James Knapp - State of Decay

“Someone blew himself up?”

“Right in the middle of the restaurant strip at lunch-time.”

I did kind of remember that, once she said it. I saw a bunch of people running, bloody and burned and screaming.

“Bad things are coming,” I said.

“That’s what you said last night.”

There was more—I knew there was more—but I couldn’t remember it.

“There was a panic,” she said. “A riot broke out. Everyone’s freaking out. They’re calling in the National Guard and there’s going to be a curfew until they can get things under control. They say there are even going to be revivors patrolling.”

“Revivors?”

“It’s the only way they can cover such a big area. They say it’s temporary.”

“Oh.”

“Will things get even worse?” she asked. Her eyes looked desperate in the firelight, like the next thing that came out of my mouth was going to be the most important thing she ever heard. She was looking at me like I had some kind of answer, but I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember.

“I think the best thing you could do right now is not get involved with me,” I said. It was weird, but I kind of regretted that. Before she could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and she looked over at it.

“Are you expecting anyone?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Wait here.”

She got up and went to answer it and I lay back down, hoping whoever it was, she would get rid of them. I heard her talking but I couldn’t make out what was being said. She was talking to a man, it sounded like. After a minute she came back, looking nervous.

“It’s the cops,” she said.

“The cops?”

“An FBI Agent. He says his name is Wachalowski.”

“What?”

“Wacha—”

“He’s here? Right now?”

“Yeah, what—”

“It’s okay,” I said, before she got any more freaked out. “I’m not in trouble. He’s a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s, um, you know. Look, I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Oh,” she said, smirking a little. “Okay, I’ve got to go anyway.”

“Wait—”

“Zoe, he flashed his badge. What was I going to say? I told him you were here. Come on, you look fine, you look cute.”

She started to move away and I scrambled to my feet. The sweatshirt and sweatpants must have been hers, but unlike her I couldn’t even begin to fill them out. The shirt hung like a tent and the pants wanted to slide down over my nonexistent hips.

“Karen, wait!”

“Look,” she said, “I’ll come by later, but come on; I’m not getting in the middle of this one. Trust me, you look fine.”

I tailed her to the door, but she slipped out before I could get there, smiling and waving to him and then me as I wedged myself in the crack of the door.

“Ms. Ott?”

“Hi.”

He was wearing a suit and a long, dark jacket. He looked down at me with his amazingly blue eyes, and standing there in front of him in sweats, I felt even lamer than I even did before. Why did they have to be pink?

“I’d like to speak with you for a minute, if I could.”

“Um, okay.”

“May I come in?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows, and just then my next-door neighbor’s door opened and out he came. Things were getting better and better. The old man stood there, staring like some kind of weirdo at Nico.

“Can I help you, sir?” Nico asked.

“Who are you?” my neighbor asked back.

“I’m visiting my friend here. Is that okay?”

The old man peered over at me, then back at Nico.

“She doesn’t have any friends.”

That was it. I’d let it slide before, but now he was going too far. While Nico was turned toward him, I focused on the old man until the light bloomed around me, causing me to feel a little sick to my stomach. The colors came into focus over his head, rippling there like smoke in the breeze.

There was something weird about him, though, something a little different. In addition to the patterns I was used to seeing, there was a thin, bright white arc that formed a kind of ring or halo, almost. It distracted me, and I was just wondering what might be causing it when he decided to forgo his usual nosiness and duck back inside. Nico looked back at me, and I let the lights fade back to normal.

“My place is a real mess,” I said. “Please?”

“I have a car,” he said. “Can we speak downstairs? I won’t take much of your time.”

“Yeah, okay. Just …hang on.”

I went back inside long enough to slide on my boots, put on my parka, and then retie the waist on the sweatpants before the stupid things fell down. When I was zipped up, I slipped back out, then shut the door and locked it before he could see in.

We headed down to the building’s entryway, then across the icy lot to his car, where he let me in, then climbed in himself, turning the heat on.

“That’s a nice neighbor you have there,” he said.

“He’s a jerk.”

“I meant your other neighbor, the woman who answered the door.”

“Oh yeah. Karen.”

“The man next door said you don’t have any friends, but it doesn’t look like that’s true.”

“Yeah,” I said, embarrassed. “I have one.”

“Well, now you have two.”

He was smiling from across the car seat, and the way he looked at me and the way he spoke to me made me feel good. It seemed impossible that we were sitting there together, alone in the front seat like that. I’d pulled some stunts in the past when I was drunk, but never anything that ended with me actually doing something useful or worthwhile. He looked at me like I really was somebody, not a joke, and when he watched me those pretty iridescent lights shone from behind his eyes like he was something out of one of my dreams.

“This is a lot,” I said.

“I know.”

“Half the time I’m not even sure how much of it’s real.”

“It’s real,” he said. “The information the suspect provided was accurate, and after going over everything, I believe it’s real. I believe in you.”

Before I could stop myself, I cried right in front of him. Not a lot, just for a second, but enough to make me have to wipe my eyes. He handed me a tissue from out of the glove box.

“I’m sorry,” I said, pressing it to my eyes. On some level, I knew he was just being professional, just being polite. He had no idea how much what he was saying meant to me; he couldn’t know. No one was ever nice to me. No one ever took me seriously, or talked to me like I was a real person.

“You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not,” I said, laughing a little. I was getting punchy.

“Will you tell me more?”

“More about what?”

“About what you’ve seen. According to your resume, you’ve experienced a limited precognition?”

“You thought that was a joke.”

“I’m not laughing now.”

I wiped my nose on the tissue and thought about it. There was probably plenty I could tell him, but I didn’t want him to think I was crazy.

“Some people are being held against their will,” I said carefully. “Don’t ask where or who because I don’t know. They could be on Mars, for all I know. They have needles coming out of their heads.”

“Needles?”

“Long ones, coming out of the backs of their heads. They’re alive, but they can’t move. One of them told me I would lead someone to them, and I think she meant you. She told me I would end her pain.”

“You will lead me to them?”

“Then I will end her pain. That’s what she said.”

“Anything else?”

There’s a dead woman with a split heart who shows me things, but she’s keeping something from me.”