by J. Thorn
He slapped the plank in his other hand several times as he stared at Dax. He circled him, running the corner of the board up Dax’s back. A chill rode up Dax’s spine. He trembled.
“Oh, you scared now?” Leo said. “I see you shaking like a fucking pussy. You should be scared. ‘Cause this shit’s gonna hurt.”
Leo stood beside Dax now, rearing back and slapping the bandage covering Dax’s thigh with the board. The smack echoed through the warehouse, and the members of Chuck’s gang laughed.
“Hell, yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” Leo lifted the board, showing Dax the blood splatter on its edge.
Leo pulled back again, this time striking Dax on the other leg, hitting him directly in the knee with the edge of the board. Dax screamed, and his knee went numb.
“You had enough yet, bitch? You gonna help us fix boat engines or are you gonna sit there and bleed?”
Leo dropped the board and punched Dax in the mouth. Blood spurted from his split lip. He turned and spat a bloody wad at Chuck’s feet.
“That’s enough,” Chuck said. “I got three pontoon boats moored out back that this fucker needs to look at tonight. I need his head right.”
One of the men walked up with a pair of wire cutters and bent down to cut the zip ties off of Dax’s hands.
“Someone put a gun on him right now. Shoot him in the leg if he makes a move. Don’t fuck up his hands just in case we need him to repair the boat.”
A single scream ripped through the warehouse. Chuck’s gang drew their weapons, clips sliding into place as they looked up into the dark rafters. A stench like stagnant pond water blew through the building despite the locked doors.
“What’s making those sounds?” one of the men asked.
“Screamers. They’re in the building. We’re all fucked now.”
“Shut up.” Chuck turned and pointed his handgun at Dax’s head. “Shut the fuck up, right now.”
“Boss,” Leo said to Chuck. “What’s he mean, Screamers?”
“Infected people. Glowing orange eyes. They scream, and then they kill you.” Dax spoke to Leo, but he stared at Chuck.
“I ain’t tellin’ you again. Shut. The fuck. Up.”
Another scream cut the air, and the men shuffled, each pointing their weapons at nothing but the darkness. Dax waited, his heart racing in his chest. He stood up and licked the blood from his lip, taking deep breaths and trying to get the fuzz out of his head.
A thud hit the steel door separating the office from the warehouse.
“I told you. The Screamers are coming.”
Chuck had walked over and lifted his handgun to pistol-whip Dax when the door burst open, scattering pieces of metal hinges across the floor.
At first, a gateway to outer space seemed to appear, the entrance to a real black hole. The men took a step back as the foul stench returned, blowing into the warehouse. Dax took a step to the side as Chuck, and the others stared, their weapons aimed at the door.
“You come through there,” said Chuck. “And we’re gonna open fire on your ass.”
Dax took another step back, so he was farthest from the open door, guarded by Chuck’s gang. He looked at the door and saw the faintest glow oozing from the black.
An orange glow.
The muzzles exploded with bright flashes of thunder as the men fired at the doorway. The screams came again then, piercing Dax’s ears and forcing him to the ground. Smoke and the reek of gunpowder filled the air and Dax could no longer tell whether it was Chuck’s gang crying out in pain or the Screamers shrieking in delight. He thought it was probably both.
51
Dax gasped for air, his eyes open and his mind clearing. If his body still hurt, he didn’t feel it. All he knew now was that the room was filled with bullets and Screamers.
Through the haze of the firefight, Dax caught glimpses of flashing muzzles and glowing eyes. The Screamers danced through the chaos, appearing to float through the fog to attack the gang. They would grab a man by the throat, rip the weapon from his hand, and a moment later drop him to the floor.
Poison gas?
But Dax realized it couldn’t be—he would have already collapsed. The Screamers were taking the men and doing something to them.
He thought he saw Chuck run past, his handgun recoiling after every shot.
Leo’s body sat crumpled in a corner, his eyes open in a dead stare. Blood covered the man’s chest from the hole in his throat.
The frequency of the gunfire—and the screams—had slowed, but the warehouse was filled with gunpowder smoke. Dax could see movement and still shapes on the floor. He had been sitting on the floor when the steel door had burst open, and now he laid his head back and closed his eyes. The pain from the hit to the back of his head and the punch to his jaw returned.
Might be easier to give up. Gonna die anyway. Not like I’m getting out of here.
He felt hands on his shoulders, but he didn’t open his eyes. He thought of his sister. Of Chloe.
“Dax, wake up.”
He opened his eyes and looked up.
“Isaac?”
“Jesus. Thank God you’re alive.”
“How did you get in here?”
“Stay still, bro. I’m gonna get you out of here.”
Isaac put his hands underneath Dax’s arms, but he didn’t have the strength to raise the man off the ground.
“You gotta get up. C’mon, man.”
Dax gritted his teeth and held his hands out to Isaac, who gripped him and leaned back with all of his weight to help Dax up from a sitting position. He swayed, and Isaac put Dax’s left arm over his right shoulder.
“I’ll lead us out.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Shh. Not now. We need to move. Quietly.”
Isaac led Dax toward the back of the warehouse, away from the carnage. They maneuvered behind a few crates and boxes before coming to a door. Isaac pushed through it, and they stood in a hallway.
“This way.”
At the end of the corridor was a double set of doors. The screams continued behind them, but there weren’t as many.
Isaac opened a door and pulled Dax inside. The boy turned and locked them in. They stood in a windowless room with a single candle sitting on top of a table. It cast flickering shadows on a folding chair.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Sit down, Dax,” Isaac said. “He needs to talk to you.”
52
Dax sat in the chair, staring at the burning candle. The wax ran down the stick in slow, long drips and pooled on the table. Isaac had been gone for what felt like hours and Dax chuckled when he looked around.
Like casinos. Without natural light, you lose track of time.
He had to trust the boy. Isaac had led him out of the warehouse area where the Screamers had slaughtered Chuck’s gang. Isaac knew something—something important. And it was enough for him to spare Dax’s life, although Dax guessed there was more to it than their shared love of Chloe. Isaac had led him out of harm’s way and into a locked room.
The push bar on the door rattled and then opened, slowly filling the room with the rancid air from the warehouse. This time, Dax could smell blood, too. From this far away, it had to be a lot of blood.
Two men entered, and a third stood on the threshold as if unsure whether or not to enter. The first two men wore pedestrian clothes—dirty jeans and ripped t-shirts, probably the uniform of New Orleans by now. It wasn’t until they lifted their heads that he knew for sure they were Screamers. Two sets of orange flickered like the lone candle on the desk in front of Dax.
Dax felt a power emanating from the third man even before he stepped into the low light of the room. He wore black jeans and a black sweatshirt, the hood up and covering his forehead but allowing the orange of his eyes to shine through. Dax detected a vibration coming from this Screamer, a buzz as if someone had an electric bug zapper hanging in the room. He took a step toward Dax, and the other two S
creamers took another step to the side as if they were keeping their distance out of respect—or possibly fear.
“You can ask Chuck. I’m nobody’s bitch. You might as well kill me if you think I’m gonna do some evil shit for you.”
The Screamer looked at Dax, his orange eyes flaring to red before a slow smile crept across his face.
“We’ve been looking for you.”
Unlike the Screamers Dax had encountered on the streets, this one spoke in an elegant and poised tone. The words purred from his lips like blue notes from an electric guitar.
“Why? What do you want with me?”
The Screamer chuckled, the sound of ice being crushed coming from his throat. He ignored Dax’s question and continued.
“You destroyed one of us. Impressive.”
“If this was about revenge, I’d already be dead.”
The Screamer waved an arm at one of his men. The subordinate left for several seconds before returning with a wooden folding chair which he sat on the other side of the table from Dax.
“You can call me Serafino,” the Screamer in the black hoodie said before sitting down. The light from the candle danced across Serafino’s face, the tip of the flame being pulled toward his eyes.
“At first, I had no hope. There are millions in this city. But then our scouts started reporting sightings. And then, once we made the bargain, all we had to do was draw in our net, so to speak.”
Serafino made a clicking sound with his tongue, and Dax saw movement in the dark hallway on the other side of the door. A man entered. More like a teenage boy.
“Son of a bitch.”
Isaac sauntered over to the table. He grinned and stared at Dax while standing next to Serafino.
“It was you for Chloe and the kids. You woulda done the same thing, Jackson.”
“Fuck you. You’re a selfish kid. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Selfish? You bailed on us. Twice, motherfucker.”
Dax saw the anger that creased lines in Isaac’s forehead and turned his grin into a snarl.
The kid’s got the hots for Chloe and he ain’t thinking with the right head.
“Isaac, listen to me. You can’t trust them. They’re going to kill you as soon as they’re done with me. Haven’t you been watching what they’ve been doing on the streets? Ain’t you seen what they did to Chuck’s gang?”
“They took out a bunch of thugs and criminals. And now they’re gonna take out another.” Isaac licked his lips and looked at Serafino. “Besides, don’t worry. I’m gonna take really good care of Chloe. I promise.”
Dax looked into Serafino’s face before turning back to Isaac. “You’re making a big mistake. You’re not worth shit to them now. They used you to find me.”
Isaac turned to the Screamer in the black hoodie.
“Deal’s a deal, Serafino. I’m leaving, and I’m taking Chloe and the kids with me.”
The black hoodie fell off the Screamer’s head as he leaned back in his chair and laughed.
“Yes, of course. You did exactly as I asked.”
The other two Screamers approached Isaac from behind and grabbed him by his arms.
“Hey, what is this shit?”
Dax looked at Isaac and then turned to Serafino. “What are you doing with him?”
Serafino never took his eyes off of Dax, even as Isaac began to thrash and kick within the tight clutches of the other Screamers.
“You were right, Jackson,” he said, shaking its head. “You can’t trust us.”
Isaac whimpered, and his foot kicked the leg of the table, the candle wobbling and sending wax sizzling to the tabletop.
“Let me go.”
“Soon. We’ll set you free and then you’ll serve Him with us.”
Serafino turned to face Isaac.
“Don’t look, Isaac.” Dax wanted to rise and attack the Screamers, but his legs wouldn’t move. It was as if he’d been paralyzed from the waist down. “Don’t look into his eyes.”
At first, Dax saw only the top of the kid’s head. He thought the teenager might be smart enough to save himself. But that all changed in the next moment. Isaac raised his head, and his eyes went wide and rolled back. Serafino mumbled something, his eyes casting a sickly glow on Isaac’s face. The boy spasmed and then moaned.
“Stop. Don’t do that to him.” The words sounded helpless even to him, and Dax regretted saying them.
Isaac shook, his arms shooting out and his fingers clawing at thin air. Dax could smell the boy’s piss as it darkened the crotch of his jeans. The Screamers in the room made a unified buzzing sound, like a swarm of angry bees. Their eyes intensified, now lighting up the room with an orange glow. After one final pulse, Isaac’s arms fell, and his chin slapped against his chest. Dax waited, holding his breath and balling his hands into fists.
“Isaac?”
The boy lifted his head, and Dax felt a moment of relief that he’d responded to his name. Until Dax saw the orange glow in his eyes.
53
Isaac stood in the middle of the street, looking at his neighborhood from another time.
Every house looked exactly as he’d remembered.
Children’s bikes cluttered the yard of the Johnsons’ house across the street. Ms. Hernandez’s garden bloomed in vibrant shades of yellow and green, the lively mix accenting her purple shutters. And the two ragged Oldsmobile sedans, relics of another decade, sat above oil stains in the driveway of Ronald’s house next door.
Isaac turned to face his own house, and it, too, stood exactly as he remembered it.
But the streets were empty, silent.
Michael and Latoya Miller were not sitting on their front porch, chatting and sipping coffee. There were no kids playing in the streets, no music blaring from booming sound systems. No cars driving down the road, no custom-built motorcycles shaking the windows.
Isaac stepped onto the sidewalk and walked toward his house. He couldn’t see any lights on inside, but his mother’s green Corolla sat in the driveway. A bellowing thunderclap tore through the sky. Isaac stopped and looked up.
The sun shone down on the city of New Orleans, the crystal blue sky as clear and calm as pictures of the Caribbean Sea. He looked to the north and noticed a flicker of light high in the sky, near the zenith. At first, Isaac thought it could be the sun reflecting off of a commercial jet.
But the light grew, and the hue shifted from white to orange. Not the gorgeous tint of a day’s dawn, but a dull, dark orange. It moved across the sky, roiling like a bank of massive storm clouds. Isaac couldn’t move. All he could do was stare at its majesty.
The entire sky had turned into a blanket of orange. Doors opened, and people ran from their houses, staring up at the miraculous scene.
Isaac smiled as he saw the Johnsons, the Millers, Ms. Hernandez. They all came out of their houses to stand in the middle of the street and gaze up into the sky. He heard a door swing open behind him.
“Mom?”
She ignored him, staring into the sky. Her skin had become tinted orange, like the skies above.
Isaac heard a rumble, and the ground beneath his feet began to vibrate. He looked around, but the others—including his mother—seemed transfixed by what was happening above. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to what was happening below.
“Mom. Can you feel that?”
She looked down to her feet and then to her right. Isaac followed her gaze.
“My God.”
A gigantic wave rose from the horizon. At first, Isaac tried to process what he was seeing, scrambling to think of an event in the Gulf of Mexico that would send a wall of water over New Orleans.
The water accelerated, and Isaac realized that it didn’t really matter what had caused the tidal wave. What mattered was that his entire neighborhood, including his mother, stood right in its path.
“Mom. We have to run. Right now.”
Isaac’s mother never responded. She didn’t even look at him. Instead, the wom
an began walking toward the wave.
“No! We have to go the other way!”
Isaac saw the crest crashing over the tops of tall buildings, the water rushing down open avenues and tossing cars around like they were toys.
Isaac’s mother stopped and turned around to face her son. “I love you.”
He reached out to hug her, but his hands passed through her body as if she were made of smoke.
The wave towered above them, now seconds from crashing into Isaac’s neighborhood and obliterating everything in its path. His mother turned and walked into the rushing wall of water.
As it came down, Isaac dropped to the ground, curled into a ball and screamed.
54
Chloe lost all sense of direction as the Screamers dragged her down several twisting hallways. Back in her room, she had heard what sounded like World War III erupting from somewhere in the building. Gunshots and distant screams had echoed back, and when the Screamers had come for her, she could see the excitement in their orange eyes. Some even had blood splattered on their clothing.
They ushered her past the main warehouse space where she saw Screamers standing over dead bodies on the floor. One man had crawled into the hallway, where he’d died. Chloe looked down and recognized him as a member of Chuck’s gang. Why were they here?
Two Screamers turned her down one last hallway with an open door at the end. She could see the flicker of candlelight coming from within. They walked her to the doorway and pushed her inside. She fell to the ground, her hair covering her face.
“Chloe?”
She looked up at the man sitting on a chair at the table.
“Dax?”
“They kept you in here? I thought this was Chuck’s headquarters?”
She thought about the gunfire and the bodies she’d passed on the way to the room. “So did he. Guess he didn’t realize the warehouse already had tenants.”
A man in black jeans and a black hoodie stepped from the darkness, and for the first time since entering the room, Chloe looked around. Two men stood in one corner, facing the middle. But in the other corner, she saw the shape of a young man, facing the wall as if he was being punished.
