G Hopf - Driver 8 - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

The nurse opened the door wide to accommodate the children who promptly began to march out single file. As each child exited the infirmary, Portia’s anxiety grew and her stomach turned. Where’s Melissa? When the last child exited, the nurse let go of the door. “Have a good day.”

Portia grabbed the door and asked, “Is that it?”

“Yes,” the nurse replied stoically.

“There was a girl, Melissa. Is she one of them?” Portia asked.

The nurse cocked her head and answered, “If they aren’t here, that’s your answer.”

“But…”

“Is that all?”

“No,” Portia said walking up to the nurse. “Can I see her?”

The nurse looked at her oddly and said, “No.”

“Please.”

“You know protocol, once they fail the test, they go to processing.”

Fear gripped Portia, she knew what processing meant. “Can I ask a personal favor?”

“What?”

“Can I go see her?” Portia asked.

“The answer is no. Teacher Seven. Your request is highly unusual, but I’ll excuse it this one time. Now, please go, attend to the other children,” the nurse said. She turned and walked away.

Portia stood and stared. A deep sense of helplessness swept over her. The scenarios she’d run through her head moments before came rushing back.

At the end of the far hallway, a door creaked open and Melissa stepped out.

Seeing her, Portia called out, “Melissa!”

Hearing her name, Melissa turned and waved. Oddly a smile graced her tender face.

Portia wasn’t thinking about protocol or how unusual her behavior was. She let instinct take over. “Melissa, sweetheart, wait there!” she said racing towards her.

Melissa stood and waited but was prompted along by a young intern.

“No, wait,” Portia cried out.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the nurse appeared, “Teacher Seven, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I just need to see her,” Portia said her voice cracking. Her face gave away the emotions running through her.

“Teacher Seven, report back to your class, NOW!” the nurse barked, her tone signaling she was irritated with Portia’s emotional and unorthodox behavior.

“I need to see her,” Portia urged looking over the nurse’s shoulder to keep track of Melissa’s whereabouts.

“No, now turn around or I will be forced to report you,” the nurse warned.

Melissa disappeared into another room followed by the intern.

Frantic, Portia pushed past the nurse and sprinted down the hall.

Calmly, the nurse turned to another nurse at a station and ordered, “Contact security.”

Portia reached the door to the room she’d seen Melissa disappear into and turned the nob but found it locked. She knocked on the door and asked, “Melissa, are you in there?”

No response.

“Melissa, please answer me, are you okay?”

Silence.

“Resident, step away from the door,” a man said, his voice deep and rough.

Portia looked up at the mountain of a man towering over her. “Please, I just need to see her before she gets processed, that’s all.”

“Step away from the door, now, or I’ll be forced to use more aggressive measures,” the guard threatened.

Portia began to bang on the door, “Melissa, if you can hear me. I want you to know…” she paused, gulped loudly and continued. “I want you to know, I love you. And that I think you’re the most precious girl in the world.”

The guard didn’t give a warning before jabbing his stun baton into her ribs.

Portia’s body tensed and went rigid.

The guard hit her again with the baton, this time shoving it into her armpit.

The electrical charge swept through her body. She crumbled to the ground, her body flinching. She looked up at the guard and tried to speak but was unable. A single tear streaked down the side of her face just before the guard jabbed her a third time, this time in the neck. It was the last thing she remembered before she went unconscious.

Barry could feel the anger welling up inside him. His dark brown eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Brushing the long bangs away from his forehead he barked, “I’ve got two things to say. One, if you touch me, you better make sure you intend on killing me and two, if you don’t kill me, I will kill you.” A devilish grin stretched across his face. “So, if you have something to say, you better be able to back it up.”

“What the hell are you doing?” a booming voice sounded behind Barry.

Barry turned to see Kyle, standing feet from him, an odd look on his face.

Embarrassed, Barry stepped away from the mirror and replied, “Just screwing around is all.”

“I always knew you were a bit off, but now I find you threatening yourself in a mirror. That is taking it to new heights of crazy,” Kyle laughed and walked away.

Barry looked in the mirror and barked, “Stupid, idiot.” He ran his fingers through his bushy hair. His face flushed, he grinded his teeth in frustration. Just before walking away he caught another glimpse of his reflection and snapped, “Dumbass.”

From the rear of the house, Kyle called out, “Once you’re done playing with yourself go grab the rest of the stuff from the truck.”

“Okay,” Barry grumbled and exited the house. He stopped on the front step to admire the view of the rolling fields and mountains beyond. “Would you look at that?”

“Are you getting the stuff or day dreaming now?” Kyle quipped as he pushed passed Barry on his way towards the truck.

“Just taking in the view,” Barry said.

Kyle stopped just sigh of the truck, looked towards the snow-capped mountains and exhaled deeply. In a satirical tone he said, “Ahh, so beautiful, now let’s get our stuff inside before the storm hits.”

“Storm?” Barry asked, looking around.

“While you were playing games in the mirror you missed the darkening clouds that were gathering to the west,” Kyle said pointing in that direction.

A storm was coming and along with it a high probability of lethal doses of radioactive material. “We need to get inside, and seal up,” Kyle said referencing the ritual practice he’d do when a storm approached.

This ritual required covering all windows and exterior doors with visqueen, a thick plastic sheet, then create a decontamination station in a sealed off room, preferably a bathroom. There he’d strip and wash to remove any possible radioactive particles he might have come into contact with. Kyle was strict with this practice. He had survived all these years because of this ritualistic practice.

“Darkening clouds? Kyle the entire sky has been cloudy off and on for years,” Barry said.

“We don’t’ have time to waste, get to it,” Kyle insisted as he grabbed an armful of items from the bed of the truck.

What remained of Salt Lake City lay to west and if a storm was coming from that direction so was radiation.

Barry approached the truck only to stop when Kyle tossed a roll of visqueen, a roller of tape and a staple gun at him.

“Start in the front room, and no more role playing in the mirror, okay?” Kyle ordered.

Barry scoffed at him and walked off.

Barry was busy stapling and taping the visqueen over the windows and exterior doors while whistling a show tune. Watching old television shows on DVD was something he enjoyed.

Kyle found a bathroom with a shower and checked the water. After a stuttering pause water rained out of the shower head. He let the water pour for a good minute into the basin then ran the Geiger counter over it to make sure it wasn’t contaminated and found it good. He placed his hand in the water to check the temperature and like everywhere else, it was ice cold. “This will suck,” he muttered as if expecting the water to turn warm. He shrugged off his large pack and began to unload the contents. Done, he proudly looked at the display of soaps, sponges, towels and fresh clothes laid out neatly on a clean tarp. The towels and fresh clothes were sealed in large zip lock bags.