Autumn in the City of Angels

by Kirby Howell

  I got to my room and closed the door. I stayed there for the rest of the day, skipping my daily chores. I told myself I was biding my time until the evening. I would need my rest if I was going to try to escape that night, but it was a lie. I was hiding, hiding from Lydia, and hiding from Grey. This small hole of a room was my refuge and soon, I would be glad to leave it and this encampment behind. I told myself I hated Grey, despite the things he had done for me.

  The hours passed slowly, and I was thankful for the chocolate bars Ben packed for me. The candy I stuffed my face with prevented my stomach from growling at me in hunger. I drank one of my sodas as well. The sweets and carbonation gave me a stomach ache, but I didn’t care. Eating in my room kept me from having to wander out into the halls and join the rest for meals. I didn’t want to face anyone, not even Connie and Shad.

  I knew I should go find Connie and tell her goodbye, but there was a part of me that was too afraid she’d try to stop me for my own good. I didn’t think she’d rat me out necessarily, but she would attempt to dissuade me, and I didn’t have any extra time on my hands for that. She had stayed with Shad in the infirmary the night before and would probably be there again tonight. I used the light from my digital watch to write her a note of thanks and begged her not to make my absence known if it’d gone unnoticed by the time she read the letter. I thanked her for her honesty and kind words and wished her and Shad the best.

  I’d thought about leaving a note for Grey as well, but couldn’t decide what tone to take. I was confused about his feelings for me, if he even had any. I was frustrated by his strange relationship with Lydia and yet still fascinated by him. He’d shown such kindness to me, though, and I suppose I wanted to preserve him that way. I decided leaving nothing was the nicest thing I could manage.

  The time finally came. It was around one in the morning, and it’d been at least an hour since I’d last heard any shuffling in the halls. I pushed the door open and looked around. The path was clear. I slipped back into the room and poured the crushed-up sedative in the one soda I had left from my bag. I hoped the guard on night watch had a taste for cherry soda, because there was no backup plan.

  I tiptoed into Connie’s empty room and slipped the note under her pillow. I took a breath to steady myself. I held the tainted can of soda like a priceless artifact as I proceeded down the halls. After a moment, I saw my intended target. Good, he was already yawning. No one liked pulling night duty. I took another deep breath.

  “Hey there,” I said, trying to sound as benign as possible. I’d never seen him before, and I could tell he was a bit perplexed as to who I was.

  “My name’s Autumn. I don’t think we’ve met.” I stuck out one hand. He shook it. His firm grip scared me a little. I didn’t want this guy to catch me trying to escape.

  “James. Why you up so late, Autumn?” So far so good, I thought.

  “Oh, too much caffeine.” I motioned to the soda in my hand. I saw him eye it. Things like soda were a luxury here. “I’d been saving a few of these, but I forgot how they keep me awake.”

  He seemed uninterested in what I was saying but was still eying my drink.

  I chuckled and hoped it didn’t sound fake. I pressed on. “Matter of fact, I just opened this, but it’ll just keep me up the rest of the night. I’d hate to throw it away, you know?”

  He seemed to perk up a bit. “That would be a shame. Is it cold?”

  “Not really, but it’s still good. Really sweet.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Do you want it?” I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice my shaking hands.

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  “Totally.” I handed him the can and as he took several long gulps I said, “I bet you could use the caffeine.”

  A few more gulps, and he paused just long enough to say, “God, I miss these. I used to drink way too much soda. Ironically, since The Plague, I’m healthier than I ever was before.” He smiled almost boisterously up at me.

  “Yeah, no such thing as fast food anymore,” I said with a laugh. I thought about that strange truth. Now that everyone had to work to survive from day to day, and all of the modern conveniences were all but gone, those of us who’d survived The Plague probably were all healthier than before.

  I watched him finish off the last bit of the soda, hoping to God the sedative would be more powerful than the caffeine. “Well, I’m going to head back and try to get some sleep. Nice meeting you, James,” I said with a friendly smile.

  “Yeah, you too. Thanks for the drink.” He waved happily as I started my retreat.

  “Sure thing.” I turned and walked back to my room. I figured I’d wait half an hour.

  I set the timer on my cheap watch and leaned back against my bedroom wall, resting my eyes. It felt like only a minute passed when the alarm went off. I tried to kick-start myself back into action, mentally chiding myself for allowing the small nap. It had only made me more tired and dulled my senses. I pulled on my backpack and slipped down the hall.

  The guard was snoring with his head hanging limply to the side, and I felt instant butterflies in my stomach. My plan had worked so far, and now I had to follow through with the rest. I took another quick look, making sure no one was around, then I rested my hand ever so quietly on the door handle. I twisted it slowly and watched the sleeping guard. So far, so good.

  I slipped through and pulled the door behind me, shrouded in darkness yet again. I illuminated the light on my watch. The hallway was now dimly lit in a lime green shade.

  I found the theater Todd had led me through my first day here. From here on, I was less certain of the path. I hadn’t paid that much attention when I followed him. If anything, I would just keep going in the general direction of “down.” It wouldn’t matter if I came out somewhere else. As long as I found an exit, I could figure out how to get home from there. Having been raised in Los Angeles, one thing I knew was that I was never really lost. As long as I could find a major street and take it west, I would find the ocean, and from there it was a simple matter of heading north or south to find the marina.

  I surprised myself at how quickly I found the familiar halls and doors from the security cameras. I quit using my watch to guide my way, knowing the light would definitely be seen on the cameras. It was pretty easy to skirt around where I suspected the static cameras were monitoring, and it wasn’t long before I heard the small whine of the moving cameras. I closed my eyes and pictured the monitors, recalling exactly which areas they overlooked. Then I covered my watch with my hand and held it up to my eyes. I pressed the illumination button and saw the time, making sure not to let any of the light escape from my hands. Once I had them timed to the second, I mentally counted down until I was certain the camera was starting to scan in the direction going away from me. I pressed myself against the left wall and followed it until I felt a doorway. From there I dropped to my belly and dragged myself silently across the hall to the adjacent door. I was still counting, and when I was certain the second moving camera was beginning its scan in the opposite direction, I stood up and followed the right wall down the corridor, occasionally sliding on my stomach as needed to move forward.

  I finally reached the crawlspace. I knew there was no way to avoid being seen here. My only hope was to move through it as quickly as possible and hope no one was looking at that monitor or that there was a time delay in the video feed.

  I took a deep breath and started for the hole, but quickly stopped in my tracks. My backpack. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. I took it off and wrapped one of the straps around my foot. Once the knot was secure, I took another deep breath and scurried into the hole.

  Going through the hole this time was much quicker. For one thing, I wasn’t certain if I had a team of people from the hideout hot on my heels. Since I had no way of knowing if they’d seen me enter the hole, I proceeded with the assumption that they were after me. Secondly, I was going downhill this time and could count on gravity to do so
me of my work for me.

  I was through the hole within minutes, and, when I exited the tunnel, I pulled on my backpack again and illuminated the area with my watch. I did a quick sweep to confirm I was alone, and, when I was sure there wasn’t anyone lurking in the dark tunnel, I hastily restacked the stones to disguise the crawlspace opening and began to move.

  Instead of going back to the Hollywood and Highland entrance where Karl’s people were loitering last time, I decided to go the other direction, hoping there wasn’t another group to deal with at the next subway stop.

  Adrenaline surged through my body, helping me move forward at a pace I wouldn’t have believed possible for my small legs. I held the button on my watch down as I ran, lighting the few feet in front of me. To my surprise, I didn’t fall this time. I tried to listen for Karl’s men as I ran. I was hoping that if there were any down here, they’d be using much stronger flashlights, so I’d be able to see them coming before they saw me, giving me enough time to duck and hide. Other than that, I had no real plan to defend myself. I should have fashioned a weapon of some kind, but in my haste to get back, I’d forgotten about that detail.

  After a while, I saw a dim light emerging from the darkness ahead of me. It was the Hollywood & Vine platform. I slowed my pace and turned off my watch light to listen. It was miles between this subway entrance and the next one, and the next exit would take me even further east and further from home. On top of that, I wasn’t sure how much battery I had left in my watch, and I couldn’t run the risk of having to navigate even more miles of tunnel in the dark. I needed to exit here.

  Suddenly, I heard a snap several yards ahead of me. I froze in my footsteps. Then I saw the little light. My blood went cold. I very quietly made my way to the wall and tried to force myself to keep going. The man walked down the middle of the train tracks, keeping his light focused on the ground in front of him, only lazily scanning the area every so often. I couldn’t see his face, just the beam of light coming from his flashlight. I imagined he’d made the trip dozens of times, never finding anything, and that his boredom with this assignment made him apathetic.

  He was nearly parallel with me when I heard him stop and yawn. I froze. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sounds of my breath. The fear of being captured made my ears hum loudly, and I started to feel weak. If he didn’t go soon, I might pass out, and he’d hear the loud thud as my body hit the ground.

  After what felt like an eternity, he started forward again. I waited until he got nearly a hundred yards away before I started moving. I wasn’t sure how many more of these moments of tension I could physically take. Each time, they left me feeling sick and on the verge of having a heart attack. Was that even possible at my age? It felt like it might be.

  Soon, I saw the outline of an escalator set just off the subway platform. I crept toward the edge of the platform, staying in the shadows, while I carefully scoped out the area. When I was certain there was no one else around, I took a deep breath, and gripped the edge of the platform, hoisting myself onto the walkway.

  I made it to the non-functioning escalator and charged up the stairs, refusing to look behind me. I ran as if I were being pursued. The escalator stairs were long, so long that my energy started waning before I made it to the top, but I didn’t let my sore thighs slow me down. I was too close to the surface. I felt the open space above me, waiting, still as a pool at night.

  When I emerged, the fresh nighttime air welcomed me. I sucked it in deeply and then took a quick look around for signs of The Front. A handmade flag waved on a streetlight pole above me, but there were no other signs of movement, so I began walking. I was in old Hollywood, and the Walk of Fame lay under foot. There were no new stars here, and I trotted over them, focused on deciding the best route home.

  I didn’t want to make the trip on foot if I didn’t have to, so I made sure to pass by the intersection where Ben and I were separated, hoping our electric golf cart would still be there, but it was gone. I considered finding a car and trying to make it run after a year of lying idle, but decided it would draw too much attention.

  It took three hours to make it to the 10 freeway. The sun broke over the horizon and streamed through the high rises downtown. It seemed silly walking up the entrance ramp from National Boulevard, but even without a car, I thought it would still be the quickest way, and on top of that, being exposed on the surface streets made me paranoid. There wouldn’t be much cover on the freeway, but I could duck between the cars if I suspected I was being followed.

  I huffed and puffed up the elevated ramp that connected the 10 to the 405 freeway. I’d never noticed just how steep this interchange was. From the apex I could see all of the Westside in front of me and the ocean beyond. My muscles wept for a break, but I kept moving south toward the marina and home.

  I stayed on the shoulder of the 405, constantly scanning left and right and behind me, making sure I was alone. The streetlights seemed spaced further apart than I’d remembered. In the car, they’d seemed close together, but now it seemed like an eternity between them.

  My feet ached, and blisters were forming. I knew if I picked my pace up to a jog, I could make it home by early afternoon, but I just didn’t have it in me. It was hard enough to convince myself not to take breaks. If I stopped, it would just take me that much longer to get to home, and the longer I was out, the longer I was in danger of being found by The Front. So I walked on, counting the streetlights and BMWs.

  There were so many expensive cars on the Los Angeles freeways. American-made cars and trucks were the rarity. I thought if any of the survivors were car enthusiasts, they’d be delighted with the choice of cars left out on the roads.

  I stopped looking at the cars after the first few miles. Once I started to see past the exteriors, I saw what lay inside some of them and felt the urge to sprint to the nearest freeway exit. Some people had tried to outrun The Plague by leaving town. They hadn’t realized the illness could still find them in their cars, and now the 405 was one of the largest graveyards in the world. I thought for a moment about all of the other cities across the globe that probably had scenes just like this. My eyes stung, wondering if my mother, my dad, or any of my friends were in similar graveyards.

  I made the mistake of glancing into an overturned Volkswagen Beetle as I passed and saw a pair of legs clad in jeans and white Jack Purcell sneakers in the shadows of the car. They reminded me of Sarah’s shoes. The man who laced those up that morning hadn’t realized he wouldn’t be taking them off again.

  I lingered by the car, my eyes flickering between his now weathered shoes and my own sneakers, which were coated in dust. They were strikingly similar. A surge of panic pulsated through me, and I ripped my sneakers off and began pounding them against the asphalt, dust clouds billowing from each, beating the dust, dirt and decay from them.

  I had to get away from here. I stood up unsteadily and took a few steps, then pulled on a shoe. I took another few steps and put the other on. I paused just long enough to tie the laces into knots that would be unimaginable to undo later and then put one foot in front of the other.

  I forced myself to count streetlights again. The only words I would allow in my head were the numbers I counted and, in time, the miles seemed to go by more quickly.

  It was just after midday when I started to see signs for the 90 freeway, which dead ended at The Water Tower. The signs telling me I was nearly done with the freeway graveyard refreshed the adrenaline in my veins, and I picked up my pace.

  When I finally made it to the 90, I was thankful it was such a short freeway. Maybe another hour or two and I would be home. However, there weren’t as many cars to hide in between, and that concerned me.

  I decided to start walking between the cars for extra cover, abandoning the shoulder of the freeway. It proved slower for travel, as I had to weave in and out of the gaps, and sometimes climb over spots where cars collided. I was also graced with some new bruises where I’d crashed into a few side mirrors
. Each blow irritated me. I wanted to yell at the mirrors as if they were living, breathing things that went out of their way to make my journey more difficult. My nerves were shot.

  I was halfway down the freeway when I thought I saw movement ahead of me and ducked. I’d been lucky so far. My escape had gone unnoticed, as far as I was aware. I spotted The Water Tower, standing elegantly at the end of the freeway. It was like the pot of gold at the end of my asphalt rainbow. I focused in sharply on the top floor, where Rissi would be. Home looked so close, but I was still at least a mile away, and now I wasn’t sure if I was being followed.

  I crouched next to a gray Passat. I used the side mirror to make sure there was no one behind me, and I listened intently to verify there were no new noises around. Slowly, I straightened my knees, allowing them to lift me to a near vertical posture. I peeked ahead, staring in the direction of the movement. I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I wasn’t confident enough to stand. So I stayed in my semi-crouched position and started again forward, every now and again straightening slightly to look around.

  I finished the entire last mile this way. It was well into the afternoon, and even though the weather was cool, the sun beat down on me, making my skin hot to the touch. My neck and back ached, and I felt the beginning strains of a headache.

  The freeway ended directly across the street from my beautiful glass tower. I looked up its straight sides and swore I could feel Ben and Rissi’s presence. I was so close to safety. I wanted to run, but I’d been so careful up to this point. I had to continue moving with care.

  I slowly crossed the street, hiding between the cars as I had for the last couple of hours. Then I heard the voices. There was laughter and loud talking. I froze. My hands started to tremble, and my heartbeat sped up again. Here I had been counting my blessings, surprised by my good luck through the bulk of my trip, only to get to the very end and be trapped.