by Kirby Howell
Before we left, Ben threw a backpack over his shoulder and handed me a similar one. “Just in case,” he said. “There’s food, a change of clothes, a first aid kit and a Swiss Army knife.”
“Thanks,” I said, surprised. I hadn’t thought about the possibility of us being separated.
We took the elevator down to the parking level and packed our things into our small electric golf cart. It had belonged to his dad for his janitorial duties, and Ben had hidden it between two Hummers, like a gnat between two elephants. We’d be able to carry water in the small truck-like bed behind our two seats, and we’d cover ground quickly. We decided to avoid the warehouse store to the north and start heading east.
When we exited the building, I realized I hadn’t been outside at street level for over half a year. It was May when I foolishly encountered The Front and met the nameless boy in the alley, the boy who I continued to dream about at night. A large part of me hoped I might run into him again today. Not long after Ben and Rissi moved in with me, I told Ben about him, sparing the more embarrassing details I would have divulged to Sarah. Ben had been very interested in this other group, his geeky side showing when he called them a “rebel alliance.”
The silence of the city was heavier at street level. It pressed down on us as we made our way east on small roads that ran parallel to the larger Washington and Venice Boulevards. Grass split the concrete and grew tall between the abandoned cars.
“Do you think it’s a good idea being out in the open like this?” I asked, as I scanned the area nervously.
“Don’t see that we have much of a choice. But I have noticed less foot traffic in general from the terrace, and they haven’t replaced the white flag that fell down across the street. I used to see a Greeter or two every day or so, especially at that burned-out café across the street from us, but I guess they got busy somewhere else, ‘cause it’s been completely dead for the last week.”
I winced at Ben’s poor choice of words, and he grimaced apologetically as soon as he said it. The café always reminded me of Everland Coffee Company, where Sarah worked, and where I’d gone to meet her the day of The Plague. A familiar pain gripped my insides when I thought of all the time we’d spent hanging out at Everland's after school. How we’d spread our books across the one low coffee table and study for tests, or how we’d gossiped about our classmates, particularly the boys. I sighed and pushed the memories to the back of my mind and tried to focus on the task at hand.
There was a grocery store less than a mile from our building, so we made our way there first. The going was slow. Ben was careful to keep us hidden and slowed the cart to barely a crawl as he glanced about, especially when we saw a white flag, indicating The Front may be nearby. Then he’d murmur that he thought he heard something before slowly picking up speed again. I acted as a second lookout, but never saw the source of the strange noises he seemed to be hearing.
About a block from the grocery store, a flock of seagulls exploded from an empty storefront, making me jump. I clutched at the neck of my jacket, trying to calm my breathing.
“It’s all right. Just birds,” Ben said, smiling at me.
I glared at him in response.
When we pulled up in the parking lot of the grocery store, we stopped to stare. It looked more like a meadow, with waist-high grass bending in the light breeze. Ben picked a particularly high part of the grass to park the cart in for cover, and then we picked our way to the entrance of the grocery store. The glass storefront was shattered, and it was dark inside, but the morning sun was bright. We stepped inside, glass and leaves crunching beneath our sneakers.
Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I gasped. The store was completely cleared out, as if it had gone out of business. There was nothing left. Absolutely nothing.
When we came back out into the bright sunshine, I said, “There’s an Albertsons grocery store another mile or so east. We could try that.”
We continued our journey, passing gas stations that were missing the heavy round lids accessing the giant underground gasoline storage containers. We paused so Ben could peek down into one. He nudged a small rock over the edge with his shoe. We heard it clatter on the ground below. “Empty,” he said. “Bet The Front’s been siphoning all the gas they can. Gonna be a hot commodity when the electricity goes out and we’re all on generators.”
The sun was soon halfway across the January sky and beat down on the small cart as we passed store after store. I subconsciously pointed Ben toward Hollywood as our fruitless journey continued. The closer we got to Hollywood High School, the more I yearned to see the boy from my dreams. I wondered, as I had countless times, why he still hadn’t come for me? Was it still unsafe after all this time? But as I looked around, while we traveled in our small cart, I had my answer. With every collapsed, blackened structure piled where giant stores should have been, I knew the city was more unsafe now than when we’d parted. Despair flooded my stomach. How in the world were we all supposed to survive when everything had either been ruined or stolen? Would there ever be a safe time for him to return to me? Did he still want to?
We motored down Sunset Boulevard, and I noticed a large glass tower of electric Smart cars across from a theater I used to go to. I marveled at the shiny display of the little cars, their bright colors out of place in the now-desolate Hollywood landscape. They seemed so happy and unaffected, locked up in their glass tower - a time capsule. In some ways, they reminded me of Ben, Rissi and I. I knew at some point, the glass would be broken, and the cars would be at risk from the elements, just like we would be if we couldn’t find water to take back. I was lost in such deep thought that it took me a moment to realize Ben was speaking.
“Maybe we should head back. I don’t like how far we’ve gotten from home,” he said.
Before I could answer, a flock of birds took flight from another parking lot turned meadow. It was a very large flock, and I wondered what’d startled them.
Three seconds later, I had my answer. We heard the rumbling first. Then the ground started to vibrate under our tires.
“Earthquake!” Ben said, setting the brake. We sat there for a moment, waiting and clutching the side of the cart. But it got worse. The ground suddenly rocked wildly under our cart, throwing me off balance. The telephone polls above us swayed as the electric cords on them danced. “Get under something!” Ben yelled. I jumped out and looked around for anything stable to crawl beneath, but I saw only a plastic bus bench. I dove under it and looked back for Ben. He was running toward an eighteen-wheeler sitting in the middle of the road, half-hidden by grass growing up around it. He ducked out of sight beneath it as the ground shuddered violently.
I clutched the leg of the bench and felt the earth rolling under me. I was sick with fear, my stomach churning. When would it stop?
I heard Ben yell distantly but was distracted by a sudden shower of sparks that rained down on my bus bench. I peeked out and saw the telephone poll wobbling, straining against the power lines holding it up. It leaned toward me for a moment, then loomed closer.
With the earth still dancing under my feet, I scrambled out from under the bench and ran out of the path of the telephone pole. And not a moment too soon. The power lines broke with loud, static-charged pops, and then the heavy brown pole fell, snapping the plastic bus bench into a million shards.
Not watching where I was going, I tripped on the curb and fell. Electricity buzzed in the air around me. And then it was quiet and still again. I stood up, checking my hands and knees. No bleeding, that’s good.
I turned to look for Ben, and heard a distant shout from further down the street.
“Ben!” I yelled. His shout sounded like one filled with terror. Stricken with fear, I ran to the truck he’d taken cover under but found it empty. I ran around it and came face to face with the same heavily muscled man I’d seen from my terrace that first week after The Plague. I jumped back, startled. He didn’t have the giant gun slung across his back like before, but he w
as still wearing the camo pants and black tank top. He was huge. He looked down at me, and I took a step back.
“You look familiar,” he said as he scanned me up and down. I didn’t answer. I glanced around. Where was Ben? He couldn’t have gone far.
“You okay?” The man asked in a gentle tone I didn’t trust. “That earthquake was something, wasn’t it? Had tuh’ve been at least a sixer. My name’s Hart. Who’re you?” He tried to smile, but it looked more like a sneer.
“Uh,” I said, stalling. “Have you seen anyone else? My friend, he was right here a second ago.” Ben, where are you, I thought. I edged back a step.
“I haven’t seen anyone except you. Why don’t you come with me? You look like you could use some help. Let me carry your bag.” He reached for my backpack, but I ducked away.
“Hey, now, there’s no reason to be jumpy. I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m just trying to help.” His voice was sad and cruel, and the way his eyes roamed over me made me feel like I was wearing much less than my jeans, t-shirt and jacket.
“No, thank you. I should be going. I need to find my friend.” I turned away from him, heart thumping, and walked quickly around the side of the eighteen-wheeler. When I was out of his line of sight, I began to run.
CHAPTER NINE
I heard Hart’s pounding feet on the pavement behind me, but didn’t turn to look. He was probably a faster runner than me. I looked about wildly for Ben. We had to make it back to Rissi. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if we didn’t.
I ducked through a gas station on the corner, hoping this station’s tanks had been emptied and the lids carelessly left off. Maybe my pursuer wouldn’t notice. But as I threw a glance over my shoulder, I saw him jump over one of the gaping holes without looking down. A fresh surge of fear ripped through me, and a new realization dawned on me. He was going to catch me.
In desperation, I grabbed at a newspaper stand as I flew by and flung it to the ground behind me. I chanced another look back just in time to see the top-heavy stand smash to the ground, the bottom of it flying up in the air and catching his leg. He crashed to the ground with a grunt. A knife skidded across the pavement.
The sight of the knife pumped fresh adrenaline in my veins, and I continued sprinting east. I knew it wasn’t safe on the main streets, so I scanned the area looking for a place to hide. I glimpsed a mural covering the side of a large building. Smiling faces of old movie stars in their heyday shined down on me, and I realized it was the theater at Hollywood High School. My heart jumped, and I ran even faster, leaping up the front steps and to the entrance, then skidded to an abrupt halt. The front of the building was in shambles, crumbled down over the top steps. Was this from the earthquake? What if the boy and his friends were inside when it hit?
My heart thumped loudly in my ears as I tried to round the building without stumbling on the debris. I desperately looked for a way in, but every entrance seemed to be caved in or blocked with rubble. I heard gasping and knew instantly it wasn’t my own breath. I turned as a hand swiped through my hair, pulling out a few strands, but never finding a solid grasp. I screamed and pushed the burly man. He stumbled over a large pile of bricks behind him and fell. I jumped over the last few piles of rubble, landing in the grass and streaking into the street.
I felt the entire weight of everything in the backpack as it yanked hard on my shoulders with every leap I took. I was getting tired, fast. I needed a hiding place, but the school was no longer an option with no entrance point. I heard Hart cursing less than a block behind me now.
I tried to think about the note the boy left me. I’d looked at it hundreds of times, thousands. I recited it to myself mentally as I ran. “If you need me, come to Hollywood High through the H&H underground metro gray.” H&H was Hollywood and Highland, an outdoor shopping complex that also housed the Dolby and Chinese Theaters with a subway entrance inside. It was only a block away from the school. The Gray Metro Line had to be beneath it.
I pushed myself until I got to the intersection of Hollywood Boulevard and Highland Avenue. I scanned the area until I saw a Metro sign and an escalator going down. Sweat dripped down my back, and I panted heavily. My legs felt like noodles. I looked back. Hart was half a block behind me, and closing fast. I couldn’t let myself stop now. There was a large clump of bushes shielding the escalator going down to the Metro. From the angle Hart was running, he might not see me. So I ran for it.
I nearly fell as I ran down the motionless metal steps. I hadn’t seen signs for a gray line, but it was too late to turn back and look for a subway map. It got dimmer as I went further down, with the majority of the lights having burnt out. I finally reached the subway platform and paused. I heard Hart jumping down the last few stairs, and I scrambled behind one of the pillars into a patch of complete darkness. I tried to breathe quietly. Hart stopped and looked around, scanning the area. His eyes paused on my hiding place, then slowly started toward me.
My heart jumped up, and I swallowed, my throat burning. The air was too thick. I felt heat on my legs and glanced down. From what I could see in the near darkness, I was tramping through the remains of a fire. Some of the embers were still glowing. Confused, I jumped out of it and looked around, my eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness. There was a wood stack, a small table with some food wrappers and some books and maps... and right at my feet was Karl, his head propped on a bedroll, eyes closed, fast asleep. I felt the urge to faint as the weight of the moment caught up to me. Darkness tried to close in over me and a dull hum started overtaking my ears, but I forced myself to bite it back. I shook my head, silently. I wouldn’t go like this.
I quietly backed away from him. My heart thumped so loud, I was sure it would wake him. I heard Hart call out to someone. I backed further into the darkness away from Karl and, thinking it would be the best place to hide, I slipped over the edge and dropped silently onto the subway tracks.
Another figure appeared beside Hart. He was a short, fat, bald man. He looked like he could have been my high school chemistry teacher.
“Hey, Bernie, you seen a teenage girl run through here a minute ago?” Hart asked him.
“Uh, no, I haven’t. Makin’ more friends?” I heard a sleepy voice reply back to him.
Hart kept looking around him while he talked to Bernie. “Not sure she made it down here. I lost her in the mall upstairs. Sure was quite a looker. Big green eyes. Freckles. Long red hair. There ain’t many reds left now-a-days.”
“Hey, you feel that earthquake about twenty minutes ago? Man, that was something!”
As I listened to them, I tried to fathom why, of all places, Karl and his cronies would be camping here, so deeply underground, when any number of lavish hotel suites and multi-million dollar homes were likely unoccupied and much more comfortable. It didn’t make sense. Either way, I couldn’t stay. I was too close. But I most certainly wasn’t going to go running through a pitch black subway tunnel. I backed farther into the darkness, keeping my hands on the wall as a bearing, and wondered how long I’d have to wait until they all left and I could escape back home.
“Why are you back so soon, Hart?” I froze as I heard Karl’s voice not ten feet from me.
“I was chasing a girl. Tried to get her to come with me, but she ran, and I followed her here.” Hart was still trying to catch his breath.
“She must be with them if she knew to come down here. And she slipped right by you, too, eh Bernie? Dammit, she’s probably halfway down one of the tunnels by now.”
At these words, my heart leapt. Could Karl be talking about the boy’s group? And did he mean this was an entrance they used? The boy’s note had said to use the Gray Metro Line at Hollywood & Highland. I wasn’t sure what color line ran through here, but it made sense to have such a concealed entrance if they were trying to keep their location a secret from The Front. He had also said they would be in the basement of Hollywood High School. All the surface entrances to the school had been blocked. Maybe this was their secret, undergrou
nd entrance.
Taking care to stay in the shadows, I peeked onto the platform to check the directional signs. To my left was the Universal City stop, which was north. Not the direction I wanted to go. To my right was the Hollywood & Vine stop, which was east. The school was south. I guessed east was better than north.
Praying Karl would continue to berate Hart and Bernie for letting me escape and not turn his attention back to searching for me, I began creeping my way into the eastern tunnel. The platform seemed bright as I left it behind and plunged into the dark yawning mouth of the subway tunnel.
CHAPTER TEN
I hated walking in the dark. With everything Ben had remembered to pack in my bag, he hadn’t thought of a flashlight. That would have been useful and comforting. I walked with one hand grazing the southern wall as a bearing. I kept my other hand hooked into the strap of my backpack instead of stretched out in front of me like a person suddenly stricken blind. It made me feel calmer if I forced my body to behave normally. I couldn’t shake the unsettling image of headlights from a rumbling subway train appearing in front of me, though. Just thinking about it terrified me, even though I knew it had to be impossible.
The cement bricks of the wall were dirty and crackly beneath my fingertips. Even though my touch was light, the rough surfaces bit at my raw skin.
I forced my breathing to slow to normal and my mind to clear. Memories of the boy had taken up all the space in my head since I’d heard Karl speculate his group was down here, somewhere. His presence in my mind was comforting. And the thought of possibly seeing him again made me breathless with anticipation. I suppose that technically, I’d be seeing him for the first time, since I’d never actually laid eyes on him before.
His voice echoed in my head, asking me questions, telling me not to be afraid. I remembered the way my name sounded on his lips and how the sweater he wore against the nighttime chill was a perfect scratchy softness against my bare arms. I continued to think of those details and not about walking blindly through a subway tunnel. I recalled how he wrapped my scraped hands and inspected the cut on my head with his warm fingertips. Chills broke out over my skin at the memory.
