Hour 23 (15 page)

Unable to steer, the passenger jet continued onward past the city, gradually losing altitude as it went. It sailed almost gracefully. The only clues that the craft was troubled were its unusually low altitude and the ashy, comet-like tail that trailed behind it.

With the city far behind them, Glenn spotted a rural area up ahead with plenty of farmland. He initiated the landing gear and pushed the plane down slowly, hoping to make a successful emergency landing.

When the landing gear engaged, the plane lurched downward—far quicker and harder than Glenn anticipated—and began descending too rapidly for Glenn to control.

Zahir turned to Glenn, who had tried so desperately to correct the flailing plane, and smiled, putting his hand on his.

The back of the plane glanced the Henderson High School atop Pigeon Hill, destroying great sections of both the school itself and the rear of the doomed airliner.

With volleys of smoke and fire erupting behind it, the 757 began spiraling like a football, launching past Pigeon Hill until it was directly above East Violet, New York.

The plane stopped spiraling just long enough for Glenn to think he had one last chance at landing it, before the flames from the rear of the plane consumed the craft entirely. The main engines ignited, and the jet exploded mid-air, raining down pieces of wreckage over the quarantined town below like some sinister firework.

FOURTEEN

“Are you all right?” Jim asked. He put one hand on each of Dana’s shoulders and looked her over nervously. He ignored the trail of smoke clinging to the sky above them.

Dana stood still and unresponsive. Glazed over.

“Are you all right?” Jim repeated, and he gave the young woman a gentle shake. Dana was covered in blood—drops of it clung to her face, a bead of it dangled from the tip of her nose. Her coat and jeans were smeared with scarlet handprints. Jim couldn’t tell if she had been hurt or not.

Dana blinked a few times then tilted her head at the officer. “I know you, don’t I?”

“What happened here?” Jim asked.

“You’re the dad of one of my students.”

Jim let go of Dana’s shoulders and crossed his arms. He studied her briefly before his gaze fell on the wiggling man in the gray sweat suit at his feet. The lump was kicking and flailing while clutching the nape of his neck.

“Now I remember. You’re Chloe’s dad, right?” Dana asked, examining the broad-shouldered officer before her. “I’m going to be arrested now, aren’t I?”

Jim crouched down slightly so that he could be eye to eye with Dana, then returned a hand to her shoulder. It was easy to see that she was in shock. “What happened here, Miss—”

“Dana.”

“Good, Dana. Take a deep breath. What happened?”

Dana drew a slow breath then let out a long exhale. “He followed me through the store, then he followed me to my car. He said I should go with him, and when I said I wouldn’t, he threatened me with his gun. So I stabbed him in the neck.” Dana’s speech was monotone in its delivery. “Here, see?” She pulled Earl’s revolver from the pocket of her puffy jacket and held it clumsily in her wobbly hand.

Jim jolted nervously. “Okay, Dana. Just go ahead and hand me that. Slowly.”

Dana obliged, and gingerly handed over the firearm. Jim took it from her gently, then carefully inspected the gun. He flipped the loading gate open and spun the cylinder inside. Unloaded.

Jim looked down again and sidestepped the struggling man on the ground beneath him. He pulled Dana aside so that neither of them would step in the growing pool of blood that was starting to form on the concrete.

“I stole my groceries, too,” Dana said in a whimpering voice.

Jim ignored Dana and squatted so that he could study the figure at his feet. The injured man’s movements were becoming slower. Weaker. His breathing was shallow and raspy.

“Why aren’t you helping me, you fucking pig?” the man moaned. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at the officer standing above him. His face was pale, his lips ghost white.

“Because,” Jim said stonily. “You’re already dead.”

“You son of a…” The man reached out with one hand and continued to clutch his neck with the other. “You son…of a….” His words became incoherent and hushed. When his eyes rolled back into his head, Jim stood and turned back towards Dana.

“This your car?” Jim asked, pointing at the battered Prius.

Dana paused for a great while before answering. “It is.”

“Is it running?”

“Not very well.”

“Okay. And you mentioned you had groceries in there?”

Dana nodded.

“Let’s get them in my car. I’ll give you a hand.” Jim tapped the trunk of the Prius. “Then I’ll get you home. Where’s home?”

Dana didn’t understand what was happening. Confused, she sputtered out “Raintree Village.”

“Great,” Jim said with a smile. “Not far at all.”

Dana nodded and clicked a button on her key ring. The trunk popped open. Together, they transported the various groceries from the trunk of her Prius to the trunk of the Jim’s Crown Victoria. When they finished, Jim held the passenger door of his cruiser open for Dana, then hopped into the driver’s seat.

Jim started the car. “Dana…?”

Dana turned to the officer. “Naccarato.”

“Naccarato. Miss Naccarato. Of course. You’re my daughter’s English teacher.” Jim tapped his head.

“Yeah…” Dana mumbled. “She’s doing very well this year.”

“That’s good,” Jim snickered. “She can be a little hell-raiser sometimes.”

“What—what happened?” Dana asked. She stared at Earl’s lifeless body as the police car pulled away. The pandemonium in the Shop-and-Save parking lot seemed to pause, the shoppers still watching the sky with excitement.

“Ah,” Jim exhaled. “I’ve been asking myself that all morning.”

“No,” Dana said, shaking her head. “I meant…just now. What was that about? Am I being arrested?”

Jim laughed.

“Okay,” Dana said with a pant. “You keep laughing, and it’s making me extremely uncomfortable.”

Jim took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “What did you use to kill him?”

Dana froze. “I think I need a lawyer.”

Jim turned off his car radio. “All of this,” he said, “is nothing anymore.” He flicked the badge on his chest with his finger. “It’s nothing. Look around—hellfire is raining from the sky, people are going crazy with some virus, and Earl-Fucking-Ross just tried to abduct you from a Shop-and-Save parking lot.” Jim pointed at the cars jamming the road ahead and the dark trail in the sky. “Is the world ending? I don’t know. All I know is that in about five minutes I’m going to pick up that radio and resign, then I’m going to drop you off at home. Then, I’m going to find my daughter and get the hell out of East Violet. In that order.”

Dana’s bottom lip hung open. She didn’t know what to say.

“You’re not in trouble. You’re not under arrest. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

After a brief hesitation, Dana scooted up in her seat. She reached her hand into her back pocket and pulled out a small, stained hunting knife with a mother-of-pearl grip.

“That it, huh?” Jim asked, glancing from the road and over at the knife.

Dana trembled as she held the folded blade. “Yeah.”

“Wish I could have been there to see it,” Jim said. He slapped the steering wheel.

Dana bit her bottom lip then started to cry. “It was awful.”

Jim took one hand off of the steering wheel and patted Dana’s knee. “You did what you had to do, and don’t you ever feel bad about it.”

“There was so much
blood
,” Dana coughed. She had wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket, but it made little difference—she was covered head-to-toe. She thought of how the knife plunged into Earl with hardly any effort, and of the warm red mist that sprayed her once she pulled the blade back out. She stunk of it now.

“He was a bastard, and he deserved it,” Jim said plainly.

“You speak as if you knew him,” Dana said. “Did you?”

“Once. Long ago.”

“And?”

“And…he was a very bad man then. As bad as he was today. It’s a long story. Him and his whole messed up family. You remember his brother, Edgar?”

“Edgar?” Dana asked. She leaned back into her seat and made herself comfortable. “Edgar…Ross. It sounds familiar. Yeah, I’ve heard the stories. He killed that little girl a few years back.”

“That’s the one,” Jim said.

“What did his brother have to do with it?”

“Like I said. Long story.” Jim sighed. “But trust me when I say that you did the world a favor.”

The car went silent for a while. Jim offered Dana some fast-food napkins from a center console, and she used them to dab up splotches of blood from her hands and clothes. They weren’t very effective, but it was better than nothing.

Jim watched the road ahead and lingered over the thought of Earl and Edgar Ross. Even with so much chaos now filling his world, and a decade between him and Sarah Bosks’ death, Sarah’s tragic demise somehow felt like it had happened yesterday.

Dana covered her mouth and gasped when Jim’s cruiser turned onto Oak. A column of soft, hazy smoke floated high atop the rooftops in the distance. Dana squinted at first, hoping it would make some difference, but there was no mistaking it—the source of the smog was the Raintree Apartment complex.

Jim pulled his car as close to the building as he felt comfortable with. In the parking lot of the complex was a burnt, twisted sheet of metal. In the center of it was a small, oval window.

“Some of the wreckage must have hit here,” Jim said. Suddenly, he worried about his own home.

Dana unfastened her seatbelt and sprung out of the vehicle.

“Whoa, hold on there,” Jim said, exiting the police car. “Where are you going?”

Dana was standing beside the car, whimpering. Her hair was stringy and oily, her clothes tattered and stained. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the passenger side window and couldn’t help but feel utterly pathetic.

“My dog is in there,” Dana sniveled, with sharp breaths between each word. Tears ran down either side of her face.

Jim watched Dana, trembling beside the car. Then he took a long look at the towering apartment building before him. He knew what he
wanted
to say—that her dog was just a dog, and that she should be thankful that she wasn’t home at the time of the crash, and that the two of them should leave. And the sooner they left, the better. But the words escaped him as his eyes wandered back over to the distraught teacher.

“Which apartment is yours?” Jim asked, half regretting the words as they left his mouth.

Dana murmured “Five-oh-five.”

Jim couldn’t help but groan.
All the way at the top. Of course.

Sensing what he was about to do, Dana stood in Jim’s way. “It’s the top floor, you can’t.”

“And you can?” Jim said, trying to smile.

“I don’t want to be left alone down here.”

Jim held out his hand. “Let me have your keys.”

Dana pulled out a key ring from her jacket pocket and handed it to Jim.

With the remaining Raintree residents crowding the parking lot, Jim wasn’t comfortable leaving Dana behind. But, no better plan could come to mind than leaving her in his patrol car while he went upstairs.

“Stay here,” Jim said, and he opened the passenger door of his car for Dana.

Dana nodded and ducked her head as she slid back into the car.

“Is there anything you need besides your dog?” Jim asked.

With a mopey face, Dana shook her head. “No, just my puppy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Elliott.”

Jim nodded then shut the door for Dana. “Stay here,” he said again. “Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll only be a minute.” With that, Jim turned around and ran toward the flights of stairs that ascended the side of Dana’s building.

Dana watched the world around her from the passenger seat of the patrol car and fidgeted nervously. Everyone looked so worried and so frenzied.
Where will they go?
she wondered. She recalled the roadblocks around town, and the news reports insisting that residents remain indoors. Maybe the roadblocks were failing. East Violet Police Department wasn’t
that
big, and many cops were probably jumping ship. Like Jim.

Crack, crack, crack!
Dana snapped her eyes toward the driver’s side of the car. There, a woman was slapping her palm on the windshield.

“Let me in,” the woman yelled. “Let me in there with you!”

“I…can’t,” Dana said softly.

“What?” the woman asked impatiently.

“I can’t,” Dana repeated. The woman looked unfamiliar. “It’s not my car, it’s not my decision.”

“Fuck you!” the stranger outside yelled, before spitting at the car and running off.

Dana squirmed in her seat. Her left knee bounced up and down rhythmically while she he looked at her watch.
Hurry up, Jim. Hurry up.

A crowd of fleeing residents dispersed in front of Dana’s building. Car doors slammed and engines whirred to life as the complex began to empty. For the first time since she arrived with Jim, Dana had a clear view of Shelby’s apartment.

I should see if she’s still home. I should see if Stan’s back. I should check on her.

She bit her thumbnail and fidgeted while debating to herself whether or not she should visit her long time neighbor.

Jim said to stay put.

She glanced around the parking lot. Only a few other cars remained.

Something caught Dana’s eye. It was moving back and forth on Shelby’s patio, and Dana could just barely see it in the narrow gap between Shelby’s patio fence and concrete flooring.

What is that?

The object would slide towards one end of the patio, and then slither back the way it came. Its movements were snappy and sporadic. It was long, and red. A dog’s leash.

Without hesitation, Dana jumped out of the car and hurried towards Shelby’s patio.

Please, no no no no no…

With a lump in her throat and a ringing in her ears, Dana neared Shelby’s fence and glanced over. She recoiled back in horror. Her worst suspicions were confirmed.