The Chaos

by Sergio Gomez

Alejandro didn’t know for sure, but he assumed there was a shortage of painkiller by the screams he heard coming from the wounded soldiers. All the way up from the third story window, he could hear their cries as loud as if he were standing next to them.

  He had been watching the military bring their wounded through the community for a week. By now he was desensitized to the screams, but every now and then the sheets would move a certain way and he’d catch a glimpse of a soldier’s intestine dangling out from the side of the stretcher, and this sight never stopped disturbing him, no matter how many times it happened in a day.

  He watched because there was a dark curiosity in his mind to see what was happening as a result of the fighting. But he also watched to gauge the presence of the military in their town. As each day had passed, the activity slowed.

  It was now 1PM on Sunday, and he had only seen one trip take place all day—two counting the one currently going on.

  Alejandro turned away from the window as the helicopter ascended into the air and the rescue crew’s jeep doubled back into town.

  Charlie was on his sleeping bag playing some sort of game that involved a deck of cards and toy cars.

  “Nos vamos de aqui,” Alejandro said.

  Charlie’s ears perked up like a puppy’s. “The war’s over?”

  “No, not exactly. But the military is moving out of town.”

  “So we’re going back home?”

  “No, mijo,” Alejandro’s voice cracked.

  “Oh.”

  “But we’ll find another home.”

  “Where?” Charlie asked.

  Alejandro shrugged. “Somewhere. Somewhere far from this where we’ll be safe. Now come on, pack up.”

  Charlie dismantled his game and began to pack up his bags, just the way Alejandro had taught him. Alejandro did the same.

  He took one last look through the window to make sure there was no sudden military activity. There was none, so they headed out.

  Once outside they slipped past the construction site and ran back into town, first through the ghetto parts. The damage done there was barely noticeable considering what the ghetto looked like before; the only difference was just more trash in the streets, the shitty cars were only a little more shitty, and the graffiti-riddled buildings just had their windows shattered and chunks blown off of them. It was probably what it would have looked like in a couple of years even if the military hadn’t come through.

  They sprinted through holding hands. Their breaths the only sound in the stillness of the aftermath.

  Up ahead Alejandro saw a pile of litter that didn’t look like the rest of the junk on the street. No, because it wasn’t exactly junk. It was a pile of dried out petals that used to be a bright red but now were turning the color of dry blood.

  Alejandro stopped when they were in front of the petals. And all at once it came to him where he was.

  The ghettos seemed bigger than he remembered them, and looking at this pile of petals he realized why that was.

  It was because they had left the ghettos behind them fifteen minutes ago, and here he was on Main Street.

  He knew it was Main Street because he was standing in front of Rose’s Flower Shop, a place he had frequented many times over the years for his wife’s birthday and their anniversaries. Now here he was, standing over the remains of the big arrangement that had greeted him from the bay windows of the shop. The arrangement had become such a staple of Main Street that the one year Rose replaced it people came in to the shop to request she put it back because Main Street wasn’t the same without it.

  And here it was, the darling of Main Street; the vase smashed, the plants torn to pieces, the petals drying out and curled like aborted fetuses, littering the sidewalk alongside the rest of the junk.

  Looking around, horror struck him when he saw that the rest of the landscape was recognizable behind the destruction. The shoe store he had gotten all of his work boots from had its top blown off, the mug of beer that had hung over the top of the bar he and Martin had frequented on the weekends was burst open all over the street like a glass bottle, the building itself was covered in soot. All of the windows had been burst open. The bakery, the health store, the barbershop, everything was blackened from smoke and crumbling from damage.

  The sound of a tank’s tread squeaking their way snapped him out of his horror. He grabbed Charlie and pulled him into an alleyway. The tank rolled by, a sentry sent to sweep the streets and clean up. There was a soldier sitting on top of it as it rolled by. He had two missing fingers with tape on the remaining nubs. He sniffled, and then used the back of his sleeve to wipe his nose. Then he was out of sight.

  Again, pulling Charlie they ran to the edge of the alleyway. The tank had turned down a side street and was no longer visible. Alejandro and Charlie made a break for it, running through the ruined town that they used to call home.

  They headed for the perimeter of town, there was nothing left for them here and with the military likely shooting on sight it was too dangerous to stay.

  Behind them, as if one last warning from the town, they heard a gun go off. They sprinted into the woods, and continued on, leaving Vorhees behind them; going on into a new world, a new world that would be much like the town, only recognizable to them underneath the destruction.

  *

  “Oh my god, Charlie,” Claire said, and threw her arms around him.

  Charlie could hear her heart thumping in her chest and it made him feel funny.

  Claire sat back and giggled nervously. “Scary, but makes for a cool story. I don’t have anything cool to tell you like that, but my dad did used to weigh over 300lbs before.”

  Charlie tried to imagine Paul weighing that much and the thought made him burst out laughing. Claire looked at him as if offended for a second, then she too saw the humor in it and they both were laughing.

  “I guess he could vouch for the post-apocalypse diet, huh?” Claire said through a chortle.

  “Do you ever miss it?” Charlie asked.

  “Miss the old days?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, all the time, Charlie. I was planning on going to a school in California in two years. Me and my friend Gabby had it all planned out; School, work, and studying all week; then the beach and meeting hot surfer guys all weekend, it would’ve been awesome.”

  Charlie saw a pained look in her eyes, a look he had never seen in anyone’s eyes before, and it broke his heart to pieces. “I bet California is still cool, though.”

  “Yeah, unless Los Noches showed up there too.”

  Charlie had no response to this. “I miss my school. And my friends. And Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

  Claire put her head back and laughed. “I was more of a strawberry Pop Tart girl.”

  “I like them, too. If we ever get this town rebuilt the way the adults talk about doing, we should make strawberry Pop Tart Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

  Claire smiled, and Charlie realized for the first time that she was beautiful, and he wanted to kiss her. But he knew there was no way he could have because she didn’t want to kiss him, she was seventeen and he wasn’t even thirteen yet, he was just a little boy to her. So instead he just blushed and stared at her until she said something.

  “That would be great,” She finally said.

  “And we’ll go to California together.” He had no idea why he said it, but the words came blurting out before he realized it.

  “Another great idea!” She said, and punched him playfully on the arm.

  The truck came into view in the distance, signifying that the adults had returned from their investigation of the other side of the wall.

  Claire got up and then Charlie did the same.

  “Let’s go and spread the food out for everyone,” Claire said, and headed back to base.

  PART IV: THE CHAOS (CONTINUED)

  1

  Dinner was quiet except for Alejandro catching up Claire and Charlie on their findings and telling them that he and Boris
would head back.

  After dinner was over they split into groups and went their own separate ways without much more exchanges of words. Felicia and Paul volunteered to clean up, Charlie went out back with Claire to teach her to shoot a gun, and Boris and Alejandro were sitting in the upstairs balcony discussing the plan for the night.

  “I’ve been thinking about something,” Boris said.

  “What?”

  Boris held an open beer that remained untouched despite that he had opened it ten minutes ago. “What if they’re rebuilding the wall tonight and we can’t make it through?”

  “Judging from how far the village is from the wall, do you really think they know about the hole?”

  “Probably not, but let’s consider every scenario.”

  “If that’s the case we’ll turn around and figure it out back here.”

  Boris nodded. “Shit, man, I’m nervous.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I bet my dad told you how much of a chicken shit I am, huh? You have no idea, man; if we get attacked it’s basically up to you to defend us. I suck like that.”

  Alejandro was taken by surprise by this side of him. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, you’ll do great and make Howard proud.”

  Boris took a sip of his beer, which relieved Alejandro in some weird way. “You know, even though I’m smart as shit and I have a degree and all that stuff, I don’t think I ever made my old man proud. I think he wanted me to be a badass like him. I think he would have rather me been an athlete than a whiz kid who built his own computer when he was eleven and can rewire almost anything.”

  “Boris, look at me,” Alejandro said, clamping down harder on his shoulder. “Take this from someone who’s a father, I know you made him proud.”

  “I get what you’re doing Alejandro, trying to get my spirits up before the big game, pumping me up. You need me for the morale of the duo when we go out tonight and check out the village, but take this from someone who knew Howie his whole life, he hated that I was a chicken shit. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was thinking about kicking me out of the base because of how useless I was to him.”

  For a second Alejandro thought his expression gave it away and that Boris would know that that was what Howard had been planning, but then Boris looked away uninterested and sipped his beer again.

  Crisis averted. Alejandro thought.

  The last thing he needed was his second pair of eyes not focused on the task because of daddy issues.

  “Will you promise me something, Boris?”

  “It depends on what it is.”

  “When we rebuild this town and find other survivors to populate it with, will you stop beating yourself up about this? Will you promise me that when we finally accomplish your father’s vision you’ll accept that you’ve made him proud?”

  Boris took another drink of his beer, this one a long swig. He smacked his lips when he was done and turned to Alejandro. “Fine. If we do it, I’ll come to you and admit I made the old man happy.”

  “When we do it.” Alejandro corrected him.

  “Oh yeah, you’re still doing that rah-rah go team bullshit,” Boris said, grinning. “When we do it, I’ll have made Howie proud, Coach Ramos. That better?”

  Alejandro laughed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. That’s just fine, amigo.”

  2

  Alejandro looked up at the sky and turned on the truck’s headlights. He estimated that it would be dark just as they got to the village. Which would be ideal, he didn’t want to miss a second of the village waking up. He wanted their head count as accurate as possible.

  “Alright, off to the races you guys go,” Paul said.

  The rest of the group was standing outside of the truck next to him.

  “Don’t stay up for us,” Alejandro winked.

  “When do you think you’ll be back?” Felicia asked.

  Alejandro turned to Boris. “Ask the expert.”

  Boris opened his eyes; they had been closed while he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in. “Umm, should only take a couple of hours including travel time. But it really depends on how many there are.”

  This answer was good enough for Alejandro and he turned the ignition. The truck came to life and he waved to the group. “Charlie, no te acuestes tarde!”

  Charlie grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  Alejandro waved to them one more time then drove off. In the rearview mirror he saw them waving back.

  *

  Alejandro’s timing turned out to be perfect, and they pulled in to the trees behind the village just as it was turning dark. He found a good spot to park the truck, behind a row of trees that were thick enough to conceal them but on an angle that they could see most of the village grounds. He killed the engine, and heard Boris let out a big sigh.

  “Alejandro, promise me we won’t do anything crazy tonight.” He whispered.

  Boris was ghost white, and Alejandro hoped he wasn’t about to hurl up dinner. “We’re here to observe, nothing more.”

  Boris nodded, and some of the color seemed to return to his face. “Good, cause I’m just about shitting my pants already.”

  Before any more words could be said, the village began to come to life. Out of the rows of huts came out two or three big Noches. Each of the groups was being led by a clawed one. When the groups saw each other from across the village, they made noises that seemed to come more from their nostrils than from their mouths.

  “They’re saying ‘good morning’,” Boris said.

  Alejandro looked at him, wondering how he could know that, but then he remembered he trusted him to be the expert and accepted his explanation.

  The groups started marching to the big hut at the end of the village. Each group knew their place and the flow of the march moved seamlessly. Instead of going into the hut, like Alejandro was predicting, they stopped and waited in front of it.

  “This is weird,” Boris observed.

  “Yeah, what’s happening?”

  “I dunno, let’s wait and see.”

  From out of the big hut came out two bigger Noches, bigger than either Boris or Alejandro had ever seen, they were about half a size bigger than the biggest one in the crowd. The claws attached to their hands were long and sharp enough to be swords. But what caught their eyes most was the two hundred pound elk each of them were carrying.

  “Holy shit!” Boris said, louder than he intended.

  The mob in front of the village stomped its feet and screamed at the sight of the food. They were voracious howls of happiness that elevated as more of the big-claws came out of the hut carrying more elk. The stomps of excitement sped up and got louder until it had some resemblance to a dance.

  The four big claws walked through the mob, the mob split down the middle as they came through in single file, and then followed behind them. When they reached the middle of the mob the Big Claws held up the elk. They all seemed to be killed in similar fashion—necks wringed and deep puncture wounds where the Big Claw stabbed its organs. The Big Claws held the elk up above their heads with their claws going through the body like skewers. They held them up until fresh blood from the new wounds dripped down on to their face.

  The mob erupted in animalistic cheers, like a stadium after the home team scores. And then it was feast time. The Noches ripped their claws through the elk, and chunks of meat and organs flew in every which direction.

  The Noches in the mob jumped up in the air and caught pieces of airborne meat. Others waited until an organ or a leg hit the ground, then they would dive after it and take a bite out of it before another Noche could wrestle it out of their hands.

  Boris watched with fascination as the Big Claws picked up pieces by their feet and threw them into the back of the mob. This would rile up the previously still Noches and they’d jump up to try to catch chunks of meat going their way.

  “It’s like goddamn kids at a piñata.” Alejandro said.

  “I was thinking piranha
s, but that works too.” Boris continued watching, a hypothesis forming in his head. “It’s controlled chaos, though.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Look at the way there’s no fighting between them. They know there’s enough meat to go around for everyone, it’s just part of some ritual. I’d have to watch them do this more, but we don’t have that kind of time so I’m skipping a lot of steps and concluding that that’s what’s happening.”

  The frenzy feeding was over no more than five minutes after it had started. All of the elk had been consumed, not a single piece of meat was left on the ground.

  The Big-Claws retreated back into the big hut. The mob dispersed. The Noches wandered around the village grounds, grunting at one another or finding a spot to lie down and pick at their teeth. A quiet fell over the village like the quiet that follows the end of a daylong parade.

  Female Noches came out from the huts, some of them cradling babies in their arms. Young Noches, the ones who were too young to participate in the feast came out behind the females. Some of the smaller ones stayed by their mothers’ sides, while the bigger ones found a circle of friends and started wrestling with them.

  Alejandro heard Charlie’s voice echo in his head, the one I killed today…he won’t be going back to his family.

  Alejandro reached into his pocket and pulled out the river rocks the Noche Charlie had killed had been carrying to honor the dead. He looked at them, and Charlie’s words went through his head again, only this time they were louder.

  “They remind me of gorillas, but more human somehow.” Boris said.

  “Yeah.” Alejndro slipped the rocks back in his pocket. They had gone unnoticed, which was good, he didn’t want to explain them to Boris.

  “I think if we had the means to control them they’d be super interesting to observe in a real scientific setting. But alas, we play the cards we are drawn and we’ll have to drive them to extinction before that’s a possibility, lest they drive us to extinction—hey man, are you cool?” Boris asked, noticing that something was bothering Alejandro, bothering him enough to drive his brown skin pale somehow.