Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (241 page)

***

Both Emma and Alex were carried into the medical center by a few of the community members and placed on two makeshift tables that had been cleared off and brought in from the community center. Emma had completely passed out while Alex was still coherent. All he could focus on was the lake of fire on his back spurting lava onto the rest of his body.

The two were laid face down, exposing the ten lashes apiece across their ragged backs. The community was lucky enough to have someone who had actually studied medicine as their attending physician, who also doubled as a worker in the sewing department.

“Haven’t had a whipping in a while,” Ben said, scurrying around to gather the materials to apply to the torn flesh on their backs.

The sentries ordered everyone out except for Ben. Todd remained behind though, holding Emma’s lifeless hand and examining the gashes on her back. Each line of aggression seeped deep into her pale skin. Bits of jagged flesh scattered over her body.

Ben pushed Todd out of the way and laid a strip of cloth over Emma’s wounds. “You need to go, Todd. Now.” The sentries in the doorway had their weapons aimed at Todd, and when he took a step toward them, Ben grabbed Todd’s wrist and whispered in his ear. “You won’t do her any good if you’re dead.” Ben let Todd go and he passed the sentries without incident.

One sentry remained stationed at the door while Ben worked. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of ointment. When he opened the top, only a thin layer of the medicine remained at the bottom. The shredded strips of flesh on Alex’s back were twice that of Emma’s. “Alex, I don’t have enough to treat-”

“Give it to her,” Alex said, his voice weak.

“If I do that, you may die of infection.”

“Do it.”

Through his half-closed eyelids, he could see the floor and the table next to him where Emma lay motionless. Her face was turned away from him, but a small puddle had formed below the surface of the table where she lay. A continual drip splashed onto the floor, slowly enlarging the puddle below.

The humid stench of wet copper filled his nostrils, forcing his consciousness awake. The scent was familiar. It was blood. Alex lay there, staring at the slow, steady drip that was fed from the trickling river down Emma’s back. Drip. I did this. Drip. The scars on her back are my fault. Drip. My hands are stained with that blood. Drip. I did this. Drip. I did this. Drip. I. Did. This.

A deep, empty pit formed in the middle of his chest. The overbearing pain of the black hole ripped through his body and numbed his back, face, and arms. He could see his fingers wiggling on his hand but felt nothing. His eyelids grew heavy. Alex tried to keep them open, but the lakes of fire on his back overwhelmed his senses. Another figure appeared in his peripheral view. A distant shadow. He felt the touch of a hand on his head. His body relaxed. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The next day the sentries determined they’d had enough of Alex stinking up Main Street and returned him back to his own house to fester. Once he was tossed onto the living room floor they marched off, leaving him to find his own way to the cot in his room. He clawed his fingers into the floorboards, pulling himself forward. Each movement sent a ripple of pain down his back. Finally, he managed to push himself off the floor and fell chest first into the wall next to him for support for each shaky step forward until the bed was close enough for him to collapse on.

Every muscle in his body went flaccid once his goal was reached. The only movement after that were the involuntary shakes from the cold sweat that broke out from his exertions. His mouth was dry. The parched lips begged for water. He reached his trembling hand out, his fingertips scraping against the rim of the bucket. Finally, he curled his fingers over the bucket’s rim and pulled it toward him. 

Only a thin film of water remained, and Alex’s hand scraped against the bottom. He cupped the water, which spilled over the sides of his palm as he brought it to his mouth, pressing his chapped lips to his wet skin. He repeated the action until he didn’t have the strength to continue. And there he lay, with his hand hanging from the side of the bed inside the water pail.

Dried blood stained and clotted the white bandages sticking to his back. Alex could feel the fabric glued to the wounds like a protective shell. He felt hot, stuffy. His bloodshot eyes looked up to the window. The sun was out of view, but he could see the blue sky and the large oddly-shaped clouds that passed by.

Through the involuntary spasms of pain, a memory surfaced from the depths of his mind. It was of his father. It was spring. He was a boy, and he and his father were lying in the grass looking up into the sky above. The hum of cicadas and the chirp of birds filled the air around him. There was so much life then. He could feel the tickle of the blades of grass on his arms, neck, and the backs of his legs. The smooth, soft feel of grass whose smell would always take him back to weekend mornings playing sports or his father mowing the lawn. He loved that smell.

But while the sky outside that window was still blue, the land that it spread over was dead. The smell of grass was no more. The sounds of the forests had disappeared. And his father had long since been buried. He wouldn’t experience those things again. His only reality were the cuts along his back, and the only smell was the blood staining the bandages.

The next few days were a blur. He would fade in and out of consciousness. At times he became aware of people in his room, but he was far too tired to acknowledge them. He could feel hands gently working the bandages on his back. He would see his water bucket disappear, then refilled the next time he reached for a drink. Food rations found their way onto the floor next to him that he would pick at when he had the strength to chew.

Alex had tried a handful of times to push himself off the rickety bed, but each exertion was met with the same wincing defeat. Ben would stop by once a day in the morning before work to clean the wounds and place fresh bandages on his back. He discovered that the other housemates had been the ones to tend to his food and water during the first few days he was out. And once he had recovered enough not to pass out after performing the simple tasks of reaching for his food or water, he finally had a chance to meet the two wiry, brash young men he lived with.

Brent, who had a thick, black, curly head of hair like Meeko, was the larger of the two, and the quieter one. Dustin was shorter with the arms and limbs of a spider monkey. Whenever he brought Alex his food at the end of the day, the sun would be low enough to cast his room in an orange glow, which only highlighted the thick patch of red hair that sprung wildly from the top of his head.

They were around the same age, with the same youthful eyes that were filled with a combination of curiosity and anger, which was now coupled with adult restraint and focus to keep them alive. It could have just been the times, but Alex felt like this was the first young man he’d seen since the start of the communities. Hunger aged everyone. Even children.

After a while, he could slowly feel the strength in his muscles returning, his consciousness sharpening, and the pain in his back becoming tolerable. He pulled the bucket of water on the floor next to him closer and, much to his dismay, saw the grim reflection of a man half removed from death. A few more days after that and he was up and moving around, fetching his own water and food.

Ben continued to check on him and each time he peeled the bandages off, it was like Velcro. The dry air had caused the bandages to fuse with the healing skin. Each tug and pull caused Alex to wince, but once the bandages were completely removed, Ben gave an approving groan. “Looks a lot better.” Ben unraveled the thin spool of gauze and began reapplying the bandages. “We should only have to do this for another day or two. The cuts are healing up nicely.”

“How’s the girl?” Alex asked.

“Emma’s fine. They had her back to work a few days ago.”

Alex gripped the edge of the bed tight as Ben applied the bandages over the cuts. Despite Ben’s prognosis that he was doing well, the tenderness in his flesh said otherwise.

“Is now a bad time?” Todd asked, accompanying his entrance with a light knock.

“Not at all,” Ben answered.

This was the first time Todd had spoken to him since he visited the morgue. The plan to sway the community’s opinion about him seemed to have worked.

“Would you mind giving us a minute, Ben?” Todd asked.

Ben finished laying the last strips down on his back and collected the rest of the old bandages. “Sure.” He gave Alex a slight pat on the shoulder, and then gave a firm clasp on Todd’s. The door closed behind him, leaving Todd and Alex alone.

“I heard Emma’s doing well,” Alex said.

“She is. Still a little sore, but she’s doing a lot better.”

The brash and caustic air that Alex had felt in their previous encounter had waned. Todd reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag that had been balled up and extended it to Alex, who reached for it with a sense of trepidation. He unraveled the bag and three small, brown pills revealed themselves.

“It’s for the pain,” Todd said. “I know you probably wish you could have had these earlier, but I wasn’t able to get them till yesterday.”

Alex shook his head, extending the bag back to Todd. “I can’t take these. Give them to Emma.”

Todd stuck his hand up. “It’s okay. Really. She has more than enough. Take them.”

“Thanks.” Alex stuffed the bag into his pocket, and the space between the two of them filled with an awkward sense of misunderstanding. Todd felt bad for misjudging Alex, and Alex felt guilty for the manipulation. Both men had their reasons, but each were still unsure as to what the other’s motives were.

“Look,” Todd said. “I appreciate what you tried to do. It isn’t something I’d seen in a long time.”

“Ben told me that this was the first whipping you’ve had in a while.”

“No. No, not that. Well, yes, that’s true, but-” Todd cut himself off. Alex could see the man struggling to find the words he wanted to say, to express the underlying gratitude he wasn’t sure he knew how to find anymore. “I haven’t let myself believe that there are still people out there. And not just a human, but a person,” Todd finished. “What I’ve been through, what we’ve all been through, it changes a man.”

“It does,” Alex replied.

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did for Emma. Truly. I don’t think it’s a debt I can repay.”

The black hole in Alex’s stomach returned, sucking him inward, draining him of life. And each drop of life that disappeared was replaced with the foul, noxious, lewd mass of deceit. He had gained the trust of a man at the expense of the torture of someone he cared about. All Alex wanted to do was grab hold of Todd, shake him, reveal his fraud, and tell him what the Coalition was planning. But the hidden laptop underneath his mattress kept him silent.

Any hint of failure or subversive tactics would lead to the demise of his entire community. Everything he’d done up to this point would be in vain. He squeezed his fists tight. Now wasn’t the time to back out. Now was the time to push forward. Just. A little. Farther.

“Alex?” Todd asked.

“Huh?”

“Tomorrow night, after curfew checks, I’m having a few people over. My place has a basement where we can hide out. Ben, Dustin, and Brent will be there.”

“Yeah. It’d do me some good to get out of this room.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

Alex started to get up with him, but Todd made him sit back down. He rested his hand on Alex’s head, and he could feel the same familiar relief that overcame him after he lay beaten and delirious in the medical unit on Main Street.

“Thank you again,” Todd said, his voice soft.

Once Todd closed the door behind him after he left, Alex sat there on the edge of his cot staring at the blank wall in front of him. The black hole had drained what was left of him, and all that remained was numbness. He couldn’t feel his feet on the floor or the bed under his legs. He couldn’t feel the sheets on his palms or the pieces of bandages on his back. The dead soil that had drained the life of the trees and plants had made its way inside of Alex. Every day that passed, he drew closer to becoming the dead earth under his feet.

***

The rest of the house had already left for Todd’s place. Alex was alone in his room, the glow of the laptop’s screen upon his face. Both Jake and Meeko had sent him messages, both demanding that he respond to them, but with completely opposite motives. After firing off the messages of success to Jake and addressing Meeko’s concern of why he hadn’t responded, Alex checked the updated nutrition reports provided by Sydney.

Vitamin and mineral counts were consistently above the limit the Coalition enforced across other communities. The blood results continued to improve along with the health of everyone in the community. Alex reached for the pain pills on the window sill. He still had all three. He unraveled the bag and popped one of them into his mouth. He tilted the water bucket to his lips and swallowed. He’d wait a few minutes before heading to Todd’s, letting the pill take effect. He didn’t want to continue his charade sober. 

The front windows of Todd’s place held no hint of any activity. When he gave a light knock on the front door, Emma answered with a whispering, slurred tongue. “Alex!” She embraced him in a hug, throwing her arms around his neck. He patted the back of her head, being mindful of the pain he’d already caused her, which was still healing on her back. When she pulled herself off of him, he could see that her cheeks were a bright red and she was having some trouble keeping her balance.

“Are you all right?” Alex asked.

“I’m great!” The glass of brown liquid she held in her hand tilted to the left, almost to the point of spilling. “Come in!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him through Todd’s house.

Alex wasn’t exactly sure what he expected Todd’s house to look like, but the sight that greeted him was surprising. Plush couches lined the wall and a carpet covered the floor. Emma motioned over to their left where a pile of shoes lay. “You can put them here. If you get drunk, just try and remember which ones are yours.”

Emma guided him to the cellar door where they descended. A large round table with some lanterns had been set up downstairs, and the rosy-cheeked faces of Ben, Dustin, Brent, Todd, and two other individuals greeted him.

“How’s the back?” Ben asked.

“It’s fine. How did you guys get alcohol?” Alex asked, taking the cup Ben handed him.

“Todd bought it from the trade post when the community first started. He’s been saving it for a special occasion.”

“What’s the occasion?”

Ben shrugged. “Just enjoy it. I know you’ve been going stir crazy in that house.” He went to slap Alex on the back, but pulled back and laughed to himself. “Sorry. Forgot.” Ben raised his glass and took a seat between Dustin and Brent.

From what Alex could see, they were playing a game of blackjack. One of the community members he didn’t recognize was the dealer, and they each had a stack of change. A wave of laughs and moans followed as the dealer flipped his cards over. Twenty-one.

“Glad you could make it,” Todd said, sneaking up behind Alex as he was distracted by the game. “Think you’ll play a hand?”

“I don’t think I like my chances,” Alex answered, taking a sip from his cup. The effects of the pill were in full bloom now, and the combination of that and the drink in his hand had significantly lowered his anxiety.

“Blackjack has the best statistical odds of any game at the casino,” Todd replied. “I’ll even loan you some credit.”

“No thanks. I’ve been down that road before, and I’m still paying for it.”

Both of them watched Emma at the table, placing bets, hitting, staying, throwing her hands up in triumph at the sight of a winning hand and hanging her laughing smile in defeat with a losing one.

“Follow me, I want to show you something,” Todd said.

The two headed back upstairs. Todd opened a door and they stepped inside a small study with wall-to-wall books. Aside from the tomes surrounding them, the only other pieces of furniture was a small desk and chair.

“Wow,” Alex said.

“I know it’s a little unusual to have kept them, especially after everything that’s happened, but I wanted to retain some sense of normalcy. After all, it’s not like this is going to last forever.”

Alex ran his fingers along the spines of the books. One particular title caught his eye. “A Farewell To Arms.” Alex opened the first page and started reading.

“Didn’t picture you as a Hemingway fan,” Todd said.

“He was the only writer I knew that enjoyed hunting as much as I did. My mom pushed him on me when I was little to get me to read, and I’ve been hooked ever since. He was an interesting man.”

“Well, feel free to borrow that. Ben told me about the crossword puzzle you finished for him, so I know he wouldn’t mind you having something else to do.”

“Thanks.” Alex tucked the book under his arm and continued the march around the room. “You’ve read all of them?”

“I have,” Todd answered. “At least twice. Once they shut the power off, I had a lot of downtime.”

“You know I’ve hunted my entire life. Ever since I was a boy. My father taught me. He’d take me out into the Kansas wilderness for days at a time. We’d have a few days worth of food and water, but once that ran out, we would just live off the land. There wasn’t anything we needed that we couldn’t get ourselves. I think I’d give anything to have that back again.”

Alex set the glass down and then took a seat himself in the small chair and cradled his head. The pill and alcohol was making the room spin. He shut his eyes, trying to force the room to stop. But he could feel himself sliding off the chair.

“Are you all right?” Todd asked.

“Yeah. It’s just been a while since I’ve had a drink. I don’t think my tolerance is what it used to be.”

“Do you need to lie down?”

Alex waved him off, forcing himself up. “No, I’m fine. I think I might go home though. I think my body’s just not used to all the movement yet.” Alex left the glass of liquor and shook Todd’s hand. He held up the book on the way out. “Thanks again.” He was halfway back to his house when a stumbling Emma chased after him, almost tipping face-first into the dirt before Alex caught her.

“Hey, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye,” Emma said.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling very well,” Alex replied.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be in that same boat,” Emma said, still using Alex’s arms to steady herself. She brushed the hair from her forehead, and even in the darkness with nothing but the stars and moon above them, he could still see the redness in her cheeks. “I never got a chance to properly thank you. For what you did.”

“Emma, you don-”

“No. Yes, I do. I know Todd came over to see you the other day. I wanted to come with, but I just…I guess I felt guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“For what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault. All you did was try to help, and I ended up hurting you and I just felt horrible and angry and, and, and…” Emma brought her hand to her temple and closed her eyes, shifting her weight slightly back and forth on her wobbling legs, “I think I’m drunk.”

“I’ll walk you back.” Alex supported the majority of her weight as she slouched heavily to the right. He opened the door to Todd’s place and set her down on one of the couches. She held out her hand and Alex took it hesitantly. She pulled him down to her and softly kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, then slowly fell asleep.

Alex headed back down to the cellar to inform the group of Emma’s condition and was met with a rowdy cheer of drunk hollers. He was on his way back up when Todd called out to him.

“To Alex,” he said, raising his glass. The rest of the room reciprocated the motion and echoed Todd’s words. “To Alex.”

Alex simply bowed his head as the room took a drink, bid his final goodbyes, and left. Sprinting through the dirt, he suddenly became aware of his bare feet. His boots still remained stacked with the other shoes by Todd’s front door. But he didn’t stop. He let the feel of the ash squish between his toes and under his heels. He sprinted past his house and down into Main Street. He made a beeline for the front gate where two sentries stood guard. He skidded to a stop right before the exit. He panted deep breaths and he doubled over, putting his hands on his knees. His stomach tightened and twisted. Once he finally had his bearings, he looked up at one of the sentries. The guard’s face was emotionless.

“You think you’re right?” Alex asked, stumbling forward, still drawing in deep breaths. “You think that what you do is right? Huh?”

The sentries didn’t answer, but they did slowly draw their rifles from their shoulders. The uniform hadn’t changed since Alex wore it. It still had the same violent simplicity, the same black imagination as it did when it was his suit.

“Do it,” Alex said. “C’mon. Do it! I attacked one of you during the whipping, didn’t I? Who’s to say that I won’t do it again? I’m a threat. Kill me.” Alex had moved close enough to have his chest touch the barrel of the AR-15 aimed at his sternum. He gripped the barrel of the gun and shoved it into his forehead. “DO IT! SHOOT ME! SHOOT ME!” Spit flew from his mouth and his face reddened. He wanted to die. He wanted it to be over. He wanted the easy way out.

But the sentry never fired. Alex collapsed to the ground, and the sentry re-positioned the rifle back on his shoulder. A single string of snot hung from Alex’s nose as he fisted bunches of grey ash. The dirt squished between in his fingers and he slowly bowed his forehead to the ground. The tight, sour feeling in his stomach remained. He clutched it, feeling the rumble under his fingers and palms. He could feel the slow, steady rise of acid burning its way up his esophagus. He bent over on his hands and knees once more and spewed the hot, burning liquid onto the ground. The humid stink rose with it and even after he was done, his stomach still felt contorted. He carefully stepped around the vomit and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smudging bits of dirt on his chin and cheek.

Tonight, these people had accepted him as one of their own. Through his violent deceit and at the cost of blood from one of their own, he had gained their trust. And now it would destroy them.