Dead Highways: Origins (4 page)

Three days later, I put her on the MasterCard and brought her home, but I didn’t dare introduce her to grandma. We had to keep our relationship a secret, see. Sally had to hide in my pants just to get her upstairs where I wanted her, and from there stay hidden in an old shoebox under my desk. I was Bill Clinton, and she was my Lewinsky. Every so often, I’d take her back to Guns Unlimited to play with her, and she’d again have to hide in my pants where grandma couldn’t spot her. I felt like a nerd gangbanger, only I didn’t kill people. Not yet, anyway.

Other than the time me and Sally spent getting to know each other, a lot happened over the next few weeks.

First, we decided to keep the store open. Grandma’s old lady friends would certainly be happy. The insurance money paid for all the repairs and the cost of an alarm system, which I had one hell of a time teaching grandma how to use. We had to get the front window fixed, and replace some of the bookshelves, but most of the books were still in decent shape, those that weren’t soaked with gasoline. It was no fun sorting the keepers back onto the shelves, but it kept me busy, kept my mind off the fact that Lori managed to survive the car crash on
The Walking Dead.

Every few days Officer Robinson would check in on us and update me on the status of the investigation. And it was always the same. Bad Moses had gone missing. No sign of him. No witnesses. The trailer park crowd wasn’t talking. They had a warrant out for his arrest. They’d find him eventually. Just have to wait it out. He said they brought Peaches in for questioning, but she was no help. He’d always end our chat by telling me to keep my eyes open and to call him immediately if I spotted Moses. And I’d always tell him I would.

I was settling back into my normal, boring life. Burying my face in a book. Hot dogs at the Haji-Mart. Long looks at Naima, the Indian princess.

And Kevin.

Dear God, Kevin.

It had been a month since I’d seen him. I began to think maybe he’d joined Moses on a vacation getaway, perhaps on a cruise to the Bahamas, or just overdosed or something.

Can you even overdose on weed?

Anyway, I knew the day would come. I couldn’t avoid him forever.

I was forced to change it up on this day. Aamod was being extra lazy and never filled the roller. It wasn’t even running. That meant no hot dogs or taquitos or egg rolls, not even the sausages that looked like dried-up dog turds. I could tell Aamod was in a bad mood, which was typical of him, so I didn’t bother saying anything about it. Instead, I searched the store for damn near twenty minutes for something else that could satisfy my appetite, something still in date. Aamod must have thought I was going to steal something because he watched me like a hawk. Finally, I settled on an assortment of powdered donuts and other pastry items, and a thirty-two ounce Coke.

After paying, I headed outside and noticed Kevin come around the corner to my left. I tried to pretend that I hadn’t seen him, but I swear that never works, does it?

“Hey, bro,” he said, shuffling up to me as I tried to scamper off like a scared rat. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

I turned my head back but kept walking. “Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw some guys repairing your window. You get robbed or something?”

“You could say that.”

“Sorry to hear that, bro.” I had to wait to cross the street. Kevin pulled up next to me smelling like stale cigarettes and beef jerky. “How was the joint?”

I shrugged. “No big deal. How’s the coat?”

Kevin frowned. “I sold it. I hope you don’t mind. I needed the money, and it’s not exactly that cold out anymore.”

“Well, it
is
March now. How much did you sell it for?”

“Five bucks.”

“That’s more than I paid,” I said.

The traffic cleared, and I began crossing the road. To my dismay, Kevin followed.

“You want any more weed you let me know, okay? I can hook you up.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

We were almost out in front of the bookstore when he emerged from around the back corner. He was well over six feet tall, black, bald, and bulky as can be, and had a thick bushy beard. He was wearing a black tank top that gripped his bulging muscles like a glove. Later, I’d find out his real name. On this day, Kevin called him by his street name.

“Bowser. Wasn’t expecting you so soon, man.”

“Who’s this?” Bowser said, nodding at me.

“Just a friend.”

“Cop friend?”

“Come on, bro. You know me better than that.”

Bowser finally looked over at me. “What’s in the bag?”

It took a moment for the question to register in my brain. I had almost forgotten I was holding the plastic bag from the Haji-Mart. “Just some pastries.”

“Donuts?”

I nodded.

He looked back to Kevin and smiled. His teeth were whiter than grandma’s dentures. “You sure he ain’t a cop?”

“Oh, I get it,” I said. “Cops. Donuts.”

“Nah, he’s cool,” Kevin said.

For once in my life, I was cool, even if it was only in the eyes of a druggie and his dealer. I left them to do their business and went inside the store to enjoy my lunch.

It was later that day that I first heard of the virus.

I was upstairs in my room watching Judge Judy scold some bald dude for telling her lies, when the show was interrupted with a breaking news report.

The attractive female news anchor began speaking about a potential security breach in a communicable diseases laboratory in southeast Nevada. She wouldn’t disclose the exact town where the lab was located, only that government officials had the situation under control and there was nothing for the public to worry about.

Hadn’t heard that one before.

There were no clips of military personnel providing perimeter support. No shots of people in hazmat suits. None of the fun stuff generally associated with potential viral outbreaks. Nothing like you’d see in the movies.

Not yet.

I changed the channel and started watching an old episode of
South Park
, the one where Mr. Garrison gets a sex change. I laughed my ass off and didn’t think twice about the news report. The next day I heard more about the outbreak.

March 11, 2012.

This time there were shots of all the fun stuff. Hazmat suits. Soldiers in humvees patrolling a temporary fence line. ARMY helicopters circling above. Police threatening to arrest reporters if they didn’t turn off their cameras. Apparently the media wasn’t allowed inside what the news was calling the “containment zone,” and government officials, while still offering their kind reassurances to the public, were tight-lipped on the nature of the problem or what exactly they were trying to contain. This was when I began to get a little concerned.

March 12, 2012.

One day later and I was very concerned.

The containment zone had grown by a hundred miles overnight, and now encompassed the entirety of southeast Nevada, including Las Vegas, where no one was permitted to leave the city. On the internet, the conspiracy buffs were going mad. There was a lot of talk of biological warfare. Chemical and nuclear weapons testing also made the rounds among the tin foil hat crowd. Some were convinced it was the work of Islamic terrorists; others said it was the communists, or the capitalists, or God punishing us for our sins. There was even talk of aliens. It’s always the aliens.

The outbreak
was
in Nevada, home to Area 51. Maybe the little green spacemen had something to do with it.

March 13, 2012.

First reports of illness, most in Nevada, a few in California and Arizona. People becoming lethargic, falling into sudden comas. Scary stuff. If there was still a containment zone, it wasn’t being talked about. The thing had obviously long broken free and was loose in the wild frontier.

That night the president interrupted the regular scheduled programming to deliver a live televised address to the nation regarding the outbreak. This was the first time the government admitted there was a serious problem. Still, the president reassured everyone they had it under control. No need to panic. Go about your daily lives.

And may God bless America.

March 14, 2012.

Officer Robinson hadn’t called or visited the store in a few days. I wondered if he was glued to the TV like me. I wondered where the hell Moses could have gone. I thought about Peaches. Strangely, I missed her. I felt more alone, afraid to leave the store.

I finally told grandma about the news reports that had been coming in on a semi-regular basis. She seemed less worried than me.

March 15, 2012.

Tens of thousands of people were now believed to be sick with the virus. Falling asleep on the job had become a widespread epidemic, sweeping across the west coast and as far east as Mississippi. Overhead shots of cars idling on highways, passengers inside them, sleeping. The Las Vegas strip was littered with bodies lying motionless on the ground, while high above the flashy casino signs continued to flicker with color and life. Airports and other transportation services were forced to shut down after a number of planes fell out of the sky, some on top of residential neighborhoods. Hospitals, police stations, and other public places were overrun with concerned citizens. And church had become popular again.

I decided I wasn’t going to leave the store until this thing worked itself out.

March 16, 2012.

Second national televised address by the president. The fake-looking background immediately gave it away that he was no longer in the White House. He said to avoid travel if possible. He said not to be alarmed. He said that the CDC was close to having a vaccine. He said that because we are Americans we could get through anything. He said nothing of the most recent reports that over fifty percent of the residents of Nevada, California, and Arizona had become infected.

Fallen into a deep slumber.

March 17, 2012.

First reports of the virus crossing national borders. Canada. Mexico. China. Australia. Japan. Great Britain. France. Germany. Brazil. Any country popular with businessmen or tourists began to experience the virus firsthand; thus all flights out of North America, South America, Europe, and much of Asia were suspended indefinitely. On the home front, the virus had made its way to all fifty states, including Alaska and Hawaii. There were massive power outages. Protests turned into violent riots on the street. Looters had their way with defenseless businesses. From coast to coast, cities burned as unrest among those not infected grew out of control. Systematic bombings of entire regions became a common occurrence, as the last remnants of the government and its reduced military tried any and all methods to slow the inevitable death of civilization.

Unsuccessfully.

March 18, 2012.

I woke early, and as I had for almost an entire week, I turned on the TV to see the latest news, praying that somehow a miracle had taken place overnight. Where was God when you needed him? Instead, there was no signal. I checked every station, even the ones I never watched like C-Span and NatGeo. They were all down.

I snuck downstairs, trying not to wake grandma. Despite the apocalyptic news reports, I was in denial. My head was lost in a cloud of fear and doubt. None of this was real. I felt like I was dreaming, and at any moment I would wake up. Television was an escape from reality, not a reflection of it. Whatever happened in that rectangular box wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t the world. It was how man viewed the world. In order to see the truth you only had to turn off the TV and look outside. Then it will all become clear. And so I did.

As I approached the long glass windows lining the storefront, a military humvee passed by on the street going no more than five miles per hour. A soldier was hunkered down at the rear behind some sort of machine gun, while someone from within the vehicle barked instructions through a horn mounted on the hood.

“Attention. All citizens must stay indoors until further notice. I repeat, all citizens must stay indoors until further notice. This is not a request. This is for your own safety. Refusal to follow this order will result in severe consequences.”

I figured the soldiers must have been stationed out of Patrick Air Force Base, about twenty miles away. I didn’t dare challenge their rules, even as they rolled further down the road and out of sight. Throughout the day, I heard that same vehicle or one like it pass by and bark similar instructions, even long after the sun went down.

I kept checking the TV but still no signal. We didn’t have much in the way of food, seeing as how I had stayed inside glued to the TV all week, so that night I had to settle for one of grandma’s microwave dinners. Surprisingly, they smelled worse than they tasted. I sat across from her at our tiny kitchen table and ate in silence. I think by that point we both had a grasp on what was happening. I think we knew no help would come. I think we were both wondering how much longer we had.

After we had finished dinner, I gave my grandma a big hug and told her I loved her. All of this made that break-in we’d had over a month ago seem like nothing.

“What do you think we should do, Jimmy?” she whispered as I held her close.

“What
can
we do?” I replied. “Just wait it out. That’s all. Just wait it out.”

Since the TV was no use anymore, I checked the internet for anything new on the outbreak. Except for a few personal blogs, it seemed most reporting within the United States had stopped. I figured most servers were down. Internet service providers asleep at the switch. I did find some reports about the worsening conditions outside the U.S. But as I began to scroll through them, the power went out.

And it never came back on.

I decided I’d call Officer Robinson to see if he’d be able to tell me anything. Without television or internet, I felt completely disconnected. Robinson was a cop. He should know something. More than me, anyway. My cell phone only had half its life left, but luckily, it was still showing that I had service.

Unfortunately, Officer Robinson did not pick up, so I left a voicemail. Next, I called 911, but it just rang and rang and rang. Later that night, when checking the battery life on my phone, I realized service was down. I powered off the phone and threw it against the wall.

“Jimmy, what was that?” grandma said from the other room.

“Sorry, grandma,” I yelled.

Hours later I was in bed staring up at the ceiling, a single candle beside me on the nightstand the only light in the room—silence the only sound. I tried to start a new book, an undead mash-up called
Titanic with Zombies
, with no luck. My mind was incapable of focusing on anything but my fear of what was to come, and the frustration of not knowing.

Finally, my thoughts were broken by the sound of someone knocking on the door downstairs. I rolled out of bed.
Who could that be?
I wondered.

Robinson?

Moses?

The military coming to take me away, or put me away?

I grabbed Sally from the shoebox, and she accompanied me down the stairs. With the power out, the store was almost pitch black, as was the parking lot outside. Still I could see a silhouette of someone standing out there, their face pressed against the glass window.

“Jimmy,” said a familiar voice. “If you’re in there, open up.”

Of all people, it was Peaches.

I shut off the alarm and unlocked the door.

Peaches hurried inside. She looked down at the gun in my hand. “You gonna shoot me?”

“I didn’t know it was you.” I said, putting the gun down on the counter. “What are you doing outside? Didn’t you hear the warnings?”

“Yeah, I heard them. But I couldn’t stay there anymore. Jimmy, they’re all dead.”

“Who?”

“My neighbors in Shady Villas. They’re all dead, well most of them. The others must have already run off.”

“By dead you mean infected?”

“Yeah, infected, but they’re gonna be dead if they don’t get help . . . and Jimmy, I don’t think there’s anyone left to help ‘em. I’ve never seen it so quiet out there. It’s like the whole world has just gone to sleep.”

“Not us. Not yet. Are you sure you’re not infected?”

“If I were, would I be standing here right now talkin’ to you? I didn’t know where else to turn. I’m really sorry. Do you mind if I sleep here tonight? It’s too creepy out there.”

“Sure,” I said.

She ran up and put her arms around me, rested her head on my shoulder. “Thank you.”

I put my arms around her. “Peaches, I’m sorry about how I treated you. I shouldn’t have said—”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I could feel her trembling in my arms. I brushed my hand against her curly blonde hair. “We have to stick together now.”

I grabbed Sally from the counter and had Peaches follow me upstairs. When we reached the top landing, grandma was waiting for us.

“Why who is this?”

“Grandma, I thought you were in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“This is—”

“Jessica,” Peaches said, extending her hand.

Grandma smiled and shook it.

“Jessica, huh?” I said. “I mean . . . yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m not used to seeing Jimmy with a girl.”

“We’re not together,” I said, trying to break this line of embarrassing conversation.

“How did you meet my Jimmy?”

“It’s a long story grandma. Maybe we’ll tell you tomorrow. Peaches . . . um, I mean Jessica just needed a safe place to stay for now.”

“Is it safe to go outside yet?” grandma asked.

Peaches shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I wish I could say it was.”

Grandma looked shattered. I told her we’d figure something out in the morning. We said goodnight and Peaches followed me into my room.

“You’re grandma is sweet.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “Holy shit.”

Peaches stopped examining my room and looked over. “What is it?”

I held up the gun. Sally.