The Collapse Box Set, page 36
part #1 of The Collapse Series
“That’s not what Dr. Heidecker said,” Mason replied.
“We both know he’s a hack,” Naomi said and smiled at Mason.
He smiled back.
Naomi felt Calvin’s eyes on her. She sped up the conversation. “I know this is a scary time, but I need you to get back home before it’s dark. Okay?”
Mason looked down at his boots. He hadn’t taken a drag in a while and his cigarette was burning up like a short fuse “Why can’t I go with you?”
“That’s not what you need right now,” Naomi said. “You need sleep.”
After a moment of hesitation, Mason nodded. His face hid all emotion. “Yeah… Okay…”
Naomi smiled at him. “Thank you, Mason.”
She headed back to the car and climbed in next to Calvin. He eyed the boy in the rearview. “Who was that?”
“A patient,” Naomi said.
“Ah,” Calvin replied and put the car into drive.
In the rearview, Naomi watched Mason flick his hardly smoked cigarette, put his hands into his hoodie pocket, and walk away in the opposite direction.
32
2:01 P.M
The brief cruise through the neighborhood taught Naomi one thing: this car had made her a celebrity. People parted their blinds and those outside in the nippy air stopped in mid-conversation to watch her cruise by.
Despite the lack of traffic and red lights, Calvin drove slowly and eased to a stop at every intersection. Ninety percent of the cars in the neighborhood were already parked when the blast happened. Compared to main streets, things were quiet. It didn’t take long to arrive at the Ryans’ townhouse. It was made of tall red brick with a set of stairs leading to a white door.
“Is it safe to park here?” Naomi asked as they pulled up in front of the townhouse.
Calvin looked around the street. “Looks clear to me.”
Staying alert, Naomi exited the vehicle. She missed the truck’s heater immediately.
Scanning the area, Calvin gave the door a knock and fixed his hair as he waited. Naomi pulled out a crinkled napkin from her pocket and dabbed at her leaking nose. A lock clicked and the door opened to an Irish-American man in his middle years. He had a brick jaw and eyes that defied his age. A streak of gray ran through his auburn hair.
“Hey, Sean,” Calvin said with a tired smile.
“Cal, Naomi,” Sean replied grimly. “Hell of a day.”
Naomi and Calvin nodded in agreement.
“Who is it?” a female voice yelled from inside.
Sean reared his head back. “The Baxters!”
“Oh,” the woman replied. “What do they want?”
Sean turned back to them, looking peeved after his wife’s comment. “Want a cider?”
Calvin and Naomi stepped into the dimly-lit house, getting instantly assaulted by pleasant aromas. Various Catholic saints were displayed on the candles’ glass, and scented candles of all shapes, sizes, and colors sat on the countertop and tabletops. Cathleen Ryan lounged on the couch, reading a book under candlelight with a glass of wine within reach. She put aside the book and got up to greet them. From what Naomi knew, Cathleen came from a wealthy family and enjoyed the easy life full of wines and debutantes. In her early forties, she had beautiful brown hair and brown eyes. There were small lines bordering her smile.
“Naomi,” she greeted her with a hug. “God, am I glad to see another woman. Sean has been keeping me locked up all day.”
“I have,” Sean replied unapologetically. “You know how crazy it is out there?”
“I do not, honey,” Cathleen said, an octave higher. “I’ve not been allowed to leave.”
Sean pursed his lips and headed to the icebox.
Cathleen let go of her embrace on Naomi and held her upper arms. “You must be freezing.”
Sean grabbed three cans of cider from the icebox. “Coldest since ‘94,” Sean pointed out. “They were calling for three inches of snow tonight and a temperature of ten degrees.”
Cathleen waved off the remark. “When are news anchors ever right?”
Sean grunted.
Naomi changed the conversation. “How have you guys been holding up?”
Sean shrugged, popped open a can of cider, and handed it to Calvin. “We’re just getting prepped for the long haul.”
Calvin took a sip of cider. “Smart. This isn’t just going to blow over.”
“It will when the military gets boots on the ground.” Sean handed a can to Naomi. She accepted it with no intention to drink.
Calvin scoffed.
Sean glared at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Calvin replied.
“No, what is it?”
Calvin took another sip. “It’s just that the military has the entire East Coast to worry about. They won’t get around to our neck of the woods for weeks, maybe more.”
Cathleen gasped. “The entire East Coast?”
Calvin nodded seriously. “That’s just the first bomb. There’s a chance the entire nation is out. Perhaps the continent.”
The color left the Ryans’ faces.
Calvin sipped his cider. “This is good. Can I have one for the road?”
“You’re the expert, what do we do?” Sean asked as he opened up his cooler and pulled out another cider.
“Start rationing,” Naomi said. All eyes landed on her. “Food, water, blankets, clothes, prioritize what’s worth your time. Military or no, you should be ready to survive for months.”
Sean looked impressed “I thought you were just a shrink.” He put the cider back in the cooler. Calvin gave Naomi a dirty look.
“My brother is an Ex-Navy Seal,” Naomi said. “He’s into this kind of stuff.”
The conversation lulled as they fell into thought about what the future might hold.. Naomi broke the silence. “I guess you’re wondering why we stopped by. Becca picked up our daughter today.”
“Correct,” Sean said.
Naomi felt a pit form in her stomach. “Neither of them were at school.”
Sean and Cathleen exchanged looks.
Cathleen cleared her throat. “We gave our Becca the day off to visit her grandfather, Fergus.”
Calvin took a breath. “Did Trinity go with her?”
“She wasn’t supposed to,” Cathleen said guiltily. “She was just supposed to drop off Trinity and leave.”
Calvin ran his hand up his hair. “I wish you would’ve told us. We’ve been looking all over.”
“Don’t worry,” Sean reassured them. “Fergus lives with my two brothers. The girls will be safe until the storm passes.”
Naomi shook her head. “Thanks, but she’s coming home with us. Where’s Fergus at?”
Sean paused with the cider can at his lip. “The Pocket.”
Naomi’s heart rate spiked. Calvin gave her a weary look.
Sean noticed their worry and spoke confidently. “If she’s there, my father and brothers will look after her, My family started their American lives in The Pocket. They know the ins and outs. It’s the Badlands that are the real plight in Philly.”
Naomi took down the address. She’d never been to the Devil’s Pocket, but she’d heard of its notoriety. It was one of the neighborhoods in Philly that had been built by the blood, sweat, and tears of Irish Catholic families. In the early twentieth century, it was practically a no-go zone for outsiders. A preacher gave it the name the Devil’s Pocket because all the children were “eating candy out of the devil’s pocket.”
“Thank you for your help,” Naomi said and started for the door.
“And for the cider,” Calvin added as he fished out the car keys.
Sean and Cathleen exchanged looks. Cathleen asked, “Wait, your car works?”
Naomi and Calvin hesitated and then turned back. Calvin explained. “There’s a chance that any diesel before 1985 still works.”
“Ours is an ‘09,” Shawn said. “Any hope with that?”
“It won’t work,” Calvin repeated himself. “Pre-1985. That’s it.”
Sean and Cathleen exchanged looks. Cathleen asked. “Can we have a ride to Fergus’s?”
Calvin looked to Naomi for guidance.
Naomi smiled. “Sure. It would probably be better if you guys are there when we show up.”
“Maybe you can pick up Fergus and my brothers and bring them back here too,” Sean suggested.
“We’re not a cab service,” Calvin said.
“We’ll see what happens,” Naomi added.
“Fair enough.” Sean was clearly offended.
The Ryan took twenty minutes to pack their necessities. By the time they loaded into the Land Rover, Naomi was itching to hit the road. They left Society Hill and got onto the main road. Cathleen gasped at the number of abandoned vehicles littering the road. Dozens of people lingered outside of closed convenience stores trying to bust in. A few local drunks hung outside their favorite waterhole, waiting for it to open. A number of fires had spread throughout the city as well. Pillars of smoke rose into the sky. Without fire trucks, it was in the hands of locals with water buckets to quell the flame. When it hit an apartment building, the whole place was screwed.
Most people stayed inside or traveled in packs. The youth was particularly rambunctious. They yelled and cursed loudly. If there was any positive to the freezing cold, it kept the vandals away. Naomi knew it wouldn’t be long before the baddies learned that the police wouldn’t respond to Dispatch. She wondered how dark things would get. Robbery would be the biggest crime. Rape and murder might still be a few days out. By that time, Naomi would have her daughter and husband fortified in their home. It was not a long-term solution, but leaving everything behind seemed too extreme. This is an extreme time, she reminded herself. She pushed the thought aside.
They got to Broad Street and found it an annoyance to navigate. The Land Rover was big and bulky. Calvin was being careful to not scratch anything, meaning that they had to inch around desolate cars and debris. Down the road, the crowd swarming the cops had doubled. It was about a quarter mile from the Land Rover.
“Oh my,” Cathleen said and covered her mouth.
Naomi realized she wasn’t looking at the crowd surrounding the police. She was looking in the opposite direction.
About a hundred feet away, a group of over fifty men were dressed in camouflage or black and wearing cloth masks with horizontal slits for their eyes. A few black flags jutted from the shouting crowd of mysterious men. White Arabic text was scrawled across the front. Naomi didn’t know the words.
The man spearheading the group had a red bandana he used as scarf. He said something in Arabic. The others repeated the chant in unison.
Slowly driving between dozens of smashed cars, Calvin watched them. His jaw was slightly agape.
Sean leaned over his wife to get a better look. “Hell of a time to protest.”
The chanting grew louder that the crowd swarming the police blockade started to turn back.
The first row of fanatics stopped moving. The next row of men behind them moved in front. They held semi-automatic rifles.
It took Naomi about one second to process what was happening.
“Drive!” she yelled.
The gunmen raised their rifles.
Calvin stomped the gas pedal. The tires spun as the Rover lurched forward.
Pop-pop-pop! The distinct sounds of gunfire echoed down the street.
Like a crazed animal, the vehicle swerved. Its cab shifted from left-to-right. The right side of it scraped against a disabled dump truck, bounced into another car, and raced towards a single-lane road that wasn’t blocked.
A bullet zipped through the backseat window and out the other side, dropping someone in the crowd. Within seconds, Calvin escaped Broad Street before Naomi could see any more. Screams and gunshots melded into a noise straight out of Hell.
The gunfire persisted.
Calvin white-knuckled the steering wheel. With a crazy and worried expression on his face, he raced through a number of side streets, narrowly crashing a half dozen times.
The city blurred.
The wiper worked overtime at the light flurries dancing in the air.
Two minutes later, Naomi gently grabbed his shoulder.
He looked over at her for the first time since the escape. His lips were slightly parted. His eyes were wide. Fear had zapped all his color. The car slowed to a stop in an alley between a coffee shop and a clothing outfitter.
The faint gunshots could be heard around the city.
Sean mumbled a curse under his breath.
Cathleen hyperventilated in the back seat.
Fear paralyzed Naomi.
She remembered her training and her years of counseling others. Putting on a professional face, she turned around to the couple. “Checks yourselves for any injuries.”
Cathleen stopped her shaking to blink at her like Naomi had spoken in a foreign tongue.
Sean got busy patting himself down and then told Cathleen to do the same.
“We’re okay,” Sean whispered after.
Cathleen curled up into herself and cried. “No, we’re not.”
“You’re not shot. Therefore, you’re okay,” Sean said.
Without saying a word, Calvin quickly got out and vomited across the roadside.
Naomi gave Cathleen space and spoke calmly with full control over her voice. “Deep breaths. We made it through. All of us.”
Sean took a deep breath. Cathleen trembled uncontrollably and sobbed.
“Cathleen,” Naomi said softly. “Look at me.”
Cathleen turned her blood-red face to Naomi. Tears and snot streamed down her cheeks and lips. Naomi spoke with reassurance. “Say it with me. I’m okay.”
“I’m…” Cathleen shut her eyes, trying to get her bearings. “I’m okay.”
“Again,” Naomi said.
“I’m okay,” she said a little more convincingly.
Naomi smiled at her with sympathy and confidence. “Keep saying it.”
Calvin got into the car.
Naomi watched him, awaiting a response.
“Bullets in the side panel. Chipped paint. Fenders dented--”
“How about the engine?” Naomi interrupted.
“Unharmed,” Calvin said and let out a sigh of relief.
They stayed parked for a moment. Naomi squeezed his hands. He put the car back into Drive and headed to the Devil’s Pocket. None of them said anything. Questions swirled in Naomi’s mind. Who were the men responsible for the blast? If so, how coordinated was the attack? Was the government involved? Where was the army? Were the gunmen members of ISIS or some other foreign force? Perhaps they were just a hate group that used the time of chaos to cause more destruction. Naomi’s primary theory was that they were involved in the attack. The question was, who gave them the bomb, and what was the government doing about it? Would help come from overseas or would the nations of the world pick off the scraps of a broken U.S. like hungry crows? There was one question above the rest. It was a question asked by every parent. The one thing that transcended any disaster. The question was: where is my child?
They reached the Devil’s Pocket. The small neighborhood was nestled against the Schuylkill River. It consisted of drab row houses built up in an unappealing industrial landscape. The streets appeared to be empty. An old newspaper page rolled across the street like tumbleweed. The row house windows revealed nothing about the residents. Naomi waited until Sean had exited before she slipped out. She noticed Calvin stayed seated.
Naomi buried her hands in her pockets. The breeze brushed her hair across her right cheek. “Coming?”
Calvin shook his head. “Get Trinity. Then we go.”
Frowning, Naomi nodded.
Toting their heavy travel bags, Sean told Cathleen to get out. The two of them reached the door of one of the row houses. Naomi followed behind, watching her back. She expected a gunman to jump out and finish the fight. Sean hammered his fist on the door. The door opened to a six-foot-five bull of man. He wore a thick turtleneck. Greying stubble painted his face and the sides of his head. His eyes were moss green and calculating. He rested the ball of his hand on the butt of the wooden slugger.
“Inside,” Conner commanded with a thick Irish accent. He sniffed the wet air. “There are prowlers out here.”
Naomi followed him to the house. Wagging their tails, two pit bulls jumped on Sean. Their pink tongues lapped at face.
“Down, girls. Down.” Sean pushed them off and let the suitcases fall.
Cathleen looked around whimsically like she was in a dream.
“Good to see you, Cathleen,” said the other brother, Dean. Tall and naturally athletic, he had a big nose and crew cut. He leaned back on the dining table chair and fed torn paper into the small stone bowl turned fire pit. It cast an eerie orange glow across his gaunt, leathery face. His long shadow wavered as the fire changed shape. Knives, a hatchet, hammers, and other tools that could be used to damage another person were laid out on the table beside him.
Before Naomi could remark on it, a girl in a Catholic school uniform guided her wheelchair-bound grandfather into the room. Suddenly, Becca stopped, seeing her mother and father standing in front of her.
“Becca!” Dropping her bag, Cathleen rushed up and gave her a hug so tight it almost squeezed the life out of her.
“Mom,” Becca said breathlessly.
Cathleen wept and kissed her daughter a million times.
“Mom,” Becca struggled. “I can’t… breathe.”
Cathleen kissed her two more times before she comprehended the words. She released her. “Are you hurt? How do you feel? Have you seen any strange people following you?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Becca said with the angst of a typical sixteen-year-old. She noticed Naomi. “Mrs. Baxter? What are you doing here?”
Naomi glanced around the room. She couldn’t keep her worry out of her voice. “I’m looking for Trinity.”
“Oh,” Becca said guiltily. “She’s not here.”
Dread fell on Naomi’s shoulders.
Becca shook her head. “I dropped her off at school, I swear.”
Naomi felt her blood pressure rise. “She’s not there.”
