The Curse: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (After the End Trilogy Book 1)

by Mark Gillespie

  “For me it’s a symbol,” Shay said, looking up towards the roof with a proud eye. “This place, it changes with the times – this was actually the third station to occupy the site here. Back in the early twentieth century this building embodied the ascent of New York. It expanded in harmony with the city’s growth, a constant symbol of change, going back to when they razed the old building to construct a new station, replacing the steam locomotives with electric trains.”

  “You know your history,” the man said. “Well done.”

  “I’m a proud New Yorker,” Shay said. “Born and bred. And I’m sure this building survived for a reason. It represented regrowth in the past and that’s what we’re all about now. What this is about. The Complex. The Project. That’s why we sent out the ambassadors and it’s why you’re here today. This building will oversee the preservation of the human race. And not a moment too soon – we’re running out of time.”

  “Yeah,” the grinning man said.

  “Let me show you inside,” Shay said.

  As they walked towards the door, Shay pointed at a row of long, rectangular flowerbeds outside the building’s exterior. Short stretches of awning leaned over the flowerbeds, offering at least some shelter from the strong winds that often accompanied the rain.

  “We call them the gardens,” she said, lowering the umbrella and closing it before walking inside. “But really it’s just a small collection of plant foods that we grow – they’re our lifeline. We keep mostly, low-maintenance crops – potatoes, beetroot, carrots, kale, onions – and some others. A quick weed, water and little fuss.”

  She pointed a finger towards the sky.

  “The water comes easy – that’s one good thing about all the rain. It’s low-input, high-output in terms of the food we grow here, and that’s good because we have over a hundred and fifty mouths to feed. We have some wonderful gardeners and chefs here at the Complex. And you help out too sometimes, don’t you Eda?”

  Eda was still lagging a few paces behind.

  “A little gardening sometimes,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing much.”

  “How do you store the water?” the grinning man asked.

  “We have large barrels to collect the rainwater,” Shay said. “There’s plenty of water kept in storage. It’s a crude system overall but it works extremely well. It’s amazing how much water we can accumulate from just one large rainfall. There’s no excuse for dying of thirst anymore.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder at Eda.

  “That your kid?” he asked Shay.

  “Eda?” Shay said. “No. Eda never knew her mother, not really. She was orphaned at a very young age during the war.”

  “What is she?” the man said. “Thirty? Thirty-five? I haven’t seen anyone that young in a long time.”

  Shay nodded. “Considering how things are, I’d wager she’s one of the youngest people left in the country. Most of us in the Complex are in our fifties, sixties or older.”

  “Yeah I noticed,” the man said. “And what about Helen?”

  “She’s roughly around Eda’s age,” Shay said.

  “Thank Christ for that,” the grinning man said.

  As they walked further into Grand Central, he whistled his appreciation.

  “This place is gorgeous,” he said.

  “Yes it is,” Shay said.

  The main concourse in Grand Central was almost three hundred feet in length. A massive celestial ceiling, twelve stories high, adorned the concourse, painted with two and a half thousand stars and zodiac constellations. The information booth and the ticket vending machines gave the impression that the station was still operational. Eda’s favorite feature however, was the four clock faces located on top of the information booth, all made from opal.

  “So this is where you girls hang out?” the grinning man said.

  “This is where we gather,” Shay said. “This is where we grow, think and plan for the future of our species. The Project – the dream of reconstruction was first born here.”

  The man made a loud snorting noise.

  “You’re sure as hell clinging on to the past,” he said, shaking his head. “Who says we even deserve a second chance? After everything that happened.”

  “We’re clinging onto life,” Shay said. “And it’s not the past we’re interested in, it’s the future.” She pointed to a variety of large and small pot plants on the outskirts of the concourse. “Life goes on, inside and outside this building. It will continue to do so with the right amount of love and care. Life surrounds us. It’s stubborn and has an inherent will to survive, and yet the one form of life that we seek to prolong most of all eludes us.”

  “Guess that’s why I’m here,” the man said. “Right? You need somebody to water that special plant you’re keeping in the Waldorf.”

  There was a grim look on Shay’s face. Her skin looked pallid and thin.

  “If only it were so simple,” she said in a quiet voice.

  The grinning man frowned. Eda imagined that he’d been quite a physical specimen many years ago. He was still a force now but age, along with life’s wear and tear, had manifested on his giant body in the form of gray hair, wrinkles and a slightly protruding gut.

  “It’s simple enough,” he said to Shay. “I move into the Waldorf and put a baby inside your queen. Look, I might be sixty-something years old but I’m probably the most fertile man you ever saw in your life. I had four young boys before the war and…”

  He stopped all of sudden. It was as if he was unable or unwilling to continue down that line of thought.

  “Never mind,” he said.

  “You’re very confident,” Shay said. “I can see that. But so were all the other men who came through here before you. Just like you, they said all the right things before they went to see Helen. Tell me something if you please. Why don’t you fear the curse?”

  “Because I don’t believe in the curse,” the grinning man said. “Because the curse is a bunch of made-up, voodoo bullshit.”

  Shay smiled. “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Well your ambassador – Deirdre or whatever her name was again – sure had a lot to say about it. That just made me all the more curious but whatever this curse is lady, it’s got nothing to do with me. I work just fine in the downstairs department I’ll have you know.”

  “They all say that,” Shay said. “And yet it’s always the same excruciating disappointment at the end. Sometimes I ask myself, why would anyone go through that by choice? Do they ignore the curse because they want to go out in a blaze of glory by sleeping with the most beautiful woman in the world? Others truly believe they’re immune. They believe that they’re the chosen one, the father of the future. Tell me, is that what you think? Because if so, I hope you’re right.”

  “I can’t speak for other men,” the grinning man said. “But I’m operating just fine under the bonnet. It’s like I told you, I don’t believe in any of this natural hoodoo. How does a curse just magically appear out of nowhere?”

  “You underestimate the wrath of Mother Nature,” Shay said. “I would advise you strongly against doing that. She despises us.”

  “I think old Mother Hubbard is starting to forgive us,” the grinning man said with a laugh. “Listen lady, the panic’s over. I’m the special one you’ve been looking for. All praise goes to the lovely Deirdre or Denise or whatever she’s called for finding me. Now, just show me where the most beautiful woman in the world is and I’ll go take care of the rest.”

  Shay smiled and took a backwards step.

  “Are you an arrogant man mister?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Just speaking the truth.”

  “Tell me something then,” Shay said. “Truthfully. Did you fight in the war?”

  “Sure did,” the man said.

  “Some people say that it’s because of the chemicals in the air,” Shay said. “That it’s not a natural curse but a manmade one. That wouldn’t surprise me eith
er.”

  The grinning man sighed. He was starting to look bored with the conversation.

  “Hey kid,” he said, looking at Eda. “Tell me something and I want you to be super honest with me. Is this Helen of Troy as beautiful as your ambassador said she was?”

  Eda frowned and shook her head.

  “I’ve never seen her.”

  The grinning man squinted his eyes. “What?”

  It was Shay who answered.

  “I mentioned earlier that Helen is kept apart from the others,” she said.

  “Why?” the grinning man asked.

  “We can’t risk her contracting an illness of any kind – she’s too important around here. She doesn’t garden, she doesn’t cook, she doesn’t do any of the everyday things that the rest of the women do – her sole job is to conceive a child. Her entire existence revolves around that. Helen is too precious – she’s protected night and day, fed well and exercised. I’d wrap her up in a giant cotton ball day and night if it meant keeping her from harm.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” the grinning man said. “Speaking of which, shall we…?”

  “Would you like some refreshment first?” Shay asked. “Water? Some food? You’ve come a long way for this – I feel it’s only right that we should take care of you, feed and water you, before you go to Helen.”

  “I’m not hungry,” the man said with a shake of the head. “Not thirsty either. What I am, is ready…”

  “You’re sure?” Shay asked.

  “Right now,” he said.

  They stopped at the door while Shay opened up the umbrella again. It was still raining heavily outside and the weather showed little signs of letting up anytime soon. Most of the women who’d lined the streets earlier to greet the visitor were now gone or moving back towards shelter.

  “I wish you good luck,” Shay said, looking up at the grinning man with a tight-lipped smile.

  Eda thought she saw a hint of sorrow in the older woman’s eyes.

  2

  Eda clamped her hands over her ears and closed her eyes tight. At the same time, she retreated backwards down the corridor, moving away from the Presidential Suite like it was spewing out a storm of toxic fumes that were chasing after her at high speed.

  But it didn’t matter how fast her legs pedaled in reverse or how much distance she put between herself and the hotel room.

  The screaming didn’t go away.

  Eda’s body felt icy cold from head to toe. She shook her head back and forth, trying to rattle the noise out of her system. But the scream was so intense, so overwhelming, that it was like the floor and all the walls around her were trembling.

  She opened her eyes and looked once more at the white double doors that led into the Presidential Suite. It sounded like a large animal was being tortured somewhere behind those doors.

  He was still screaming. Wouldn’t he just die for Christ’s sake?

  Eda was standing in the hallway on the thirty-fifth floor of the Waldorf Astoria. She was furious at herself for hanging around that place long after she’d been needed. Why hadn’t she just gone home after watching Shay and the grinning man walk into Helen’s suite? She’d carried his bag upstairs and that was it – job done. Go home Eda, that’s what Shay had said to her. And as usual, Shay had been right. Eda should have been back in her own hotel now, far away from…this.

  Instead she’d insisted on lurking around the corridor like a ghost.

  There had been no exaggeration, not even in the most dramatic and frightening accounts of the power of the curse. Eda had heard some terrible sounds in her life. She’d lived through the wild years, the violent slow decline that had plagued the country after the war and yet she’d never heard anyone scream like that before.

  The scream cut off suddenly.

  There was a series of loud thudding noises that sounded like someone banging furniture against the walls. Eda’s heart was racing. She was still backing away, still staring at the double doors with terror-filled eyes.

  “No,” Eda said, shaking her head. “No way.”

  She turned around and ran as fast as she could. She tore down the empty corridor towards the stairs. Barging shoulder-first through the double doors, Eda rushed into a reckless descent, still running as fast as she could. It was a long way down to the first floor – staircases in luxury hotels had been little more than emergency exits before the war. Back then people took elevators between floors, but the elevators in the Waldorf and everywhere else for that matter had long ceased working. Even if they had worked though, Eda had no interest in being confined in a little compartment and leaving herself at the mercy of a bunch of steel cables.

  Her feet thudded off the stairs in a loud tap-tapping noise. She gasped for breath, ignoring the desperate voice in her head that told her to slow down or risk falling headfirst and breaking something.

  The adrenaline pumped through Eda’s body, fueling her frantic charge downstairs.

  She occupied her mind during the descent with one question:

  Why the hell did Helen and her people have to live all the way up on the thirty-fifth floor? There were forty-something floors located inside the Waldorf Astoria. What was wrong with the second or third floor for God’s sake? But Eda already knew the answer. She wasn’t asking the question because she didn’t know. For the men who traveled far and wide to visit Helen of Troy, the long walk upstairs was a final ceremony of anticipation. It made them feel like they were walking towards a queen, which only enhanced the excitement of the moment.

  And if Helen was a queen, then wasn’t it true that all these men were kings? How good must that have felt after a life of nothing in the American wasteland?

  Eda had seen the rapture on the grinning man’s face as he’d ascended the stairs to the thirty-fifth floor.

  The poor bastard.

  Eda charged downstairs, her feet barely glancing off each of the many steps. Eventually she reached the lobby and with her lungs grasping for oxygen, she staggered to a clumsy stop.

  Her heart was about to explode. Both her legs were completely numb.

  She fell into one of the many chairs that were scattered around the lobby. Her still trembling fingers dug deep into the cushioned armrests in an effort to regain control of a world that was spinning wildly around her.

  The lobby appeared to be deserted. Usually there were guards posted on the first floor of the hotel. They’d been there earlier when she’d walked in with Shay and the grinning man but for the moment at least, the lobby was empty.

  Eda looked around as she caught her breath. The stylish, wood-paneled lobby was huge. There were black marble pillars scattered throughout and she imagined that this was like sitting in a European royal palace of old – the sort of place she’d read about in history books and that although very much real a long time ago, might as well have been something out of a dream.

  Directly in front of Eda, there was a nine-foot tall bronze and mahogany clock tower with a gilded Statue of Liberty on top.

  “I know,” Eda said, looking at Lady Liberty. “It was stupid of me to stick around. Well don’t worry, as soon as I catch my breath I’m…”

  Footsteps.

  Eda leapt back to her feet. She wasn’t supposed to be there in the hotel at this time and right now she didn’t want anybody to see her, not the way she was feeling. Not the guards and definitely not Shay.

  But it was too late. Somebody paced into the main lobby.

  Eda heard the sound of someone breathing hard, like they’d just been running at breakneck speed. She took a deep breath, then spun around and looked over towards the staircase.

  It was Linda.

  Linda McAvoy was Helen’s live-in chef. Eda didn’t know her that well as the majority of Helen’s assistants, Linda included, spent most of their time in the Waldorf, keeping their distance from the rest of the women in the Complex. Linda was approximately in her late sixties and she was dressed in a dark blue rain cloak that trailed almost down to her
feet. Her long silver hair was ruffled, the bangs thick with sweat.

  Eda guessed that despite her age, Linda had taken the stairs in a hurry too. It was of some strange comfort to Eda that she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to handle it up there. But there was one big difference – Linda had been inside the room when it happened. She’d seen everything and not for the first time.

  Linda stopped and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from within her back pocket. Still breathing hard, she slid the cigarette in between her lips and struck a match. As she brought the lit match to her mouth, Eda noticed that the older woman’s hands were shaking badly. It looked like she was ill, rather than scared.

  Linda took a long, impatient drag on the cigarette. Then she started to walk forward, like she was on her way to the front door to finish her smoke outside. But as she started walking, she noticed Eda standing by the clock. Linda stopped. There was a puzzled look on her tanned face.

  “Eda?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  Eda felt an onslaught of all the wrong words flood her mind. Instead of blurting something stupid out, she left an uncomfortable silence in the air and gathered her thoughts slowly.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, the grinning man was still screaming.

  “I carried his bag over from the station earlier,” she said, “After that, I came back and sat down for a while. I must have fell asleep or something, I don’t know.”

  Linda tapped gently on her heart.

  “Jesus kid,” she said. “You really gave me a fright there. Thought I’d seen a ghost or something.”

  “Sorry,” Eda said. “Is everything alright?”

  Linda hesitated. Another uncomfortable silence followed.

  “I was just going outside for a smoke,” she said, glancing towards the door. “Maybe a little fresh air. What’s it like outside? Still raining or is that a stupid question?”

  “Still raining I think,” Eda said. “Just bracing myself for the walk back to the Fitzpatrick. It’s not far but sometimes it feels like it is when the weather hits hard.”