Flicker (5 page)

There are few people left. I am one of them and so is Mom.

*****

We sit down on concrete steps overlooking the water. The area used to be a terminal for a ferry. Seaweed-covered pillars hold up a dock for a ferryboat that isn’t here. Mom tells me a ferry would come across the Sound and pick people up to take them across the water to Seattle, the city where Mom and Dad lived.

I marvel at the view of the water before me as the wet September air presses against my face. Stopping after walking so long feels good. We covered miles and miles getting to the overpass. Crossing the last stretch to get down to the water was the longest part of the trek.

Seeing the dead city shakes Mom up. She lies down on the concrete, tears pouring from the corners of her eyes. I think she had gotten her hopes up that the cowboys exaggerated the emptiness. But everyone did die from the virus and nothing remains the same for her. I can see now it wasn’t a foolish choice to go below ground in the bunker. In many ways it feels like it was a psychotic plan to stay under cover for so long, but in other ways, I know we wouldn’t have survived if we were out of our concealment. The larger cities had to have been hit harder than this, and this
is crumbling buildings and nothing else. No people, no animals. Nothing. If Mom and Dad hadn’t decided the threat of the virus was real, I wouldn’t be here today.

Mom sits up and I try to console her, but it’s pointless. She’s experiencing the loss of the world as she knew it. Being in the compound shielded her from the real horror of what happened, but now it is unavoidable. Now she sees the truth: the blackout was real.

“Mom, do you want to set the tent over there tonight?” I point to an open shaft of some sort, wanting the safety a covered spot might yield. I couldn’t sleep last night out in the open.

“That’s an old elevator. It would take people up like….” she doesn’t know how to explain.

“I know what an elevator is Mom. I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory about a hundred times. Willy Wonka takes Charlie in one at the end, and they fly away.” 

I wish I could take one right now. If I had a bird’s eye view I could figure out which direction we should go to find a place to start our life. We’re going to wander forever, we have no idea where The Light is.

“I’m going to set the tent there. I’m exhausted.”

“Lucy, wait.” She pulls on my sleeve before I stand to go. “Everything used to be so different. I wish you could have seen what the world was like before. I wish, for just one day, you could see and know what it used to be.” She lets go of me, and I walk from her reverie. I’ve always been content with the life I
did
have, but now it feels like everything was second rate … and not good enough to stay alive for. At least not for Dad and the rest of them.

I go to the open elevator shaft and roll out my sleeping bag, avoiding the tent all together. Heavy clouds have covered the grey sky, hinting at rain. I wish the view were clear; so I could look into the night sky, see the star lights peering down at me. I want to see what the cowboys see, for a moment without Mom.

My whole body swells with frustration as I lie in the sub-zero sleeping bag. I try focusing on the sky, wanting it to dissipate my resentment at the falsehood my life has turned out to be. My eyes fill with tears as I think about how naive I’ve been. I always thought I wasn’t good enough in the compound. The adults told me I was too little or too young. When in reality I was just being sheltered from the truth.

I wipe my wet cheeks with my hand and as I do, I see the little flicker of green light emitting from it. I hold my hand close against my cheek. I want to keep it from Mom, yet I’m ashamed of my desire to hide anything from the only one who has chosen me.

The light has never appeared so often, just days apart. I instinctively press my palm against my forehead, immediately feeling relief as the pounding headache disappears. In an instant the pain is gone. The stars look brighter and the anger that’s been building washes away. Mom still sits in the moonlight, maybe missing her dead husband or missing the city she once knew, but for the first time since we left the compound, I have a sliver of peace to hold onto amidst the broken glass of the world around me. I don’t feel responsible for her.

I fall asleep with the light fading away in my hand, lulling me towards slumber.

chapter nine

I
wake with Mom shaking me. “Lucy, I hear people. They must be inside the building overhead.”

“What should we do?” I sit up; startled by her words, scared of people close by. I slept so well, relieved of the horrible headache I’d been carrying around, but now panic sets in.

“We need to see if they can help us, if they know where to find The Light.” She picks up her sleeping bag and stuffs it in her pack before she hoists it over her shoulder. She’s ready to move.

“That doesn’t seem….”
Smart
, I think, not finishing my sentence, wondering again if we should’ve at least brought a handgun with us.

“We have no other choice. We need food, and there’s nothing in this city to eat. Maybe they’ll know a source.”

I disagree with her methods, but she has a point. We can ask for food and worst-case scenario, die trying.

Walking out of the elevator and into the breaking daylight, I’m taken aback by the beauty of the world before me. Morning sunlight dances off the surface off the sound beckoning me, thousands of tiny stars twinkling against the dark waters. I wish I could dive into the depths and come back up through the water a new person, washed free of the heartbreak we left at the compound, salty water replacing my salty tears. But I’d never jump. The pain those memories hold is so strong I fear it would pull me down, drowning me.

“Come on, Lucy, let’s walk up the stairs and look for an entrance.” Mom is not interested in the things I see. Today she’s back in command with a determined look on her face, but I still remember her broken in my arms three short days ago. I remember her being too weak to stand as she held Diane’s dying body in her arms. She’s willing herself to move on. I’m not ready to forget.

We head up, climbing over fallen steel beams. My pack strapped to my back grows heavier with each empty-stomach step I take. When we reach the top, I look at Mom, who dutifully scouts the scene. The Prepper within her has been reignited as she calculates the scenarios. Several male voices and the smell of smoke lure us around the corner.

I follow Mom’s lead and we find ourselves looking directly at a group of men standing together around a fire.  We conceal ourselves by crouching down, watching from behind a corner. They lean against concrete boulders, eating something out of their bare hands. There are four of them and they outnumber us in more ways than one, considering the guns they carry.

“We shouldn’t be here, Mom.” My voice catches in fear. The men may be the only people around, but that doesn’t mean they are good. I think of Dad and Forest’s warning for so many years. The dangers they predicted to be hidden around every corner, waiting for us.

“Lucy. We need help. I’m not going to wander around and let you starve to death after everything we just went through to get here.”

“Mom, this isn’t safe, they’re strangers. Don’t be like this.” I tug on her shoulders, wanting her to stop and think a moment longer.

“Just follow my lead,” she whispers.

She’s not being reasonable. I’ve lived a life undercover … I’m not ready to throw it away so fast.

“Please. Let’s first listen to them for a few minutes to find out if they’re safe,” I plead. Her eyes dart between the men and me, as though deciding who to choose. I want to scream at her,
Choose Me!

Before she can make a choice, a man comes up behind us, revealing himself with a grunt. We spin to face him.

“I found something over here!” he shouts towards the fire before taking a step towards us.

I stand frozen as I take him in, images of savages and looters spinning through my mind.

“What is it?” A big guy with a mustache saunters over.

“It’s just my daughter and I,” Mom states. Her voice remains calm and steady, and I’m relieved to stay quiet. My voice has always snagged any chance it got, and that was while living on the compound with my family. I don’t want to see what it would do now with strangers, probably quit altogether.

“Well then, make yourselves at home, little Missus. We ain’t gonna bite. You missed
those
thugs by a few days.” The mustached man walks over to us, arms outstretched, like he’s offering us something. “I’m Coker, and I won’t do nothin’ to hurt you little things. Now my patrolman here,” he elbows the guy who came up on us as we hid, “can’t promise you nothin’ ‘bout him,” he jokes.

Mom takes a step towards him. I put on a brave face of unblinking eyes and clenched jaw, masking my trembling hands by clasping them behind my back, my thundering heart buried beneath the coat zippered to my chin. Mom looks braver, still. She’s a few inches taller than me, almost six feet tall, and it’s something I never think about, but now I’m thankful for her stature, hoping it makes us appear strong.

“We’re just hoping someone can direct us,” says Mom. They’re roasting fish on the embers of a fire and the smell is intoxicating. All of a sudden I feel lightheaded and I lean on Mom as she talks, my shaky hands have turned to shaky legs. I don’t want to die before I’ve had a chance to live.

“We’re looking for a group of people, The Light. Have you heard of them?” The men glance at one another, and then set down their food, wiping hands on the legs of their pants.

“Why don’t you come closer,” Coker says pointing to a spot near the fire. “Tell us who you are. We don’t see many folks around these parts, ‘specially women.”

“I understand,” Mom says, pulling me closer to them. “I’m Cecily, this is my daughter, Lucy. We’ve been living about twenty miles outside of town for a long time. We’re just traveling through.” I mentally will Mom to stop speaking; it’s as if her sensibilities have left and she’s walking forward blindfolded.

The men lean closer to us, and too many eyes are on us … on me. My grip on Mom’s shoulder loosens as I slump to the ground, underfed and dehydrated, but mostly terrified, my body can no longer support itself. 

Mom shouts, “Lucy, Lucy, open your eyes!”

They stay closed; hoping when they reopen it will be as if I’m rising from the bottom of the sea, discovering a new me.

****

When I come to, I wish I had sooner. I’ve never fainted before, but I’ve read enough medical books to deduce what’s happened. Mom screams, but I can’t see where she’s gone. My hands and feet are tied together, and seeing the empty fire pit I realize everyone must be with her. Panicked, I look around for something to use to cut myself free, as Mom shouts in the distance for them to stop. Stop what, I don’t know; I just want to get to her, and get away.

Focus, Lucy. Focus.

There must be a knife somewhere if they cooked fish. My feet are bound so I can’t stand without falling over and I don’t want to risk hurting myself, then I’ll be no help to her at all. I push myself off the ground into a sitting position as Mom calls for help.

I try to use my fingers to unfurl the knots, but it’s awkward and impossible. I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on finding an instrument to set me free. When I open them, I see my left hand flicker with light, just like last night.
Why now? Now is not the time to think about light … now is the time to help Mom.

Having no other options, I try again with my fingers to undo the knots and my lit hand instantly unravels them, as if because I willed them to unknot themselves, they did. Mystified, I wrap my hands around one another and watch as the same thing happens to the rope around my wrists the moment I touch my palm to them.

“Hey, you!” A voice calls from the top of the stairwell. Ignoring it I stand, free from the bindings and desperate to find Mom.

“Let me help!” He runs over to me before I can move. My eyes widen, seeing someone my age before me is shocking. I can’t decide what’s more alarming: my glowing hand untying knots or seeing this guy again. It’s the cowboy, Charlie, who came to the compound three days ago. Of course he doesn’t recognize me, I’d been watching from inside, but I identify him instantly.

I turn to run, not knowing if he’s with the other men. I must find Mom. She screams again, louder this time, and I follow her voice as I scan the area, my ears settling on the building about twenty feet away. I run, stopping at the crumbling entrance where men circle around her.

“Mom!” I yell, wanting her to know I’ve come to help. Her clothes are half ripped off and she’s pinned against a wall, but she’s doing her best to fight off the men. “Let her go!” I scream, horrified by the men surrounding her.

“It’s the girl, dammit. Get her!” Coker shouts as they make a move for me. Mom struggles to stand, her legs buckling as the men hold her tight. Although I want to be mad at her for throwing caution to the wind, her eyes are filled with shame for what’s happened. I want to yell at her for acting so careless, but I can’t. I never have and now’s not the time to start, we’re still fighting for our lives. The gun-toting bandits surrounding us lead me to believe we’ll soon be lying on the ground, dead, just like the family we left at the compound.

The men inch closer and it’s not until he yells that I realize the cowboy is with me and not them.

“Stay behind me,” Charlie yells. I don’t know where his allegiance lies, but for now he’s choosing to guard me. I cower behind him wanting the protection he offers.

Before they reach us, Charlie swings a rifle around from where it had been slung over his shoulder. He lets loose a hail of bullets. There is no time for the men to react. The men stood no chance against Charlie’s speed; their focus was on my mother’s body, not their lives. The men slump down in front of us. Four bodies laid to rest. I have seen this scene before.

With a steady hand, Charlie points his gun at Coker’s face.

“Let her go!” Charlie shouts. Coker stands paralyzed before his captor. Charlie and I look about the same age, but his actions reveal he has years of survival under his belt. He points his gun in the air and shoots off another round. Mom watches from the wall where she’s lowered herself to the ground. I can barely hold it together and bite my knuckles to stop the screams.

“Walk away or you’re next,” Charlie barks. When Coker doesn’t move, Charlie doesn’t hesitate and shoots him in the chest. Mom covers her mouth, holding back screams with a blood-splattered hand.