by Randy Henson
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Relief?”
“I don’t like my dreams much,” I explained.
“Nightmares?”
I thought about it and finally said, “No, not really nightmares. Some of them would be nightmares if I didn’t know they were dreams while I’m having them. Somehow I’m always aware I’m dreaming when the dreams are bad.”
“And what are these bad dreams about?”
“Mostly about the deaths of my parents. They died at the New Orleans’s Massacre.”
Moira sighed and said, “I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. I’m sure they would be proud of you, though. Maybe they are proud of you, if there is a heaven.”
“Proud?”
“Of the way you’ve taken care of your brother. Tell me, have you any good dreams?”
“In a way, but not really. Those are the dreams that I don’t know they’re dreams while I’m in them, dreams of the past, when my parents were alive, dreams of birthdays and holidays.”
“Those sound like good dreams.”
“Maybe, while I’m having them, but then I wake up and I remember all I’ve lost. It’s like I’m losing them all over again. Speaking of taken care of Jack, I take it I have you to thank for his improvement?”
Moira smiled and said, “It seemed like the least I could do.”
“But he’s not cured, is he?”
“No, unfortunately I can only relieve symptoms. I cannot cure people.”
“How long does it last?”
“As long as I do, which I’m afraid won’t be long.”
“You shouldn’t say that.” I said.
“Why not? It’s true. I can’t fight time.”
“Are you familiar with the idea of the self-fulfilling prophesy?”
Moira smiled and said, “You mean if I think I’m going to die then I’m going to die?”
I nodded.
Moira laughed and said, “Believe me, dear, I have a lot to live for. I’m not ready to give up by any means. At least not mentally. Physically? That’s another matter all together.”
“How long do you think you have?”
“Oh, I have some time left. Hopefully it will be enough. A few months, maybe more. I doubt, however, that I will see another year.”
“What will happen to Jack and the others after you’re gone?”
“That, my dear, depends entirely upon you, if you will allow me to be blunt. I’m hoping to live long enough to teach you what I’ve learned about us. That is, if you are willing to learn,” Moira said as she gazed into my eyes.
I stared back into her one good eye, nodded, and said, “Absolutely.”
“Good,” she said as she pulled back the covers. “Now be a dear and help an old woman out of bed.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lieutenant Hale pulled the jeep into a cinema house’s parking lot. The lot was half filled with vehicles. Hale couldn’t help wondering what happened to the owners that caused them all to abandon their vehicles. He thought about it as he searched the lot for a specific black SUV. Then a light started flashing, almost blinding him, and he saw a soldier across the lot next to the SUV. The soldier was signaling him with a piece of mirror he had taken from one of the abandoned vehicles. Hale cut the wheel and pointed the jeep in the soldier’s direction. He pulled up next to the soldier and parked.
“Let me find out what we’re dealing with, sir,” Hale said and then got out of the jeep and approached the soldier that was signaling them.
Colonel Lundy turned in his seat and stared at Dr. Nichols.
“What is it, sir?” Dr. Nichols said.
“When you took the samples of the captives last night, did you test them for radiation poisoning?”
“Radiation poisoning?”
“Bleeding from the ears and nose, I was think that sounds like a reaction to radiation.”
Dr. Nichols shook his head and said, “No, sir, I didn’t. I don’t have the equipment for those kinds of tests. I might be able to with the equipment the caravans are bringing though. But how and where would they have been exposed to radiation?”
Lundy shook his head and said, “No idea, Doctor. It was just a thought.”
“Well, I’ll run the tests when the caravans get here, if they bring the equipment for it. But I don’t think that’s what killed them, sir. I was thinking at first that the virus had mutated or that the virus had reacted to some other virus or infection, mumps or measles or something like that. But none of that would explain how both the captives suffered the same symptoms and both died at the exact same time. The chances of that are slim to none. I think we’re dealing with something else entirely.”
Lieutenant Hale returned to the jeep and poked his head through the driver’s window.
“Colonel, I think you’re going to want to come see this, sir,” Hale said.
Lundy nodded and climbed out of the jeep.
“What do we got, Lieutenant?” Lundy asked.
Hale nodded toward the soldier that had signaled them and said, “Corporal Morgan will show us. He says the best vantage point is on top of the movie theater.”
“Follow me, Colonel,” Corporal Morgan said after saluting Lundy.
Morgan led Lundy and Hale to a metal staircase attached to the side of the cinema complex.
Dr. Nichols got out of the jeep and followed as well.
At the top of the staircase Corporal Morgan opened a metal door and led the other three men through a narrow hallway until they reached a staircase that led to the roof. Morgan climbed the stairs and opened the metal door at the top. The four men stepped onto the roof where they found two snipers and two spotters scanning the horizon.
Morgan walked over to one of the spotters and motioned for his binoculars. Morgan then handed the binoculars to Colonel Lundy and pointed at a small cloud in the distance.
Lundy brought the binoculars to his face and looked in the direction that Morgan had pointed.
“My God,” Lundy half whispered as he stared through the binoculars at a mushroom cloud in the distance.
“What, sir?” Lieutenant Hale asked.
Lundy passed the binoculars to Hale.
“Damn,” Hale said after looking through the binoculars.
Lundy turned to Morgan and said, “That can’t be the explosion we heard. It’s too far away.”
“No, sir, it wasn’t. That’s what you heard,” Morgan said as he turned and pointed towards the galleria’s parking lot.
Lundy immediately saw smoke rising from a vehicle that was on fire. It looked like it had once been a pickup truck, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Let me see, sir,” Dr. Nichols said to Hale as he motioned for the lieutenant to pass him the binoculars.
Hale relinquished the binoculars and Dr. Nichols brought them up to his face.
“Dear God,” Dr. Nichols said as he stared at the mushroom cloud in the distance. He then lowered the binoculars, turned to Colonel Lundy and said, “Well, I guess this supports your radiation theory.”
“Radiation?” Hale said.
Lundy shook his head and said, “No, doctor, it doesn’t. That wasn’t a nuclear explosion.”
“How can you be sure?” Dr. Nichols asked.
“Because we’re still here,” Hale said.
Lundy nodded in agreement.
CHAPTER NINE
Jack and Orin followed Molly down the stairs to the galleria’s ground level.
Molly opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and led the two men out into the galleria’s thoroughfare and toward the huge carousal.
As Molly climbed onto the carousal, Orin said, “Are we going to ride the ponies to where the bad witches are?”
Molly giggled, looked back at Orin and said, “You’re silly.”
Jack laughed and said, “You are a bit silly at that, Orin.”
“That’s Owen to you, jackass,” Orin fired back.
Jack frowned and said, “Hey, that wasn’t funny.”
Orin clasped Jack’s right shoulder and said, “You’re right. Sorry.”
Both men climbed onto the carousal and followed Molly to its center. She led them halfway around until they came to a door with a dragon painted on it.
The door was camouflaged and the men might not have even seen it if Molly hadn’t been there. She opened the door and led them into the carousal’s interior. It was a tight fit for Jack and Orin, but Molly was small enough to move freely and quickly between the wooden wall and the machinery at the carousal’s center.
She led them to the opposite side, squatted, and opened a small hatch in the floor to reveal the top rungs of a ladder. Then she scurried down the ladder and the men followed her, another tight fit for them.
“We should have brought flashlights,” Orin said as they descended.
“There will be enough light,” Molly assured him.
They reached the bottom of the ladder to find themselves in a narrow concrete tunnel. Seven feet from the ground were sparsely scattered lights attached to the ceiling of the tunnel and they lit everything with a soft yellow glow.
“Well, she was right about the lights,” Jack said.
“Doesn’t mean she’s right about the bad witches,” Orin said.
“Am, too. Why would good witches be in jail?” Molly said.
“Well, lead the way, pretty girl,” Orin said.
Molly smiled at being called pretty. Then she turned and skipped down the tunnel. Jack and Orin followed her until the tunnel stopped and they had a choice between left and right. Molly turned to them and put a finger to her lips.
“We got to be quiet, now,” she whispered.
Jack and Orin both nodded.
Molly took a right and tiptoed down the tunnel.
Jack and Orin looked at one another, silently agreeing not to tiptoe themselves. They did place their feet more lightly than they had, though.
Molly and the tunnel led them to a meshed aluminum gate. The gate was not locked, only secured by an aluminum clasp. Molly slowly and quietly lifted the clasp, only making a soft metallic scratching sound as she did. She then slowly pushed the gate open. The gate squeaked as Molly turned to them and lifted a finger to her lips again.
Jack and Orin nodded and followed her through the gate and onto a catwalk that stretched over a boiler room.
Molly led them halfway across the catwalk and then stopped, turned, and pointed to the other end of the room.
Jack and Orin followed her finger and saw what she was pointing at. Along the far wall were seven metal cages. The three on the left were empty, but the four on the right were occupied, one occupant per cage. All four occupants lay motionless on matrasses.
A guard sat with his back to the catwalk, his feet propped up on the desk he sat behind. He was either snoozing or reading; it was hard to tell from their position on the catwalk.
Molly then turned and led them back the way they had come. When they had passed through the gate and Molly had slowly secured it, Orin said, “Wait, we’re…”
“Shhh,” Molly hushed as she gave him an angry look. She then tiptoed back to the main tunnel and led them back to the ladder.
“Can we talk now?” Orin asked.
“If you want,” Molly said. Then she scurried up the ladder.
Jack and Orin followed her back up into the interior of the merry-go-round.
“So that was it?” Orin asked as he and Jack followed Molly around the large motor and through the carousal’s door.
Molly placed a hand on a wooden horse’s nose, turned and said, “Well, yeah. We can’t get any closer with a guard there.”
“Why not?” Jack asked.
“We’d get in trouble. We’re not supposed to be down there.”
“Who says?” Orin asked.
“Granny. Come on. Let’s go find Bernie,” Molly said as she turned and jumped off the merry-go-round.
Orin looked at Jack and said, “Well, that was kind of a let down.”
Jack shrugged and said, “Oh, I don’t know. To be honest, it was more than I expected. I thought she was going to show us a cartoon or video game or something.”
CHAPTER TEN
Moira got dressed while I browsed her bookcases. Most of the books were biographies and history. There were also a few shelves filled with philosophy and psychology. It didn’t look like Moira was a fiction fan.
When Moira was finished dressing, she sat down at the vanity and twisted her hair into a bun, securing it with a pair of gold pins.
Then she stood and said, “Have you eaten, yet?”
“I had some eggs, but I could go for some more coffee.”
“I prefer tea, myself. Let’s go then,” she said as she walked over to the door and opened it. I followed her out and we made our way down to the food court.
Once we reached the food court Moira made herself some tea while I poured myself some coffee. Then she grabbed a plate and selected herself an English muffin, a packet of butter and a packet of grape jelly, and two slices of bacon. We then sat down at a table to ourselves. A few people were sitting at tables eating breakfast, but only as half as many as before.
Moira sipped her tea and then said, “From now on I want you to pay close attention to your dreams when you have them, or rather when you remember them. Keep a notebook next to your bed so you can write them down as soon as you wake up. Write down everything you remember, every little detail.”
I nodded and said, “Okay, but why?”
“I haven’t been dreaming much, but almost every dream I’ve had sense my eye changed color has come true.”
I shook my head and said, “What are you telling me?”
“I know it sounds crazy. Believe me. I found it scary at first. Now I just go with it,” she said as she started to spread butter on the English muffin. I noticed she didn’t bother to break the English muffin open and butter the insides. She just spread the butter on the top of the muffin.
“Are you saying my dreams are going to become prophetic?” I asked.
“Maybe. Mine have. That’s how I knew you were coming.”
“You dreamed of me before we met?”
Moira nodded as she worked the aluminum cover off the packet of jelly.
“Did I look like me?”
“Close enough, I guess. All I remember from my dream really is that you were attractive, had dark red hair and wore a gun belt. Oh, and in my dream you wore a gold locket.”
I reached into my shirt and pulled out my locket.
Moira started spreading jelly on top of the muffin as she said, “Yes, that’s the one. In my dreams it played music. Something classical if memory serves.”
I opened the locket and Fur Elise started to play.
Moira nodded and said, “I don’t remember that tune exactly being the one in my dreams, but Beethoven makes sense. I’m not that well versed in classical music, I prefer jazz myself, but I do know my Beethoven and Bach, Mozart and a few others. Chopin.”
I closed the locket and tucked it back beneath my shirt.
“You said that only some of your dreams come true,” I said.
“I said that only some of them have come true. The ones that haven’t come true just might not have come true yet.”
I nodded. That made sense in a crazy kind of way.
“Do you think there’s a purpose to all this?” I asked.
“Purpose?”
“To The Plague. A reason for the world turning upside down like it has.”
“Some divine purpose, perhaps? I have no idea. When I was a girl I was raised in a church. My parents were Methodists. I have no idea now, though, whether there is a God or not. I fear I do not contemplate it that much, or at least not as much as women my age tend to. I find myself thinking of more immediate problems.”
“What about a more secular reason. What if The Plaque was manmade? If it was something…” I said, searching for the right word.
“Intentional?”
“Yes, intentional.
”
“Some government experiment, perhaps.”
“I guess.”
Moira nodded and said, “It’s a possibility, perhaps, but I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Because this virus, this plague as you like to call it, seems to have blindsided everybody, the government included. No, I don’t see any of this being intentional,” Moira said before she bit into her muffin.
I agreed with her. It didn’t seem likely.
I watched her as she chewed and then I said, “You mentioned earlier that I will be able to read minds. Is that something that will come naturally or will I need to practice it? Will I be able to control it?”
Moira swallowed, dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin, and said, “It will seem strange at first, and scary, but maybe not as strange and scary as it was for me since you will now be expecting it. At first it will be out of your control, like hearing a door shut from across the room. But, as time passes and you become more accustomed, you’ll be able to open and close the doors yourself.”
It sounded strange. I’m not sure I understood. The more I asked Moira, the less it seemed I understood.
“So what do you think caused The Plague? You have any ideas at all?” I asked.
Moira took a bite of bacon and chewed slowly as she thought. Then she shook her head.
“I have no idea. My grandson, Matthew, has this theory that it is Mother Nature’s doing.”
“Mother Nature?”
“Yes. And he’s not alone. There are a few like us, Category Sixes or whatever, who are of the opinion that this is all about evolution, that mankind is evolving,” Moira said.
“More like devolving,” I said.
Moira nodded and took another bite of bacon.
“Where is your grandson? He’s like us?”
“He is. He’s out ranging now.”
“Ranging?”
Moira nodded and said, “That’s what he calls it. He’s out with a few others hunting supplies and for those that might be lost and need help.”
I looked around and said, “What sort of supplies? It looks like you have everything you need here. Plus, at the compounds in Atlanta and New Orleans the military shipped supplies to us, brought them by armed convoy.”
