Walter Greatshell - Apocalypso

“I still don’t understand what’s to stop Dixon from marching in here and taking charge of the whole operation. Making the Immunes his slaves.”

“It’s all under control, trust me. Do you think I wouldn’t have it covered?”

“You? How could I doubt?”

“Damn straight.”

They talked for hours about old times, until the sun fell below the mall. A blustery wind kicked up, and the women stowed their cards and went inside their trailers. Finally, Sandoval said, “Phew, I hate to let you go, but I can tell you’re beat. Come on, I’ll take you to your trailer.”

“Can’t I stay with you?”

“I wish. The others would never stand for it. No, you have to bunk with the Evians. Don’t worry-you’ll like them. They’re some of the nicer people in camp.”

He took Ray to a fence within the fence-a smaller enclosure containing a single trailer. The gate was locked shut, but Sandoval waved at the camera, and they were buzzed in. He sighed. “Well, this is as far as I go.”

“Really? You can’t even just introduce me?”

Sandoval shook his head no, choked up with emotion. “But I’m really glad to see you, Ray. I should kick your butt for risking your fool neck like this, but I’m grateful you came. ”

“Me too.”

They hugged, clinching tightly. A nearby woman’s voice shrieked, “Get a room!” and they hurriedly broke apart.

As the fence shut between them, Sandoval called, “Don’t you worry, everything’s going to be all right!”

Ray went up the short walk and knocked on the trailer. When he looked back, Jim Sandoval was gone.

The door opened, releasing a torrent of music-Fiona Apple’s “Criminal.” A sour-faced young woman stood in the doorway, looking Ray up and down. She was wearing what looked like an orange life vest over a peasant skirt, army boots, and an oversized knit hat with dangling earflaps. “Who’re you?” she asked.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you. My name is Ray Despineau-uh, Raven.”

The woman ignored his outstretched hand. “What do you want?”

“I guess I’m staying here tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m immune. So they say.”

“Oh. Great. Well, c’mon in. I’m Fran.” The woman stood aside to let him pass.

“Hi, Fran. Nice to meet you.”

“Seriously?”

Ray stepped into a very cluttered room. Heaps of clothing, shoes, games, books, magazines, cookware, food garbage, and all manner of random electronic paraphernalia were scattered on the floor or piled on the furniture. The music was very loud. For a second, he didn’t realize there were people hidden amid the mess: two teenage girls, both wearing life vests similar to Fran’s. One girl was on the couch, and the other sprawled on the carpet. All three were pale to the point of translucence, with dark circles under their eyes. Cancer ward, Ray thought.

He introduced himself again.

“I’m Ashleigh,” said the one on the couch, who was decorating her huge artificial nails.

The one on the floor was reading an art magazine called Hi Fructose. She said, “Deena.”

“Hi, Ashleigh and Deena. Looks like I’m gonna be staying with you guys.”

“We heard,” said Ashleigh. “You can have Wanda’s room. It’s the one in the middle.”

“Thanks,” Ray said, “but doesn’t Wanda need it?”

“Not anymore. Shit happens.” Ashleigh went back to her nails.

Deena said, “Hey, is it true that Michael Jackson is back from the dead?”

“That’s such bullshit, man,” scoffed Ashleigh.

Deena said, “You’re the one who thinks Elvis is still alive!”

“Elvis is totally still alive-I saw him, bitch.”

“Why should Elvis come back and not Michael Jackson?”

“Dude, if you have to ask that, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“Why? Michael Jackson probably sold more records in his lifetime than-”

“Stop-just stop it. Elvis is a classic, do you get it? He’s the King, the original.”

“You always do this.” Deena turned to Ray. “She always does this. Do you think Michael Jackson’s back?”

“Anything’s possible,” Ray said.

He went and found the empty bedroom. The dead girl’s things were still there, the bed unmade. A picture of Jesus was taped to the wall. As he stood looking at it, something moved under the wadded-up bedding, something not human. Part of its shin was exposed: pink gooseflesh with black hair. With a howl, it suddenly jumped off the bed and raced through his legs and into the hall. Ray half shrieked before realizing it was a dog, a very ugly, piebald mutt.

Ray jumped as someone touched him on the shoulder. It was Fran. “Sorry,” she said, “but I almost forgot to give you this. I’ll help you put it on.” It was one of the orange life vests.

“What is that?” he asked.

“About ten pounds of Thermite with a C-4 chaser.”

“What?”

“Don’t freak out, it’s actually very stable… unless you trigger the detonator by pulling this tab. Then you have five seconds to say your prayers. C’mon, don’t you want to be in control of your own destiny?” She helped him put the vest on and secure its fasteners. Aside from the bomb itself, Ray was nervous that Fran might take notice of his lack of cleavage, which he had concealed with padding, but she politely took no notice.

Finishing up, Fran said, “Now, the only time you really want to take this off is when you’re taking a shower or during our designated sleep periods. Everybody sleeps at different times so we don’t have to sleep in these things-it’s too uncomfortable. Now that you’re here, we’ll have to readjust to a four-way schedule, but it’s cool. Well, that’s about it. If you need anything, I’m right in the next room.”

Ray closed the door and wept.

Later, over dinner, they talked some more. Canned food had been dropped off at the gate, and Fran heated it on the propane stove. Ashleigh said grace.

“So what do you girls make of all this?” Ray asked as they ate.

“You sound like my mom,” said Ashleigh.

Deena affected a robotic grin, and squawked, “ ‘What do you girls make of all this?’ ”

“Just wondering,” Ray said.

“Are you a man?” asked Deena.

He almost choked. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. Just something about you.”

“Does it help you to hurt my feelings, Deena?” he asked.

“Kind of, yeah.”

“It really does,” said Ashleigh.

“Now, girls… ” Fran said.

Ray said, “If I was a man, I wouldn’t be in here, would I? The only reason you’re all here is because you can still bear children, right? Without that, there’s no other hope for mankind.”

“Like Eve,” Ashleigh said.

“I thought Eve was a dirty word around here.”

Fran said, “Depends on who you talk to. We’ve been hearing rumors that Eve may be getting a reprieve. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Raven?”

“Maybe so.”

All attention turned to Ray. Deena said, “Oooh. Sounds like she does know something.”

“Just that a lot of people are fed up with the God Squad out there. You girls may want to start thinking about where you’re going to spend your golden years.”

Ashleigh bristled at the words “God Squad.” “You’re an unbeliever.”

Rolling her eyes, Fran interrupted, “Where else is there to go?”

Ray said, “They say there’s some kind of refugee base down around Washington, DC. Supposedly it’s pretty nice. They’re calling it Xanadu.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just rumors. But that Dixon character is prepared to go to war against it, so he obviously believes it’s true.”

Ashleigh erupted. “Well, he is the Living Saint, so he must have a good reason.”