Halfway down the block, she asked, “Why did you change your mind?”
I said nothing and kept driving.
We were the only moving car on the road.
Chapter 14
“Now would be the time when you tell me where you live?”
The question was for Naima. I knew where Peaches lived, or used to live before the shit hit the fan. Shady Villas trailer park. I hadn’t forgotten what Officer Robinson had said. That Shady Villas is a shady place. Uh-huh. And the last thing I wanted was to chance running into Bad Moses again, if he wasn’t already incapacitated.
“Oh, sorry,” Naima said. “I was distracted.”
“Just let me know when and where to turn.”
I couldn’t blame Naima for being distracted. The farther we got down the road, the more fucked-up things began to look. It reminded me of War of the Worlds, where everything just shut down, only this time it was mostly just the people that stopped working. The street had become one big parking lot where everyone decided to stop and take a nap, suddenly for some, evident by the number of accidents, and the utter cacophony of screaming car alarms. Many of the cars were still running, others had either run out of gas or shut down after colliding with the car in front of them. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to maneuver through the crowd. The soldiers in the humvees had successfully coerced enough people to stay indoors. Still I drove slow, gliding along at twenty miles per hour, taking it all in.
“The lights aren’t working,” said Peaches.
She was very observant, even from the backseat. “No power. No lights,” I said, and drove through traffic light after traffic light without stopping, but not without looking out for other moving cars. The last thing I needed was to be sideswiped by some other moron out cruising our little ghost town. I did, however, spot some people who didn’t have their head on the steering wheel or face down on the sidewalk. Some people like us. Still moving. Still aware. Wondering what was going on. They poked their heads out of windows, just as I had. They hid in the shadowy alleyways between buildings. They peered down from rooftops. They stared at us as we drove by, and we stared back with the same confused look on our faces.
I reached the end of the road and Naima instructed me to turn right onto Highway 520. The good news was we were heading further from the center of town. The bad news was it seemed everyone else had the same idea, at least before they went into a coma. The highway was jam-packed with cars.
“Look at this mess,” I said. “Everyone must have panicked. Tried to flee the city.” I looked over at Naima. “I’d keep an eye out for your dad. It’s possible he never made it home.”
“I am. And don’t say that.”
Many of the cars cluttering up the highway were large trucks, military, or police vehicles. I had to drive partially on the median just to get through. Unfortunately, that all ended a half mile down the road.
“Do you guys see this?”
“Oh, my God,” Peaches whispered. “That’s . . . that’s awful.”
An eighteen-wheeler lay across the median, turned onto its side, blocking the way forward. Smoke lightly billowed out from under the hood. Two cars had followed the truck into the trench, both upside down with their tires to the sky.
As we rolled closer, I saw someone lying face down in the grass, near one of the overturned cars.
I stopped the Buick and put it in park. Looked around. I didn’t want to go back the way we came. There had to be a way forward.
“What do we do now?” Naima asked.
“Stay here,” I said, and exited the car.
The air outside still carried an undercurrent of electricity. It looked like storm clouds might be moving in from the west. The occasional gusts of cool wind concurred.
I slowly walked up to the body lying in the grass. It was a man. Short, dark hair. Brown skin. I prayed it wasn’t Aamod, for Naima’s sake. I leaned down and turned him over.
Whew.
Not Aamod. Not even Indian. A white guy, middle-aged, with a fabulously dark tan. Probably spent half his life wasting away at the beach, growing reptile skin. There was blood from his chin to his chest, soaking his shirt. Fresh blood. The accident couldn’t have happened that long ago. Maybe overnight. But he was still breathing. He had crawled out from under one of the flipped cars and made it this far before the infection beat him, before his world went dark.
I recalled the early symptoms.
Fatigue.
Loss of motor control.
Blurred vision.
Not good things to experience when behind the wheel. This guy was lucky he wasn’t crushed, even if one of his knees seemed to be bent the wrong direction.
I stood up, feeling helpless. I looked back over at the Buick. Peaches and Naima were now standing outside the car.
“He’s alive,” I shouted. “But like the others.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Peaches shouted back.
“Not for him, no.” I scanned the mess of twisted metal encircling me. “We’re gonna have to turn around and go back. Find another way through.”
And so we did.
I backed the car up until I could safely turn around. Although it didn’t matter anymore, I was still extra careful not to get a ding on my grandma’s Buick. She loved the car as much as I hated it.
I was able to turn right at the first intersection we came upon. So I did.
“We’re gonna have to stick to the roads less travelled. I have a feeling all the highways will be like that one.”
Chapter 15
We made it to Naima’s house a little behind schedule, even though the back roads weren’t nearly as clogged as the highway. I was able to weave through the maze of sleeping drivers without putting a scratch on grandma’s Buick.
I pulled into the driveway. Naima’s house was small and old, but at least it wasn’t on fire like some of the homes we’d already passed. Rain might not be such a bad thing after all. The lawn was well manicured compared to the rest of the houses on the block, and the carport wasn’t being used to hold piles and piles of useless junk. There was actually a car in there. A red minivan. Not Aamod’s Toyota.
“That’s my mom’s car,” Naima said as I put the Buick in park.
Before I could respond, she jumped out and jogged up to the front door.
A moment later, she disappeared inside the house.
“Should we get out?” Peaches asked. “Go in?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Her father is not here. But her mother might be, and if she is . . .”
I met eyes with Peaches in the rearview mirror.
“Gotcha,” she replied.
The next time I looked in the rearview, I saw someone else. They were standing behind the car at the foot of the driveway. Standing there and staring at us. I turned around and looked back just to make sure I wasn’t going crazy.
Nope.
Not crazy. Not yet.
Peaches turned to look as well. “Who is that?”
I slid my hand down the side of the seat and felt around for Sally. “Don’t know. Should we say something?”
He beat us to it.
“Hello,” was all he said.
I shut off the engine. “Let’s go.”
As I got out of the car and approached the stranger, I instantly felt better about leaving the gun in the car. This guy looked about as threatening as a hand puppet. He was short and chunky, and wore a faded jean jacket that could have been in style in the 90s. I couldn’t remember. He was probably in his mid-thirties, so it made sense. He also wore thick-framed glasses and had a forehead the size of a football field.
“Hello,” he said again, softly, shyly.
“Hi,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Name’s Jerry.”
We shook hands. His were cold and dry.
“Jimmy. Nice to meet you. This is Peaches.”
“Hi,” Peaches said. She shook his hand and then faded back behind me.
�
�What are you folks doing here? You know Naima?”
“Sort of. Came to drop her off. You live around here?”
“Yeah, across the street.” He turned and pointed to a tan house behind him.
Jerry’s house also had a car in the carport, but the lawn wasn’t nearly as well kept.
“Shame what happened, eh? The virus and all.”
“Sure is.”
Naima came out the front door, interrupting our stimulating conversation. She walked down the driveway toward us.
“Well,” I said.
She stopped next to Peaches. “They’re not here.”
“Hello, Naima,” Jerry said.
“Hey, Jerry. Good to see you’re okay.”
Jerry smiled. “You too.”
“How are your parents?”
“They’re . . . not okay.” He had an embarrassed look on his face. “See, I live with my parents.”
I shrugged. “I live with my grandma.”
“Where you headed now?” Jerry asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not gonna just leave me here are you?” Naima said. “I know that was the deal, but . . .”
“Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your parents.”
“Hey, you know I spoke to your dad earlier,” Jerry said.
“Really?” Naima said. “What did he say?”
“Um, well . . . I saw him carry your mom to the car. She looked . . . well, you know. He said he was going to the hospital.”
Naima’s face sunk into a frown. “So . . . my mom . . .”
“Yeah, he told me to tell you if I saw you.”
Her eyes began to fill with tears, but still she looked to be handling the news better than I did. She bowed her head. Peaches put a hand on her shoulder.
We stood in silence for many moments, not sure what to say, when Naima finally raised her head. “That doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t supposed to come home. Why would you see me?”
Jerry was clearly ruffled by the question. He took a few seconds to respond. “Hell, I don’t know, Naima. Maybe in case your friends here dropped you off.”
“But he doesn’t even know them.”
Jerry sighed. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m mistaken. Happens sometimes.”
“But you’re sure he was going to the hospital?” I asked.
“I’m sure that’s what he said. Yes.”
I looked back at Naima. “Then I guess we go to the hospital.”
“It’s not far,” Jerry said. “Just down the road, off US-1.”
I nodded. “I know where it is. Thanks for your help.”
“Sure, yeah, anytime,” Jerry replied.
The three of us got back into the car. I waited for Jerry to hustle back across the street before turning the engine back on.
“Weird guy,” Peaches said, watching him go from the back window.
“You have no idea,” Naima said.
Jerry stood in the corner of his carport and watched us drive away.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked. “He was . . . nice.”
“I don’t know,” Naima replied. “He always seems—”
“Heavily medicated,” I interjected.
Naima smirked. “That’s probably it.”
“How long has he been living with his parents?” Peaches asked.
“Maybe two or three years now. I don’t know them all that well. I know his mom is in a wheelchair. They’re quite a bit older than my parents, and they usually stay inside. But Jerry, he’s always wandering around like a stray dog. I can’t go outside without running into him.”
“Maybe he likes you,” I said jokingly.
“There’s no maybe about it. He does. He’s asked me out numerous times.”
“Ugh, he’s old enough to be your dad,” Peaches said.
“I know. And he’s lucky I’ve never told my dad. He’d probably kill him.”
“I could see that,” I said.
The hospital was no more than five miles from Naima’s house, but still it would take over ten minutes to get there, even as I rolled through every stop sign. The hardest part was crossing US-1. I had to go a mile or so out of the way before I found a spot to cross.
“I see some more people,” Peaches said. “That’s a good sign, right?”
“The couple hiking on the train tracks? I saw them too. There’s also a few other drivers on the road actually driving, which ain’t a bad sign either. One was behind us.”
Peaches turned and looked out the back window. “Where?”
“I said was behind us.” I checked the rearview once more. “They must have turned off somewhere. But they were on our tail for a while.”
“What do you think we’re gonna find at the hospital?” Peaches asked.
I looked over at Naima. She had her head turned away from me, looking out the passenger window. She still hadn’t broken down yet—she’d been as quiet as a statue the entire car ride.
“Hopefully Naima’s parents,” I finally replied.
Chapter 16
I hadn’t been to the hospital in many years—knock on wood. Not since seventh grade when a soccer ball collided with my nose during P.E. I guess I should have been paying attention. One of the teacher’s aides had to take me to the hospital. I remember being scared I might die. Bleed to death. That’s how much the fucking thing bled. Irrational fear, I know, but I was like twelve at the time. I knew it was broken. It had to be. I heard the crunch. But the X-rays said it wasn’t, and my nose healed up good and straight. Coincidentally, that was the same year the Doberman chased me home from the bus stop. When I pissed my pants. Yeah, it was that kind of year.
And that was the last time I’d been to the hospital. You don’t get injured a lot staying indoors reading. Just paper cuts and the occasional butt cramp.
All four entrances to the hospital were plugged up with cars. We ended up leaving the Buick in the parking lot of a Cancer Care Center not far from the hospital, and then walked over. I had hoped that maybe the hospital would be teeming with more life than what we’d seen so far. Maybe all the remaining people like us, the survivors, the immune, those not in a coma, had converged on the hospital like athletes to a free steroids seminar.
But it wasn’t to be.
Coming up to the front entrance, I could already see the hospital would offer no comfort, only more of the same.
More people. More slowly dying people.
More sadness.
The doors didn’t open for us automatically as they normally would, but it wasn’t due to lack of power. They must have been manually switched off. Luckily, they weren’t locked.
We stopped just inside the building and looked around. A television mounted up on the wall in the waiting room was broadcasting white snow.
“They have power,” Peaches said.
I nodded. “Probably a backup generator.”
“How long will that last?”
“Don’t know. Not forever.”
It was naptime at the neighborhood hospital. Every chair in the waiting room had a body in it; some slumped forward, others slumped backward. Old. Young. Black. White. Every color of the rainbow. They had all come for help and were still waiting. At their feet were more bodies, many of them children.
We walked up to the front desk. Aside from the white noise emitted by the television, the hospital was soundless. Not a ding of the elevators. Not a ring of the phone. Not a Dr. Doug Ross to the emergency room. Nothing. I’d never seen a place look so busy, yet feel so empty. It was haunting. I kept looking around, thinking someone was watching us. Every breath we took. Every move we made. The receptionist behind the front desk, however, wasn’t watching anything but the tile floor. She was face down. Looked like she’d slipped off her chair in a desperate fight to stay awake.
“Well, should we split up?”
Peaches shrugged.
Naima was eyeing every person, looking for her parents. I don’t think she’d heard a word I’d said since we ent
ered the building.
“It’s a big hospital,” I continued. “What is there . . . six floors? I’m not so good at math, but I think that’s two a piece.”
Naima focused back on us for a moment and said, “That’s fine.”
I guess she had been listening.
“Why don’t you cover the first two, Naima? Peaches . . . you get three and four, and I’ll take the top two.”
“You sure?” Peaches asked.
“Unless you want to climb two extra flights of stairs.”
“But . . . there’s a generator. The elevators won’t work?”
“They might, but I ain’t taking the chance getting stuck in one. My luck ain’t that good.”
Peaches smirked. “Look around. Your luck ain’t that bad.”
“Hmm. Good point,” I replied. “How ‘bout we meet back here in, say, thirty minutes? That should be plenty of time. Sound good?”
“I don’t have a watch,” Peaches said.
“Neither do I,” Naima said.
“Then make an educated guess. This isn’t a science project. Just sweep the floor the best you can and head back. If no one else is here when you get back, then wait. Okay?”
They both nodded, and then we headed off. Peaches and I went toward the elevators, thinking the stairs were probably close by. Naima went the other direction.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of her,” Peaches said. “But I really don’t think we’re gonna find them. I mean . . . look at this place.”
“I agree. And if we do find them, I bet they’ll blend right in with the others.”
“I feel so bad for her. And for you, too, Jimmy.”
To this, I said nothing.
The door to the stairwell was just past the elevators, where I had imagined it being. Sometimes I amazed myself.
We headed up the stairs, passing more bodies along the way, many of them dressed in various colors of medical scrubs. Given the number of bruised and bleeding heads, the stairs did not appear to be a safe place to fall asleep.
I left Peaches at the entrance to the third floor and then continued up. I was already getting tired. You always think you’re in good physical shape, and then a bunch of stairs kick your lazy ass.
Dead Highways: Origins Page 6
