by Tom Reinhart
graves will hear his voice”
~ John 5:28
We found ourselves somewhere in Brooklyn, surrounded by a brownstone jungle. Our paths were always the same, littered with cars and dust, and mostly barren of life. Tired and hungry, I had little desire to go any further, particularly when we had no real direction or purpose. Throughout the morning and into the early afternoon we had made our way through the streets, always heading south away from Manhattan where it seemed this had all started. But in reality, while it may have begun in Manhattan for us, I knew this was a worldwide phenomenon and running anywhere would simply be more of the same no matter where we went.
Angels flew above us sporadically all morning; fleeting shadows briefly blocking out the sun, causing us to duck into a doorway or store just long enough to think “this isn’t safe enough” and move on again. At one point we rested for a little while in a bakery, filling our guts with stale bagels and donuts and day-old burnt coffee. A stray dog had followed us for a while, gladly sharing a bagel with me. I had noticed quite a few animals along our path throughout the morning. Dogs, cats, and frequently rats, seemed to be more prevalent now that humans had mostly vanished from sight. The animals seemed to be immune from the attention of the Judges, and wandered the streets freely and fearlessly in the absence of their human handlers.
We had seen a few more people that seemed to be dead, but still weren’t somehow. They were few and far between, but extremely unnerving when encountered, and we simply did our best to avoid them. I began to realize as we wandered our way through the streets of Brooklyn that the shadows were growing longer, the day getting later, and we really didn’t even know where we going. The evening would be coming soon, and I didn’t want to be on the street after dark. “Margie, where are we going?”
“I don’t know; away from the city. Steve wants to check his daughter’s place, and if we can keep going south we can get to Staten Island where my brother is.”
“We need to get off the street before dark though, Margie.” Margie stopped and the four of us huddled on a stoop of a brownstone building for the moment. Steve was breathing heavily, making little wheezing sounds.
“You okay Steve?” Jennifer asked him.
He took a deep breath before answering. “Asthma; I’ve got asthma and the dust is making it really bad.”
We had all been breathing in the ash all day. It was gross and had us all coughing frequently. Margie would often pull her T-shirt up across her face, but the rest of us didn’t have clothing that would work that way. “I say we hole up in one of these buildings for the night. I’m sure we’ll find food, water, maybe some fresh clothes. Jennifer can find some shoes I bet.”
With that thought Jennifer reached down and began rubbing her feet, picking little stones out from between her toes and checking the cuts and scratches. “Yeah, that would be good,” she mumbled. We sat on the steps of the brownstone apartment building for a few more minutes, looking up and down the block. All the buildings looked exactly the same, just rows of old and tall tenement buildings. It was eerily quiet and completely deserted. Sitting made our tiredness catch up to us. We all sat quiet and motionless, staring around into nothingness.
I heard a dog bark off in the distance and then suddenly came the flapping of wings. It startled us back into alertness, and we all looked around to find where it was coming from. Two Judges appeared overhead, coming from behind our building. They flew over the street and landed on the roof of the tenement directly across from us. It seemed as though they hadn’t noticed us yet.
“Holy shit. Inside, right now!” I said in an urgent whisper. Scrambling, yet half squatting and ducking down, all four of us hurried through the front door of the building that we had been sitting in front of for the last twenty minutes. Quietly but quickly I closed the door behind us. We stopped just inside, huddled in the foyer; certain death outside, and the unknown ahead of us in the dark corners of the old tenement.
It was fairly dark inside, only a few lights working in the main hallway which was little more than a set of steps up to each floor and a landing and hallway just big enough to walk to each apartment door. Noticeably there was no dust inside. We remained quiet for a minute or two, listening both for the Judges outside, and for any movement inside. Somewhere in one the apartments somebody’s alarm clock was going off steadily, and probably had been all day. From somewhere upstairs the static sound of a TV or radio drifted down through the stairwell. Beyond that, there were no signs of life, only silence.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Steve said through heavy gasps of asthma. “I’d feel better higher up, off the ground level.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I answered, and we all began quietly ascending the stairs. Each landing looked the same; small, old, and deserted. We moved past the second and the third, each lifeless and bland. I noticed a couple of cockroaches on the third floor landing that quickly scuttled away from our feet. Just as we began to head up to the fourth floor, I heard a doorknob and the creak of a hinge behind us. Turning I saw the first door on the third floor, closest to the stairs, cracked open about an inch.
Peering through the small gap I saw an eye and part of a face. It looked like a man’s face, and very old. We made eye contact just for a second, and the door slowly pushed shut again. I heard several deadbolts slide gently into place, and a small worthless chain ease into a metal groove. Leaving well enough alone, I turned and headed up the steps to catch up to the others.
On the fourth floor we went apartment to apartment. Each was completely empty of both life and ash, except for one where we found a couple of cats. One greeted us happily at the door while the other ran to hide in a back bedroom. Each home was a treasure trove of loot, full of clothes, shoes, food, water; everything we needed and then some. It all felt strange, and in every apartment I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going to be caught by the owner or the cops at any moment. But it wouldn’t be like that anymore. This was a new world, where the only law was outside sitting on the rooftops with huge white wings and golden eyes.
In one unit Jennifer came gleefully trotting out of a back bedroom with a pair of sneakers on. I teased her that they didn’t quite go with the skirt, which prompted her to go into another apartment looking for other clothes. Steve and Margie were in another unit across the hall sitting in front of an open refrigerator having a feast. It seemed as though the entire fourth floor was ours, and at least for now we had some refuge from the madness; something we needed desperately, both mentally and physically.
I was feeding the friendly cat when Jennifer entered the room in a new pair of shorts and a green Philadelphia Eagles Jersey. “Much better,” she announced as she began rummaging through the fridge. The smell of cat food drew out the other cat, and soon I had both cats eating with me in the kitchen. We all ate until we felt sick, then we collapsed on the couches of other people’s living rooms.
Keeping the lights to a minimum and staying away from the windows were the rules of the night. We had to minimize the chance of Judges seeing us from the rooftops. We took turns taking showers, the comforting flow of water washing away the ashes and at least for tonight, the nightmare world that waited for us outside. The electric clock over the stove said 10:49pm when Margie started falling asleep on the living room floor. Steve’s own wheezing was keeping him awake, but it was improving slightly now that he was rested some and breathing the cleaner air indoors.
Margie announced that she was going to find a bed to sleep on. We all agreed that we should stay close together and be in the same apartment for the night. I took first watch, and Margie headed for the back bedroom. Steve followed close behind, closing the door to the second bedroom behind him. Jennifer checked the deadbolts on the apartment door, and then sat next to me on the couch. The only light in the room came from the hood over the kitchen stove.
Jennifer and I sat in silence while I stared out the front window to the rooftops across the street. Twice I saw Judges moving around on top o
f the buildings, looking down into the street searching for people. Several times it sounded like angels had landed on top of our roof just above our heads. It was a strange feeling to be hunted, to have to hide for your life. I wondered how long we would be able to survive.
I thought Jennifer had fallen asleep, until she suddenly spoke. “Were you married a long time?”
I didn’t really like having this conversation most of the time, but something about Jennifer’s comforting nature made it feel okay right now. “Fourteen years or so I guess. I feel like she’s still always with me though.”
Jennifer sat forward, setting a near empty coke can on the coffee table. “I think it’s wonderful that you still wear your wedding band. I always assumed you were going home to her every night.”
“I promised her I would never take my ring off. Every Saturday I go to her grave, bring her flowers and talk to ….”
Oh my god.
“Adam? What is it?”
Oh my god.
“Hey...” Jennifer insisted, “What is it?”
I quickly stood and walked across the room, pacing back and forth. I felt a sudden urge to vomit. Jennifer stood. “Adam what’s wrong? Did you hear something?”
I faced her, fighting to put the words out smoothly. “My wife, she’s in the cemetery.” I paused for a second to fight back the puke. “Do you understand?”
In the dim light I saw Jennifer put her hand over her mouth when she realized what I was saying. “Oh God Adam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I paced the room stunned for a moment by my realization. I pictured my wife, waking up in a body that had been dead for a year, finding herself in a dark coffin six feet underground. I sat back on the couch when I felt my knees weakening and I felt like I was going to black out. I leaned back and sat deep into the couch, staring out the window into the darkness. Jennifer sat next me, close but not too close, and she reached over and took my hand.
“Are you okay?” she asked me.
I couldn’t answer her. I looked at her and tried, but the tears began to fall and my throat closed up. For the first time since this all began, I came unglued, and I needed someone else to be strong for a moment. Jennifer leaned towards me and pulled me in, and I wept on her shoulder until we both fell asleep.
* * * *
A week of scavenging and hiding in the brownstone went by before I could no longer hold myself back. I had counted the days as best I could, and I was pretty sure today was Saturday, leaving the apartment as soon as I woke up. As the others lingered in sleep, I grabbed a baseball bat that Margie had found and quietly snuck out, leaving a note that simply said “I’ll be back.” I left my backpack behind since I had no plans for scavenging today. This trip was for something else.
The sky had a crisp clarity to it, seemingly untarnished by the events of late. Somehow even the specter of an apocalypse couldn’t tarnish the beauty of nature, yet somehow humans had always found ways to do it.
I broke the rule of going about alone. But I had to for this; I didn’t want anyone else at risk for what would be a very personal and selfish reason. I moved along the street as we always did, carefully scanning around for Judges and the maledicted. At least for the moment the street was deserted and the rooftops seemed empty. The maledicted seemed to be changing over time, as if their brains became more crazed and insane as they rotted. Before, running into one was disturbing; now it was becoming outright dangerous. The odds were more likely now that they would attack you on sight, like a rabid dog. Being alive seemed to anger the dead. It also seemed as though the Judges became less obvious, less visible, as the days went by. It’s a big planet, and I assumed once the cities had been mostly cleared of their human trash, there were a lot of other places to go to do God’s work.
I moved steadily and with great purpose this morning as I weaved through the junkyards of cars that used to be busy streets. All the colors of the cars appeared faded now, each holding a heavy coating of dust. Every vehicle seemed to be a dull gray with a slight tint of color seeping through from underneath. Many had footprints from cats and birds and other animals across their hoods and windshields, each disturbance in the dust revealing the more vivid color beneath.
The smell of rotting trash along the curbs was growing worse. Rats by the hundreds had been tearing open trash bags, and garbage was scattered everywhere. I made a conscious effort to not step on any of it so as not to be carrying the stench of it with me on my boots,
I had to travel a little further today than I normally would be willing to go, especially alone. Obviously the less chance of being seen by a Judge or a maledicted, the better, but today I had to make this trip. Today I would go to the cemetery where my wife had lain for the last year. Every Saturday I went there and spoke to that piece of ground, and every Saturday there was never an answer back; just the silence of death and eternal slumber. Today I feared there would be an answer.
I continued winding my way through the streets, trying to stay in the shadows, seeking cover whenever I could. I dodged maledicted and ducked inside whenever I spotted a Judge. I lost track of the time as I continued making my way north, back towards home. All of my sensations were focused around the anxiety that was building inside of me as I got closer and closer to the cemetery.
Suddenly I heard a voice call my name from behind. I turned quickly to see Margie hurriedly approaching me. I thought she would bitch at me, insist that I come back with her, but instead I got compassion and companionship; someone else to be strong for just a little while. “Jennifer told me,” she began. “I knew you’d be headed this way.” She smiled at me, and then walked right past me. “C’mon. You coming or what?”
I hesitated for a moment, smiling, mostly on the inside. I quickly caught up to her, and thanked her as I matched her quick pace stride for stride. “After this, you’re coming with me to Staten Island to find my brother,” was her only answer.
“It’s a deal.”
We moved quicker now, Margie inspiring new urgency in my pace. While still cautious and always looking around for danger, Margie followed the theory that the quicker we got this over with and got back, the safer we would be. “Lingering around staring at shit will just get you killed,” she told me.
We were getting really close now, the streets becoming more familiar. The Manhattan skyline was looming large in the background again. More than once we had to take a detour to avoid both maledicted and several Judges that had passed by all too close, but always and steadily we drew closer to the grave site.
I felt the knots in my stomach again when I saw the tall iron fence that surrounded the cemetery. It was a large open area, and Margie and I spent a long while across the street in the doorway of a building waiting to make sure everything was clear. I think a good fifteen minutes went by while we waited, watched, and talked.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Margie asked me more than once.
“I have to. I just have to.”
“I understand. It looks clear. There’s no maledicted that I can see, and I haven’t seen any Judges since those couple a few blocks back.”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
I felt my anxiety growing, my heart pounding in my chest as we crossed the street and walked through the gates of the cemetery entrance. Several crows that had been perched on the fence took flight, the sound of common wings now having a whole new unnerving effect on us.
Now with the field of graves looming before me, I had a brief moment of doubt, that maybe I shouldn’t do this.
No, I had to.
For the last year of my life, I visited her grave every weekend, where I would leave flowers and water them with tears. Every Saturday I prayed upon that little plot of dirt for God to undo it all, to make the accident have never happened. All I ever wanted was my wife back, and I would have given anything to have it; anything to actually hear her voice again. Now I was terrified that through six feet of dirt and a rotted wooden box, that’s exactly what I would get. But I h
ad to go. I had to know. I had to know if she had woken up, like all the rest, lost and confused, struggling to move decomposed limbs. In my heart I already knew, but yet I had to go, had to see for myself.
The world began to fade around me as I tunnel-visioned on that familiar gravestone. Margie stayed slightly back, keeping watch for Judges. As we crossed the cemetery grounds we paused for a moment to listen. All around us the ground thumped faintly; like distant drums, hundreds, all out of rhythm. Six feet below us, the dead were pounding on the insides of their coffins. It was a horrifying moment, as below our feet the remains of the dead had returned to life. And among them, I knew would be my wife.
Several yards further I stood before her grave, the flowers I had placed there just last Saturday now covered with the ashes of the judged. I tried to fight the rush of emotion, the surge of tears, but I could not. After a year of praying for her life to return, now as I knelt down and put my ear to the ground, I prayed that she was still dead.
I begged to God that I wouldn’t hear anything, but I did. Faint, muffled, but closer than the rest, I could hear the sounds of thumping and scratching. I pressed my ear into the dirt as hard as I could, covering my other ear with my hand. Through grass and stone and dirt, I could hear the faint sound of crying through raspy gasps of stale air sucked into rotting lungs. Still, I recognized the voice.
