Earth's Survivors Apocalypse (19 page)

She had slid the glass balcony doors closed, fashioned a rag around her mouth and waited for Adam to come back. He had not been long. They had been able to smell something on the air, a thick, cloying smell that reminded Tosh of old perfume. It had left a nasty taste in their mouths, but it didn't seem to do anything to them other than that. A few hours later, they had ventured back out on the balcony, the rags tossed aside. If it had been something to kill them, it would have already done that, they had both reasoned.

The city had fallen quiet. That night the gangs had not been out at all. They had thought it was over. Hoped it was over, but the next night they were right back out. Even more numerous than they had been. They only good thing was they seemed to be killing each other faster and faster now. The gun battles went back and forth all night long.

Tosh stood in the blackest shadows of the balcony and looked out over the city. Whatever it had been, it had not killed them, if that had been what it was supposed to do.
The gangs were fewer now, the last few nights had left many dead in the streets. The sun would rise to more scattered bodies sprawled in pools of their own blood.
She could see them in the streets below now, even if they couldn't see her. They ran purposefully from doorway to doorway, testing the locks, stopping at every shadow. Investigating. A car here, a doorway there, looking up to catch her eyes watching them, as if they really could see her, letting her know that they knew she was still there. And Adam slept behind her in the bed, unaware of it all. Oblivious to it.

And there was irony here. Irony, because she was dying. She was dying, and she was sure that they knew it. She was sure that was the reason they kept looking up at her where she stood in the shadows.

She blinked away tears as she looked out over the night darkened city: the fires that burned, the gangs that prowled the streets. She had popped her last nitro the day before. It had taken the pain in her chest down, but it had not stopped it. Too much excitement. Too much damage from the drug use that had ravaged her body. She hadn't touched a thing in two years, but it had still killed her, just as she had known it would. It had just taken its time. Twenty-three and a bad heart. It thundered and trip-hammered in her chest. Out of sync. Out of beat. Out of time. And...

She wondered about that
'and'
as she looked out over the burning city.
And what?
She would awaken in Heaven? She didn't think so, but she didn't know.  She stood brooding, feeling the pressure build in her chest as evening came on and the fires continued to burn.

She couldn't make Adam have to do for her, she decided at last, and there probably wasn't much more time for her. If she intended to go, she should.

She turned and looked at Adam's outline on the bed. She couldn't chance waking him either to say goodbye. And that hurt too, but it probably wouldn't hurt for long. He would stop her, possibly read her mind. He had done it before; just seemed to know what she was thinking. She turned a few minutes later, walked quietly across Amanda Bynes' plush carpet, eased open the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The Docks

Tosh walked along aimlessly. She had slipped from doorway to doorway herself, working her way to the river. A few blocks off the beaten path and the streets were empty, but for the dead that where everywhere. The smell of the river was heavy on the air, and she was following it. She was unsure what she had in mind. The tears continued as she walked. It wasn't fair, she continued to tell herself, but telling herself it wasn't fair didn't do anything for her situation. And here she was wandering around in the night tempting fate.

But there were no gang members around, or if they were, she couldn't see them, hear them, feel them. She pressed her hand flat against her chest. The pain was worse. Much worse. And she wondered how much more she could take, how much more her body could handle. She stopped and drew several deep breaths, trying to ease the pain that seemed to close on her chest like a fist.

When the pain eased a little, she started off down the street once more, heading toward the river.

NYS Route 104: Mike and Candace

Late Afternoon

By the time they reached the outskirts of Oswego the next day, they were ready to stop and rest. John pointed out a large shopping center on their left, and Mike pulled into the mostly empty parking lot and rolled up to the front doors of a large department store. "Thrifty Deal?" he asked John.

“Chain store,” John replied. “You can find a little of everything.”

The other two Jeeps pulled in behind them as they were getting out. Mike walked up to the front doors and tried to open them. “Locked,” he said.

“That's okay,” Bob smiled, reaching back into the Jeep. “I've got the key.” He handed the jack handle in his hand to Mike as he walked up to the glass doors.

“Well,” Mike said, “I guess here goes.” He swung the jack handle at the door and the glass shattered into millions of green-tinted crystals that skittered across the pavement.

“It's my first real crime,” Mike said, turning around with a large grin on his face.

Just then a loud alarm began to whoop from within the store, and a split second later an even louder alarm, mounted in a steel box above the doors, began to bray into the quiet afternoon air. Mike, along with almost everyone else, had turned and began to run back towards the Jeep when it went off. The jack handle clattered to the pavement.

“Holy shit,” he sputtered.

Candace was doubled over laughing, leaning up against the Jeep for support. Mike looked at her stupidly for a few seconds and then smiled. Most of the others began to laugh as well, breaking the tension the alarm had caused.

“Y-Y-You,” she tried to say, but couldn't stop laughing. “I thought you were going to have a heart attack, Mike,” she said, once she had gained some control. She held her stomach and began to laugh again. Mike began to laugh himself, along with everyone else.

“Well... it scared me at first,” he protested. He hadn't been the only one, he knew. Bob's eyes had looked as though they were going to pop right out of his head, he recalled. He seemed to be all right now though.

Bob walked forward and picked up the tire iron from the pavement. Standing on tip toe he pried the metal box open. He hit the large siren inside with the jack handle, until it finally screeched and then quit. The other alarm inside was still going off. He disappeared into the store, and a few seconds later that one stopped too. Bob came back outside and peered sheepishly at the small crowd, most of whom had finally stopped laughing.

“If we're gonna do this on a regular basis,” he said, “we better pick up some real burglar tools while we're here.” Everyone laughed again, but the laughter died down quickly, and once it had they all crunched across the glass and into the store.

The power was off, it turned out. The alarm had been backed up by battery, and had apparently switched over automatically when the power went off. The mood changed once they had gotten into the store. Just the fact that no one did come when the alarm had  gone off would have been enough, but the empty store had also contributed its share to their somber mood. It served as a reminder that they still had met no other people at all. They had traveled over seventy miles and seen no one, and it reinforced what had happened in all their minds. No cashiers at the empty checkouts, no police cars screaming into the parking lot to see who was breaking in, there was nobody, anywhere, it seemed.

Although the power was off, the water was not, and they availed themselves of the employee showers after they had quickly moved through the store and picked out what they needed. They had gone together through the deserted aisles of the store, unwilling, or unable, to split up.

Mike, his hair still wet from the cold shower; dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a blue chambray work shirt, leaned up against the wall outside the rest room with the other men, and waited for the women to come back out. They talked quietly among themselves as they waited.

“You think Rochester will be the same as here?” Dave asked. He had seemed especially shaken by the alarm in the parking lot, and still seemed shook up over it.

Terry stood silently next to Bob, tapping the heel of one work boot against the cinder block wall. “It does sort of seem like everyone is gone,” he said, as he stopped tapping the boot heel and straightened up.

“Could be,” Bob said, solemnly. “It really could be, but I don't think so. I think there are probably people right here in Oswego. They're scared, is all. I can't say as I blame them either, they don't know any more about what's going on than we do. Even if they saw us come in, I don't think they're about to come running up to say howdy. I wouldn't,” he paused, before continuing. “If I saw a bunch of people come driving in, I'd probably want to stay away. No police means there is no protection, and they don't know who we are, or even where we came from, or what we want for that matter. I think though, that there are people. Maybe it's just going to take some time before we all get back together. I just can't believe we're it, I guess.”

“I have to agree with you, Bob, "John said. “If we were to stay here awhile, I would bet we would probably see someone. The curiosity would bring them out, I think."

"I agree,” Mike said. “I was none too keen on approaching you guy's back in Watertown either. I thought about avoiding you, as a matter of fact, just going in the other direction.”

“Glad you didn't, Mike,” Bob said. The other men nodded agreement as he spoke. "I can see though where a body wouldn't want to. Especially since there was more than a few of us carrying guns, or rifles, at that point. I am glad you did though. I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to end up with that Brad Saser trying to take charge. He was already pushing it pretty hard. Probably would have shot him myself if he had tried, who in hell knows what a guy like him would do."

“You don't think they'll follow us do you?” Terry asked.

“No telling,” Bob said, “but I wouldn't doubt it. Guy's like him are all over though, and I suppose we'll run into a few just like him eventually. Not much we can do except to be careful, I guess.”

“Think we'll make Rochester tomorrow?” Dave, asked, as Gina and Jan came walking out of the rest room.

“It's not far, only about another sixty, maybe seventy miles,” John answered, “but I doubt it. We will probably get there tomorrow or the next day sometime, depending on the stalled traffic of course.” He seemed to consider for a second. “Maybe longer. The stalled traffic is even heavier and it might be ten times worse than this once we get closer. I mean they may have also taken to the secondary roads, so there may not be any real way to get there in one straight shot anymore.”

“That's about what I figure,” Bob chipped in, “at least a few days.”

Candace and Lilly opened the door and walked out, and the small group prepared to make a meal and settle down for the night.

Everyone, at Bob's suggestion, had changed into sneakers or boots in case they ended up walking. They had taken the time to pick up extra clothes, as well as some more canned goods to replace what they had eaten, and Mike had found some Quick Cold in one of the side aisles.

Quick Cold had only become popular in the last couple of years as a retail item. Before that it had only been used by the medical profession, to transport anything that needed to stay cold, or frozen. Organs for transplant, fresh blood, and countless other things. The plastic bags contained a small stick shaped tube. Mike had filled three large coolers with soda and beer, and tossed in several of the bags after snapping the small cylinder within, to activate the chemical the bags contained. They had instantly frosted up and began to cool the warm cans. A few minutes later they rolled the trucks inside the store and built a fire for the night. Mike took the first shift of guard duty with Ronnie. Just inside the main entrance.

Out Of L.A.

Billy and Beth: March 11
th

Billy was up on the roof. Beth, Jamie, Winston and Scotty were standing at the edge of the building as he was, looking out over the city. Things were crazy, and they seemed to be getting worse as the days rolled by.

The police precinct was still burning. It had started sometime during the night two days before, and since there was no one to put the fire out, it had been raging for hours now. A few minutes ago, the roof of the building next door to the precinct burst into flames. Maybe the fire had started inside, or the extreme heat from the burning police precinct had caused it to burst into flame, spontaneous combustion, but it was a strange thing to watch. It appeared as though it had simply burst into flames all on its own.

The animated conversation about whether it had been spontaneous combustion or a fire source from inside the other building that had simply burned through, had kept up for a few moments, and then they had all lapsed back into silence. Beth spoke now.

“Where would we go?” she asked.

“I think southeast,” Scotty threw in.

“Why not north or northeast,” Jamie asked.

“Makes no difference, I suppose, but this winter it might. That's why I think south or southeast.” Billy said.

Beth nodded. “What's the radio say?”

“It's bad everywhere. Different people, different days. Some talk about staying alive, gangs, shit like that, but the big deal is the world. Every major government is gone. In every country. And here every city is done in too...  Boston, Hartford, Manhattan, San Fran, Providence, Scranton, Miami... there are more. Every day you hear of more places, and that's bad, but then there are the ones that you don't hear from anymore, and that's even worse,” Billy said.

“So how is south or southeast better?” Beth asked.

“Might not be better, as far as the world is concerned... Gangs, whatever else is out there. It might not be, but it will be warmer. I mean, no problem now, but winter isn't really over up north, and it will come again, and we had better be somewhere, with our supplies settled in for it,” Billy answered.

Beth nodded. “All of us?”

“A few others,” Winston said. “Emma, down street. She has a baby. Don and Ginny across the street. They got a few friends too.”

“Babies... I don't know about babies,” Billy said. “Adults, okay: Children are bad enough, but babies? How do we take care of them?”

“Billy, should we leave them here to die?” Scotty asked.

“Fuck, Scotty. I didn't say that. Do we invite them along to get killed? I mean we're leaving the safety...
Talking about
leaving the safety of this building and going on the road.”

Beth raised her hand. “Scotty misspoke, or you took it the wrong way. Can we agree on that?” Scotty turned away and then turned back and nodded. Billy nodded too. “Tomorrow... Tomorrow we scout it out. We'll need trucks... not a car. Something that can get us over the bad spots. And we'll have to see how far we have to go before we can hope to drive. We sure as hell can't drive here.” She shrugged.

“Tomorrow,” Billy agreed.

“Yeah,” Scotty added.

Beth turned and looked back over the city, watching the building next to the precinct burn.

New York: Park Avenue

Adam

Adam awoke to the early morning light spilling into the bedroom. He turned to hold Tosh, but she was gone, that side of the bed cold. He lay still for a few minuets, incredulous that he had not only fallen asleep in the midst of all of this, but shocked that he had slept through the night. It was a split second later that he launched himself from the bed. Nearly flying up, and landing neatly on the flats of his feet, running down the short hall to the living room in one smooth motion, propelled by fear.

It was crazy to think that there was anything wrong. He knew about her heart problem. She had told him it was fine, but the panic had already slipped into his brain and pinned his thoughts down. She had just talked to him yesterday. She had just made him promise yesterday that he would... He pushed it out of his head as he slid into the living room. Empty.

The strength fled from his body as he stared at the back of the door. His hand reached out and plucked the note from the door. The pushpin went flying. He read it slowly, and then read it again as the tears began to slide from his eyes.

Lenox Avenue

She slipped from the shadows and ran along from building to building until she reached the end of the block. She had expected to hear gunshots behind her. Expected to find herself falling to the ground dead, a bullet in her back, but the bullet never came. They must have stayed asleep.

They,
were four guys who had come around a few days before. She had opened the door to her apartment. Stupid. If she could have gone back and undone it she would have, but she had been so scared. She had been so alone. The kid at the peephole, Bobby, had seemed so young.
Scared
himself. All she had done was open the door an inch or two, just slipped the chain, and the other three had slammed into it. The four of them had easily broken the chain and pushed past her into the apartment. She had given in. There had been no sense in fighting them. What could she do?

Since then she had been their toy, passed from one to the other. Yesterday morning they had come back from someplace with a new girl. She had no idea where they had found her. Sometime in the late afternoon, before dinner, they had killed her.

Something had occurred. She hadn't been able to tell what, but she had heard the shot, and then they had brought her out from the bedroom and dumped her on the living room floor. Naked. A bullet hole in her head. And she had known it would not be long before it would be her turn to be dead. She had just known it.

She had been cooking for them, a little grill out on the balcony. They went out and brought things back, canned stuff; she cooked it on the grill in a pot, and they ate it like it was the finest gourmet food available anywhere. She had gone into the bathroom, opened the medicine chest and stared at the sleeping pills she had put there, until one of them, Randy, she thought his name was, had come and yelled through the bathroom door. She had taken the pills and dumped them into her pocket, flushed the toilet and went back out to the kitchen.

She had put all of them in the food. Mixed them right in with the canned spaghetti, and they had wolfed them right down. Never had a clue. Now they were all out. Maybe dead. There had been an awful lot of pills.

She had been with Bobby a few days before when she had thought to get the pills. Bobby was nice, if there could be anything close to nice with these guys. He had looked her up and down and that had been that. She imagined he had probably never had a woman that looked like her in his entire life. Maybe never had a woman at all. It was clear he was an inexperienced lover. He had no idea what he was doing. He was rough, cruel even. Nice only meant he didn't beat her, he still used her as he pleased.

He had taken her with him because the others had been out and he had not wanted to leave her alone in the apartment, guessing, correctly, that she would not be there when he came back, but he had been bored, left alone, and he wanted to look through some shops and stores in the neighborhood.

It had been broad daylight, but there had been no one to stop him or any of the other gangs that roved the streets and did as they pleased. He had broken into a pawn shop and taken several gold chains and a flat black gun with a clip. There was no ammunition for the gun, and so they had set off down the street looking for a gun shop when she had seen the small Korean store.

She had talked him into going into the medication aisle at the store. And she had picked up the sleeping pills. He had seen her do it. She had told him it was relief for period pain. She had picked up a box of Tampons too. He had turned red and had not asked her about them again. As a bonus, he had left her alone that night also, probably thinking that she had been indisposed. Fine. Whatever. It hadn't mattered any longer.

It was nearly dark by the time they had finally passed out. That had pissed her off. Pissed her off and scared her too. The gangs were out here somewhere. The dark was their time.

She wanted to get as far away as she could before the street was completely lost to the night. There were people down the street, two blocks or so down. She had seen them coming and going. Making sport of the gangs. Enticing them into chasing them into the area they controlled and then killing them with the shotguns and automatic weapons they carried; taunting them out into the daylight and running them down with cars, shooting them as they roared by, racing the block from end to end in a souped up car they had gotten from somewhere. They had been out earlier. If she could get down the street, she was sure they would take her in. Positive.

She stopped at the end of the street, caught her breath leaning against the side of a pickup truck, and then took off once more at a fast walk.

She was halfway through the block when she realized someone was following her, and her heart sank like a stone. Bobby... Had to be. She stopped and peered back through the shadows and dark. The moonlight was bright, but it was still not easy to see. She thought she saw movement at the corner of a building two buildings back. She screwed up her courage.

“Bobby... Bobby don't be sore... Don't...”
She stopped and squinted into the gloom. Two people had come from around the edge of that house.
Two,
and neither of them looked anything like Bobby. Both were running as they came. Her heart leapt high in her throat, seeming to clog her airway. A strangled squawk came from her open mouth. She swore under her breath and turned to run.

They caught her under the arms.

“Hey... Hey, there's no...” She stopped in mid word and began to scream at the hands that clawed at her clothes. Another hand closed around her throat, closing off her screams. A second later the others joined in, dragging her to the ground and then out into the road. They left her under the street lights, her blood pooling around her head.

Harlem: Adam

The morning moved on. He had finally gotten himself up from the floor and went and looked out over the city. His sadness and depression stole away as the sun rose, and was replaced with a steely resolve. She had asked him,
made him promise,
that he wouldn't try to bury her if anything happened to her. She had a fear of the gangs getting to him while he was doing it. She had made him promise.
Promise.
Like she had known. Like it was a real thing. And he had thought it was just fear talking, just things you said when you were afraid.
Just in case things.
Not real things.

He had known about her heart. He supposed, he admitted to himself now, that he had even known that she could die if she did not have the kind of treatment she needed. Could... He had known too that it was harder for her. He had thought immediately about her heart when she had talked to him, but he had not questioned her. Her eyes had said something to him. Something like,
Ask me and I will tell you the truth. All you have to do is ask.
And he had not wanted to talk about the truth, did not
want
to talk about the truth because the truth scared him too badly. So he had not asked. He had pretended he had never seen that permission in her eyes.

She had talked. She had talked about the things that scared her. She had been worried she would die in the night. He would feel it was the right thing to do. They had talked about it, but only briefly. He had shut the conversation down. He didn't want to believe it, and hearing it only forced him to believe it. He had been selfish. He had given in to his fear when he should have given in to her need to talk to him, tell him, and here he was. It was a real thing now. She would not have left if something had not made her leave. A real thing, he repeated to himself. He could see no other reason why she would have left.

The note had said next to nothing. Just,
'I'm Sorry... I love you.'
At least it said that. At least, but why had she gone?

He took the stairs down to the lobby. The stairwell had been empty, but the lobby had not. The gangs had long before crashed in through the door and taken over the lobby. He had eased open the door to find two of them laying in the shadows sleeping. He stepped quietly out of the stairwell, shoved a piece of broken board into the fire door opening to keep it from closing and locking him out, and then walked quietly to where the two lay, a man and woman.

They stank of alcohol and unwashed flesh. Their chests rose and fell, but they did not move. Their eyes were partially slitted. It would be easy to believe that they really were harmless. Just two people sleeping in a place of safety, but his eyes took in their blood stained clothing, and then slipped to a stained pillow case nearby, partly open, the contents spilled onto the marble flooring of the lobby. Several fingers, still bearing rings. Coins, wallets. Things that held no value anymore, as far as Adam was concerned, yet they had murdered for them. They both slept with weapons close by. His own gun was in his hand. He had flicked off the safety before he had stepped out into the lobby. He walked up to the first one, turned slightly to take in the second one.