Arkadium Rising (22 page)

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a water filtration kit stashed underneath some rudimentary campfire kitchen supplies in the outermost pocket. He'd been worried about drinking from streams and other sources of water out in nature. The filtration kit would allay his fears of contracting dysentery or some other horrible but preventable disease.

He found a pack of Snickers bars, his favorite candy. The sight of them made him almost deliriously happy. But then he realized how they had gotten there. Marcus had known about his predilection for the nutty, chocolatey goodness. He set the candy aside, not willing to forego it completely. No, he would keep it, but keep it for when he got desperate. Hopefully, that time would never come.

When he came across a handful of protein bars, he realized how hungry he was. Not only was he hungry, but he was no longer sickened by the idea of eating. He tore one open and ate it in three bites without really tasting it. He had to hurry to the kitchen for a glass of water because it was so dry going down. After drinking down a glass of water, he ate another bar, this one with "real" blueberry flavor, whatever that meant. It certainly didn't taste like anything remotely fruit-like.

Since he'd entered the apartment, he'd been avoiding rummaging for food, but with the return of his appetite, it couldn't really be avoided. Once he ate someone else's food, once he stole it right from their kitchen, there really was no turning back. Eating someone's food made him a looter, someone who selfishly takes what's needed. The act of crossing that line would cement his place in this new world. He'd already committed crimes he told himself he couldn't avoid, horrible crimes he couldn't stomach to recall, but this was different.

The cat followed him to the kitchen and jumped up next to its water bowl. Jason opened a cabinet and discovered a well-stocked assortment of baking ingredients. Another cabinet held dinner staples: dried rice, pasta and jars of sauce, boxes of Hamburger Helper, canned vegetables.

"I would kill for some pasta noodles, garlic tomato sauce… some buttered bread," he said aloud. He closed the cabinet and looked at the cat as if it might respond. The cat cocked its head to the side. "Know what I mean?"

The cat meowed.

Jason opened the fridge and was greeted by darkness and a damp warmth that made him uneasy. Air as cool as a winter day was supposed to flow from refrigerators, not this. His brain screamed at him:
spoiled, soured, rotten
.

He passed on the carton of eggs, brick of cheese and cold cuts. Same for the Tuperwares of leftovers that would likely be leftover forever. On the bottom shelf he spotted a six pack of Milwaukee's Best with five cans remaining. He hooked his index finger through the empty plastic ring and lifted the warm cans to the counter. He stared at them for a number of seconds, just as long as it took for the
spoiled, soured, rotten
odor of the fridge to seep out into the kitchen.

"Guess I don't have to be anywhere, right? Why not drink down some suds?"

When he shut the door he saw a magnet pinning a photo to the fridge door. It was the beautiful blonde and her average-looking husband and they were no longer young. The man was seated at a reception table of some kind, a dour, flat look on his face. He had grown out of his average-looking phase to something bordering on distinguished before falling down the wayside of sixty. Standing next to him, the woman, wearing a shapeless shift, was no longer stunning at first glance. But her transcendent, beautiful smile, well, it really did transcend. A white border lined the photo, and on thin band of white at the bottom, someone had written:
Ivy & Tim, two better people I never met! Happy retirement!

"Oh crap." He learned their names, something he didn't want to do. Ivy & Tim. Never Tim and Ivy. Never Ivy 'n Timmy. No, they would always be Ivy & Tim, their names irretrievably linked by that stupid ampersand. He didn't want to give them context or any kind of definition that would permanently fix them to his memory.

Too late now
.

He grabbed a can of warm Milwaukee's Best and popped it open. It fizzed and crackled. He tilted the can and took a long swig despite the bubbles.

As he drank it back, his gaze hovered on the fridge door, and before he knew it, he was reading an appointment reminder card.

Just a gentle reminder! Kattywampus is scheduled for her yearly checkup on: Aug. 19
th
2015
.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. He drank down the rest of the can then tossed it into the sink. "Katty-fricken-wampus," he muttered. "What kind of name is that?"

He opened another beer, already feeling a thickening buzz. The cat,
Kattywampus
, meowed at him and flicked her tail in acknowledgement. He took a sip. "So, let me get this straight." He pointed at the cat. "You are a cat… named Kattywampus? As in 'Kat' for short?"

The cat meowed and stood, offering her head for him to scratch.

Everything about this place, the blast-from-the-past furniture, the drop-dead gorgeous wife's transcendent smile, their names, Jesus Christ, their names. Ivy & Tim. Too goddamn mundane. Typical. Unspoiled. American.

He needed some fresh air. Needed to get away from the
spoiled, soured, rotten.

He grabbed the emptying plastic ring of beers and went to the door. The cat called for him, but he ignored her. After opening the door a crack, not more than a few inches to see if the coast was clear, he hurried out onto the deck. The deck that wasn't covered at all but ribbed with ivy-covered trellises. The fresh air was intoxicating, sent his head spinning as it mixed with the bad beer sloshing in his mostly empty stomach. He went over to the best place for cover—the niche next to the air conditioner—and sat down as gingerly as he could manage, and took another deep drink from the beer.

His buzzing head drifted back until it rested against the wooden railing. A gentle breeze licked at the hairs of his beard. When he opened his eyes, he saw a large bird gliding overhead. At first he thought it might be a hawk, but it was much larger than that. It was a turkey vulture, at least that's what his mom always called them. And once he followed the bird's path in a large circle overhead, he noticed another bird, and then a dozen or more, all with wingspans as wide as Jason was tall. They spiraled languidly, barely moving their impressive wings, letting the wind buffet and cajole them on rising thermals. This sight seen a few days ago would've been exhilarating, but now, somehow, the birds and their silent sweep through the sky was menacing.

"Carrion birds," he whispered.

Despite the heat of the day, a chill ran through him, but he couldn't look away.

And then he noticed one of the vultures wasn't following the arcing pattern of the rest. It followed a straight line at a slightly higher elevation. And now that he noticed it, this vulture didn't really look the same. It looked like…

No, it can't be
. His heart jolted with a surprising rush of adrenaline.

Not caring if anyone spotted him, he stood and watched the dark angular shape fly past the swirling vultures. It was some kind of glider. No—it was a drone, flying slowly, silently to the edge of the bowl-like valley and beyond, its scope and range, hell, its very existence unfathomable to someone who had survived the EMP. He felt the urge to grab his pack and hurry after it. But he stood, aghast, long after it was out of view.

Modern technology, in some form or another, had survived.

2.

For three days Jason spent most of his waking hours on the deck, resting and recuperating as he peered up at the sky. He saw no trace of the drone or any other sign of technology. He was no longer paranoid about trying to prevent someone from seeing him. Sure, he was cautious, but he didn't want to be alone for the rest of his life. Nonetheless, he saw no one else. It was still and ominously calm; he could've been the last person on earth.

The hours were long. He entertained himself by watching Kat stalk birds and butterflies that landed along the deck's railings. He could tell by her initial caution that she wasn't an outside cat, but she adapted quickly enough that on the second day she pranced over with a dead chickadee in her jaws and deposited it near his feet.

He also broke out his writing journal on the second day, the one given to him by his brother with one hand while he threatened to pound him with the other. And so, to fill the hours of his recovery, Jason wrote. He had no forced intention of trying to impress Marcus with anything similar to the New History; he just needed to get down on paper everything he had gone through, everything he had witnessed. It was a freeing sensation, like therapy. He filled dozens of pages, and by the end of the third day, he felt empty, purged of the merciless guilt. He came close to burning the journal, thinking that might be the final step in getting past it. But in the end, he didn't.

He no longer felt guilty about eating the food in the cabinets. Every morning he woke up on the couch to the cat curled up on his chest. Every morning he ate from Ivy & Tim's supplies, and with each meal his guilt became a little less.

If after three days and nights of resting Jason didn't feel the need to get back on the road, the odor permeating the entire apartment was more than enough to light a fire under him to get on the move. He awoke, yet again, with Kat sitting on his chest, staring at him. The cat was agitated, more so than normal, and he soon realized why. The smell of the refrigerator had seeped into everything. But it was somehow worse. Somehow more unsettling. He soon realized the spoiled, soured, rotten stench wasn't just coming from the kitchen. It was coming up from the air vents, through the floorboards.

He wanted to believe it was coming from the industrial-sized coolers in the kitchen of the Kettle Creek Supper Club. It could very well have been hundreds of pounds of steak gone over all at once. But his instincts told him it was something else, something even more unpleasant.

He thought about venturing into the floodwaters to investigate the ground floor, but what was the point? He had never planned on staying here more than a night. He had gotten some decent sleep. His ribs were on the mend and he could breathe again with little difficulty.

No, that odor, that unrelenting vileness, whatever it was, was his signal to leave.

Besides, he was starting to talk to himself, even when Kat wasn't around to act as cover. He needed to be around people. Needed to interact with them, to learn their stories, to learn about the world in which he now lived.

Jason Grant gathered up his supplies, adding whatever foodstuffs he could carry from the cupboards of Ivy & Tim.

He shouldered his pack, ready to leave, when Kat looked up at him with her sad eyes and kattywampus hair as askew as ever. He could leave her here.

"Ivy & Tim might be coming back, and if they don't see you here when they get back…" he said, but he couldn't do that to the animal. Most likely, they would never return, or if they did, it would be too late. He couldn't imagine letting the animal starve. He thought about bringing her along far enough to set her loose once he reached shore. He knew he didn't have the heart to do that either. Kat wouldn't last a day in the wild.

"Well, Kat with a capital K… want to go on an adventure?"

Kat twitched her tail and meowed, happy at least hearing the upbeat tone of his voice.

Jason held Kat in his arms as he stood in the doorway. He looked back at the small apartment one last time. Before he left he guided her to the flattened top of his backpack. She took the hint and leaped onto the perch, curling around in a circle before sitting down. She looked like she didn't know what the hell was going on, and Jason supposed he didn't either. Wasn't that what adventures were all about?

3.

The rain battered the surrounding trees, covering the sounds of their flight. They didn't know if Marcus would've held them against their will if they'd expressed their desire to leave, but they weren't taking any chances. When they were well out of earshot of Marcus and his people, Kylie said to Dawn, "I can't believe you wanted to stay with them!"

RJ stopped to hold back a branch blocking their path through the woods and gave Kylie a look of warning as she walked past. The branch whipped back to block the path after he let it go. She didn't care if she pissed off Dawn. Who would willingly stay with a group that included people like Marcus, who killed someone on the Thompsons' front steps, or Delaney, who so enthusiastically killed Austin?

"Look at us!" Dawn replied. "I mean, seriously. It's pouring down rain. We're in the middle of the woods. There's no power, nothing!"

"And being with Marcus and Delaney was better than this?"

"Delaney, she saved me. She… stopped him. I should've never let my guard down. Ever since they came to our house, that guy seriously creeped me out. And it didn't matter because I had to pee so bad I almost peed myself. I shouldn't have… I… I just don't know what we're doing out here. Or how we'll stay safe."

"I'll protect us," RJ said.

"No offense, Junior," Dawn said, "but your face is all busted up, and I noticed you holding your ribs."

"I wasn't expecting…" He paused. "I'm sorry, Dee. That shouldn't have happened."

"It's not your fault. I was the one going off by myself."

"Stop it!" Kylie yelled. "Will you listen to yourselves? Dawn, you're blaming yourself for having to relieve your bladder? RJ, you think it's your fault that Austin was trying to rape your sister—"

"I should have stopped him!"

"Will you just listen for a minute?" Much to her surprise, they were both watching her, expectant. "We need to stick together. The three of us. I trust no one else in the world but you two and my dad. And right now, we're heading back to find my dad. That's all that matters."

"But your mom…" Dawn said.

"My mom is a crazy bitch," she said, her voice strengthening. "There, I said it. She wants nothing to do with me. I'm the dog crap on the bottom of her shoe. The only reason she was at your house to begin with is that my dad dragged her along. I didn't leave her behind with Marcus. She was already gone."