Chasers

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Chasers Page 5

by James Phelan


  Of course you are, Dave said. I would be too if I was a Brit, with all that mad cow and stuff you guys have had.

  I just don’t believe in cruelty to animals, Anna replied. I don’t believe in violence of any kind; that’s why I came on this camp.

  I was going to say my one lame vegetarian joke: What, you don’t hear carrots scream when you bite them? but the moment had passed. Instead, I looked out the window at a city that was darkening by the minute.

  Why had I come to this camp? Because my school wanted me to? For adventure? Because I wanted to get out of boring class-work back home, because I’d always done what others expected of me, because I’d seen violence too and wanted to make a difference somehow? Maybe it was to meet these people, my friends here. To meet Anna.

  We should try to start the generator, I said. See if it works, maybe find a TV to run—

  If the transmitters are down there won’t be any stations, said Dave.

  There might be satellite ones, I replied. Might be some news, maybe some non-US stations like the BBC. We should check the internet too.

  Plenty of offices below us, Dave said. Bound to have TVs and stuff. Might be an emergency broadcast on or something, telling us what to do, where to go.

  And what’s going on, I added.

  I scribbled down FIND TV, START GENERATOR and TRY INTERNET on our “To Do” list, which already had the underlined words HOLE-UP/FORTIFY. No one else seemed interested in these notes; it was as if I was having a conversation with myself on paper.

  And we could watch some DVDs, Mini said.

  DVDs, I said, as I added it to the list. You’re a genius, Min.

  Sure, and I’ll just go down to Blockbuster so we can have a movie night, Anna said.

  I could see she regretted her tone when she realized Mini was hurt.

  Sorry. It’s a good idea, Min. It’ll get our minds off stuff.

  We have to accept we may be here a while, Dave said.

  What’s a while? Mini asked.

  Day or two, maybe, he answered. It might take a while for help to arrive—if it’s hard to get out of Manhattan at the moment, it must be just as hard to get in. It might take a while for help to come, you know?

  We’ll keep checking the view, take it in shifts, I said. Look around from the observation decks until we see something. Night-time too—we might see lights on in other buildings, might see some streets or neighborhoods that have power. Once we find out where the other survivors are, we can move.

  Why should we stay here at all? Anna asked. I mean, tonight, yeah, but if we think this may take a while to get fixed, why don’t we go somewhere safer?

  Safer?

  Yeah, like a bank, or a police station, Anna said. Then if we’re attacked by . . . by someone, we could hide in the vault or something.

  We’d have weapons if we went to a police station, Dave said. Who knows, maybe the police and fire stations are refuges, full of cops and people like us.

  And what if they’re not? I argued. What if they’re empty, like here—

  What if this building’s not empty? Anna said.

  If there’s anyone in this building, they’d be up here like us, Dave said.

  Anna didn’t look convinced.

  But we could go to the UN building or—

  And what if we get there only to find that we’re locked out, and then we’re stranded down there in the streets . . . with them, I said. I took a deep breath before continuing. Look—we go down there, there’s risk. What if we become like them, like all those milling about the water, like Mr. Lawson? Up here, there are three fire escapes we can use if we have to get out in a hurry. If we did set up in a bank or something, it would be too easy to get cornered—places like that are as hard to get out of as they are to get into. At least here we can see. We’ve got good views. We’ve got options. We can see if a rescue is coming, and . . . and we can see them. I feel safer from them, those . . . infected people, up here.

  The others were silent, taking it in.

  We should have a name for them, Anna said. The Sick, or the Infected? Something. Something to differentiate them from the real people we see—I mean, the normal survivors like us.

  The Thirsty? Dave suggested.

  The Thirsty? Anna said sarcastically. Like, look out Dave—there’s a thirsty behind you?

  The Arseholes, Mini said. The Scary Arseholes.

  That works, I said with a grin. Look out, Dave—there’s an arsehole behind you!

  The three of them laughed and Dave actually took a quick glance behind him.

  How about the Chasers? I said.

  Dave nodded approvingly.

  Think about it, I said. They chased us, and they ran down those three guys we saw.

  Why? Anna said. Have we thought about that? I mean, they’re obviously sick, but why are they chasing people? Maybe we should try talking to one, going down there and approaching one.

  Maybe, I said.

  Maybe? Dave said in disbelief. If I had a gun in each hand and we approached just one of them—yeah, maybe then. But I’m not going down there on the streets. I’ve seen what some of them are doing. You’ve seen it too.

  Why are they doing this? Mini asked.

  She seemed younger and more innocent than the rest of us; it made me want to protect her.

  Who knows? Dave said. We know they’re thirsty and they’re chasing after survivors.

  Maybe it’s anthrax, suggested Anna.

  We all looked at her blankly.

  Whatever has infected them, she explained. Made them Chasers.

  Anthrax doesn’t make you deranged like that.

  How do you know what it does? Maybe it’s a new strain that makes people evil.

  Evil? I asked.

  Yeah.

  Like, what—we’re good and they’re evil?

  You got it, Jesse, Dave said. Us and them.

  I don’t think it’s that simple.

  Evil does exist, Anna said. I know it.

  I don’t think they’re evil, I said. They’ve just got a disease that makes them thirsty. They don’t seem malicious—they just take whatever liquid is on offer, simple as that.

  You really think so?

  Maybe...

  But they’d take us.

  We’re not on offer, Min, I said. They’re not all bad.

  We’ve seen them chase after living people.

  Yeah, but maybe it’s only the wounded they chase, I said. Like, people who have cuts and are bleeding.

  Or maybe the Chasers who run after people were different to begin with? Mini said. Violent criminals or something?

  We were quiet and I didn’t know what to say, but I knew I had to fill the silence or I’d be thinking about this conversation all day.

  Look, this infection could have been anything, I said. We know it’s not in the air or we would have been infected by now.

  Then how did the Chasers get infected?

  Maybe it was in the air to start with, I said. Maybe Chasers are the people who were outside when the virus was dumped on the city. Then it cleared in the rain or something. I don’t know . . .

  Maybe they’ll all drown down at the river, Mini said.

  They’re not drinking much, I replied. They’re just kind of... sipping all the time, like they have an unquenchable thirst or dry mouth. My uncle lost all his saliva once, for like a month or something, and the docs never knew what brought it on or why his saliva came back.

  What could cause that?

  I don’t know, I replied. Maybe it was stress or drinking too much, or being overweight.

  Perhaps it was a small stroke or something?

  Maybe.

  Yeah, well maybe they’ll get better then, Mini said. Maybe it’ll wear off . . .

  We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? Dave said. Sooner or later, those Chasers will realize that they can’t survive by drinking from the Hudson. It’s tidal and salinated all along Manhattan island, I’m pretty sure. Once they figure that o
ut, they’ll probably head to the ponds in Central Park.

  Will it kill them?

  Salt water? If they’re stupid enough to drink it for days on end, yeah, it’ll kill them, Dave said. If they’re stupid.

  They’re not stupid, Mini said. They seem like us, only sick.

  They were like us, Dave said. And who knows, maybe this will wear off soon, like it did with Jesse’s uncle, or the government will come with some kind of antidote for it. Until then, we should stay away from areas with obviously available water.

  I nodded and noticed Mini wiping tears from her eyes. I knew she’d made other friends on the UN camp; maybe she was thinking about them. Or maybe she was just missing everything back home, like me.

  Don’t worry, Min, I said. This is America. They’ve got plans for everything here. Whatever this attack and outbreak is, there are smart people gathered somewhere right now trying to work out how to deal with it. Things are happening. For the moment it might seem like it’s just us, but we’ll stick together until help comes, okay?

  She nodded. Anna didn’t look impressed or convinced. A distant hollow-sounding rumble announced that another building was coming down. None of us commented on it. Something else lost forever.

  What if it’s not just here? Anna asked. New York, I mean. What if this is nation-wide and no one’s coming to rescue us? What if America’s gone—if everyone out there is like them, the Chasers? What if the only help we’re going to get is in this room?

  Anna’s tone had a hard edge and I didn’t like what she was saying. I didn’t believe the people in this room were it. There had to be others out there, talking with their friends like me, or alone, or maybe even just going about their lives as usual.

  This is a big country, Dave said. But you’ve got a point, Anna. There may have been attacks on other cities too. Maybe it’s not just New York, maybe there are other places in the US that are as screwed as we are. But whoever did this, whatever this is, it isn’t everywhere, I know it. There’s no country on earth with the ability to strike against every American city—

  How do you know? Anna was leaning forward on her chair, her faced flushed. How!

  Dave was going to fire back, but he got up from the table instead and stormed off into the kitchen.

  Anna was silent at first, but after a while she seemed to cool down. I didn’t care about the fight; at least it made Mini focus on the three of us rather than what was happening outside.

  His family are out there somewhere, Anna, I said softly. His family are probably gone. We’re not from around here; he’s feeling this harder—

  I know, Anna said, and she wiped away a tear and got up and went into the kitchen to be with Dave.

  I felt a pang of envy then, in spite of everything. I started wishing that Anna and I had had the fight and it was me she needed to make up with. It was stupid thinking that way after all we’d been through, but I couldn’t help it.

  I’d felt like this before, when my dad told me he was getting remarried. We’d been fishing together one weekend at the Snowy River. Dad had given up his job in architecture to work as an artist for a bit and it was just him and me. But all that changed when he married Barbara—he went back to his office job and we moved to a bigger house. I’ve felt alone since then.

  Come on, Mini, I said, leaning over and lighting the candles on the table. Let’s see if we can work out the generator.

  As I stood I turned to see what the others were doing. Dave was looking down and Anna was talking to him with her hand on his arm. They were together in that moment and I knew I had to let them be.

  7

  That night we used the generator for the first time. We ran it for a few minutes then quickly realized we needed to put it somewhere isolated, as the exhaust fumes were pretty disgusting. We set it up in a separate bar section of the Rainbow Room and shut the double doors, trailing extension cords out to our common area.

  We ate well at dinner, cooking up big servings of food, even though we weren’t sure whether the gas was on for good or if we were just using what was left in the pipes. Dave climbed under the stoves and shut off the gas to all but one, in case the pilot lights were using up whatever precious little gas remained in the system. I noticed we were starting to make more of these types of measures, as if we expected to be here for a while.

  As darkness fell, we retreated to our couches. I leaned against a pile of cushions and listened to my friends talk. Their chattering had a reassuring meter to it; a background track of hope as I slowly fell asleep. In spite of everything I felt lucky. As annoying as Dave could be and as ugly as Anna sometimes was and as fragile as Mini was becoming, at least they were here with me. We were all in this together.

  Sometime during the night the emergency lighting went out. We couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, because we were all asleep at the time. It wasn’t until I got up to go to the toilet at around 4 am that I discovered there were no lights. Even the glowing red exit signs were out. It was the same with most of the city. It seemed like many of the surrounding buildings’ emergency lights had either gone out completely or were flickering off and on, like a neon tube on its way out. It was as if a blanket of darkness had been thrown over the streetscape. I missed the glow of the exit signs, yearned for them in the dim pre-dawn; they’d been my Southern Cross, constant in the darkness. I sat by the window and thought about all I missed, until sunrise brought me back to our grim reality.

  Over breakfast we speculated again about who could have done this. Mini was adamant it was China, and she got really flustered explaining to Dave that Taiwan is not a part of the People’s Republic.

  Maybe it was the CIA, Mini said.

  Anna laughed at that and we all joined in.

  I don’t think we know enough to point the finger yet, she said.

  But it could have been the CIA, for all we know, I said, causing Anna to laugh again. I got the feeling she was laughing at me, not with me.

  Russia, Dave said. No doubt, one hundred percent indisputable fact, it was the Russians.

  I guess the world’s lucky you don’t have your finger on the button then, Dave, I said. Nuclear response, much?

  Go ahead, laugh, he said. My parents had to do nuclear-attack drills when they were at elementary school in case a launch from Russia was detected—they’d have to sit under their wooden desks in the brace position, like they tell you on a plane.

  And I’m sure that position would be just as helpful in a nuclear attack as it would be at thirty thousand feet when a wing falls off, I said, and both Anna and Mini laughed.

  Dave shook his head. Russia’s the only country that has the gear to do something on this scale, he said. What with all the bombs and whatever chemical agent it was that made people turn into Chasers like that.

  The French have a lot of weapons too, Anna said, and I think Mini silently agreed because I saw her expression change when Anna spoke.

  We ate cake for lunch that day. We were slowly eating our way through the restaurant desserts, persuading ourselves that they were perishable so we might as well enjoy them rather than watch them rot. I can pinpoint the exact moment I decided never to eat chocolate cake again—it was when Mini vomited up a flourless mud cake. Thick, gooey, snotty stuff came out of her nose and mouth at the same time and painted the window by our favorite table. Dave vomited when he saw her vomit, a stream of gloop that covered the chair I’d hastily vacated. Afterwards he seemed shaken and smaller, more like me.

  We had no problems with water shortages, so luckily we could clean up the mess. The normal taps had bubbled and drained out the previous day, but then Mini pointed out the fire sprinklers in the ceiling. We’d found the service cupboards and shut off the inlet valves to the fire extinguishing system, trapping hundreds of liters of water that ran through the pipes.

  Dave and I volunteered to go and fill the buckets with the fire hose, which was in the restaurant’s cloakroom. It was at least a two-person job; someone had to hold the massive hose whi
le the other held the buckets. While we worked, Dave told me that his dad owned a block of flats in Queens and he would go there with him sometimes and watch him do repairs.

  Your dad must be pretty smart, buying up property in New York, I said.

  Dave shrugged.

  The city was different when he was growing up. Especially over there. Gettin’ all expensive these days; different kind of people.

  I was about to tell Dave to watch it with the hose—I was getting soaked—when he launched into a tirade about the tenants in his dad’s flats.

  They’ve got my dad by the balls. They’re locked in on some kind of rent control so he can’t get them out, doesn’t earn anything near what he should. Mom and Dad should be comfortable by now . . . hell, he’s always getting called out to fix something, and half the time it’s nothing they couldn’t fix themselves. He’s away from home all the time. Too late to change that though. They’re probably getting a divorce soon anyway because of some guy called Leo.

  Dave spat out the name, then dumped the hose down and looked at the floor.

  Scary thing is maybe my dad prefers to spend time at that place, he said quietly. He walked away, head low, and disappeared up the stairs.

  I found him later on an outside observation deck, looking east. I sat next to him and thought about my own parents. I never really knew why they’d gotten divorced and I wondered if there’d been a Leo involved there too. I doubted it. I was only four when Mum left, but my few memories before that were of a happy family.

  We spent the afternoon searching through the five floors below us, anxiously checking each apartment and office for survivors. The first few times we opened or broke down a door, my heart raced at the thought of what was behind it, but the rooms beyond were always vacant. As our hope of finding anyone began to fade, we decided to empty the rooms of anything useful, stacking our findings neatly along the hallways. We did this quickly so we wouldn’t have to look at the pictures of families on fridge doors and dressers as we raided their cupboards and tried on their clothes and tasted their food.

  Food was everywhere. By the time we’d been through half the floors between us and level 60, we realized we wouldn’t have to ration anything. It amazed me how much food people kept, more still how long it would last. Long-life milk would still be okay to drink twenty-four months from now. Most cans didn’t have a best-before date, and we found everything in cans: fruit, meat, vegetables, beans, lentils, milk, sweetened condensed milk, even cheese.

 

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