by Kim Faulks
I’d often wondered about the woman who gave birth to me. What would push someone to abandon a baby on the coldest morning all year? Was she hurt, alone? Maybe a teenager who hid her pregnancy from the rest of the world? Or was she someone who had mouths to feed, and just couldn’t cope with one more complication?
But lately there was one question that haunted me…one tiny question wore at me like a pebble in my shoe.
If I was here…alive, immune to the plague…
Was she here, too?
Was she alive in this world...was she out there…fighting, like me?
Loneliness wrapped icy arms around me as I shoved up from the floor and moved toward the counter. The small swing door hung from one hinge across the entrance, but I pushed through and stepped up to the platform. Locks were busted on the high rows of shelving, most of the drugs were gone.
But I knelt and dropped down on hands and knees. Shadows waited under the shelving. I shoved my jacket sleeve high and slid my hand under, finding the edge of a box and then the smooth surface. A bottle rolled under my touch, and pills rattled.
People panic…and in their haste to grab whatever they could, they left things behind—and for that I was thankful.
I skimmed the edge of the box and yanked it free. Dust smothered the label. I didn’t look, just shoved it in my pack, and reached under once more.
I worked through the entire store that way, searching inch by inch, and moved on to the next shop, prying open lockers in a gym, finding all kinds of stuff. But mostly drugs…
I gripped the tire iron, worked the last locker open, and stared at an old newspaper. The paper crackled and crumbled under my fingers as I gripped the spine and yanked it free.
IS THIS THE END?
The headline made my stomach tighten…I tried to remember the fear and the panic. Tried to remember how it was back then when my entire world revolved around my own family.
I shoved the paper into the top of my pack. The thick vest took up most of the space, two boxes of muesli bars, three cans of beans and ten cans of tuna weighed down the pack. But it was the weapons that surprised me. Two Glocks and three magazines rested in the bottom. I checked the chambers, and stowed them away.
Angel sniffed and yawned. I slipped the straps over my shoulders and adjusted the weight. “Come on, girl, it’s time to head back.”
She was keen, trotting ahead toward the cracked front door. The rain was relentless, spilling over choked gutters. I pulled the hood low and followed, stopping at the front door to check the way.
A low growl reverberated from Angel. Through the sheets of rain, I caught movement. Slight at first, barely there, until it came again.
The dark blur stepped out onto the street and turned her head toward the bank of buildings where I stood.
It was a woman…of that I was sure. It was the way she held herself, the way she moved. Careful, fast…scurrying like the vermin of this city.
Just like me.
She heaved a sack over her shoulder, dropped her head, then turned into an alley and slipped away.
I hunched my shoulders, yanked the hood low, and stepped out. Empty windows above stared at me. I lifted my head and scanned the tops of the buildings.
The heavy weight of my pack dragged down my tired, aching muscles. I focused on my steps and tried to ignore the pull in my side. Get home. That’s all I thought of…get home, get dried…get warm.
I wanted to think about the woman…I wanted to wonder, where she’d been…how she’d survived? Instead, I ground my jaw until the muscles ached. Wonder didn’t turn out so well for me last time. Wonder didn’t turn out well at all.
I hadn’t gone back there. To the hospital where I’d barely survived. I shuddered with the thought as the rain beat against the back of my head. I wanted to. Wanted to see if it was real.
Damon…
Chuck…
Kris…
The bomb…
My throat clenched tight like a damn fist. The body. That’s what I really wanted to see…the remnants of Kris, even if it was only ash and bone. I wanted to see if it was real…I wanted to see if he was real.
The man in my basement. The man who calls himself Pestilence.
“Don’t think about him,” I murmured and gripped the straps. “He’s a drug dealer. A liar. But he’s just a man, no more, no less. Just a man…”
And that ripple of need followed. A chill at the mere mention of his name. My steps slowed. The swirling mixture of guilt and desperation roiled inside as I skirted the growing puddles.
The gutter above gave a crack, and then let go. Water splashed down, drenching me. The cold raced, dripping under my shirt, seeping into my bra. My toes squelched in my boots, socks and jeans soaked all the way through, and my lungs were on fire, coming alive with every hard breath.
I weaved my way through the empty streets, trudging past familiar buildings, until I rounded a corner and lifted my head.
The four-story apartment complex wasn’t anything to look at, plain almost. “Nondescript is the word.”
But that saved me…saved us when it was just me and my dad. Angel shot forward, her rusty brown coat a blur in the sleet-like rain, until finally I caught up.
She sniffed and whimpered, pawing at the edge of the metal sheeting.
“Just hold on, always so damn impatient.”
There was a growl, and then a half-hearted bark. I tried to shove in front of her to push the sheeting aside and reach the door, but she wouldn’t let me, lunging in to snarl and growl.
It wasn’t the first time she’d acted like this. Not the first time she growled and barked at the basement door. Not the first time she wanted to hurt him.
“Move, Angel.” I shoved her aside with my knee. The locks slipped under my fingers. I gripped, squashing soft nails against the bolt, and yanked.
Metal scraped and dragged, and then let go as the door swung wide. She was through, growling and snarling. I gasped a breath and followed, heaving the thick pack through by sheer momentum alone.
But it wasn’t the basement door she barked at.
And it wasn’t the darkness she hated.
Water lapped my boots as I took the first step, and then edged higher as I eased down onto the basement floor, reaching up over my ankles and then my knees.
My heart hammered. Water shouldn’t be here.
Deafening barks resounded. Angel jumped and snarled, biting the rising water. The pack slipped from my shoulders.
I moved without thought, placing it on the table beside the door. Water down here meant only one thing. I turned my head to the basement door. The tanks inside had ruptured...and he had drowned.
2
I lunged, gripping the lock, and yanked. Water reached higher now, lapping my jeans mid-thigh. Angel reared and barked, throwing herself into the rising water, only to paddle back to safety.
I couldn’t worry about that now. Couldn’t protect her and leave him. “Get back, Angel! Stay there!”
The handle slipped in my grip. I shoved, but the door wouldn’t budge.
I leaned my shoulder to the door. Muscles strained, pulling my insides taut, until pain lashed hot and deep, and my boots lost their grip.
Water lapped mid-thigh, growing higher with every second. I could feel the current now, rushing out from under the door. But in there it was even higher, forcing the door closed.
There was no way I was getting inside. Not from here…
I tried to think. The outer room was more like a storage room, and the inside was colder, and deeper. There were no other doors, not in either room.
But there was a window…
I turned my head, glancing back to the outer door.
There was a high window, big enough for light in the darkened space. But big enough for me? I shoved away from the door, lunging through the water toward the door to the outside.
Please…please…the echoes filled my head as I gripped the door and stepped outside. Water spilled out of the
doorway, mingling with the rivulets that ran along the side of the building.
I shoved against the sheeting. Angel was howling and barking, but she couldn’t get to me…not anymore.
The sheeting bowed and scraped along the ground as I turned, giving my back to the ripped metal edges. Sharp corners snagged my jacket. I squeezed between the metal and the brick, and then dropped low, crawling amongst the mud and rubbish.
I could barely make the window out, covered in shadows and broken wooden crates. I shoved my shoulder into the heaps and made room. Cobwebs and mud smeared the glass. I gripped my sleeve and wiped.
If I sucked my stomach in, I could make it through. The window wasn’t tall, but it was wide. I scanned the rubble, finding a heavy plank. Rain pelted down. It didn’t matter now.
Nothing mattered but the tanks…for when the rains stopped and the streets were dry—that was all that stood between survival and death.
Splinters dug into my palm. I gripped the side and the end and heaved. Glass cracked…but held. I yanked the plank backwards and drove it forward again. Spidered cracks shattered, leaving a broad passage behind.
I punched the glass again, driving the end of the wood along the jagged shard, until there was nothing but a gaping hole. I leaned down and eased my head through.
Water lapped the shovels and the tools, reaching high up on the bricks. I turned my head, scanning the wall beside me. There was nothing to grab onto, nothing I could use to lower myself into the room.
I yanked my head outside and splayed my hands against the ground, lifting one foot through the opening before I balanced on my shin and followed with the other.
Jagged shards bit into my jeans. I winced with the sting and focused on my weight, walking one leg higher along the sill before I moved the other.
But the more weight I pressed on the sill, the more it dug, until the pain carved into my thighs. I closed my eyes, shuddering, and then lifted my legs. I eased myself lower, boots smacking the wall as I dangled.
I searched the corners of the sill, gripped the sleeve of my jacket, and brushed the shards aside. My knuckles burned as I gripped the wood, balanced with my feet against the wall, and pushed.
I hit the water with a splash, turning to see the level lapping the door halfway between the floor and the knob. My boots kicked something hard under the surface. Toes cracked. I winced with the pain and pushed toward the door that led into the bottom of the basement.
My fingers trembled as I gripped the handle. I tried to still the shakes and turned the knob. Water surged through the door, snatching it from my grasp to swing hard.
The wall of water hit me like a blow, soaking through my jacket in a second. I lunged for the door frame, holding on while the icy tide climbed.
The ache was brutal, carving through my jeans and clothes as though I stood there naked.
The thick jacket weighed me down as the water climbed past my waist to my chest. The tread on my boots slipped, almost washing me away. I dug my nails into the frame and held on. My hands trembled as I slipped one arm free of the sleeve, and then the other.
An ache flared through my chest as I let the jacket sink in the water. So cold…too cold. A shudder raced, quaking my bones.
Chains clinked and rattled from behind the steel door as I scanned the darkness.
“Harlow, is that you?”
I flinched with the sound of his voice. Steel struck the inner door. I could almost see him in there, heaving the heavy chains around his wrists high as he touched the door.
“Get out of here. Leave. Now.”
The gush of water shot high into the air from the first seal. I scanned the other tanks. They were all linked by pipes and levers, opening the flow from one to the other to make one massive reservoir. I couldn’t leave…not my home…not now, not ever.
I shoved forward, fighting the water, and reached for the steel door. My hands wouldn’t work, slow to act as I fumbled for the lock. I didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear him.
But I couldn’t leave him to die down here…not in the cold, not in the water. I’d seen too much of death already.
The steel clamp slipped in my fingers, still I yanked and fumbled as the water slowly rose.
“L-leave,” he snapped from the other side of the door, teeth chattering as he tried to make me obey. “G-get out of here now!”
I didn’t answer as the bolt slipped free. This was our dance…one we’d had for a month now. He spoke. I ignored. I was getting better at shutting him out. Getting better at taking him food and water, only to turn around and leave.
He was a liar.
And a killer.
“Harlow…p-please.” I gripped the handle and stilled. “Don’t die down here. D-don’t die because of me.”
No matter how hard I’d become, I could neither leave him, nor let him leave.
There was a fever inside me…one that burned patiently in the background, waiting for just one ember to ignite. One that wanted him just here…where I could watch him…where I could listen to the crazy whisperings.
For they were all I had.
I yanked the door and stared into the darkened void as water rushed by. He shuddered, soaked to the skin, and lunged, top lip curled, grabbing the door and trying to yank it shut. “Get out of here.”
I couldn’t move—couldn’t fight. I tightened my hold on the door. It was the only thing keeping me standing.
The warmth of his hand was hardly there as his fingers curled around mine. “I heard the crack, there’s no use. It’s okay. I want you to go.”
I shook my head. That fire in my belly was all I had left. I reached for the brick wall outside the door and snatched the keys from a hook. “I have to try.”
Metal teeth bit into my palm as I clenched my fist around the keys and shoved them toward him. “Get out…while you can.”
I couldn’t feel my feet as I turned away. The water was rising fast, skimming the tops of my breasts.
Alone now. He’s run…he’d leave…they all left.
Fire licked deep in my lungs with a hard breath. I clawed the wall, dragging my body around the corner.
Water swirled and rippled at the broken seal. I speared my fingers through the cage and worked my way around the massive plastic drums. One floated, tethered by the pipes that ran from one to the other.
“Harlow,” he snarled. “Just wait!”
Something hit my leg, just a bump, but a sting of pain followed, sharp…biting. I ground my jaw, still the muffled whimper slipped free as something dark bobbed to the surface. “I can do it. I just need to get to the lever.”
I tried to move as I stared at that shadowed blur. The bump to my leg came again, and this time the thing held on. I shook my leg and stumbled forward.
But whatever it was, it held on.
The room spun, midnight tanks bobbed and moved as I speared my hand through the water and punched the thing on my leg.
It tore free, falling behind me. I straightened, tried to breathe, and then shoved my hand deeper, toward the connecting pipes.
“Harlow! For Christ’s sake!”
Numb fingers slipped against something hard, sticking high. The rush of water pushed against my fingers. I fumbled for the lever and clenched tight as something hit the surface close to my face.
It moved.
Clawing, scurrying through the water to find the thin cotton of my shirt. Nails punctured through the material as the thing let out a screech and made for my face.
My heart lunged. Panic was in the driver’s seat as the vermin tangled in my hair. A scream tore free. I stumbled, thrashed, splashing in the water as I yanked and pulled, finding the blur as he lurched, reaching for me in the dark. “Hey, I’ve got you!”
“Get it off me!” Fire lashed my scalp. Nails gouged, slicing my cheek. “Get it off…what is it?”
Hands gripped my arms, yanking me hard against his chest as I slipped and stumbled. My heart thundered, swallowing my scream, as our feet tangl
ed. We fell, splashing through the water. Still the thing held on, sinking its teeth into the back of my hand.
I couldn’t stop, couldn’t release the fist around my heart. I sucked in a breath and water rushed in. Darkness closed in, wrapping freezing arms around me tight as I hit something hard.
Agony ripped through my head. Stars ignited, bleeding black into white. I tried to reach for my head, but my hands wouldn’t move. Pain took me under. I tried to fight, tried to reach for the lever…
But it was gone, slipping away as the thing tangled in my hair clawed, tearing free. An ache flared around my arm before I broke the surface.
“Harlow!” His roar pierced my head. Dragging the past into the present.
Harlow!
Voices collided, his…Kenya’s…and from the darkness came a knowing…a desire to survive…I punched out with my feet, shooting higher out of the water.
The savage cough was raw, tearing through my chest. I spluttered, gagged. He was there, gripping my arms, holding me against him as the black blob swam toward the wall.
A rat…that’s a damn rat.
I wrenched my gaze from the hideous thing and motioned toward the tank. “There’s a lever. On the pipe. Pull it up.”
He followed my gaze, stilling for a second until he surged forward. I coughed, gagged, yanking my gaze around the dark. Rats bobbed to the surface, paddling toward the wall as they searched for a way out.
Water splashed as he ducked under the surface, and, for a second, I was surrounded by the icy water—in the dark.
Alone.
My pulse picked up pace, thundering inside my head.
“Hey,” heat lashed my throat with the sound.
There was nothing, no ripple, no movement…no answer…no sound. Just me. Alone…again. “Hey!”
He shot through the surface, gasping, shaking, drops flying through the air to smack me in the face.
“I got it…” He shoved forward, clawing through the water to get to me. “I got it. It’s stopped.”
My boots slipped against the bottom. The bitter cold rushed over my chest, lapping under my chin.
“I got it,” he repeated.
