Then Came War Page 7

  ***

  Harry and Tyler weren’t as lucky as Lana and Ben. Their car ran out of gas before they even reached the Connecticut turnpike. Harry tried the few cars left behind on the highway but didn’t have any luck.

  They’d walk, he told Tyler. Eventually they’d find something.

  They located a convenience store just off the highway and the electricity was on. Harry had Tyler wait outside, just to avoid the bodies and he went in, hit the sandwich area and grabbed some food to take with them on their walk.

  Tyler enjoyed the sandwich.

  “Do you think my mom’s okay?” Tyler asked.

  “I don’t know,” Harry answered. “I hope so.”

  “You think she knows about my dad?”

  “No, I don’t. I think you’ll have to tell her.”

  “That’ll be hard,” Tyler said.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Will you help?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Harry, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure can,” Harry said.

  “How come no one else asked me to go? How come they just made plans to go? They made me feel bad.”

  “Well …” Harry reached out and laid his hand on Tyler’s back. “I don’t think it was they didn’t want to take you. I think they just assumed I was taking you.”

  “Did you tell them that?”

  Harry hesitated before answering. “Actually I did. I said I was taking you home to your mother.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad you’re taking me, Harry,” Tyler said. “You’re nice.”

  “I hope.”

  “Are you a grandfather?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Do your grandkids live near you?”

  “No.” Harry shook his head. “No they don’t. They live all over the place.”

  “Then maybe they’re safe.”

  “I hope.”

  “Do you mind me talking?” Tyler asked.

  “Not at all. You just keep talking. It’ll make time pass faster.”

  Tyler nodded; bit his sandwich and then after a brief pause asked. “What do you think happened, Harry? Do you think it was Aliens?”

  “Aliens? You mean like Mexicans?”

  Tyler laughed. “No. like outer space.”

  “Nah, it wasn’t outer space. I think if it was, it would be worse. I mean if the aliens can travel here, then they can hit us a lot harder.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “I don’t know. I can guess. I think. . . I think some people may have gotten mad at us and they’re here to pick a fight.”

  “Will it work? Will we fight?”

  Harry took a deep breath. “I hope we do.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The honking horn led Foster and Abby. They followed the sound ten blocks from where they were initially headed in a totally opposite direction. The horn would start, stop, and do a pattern. It was without a doubt someone honking it.

  Finally they locked in on a location on the horn. It grew louder as they turned the corner,

  Had they not been so engrossed in running and finding out the source of the perpetual horn beeping, they might have noticed they had stopped seeing bodies.

  They were not expecting what they saw.

  Instead of massive amounts of bodies, there were massive amounts of people. Their moans and cries had been drowned out by the horn. Some held their heads and sat on the ground, while most wandered aimlessly, arms extended reaching at the air.

  Foster and Abby slowed down their pace and walked to the car where a man still beeped the horn.

  His back was to them and Foster reached into the car.

  “Sir,” Foster called to him. “Sir.”

  The man kept beeping the horn.

  Abby reached out her hand, laying it on his arm. The man quickly swatted her way.

  Despite the beeping, he spoke and did so loudly, almost unnaturally loud. “Whoever is touching me, back off! I’m trying to get help here.”

  “Help for what?” Abby asked.

  He didn’t respond.

  Foster grabbed hold of him. “Sir!” he spoke loudly.

  The man stopped beeping the horn.

  “Sir, what’s happened here?” Foster asked.

  No reply.

  Again, Foster tried, only this time he yelled. “What’s happened here?”

  Slowly, the man retracted his hand and turned around.

  His eyes were not only blood shot, but stained with dried blood. Blood that streaked his face like tears.

  His hand reached out and his fingers trailed over Foster’s face. “Can you see?”

  “Yes,” Foster said. Then he noticed the man wasn’t focusing on anything, his eyes just blinked and shifted about.

  “Speak up. I can barely hear,” the man, who was barely older than forty requested.

  “I can see!” Foster said. “What happened here!”

  The man sighed. It sounded almost like a laugh of excitement and disbelief. “Thank God. Thank God.” He touched Foster’s face. “Help us. Please. We’re all blind.”

  Hearing his words, both Abby and Foster turned around to look at the people. How did they not notice, how did they not put two and two together? Everyone whether reaching out or sitting still had blood streaked faces.

  What had happened to them all?

  ***

  Ben recalled when he first introduced his mother to Lana’s mother. He suspected they would hit it off and become the best of friends. He was not wrong. Both women came from the same stock, the same well to do families.

  They lived only a few miles from each other in mirror houses.

  Ben often stated their relationship was stronger than his and Lana’s. That was why it came to no surprise to Ben that when he arrived at his mother’s home, she had gotten a text from Lana’s mom.

  “Pray our kids are fine. God be with you.”

  Ben’s mother didn’t respond. Of course the time of the text was shortly after the train crashed, so their parents knew something had occurred.

  But were they as much in the dark as Ben and Lana?

  Ben’s mother had passed away. She exhibited the same flu symptoms as Lana’s mother and sister.

  Ben expected as much.

  But again, the bodies gave no clue as to what had happened and Beth hadn’t returned the text or call to Lana.

  Lana just wanted to go home to their own house and mourn.

  What else was there to do?

  “Get answers,” Ben suggested. “Find Beth.”

  Lana knew where Beth had lived and they turned around and headed back.

  Beth lived in an apartment complex just a few blocks from the shore. Lana had been there a few times and it took checking the mailboxes to figure out what apartment was hers.

  The security doors were locked and there was no answer at Beth’s apartment.

  Ben broke the glass on the doors and they entered the building.

  The alarm blared, but they didn’t care. They hoped it drew attention.

  It didn’t.

  On the second floor they found Beth’s apartment and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

  Oddly the door wasn’t locked and they walked inside.

  The smell was far from pleasant. Death lingered in the air and was putrid.

  The three bedroom apartment had a hallway just to the right of the main door and Ben and Lana took that hall.

  The first bedroom was Lynn’s. They entered.

  The bed was unmade but there was no sign of the teenage girl.

  Next bedroom.

  Ben knew before opening the door they were going to find someone. The smell was predominate and strong as Ben turned the knob.

  Lana gasped, turned her head and involuntarily vomited right on the carpet.

  Ben only got a glimpse before began to shut the door, but then stopped.

  “Stay here,” he told Lana.

  Lana held up her hand and conveyed through her mo
tions that she wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, she couldn’t stop heaving.

  Lifting his shirt over his nose Ben stepped in the bedroom.

  Beth’s husband Ray lay in bed under the covers. On top of the bed next to him, wrapped in a quilt was Lynn. The coloring, the dried mucus, was the same as they had seen in everyone.

  But Beth was different.

  She too was dead, but not like Ray and Lynn.

  She sat on the floor, her head on the foot of the bed, her one arm draped on the bed while the other dangled. Both of her wrists had been slit and a pool of clotted blood had formed on the bed and floor.

  Beth was the reason Ben entered the room. He hadn’t seen it at first, but he did when he started to close the door.

  A note hung around her neck attached to a chain necklace and the words were big, obviously written in her distress. Ben retrieved it.

  He covered Beth and holding the note, left the bedroom closing the door behind him.

  “You found a note,” Lana said.

  “She left one, yes.” Ben handed it to her. “It isn’t much.”

  “It’s enough.” Lana took the note and read it.

  It was simple, very few words.

  But the words said a lot. The meaning behind them though was still yet to come to Ben and Lana.

  ‘For those of us who died … please fight.’

  ***

  “Look here and we get a full tank of gas to boot,” Harry had told Tyler when they found the car. He knew it was going to be a gold mine or at least a viable means of transportation when he saw the man on the hood of the car. It was a repeat visual of what they had seen before.

  They were moving now.

  Harry was driving and had to admit he was tired. His legs hurt, his body hurt but he couldn’t let Tyler know he was wearing down. Tyler sat up straight and anxious in the front seat; Harry’s wrapped gift to Leo was perched on his lap.

  Tyler played with the edge of the paper.

  “Held up pretty good, didn’t it?” Harry asked him. “I’m talking about the wrapping paper.”

  “Yeah. You wrap nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s the present?”

  “It’s something old for an old friend. Something I know he has been wanting that I had.”

  “Didn’t you like it?”

  “Oh, I loved it. It is very priceless to me.”

  “So why were you giving it to him?” Tyler asked.

  “Because I knew he’d want it. But …” Harry sighed. “I’m just gonna hold on to it now. Leo has probably passed on. He was in New York.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “What is it?”

  Harry was going to tell him but didn’t. “You know what? Let’s hold off on knowing what it is?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you never know what could happen. You and I may be bored one day and there’s a whole story behind the contents of that box. Let wait.”

  “So after you take me to my mom, you’ll come back and see me?”

  “Without a doubt,” Harry told him. “We’re friends now.”

  That’s what Harry told him. Of course in the back of Harry’s mind he had a different reason for saving the box.

  Harry had a feeling he was going to be seeing a lot of Tyler and not just because they were friends. It was just a feeling.

  Harry didn’t hold high hopes at all as they drove on the Connecticut turnpike.

  Especially since they had gone twenty miles and hadn’t seen a car and the radio still played anti-war songs from the seventies on every station.

  ***

  Brendan and the other men had left Madison Square Garden parting ways with Harry and the others simply to return to the subway to aid those who still remained.

  They had gathered supplies of water and food and planned on how they would tell the others about what had happened. Or at least try to tell them.

  En route to the wreckage, they cleared more of a path to make for easier walking.

  They had found flashlights and the rescue mission was underway. What exactly they would do afterward remained to be seen. They supposed they would leave the city to look for help.

  It took a little longer to get back than it had taken to get out. That was understandable.

  But as they approached the wreck site, there was a new odor in the air.

  They could smell smoke.

  Had they lit a fire to say warm?

  As they got closer the smell became actually smoke; it was thick and filled the air. Brendan and the men picked up their pace.

  The flashlights were no longer needed as they made their way around the final train car.

  Sunlight burst through, or at least that’s what they thought it to be.

  And it was.

  The thought that a rescue had occurred quickly evaporated when they arrived.

  A huge hole had been blasted through the train wreckage. A new exit had been formed.

  Those who had remained waiting for help were still there, but those who remained were merely unrecognizable and charred body parts scattered about.

  Whatever or whoever blasted the hole in the wreckage had blasted through the survivors.

  Brendan and the others didn’t have a clue what had happened or why, but they didn’t stick around to find out.

  They left easily through the new exit.

  ***

  “Right up here!” Tyler sat forward, nearly ejecting himself from his seatbelt with enthusiasm. “Turn here. Turn here, Harry. This is my street.”

  “Are you sure?” Harry asked.

  “Harry, I’m eight.” Tyler said as if to convey to Harry that he was old enough to know where he lived.

  Harry turned.

  “Oh, wow. That’s my friend’s house. There’s his bike. You think he’s in school?” Tyler rambled. “Bet he’s in school. I know he’s in school.”

  Harry didn’t say much. The street was eerily quiet and for a weekday morning there were a lot of cars.

  Not once in the trip did Tyler ever make a comment about not seeing a person or car.

  Tyler was too focused on his mother and that worried Harry.

  “Right there. It’s the house with the blue truck. That’s my house,” Tyler said. “You can pull in the drive way. My mom won’t mind.”

  Harry continued to drive.

  “At least she’s home. That’s her truck. She likes trucks. My dad has the little car. We left it at the station.”

  Harry pulled into the driveway.

  “Harry? How do I tell my mom about my dad?”

  “Listen Tyler …”

  “You’ll help me, right? Oh, wait, you already said you would. She has to be worried.”

  “Tyler …”

  Before Harry could say anymore, Tyler opened the car door and was out of the car and racing to the house. Harry called out, “Wait.” But Tyler was too fast.

  Harry got out of the car. The drive had made his bones settle and he was feeling the effects of the train crash. Plus Harry really didn’t sleep the night before and any rest he did get was on the cold concrete floor.

  He wanted to talk to Tyler, perhaps warn him in a gentle way in case something was wrong. He thought he’d get the chance when he saw Tyler was waiting by the front door.

  “Come on, Harry.” Tyler waved and opened the front door.

  Harry rushed as best as he could but by the time he reached the stoop, Tyler had entered the house with a mad rush calling loudly, “Mom!”

  Harry knew the second he stepped inside all was not well and immediately started trying to figure out how he was going to deal with the aftermath.

  “Mom!” Tyler charged up the stairs.

  Harry took only a few steps and he saw it.

  It was a hand.

  He stared at the back of the sofa and could see a woman’s hand reaching for the lamp on the table.

  Tyler raced above him calling out and Harry walk
ed over to the couch.

  He sighed at the sight of the young woman on the couch. She was laying there, a blanket covering her, her mouth open, her face pale and covered with purple splotches that made her neck look swollen.

  She looked different from the bodies they had seen in New York

  She looked as if she had fought a long illness.

  Harry reached for the blanket. His intent was to cover her completely and then explain to Tyler.

  Just as he gripped the edges of the blanket the young voice startled him.

  “I think she may have gone …” Tyler stopped speaking.

  Harry turned to see the boy standing there.

  “Mom?” He inched toward the couch. “Mommy?” He ran over to her body. “Mommy?” Gripping her hand, Tyler called her name

  “Tyler.” Harry reached out.

  “She looks sick.” Tyler shook her. “Mom? Mommy, wake up. Please wake up?”

  Harry could only step back. He was crushed by emotions at that moment and tried to sort them out. He didn’t have a clue on how to handle the situation. “Son.” He laid his hand on Tyler. “Son, I don’t know why. But she’s gone, son.”

  Tyler quit his attempts at getting a response from his mother.

  He immediately dropped down, his head fell to his mother’s chest and he started to sob as he held on to her. He cried louder and harder than Harry was ready to hear.

  There was nothing Harry could do. There were words he could say or comfort he could give. Not at that moment. All he could do was be there, wait and be ready for whatever Tyler needed.

  He had no answers to give the boy because Harry didn’t have the answers either.

  And Harry wished he did.

  CHAPTER TWLEVE

  Foster wanted to go to Queens. He needed to go to Queens but they were nearer to Brooklyn because the honking of the car horn had brought them in that direction.

  They had found life but not as they knew it.

  Those who wandered the residential street were on a tour bus headed to the Aquarium.

  The bus had stopped for breakfast and they were all boarding when it happened. As a group, they held a rope, walking and trying to find help and get to a hospital.

  There were forty people in all.

  Most of them could not hear very well; some were completely deaf.