Last Days Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  “What chance? I’ll be fine. Let me take a four-hour watch.” Reggie clutched her father’s arm.

  Kyle knew she wasn’t letting go until he gave in.

  “Herbie’s been running around town since the crack of dawn boarding up places and...” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “He buried Eliza and Marcus’ family while none of us could function. He needs to rest. And you do too. Get some. What good will either of you be if you’re too tired tomorrow?”

  “And you’ve been on the run.” Kyle looked at Herbie, and then back to Reggie. “All right. Listen. You can take a full four-hour watch, but you need to rest up, kick back for two hours...”

  “No, Daddy.”

  “Two hours, Reg. I’ll be satisfied that your senses are back. Okay?”

  Reluctantly, Reggie nodded.

  “Get a jacket and a cup of coffee. While you’re up there, don’t turn on that flashlight unless absolutely necessary. Got it?” Kyle instructed. “I got a shed full of supplies, a flourishing garden and a house full of people. Stay alert. Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  Kyle nodded, and then kissed Reggie on the forehead. “Rest up. See you in two.” Rifle in hand, Kyle, resolute, stone-faced, turned and walked away.

  Marcus pulled the bedroom door closed. The sedatives would give his mother some much-needed rest. Since the discovery of the bodies, she hadn’t spoken to Marcus. Not a single word. For the first time in his life, she looked at him with pure anger in her eyes. The sadness of this weighed upon him as he moved into the next bedroom, Reggie’s room. He wasn’t invited to stay in there with her. Kyle had given him a small bedroom. But Marcus wanted to be where Reggie would sleep. He needed her around him. It was the worst night of his entire life.

  The scenes of horror played over and over again in his mind until it spun out of control and mercilessly rendered the violence surreal. It was such a horrific experience that, thankfully, it became unreal. He felt numb. He couldn’t cry. He was detached and cold and free from the pain, but Marcus knew it would hit him soon, and devastate him.

  Inside the bedroom, he sat slowly on the side of Reggie’s bed and lowered his face into the palms of his hands. Seconds later he heard the sound of boots on the hardwood floor of the hallway. He lifted his head as the footfalls stopped at the door. He turned and squinted at the doorway.

  Reggie stepped in, carrying a black leather jacket and a rifle. “Dug these out.” She set them down on the chair by the dresser and shut the door. “Hey,” she spoke softly, walking around to face him.

  “Where... where are you going?” Marcus could barely speak.

  “Nowhere yet. But in a bit, I’m going on roof watch.” Reggie knelt down before him and laid her hands on his knees. “A few hours. Not many. You need to get some rest.”

  “Do you... do you mind if I sleep in here with you?”

  “Oh, God no.” Reggie laid her hand on his cheek. “I want you to.”

  The softness of her palm comforted him. He slowly swayed his head back and forth with her touch, and then put his lips to her palm.

  Reggie straightened, and then inched her way up between Marcus’ legs and wrapped her arms around his neck. Marcus grabbed hold of her and held her close.

  “Marcus, I am so sorry,” Reggie whispered and sighed, her hand gripping the back of his head. She pulled him closer, trying to assume some of the pain, a feat they both knew was impossible. “I am so, so sorry.”

  Marcus moved his head slowly from side to side, his forehead grazing her collarbone as he tried to speak, but couldn’t. He exhaled and lifted his head, and then moved his hands to Reggie’s cheeks. He brought her face close, their eyes inches apart.

  “Marcus, what...” Reggie said, her lips parting.

  His grief and love were instinctive and large. Marcus didn’t quite understand. He was drawn to her, irresistibly. Fingers clutching her face, Marcus brought his lips to Reggie’s. His kiss was hungry, biting, as if loving and abrasive all at once. His lips pulled at hers, slow, and then quick, seeking sustenance, seeking truth.

  “Marcus.” Reggie muttered.

  He shook his head, tears mixing with the kisses.

  “Marcus...”

  Silencing her again, his head shook and pleaded ‘No, don’t stop me,’ as his mouth pursued. Reggie might have stopped him, might have pulled back, he knew, until that one second when he kissed her and felt himself whisper something, an incomprehensible thing that spoke loudly, and filled the room with his pain.

  Reggie heard it. Felt it. And surrendered, without a fight.

  Was it wrong, Marcus wondered, as he clutched Reggie’s body against his, held her... made love to her, to experience this moment for which he’d waited his entire life while in such despair?

  He reached out; Reggie was there. He sought her solace and comfort through an act that seemed so wrong and so right at such a tragic moment. Yet, he knew he needed it. While drowning in pain, he clung to his only good; something to take away the pain, his best friend, Reggie. No regrets. No guilt. No wrong, Marcus told himself over and over as he lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.

  He was reassured by the sound of Reggie’s boots overhead. Then the silence of the house hypnotized him and he dozed off. But it wasn’t a real sleep, as he realized things would never be the same again. He did dream, but he didn’t want to because he knew that his dreams of the past few days had nearly happened. He fought to stay awake. He could feel himself coming out of that state, his dream surroundings fading, his body slowly rising to the surface, when he heard the familiar male voice.

  “Marcus.”

  It was as if someone outside of his dream was calling him. And when he turned, he saw the eyes. Those green, translucent eyes, staring at him.

  “Marcus, I will need her. I will need her.”

  Pain shot through Marcus’ heart. “No,” he shook his head. “I need her. Not you.”

  “I’m sorry, Marcus.”

  “No.”

  Suddenly Marcus was wide awake and opened his eyes. The overhead light was still on. He looked at the ceiling, ears primed for Reggie’s boot-steps. Sluggishly, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He looked at the alarm clock and saw he hadn’t even slept fifteen minutes. Elbows on knees, Marcus raised his hands to his face and then he heard the lightest of taps on the door. Marcus looked over his shoulder to see Seth.

  Seth quietly walked in, sagging from all the adult weight on his young shoulders. With a heavy sigh, Seth climbed up on to the bed and sat next to Marcus. Folding his hands between his legs, he turned his head and made eye contact with Marcus, and then transitioned into a smile.

  Marcus studied the purity of those eyes, their intentness at such a silent moment, man and boy breathing heavy, in sync. He lay his hand on Seth’s small knee. The colorful and funny boxer shorts Seth wore made Marcus laugh in remembrance of his own youth. “I wish I had a pair of these.”

  Seth spoke, with sadness evident in his voice. “I’d let you borrow them, but they’d be too small.”

  Silence.

  “Marcus?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry about your dad and sister. And I’m sorry about Kathleen.”

  Marcus closed his eyes hard.

  “I just wanted to tell you that.” Seth’s lips puckered and his eyes welled up as he started to slide from the bed.

  “Seth.” Marcus stopped him. “Will you... will you stay for a while?”

  Seth nodded and sat back down on the bed, staring straight ahead.

  Thirty seconds passed, and then: “I don’t remember when my Dad died. But I know it makes me sad when I think about it.” He lifted his shoulder and rubbed his ear against it. “I just know that, you don’t have to be a kid to feel sad. And even if you’re a grown up, I know it’s okay to cry.”

  Marcus wanted to cry. Seth’s simple words, his own pain over the loss of his best friend, broke Marcus as he tried to be strong. He couldn’t even say, ‘Tha
nk you.’ His throat was too swollen. He merely nodded his head once, placed his arm around Seth, pulled the little boy to him, and laid his lips to his head as he held him.

  How bright and how many the stars were, Reggie thought. Against the beauty of the heavens, it was hard for Reggie to imagine that so much was going wrong in the world around her, especially in her own home. She kept her watch, listening and peering out, but Reggie’s mind never wandered far from what she could only imagine her father, Eliza and Marcus had witnessed at the Leon home.

  Reggie had suspected something was wrong when she didn’t get a call. The passing time confirmed it. Then she saw the looks on their faces, and Reggie knew. Eliza couldn’t walk. Kyle had to carry her. Her face was puffed from crying, and she gasped for breath. The tragedy rendered her useless. Reggie loved Eliza dearly. Eliza had been the only mother she’s known. She made Reggie’s first dress, explained the birds and bees, and had even taken her to the store for her first Kotex. But as much as Reggie loved Eliza, a part of her wanted to strike out at her when she turned away from her son and said, “I will never forgive you for this.”

  With Eliza’s final words, Reggie’s heart broke. Her insides screamed for Marcus. Reggie knew Marcus too well, and knew the ‘pass it off’ shake of his head was a front for his devastation. Marcus could not be blamed for his family’s death. Though he did blame himself. But was it Eliza’s place to confirm it?

  Reggie had heard all the stories, told by elders, about how one partner feels what the other feels, how one somehow knows what one’s significant other is thinking or wants without speaking. Reggie now knew this to be true, now, at that moment on the roof. Sitting beneath the multitudes of stars. Reggie felt her friend’s soul calling to her. She felt his need, his hurt, and his desperation.

  She suddenly registered the gnawing squeak of her hands rubbing the stock of her rifle, rolling it. Back and forth, she rubbed, back and forth, as she stared up at the stars, as if for answers. Only for a moment did she close her eyes, a long blink, reaching out, mouthing a prayer.

  “God,” she spoke softly, staring skyward. “I know you hear me. And I know you lost some people praying to you. But... there’s still a lot of us out here, calling on you. We need help.” Reggie’s voice cracked. “This earth you gave us... it’s falling apart, see, and it’s not your doing. You didn’t start this, that asshole did. It’s not your end, we know that. It’s his. We want to fight him, but I kind of think you’re a bit pissed off. See, we didn’t mean for it to happen. Marcus didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He was just using the gifts you gave him, and the rest of the world took it and ran. We want, we really want, to stop it. And I want to help Marcus. But, he needs your help. We need your help.” Reggie swallowed. “Help us... please.”

  As soon as Reggie finished her prayer she saw it. The brightest twinkling star of her lifetime. In a second it began to whistle and increase in volume, growing bigger and bigger, hurtling earthward. At first Reggie feared it was a repeat of Chicago.

  But then a warm peaceful feeling filled her, and she stood up as the bright flash of light fell faster and faster.

  Reggie shrieked with excitement as it sizzled, then it squished against the sound of something wet.

  Downstairs, the thump jolted Kyle off of his bed and onto the floor. Cursing and rubbing his back, he jumped up and grabbed his jeans. He raced to the bedroom door, fetching his shotgun from the dresser. He flung open the door while buttoning his pants and stepped into the hall.

  Marcus, still dressed, flung open his door as well. “Kyle, did you hear that?”

  “Yeah.” Kyle looked up to the ceiling, listening for sounds of Reggie on the roof. He heard nothing. Kyle raced through the upstairs hallway and down the steps, with Marcus right behind him. At the bottom, he saw Herbie getting on his shoes. “You heard it, too?”

  “Yes sir.” Herbie hurried to the door with Marcus and Kyle.

  Reggie had her move down cold. She slid down the angled roof, swung her legs out and jumped onto the back porch roof in one smooth motion, giggling with the sudden memory of her teenage years. Back then, she did it quietly. But at that moment, silence wasn’t important.

  As Kyle stepped out of the front door, the bang of Reggie’s boots sounded on the roof of the back porch. “Goddamn it.”

  Shotgun in hand, he flew around the house, Marcus and Herbie behind. In the back, Reggie’s flashlight beam danced in the darkness as Reggie ran full speed, almost skipping, and disappeared into the garden.

  “What the hell?” Kyle paused, then called in a heavy whisper, “Son-of-a-bitch. Let’s go. Reggie?” He took off running in pursuit.

  Reggie flooded the garden with her police flashlight, sweeping from left to right. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew where it was. Reggie found herself thinking it was some sort of special secret weapon to defeat Devante. She heard her name and spun around, saying, “I’m not stepping on any plants. Promise.” She had been saying this to her father since she was six years old.

  “Reg,” Kyle puffed, catching his breath. “What in God’s name is going on?”

  “Exactly. It’s here.”

  “What’s here?” Kyle asked.

  “I don’t know.” Reggie took off running again.

  Kyle tossed his hands up and he, Marcus and Herbie continued their pursuit. Reggie shrieked again, leading them her way.

  “Oh, wow.” Reggie spoke like an excited child. “Oh, Boy. Oh... wow.”

  Kyle, Marcus and Herbie exchanged confused looks, and then moved closer to the spot where Reggie was kneeling down.

  “Reg?”

  “Daddy.” Reggie looked over her shoulder with an expression of awe. “A man, God sent us a man.”

  “He what?” Kyle snapped.

  Reggie moved out of the way to expose what she had found. She knew something was there, but she never expected it to be a man. He lay on his side, naked, curled up tightly in a fetal position, his eyes tightly closed, his arms folded to his chest, his hands tucked in. His knees were pulled all the way up to his chin, his back arched, and his feet crossed at the ankles behind him. His wet hair was indeterminate in color and, and reached down to his shoulders. He was motionless and covered in a slimy substance, thick and colorless, but cloudy.

  “See,” Reggie said. “Oh, Daddy, Marcus, he’s our help. God sent help. Look. I prayed. I just finished praying and the second I did... Wham! He fell from the sky.”

  “He fell all right.” Kyle took a closer look. “But not from any sky. From Harland’s Jell-O, that Diving for Dollars thing he has. Marcus, you’re a doctor. Is he alive?”

  Marcus knelt down beside him. “Excuse me.” He blinked slowly and reached his hand for the man’s neck. His fingers slipped through the thick substance. “He has a strong pulse.” Marcus moved his hand to the man’s eyelids and lifted one. The eyeball rolled.

  “Hammered,” Kyle commented.

  “He’s definitely unresponsive.” After clearing away some of the liquid, Marcus examined the man’s back. “Look at these scars.” He indicated two four-inch thickenings just below his shoulder blades. “Odd.”

  Standing up, Marcus brought his fingers close to his own face, rolling the ooze between his fingertips and thumb, sniffing.

  “What flavor?” Kyle asked.

  Marcus tilted his head. “Can’t tell. But this man needs to get inside.”

  Kyle grunted, then nodded his head. “Damn it. All right. Reg, go get a blanket from the pickup.”

  “No.” Reggie stayed close to the man. “I’m not leaving my gift.”

  “He’s not your ‘gift,’ Reg. He’s a drunk. Christ, all right, I’ll go get the blanket.” Kyle, in disgust, moved from the garden.

  Marcus looked at Herbie. “Can I have your cigarettes?”

  With a puzzled expression, Herbie reached into his tee-shirt pocket and handed him his pack.

  Marcus took the cellophane and handed the pack back. He bent down again to the ground and openi
ng the cellophane wide, using his fingers to slide a sample of the substance into the plastic.

  “It’s not Jell-O, is it?” Reggie smiled at Marcus. “You’re going to test it, aren’t you?”

  “Hopefully. If Herbie’ll sneak me into town. Traynor’s Lab, to grab a microscope. Herbie?” Marcus turned to him. “Can we do that?”

  “Sure.” Herbie shrugged.

  Marcus lifted the cellophane and looked at it closely.

  “Got one.” Kyle returned with the blanket. He bent down to the man. “Reg, turn your head.” With a hand on the man’s legs, Kyle tried to unroll him. “He’s stuck.”

  Marcus tried to help, but the position would not change.

  “His muscles are locked up,” Marcus said.

  “He’s not sleeping in my house with this shit all over him. We’ll hose him down first.”

  “Dad!” Reggie snapped. “You cannot hose down a gift from God like some kind of animal.”

  “Reggie. He is not a gift from God.”

  “He is, too. I saw him fall from the sky.”

  “You saw this man fall from the sky? This man?”

  “Not him exactly, but something.” Reggie scratched her head. “And he is here. So... so there. And you can’t hose him down. I’ll go run a bath.” She stood up and took off running.

  Kyle shook his head and covered the man with the blanket. “Maybe once we toss him in the tub he’ll straighten out. He looks pretty big.”

  “Yeah, six feet or so.” Marcus said.

  “Let’s lift him.” Kyle moved to the man’s feet. “Herbie, grab the shoulders. Marcus, you support the back.”

  Herbie moved to the man’s head. “How in the heck did he get on your property?”

  Kyle looked at Marcus and snickered as the three men lifted the still curled man. “He fell from the sky.” Shaking his head in disbelief, Kyle led the way back to the house.

  Reggie stood outside the bathroom, biting her nails. She didn’t like eavesdropping, but it seemed right for the moment. She heard her father and Marcus bathing the man and watched impatiently as they carried him to the bedroom. Now she wanted to see him. Uncurled, of course.