Black Mariah: Morris, Indiana (Black Mariah Series, Season 1)

by Marie D. Jones

  ‘If there really is a Safe Zone,” Janey interjected, “it would likely be somewhere close to the city, so folks could get to it just as easy as us rural folk.” Janey lifted her hand to wipe a stray strand of hair away from her eyes, and Jolene could see her skin better. It was tanned, but there was a slight pinkness to it. She wanted to ask Janey about it, but Janey hadn’t complained of any swelling or itching at all.

  Siri and Gary ate quietly. Jolene was about to ask them their input when Mags called out from the bedroom.

  “Joleeeeeeeeeeeene!”

  They all ran back to the bedroom. Mags was sitting up in the bed, her hair a tangled mess, pointing to the dresser top.

  Jolene heard it first, the distinct sound of static, and a man’s voice. She grabbed the ham radio off the dresser top and turned up the volume. The voice came through the static, cutting in loud and clear.

  “New casualties reported in Ohio ... Texas ... Chicago area gone dark and down ... vanished ... thousands ...”

  Then the voice cut out and was buried in static. Jolene stared at the others. No one moved.

  She hit the PTT button. “This is KI6YES asking for information about casualties in Morris, Indiana, and points south.” She waited. Nothing.

  “This is KI6YES asking for information about casualties in general around Indiana, Ohio, Illinois ... Are these human casualties? I repeat, are these human or animal casualties?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jolene saw Janey go to Mags and whisk her off to the kitchen with the promise of a yummy breakfast. Thank the angels for Janey. Mags grabbed her doggy and went with her, looking back at Jolene, who forced a smile.

  “Human casualties reported throughout the region ... thousands ... we have so many missing ... KI6YES, as the—”

  Jolene yelled into the handheld. “Repeat, I didn’t get that clear. Please repeat!”

  After a long moment of static, the voice came through. “... Safe Zone. Drones are out ... tracking ... could be weaponized ... don’t stay still ...”

  There was a loud peal of static, then, “As the Crow flies.”

  The radio went silent.

  The only sound in the room was the air moving in and out of their lungs. Siri was leaning into Gary, eyes closed. Gordon had gone pale. Jolene gripped the handheld for dear life, her knuckles white, but there was no more information to be had. She gasped, forcing her lungs to take in air, on the verge of hyperventilating.

  They couldn’t stay where they were. They had to move southward ...

  As the crow flies.

  Jolene put her hand on Gordon’s hand and raised his arm, looking at the skin. “It looks a little red. Any itching or burning?”

  Gordon gently pulled his arm away and shook his head. “Nope. Not a thing. You stop worrying about me, Jolene. You’ve got enough on your plate. Just tell me you aren’t drinking.”

  Jolene felt blindsided. He knew? Was it that obvious? The others were in the adjoining living room, talking quietly. Janey put a puzzle together with Mags that she had found in one of the kid’s bedrooms.

  “No, I am not drinking. I wanted to. Trust me, I came so fucking close. But none of these damn houses seem to have any booze. It’s like they up and left in the dead of night, left all their belongings behind, but took their fucking wine and beer and whatever, like they knew I was coming by for a visit.”

  Gordon snorted a laugh. “Glad you still have your sense of humor. That will get you far. Just wanted you to know that I am here to listen if you need to vent, rant, scream, or anything else. I fought the alcohol demons when I got back from the war for a long time ... and eventually, I won. Twenty-seven years sober two weeks ago. But trust me, they come knocking on the door every day of my life, guns drawn, itching for a fight.”

  Jolene felt her mouth drop open. “Gordon, I had no idea. I never knew that about you.”

  Gordon shrugged. “Did my time in the program a while back, and have stayed sober ever since, so it’s not like I go around waving the damn flag. Ever notice me drinking booze at one of my annual BBQs? Nope. Coke or Dr. Pepper, straight. You know what they say in the program. You live by example. Attraction not promotion. Yadda yadda ... Haven’t been to a meeting in a long time, but I remember. It works if you work it. I got my Big Book in my pack with me if you ever need it. So, you just know you have a friend and an ally here, understood?” He patted her hand and squeezed it. Then he took a piece of paper out of his pants pocket and opened it up on the table.

  “Found this in the garage. Looks like a trail map, but it’s pretty detailed and only a few years old. Thank God people out in these parts still like paper maps or we’d be navigating by the stars. Thought we could do a little brainstorming before lunchtime.” He spread his hands across the map, ironing out the wrinkles.

  As Gordon ran his finger along the different southern routes, Jolene stared at him in awe and respect. She silently thanked God he was there with the group, a sort of moral fiber that ran through them whether they acknowledged it or not. He was the oldest and had that grandfatherly thing about him, but now that she knew his secret, and she would keep it secret, anonymity and all that jazz, she realized it was his serenity and strength they were all drawn to. She wanted what he had. She hadn’t said so, but she had a small copy of the Big Book in her pack, too. She hadn’t touched it yet, but she knew it was there like an old friend, or a sponsor waiting to help keep her on the broad highway. And she could always turn to Gordon. Brian knew, but he didn’t understand like someone who’s walked down that road.

  She turned to the map.

  The portable generator was almost out of fuel, but it was enough for Jolene to recharge her handheld. With a full battery, she could hear more messages from the Crow man. She promised herself to corner Brian the first chance she got and ask if he was okay. She worried he might be getting sick. Alex had come down with a cold or something. Maybe allergies. Sneezing and watery eyes, so far, but she vowed to keep a close watch, in case that white mist was more than just a deadly pesticide.

  Jolene clutched at her lower stomach. Cramps. Perfect. She hadn’t gotten her period in a few weeks, so it was time. Luckily, she’d packed a handful of tampons when they had left, and the master bathroom cabinet here was full of tampons, pads, even a box of condoms. She took the tampons and dumped them into her backpack, but left the pads and condoms. There wouldn’t be much room for the one and much time for the other.

  It sucked being a woman. She had to laugh at those apocalyptic novels or television series where the women never seemed to worry about cramping or bleed-outs as they fought zombies or vampires or fucked up humans. It was as if the mostly male writers of such shows just glossed over that messy little part of being a woman on the run.

  She found some ibuprofen in the bathroom medicine cabinet and popped two, pocketing the bottle. One day, she could take a road trip and backtrack every neighborhood, every house they were in, and replenish what had helped her own survival.

  For now, it was each woman for herself.

  Mags settled into a kind of strange numbness that morning. She rarely spoke, didn’t cry, or put up a fuss. She just didn’t do much of anything except hold her stuffed dog and read quietly or color pictures. Siri found a bunch of toys in a cupboard, but Mags didn’t seem too interested. It wasn’t easy to have fun when you wanted your mom. Jolene got that and tried to assure Mags they would find Anne eventually, but at this point, she didn’t think even Mags was buying it.

  A drink right now would numb the anxiety that ate away at her guts. A drink would shut down the thinking. So, she went into the back bedroom alone and prayed for God to remove the difficulties that kept her from peace, from sanity, or what sanity she might still have left during a time like this. She prayed for some semblance of serenity and strength. Mostly she prayed to God to take away her horrible craving for alcohol and the overwhelming desire to put a gun to her head and pull the fucking trigger.

  “Stinkin’ thinkin’,” she mumbled. She g
ot out a pad of paper and pen and began to write her fourth step. She had been avoiding it, she admitted to herself. Doing a fourth step meant facing your demons. Not just facing them but spending time down in the blood-mud with them. The thing was, Jolene would never stay sober without doing it, and right now, she had all the time in the world, and a newfound friend and mentor she respected who could hear her fifth Step when she was ready.

  By candlelight, she continued to write. Resentments, fears, guilt, blame, shame. Who had wronged her, and who she in return had wronged. She couldn’t hold anything back, or it wouldn’t work. She had heard enough people tell their miracle stories of finding true peace, not just white-knuckle sobriety. But they had only found it after doing the steps, all the steps, including the most painful and difficult ones of all. The fourth and fifth. Without those, many she knew fell back into drinking and drugging, or their addiction of choice.

  She didn’t know where this new resolve was coming from, but she allowed it to take over her normal resistance and fear. The pages of the notebook filled, and she luckily found three more. She took a fearless and moral inventory, and it nearly crippled her. But she kept going, purging the bile of the past and letting no dark corner go unrevealed, no demon allowed to escape.

  She figured it was now or never to lay it all out there. With no knowledge as to whether or not she would be alive the next day, it somehow made it easier for Jolene to open the veins in her soul and bleed out onto the pages. Her own tears mixed with the blood of her soul, and she wept for hours before snuffing the candle out and laying down to join Mags in slumber.

  10

  Gunshots fired.

  Jolene awoke with a start. It was pitch black. Dead of night. Had she heard it or dreamed it? She felt dizzy from the lack of sleep. She had no idea what time it was.

  Mags stirred beside her but did not awaken. Jolene carefully got out of bed and went to the window, peering out from behind the thick flowered curtains.

  It was too dark to see anything outside, with no streetlights or even moonlight to aid her. The bedroom window overlooked the dirt road that led to the farmhouse, and now she could just make out two shadowy figures emerging from the bushes.

  Gordon and Gary were down the hall, she could hear them mumbling. A shotgun cocked and someone ran out of the room.

  They stood at the front door of the living room. Siri and Janey were huddled in the shadows behind the couch. Gordon motioned for Jolene to get down and join them. She did.

  “What happened?” she whispered to Janey.

  “Gunshots outside. Is Mags okay in there?”

  Jolene glanced down the hallway. “She’s asleep. I’ll listen for her. Are they going out there?”

  Janey nodded. “Yeah. I wish they wouldn’t. But I guess it’s better to meet your enemy directly than let him sneak up on you. At least, that’s what Gordon said.”

  They watched over the top of the couch as Gordon quietly opened the front door. He motioned to Gary, who, shotgun drawn, slipped outside with Gordon behind him.

  “Fuck,” Jolene said, rushing to the door to look outside. Siri was at the big bay window, looking through the blinds. “There they are. Shit.”

  Gary was in the lead, with Gordon behind him, weapons at the ready. In the darkness, they were a little safer than during daylight, but they were still sitting ducks for whatever was in the woods—or coming out of them.

  “Can you see anything, Siri?” Janey whispered.

  “What’s going on?”

  Jolene turned to see Mags standing in the middle of the living room, clutching her dog. None of them had even heard her come in. She went to Mags and scooped her up, setting her on the couch.

  “I need you to stay put and not make any noise, okay?” Jolene knew her tone of voice would scare Mags. It had to.

  Mags nodded, eyes wide.

  “Stay there.” Jolene pointed to the couch and moved back to the door. Janey pointed outside.

  “Look, there’s someone else ... I can’t tell, doesn’t it look like a third person out there?”

  Jolene felt her entire body freeze cold. “Shit.” Scenarios ran through her head, of other survivors, or maybe the police, or government agents. She couldn’t move, her breath caught in her lungs.

  Siri nodded. “Yes. There is someone out there. They are talking ... Wait, there’s another person now.” Siri turned to Jolene and Janey, her face showing surprise.

  Jolene rushed outside without hesitation and ran across the street and into Brian’s waiting arms.

  Gary dropped the drone onto the living room floor. It was twice as big as the others and had a bullet hole through its rear end, courtesy of Brian.

  “Brian took the shot and nailed it,” Alex said, nodding proudly at Brian. “We thought about letting it go, but once we knew it had seen us, we had to take it down.”

  Brian set his gun on the kitchen table. “I think we might want to get moving in the morning.”

  “They could come and find us if they wanted to. They could have dealt with us already,” Gary said.

  “What the hell were you doing out in the woods at night anyway?” Jolene leveled the question at Brian.

  “Couldn’t sleep. We were in the living room and heard a train whistle. Sounded off in the distance. Thought we’d try to get a better look. Didn’t see a drone the whole time, until we got back here,” he said.

  “That’s good,” Janey said, eyes hopeful. “It means there are people running the trains. They gotta be coming from somewhere that’s okay.”

  “And going somewhere, too,” Alex said. “Trains don’t run on their own.”

  “This thing is huge,” Jolene said. “And look! There’s the mark, the same one I saw on the trucks and the men—”

  “I saw them, too,” Siri said, her voice hushed.

  “I suggest every single one of us let that image sear into our memories for when we have Internet access,” Gordon said.

  “Better yet, we should bury it out back so if we ever need proof we were being attacked, we can dig it up,” Gary suggested.

  “Good idea,” Brian said.

  He, Gary, and Alex picked up the pieces of the downed drone and went out back.

  “I guess the rest of us should get some sleep. Looks like it will be a busy morning,” Jolene said.

  They exchanged goodnights.

  Gordon cornered Jolene at the hallway entrance.

  “You’ve been doing a lot of writing lately, I’ve noticed,” Gordon whispered. “Journaling?”

  Jolene looked at him and her eyes filled with tears. The flood of emotion surprised her.

  “Fourth step. My fearless and moral inventory.”

  Gordon eyed her, and then smiled, patting her arm. “I am proud of you, Jo. Make sure you leave no stones unturned. It will make all the difference in the world.”

  Jolene smiled. “Now I just need someone to hear my fifth step. When I’m ready.”

  Gordon came close to blushing, as close as a former military man would. “I’d be incredibly honored, Jolene.”

  Brian called them all over to the table.

  “Okay, we need to head southwest.”

  “Why southwest?” Gordon asked.

  “The crows,” Brian answered quickly. “The crows ... their beaks all pointed southwest.”

  “What crows are you talking about?” Janey leaned forward, itching her arm.

  “That guy on Jo’s FT-60, named Crow, well it seems he placed markers in the woods for anyone around to follow. Crows, with beaks pointing in a certain direction. We saw a couple last night. The closest one pointed directly to the southwest of where we are now,” Brian said.

  “That brings us close to the city, so it would make sense that there were more survivors and even places to hide,” Gary chimed in.

  “If the city is the end of the road,” Alex added. “For all we know, he could be operating out of Colorado or China or something.”

  “We follow the crows if we spot them,” Jolen
e said. “Sounds reasonable.”

  “You got a better idea?” Brian countered.

  “Not really. No. Just want this to be over. I know we all do,” Jolene said. “It’s pouring rain out, though. Maybe we wait until later?”

  No one argued.

  The rain turned to a drenching thunderstorm. The group unanimously decided to wait until first light to head out. Jolene was relieved. Among them, they had only thought to bring two umbrellas.

  She and Janey made up a quick and easy supper of a hamburger mix they found in the cabinets, minus the beef. Janey found two cans of white albacore tuna. It worked. It sufficed. No one complained as they ate in silence.

  Jolene cleaned up the dishes with Janey, then hit the bathroom for a quick wash-up. She was thrilled her period was over. One less annoyance she needed to deal with.

  They hit the sack early, to be ready to move when the sun rose.

  Jolene lay in bed. Mags slept soundly. Outside, crickets hummed. It was the first time Jolene heard normal night sounds. Had the bugs returned? Maybe they had never been killed. Maybe they weren’t the pests.

  A tap on the door startled her. She crept out of bed and opened the door. Brian stood there, wearing someone else’s pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt. His hair was mussed, unkempt. Jolene thought he looked like a lost little boy in a man’s body.

  “I wanted to tell you about the crow stuff,” he said quietly, looking over her shoulder to Mags.

  Jolene looked back at Mags before she stepped into the hallway. She left the door open a crack and followed Brian to the bedroom he was using.

  He had a candle lit, but the window shutters had been covered in a blanket. Jolene sat on the bed with Brian beside her, their bodies touching at the arm, the thigh.