Epoch Earth; the Great Glitch Page 15

  The lawyer’s face was red with effort and beads of sweat prickled across his top lip. He wiped them with a dingy white pocket square and gently lowered himself onto his seat, favoring that left leg.

  Amicus’s deep voice spoke up. “I think we both missed our callings Mr. Limine.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I waited outside Howie’s house that morning. The years since the Glitch hadn’t been kind to it or its inhabitants. Cosmetically, the house was in ruins. Years of dust caked the exterior walls. Grime covered every surface now, the whole state—or world as far as I knew. Nobody was spared. Houses, cars, and lungs suffocated.

  But the dust also served as a sign. Those who got the worst of the Glitch were too sick clear the layers from their homes. It just piled higher and thicker by the day, until there was no house left to cover. These eyesores were avoided at all costs, for fear of contamination from the bodies that also piled up after the Body Disposal Unit disbanded.

  I didn’t dare step foot inside Howie’s house anymore, and I knew he was thankful for that. The condition of the interior fared much worse than the outside. Howie’s mom clung to life by a thread and so did their home. The roof had long since caved in. Marcus was forced to move his bed to the front room, which he now shared with Evelyn. The physical therapy sessions stopped working. One arm had drawn up to her chest and both legs were bent, basically useless.

  As I waited for Howie to gather his supplies for our trip to the river to collect water, I did my best to wipe the dust and mold from the walls. When he finally opened the door, the putrid stench watered my eyes. Instantly I was back in my own living room with my mom and that same stench of decay. ‘Dead before they die’ was what I called it.

  “You can go up there for a few minutes after Evelyn falls asleep.” Howie called to Marcus, snapping me out of my morbid trance. Marcus yelled something back that I didn’t quite catch.

  “You sure it’s safe for him to be in the attic?” I asked Howie as he closed the door and we set out toward the river.

  “He’s gonna do it anyway. Might as well make sure it’s after Evelyn’s asleep. She gets agitated.” Howie breathed a beaten-down sigh of an old man. Then he stopped and walked back in the house. “Mom’s chipping me,” he said, pointing to his chip.

  “Wow hers still works?”

  “No, I can’t hear it. But I get a buzz like a failed transmission. So I know it’s her.” Then he disappeared back into the fog of death inside the house.

  I resumed my dust scraping while Howie placated his mom. I overheard bits and pieces of the conversation, only Howie’s side, as Mrs. Anderson was too weak to speak clearly.

  “They’re coming with me,” Howie said, then “Here let’s wrap you up some more.” There was a muffled sound of him maneuvering the covers over her, then “I’ll have them back in time for bed. Don’t worry. We’re all fine. Just please rest.”

  Howie came back to the door looking over his shoulder. He gave Marcus a ‘shush’ finger over his mouth and pointed to their mother on her bed in the living room. I held up my backpack and patted it, signaling to Marcus that there was a treat for him if he followed directions. I didn’t know what that treat would be, though. I was getting low.

  “Are they gonna be okay?” I asked as we crossed the brown lawn. We both stopped to wet cloths and wrap them around our mouths. The fine particles in the air stuck to everything, especially lungs. I forced memories of the things I’d coughed up recently out of my mind.

  “Yeah, they’re fine. Marcus knows not to make any noise. Mom thinks I’ve been taking them with us on our trips.” Howie adjusted the two empty backpacks on his shoulder.

  “Ugh, that would be horrible.” I rolled my eyes. “Could you imagine?”

  “Don’t want to.”

  “I’m glad Mrs. Farmer needed help in her garden or I’d be stuck with Bit right now.”

  Howie ran ahead of me and opened the front gate, making a grand gesture of bowing to allow me through first.

  “My hero,” I waved an imaginary fan over a coquettish grin.

  Howie released the gate in time to whack me on the butt and we both erupted in laughter.

  Two army tanks had parked longways across Hwy 301 and armed soldiers stood at each door. “Another road block.” Howie shook his head and motioned for me to cut off into the woods. Low hanging branches scratched my face as I struggled to keep up.

  “Slow down,” I begged after a few minutes, struggling to catch my breath.

  “Sorry.” Howie leaned against a tree looking up through the limbs.

  “We’re not going up.” I panted.

  “No I’m just looking. We’re fine here.”

  “Good.” I caught my breath. “How are we gonna get to the lumber yard from here?”

  Howie looked around the small wooded area to get his bearings. He pointed farther in where the trees became more dense. “I think if we just go through, we’ll eventually come out on Washington.”

  I heaved a big sigh and straightened myself up and pulled on my two backpacks. “Let’s do it.”

  The woods, although mostly full of dead trees, was still deeper than I expected. It felt like we walked an hour through more scratchy branches and thorny vines. When the street lights broke through ahead of us, we both sighed in relief. It was short-lived, however. Street lights illuminated three more tanks, blocking the intersection of Washington and Pennsylvania. So much for that idea.

  “At least I was right about Washington.” Howie had been studying old fold out maps since the Glitch and prided himself in knowing his way around. I didn’t point out that there were only two tanks back at the other checkpoint. I let him have his moment.

  Armed guards stood around the tanks, some leaned against the giant wheels. They looked bored, as if nobody was alive to even cross their paths anymore. The thought chilled my blood, knowing that there was more than a ring of truth to it. Still, our old decoy gauze pads wouldn’t work anymore. It had been years since the forced removals. If you were caught with a chip now... I didn’t even let myself finish that one.

  Looking toward Howie for guidance, I saw him staring up into the trees again. “No way.” I refused to climb an unknown tree. I had enough trouble getting higher than three branches on our own tree. “Besides,” I said, smacking the dry bark of the one beside me, “I don’t think these things will hold one of us, much less two.”

  “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. I just want to hide somewhere and get my plan together.”

  “Oh you have a plan? I’m waiting with bated breath.” I mocked, but was silently grateful Howie would be there to save my butt once again.

  //I think this is safer.// Howie chipped.

  //Yeah good idea, sorry.//

  We inched around the base of the largest tree we could find, shielding ourselves from the soldiers’ eyeline. Howie bit his lip in concentration. //I don’t think we can just wait them out. They’re probably going in shifts.//

  //I can’t do that anyway. I have to get back before dark or Bit will freak.// I thought for a moment. //What if we throw something off to the side and make them go check it out?//

  //Did you see that on one of Bit’s cartoons?// Howie laughed at me through his transmission.

  I shoved him. //I’m waiting for your grand plan Mr. Anderson.// I sat in silence after that, giving him time to think.

  Fortune shined upon us when, after a few minutes of no plan, a police cruiser rolled up to the tanks. I could overhear some of the conversation. Another fire. If the pollution from all the dead crops wasn’t enough to blacken every lung that survived the Glitch, fires still randomly popped up all over town. My mom, Stone rest her soul, had always said the infrastructure wasn’t ready for the massive loss of life all at once. They couldn’t keep power plants running or even sewer systems. The smell along my street testified to that.

  However, this time the fire was a Stonesend. One of the tanks roared to life, grumbling and loping in the front of t
he line, and all the soldiers filed in. Within moments they were gone, tracing the police car’s trail along the dusty road. We both looked at each other and frowned ‘hmms’, shrugging our shoulders at our turn of good luck.

  It took another half hour to reach the lumber yard, by which time both of us were rather winded. Physical activity was harder now that we practically had to suck air into our lungs through dust particles. Even the wet cloths over our mouths stopped working long before we’d arrived at the roadblock. We abandoned them as we struggled up the driveway of the lumber yard.

  I surveyed the plot of land which had been ransacked many times over. Single soot-covered planks lined the yard marking where piles higher than my head used to be. Although people had raided the store for years, it was an unspoken rule to take only what you needed. That cooperation had worked and now that we needed wood for Howie’s roof, it was still there for the taking. Our small tight-knit community stuck together.

  Howie started rattling off different sizes and cuts he’d measured on his roof. I walked up and down the yard reading the tattered signs, trying to find a match. “I don’t think there’s any five footers left. We can go up to seven and cut it.” I pointed to the untreated logs farther down the path I was on.

  “I guess that will have to do. I hope we can carry it.”

  “Come on. Big strong Howie.”

  “I wasn’t worried about myself.” He laughed, pointing to my arms and making a tiny circle with his thumb and finger.

  I made a muscle and examined the imperceptible bulge. “You carry all the backpacks and I might make it.”

  “Deal. Now help me find the nails.” Howie waved me toward the building. The doors were gone and the few windows that remained were black with grime.

  Once I got past the debris that had blown into the broken doorways I inhaled the rugged scent until my lungs ached. There was something about the smell of hardware that took me back to my childhood. Every time we came to these stores I tried to convince Howie that we needed one of everything, but he always stuck to the list. This time was no different as he handed me one page, neatly numbered and color coded by aisle. He pointed me to the left. “That’s your side. Meet back here in thirty. Then we get the logs.”

  “Logs? As in plural? There’s no way.”

  Howie opened his backpack and showed me a large rope. “If we cut it here and tie it together we can both pull.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “I saw it on a patch. Ancient Egypt.”

  “Whatever you say.” I shrugged. “Thirty minutes.” I marched off in my ow direction wondering how many ancient Egyptians Howie thought he had helping him. //You better add a wheelbarrow to your list!// I chipped without looking back.

  //That’s on your half of the list already. Aisle two.// The satisfaction in his voice irked me to no end. That boy really did think of everything.

  Exactly thirty minutes later on the dot, Howie stood at the doorway waiting. He put his full backpack down and said, “So nice of you to join us Mrs.—”

  Anderson snuck into my consciousness.

  “—Synta,” he finished. The curse of having just one name.

  My cheeks burned at the audacity of my mind to suggest that I wanted Howie’s last name.

  “Ready for some hard work?” he asked, oblivious.

  “Can I use the saw?” I pushed past him not making eye contact.

  “Sure. You don’t need all your fingers for typing code do you?”

  “No, I can just use two fingers like you,” I joked, although the idea that we’d even need code in the future sounded absurd.

  Howie feigned indignation. “Hey! I use four fingers now. I’m learning.”

  I looked up just in time to be greeted by Howie’s middle fingers on each hand, the two new ones he’d learned to type with. “You’re the most mature person I’ve ever met.”

  In the end I did get to use the saw. The solar panels at the lumber yard were covered in so much filth we couldn’t get the power saw to work. Howie had to go back inside for a regular hand saw. By the time we finished cutting two logs and loading them on the wheelbarrow, the meager strips of sunlight had given up. As exhausted as we were, we still had two miles to drag the logs back to Howie’s house before dark. We each grabbed a handle and set off down the road. Massive logs stuck out three feet in front of us as we walked in sync, and I silently begged for there to be no more roadblocks.

  “DO YOU THINK THINGS will go back to normal one day?” I asked as we dragged the logs through the back roads.

  “I think this is our new normal Syn.” Howie shrugged as best he could with the weight of the wood behind us. “This is it.”

  We both looked up at the darkening sky, the smell of smoke strong in the air. I stopped for a moment and pulled my shirt over my mouth to take some deep clean breaths. Then I picked up the handle, which felt exponentially heavier now, and continued on. “Remember Mrs. Gerund’s English tests?”

  Howie chuckled. “She was a stickler for dangling participles!”

  “Yeah... and there was a time when I dreaded those Friday quizzes. They were the worst thing in my life.” The words caught me off guard and stuck in my throat. Howie’s side of the wheelbarrow dropped, jerking us to a stop. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled my head into his chest.

  “Come on,” he said, patting the top of my head. “Let’s get this stuff to the house. That roof’s not gonna fix itself.”

  Rounding the corner into River Bend the familiar smell of smoke tickled my nostrils. Even through my folded shirt, which Brooks joked made us look like Wild West bandits, the heaviness of the gray cloud made oxygen a luxury. Whatever burned was close and big. Sirens grew louder as we turned on Sandspur. My ears buzzed.

  As smart as I think I am, I had no clue, until Howie took off running. His half of our burden crashed to the ground. I thought my arm had jerked out of its socket it hurt so bad. Quickly forgetting my own pain, I released my handle and tore off toward the dead-end street which only housed Howie and his family those days.

  By the time I reached Yukon Drive flames licked the darkness high above what used to be Howie’s home. Orange fireworks crackled over my head, some falling on the vacant houses around it. Howie struggled against two soldiers, towering over them, in an attempt to gain access to the ruins. The shorter one let go of Howie’s arm and pointed to the yard, whispering in his ear. My eyes followed the gesture, landing on three white sheets, one so utterly smaller than its companions.

  The fight drained from Howie and the broken man-boy crumbled to the asphalt. I could only stand and watch my best friend lose his grip on reality. His sobs tore through me as he was unable to control his chip’s signal.

  The soldiers gave Howie a few minutes to compose himself, to the extent anyone could be composed in that situation, then pulled him up from the ground and escorted him to a waiting Ruskin PD cruiser. As they passed me, Howie grabbed my arm and refused to let go.

  “We need to take you to the station, go over a few things with you.” The taller soldier laid his kind brown eyes on Howie, who just stared over his shoulder at the charred fallen building.

  “Can I come?” My throat finally worked.

  The two soldiers looked at each other, apparently waiting for the other to make the call. Then Howie opened the cruiser’s rear door, climbed in, and pulled me in beside him. The door closed and the two soldiers filed into the front.

  Driving slowly up Yukon, I watched the tanks recede in the rearview screen. Old man Porter’s house had now caught fire and the remaining soldiers’ forgot all about Howie’s world. Still, three lumpy white sheets lay abandoned in the dirt.

  I stared out the window as the police cruiser rolled to a stop on a clearly residential street, Howie’s internal moans still serenading me. Through the rearview screen the taller soldier met my eyes. A wooden sign stood leaning to the left in front of a small brown house. Hand-painted stencil letters spelled out ‘Ruskin PD’.

/>   “We had our own fire a few months ago,” the soldier explained as he opened our door. I would’ve commandeered a much better looking building, I thought, but didn’t dare say.

  It took some doing for the three of us, myself and the two soldiers, to get Howie up the stairs to the new police station. He reminded me of one of the zombies in the movie patches Dad and I used to stream. Once inside the smallest bedroom down the hall they placed Howie at a kid’s desk and let me sit beside him in a small chair, out of compassion and the fact that Howie had a death grip on me still. There we sat in silence for what seemed like forever, the two soldiers gone on some errand.

  To keep from thinking about the nightmare we found ourselves in, I looked around the room, taking in the apparent effort that had been spent transforming this home into a real police headquarters. Pink and purple, the obvious motif of the small room’s previous owner, still lined the walls and fixtures. However, the bed was replaced with a large interrogation desk and overhead lamp. Each corner stacked high with case files and folders. A large black cube with rounded edges hung from the ceiling, catching my eye. A scanner. I subconsciously rubbed the chip behind my ear, simultaneously trying to remember if I’d been thinking anything embarrassing, and to stop thinking at all. Last thing we needed was to get busted with our chips intact.

  Noticing none of this, Howie still moaned and sobbed, both audibly and not. I patted his hand and hummed Brooks’s Choo Choo song to him, the only comforting sounds I could come up with.

  We huddled together like that for an indeterminant amount of time. I have no idea if it was half an hour or three. I just rocked him and hummed the song, trying so hard to ignore the growing wet spot on my shoulder.

  As he would sob louder, or outright wail, I’d also hum louder; the way I’d seen my mom do with Brooks.

  Mom. The thought of her sent me reeling.

  Our last night together. The way her face still lit up when Brooks or I entered the room. Intense fear over the prospect of losing Brooks like Howie’d just lost... everyone. Keeping Brooks safe was my life’s purpose, and for that to be... gone. On and on deeper into the void.