Apokalypsis Book One

by Kate Morris

  “I’m sorry, son,” the doctor said to Roman as he took his fingers away from his father’s wrist. He wrote down the time on a chart as he looked at his watch.

  “Help him,” Roman ordered.

  “He’s gone, young man,” the nurse said and laid her hand on his arm. “He just lost too much blood.”

  Roman stood there shaking angrily, too shocked to move. Jane answered questions the nurse was asking him. Roman was too numb to function.

  “Roman,” she said as if she’d said it a few times.

  The doctor was pulling a sheet over his father’s body and placing a piece of paper on his chest, securing it to the sheet with a safety pin. This didn’t seem like standard protocol.

  “What’s going on?” he asked with a bit of outrage.

  “They need to take his body, Roman,” Jane stated. “The hospital is too full. He needs to be moved now.”

  “Where?”

  “Pull your mask back up,” Jane told him and tugged it up for him when he paused. “Let’s go, Roman.”

  The nurse told them they’d have papers for him to sign at the desk and left with the doctor.

  “He’s…”

  Jane said, “He’s gone. We have to get out of here. The nurse said to leave as soon as possible. They are having security issues. People are coming in looking for drugs.”

  “But my dad,” he said.

  “Roman, they said the only thing they can do is cremate him. No funeral homes are accepting any more bodies right now.”

  “What?” he whispered brokenly, blinking to clear his head. It didn’t work.

  “Roman, come on. Let’s get out of here,” she said and began pocketing stuff from the shelves and cupboards and even took the vial of whatever it was the nurse brought in and placed on the counter.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking stuff. We might need this,” she said and jammed her pockets full. She even shoved some into his pockets as if it weren’t a big deal to loot from the hospital. “Let’s go. We need to get out of here now.”

  Roman blinked hard a few more times and finally nodded. “Right. Let’s go. Stay close.”

  She led the way, sifting through the crowd like a little mouse, flitting lightly and weaving around. She had perfected this sort of movement in high school. Roman stayed close to her and kept one hand on the gun in his waistband and gripped hers with his other. Jane squeaked out a loud chirp at the sound of gunshots somewhere in the ER. Then he took the lead and practically dragged her behind him as they ran.

  He made it to the truck with her as two men were trying to break into it.

  “Hey!” he shouted with no patience. “Get the fuck away from that!”

  He pulled the pistol, and the two men took off at a sprint.

  “Roman, our stuff’s all gone,” she exclaimed as he opened the door for her and rushed her into the center of the front seat.

  “Who cares? Get your seatbelt on.”

  Jane did as he said as he locked the truck and started it at the same time. Then he kept one hand on the wheel and held onto the pistol, as well. He disobeyed all traffic laws, as everyone else seemed to be doing, and flew out of the city toward their suburban community. The traffic let up as they went further out, but it did not stop emergency responder vehicles from flying past them and running off the road in their haste to get where they were headed. Roman kept going all the way to her grandmother’s house. He put it in park and stared at his bloody, shaking hands.

  “Roman, I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Jane turned and got on her knees on the seat facing him. Then she wrapped his upper torso in a tight hug. He couldn’t let go of the steering wheel, though.

  “I need to get Connor,” he said softly, unable to form full thoughts and expression.

  Her grandmother came out of the house, luckily without his little brother, and walked over to the truck. He forced himself to open the door and get out.

  “Oh, dear God,” Peaches said, seeing their appearance and the state of her truck’s bed. They both wore his father’s blood, Jane even moreso than he since she’d rode in the bed of the truck with him and tried to stop the bleeding on the way to the hospital. He only now noticed that she was wearing a sweater. She must’ve used her jacket to try and stop the bleeding.

  “Roman’s father was shot, Nana,” Jane said.

  “Where…”

  “He’s dead,” Roman said, the words sounding strange coming out of his mouth. He remembered he hadn’t even signed those papers the nurse wanted him to. He didn’t know if he should go back or not. Did it even matter now? Did anything? His dad was dead.

  “It was chaos,” Jane explained. “We picked up a load at the warehouse. His father went in to get another but was shot.”

  “He saved my life,” Roman told them. “He shot one of the infected and killed him. That man was going to kill me.”

  “He was a good man, Roman,” Peaches said to him and placed her hand on his right shoulder and gave it a hard squeeze before releasing him. “You keep that with you, young man. Your father was a good man and was trying to do what’s right.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Roman said. Then he remembered and whispered, “Connor.”

  “Let me take your brother out for a walk while you two get cleaned up.”

  “Thanks, Nana,” Jane said and took his hand.

  “My mom,” he said, remembering that she wasn’t home. He would have to drive to the airport tonight in Cleveland to pick her up. She’d be expecting his father.

  “Go in now,” Peaches inclined. “One step at a time, Roman.”

  He sniffed hard and went with Jane to the door. They waited for Peaches to take his brother through the front door and out back to the orchard. Then they went inside. She quietly led him upstairs without speaking and went to their bathroom. Roman followed in a state of numbness, not comprehending how his feet were functioning and moving forward.

  He’d never been to the second floor in her house. There were three door openings other than the bathroom, which led him to believe they were the bedrooms. The bathroom wasn’t big, either, not for a family. The sink was a wide, yellow porcelain attached to a cupboard with a speckled Formica countertop. The toilet and shower were also the same shade of yellow, as well as the tile around it. A mirror hung above the sink, and he refused to look at himself for fear of what he might see in his eyes.

  Jane removed her sweater, leaving just a t-shirt with the name of some rock band he’d never heard of. Roman followed suit and stripped down to just the muscle shirt he had on under his hooded sweatshirt.

  “Nana Peaches will get all the blood out. Don’t worry. She’s good at stuff like that,” Jane chattered on nervously.

  Jane used the bar of soap from the dish and scrubbed at her hands.

  “Here, Roman,” she said because he just stood there staring down at the blood of his father on his hands. It was dark, darker than it seemed it should be. She pushed his hands gently under the warm running water and began lathering them with the soap. “Scrub, Roman. You don’t want Connor to see us like this.”

  It was enough to snap him out of his trance and begin scrubbing. He did so until not a trace was left and his skin felt raw and looked red. Hers did, too. He watched the last living evidence of his father’s existence swirl down the drain and away in pink-tinted, pooling water.

  “I’m taking off my clothes. You should, too. We need to wash them in hot water. We were at that hospital. We have to be covered in germs.”

  She handed him a hand towel to dry his hands.

  “Do you want me to go to your house and get you some clothes to wear?”

  He shook his head and said, “No, I think I want to go home. Tell him there. Not here.”

  “Are you sure?” Jane asked and laid her hand against his bicep, which felt ice cold under her warm palm.

  “Yeah,” he said and stared at her small hand.

  “I could be with you when you tell him.”


  He nodded, “Yeah, okay. That might be good. Can you come with me, come to my house?”

  She nodded and pressed her palm against his cheek.

  “Let me change first,” she left the bathroom and went across the hall.

  Roman finally looked in the mirror. His eyes looked like those monsters. They were bloodshot and dark underneath, but he knew it was not from illness. He felt fine. Actually, he felt like he just got run over by a semi-truck and then dragged by a team of horses for about twenty miles. His emotions were raw, numb. His muscles were taut and strained. He just felt so cold.

  Jane came back a minute later in a new pair of jeans, a baby blue hoodie and a different jacket that looked too big for her.

  “Come on, Roman,” she said. “We have to go. We have to get Connor and tell him.”

  Roman was glad she was taking charge. He didn’t have an ounce of strength in him. His energy was spent.

  Miss Barnes said she’d take care of their dirty clothing tonight in the sink with boiling water and that he should bring the rest back when they came. She volunteered to watch Connor while they went to pick up his mother at the airport later, too.

  They took Connor back to the house and sat him down in the living room to tell him. Jane did a lot of the talking when words failed him. His little brother flung himself into Roman’s arms, and he’d never before felt such a strong sense of responsibility for the kid before, although he’d been responsible for him for quite some time. This was different, though. He always knew his father was just a phone call away and could be home no longer than a few hours’ ride on a plane. Now Connor was his sole responsibility. He could never again call his father if Connor was sick or got hurt at school or had some sort of emergency. He had to take care of it himself.

  He let his little brother cry himself out, then he put him down for a nap. He’d mostly fallen asleep in his arms after he’d finished crying, so Roman covered him with a throw blanket and propped his head with a pillow on the sofa.

  “You should change,” Jane said.

  He nodded and went upstairs. She waited for him to return and stayed with Connor. She’d gone to the fridge, though, and had poured him a cold beverage over ice. He sat with her on the sofa in a state of shock.

  “What time do we need to pick up your mom?” she asked.

  “Eleven,” he stated. “Her flight comes in at eleven.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she offered. “Nana said she’d keep Connor.”

  “You don’t have to, Jane,” he said, letting her off the hook since his mother was so rude to her.

  “I want to,” she replied and laid her head against his shoulder and curled her legs up on the sofa beside her. Connor was dead asleep on the other one.

  Before long, Roman fell asleep. He dreamed about his dad and that he visited him as an apparition. When he woke, it was dark out, and Jane was asleep on his chest, and he was lying down on the sofa. He looked over and found his little brother still asleep, too. He slipped out from under her and went to the bathroom. Then he took the pistol from the stand where he’d left it in the living room and went to his parents’ bedroom where he knew his father kept more ammo. There was no time to mourn now. He’d have to suck it up and do it later. Now he had to keep Jane and Connor safe. He knew he had to replace those spent rounds.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  They fed Connor and put him to bed at nine so that they would have time to pick up his mother at the airport. Destiny’s mother agreed to check on him from time to time while they were gone so that Nana Peaches could stay at the farm. Roman didn’t want to take him to the airport with them, and Jane didn’t blame him. She really liked Connor and was sorry he was in pain.

  When they arrived at the airport, it was packed. There weren’t any parking places left, so Roman parked near a fence far out at the edge of the lot, and they walked. She held tight to his hand and kept her face mask pulled up. He’d given her his pocket knife to carry, and she knew he had the gun under his jacket, this time in a shoulder holster he’d gotten from his dad’s safe, which he showed her and also told her the combination to. His trust in her was staggering.

  When they got closer to the doors, she realized it was a madhouse. People were rushing everywhere, trash was all over the floors, and security guards and policemen were trying to keep it all under control and failing miserably.

  “She’s on a Delta flight,” he said. “Come on.”

  “I’ve never been in an airport before,” she confessed.

  “Really?”

  She shook her head.

  “They’re all pretty much the same,” he said. “Just stick close.”

  She assumed he didn’t mean dirty and riddled with litter. Roman led her straight to the area they needed to be and found a place against a wall that seemed safe to wait for his mother. It was also crowded, and no chairs were available.

  “Is it always so busy?”

  He shook his head, “No, sometimes at Christmas but never this bad.”

  “Why is it like this?” she asked him.

  “People are trying to get home to their families or get the hell outta Ohio, I suppose.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be better anywhere else,” Jane commented. “I’m going to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

  Roman clung on to her hand and said, “Be careful.”

  Jane nodded, and he released her. The bathrooms for women were just around the corner. It wasn’t much cleaner than the rest of the airport and was just as crowded. She waited in line behind about six women. It went pretty fast, and she was able to get a stall. When she finished, she went to the sink to wash her hands. There weren’t any paper towels, so she dried her hands on her jeans. She brushed into another woman and apologized. Then she felt a tug on her backpack and looked over her shoulder. A woman, probably in her twenties, was trying to steal her backpack.

  “Hey, stop!” she yelped.

  The girl screamed at her, “Give it here, bitch!”

  Jane swung around and shoved at her. She noticed the woman was sweating. Someone else jumped in to help Jane, and the woman turned on her, too.

  Someone in the crowd yelled, “She’s sick. Get away from her!”

  “I ain’t sick!” the thief screeched and backed up.

  “She is. She’s sick!” someone else called out behind Jane.

  She wasn’t sticking around to find out. Jane shoved her way through the crowd and got out of there. She turned to look over her shoulder and ran straight into someone outside the restroom. She startled and backed up. It was only Roman, and he grabbed her shoulders to stabilize her.

  “I was just coming in to find you,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head, a little breathless. “Long line.”

  “You sure?”

  “Someone tried to steal my bag,” she told him, and Roman hurried away with her.

  “Damn thieves,” he said. “I just saw two punks steal an old dude’s bag out here. The cops were chasing them down, but the old guy got knocked into the wall. I was trying to help him. He said he’s trying to catch a flight to Denver to go to his son’s house.”

  She nodded. “I hope he makes it.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” he said and took her to their inconspicuous spot against the wall in a darker, more private corner.

  “Her flight’s been delayed. We’re going to be here for about another hour. I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer.”

  “Must be in the air?” she questioned unsurely.

  “Yeah, but she could take the call,” he returned with a frown.

  “She’s okay. She’ll be here,” Jane said, trying to reassure him. He’d already been through so much today.

  After an hour passed, they sat on the floor. The delay board just kept updating that her flight was going to be even later. It wasn’t just her flight, though. It was all of the flights coming in and going out. The heavy flow of people didn’t let up, either. Sh
e leaned her head on Roman’s shoulder and sighed.

  “I should’ve left you at home,” he said.

  “No, I want to be here,” Jane returned, saying something he usually did.

  “I’ll take you over to the barn tomorrow morning, okay?” he offered.

  “Thanks. I feel bad I didn’t get there today to help out.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Goddard’s son took care of everything,” he assured her.

  Jane nodded and felt him kiss the top of her head and squeeze her hand. She didn’t know what else to say about his father. She felt terrible. She didn’t envy him having to tell his mother, either.

  Finally, after two more hours, her flight came in, and Roman exhaled a heavy breath as he helped Jane get to her feet.

  “Mom!” Roman called out and waved when he spotted her. “Mom! Over here!”

  He rushed to her and hugged her.

  “Roman, what on earth are you doing here? Where’s your father?”

  “Come on, Mom,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She then realized Jane was standing there, too.

  “Hello, Mrs. Lockwood,” Jane said cordially.

  His mother turned to Roman and asked, “What’s going on? Where’s your father?”

  He pulled her bag and led her away. “I’ll tell you in the car. Let’s just get out of here. This place isn’t safe.”

  “Roman, stop being so dramatic. It’s just crowded,” she said in her usual state of denial.

  Roman took Jane’s hand and rushed out into the open air of the terminal entrance. It was congested with many cars, airport transport buses, and emergency responder vehicles. Somewhere to the west of them, a person let out a primordial scream. Then other people were yelling and calling out for help, and the police officers near their cars took off on foot to pursue the situation.

  “Hurry,” Roman issued. “Hurry, Jane. Let’s get out of here.”

  His mother must’ve realized something about that scream wasn’t quite right, either, because she silently also picked up the pace. Shots being fired somewhere behind them made them all begin to jog.