Overrun (5 page)

Kirken followed his daughter to
the living room and sat down heavily on the sofa. He removed his protective
glasses and rubbed his temples trying to make the piercing pain go away.

They waited inside for over an
hour for Brandon to return. Mel used the time to relay her last two week's
activities in a breathless ramble while her mother fidgeted nervously in the
kitchen.

"You know Dad, I've been
dying to take you downtown. There's somewhere I want you to go with me. I have
something to show you. Something very important."

"What are you talking
about, sweetheart?" Kirken asked her.

He felt her exuberance beginning
to eat away at the bitterness, anger and frustration that always surrounded him
when he was not with her and living his damnable life inside the domes.

He was excited and interested
despite the chemicals racing through his body and starting to make him sick. He
avoided looking at his ex-wife sitting in the next room to keep his stomach
from acting up any further.

"C'mon let's go," Mel
said grabbing his arms and pulling him to his feet. "The bell's going to
ring soon. We don't want to miss them."

Kirken still had no idea what
she was talking about. Judging by the look of her mother in the next room, she
seemed unaware as well. At this, the most difficult stage of his recent dose of
medication, he didn’t really care.

He put his black glasses back
on, took a deep breath and stepped out again into the blasting heat. He
followed Mel to the driveway curious to see what exactly she was talking about.

“We're going to have to take
your car and not the bikes this time," she told him passing quickly by the
garage. "The tires on mine melted again. I haven't had time to chip them
from the ground."

As high spirited as she was,
this time Kirken sensed some fear behind her sparkling eyes and cheery smile.
He imagined the first time she saw the tires. She probably hadn’t been back in
the garage since.

For the first time, Kirken
sensed her fright.

"No problem, Mel," he
said. "Just get in."

Kirken held the door for her.
When she was in, he walked around to the front and slid into the driver’s seat.
Neither of them looked at Deanna standing at the curb when they pulled away.

"Head to the center of
town," Mel said once they were a little further down the road. Color had
risen back to her cheeks, and she looked ready to face the world once again. No
matter how difficult a task that might prove to be.

Kirken turned away from the last
of the residential streets. Soon they were traveling down the main highway of
Beuford, Washington.

They drove by the battered
remnants of the old apartment complex where they all had once lived. He applied
more pressure to the accelerator and tried to pass it without discussion. It
was where they had lived before he had decided to return to work in the domes.

There was nothing much left of
the place. Crumbled bricks, brown dirt, and grit covered the sidewalks all
around.

An elderly couple emerged from a
decaying door near the front lugging an oversized piece of decayed furniture
between them.

"People still live out
here?" Kirken asked incredulously. "How long has it been since that
building’s been condemned?"

"Awhile," Mel answered
him evenly. "I wonder where they’ll live.”

She was silent for a minute.
“Maybe they've given up and don't plan to live at all."

Kirken kept his eyes ahead and
forced himself not to react to her change in mood.

"I know them. At least I
knew someone that died in their family," she continued. "They stayed
until the roof caved in. It was all they could do when she was finally gone.
After the funeral, they must have just given up. Sometimes it's the only thing
you can do."

Kirken had never seen her like
this. There was almost no emotion in her voice. It was all starting to happen.
It was becoming too much. The pressure of the day's events and the
ever increasing levels of radiation exposure were starting to take its
toll. He just hoped she would never hate him, even at the end, for spending his
life away from her.

Further down the road, they passed
factories, shopping centers, movie theaters, grocery stores and even a
miniature golf course. Most were still standing, and some even had some color
other than a faded tan or brown.

Kirken just continued to drive.

"Take another right,"
she told him breaking from her own thoughts.

Kirken maneuvered the car around
a crumbling curb and pulled to a stop at the end of the road.

A giant red building stood
ahead. The glare of the thickly shielded windshield partially hid its
dilapidated state. Mel looked at it for a minute before opening the door and
getting out.

They had stopped in front of a
school and a fenced-off courtyard where dozens of children ran about.

While Mel watched and Kirken
still sat in the driver's seat, they screamed, laughed and threw each other
down on the hot pavement. All seemed oblivious to the death that surrounded
them and the sad-looking girl that stared longingly from the other side of the
fence.

Kirken followed Mel's gaze to
the center of the courtyard.

“This was where I went, Daddy,”
she said. She never looked away from the children, and her voice sounded like
it crossed a great distance. “This was my school.”

“I know, baby,” Kirken said
nodding his head slightly and staring through the fence into the yard.

“I came here one day,” Mel’s
speech slowed and became more cold. “I actually come down here a lot.”

Her voice shook slightly the
more she spoke. Kirken put his arm around her. Her body felt frail and weak
beneath his touch.

"She was lying right there
when I got to the fence,” she said pointing to a small area in the corner of
the courtyard.

Kirken followed with his eyes to
where three fresh flowers lay dying slowly in the sun. Their petals were still
white for the moment, but they were slowly withering and curling in from the heat.

“Who was, sweetheart?”

"Remember that old couple
we just saw?" Mel said to him.

Kirken nodded remembering the
ones they passed in the car.

"Their granddaughter,” she
said sadly. “Though it might have been her or maybe someone just like her. I can't
keep them straight anymore. But she was lying right there. No one even
noticed.”

“Noticed what, baby?” Kirken
tried to get out. His voice was lost in his throat.

"No one even noticed,"
she said again. "She just laid there on her back while the others played
in the yard. By the time I climbed the fence her eyes had already burned
through."

Mel slowly got out of the car
and walked to the fence grasping it tightly in both fists. Kirken also stepped
out and looked down the street away from the schoolyard. A tear fell quickly
down his face.

"Kids don't even notice
anymore," she said turning and walking away. “Or they just ignore it,
because it’s too frightening a reminder of what’s in store for themselves.”

Kirken also turned away from the
fence. He followed her back to the car struggling hard for something to say. He
wished more than anything in the world that he could take that memory away.

Kirken caught up to her when she
reached the curb. She leaned on the hood with both hands. Kirken stood
inquisitively at her back.

"I want to be here when it
happens again," Mel said again after a long silence. "I want to be
here to tell them it's all right. It’s not something they have to ignore or
fear. They can still be friends with each other. Even if they all know that
each of them is soon going to die. If friendships stop or are avoided, how is
anyone going to survive? They’ve got to know that it’s alright. That it’s
alright to still be friends. And it’s alright, when the time comes, to finally
let go and die. It’s something they have to know."

"They know, Mel. I'm sure
they know."

“I just want to take some of the
pain away, even if it’s just a little bit,” she said turning around and resting
her head on his shoulder. “And let them know it’s going to be alright.”

Kirken felt a weird lump in the
center of his throat. With her face under his chin, he stared over the top of
her head. They took one last look at the activity in the courtyard before
turning and walking back to the car.

Kirken’s chest hammered, and he
felt completely sick. The air seemed unbearably hot, and his thick shoes seared
with the heat coming from the pavement. He opened the door, and his daughter
climbed in.

"C'mon Mel let's go see if
we can find your brother."

Kirken walked around to the
front of the car and wordlessly climbed in beside her. Mel didn’t say anything
when he brought the car into gear and pulled slowly away.

The school faded behind them
into the distance, and the sound of children laughing finally left their ears.

Kirken tried not to look at the
tears slowly sliding down her cheek. He took a deep breath and just continued
to drive.

The ride into town was filled
with silence. Mel stared out the window clutching her legs between her arms and
against her chest.

Kirken looked ahead completely
lost as to what to say. His guilt for ever leaving Beuford and his stepchildren
felt like thin tentacles slowly crawling up his back and wrapping around his
neck. There was no pressure, only the feeling of their presence.

It was becoming maddening.

He pulled out his portable
holovid and contacted Deanna. In only too short of an instant he thought, her
face appeared. Her eyes were still red from recent tears. The skin beneath them
had not yet time to unswell.

“He's not back yet, John,” she
told him timidly. “I don't know where he is."

"I'm sending you our
location. Please make sure to tell him when he comes back. We're going to
eat."

"I will, John," she
said her voice tired this time.

Kirken looked away from the
monitor back to the center of the road ahead and reached to hit the disconnect
switch.

"He might not want to see
you, John," she spoke again before he could turn it off. "He's had a
rough time of it lately. That might be something you're going to have start
preparing yourself for."

"Just tell him where we
are."

"I will," Deanna said
and turned her back to the screen.

With a hand he tried to keep
from shaking, Kirken switched the holovid off.

The imaginary tentacles resting
around his neck began to squeeze. His thoughts became choked in his throat
making him cough once and struggle to breathe. Patches of sweat surfaced sticky
and uncomfortable under his arms. A thin line trickled down the side of his
face. The combination of his medication and what he had just heard made his stomach
yearn to retch.

Next to him, Mel acted like she
hadn’t even heard. Still crouched with her legs up in the passenger's seat, she
gazed out her window at the bustling activity around the downtown storefronts
and the many Beuford shoppers moving in between.

"They came to the house
again," she finally spoke.

Kirken didn't immediately
respond. He waited for a small group of children, all in various stages of the
disease, walk in front of the car to get across the street. When they were
safely on the other side, he pulled off to the left and parked.

"Who did?" he asked
turning off the ignition.

"Recruiters, I think. From
the domes. They came around once before. Brandon took some tests awhile back.
If he wasn’t thinking of going in, I don’t know why he even bothered. But, he
did. And he must have done well enough to make them come out here.”

"What did they say? What
did he say?"

"He wouldn’t talk to them.
Just like before."

She looked away from Kirken to
what was happening outside the window.

“Sometimes I think he knows he
could get in,” Mel said hugging her knees tighter to her chest and staring at
the car floor. “But as an initial recruit, I don’t think the rest of us could
go with him. So he blows it all off and stays back here with us. I know he wouldn’t
feel right leaving us.”

Kirken felt like someone had
just kicked him hard in the head. The grip around his neck quickly tightened. A
vein started to pulse under the sweat across his forehead while he stared out
into the sun-battered parking lot.

“Sometimes I think it’s that,”
Mel said noticing the look on Kirken’s face. “But, then sometimes I think his
reasons might be even more.”

"Goddamn it," Kirken
swore to himself.

Mel didn't react.

Kirken worked to bring air into
his lungs and watched more of Beuford's diseased citizens walk in front of the
car. The holovid beeped once and was silent. It sounded two more times before
Kirken sighed deeply and fumbled to turn it on.

"Kirken," he announced
softly with almost no sound or emotion in his voice. He looked down at the
holovid to see the familiar face of his son fill the small screen.

"Dad..."

A heavy burst of static
interrupted the transmission. Brandon's face faded in and out making it nearly
impossible for Kirken to understand what he was saying.

"Brandon, hold on. I’m
sending over where we are."

"Never mind, Dad,"
Brandon answered his voice suddenly clear. A bit of irritation also colored his
tone. "I've got your location locked in. I'm almost there."

Kirken sat back in his seat.
Through the corner of his eye, he noticed Mel staring at him.

"Hold tight, I'm pulling
into the parking lot now, and I'm starving. I hope someone is planning on
getting something to eat."

“I could eat,” Mel said softly.

Kirken looked over at her and
smiled weakly. He then turned to see Brandon's vehicle approach from behind. He
remained inside the car with Mel until he pulled alongside.

Her quiet mood lifted a bit upon
seeing her brother. She opened her door and stretched her thin pale legs out.
She waited for him by the side of Kirken’s car while he unwrapped himself from
the inside of his tiny vehicle. He hugged her when he was completely out. Her
gaunt frame was almost lost entirely in the largeness of his own.

Brandon had lost even more
weight since Kirken had last seen him. His eyes had hollowed and his skin was
white and pale. A few lesions were visible just beneath his shirtsleeve. The
brim of a sun bleached baseball cap cast a shadow over most of his face,
and a grim look of determination furrowed deeply into his brow.

Kirken opened his own door and
stepped out. The sun blasted at his eyes. The heat bit through the air and
seared into his lungs. The bottoms of his feet burned through the soles of his
shoes.

"I just got done talking
with her," Brandon accused quietly while walking towards him. "Why do
you have to do that? Don't you think people suffer enough while they're out
here? Why do you have to cause more?"

The grip around Kirken's neck
was so tight he could barely breathe.

He struggled to answer his
soft-spoken stepson about his conversation with Deanna. There was nothing he
could say that his son would accept. Deanna ignited an uncontrollable rage
within his heart. Once it got going, it was impossible to stop.

He knew Brandon was angry, but
he wasn't about to apologize for the unchecked wrath he had recently unleashed
upon her. Especially when he thought about both him and Mel living with her out
here on the outside. And how much of their lives they had already lost.

"What did they want,
Brandon?" Kirken bit out abruptly. "How many times have they been
here? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What are you talking about?"

Mel pulled back from her
brother's arms and walked away. She brushed past Kirken while he stepped closer
to Brandon and stared into his face.

Brandon stood next to the open
door of his car and did not look away. He stared coolly back at Kirken. His eyes
were ominous and blank.

"Don't go giving me that
shit, Brandon,” Kirken’s voice shook from the emotion raging through his head.
“You know goddamn well what I'm talking about."

"You know what they're
doing here," Brandon answered his voice level and cold. "They were
here for the same reason they were here last year. To recruit. My intelligence
scores are high and my technical skills are more than adequate.”

“Did they make an offer?”

“Technological trainee.”

“Not military?”

“No, not military.”

“Why do you even test?” Kirken
asked looking past Brandon over his shoulder. “If you’re not going to take the
chances that are given.”

Brandon didn’t answer right
away. He looked over at Mel and back at Kirken. Kirken followed his gaze and
then stared back down at the ground.

"You realize it would mean
medical protection," Kirken pulled off his dark glasses and stood blinking
into Brandon's face. The heat scorched his eyes and tears streamed down his
cheek. In addition to this discomfort, Kirken was also becoming quite pissed.

"You realize they'll give
you treatment. You could have a much longer life."

“I'm fine where I am. I don't
want it.”

“That is your mom’s goddamn
stubbornness,” Kirken’s voice started to rise.

"Someone has to stay with
them," Brandon replied more hotly back. “We can’t all just abandon them
and leave.”

Kirken felt something in his
head suddenly snap. He swung his arm at Brandon’s head and smacked his baseball
cap to the ground.

Beneath the cap, his scalp and
skin were pink and glowed in the sun. A small handful of hair came off with the
hat and fell in a tiny pile next to it on the ground. At sixteen, Brandon
already looked like an old man.

"You won't have to look
like this!” Kirken yelled using every fiber in his brain to control himself
from a frenzied scream. “You won't have to feel like you do!”

Brandon crouched down and picked
his cap up from the ground. He stood slowly and glared into Kirken’s eyes. The
rest of his face remained calm and empty of expression.

"I'm not going to leave
them,” Brandon said to him. “And I’m not going to live in the domes. I can’t.
You know that."

"No, I don't know that.
Tell me why."

"I can’t be a part of it.
Of what goes on inside.”

“Part of what, Brandon?”
Kirken’s yelling was louder. “You tell me what goes on in there! How can you
know when you’re out here?!”

“Will you look around?"
Brandon said pointing to those walking about the crumbling storefronts.
"Look at these people. They live and work out here every day. They produce
the technology in the factories to build and improve the domes. Though, mind
you, they are not allowed to live in them. They do it hoping their efforts will
help make a better life for their families. One better than what they have
themselves. They trust their efforts in doing this will save them someday. But
you know as well as I that’s not what happens. No one in there could actually
even give a shit."

Mel walked from where she stood
next to the car towards Kirken who fidgeted with the dark holovid unit in his
hands. She took it from him, dropped it through the open car window and stepped
back to sit on the curb.

"Not everyone can live
inside the domes, Brandon," Kirken's head burned like it was about to
explode. "These people are making do with what they can. They're trying to
make a safer world. The U.S. government knows that. They depend on it."

"No, they exploit it,"
Brandon said slamming his fist across the hood of Kirken's car. His voice rose
only slightly. "People are starting to figure out what is going on. And
once it's out there, it can never be taken back. Can't you see that? They know
the government is perverse. They hate them for that. For what they're trying to
do. And I don't care if I could live forever, I couldn't live with that. I
would never want to become part of it."

"Tell me Brandon, what are
they trying to do?" Kirken asked his own voice dropping slightly.

“If those people in there are
not working to find a way for everyone, and I mean everyone, to survive, what
are they in there trying to do? I can’t do it. I won’t. I want to die like
everyone else…out here. And to hell with what goes on inside."

"Brandon, if you really
believe it to be like that, you can go in there. Become educated. Become part
of it and work to change it. It’s a chance for you to make it right. If
anything, you would be doing more than just staying out here waiting to
die."

"Like you, Dad?!"
Brandon said, red hot anger now in his voice. "Just like you're changing
all that? You could give a shit what happens to these people out here. Just
like the rest of them.”

Kirken felt the muscles in his
fists tighten, and his stomach work itself into painful knots.

“What have you done to change
anything? If anything you work to keep it the same. You protect a government
that is selfishly hoarding lifesaving technology. A government that is standing
back perfectly satisfied with watching the world die around it. Keeping what it
knows. Waiting for a perfect time to use this knowledge to flex its power over
the rest of the world. And you're part of it all."

"That's not what's going
on, here, Brandon," Kirken's voice rose again. "The domes exist to
shelter scientific minds who one day will find a way for everyone to
live."

"That is not true,"
Brandon returned calmly. “These people have been forsaken. Cast off as a small
mess left to be cleaned up. And everyone on the inside hopes that someone else
will do it."

Kirken let out his breath slowly
and walked closer to his stepson.

"Look at you, Brandon.
You’re already sick. How long can you expect to continue on out here? Are you
in that much of a hurry to die?"

"I won’t leave them,”
Brandon said lowering his voice and looking at Mel waiting patiently on the
curbside. “I’m not like you…”

Mel glanced away down the road
pretending she was not listening to their conversation.

Kirken took a step back like he
had been slapped in the face.

“I will not leave her. Somebody
has to stand by somebody in this life.”

The words echoed coldly in
Kirken’s heart.

“And I can't believe you're
saying any of this right now in front of her. Maybe we don't need you coming
out here to see us anymore. Just stay in the domes."

Kirken almost choked on the rage
that had overtaken him. In an instant his fury became shame and guilt.

“Mel, I’m sorry,” he walking to
her. “All I want is for both of you…”

“I know,” she said interrupting
him and forcing a thin smile across her face. “You don’t have to say it. I
don’t want you to.”

She stood and walked past him to
her brother. Brandon lowered his eyes when she was in front of him. She stood
on her tiptoes and hugged him tightly around his neck.