On Black Wings (6 page)

The farmer puts the pistol against the glass, my horse staring and not moving just inches on the other side. “I won’t break it. I saw this happen at the farm, it’s just going to be a small hole and we can cover that up. This horse is going to break the window and kill us all-”

A shot rings out and I jump.

The farmer falls dead to the ground, the trooper’s gun wafting smoke.

“Jesus!” The waitress screams, “Officer! Jed was just-”

“He was out of control,” the trooper says, holstering his gun. “Miss, put him in the back with the others.”

“It amazes me,” the Middle-East guy says, rubbing his forehead under his turban, “the more people die, the more we feel the need to kill others.”

I rest my head on my arms on the counter, giving up.

The trooper wrestles my sore arms behind my back, and handcuffs me to the chair. “I’m sorry Miss, but until we get some answers-”

“Hey!” I’m fighting him, but I can’t, I’m too hurt and too tired. “What-”

“Officer!” the waitress moves to me, “she is no threat to us, she’s just a teenager!”

“She is apparently immune to this disaster,” the officer says, “and she is now a suspect.” He pulls my chin to meet his cold stare. “Miss, you better start talking.”

I wrest free and beat my head on the counter with a thud. “I don’t know anything, I don’t know anything! Please believe me, I don’t know what is going on!”

“Where do you come from?” The trooper is screaming into my ear. “Why are you immune? Are you a part of this? Did you cause this? Answer me!”

I rest my forehead on the counter, close my eyes, and let out a long sigh.

“Yes.”

Silence.

I keep my forehead against the counter, and just speak.

“You know what it’s like to watch your children die? Do you have children? To watch them run out into this expecting to see them playing in the snow, but have them burn away? To have your husband run after them and suffer the same? To sit there and watch and you’re not able to do a thing?”

“Hun,” the waitress says, stroking my hair, “you’re too young-”

“Don’t touch me,” I say coldly, and I feel her hand jerk away. “Don’t you dare touch me. I woke up twice this morning, once as myself, and again as myself as a teenager. Don’t ask me why, maybe God is punishing me, but I left myself in that house. The broken me who lost her whole family, and someone who is probably very alone right now.”

“I’ve had dreams,” I say, feeling my anger rise, “I dreamed I was an angel of death, tied in a river and left to die. I broke free, grew large black wings, and killed anyone who tried to hurt me.”

“I’m not in the mood to be tied up again.” I grit my teeth and close my eyes. “If I am a part of this, I would avoid pissing me off.”

It’s quiet.

I sit there, my forehead against the counter, breathing heavy through my nose. All of a sudden, I don’t care, and I feel my emotions slowly drain away. I wish I had my wings, I would show them not to mess with me.

I feel my mood slip, and it changes. Guilt overcomes me. Could I kill them for not knowing better? What is happening to me? Why did I think that? Haven’t we seen enough death for today? Why would I do that?

One of my tears hits the counter.

Shattering glass, and a thud behind me. Was that the window?

I turn and look. It was a bottle.

“Tie him up!” the Middle-East guy says, grabbing the unconscious trooper’s handcuff keys and freeing me. The waitress pulls the trooper to an empty booth, and begins taping up the officer with a roll of silver tape.

“Thank you.” I rub my wrists, and then dry my eyes on my arm. “You think that’s going to make things any better?”

“There were twenty in here this morning,” the Middle-East guy says, “and now there is just us three, four with you. If it comes down to me, I vote we keep the last few people we have here alive,” he says, looking outside at my horse, “and happy.”

“Don’t hurt him,” I say, looking over at the waitress, “he was just afraid. I can’t blame him, please.”

“I’m not hurting him,” the waitress finishes tying his feet together and takes his gun-belt, lying it over the counter next to me, “he’s a good customer. Just a little high-strung is all. We all are little on edge, I’ll free him when he comes around.”

“Twenty?” I look at the Middle-East guy. “Really?”

He nods. “Some tried going out, then some more after them. One in the back hung himself. Some others fought, they were shot. Others gave up, slipped out the back door. One lady got the farthest with an umbrella, but she didn’t make it far.”

I drop my head is sadness.

He sits next to me. “Are you okay?”

“Who are you?” I shake my head. “Are you an Arab?”

“A Sikh,” he says and smiles, “I am in school here to get my medical degree.”

“Sorry.” I sigh, feeling bad about the officer, then looking back over at the Sikh guy.

“There is no need,” he laughs, “He will be fine. My name is Vijay, but people call me Buddy.”

“Vijay, great, thanks,” I say, picking a discarded chip up from the counter and eating it, “thanks for the help. Buddy. I guess.”

CHAPTER VIII:

I Tell Them Everything

“That is quite an unbelievable story,” Vijay says.

I drop my head. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

“Will you untie me?” The trooper says, sitting in his booth, taped to the seat, “I just want some answers.”

“Only God has the answers,” the waitress says, putting a glass of water and a straw in front of the trooper. She’s wearing the trooper’s gun belt over her pink waitress dress and apron. “I’ll free you in a bit when I know you’ve calmed down, Jeff. You’re not getting your gun back either, this is my joint and I’m the law.”

“Are we supposed to believe all that?” Jeff sighs while the waitress puts an ice pack on his head. “Ouch, thanks. About the hunters, and the river, those men in armor, and where are your wings?”

“I had scars, they were right there on my back.”

“Your back looks fine to me aside from the occasional zit or two.” The waitress walks behind me, leaning near my ear and whispering. “Your back is perfect hun, I don’t see any zits. Or scars. You sure you’re feeling fine?”

“I’m not crazy,” I say, looking outside at my horse, drinking from the bucket I brought him earlier while the others hid for their lives. “How come I can walk outside and no one else can?”

“Maybe you’re an angel,” the waitress says, settling in behind the counter on a stool of her own, “they have wings too you know.”

The water in my glass ripples.

“There are no angels, and no demons, those exist within us,” Vijay says, “there is only God.”

“Angels don’t have black wings,” I say, “and not ones they can kill things with.”

I feel the counter shake.

“Anyone feel that?” I stand and turn.

My horse runs away, ash hanging in the air from the beats of his powerful hooves. I run to the cracked window.

“No!” I scream pressing my hand to the glass. “Come back!”

He’s around the corner and gone, just gray ash hanging in the air.

“Is that good or bad?” Jeff says, looking out the window next to him.

“Something spooked him?” the waitress says.

Voices and a low rumble.

“Shh!” I hold my hand up. “I hear something.”

Ash still falls in the street, the light is this uniform dark gray haze hanging in the air. It’s dead quiet, peaceful. The awnings hold hundreds of pounds of ash, and the buildings across the street are covered too. Cars, light-posts, traffic lights, benches, the whole world is covered in ash. If it wasn’t so dark it would be beautiful.

“Do not leave your homes! Do not go outside from sunrise to sunset! Stay calm!” A loudspeaker echoes through the streets. “A state of emergency has been declared!”

An armored car rumbles down the street, spotlights hitting the fronts of buildings, a cloud of ash hanging in its wake. Men sit on the roof of the vehicle, outside, wearing chemical suits and gas masks. They hold black rifles, guns and ammunition strapped to their bodies.

“Thank God the Army is here,” Jeff says, sighing, “look at that, they are outside!”

“Why are they wearing protective suits?” Vijay says, standing next to me. “Chemical attack?”

“I don’t know, but it would affect us in here if it’s in the air,” Jeff says, “Velma, please untie me. I promise not to go crazy. Please?”

“Well,” Velma says, looking over at me, “it’s up to her. You want me to untie him?”

“Go ahead,” I say, “he can have his gun back too.”

“Thank you,” Jeff says as Velma cuts him free, and he buckles his weapon back on. “I’m sorry by the way.”

I look over at him with a long look. I open my mouth to say something, but I stop, and just nod. He purses his lips and nods back.

The armored car stops in front of the diner, lights flowing in through the windows. Soldiers slide off the roof, point their guns and lights around, and secure the area. Ash slides off their suits in sheets.

“It is not like there is anyone out there that can put up a fight,” Vijay says.

“They are coming here.” I say, backing up from the window.

Men pour out of the back of the armored-car, adjusting their chemical suits and moving towards the front of the building.

“Well good,” Velma says with a smile, “maybe we’re being rescued.”

A second group of men, on foot, come from around the edge of the building to the right. They are shining flashlights at the ground, carefully following something.

Horseshoe prints.

“They are coming for me,” I say, backing up, spinning and hiding behind the counter. “They followed my horse and they are coming for me!”

Jeff waves to the soldiers, and they begin approaching.

“Just relax!” Jeff shakes his head. “This is the government, we have to trust them in an emergency. They are here to help.”

“Maybe they caused this,” Vijay shakes his head, “one never knows until one knows the truth.”

I hide behind the counter, sliding underneath a sink. “They can’t find me! Tell them to go away!”

“Jeff, she’s scared,” Velma says, standing in front of the sink, “can’t we just see if this is a rescue first? It can’t hurt to find out why they are here.”

Silence.

“Okay, sure,” Jeff says, “but if I find out-”

Velma stops him from saying anything else, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Everyone down, behind something, they are coming in,” Jeff says.

Velma kneels near me and frowns. “I’m so sorry you have to be put through this, hun. It’s so hard on girls your age.”

“This morning I was twice my age and I had a family.” The front doors open and I slide behind an industrial-sized box of dishwasher detergent. “Tell me, I know about it.”

“Hello! You can all come out!” A masked voice says. “There is no reason to hide. I am Colonel Anderson Becks, US Army.”

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Jeff says as I hide in the darkness, “what is going on out there?”

“We don’t understand it fully,” the Colonel says, “but it seems to be exposure to some sort of solar radiation during daylight hours. It is affecting the entire world.”

“Jesus,” Velma says, “you can’t be serious?”

“It penetrates the clouds too, but not glass, some papers, or these suits,” the Colonel says, keeping his mask on, “and whatever it is, it incinerates on contact. Stay indoors, stay away from open windows and doors, and only go out at night. If you do go out, do so only for life-threatening emergencies, otherwise stay home and under cover.”

“What is with all this ash?” Jeff says.

“Ash clouds are over every major population center in the world, some countries are completely covered. Do not use motor-vehicles, and keep generators and other machinery filtered. You will need to clean your filters every thirty minutes. Avoid setting fires in chimneys, those are likely clogged, and there are no emergency services available. We expect the city’s power to go out in about thirty minutes when we shut the generators down.”

“How long do we have until it’s safe to leave?” Vijay says.

I slide deeper under the sink as I listen.

“It will be dark in about one hour,” the Colonel says, “word is the radiation fades at about 7pm and comes back at 7am, at least that is what reports from around the world are telling us. Only leave if your life depends on it, otherwise, shelter in place. Expect nighttime temperatures to drop dramatically to sub-zero.”

“Is this like the Ozone Layer being stripped away? Some sort of ecological disaster?” Jeff says. “What is this? Why isn’t the government telling us?”

“All that is yet to be determined. We will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. Please, all of you, we are very busy. I need you all to answer a couple questions.”

Silence.

The Colonel’s voice rasps through his mask. “Did any of you see a young woman ride in here on a horse?”

CHAPTER IX:

I’m Quiet as if in Death

Silence.

I push myself further behind the dishwasher detergent, bottles of bleach, bottle brushes, and other cleaning supplies under the sink. I try not to bump a thing, not to make a noise, not to knock anything over. I curl up into as small of a ball as possible, hiding in the darkness, alone.

“We followed her and her horse here,” the Colonel says, “and she is of vital interest to the United States Army and this national emergency. Officer, did you see this girl and did she come inside?”

Silence, and I wince. Please God, don’t let them find me.

“She came to the window and did not come in,” Vijay says, “we had the door locked.”

“Citizen.” The Colonel’s voice sounds like it could cut stone. “May I remind you we are under martial law, and you need to comply with our orders. Failure to do so will result in severe consequences. Now you may think I’m that stupid, but let me remind you I’m not. The door shows clear signs of opening from the ash, there are prints all over out there coming back and forth, and if you think I am so stupid as not to see the bucket of water put out there for the horse I suggest you rethink that statement.”