29:16:04:59 (7 page)

His eyes glazed over. Maybe he was so close to turning twenty-six. Then again, maybe he just knew there were so few of us left and wanted to help all of them.

              “I’m sorry,” I said.

              “Sometimes, hope is all we have. Some of us haven’t given up on that yet, haven’t given up on you either.” He returned the shades to his face, trying to mask the coming tears. He sighed, but managed a smile. “Best you remember that. Well, let’s get moving again.” Glasses turned around and picked up the familiar pace.

              An orange glare erupted just above us, bringing our attentions skyward.

              “That a flare?” I asked.

              “Okay, look,” Glasses pointed the down the alleyway. “Continue this way until you get to Washington. Take a right, and when you get to Cicero you’ll be almost there. You’ll see that red glare from the numbers after few more blocks. There will be a movie theater on the left side. Move through that movie theater; it’ll get you closest to the tower.” Glasses had removed a pair of brass knuckles and wrapped them around his right hand.

              “What’s going on?” I asked, worried.

              “Mobs. We’ve been helping the officers fight them, but you just worry about the part you play, Jackson. I’ll try to keep this place alive long enough for whatever change you can make, if that is what’s supposed to happen,” Glasses said. He moved his arm slowly, laying the hand with the brass knuckles on my shoulder. The brass was slightly discolored with a red tint. “Now get out of here. Please.”

“But…?” I was cut off as Glasses circled around me. He took off his leather jacket, revealing his bare back. Tattoos covered his torso, and more scars rippled his skin.

              This isn’t your fight! At least not yet. Move it, Jackson!”

              Glasses shoved me backwards and pointed. I didn’t need any other suggestions. I took off as fast as I could and managed a few blocks before looking back. I didn’t see Glasses anymore. He had disappeared somewhere beyond the shadows.

I turned on Washington, running towards whatever I was meant to see.

Chapter 7: Being a Target

              Washington Street was completely empty, void of everything I was used to. There was little damage, as if somehow our great disaster didn’t exist here. That’s not to say it was completely free of harm. The sidewalks on either side of the road were fractured. Weeds and grass burst through the cracks, and automobile wreckage dotted spaces here and there.

              I wasn’t followed or chased. Whatever happened to Glasses, whatever that was, it didn’t spill over into this part of town.  It used to be common for skirmishes and wars to take place here. This city was broken down into groups that controlled different parts of town, or at least that was how it was when we first started trying to live together. I could hardly believe these people could still be like that, though. Didn’t they understand? We didn’t have forever here. We couldn’t escape it. There was no leaving this town. These petty squabbles were of little use anymore. They should have known this after everything we have discovered about
the turning
and our twenty-sixth birthday.

              I held my pistol at the ready as I made my way down the sidewalk. It was going to get more dangerous as I got further into the city, and just knowing I had the ability to defend myself made it easier to keep moving forward. But I vowed only to use the gun as a last resort. Popping off a few rounds meant an entire village of people could hear the sound. Some would come running, wondering, others might come with knives, brinks, and bats after the uncommon display of firepower.

              “Come on! Where are we?” I said out loud. The directions were simple enough, but as time passed I grew no closer to my destination. It was exasperating. This was taking longer than I needed it to.

              “Hey you!” a voice shouted from behind.

Twisting around, I held the gun behind my back. No reason to upset the
gentle folk
of Downtown. There were twelve of them. They held brinks, bats, knives, shovels, and any means of making an impact in a skull. I should have stuck to the shadows. This was going to get messy.

I didn’t dare respond. How had so many snuck up on me? I needed to be more careful than this. The urge to aim the gun at them made my finger twitch, but I didn’t dare make such a gesture yet. I took a few steps backwards, maybe instinctually, maybe out of fear. I turned my head slightly and caught a glimpse of a street sign. It read “Cicero,” the road that ran perpendicular to this one. I took one step closer.

              I couldn’t tell if this was the same crowd that one of Glasses’ group would have fired the flare for. The mass of people failed to advance. They stood on the block across the street, sticking to the middle of the road. There was chatter amongst them. Incoherent shouts rippled from the center, along with screams. In an instant they were running, shouting, and searching for the kill, or whatever they were looking for.

              I made no attempt to hide my only threat. I leveled the pistol and fired one shot into the air. I didn’t have enough ammo to shoot them all, and hope it would stun them. The blast struck a nerve, but only mine. The advancing crowd didn’t seem afraid at all. In fact, I think they just moved faster.

              “Ah, fuck me…” I turned around and ran as hard as I could. I didn’t need to know what this was about. If I had wandered into some sector, some land war, it didn’t matter. Though I did wonder why Glasses would send me this way just to die. Shouts and screams leapt up louder, transforming, completing the terror I was hoping to avoid. Panic spurred my legs faster down the concrete.

              I reached the next intersection. Part of the street was flooded near ankle deep. The reservoirs were backed up nowadays, so when it rained some of the streets turned into rivers. The flooded street carried on the rest of the way down Washington. It was cold, too. The water stood still, not running toward the storm drains like it should have been. Some red glare reflected off the windows and off the water, just like Glasses had predicted.

              “Yes, yes…” I said and kicked through the water. I wasn’t going to chance a look backwards, but at least I was moving in the right direction. If Glasses’ instructions were correct, then I should see it soon enough: that theater. It was no wonder people refused to live down here. The buildings were soaked in this toxic water, sitting still, decaying. The atmosphere reeked, evidence that the world here was beyond restoration.

              Water splashed behind me. Evidently I was still in the wrong territory, I’d possibly been recognized. If I was caught, I’d be beaten, torn to pieces, and displayed as a trophy. I wasn’t going to let that happen; there was still too much to do, too many people to help, to save. I needed to figure this out, and for whatever reason I was closer to it than ever before.

              A display jutted out of a building, a yellow marquee with lettering pronouncing shows and times. Most of the building was falling apart, its glass doors shattered, and old movie posters were still displayed in cases covered in moss and grit. Vines hung out of the second story windows, busted open from weather and time, and water flowed through the front, directing me onward.

              I passed through the entrance and entered a world thick with flora, more overgrown than I’d ever seen before. Standing water swirled in the middle of the floor, with part of the flooring just above water level creating a sort of pool. Stalks of vegetation grew around the pond with lily pads floating, and frogs croaking at my sudden arrival.

The stairs on the left slanted upwards, and more vegetation grew around the handrails. Vines reached for the rafters. Off to the right was the counter where refreshments were sold, popcorn popped for waiting movie-goers. The movies were one of the first memories I gained after
the forgetting.
I remembered going to the movies once or twice when I was younger, but never remembered a movie theater quite like this.

              My pursuers started shouting outside. Some declared I’d gone into the theatre. I didn’t have much time.

              I tucked the handgun into my belt, making sure the safety was on, as I climbed the stairs. I hardly made it to the second story before the first person entered. The flora was thick enough to hide behind so I ducked along the side of the railing as.

              “Where’d he go?” a voice echoed through the overgrown theatre.

              “Why are we even chasing him? He doesn’t even look like one of
them.
He looked fucking normal, didn’t he?” another voice asked. “I didn’t think they could had guns either.”

              “Better safe than sorry, I always say,” a third, female voice interjected. “Spread out, groups of three, move slow and steady. Find him, but don’t kill him. Got it?”

I didn’t understand.
How was looking normal a reason not to be chased
?
Why was I being chased in the first place?
I glided along the railing, keeping silent as possible. There were several doors that led to other theatres or projection rooms. I chose one at random and tried to open it, struggling with all the vegetation that covered the door. I passed through the door and entered a hallway, sliding carefully before shooting out of the hall and into the seating area.

A stream of light shot through a hole in the ceiling. A large screen that would have displayed the films was set against the far wall. Rows of seats were covered in moss and algae-soaked cushions, aged the color of dirt, and dust hung in the air. I moved towards the screen and stepped through a rip in the material onto the other side. There was an exit over to the right. I opened the door and nearly fell over the side of the building. Something had ripped the entire half of this building off, and a straight drop onto bricks below awaited my exit.

              “Shit,” I whispered.

              The drop was too far. I’d break my leg, if not worse, trying to jump to the ground. There wasn’t exactly a ledge to grasp or an easy way to get out of this. I thought maybe I could hide, wait for a moment to leave, and pray no one would find me.

              Suddenly, like I hadn’t noticed it initially, my head tilted upwards against my will. Slightly bending my head, I squinted against the rays of sunlight that assaulted my vision. The structure I was staring at was still a few blocks away, but it was one of the biggest buildings in this city so it was as clear as day. It was a broken tower, leaning against another. The mass of clouds was so close, so black and spiteful. Yet it was the numbers that kept me fixated.

              This was what everyone was talking about, what Kelly was shouting about and what Glasses wanted me to see: a timer, ticking backwards with deep, red numbers.

              “
What do you think?”
Kelly’s voice echoed in my head.

              “I have no idea,” I answered my imagination. I knew the numbers wouldn’t be stationary, but I didn’t think they’d be ticking backwards either. I had only seen a timer like this on my digital wristwatch, before it ran out of battery, but that one ticked forward. Therein was the other question: just how the hell was it being powered? Why did it exist? This was more bizarre than anything else in this already bizarre world.

              “
Any thoughts?”
Glasses’ voice said, adding his voice to Kelly’s in my mind.

              “Not exactly,” I whispered. My attention remained absorbed with the approaching mob that was seeking me out. There was something interesting about this clock, something I couldn’t exactly put a finger on. Then it hit me. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I blurted out.

29:16:04:5
9
blared in deep crimson.

              “
What is it?”
a million voices asked in my mind. Kelly raged. Glasses demanded. Kyle and Susan gasped in distress. Ricky held his snide comment back. Jamie said nothing. The Pamlers cried. And Olivia watched in silent admiration, wishing she was there.

              “
What is it?”
they repeated.

              “It’s my birthday, my twenty-sixth. My turning,” I answered. The timer aligned to the exact second, or so I assumed. I knew it was only a month away for sure, but this was irrational. The world went black. I slid into inaction, losing any ability to remain standing. My feet slipped from the ledge, and I flew down head first.

Chapter 8: A Party for Someone we once knew

             
My head was pounding before I even opened my eyes. When I did, a starry night awaited. My body ached abnormally. Not like it hurt from a two-story fall, but ached like I had been lying in bed for days. My back was stiff and my neck was cinched, but nothing was broken. I laid atop a pile of bricks covered by a tarp. Looking up and behind myself, I saw the theatre doorway I’d fallen through.

              I pushed myself up on my elbows. The red timer in the distance continued its pursuit of reminding me my time was short. How the heck the others hadn’t found me on the side of the theater fully comatose was beyond me. How no bones were broken was even stranger. Even the door above was still wide open, begging to be looked out.

Down this side of the building, the standing water still circled around, but the pile of bricks was large enough to at least keep me dry. I pushed myself upright and brushed off the dirt while twisting and cracking my back.

              “Damn it all,” I swore under my breath. I must have been out for hours, so I was running far behind schedule. The night was dark, and the moon was high enough to be late in the hour. My little girl would be worried, but hopefully Susan could comfort Olivia. I knew she’d do her best to try.

             
“We’re not done here yet,”
I thought. I needed to figure this out, to get closer to the tower and that timer. Questions needed answers, especially why the hell that backwards tick lined up with my twenty-sixth.

“Sorry Olivia, I’m not coming home just yet,” I said with a sigh.

              The water was only an inch deep as I climbed down the brick pile and into the street. The water level dropped lower and lower as I moved a few hundred feet closer to the illuminated tower. Thankfully, the red numbers even being two blocks away made a typically dark night a little lighter.

              I turned a corner and had to pause. There was a party up ahead, with everybody that still lived Downtown dancing in the streets. The main street was lined with tables and drinks, a usual custom when someone turned. They were celebrating, and ultimately saying goodbye.

The people left would bring out the alcohol and drown in it. They would get hammered in an effort to celebrate and forget the person who walked into the center of this dark city. Everyone knew everyone. When someone turned, it was harder to take, as if a piece of you was breaking off. Of course I didn’t feel the same way. With any luck these people had forgotten about me, but I sure as hell hadn’t forgot them. Rage filled my stomach again, and I had to push it down. I couldn’t let myself drown down here.

              I hid behind some bushes and watched on in silence. Even if we were dying off every day to some strange event, there were perhaps a few hundred still celebrating underneath the stars. That might not even include those who didn’t partake in the festivities. I had to be more careful this go around. Or did I? They were drinking, and it was dark. All I needed was something to cover my face.

              The closest table was empty, and no one was close by. I took a seat at the table, walking like I belonged and making sure I was as casual as possible. The night was filled with chatter, a virtual squawk box.

I forgot how crazy it got Downtown. It was so much livelier than where Olivia and I lived. Olivia would have loved this. If she were here, she’d have the time of her life talking and dancing the night away. Sadly, it would never happen. She was linked to me, and I was linked to dirty lies.

              A variety of instruments covered the tabletop. There was freshly grown food, and spirits that would punch me down into the ground if I partook. There were several flashlights, one that I pocketed, and a lantern in the middle that kept the shadows away. A hooded sweatshirt hung on the back of one of the chairs. I put the sweatshirt on and lifted the hood over my head, finding a certain calm with my cloaked image.

              I didn’t want to waste time if the party came back and found a stranger taking their things they so carelessly left unattended. I managed to keep my calm and not just run through the crowd. I had to exit the party without drawing attention to myself in the crowd of intoxicated youths.

              The strings of a guitar played from somewhere up ahead. People danced underneath a dead tree whose limbs reached out in all directions. Lit candles were placed among the branches, and an eerie glow illuminated the air. It was hauntingly beautiful: the slow dancing, the dead tree with its lights, and the guitar player strumming his instrument to an unhurried, passionate song. For half a second I forgot why I was there, wanting to dance to the slow melody. But those red numbers set me right back on course.

              “Here’s to Adam!” a voice saluted. I passed a table surrounded by six or seven faces all raising a glass to the air.

              “Here, here!” a woman exclaimed. She tilted her glass downward, and spilled some whiskey on the ground. “One last drink. Drink up. Drink up.” She started to cry. The others either tried to consul her or shed tears of their own.

              Was Adam a name I could remember? It wasn’t exactly ringing a bell. Not that I would really remember all the names here; it’d been nearly two years since the beginning. Yet even knowing that another had walked into the darkness it brought me back to the time when I had witnessed
the turning
.

              Back during The Forgetting, there was a thousand of us. In those early days we starved, disease was rampant, and dozens were shot. But that didn’t even account for the majority of the people who disappeared. That belonged to something inexplicable.

              These people had built this settlement close to the swirling mass of clouds near the city’s midpoint, nicknaming it for what it was: Downtown. It did rain enough in this area, therefore drinking water was most likely the reason for staying so close to these clouds.

I was there, trying to bargain off items for supplies, before I was ever hated, when it happened for the first time. Screams erupted just outside, and panic evolved into full mayhem. I ran to where the shouting was the loudest: at the barrier.

              The barrier was the border that separated the lighted world from the darkened mass of clouds that never moved out from the center of the city. A twenty-six year old woman, the person turning, or so we later called the process, was already past the barrier, the invisible blockade.

I tried to pass through the barrier myself but a lingering pain started in my head and traveled my spine before curling my toes. My skin radiated with heat, and it felt like I was melting from the inside out. I couldn’t open my eyes, and it would only get worse after that.

              But this dark walker, as we had called them thereafter, moved through the barrier with ease. They would slowly walk towards the darkest part of the city, so dark we couldn’t see into it.

Some fought to get to the walker, but none of them lasted; the pain was too unbearable to try for long. How the dark walker could continue on against this pain was impossible to understand. Unless, of course, they weren’t feeling anything at all. After a few more minutes the girl disappeared into the blackness. The dark clouds above shook with thunder while waves of lightning careened across the sky, as if welcoming the girl into the gloom. It was eerie to watch. Even more unnerving was that somehow I understood why this was happening, but just not at that moment.

              Since then I had watched twenty-two individuals walk through that barrier. The first couple times I tried to help, but failed. I’ve watched bigger men than me pushed aside as the dark walker moved toward the unreachable part of this city. These walkers always succeeded breaking through whatever was stopping their departure.

So I just watched on instead. After each incident, I questioned whoever was present, trying to gain some knowledge or to fathom the process. There was one clue that always kept popping up, the one idea that aligned with everything else, the one factor that everyone usually remembered for some odd reason: their birthday. The dark walker was turning twenty-six.

              The table of drinkers were still sipping their whiskey as I recalled the events of the first turning. The partiers sang, laughed, cried, talked, and did just about everything in-between. They didn’t notice me just staring as I thought about our complicated past. A surge of vulnerability struck me and I tightened my hood. Being cautious was top priory, and getting lost in the past couldn’t happen again.

              The timer soon came into full view, eclipsing a building at the intersection. Those red numbers flickered, predicting my downfall. Plopping on the ground and not caring, I took a seat in the middle of the crowd, and the middle of the mayhem. This didn’t make sense. The timer was somehow synced with my twenty-sixth birthday and dictated my eventual
turning
. There was no way around this. Everyone turned, and no one was immune to whatever this was.

              “You okay?” a nearby woman asked.

              I nodded. I didn’t dare speak, but instead just stood up.

              “Need a drink?” the partier asked.

              I nodded again. I sure as hell could use one. I should keep a level head, but this day was just getting too confusing.

              “Here,” she said, handing me a drink.

I ventured a quick peek at her. She was attractive, probably a year younger than me. She had long hair and longer legs. The drink she handed me was clear, and tasted harsh. I didn’t mind and chugged the entire glass. I probably shouldn’t have as it might hinder what I was going to attempt to do.

“Soooo…” she started.

              I handed the glass back to her and wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I wasn’t ordering another, but she must have thought I was. She held out a flask, intending for me to slush back a few more swallows. I declined with a wave and she shrugged, draining the rest of the container herself. The drink corrupted her balance, sending her to the ground. She landed firmly on her ass, and smiled with a foolish grin.

              She twisted on the ground and laughed until something struck her fancy. I could tell she was squinting against the darkness, trying to mouth something out.

              “Is that my sweatshirt?” she asked, fully aware.

              I simply walked away, pretending not to hear, and left the girl on her knees crying thief. I should have never taken that damn drink. Eyes started following my movements, and the guitar strumming stopped abruptly. It was an unwritten law that we don’t steal on nights like tonight, after the
turnings
. This sweatshirt that now clung to my perspiring back may have just ended my run.

              “Hey Buddy! You know the rules!” someone shouted.

              “Hey, slow down! Get your ass back here!” another exclaimed.

              My pace quickened as I careened towards the front entrance of the skyscraper where the timer was lit. The red color danced across the ground and enlightened my passing form. I started to run. Maybe not the smartest thing to do in that moment, but I needed to get out of there.

              An arm caught my shoulder and hung on. They were strong, and weren’t going to let go.

              “Just what in the hell are you doing?” my assailant asked. I looked up at a rather tall, and deeply intoxicated, individual fully capable of pounding me straight into the ground. “Who is this?” A hand reached up and brought down my hood.

              “Holy fucking shit!” someone up ahead shouted. The hand holding on instantly let go, and my assailant took a few steps backwards, appalled by my appearance.

              “What is it?” the girl from whom I had stolen the sweatshirt asked.

              “Jackson?” someone else asked.

              “It can’t be,” the girl stated.

              Events were suddenly spiraling out of control. I was exposed in a society that desired blood. Screams and shouts flew into the air. Looks twisted to horror and frowns became diabolic grins full of spiteful anger.

              “Get him!” someone shouted.