“Okay, understood, sir,” I heard the other say into the radio. He turned toward me. “What are you doing out of your home?”
I pointed at the grocery store once again. “I was going to get groceries.”
“Are you aware of the new quarantine law?”
“Um… I didn’t have the television on yesterday. Is there a new one?”
“Let me see some ID,” the short one ordered as his taller partner walked back toward us, carefully avoiding the puddle on the sidewalk.
I dug in my pocket and handed my driver license to the guy.
“Alabama?” he asked. “What are you doing here, uh, Bode… Bod-High?”
“It’s Bodhi,” I answered. “I’m a college student at UT.”
He read my name into the radio and a string of numbers which I assumed were from my license. Then he asked me where I lived.
“Twenty-five-forty New York Drive, apartment three-seventeen.”
“Twenty-five-forty?” he asked for clarification.
“Yeah. It’s an apartment complex near—”
“Don’t care, man.” He reached out and handed me the card. “You got some dumb fucking luck if you didn’t know about the new law. Residences whose street number end in zero and one are authorized to leave their homes on Mondays now.”
I searched my mind to try to remember what day of the week it was. I didn’t have to because Shorty continued. “Today’s Monday. Get to the store and get back home. Don’t get in any more trouble, y’hear?”
“Yes, uh, sir?” I replied, rubbing my wrist where I’d braced myself when I fell.
The short one pointed to the body and looked at his buddy. “Street sweeper will get that one in a couple of hours. Let’s go back to the truck.”
They turned and walked back toward the grocery store without saying anything else to me like it was no big deal that they’d just killed a man in broad daylight. What the fuck was happening? Was I having an extremely long, mostly boring, nightmare or something? The governor had apparently issued a new stay at home order to further reduce the amount of people on the streets, which would account for why there weren’t nearly as many people out today as I’d noticed earlier.
“Jesus, man,” I muttered, grasping the handle of my busted up wagon.
I tugged on it and there was a slight resistance as one of the wheels hit something, then bounced over it. I turned out of habit, uninterested in what it had been, but just curious enough to wonder about it.
There, on the sidewalk, was the gangbanger’s pistol. The Guardsman had kicked it away when he came over to ensure the guy was dead, but hadn’t recovered the weapon for evidence or whatever.
I looked up the sidewalk at their retreating forms. They were a good forty yards away already and it didn’t look like they were turning around. I walked around the wagon and bent down, picking up the pistol quickly. I glanced at it. On the side, stamped into the metal, it said Glock USA .380 Auto. I’d used handguns and rifles my entire life out on the farm, so I was familiar with them, but had never owned a Glock. There wasn’t a safety that I could see, so I figured the little tab on the trigger must have been the safety. I immediately liked the design, simple.
I stood up and slipped the gun into the pocket on my cargo shorts. It was small enough to fit in, but I knew it would bang uncomfortably against my knee if I walked too far with it. I glanced at the body in the street, left like trash for the garbage man. Did he have a holster on him?
Another peek up the street showed the two soldiers engaged in some type of conversation where the taller one was gesturing with his arms fully extended. This was my moment, before they got back to their truck where they’d been when they saw the gangbanger pull his weapon on me.
I rushed over to the body, stepping right in the middle of the sticky red puddle. I crouched and dug my hand into his front pockets, then his back. I took everything I found there. Unfortunately, I didn’t find a holster, but I did get two extra magazines, a folding knife, a lighter, the guy’s wallet, and a cell phone. It all went into the cargo pocket opposite the gun.
I thought about it, then tossed the cell phone back onto the body before hopping back over the puddle. Grabbing the wagon’s handle, I walked quickly for twenty or so yards, adding distance between me and the body, then slowed down to a normal, casual pace.
The Guardsmen never turned around until they got to the old, green Humvee sitting on the edge of the grocery store parking lot. When they got there, they opened the canvas doors and sat down with the doors open. I’d never really paid attention to the design before now, but it was no wonder that the military wanted to buy new trucks. The doors were just fabric. They wouldn’t provide any type of protection for the occupants. Who’d thought up that dumb shit?
I waved sheepishly as I passed their vehicle, turning into the lot. The short one nodded, but the taller one looked away. It was just as well. With the pistol in one pocket and a dead man’s wallet in the other, I didn’t want any further attention.
The line to enter the store was nonexistent today, a far cry from what had been the case just the day before. I guess the governor’s new law had one advantage at least. The store’s cool air was a welcome relief to my flushed skin when I went inside.
I made my way directly to the pharmacy first, picking up a six month supply of Cassandra’s birth control pills. I asked if they could give us more, but the pharmacist sighed and pointed to a printed sign taped to the window. I read it while she filled the prescription. Nonessential prescription medications were limited to no more than six months by order of the US Government, if available. Essential, life-extending medications were limited to a one-month supply.
I wondered why nonessential meds would be capped at six months, but medications that people needed to survive were only a month. Was that to keep everyone near their homes? It was all very confusing and everything I came up with as far as why they’d do that drifted into the crazy internet conspiracy theory lane.
After I got the pills, I did another quick round through the store, selecting mostly pre-packaged items today. There seemed to be a lot more rationing notices up than the day before, which had only been on the eggs and milk. Now, there were purchase limits on just about everything with signs saying the price increases were due to limited supplies and sick workers. I did score a package of toilet paper—limit one package per customer—which was a pretty big deal since I hadn’t seen any on the shelf in over a month.
The cashier asked if I’d been in a fight or something, which confused me until I remembered the blood that was probably smeared across my face. I lied and told her that I’d slipped and fell, that the blood was actually from my hands and I must have gotten some of it on my face.
Squeak. Squeak. Grrrr. Squeak. Squeak. Grrrr.
The wagon’s wheel locked every few feet with the added weight of the groceries, but I made it home without further incident. It took me several minutes to assure Cassandra that I was okay before we began the quarantine cleaning of the food to take everything upstairs.
It seemed like it took forever and I felt truly vulnerable standing out on the street with our supplies while she ferried items back and forth. I remembered reading the articles about people being robbed for their groceries. It was something that I hadn’t thought was really happening until today. I didn’t like the feeling at all and I was glad that we had a lot more groceries to keep us from needing to venture back out again.
Welcome to America, folks. Your neighbor isn’t your friend anymore. They’re your competition, if not your outright enemy.
FIVE
Cassandra spent the remainder of the day trying to convince me that I was okay now. I’d held it together until I got into the shower and saw the water at my feet turn pink from all of the gangbanger’s blood. Then I broke down and collapsed to the floor, accidentally pulling the shower curtain rod down with me.
I was just a college kid. I wasn’t supposed to be facing life and death just going to the gro
cery store. Of course, this is where some dickbag pipes in about how my white privilege was showing since kids in underprivileged areas dealt with this shit every day. Well, fuck you. It was my first robbery and the first time I’d been so close to a dead body that wasn’t cold as ice lying in a casket.
“The weirdest part,” I told Cassandra once I was cleaned up and sitting on the couch, “wasn’t the guy who tried to rob me. I can at least understand that, y’know?”
“You lost me, babe,” she replied, squeezing the muscle in my forearm gently.
I had a habit of thinking something and then beginning a conversation based on what I was thinking, but hadn’t actually said it aloud. “Oh. Sorry. I mean the National Guard guys. They were the strangest part of what happened today.”
“How so? Sounds like they saved your life.”
I nodded slowly. “They did. No doubt about it. That guy had a crazy look in his eye, like a running back who’s just daring you to try to tackle him so he can juke you out and make you look like an idiot. There was this guy from my first game against Cal, he was just like that. He was pretty dirty too, spiking you with his cleats when he was on the ground, but the refs couldn’t see. It was—”
“Back to the soldiers,” Cassandra prompted. “How were they weird?”
“Yeah. Sorry…again. You know I just kind of ramble when I get freaked out.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’d probably still be bawling in the middle of the sidewalk right now. You survived, babe. That’s a huge accomplishment.” Her hand fell to mine and she tried to interlock her fingers, but since she was facing me, it felt more like an awkward handshake. “What was weird about the soldiers?”
“When they shot the guy, it was like, no big deal. They didn’t rush over or anything. Once the guy was dead, then they thought about me. One guy even gave me the stink-eye and asked his partner what they should do about me. Isn’t that crazy? It’s like they would have been just as good shooting me as letting me live.”
“Maybe you misread their actions in the heat of the moment,” she offered.
“Maybe, but I don’t know. The one guy looked like he’d absolutely shoot me and pile my body up alongside the other one for the garbage truck to pick up. They didn’t even care about the pistol. They left it there for anyone to find.”
“They’re soldiers, not policemen. They don’t do crime scene investigations for a living. They probably genuinely forgot about the gun and went back to look for it after they remembered it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think they just really don’t even care who gets the weapon next. Kind of like, they’d just take out the next person who had it. You didn’t see the look in this guy’s eyes, Cass. It was cold. Hard. He would just as easily shot me like he did the other guy.”
“That’s kind of scary.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on anymore, but I want to stay inside as long as we can.”
“Agreed. That’s no problem. We’ll just watch TV, hang out on our little deck, and do schoolwork. We have plenty of food to stay here for a few weeks at least. After what happened today, I don’t think we should be going anywhere right now.”
A thought occurred to me. It was crazy, but I voiced it anyway. “Do you think we should move the dresser in front of the door?”
“What?”
“The dresser. From the bedroom,” I clarified. “We can slide it in here and still use it. It would just be in front of the door instead of back there.”
She looked confused. “If you can slide it around, how would that stop somebody from opening the door?”
“It’s physics,” I replied, finally using the knowledge I’d gained from watching hundreds of action movies. “The door is anchored at the frame, so an attacker can’t get the full leverage on it. The dresser will act as a stop—or at least slow somebody down long enough for me to get the gun ready.”
“Um. Okay. If you think that’s the best thing to do, then why not? It isn’t going to hurt anything.”
I pushed myself up quickly, surprising Cassandra. “I want to secure the door now.”
“Really? Right now?”
“Yeah. I’ll feel a lot better about things once we’re locked in here.”
She sighed. “Hold on. Let me clean the quarantine area with a Clorox wipe.”
“Good idea, babe. I’ll start taking out the drawers so it isn’t so heavy.”
“This is crazy-time. You know that, right?”
“It is a crazy time,” I agreed, slightly altering her statement. “And I hope that I’m just being paranoid.”
My gut told me that I wasn’t. Bad things were coming to our city soon. I just knew it.
The sound of nearby gunfire woke me. I don’t mean that it was a few blocks away, but I could still hear it, I mean it was right outside our apartment on the street. Cassandra was still asleep. Had I dreamt it? There was another burst of weapons fire and I heard several dull thuds of rounds impacting against the side of the building.
I reacted automatically, without thinking. Seizing Cassandra, I pulled her to the floor on my side of the bed, opposite the window. Momentum carried my body off the edge first and she landed on top of me, forcing the air from my lungs.
“Ow! Goddammit, Bodhi! What the fuck?”
“Sorry,” I replied, winded.
“You dragged me off the bed by my tit, you asshole.”
“What?”
“You grabbed my boob and yanked me off the bed by it.” She shifted. “Ow, it hurts.”
I hadn’t even thought about what part of her I’d grabbed. I just began pulling when I’d felt her skin in my hand. Whoops. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t think. Did you hear the guns?”
“Guns?”
“Yeah. Somebody was just outside. Some of them woke me up, then another couple of rounds hit the building. That’s why I pulled you down here.”
“No. I didn’t. Are we safe?”
I could barely make out Cassandra’s face in the darkness since the nearest streetlight was half a block away. She looked frightened. She hadn’t forgotten that I’d pulled her from the bed by a sensitive body part, but she was willing to overlook it for now.
“I don’t know.” I glanced around our small bedroom. “Maybe you should get in the closet. There’s at least a little more protection in there.”
“What about you?”
“I need to see what’s going on outside.”
“No way. You’re not going to risk your life just to look out the window like an asshole slowing down to look at a traffic accident.”
“We need to see if we’re in danger.”
“I’m not letting you stick your head up in the window if there’s gunfire, Bodhi. No way.”
“But—”
“No,” she said firmly, meaning for it to be the end of the conversation.
A lone gunshot rang out in the night, followed by shouts. “We need to see,” I reiterated.
“Wait.”
She reached up on the nightstand and grabbed my phone, unplugging it. “We can use this. Just hold it up to the window and hit record in the night mode. We can watch what’s happening in real-time and adjust the angle while we stay down under the window ledge where there’s a brick wall between us and whatever is going on out there.”
“That’s a pretty good idea,” I admitted.
“And if we record it, we can go back later and watch it to analyze the footage.”
“Okay. You get in the closet.”
“No way. I’m coming with you.”
“Cass…”
“No. Let’s go.”
She pushed off of me and I grunted once again. I turned over and crawled on the floor, following her swaying, nude hips as she led the way to the window.
“Here. Unlock it.”
I took the phone from her and unlocked it with my facial recognition. Then I navigated to the video camera app and selected the night vision setting. “Okay,” I replied. “Here goes.”
I lifted the phone up, tapping the record button as I did so. The camera lens barely made a bump in the window’s outline if anyone was observing from below. Geez, I was becoming one paranoid fuck. I panned the phone slowly back and forth to see where the commotion was coming from.
“There!” Cassandra whispered harshly. “No. Go back to the right. They’re down the street by the fire hydrant.”
The screen filled with a far off shot of four men walking slowly toward two prone figures. “Zoom in,” Cassandra ordered.
As I did so, the scene became grainy and hard to see because the camera struggled to magnify the image at that distance. I zoomed back out slightly, trying to find a happy medium between clarity and magnification. The four men carried rifles and one of them passed near enough to the street light to illuminate his pants leg.
Camouflage.
They sauntered up to the bodies, which were closer to us than I’d previously thought, so I zoomed back in to get a better view. It was a man and a woman—or a thin man with long hair, I couldn’t really tell at this distance. There were suitcases on the sidewalk nearby.
“What is happening?” I asked.
One of the men, who I assumed were National Guardsmen, pushed the male’s body over. He flopped limply onto his back and the face appeared in profile.
“Who… Oh my God,” Cassandra hissed.
“What?” I asked, turning toward her.
“Keep recording.”
She left my side and crawled back toward the bed. I did my best to keep the phone steadied on the scene below and watch what she was doing at the same time. She reached up and grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. The darkness was momentarily lessened as she leaned her face in close to unlock the phone, then the screen’s night mode took over, adjusting to the relative darkness of the room.
I wondered what she was doing when she began tapping on the screen. Within seconds, I heard a shout from outside and focused my attention back on my own phone’s screen. Cassandra slid up beside me to watch what was going on.
The men outside surrounded the woman’s body and one of them rifled through her pockets until he found a phone. He said something that I couldn’t hear as he held up the glowing device.
American Dreams | Book 1 | The Decline Page 4
