by Scott Cramer
“Everything?” she said in a tone of disbelief.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
They passed by the house where an old man who mended fishing nets lived. Sunday mornings, pickup trucks would always line the street as commercial fishermen dropped off and picked up nets. The street was deserted now, no fishermen, no nets, the old man’s house dark.
Jordan froze just beyond the house. He grabbed Emily’s arm and held her from going further. Ahead of them the green car that had raced by his house had smashed into a telephone pole, the front end badly crumpled. Glass cubes littered the ground, and green antifreeze formed a puddle by the front tire.
“It drove by our house earlier,” he said.
“I remember you and Abby and Kevin talking about it.”
Jordan took Emily’s hand and they inched closer. He saw the airbag had deflated and motionless driver slumped forward. The driver had red hair. They moved closer still and Jordan could now see streams of dried blood on the driver’s cheeks.
“It’s a boy,” Jordan cried. “I know who it is. He’s in Abby’s class. His name is Ryan Foster.”
Emily squeezed his hand. “That means other kids our age are probably alive. Let’s go.”
* * *
Abby stared out the window into the brooding face of the lavender monster. The vice of fog was tightening around them. The Couture’s house had disappeared ten minutes ago, but she could still make out the shape of the lobster truck. Mr. Marsh was missing, his body probably dragged off by the coyote pack.
She checked her watch again. Jordan and Emily had been gone forty five minutes.
Usually when the fog was this thick, Abby would retreat to her room, pull down the shade, and curse her father for accepting the job as librarian and moving them all here. Castine Island was one of the foggiest spots on the planet, which meant she had privately sworn at him a lot.
“Ajay’s online!” Kevin shouted.
She jumped.
“My cousin,” Kevin added as he typed.
Abby rushed to his side. Strangely, she was joyful knowing that someone else was alive.
Kevin was on Facebook, typing in the chatbox.
KEVIN: AJAY!!!!
KEVIN: AJAY, ARE YOU THERE????
KEVIN: AJAY????
“He lives in Mumbai,” Kevin said.
“India?”
Kevin nodded. “He’s fourteen. He has an older brother, Jyran. We visited them last summer. You need a satellite connection to be online.”
Abby thought her friend Mel in Cambridge had satellite.
KEVIN: PLEASE RESPOND
KEVIN: ???
They stared at the screen.
“What time is it in India?” Abby asked.
“Eleven thirty at night. They’re nine and a half hours ahead of us.”
They kept staring at the screen in silence.
The computer bleeped.
Abby grabbed Kevin’s arm from excitement.
AJAY: KEVIN
Kevin’s fingers started dancing on the keyboard.
KEVIN: ARE YOU OKAY?
AJAY: EVERYONE
A pause. Every passing second felt like a minute. Kevin started up again.
KEVIN: EVERYONE WHAT?
KEVIN: AJAY?
A bleep, finally.
AJAY: MY PARENTS, JYRAN
“I know what he’s going to write!” Kevin shrieked. “His brother and parents are dead.”
Abby swallowed hard. “How old is Jyran?”
Kevin lowered his head. “Sixteen.”
AJAY: THEY’RE DEAD
Kevin didn’t move, as if his fingers had turned to wood. Abby noticed that he had closed his eyes and was crying softly.
“Kevin, you have to keep typing! Say something.”
He choked out a sob, but otherwise kept his eyes shut and didn’t move.
The computer bleeped and bleeped.
AJAY: KEVIN, ARE YOU THERE?
AJAY: KEVIN????
AJAY: PLEASE ANSWER ME
AJAY: WHAT SHOULD I DO?
Abby slid the computer in front of her and typed.
KEVIN: OUR PARENTS DIED TOO
KEVIN: THE POLICE DON’T ANSWER THE PHONE
KEVIN: NO RADIO, NO TV
She thought it was too confusing to explain who she was.
KEVIN: THE FERRY ISN’T RUNNING
AJAY: I SEE DEAD PEOPLE OUT MY WINDOW
AJAY: THEY’RE IN CARS, ON THE SIDEWALK
AJAY: FOR BLOCKS AND BLOCKS, EVERY DIRECTION
AJAY: ADULTS ARE DEAD EVERYWHERE
Everywhere. The word exploded off the screen. The world was a big place. Adults were dead in Ajay’s neighborhood in India half way around the world. Adults were dead on Castine Island. The fact that TV and radio stations didn’t work and web sites were out of date probably meant adults were dead in New York, California, Boston, and other large cities. No ferry meant more adults were dead in Portland. A chilling thought bubbled up from deep inside Abby’s brain. What if the only survivors left on Earth were children?
AJAY: SOME OLD PEOPLE ARE ALIVE
AJAY: KIDS ARE ALIVE
AJAY: KIDS MY AGE
AJAY: AND YOUNGER
AJAY: THERE’S A BABY CRYING NEXT DOOR
Abby swallowed her tears and typed.
KEVIN: AJAY
KEVIN: ARE YOU SAFE?
KEVIN: AJAY?
KEVIN: ARE YOU THERE?
“We lost the connection,” Kevin said, his face wet and glistening. “He’s gone.”
* * *
Jordan and Emily walked away from the mangled car and toward the harbor, the fog growing thicker by the minute.
They hadn’t gone far when Emily stopped. “Jordan, I’m afraid.”
He felt her hand trembling through the glove. He squeezed it and gave her a gentle tug. “We’ve come this far. Let’s keep going. We’ll find someone who will help us.”
There was no activity at the normally busy harbor, nobody to help them. The harbor was eerily quiet. Once before Jordan had seen it like this. His dad had forgotten to lock up the library one Saturday evening and Jordan had joined him early the next morning to lock it up. Now, from the sailboats in dry dock to the playground, all along Gleason Street, every storefront, the ferry terminal, the tavern, the entire harbor area was as deserted as that Sunday morning in February.
Three commercial fishing boats, ghostly shapes in the fog, were at the main dock, tied up. Jordan thought that any one of the trawlers would be perfect for crossing the strait to the mainland.
It was strange to see fishing boats without hundreds of seagulls hovering nearby, even in the fog. Jordan wondered if the space dust had killed birds. The cat that had followed Abby home and the coyotes did not seem adversely affected. What about the other creatures, fish and insects and reptiles?
Emily pointed to a body out on the dock. Facing away from them, it was impossible to tell if it were a man or woman in the purple haze. He or she was wearing yellow rain gear and rubber boots.
“There’s nothing we can do,” he said.
The steadiness of his voice surprised Jordan. He felt that something inside of him had gone numb. He wanted it to remain that way, thinking that worse things lay ahead.
The fog thickened, as if a purple curtain had dropped, and they could see no further than their outstretched hands.
Jordan no longer expected to find anyone in the harbor, but there were important items he wanted to get.
“Whoever leaves the house again, they’ll need to know how long they’ve been gone,” he said. “We can get wrist watches at the drug store.”
Holding hands, they scuffled and shuffled to Mercer’s Drug Store through a zillion pinpricks of mist, following sidewalk cracks, curb stones, sand pushed to the side of the road, and other contours and textures of the ground as if it were Braille.
The drugstore was on the corner of Gleason and Berkley. Jordan probed around for something to smash the glass door. His foot bumped again
st a brick.
“Step back,” he told Emily and hurled the brick. The burglar alarm sounded, muted by fog. A spider web of cracks fanned out, but the glass didn’t break. He used the brick like an axe, chopping, chopping, chopping, until he made an opening big enough for his hand. He reached inside and unlocked the door.
Jordan took four watches from a display case and gave one to Emily. “It’s not stealing,” he said.
“Jordan, there’s lots of other stuff here that we could use. Vitamins, band-aids, batteries…”
“Emily, we can come back tomorrow. Abby’s probably freaking out that we’ve been gone this long.”
Emily grabbed a basket and started filling it. “We’re here now.” She stopped and gave him a hard stare. “Well, are you going to help?”
* * *
Abby had five unread emails in her inbox, including one that took her breath away. It was from Angelie Leigh, her mother. The time and date stamp of the email told Abby that her mom had sent it from her office in Boston, eight hours before the comet had streaked across the night sky. That was the worst possible news. Abby had received no communication from her mother after the night of the purple moon. She opened it with a sinking feeling.
Remind the boys to clean up! Love to everyone. See you tomorrow … Mom. PS. I have special presents for you, Jordan, and Touk!!!
Tears streamed down Abby’s cheeks and splashed on the keyboard.
She opened her chatbox and once more lost her breath. Mel was online.
“Mel,” Abby cried. “She’s my best friend,” she told Kevin. “She lives in Cambridge.”
“What type of satellite connection does she have?”
Abby ignored him and typed.
ABBY: MELLLLLLL!!!!
She kept her fingers poised on the keys. The laptop bleeped, and a thousand thoughts rushed into her head at once.
MELANIE: ABS, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?
ABBY: ARE YOU SAFE?
MELANIE: MY PARENTS
MELANIE: ARE DEAD
Abby had prayed things were somehow different in Cambridge.
ABBY: I’M SO SORRY
ABBY: IT’S THE SAME HERE
ABBY: JORDAN AND TOUK ARE FINE
MELANIE: I’M ALONE. WHAT SHOULD I DO?????????
ABBY: HAVE YOU HEARD FROM STEPH?
“Steph is her neighbor,” Abby said. “They live a block away from my house.”
MELANIE: THERE’S A LIGHT ON IN HER HOUSE
MELANIE: WHAT IF SHE’S DEAD?
ABBY: SHE’S NOT
ABBY: GO THERE!
ABBY: STAY TOGETHER
Abby wondered if she should ask Mel to check on her mother. Her friend would do anything she asked of her. But Abby worried about what she would learn. She wanted to know what happened and at the same time didn’t want to know.
ABBY: MEL, I NEED TO ASK YOU A FAVOR
She’d tell Mel to wear a mask and take Steph with her. Even if the news was bad, Abby had to find out.
ABBY: MEL?
ABBY: HAVE YOU SEEN MY MOM?
ABBY: CAN YOU CHECK ON HER?
ABBY: ARE YOU THERE????
ABBY: PLEASE ANSWER ME!!!!
Abby felt Kevin’s hand on her shoulder. “The connection is down,” he said.
ABBY: MEL!!!
ABBY: MEL
ABBY: MEL, PLEASE
* * *
Jordan and Emily headed home, loaded with supplies from the drugstore. They passed by the supermarket, hardware store, the tavern, the bowling alley… Jordan felt each store and business with his outstretched fingertips.
He moved them to the sidewalk so that they could follow the curbstone.
Moments later he bumped into a parked car. It was a police cruiser. They were in front of the police station.
“We can get two-way radios inside,” Jordan said. “If Abby can talk to us when we’re outside, she won’t get worried.”
“Will they work with all the space dust?”
Jordan gave Emily a nudge. “Where’s your brother when we need him?”
Her eyes brightened. She must be smiling beneath her mask, he thought.
Emily’s smile didn’t last long. They both knew what they would find inside the station. More bodies. Whoever had been on duty the night of the purple moon.
Behind the counter, they saw Officer Redmond had tipped over backward in his chair. Jordan had last seen the policeman a few days ago directing cars onto the ferry.
His eyes were wide open, and he was staring straight up at the ceiling. Jordan trembled and tasted bile in the back of his throat. It was scary enough to see a body this close, but those eyes really rattled him.
Jordan steeled himself and began to search for walkie-talkies. He found a two-way radio on a desk next to Chief Ladd’s office. He turned it on, pressed the button, and brought it to his lips. “Test, test.”
He and Emily jumped when his voice crackled over the radio fixed to Officer Redmond’s belt.
Jordan searched in vain for more radios. He discovered a gun in a drawer. He was tempted to take it, but Abby would kill him. He said nothing about the gun to Emily.
Unable to find another walkie-talkie, Jordan had no choice but to somehow knock the one off the policeman’s belt. Light-headed, he crawled on his hands and knees closer to the mark. A rank odor made him want to gag. Sweat trickled down his brow. Emily stood by the counter, one hand reflexively on her mouth. If Officer Redmond’s eyes were only closed… Jordan tried pretending the policeman was a mannequin. But no mannequin had such lifelike eyebrows, lashes, blue pupils.
Jordan held his breath and reached out, as if he were leaning from the edge of a cliff, extending his hand until he was able to touch the radio with the tip of his index finger. He nudged it.
The phone rang.
Jordan stumbled back and gasped. His heart pounded. The phone rang again. He sprang and grabbed the receiver before the third ring. “Hello.” Someone was breathing as fast as he was. “This is the police station,” he said. “Who are you?”
“Help me.”
“It’s a kid!” Jordan whispered to Emily. He spoke into the phone. “Who is this?”
“Danny.”
The voice sounded like he was very young. “Danny what?” No answer. “Danny, what’s your last name?”
“Beal.”
Jordan told the name to Emily. “Look for a phone book,” he said. Beal was a common name on Castine Island. Beal Outboard Motors. Beal Fish and Tackle. Beal Storage.
“Danny, how old are you?” Jordan said into the phone.
“Four.”
“You’re four years old. That’s cool. Where are you?”
“I’m in the kitchen.”
“I mean, where do you live? Danny, where is your home?”
“I live on Castine Island. That’s in Maine.”
Jordan knew he’d find out where the boy lived. He just had to ask the right question.
“What street do you live on?”
Emily flipped through a phone book and stopped on a page. She glanced up and down. “There must be at least fifty Beals,” she said.
“He’s not saying anything.” Then into the phone, “Are you okay, Danny?”
“My mommy won’t wake up.”
Jordan hadn’t been ready for that, and he couldn’t speak for a moment. It was the worst possible time to cry. He took a deep breath. “Danny, where’s your dad?”
“My daddy drives a truck. It’s a diesel.”
“A diesel, huh? Where’s your dad now?”
“Burlington. That’s in Vermont.”
“His father doesn’t live with him,” Jordan said to Emily. “Look for a woman’s name.”
“Danny, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have food to eat?”
“Cake.”
“Cake is good,” Jordan said.
“It’s my birthday cake!” the boy exclaimed. “I’m four years old.”
&nbs
p; “Danny, listen to me. My name is Jordan Leigh. I’m not a policeman, but I’m going to come get you.”
Jordan didn’t have a clue how he would do that. But he’d set his mind on that problem once he solved the mystery of Danny’s address. Then he had an idea. He’d ask Danny to look out the window and tell him what he saw. Jordan might recognize some landmark.
“Danny, can you walk with the phone?”
“No.”
That meant it wasn’t a cell phone or a cordless phone. “Because it’s attached to the wall, right?”
“That’s right!” The tiny voice burst with pride.
“Okay, that’s no problem. Listen to me, but don’t do anything yet. I want you to put down the phone and walk to the window. Look out. Then come back to the phone and tell me what you see. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah.”
“What do I want you to do?”
“Look out the window.”
“That’s right, Danny. Then come back and talk to me. Tell me what you see. Danny, wait!”
Jordan heard footsteps padding on the floor.
He cursed his stupidity. Danny would go to the window and what would he see? Nothing but fog.
Emily sighed. “Six Beals are women. Maybe seven. Jamie could be a man or woman.”
Jordan clapped his head. “I should ask him what his mother’s name is. He’ll know her name.”
Half a minute passed. “Where is he?”
Jordan shouted into the phone. “Danny. Danny!”
The boy never returned.
Jordan’s jaw dropped. Danny’s telephone number was right in front of him, displayed on the screen of the police station phone. He had been staring at it all this time. He read it out loud, and Emily made the match.
“I got it!” she cried. “Eleanor Beal, 29 King Street.”
* * *
Abby swept the floor, ripped a sheet into strips to make more masks, fed Cat. The busier she was, the less she thought about the fact that Jordan and Emily had been gone for more than two hours.
But no matter how furiously she worked, she couldn’t shake the distressing image of one or the other tumbling off the dock. The water was shockingly cold this time of year.
Kevin did not seem the least bit concerned. “Think how much they’re learning,” he said. “Maybe they found someone old, like Mr. Couture. My sister is really stronger than she looks.”
He continued searching the internet for up-to-date news, keeping both his and Abby’s Facebook pages open in case Mel or Ajay, or any other friends or relatives tried to reach them.
