The Long Way To Reno

by Mix, Michelle

  “It looks like you're okay,” she said, a tad snidely as she situated a container of cereal in one hand, and poured some bottled water into it to mix it together. Alex made a face at her food. Looking at them interact made me smile.

  “I am…thank you,” I said. I looked at what others were eating, and felt some hunger at what I saw. I noticed that Alex's cold sandwich looked appropriate for Harley. I couldn't stand looking at his sunken cheeks and straining neck tendons, anymore. “Hey, Alex, can you get Harley more of that? He forgot to feed himself."

  Alex almost choked on the request while Harley gave me the look of death. I gave him a scowl. "If you're going with me, at least load on carbs, or whatever."

  "I think if he's hungry, he'll get it himself," Alex said cautiously, unsure of who to look at while Emmy glared at me.

  “You’re going to let him starve? As if being ninety pounds isn’t humiliating enough for him?”

  “You're such a bitch, sometimes, Edith!” Emmy exclaimed, dropping her spoon back into the cereal container.

  "I have more fat than him – I can go without, for a few hours. But if he truly is –" I cut myself off as Harley angrily strode out of the room. I felt bad. I honestly did. I struggled to remember why I was pushing buttons so deliberately. Maybe I should just accept his help – but at the same time, this massive wave of uncertainty had filled me, and I didn't know what I was going to do if my parents weren't where they should be. Was I really just going to drag Harley all over the city looking for them? Get him killed? How was that fair when his father just found him?

  I couldn't forget the utter relief and gratefulness I'd seen on Chuck's face that day. It was practically burned in my mind. I couldn't wait to see the one on my own dad's face when we finally found each other.

  I swallowed tightly, and caught Emmy's stare of death. I forgot how teenagers could give this expression so easily.

  "You need him more than I do," I admitted quietly. I don't know why I was even giving her my reasons. She whirled and stomped out of the room, while Alex looked lost. I felt uncomfortable, curling my arms around my legs and resting my cheek against my knees. I fell asleep like that only because I was that tired to do so.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When I finally woke up, my eyes were heavy. I bet I looked a mess. My body felt so sore and exhausted and stiff that nothing wanted to move. But my stomach growled noisily, aching because I was starving. The floor was so friggin' hard that no position was comfortable. Now that I had some rest, I could think a little more clearly. I figured that since I was so close to the school, I might as well go all the way, clinging to the chance that perhaps they'd made it there, because they'd been on their way to Fernley that night. I hoped so hard that it was difficult to breathe.

  I crawled out from underneath the desk, and just collapsed with the effort. The floor was dirty, hard, and the deskchair mat was splattered with dried blood. But I was seriously sore and exhausted. I pillowed my head in my folded arms and stared at the darkness around me. I had no idea what time it was – I didn't feel like looking for a clock. I could hear nothing coming from the room the others were in, so I assumed everyone was feeling safe enough to sleep. I wondered if Harley finally caught some shut eye with the kids, trying to remember the last time I'd seen him sleep. I felt bad for being a dick, but not bad enough to go and apologize for it.

  I thought about my dad. I could hear him, somehow, muttering about my behavior. I wanted to hear his voice again, no matter if it were a lecture. But I had to convince myself that he and mom were at least safe somewhere – I'm sure he had his vaccination. I had to make sure.

  At that point, I knew I definitely had to go home if I couldn't find them at the school. Mom kept records of our vaccinations, so I would have to go through their room to find it. Once I found the record, then I was positive I'd feel confident in locating them. I knew I could do it.

  I had made it through some shit that I’d never have imagined surviving. I felt proud of myself. A year ago, I couldn’t even find a job without my dad’s help, and here I was today, doing what I had to do to make it without him. But that didn’t mean I wanted to continue doing this without him.

  I rubbed my arms tightly as I stepped over the mess I'd made with my Molotov making, and very quietly ventured out into the hall. A civie guy looked at me with a startled lift of his gun, then relaxed with an embarrassed expression as we made eye contact. I walked from the room, venturing towards the candlelight coming from down the hall.

  As I ventured towards what looked to be a cafeteria, I realized I was hearing men’s whispers rise with concern. Walking through the open door, I immediately saw that the guys posted on the other end of the room were looking upward at the boarded windows, and this had me freezing in place. I’ve come to realize that I do not like it when I see people looking up. This is always bad news.

  I came to realize that something was happening. I heard something. It was a low pulse of sound that came from everywhere and nowhere at once, similar to a heartbeat of some massive machine. But I had no idea what sort of machinery would make that sort of noise. The windows were actually shuddering, rippling in unison, as if being touched by strong wind. The sound was massive, making even my ears vibrate with the bass. Uncomfortably strong and strange.

  The security team sounded mystified as their radios crackled with questions and directions to everybody on alert. Since all the windows were boarded up, I couldn't even see what was happening out there.

  “Harp?” I heard one of the men ask aloud. I looked away from the windows. “Isn’t that what that technology does?”

  When prompted, he went on to explain some hoopla about the High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program. The point of the program was to investigate the ionosphere for some kind of advanced communications thing for the Navy or whatever. I heard a vague response in that perhaps the military was trying to put humankind’s technologies back together, scanning near-space environment for any more threats. I wanted to believe that this was a normal thing. Not another alien thing. I looked at the windows with hope, struggling to swallow the building lump in my throat.

  The pulsing sound was starting to freak me out. It was almost as if someone had some massive, God-like speaker up there in the skies and was blowing into the microphone, creating this weird, whistling noise with the pulsing. All I could think of was that First Night, when the guy escaped outside of the warehouse and looked up. By now, after all the shit I’d seen, I knew it was just the alien ships he’d seen. But anxieties flooded me. After that memory were the gruesome sights of people attacking each other, eating each other. My breath hitched, and I thought of everyone that was currently taking residence inside the building. I wanted to leave at that point, to run away for some safe place that didn’t have people anywhere nearby.

  While the pulsing sounds continued, I headed for the room I’d left my things in. I began throwing stuff into my messenger bag. All I could feel was my own building panic. I strained my ears, listening for telltale screams of people eating each other. But the guys were speaking in such hushed tones that I couldn't even hear them from the room I was in. The noises from the outside weren't as noticeable from here – but in my own mind, I could hear them.

  I was working myself into such a fit that I kept dropping things, not even focused on what I was packing. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath so it was hitching, and my hands were shaking, and I didn’t even realize Harley was there until he caught my hand, startling me. He was crouched next to me, looking slightly red-faced, like he was dashing around in the same manner as me.

  “Ed. What are you doing?” he asked. I jerked my hand away from him, and he shifted to hold onto my bag, preventing me from stuffing anything else into it.

  “The last time weird shit happened at night, people started eating each other,” I managed to say in a whisper.

  “Yeah, but – whatever it is, we can’t just keep – eventually, we have to think a little more rationally.�
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  “Hell with that. I saw what happened when people stayed in groups,” I snapped.

  “We’re safe here,” he insisted after shushing me. He pulled my bag from me, and I couldn’t even take it back because I just wanted to run away.

  “You hear of this thing called HAARP?” he then asked, and, since I just heard about it from the guys in the cafeteria, it made me focus on him. It made me realize that maybe this was all it was, because he was so fucking calm. If he was this calm, then maybe it was all just me freaking out, and those scary sounds were…normal.

  I took a deep breath. Forced myself to stop looking around and look at him. Since there was no signs of him freaking out, or looking alarmed like he had when I first met him, I felt this wave of cold wash over me. Like my adrenaline was leaving me, allowing me to relax.

  I nodded in response to his question, because I couldn’t quite talk yet. He watched me for a few moments, and I could feel myself start to sag. I was so tense and wound that it actually left me feeling a little sore.

  Harley then said, “The perimeter guards have already radioed in, several times, that the area’s still secure. They don't know where the noises are coming from, but it's really high above us. They can't see anything up there, so there's the theory that it's our own people making it, somehow.”

  I watched him for a few moments, as if looking for any sign of lies.

  “What if it’s not?” I asked, trying to get my wits back.

  “Then we’ll make it. We did before, Ed.”

  I swallowed tightly. I didn't like the way he said 'we'. It was almost too intimate. I looked over his clothes in an effort to ground myself – God, he’s such a hick in those ugly cargo jeans and that flannel...

  “Okay. Okay. Cool.”

  “Edith, no matter what, don’t take off,” he then said wearily. He’s even wearing these ugly, yellow hiking boots and – I wish I had access to cute men’s clothes. Harley shouldn’t have to be dressed like such a hick during a time of crisis. I should keep an eye out for a Bullshifters tee, some mechanics’ overalls. “I'll help you get home, just – ”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. I have every reason to take off if and when I need to. I still haven’t found my parents,” I snapped at him, jerking my arm out of his grip.

  He nodded with an apologetic frown. He looked so tired and skinny – his eyes ringed with circles, cheeks sharp. I really wanted to force-feed him stuff, but with the expression he gave me sometimes, I think he felt the same way. It was weird to experience a stranger’s affection, especially since I was fighting him all the time.

  “After everything that has already happened, most of us are prepared to face whatever’s going to happen next. We’ll be okay if we just – if we just stick together, okay?”

  I sat there looking at my bag, and realized that I had been trying to stuff a pillow into it. What the fuck was I going to do with a pillow? Pillow fight a Rabid to death – er, submission? Where the hell did it come from, anyway? As Harley rose, he reached out, rubbing my shoulder awkwardly, almost a petting motion.

  : :

  We left the building without any trouble. The sound was so much louder out here that it was unsettling. As a big group, we all headed down Prater, and kept walking until we came to Vista, one of the main veins off the I-80 freeway.

  The neighborhoods around Mendive Middle school were devastated, including the shopping center on the other side of Vista. I could see where the kids had tied ribbons connected to the school on the wire fence. The fence surrounding what had been the parking lot had been propped with broken and battered vehicles – a single Caterpillar sat near one of such walls, indication that these vehicles were propped specifically by this construction site monster. The grounds looked like another piece of ruin until I saw people posted in certain positions around the school – lookout points, or something.

  There were no lights that I could see, but the school was pretty big, sturdy. It looked as if it withstood a fierce attack – there were chunks missing from it here and there throughout the support pillars and roof, but not enough damage to make it unusable.

  I followed closely behind Sandy, the group of soldiers regarded cautiously until some of the civilian guys convinced some of the guys standing at point to allow them in. There were three men dressed in head to toe black there, smoking cigarettes and making comments that told me that the weather was enough to freeze balls.

  We meandered our way to the front entrance. Everyone sounded so exhausted and tired after their long walk that their relieved tears and murmurs seemed loud within the front foyer. It was so dark that I wasn’t sure where I was going, so I followed Sandy as closely as possible, hoping that I wasn't going to regret this choice.

  The smells of cooking food, people, and warmth hit me. There were voices ahead and all around, the floors dirty with mud and snow, and children laughing and playing in what sounded like a hugely open area. I stared at the clock because it felt like it had been so long since I’d been able to see actual time.

  There were a set of offices that had been rearranged to allow tables within, and here people were sorting through various supplies, loading them on shopping carts. I watched as our group were greeted by other friendly military deserters, and small talk was exchanged between each other as the civilian people were gently encouraged to leave what wasn't valuable, so that everyone could share supplies. It was a long process that looked unfair, but as I watched people give up clothes, blankets, jackets and the like, I realized why they were doing it. Sharing was caring, and helpful to all looking for shelter.

  The soldiers were encouraged to count out ammo, to trade and reload in case of an emergency. Their process was different from the civilians, a man in uniform appearing from out of nowhere and taking control of the situation with a gentle voice. The way Sandy and Benson snapped to attention made me think this guy was in command, so he was quickly respected. Expressions of relief, sympathy and understanding were given as Sandy and the others explained why they were here with us – I guess deserting against the orders of their commanding officers was a tough thing to bear.

  When it came to my turn to hand over communal supplies, the guys behind the table gave me puzzled looks at my supply. They took my candles, oil, Molotovs, and some extra clothing; nothing that was too personal. They let me keep my makeup pouch, giving me weird looks. I understood why this was happening, but I couldn’t help but feel irritated about it. I was relieved that they allowed me to keep my supply of Raid and hairspray, knowing that I'd need it later on when I left the place.

  After that was done, I was led with the other civilians out of the offices, and we headed up a new hallway, towards a set of classrooms. Those with children were taken into another direction, which left me with a few couples, some haggard men, Harley and the kids, and a policewoman still wearing her Sparks PD uniform. I wanted to ask her about the vaccinations, but she was trembling so hard that I figured I'd better wait.

  “We’ll make sure you’re checked in, y’know, in case someone looking for you comes here and asks,” our guide said. "We take in the names of everyone that comes through here, and keep track of when they leave. We take in survivors, more each day, so if you're looking for somebody, please say so when we're taking your names."

  Once we approached a large woman with grey and black hair, sleepily lecturing us about tracking mud into the hall, she pulled out a large blue expandable file, and went through it at my request to double-check on whether or not my parents had come through. I waited anxiously for her to look through the lists, and I knew by the end of her search that they weren't here. I felt my heart drop, a heavy sense of despair weighing heavily on me by the time she answered.

  At that point, I felt exhausted. I felt physically and emotionally and mentally exhausted. I felt like breathing was a chore – standing there with a heavy expression, feeling like I was moments from sobbing my eyes out, I felt that sense of weakness associated with an incoming faint. The blood left
my face, my ears started to ring, and spots appeared in my vision.

  A vise-like grip above my elbow convinced me that if I fainted, Harley would probably sustain serious injury trying to catch me. I snapped out of it to push him aside, pushing away from the table with a dazed expression. I think people tried to talk to me, but I couldn't hear them above the ringing in my ears. I seriously felt like I had been punched again, and I couldn't focus on anything to save my soul.

  I felt like throwing a tantrum, or even kicking something that would give a satisfactory noise. But my body was too tired, and I was led away from the area, encouraged to rest in one of the sleeping rooms. I felt frustrated with the stupid invasion, with the damn Rabid, the evil alien creatures that showed up, preventing me from getting to them. But since I hadn't a proper outlet to unleash this frustration, all I could do was cry.