I fell apart that night. I broke and let go of all the fear and anger I’d held in for so long. For the first time in my life, I knew the answers and I couldn’t except them. For the first time in my life, I was human, I was vulnerable.
There was a tough road ahead, a tough life ahead and I’d been ignoring the approaching reality for too long. And just like the tunnel, I couldn’t hold back the growing surge. I couldn’t suppress the terrors that followed me and every wall that’d I put up, crumbled like the riddled concrete that wallowed about below.
“Come on MJ,” I whispered. “Move your ass.”
With a deep breath, I wiped my face and stood. Bend, but don’t break, I thought. I took another look back to the tunnel then walked off toward the unknown.
It was amazing how drastic the landscape was changing in just a few miles. Back in New York everything was broken or falling apart, but here, there was barely a sign that the world wasn’t humming along, business as usual.
Most of the stores and shops had closed, but everything looked fine. I passed by people walking dogs or out jogging and they didn’t seem to have a care in the world. They didn’t even spare me a second glance as they went by.
Something inside of me smiled and I felt guilty. It looked like we’d done our job. The masses were ignorant, consumed with their lives, ignoring the truth. It didn’t take much to make tragedy disappear.
I guessed it was somewhere around 10pm and my stomach was growling like a pack of pissed off wolves. Up ahead the yellow glow of arches beckoned to me like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. Twenty-four-hour fast food restaurants would save the world.
I approached the door and stopped as I stared at the patrons inside. My mouth watered and I leaned closer into the glass. My reflection glared back at me, a person I could hardly recognize. My hair was clumped and knotted together with mud and gunk. My sweater was covered in grime and my jeans were stained and ripped apart.
I pulled at the door with only one thought, I needed food. Hunger and exhaustion clouded my mind so much that nothing else mattered.
I stepped into the lobby and the smell of French fries nearly sent me into a frenzy. Heading straight for the counter, I ignored the gawks and stares of disgust.
“Um, how can I help you?” a young girl with brown twisted hair asked.
“I’m hungry,” I replied, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.
I suddenly felt inadequate. I had no money, I had no reason to be there and I had no idea what I was doing. Reaching into my pockets, I pulled out empty hands and sighed.
“Ma’am?” the cashier called in an unsure voice.
“I…I lost my purse, I lost everything,” I pleaded.
It’d be so easy to tell the truth, but sacrificing my family’s future for a greasy cheeseburger wasn’t an option. No matter how I felt, no matter how hungry I was, the safety of the mission was my priority.
Someone snickered behind me. I didn’t turn to see them, it was enough to know they were back there. It was enough to feel their eyes, to feel their judgement pushing against me like a gust of wind.
I looked up at the young cashier. She gazed at me with pity in her eyes, like I was some old lady with dementia.
“Do you need me to call someone for you?” she asked softly.
My head felt light. Like it might float from my neck if I didn’t grab it. I needed to rest. I was ready to stretch out across the counter, stuff myself with burgers and pass out.
“I have a phone,” the cashier continued.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, silver iPhone. My heart jumped as I finally connected her words with the action. All it would take was a phone call and I’d be on a helicopter headed home.
“Thank you so much,” I started as I reached out my hand.
“Cynthia!” a harsh voice called and a skinny, pale man with gray hair charged from the back.
The cashier jumped and nearly dropped her phone. “Mr. Simpson!” she screeched.
“What is this Cynthia?” he continued and nodded his head in my direction.
Cynthia pulled the phone back and stuffed it into her pocket. She looked up at Mr. Simpson then stared at the ground.
“Can I help you with something?” Mr. Simpson turned and asked me.
“I um, I….”
“Look lady, if you don’t have any money I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. Customers are complaining.”
“Complaining?” I echoed. “I haven’t even been in here long enough for anyone to complain.”
“You need to leave ma’am…or I’m gonna have to call the police.”
“What?” I wanted to slap him. I wanted to grab him by the few strands of silvery fur that poked out his head and slam him into the counter. “You’re going to call the police on me?” I snapped.
At first thought, that was a great idea. But I couldn’t risk getting arrested while they sorted out who I was. I couldn’t risk being locked in some stupid jail, not when I knew what was coming.
“Here,” he said and shoved a cheeseburger into my hands. “Just go, please just go.”
I glared at him then looked at Cynthia. She had tears in her eyes and couldn’t even face me. I didn’t want to be there anymore than she did. Frowning, I turned and walked out of the door.
The cool night greeted me like a long-lost friend. I shivered from its touch then found myself yearning for it. I’d come to feel at home in the elements, at peace with the natural world.
I collapsed on the curb outside and unwrapped the sandwich. The first bite was like being reintroduced to food all over again. Every scent, every flavor felt like bolts of electricity zipping through my body. Then it was suddenly gone and I was starving all over again.
Disappointed, I started walking again, convinced I could find a phone. But everyone I passed gave me a wide berth or rushed off before I could bother them. Eventually I quit trying.
As I walked the night grew darker and lonelier. A light fog blew in and drifted past me like a ghost, but there was no one else. Just me, my thoughts and a long, dark road.
I walked and walked, my feet throbbing, my back cramping with every step. I moved through the night like a zombie, involuntarily trotting along like it was the only thing I knew how to do. All I knew was somewhere ahead was my family and I needed to get to my family.
I don’t know when it happened, but sometime in the night my exhaustion won. My feet quit on me and I found myself in a familiar place. Sleep.
CHAPTER 8
ONE PHONE CALL AWAY
My body ached. It felt like I’d been laying naked on a block of ice. Every bit of me hurt, every nerve screamed in agony.
I opened my eyes not entirely sure where I was. I could hear the drone of car tires above my head. A muffled whoosh sounded as the radials zipped by humming a song of escape.
I was crammed under an overpass, tucked into a ball like a new born. Stretching my legs, I moaned and nearly rolled down the decline. My clothes were still damp and I reeked to the high heavens, but I was alive.
I slowly crawled down the weed covered pavement and stood up. Yawning, I stretched my arms and took a few wobbly steps. I had places to be and my legs needed to cooperate.
I swallowed what felt like a mouthful of sand then looked around. The puddles of rain water on the street looked promising and I fought the urge to drop down on all fours and lap it up. Who cared about the bacteria and other things that swam through the filthy puddle, I was thirsty. But instead, I walked out into the day and started towards home.
It was around 10 in the morning. The sun was shining and the sky was clear. It seemed like just another day and the horrors of the day before were a distant memory.
I made my way into Newark and had just about reached my limit. It felt like I hadn’t eaten in weeks and my cracked lips and scorched throat felt like the desert.
As I cut through an alleyway I passed rows of stuffed dumpsters. I continued to walk, but I couldn’t
fight the raging hunger in my belly.
“Don’t do it MJ,” I mumbled to myself an empty warning.
Huffing, I stopped and turned toward the trash. I stared into it for a moment, but I wasn’t that hungry. Yet.
I fell to the ground and sat there in defeat. My stomach ached and my head throbbed like someone was inside, trying to drill their way out. I just wanted to be home.
“You need some help lady?” a voice shouted at me.
I looked up as a man in his sixties cautiously approached. He was wearing a blue, polo shirt and gray slacks. He looked like he was headed to work or was maybe a door to door salesman.
“Help,” I managed to gurgle out.
“You can’t be back here. Police are gonna arrest you, there’s a shelter about half a mile that way.” He pointed.
I cleared my throat and swallowed. “Do you have a cell phone?” I asked. “I need to call my husband.”
The man laughed. “A cell phone, really?”
He sighed and looked down at the water bottle he was holding in his hand. He held it out to me and I grabbed it.
“Head to the shelter,” he said. “They can help, they’ll get you off whatever you’re on.”
He started to walk away and I shouted after him, but my voice lodged in my throat. Before I could stand he’d turned the corner and was gone.
I twisted the cap off the water and drained it empty. It was the most refreshing thing I’d ever had, but after it was gone, I was thirsty again.
Sighing, I leaned against one of the dumpsters. I took a few deep breaths then straightened up and walked off.
I left the alley and found a city full of people buzzing about. They should’ve been running, they should’ve been fleeing to any other place. But they were going about their day like they didn’t have a care in the world and that was my doing.
I lumbered down the sidewalk, shielding my eyes from the blazing sun. The temperature was still cool, but the bright rays were enough to blind you. I walked into the street a few times only to be greeted with screeching tires and the blaring horns from oncoming traffic.
Eventually, my feet led me to a small diner at a quiet intersection. There were only a few patrons inside and two, nearly identical waitresses running food to tables. I hoped my appearance wouldn’t cause as much of a scene.
I pushed the door open and slowly stepped in. A group of young, college-aged guys at a table turned toward me and chuckled. I loathed their type. Their assorted colors of long sleeve Polo’s and stylishly wrinkled khakis. Their stupid hair swept to the side to give it an unkempt look, that probably took hours for them to finish.
“Ugh, I’d kill Grayson,” I mumbled to myself. Ignoring them, I made a beeline for the restroom.
I bolted through the door and slammed it shut behind me. Clumsily, I twisted the handle on the faucet and drank from it until I felt like my stomach was going to burst. I took a deep breath then drank some more.
Grunting, I looked into the mirror and jumped. My face was bruised and dried blood caked my cheek. My eye was slightly swollen, my hair was matted with grunge and I had enough dirt smeared on my face to turn bath water to mud.
I walked back to the door and turned the lock. I pulled off my sweater and jeans then yanked a handful of paper towels from the rack and spent the next ten minutes taking the closest thing to a bath that I could. It didn’t do much, but I felt better and I was certain I smelled better.
Smiling, I got dressed and pulled my hair into a tight knot. I stared at myself for a moment then took a deep breath. Today I was gonna make it home.
I walked back into the lobby and stopped one of the waitresses. She had a friendly smile and deep, blue eyes that made me feel jealous. I assumed she was somewhere in her early twenties and didn’t seem too particular about working in a diner.
“Um, I…I was wondering if there was a phone here that I could use?” I asked.
She smiled at me then looked over her shoulder and sighed. “The only phone is in the back, but the owners aren’t really keen on anyone using it, especially if they aren’t a customer.”
“It’s an emergency. I need to call my family. Can I use your cell phone?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. You really need to leave, before they get back. The owners are gonna flip if they see someone like you on the phone in here.”
“Someone like me?”
“Um,” she leaned in close to me and whispered. “Homeless.”
“I’m not homeless,” I replied and twisted my face. “I…I just need a phone.”
She smiled at me then turned around and headed behind the counter. When she returned she was holding a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a bottle of water. “I can’t let you in the office to use the phone, but I can give you this. It’s the best I can do. Now please leave, I can’t afford to lose this job.”
I glared at her in exhaustion. It wasn’t her fault things were like they were, but I just needed a damn phone. I cursed Bill’s name one more time. If he hadn’t screwed up in New York, I would’ve been home already.
Sighing, I looked back to the dining area where everyone was staring at us. I’d overstayed my welcome. “Thank you,” I replied then took the food and headed for the door.
“Hey lady,” one of the college kids heckled as I passed by.
I slowly turned around, struggling with the decision of whether I should punch him in the face or not.
“You can use Harper’s phone,” he continued.
Hesitantly, I took a step forward. This was bound to come with strings attached, but I was desperate so worst case, I was gonna hear them out.
“I can use your phone?” I asked.
“Yeah,” another guy chimed in. “Harper here has a phone you can use. Harper show her your phone.”
“It’s his dick,” a third guy said then they all burst into laughter.
Curling my lips, I squeezed my fingers into a ball then turned and walked out. I sat down on the curb outside in defeat and unwrapped the sandwich. Ham and cheese, loaded with veggies on wheat bread. I could’ve done worse.
Drooling, I took a bite and fell in love. It was the best thing I’d ever eaten. It felt like the only thing I’d ever eaten. And the way my day had been going, it may have been the only thing I ate.
People stared at me and shook their head as they walked by. They mumbled insults under their breath and some even crossed the street to avoid me. I didn’t care.
After devouring the sandwich, I gulped down the water then took a deep breath of relief. I may have been stranded and without a phone, but at least I wasn’t going to starve to death or die of thirst…yet.
I stood up on wobbly legs and steadied myself. Scratching my head, I tried to think where a payphone could be, but I wasn’t very familiar with Newark. I was on the outskirts of the city and I needed to get to a more populated place.
“Excuse me sir,” I called as a middle-aged man passed by. “Do you have a phone I can use, or do you know where any payphones are?”
He paused and looked me up and down. Biting his lower lip, he put his hands on his hips then shrugged. “Federal Square is probably your best bet. Head two blocks over then it’s about half a mile that way,” he pointed. “They have payphones there.”
“Thank you so much.”
With a new purpose, I hurried off down the sidewalk. There was an alleyway between two apartment buildings that led to the next block so I turned down there and picked up the pace. Faded, red brick walls towered on either side of me. The years of rain and abuse were imprinted on the buildings like a tattoo or old make up.
Rusted fire escapes hung overhead. They looked like they hadn’t moved in years. If someone stepped on one it probably would’ve crumbled to ash under their feet.
Rows of trash cans were piled on the sides, spilling their contents in the street. Rats scurried away as I approached, leaving their feast of Chinese noodles behind.
A few clouds had blown in and when combined with the tall bui
ldings and the narrow alley, it cast shadows all around me. The darkness gave the alley a sinister look, but I knew good things never happened in alleys anyway.
The narrow cut-through was longer than I first thought. I felt like I’d been walking for hours and every step was burning energy I didn’t have. I was ready to lay down behind a dumpster a take a nap.
“Wake up MJ,” I mumbled and slapped myself in the face.
Suddenly, a silhouette moved up ahead and I paused and clenched my fists. There was a rustle then several dark figures stepped out into the open.
“There she is,” a familiar voice called out. “Hey lady! You still need that phone?”
CHAPTER 9
KARMA IS A VENGEFUL BITCH
I didn’t move. I didn’t have the strength to run and I wouldn’t if I had. But there were four of them and as weak as I felt I wasn’t sure if I could offer much resistance if it went that way.
I could make out their multi-colored shirts even in the faint light. The alley came to life with their stupid jeers and I could smell the seething testosterone like the rancid trash that littered the ground.
“Look, I’m not in the mood fellas. I just wanna get to Federal Square,” I called out as I started moving forward again.
“Oh, come on babe. Harper has that phone for you,” the leader, a lean guy with ruffled black hair and a five o’clock shadow said.
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“I’m just kidding. My name’s Mason. I really have a phone you can use. Who you calling, a boyfriend or something?”
“Dude she’s probably married,” a blonde kid they all referred to as Junior weaseled out.
“I don’t need the phone any more. I’m good.”
Flight Plan: Deconstruction Book Three (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 6
