18 From Breckenridge: Love On The Run (18 From Breckenrdige)

by J. P. Castle

  “All cells are down. Bastian and Mr. Seng drove back to the school for a box of food. Should be back soon,” said Troian.

  Mr. McCrady, the Biology teacher at Summit High for the last hundred years, stayed behind to keep an eye on the kids. He pressed his fist subtly against his lips in a display of slight confusion. Minutes before the cellular failure, he received a text from his coworker and friend Mr. Seng.

  Mr. McCrady couldn’t make heads or tails out of the message. All seemed quiet when we left town earlier. All is quiet here. What could prompt a text of this nature? The weather’s good, didn’t see any alerts on my unit.

  Prankster isn’t a word Mr. McCrady would use to describe Mr. Seng’s serene demeanor. Mr. Seng carried himself humbly, rarely cracked a joke, and always addressed the concerns of those around him.

  “Hey, guys, listen up. I’m gonna drive down to the camp store and fetch some firestarter, find out if their cells are down, too, or if they have information. Finish your tents, then gather some firewood. I’ll be right back,” said Mr. McCrady.

  He drove down to the camp store on the golf cart they rented to carry fishing supplies to the lake on Saturday. The store, a rustic cabin type, sat snugly nestled between some trees less than five minutes away.

  Close to the store, a strange object came into view. A drone—not one a civilian would have. Is that a gun barrel? Mr. McCrady couldn’t be sure; his aging eyes didn’t focus the way they used to. The store owner also noticed the flying object through the window.

  The buzz of the drone annoyed Charlie, the old black lab on the front porch. Only something special ever got a rise out of Charlie. He barked a few times then wearily hobbled back to his favorite stinky rug. All would remain splendid in Charlie’s world, so long as that metal bird kept its distance from his yard.

  Mr. McCrady shifted the cart into park and strolled inside. The owner gave his habitual greeting, a head nod.

  “Hello,” said Mr. McCrady, “glad you’re still open; I forgot my favorite outdoor cheat, firestarter. Curious, do you all have any cell reception down here?”

  “No, we sure don’t, friend. Also, Andy, my helper, just returned here from a roadblock. I sent him on a supply run to Breckenridge. He told me the military said the town was closed and wouldn’t explain why.”

  “Hmm, interesting,” said Mr. McCrady, cleaning his glasses on his shirttail. At sixty-five, he no longer excited at a rapid pace. He sat a bottle of firestarter on the counter.

  “I have a sat phone here, simply because we’re in the mountains, never know about the weather. Called my sister in Nebraska a few minutes ago. She lives about five hours away. She’s got service.”

  “Humph, that’s good, I guess.” Mr. McCrady put the change in his wallet. “Okay then, thanks. Hey, um, if you happen to hear any news . . .”

  “I’ll come tell ya, don’t worry. Some big ole nothing. Don’t mind ole Charlie on the porch either. He’s harmless.” The owner returned to his reading.

  “Yeah, we met earlier,” chuckled Mr. McCrady, turning to leave.

  He drove back to camp. The tents, all erect now, swayed gently with the breeze. In the last forty years, he couldn’t recall a brighter group of young adults. But at present, he met with curious faces needing answers to what they considered a cellular trauma.

  “Okay, the camp store owner says their cells are down, too. But he called his sister on a sat phone who lives five hours away from here. Her cell’s working. So, the failure must be isolated to our area. Let’s eat, build a fire, then hunker down for the night. You all can brainstorm some ideas for this Fall. Hopefully, whatever this is, will resolve itself by the morning.

  Mr. Seng and Bastian may be held up by it somehow. I’m sure they’re fine, though. Probably be here any minute.”

  “My mom’s a stickler for communication. She’ll freak if I don’t call,” said Bryce.

  “Yeah, mine too,” said Ollie. “Freak out to the moon and all the way back.”

  Rani giggled, “It’ll be okay, Ollie, it’s only one night. I’m sure we’ll be able to call mom in the morning.”

  “We can’t go back to town right now. The man said there are roadblocks. No one’s allowed in, for some reason. So, a roadblock is what you identified earlier, Caleb, from the top of the bluff,” confirmed Mr. McCrady.

  He decided to keep the text he’d received from Mr. Seng to himself for now. Monumental panic among teenagers would deteriorate the current atmosphere of relative calm. I need more answers first, he thought.

  “Should we be worried?” said Bryce.

  “No. You know what guys, it’s”—he paused—“they’re probably on the hunt for someone, a kidnapped person, an escapee, or a criminal. Regardless, we’re perfectly safe here.” I think.

  HENRY GAINES

  BASTIAN AND LEDGER dove onto their stomachs. Bastian shivered on top of the damp leaves; wetness soaked through his t-shirt and pants. He clawed the cold, wet soil.

  “Where are they? A minute ago, they were trying to kill us. Now they’re gone,” said Ledger.

  “Come on, we have to move.”

  Ledger shifted his index finger toward the sky and pointed out the drone flying their direction.

  “Go, NOW,” said Bastian.

  The pair raced deeper into the thicket. Two deer fled the comfort of their beds after the boys spooked them. Three minutes later, Ledger stopped for a break. Bastian bent over to recover oxygen faster.

  “What in the heck’s going on? Is it just our town or what? We need Internet,” said Ledger.

  “I’m not sure. But I need to get to my family,” said Bastian.

  “Odds are they’re already in those groups ‘n so are my parents. We can’t go home right now, there are targets on our backs. It would put our families in danger. I mean, this IS the military. It’ll take them about ten seconds to get Carter to give up our names. No offense to Carter, but you understand what I’m saying.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Dad’s out of town, Bryce is at camp, ‘n mom, Gabe, and Brock are supposed to be on an airplane,” said Bastian.

  “Out of town, oh, you socialite Ballentines kill me. Must be nice not to dumpster dive for new clothes ‘n shit.”

  “Look, right now, WE are—what we got. Let’s try to see past our differences and make the best of it.”

  “Why were you at school with Seng, anyway?” said Ledger, wincing.

  “We forgot some food for the Science Club trip, which is where me ‘n you need to get to. The clubs at Dillon Lake with Mr. McC, Bryce, Rani, Caleb, and others. I wonder if the soldiers are there, too?” said Bastian.

  “Hey, that kid, Henry . . . Henry Gaines. His house is through these woods. Let’s scope it out,” said Ledger.

  “Alright, let’s go.”

  The pair trekked toward Henry’s house, a sophomore at Summit High. The dense canopy above dimmed the view ahead as sunset drew closer. Bastian, on high alert, eyed back over his shoulder. He expected the soldiers to leap out from behind a tree any second.

  “This is it,” said Ledger.

  A modest brick home, surrounded by lush woods and scenes of nature, sat in silence. Dry leaves drifted down from aged tree branches and rustled across the sidewalk leading up to the porch. A single, dim light shined from inside the house.

  “Come on,” said Ledger.

  He and Bastian scanned the sky, no drones. They approached the porch and peered into the front window; Henry lay motionless on the couch. They tapped gently on the door. No answer. Ledger reached for the handle.

  “Stop,” said Bastian. “We can’t rightly stroll on in.”

  “We need to find out what he knows.” Ledger slowly turned the knob and nudged the door open. “Henry . . . psst Henry, you alone?”

  “Huh, who’s there?” Henry could no longer raise his head. He covered his cough. “Yeah, I’m alone—sort of.” He motioned his weak hand in the air for them to enter.

  “You don’t look so hot, man,” said Ledger.
“Where's the rents?”

  “Dead, they’re dead in the other room. I’m really sick, the vaccine made me sick. I started vomiting thirty minutes after the shot. My parents died a few hours after they got it, too. They weren’t sick before, neither was I.”

  “What?” said Bastian in disbelief.

  The immediate surge of fear prompted Bastian and Ledger to cover their mouths. Realizing that was useless, Bastian put his hand down. He knew the time had already passed to play it safe. If an airborne virus existed, it infected them inside this room with their first inhalation of air.

  “Did you come across anyone sick today or before the soldiers got here?” said Bastian.

  “No, no one. Not even a cough. I went down to the charge arcade with some friends. Loud trucks rolled into town. Soldiers started rounding people up and giving shots. They handed out this flyer and told us not to worry. Your parents were at the tents Ledger, I’m sorry.”

  Ledger made a fist then combed his hand through his hair. Lately, he’d shared a strained relationship with his parents. Even still, he didn’t want anything dreadful to happen to them.

  Bastian picked up the flier, it read similar to the one back at school, except this one stated—the soldiers would go from house to house tomorrow to collect the dead. Collect the dead? How many dead do they expect?

  “Timmy ‘n Mazel are holed up in my treehouse out back for the night,” said Henry, rubbing his chest. “My bodies dying. I can feel it.”

  “No, don’t say that,” said Bastian. “There has to be a way to fix this.”

  “Shut up. Listen. Those soldiers didn’t get here today. They got here yesterday. A small group with equipment dug huge holes at Thurman’s farm down the road. I watched them through the woods when I was fixing my deer stand. It didn’t make any sense at the time, but now I think they might be graves.

  “I told dad what I saw. He went over there to talk to Thurman, but the guards wouldn’t let him on the property. Wrist-unit couldn’t reach Thurman either. And those soldiers, they spent the night camped out in his field.” Henry’s voice grew weaker. “Hey, get my camcorder from my room, top shelf. Record them if you can. Whatever they’re up to, it’s not good . . . people need to know. Take food, water, whatever you need ‘n get out of town.”

  “Can I do anything for you? Get you a cold rag, water,” said Bastian.

  “Yeah, survive. And Bastian, they have your brother, Brock. For some reason, they put some of our friends into this one truck and drove away. Never said where they were going.”

  “Brock was supposed to leave with my mom after school. He must’ve changed his mind. This can’t be happening,” he shuddered. “What could they possibly want with Brock?” Bryce will meltdown if I tell her they’ve imprisoned Brock.

  Bastian entered Henry’s room and found the camcorder. Ledger waited in the hallway, contemplating the . . . other door, Henry’s parents’ bedroom. His hand could touch the knob with three more steps.

  Ledger swallowed. He wrapped his hand around the smooth, cold doorknob. I shouldn’t do this. Is this wrong of me? I need to know what happened to my parents. I know I’m gonna regret this. He eased the door open. The creak from the jamb gave him a chill.

  Inside, together on the bed, laid Henry’s parents. Dead. Ghostly white. Eyeballs glazed over, dull, and sunken from dehydration. Their mouths wide open, teeth bared.

  Ledger didn’t dare take one step closer. The smell of puke almost made him vomit. A fly buzzing nearby caught his attention. More vermin would soon join, there to lay larva on the new hosts.

  Ledger closed his eyes and tightened his lips, envisioning his parent’s fate. His body stiffened. This isn’t how life is supposed to go, I never even got to say goodbye. Everybody I love—dies. My brother, my girlfriend, and now my parents. What’s the point of loving anyone in this world?

  A gun laid on the nightstand, without a second thought, Ledger shoved it in his pants. No one will force a vaccine on me, ever. I’ll take my chances on my own. He met Bastian in the kitchen.

  “Should we take some food?” said Bastian. “Hard to say when we’ll eat again.”

  “I can’t eat right now, no way, but yeah, take some. Stay out of that back room.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “It’s way worse than bad, man,” said Ledger.

  Bastian picked up Henry’s backpack. Guilt flooded his mind as he placed cans of tuna and water inside, but deep down, he knew this family didn’t need it any longer. Forgive me, Henry, I wish there were something more I could do for you. I couldn’t help Carter, and now I can’t help you. I hope I can help Brock.

  The sun finished slinking down behind the mountains, leaving internal and external darkness to surround them. Bitter cold blanketed its frost upon the land. Bastian and Ledger exited Henry’s back door after saying goodbye. Henry’s treehouse sat at the edge of the property tucked inside the woodline.

  Bastian threw a small rock up to the treehouse to get Timmy and Mazel’s attention. Timmy peeped out through a wooden crack, he recognized them from school and sent the rope ladder down. Bastian and Ledger climbed up. Both crowded gratefully around the kerosene heater to warm themselves.

  “Did you talk to Henry?” said Timmy.

  “Yeah, super sick,” said Ledger. “Why aren’t you two at home?”

  “Timmy lives next door to me,” said Mazel. “We hang out all the time ‘n play video games. Our parents went down to these tents together. Said for us to stay put. When they got back, they said the guards made them get a vaccine. About thirty minutes later, all four couldn’t function, started throwing up.

  “They left the second time to get help from the makeshift hospital over at the school. Haven’t heard a word from them since. We hid. They told us to before they left. No doubt they’re dead same as Henry’s parents by now. We’re not going anywhere near that place. Timmy’s friends with Henry, so we both came here to get out of the neighborhood.”

  “We have no idea what to do. I’m afraid to go home.” Timmy glanced down at the floor. “I’m afraid I’ll never speak to my parents again.”

  “What’s your plan?” said Mazel.

  “We just outran two bloodthirsty soldiers who tried to kill us. And they captured Carter, too, after they shot him in the leg. Haven’t had time to consider any plans,” said Bastian. “Henry said at Thurman’s . . .”

  “Yeah, we know,” she said, “mass graves.”

  “We need to video that. Do you have cell service, yet? Ours died at the school,” said Ledger.

  “No,” said Timmy, “not since earlier today, when the soldiers got here.”

  “The Science Club’s at Lake Dillon. We have to get there. We can hike around the roadblocks if we go up the pass. Shouldn’t take a couple of hours or so on foot.”

  “What then, Mr. Motocross? We just gonna sit around the campfire and sing. These goons could already be there, too,” said Ledger.

  “Not sure yet, but I’m 100 percent sure we have to get out of this town,” said Bastian.

  The four spent the night in Henry’s treehouse. The temperature dipped below freezing, as it often did in Breckenridge. The rugged treehouse didn’t offer much in the way of insulation unless one counted the rotted boards holding it together. Halfway through the night, the kerosene burnt out.

  They all knew Henry’s house could offer up some much-needed warmth but didn’t re-enter the residence for many reasons. It would be too much watching Henry die if he weren’t dead already. No one knew for sure the contagiousness of this sickness, how it spread, or if it even really existed.

  Their minds wandered about the day’s events. What’s my future now, or do I even have one? How can I have a future without my family? Are they really—dead? Is this happening all over the world? Am I gonna die, too?

  Each missed the comfort of their own warm bed. The particular smell of their quilts, sheets, ‘n pillows. Mom, dad, or both coming in to say—‘time to turn out the lights, love you, goodnig
ht, see ya in the morning,’ or some version of that and all the other simplicities that make life wholesome.

  Bastian thought back about the last words he’d shared with his younger brother, Brock, earlier that afternoon. Put my gel back before you get hurt. Get out of my room. I don’t come in your room and take your stuff. The careless words he allowed to roll off his tongue so easily, before leaving to go on the Science Club trip, upset him.

  Brock blew off his big brother’s comments as always, in a hurry to get to his friend’s house. He’d decided not to go to Boston with their mother, who left urgently that evening with their little brother, Gabe, to go to her sisters for a week.

  Bastian’s dad, Dr. Harold Ballentine, a Virologist at the CDC, flew to Atlanta several days before. He’d traveled for work a lot more than usual these past few months.

  I’m all alone. I’ve never felt so alone or cold. Mom’s gone. Dad’s gone. Brock’s in trouble, and I was such an ass. What do I do? How can I get help? Who fights the military? I don’t care, I will figure out how to get to him somehow, Carter too. Hopefully, Rani, Bryce, and the others are safe. Surely my unit will have service by tomorrow. Sleep now . . . try to forget about the cold and sleep. Maybe I’ll wake up, and this will all have been a bad dream.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Packrats

  THURMAN’S FARM

  NO ONE SLEPT much that night. Stress kept the neurons in their brains on fire—no matter how hard they tried to shut out the invasive thoughts. The crisp morning wind stung the hair in their noses. Empty stomachs growled, even though no one could eat under the futile circumstances. Ledger climbed down the creaking ladder before sunup. Back now, the solemn expression on his face didn’t look promising.

  “How’s Henry?” said Bastian.

  Ledger lowered his head, “Yeah, he’s gone,” he sighed.

  “The soldiers will be here soon to collect the bodies. Should we try to bury Henry and his parents?” said Bastian.

  “Under normal circumstances, yes, but there isn’t anything normal about this. I’m not sure how they're gonna keep track of who lives and who dies. We should leave ‘em as much as I hate to say that. If we bury ‘em, they’ll realize someone was here,” said Ledger.