Apocalypse Crucible (30 page)

“I’ve got homemade chicken noodle soup. I could bring you a thermos.”

Megan’s immediate impulse was to say no.

“Is anyone with you?” Jenny asked before Megan could answer.

Megan glanced at the two young MPs. “No.” They weren’t her friends. The only friends she had at the hospital had disappeared or were swamped with emergencies.

During the past few days, Megan had greatly missed Helen Cordell, the night-shift supervisor who had worked at the counseling center and the base hospital. Helen had, like so many other people Megan had known, disappeared. Megan hadn’t seen the clothes that Helen had left behind, but she had heard stories of their discovery.

“You could use a friend,” Jenny said decisively. Another whoop went up from the Monopoly crowd as someone went directly to jail. “And I could use a break from Camp Gander. Just for a little while. Gotta be quieter at the hospital, right?”

“Right,” Megan said.

“I’ll nuke the soup. Be up there in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Jenny.”

“No prob. I’ll see you soon.”

Megan clicked the phone off and started to return it to her purse. Then she realized that if her cell was working Joey’s might function as well. She punched in her son’s number and listened, hoping that he would answer so she would know he was all right. Then she could open negotiations to get him back where he belonged.

United States of America
Columbus, Georgia
Local Time 2243 Hours

Joey Holder woke slowly, fighting his way through cottony layers of fatigue and a hangover. He was beginning to recognize the symptoms after the last couple days, but he still wasn’t used to them. He’d never been a drinker, and had never gotten interested in overindulging—until two days ago.

Occasionally he’d sipped alcohol one of his buddies had swiped from home, but he’d never gotten inebriated. He knew his mom would probably know immediately, and he figured that Goose might just kill him on the spot.

Opening his eyes wide in the darkness, Joey stared up at the ceiling. Demons and devils stood out in glowing purple, green, and red on the walls. Horns and chains covered the fantastic and hideous creatures. Seductive women in wisps of electric blue clothing accompanied the monsters.

I’m in hell,
Joey thought in wide-eyed panic. He surveyed the gruesome creatures. Then he calmed himself, remembering the posters on the walls and the ceiling in the borrowed bedroom where he slept. He just hadn’t noticed they were black-light posters. In fact, he barely remembered stumbling into the room at all that afternoon.

He rolled his head, noting that he hadn’t even made his way to the bed before collapsing. He lay on the floor within arm’s reach of the bed. A headache pounded at his temples. When he swallowed, he felt like he was trying to choke down a dead cat covered in talc. Most people probably didn’t know what it tasted like, dry and bitter and thick, but Joey could still remember when he was really small and had licked the talc container.

At least I didn’t puke my guts up tonight,
he told himself. That had happened yesterday morning. He’d woken up in his own vomit and freaked out. He hadn’t even known he was sick; the whole night before was a blur.

He sat up slowly, knowing there was no avoiding the pain of the hangover. Once the room stopped swimming, he pushed himself to his feet and stood swaying. He kept a hand on the wall for balance and tried to remember where he was. The group he’d fallen in with moved around a lot, shifting from house to house, never staying in the same place twice. Generally, they’d worn their welcome out in each place.

The bedroom evidently belonged to a young person. Probably a teenager, Joey judged from the black-light posters and the drum set in one corner. A gun rack mounted on the wall held two bats, one wood and one metal. A skateboard and a BMX bike occupied space near the head of the bed.

Joey didn’t recognize the room. He glanced at the pictures on the wall. Most of them were of a redheaded kid with a gap-toothed grin.

He looked maybe fourteen or fifteen, but Joey had never seen the kid in his life.

Shaking his head and regretting the movement instantly when renewed pain slammed against the inside of his skull, Joey moved toward the doorway and down the hall toward the voices and the sounds of cars crashing and guns blasting. They were video-game noises, much different than the real thing.

During the last three days since storming out of his house in anger, Joey had learned a lot about real car crashes and real guns blasting. Columbus was filled with violence. Most of that was controlled during the daylight hours, but at night the city became a hunting ground for predators and looters and people determined to survive even if that survival meant others suffered.

At least, that was what it seemed like. Joey had stopped living in the daylight hours and roamed the city with his newfound friends at night.

Joey paused at the doorway of the living room. Six people sat in the large room in front of the home entertainment system. On the big-screen television, a character ran forward and blasted three aliens with a shotgun. The aliens exploded in violent bursts of orange blood. The animated figure ran between them and picked up a medpack that boosted his health level nearly back up to full.

“Dude!” one of the guys yelled. “That was so cool! I just knew you weren’t going to make it past those guys! You were, like, in the last minute of your life!”

“You just gotta have the eye,” the game player smirked. He paused the game and took a drag on the cigarette hanging from his lips. “The eye … and the nerve.” The cigarette tip flared orange, lifting his stark features out of the room’s darkness. His face was all bone and angles and tight flesh. “I got ‘em both. Not gonna leave anything but a bunch of dead aliens behind me in this game.”

The game player was lanky and tall. He sat in the middle of the floor wearing only a pair of black-and-white, zebra-striped pants. Tattoos covered his arms, chest, and back. The black ink stood out starkly against his pallid skin. His shaved skull gleamed blue from the television glow. Joey didn’t know the guy’s real name. All he knew him by was Zero.

“Hey, Joey,” Derrick Hanson called from the couch.

Joey glanced at him. Derrick was the only one of the group that he really knew. The other five were either friends of Derrick’s, or friends of friends of Derrick’s.

They’d fallen in together three days ago at Cosmic Quest, an arcade-and-game store in downtown Columbus. The store had been closed then, and Joey guessed it was probably still closed. Some of the businesses in Columbus had reopened, primarily supermarkets and supply stores that were encouraged to do so by city, state, and federal agencies. National Guard units worked security at those businesses, protecting the stock and making sure everyone had a chance to buy what was needed.

A lot of small places didn’t reopen because they didn’t have protection. Despite presidential and FEMA spokesperson reassurances, panic—and looters—still filled the streets. Protesters gathered every day and every night, demanding to know what was truly going on.

Derrick was from Fort Benning, too. His father was a lieutenant currently stationed in Germany. His mom had worked at the hospital. She’d been one of those who had disappeared. If Derrick missed her—or even thought of her—he’d never mentioned it.

Squat and broad from power lifting in the gym, Derrick looked like a bulldog. He was broad shouldered and narrow hipped, but had short legs. Normally his hair was brown, but tonight it was green and bright orange, colored by special-effects, temporary dye.

“Hey,” Joey replied. He didn’t advance into the room. Even after three days with them, he still didn’t feel like he belonged. They were crass and vulgar. He didn’t have a problem with that, but he remained a little uncomfortable with their behavior.

Still, after leaving the post, he hadn’t had many choices. He didn’t want to go back to his mom. Not yet. Part of it was because Jenny might be there and he’d feel embarrassed about how that whole deal had turned out. Part of it was because he didn’t feel like listening to his mom, or being grounded when the whole world seemed like it teetered on the edge of extinction.

And a big part of it was that Joey didn’t want to see all those strangers in Chris’s room, sleeping in Chris’s bed. Not when Chris was supposed to be there. Not when he couldn’t help thinking that if he’d been home on time that night instead of out breaking curfew, he might have gotten to see his little brother one last time.

The sadness and guilt that suddenly coiled in Joey’s stomach made him sick. He put a hand to his mouth.

“Dude,” one of the guys said, “don’t do that in here.”

“If he blows,” another one said, “I’m not cleaning it up.”

Joey got control of himself with difficulty. He swallowed the sour gorge of bile at the back of his throat. “No sweat,” he told them in a strained voice. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Derrick asked.

Joey knew Derrick didn’t really care how he felt; he just didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of the others. “I’m sure.”

“Good.” Derrick settled back in the deep sofa.

The others eyed Joey suspiciously. Again, that feeling of not belonging resonated within him. But he chose to ignore it. There was nowhere else to go, and he didn’t want to be alone. But it reminded him how little he knew them.

He’d spent time with them at Cosmic Quest for months, playing with them and against them at various games. During those times, Joey had felt cool, one of the gang. Zero, with his barely submerged challenge and hostility, earned a lot of respect in the arcade center. He didn’t spend much time with many people. Getting in Zero’s crowd was something of a coup.

And knowing that they were guys that Goose and his mom wouldn’t approve of was an added luxury. Joey didn’t fully understand the anger he felt toward his mom and his stepdad, but he knew it was their fault. They weren’t giving him what he needed. Joey didn’t exactly know what he wasn’t getting, but he knew Chris was getting it all.

“Well, well. Lazarus lives.” Zero flashed a thin smile. He held a game pad in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Ash from the cigarette dropped onto his crossed legs.

Joey crossed his arms over his chest. Getting Zero’s full attention was always uncomfortable. The guy had dead black eyes set deeply into his hard-planed face. Normally even within the group he seemed tuned to his own inner frequency. Since the disappearances, he’d somehow seemed more alive, more a part of the everyday world.

“Yeah,” Joey agreed.

“So how’s the head?” Zero asked.

Joey knew Zero didn’t care. He hadn’t found anything yet that Zero cared about. “Hurts.”

Zero grinned, exposing a broken left incisor. “I bet. You know what you need, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Hair of the dog that bit you.” Zero nodded to one of the other boys. “Bones.”

Bones leaned forward and took a liquor bottle from the coffee table in front of the overstuffed couch. Stacks of plates, containers, and potato chip bags covered it. The mess matched the rest of the house, standing out starkly against the neat carpet, furniture, and overall look of the room.

“Here.” The boy held the bottle out in a knobby fist. He was tall and gangly, with ears that flared out like sails beneath a shaggy mullet. He wore baggy jeans and a black shirt left open over a black T-shirt featuring a dragon breathing fire on a knight. His name was Jonas but everyone called him Bones. He lived for role-playing games and was a laser-blasting menace on Marauders, a popular science-fiction-based shooter video game.

Joey held up a hand. “No thanks.”

“Better hit it, man,” Bones said. “Trust me. It’ll cure that hangover headache right up.” He uncapped the bottle and took a swig. “Me, I’m all about prevention. Don’t ever sober up and you’ll never face a hangover. That’s one thing I’ve learned.” He laughed.

Joey shook his head and regretted the instinctive action when flashing sparks danced in front of his eyes. He held back a groan of pain with effort.

“Want something to eat?” Derrick asked. “Still got plenty of TV dinners in the freezer. Fish sticks. Corn dogs. These people were really loaded up on stuff.”

These people?
That caught Joey’s attention. He looked around the room. “So … where are the parents?”

“Parents?” Bones shook his head and snickered. “Ain’t no parents here, man.” He put on a pronounced Hispanic accent. “We don’ need no
stinkeng
parents.”