“I just need to see her,” Portia said her voice cracking. Her face gave away the emotions running through her.
“Teacher Seven, report back to your class, NOW!” the nurse barked, her tone signaling she was irritated with Portia’s emotional and unorthodox behavior.
“I need to see her,” Portia urged looking over the nurse’s shoulder to keep track of Melissa’s whereabouts.
“No, now turn around or I will be forced to report you,” the nurse warned.
Melissa disappeared into another room followed by the intern.
Frantic, Portia pushed past the nurse and sprinted down the hall.
Calmly, the nurse turned to another nurse at a station and ordered, “Contact security.”
Portia reached the door to the room she’d seen Melissa disappear into and turned the nob but found it locked. She knocked on the door and asked, “Melissa, are you in there?”
No response.
“Melissa, please answer me, are you okay?”
Silence.
“Resident, step away from the door,” a man said, his voice deep and rough.
Portia looked up at the mountain of a man towering over her. “Please, I just need to see her before she gets processed, that’s all.”
“Step away from the door, now, or I’ll be forced to use more aggressive measures,” the guard threatened.
Portia began to bang on the door, “Melissa, if you can hear me. I want you to know…” she paused, gulped loudly and continued. “I want you to know, I love you. And that I think you’re the most precious girl in the world.”
The guard didn’t give a warning before jabbing his stun baton into her ribs.
Portia’s body tensed and went rigid.
The guard hit her again with the baton, this time shoving it into her armpit.
The electrical charge swept through her body. She crumbled to the ground, her body flinching. She looked up at the guard and tried to speak but was unable. A single tear streaked down the side of her face just before the guard jabbed her a third time, this time in the neck. It was the last thing she remembered before she went unconscious.
OUTSIDE OF RANGLEY, COLORADO, COLLECTIVE PROTECTED ZONE
Barry could feel the anger welling up inside him. His dark brown eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Brushing the long bangs away from his forehead he barked, “I’ve got two things to say. One, if you touch me, you better make sure you intend on killing me and two, if you don’t kill me, I will kill you.” A devilish grin stretched across his face. “So, if you have something to say, you better be able to back it up.”
“What the hell are you doing?” a booming voice sounded behind Barry.
Barry turned to see Kyle, standing feet from him, an odd look on his face.
Embarrassed, Barry stepped away from the mirror and replied, “Just screwing around is all.”
“I always knew you were a bit off, but now I find you threatening yourself in a mirror. That is taking it to new heights of crazy,” Kyle laughed and walked away.
Barry looked in the mirror and barked, “Stupid, idiot.” He ran his fingers through his bushy hair. His face flushed, he grinded his teeth in frustration. Just before walking away he caught another glimpse of his reflection and snapped, “Dumbass.”
From the rear of the house, Kyle called out, “Once you’re done playing with yourself go grab the rest of the stuff from the truck.”
“Okay,” Barry grumbled and exited the house. He stopped on the front step to admire the view of the rolling fields and mountains beyond. “Would you look at that?”
“Are you getting the stuff or day dreaming now?” Kyle quipped as he pushed passed Barry on his way towards the truck.
“Just taking in the view,” Barry said.
Kyle stopped just sigh of the truck, looked towards the snow-capped mountains and exhaled deeply. In a satirical tone he said, “Ahh, so beautiful, now let’s get our stuff inside before the storm hits.”
“Storm?” Barry asked, looking around.
“While you were playing games in the mirror you missed the darkening clouds that were gathering to the west,” Kyle said pointing in that direction.
A storm was coming and along with it a high probability of lethal doses of radioactive material. “We need to get inside, and seal up,” Kyle said referencing the ritual practice he’d do when a storm approached.
This ritual required covering all windows and exterior doors with visqueen, a thick plastic sheet, then create a decontamination station in a sealed off room, preferably a bathroom. There he’d strip and wash to remove any possible radioactive particles he might have come into contact with. Kyle was strict with this practice. He had survived all these years because of this ritualistic practice.
“Darkening clouds? Kyle the entire sky has been cloudy off and on for years,” Barry said.
“We don’t’ have time to waste, get to it,” Kyle insisted as he grabbed an armful of items from the bed of the truck.
What remained of Salt Lake City lay to west and if a storm was coming from that direction so was radiation.
Barry approached the truck only to stop when Kyle tossed a roll of visqueen, a roller of tape and a staple gun at him.
“Start in the front room, and no more role playing in the mirror, okay?” Kyle ordered.
Barry scoffed at him and walked off.
***
Barry was busy stapling and taping the visqueen over the windows and exterior doors while whistling a show tune. Watching old television shows on DVD was something he enjoyed.
Kyle found a bathroom with a shower and checked the water. After a stuttering pause water rained out of the shower head. He let the water pour for a good minute into the basin then ran the Geiger counter over it to make sure it wasn’t contaminated and found it good. He placed his hand in the water to check the temperature and like everywhere else, it was ice cold. “This will suck,” he muttered as if expecting the water to turn warm. He shrugged off his large pack and began to unload the contents. Done, he proudly looked at the display of soaps, sponges, towels and fresh clothes laid out neatly on a clean tarp. The towels and fresh clothes were sealed in large zip lock bags.
Next to his arrangement, several buckets filled with water and detergent solution sat ready for them to clean any gear they couldn’t spare to lose.
“How’s it going?” he hollered to Barry.
“All good,” Barry replied from the back of the house.
Kyle entered the room and was about to help when he thought about the truck. He remembered seeing a detached garage off of the side of the house, it would be perfect to store the truck. “I’m going to park the truck, I’ll be back,” Kyle hollered running out, he saw the low tire and was reminded he needed to fix that first. Like a professional pit boss he had the truck lifted, punctured tire off and new one on in minutes. With the truck tire replaced the next thing was to get it into the garage. He pulled the truck outside the garage and ran to the door. He tried to lift but the door wouldn’t budge. He knew there had to be a side door, so he rushed to find it. Clearing the first corner he spotted it. He tried the knob but found it locked.
A strong gust of wind washed over him. It was a reminder the storm was nearing. He didn’t have time to waste. He stepped back, raised his right leg and kicked hard. The door exploded inward. He grabbed his flashlight, turned it on and peered inside to find another car in there. “Shit.” If he was going to get his truck safely parked inside, he had to first remove the old sedan. He found the cord that disconnected the motorized door lift and pulled. With the garage now able to open manually, he placed his hands against it and lifted. Surprisingly the door moved easily. With the door open, the next step was getting the car out. He walked around to the driver’s door and paused when he spotted a garden hose sticking through a slight crack in the window. His eyes followed it back to the tail pipe.
He was always curious to what happened to the homeowners of the homes he’d scavenge and for this one,
he knew the answer. He reached for the handle but stopped short of opening it. He knew the keys were inside and all he needed to do was put the car in neutral and winch it out but something prevented him from even opening the door. Was it because this was their grave?
“Hurry up, the storms blowing in fast!” Barry hollered from the front porch.
Hearing Barry call out broke his resistance. He grabbed the handle and pulled. The door creaked open and out fell the clothed skeletal remains of the homeowner. Kyle didn’t bother to look around the car to see who else might be in there. He pushed the rest of the remains out and got behind the wheel. After years of experience, he knew he couldn’t just put the car into neutral by putting his foot on the brake and having the steering wheel unlocked. Modern vehicles now had lockouts on the gear shifts and he had to bypass it.
“What’s taking so long?” Barry asked suddenly appearing next to the driver’s door.
Not bothering to look up, Kyle asked, “Are you done inside?”
“Yeah.”
Kyle pulled out his trusty Benchmade folding knife and opened it. He slide the blade under a small cap on the gear shift column and lifted. The cap popped off and under it was a tiny button.
“What are you doing?” Barry asked curiously.
“Putting the car into neutral to get it out of here,” Kyle answered pressing the button while putting the gear shift into neutral. Before stepping out, he made sure the parking brake was off.
“Why did you have to do that?” Barry asked.
Kyle ignored him and got out. He pointed to the front of his truck and said. “Pull the winch cable over here.”
Barry stood.
Seeing Barry just standing, he gave him an odd look and asked, “Are you going to help or just stand there?”
Barry rushed to the truck, he nervously looked at the winch and called back, “How do I turn it on?”
“Oh, good, God,” Kyle said and ran over to do it himself. With the winch on, he unwound the cable. “Take this and hook it to something secure, not just the bumper, wrap it under something that won’t break off.”
Barry walked the unwinding winch cable to the back of the car, knelt and looked under. He found a secure spot, looped the cable around and connected back to the hook. “It’s set.”
Kyle turned on the winch. It strained at first but as soon as the car began to move, the stress lessened.
Barry began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Kyle asked.
“The tires, they’re trashed, look,” Barry said pointing to the flattened and dry rotted tires.
Kyle ignored Barry’s comments. All he could think about was the storm barreling down on them and they weren’t finished yet.
Barry walked out in front and hollered, “You’re clear.”
Kyle unhooked the winch, secured it and without delay put the truck in the garage. He pulled the radio from the cradle and along with a battery, tucked it under his arm. He normally didn’t care to have radio contact while overnighting somewhere but since he had Number Two with him, he thought it best this time. As he closed the garage door a strong gust of wind swept through and blew his hat off his head. He darted for it but the wind pushed it along the dusty ground like a tumble weed. Back and forth he weaved trying to grab it but each time he came within reach another gust would push it further away. Frustrated he cried out, “C’mon damn it!” The hat finally came to a stop. He lunged and snatched it. “Got you,” he said placing the worn and tattered cap on his head. A chill shot down his spine when a stronger gust hit him. He could tell the air temperature had dropped another ten degrees. He craned his head towards the west and saw the black clouds closing in. Soon the precipitation and whatever else would be upon them and with it a massive amount of radiation. He cleared the last feet to the front door, ran inside and slammed the heavy wood door behind him.
“I found some food in the pantry,” Barry said with a big smile standing in the darkened hallway.
“Don’t eat anything until I can check it,” Kyle said looking around. His eyes danced around the room inspecting the work Barry had done. “No, no, no,” Kyle said walking over to a window.
“What?”
Kyle looked at the crumpled seam on a window and said, “This needs to be flat, you’ll never create an airtight seal like this.”
“I did the best I could,” Barry said.
Kyle had high standards but for a good reason. Frustrated he went to work to fix the areas he found lacking.
***
Kyle flattened the last seam with the palm of his hand and laid a strip of thick tape over it. Standing back to admire his work he said, “Done.” He looked around but Barry wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He went looking for him and found Barry in the kitchen stacking up cans.
“Look what I found?”
“We can check those later, time to get cleaned up,” Kyle said.
They proceeded to the bathroom to begin their decontamination procedures.
Barry went first; he stripped down naked and climbed into the bathtub. Wrapping his arms around him in an attempt to stay warm, Kyle turned on the water. The frigid water hit him, instantly making Barry shiver.
“Hurry up, it’s fucking cold,” Barry wailed.
Kyle took a long soft bristled brush and began to scrub Barry’s back while Barry bathed the front of his body.
“How do you know this water isn’t contaminated?” Barry asked.
“Cause I tested it. I figure a deep well feeds this, lucky for us,” Kyle answered.
“Oh, makes sense.”
“How is it possible you’ll still chubby?”
“I’m husky,” Barry countered.
“Is that what your momma told you so you wouldn’t feel bad about yourself?” Kyle joked.
“Fuck you,” Barry snapped. “When I see my father I’m going to tell him you’ve been disrespectful to me.”
“I have a feeling you’re in a bit of hot water with your father, pun intended,” Kyle said.
Finished, Barry put the sponge down and stepped out careful not to slip on the floor, not an easy thing to do when the floor is covered in visqueen.
Kyle placed the long handle brush he was using down. He turned and began stuffing a fifty-five-gallon bag with Barry’s dirty clothes. He then removed his and put them in the bag, tied it closed and tossed it in the corner.
Barry wasted no time ripping open the packaging that held his clean clothes. Coupled with the cold water, the chilly air made him shiver uncontrollably.
Kyle jumped into the shower and they repeated the process with him.
“Why can’t we just wash the clothes?” Barry asked.
“I don’t take any chances, period. Best to burn them,” Kyle answered.
“That sucks, I liked those jeans.”
“Be grateful you even have clean clothes.”
“These pants are too small, I knew it, I fucking knew these would run small and they’re long as hell,” Barry complained as he tugged at tight waistband of the new jeans.
Kyle shrugged his shoulders and smirked, “If you lost a few pounds that wouldn’t be a problem.”
Barry raised his middle finger and marched off.
COLLECTIVE PRIME
Portia opened her eyes, only to close them from the bright fluorescent light beaming in her face. When her eyes adjusted, she slowly opened them to discover she was still in the infirmary. “Ouch,” she said out loud. Her head was throbbed, no doubt from when she hit her head on the floor. She tried to lift her right hand but couldn’t, it was bound to the bed rail. Startled, she tried to lift her left arm only to find it was also bound. Suddenly she realized the trouble she was in, “Oh, no,” she sighed.
The door opened and in stepped a uniformed security officer. He gave her a once over and said, “Teacher Seven, are you able to walk?”
“I think so, take these bindings off and I’ll find out,” she replied.
He pulled out a knife and stepped over.
Seeing the glint of the blade gave her a pause. “What are you going to do with that?”
He towered over her, knife in hand. With a crooked smile stretched across his face, he lowered the blade and cut the plastic tie that bound her right hand.
She raised her hand and looked at the reddened and bruised skin around her wrist.
The guard cut the other binding and pocketed the knife. He gave her a smug look and asked, “Are you going to give me trouble?”
Wide eyed and happy to be free, she answered, “No. I won’t be any trouble. I promise.” She sat up and took turns massaging her wrists.
“Come with me.”
She did as he ordered.
In the hallway, she was met by glaring and suspicious eyes. The guard escorted her down a short hallway and stopped outside a door.
She looked at him and asked, “Do I open it?”
“Yes.”
Nervous, she asked, “What’s inside?”
“Open the door,” he ordered.
With a shaking hand she did as he said, when the door fully opened she saw Melissa sitting inside. She turned to the guard and asked, “I don’t understand.”
“You know people I guess,” he replied and looked at his watch. “You have ten minutes, that’s it.”
Not wasting a second to ask silly questions, she rushed inside. “Melissa, how are you?”
“Hi.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she dropped to her knees in front of Melissa. “Are you okay?”
“I fine,” Melissa answered.
Portia took Melissa’s hands in hers and said, “I don’t want you to be afraid. Do you understand?”
“I’m not afraid, but you look like you are,” Melissa said.
Wiping her tears, Portia said, “I’ll be honest, I don’t want you to go. I’m afraid for you.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s my path. Like the Number One says…”
Portia put her hand to Melissa’s lips and said, “I don’t care. Let’s just enjoy these last minutes.”
Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel Page 9
