I put the empty beer bottle back in the six-pack carton and pulled out a fresh one. A solid buzz had formed just behind my eyes. There were only three beers left, but I didn’t plan to get through the rest of them anyway.
My legs were crossed in front of me, cool grass tickling my skin. The summer had finally begun to wind down, but the Baltimore heat would keep hammering us until October.
The injuries I’d sustained in Arthur’s Creek hadn’t kept me down for long. After getting the lead taken out of my shoulder and a few stitches in my face, the rest had been cake. Bruises covered my eyes and cheeks for a while and my ribs had been sore for a few weeks, but none of it had been serious in any way.
I wished that the same could have been said for everyone else.
Drew’s wrist had taken a lot of surgeries and skin grafts. His forearm had been sewed up like Frankenstein’s monster. Melissa, Drew’s significant other who despised me, hadn’t spoken to me since we’d been pulled out of the town on stretchers and placed in a forty-eight hour quarantine.
I couldn’t blame her for that. The way I saw it, no one should want to be around me. I’d have judged her if she didn’t hate my guts.
Nami and Jim had driven the bus straight out of town and had been stopped by the advancing military. All the kids were fine and so was Short Round. They offered her a month of paid leave, but she’d gone right back to the job. Drew said that she was done fucking around and had thrown herself at the Smith case with a renewed vigor.
God, I miss you, April.
The stray thought slid into my head. I hadn’t even realized anyone else was around. I walled myself off and went back to drinking.
Jimbo got a big payday from the government to keep his mouth shut. He moved out west without saying a word to anyone. Good for him.
I hadn’t seen or talked to Allison since then. Staying as far away from me as possible would be the best thing for her, so I kept my distance. Her wound had been gnarly, but not life threatening, and Drew had told me that they’d stitched her up and discharged her a few days later.
He also said that she’d been asking about me, about what I’d done to that bench, but I made him promise to keep his mouth shut. I wanted her to forget all about me and move on with her life if she could. The emotional baggage after living through something like that could break anyone down. Allison was as tough as they come though, and I had a feeling she’d pull through.
The suicides began less than two days after Smith broadcasted the signal over the air. Twenty-four hours after most of the people in the town went completely apeshit, they all returned to their rational selves. They progressed from rage, to fear, to finally understanding what had happened.
Half of them committed suicide while they were still in the quarantine.
They hanged themselves with belts or shoelaces. A few managed to cut their wrists or throats.
The memories of slaughtering their loved ones, friends, and neighbors were too much for them to bear. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t been in control of themselves at the time. Most just couldn’t live with the knowledge of what they’d done.
More than eighty percent of the people who had answered their phones that day had already taken their own lives. The rest were being held and treated with heavy doses of medications.
Butch, the mayor, and Dr. Franklin had been amongst the first to go. They’d orchestrated the death of a town and just couldn’t cope with the knowledge of what they’d done.
I could relate. Just because you didn’t cause a horrible event didn’t mean that survivor’s guilt wouldn’t tear you apart.
You let me die.
I ignored the voice and took a long pull from the bottle. It emptied before I even realized how much I’d been drinking.
Put it back and grabbed another.
I’d be happy and healthy if you just hadn’t gone into that bank.
“I know,” I mumbled, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
A couple walked along the aisle in front of me, concern and distrust in their eyes. I guess people didn’t appreciate a drunk hanging out in a cemetery.
I reached out and touched Sammy’s headstone. Her family had spent quite a bit of money on it and it showed. I hadn’t attended any of the ceremonies, choosing to keep my distance. Maybe someday I would introduce myself to her parents. I figured that everyone deserved to know who had caused the death of their loved one.
But I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. I had unfinished business to attend to.
Why couldn’t you leave me alone?
“I tried.”
And here we are.
I gulped down some more swill, let my fingers roam over the engravings on her headstone. I longed to be able to hold her one more time.
The couple stopped a few dozen yards away, staring down at a stone cross. The man whispered something to his wife, then stepped away and lifted a cell phone to his ear.
People had only begun trusting technology again over the last week or so. Cell phone network usage had plunged. Carriers were laying people off left and right.
And it wasn’t just the cell phone industry. People were logging off the internet. They didn’t want to watch television. No one listened to the radio. The entire stock market had crashed in Great Depression fashion. Unemployment was skyrocketing as the economy sagged.
Horrible legislation was being rammed through Congress that would do absolutely nothing to keep anyone safe. Almost everyone was pounding on the war drum.
Things were fucked up, and I couldn’t tell when they would start to improve. The specter of Smith and his Merry Band of Assholes hung over everything. Our government had chalked up the Massacre at Arthur’s Creek, as it was now being called, to a harrowing act of terrorism.
And that had been accurate.
What they hadn’t said was that it was an act of domestic terrorism, not foreign. It wasn’t caused by religious fundamentalists or a crazy dictator.
The attack had been designed and executed by a homegrown madman. In our quest to combat terrorism abroad, we’d willingly given too much power to those who would abuse it. Now, we were paying the price.
After the military had stormed into Arthur’s Creek, finally putting an end to the slaughter, they’d only managed to find two of Smith’s men, both of whom were dead. There had been no sign of Smith, the Man in Black, or that Jamie Welsh character whose power they had managed to manipulate.
We didn’t even know if they’d wanted me or if killing me would only have been a bonus point after they’d sacked an entire town. Had my involvement just been the perfect alignment of the stars for their little message with the signal and a shot at killing a lot of the members of Nelson’s new crew? I had no idea.
The military hadn’t found any of the equipment used to facilitate the broadcast of the signal with the cell phone tower. There were no clues as to where they were or what they would do next. They’d essentially vanished, leaving a trail of destruction and death behind them. The Psych Ward was essentially back at square one.
A monster was in our midst.
But if I was good at one thing, it was slaying beasts.
You are the beast.
I’d been hearing Sammy in my head since the moment I’d woken up in quarantine. She whispered to me at random times. It was as if she were always just over my shoulder, speaking right into my ear.
I knew that she was dead—I’d seen her corpse, had mourned at her grave too many times.
But when I’d gone so deep into her consciousness, I’d brought something back with me. It was as if she’d bored out her own little space in my mind. I didn’t know how that was even possible, or if I’d just gone completely bat-shit crazy.
Either way, we were having conversations every single day.
Usually we talked about her death, which she blamed me for.
I blamed myself too, so at least we had that much going for us.
So now I drank to not only dull the thoughts of those around me, but to mute the ones coming from inside my own head.
“Ashley.” Drew’s voice came from behind me.
I gave Sammy’s headstone one last look and tipped my beer at it. “See you soon.”
After polishing off the bottle, I put it back in the sixer and gathered everything up.
Drew and Nami stood on the sidewalk two rows back.
Nami glanced around. “I hate these places.”
“Me too.” I walked over to them, offered Drew a beer.
“No time for that.” Drew put his hand on my shoulder, gave me one of his patented I’m-worried-about-you looks. “Nelson called all of us in. He’s got the new team members assembled for you to scan.”
“How many are there?”
“Twelve.”
“Are they all spec ops?”
“Most are, but not all.”
“More grunts for me to deal with.” Nami twirled a finger by her temple. “As if I didn’t have enough on my hands with you butt plugs.”
I flicked one of her pigtails with my index finger. “Don’t pretend that you aren’t enjoying having all of this beefcake around you.”
“Don’t touch me, douche canoe.” Nami swatted my hand away. “I find brains way sexier than brawn.”
“You two can talk shit while we’re on the road.” Drew looked at his watch. “They’re expecting us within the hour.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. There would be no climbing out of the rabbit hole I was about to leap in.
“What do you think, Ogre?” Nami asked. “Ready to help us kick some ass?”
My eyes slammed open. “Let’s do this.”
