Rise of the Mudmen

by Thompson, James FW

  Soon after, a second announcement came: food would soon be provided in the staff room (McDonalds was sponsoring this particular state of emergency). David jumped up. Nicole wasn’t sure what made her feel more nauseated: the thought of McDonald’s grease, the fact that people thought about eating during whatever this emergency was, or the fact that David seemed downright excited about it. She decided on the two that made others—especially David—look like the idiots that they were.

  “Can you believe that people actually want to eat?” Nicole asked in a most disgusted tone. “With everything that’s going on!”

  David thought for a moment, and then looked up at his big sister. “What is going on, anyways?”

  Nicole had not expected the question. When David grew visibly concerned, she answered vaguely. “Whatever is happening outside. They don’t make safe zones when everything is okay!”

  “Nicole,” David started after a moment’s silence, “do you think this has anything to do with the flu that’s going around?”

  “Probably,” Nicole blurted out. When she looked at him, she could see genuine fear in his eyes. Their parents had been away for almost a week. What if they couldn’t get home? Until they could find Aunt Carol, she had to be the adult, even though she was only three years his senior. She had to make things okay. She sighed. “You know what? I bet this is being blown way out of proportion.”

  “You think so?” David asked, hopefully.

  “Yeah. I mean, look: did you see anything bad actually happen? No. Nothing bad happened. Not here in town anyway. If it did, you know everyone here would be talking about it. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Yeah. Plus, nothing happened in Halifax yet. When was the last time something happened in Sydney that didn’t happen in Halifax, like, a few days before? And even then, even if it does hit Halifax, it might not come here at all. Remember that hurricane that almost destroyed Halifax, like fifteen years ago? Hurricane Beth?”

  David stared blankly at her. “Let me see … fifteen years ago, when I was negative two?”

  Nicole smacked him on the side of the head. “You know what I mean. I did a science project on it a few years ago, remember?”

  He nodded. “It didn’t almost destroy Halifax.”

  “Whatever—it came pretty close. Lots of stuff got wrecked and flooded and Dartmouth was labelled a disaster area and boats got lost and houses got destroyed and every news show in the country was talking about it. And what happened here?”

  “I don’t know,” David said flatly. “Again, I was—”

  “It rained, and it was kinda windy. That’s it. Big deal.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I went to school all that week.”

  “That was fifteen years ago! You weren’t in—”

  “Pre-school, David. Pre-school.”

  “You are making this up. You can’t remember that stuff!”

  He’s feeling better, Nicole thought, he’s arguing. He even smiled, having made a good point: she actually couldn’t remember it any better than he could.

  “I’m not, spaz. Even if I was, they still had it on the news and it’s in books. How do you think I did a report on it? So this? This isn’t going to make it into any books, and it hasn’t even been on TV.”

  David paused and she could tell he was satisfied. The spaz liked logic. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

  A table had been set up in the far corner of the gym with a water cooler. “David, dear,” Nicole started, with a fake smile, batting her eyelashes. David started laughing. “If you’re bored, you can go get me a cup of water.” She waited for David to stand before she delivered the punchline. “Then you can go play in traffic, okay?”

  “There it is,” David said, turning toward the water station. “You had me worried there for a minute. Thought you were going soft on me.”

  Nicole stuck her tongue out as her brother turned away. “Never on you, loser.”

  He shook his head, and she was sure he was smiling.

  She was no longer smiling, however. She was worried, and she was scared. She had heard things about what was happening out there. Kids had been talking, out of David’s earshot. Something about some news footage that came from some street in Halifax. But, what she heard was impossible; it had to be just a rumour.

  She knew that if someone had been shot that many times, they’d stay down.

  Still, she pictured it.

  She looked down and noticed that her hands were shaking.

  ALEX

  At first, Alex did nothing but shake. For a very long time. He wanted to sit down, but he wouldn’t walk to the living room for fear that he would fall down on the way. He was frozen.

  When the initial wave of fear dissipated a bit, he gave himself one last shake; he had to do what his father had told him. After all, Dad would be there to find him soon and it wouldn’t be good if Alex hadn’t thought of something obvious like checking the window locks. He was fifteen, after all. Dad would expect him to be responsible.

  He locked the back door and then checked all the windows. His bedroom window was open a crack—he always slept with it open. He slammed it down as hard as he could, and when he pushed the latch to lock it, he noticed his shaking hands. Staring out the window, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was the way it had always been. It’s a completely normal day. Normal, like the day Mom was…

  There had to be something different; something off. Things couldn’t go so wrong on a perfectly lovely day. Not again. If something was off, maybe he would feel better, somehow.

  It was overcast, but still bright with the noontime sun, and a breeze had picked up. Across the street, the Arsenaults’ house also looked perfectly normal. Except … their garage door was open. That was unusual. Keith kept some expensive tools in his garage and it was never open when he wasn’t in there.

  He glanced at Mrs. MacLean’s house, next to the Arsenaults. The screen door was wide open, blowing slightly in the breeze, rocking gently back and forth. Alex found that unsettling and turned away, but his eyes lingered on the swinging screen door. At least something was off.

  Turned out that didn’t make him feel better after all.

  When he went back to the living room he found Shadow lying on the couch, chewing on one of her favourite toys: a stuffed bear that Alex had sewn up so many times it now resembled a stuffed tree stump with legs. He sat next to her and patted her back. She looked at him for a second, smelled his hand, and then went back to chewing.

  He still had no idea what was happening. Did this have something to do with the disease that his friends had been talking about? What was it? Hyper-AIDS? That made no sense—they would have shots and medicine, not evacuation. But if it wasn’t that, then what?

  The TV. His dad said that they announced whatever this was on the news. They would still be talking about it. If it was enough for Keith Arsenault to leave his tools out for the world to take, then it had to be all-day newsworthy. He turned on the TV.

  “... is still unclear exactly how long this situation will play out. Back to you, Cathy and Rob.” It was a man standing on a street—not a street in Sydney, but definitely not that far away. The same overcast sky was behind him. Alex could also see big, green, tarp covered army trucks parked in the background.

  The image flicked to the studio of the local news (local—coming out of Halifax, a good five-hour drive away).

  “Thank you, Colin Farris, on the scene in Port Hawkesbury,” said the female anchor—Cathy. Port Hawkesbury is way closer than Halifax. Whatever they’re talking about is the same thing as here.

  As if hearing Alex’s thoughts, Rob the anchor gave the situation. “It’s the same story across all of Nova Scotia this morning. And across the Maritimes and eastern United States. Riots have broken out, fires have been set ablaze, and a fearful populace can only watch on. Most residential areas in the province have been evacuated, but if you are watching this from your home, we remind you to lock your do
ors and windows and await evacuation teams to take you to a safe-zone.”

  Alex felt good that he had done as much as he could, at least according to Rob-the-anchor. However, he still had no idea what had caused the evacuation situation. Again, the news people knew what he was looking for.

  “There has been much speculation about the cause of this mass disturbance,” Rob continued. “Right now, officials are withholding comments until any answers can be confirmed, though it does appear that—”

  Cathy the other anchor jumped in. “Rob, I’m being told that we have footage from the downtown area that—”

  The phone rang and Alex thought it was the loudest noise he’d ever heard. He let out a short, high-pitched yelp which caused Shadow to jump up and run out of the room. “Thanks, girl,” Alex called after her, with an awkward chuckle. “Nice to know I can count on you.”

  He ran to the phone. His father was talking before he could say anything.

  “Alex? They won’t … they won’t let me leave. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Alex said, his heart still racing. “What do you mean they won’t let you leave?”

  “They’re not letting anyone out.” He paused. “Why weren’t you home? It was so important. Why did you leave?”

  Suddenly Alex felt a pang of anger rising in him. He took a deep breath. “I had to get Shadow! She—”

  He was cut off by the sound of his dad yelling; not at him, but at someone in the place—the safe-zone he had called it. “My son is still out there! No, he’s at my house right now! If I can just get ... where are you going? Hello? Hey! Hello! Alex? Alex?!”

  Caught up in what was happening on the other end, Alex didn’t answer right away. “Dad. I’m here. What’s—”

  “I’m going to try to find someone in charge of all this ... get a way out there. I’ll be there soon. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.” Suddenly a terrifying thought hit Alex. “Dad! Is Mary still—”

  “Mary is here. I picked her up right before I went home to get—” He stopped and sighed. “I’ll be there soon, all right? Promise me you will stay there and not leave for any reason. You got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  His heart was pounding. He wasn’t sure if anyone was coming to get him, and he still had no idea what was happening.

  Looking at the TV, he got a partial answer. On the screen was jumpy camera footage of a street in Halifax. It must have been coming from an apartment above the street. He recognized one of the stores in the background from a family trip. A man stood in the middle of the street. Then he wasn’t standing anymore. Alex quickly realized that he’d been gunned down. He was lying, crumpled, as several figures in riot gear approached him. When they were about ten feet away the man started to get up. They shot again.

  This time the man seemed unfazed by the bullets, other than a slight recoil from the impact.

  The video ended and Rob and Cathy were back, shocked looks on their faces. “We apologize for the graphic nature of this footage,” Cathy said, “but we feel it is important to convey exactly what is happening as it is brought to our attention. Even more footage has been sent in, this time from Moncton, New Brunswick. We warn you, this footage is also graphic and may not be suitable for younger viewers.”

  Another street; this one Alex didn’t recognize—he had never been to New Brunswick—but it had the same overcast sky. A small crowd of people were all clawing at something on the ground. This video was taken from a car window, and it must have just rained in Moncton, as their windows were streaked in water making the video unclear.

  Suddenly one of the people in the group looked up. She looked around—it reminded Alex of Shadow when she knew there was food in the house, but couldn’t see it. Then she locked onto the car with the camera. She stood up and started toward the car, her steps jagged and strange. When she got halfway across, just as she came into focus—her arms outstretched in her dark-red jacket, her mouth wide open—she became a blur as a speeding vehicle slammed into her, throwing her out of the shot. A fine mist of red hit the window and then the feed went back to studio.

  Now Cathy sat at the desk alone, though Rob could be heard retching in the background, obviously having left his microphone on when he walked away to be sick.

  Cathy was not talking into the camera. “Could someone please let us know what’s on these things before we show them?” She looked back at the camera, unapologetic for her outburst. “We are going to take a break for a few moments. We will be right back. Before we go, we must remind you, if you are home, please lock your doors and windows. If you are outside of your home, please find your way to the nearest emergency evacuation area located at the bottom of your screen.” Alex just then noticed that a stream of names of places (a city, followed by a list of building names) scrolled along the bottom of the screen. He didn’t recognize any of them.

  Cathy continued. “We’ll be right back. Hopefully, we will have some answers.”

  Before the station moved to commercial—three in a row for Hockey Night in Canada, so Alex assumed they just threw something on to fill time—they showed a still of the last video they played. It was the woman just before she got hit by the vehicle, just when she came into focus. Now Alex got a better look at her, though he wished that he hadn’t.

  Her face had a look of blind rage and determination, like she was going to get to whatever she was after, no matter what. Her hands were red and dirty. Though he first saw her jacket as red, the bottom was white. The dark red was a thick, splattered coating of blood.

  The small crowd she had emerged from were blurry, but they were also red. The puddles from the rain had turned red. They were tearing something apart and it bled a lot.

  All that red—all the blood—made his mind swim and his stomach churn when he was once again surprised, this time by an unfortunately enthusiastic announcer, telling viewers about the Hartford-Quebec game that would be happening Saturday evening at 7 p.m.

  It was 3:15 when Alex checked his watch again and, except for that pop, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Maybe hunger was the reason he couldn’t stop shaking.

  The hours were practically lost to him—the time he spent glued to the TV was a blur: a little footage from people in different cities and towns, some experts on disease control, some people from the army, other experts talking about things Alex couldn’t really understand or connect to the issue. None of them clearly told him what was happening.

  He turned the TV up so he wouldn’t miss anything and went into the kitchen. He went to the fridge and pulled out some bread, bologna, cheese, and mustard. It took much longer than usual; he kept missing the bread, his eyes darting to the back window every five seconds. He almost dropped the jar of mustard when he saw an ambulance speed down the street past his backyard.

  I have to calm down, or I’m going to do something stupid. Dad said it would be okay. Just make your sandwich and go sit down. Turn off the news. Finish The Sword in the Stone. It’ll be okay. Dad said.

  His sandwich made, much slower than usual, he went back to the living room. Shadow had come back and lay on the floor chewing her stuffed stump-bear. Alex sat on the couch and put the sandwich on its plate next to him. Smelling the mustard, he realized he was not even a little hungry. The thought of eating made his stomach turn.

  Though he really just wanted to go back to his immature, fantasy cartoon movie, he had left the news on. He stuck to every little bit of information they had. Every interview. Every piece of footage. He started recognizing the cycles of the names of the buildings and safe-zones that scrolled by along the bottom of the screen.

  When the phone rang some time later it didn’t frighten him. He barely even heard it. He was immersed in the news. In a stupor, he went to the phone, picked it up, immediately walked back into the living room with it and
sat back down on the couch.

  “Hello?” he said, almost robotically, lost in the glow of the TV.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his father’s voice snapping him out of his daze. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m good. How are you?”

  “They’re not letting anyone out of this goddamn place! They wouldn’t even let me call you. They were worried that you might try to come on your own. Which you won’t. The door still—”

  “Yes, Dad. The door is still locked. And I won’t leave. Not until you get here.” Alex paused, worried to ask. “When are you ...”

  His father sighed on the other end. “I don’t know when they’re going to let me out. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He started sniffling.

  Alex couldn’t say anything. He knew that if he opened his mouth it would just come out as loud sobs.

  “Are you still there?”

  Alex croaked out a sloppy “Uh-huh.”

  “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. It’s okay. I told them where you were and they said they’d do a sweep of the neighbourhood. Okay?”

  “Uh ... huh.”

  His dad cleared his throat. “Alex—where’s Shadow?”

  Shadow lay on the couch, her head on her paws, looking lazily up at him. Between them was the empty plate where his sandwich had been. He couldn’t remember if he had mindlessly eaten it, or if Shadow had. It didn’t matter.

  “She’s ... she’s ... here with ... with me. On the c-couch.”

  “Okay. Great. That’s good. Is she okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s ... o ... okay. She’s ... trying to sleep.”

  “You need to make sure she’s okay, Alex. If you do that, I’ll be so proud of you. Okay?”

  Alex knew what his dad was doing. That sense of control—even over the smallest thing—made him feel a lot better. His throat loosened, his eyes burned less.

  “Yeah. I ... I can do that.”

  “I want you to close the curtains on the front window, okay? I’ll wait. Go do that.”