The Scourge

by R. Tilden Smith

  Moji gave a short nod in the affirmative then winced at the wave of pain caused by the motion.

  “That’s my girl! Come on, let’s go.”

  They continued across the street, Crystal guiding Moji around the larger pools of shattered glass. They were following the curve of the driveway, just passing under the porte-cochère, when a bright beam of light struck them from the interior of the building.

  “Stop!” a shaky, but determined sounding voice boomed from somewhere within the Tower’s lobby. “This is private property and you are trespassing! I have a gun and I will use it! Please leave the premises!”

  Crystal stopped, frozen in fear. The light was blinding, but as her eyes adjusted, she could tell it was coming from the direction of the security desk. The new illumination also made clear why she could hear the voice from within the lobby so clearly—many of the floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the wall of the lobby were blown out, including the one from the area where the beam of light originated.

  “Please let us in! I live here!” Moji said, trying to speak past the pain that was pounding incessantly in her skull.

  “Please back away from the property!” the disembodied voice continued, “ I do not want to have to shoot you!”

  “She’s telling the truth damn it!” Crystal said, “Her name is Moji. She lives on the tenth floor, unit 1014. Please let us in. She’s hurt. She needs medical attention.”

  There was a pause. Crystal thought she heard multiple voices whispering and murmuring behind the wall of light. She risked moving her hand up to her face to shade her eyes for a better look.

  “Ok, ok, you can come in,” the voice said, sounding a little relieved. Walk straight into the light. Slowly. No sudden moves.”

  “Trust me,“ Crystal said, “we are in no shape for sudden moves.”

  She helped Moji hobble forward, stepping carefully over the mound of glass shards piled in front of the window frame. As they stepped through the frame, the light was extinguished and they were once again plunged into complete darkness.

  Moji could hear voices and see several shapes moving around in the dark. She recognized a familiar accent. “Jamarco! Jamarco, is that you?”

  “Yah Miss Douglas, it’s me,” Jamarco said, his voice was rushed and faint, as if he were afraid his words would attract trouble.

  Crystal interrupted. “Jamarco, what’s going on? Why you got Rambo guarding the front door? Moji needs help and we out there playing twenty questions.”

  “Yah Miss, I’m sorry Miss. We—”

  “I can answer that,” said another voice out of the darkness, the same voice that threatened them. “After the explosion blew out the lobby windows and the city lost power, the riff-raff and derelicts came out of the woodwork and decided to pay us a visit. They were running around wreaking havoc, looking for things to steal, and scaring our residents. Jamarco doesn’t carry a weapon so I felt I had to do something to protect the property.”

  “And that gives you the right to make us stand in the street and interrogate us at gunpoint like we’re some kind of thugs?” Crystal said.

  “What? No, no nothing like that. I’m sorry I scared you. Let me atone by properly introducing myself. My name is Jeremy Walls. I live on the second floor. Until Jamarco explained it to me, I didn’t know Miss Douglas lived in the building.”

  “I really don’t give a flip who you are,” Crystal said, “right now my friend needs medical attention. She has a pretty bad gash on the back of her head. So I would appreciate it if you would call an ambulance or a taxi so I can take her to the emergency room.”

  A light source from the direction of Jeremy’s voice flared to life, once again bathing her and Moji in a harsh white light. The beam moved, sweeping the lobby to Crystal’s left. She followed it with her eyes. Makeshift barriers, constructed of tables, filing cabinets, and other bits of furniture, were strewn around the lobby like landmines, making it difficult to maneuver without the aid of a flashlight. The beam of light stopped and held steady on a door marked STAIRWELL.

  “We can’t call anybody,” Jeremy said, “cell phones and landlines are out. The only things working are gas stoves and water heaters. Some of our other residents were hurt by flying glass. One of the doctors that lives in the building set up a triage area in my apartment. You can get to it by taking the stairs over there. Go to the second floor and take a right. It’s the last unit on the left. Number 202. I would take you but me and Jamarco have to be on watch down here in the lobby in case we get any more unwelcome visitors.”

  “Well, do you at least have an extra flashlight?” Crystal asked, “I can’t see a damned thing.”

  “Yes, yes of course. I have an extra one here somewhere.”

  The light from the flashlight was on the move again, swinging full circle, momentarily illuminating Jamarco at his position behind the security desk and finally shrinking and pooling at the feet of a tall, gangly white man with thinning hair and big eyeglasses that hung precariously off his nose. He had a rifle casually slung over his shoulder as he poked around inside of a duffel bag he had picked up off the floor.

  Dude looks just like he sounds, Crystal thought, Norman Bates as the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.

  Moji let out a little moan. “Crystal, I need to lie down. I don’t feel so good.” Moji felt her knees buckle.

  “Whoa whoa, hold on there girl!” Crystal said as Moji’s dead weight collapsed onto her shoulders. “Jamarco help me! I can’t hold her.”

  She clamped her arm as tightly as she could around Moji’s waist and leaned backwards, trying to support Moji’s weight with her legs. Oh God, she’s heavy! I can’t hold her! As she shifted her body to allow Moji to slide to the floor, she felt an arm slide between her abdomen and Moji’s back, smoothly lifting Moji’s crushing weight from her chest.

  “I have her Miss,” Jamarco said, cradling Moji’s limp, semi-conscious body in his arms.

  “Jesus! I thought I was going to drop her!” Crystal said.

  “Is she alright?” Jeremy asked, swinging the beam of his flashlight in their direction.

  “I don’t know Mr. Walls,” Jamarco said, “she passed out. I need to take her upstairs.”

  “Ok, but come right back. I need you down here.”

  “Yes sir Mr. Walls. Come on Miss, grab the flashlight from Mr. Walls and let’s head upstairs.”

  Jeremy handed Crystal a large, baton style flashlight. “Be sure that I get this back. And don’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary. I need to conserve the batteries until the electricity gets turned back on.”

  Jeremy’s condescending tone and dismissive behavior had begun to wear on Crystal and she decided that she didn’t like him much, but she held her anger in check. The flashlight was made of a dense metal, about a foot long and two inches in diameter. Crystal found the flashlight’s toggle switch and flicked it on. Its three LED’s gave off a tight, bright beam of white light. She tossed the flashlight from her left to her right hand—its heft was substantial. I could easily crush a skull with this thing, she thought. She suppressed the urge to test her theory on Jeremy and instead pointed the flashlight’s beam directly into his face, enjoying the look of surprise and agony that spread across his brow as his eyes tried to adjust to the intense light. “Don’t worry Mr. Walls, I’ll take good care of it,” she said and made an abrupt about face and headed toward the stairwell. Jamarco lifted the unconscious Moji a little higher so that her head rested on his shoulder and then he fell in close behind Crystal.

  Jamarco waited until they were out of Jeremy’s earshot before getting Crystal’s attention. “Miss, I don’t know if it is a good idea to get on Mr. Walls’ bad side.”

  “Jamarco,” Crystal replied without turning around, “please call me Crystal. Miss makes me feel like an old woman.”

  “Ok Crystal.”

  “And I don’t give a rat’s ass about Mr. Walls’ feelings. He almost shot me and Moji just for walking while black and he acted like I wa
s going to steal his precious flashlight. The man obviously doesn’t have any black friends.”

  They reached the doorway that led to the stairwell. Crystal entered first then held the door open so Jamarco could maneuver through with Moji. She noted with guilty exhilaration that Jamarco was hardly fatigued in his effort to carry Moji. I bet he has some slamming muscles under that shirt.

  ”Miss—I mean Crystal, you might not care for Mr. Walls but Miss Douglas will need to gain his trust and friendship if she is to win the right to keep her dog. Mr. Walls is one of the people who will vote on Mrs. Watson’s proposal.”

  “Oh damn,” Crystal said, her voice echoing off the walls of the dank concrete stairwell, “I didn’t know.”

  “Yes, Mr. Walls is well respected in the Tower community. The other residents listen to him. “

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “I am not sure. Other than Miss Douglas, the residents don’t talk to us much. You know, we are just the help. But I’ve heard talk that he is some sort of lawyer. A malpractice lawyer, I think.”

  “Well, that makes sense. Moji told me this place is full of doctors.”

  Crystal stepped aside so Jamarco could climb the staircase ahead of her. She stayed a step behind and lit the way with the flashlight.

  “Oh well,“ she shrugged in the dark, “if the rest of the voters are anything like the puckered a-holes named Mrs. Watson and Mr. Walls, poor Tyson doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “Tyson?” Jamarco asked between breaths.

  “Tyson is the name of Moji’s dog. You didn’t know that?”

  “No. I’ve never heard Miss Douglas refer to her dog as anything other than baby.”

  “Figures. I swear she treats the thing like an only child.”

  They had reached the second floor landing. The windowless steel door was stenciled with the number ‘2’ and the words NO RE-ENTRY painted in florescent white.

  “It probably won’t matter much anyway,” Crystal continued, “when that thing exploded, the dog got spooked and ran away and almost took Moji with it. That’s how she got that nasty bump on the back of her head.”

  “The dog did not return?”

  “Nah. Like most of the males in my girl’s life, when the going got tough he took off running.”

  Moji stirred in Jamarco’s arms and mumbled something incomprehensible. Her eyes darted about behind her eyelids.

  Crystal stepped in close and held the flashlight’s bright beam directly under Moji’s chin. “Hey Moji?” she said, “Are you ok? You passed out on us there girl.” To Crystal’s dismay, Moji’s only response was to thrash a little more vigorously. Crystal looked up at Jamarco. “You think she’s dreaming?”

  “I think we should hurry up so the doctor can look at her.”

  Crystal nodded her head in agreement and pushed open the door so Jamarco could come through. She pointed the beam down the hallway. A dim yellow light glowed from an open door at the far end. That’s gotta be the place, she thought, not only because of the light, but because she could hear voices coming from that direction. She pointed for Jamarco to take the lead. He headed down the hallway and she hurried to stay close to him.

  When they reached the open door, she switched off her flashlight and followed Jamarco into the apartment. After her eyes adjusted to the much dimmer light, she counted about five people occupying the main living area. A few battery-powered lanterns placed around the perimeter made just enough light to see faces. The room was bare and devoid of furniture. Blankets and a couple of twin-sized mattresses were arranged on the floor in two rows of four. The blanketed areas were empty while the mattresses were occupied by two people who were lying awkwardly, not at all in a comfortable sleeping position. They look...dead, Crystal thought. She shuddered and looked away. The remaining three occupants were standing together in a rough semicircle with their backs to her. They were focused intensely on the voices emanating from a radio perched in the corner. Crystal recognized the voices of the radio announcers. They were Jack Arnold and Suzanne Reynolds, the hosts of the “The AR-15”, a notorious conservative leaning talk show popular with conspiracy theorists and right-wing nut jobs. Great, she thought, no telling what foolishness Jack and Sue are pumping into those folk’s heads. No wonder Jeremy is downstairs using innocent people as target practice.

  Concerned and cautious, she turned her attention back to Jamarco and Moji. Jamarco carefully stepped over one of the people lying prone on a mattress then kneeled down and placed Moji gently down on one of the unoccupied blankets. He lifted and cradled her head in one of his hands. He used the other to motion to Crystal to come closer. Crystal stepped gingerly toward Jamarco, a little unnerved by the stillness and awkward sleeping positions of the other patients. They don’t look like they’re asleep, they look—frozen. She put the thought quickly out of her mind. This whole night has been crazy, she thought. I’ll stay long enough to make sure Moji will be alright and then I need to find a way to get home and make sure my babies are ok.

  She knelt down beside Jamarco and laid the flashlight down in front of her. He spoke in hushed tones, the kind one reserved for the movie theater and funeral parlors. “Hey, there are a couple of pillows in the bedroom over there. Could you go and get one?”

  “Yeah sure,” Crystal said, automatically lowering her voice to match Jamarco’s, but not quite sure why she was doing so.

  “And I think the doc might be in there too. Ask him to come out and take a look at her, ok?”

  “Ok,” Crystal said and she stood up.

  Moji began to mumble again. Her body twitched and jerked uncontrollably, like she was immersed in a nightmare. The three men in the corner—from this vantage point she could now tell they were all men—stopped talking to each other and stared in Moji’s direction but did not approach. Neither of the people lying on the mattresses stirred. Jamarco leaned close to Moji and used the fingers of his free hand to softly stroke her forehead, trying to comfort her. Watching Jamarco’s touching gesture, Crystal was embarrassed by the twinge of jealousy she felt. My friend is lying there hurt and maybe dying and here I am feeling ignored. She took a deep breath. Girl, you need to get over yourself.

  Suddenly, Moji cried out as if in terrible pain. Her eyes snapped open and reached up and clenched both hands around Jamarco’s neck, pulled him towards her, then threw him sideways into one of the sleeping patients. Moji rolled and threw herself on top of Jamarco. Caught by surprise, Jamarco lay awkwardly on his back, arms by his sides, staring wide-eyed at Moji.

  “Miss Douglas!” Jamarco screamed into Moji’s blank stare, “it’s me Jamarco! Don’t ya know me girl?”

  Before he could react, Moji tightened her hands around his neck, her thumbs pressing hard into his windpipe.

  “Moji!” Crystal screamed, “Stop! You’re hurting him!”

  Jamarco grabbed Moji’s wrists and attempted to pry her hands from his throat.

  “Get her off me!” he croaked.

  Shock and disbelief held Crystal in place for several seconds before she threw herself onto Moji’s back and wrapped her arms around her neck.

  “Moji stop it! You’re killing him!”

  Crystal pulled backward as hard as she could but she could not break Moji’s grip. She noticed two of the three men in the corner were rushing over.

  “Moji let go of him!” she screamed, wrapping both arms around Moji’s head and neck, squeezing and pulling as hard as she could.

  “Doc! Doc! Get in here!” one of the men shouted as he grabbed one of Moji’s arms and yanked it up and back, ripping her hand off Jamarco’s neck. The second man wrestled to gain control of Moji’s other arm. Moji reared back, arched her back, and let out a bloodcurdling screech. The man screamed, “Get her down!” It was then that the third man ran over and threw his full weight and shoulder into Moji’s chest, sending them all sprawling. Crystal fell backwards, landing on the legs of the other mattress-bound person. Moji fell on top of her.

  “Hold he
r!” she heard another voice say.

  Crystal was crying now, still holding on to Moji, her arms wrapped around Moji’s head and neck. She could feel Moji’s wet breath on her forearm. Moji bucked wildly, frantically twisting her torso in an attempt to free herself. Crystal held on tight, trying to restrain Moji’s movements by wrapping her legs around Moji’s waist.

  “Moji, Moji please stop this!” she screamed directly into Moji’s ear.

  Moji continued to fight. Crystal was really scared now. Something bad was happening to her best friend and there was nothing she could do except hold her and pray. Please God, let her be alright! Let her be ok!

  Crystal saw another man enter the room from the adjacent bathroom carrying a small metal tray arrayed with a few small opaque bottles, bandages, a vial containing a clear liquid, and a large, needle-tipped syringe. He placed the tray on the floor, and with a practiced gesture, quickly filled the syringe with a small amount of the clear liquid.

  “Keep her still!” he said.

  The man pushed his way through the tangle of bodies around Moji until his face loomed only a few inches away from Crystal’s. He was an older Asian man, the skin on his face severely pockmarked and wrinkled.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Crystal said.

  “Don’t worry,” he replied, “This will help her.”

  The man pushed the sleeve of Moji’s shirt up past her collarbone and plunged the full length of the syringe needle into the meatiest part of her shoulder. Moji twisted back and forth in reaction to the injection. She screamed but this time the sound was muffled by Crystal’s upper forearm, which had slid over Moji’s mouth. Crystal felt the heat of Moji’s breath on her arm which was immediately supplanted by a searing pain. “Aaah!” Crystal cried out, “I think she bit me!”

  Moji’s body relaxed and suddenly went limp. She saw the expression on the Asian man’s face turn dour. Jamarco and two of the other men lifted the unconscious Moji off of her so she could sit up.