Bea Cannon - A Small Gray Dot

Mystified, I shook my head and moved on.

I knocked on several doors but nobody answered, so I gave it up. I rambled around for what felt like hours though my watch disagreed and indicated it had only been one, and after walking up and down a number of streets in the neighborhood – some more than once – I ran up on Semptor Labs.

Up until that moment, I hadn’t realized that Blue Heaven was where the company, whose name was on a third of the goods sold in the state and up and down the east coast, was located. It helped explain armed guards at the gate of what had to be one of the most run-down neighborhoods in the city. I thought it was curious the company name wasn’t anywhere on their uniforms.

I remembered the envelope with the initials “SL” that I’d delivered. I recalled the way black suit stared at the envelope. Perhaps the taciturn old gent who took the delivery was somebody that worked for the company.

I didn’t do pointless dwelling on the fact that I’d been stomping around for an hour and was only then spotting the company at the end of a street I went down at least twice in my wanderings.

I studied the gate that held the plain white placard with black lettering proclaiming that this was Semptor Labs. Had I ever thought about it, I probably would’ve supposed it would be located somewhere a lot more impressive than Blue Heaven. And, would be a lot more imposing.

Spread out over several acres, the company sat downhill in its own little valley. It consisted of one two-story, tan and beige structure, and a four story that looked more like apartment housing than part of a business complex. The buildings were cleaner than the homes in the area, as though they got an occasional washing. There were six other, rambling structures I construed to be plants or possibly warehouses. Parked nearby on the grounds was a fleet of delivery trucks and vans bearing the company logo. A strand of trees hid an eight-foot high chain-link fence that separated the company from the rest of the neighborhood.

I thought the whole thing was small for a business that dealt in a large amount of goods. I only began seeing their brand a little over seven years before – right after the Event – and that would make them fairly new, yet the amount of commodities on which their name was stamped was considerable. I supposed they were around before as a start-up that no one really noticed, and had grown bigger since.

A large assortment of items came from that company. They put out a number of disparate products: toilet paper, paper towels, napkins, and in addition to paper goods there was furniture, car parts, batteries, computers and software, guns and ammo, soap, soup, pots and frying pans, cigarettes, condoms – I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steaks, butter, shoes, or pajamas wearing their brand. They seemed to have a bit of everything. There were also a number of gas stations bearing their logo.

I’d bought a few items put out by them – notably hardware for keeping my aging laptop running, and car parts, gas, batteries, condoms, and toilet paper, but most of their goods, except gas which was cheap everywhere, were kind of pricey. Aside from the expense, though, even when my funds were better I didn’t need much of what they sold. I found out later that the majority of Blue Heaven inhabitants worked for them but from the looks of most of the homes, they wouldn’t have been able to afford many of their employers’ products, either. Or maybe they just liked living in substandard housing.

Seeing the place for the first time, I had to wonder from where all the stuff came since trade had slacked off, and there was no way Semptor Labs could be fabricating it all in that small locale. But, there was no one around to ask and, considering the reaction of the folk I’d seen thus far, I wasn’t likely to get an answer anyway.

As I stood there, I noticed that the stinging in my eyes, which abated considerably while I roamed the streets, had returned. It wasn’t as bad as it was at first but whatever was in the air was stronger in that area. That led me to conjecture that it wasn’t coming from the overhanging haze after all. Maybe Semptor Labs was manufacturing some kind of chemical. After all, it did have “Labs” in its name.

I didn’t see any movement on the grounds and there didn’t appear to be a lock on the gate. It had a lift-up latch, but eyeing the big “No Trespassing” sign that was right next to the one bearing the company’s name, I wasn’t curious or stupid enough to try getting in without permission. Simply because I didn’t see any guards on the grounds didn’t mean none were around, or that there wasn’t some type of surveillance system. I turned around to continue my unexpected and unwanted tour of Blue Heaven, and my search for a way to end it.

I stepped away from the company’s gate and down an unnamed road, and within a few feet I spotted a street sign that read “Main”. I stared at it for a long moment. I hadn’t noticed the sign before but I knew Main went past the guardhouse, so I headed up the road hoping that this time, I’d soon run up on the entrance. I was disappointed but not surprised when I passed a street sign that indicated I was now on Spruce Street and not Main. The guardhouse was nowhere in sight so I slogged on.

I hadn’t seen anyone since the woman who’d run from me but on the next street I turned down, there was a man coming towards me. I made another stab at asking for help.

“Hey man, I’m a little turned around. Could you give me some direc—”

The son of a bitch jerked as if I were a venomous snake, and took off across the street running before I could finish. I’m normally a patient man but clomping around on sharp gravel for over an hour in rundown sneakers is hard on the feet – and the temper. At that point I was thirsty, tired, and frustrated. I didn’t try to catch him, but I flung a “Fuck you!” after him.

I shook my head, exasperated. Was everybody in the whole damned place full of loose screws? I mean, I think everyone, including myself, went a little loopy during the Event but those of us who survived eventually more or less regained our sanity. Maybe these hadn’t or if they had, it was of the “less” variety. They didn’t appear to be violent; most of the violent ones were dispatched a while back in one way or another. Of course, you could never be certain they hadn’t overlooked a few…

High intensity anger over the absurd situation had been trying to edge into my consciousness for a while. That wouldn’t lead to anything helpful, so I forced it down and kept going.

Another half-hour and I was about to start knocking on doors again, which probably wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere either but by then, my frustration had ratcheted up and that ever present but suppressed rage was waving its prickly fingers trying to get me to notice. It was late afternoon and with it being mid-Fall, the sun was wending its way down towards the horizon. It would be dark soon, and plodding around lost in Blue Heaven after dark had zero appeal. While I was deciding which house to try first, the crunch of footsteps caught my attention. I looked up. A boy of about twelve or thirteen was coming in my direction on the other side of the street.

Trying to sound calm, I called out, “Hey kid, got a minute?”

He stopped, fidgeting from one foot to the other. I thought he was going to bolt, but, he didn’t.

I was wary but at least he hadn’t taken off running yet, so I walked over, taking care not to appear threatening. I plastered on what I hoped was an reassuring smile.

“I’m glad you stopped, son. I’ve been trying to find my way back to the neighborhood entrance. Can you tell me how to get there?”

He was wearing threadbare jeans and a tattered denim jacket. His hatless head exposed close-cropped black hair. He looked cold. As are kids that age going through a growth spurt, he was gangly, out of proportion while waiting for his body to catch up to his arms and legs. Briefly, memories of my days as a teacher tried to nudge into my head but I squelched them. That life was over and I couldn’t afford to dwell on it.