“Help him!” Jane screams at the television. “My God, put down the damn camera and help him!”
Vin Boucher’s face is streaked with blood and the sensitive microphone easily picks up his slight whimpers: “no, please stop, don’t, please…”
The guy pulls the watch from the reporter’s wrist and slides it onto his own. He admires it for a moment and then turns to look directly at the viewers.
“That’s a nice damn camera, too.”
The scene quickly cuts back to the newsroom where our disheveled Nancy is staring into the distance with her jaw hanging slightly open. The news feed at the bottom of the screen continues to scroll by but other than that nothing on the screen moves. It’s almost as if the entire studio has suddenly become frozen in time and I think how this shot would be worthy of being framed with all the other classics on our walls. But then the station quickly cuts to a commercial of spiky-haired Vince hawking his latest, life-changing innovation.
“He attacked that poor man. On live television! Just attacked him. For a watch? For a damn watch?”
Jane sounds like she’s bordering on hysteria, her voice raising in pitch until it’s so shrill that I’m surprised every glass in the house doesn’t instantly shatter.
“What the hell is going on out there? What is fucking wrong with these people?”
She’s pacing around the room now, gesturing in the air with her hands like the conductor at a symphony of panic.
Cody, who has apparently given up on trying to comfort Polly, rushes over to Jane and takes her by the shoulders.
“Look, Jane.” he says in that annoying, fake accent of his. “We’re safe. That’s all that matters. We’re safe in here.”
I can’t help it. I start to laugh. At first it’s just a chuckle but the more I think about it, the funnier it seems and before long tears are streaming out of my eyes as I slap my thigh with my palm.
“What?” Jane screeches. “What is so damn funny, Richard?”
I wipe the tears from my eyes and sniffle a few times as I try to regain my composure.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… well, do you honestly believe, Cody, that we’re really safe? Simply because we’re in this apartment?”
Cody looks flabbergasted and confused. Which, come to think of it, really isn’t that too far out of character for him.
“Yes. Yes, of course, we’re safe. Why wouldn’t…”
“Windows are made of glass.” I remind them. “Doors are made of wood. Last time I checked, neither one of those things were indestructible.”
“Now listen here, Richard, I’ve about had enough of….”
In the distance there’s a boom that severs the conversation as cleanly as a cleaver. It’s quickly followed by a second boom and then a third, each getting louder and closer with every repetition. Within seconds, we can feel the floor of the apartment quake with each successive clap and the little glass votive holders lining the shelves begin to rattle and shake. I’m reminded of the scene in Jurassic Park where the T-Rex is drawing closer and closer, it’s footsteps shaking the glass of water until the giant beast was bearing right down upon the heroes. Only I know what lurks outside the thin walls of this apartment is far more savage than any Hollywood dinosaur could ever dream of being. The beast bearing down upon us is the beast of change; and once it’s begun its charge there’s nothing anyone can do to put it down.
Through the thin linen curtains, we begin to see the flash of fireballs rising into the sky. Each one perfectly synchronized with one of the booms, each one bathing the room in brighter and brighter light.
And now there’s a sound from the streets below. A sound like the battle cry of five hundred warriors plucked from the streams of time and set down on the avenues of our fair city: Huns, Viking berserkers, the Spartans, and Samurai. William Wallace and his entire Scots army. The sound awakens something in my soul, some primal desire to feel the warmth of blood on my hands, to taste its saltiness on my lips, and smell the metallic aroma as it showers me with its holy spray. The desire to take what is rightfully mine and to defend it from anyone who mistakenly believes themselves to be man enough to take it from me.
Another explosion trembles our building and, at the same time, we’re plunged into darkness which causes a small shriek to escape from Jane. She’s pressed against me and I can feel her body shaking, but my eyes try to peer through the darkness, searching for Polly.
There’s a rumble of motors outside now, quickly followed by volley after volley of gunfire, more explosions, and cries of rage and pain. It also sounds like someone has begun to hammer on the main entrance to the door, as if they’re trying to pound it down with nothing more than bare fists and brute force.
“Jane.”
She’s latched onto me like a lamprey on a shark, but she seems unresponsive. It’s almost as if she’s caught somewhere between waking and a dream, her eyes vacant, her face pale and expressionless.
I shake her so hard her teeth rattle within her mouth.
“Damn it, Jane, snap the fuck out of it you stupid bitch!”
She blinks a few times and her brow furrows with confusion.
“You don’t have to get vulgar with me, Richard.”
I force myself to take the edge off my voice, to speak to her as if I were dealing with a small child.
“Janey, honey… you remember that trap door up on the top floor? The one with the little rope you have to pull? The one that leads up into the attic?”
She nods her head solemnly.
“Okay, Jane, I want you to take Polly up there, okay? You take her up there and you hide.”
Jane starts to pull away but then stops and has that confused look on her face again.
“What about you and Cody?”
Leave it to her to make something so simple into a major production that requires a committee meeting and detailed blueprints. I haven’t got time for this shit.
“We’ll be along shortly. Just take Polly to the attic, okay Janey? Take Polly to the attic.”
Polly appears in the darkness like a succubus materializing from thin air. She places her hand on Jane’s arm and looks at me with eyes that reflect understanding.
“Come on, Jane.” she says softly. “Why don’t you show me where this attic is, dearie.”
The two disappear into the darkness and moments later I hear our front door open and shut, followed by footsteps running up the stairs.
“What do you have in mind, Richard?”
Cody’s voice wavers with uncertainty and I know that in his heart of hearts, he’s wishing he was going with them. Upstairs to the attic. To hide with the other girls.
I don’t waste time answering him. I’m moving toward the kitchen now, my familiarity with the apartment guiding me effortlessly through the maze of furniture and obstacles. Cody isn’t quite as lucky and I hear him stumbling and cussing in the darkness behind me.
That Useless tit.
I’m in the kitchen now and I open the second drawer to the right of the sink, the one where the soldiers spent so much time measuring the blades of our knives during the weapons check. I pull out the longest one, a seven and a half inch chef’s knife. The blade is honed to such perfection that even in the darkness it gleams like a beacon of hope. Not bothering to shut the drawer, I push my way through the beaded curtain and into the living room just as Cody trips over an ottoman.
“Damn it,” I hiss, “haven’t your eyes started adjusting yet?”
“I got vision problems. I can’t see worth a dang and you damn well know that.”