The Dead Circle (20 page)

Sammy is leaving the lot for the final time. His single body, one of over half a million, finishes its rotation past Montcalm Street and instead of continuing over Clifford Street towards Columbia, it starts to travel north. It takes the highway overpass towards nowhere in particular. Towards anything. Towards food.

Within ten minutes, two more head off in random directions. Then ten. Then a hundred. As if some sort of biological alarm clock went off, the circle begins breaking up. The great rotating mass slowly loses its organization and spins out like a hurricane dissipating, sending expanding spiraling waves of Fred and Gingers to flood the city.

They, or whatever is in the driver’s seat of their bodies, are hungry. No distinctions are made about the food source. Anything made of flesh will do. Like a giant cloud of locusts, there is only the single desire to consume. The bones of Detroit will be picked clean of every last morsel.

***

That same morning Sarah sits on the floor of the library with the street map they found in the truck and a sharpie. She has circled several options.

“OK, so I know there’s a hardware store on Gratiot, but I think we’d be smarter to go to Home Depot.”

“So much for supporting local small businesses.”

Chris stands over the map feeling slightly useless. He never remembered where anything was. His parents always teased him that he needed road flares to find the bottom of their driveway.

 “A big store is going to have more options. I think we should get two generators. So we have a backup.”

“Makes sense. Let’s suit up.”

***

The creature that used to be Milly Smith shuffles her way down Woodward Ave. She had been a thirty-seven-year-old stay-at-home mom. She had given birth to two children in her twenties who were now middle-school-aged and had figured she was off the baby train. That was until a week before her thirty-fifth birthday, when she discovered she was pregnant with twin girls. Surprise. Now instead of Pilates at 1:00 PM and a large glass of pinot noir at 3:00 PM, she was chasing around a pair of toddlers. She wasn’t sure if she was more exhausted because she was ten years older than last time she chased a toddler, or because this time everything was in stereo. Tasks like meals, diapers, baths and story time were now either doubly chaotic or had to be performed twice. She soon discovered that she wasn’t skipping her large glass of Pinot Noir after all. Hearing her father’s voice judging her in the back of her head, she wondered if this made her a bad mother. A recovering alcoholic, he would have given her a long talk about responsibility. He would have droned on about slippery slopes and learning from his mistakes using a thousand words where ten would suffice, but his tendency to pontificate made her wonder how much of it he actually believed. Nonetheless, his voice weighed on her, even from the grave. This usually led to another glass of wine.

Milly was exposed to the parasite when she washed her hands after having her ‘mommy tinkle time.’ She had dropped the twins into their playpen for their forty-seventh viewing of ‘Finding Nemo’. Twenty minutes after washing her hands, she joined the circle. ‘Finding Nemo’ ended a half hour later. Nobody ever returned to turn off the TV. 

Now, the body that Milly Smith used to inhabit is just a horrifying shell. So withered and desiccated, all of her bones look like they are trying to push out of her skin, trying to escape.  Her skin has become hard, brittle and somewhat translucent like untanned leather.

Milly has no thought, no self-awareness, but whatever is still commanding her body to keep moving is hungry. Navigating by instinct and smell, she finds herself in front of a dog tied to an old out-of-service parking meter.

Cooper was a six-year-old German Shepherd who lived for the twice-daily walks his owner would take him on. The street seemed like a magical place filled with endless fascinating smells. There were old smells, new smells, layered and complicated smells that seemed to bring the sidewalk alive with a rainbow of odors.

Another dog was here. What is that? A half-eaten candy bar. I want it! A human peed on that bush. I must pee on it myself. Oh boy a squirrel! 

Cooper thought nothing of being tied to the parking meter. It was part of the routine. His owner would go in for a cup of coffee and newspaper every afternoon. He didn’t notice anything was amiss until he was very hungry and tired of being wet. Cooper did not conceive of time the same way humans do, so he did not know he had been tied to the post for almost nine hours.

Two months later, when Milly discovered the rotting, liquefying corpse of what used to be Cooper, she did what her hunger compelled her to do. She began to eat.

***

Chris and Sarah walk out the front door of the library. Their weather gear has improved. They have thick green raincoats and wide-brimmed hats. Their garbage bags have been replaced with rubber wading boots designed for fly-fishing. The new gear causes them to walk more slowly and is very hot despite the cold weather, but they feel a little less susceptible to death-by-puddle. They have to abandon their pickup truck because of the broken window, but they find a working van two blocks from the library. They hop in and head off in the direction of Home Depot.

“Even if we get the generator, we still need a long-term solution to our fuel problem,” Chris says, keeping his eyes peeled for Fred and Gingers. They haven’t seen them anywhere but in the circle, but he sure as hell does not want to get caught in the horde again. “Running a generator all winter is going to use up a ton of gas.”

“I think we could set up a siphon to get it from all the cars but we’ll need some way to store it. I’m sure they’ll have some large gas cans at Home Depot.”

“Sure, that will work for a while, but it’s not going to last very long. Besides we’re going to be exposed to the weather every time we need to siphon more gas.”

Neither of them have a good solution. They continue in silence as the van crawls through the streets of Detroit.

“Look!” Chris points out his window. “Dogs. A whole pack of them.”

“Weird. I guess they weren’t affected? Maybe the parasite, or whatever it is, only affects humans.”

Chris stares out the window watching the dogs root around in a pile of garbage. He counts six of them made up of several different breeds. A German shepherd, a collie, even a maltipoo. They’re dirty and bedraggled, but seem to be surviving. This pack has adapted to a human-less world. He wonders what became of all of the pets who weren’t able to adapt or even escape from their homes or cages. He frowns knowing there’s nothing to wonder about, they died.
What did these dogs need to do to be the ones who lived? What had they gone through? Were the survivors or the dead the lucky ones?

Sarah interrupts his thought. “I wonder if they’re dangerous.”

“Fifi’s gone feral? Maybe? …Probably.”

“We should get a cat.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Cats are awful.”

***

Fifi hasn’t gone feral. At least she hadn’t gone feral completely. It hasn’t been an easy couple of months for Fifi, who actually went by Elly before the water turned, but at least she wasn’t tied to a post to starve to death like poor Cooper. She’s hungry, dirty and starting to be cold more and more often, but she still has not given up hope that her owner will come home from work and give her a treat.

When she comes across a human for the first time in two months, she’s really pleased. Her tail wags and she goes right up to the man and licks his hand. Perhaps too many generations of breeding for friendliness and adorability has left Fifi with too little survival instinct. Her last thought is to be confused about why the human just bit her.

***

They left early wanting to make sure they didn’t get caught out after dark, so when Chris and Sarah arrive at the Home Depot parking lot, it’s only 10:13 AM. Sarah parks and grabs a flashlight out of her backpack.

Chris climbs out and pauses. “You know, even if we can get a generator into the back of the van, we’re not going to have room for much else. We need food and water too. We’re going to have to make three or four trips at least.”

He looks over to discover that a smile has crept onto Sarah’s face.

“No we’re not.”

“I guess we could take two cars, but I don’t like being separated.”

“We’re not going to have to do that either.”

Sarah is staring at a green and white city bus that’s sitting abandoned at the edge of the large parking lot.

Chris sees what she’s looking at. “You’re kidding.”

“Why not? I’ve driven big stuff before. It’s not that hard. Gas, brake, steering wheel. Plenty of trunk space.”

“You’re nuts.”

“I’m brilliant.”

Sarah walks over to the bus and pushes the folding door open. She hops in the driver’s seat and smiles at Chris. “You coming sir?”

As Chris climbs aboard bus 125, Sarah discovers that the keys are still in the ignition. With a grin, she turns the key and the engine rumbles to life. “Lucky thing it stalled out and didn’t burn all its gas idling!”

“Look, somebody left flowers on the dashboard.” He points to a small bouquet of dried flowers still wrapped in plastic. “Must have been Fred’s date night.”

 “I think he’s going to be late.” She releases the clutch and the bus lurches forward. “Shit!”

“Careful!” Chris says unhelpfully.

“It’s OK. I’ve just got to get a handle of the transmission.”

Sarah makes a wide turn and circles the bus into the shopping center. She is pleased and relieved to see a sprawling grocery store and a Rite Aid in the same complex as the Home Depot. Chris is pleased and relieved to see a Gamestop sandwiched between them.

In front of Home Depot a large white SUV sits parked in the handicapped spot. Before Chris can react, Sarah guns the engine and the bus surges forward. All twelve cylinders roaring, the bus picks up speed much faster than he imagined the large vehicle could accelerate. His eyes widen when he sees what she is aiming for. They crash into the side of the Lexus LX sending it careening out of the way. The back window of the SUV explodes and safety glass showers the pavement. The front axle snaps and two of the wheels are crushed under the car, destroying the flamboyant custom rims. It’s silly. And
loud
.

“What the hell!?” Chris says, half startled, half angry.

“It didn’t have a handicap sticker. It’s just rude.”

Chris looks at her sternly, preparing to lecture her for being rash and impulsive, but after a beat, they both burst out laughing.

“I think this is our stop.” Sarah says trying to catch her breath.

“That was stupid. Kind of fun. But stupid. Come on wife, let’s go shopping.”

***

Five blocks away, two former citizens of Detroit that now could best be described as zombies turn their heads towards the sound of the crash. They both pause for a second as if they were startled by the noise and after a moment of hesitation, start walking in the direction of Home Depot.

***

“Good. I’m glad there’s a Rite Aid over there. Let’s hit that first. We need as much medicine as we can get. Antibiotics, bandages, painkillers, anything we can find.” Sarah starts to scribble a shopping list onto her hand with a ballpoint pen.

“Are you planning on getting injured?”

“I’m planning for what we can’t plan.”

They grab a shopping cart from the parking lot and head into the drug store. It’s warm inside despite the fall chill. The air is thick and stale from being trapped for two months. Chris heads for the bandages and first-aid supplies and Sarah heads to the pharmacy counter.

“They have some air-casts here. Should I grab them?”

Sarah pops her head up over the counter. “Yeah. Grab everything. Get more condoms… no TV, no internet… we use a lot of them.”

“Okey dokey.”

Sarah shines her flashlight at the endless bottles of pills. Each of them has a long medical name that she doesn’t recognize. She starts to feel frustrated and embarrassed
. How do I not know the actual names of any antibiotics? Fuck
. She wishes her iPhone worked so she could look it up.

She goes back to the counter and finds a dog-eared notebook filled with reference charts underneath a dried-up plant. It’s covered with a thick layer of dust and probably hasn’t been used since the pharmacists could look things up online, but it’s exactly what she needs. She’s happy to see it has  a list of drugs broken down by type.

She murmurs to herself. “OK. Probably don’t need opioids or boner pills… yet. Ah! Antibiotics!”

Armed with the reference guide, she grabs a couple of baskets and cleans out the pharmacy of anything she can identify the use of even if she can’t imagine needing it. Better safe than sorry.

*

The Home Depot turned out to be fairly easy to navigate. The emergency lights had long since run out of battery life, but they had flashlights to see by. And after finding the camping aisle, they had bright lanterns. They load two 10,000 watt generators onto a rolling palette and add a crate of heavy-duty extension cords. They stack another palette with power-tools and building supplies including a large selection of caulk, weather stripping and commercial plastic sheeting. And naturally they get every roll of duct tape in the entire warehouse.

The grocery store is not as easy or as pleasant. The smell coming from the Kroger is overpowering. All of the refrigerated cases of meat, vegetables and dairy have been enthusiastically rotting creating a mixture of awful smells that Chris can still taste even after plugging his nose. Still, they have a job to do and they fill up cart after cart with any food that looks like it hasn’t spoiled and hundreds of gallons of bottled water and other beverages.

An hour and a half later, Chris and Sarah have loaded the bus with thirty-five shopping carts of supplies. Sarah creates high stacks of cereal, cake mix, coffee, pasta and jerky on top of cases of water, soda and juice. There are towers of cans and jars buttressed by enormous rows of toilet paper.