Jeremy Chikalto and the Demon Trace (Book III of The Hazy Souls) (7 page)

“We've sort of... acquired some things,”
said Tina.

“Your father's a man of vision,” said
Jeremy, as they exited the tank down the ramp.

Construction workers rushed past them,
carrying orange safety cones and shouting at another group of
newcomers. “Wet cement! Get off it!” Frisky jumped out of the way
as a group of workers came towards her shouldering large sheets of
plywood. “Tina, can you take us somewhere less hectic, please?”

“Follow me,” she beckoned with a sexy
finger. She led the party through her family's home. People were
walking around the ground floor, and the place was full of Silicon
Valley types tapping away at laptops, talking with soldiers and
pilots. Tina's parents were standing at the redwood table in the
former dining room, pointing to maps and talking with soldiers.
Tina led them up the spiral staircase and into her princess
bedroom. Jeremy nodded at the oil painting of Michael Jackson on
the wall.

“We have lots of tents, and they're building
bunkers too, but I insist you guys stay here.” She opened her eyes
wide and gasped. “Sleepover Part II!”

“Tina, I appreciate your attempt at
establishing what I think is supposed to be a sense of normalcy,
but can you tone it down a bit?” Frisky swatted a fly from her
neck.

“Ew, how'd that get in here. I know, let's
do makeovers!” They all laughed, but Tina was dead serious.

“Frumpy Frisk needs a facial.”

An hour later, a great bell rang throughout
the compound. Tina nearly poked Frisky's eye out with her eyeliner.
“Eek! Speech time!”

Jeremy was admiring himself in a mirror,
pleased with his exposed midriff in Tina's lime green tank top. He
jumped when Maren shook his shoulders from behind.

“The bell beckons,” she said.

Tina drew back the curtains.

The cement block just outside their window
was still partitioned off with safety cones, but a line of people
passed beside it on a black tarp that had been laid down to direct
foot traffic. They were walking towards a makeshift wooden pavilion
thirty yards away. “Must have let more people in from the outside.
Is there even room for them here?” asked Frisky.

Tina shrugged. “Sure. Let's go.”

Jeremy, Maren, Tina, and Frisky walked along
the tarp-path and took a seat on the ground that had been cleared
in front of the small wooden pavilion. Five rows of people
separated them from the stage, where Tina's father stood
barrel-chested and proud, holding a mic. A cluster of soldiers
stood behind him with arms crossed, with one stooping low in front
of an amp, adjusting the volume.

“Testing, testing,” said Tina's father. He
tapped the mic and then cleared his throat. “Hello, I'm General
Grant Forero. Welcome to your new home, everyone. We'll be
expanding the compound and securing the perimeter further out and
right now we're looking at a square mile of safety. Bunkers are
being built over to your left,” he pointed, “and we're also busy
working on a common area, which will go up right behind me. More
structures will be built as our community grows. We're working
twenty-four-seven. A big thanks to the men and women who've pooled
their resources together to make this happen.”

Everyone cheered.

“My work in aviation has taught me how
useful it is to get a bird's eye view of things, so be sure to
check out the guard towers which'll be up in the next month or so.
You might even take a shift at watch.” He pointed again. “It's a
war zone out there, make no mistake about it. With the explosion in
population, basic necessities will be scarce. The entire economy is
crumbling, and law and order has broken down.”

The crowd roared, and a big man with a thick
neck stood up in the center of the dirt field and waved his arms
around belligerently. Those beside him pulled him back down.

The General lifted his hand up. “We're going
to rebuild a society, right here. The first priority is to secure
these borders. We can't let more people in than we can support,
unfortunately. From now on, no one is to leave the compound without
authorization. If you do, I can't guarantee we'll let you back in.
We have scouts further out, but in the off-chance that a group of
outsiders make it to the fence, do not engage with them. All
communication with those outside will be by a commanding officer.”
He held up a military uniform with a blue zigzag stitched across
the chest. “This blue pattern on the jacket is our flag, so take
note. We'll be hoisting one up shortly on that flag pole over
there.

“We can only hope and pray that order is
restored for the folks on the outside, as we give thanks for our
own good fortune. On our last run into the city, one of my sources
informed me that a catastrophic earthquake has destroyed much of
southern California.” General Forero paused and allowed a pregnant
silence to fill the night air. “And not only that, but in Japan
too, right near Fukushima. Chemical warfare has broken out in the
Middle East. Every government is now rotting from the inside.” The
General slammed his fist into his hand. “But not here! So keep the
spirit, folks. I'll speak to you all soon. And goodnight.”

Jeremy and Maren made their bed in silence
as they digested the news. Their room was large and inviting, with
a Queen-sized bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a small, round
marble table in the corner. Two bright yellow benches were at
either side of the table and Jeremy was content that Tina had not
had a hand in the decorating. But no matter the warmth of their new
home, the truth remained that their parents were out there,
possibly in Japan or Iran, without shelter, food and water. Maren
tucked the bed covers in snugly and then smoothed her hair down.
“We can play house for a little bit, but soon you're going to have
to answer your calling.”

“I want to be incognito for a while, you
know?”

“Why?”

Jeremy stared at her. “I'm not ready.”

Maren gave him a small nod.

The next morning, Jeremy slept in.

Maren sat up in bed and attempted to brush
her hair with her fingers. She discovered she had massive knots.
“Ugh!” She tiptoed past Jeremy and went to go find Tina.

“Tina!” She rapped on Tina's bedroom door,
but jumped when Tina tapped her from behind.

“Looking for me? Great! 'Cause I'm looking
for you!”

“Have a brush?” Maren attempted to run a
hand through her hair to demonstrate the severity of her problem.
“Ren?!”

Tina motioned for Ren to step forward. The
trusty young guard bowed to Maren, daughter of the family he'd
served all those years.

“Oh my God, look at you!” Tina smacked Ren
on the shoulder, interrupting his chivalry.

“How are you here?” asked Maren. “What
happened to you?!”

“My parents and I went to
sleep that night before we were to escape
together
—
and
then, well I came here. Not here, but close by. We were looking for
you, and instead we found some soldiers who knew your names.
Anyway, we were led to this compound.”

“Well I'm glad to see you again!” Maren
embraced Ren.

“See you later, Ren!” said Tina. She nudged
him away. “Go see someone downstairs and they'll get you situated.
Maren, shut up and talk to me!” Tina pulled Maren into her bedroom
and slammed the door. “Who is that handsome man, tell me all about
him and I want to eat dinner with him.”

Maren crinkled her nose. “Get me a brush,
first.”

An hour later, and Maren was turning in
front of the mirror. “Awesome,” said Maren, stretching the purple
zebra-print leotard down over her butt.

Tina clapped and laughed. “You're a good
sport, Maren! You'll get your clothes back soon enough. You stink,
girl.”

Maren sighed and slipped her backpack on.
They left Tina's room, walked down the winding Victorian stairs,
and headed outside. They made their way to the back of the
property, where there was a wooden bathhouse painted sky blue.
Maren imagined that it must have been peaceful to wash here after a
long day at the beach, but now, in times of Apocalypse, it had
become a madhouse.

“Outta my way!” shouted Tina. “General's
daughter coming through! Important business here.” She yanked Maren
forward. “You're going next. Just bring your clothes in the shower
with you. I'll hang on to this.”

“Oh, I can wait,” said Maren sheepishly, but
Tina was already unzipping the zebra printed leotard.

“Don't gawk at my girl,” snapped Tina at a
man behind her. “So does Ren like brunettes? Or is my hair black?
More like dark brown.”

Maren let out a little yelp and then Tina
pushed her into the shower stall and pulled the curtains taut. The
shower's previous occupant stumbled out, naked and confused.

“I don't know.” Maren showered quickly. Tina
helped her back into the leotard, much to Maren's annoyance. Wet,
clean clothes in hand, the two set off back to the house.

The General's second in command, Thomas
Blakely, halted Maren and Tina at the front door of the Victorian.
He was an older man, and looked more business than military. Tina
nudged Maren. “He's my father's CFO,” she grumbled.

“We've set up a work chart,” said the man
sternly. “Your father will be posting it by the gazebo, but I have
a copy here.” He held out a stack of papers and a digital camera to
Tina. “We haven't gotten a proper census yet, and I think that will
help things move along.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “My dad is an OCD
control freak.”

“Tina, your father wants you to get pictures
and background information from every resident. In addition to the
background information, we want a first-hand description of every
resident's personality. Don't take notes until after you've spoken
with them, we don't want to arouse suspicion.” He turned to Maren.
“Tina's told us you have quite the memory, so use it.”

“Well, our job sounds fun anyway!” Tina fist
pumped.

An hour later, and Maren and Tina were in
the barracks photographing residents. The barracks were rows of
trailer homes, with wooden ramps and decks. Cots lined the walls of
the trailers and room dividers provided minimal privacy.

“Name,” said Tina flatly, already bored with
her special job.

“Frederick Alister,” replied a man whose
thin black hair was parted purposefully to the side to suggest
thickness.

“Here,” Tina handed him a form to fill out
while she took notes.

“Remember to rename the file on the camera
this time,” said Maren, looking over Tina's shoulder.

“Hey,” said a warm voice from the doorway of
the barracks. Jeremy posed, arms flexed dramatically while giving
his best smolder-stare. “Take my picture?”

“Sure,” said Maren, nodding to Tina with a
wicked smile. Click.

“Excellent,” she said, holding the camera up
for all to see. “What an ass! Everyone only gets one picture, so
this is kind of a forever moment.”

“Wait.” Jeremy reached out for the camera
but Tina pulled it to her chest.

“Did you see your job assignment yet?”
blurted Tina.

“Assignment?” Jeremy shook his head, then
sighed. “Whatever it is, I'm game. I'm trying to blend in.”

“Let's go check the jobs' bulletin.” Tina
waved goodbye to Frederick, and Maren and Jeremy followed her out
of the barracks to the center of the compound.

“Jeremy Chikalto!” yelled Tina, setting her
finger on the board.

“Wait, wait.” Jeremy pushed her aside.

“Well
—
what's your job?” asked
Maren.

Jeremy turned from the bulletin board, and
his brows furrowed as a grave look spread across his face.

“Let me see.” Maren stepped forward.

“Slop duty,” said Jeremy, barely
audible.

Chapter 12

Abandon

Jeremy dragged his feet towards the
makeshift log cabin that was serving as the slop supplies
dispensary. It was a hastily built structure, probably not up to
code, and likely to collapse if flicked. He was fifty feet from it
when he felt something land on top of his head. “What?” Jeremy
looked up and then was struck by a meaty piece of hail. “Ouch!”
Pellets were falling from the sky. Then a large one the size of
Jeremy's fist shattered just inches away from him.

Jeremy sprinted to the
dispensary and took shelter inside. He shielded his brow and looked
out across the lawn. People were running in every direction.
Maren.
No sooner had the
thought crossed his mind, then Jeremy disappeared into the Haze and
reappeared in the center of the compound. He ran up the steps of
the small amphitheater past the bulletin board and looked out.
“Maren!” he shouted. The Victorian wasn't far.

He ran out into the hail storm, allowing his
body to generate a soft buzz of protection. The hail bounced off
his shield and sizzled, and all around him the earth bore pot
holes. He jogged across the cement pathway and then flickered
inside the Victorian. “Maren!”

Maren was seated on the stairs, huddled
together with Tina, Tina's mother, and two small children. And then
as suddenly as the hail storm started, it ended.

Everyone waited in silence for a moment to
see if it was really gone.

“That was... interesting,” Tina managed.

“Let's find your parents.” Tina's mother,
Anna, led the two small children to another room.

Tina's father came barreling down the
stairs. “Move. Move. Everyone, back to your posts!”

“Dad, no.”

He held his hands up to her, ignoring
Jeremy's scowl. “One little hail storm can't derail our operation
here. We've probably incurred damage to our perimeter. Let's get
moving, people. Tina, set a good example. I'm making an
announcement.” General Forero marched to the bottom of the stairs,
out the door and towards the amphitheater.