Project Aquarius (The Sensitives Series Book 1) (9 page)

Ms. Harding took an uncertain step inside.

Darnell turned away from her and called, “Dad?” This time his voice didn’t carry as much vibrato. He would never admit it, but he was a little scared.

He slowly moved forward, pausing in the doorway between the kitchen and the adjacent small room. The current occupants were using his former bedroom as a junk closet. It was full of trash and half broken furniture.

Darnell closed his eyes for a second and tried to imagine the way it used to look. He ran his fingers along the doorframe. Faded, under a few layers of grease, there was a dull line labeled Little Man.

“That’s me,” Darnell said with a smile.

Blink. His Dad pressed a pencil against the top of his head to measure him. He said, “You’re going to grow up into a big Little Man.” He smiled like the brightest sunset.

Blink. There was a quick tightening in his chest. Ms. Harding was looking at him with weird watery eyes. He immediately wiped the smile off his face. Show no weakness.

“I don’t think anyone is here… anymore,” Ms. Harding said carefully.

The apartment hallway was dim and the living room was sparsely decorated. Paint peeled off the ceiling in way that indicated years of neglect. The wood floor was warped and covered in layers of water stains. The oversized stereos and flat screen TVs of Darnell’s past were long gone. Now, the living room was covered in folding chairs and ripped beanbags. Telltale syringes littered the coffee table.

Darnell saw three bodies slumped over the beanbags, leaning toward the coffee table. Strange, he noticed the decor first and the bodies second.

“Oh, God! Are they dead?” Ms. Harding asked.

Without hesitating, Darnell rolled each body over, checking for familiar faces. Not a one.

“Nah. This ain’t right. Where’s Big Money and Cheese?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Drea

In the parking lot, the only living things were the trees— their movements eerily human in the wind. The sound of their rustling leaves drew goose bumps on Drea’s arms. The trees had seen what happened, but they couldn’t tell a soul. They simply loomed above.

    Drea dug her fingernails deeper into the earth. And she compulsively checked her watch. It had been two hours since Matt had disappeared into the distance and he still wasn’t back.

    She was frozen in time, clinging to the small patch of grass near the bike rack, hyperaware of every sound, every movement. There were several layers of dirt under her nails from incessant clawing at the ground.

    Her mind flooded with unanswered questions, creating a mental fog. She tried to prevent her thoughts from wandering to the worst, but she was starting to lose the battle… What if she never saw her family again? What if she was the last woman on Earth… and had no one to talk to?

    Drea peeled her parched tongue away from the roof of her mouth. Despite her troubles, she was going to have to do something about the dehydration soon. Her nagging thirst was a reminder that she was very much still alive and human. Unfortunately.

Sitting around doing nothing was pushing Drea closer and closer to madness. Whether or not Matt was coming back, she was going to have to make some decisions on her own. It was time to take action. Her legs cramped in protest as she pulled herself up on the bike rack. The idea of going back into the lifeless school really creeped her out, so it was time to explore the parking lot.

Drea decided to go through Matt’s car first. He wouldn’t mind. She rifled through all the water bottles in the backseat and found two with a little bit at the bottom. She poured the fluid down her dry throat. The tepid water was far from quenching her strong thirst, but it was a start. And taking care of herself felt really good.

The human instinct to drink fueled her to go through the rest of cars in the parking lot. At first, she pulled up on the door handles very tentatively. It seemed wrong. Invasive. But over time she became bolder, remembering there was no threat of car alarms in the new world.

Five cars in, she found an open Subaru. Drea went through the vehicle systematically: arm rest, center console, glove box, under front seats, back seat floor, and trunk. The Subaru produced an unopened Gatorade and a bag of chips. She chugged the sugary drink, letting some drip down her chin. The warm lemon-lime flavor felt amazing sliding down her throat. And the chips were deliciously salty and satisfying.

As Drea rooted through the personal belongings of her former classmate, she felt a strange freedom, an opening in the world that allowed her to control her own destiny. In the next car, she discovered a bag lunch, two Sprites, and a pack of gum–– enough to keep herself alive. What did she truly need beyond food, water, and shelter?

As she munched on some rubbery carrot sticks, Drea’s thoughts drifted to home, to her brother Sammy. Poor Sammy, he was such a sweet boy. Thinking of him was strangely relieving. Drea had hope she would see her brother again with his cute freckles and shiny red hair.

But when her thoughts drifted to Mom and Dad, Drea’s stomach became tight and her heart held an empty space. Somehow, her body knew. They were almost certainly dead. Everyone was dead and she was left on the planet with Matt Williams… But now he was gone too. He had turned out to be sketchy and unreliable. Sierra had been right all along.

The sun crested over the midpoint and ushered in the full afternoon light. It was now 1:40 p.m., the time in the typical school day when Drea wished the worst on her teachers and prayed for the clock to speed up. She had started to accept that it wasn’t likely Matt was coming back. She vowed to wait for him for one more hour, just in case, but then she would have to write her own history.

***

The wind felt good in her hair. The music of her tires on the pavement was the only sound in the world and it was exhilarating. She hadn’t been on a bike in years. The frightening traffic on Mass Ave had destroyed her interest in cycling long ago.

For the first two blocks, Drea pedaled slowly checking in the windows of each car to make sure everyone was dead. All the cars sat motionless, the lights black, people slumped over their seats. Strangely, the absolute stillness gave her confidence, so she pedaled faster.

The red Swiss Army knife was laced between the fingers of her right hand, just in case. That was as far as her safety plan went. Bike home and stab anything that looked dangerous. The knife reminded Drea that just a month previous, she had refused to do the fetal pig dissection in biology class. She hated the idea of cutting into anything, of harming any animals, even if they were already dead.

Don’t be a wimp. Death is a natural part of life.
Sierra had teased her during fourth period bio.

Well, it is natural, I guess.
Drea’s mind answered, in present day, echoing Sierra’s words.

Everyone is at peace now. Don’t worry, Drea, death is okay.

The tiny hairs on Drea’s right arm stood on end. The message had come from a different place inside her head—a different voiceover deep down— as though Sierra were with her now, instead of dead in the hallway of the Academy.

Drea shook it off into the wind. She couldn’t afford to grieve her friend right now. She couldn’t afford to entertain the voices in her head. There were more pressing things, like getting home.

She pedaled faster.

Each turn of the pedals made Drea feel stronger and stronger. Wump-wump. Wump-wump. The rhythm made her feel important. Sure of herself. Maybe she was here on Earth for some reason other than taking math tests and rebelling against her parents. Maybe there was some good to be found in this horrible nightmare. For a moment, Drea felt incredibly powerful inside, in charge, in a way she wasn’t allowed to be as a sophomore in high school.

In her newfound clarity, Drea was sure the crazy catastrophic event was somehow connected to the paranormal stuff she posted about on her blog. It had to be. All the hours she had spent with Sierra talking about the esoteric and the occult— something had finally shifted.

In retrospect, Drea felt kind of stupid about the whole fetal pig thing. Refusing to cut into flesh had been an option in a world of fast food and smartphones. Now, she had a real reason to stab things. Survival. Drea tightened her grip on the knife that stuck out just beyond the handlebars.

***

The four-mile bike ride didn’t take very long. She turned onto Ridgeway and slowed.

Drea dismounted and wheeled the bike slowly past number 72. There was elderly Mr. Swinton, lifeless on the front walk. He had probably been out checking the mail as he did obsessively several times every day…

A lump formed in Drea’s throat. Being on her street triggered a new level of personal horror. Her neighbor, who she had known her whole life, was now in rigor mortis.

She looked away and steered the borrowed bicycle into her driveway, then leaned it against the house. No need to lock it up or hide it in the back.

From the outside, Drea’s house looked soothingly similar to how she had left it: stone walkway, two steps up to the front stoop, cute archway over the front door, artist studio over the detached garage. Quintessential cute Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Apprehensively, she turned the key in the lock. The door swung open and Drea walked into the foyer. She threw her bag down and yelled “Hello?” hoping by some fluke someone would answer. Maybe her Mom and Dad would run out and greet her. Maybe one of them had come home sick from work. Maybe.

A deep silence followed. Her family wasn’t home.

The house looked the same as always. Mr. Paws was curled up on the window seat in the formal dining room, where the morning sunlight had been the strongest, his white paws covering his nose. He looked peaceful and content. Drea checked for breath, but there was none. Mr. Paws had gone out doing what he loved, snuggling in the sunshine. She decided to let him be for the moment. She would bury him in the backyard later.

Drea proceeded to the fridge and threw open the stainless double doors. The stress had left her famished. She smiled as she realized she could have anything she wanted before the rot set in. Boldly, she took a brick of cheddar and bit right into the end. Then she drank three gulps directly from the OJ carton to wash it down.

Deep in the fridge, behind the half-and-half, Drea spied the remnants of last night’s leftovers, her favorite, homemade spaghetti and meatballs. She ate the spaghetti cold, directly from the plastic container. As she chewed she imagined the smell from the steaming pots the previous night. Her Mom had called her to the table three times before she had actually shown up. By the time Drea had arrived, all the Parmesan was gone. She and her Dad had gotten into an argument over it. It had seemed so important at the time. Parmesan wasn’t so important anymore.

Drea threw the empty container in the sink and returned to the living room. Normally after her snack, she would throw herself on the couch, turn the TV on for mindless entertainment, and settle the laptop on her lap. Since electronics were out, Drea decided to go upstairs to her bedroom and change into some fresh clothes in an effort to feel better. She trudged up the stairs.

The vibrant green color of Sammy’s door stood out next to the neutral tones of the upstairs hallway. His door displayed leaf and fern rubbings from the previous summer, as well as numerous leaf specimens pressed in wax paper.

Weirdly, Drea felt compelled to open the door.

Her brother’s room smelled like decay. Glass tanks filled the floor. Strange tubes of liquid connected the tanks, their filter and fan systems noticeably silent due to the power outage. Sammy had taken up hydroponic mushroom farming over the summer. A pungent fungal dampness hung in the air.

Drea teared up. She would miss her quirky brother, his strange hobbies, and his unique mind.

“I love you Sammy,” she said out loud, swallowing to fight back a sob.

“Yes, Drea,” came a reply.

There he was, bent over a book in his usual position at his desk.

“Sammy!!!” Drea squealed in delight.

He was the first person she had seen alive other than Matt Williams. Here he was at home as if nothing ever happened!

“Did you go to school? How did you get home? How are you alive?” Questions spilled out of her mouth as her arms spewed pure love. She grabbed him and squeezed hard to make sure he was real flesh and blood.

Sammy answered all of Drea’s questions in the order she asked them. “Yes… I walked… I’m a living human.” He paused as if to think and then added, “Please, let go of me.”

Drea obeyed her brother’s wish and saw in his face that he was totally unconcerned about the state of the world. His blank expression was a comforting piece of normalcy. She had never been so happy to see another human being.

“Will you make me a snack?” he asked, returning to the routine. “I’m hungry.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sammy

Sammy slipped the key into the front door. He liked the click it made. A soft sound.

    Once he was inside, he turned and locked the deadbolt. A deep sound. Part of the safety routine. He loved the quiet solitude of home after school.

He walked into the entryway and put his bag down in the correct spot. His parents had told him they were nervous about him staying home alone, even just two days a week when Drea couldn’t be there. But he followed the safety rules and never deviated from the routine.

Today was no different. He took his
Fungus Kingdom
book upstairs, went into his room, returned the book to the proper self, and closed his door. Then he turned his pockets out, spilling recent specimens onto the desk. Some had been crushed.

On the way home, Sammy had picked every weed he had seen between sidewalk cracks. This served two purposes. First, it maintained order in the sidewalks and second, it provided him with different species of plants to investigate and experiment on. He already knew one plant was wild strawberry, another was dandelion, but the third weed was a mystery plant.

Sammy grabbed his most prized possession, the
Plant Classification
book, off the top of his desk. He opened the weighty tome and felt absolute joy.

He heard his door open, but he ignored it. He was still searching for the mystery plant. Then he heard his name.

“Yes, Drea,” he replied.

That was part of the sister script.

Then she threw her arms out, completely engulfing him. That wasn’t in the script.

He didn’t have time to block it. So he went limp. That made hugs better sometimes. Less pressure.

Drea squeezed for a long time.

She also asked a lot of questions. Questions that were not part of the after school routine–– “Did you go to school? How did you get home? How are you alive?”

Sammy decided to answer all the questions in order, “Yes… I walked… I’m a living human.” He paused and then added, “Let go of me.” She did.

Sammy immediately returned to the routine, “Will you make me snack? I’m hungry.” He felt relieved to return to the sister script.

Drea took him downstairs to the kitchen. He sat in his spot second stool from the left. His sister’s voice was different. She was talking at him. A lot. With force in her voice. She said something about the cat. Sammy looked over and saw that Mr. Paws was not moving.

“He’s napping,” he reported to Drea.

Drea seemed to like his answer. Her face brightened. “That’s right Sammy, he’s napping.”

Sammy dove into his after school snack, yogurt and green raisins. Some people told him this was weird, but he liked the textures of both foods. Creamy yogurt and spongy shriveled raisins mixed in as little surprises. So he ate them together. Seemed like a good solution.

Today the yogurt was a little warm, but palatable.

“Sammy, I don’t think Mom and Dad are coming home.” Drea’s voice sounded weird again. But he didn’t know why. Sammy had trouble understanding vocal tone sometimes.

“Okay,” he said, enjoying the smooth feel of the yogurt.

“I don’t think they are ever coming back,” her voice cracked and she began to cry.

Sammy was curious. “Why? Where did they go?”

This question seemed to unhinge his sister and she began to sob. She pulled him in for another hug. He went limp again.

After what seemed like eternity he managed, “Please, let go of me.”

Drea did.

Sammy returned to the routine, cleaning up his bowl and spoon. He started back up the stairs and noticed it was kind of dim in the house. He tried to flip on the light in the stairway, but nothing happened. It sent a wave of panic down to his toes.

“No,” he said. “No. No. No.”

“Sammy, the power is out. Something happened,” Drea said in a shaky weird voice.

His heart tensed in fear. This wasn’t part of the plan. Power outages were very upsetting.

“No. No. No.”

“Remember, Mom bought you those flashlights after the hurricane last summer?” Drea reminded.

Solution! Sammy had several solar powered flashlights and lanterns in his room just in case. The flashlights would allow him to stick to his reading and research routine.

The panic subsided. Back to the routine.

“It’s okay. I have my flashlights,” he told his sister.

And with that, he ran upstairs.