The Jakarta Pandemic

by Steven Konkoly

  The lights are out at the Murrays’. They’re in.

  “Goddamn it, they’re in,” he whispered aloud. He considered calling Charlie or Ed, but was pretty certain that neither household would appreciate a call at two thirty in the morning.

  “This is not good.”

  “What’s not good?” Ryan said out of nowhere.

  Alex barely held onto the night vision scope as he took in a short quick breath and whirled on his knees to face the direction of Ryan’s voice.

  “Ryan,” he whispered forcefully, “please do not surprise me like that. Jesus…I swear you guys are trying to give me an infarction.”

  “What’s an infarction, Dad,” Ryan asked groggily.

  “A heart attack.”

  Ryan smiled. “Sounds like a technical term for farting.”

  “That’s flatulence,” Alex corrected.

  “So what’s going on out there? I don’t think Mom likes it when you do this kind of stuff,” Ryan said, kneeling next to him.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Going tactical.”

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked, though he had a pretty good idea.

  “I think she gets worried when you get too into the military stuff. Like staring through night vision in the middle of the night. She doesn’t think it’s healthy for you.”

  “Does she talk about it with you?” he asked Ryan.

  “Sometimes. Mostly when you space out. Like at the beach this summer. She was really worried for a while.”

  Alex could immediately tell that Ryan was unlikely to say more on his own. “What was she worried about?” he prodded.

  “I don’t know. Just worried,” he said vaguely, and Alex knew that he didn’t want to talk about it.

  He had never suspected that she talked to the kids about his problem. He’d just assumed that she treated it the same way that he did, and didn’t discuss it. Now he wondered if this bothered her on a daily basis.

  “Buddy, I know you really don’t want to talk about this, but I need to know something, and I’ll never bring it up again. And I won’t be mad at anyone. All right?”

  He looked at Ryan, who nodded his head but was clearly struggling with this conversation.

  “Was Mommy worried that I might hurt one of you?” Alex asked.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head emphatically, “she was…”

  Alex put his arm around Ryan and hugged him.

  Ryan hesitated to answer and cast his eyes down again, turning his head back toward the window shade.

  “Really, buddy, does Mommy think I might hurt you guys?”

  Ryan shook his head again, still staring at the shade in front of him. Alex felt an uneven wave of anger wash over him, anger directed at Kate. He could barely stomach the thought that she believed him to be capable of hurting the kids, or her. He barely suppressed the thought and had to press his lips closed to keep the words from escaping.

  He wondered if Ryan could sense his anger. The anger was immediately doused by a rush of guilt. His flashbacks had increased in intensity and duration over the past three or four years, and Kate had pleaded with him to see a counselor at Togus, or a private psychologist that specialized in PTSD.

  I’ve blown it off for years, and now my family is terrified of me.

  This realization was beginning to sink in when Ryan finally answered.

  “Mommy knows you’d never hurt one of us. She always tells us that.”

  He hesitated, and Alex sensed that he was not finished.

  “But you’re not sure?” Alex whispered.

  “I know you wouldn’t do anything to us like some of the guys that came back, but…”

  He let Ryan’s long pause go uninterrupted and heard him sob softly, taking in several quick breaths through his nose.

  “But Mommy thinks that one day you’ll go down into the basement and not come back up.”

  Alex hugged him tightly. “I would never leave you guys like that. Ever,” he whispered fiercely by Ryan’s ear.

  Ryan hugged him even tighter, and Alex felt tears drop onto his neck.

  “But that’s what happens to a lot of guys who come back,” Ryan barely managed to get out between sobs.

  “Very…very few soldiers take their lives when they come back. It’s extremely rare, and when it happens, it happens pretty soon after they return. I’ve been back for eight years, and I’m not going anywhere. Shit, I finally got you mowing the lawn, and I enjoy listening to the lawn mower from the couch way too much to make an early exit,” he joked, and Ryan’s sobs were stitched with a few stifled laughs.

  He loosened his grip on his son and held him in front of him by his shoulders.

  “Seriously, I love you guys too much to do that, and I swear to you that I’ve never considered it, not even once, since I returned from Iraq. I can’t remember ever thinking about suicide. Ever. I just don’t think it’s part of my programming. I can’t envision any circumstance under which I would do it. Here, before, ever,” Alex assured him.

  “Like, even if you were captured by terrorists, and they were going to torture you in the worst way possible and then cut off your head on TV?”

  “Well, if it was an Al Jazeera pay-per-view event, and all of the proceeds went to Muslim fundamentalist terrorists…then I might consider ruining their show. Where did you get that crazy idea?”

  “I don’t know. From the news. I can never understand why the people in those internet videos just let them hack their heads off,” Ryan said.

  “You haven’t watched any of those videos? Right?”

  “No. No, but they showed one of them on the news, right up until the terrorist started hacking, and the guy in the video just let it happen.”

  “I’m not sure those guys really, truly believed it would really happen to them. Or maybe they just didn’t want to give the terrorists the satisfaction of reacting at all. We’ll never know. I get what you’re saying, though. I’d make it miserable for them if I knew what was coming,” Alex said. “Really miserable,” he reiterated and nodded with an overly tough and dramatic squint, still staring down at the windowsill.

  He has no idea what he’s talking about.

  “I’m sorry about telling you what Mommy said. She really didn’t want me to say anything, but I get scared thinking about it,” Ryan admitted, finally looking him in the eye.

  Alex could see that his eyes were still sad, though the tears had stopped.

  “No, you really have nothing to be sorry about. I’m fine, but I’ve been acting a little strange at times. I can see why you guys are worried. Really. You don’t need to feel bad about this. You guys are looking out for me. That’s what a team does, and we’re a tight team here. Task Force Fletcher. You guys take care of me, and I’ll take care of you. We’re all doing a pretty good job so far. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. You’re doing an awesome job. Mommy tells us that all the time. I feel bad for everyone else out there, but I’m really glad we’re safe in here.”

  “My job is to keep us all safe, and I’ll do anything to accomplish that mission.”

  “What are you checking out?” Ryan asked, nodding at the night vision scope.

  “Here, take a look,” Alex said and handed him the scope.

  “First take an unaided look over toward the Murrays’ house. Can’t really see much because the Sheppards’ house is blocking most of the view, and the houses on the other side of the loop aren’t helping either. At most, you can see part of one garage bay. Now that you have a wide frame of reference, aim the scope in that direction and try to find that same garage bay.”

  Ryan searched through the scope for nearly a minute until he settled in on one point. “I have it. I love this thing. It’s like daytime,” he exclaimed.

  “Yeah. There’s a lot of ambient light out there from the streetlight a few houses down. That’s all this scope needs to turn the block into daylight. If that light was out, it would still work, but not this well. So…I’ve be
en keeping an eye on their house for the past few hours, and even though you think it’s pretty bright over there through the scope, it’s definitely darker than it was about thirty minutes ago. I left some of the lights on at the Murrays’, and although I can’t see the windows from here, I could sort of see the ambient glow of the windows from here. I don’t see that anymore, if that makes any sense.”

  “Yeah, kind of. So why aren’t the lights on anymore?” Ryan asked, looking up from the scope at Alex.

  “That’s the million dollar question. Who turned out the lights?” Alex took the scope to take a look for himself. “That’s why your dad is up at two in the morning staring at the neighborhood through night vision.”

  “You think it’s those people in the car?”

  “Yeah, that’s my guess.”

  “And you’re pretty worried about them?”

  “Yeah. Something’s not right about them. That’s really why I’m up past the witching hour. What are you doing up?” Alex asked.

  “I had to go to the bathroom, and I heard you talking to yourself in here. Kinda freaky.”

  “Yeah, I don’t blame you. It is kinda weird. Well, I think I’m done here for the night. Not much else to see out there. You need to get to bed, too. Busy day tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Ryan exclaimed.

  “No. Not really, but you should get your sleep anyway, so you’ll be rested up for your afternoon nap.”

  “Nice,” Ryan said dejectedly, “you had me hopeful there for a second.”

  “Hopeful for what? Until the pandemic lifts, all we should hope for are uneventful, boring days. Safe days. Task Force Fletcher’s mission is to make your life as dull and unmemorable as possible.”

  “Mission accomplished so far.”

  “Thanks. Now get back to bed. Love you, buddy,” Alex said, still kneeling in front of the window.

  Ryan surprised him with another hug. “Love you too, Dad,” he said and walked out of the office.

  Alex took another look through the scope. He heard Ryan close the bathroom door. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to stay boring for very long,” he whispered to himself, staring through the scope toward the Murrays’ house.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Saturday, November 30, 2013

  Alex sat up in bed, exhausted, awakened by the doorbell ringing. It rang again, several times in fast succession. Kate stirred next to him.

  “Are you gonna check that out?” she murmured.

  Yeah, I’ll get right on it. Like I wasn’t up all night, while you snored away ten solid hours of sleep. Jesus!

  “Yeah. Give me a minute. How long has that been going on?” he asked softly.

  “A while, I think. I fell back…”

  “Hey, Dad? Someone’s been ringing the doorbell for like the last five minutes. Nonstop,” Ryan interrupted, suddenly appearing around the corner of the bathroom with Emily in tow.

  “Yeah, they woke me up, too. Is it the police again, Daddy?” Emily asked.

  Alex rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. “I don’t know, guys. I’ll check it ou—” His sentence was involuntarily cut off by a huge yawn. “Sorry…I’m zonked. I’ll check it out, guys. Why don’t you jump in here with Mommy and go back to sleep or watch some TV?” he suggested, as the doorbell rang again repeatedly. He frowned in the direction of the sound.

  As Emily passed him, he grabbed her. “Give me a hug, sweetie,” he said, squeezing her and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she said, squirming away to get into the warm bed.

  “Stay in bed. No wandering, please. Let me check this out,” he ordered.

  He watched them settle into bed with Kate, burrowing for warmth, one on each side of their mother. He stared at this for a moment, when another burst of doorbell blasts reached his ears, and he moved over to the window to check the front yard. He raised the shade a few inches and peered outside cautiously. He looked down as far as he could and saw no cars in the driveway, and nothing on the walkway either.

  “See anything?” Kate asked, sounding a little more awake.

  “No. Whoever’s ringing the doorbell is standing right on the mudroom porch. No worries. I’ll take a look.” He headed over to the closet.

  “Careful, honey,” she said.

  “I know. Keep the kids up here. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  He hustled to dress: a pair of faded blue jeans and a gray USMC hooded sweatshirt. He walked back over to his nightstand and removed his USP pistol, tucking it into his waistband. He was walking back across the bedroom as the doorbell erupted again, sending his frustration and blood pressure sky high. He passed the closet on the way out and stopped suddenly. He ducked back into the closet and grabbed the shotgun, which he didn’t bother to hide on a high shelf anymore.

  Alex arrived at the bottom of the stairs and glanced at the front door curtains, still not seeing anyone.

  Mudroom for sure.

  He headed toward the kitchen area and saw the shadow of a figure under the blanket covering the slider door to their deck.

  Son of a bitch!

  He rushed into the kitchen and ducked down behind the kitchen island. Peering over the top of the island, he could see the figure moving around on the deck. It moved toward the kitchen window, which was partially covered with a flimsy, semi-transparent lace curtain. Alex ducked back down as the kitchen darkened slightly from the shadow cast by the figure’s head. The doorbell rang yet again, and Alex wondered if he could move fast enough to blast the head peeking through the window and still catch the guy on the front porch.

  Probably not.

  The kitchen shadow vanished, and Alex slowly peeked up over the island. He didn’t see any movement on the deck, so he raised himself up and moved toward the mudroom. He deactivated the shotgun’s safety and leaned it up against the pantry door, just inside the kitchen from the mudroom, feeling for the pistol behind his back and tucking the sweatshirt between the pistol and his back so it wouldn’t get in the way of a quick draw.

  All set.

  He stepped into the mudroom and stopped a few steps from the kitchen entry, well within grabbing range of his shotgun. He examined the figure standing in front of the door and was glad the shotgun was nearby.

  The man stood a few feet back from the door and was dressed in a worn black leather jacket with a blue hooded sweatshirt underneath. His dark brown, shoulder-length hair was stringy and matted, and he wore a brown and gray camouflage patterned baseball cap. The outfit alone disturbed Alex, but not as much as the man’s face.

  He stared into the man’s lifeless, bloodshot eyes. He had seen these eyes before, but not for a long while. The man’s eyes flicked to the left, returning quickly to Alex.

  This man is capable of anything.

  He didn’t need to know anything else about the man. He considered his next move. Having stared at the man for fewer than five seconds, he knew that the best outcome for the entire neighborhood would be for him to shoot the man between the eyes right now. Alex knew that sooner or later, he’d be weighing this option again.

  Probably sooner rather than later.

  Alex decided to remain silent and let the man initiate first contact. He continued to stare at the man with what he hoped appeared to be complete disinterest.

  The man didn’t react to Alex’s silence, and he started to second guess his strategy. He examined the man’s face more closely. His skin was pale, almost grayish, mottled with angry acne scars; broken blood vessels tracked across his reddish-purple nose. Hollow blue eyes sat underneath thick eyebrows and a deeply wrinkled forehead.

  “Is this how it’s gonna be around here?” the man uttered loud enough to be heard through the two doors.

  “How’s what going to be?” Alex replied and hoped that he sounded convincing.

  “This,” he said with a minor hand gesture and a queer smirk, “nobody answering their fucking doors. We’re gonna need some help
. It was a long trip up from Mass.”

  “Had to change cars a few times?” Alex asked.

  The man cracked a sly smile. “The Murrays didn’t exactly leave anything useful behind,” he said.

  “I don’t think they were expecting squatters,” Alex said and crossed his arms.

  “So, are you gonna help us out, or not?” the man asked, and his smile dissolved.

  “Look, you’re not going to find any help around here. Everyone’s struggling, and there’s nothing to go around,” Alex said.

  “You don’t look like you’re struggling,” he said, never taking his eyes off Alex’s.

  I don’t think he’s blinked yet.

  The man’s eyes suddenly darted to the right. A bolt of fear hit Alex, as he remembered the other guy out back. He glanced to his left, at the door to the garage, knowing that the door was locked with a deadbolt. Same with the door to the garage.

  No way for anyone to sneak up on me without making some noise.

  “You’d be better off heading further upstate. Trust me. No one’s happy to see you here. You, or your friend back there,” Alex said, motioning with his head toward the back of the house.

  “So you’re not gonna help?” the man pressed.

  “No.”

  “I’ll remember that,” the man said, nodding his head. He pulled a folded sheet of slightly crumpled yellow legal paper and a pen out of an interior jacket pocket. Alex recognized the green and yellow pen.

  TerraFlu. Must have lifted it from Greg’s.

  He unfolded the paper and started writing.

  He’s making a list and checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty or nice. Shitball man is coming to town. He knows if you’ve been eating, he knows if you have heat…

  Alex started to smile as the tune played out in his head.

  “Something funny?” the man stopped writing to yell.

  “Nope,” he said and paused, “I don’t want to see you guys around this house again.”

  “Or what?” the man said. He folded the paper back up into his jacket pocket.

  Alex just shrugged his shoulders. He considered telling the guy to stay away from Ed’s house, but decided against it. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but his gut told him that it would be a mistake, that it could possibly have the opposite effect. The man stared at Alex with dead, cold eyes for a few more seconds before he turned around and left the mudroom stoop.