The Nightworld

by Jack Blaine

  “Go fuck yourself.” Zeke storms out, slamming the apartment door behind him. We all hear the door to the stairwell slam too.

  He still isn’t back after dinner, and Kath is practically beside herself. She’s also got a huge black eye from where Zeke slapped her. Lara has been switching out cool cloths for her, but all Kath wants to do is check the stairwell door to see if he’s come back.

  “You guys go to bed,” she says, waving us away. “I’ll just wait up, and as soon as he’s back I’ll crash too.”

  Lara shrugs at me, and we finally do leave Kath to her thoughts. I’m beat, and I say good night to Lara at the door to her room, but she follows me down the hall to mine.

  “I don’t really want to be alone tonight, Nick.” Lara stares at the carpet instead of looking at me. She looks so tired, and yet she looks tough too. There’s something about her that’s totally different from how she was in school. I wonder if I seem different to her too.

  “I don’t know what kind of guy you think I am, but all I’m willing to do is spoon.” I wait for her to look up, and when she does I grin. She looks relieved, and I know I’ve said the right thing. We climb into the bed and heap the blankets over us. And we spoon, and I think I sleep the sweetest sleep I ever have, just holding her close.

  Chapter 26

  I don’t want to be awake, but I am. I wish Lara and I could just go on sleeping, so warm, so close. But we can’t. I rub the fuzziness out of my eyes and stretch. I automatically check the clock radio on the nightstand, even though the power has been off and on for days and it won’t tell me anything true. That’s when I see it.

  The low light from the nightstand lamp is enough to reveal that the box is gone. I left the device in its box on the nightstand, and it’s not there.

  “Shit.” I’m out of bed and on my way to the living room in less than thirty seconds. Kath is asleep on the couch. I touch her shoulder.

  “Kath?”

  “Hmm?” She doesn’t wake all the way. Lara’s up now too, looking at me with alarm.

  “What’s going on?”

  “That device—the thing my dad made. It’s gone. Where’s Zeke?”

  “Oh, no.” Kath is awake now. She sits up and holds her head in her hands. She starts to rock back and forth. “Oh, no. He promised me he wouldn’t do it. He promised me he wouldn’t.”

  “What?” I can’t believe it. “What, Kath? It’s Zeke, right?”

  She nods. “He showed up really late. He tried to talk me into going with him, but I said no. I said you were right, that those guys were trying to trick him. He wouldn’t listen at first, but then he finally acted like he’d had time to think, and he agreed with me. I should have known better than to believe him.”

  “Going with him where, Kath? Did he say where?” Lara is pulling on her shoes. She’s looking around the room for something—her coat, which she finally spots on the back of the couch and throws on too.

  “He said they were meeting him behind Rosy’s.” Kath is up, pulling on boots. “Where’s my damn jacket?”

  I run to the bedroom to get my shoes and my gun. When I get back to the living room, the girls are waiting at the door. They each have a pistol.

  “You both sure?”

  They don’t even bother to answer.

  The alley behind Rosy’s is dirty. Overturned garbage cans spew rotted food. It’s hard to tell, because there’s no light back here, so their eyes don’t glint, but I think I see the movement of rats.

  Zeke is crouching behind a Dumpster. He hears us coming, and when he turns, he’s holding his gun. Not pointing at us, but close. In his other hand, he’s holding the box with the device.

  “Zeke.” Lara reaches him first. She stops three feet away. “Don’t do this. Those guys are lying to you. They’ll probably kill you.”

  “You there, Zeke?” The voice comes from about thirty feet down the alley. I can make out another Dumpster down there; they’re probably using it for cover. I wish I could tell how many are there.

  “Yeah.” Zeke yells out the word without taking his eyes off us. “You got Meagan?”

  “She’s not here, Zeke. The deal was that we get her from those scum and take her to a safe house. Once you deliver the device, then we reveal the location, and you go get her and take her home.”

  Zeke looks at us, excitement and triumph shining in his eyes. He mouths a word. See?

  “Ask them how you know she’s safe, Zeke.” I’m stalling. I wonder if we could take them if we knock Zeke out and all three go in, guns blazing. I hear the crackle of one of their two-way radios, and my heart sinks. That noise is all too familiar. Is it possible that the guys who killed my dad could have tracked me here? Have they been watching Lara’s house, waiting for one of us to come out, a weak link to try to get to me? “Zeke. The guys who killed my dad were carrying the same radios.”

  He shakes his head. “Lots of guys have radios, Nick.” But even as he utters the words, he seems to realize they’re not true. Nobody has radios. At least nobody we know.

  “How do I know she’s safe, guys?” Zeke shouts, angry. He keeps his eyes on me, but I know somehow that it’s not me he’s angry at; it’s the whole thing. It’s the cold. It’s the fear. It’s the dark.

  “You’ve got our word, Zeke. She’s such a sweet little thing. It’s great we could get her out of there before something bad happened to her.”

  Zeke’s face crumples. “She is a sweet little girl, isn’t she?” He swallows. “Did she ask you to read her a bedtime story?”

  The guy answers right away. “She did—she wanted Snow White.”

  I hear Lara gasp.

  “What?” I look from Lara to Zeke, but neither one says anything.

  “Meagan’s at least six feet tall.” Lara’s whispering. “She’s Zeke’s fraternal twin. He calls her his little sister because she was born eleven minutes after him. But she’s the same age—seventeen.”

  They don’t have her. Zeke knows it too, from the look on his face.

  For a moment I think he’s going to cry, but he tightens his jaw and takes a long, shuddering breath. He looks at Kath, shaking his head.

  “You gotta run,” he says softly. “I didn’t tell them where we live, but they’ll come looking.” He flips the box at me; I’m not sure what’s happening, but I catch it. And then Zeke is gone. He’s walking around the Dumpster, gun in hand, toward them.

  There’s a sudden flurry of movement behind the other Dumpster; static crackles. A floodlight switch gets thrown, and Zeke is illuminated with a harsh glare.

  “Where’s the device, Zeke?”

  Zeke doesn’t say anything. He just keeps walking. Kath lunges to stop him, but Lara manages to hold her back.

  One more time the voice from the other side shouts, “Where is the device?”

  Lara loses her grip. I try to grab Kath, but she twists away from me and runs into the floodlight, toward Zeke. At the same time, Zeke raises his gun and shouts out at the night sky.

  “Same place my little sister is, you assholes!” He pulls the trigger.

  Immediately the air is filled with the deafening sound of automatic-rifle fire. Kath reaches Zeke just as he falls, and she’s caught in the rainstorm of bullets. I duck back behind the Dumpster. Lara is staring, transfixed. I grab her arm and pull, running as fast as I can, half dragging her along. The sound of the rifles doesn’t stop.

  Chapter 27

  We do a quick check to make sure no one has disturbed the entry to the apartment while we’ve been out, and we grab my backpack and Lara’s and get ready to make a run for it. No time for anything but the smallest stash of food and water, and we’re off. Tank senses that something is wrong and he follows close, moving silently. I’m trying to think, but I feel like I’m in shock—everything seems to be going by really slowly, and it’s like I’m seeing it from inside one of those old-fashioned goldfish bowls. I keep us moving for a half hour, until we’re both so out of breath we can’t keep running.

&nb
sp; The street we’re on looks deserted, but they all do now, so that doesn’t mean we’re safe. There are plenty of smashed-in storefront windows, and the rubble on the sidewalk keeps tripping us in the dark. I duck through the door of what looks like an abandoned diner.

  It’s empty in front. I leave Lara with Tank and check the back rooms. There’s a small office and a storage room. Inside it, there’s a walk-in pantry. I go back out front and get Lara and Tank. We all collapse on the floor at the back of the pantry. Tank’s panting is the loudest sound; I can barely make out the shape of his head in the gloom.

  “What do we do?” Lara sounds hopeless. I wish I had an answer for her. I keep seeing Kath’s body in my mind, jerking in the floodlight as the bullets hit it.

  We can’t stay in this diner too long. It’s too open, too exposed. We can’t go back to the apartment, because for all we know Zeke got tailed there last night. For a second it all feels so hopeless.

  “Don’t never give up.” I see Gus, raising his hand good-bye. “It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

  I rip open my backpack and dig through it, and there they are. The set of keys Gus gave me. The locker with the bicycle in it. If it’s big enough to hold a bike, it’s probably big enough for the three of us to hole up in, at least for the night. I unroll the paper with the locker’s address written on it and show it to Lara.

  “Do you know where this is?”

  She takes it. “Yeah. It’s a self-storage place off Madison. It’s not far from here. What is it?”

  “I think for tonight it’s home.”

  We make our way to the storage facility address. The front door is wide open. I scope out the hallway. There are metal rollup doors lining both sides of the hall, and ours is all the way at the end. The place looks surprisingly undisturbed; I guess the locks must be pretty good.

  “It looks clear,” I whisper. Lara nods. We scoot to the door with the number twelve on it. The key fits the lock and we’re inside in no time. It’s pitch black. Lara finds her flashlight and turns it on.

  It’s a pretty large unit. There’s nothing in it except a large, lumpy shape at the back, covered with a canvas tarp.

  “Shine it here?” I point at the door. Lara directs the light to me, and I see that there’s a manual latch on the inside of the unit. I shove it hard into place and hope it will keep us safe tonight. I walk toward the back.

  “Let’s check it out—maybe we can make that tarp our mattress for the night.”

  I tug it and it slips off, sliding to the floor with a scratchy sound. Lara whistles.

  “That,” says Lara, “is our ride to Detroit.”

  What I assumed must be a ten-speed bike when Gus talked about it has turned out to be a huge, powerful-looking motorcycle. I don’t know what kind it is, but it looks vintage. There’s room for both of us on the double saddle of the seat. And the best part? It has a sidecar.

  “Looks like you’re in luck, buddy.” I scratch Tank’s ear. “Your chariot awaits.”

  The gas tank is empty, but there’s a can of gas that smells fresh enough. I wonder when the last time Gus rode this was—it looks polished and ready to go.

  “If this thing starts, we’re heading out tomorrow morning.” I look at Lara to see what she will say. She nods.

  “Look.” She reaches into the sidecar and fishes out a brown envelope. Inside are some newspaper clippings. Lara unfolds one, and there’s a photograph of this bike, with a man on the seat and a lady sitting in the sidecar, wearing an old-fashioned hat. The caption reads “Agustus Gannon, with his wife, Irene.” There’s an article that goes with the photo.

  A RIDE TO REMEMBER

  Agustus Gannon, who is riding with his lady love across our entire United States, stopped today in Mettle Falls. Mr. Gannon’s motorbike, a BMW R71 with sidecar, was imported after the war. Mrs. Gannon says it is a smooth-riding vehicle. The couple will stay at the River Inn in town and leave in the morning to continue their travels.

  “Wow.” Lara is smiling. I realize I am too. I wonder where Gus is now. I hope he’s still alive. I hope he found his family. If nothing else, I hope he managed to scavenge himself another six-pack.

  Lara and I make a bed out of the tarp, and we’re so tired that we’re asleep before we can do so much as curl up into each other. I know Tank will warn us if anybody tries the door. Even though it’s only been a matter of hours since we woke up to find Zeke gone, so much has happened that our brains just need to shut down.

  I dream about sunlight. It’s coming down from the sky through tree branches, dappling everything with a beautiful warm glow. I feel a breeze, and the light plays on the ground, changing as the branches move. There’s green grass; I think I’m in a park not far from my house. When I look ahead, I can see Lara, and Charlie. They’re sitting on a park bench, laughing about something. There’s a man sitting with them, facing away from me—when he turns, I can see it’s Dad. He smiles, waves toward me. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him. . . .

  I wake in the dark, the cold from the cement floor penetrating all the way to my bones. The dream is over. Time to move.

  We pack all of our stuff into the nose of the sidecar and belt Tank into the seat with some canvas strapping we found in the corner. It’s as close to a safety belt as I can get, and I think he’s secure. I pour some of the gas into the bike’s tank and stow the rest in the sidecar next to Tank. Lara stands by the door, ready to open it as soon as the bike starts, if it does. I turn on the ignition, mentally cross my fingers, and give it a kick-start.

  The bike lives! The rumble of the motor is so loud inside the storage garage that we can’t hear anything else. Tank doesn’t love it when the motor starts, but he has no time to protest because as soon as it does, Lara throws the door open, hops on the seat behind me, and I drive the bike down the hall and out onto the street. Lara has her gun out and ready, with mine tucked in her belt. I head for the freeway ramp we mapped out a few blocks away.

  Chapter 28

  The second we hit the street, three guys rush the bike. They must have heard the motor inside the storage warehouse because they’re waiting at the entrance. They don’t look like they belong to the crazies—no jackets with symbols that I can see, just denim and down jackets. But they do look like they mean us harm. The first two get knocked over by the bike, but the third has some time to gauge the situation, and he jumps onto the sidecar. Tank yelps, and then he bites the guy in the thigh—it looks like it hurts. The guy doesn’t let go, though, not until Lara hits him on the head with her pistol. As soon as he’s clear of the bike, I gun it and put on as much speed as I can handle. The last time I was on a bike was summer before last, when Charlie’s stepdad bought one on a whim and let us try it out. It was a little Honda, and it didn’t have a sidecar. Charlie’s stepdad wrecked it after three weeks. I don’t want to wreck this bike. The consequences would be a lot worse than the broken leg that Charlie’s stepdad got.

  I carefully and quickly wind through the streets until I see the on-ramp, trying to get familiar with the feel of the bike. The sidecar helps me keep it steady—it’s like the perfect training wheel. I pour on the speed then, and we make it onto the freeway with no other incidents.

  For a little while it’s smooth sailing. The freeway isn’t much more crowded than it was when I came into the city with Morton. I’m able to zigzag between the cars that are left. Most of them look like the people in them just got out and walked away. Some are wrecked, some are burned-out shells. The streetlights work for the first few miles.

  After about an hour, Lara taps my shoulder and motions for me to pull over. When I do, she swings her leg off the bike and stretches.

  “I think we should find a good place to pull over and have some food.”

  I look around. A few yards ahead is a van, lying on its side. Rammed into its rear end is a little Toyota pickup. Together they form a great hiding place for the bike.

  “Stay here, just while I check that out?” I tilt my he
ad toward it. Lara frowns at me.

  “I’m coming.” She sounds a little pissed off.

  Before I can say anything, she’s back on the bike. I shake my head and go. I know she won’t listen to me if I try to convince her it’s safer for her to wait here.

  The van and the truck are only a few feet off the shoulder, but it’s enough to fit the bike behind them. They are at an angle, forming a wide V shape, so from either approach, the bike can’t be seen very well. I think it might be okay to stop here for a bit. I pull the bike as close to the van’s roof, which is facing away from the freeway, as I can get it. Lara hops off again, and I get Tank unwrapped from his makeshift seatbelt. Lara gets some food out of her pack—a can of sardines and one of peaches. We pop the can tops and share a bottle of water.

  “Sardines. Who would have thought I’d be eating them like they were delicious?” Lara laughs and gives one of the oily fish to Tank, who scarfs it down in a half second.

  “Lara.” I don’t want to have this talk, but I feel like we have to do it. She looks at me, all traces of laughter gone, almost as though she knows what I’m going to say. “We need to be safe. I think it would be better if you would just let me take the lead sometimes, just until we know what we’re dealing with.” I think it’s a good start. But when I look at her face, I can tell I’ve just made a big mistake.

  “Are you talking about back there, when you wanted me to wait for you while you made sure the place was safe for li’l ol’ me?”

  Yep. Big mistake.

  “Because I can tell you right now, Nick, that will not fly. I am not some little girl you can order around, and I am not going to wait back at the fucking ranch while you go make sure everything’s safe on the prairie or whatever the hell . . .”

  I can’t help laughing just a little, but Lara doesn’t think it’s funny. “Look, I get it.” I try for a conciliatory tone. “I know we’re equal, blah blah blah. It’s not about that. It’s just about . . .”

  “About what?” She is ready to throw down.