by Roman Shepp
“We should have told people,” Jane said in a hollow voice, a voice that was weighed down with emotion. A knot of shame and guilt twisted in her stomach and waves of nausea swept through her. Frank snorted with laughter.
“You think they could have handled that? We did what we could, and now we must do whatever we can to try saving ourselves.”
People had hoped the government would succeed in preventing the terrorists from carrying out their plan, but evidently they hadn’t. The power grids all over America had been attacked. It was all Jane could do to prevent herself from thinking about all the people who must have died, and she had known about it...that it was a possibility anyway. Select officials had been informed and there had been many discussions about whether to inform the general population. In the end, it had been decided that it only would cause undue panic. Frank had been one of the politicians who argued vehemently to keep it under wraps. Jane had held the opposite opinion, but she was no more than a glorified secretary and her word meant nothing.
They had been sure the government would be able to repel the attacks, mostly because this was America and none of them really believed it could be so vulnerable. Still, the power grid infrastructure around the country was archaic and easily hacked. Jane remembered seeing the projected scenarios and casualties. At that stage they just had been numbers. They were not anymore. If she had spoken out, if they all had spoken out, then maybe those people would have had a chance to prepare and live. But the American people knew nothing. Their leadership had failed them and, if Frank was taken as an example, they didn't even care.
“What's the next step?” she asked, not wanting to argue with Frank again.
The man was at the end of his tether and he had a terrible temper, especially when he had been drinking. Jane spoke in a meek voice, not wanting to anger him further. The two of them were stuck together, though, whether they liked it or not. Jane still just could not believe Frank had not raced out the door to see his children. Frank walked over to the wide window and placed his hands on the windowsill. His large desk loomed behind him. He stared into a pitch-black abyss.
“We need to get to safety. There's a bunker nearby, on the outskirts of the city. We can use that until things settle down. I'm not going to get caught in this hell,” he said, and started grabbing things from his drawers.
“How many does it hold?” Jane asked.
“I have no idea, fifty people? Maybe more? I wasn't that interested in the specs,” he said, barely looking at her.
“Then we should go find more people and tell them they can be safe. You know what it's going to be like out there. They don't deserve that,” Jane said. Frank shook his head.
“You're even more stupid than I thought. I can't believe you'd even suggest such a thing. As soon as people heard there was a safe place they'd claw and fight their way to it, and what do you think would happen then? Do you really think we'd get a place? No way. People are animals and it's better to leave them to themselves. We have a chance for safety and I'm not going to blow it.”
“You can't really be that heartless,” Jane said, shocked. “There are people out there who need our help. Innocent people. People we let down...”
“Oh, don't start that again. If you really wanted to help them, you could have been out there tonight. You knew it was likely that something was going to happen, and you could have been prepared. Yet, you chose to stay with me, here, in safety. You're as much to blame for this as anyone. If you want to go out there and get yourself killed, then so be it, but I will not be a part of such an irrational action.”
“I thought you believed in the people?!”
“Open your eyes, Jane!” he said derisively, his pockets stuffed with valuables. “How long have you been working in politics? Nobody gives a shit about the people. We just use them because they're there and they help us climb up the ladder. Well, the ladder has been torn away and we don't need the people anymore. The only thing we need is a safe place to live.”
Jane was aghast. Frank moved from behind the table and got ready to leave. “Are you coming with me or not?” he asked.
“If I wasn't here would you be coming to rescue me?” she asked, having to force out the question as she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.
Frank laughed again. “Of course not. I'm not going back for my kids, why would I go back for you?”
“At least the kids have their mother. You told me you loved me. Were you lying about that too?”
“You really don't want to know the answer to that. I thought you were smart, Jane. I thought you knew how things worked between us. Get a grip and grow up.”
That was the last straw. Jane rose from her seat and slapped him straight across the face, so hard that her palm stung. Her eyes filled with red-hot angry tears, but then she doubled over as Frank punched her in the stomach. He took hold of her head and pushed her down to the floor on her knees.
“That's where you belong,” he snapped.
Jane wondered what she ever had seen in him in the first place. She spat out saliva and tears. The saltiness washed over her lips and tongue. Pain reverberated through her body. She looked up at him and pulled herself up using the chair on which she had been sitting.
“You're a fraud. You're false. What happened to you? You used to fight for the poor and put forward education reforms. You were a man of the people. They loved you. I loved you. Why wasn't that enough?”
“It never would have been enough,” he said cruelly. “I used to believe in all of those things until I realized how futile they were. The end of the world has been coming for a long time. If it wasn't this, it would have been something else, but I'm not going to let it be the end of me. You were a fun distraction, Jane, but you've worn out your usefulness. The only law that matters now is the law of the jungle, and the sooner you accept that the happier you'll be, because right now I don't think you'd last a day out there.”
Frank turned his back on her, but Jane hadn't had her final say. Nobody had the right to speak to her like that and she wasn't about to stand by and let the rest of the people be demeaned in such a manner. With anger rising in her heart she turned to the bookcase behind her. Aside from thick volumes of books it also housed the awards that Frank had won. Jane reached out for the nearest one, which happened to be a humanitarian award, and smashed him over the head with it. His body landed with a thud and the award followed soon afterward. Jane didn't even check the body. She ran outside into the smoldering wreck of the city with tears streaming down her face, knowing she had played a part in the downfall of civilization.
Chapter Four
Quentin actually was having a good time throughout the night. He'd met one of his favorite actors, who posed with him for a photograph, and Carol was enjoying herself too. Quentin had dressed up in a tight red outfit that showed off his muscles. Even though it had been a number of years since he had served in the military, his body still was burly, and he worked out when he could. His stomach had swollen but his biceps still were huge, and he received many admiring glances as they were on show. In years gone by Quentin never would have placed himself at a convention such as this. In fact, when he was younger he had bullied kids for being into this type of thing. He'd always liked beer, women, and sports. Those had been his holy trinity, but then everything had changed.
When he came back from overseas after serving in the military, he felt as though he had left a piece of himself over there, and yet brought too much back. It hadn't been a fair exchange. The nights had been plagued with terrors and sleep rarely came to him. The days were just as bad. Bleary-eyed, he staggered through them like a zombie. Work was hard to find, and when he did get hired he found it difficult to hold down a job. There were ghosts rattling around in his mind and he did not know any way to calm them.
One day he even had resorted to lounging on the couch and flicking through the TV channels. He was desperate for anything to quell the ache in his soul. Then he came across a show, a
nd he actually managed to escape for an hour. After that he went on a long binge of movies, shows, and comics, anything he could get his hands on that dealt with a fantastical world where the rules were clear. Good guys won, bad guys lost, and there was a clear divide between the two. That's why he had joined the army in the first place, because he wanted to do a good job for his country, but over the years the line between good and evil had been blurred.
It had taken its toll on Carol as well. She'd stood by him all this time, and for that he was eternally grateful. She was a good woman and he didn't know how he deserved her. When she realized that this was helping Quentin she threw herself into it as well and watched all the shows with him. The only problem was the shows did not last forever and eventually his terrors returned. They both had thought the convention would have been good for him, to be around other people who shared his passion. They had made a family day of it and invited Carol’s brothers, but Quentin was anxious in big groups of people. They were everywhere he looked, and he hadn't seen as many since...since...well, since he had lost his mind.
A counselor once had told him it was impossible to lose one’s mind, but Quentin hadn't believed her. He knew parts of his were strewn across a desert somewhere in the Middle East and nobody ever would be able to find them again. He kept hold of Carol's hand, making sure she was close to him. He knew as long as she was close nothing bad would happen to him. They passed a number of stalls and settled in for a light show. Everything went dark and then a strobe of light appeared through the sky. A deep bass beat made the floor tremble and palpable excitement ran through everyone, aside from Quentin. The strobe lights made him wince, they took him back. The loud noises sounded like gunshots. He fell to the ground and cradled his head in his hands and yelled for everyone to be quiet, but it was as though nobody heard him. He was lost in his own mind and he was entirely alone. Even Carol had gone. Quentin was losing his grip on everything.
Breathing deeply, he tried remembering the exercises he had been taught to help him calm the raging torrent of his mind, but they did not work. He began hyperventilating. When he opened his eyes again he searched for Carol. There was another blast of light and then suddenly everything went dark. At first people thought it was part of the show. Then they realized it wasn't. It had taken them a while to realize that Quentin was freaking out on the floor, and in the darkness, nobody really could see him.
Through the chatter he could hear Carol's voice calling for him. Quentin curled up into a fetal position and tried to make the world go away. All he wanted was for it all to stop and his mind to be quiet. But in his mind, he saw the enemy approaching over the horizon, bullets flying toward them, their boots kicking up dust. He could feel the scratchy heat in his throat and the hot, cloying air. He wanted to take off his helmet as the sweat pooled against his forehead, but he remembered a friend doing that very thing and moments later he had a hole in his head. Not a friend, a brother. They all had been his brothers and Quentin had lost a family.
What happened?
I can't get any reception on my cell phone.
They're all dead.
Quentin!
Where are you?
There's no power anywhere.
Get them! Fire at will! They're everywhere!
We have to get to safety. Someone do something! Who's in charge here?
Quentin!
Fall back! Fall back! Too many men down. Fall back!
I can't see anything.
Quentin screamed and gulped in air. People were stampeding around him. A knee clocked him in the jaw and a foot kicked him in the back. He pushed himself up and braced himself against the people who were swarming around him like a herd of buffalo. Everything was pitch black aside from the outside. The doors had been opened, and people were flooding through them. Nobody was moving in an orderly fashion. It took Quentin a few moments to regain his bearings, and when he did his first thought was of Carol. He wasn't in the desert. He was safe. He just had to keep breathing, stay focused and find Carol.
Her calling his name echoed in his mind and he tried remembering where it had come from. Then he heard it again, but this time it was muffled. He turned around and was shoved back. People still were streaming past him, and for a few moments he was carried away in the current and had to fight his way back. People cursed at him, wondering why he was fighting them when all they were trying to do was get to safety, but they didn't understand. She was in there, somewhere, and he was going to find her.
Grunting like a wild animal, Quentin continued the search. The herd of people gradually started to thin. He stumbled against bodies. Some of the people were groaning. It was just like being at war again. So many dead bodies strewn all around, with the hollow moans and the anguished cries. Carol had to be there somewhere. He still could hear the chatter of people, although it was fading quickly. He fell to his knees and reached across the floor, feeling his way.
“Quentin,” he heard Carol gasp. He locked onto the sound of her voice and moved quickly toward her. She was there, lying on the floor.
“The people, they walked all over me,” she croaked. Quentin burned with anger. His fists clenched.
“No, no, look at me,” she said, and placed a hand on the side of his face.
“Just look at me and everything will be okay. You need to carry me out of here. Please. Focus on that. Everything will be alright.” Quentin carefully wrapped his arms around Carol and held her body close to his, lifting her off the floor. The hall was now empty, aside from the rest of the bodies inside. He staggered outside and didn't know where Carol's brothers were. He didn't know much of anything.
His eyes had adjusted to the dim light and he could see some of the cardboard cutouts and the stalls, but it was mostly darkness. The world had taken away everything that helped him escape. Now Carol was the only thing left that could keep his mind at ease. He gritted his teeth as he carried her outside, and when he did so others came up to him. They tried to take Carol away from him, telling him she needed help. Quentin shrugged them off. They were the ones who had trampled her in the first place. This convention was supposed to be about people coming together and sharing the joy of their fandom, but at the first sign of trouble they had run away and only cared about themselves. Quentin walked to a quiet spot and laid Carol down on the ground. She coughed and writhed. She wheezed more than she breathed, and Quentin hoped she would be okay.
The air was sticky in the night and Quentin felt the tightness of his costume. Some of the other people in attendance didn't suffer the same fate for their costumes barely covered their flesh. Many of them were talking among themselves, trying to figure out what had happened, but Quentin didn't care why. It didn't matter why. All that mattered was that it had happened and how they were going to deal with it. He had to get help for Carol. The convention center was basically a large warehouse on the outskirts of the city. A single road led from there back into the sprawling metropolis. Behind them lay a forest that stretched out into the pitch black night. People tried their cars, but none of them worked. Quentin still heard the voices in his head, voices telling him to be on alert, voices telling him the enemy was getting closer.
The air crackled as a plane shot through the sky, heading toward the city. People crouched and watched the sight in amazement. They could do nothing but watch as the plane crashed into the city and flames licked the sky. Nobody knew what was happening. None of the cell phones worked. To Quentin, it felt like the beginning of a war.
A few people began taking charge and urged everyone to get back inside where they thought it would be safer. Quentin had half a mind to turn away and walk into the forest, but he needed to stay with Carol.
“Quentin, we have to get back inside,” said Harry, one of Carol's brothers. The others who had come with them to the con were standing a little way away. Quentin looked at Harry and then looked past him at all the people moving back into the building. Quentin shook his head.
“Come on, be reasonable, Carol c
an't stay out here. There are people in there who can help us.”
“No. Too dangerous. Better to stay out here.” Quentin already had evaluated the situation. That's what he was good at. He saw the dangers. Too many people in one place. All scared. All panicked. It was a recipe for disaster.
“Quentin, buddy,” Harry said, making a sincere effort to not lose his temper, “Carol is hurt, and I don't want any harm to come to her. We should get her inside where it's warm. I know you don't like crowds, but surely you must see we can't stay out here all night? I'm sure everything will get sorted out soon and Carol needs to be looked at.”
“You go. We're staying here.”
Harry glanced to his brothers and then shook his head. “Quentin, you know I can't let you do that. Look at her. She needs help. I'm taking her inside.” Harry moved forward and leaned down to take hold of Carol, but Quentin pushed him back with such force that Harry fell to the ground.
“What the hell Quentin?!” Harry said, scrambling back to his feet.
“Nobody touches her!” Quentin said.
“Fuck you Quentin! She's my sister and I'm not going to let her suffer out here,” he said, moving forward again.
Quentin stood his ground. A red mist descended upon his eyes and before he knew it his fist had shot out and clocked Harry in the jaw. Then his arms were around Harry's neck and Quentin was forcing him to the ground. Harry was slapping at Quentin's arms, gurgling for help, his face turning a darker shade of crimson with every passing moment. Quentin closed his eyes and saw the desert once again. Saw his friends, his brothers, die all around him. He had failed them then. He wasn't going to fail Carol. They weren't going to take her from him.
But then he felt a multitude of arms all around him, dragging him off Harry. They told Quentin that he was a monster, that he was crazy. They told him all the worst things he believed about himself, the things that Carol had tried to get him to ignore. They pushed him away and he rolled on the ground. Harry was gasping for air. Deep red marks circled his throat. He marched up to Quentin.
