by Debbie Kump
Erik shook his head. “Can’t.”
“But my whole crew’s still stuck down there!” Alyssa protested.
“And they’re gonna stay there,” he said grimly as he rose to his feet. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened with exasperation. How could he be so heartless? “What about my mom?! She must be worried sick. She probably thinks I’m dead, too!”
“You can’t call anyone. Not anymore.” Now his voice sounded steely cold. Calculated.
Fear seized Alyssa like skeletal fingers closing around her throat. She’d read about cases like this before–when a beguiling psychopath charmed his victim, luring her away from civilization before slitting her throat. She had to get away from this stranger. And fast.
Instantly, self-defense maneuvers shot forth from her memory: a swift kick to the groin, a blow to the nose, then take off screaming.
Without another word, she slammed the toe of her running shoe into his crotch and the palm of her hand thrust upward, connecting with his nose. Then she bolted toward the parking lot. Permitting herself a quick glance backward, she saw Erik swearing loudly as he doubled over in pain, one hand clutching his groin and the other the bridge of his bloody nose. Satisfied, she sprinted as fast as her legs would allow. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her pulse throbbed wildly inside her neck. All the while, she yelled for help, but her hoarse voice didn’t carry far–even in the disturbing quiet that surrounded her.
Over the sounds of waves sloshing up the beach, she soon heard heavy footsteps trailing her. Obviously, her tired leg hadn’t kicked him hard enough.
Heading toward the strip of hotels ahead, Alyssa tried to pick up her pace, but her body ached with each motion, her joints screeching in pain. Had she escaped from the Siren only yesterday? It seemed ages ago.
The footsteps came closer, yet she didn’t dare look back as she charged for the front door of the nearest hotel. Then she felt his fingers wrap around her forearm. A high-pitched shriek escaped Alyssa’s lips as he wheeled her to face him. She shouted, “Lemme alone!” hoping someone in the nearby buildings would rush to her aid. Fighting against him, Alyssa kicked madly with her free leg, her heel hitting his shinbone. Erik howled in pain, instantly releasing his grip.
Free again, she darted down the street. Almost there, she thought encouragingly, keeping her eyes trained on the welcoming hotel door. But his footsteps pounded the pavement just behind her.
Erik gasped, “Alyssa! Listen to me!” as he snatched her arm again. She thrashed wildly, trying to free herself once more. Only this time, Erik pulled her closer, securing his arms tightly around her body to restrain her. He pinned his chin against her collarbone, whispering through gritted teeth, “Everyone’s gone. Look around!”
His words echoed in the unnatural stillness of the street. For a moment, Alyssa stopped struggling. Through crazed eyes, she glanced down the road and across the beach. Suddenly, she understood the reason behind the lack of noise. No cars were moving. No people, either.
What in God’s name happened to Miami?
Erik locked his fingers in her hair, turning her head to look him straight in the eye. “I know it’s painful to remember, but on the sub…what did you see?”
Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut. She shook her head, blocking out the horrors.
“Please, Alyssa,” he implored. “Did you see them bleeding? From their eyes and ears?”
“SHUT UP!” she screamed, smothering her ears with her hands. “What’s wrong with you?! Why are you doing this to me?” All she could think of were her fallen crewmates. And Justin.
But somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered, How did he know? Slowly, reluctantly, she dropped her hands, staring at him with wide eyes.
His fingers relaxed in her hair. Softer, Erik probed, “And you? Did you have your DOTS in?”
“Of course,” Alyssa snapped. “Everyone does. It’s mandatory.”
Erik frowned, releasing her altogether. Wiping his bloody nose on the back of his hand, he sank to the ground. His head drooped, defeated, as if searching for a new theory to explain the annihilation surrounding him.
Puzzled, Alyssa studied him for a moment. Maybe he wasn’t some psychopath like she’d suspected. Maybe he was just frightened and alone…like her.
A part of her regretted hitting him in the nose. And kicking him. Twice.
Then Alyssa remembered something. “Oh. My. God,” she breathed. She unbuttoned her chest pocket and pulled out the bottle of sulfacetamide drops.
She’d completely forgotten about her Pinkeye. Conjunctivitis. Whatever.
Through her muddled brain rang the voice of Medical Officer Michael Knolls, crystal clear in her ears. The next upgrade comes into effect tomorrow. We’ll get you a fresh set of gear once your quarantine is completed.
7G.
Alyssa gasped as she stared at Erik. “You don’t think…?”
Erik raised his head, looking at her bottle of prescription eye drops. “You didn’t have them in, did you?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “I was sent to Quarantine. They removed them as a precaution.”
“I had mine out, too,” he said weakly. “And now…well…look at us.”
They were the only ones standing.
It took a minute for the weight of the news to sink into Alyssa’s brain.
There’d been a lot of hype over this National Conversion, promising Americans the latest encryption devices to prevent terrorist attacks and optical/audio recording capabilities for personal enjoyment, making the U.S. the pinnacle of telecommunications in the world.
So was her mother’s premonition true? They would never see each other again? And what about Steve and Ellen? Suddenly, her anger over their relationship seemed decidedly trivial. She never had a chance to say goodbye to her best friend. To any of them, for that matter.
Alyssa realized with remorse that America’s obsession for the fastest, most advanced, and immediate communication had ultimately led to its demise.
Glancing around the lifeless strip of hotel-lined beach, Alyssa wondered if her escape from the Siren had only condemned her to another level of hell.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“I’m still going back,” Alyssa said defiantly and turned away. Even if she couldn’t contact her mom, she could still drive to Virginia and on to D.C. There had to be some government official there she could contact about the sunken sub. Regardless of whether Erik was right or not, she had to see it with her own eyes.
Erik placed his hand on her wrist, stopping her. “Listen. There’s nothing to go back to. Phones. T.V. Radio. Everything’s gone. Everyone’s gone.” Quieter, he added, “I’m sorry. I…I thought I was it. You’re the first one I found–“
“–alive,” Alyssa finished for him. She knew how he felt. All too well. But that wasn’t enough for her to abandon her quest. One hundred thirty-eight submariners lay dead, trapped in a metal hull on the sea floor. And they would remain there for eternity unless she did something about it. Maybe Erik’s theory was flawed. Maybe the devastation was simply regional. The entire world couldn’t have perished in a single night.
“How’d you figure it out? I mean, in a way it makes sense,” she said as her mind pieced the evidence together. “But still. How’d you know for sure?”
“I had mine out, too. And when I went to put them back in to call 911…” Erik clamped his hand to his head, remembering the pain. “Let’s just say it was pretty obvious.”
Cocking one eyebrow high on her forehead, she pressed, “How so?”
Erik hung his head miserably. “The pain. In my eyes. And ear.” He wiped the right side of his face, as if checking for ghostly streams of blood trickling down his cheek. “It was intense. I still can’t hear on one side.” He tapped his right ear, frowning. “I feel so bad for them. It must not’ve been a pleasant way to go.”
Alyssa sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her chest. She fell silent, s
taring in disbelief at the empty sky as she fought back the gory recollection of the dead crew aboard the Siren.
“You really think they’re all gone?” she whispered, choking on the gravity of each word.
Erik sighed as he sat down next to her. “Not everyone, of course. I’m sure there’s still pockets of survivors scattered throughout the country…like the Pennsylvania Dutch. If they won’t use cars, there’s no way they owned DOTS. Same with tribes in Amazonia. Religious cults in the desert Southwest. The poor who couldn’t afford upgrading to 7G. And, of course, some people like you and me who just had the fortune–or misfortune, perhaps–of having them out at the time.”
His words infused Alyssa with new hope. There was still a chance her mom was alive. That for some reason she’d taken her DOTS out that night. And Tucker. He’d still be waiting for her. She had to go back for him.
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s lots of people who made it,” Erik continued, his voice turning grim. “But I’m not worried about them.”
Alyssa spun her head to study him. Even in the warmth of the sun, his rosy face turned suddenly pallid.
“It won’t take long for others to find out.” Erik’s brows knit with worry. “And to be honest, I don’t want to be here when they arrive.”
Studying him for a moment, Alyssa contemplated his implications. Looters ransacking the stores. Terrorists hiding out in the Caribbean. Detainees from the reopened Guantánamo Bay. Maybe worse.
“But if we drive north?” Alyssa suggested, optimistic once more. Then she could stop by her home on the way. She had to see her mother one last time–just to know for sure.
“I already thought about that. Canada’s gotta be gone. They leapt onto the Conversion at the last minute. Who knows how many other countries did, too. To be honest, I don’t think there’s anywhere safe. Not anymore.”
“So what’s wrong with staying?” If the Pennsylvania Dutch didn’t even know about the apocalyptic conversion, maybe she and Erik could find a safe haven with them.
“Think Wild West times ten.”
Why did he have to be so vague? Yet in the pit of her stomach she knew he was right. Surveillance teams would come to scout out the area. Then others dressed in biohazard suits would arrive to clear the city, the country. She imagined flames from funeral pyres reaching high into the sky. But the cleanup or threat of disease wasn’t Alyssa’s biggest concern. It was what came next.
Invasion. Most likely by terrorist organizations, Alyssa assumed. An entire country laid free at their disposal. Anarchy would reign for a period of time, until some dictator stepped in to assume control. And to move from chaos to control could only happen if he ruled with an iron fist. She hoped the others could get out in time, before their lives were condemned to slavery. Or worse.
Subconsciously, Alyssa rubbed her neck, as if the dictatorial fist wrapped its fingers securely around her throat. She thought of the limited freedom awarded women in the Middle East–one of the reasons her father was sent there in the first place. But chances were she wouldn’t even survive to see that day. Their only hope was to flee before the others arrived.
“Listen. I need you,” Erik pleaded, breaking the silence. “I can’t get out of here alone.”
“But I promised.” She reached inside her pocket, fingering Justin Hidalgo’s dolphin pin. There would be no funeral for him. Not for any of them. His family deserved to know the truth. To own one memento of their deceased son. And she couldn’t even accomplish that. Not if what Erik claimed was true.
Defeated, she buried her face in her hands. After a few minutes of sustained silence, she composed herself enough to murmur, “Okay. So what’s your plan?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“You’re out of your mind. I’m not doing it,” Alyssa grumbled, blowing the unkempt hair from her face.
“It’s not so bad. All you have to do is dump out the body–”
“No way,” she retorted. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
“I’ve been through a lot, too. But it’s the only way.”
“I can’t.” Alyssa crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to meet his gaze.
Erik laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Why not?” he pressed.
She shrugged off his hand. “I just can’t…o-kay!”
Erik sighed, frustrated. She was nothing like Rachael. Naturally, Rachael would be upset in this situation, too–who wouldn’t’ve?–but she was tougher than she looked. Rachael would’ve stepped up to her responsibilities. Accept fate as it was dealt her.
And to think Erik had experienced momentary relief when he happened across a survivor. And not just any survivor, but a sailor. Almost like Rachael was up there looking out for him, whispering her request in the ear of an angel.
Besides, if Erik could do this himself, then he would. But the Goldman’s boat was too large for him to maneuver alone. He didn’t dare take someone’s he didn’t know. Convincing himself that he only borrowed their boat was much easier to stomach than deliberately stealing a stranger’s property. He certainly didn’t need another guilt trip weighing on his soul. It was bad enough losing Rachael without giving her the chance to explain. To abandon anyone here would be nothing short of inhumane.
He reached inside the open window of a nearby car. Ignoring the stench of the bodies left inside, he pulled a pen and notepad from the glove box. Thinking hard, he scribbled out a list and thrust the paper at Alyssa.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll get a car and you check out those shops over there.” He pointed down the street. Across from the hotels stood one trinket shop after another. “We’ll meet back at the boat.”
Alyssa rubbed her tired eyes with her knuckles and nodded indifferently. Glancing at the list, she headed down the street in search of supplies.
Erik watched her depart, wondering if he’d made a huge mistake. He fingered his nose. It was tender all right, but he doubted she broke it. And the bleeding had ceased, though he wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes turned black-and-blue. He had a deep bruise on his shinbone. Plus, she’d really nailed him where it counted.
But she was strong, he admitted, if only he could funnel that anger toward helping his cause. The whole thing was a simple misunderstanding, right?
Then why was he wary of trusting her?
So far she hadn’t tried to run away again. Besides, where would she go? She’d figure out soon enough that he was her only chance for escape. But maybe he should’ve insisted they stay together–especially when he knew her search would be hopeless. She’d never find anything they needed, not in this touristy part of town. But at least she’d be close to the harbor.
He waited until she entered the first store, then turned in the opposite direction down the road. Erik checked four parked trucks before he found one with the keys still in the ignition. Crinkling his nose, he slid the driver’s inert body out the door, dragging it away from the car so he wouldn’t run it over on his way out. He wasn’t sure he could handle the sound of tires crushing a corpse. (It was bad enough having to touch a steering wheel caked with dried blood.)
Closing his eyes momentarily, Erik turned the key and held his breath as the engine revved to life. Thank God, he thought as he shifted into reverse, it’s got half a tank left. Pulling out of the parallel parking space, he ran through his mental list of which stores to hit while trying to ignore the devastation surrounding him.
Erik knew he had to escape Miami before he lost his mind. One can only disregard this much death for so long before it whittled away at your soul. Well, at least he found Alyssa. Even if fragile and emotionally scarred, she was better than nothing.
Regardless, he couldn’t leave her here by herself. Not in good conscience. Not with who would undoubtedly arrive soon. Erik shuddered at the thought.
He hoped she’d find everything on the list. He hoped she’d return to the boat before him. And above all, he hoped they could make it out of the harbor in time.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
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Dump out the body. How sick and malicious could he be? Of all the people to find left alive, she had to run into a callous, coldhearted excuse for a soul. Figures. And now he expected her to sail off into the unknown with him.
Like that would ever happen.
Alyssa ambled down the sidewalk, conscious of the fact that he eyed her with suspicion. She purposefully held the paper at arms-reach to make out his hurried scrawl. It read:
Golden Sunset, Slip 32
What a cheesy name for a boat, she thought, rolling her eyes. Her eyes scanned the rest of his list:
food
water
clothes
first aid kit
binoculars
towels
sunscreen
swimsuits
Typical stuff you’d need to survive an emergency.
But she had no intention of finding the items he requested. She only hoped he didn’t know that…yet.
Alyssa stuffed the list into her pocket and swallowed hard as she stared down the street. A chill running down her spine, she dared another peek over her shoulder. Was he still watching her? Yep. So for now, she must give the impression of sticking to his plan.
The sidewalk was littered with bodies: couples and families collapsed upon one another, toddlers slumped sideways in strollers, shopping bags strewn across the ground, their contents scattered. And everywhere, the flies. Buzzing around the dried blood crusted over the eyes and ears of the fallen. Even the sea breeze couldn’t blow away the odor that lingered in the midday heat.
Alyssa’s eyes burned. She plugged her nose. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be here. She should’ve died like her crew, hundreds of feet beneath the sea. Not stuck here in a nightmare of apocalyptic proportions.
Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. Suppressing the rising feelings of guilt at abandoning the sole survivor she’d encountered thus far, she darted inside the first shop on the street. Overhead, a red flag with a diagonal white stripe painted onto a wooden sign creaked in the breeze.
