So, here's chapter 2 of 'When the children come'. If you missed chapter 1, it's here.
It's about a man who hates kids. Then he notices they are disappearing. In fact they're being killed. And it turns out he's the only one who can save them.
Of course that's what it's about on the surface. What's it really about? Well, for that you'll have to read it.
Oh, and last time i'll say it, kids are disappearing, because they're being killed. The story isn't gratuitous about this, but it is central to the story, So if that turns you off, just don't read any further.
Chapter Two
Mags
Sally was well
hidden in his Corvette, under a blanket, behind the driver’s seat. Lara rolled
her eyes when she saw the red sports car. “Glad we can travel incognito,” she
said.
“At least it’s fast.”
They got in. She popped open the glove
compartment, pulled out its main item. “Loaded?”
“Sure.”
“You’re not a NRA nut, are you?”
He shook his head, turned the
ignition key and rolled the car up the ramp into the daylight. He pulled away
fast enough to outpace three men who saw them emerge and walked towards them,
but not so fast as to look suspicious. Once they were on the move, he spoke to
Sally.
“Sally, you can come out now.”
“No. They mustn’t see me.”
At least she was speaking. He’d not
had a peep out of her yet. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”
There was a pause. “Timmy’s dead.”
Nathan hit the brakes. The Corvette skidded
to a halt.
Sally shrieked. “Don’t stop! They’ll
find me!”
“Drive, Nathan,” Lara said.
He
stared at her, but Lara wasn’t looking at him. He followed her gaze to a
cluster of men on the street corner looking his way. He smiled at the men, and
took off again.
“Who’s Timmy?” Lara asked.
“Her younger brother,” Nathan
answered. Sally was sobbing.
They passed a rubbish truck. Not
difficult, they seemed to be everywhere.
“Holy fuck,” Lara said.
“What?” He turned around to try and
see what she’d just seen, but the truck was already behind them.
“Just drive.” She fumbled with the
lock on the glove compartment to get it open, pulled out the Glock, let it rest
in her lap. “Don’t stop Nathan. Stay down Sally, you can come out when we’re
out of here.” Lara gripped Nathan’s hand. He glanced at her. Her face had gone
the same marble white as the running kid he’d seen earlier.
His army training kicked in. His
voice went into its flat mode. “Tell me,” he said. “What you just saw in the rubbish truck. Describe
it to me.”
Lara shrank back into the leather
seat. “Kids,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder to where Sally was
hidden, then back to Nathan, and said quieter, “Small children.”
Nathan
drove on, tried to process again, to stare things in the face. That was how you
survived. See the world as it is, not as you think it is, not as you want it to
be, but exactly as it is.
Parents in the neighbourhood were
killing their kids.
Lara’s hand grew clammy. She didn’t
talk any more.
They
were effectively behind enemy lines, surrounded by hostiles. This had to be
local. Maybe nerve gas, or a virus. Whatever was going on, normal rules no
longer applied. Act like the locals, get Sally to a safe haven, Lara too,
though he didn’t know if she was in any danger. Mags’ place in the country. Virginia.
Their best bet. He thought about calling the Doc. But he was local, might be
infected too. He’d call him later, then call some of his buddies in the Mil.
But first, get the two civilians out of harm’s way.
It
was a twenty minute drive to the highway. There shouldn’t be much traffic on
New Year’s Day. He kept to the speed limits, but his accelerator foot remained
tense, ready to floor the pedal if required. His window stayed open, and he
listened as much as watched. He flinched at hearing a siren, but it was going
the other way. Streets were still quiet, even the clusters of men had
disappeared. Then he saw people queueing to get into a church. It was clearly
packed. No kids. He turned on the radio but only got static, and an uneven
beeping noise, like Morse, but faster. Each red light seemed to take forever,
even though there was almost no traffic. He only breathed easier when he spied
the ramp up to the Freeway. It was open, it was clear.
He talked Lara and Sally through his
idea of what had happened, reassuring them. Sally stopped sobbing, Lara’s grip
on his hand loosened. Lara and Sally started talking to each other once they
hit the highway and evergreens began to appear.
But for Nathan it was like Afghanistan had
come to find him. Five years since he’d left, but right now it felt like
yesterday. And though Manhattan receded far behind them and the promise of
Virginia loomed up ahead, the miles to the exit slowly counting down like last
night’s New Year clock, his gut wouldn’t let up. He kept expecting roadblocks,
helicopters, mad axe-wielding men to come charging out in front of them like
some zombie B-movie. But nothing happened, and an hour later he took the exit
to Mags’ neighbourhood. It was going to be okay. It was safe after all. Lara drifted off, and Sally was quiet, no doubt asleep under the blanket.
As he wound the car up the single
track to Mags’ place, he gently prised the Glock from Lara’s fingers, and
pocketed it inside his jacket. The car crunched up the gravel driveway to Mags’
ranch house, and he drew to a stop. No sound outside except the cool winter breeze
in the barren sycamores.
“We’re here,” he announced, waking
them both.
Lara
stirred. She looked for the Glock, guessed Nathan had it. “Give it to me,” she
said.
“We’re
not here to shoot my sister,” he countered. He reminded himself he knew almost
nothing about Lara.
She
wouldn’t let it go. “You’re making my point for me. Either give me the gun, or
give me the car keys.”
Sally
reared up from the back, her face puffy, that sleepy kid smell Nathan detested.
“Stay
out of sight, Sally,” Lara said.
She
ducked back down.
Out
of the corner of his eye, Nathan saw a net curtain pull back, someone peer out
from the house. Mags. She came out the door. She looked well. It was going to
be okay. Nathan’s gut told him so.
“Neither,”
he said to Lara, opened his door and got out.
“Fuck
you!” Lara said.
Nathan
ignored her, got out of the car, and started walking towards Mags. “Hello,
Sis.” He held out his arms and his sister, shorter than him but wider, beamed,
and they both entered into their habitual mock bear hug contest. Nathan closed
his eyes and squeezed the only person in the world he truly trusted. He was
home. He heard Lara walk up behind them.
“Hello
Mags,” Lara said. “Us two thought we’d come and thank you for some great sex.”
She smiled at Nathan. “Well, above average.”
Nathan
returned the smile, but recognised what she was doing: hiding Sally. Lara
walked towards Mags, hooked her arm, and walked her towards the house. “And you
know how hungry it makes me.”
He
followed her lead. Just before he entered by the front porch, he cast a look
back to the car. His door wasn’t closed properly. Sally had moved into the
bushes. Smart kid. And in that moment he suddenly wondered where Mags’ hubby Phil
and the kids were.
Pancakes with
maple syrup. Lara devoured three of them. Nathan knew Sally must be hungry, and
would smell them from wherever she was hiding. He put two to one side, and glanced
at Lara when Mags wasn’t looking, but Lara shook her head a fraction.
Mags
chided him. “You gonna’ eat those or start a new religion, Nathan?”
“Yes,
Nathan,” Lara joined in, “you didn’t seem to be into delayed gratification last
night.”
He
sighed and tucked in. “Why do girls always gang up on us men?”
“To
keep you in your place, little brother.”
He
finished up, leaned back into the deep sofa, nursing a large mug of coffee. Josh’s
mug, Darth Vader and Yoda battling with light-sabres. For the first time he
considered Yoda’s size. It looked like a child fighting a parent. To the death.
He downed the rest of the coffee, bitter dregs catching on the back of his
tongue. Mags took the mug and the plates into the kitchen, and started loading
the dishwasher.
“Where’s Josh?” he called out to
her.
The dishwasher closed with a soft
click. Mags didn’t answer straight away. “Out back somewheres, with Archie and
Phil.”
Lara
caught his gaze, locked it in place. He felt compelled to play it out.
“Can’t hear them, Mags.”
Another pause. “Probably in the tree-house
playing video games, headphones on, you know, disconnected from the real world,
like most kids these days.” She came back into the lounge. Nathan’s cocoon of
happiness punctured as he saw her face. It was as if she had two faces, one a
loose mask over the other. On the surface she looked chummy, happy-go-lucky,
but underneath she was drawn, wild. A carving knife hung from Mags’ right hand.
Nathan swallowed. The Glock was in
his jacket hanging by the porch door. Lara had been right. He kept his eyes on
Mags.
“All those years,” she said. “All
those years, turns out you had it right, and the rest of us had it all wrong.”
Mags glanced at Lara, then Nathan. “I don’t know how you both stood it.”
Mags’
two faces morphed back into one, a coldness rising to the surface. Nathan had
seen that look before, a suicide bomber they’d cornered just in time in a
village in Helmand Province, locked into his own tortured logic, no reasoning
with him. No way back, just wanted to die and go to the afterlife. The Sarge
obliged, via a bullet in the bomber’s re-coded brain. But this was Mags, his
sister.
“That’s
all changed now,” Mags said. “A fresh start.” Her face brightened, that same
faraway look in her eyes as if she were glimpsing a better world. “Yes, a new
beginning.” She stood between Nathan and Lara, while both of them sat in soft,
deep chairs, hard to get out of in a hurry.
“It
will all be fine when the children come.”
Nathan
had no idea what she meant, but the way Mags looked at him he wasn’t sure it
was a good idea to ask.
Lara
piped up. “And when will they arrive, Mags?”
Mags
turned to Lara, beatific smile gone. Her eyes narrowed. The hand with the knife
waved casually at Nathan.
“Stay
there, little brother, no need to run around after all that eating.” The knife
twisted back towards Lara. “Don’t you know, girl?”
Nathan
felt helpless, stuck in that damned sofa. If he tried to clamber out Mags could
slash him and still cut Lara. But Lara kept her composure.
“Like
you said, Mags, we knew better all along. I’m just checking that you know.”
Mags’
lips twisted. “Nice try.”
Nathan
had to act. Mags wouldn’t cut him, he was her brother; that would come through.
Anyway, he had to risk it. He launched himself forward as best he could, then
dived as a flash of silver whipped past his left eye. He ended up on the floor.
Mags screamed like a banshee and raised the knife high, eyes blazing.
His
instincts and training kicked in as she fell on him. His foot rose like a
piston into her chest as his left hand chopped into her forearm to block the
knife, then seize her wrist. His right hand should have slammed into her
carotid, but he couldn’t do it. She used all of her weight as she squirmed and
shoved, and thumped his face with her free hand, scratching across his eyes so
he couldn’t see, all the time screaming and grunting. She kneed him in the
balls, and he almost lost his grip on her wrist, felt it slip. He was losing
this. His little sister was going to kill him.
A
loud crack, louder than thunder. Lara had found the Glock. Hot rain spattered
his cheeks. He kept his eyes closed. Mags collapsed on him, dead weight. The
knife clinked onto the floor. He let go of her wrist, caught her head and
lowered it next to his, like they were embracing. He held her, wrapped her in
his arms, fingers clasped behind her back, one last bear hug. Nathan began to
sob, just like Sally earlier.
“Don’t go up there,” Sally said, her
body stiff, her hands in small fists by her side.
Nathan stared up the sturdy oak tree
to his hiding place of old, his and Mags’ one refuge from the folks. It looked
peaceful. He spotted bird movement in the top-most branches, high above the
wooden tree house. Crows. Carrion birds. The rope ladder beckoned. How long
since he’d last climbed it? The space between the rungs was smaller than he
remembered. Gripping the ladder with both hands, he began the ascent.
Even before he arrived, he could
hear the tell-tale buzzing of insects around a fresh corpse. He paused at the
top of the ladder, staring through the doorway. Phil had tried to protect the
boys, that much was clear from the gashes to his arms, and the hole in his
chest... Mags had slit the two boys’ throats, and it suddenly occurred to him
he’d not asked Sally how Timmy had been killed. The three of them looked
peaceful, Phil in the middle, the boys on each side in his arms. There were
blankets, flashlights, books, all in disarray; Phil and the boys had this
yearly ritual of staying up till dawn to see the New Year in. Phil would say that
otherwise all your New Year’s resolutions departed with your dreams upon waking.
Mags would have none of it, saying it was a dumb idea to start the New Year
bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived. Phil hadn’t been too successful, unemployed on
and off, scraping through the hard years like so many, but he’d been a good father,
one Nathan would have traded for his own in a second.
Nathan climbed back down.
“We
should bury them,” Sally said.
Lara eyed him. “What do you think,
Nathan?”
He’d barely spoken to Lara, didn’t
know what to say. He’d known her less than twenty-four hours and in that time they’d
become lovers, and she’d saved his life by killing his sister. He needed to
call someone, get the military involved. He looked up at the sky. No planes, no
choppers, yet this house was underneath the flight path to Baltimore International
Airport. His ‘local epidemic’ theory wasn’t looking good.
He couldn’t climb back up there. He
looked to Lara, then Sally, both standing apart. Like him, they were barely
holding it together. He strode towards the garage.
“Where are you going?” Lara said.
“To get some kerosene.”
Working with Lara,
he checked the TV channels while she searched the Internet. Even Sally tried,
after she found a tablet. Nothing. The Internet was down. The TV was bare,
except one channel that had irregular red flashes that gave him a headache. The
cell network was down. The landline was dead. It was as if they’d been invaded,
without a single bullet being fired, the whole state shut down. He suddenly
wondered if it could be some kind of cyber-security attack. That could explain
the shutdown, but not the behaviour.
“Eat something, Sally,” he said.
“Not hungry,” she replied.
“Do as you’re told,” he snapped,
then caught himself. Jesus, just like his father. “Sally, we’re leaving soon, I
don’t know when we’ll next be able to eat. Please.”
She glared at him, then ran to the
kitchen. Cupboard doors slammed, then he heard cereal dumped into a dish, milk
sloshed over it.
Lara appeared. “I found this in the
garage.” She handed him a VHF radio, along with the charger. He took it,
inspected it, then set it down carefully, knowing it might be the one thing
that could get them out of this mess. He watched Lara. Her lips were pressed
together, her movements unsure, lacking the grace that had so attracted him
last night.
“Listen,” he began.
“No. Don’t you dare forgive me for
killing Mags. Don’t thank me either, I was aiming for her chest. Nearly took
your head off.”
He
held out his hand, but she didn’t take it.
“We
should get moving,” she said.
While
Lara got Sally and some provisions into the car, Nathan went back out to the
garden, and lit the fuse he’d made earlier from torn sheets. Eager flames licked
up the rope ladder, and spread under the tree house.
He drove into
the hills, glancing every now and again in the mirror, the pillar of smoke from
the tree house barely visible in the late afternoon sky. The VHF sat on the
dashboard, crackling once in a while, that fast morse-like code rattling more
often than he liked. He’d tried to raise anyone, but just got static.
He
found the spot he’d been looking for and pulled over. It was a viewpoint at the
top of a zig-zag road ascending the highest hill around. An overflowing trash
can and enough room for several cars, a stone-mounted plaque noting an ancient
battle site far below against the British. They all got out and approached the
edge. You could see for twenty miles. His parents had brought him and Mags here
every Sunday he could remember. After each of his two tours, he had come up
here to try and anchor himself back into normal life, never truly sure on which
side of the looking glass he’d landed. He shaded his eyes. The waxy yellow sun would
set in a couple of hours. Pulling out a flask of coffee, he poured a cup for
him and Lara, while Sally dug out a Coke Zero.
Lara stood next to him. He felt the
touch of her body. She cleared her throat. “What do you suppose she meant?”
Nathan closed his eyes. Mags was
gone, the kids too. His head spun for a second, his body tensing. He opened his
eyes. Lara moved away a fraction, no longer in contact.
“What
do you mean?” he said.
“When the children come.” She moved
in front of him. “I don’t get it. They’re killing all the kids. Do they think
they’re coming back? Some kind of resurrection?” She walked away, kicked hard
at a stone, booting it off the edge. He’d never been allowed to do that.
NFI, he thought, a joke from the
war. No fucking idea. He glanced at Sally. She sat on the edge, her feet
dangling over the two hundred foot drop, just like he had all those years ago,
secretly hoping his parents would tell him to come back, that it was dangerous.
They never even got out of the car.
Sally played with the Coke can,
shoulders slumped, body listless. Crushed. He put down his coffee, walked right
behind her and picked her up, startling her, Lara too. The can pitched over the
edge. Sally began fighting him, kicking, thumping his chest with her tiny
fists, re-enacting Mags’ attack. “Let me go!” she yelled, as he returned to the
car. He held her tight, let her pummel him, till she stopped and buried her
head in his shoulder, her body wracked by sobs. She wrapped her small arms
around his neck. Lara came over, stared at him awhile.
“What are we going to do, Nathan?”
NFI.
The
radio crackled alive. A voice, foreign. He could have laughed, life was always
best at cruel jokes.
“What the hell is that?” Lara asked.
Sally
lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes large, hoping he had all the answers,
knowing he probably didn’t.
But
this time he did. “It’s Afghan,” he said. He put a hand on Lara’s shoulder, and
spoke to both of them. “They’re calling for people like us, people not
affected.”
Putting
Sally down, he picked up the radio, and began talking in pidgin Dari, coming
back to English when it got too complex. He had to keep his eyes open, stare
out at Virginia, had to remind himself he wasn’t back there. He had to trust these people. It helped that for the first
five minutes they clearly didn’t trust him.
When
he finished, he turned to see Lara and Sally waiting, holding hands.
“Let’s
go,” he said, then squatted down to Sally’s level. “I’ve found some more kids,”
he said.
Sally’s face lit
up.
As they drove onward into dusk, he
spotted a police barricade far ahead, lights flashing, and pulled onto a side
road. Lara got out the map, and Nathan hugged the small empty roads. It grew
dark. He kept his headlights off.
Lara glanced back to see Sally
asleep, then turned back to Nathan. “Why do you think we aren’t affected? It
can’t be just because we don’t like kids?”
“Don’t know. At least we’re not the
only ones,” he said, pointing straight ahead to a compound resembling an old
fort. As they pulled up, floodlights blinked on, dazzling him, waking Sally with
a shriek. He came to a stop, guessed what was coming. He put a hand over Lara’s
as heavy footsteps rushed towards them, people yelling in Pashto and Dari and
something else, way too fast for him to decipher. Within seconds he felt the
familiar cold metal ring that was the pointed end of an AK47 jabbed into his cheek.
Sally had bolted down behind the
seat again. Over their shouting, and in the haze of the floodlights and hand-held
flashlight-beams, he spoke calmly to Sally.
“Sally, I need you to sit up and
show yourself. Trust me, they’re on your side. Do it now please, or we’re all
dead.”
The rifle’s nozzle shoved harder,
but when Sally stood up in the back, the voices changed tone, and the men
withdrew. More shouting, and several women dressed in traditional knee-length
skirt and trouser outfits – panjabbi, he recalled – walked quickly from the
compound towards the car. When they saw Sally, they broke into a run, arms out-stretched,
ululating a familiar welcoming cry. Nathan thought back to his tours in Helmand
Province – no prizes for guessing what the guys had nicknamed it – but for the
first time since his return, he admitted there were things about it he missed.
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