The Long Way To Reno (28 page)

The
soldiers were encouraged to count out ammo, to trade and reload in case of an
emergency. Their process was different from the civilians, a man in uniform
appearing from out of nowhere and taking control of the situation with a gentle
voice. The way Sandy and Benson snapped to attention made me think this guy was
in command, so he was quickly respected. Expressions of relief, sympathy and
understanding were given as Sandy and the others explained why they were here
with us – I guess deserting against the orders of their commanding
officers was a tough thing to bear.

When
it came to my turn to hand over communal supplies, the guys behind the table
gave me puzzled looks at my supply. They took my candles, oil, Molotovs, and
some extra clothing; nothing that was too personal. They let me keep my makeup
pouch, giving me weird looks. I understood why this was happening, but I
couldn’t help but feel irritated about it. I was relieved that they allowed me
to keep my supply of Raid and hairspray, knowing that I'd need it later on when
I left the place.

After
that was done, I was led with the other civilians out of the offices, and we
headed up a new hallway, towards a set of classrooms. Those with children were
taken into another direction, which left me with a few couples, some haggard
men, Harley and the kids, and a policewoman still wearing her Sparks PD
uniform. I wanted to ask her about the vaccinations, but she was trembling so
hard that I figured I'd better wait.

“We’ll
make sure you’re checked in, y’know, in case someone looking for you comes here
and asks,” our guide said. "We take in the names of everyone that comes
through here, and keep track of when they leave. We take in survivors, more
each day, so if you're looking for somebody, please say so when we're taking
your names."

Once
we approached a large woman with grey and black hair, sleepily lecturing us
about tracking mud into the hall, she pulled out a large blue expandable file,
and went through it at my request to double-check on whether or not my parents
had come through. I waited anxiously for her to look through the lists, and I
knew by the end of her search that they weren't here. I felt my heart drop, a
heavy sense of despair weighing heavily on me by the time she answered.

At
that point, I felt
exhausted
. I felt physically and emotionally and
mentally exhausted. I felt like breathing was a chore – standing there
with a heavy expression, feeling like I was moments from sobbing my eyes out, I
felt that sense of weakness associated with an incoming faint. The blood left
my face, my ears started to ring, and spots appeared in my vision.

A
vise-like grip above my elbow convinced me that if I fainted, Harley would
probably sustain serious injury trying to catch me. I snapped out of it to push
him aside, pushing away from the table with a dazed expression. I think people
tried to talk to me, but I couldn't hear them above the ringing in my ears. I
seriously felt like I had been punched again, and I couldn't focus on anything
to save my soul.

I
felt like throwing a tantrum, or even kicking something that would give a
satisfactory noise. But my body was too tired, and I was led away from the
area, encouraged to rest in one of the sleeping rooms. I felt frustrated with
the stupid invasion, with the damn Rabid, the evil alien creatures that showed
up, preventing me from getting to them. But since I hadn't a proper outlet to
unleash this frustration, all I could do was cry.

Once
a bed was laid out for me, some lady apologizing for me sleeping on the floor,
I simply curled up and went to sleep. I was too tired to be cautious, anymore.
It seemed that as soon as I laid down, I just
crashed
. I didn't care
that a sleeping bag was my only divider from the hard, foul smelling carpet
floor, and that my pillow was my lumpy bag. I slept and dreamt of being at home
with dad, hearing his brisk, firm voice lecturing me about wandering away from
safety, for being too stubborn.

"What's
that supposed to mean?" I asked grumpily, yanking my blanket high up to my
chin. "I'm fucking
tired
, and you're calling me stupid,
again."

"I
didn't say you were stupid, Edith. I just said you were unrealistic."

"What
ever
,
dad.
You
made me get this job. It's
your
fault I had to walk all
the way out here because you wouldn't let me stay home."

            He
must've felt guilty after that, because he stopped lecturing me. Even in my
dreams, my dad knew his boundaries with me. But it made me incredibly sad after
that, because it was only a dream, and I cried because I just wanted to be with
him and mom again.

           
:
:

            When
I woke up sometime later, I was alone. My eyes were puffy, and, as I looked
around myself, I saw that the room was prepped for sleep. Sleeping bags,
blankets, pillows and belongings were posted everywhere in neat stacks. I was
in the far corner of the room, and sounds of life were coming from the halls. I
brushed my hair from my face, for once uncaring of what I looked like.

            Though
there were heavy boards crisscrossing the windows, the sunlight filtered
through. I could hear the pulsing noise causing the glass to tremble. The whole
building seemed to ebb with it, despite the screams of laughter of kids, and
the murmurs of adult voices. For a second, things seemed okay. It felt like I
hadn't just gone through all the horrors that I had, and I was somewhere safe.

            I
was only reminded of the present as I looked down at my burned hand, skin
peeling on my palm. I made a face at it, and slowly rose from my bed.

I
busied myself pestering one of the supply ladies for some cuter clothes, and
walked away with things that made me happy. I didn't mind the pink cardigan over
an extra-long blouse with the skinny jeans that I could roll over some nifty,
brilliantly colored Adidas hi-tops – I thought I looked rather cute. Add
to that a green, James Sunderland-like jacket with a furlined hood, and I was
set. I took advantage of the showers in the locker rooms, borrowing someone’s
toiletries to do so, and by the time I had fresh makeup on and my hair was down
to dry, the clocks on the walls told me it was nearly three in the afternoon.

There
were young guys and men carrying guns, talking amongst each other about who was
going to which sector – they all performed double takes once they saw me,
but none of them suited my standards, so I didn’t bother giving them second
looks.

I
found the ladies’ area, and scanned the chicks that were standing around,
cleaning rooms. Peeking into every one, I didn’t find Sandy, so I figured I’d
run into her later. I asked a guy in a Sparks PD uniform where I could gain
roof access, and he gave me directions with a confused expression.

Once
I made it up, startling a couple of people sitting at watch near the roof
ledges, I ignored them once I looked out at the Reno-Sparks area from another
point of view. It wasn’t a metropolis anymore – it was a dump. My throat
tightened at the sight of destroyed neighborhoods, of the missing buildings
down town – down south were burning ruins of destruction.

The
air smelled heavily of snow and rot – dogs barked frantically near the
south end of the school, and people were already headed over in that direction
to check it out. Armed with hand-held radios that had Radioshack stickers on
them, the two on the roof calmly relayed that the dogs were fighting each other
over a carcass of some kind.

I
returned to looking over the devastation. Heavy clouds were crawling over the
mountains to the southwest, over the Galena area. It looked to be snowing, and
in the west, towards Robb Drive, was a fresh coating of snow. Something was
burning brightly in the Virginia Street area, past UNR. Despite the snow, there
was still material that burned.

I
strained to see past the ruined columns of unrecognizable casino towers, but I
couldn’t see anything. I had to get over there - but I wasn’t sure how, or even
if I should without checking the other camps, first. But how was I going to do
that if they were shooting people on sight?

It
was so weird looking at a city that had been flooded with twenty-four hour
activity and seeing absolutely no sign of this particular life now. I blinked
hard every so often, hoping the picture would change back to the way it was. It
was cold and this sharp freeze in the air had me cringing, tucking my hands
underneath my armpits and shivering. I looked down at my feet, at some
stranger’s shoes that I had to use. I wanted my old life back. I wanted my
parents. I wanted to be home, hearing my dad lecture me and having my mom
stroke my hair.

I
felt my eyes burning with building tears, and I let them fall. The ache in my
chest made it difficult to breathe. I struggled to catch myself before I really
let the faucet loose, wiping my eyes carefully and sucking down snot. I looked
up at the cloudy skies, feeling my hair whip about. I searched the churning
belly of the clouds for answers, my mind running over the precious memories of
my parents. I felt so lost and alone, but at the same time, hearing the murmur
of the security guards on the grounds below, I knew I wasn’t.

: :

            Bleary
eyed, I examined my nails. I sat at one of the cafeteria tables, nursing coffee
and straining to hear the passing conversations of the security guards that
came to the kitchen to refill their thermoses. Everyone with guns assured each
other that the skies were clear – the clouds had disappeared under that
strange pulsing, and no unusual things had occurred just yet.

            My
mind raced through all sorts of possibilities the pulsing could be. Slow
mind-control of the remaining masses? Alien sensors from space scanning the
grounds, numbering the amount of survivors? Incubation processes that were
feeding on hidden alien eggs throughout the area? My imagination conjured up
images of hidden things in shadows and underground, waiting for the next signal
to attack.

            I
sipped at my coffee, feeling shaky, exhausted and useless. I wanted to go home
more than ever. But now I was scared because I wasn’t sure what was happening
outside. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to think to make a
decision. I felt utterly and completely useless.

            I
looked up when I saw a big red-haired guy walk in. I felt my lip curl in
reaction because I am a snob that judges people, even in times of survival. But
then I saw he was carrying some walk-throughs in one arm.

            I
called for his attention, and he looked surprised that I would even give him
any time of my day. Fumbled with his coffee, spilled it, then dropped all his
books while introducing himself as Darrell. I waited for him to get himself
together, and watched him stagger over in my direction. I asked to look at one
of those books, and he dumped them all onto the table with a surprised
expression. One of them was a Resident Evil walk-through, and I grabbed it.

            “The
pulsing sound is weird,” I commented, looking at all the instructions given in
the pages, remembering my own travels through particular levels. Because
Darrell is obviously a guy that’s never had female attention like mine before,
he sputtered out some life explanations that I tuned out, flipping through the
book in order to calm my useless thoughts.

I
gave nonsensical answers here and there, not totally caring about Darrell’s
situation until he finally gave up trying to get my attention. He left with the
other books, and I continued flipping through the walk-through until I came to
a particular page. The ‘incubation’ word made me pause. It took Liz awhile to
turn and eat her father – the Rabid virus was activated by the invading
aliens. I’m sure this was something other people thought about – if a
virus could be controlled and released by prompt, then it was still out there.
Maybe not the same virus – but the same action?

This
pulsing – what was it nurturing? I mean, yeah, so it could be this HAARP
thing that made TOTAL sense, but what if it were something else entirely?
Something scary and threatening? They kept mentioning that there was no sign of
Rabid bodies, so what happened to those?

I
looked at the boarded up windows of the school. My instincts were crazy, now. I
looked down at the book in my hand and thought about mutated creatures coming
to life, nurtured by a virus to wreck havoc on the masses. Impatience hit me,
and I pushed the book away from me.