The Black Tide I: Remnants (Tides of Blood)

by Baileigh Higgins

  My dad nodded, relaxing. “I guess so. Let's wait and see.” He pushed back his chair and looked at his watch. “Nearly ten. Time for bed, I'd say.”

  “You go. I've got some stuff to do first.” I stood up and kissed him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dad, and good luck tomorrow.”

  “Love you, my girl.” He patted me on the back in an awkward fashion before leaving me alone in the kitchen.

  I sighed and made my way to the hall where my bag lay crumpled on the table. My hand found the box of cigarettes and I lit one, inhaling deeply. What a day.

  Mindful of my father's aversion to the smell of tobacco, I opened a window, enduring the frigid cold. Savoring the acrid smoke, I waited for the nicotine to hit my bloodstream. My father hated it. So did Lexi. I ignored them both. I had to have something of my own, something that wasn't set aside or determined by their needs. Besides, I only had a few left and couldn't afford more.

  I stood, enjoying the silence, aware that moments like these were pure gold. My phone beeped and I pulled it out. Battery low. There was still no signal. I hadn't heard from my friends in ages and wondered how they were doing. Were they okay? Not that I had many. Looking after a ten-year-old tended to kill your social life pretty fast. Even my best friend from school, Jeanette, had disappeared into the sunset long since.

  As ever when I was alone, my thoughts turned to Brian. He'd been my first love and so far the only one. I'd had flings in between, sure, but nothing serious. Not like him. I wonder how he's doing.

  I was on my last drag when the power came back on. Perfect. Making myself a fresh cup of tea, I put my phone on charge and spent the next hour tidying up the kitchen and sorting through our supplies.

  When news of the disease first hit, we had prepared as best we could. We filled our pantry with bottled water, food, and toiletries. Dad withdrew his savings and bought a generator and a tank of fuel. I even started a vegetable garden. We received gloves and masks from the mobile clinics set up around the country and educated ourselves on the symptoms.

  We were ready.

  Now I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at our naivety.

  We were fools.

  The food went first even though we rationed it. It's amazing how much three people can eat. The fuel ran out followed by the money, consumed by ever-escalating prices. Now the generator sat in the garage, gathering dust. To top it off, my garden died after a severe frost.

  All of this milled through my mind as I worked, and I wondered at what point despair would set in. Despite everything, I still had hope, but I suspected my dad was fast approaching breaking point. The thought crossed my mind that he could die, that we could all die but I pushed it aside. Pessimism was a luxury for those that had nobody who depended on them.

  By the time I went to bed I was too tired to do more than crawl between the covers. I preferred it that way. No dreams. No nightmares. For more than a year after my mom had died, I was plagued by nightly terrors in the form of a twisted car wreck and her mangled body. It was a time I did not want to return to. Ever.

  The following morning I had a hot shower and got dressed, humming beneath my breath. The simple fact that there was warm water was enough to make my day. Lexi was up already, watching cartoons and I decided to make decent food for a change. It was still early and as it was Saturday, I only needed to be at work by ten.

  I dug out the flour I bought the previous day and baked banana bread. With a whole box of the overripe fruit to work with, I turned out several loaves and froze all but two, impressed with my ingenuity. Plating up two thick slices of the steaming bread for each of us, I lamented the lack of butter. “Hey, sweet pea. Breakfast is served.”

  Lexi was lying on her stomach on the carpet, engrossed in the doings of Tom and Jerry. We didn't have Satellite TV, only the local stations which were still running, though it was all repeats now.

  I handed her the plate, and she sat upright with an astonished look on her face. “Did you make this?”

  I smiled and nodded, more than a tad smug. “Yup. From scratch.” Plonking down on a seat with my own plate, I took a big bite and chewed. It tasted like heaven. Lexi poked at hers with a dubious expression, inspecting each slice closely. “What's wrong? Not hungry?”

  “I am, but sometimes your stuff comes out a flop so I'm just checking,” she replied.

  I gasped, a little offended. “That's not true.”

  She raised a sardonic eyebrow and I frowned as I remembered the cupcakes I'd made for the church bazaar and the cookies over Christmas. Then there was Lexi's tenth birthday cake. That was still a sore point to this day.

  “Okay, maybe not,” I conceded. “But this is great.” I took another huge bite to make my point.

  “If you say so.” She took a nibble, chewed it and gave the barest of nods. “It's okay. Not as good as Mom's.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  We fell into silence, engrossed in the antics on TV and our food. I was tempted to watch the news but didn't want to upset Lexi, especially after the day before. The morning flew and all too soon it was time to go.

  “Let's go, Lexi. You're spending the day with me.”

  “Why? Can't I stay at home?”

  “You can't stay here alone,” I replied. “Come on, it's only half-day today.”

  “What if something happens again,” she asked, eyes wide and fearful.

  “Nothing will happen. I'll be extra careful.”

  “I don't know.”

  “Trust me, Lexi. I won't let anything hurt you.”

  “Okay,” she replied, not looking convinced. Who could blame her? The events of the previous day still loomed large in my mind, an oppressive presence that colored my outlook on life in gray. Lexi felt the same, I imagined.

  We slipped into our jackets and braved the cold outside. I drove with care, keeping an eye out for danger and the ride went a lot smoother than the previous day. Not only was the car a newer model and more comfortable, but it had a CD player too, which meant I could avoid the morbid news on the radio.

  Sadly, we were stuck with Dad's old favorites and Johnny Cash's familiar twang filled the cabin followed by 'Afrikaans Treffers', neither of which were my favorites.

  I noticed a strong police presence on the roads and speculated it had something to do with the riot. It was comforting. Nonetheless, we were both nervous. Lexi's head kept swiveling around until I was tempted to strap it down.

  I pulled into the shopping center's parking lot. The first thing I saw was the cop cars parked haphazardly around and the ambulance in front of the pharmacy. A bunch of policemen milled around the entrance, holding back a crowd of spectators and my anxiety spiked. Parking as close as I dared, I opened the door. “Wait in the car, Lexi.”

  She nodded, not saying a word. I approached slowly, clutching my bag to my side. Several of the officers turned to look at me, their eyes flickering from my face down to my shoes and back again. It was nerve wracking.

  My gaze went to the shop, and I noticed the front window was shattered. Shards of glass littered the walkway, crunching beneath my boots as I picked my way through.

  “Can I help you, Miss?” A burly police officer blocked my way, a stern look on his face.

  Before I could frame a reply, two paramedics pushed a gurney through the doors.

  There was a body bag on it.

  6

  Chapter 5

  “Miss,” the cop repeated, snapping me out of my daze. “Miss!”

  “Where's Mr. Smith?”

  The police officer led me aside and asked, “Did you know the owner of the pharmacy?”

  “Yes, Mr. Smith. He's my boss. I work here.” I couldn't help but notice his use of the past tense and my chest tightened.

  “Well, I'm sorry to inform you but Mr. Smith was killed last night.”

  “Killed?” My voice rose a few decibels. “That can't be.”

  The officer said nothing, watching me, and I babbled on. “When I left last night he w
as fine. He said he was going home. What do you mean killed?”

  He ignored my question. “Around what time did you leave last night?”

  “Around eight. I went to the grocery shop first then my car wouldn't start and Mr. Smith offered to help. It was okay, though. My car started and I left.”

  The officer nodded. “Do you have anyone who can corroborate that story?”

  “What?” I asked, aghast at the implications. “M..my father, I suppose. I got home just after that. The cashier at the shop...” I paused, drawing a deep breath to steady myself.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “You can't think I did it. Can you?” My hands were shaking, and I pressed a fist to my lips to stop talking.

  He gazed at me with something approaching sympathy and finally answered my question from earlier. “We believe Mr. Smith was killed in a robbery sometime after ten.”

  I choked back a lump in my throat. “Does his wife know?”

  He nodded. “We dispatched an officer to her house earlier.”

  “Do you know who did it?”

  “At this point, we are still investigating the matter.” He went on to give me an official sounding spiel and I tuned out, staring at the ambulance as they loaded the gurney with the body into it. The doors closed and it drove off with a beep.

  Goodbye, Mr. Smith.

  I snapped back to attention when the officer mentioned rioters. “What?”

  He nodded. “We suspect the robbers might have been part of the criminal element involved in the riot. Several atrocities were committed both during and after the riot.”

  I withered inside knowing that I had witnessed those murders and wondered if he had known any of the slain officers. He must have. Riebeeckstad was a small town and the police station tiny. I didn't tell him, though. They might want to talk to Lexi, and I didn't want her to relive those moments. Not when I was sure nothing could or would be done about it.

  Looking at the car, I waved to Lexi, reassuring her everything was fine. She waved back and I indicated she stay in the car for the moment.

  “Can I have your contact details? In case we need more information?”

  “Uh, sure.” I gave him my address and cell phone number, even though that was useless now. “Officer, do you perhaps know why there's no cell phone reception?”

  “Lack of staff,” was the terse reply. “Johannesburg, Durban, Cape Town—it's chaos over there. You can expect the landlines and power to go next. Copper cable theft is spiking and we don't have the manpower to prevent it.”

  “Oh, okay.” I had gotten my answer and it was worse than I thought it would be.

  “Now I suggest you go home. The streets are no place for a lady. Not anymore,” he continued.

  It struck me then that I no longer had a job. Neither did my father. We were screwed. My eyes watered and I dabbed at them, embarrassed.

  The policeman must have felt sorry for me because he patted me on the shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for you, Miss?”

  It was a rhetorical question but gave me an idea, nonetheless.

  “Can I go inside?” I asked, indicating the pharmacy. “There's some stuff of mine in there.”

  He shook his head. “It's not allowed.”

  “Please,” I begged.

  He blew out a breath then nodded. “Fine. I'll take you in. Don't touch anything and take only what's yours. Okay?”

  I agreed and he led me inside, over the threshold of shattered glass. The place was in shambles. The till drawer stood open and empty, a shampoo bottle had burst, spilling over the floor and the racks were trashed, anything of value stolen.

  Sucking in a breath, I followed the officer through the mess, stepping with care. We reached the dispensary and I stopped short, my heart pounding. A large pool of blood, thick and congealed, lay on the floor behind the counter. A smeared trail led to another, smaller pool. I looked away, trying not to think of what had happened there and continued onward, my eyes fixed on the opposite wall.

  In the small kitchen at the back was a locker. I dug inside and pulled out an old backpack. It belonged to Diane but I didn't think she'd come back for it. Grabbing the sugar, coffee, and powdered milk, I went to my workstation and loaded in the few items I had accumulated over time. Lip gloss, a hairbrush, a framed photo—nothing of importance. When I was done, I turned to the policeman.

  “Can I take some medicine, please?” He shook his head and I hurried on. “Please. I've just lost my job and I won't get paid. A few small things would help a lot. I have a little sister to take care of. She's only a kid.”

  He mulled over this while I held my breath. “Alright. I'll look the other way but don't disturb anything.”

  He was trying to preserve the crime scene, but we both knew the investigation wouldn't go anywhere. It was all a show. The last gasp of a dying society trying to go about its usual routine even as everything collapsed. “Thank you...Officer Shabangu,” I replied after peering at his badge.

  He turned his back. I hurried to the racks and loaded in anything that might be useful. Pediatric syrups, antibiotics, painkillers, and vitamins. The place had been ransacked, but there was a lot left. Enough for me, anyway.

  I selected an extra bottle of antibiotics and painkillers and tapped Shabangu on the shoulder. “Would you like these?” I asked. “It won't cure the Black Tide but it might help.”

  He reached out, hesitant, then took them, tucking the items inside his jacket pocket. “Thanks.”

  He led the way outside and I pilfered a few more items as we walked, jamming them into the already stuffed bag. Toothpaste, a bar of soap, candy bars and cool drinks lying on the floor while Shabangu pretended not to see anything.

  When we stepped outside, I slung the bag over my shoulder and hurried to the car, ignoring the curious stares of the other officers. I slid in behind the wheel and sat back, closing my eyes. After a few deep breaths, I felt ready to face Lexi who waited with uncharacteristic patience. “Mr. Smith...Mr. Smith is...”

  “He's dead, isn't he?” she asked. Her face was expressionless, and I grasped for words of comfort but found none. What could I say? She fiddled with her seatbelt, eyes straight ahead. “I knew when I saw the ambulance.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” We were silent for a minute before she asked, “What now?”

  My mind whirled. We could go home but I didn't want to. Not after everything that had happened. My morale was flagging, my spirits were at an all-time low. I longed for comfort, for something warm and solid. I longed for him.

  Turning the key in the ignition, I put the car in reverse and eased out of the parking spot. “We're going to Brian's.”

  ***

  I pulled into the Cilliers' driveway and switched off the car. For several minutes I sat, working up the nerve to get out. Now that I was here, I wasn't so sure of my impulsive decision to come. Would he even want to see me? We hadn't spoken in months.

  “Aren't you getting out?” Lexi asked.

  I glanced at her, then back at my hands. “I don't know if I should.”

  “Then why did we come?”

  I couldn't answer her. Why did we? Brian was my first boyfriend. He'd spent Christmas at our house and we'd planned on going to the Matric Farewell together. Then my mom died and it all fell apart. We fell apart.

  “Well, it's stupid to just sit here,” Lexi said with unassailable logic.

  That was true. I'd driven all the way here, spent precious petrol and for what? To stare at his house before leaving with my tail between my legs? I took a deep breath. “You're right. Here goes.”

  Walking to the door, I rang the bell before I could chicken out. I shifted from one foot to the other, feeling more and more like I'd made a horrible mistake.

  A chain rattled and the door swung open, revealing a pale and disheveled Mrs. Cilliers. “Can I help you?”

  The first thing I noticed was that she wasn't wearing a mask. “Um, yes. I'm looking fo
r Brian.”

  “And you are?”

  She leaned forward, squinting. I shuffled my feet, inching away from her. “Ava, Ava Greene.”

  “Ava? Is that you, dear?” She reached out to me then stopped, hand hovering in mid-air before she pulled it back with an embarrassed smile. “I haven't seen you in ages.”

  “It's been a while,” I agreed.

  “You look well, dear,” she said. “Wait right there and I'll call Brian.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Cilliers.” She disappeared into the house and I took a moment to throw a thumbs-up to Lexi in the car.

  “Ava?”

  I looked back, right into Brian's deep blue eyes. I opened my mouth but not a sound came out.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I...” My thoughts were a jumble as I floundered for words. “I don't know. I guess I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  Brian's eyes scanned my face and I shifted, my cheeks reddening. “I'm fine. Thanks for checking.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “What's wrong, Ava?”

  As always, he knew when something was bothering me. I never could hide anything from him.

  “I just wanted to talk to someone. Things have been such a mess.” I paused, at a loss for words.

  “And I was the most convenient?” he asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

  Inwardly, I flinched. He had the right to be angry at me. When my mom died, I was the one who ended it. I pushed him away when I needed him most, unable to deal with the pain and guilt. A decision I regretted to this day.

  It's your fault, a voice whispered and a surge of remembered pain swept through me. “I'm sorry,” I whispered, mortified. “I shouldn't have come.”

  As I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm. “Wait.”

  I looked up at him and a ton of memories resurfaced. How I used to believe he was my soul mate. That we were destined to be together, forever. I knew better now. Some things just weren't meant to be. I had my chance and I lost it.