Desolation

by Mark Campbell

  She tried turning the knob…

  The old door creaked loudly as it opened and Jerri ran inside, closing the door shut behind her.

  45

  The building’s lobby looked like that of a cheap hotel. Blue carpet, worn and covered in mysterious stains, covered the floor and the walls were adorned with tacky pictures of sunsets and oceanic vistas. Trash bags and dirty clothing were piled along the sides of the room and swarmed by roaches. Flickering fluorescent lights dangled from the ceiling. A single unmanned reception desk adorned with a placard that read SECURITY sat against the far wall of the room, unmanned, inbetween an elevator that had an ‘Out of Service’ sign on it and a staircase that had its door open.

  An archaic framed poster hung above the desk:

  “Typhus?” Jerri said as she stared at the notice signs plastered over the poster. She wasn’t even sure what the disease was but the quarantined buildings started to make sense.

  She heard the jeep squeal to a stop outside and then heard bursts of sporadic gunfire and shouting.

  Jerri buried her nose in her elbow to help mask the stench of mold and decay and hurried into the staircase.

  Stale, humid air hung in the dark stairwell. The paint was peeling off the walls and the iron handrails were rusty. Jerri hurried up the stairs as fast as she could, skipping two or three at time. The shotgun grew heavy in her arms and her legs felt weak. She ran past the second floor door… the third… and up past the fourth. By the time she reached the fifth floor she heard footsteps quickly ascending up the staircase behind her.

  She slammed against the fifth floor door and nearly smashed through the rotting wood.

  The door gave and struck the wall, punching a hole in the damp drywall.

  Jerri entered the hall and slammed the door shut behind her. The fifth floor hallway was long, narrow, and had puddles of water standing on the soggy carpet. Leaking water and sewage pipes ran the expanse of the ceiling. Doors lined both sides of the hall but many of them were covered with plywood.

  A handful of people wrapped in blankets and shawls were sitting in the hallway, trembling, coughing, as they sat in somber silence. They froze at the sight of Jerri and quickly scurried away into their rooms like roaches, locking their doors behind them.

  Jerri ran halfway down the hall, turned towards the staircase, and brought the shotgun up against her shoulder. She kept the barrel pointed towards the stairwell door and kept a finger curled around the trigger.

  The door creaked open…

  Jerri opened fire.

  The buckshot spread wide and peppered the door, splintering away large sections of wood.

  Jerri stumbled backwards and nearly dropped the shotgun, forgetting how tremendous the recoil was with that type of weapon. “Drop your gun! We’re friendlies!” a man shouted from the stairwell.

  “I doubt that,” Jerri replied as she racked another shell in the chamber. “Look,” the man hollered from the stairwell. “We watched you step out of that plane and we saw what you did to those two men! Trust me we’re on the same side!”

  “Side? What sides? Who are you?!” Jerri shouted as she held the shotgun steady. “I’m Lt. Willow with FEMA! I’m here with three of my men. I know you don’t know what’s going on but we’re not the only ones who heard what you did and time isn’t on our side. I here to extradite you to safety before more of them show up,” the man said.

  Jerri heard murmuring coming from behind the door she was standing next to. “I’m going to step out now,” Lt. Willow explained as he cautiously opened the stairwell door a second time. “If you want to shoot me then go ahead but I’m one of the few here who mean you no harm.”

  Lt. Willow walked out into the middle of the hall holding a Beretta pistol in his right hand. He was tall and lanky with ghostly pale skin and sandy blonde hair; he looked like an apparition. His black FEMA uniform was soiled and wet. Sores and scabs were visible on his face and his hands.

  Jerri could tell that at one time he was probably quite handsome but now the sight of him made her cringe.

  Lt. Willow’s eyes lit up at the sight of her and a smirk formed across his crackled lips. “Look at you…” he said with admiration. “Your complexion… your hair… you’re… beautiful. You’re beautiful and healthy.” He took a step forward. “I have to ask… Where did you fly in from?”

  “…Camp 6,” Jerri said with slight trepidation. She took a step backwards.

  She listened as the murmuring coming from inside the apartment next to her grew more agitated.

  Lt. Willow looked like revitalized by the news. His eyes lit up and a smile washed over his face.

  “So one still stands,” Lt. Willow said wistfully as he held out a hand towards her. “Come on and let’s get you out of here!” Suddenly the apartment door next to Jerri flung open and a gangly man covered with rashes lunged out at her wielding a crude homemade knife.

  “Fucking government whore!” the man said as he shoved Jerri to the ground. “You should’ve stayed down there with the rest of the cowards!”

  Jerri fell against the wall and dropped the shotgun.

  The man quickly leaned down and started to raise the knife above his head–

  Lt. Willow opened fire.

  The bullet struck the side of the man’s head and erupted out the other side, slathering the wall with blood and chunks of gray matter. The man dropped the knife and collapsed on the soggy carpet. Other apartment doors started to crack open and residents peeked out into the hall. The people started to murmur angrily amongst each other as they stared at the slain man in the hall.

  Lt. Willow ran towards Jerri and reached a hand down to help her up.

  Jerri batted his hand away and got back on her feet, quickly picking her shotgun back up.

  “Let’s go,” Lt. Willow whispered harshly. He turned and made his way back towards the stairwell.

  Jerri followed.

  People covered with rashes and sores started to walk out of their apartments and congregate in the hall...

  “Back in your rooms!” Lt. Willow ordered as he shoved through the growing crowd. The orders fell on deaf ears.

  Lt. Willow raised his pistol and pointed it in front of him. “I said get back!” Lt. Willow shouted.

  The crowd didn’t budge and continued to stare daggers at him as he forced his way past. They were eerily silent aside from the persistent rattling coughs.

  “Get out of the fucking way!” Jerri shouted, terrified. She pointed the shotgun at the carpet and pulled the trigger; this time she made sure to anticipate the recoil.

  The startled occupants in the hallway shuffled back against the wall and hesitantly allowed them to pass. Jerri followed Lt. Willow into the stairwell and closed the door behind her. She jumped as a bottle shattered against the other side of the door.

  Two men stood waiting in the stairwell with pistols. They were wearing black riot armor that read ‘FEDERAL POLICE’ in reflective silver lettering and wore bulky ballistic helmets. One of the officers coughed violently, face covered with lesions.

  Jerri stared at them, confused.

  “What in the hell happened here? Have you lost any and all–”

  “I’ll explain later,” Lt. Willow interrupted. “Right now we need to keep moving.”

  One of the officers handed Lt. Willow a helmet.

  Lt. Willow took the helmet and quickly put it on his head, fastening down the worn straps.

  “Thanks Wes,” Lt. Willow said. “What’s the situation outside?” “We managed to push back the group who was chasing the girl. Lee and Travis are watching the jeep outside,” Wes said as he hurried down the stairs.

  Lt. Willow followed close behind with Jerri and the coughing officer bringing up the rear.

  “Road clear?” Lt. Willow asked. “Last I saw,” Wes quickly replied as he reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the lobby. He quickly ran towards the front door, gun ready.

  “Come on,” Lt. Willow told Jerri. “It isn’
t safe to stay here.” Lt. Willow grabbed Jerri’s elbow with one hand and placed his other on her lower back as he led her outside. Jerri stumbled as she ran but allowed herself to be led, trying to keep hold of the shotgun as it grew increasingly heavy in her arms. She didn’t want to go with them but she didn’t want to stay inside the apartment either…

  Outside Jerri saw the carnage that had unfolded just moments earlier. Ten men, two women, and a skeletal young boy lay like broken dolls across the black pavement near a rickety idling army jeep. Two heavily armored FEMA officers toting assault rifles stood next to the jeep, each pointing their weapons down the dark road.

  Dark silhouettes stood watch in the shadows across the street and down the alleys, twitching, trembling, coughing, and waiting… “Lee! Are we clear?!” Lt. Willow shouted as he kept one arm around Jerri and one hand wrapped around his pistol. One of the officers by the jeep, Lee, ran towards Lt. Willow, breathing frantically. His face was soaked with sweat and the front of his uniform was covered with blood splatter.

  “Lieutenant!” Lee said before lowering his voice to whisper. “They’ve flanked our position and we don’t have enough ammo to push them back…”

  Before Lt. Willow could respond, a Molotov was hurled out from the shadows and shattered against the concrete steps just a few feet away from the group. Lee flailed and collapsed on the ground as the fire ate through his clothes and burnt his skin to a crisp.

  Lt. Willow shoved Jerri out of the way and ushered her towards the jeep. He practically hurled her inside and then sat next to her. “Go! Go! GO!” Lt. Willow hoarsely shouted as he motioned for the others to get inside.

  Wes and the two remaining officers ran towards the jeep, panting as they struggled to maneuver in their bulky riot armor.

  Rocks and glass bottles flew through the air and pelted both the officers and the jeep.

  Gunfire erupted. A small caliber round struck one of the armored officers in the throat as he ran towards the driver’s seat. He gripped his throat, garbled a few incoherent words and then collapsed.

  Wes bounded over the fallen officer and clamored into the driver’s seat. He floored the accelerator in a panic.

  The jeep’s tires squealed as it sped away. The other armored officer, moments away from getting safely inside, was left behind. He ran after the vehicle, coughing violently, but was quickly left behind and was engulfed by the shadows.

  Jerri stared at the other apartment buildings as the jeep sped along the deserted street. The buildings were mostly dark but still had quite a few people loitering in their courtyards.

  One courtyard had a group of sickly people huddled around a burning trash bin. They stared at the flames in silence, shivering and picking at their sores. They stared at the vehicle as it rolled past.

  “How many people live here?” Jerri asked Lt. Willow as they drove around a flame-gutted Humvee.

  He mulled over the question a moment before speaking. “We don’t really know,” Lt. Willow finally said. “At last census we were over twenty thousand.” He looked over at her and frowned. “But that was before the sickness.”

  Jerri nodded uncomfortably and sat in silence, wondering how long until her gracious saviors would wait until they started asking a few questions of their own.

  “What is your title?” Lt. Willow asked as his eyes ran up and down her body. She didn’t have to wait long as it turned out.

  “My what?” she asked innocently.

  Lt. Willow smiled and his voice softened.

  “Your title,” he repeated. “You’re not wearing a uniform and I saw how you handled that shotgun so I know you’re not a soldier… Yet you rode in on the airplane. Obviously you’re special. What do you do so special that they sent you here to us?”

  Jerri nodded and looked outside as she tapped her fingers against the shotgun barrel.

  “I’m in community relations,” she said. She knew that the counselor title wasn’t factitious; it existed somewhere in the FEMA hierarchy. In fact she remembered that Camp 6 had a lot of counselors before they started carrying guns and got augmented into the rest of the security force.

  Lt. Willow nodded and sat in silence for a few minutes before speaking again. “Community relations. That explains the attire,” Lt. Willow said with a slight chuckle. “Did you bring your DW-22 at least?” he finally asked.

  Jerri looked over at him and shrugged.

  “Why would I?” she asked, trying to sound casual. Lt. Willow pursed his lips and nodded to himself, raising his eyebrows. He ran his boney fingers through his greasy blonde hair. “Well,” he said, “I’d like to make sure you are who you say you are. Showing me your credentials would ease my nerves a little… I’m sure you can understand.”

  Jerri looked back out the window and sighed. “I do but unfortunately I forgot them in Arizona. We left in a hurry,” she answered calmly. “You saw me get off of the plane… I don’t have much proof to offer than that.”

  Lt. Willow laughed. “Well I suppose that will have to do then won’t it?” he said. He turned and looked out the back of the jeep. “It looks like we don’t have anybody following us. Go ahead and take us in before they spot our vehicle,” he told the driver.

  “Will we be safe?” Jerri asked.

  Lt. Willow nodded.

  “They don’t come sniffing around our HQ buildings much,” Lt Willow said. “I guess they figure we have a stockpile of ammunition to defend the place with. As soon as they know the truth they’ll overrun the place just like the rest of the camp.”

  Wes turned the jeep around the corner at the next intersection, turned off the headlights, and drove towards a large warehouse that stood next to the empty control tower. The warehouse was long, windowless, and had its front door torn off. A FEMA logo adorned the front of the warehouse, paint peeling.

  “Is that where are we going? An old warehouse?” Jerri asked as she tightened her grip on the shotgun. “That’s your main HQ?” Lt. Willow smiled and patted her knee, shaking his head. “Not exactly… We’re just going somewhere safe where we can talk openly and honestly,” he assured.

  The jeep veered off of the road and down the alleyway next to the warehouse before rolling to a stop.

  Jerri looked around anxiously.

  “You know… The funny thing about DW-22s is that they don’t even exist,” Lt. Willow said. Jerri quickly tried to point the shotgun towards Lt. WillowLt. Willow snatched the shotgun by the barrel and pulled it from her grasp with a ferocity that she didn’t think he could muster. He pressed the shotgun barrel against her chest.

  Wes spun around and pointed his pistol at Jerri’s head. Defeated, Jerri closed her eyes, cursed herself, and shook her head as she slowly raised her hands over her head.

  “I’m sorry,” Lt. Willow said with a smile. “This is going to hurt just a bit.”

  He slammed the butt of the shotgun against her face.

  46

  “Wake up,” Lt. Willow said as he crouched down and slapped

  Jerri lightly across her face.

  Jerri’s head lolled to the side but she remained unconscious. Lt. Willow struck her again, harder.

  Jerri groaned as her eyes started to open and her head begun to spin. Disoriented and confused, she lifted her head and stared at Lt. Willow, her cheeks red and swollen. She found herself sitting in an uncomfortable metallic chair with her ankles chained together by leg irons. She tried to move her hands but they were handcuffed behind her back.

  A thin smile formed across Lt. Willow’s dry, cracked lips. He started to gently stroke Jerri’s cheek as he stared in her eyes. “Welcome back, Jerri” Lt. Willow said as he continued to caress her cheek. With his other hand he held up a battered plastic FEMA ID card with her picture on it. “Found this in your back pocket. Looks like you didn’t forget everything back there in Arizona after all did you?”

  Jerri moved her head away from his hand and struggled to stand. A chain was fastened to the floor and attached to her handcuffs. The windowles
s room was crimp and smelled like stale cigarette smoke. A single steel door was on one side of the featureless room and a mirror-tinted window took up the expanse of the opposite wall. An empty wooden chair sat in front of her.

  She knew exactly what went down in these kinds of rooms. “Don’t bother,” Lt. Willow said as he lowered his hand and stood. He folded his arms across his chest and stared down at her, studying her. “I apologize for the restraints but I have a few questions I want to run by you.”

  “Fuck you,” Jerri said in a scornful tone.

  Lt. Willow sighed and shook his head as he paced in front of the chair in front of her.

  “That’s about the response I expected,” Lt. Willow casually said. Jerri looked up at him, frowning but tight-lipped. “If you don’t have anything else insightful to add, I’ll start. Judging by your identification you weren’t fabricating the truth; you do come from Camp 6,” Lt. Willow said as he slid her ID card back inside his shirt pocket.

  Jerri looked away.

  Lt. Willow continued to pace.

  “Why did they let you ride in that airplane in the first place?” Lt. Willow asked nonchalantly. “What makes you so special?”

  Jerri stared at the floor, quiet. The wooden floor was stained by old blood and the floorboards appeared warped, soggy, and near decay. Lt. Willow stopped pacing and looked down at her. “Look. Are you really going to go this route?” Lt. Willow asked. “After all of the deprivation you witnessed in this pathetic excuse for an enclave do you honestly think I won’t resort to torture in order to get what I want to know out of you?”

  Lt. Willow sat down on the chair opposite of her and leaned towards her, narrowing his eyes as he stared into hers. “Or are you deluded enough to think you can withstand hours… days… weeks… or even months of torture and then I’d give up and let you go after exhausting all of my best efforts?” he asked grimly. “No… You’re smarter than that. You know that this is going to end only one way for you.”