The Summer the World Ended (40 page)

“Dad?”

He didn’t move. Dread rippled through her.

The book went flying as she leapt up and ran to him. He opened his eyes when she grabbed his wrist.

“Hi Squirrel. Coffee ready yet?”

She held on to his arm, kissed his knuckle, and sniffled. “I’ll make it now.”

At the sink, she twisted the plastic tap to let water trickle into the electric kettle. She fixated on the bubbles forming around the stream.
Dad’s dying. He won’t admit it.
She turned off the faucet.
I can’t let him die.
Careful not to make a sound, she set the e-kettle down without turning it on and tiptoed over to where she’d left her pants. After slipping into the fatigues, she sat on the floor by her boots, pulled them on, and tied the laces.

Dad muttered something about Colonel Bering.

“He hasn’t answered,” said Riley. “Dad. I’m going to find help.”

“Don’t go out there.” He sounded hazy and out of it, but coherent. “Danger.”

“You’re dying. I gotta do something. If I just sit here and hide, I’m going to lose you too. You’re not gonna be okay, Dad. You’re bleeding too much.” She tucked the Beretta into her waistband. “I’m not going to lose both my parents in the same summer.”

Dad flapped his arm in a feeble attempt to grab her.

“Hang on, Dad. Don’t give up.”

“No,” he wheezed. “Too dange…”

When Riley went to turn the wheel to unbar the door, it occurred to her that neither of them had closed it when Dad returned. For hours, she’d slept with nothing between her and the wasteland but a disguised trapdoor. She didn’t have time to panic over that now, and rushed through the outer room to the ladder. Blood-caked hands made grabbing the rungs difficult, but she clambered to the top and shoved the pallet up to reveal clear, blue sky marked by three distinct cottony clouds. Warm, dry air lifted her hair off her face, clean and crisp without the taste of a confined space.

“Wow… no red blobs in the sky. No nuclear winter.”

That gave her hope. Somewhere, someone might be able to help Dad. He said the house was still standing. Her best chance would probably be at T or C… maybe Albuquerque. Hospitals are huge and made out of concrete. Maybe there were some people left. She’d go to the house, get the truck and go hunting doctors.

She set the pallet down and fiddled with the burlap to make it look like dirt again. In the clear light of almost-noon, home stood out like a sore thumb to the south. It looked like he’d built his bunker about two hundred yards away… so close…
how the hell did I get lost the other night?

Boosted by worry, she trotted straight at it. A few minutes later, she rounded the corner to the front and headed for the pickup truck. A layer of dust had settled over everything.
Crap. Keys.
She spun on her heel to face the front door, where a small white paper fluttered in the breeze. From where she stood, she could make out a PNM logo above the word “notice.”

What the heck is that?

She got three steps closer before the crunch of a shoe coming around the far corner of the building her made her freeze. Her first thought was the men she’d stolen the ribs from had found her. They’d probably taken over the house. They had to be the guys who shot Dad. She swallowed hard and darted to the right at a full sprint.

“Police, stop where you are!” shouted a man.

P-police?
Riley skidded to a halt. “What?”

“Riley?” asked a familiar voice.

She turned around.

Sergeant Rodriguez, in uniform plus bulletproof vest, stood about fifteen yards away with a younger white man next to him, also in uniform. Both had their hands on their weapons. A surge of hope burst from her chest. She grinned, wide-eyed.

“Sergeant Rodriguez!” yelled Riley, and ran toward them.

As soon as they got a good look at her, the cops pulled their Glocks and aimed at her.

“Gun!” shouted the younger man.

Terror locked every muscle. Riley screamed and halted.

“On the ground, now!” roared the white guy. “Get down.”

She shivered, unable to move.
What did I do? I’m a kid! They’re gonna shoot me.
She glanced down at herself, the bloody shirt, the gun in her pants. The younger cop glared. Sergeant Rodriguez, who also had his weapon out, held up one hand at his partner. Her arms locked, refusing to obey.

“P-please don’t kill me,” she mewled.

Rodriguez lowered his voice to a more soothing tone. “Riley. Listen to me. Do not move.”

“I… can’t.” After a two-second pause, she whined.

“Kneel down and put your hands behind your head.”

She gritted her teeth and let her legs go, falling to her knees, shaking.

“Very slow now, lie flat on your belly.”

Riley worked her way down. A few seconds after her cheek touched dirt, the cops crept over. Having pistols aimed at her head at such close range terrified her into uncontrollable trembles. One of them gathered her arms behind her back while the other pulled the gun out of her pants. Handcuffs clicked around her wrists. Fingers slid up and down her body, patting and invading pockets. The young cop took the two extra magazines from her left thigh pocket.

“Jesus, Marty, this kid was ready for war.”

Sergeant Rodriguez grasped her by the bicep and pulled her up so she sat on the ground with one cop on either side of her. She stared at him, wanting to scream, cry, throw up, and wet herself all at once.

“Sergeant Rodriguez! You’re alive!” Her face flooded with hope. “Please help!”

“Yeah, kid,” said the other cop. “You surprised? Guess your old man isn’t as bad ass as you think.”

Daddy.
“Huh?”

Sergeant Rodriguez looked over the Beretta. “It’s full. She hasn’t fired it.”

“Or she reloaded,” muttered the other guy.

“One in the pipe and a full mag… doubtful.” Rodriguez looked down at her. “Whose blood is that?”

“My Dad’s. He’s been shot by bandits. You gotta help him! He’s dying.” She fidgeted at the cuffs, which seemed to grow tighter.

“Bandits?” asked the other cop.

She sobbed. “Bandits shot him when he went out to check for radiation. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have hit the radiation detector. It stopped glowing, so he thought it was safe.”

“Riley,” said Sergeant Rodriguez. “Slow down, take a breath, and tell me what happened.”

She sniffled, wiping her running nose on her knee after she couldn’t reach her hand up high enough. “Nuclear war. DC’s gone. The world’s gone.” She sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re alive. It’s so good to see you. I-I thought everyone was dead. Please, you gotta hurry, Dad’s dying!”

The young cop whistled and twirled his finger by the side of his head.

“Knock it off, Lawson.” Rodriguez looked back to her. “Why are you carrying a loaded gun?”

“I don’t wanna get raped. Society’s gone. People would grab me.”

Sergeant Rodriguez squatted and looked her in the eye. “Riley, listen to me. Nothing’s happened. The world is just fine.”

“What?” Trembles returned.

“Kieran called us a few days ago because he was worried. No one has seen you or your dad for two weeks. He drove out here a couple times and the place was abandoned. He asked us to check on you.”

“Kieran?” She gaped at him for a moment. “Kieran’s alive?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” asked Sergeant Rodriguez.

Riley doubled over, sobbing. “Because the world war happened. I saw the missiles. The sky was on fire. Colonel Bering said the Russians and the Koreans shot at us.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Riley. Look at me. What’s more likely? That the world went up in nuclear flames or your father has some issues with reality?”

She sat up and sniffled. “W-what?”

Sergeant Rodriguez pulled the radio mic on his left shoulder closer to his mouth. “Hey, Carlos, come back?”

“Go ahead, Rod,” crackled a voice out of something on his belt.

“Did Armageddon happen?”

The radio was silent for a few seconds. “Bullshit, the Mets aren’t going to the series.”

Riley stared at him, so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak, cry, or scream. Her mind replayed the night she almost shot a man for food. If this was true―if the world was still really there, she’d almost murdered some guy. All her body was willing to do was shake. After a moment, she lurched sideways and threw up bile and coffee. Officer Rodriguez supported her enough so she didn’t fall face-first into it, and patted her on the back. She wrung her arms around, trying to get her hands free to wipe a tickling tendril of slime dangling from her nose.

“You know where your dad is, you tell us, or you’re looking at accessory to attempted murder of a peace officer,” said Lawson.

She swiveled her head to look in his direction, but all she saw as a blur of tears as she coughed up more brown slime. “What?”

“Will you take it down a notch, Hank? Can’t you see this kid is traumatized?”

Lawson shook his head. “She’s just as batshit nuts as her dad.”

“Riley,” said Sergeant Rodriguez. “Your father pointed a weapon at Officer Roma the other night. We were out here to do a wellness check on the two of you.”

“He’s dying,” whimpered Riley. “You gotta help him. Please, I’ll show you where he is. Please, don’t kill him. He said he saw looters.”

Officer Lawson made a cuckoo whistle.

“Please. He’s in our bunker. We thought the war…” She sniveled and cried for another few seconds. She strained against the handcuffs, desperate to wrap her arms around him and hold on to someone. “Is the world really still here?”

“Yes, Riley,” said Sergeant Rodriguez.

“Kieran’s still alive?”

He nodded. “As far as I know.”

“Amber?”

“I’m not sure who that is.”

Riley’s heart thumped. Worry for Dad, terror about how much trouble she was in, and too much relief to quantify slapped her brain into mush. “My friend from Jersey.”

Sergeant Rodriguez looked her in the eye. “The East Coast is still intact. There was no nuclear war, Riley.”

“But the sky exploded.”

“The Air Force was conducting night bombing exercises. We had no specifics, but they gave us a heads up in case the locals called it in.” Lawson chuckled. “Every time they do something in the dark, people go UFO crazy.”

“The infrastructure collapsed. We lost power,” she whispered.

Sergeant Rodriguez glanced at the house. “PNM cut your power. Your father hasn’t paid the bill in six months. While we were looking for you, we checked up on him. He’d been doing some software work via a temp agency in T or C, but they haven’t seen him since May.”

“No apocalypse?” Another wave of nausea came on. “I didn’t shoot anyone. It’s Dad’s blood. He’s hurt bad.” The cuffs clattered as she tried to hug him again. She wound up leaning against his leg.

“Where is he?” asked Sergeant Rodriguez.

“That way.” She pointed with her nose. “Please hurry! I’ll show you. The bunker’s hidden.”

Sergeant Rodriguez hooked an arm under hers and lifted her to her feet, keeping a grip on her bicep. “Okay, let’s go.”

Lawson’s distrustful stare made her shy away and shrink in on herself. She sniveled as Rodriguez walked her along, allowing her to steer but not move too fast. With the sun out, the path back to the bunker seemed obvious, though wind had eroded the footprints they’d left during their midnight escape. Riley cast a longing glance at the house to her left; a month ago, she had all summer to hang with Amber, goofing off and not having to worry about anything.

She let her head hang.
What happened? Mom’s dead. Dad’s dying, and I’m going to jail.

iley stopped to cough up traces of vomit every few yards. The pinching steel around her wrists terrified her. Never in her life had she so much as gotten detention at school. Somehow, she’d skipped over petty teen things like getting picked up for shoplifting or speeding and jumped straight to felony arrest for a firearm offense. Sergeant Rodriguez kept a hand on her arm, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel like a prisoner rather than a guide. Still shaking, she walked toward the two identifying rocks two hundred some odd yards away.