not getting any better. I went to see him again this morning. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open for more than five minutes. Every day he seems to be staying awake less and less.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. How’s his attitude?”
“He’s a stubborn ass.” I smiled weakly. “I’m just glad he’s got Marge. He really does care about her. He’s like a whole new person now, except for, you know, his…assness.”
“Once a
n ass always an ass?”
“Oh yeah. For three of those five minutes I was with him, he was screaming at me about his medications. For the other two, he was bitching about not being able to watch TV or read anymore.”
“Maybe you could read to him sometime,” Kisana suggested.
“I could. Non-fiction crap is boring, though.”
“You should read him your story.” She beamed at me.
I rolled my eyes at her. Ever since she encouraged me to start writing again, I’d started a fantasy short story. It was coming along slowly. Very, very slowly. It was like I’d lost some of my passion somehow, or my neat vocabulary, or…something. It didn’t seem like my real writing voice. Kisana insisted I was just rusty. “Yeah, right.” I laughed. “I know, I’ll write up a sex scene and read him that—he ought to enjoy that.”
“Marge might too.” She joined me in laughter. Our laughter was weak, barely surviving amidst the harsh topic of my father’s worsening health, but it did us both a bit of good.
Matt passed by us, stopping to stare at the dust cloud for a moment. We quieted. He had sweat dripping down his neck and carried a towel. He gave us an odd look and then continued on his way.
He disappeared back into the gym, and Kisana and I remained quiet for a minute. I missed our laughter already.
“I see the guys like the gym you asked for,” Kisana said, breaking our silence.
“Yeah, that was probably Matt’s one and only good idea.” I finished my potatoes and set down the plastic bowl. “I hate exercising, but even I’ve used the weights a few times. It’s a good way to let off steam.”
Kisana raised an eyebrow at me.
“What?” I laughed. “I know I look like a lazy bum. Well, I kinda am one. But I can have my energetic moments too.” I continued laughing. The words sounded silly, even to my own ears.
“You sure you not turning into a big ol’ butch on me?” She laughed despite trying not to.
“You never know,” I said, grinning. “I’d probably look pretty slick in a suit.”
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