Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1) (10 page)

Liam had been right. The concrete and steel barriers that protect the pump islands from reckless and distracted drivers had the right combination of materials and size to partially survive the fire. Once we began intently surveying the landscape and searching for clues that would indicate a gas station, it seemed obvious when we came to one.

Fortunately we had the pump and hoses from the gas station experience back home. It took awhile to find the covers for the underground tanks, but we were able to find the fuel and eventually get the Escalade filled.

We have been on the road for well over 12 hours now. The sun has fallen out of the sky and darkness is chasing away the dusk quickly. I know Dad does not want to travel at night, but there has been no discussion of stopping.

“Is that a river?” Sofie is pointing out the front window.

“I think I see a tree!” Grace shouts.

“We made it.” Dad lets out a sigh.

“Made what?” Sofie is getting a lesson in Dad’s poor communication.

“The Mississippi river. We’ll stop on the other side,” he answers solemnly.

As we approach the river, the effects of the fire seem to lessen. While I know it isn’t true, I think the fire had intelligence. It saw the river and knew there was no way across. Instead of raging against that barrier and consuming all the fuel right up to the waters edge, it receded and headed east, where it was unfettered until it reached the Atlantic. It burned ruthlessly consuming towns and cities, Chicago, Philadelphia, New York and Boston. I can’t say for certain, but it feels as if half of the United States was wiped away.

Dad doesn’t stop at the bridge. He rolls right on over it. As if we are desert travelers arriving at an oasis after a day baking in the sun, we cheer when we reach the other side. We’re back to civilization and humanity. There are buildings and billboards, trees and grass. Things are looking up, and I can feel the energy in the car.

While we are still adjusting back to the world we are used to, we see a sign proclaiming “The County’s Top Cadillac Dealer” four miles ahead. The next sign brings more good news: a Holiday Inn at the same exit, complete with Wi-Fi, a restaurant and an indoor pool. There is no way Dad can pass this up. These were put here together, just for us.

“We’ll stay at that Holiday Inn tonight. In the morning, we can get new tires or move into a completely new Escalade.” Dad didn’t let me down.

“Wow, Paddrick Robinson takes the easy route. Mark this day on the calendar.” Sofie is grinning from ear to ear and we all crack up at her jab.

“Oooh, a Cracker Barrel. I love Cracker Barrel,” Grace is caught up in the moment. But we all fade quickly to silence. We survived the fire. The exhilaration of making it to the clean, undamaged,
whole
side of the river helped us to forget our reality.

The ugly truth is everywhere though. There are no other cars on the road. There are no people to be seen anywhere. We could go to the Cracker Barrel, but it’s not there anymore. There is a building with a sign on it and stuff inside, but not the people who make it a restaurant. There are no cooks, servers or cashiers. The manager won’t greet us at the door with a smile and “
Welcome to Cracker Barrel.
” Fast food, or even good food, quickly is becoming a part of our past. In our present, food needs to be thought about and worked for.

As we turn down the exit ramp, Grace’s phone rings. The bubbly pop ditty startles all of us, and she has to look at the device awkwardly for a moment before realizing what is happening.

“Hello?” The single word tentatively comes out of her mouth.

“Mom!” Tears are streaming down her face and she is sobbing between fits of laughter. “No, we’re okay. There was a fire and it was wicked bad. The car was really banged up and we had to drive slower all day today.” The words are choked out in fits and starts. I can’t imagine that Mom really understands it too well. “Here’s Liam.” Grace finishes her conversation and hands the phone to the back seat.

“Hi Mom. How’s California?” It’s as if he doesn’t understand that things are different now, but it’s Liam—he may not. “Yeah, the house had a cool pool with a hot tub. We stayed in the water and were okay. Today I played football with Dad and Seamus and then I helped find gas.” Liam does not dwell, reflect on, or learn from the past. At times that seems like a strength; other times, not so much. “I love you, too. See you soon. And oh, here’s Seamus.”

“Hi Mom. I love you.” I feel good to be able to say it to her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, as if she wouldn’t have heard otherwise from the other two.

“I’m fine. We all worked together as a team and made it through. You don’t need to worry about us, we’ll tell you all the stories when we get to San Francisco.” Now is not the time to relay the terror we survived. “I can’t wait to see you. Here’s Dad.” I rush because the connection could drop at any time and Dad needs this as much as we do.

Dad pulls the Escalade under the portico at the Holiday Inn. He slowly puts it in park and turns off the ignition while tilting his head back and letting out a deep breath as his head gently reaches the head rest.

“Hey babe,” I hear him say as the rest of us pile out of the SUV.

There is still power here, and the four of us walk through the automatic sliding doors and into the lobby. We’ve all stayed in hotels before, but we stand in awe for a moment. Compared to what we woke up in this morning and what we spent the day driving through, this is the Palace at Versailles.

“Has anyone ever worked the front desk of a hotel?” Sofie has no idea that none of us has ever held a real job.

“No, but I bet there is an instruction sheet near the machine that activates the key cards. It can’t be too hard.” I have confidence that I can figure out how to use any computerized system.

Sofie and I walk around the front desk while Grace and Liam head to the snack shop. I hope they inventory the water and identify any supplies that would be useful for replenishing what we consumed today. I hear a soda can crack open while I’m looking for any type of instruction sheet. I guess it’s okay to have a refreshment while you work; no need to get into it with Liam.

It’s not as obvious as I expected. I’ve seen them make the keys before. They type in a few digits, wait a moment, type a few more digits, then swipe a card. My guess is that the first few digits unlock or activate the system. The second set of digits is the room number, and the card swipe is self-explanatory. We just need the unlock code.

Sofie’s search takes her into a back room and out of my sight. I don’t like having her out of my view, and a chill rushes down my spine. “Sofie,” I call out as I walk to the back room.

It only takes a few seconds for me to get there, and she’s obviously fine, but I feel better being able to look at her. She’s leaning on a desk, studying a corkboard full of flyers, memos and post-it notes. I pause for a moment to study the curve of her body. My mind is consumed by the beauty of her face. Memory of the kiss we shared in the pool washes over me and sets my heart racing.

“When you’re done staring, I could use a hand looking for a code or something that will help us get into the rooms.” Her gaze hasn’t left the board, but I see one corner of her mouth turn up slightly in a smirk.

“What’s going on in here?” Dad calls from the lobby.

Grace is the first to answer. “We’re taking an inventory of the water and collecting supplies to replace what we used today.”

“What about Seamus and Liam?” He assumed that Grace and Sofie would be working together.

“Liam is with me, “ Grace starts to say.

“Got it!” Sofie’s exclamation interrupts. In a flash, she moves from the office to the key card machine. There is a key in her hand and she is about to enter the code.

“Hold on. What room are you going to program?” Dad is standing at the counter like an unhappy, demanding customer.

“I don’t know, one of these on the top floor, maybe 820?” Sofie is defensive, but I can tell from her face she’s not sure why.

“Seamus, can you get into the computer and see if there are some vacant rooms?” Dad isn’t mad, but he has something on his mind.

“I don’t think there is anyone who will mind if we take their reservation,” Sofie chuckles nervously.

“It’s just that I think we should try to avoid rooms that were listed as occupied before everyone got sick.” Dad looks uncomfortable and his speech is uneasy.

Walking in on a corpse would be disturbing. The sickness hit so fast that people who were traveling just died in their hotels. There are likely hundreds of dead bodies in this hotel, and I see another reason Dad opted for a private residence last time we stopped. I’m wondering why there is no odor of decay, but stop abruptly. I’m going to try and be grateful for it without analyzing.

“Here we go. There are blocks of rooms on two, six and seven. Sorry Sofie, the 8th floor is occupied.” I’m doing my best impression of a hotel clerk to try and restore some lightness to the mood.

“Make a few keys for the block on two and let’s get settled in. I’m starving and exhausted, and I want to take a long shower.” Dad is talking over his shoulder as he walks to the snack shop.

I want to recommend that we move to a higher floor for defensive purposes. It would show that I am learning and thinking more strategically for the new world we live in. But I hold my tongue. Dad was very specific, and I bet he has a reason for picking the second floor. I just have to figure out what it is.

When we get to the second floor, Dad surveys each room and specifically checks the windows. He’s not really looking out, but more looking around as if he were interested in the window itself and not what was on the other side.

“Seamus, you and Liam go down to the maid’s closet. Get a screwdriver. And Liam, you get all the extra sheets you can carry.” The inspection is over, but we have not been given permission to settle in.

“Dad, come on. You have to tell us what you’re thinking. From where we stand, this seems crazy.” I’m not really standing up to him, but I am standing up for us.

“Yeah” and “please” come back from the other three.

“In case something happens or somehow we are not alone, I want to make sure we can get out these windows and safely to the ground.” He looks intently at each of us. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I also don’t want to have to figure this out in the middle of some type of emergency.”

Strangely, this won’t help me sleep easier tonight. It makes sense, but not in a comforting “
we’ll be okay
” kind of way. It’s more of a
“be afraid, things could go south fast”
kind of feeling.

We all needed the good night’s sleep. I love being asleep for upwards of twelve hours straight. It really recharges my batteries, in a different way from getting 6-to-8 hours of sleep. It’s after 9:30. I’m surprised but glad Dad hasn’t woken everyone up to get the day going.

Grace, Liam and I migrated en masse to the kitchen downstairs. We didn’t wake Dad or Sofie, and there was no discussion; we just quietly left and headed downstairs. I think that if a psychologist were alive they would be fascinated by our behavior. Our actions were normal for pre-apocalypse life, until we got to the restaurant. We headed straight to the kitchen and began rummaging through the shelves and refrigerators for food, as if ransacking a kitchen was a common, everyday occurrence.

Previously we had all agreed that eggs were generally safe. Liam cracked a dozen into a bowl and began beating them for scrambled eggs. Grace opened some cans of fruit and put together a fruit salad. Being non-domestic myself, it was all I could do to make toast and find some butter to slap on it. There is still no milk, but we have coffee, orange juice and water to drink.

It’s fun. We are just eating, talking and walking around the kitchen exploring. There is no pressure or stress. It’s like a weird brunch at a stranger’s house. The three of us haven’t had time like this since the beginning of the summer. After the last few weeks, we need it almost as much as we needed the sleep.

When Dad walks in with Sofie, we all realize there is probably something else we could have been doing. Or maybe we should have woken them so we could have gotten on the road. It feels like there is so much that we should be doing at all times it’s impossible to make a decision that doesn’t make me feel bad for not doing enough.

“Is there any food left?” Sofie is helping herself to coffee and grabbing a plate.

“I want some eggs, and bacon would be magnificent.” Dad gets his coffee and plate after Sofie.

Liam scoops some eggs onto their plates and drops another pound of bacon in the griddle. I get myself some more coffee and Grace just looks around smiling.

“So listen. After we eat, we need to get moving.” Dad has a schedule in his head. I’m hoping he’ll share more than “get moving.”

“After I woke up, I ran across the street to the dealer. I thought about just swapping wheels from a new car to our car, but I don’t think that’s the smart move. So I got a new Escalade and we need to move all of our stuff and get it fueled up.” He breaks for a long drink of coffee. I have no idea how he can drink coffee when it is so scalding hot.

“Bacon’s up,” Liam the short-order cook chimes in.

As if to remind us that we need to get moving, the power goes out before Dad even takes a bite of his bacon. Our brief hiatus from hell is over; this is not a vacation.

“It’s about 10:45 now.” Dad looks at his watch. “I want to be on the road by noon. If we do this right, we can be in California tomorrow night.” He grabs a piece of bacon and puts the whole thing in his mouth.

Grace and I are done eating, so we each grab another coffee and head up to start working on the car swap. I know it’s selfish, but I am focused on the best way to move both of my rooftop carriers. I would love to come up with a way of doing it without unpacking them, but they are heavy. I also don’t want to drop them and damage the few tools I have left.

Grace opens the back of the old battlewagon. She likes to do things, not analyze them. “Hold on,” I tell her. I want to park them as close together as possible. That will make it easier to move the roof carriers and easier to move the stuff inside. I pull the new ride alongside the old one and slowly bring the doors together until I hear the scraping sound. Satisfied that the two are as close as possible, I climb over the console and get out the rear passenger side door.

By the time I get my first rooftop carrier disconnected, Dad, Liam and Sofie are there and helping.

We are on the road a little before noon. Dad is pleased with our efficiency and the fact that we are ahead of schedule. The average speed is quickly up over 100 miles per hour and it feels like there is nothing that can get in our way now.

We have a quick early pit stop after all that coffee, but then we are back on the road. After the wasteland from yesterday, today’s travel is decidedly un-apocalyptic. There are movies and music and singing. Spirits are high; tomorrow night we’ll see Mom.

After about six hours of driving, Dad slows the car to a stop.

“Bio break,” he shouts as he hops out the door and runs to the edge of the highway. We all take the cue and exit the vehicle to stretch and empty our bladders. It’s late afternoon and the autumn air is light and crisp, and it has me feeling uneasy. This is just how horror movies start.

“Are we going to stop for the night soon?” Liam is anxious to be done with driving for the day.

“That’s probably not a bad idea. Something doesn’t feel right to me.” Grace is being affected by the environment the same way I am.

“No. I’d like to go for another three hours at least.” Dad leaves no room for discussion. “The driving is easy and the further we get tonight, the less we have to go tomorrow.”

It’s a good point, but he is the one that has us all afraid of traveling in the dark. Maybe if I call Mom she can convince him to break for the day and take extra time if we need it. A quick look at my phone finds no bars, just as it’s been all day.

We just passed a road sign that said we were in North Platte, Nebraska. I know that Wyoming is next and that means mountains and possibly snow. Maybe he’ll agree to stop before we start up the Rockies.

“Mount up, let’s go.” Dad is in the car and we all join him without argument.

He drops the hammer and the Escalade shoots off and gets back to 100 miles per hour in a flash. I close my eyes to focus on changing Dad’s mind about stopping for the night. Instead, the noise and rhythm of the road send me right off to sleep. It’s a deep and sound sleep, but I’m not aware of any dreams.

I’m not sure if it was the explosion or my head slamming into the window that woke me up, but I am alert now. I can feel the car skidding sideways. This is not a fishtail; it is total loss of control. My eyes find Dad and see a calmness and serenity I didn’t expect. He is working the steering wheel hard but without panic. Years of driving in snow and practicing skids and loss of control are proving beneficial. If it had been Sofie or me behind the wheel, there is no doubt the car would have flipped and left us all on our heads.

Grace is screaming and Sofie is howling, while in the back Liam just keeps saying “Dad,” over and over again. As far as I know, I am silent.

The impact is abrupt and the deceleration complete, immediate. The seat belt has done its job, but not without side effects and complications. The side curtain airbag deployed but I didn’t feel it. I expect it was more cosmetic than functional. We were probably traveling at about 70 miles an hour when whatever it was got in our way. I want to tell Dad that this is why we shouldn’t have been traveling at night, but it seems impossible to see through the fog.

Twice in two days now I have been blown into a mental fog by an explosive event. I’ve seen the concussion studies and I know this is not good for my body or brain. I need to get moving, check to make sure the others are okay. But what do I do if they are not okay? I have no medical training. Not even basic first aid. From movies and television, I know to put pressure on a bleeding wound, but how do you treat internal injuries? Broken bones? Lack of consciousness?

Slowly I get myself together. There are no big hands to pull me to safety this time. I decide to open the door and get out of the SUV to assess our situation. It’s dark out, but the sky is clear and the moonlight helps illuminate my surroundings. My feet land on pavement and I can see that we did not leave the highway during the crash. Tractor-trailer trucks are parked on both sides of the road. But they are not parked carelessly. They are aligned end to end, forming a wall. Now I see one across the highway where we just came from. How did Dad get around that? Or is that why we crashed?

I look to the front of the Escalade and see that the grill is stuffed into the side of a large bulldozer. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. There are no other signs of construction, and even if the operator was working when he got sick, it seems an odd place to abandon this piece of equipment. In the other lane but further down the road is another bulldozer. Just like this one, it is parked across the lanes of traffic, almost as if it were meant to be a roadblock.

A roadblock? I spin around, far too quickly for my injured brain. Dizziness overcomes me and I fall against the car. I’m not steady on my feet but my cognitive processes are working okay. If this is in fact a roadblock, it had to have been placed here. If it were placed here, people did it. People mean what, though? Especially if they are the kind of people who make roadblocks and cause car crashes.

This cannot be the government, I decide. If it were, things would be more coordinated. The tractor-trailer trucks would all be identical, and there would be machine gun nests on top of them. I look up to ensure that I am right about the lack of machine gun nests. All I see are arrays of lights. But not vehicle lights; floodlights. Industrial-sized lighting used to illuminate the workspace on the highway when they have to do work at night. They are all pointed down into the box created by the bulldozers and trucks. It may not be government-organized, but it is organized.

I hear the door behind me creak open. Remembering my fragile brain, I turn slowly to look. It’s Grace, and she is tumbling out the door onto the roadway. As quickly as I can, I go over and help her up. She’s not steady, but she can stand okay. By the time she is oriented, Liam is in the doorway, ready to climb out. He does not appear any worse for the wear, but I’m sure that, like me, he is suffering from bruised ribs and a sore waistline from the seat belt.

Grace starts around the car to the passenger side and Liam and I follow. She goes right to the front door for Sofie. It’s the first time I’m really looking at the front end. It is completely caved in and I can see Sofie’s airbag through the window. Grace cannot open the door; the damage is too severe. But she won’t give up, and she keeps pulling and straining.

The fact that Dad and Sofie may be dead highlights the damage in my skull. I cannot comprehend what that would mean. I cannot form a next step or an action plan. If Dad is gone, here—wherever we are—is the end of the road. We all die with him. I know I can’t give up like this, but I also know that my brain is not functioning well enough to push on.

Grace starts pounding on the window. “Sofie! Wake up!” She’s speaking loudly but not yelling. I don’t know if there is a physical reason for her volume control or if she is worried about alerting someone to our presence. There is no way she could have identified the roadblock.

Liam is pushing Grace out of the way to get to the window. He has a rock in his hand and he is going to break the glass. As he pulls back to smash, Sofie’s head rolls to the side and her eyes open. “Close your eyes and look the other way. We’re going to get you out,” Liam tells her calmly.

The glass breaks easily and Liam uses a shard to fully deflate the airbag. In what seems like one fluid motion, Sofie half-climbs, is half-pulled through the window and placed on the road. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she keeps repeating. She looks okay; I think her nose is broken, but, like the rest of us, she is struggling to get her thinking together.

After a few minutes on the ground, Sofie is up on her feet. She leans on Liam for support and starts surveying the scene. We haven’t checked on Dad and no one has mentioned him either. It’s odd. Sofie survived; why not him? I guess that we are so used to him being okay through everything he never needs to be checked on. In fact, I would bet that Grace and Liam assume he is out of the car and told me to take care of them while he looks for a new ride and a way out of this mess.

The four of us are standing together in silence behind the crumpled Escalade. My eyes have adjusted to the dark completely. I am reading the logos on the tractor-trailer cabs when a sudden blinding light sends me reeling. Grace and Sofie both spin into my chest and I instinctively put my arms around them. I can feel Liam beside me, leaning into our pile. In the background, I hear a generator running. That must be where the power for the lights is coming from.

After standing motionless for a few minutes, I want to check on Dad. But I am worried what will happen. The lights were not motion-activated; there was way too long of a delay for that. Someone turned them on. Strangely, I am not worried about what would happen to me. I’m worried for the others if I make a sudden move or give the appearance of trying to escape. I’ve never put others’ well being ahead of my own. Is it Sofie or am I just maturing?

In front of us we hear a shuffling sound that is not labored but certainly not energetic or agile. Perhaps whoever set this roadblock was asleep and we have woken them with our crash. There is definitely more than one person there, but I can’t tell if it is two, three or more. A click that I have only heard two or three times before raises the hair on the back of my neck. Our hosts have chambered a round in their shotgun.

When the two figures come into view, I am almost relieved at their frailty. Even I could take them in a fair fight. But this isn’t a fair fight. They have guns and we don’t. To make matters worse, they look drunk, or high, or a combination of the two. Wouldn’t it be ironic if crystal meth were the cure for the “killer cold.” I don’t think I could do that to my body or my brain even if the alternative were death.