by Lukens, Mark
Ray looked over at Kim in the bed next to him. He couldn’t really see her, but he could hear her heavy breathing.
He lay there for a while longer, unable to sleep, his mind busy with worry. In the morning, he planned on making a proper inventory of the food and supplies they had left in the house.
And then what? It was the question he’d asked himself over and over again. What was going to happen after a few days, or even if they could survive for a few weeks? The president said in his address on TV that authorities would be reaching out. But what if that wasn’t true? What if this plague and the civil unrest had gotten way beyond control? Could he and his family survive here for months? What about other people? Would they start looking for houses to rob, people to kill? To eat?
Would they need to leave?
Was that what Craig had been talking about on the cell phone when it had started breaking up?
He had to stop thinking about these things before he went crazy with worry. Earlier, after he was sure the kids had been asleep for hours, he had tried the radio again, patiently spinning the dial from station to station. He kept the volume low, just enough for him to hear it if he kept his ear by the speaker. He tried FM. Not much luck there. And then he tried AM.
“Anything?” Kim had asked.
Ray mostly heard static, some Emergency Broadcast System warnings, some taped music, that same song by R.E.M., probably some DJ’s idea of a sick joke before he abandoned the radio station, but not much else. So much of it was either static or dead air. Obviously the radio stations had been shut down just like the cable networks and the internet. No information anywhere. He had heard one amateur ham radio operator that fizzled in and out, but they were repeating what Ray already knew. Just another paranoid person like Doug, a person already tucked away somewhere in his bunker up in the mountains, someone who had prepared for this.
“What’s going to happen?” Kim had asked him in the darkness after he’d shut the radio off to conserve the batteries.
She’d asked the question several times throughout the night. And he’d always given her the same answer: “I don’t know.”
Ray thought of his conversation with Craig again. Why had Craig told them to go to his house? He had said something about answers in between the bursts of static. And something about the roses. And Avalon. What did Avalon mean? And Craig had said he had left something there for him. What could Craig have left for him? Something to do with roses and Avalon? Ray knew that Craig’s clearance level was much higher than his, and maybe Craig knew a lot of the people down at the CDC headquarters in Atlanta. Did Craig know what was really going on? Could there really be answers at his house?
What was Avalon? He had looked the word up in the dictionary earlier before bringing the supplies up to their bedroom—of course he had to find the dictionary on the bookshelf because he couldn’t just look it up on his phone or laptop like he usually did. And basically the definition of Avalon was an island paradise in the King Arthur legends, a place where King Arthur and others were taken to after they died.
So what did Avalon have to do with the collapse of society? Or these so-called rippers killing and eating people? Maybe the word had something to do with the plague, this airborne virus that might have gotten loose or a contagion that America had been attacked with. The government and military (and the CDC had connections with both of them) loved those vague kind of code words for projects and missions, code words that often had hidden meanings.
Should they go to Craig’s house? Should they try to find the answers that he had promised were there? Look for whatever Craig had left for him? Would Craig and his family be there waiting for them? Was it safe to travel? It had to be, or Craig would have told him to stay put.
No, they needed to wait a little while first. They needed to get some more information, see if the authorities were really going to reach out to them, find out if there was some kind of airborne disease out there. If there was an airborne virus, then it wasn’t a really good idea to be driving around right now.
Thinking of Craig made Ray think of Doug and the folded-up piece of paper he had in his wallet with Doug’s bugout address and the crude map on it—his bunker in the woods. He’d forgotten to tell Kim about Doug’s offer to stay with him, but Ray was in no real hurry to pack up the kids and drive to West Virginia; yet he wasn’t completely abandoning the idea, either. There was just too much he didn’t know, and being in the dark (both physically and metaphorically) was driving him crazy.
At least he and Kim hadn’t been arguing tonight. Kim had tried to talk a few times earlier as they lay in bed, but Ray didn’t want to discuss things right now. Maybe she was still worried that he would leave, but he wasn’t going to abandon his children in a time like this; she should know that. They had too many other pressing issues to worry about rather than their marital problems.
Ray slipped out of bed and then stood beside it, listening to Kim breathe heavily, making sure he hadn’t awakened her.
She was still asleep.
He went over to the window that looked out onto the side yard and sat down in front of it. He could see part of the street from here. Their side yard opened up to an empty lot that had never sold.
It was dark, but there was a nearly-full moon which provided some light to see by. It seemed like his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness. He watched the street and the other houses. He didn’t see anyone moving around out there, only a small light on in one other house. He cracked the window open just a bit, sliding it up a few inches. The chilly air drifted in and it felt refreshing.
In the distance there were sounds of sirens and tiny pops of gunshots. He’d heard what sounded like a far-off explosion earlier, and at least three times they’d heard helicopters roaring over their neighborhood. It was noisy out there even though it was almost morning, even though all of the electricity was off.
The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten up—turning from black to dark blue. It was close to dawn.
He was lost in his thoughts again for a while, lost in his worries, doing his best to plan for different scenarios. He’d been close to drifting off as he leaned there against the window, but then he heard a noise outside. He looked out the window and saw someone hurrying down their street, a man bundled up in a coat—he was practically running. He hurried up the walkway to the house directly beyond the empty lot—Helen’s house.
A faint light flickered in the downstairs windows of Helen’s house. Candlelight.
The man stood on Helen’s front porch, waiting there for a moment. And then the door opened and he rushed inside.
Ray stared at Helen’s house for a long moment, watching the windows like he might be able to see movement inside the house, like he might be able to tell what they were doing in there.
The sky had brightened up quite a bit over these last ten minutes while he had watched Helen’s house. And now two people, a man and a woman, walked side-by-side down the street to Helen’s house. They weren’t running, but they were walking fast. Like the man before them, they marched right up to Helen’s porch, right to her front door. Moments later, they were let inside.
Something was going on over there. These people were gathering for some reason, some kind of meeting.
Maybe they knew something, maybe they had some ideas about what was going on.
Ray jumped to his feet and pulled on the pair of pants and shirt that he had laid over the dresser. He still had his socks on and he stuffed his feet down into a pair of sneakers. He buttoned up his shirt and grabbed his suitcoat.
A rustling sounded from the bedcovers as Kim sat up. The sky had gotten light enough that he could barely make out her movements in the darkness.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, automatically mindful of the kids. “What are you doing?”
He hurried over to the bed. “I’m going over to Helen’s house for a few minutes.”
Kim shook her head like she was still struggling to wake up, like she wa
s trying to piece together what Helen’s house had to do with anything.
“There are a few people going over there,” he explained in a whisper. “Our neighbors. I think they’re having some kind of meeting.”
Kim just stared at Ray.
“I want to see what’s going on. Maybe one of them knows what’s going on.”
“But . . .” She sounded suddenly worried.
“It’s okay,” he told her, still whispering. “I won’t be long. Just keep the bedroom door locked. I’ll knock three times, then twice. That will be our code, okay?
“Ray, I don’t know . . .”
“Please, Kim. I have to do this. I need to do something. I can’t just sit here. Just sit tight. Okay?”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue; he was across the room in a flash, already moving the dresser out of the way so he could leave.
CHAPTER 10
Ray walked down the street towards Helen’s house. He walked quickly like the others he’d seen. He glanced around at the houses as he walked. It was already pretty light out here, and he wished he had come out here about ten or fifteen minutes ago when it was darker. He felt exposed, like many pairs of eyes were watching him. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of his neighbors were watching him just like he had watched the people hurrying to Helen’s house. Maybe those people watching him would decide to come to Helen’s house too, or maybe they would just stay inside and keep watching.
The cold air bit into his skin. He buttoned up his suitcoat against the chilly breeze. He really should have grabbed another coat from the front closet, but he had just rushed out the “back door” of their house.
He had his car keys in his pants pocket, locking the kitchen door when he’d left. He had considered taking some kind of weapon with him, maybe a small kitchen knife or something, but he had decided against it. Still, he couldn’t help feeling just a little vulnerable out here right now. The stories of these “rippers,” as some of the news reports had called them, a name that had circulated quickly before the electricity, cable, and internet were all turned off, were flashing through his mind. Could there be rippers out here? Rippers in his own neighborhood? Had the disease reached their neighborhood? A twinge of fear ran through him, and he wondered if he should be out here without some kind of protection; at least a pair of rubber gloves and a cloth tied around his face. But how would that look if the authorities happened to drive by, a black man out on the street with a mask and gloves. It was sad that he had to worry about something like that even as society was in the process of breaking down, but the thought had entered his mind.
Besides, the other people he’d seen hurrying to Helen’s house hadn’t been wearing cloths tied around their faces. They hadn’t been wearing dust masks, or any kind of gas masks at all. Maybe they knew something.
God, he hoped so.
The world around him felt surreal, that now-familiar feeling that kept coming back to him, like this was all some kind of dream (or more accurately a nightmare) that he couldn’t wake up from.
Moments later he walked up the steps to Helen’s front porch. He knocked on her front door, three loud knocks. He glanced around at the empty street. There were still the faint sounds of sirens somewhere in the distance, airplanes and helicopters flying around over the city across the river, gunshots and booms, and other sounds of violence.
The front door opened. A man Ray had seen in the neighborhood stood in the doorway, but he didn’t know the man’s name. The man had a scowl on his face like Ray had interrupted a private party.
And maybe this was some kind of private party.
“Yes?” the man asked.
Ray was at a loss for words. He had irrationally expected to be invited inside like the others had been, like his residence in this neighborhood entitled his attendance here to whatever this was. But what could he say? I saw some neighbors go inside, and I want to know what’s going on.
A second later Helen was at the door. The man moved out of the way and she stood in the doorway with a smile. It wasn’t a warm smile, almost an obligatory smile, like a smile at a funeral, a smile of shared misery and understanding.
Ray still didn’t know what to say.
“Ray,” Helen said, and the warmth in her voice set Ray at ease a little.
“I . . . I saw . . . there were some people coming to your house.”
Helen stopped his stumbling words with a firm nod. Then she opened her door wider, inviting him in. “Ray, welcome. Come on inside.”
Ray entered and then Helen closed and locked the front door.
Helen was an older woman, maybe in her late fifties, but she was still slim and attractive. Ray had seen her jogging around the neighborhood streets, keeping to her workout religiously. She lived alone. Divorced? Widowed? Ray didn’t know. He really didn’t know much about Helen, or much about any of his neighbors. He and Kim had bought this house a few years ago, and in that time he had talked to some of his neighbors from time to time, exchanging a few pleasantries, but that was as far as it usually went. Ray was a private person, but now he wished he would have gotten to know his closest neighbors a little better.
“What’s going on?” Ray asked, hoping his question didn’t sound accusatory.
If it did, Helen didn’t show it. “We’re having a neighborhood meeting. Everyone’s invited.” She shot the man who had opened the front door a disapproving glance.
I didn’t receive an invitation, Ray almost said, but bit down on the words.
“This is Tim Sherman,” Helen said, introducing the rude man who had opened the door for Ray.
Ray offered a hand even though he didn’t really want to. “Ray Daniels,” he said.
Tim shook Ray’s hand, a quick and weak shake. Then he drew his hand back quickly like he didn’t really like touching Ray’s skin. Ray was used to that kind of reaction from some people. Tim was as tall as Ray, but his arms and legs were much thinner, even though he had a potbelly pushing his shirt out. His dark hair was receding and he had the pallid flesh of an unhealthy person. His eyes were small and coal-black. Beady eyes. Suspicious eyes.
“Where’s Kim?” Helen asked.
Ray was a little shocked that Helen knew Kim’s name. Who knew? Maybe Kim and Helen talked while Ray was at work. “Uh . . . she’s back at the house with the kids.”
“Are they okay?” There was real concern on Helen’s face and in her voice.
“Yeah. They’re fine.”
Helen nodded. “Good. Come on into the living room. We’re about to get started.”
That surreal feeling was back again, making Ray’s head feel light, like he was struggling to swim through the thickness of a dream. He followed Helen, and Tim followed him, walking right behind him as they entered the family room off of the formal living room. There were seven other people seated on couches, a love seat, two recliners, and an assortment of dining room chairs; all of the furniture made a big circle in the room. It was still murky in Helen’s house, even though the world outside was lightening up quickly. A few battery-powered lamps were lit and they gave off a little bit of light.
Ray recognized most of the people in the room; he’d seen them out on their front porches, mowing their lawns, tending to their gardens. He had waved at them as he drove past or when he jogged by. But he had never stopped to talk to many of them. He hadn’t gotten to know hardly any of them. They all seemed much more familiar with each other than he was with any of them, and it made him feel a little awkward as he stood there.
Most of the people had some kind of drinks in their hands, coffee cups and bottles of water or soda.
“Everybody, this is Ray Daniels from next door,” Helen said.
Ray nodded at everyone.
Helen began pointing out the others, introducing them. “That’s Mr. and Mrs. Penetti,” she said, pointing at an older, overweight couple—the same couple that Ray had seen a little while ago from his bedroom window.
“Ned and Dee,” Mr. Penetti said with a bi
g smile.
“That’s Carrie Schneider.” Helen pointed to a woman in her forties who looked like a librarian with her conservative haircut and oversized glasses. She nodded and looked scared to death.
“James Tober,” Helen said, pointing at a stick-thin man with slicked-back hair who stared at Ray with the same degree of suspiciousness that Tim had shown.
“And those two are Jack and Angie.” Helen pointed out an elderly couple who sat huddled together on the couch.
The last one Helen introduced was Donny, a stocky man who sat in a dining room chair closest to the archway that led back to the living room. He wore work jeans, a camouflage jacket, a beat-up baseball cap, and work boots. He had a hard look about him, and he just nodded at Ray.
“And you’ve already met Tim.”
“Yes,” Ray said as he took the last available dining room chair—he’d already received the warm reception from Tim.
“We’re just getting together, trying to exchange any information we have with each other,” Helen explained, bringing Ray up to speed.
That was fine with Ray, it was exactly what he’d hoped was going on.
James Tober stared at Ray. “Hey, don’t you work for the government?”
Ray nodded, and then glanced at the others. He could feel the weight of all of their stares, the weight of their suspicion. He was suddenly the enemy in this room, and he felt the same way that he’d felt at the bank yesterday morning when the three young men had looked his way, staring at him like he was the cause of all of this.
“Yes,” Ray answered, and then cleared his throat a little. “I work for the government. I mean, I did. I got laid off yesterday. Our whole department got shut down.”
“Why?” James asked.
“They didn’t say. We got to work yesterday morning and none of our keycards worked. My supervisor called me and told me that we’d all been shut down.” It was a small lie, but he didn’t feel like going into a long explanation about something he didn’t really have the answers to.
“He didn’t say why your department was shut down?” James pressed, not hiding his suspicion.
