Remnants of the Day- The Lost Years Page 4

  To everyone’s surprise it ended up being a slow day. Fatima was able to leave work on time and pick up her boys. She took them home, made dinner, and spent the evening reading to them. The day’s events gave her a better perspective on life at that moment and she wanted to grab every minute with them.

  After she tucked them in, she stepped out into the hall and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She sat in the living room and scanned all the news channels. None of the news outlets could give any information as to who set off the nuclear bomb in Washington D.C. Everything was speculation as she assumed it would be. She did notice some side stories about the vice president disappearing after the blast. He was scheduled to be in Beijing meeting with the Chinese President. Last reports showed he arrived but hasn’t been seen since the explosion. Many of the reports stated he was likely taken to a secure location to insure his safety.

  Other reports stated there were runs on several banks and in some places the store shelves were emptied of most food items. She didn’t think the entire system would come crashing down. Even Japan made it through having two cities incinerated by nuclear blast.

  She spend the night on her phone until the battery died, then switched to her desk top computer trying to learn as much as she could. Before she knew it 3 A.M. had arrived and the boys would be awake soon. She sighed and turned the computer off. Laying in bed she finally fell asleep only to find herself waking up to Charles next to the bed and sunlight coming through the windows.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

  Chapter 6

  The three hour drive to Kalamazoo was uneventful. John took the business loop exit to downtown. He wasn’t sure where Chris was staying these days. He had a address from a few years ago but from their phone conversations it sounded like Chris moved around a lot.

  John decided to find a place to stay before touching base with Chris. Driving down a one-way street he found a parking spot and realized he had not eaten all day. He had skipped breakfast and drove all the way across the state. The Coney Island a few shops down caught his eye.

  The décor of the place was tile and woodwork of a hundred years ago. In front of the door ceramic tile said “welcome.” The tin ceiling above was painted brown. Very rarely had he ever seen the ceilings of these places with restored interiors expressing their original splendor. It was a shame really but how much money could a hotdog place bring in?

  He ordered three Coney dogs and pulled his phone out. He checked the local Craig’s list website for available apartments. He found a few but thought the overall website was shady.

  The guy behind the counter brought out John's tray of food and sat it down on the table.

  “Here ya go.”

  “Hey, I just moved here from out of town. If I was looking for an apartment, where would I look online?” John asked.

  “There is the classified adds on Mlive.com. That’s where I found my place.”

  “Thanks.”

  John went to the website and found more options for apartments. After a few minutes he found a few places that sounded good. He ate his food and twenty minutes later was on the phone leaving messages with a couple of landlords.

  Leaving Coney Island, John got in his van. Navigating the one-way streets of the city he found the main road taking him to the shopping district. He noticed his shirt didn’t smell the best and stopped at a military surplus store. He liked the olive green t-shirts he wore in the army and bought a pack of twelve. He changed in the parking lot and the phone rang when he finished.

  “Is this John?” the voice on the other end was an older man. Low in tone and slow in speaking.

  “This is.”

  “You called about the studio apartment.”

  “I did.”

  John learned the apartment came furnished and included the utilities in the price. He wrote down the address and put it in the phone afterwards to get directions from google.com. He met the landlord an hour later to see it. The neighborhood didn’t appear to be the better part of town. As he drove down one of the side streets he watched a man and woman arguing in the road. They screamed back and forth. The man punched the woman in the face. John watched as she stumbled back. He stopped the van and was about to get out when the woman stood back up and hit the man back in his face. It wasn’t the punch of a woman but a solid blow that any boxer would be proud of. The man fell back and the woman towered over him raining down punches. The man raised his arms trying to stop the onslaught.

  “Good girl,” John said to himself as he put the van back into gear and found the house.

  The landlord was parked out front in a old pickup truck. He was an older man, well into retirement. Still sporting a full head of hair he reminded John of Andy Griffith. The landlord introduced himself.

  “Well, come see the place.”

  The house was on a corner. The upstairs apartment overlooked two streets. John didn’t care too much about the yellow vinyl exterior. He was interested in the layout. He liked the two exits, the vantage points of the windows.

  “do I fill out an application or something?” John asked.

  “Well, I usually do a credit check. Last girl lied about her job and moved after two months. Still owes me $1200 dollars.” The old man lowered his voice, “that bitch!”

  John snickered and the old man didn’t seem to notice.

  “Were you in the service?” the old man asked looking at John's shirt.

  “Army, ten years.”

  “My brother was in. Went to Korea. I tell you what. You give me a deposit and you can move in when you want.”

  “Deal.”

  John went back to the van and added up the cash for the deposit and first month’s rent.

  “Cash still good.” John asked.

  The old man appeared confused. He looked around then back at John.

  “Don’t show cash around here. We’ll get robbed.”

  “Not the best neighborhood?” John asked.

  “Well, it was nice once. Still want the place?”

  “You bet.”

  The landlord wrote him a receipt and John signed the lease.

  Waiting until dark, John carried his bags inside. When he took the tour of the apartment he figured out where he was going to keep his cash. He removed the maintenance board to the shower plumbing and stuffed Ziplock bags full of cash inside. In the kitchen he removed the running board under the cabinets and did the same until his bags were empty. He kept a small wad of bills for himself.

  He placed his guns in the closet and made sure the trigger locks were on before he left the apartment.

  Visiting the local corner store he bought a six pack of beer. He called Chris after placing it in the fridge. The phone rang once before Chris answered.

  “What’s up?” the familiar voice greeted.

  “Hey, guess who’s in town?”

  “Are you serious? What happened to Detroit?”

  “Ahhh, I needed a change. I have a place here. You want a beer?”

  John gave Chris his new address and an hour later there was a knock on the door.

  John handed Chris a beer and they stood out on the small porch overlooking the driveway and street.

  “You caught me on a good day,” Chris said.

  “You still at the factory?” John asked.

  “No, I’m a trunk driver now,” Chris said.

  “Seriously? So you’re making big bucks now.”

  “Not really. Not like the guys we were guarding in Iraq.”

  “Ninety thousand a year and no taxes. Must have been nice,” John added.

  “What have you been doing these days? You must be doing alright if your able to move whenever you want,” Chris was curious.

  “Well, I found that independent contracting has it’s perks,” John hated to lie to Chris like he was.

  “Wow you get into Xe or one of those smaller Blackwater types?” Chris was getting excited.

  “It’s small, domestic. Security based,” John answered.

/>   “I tried to get into Xe a few years ago but never heard back. Guess they don’t want washed up grunts with parts of their brain removed.”

  John couldn’t remember if he had ever seen the scar on the back of Chris' head before. John didn’t think he would ever had known Chris had a brain tumor if he hadn’t been told.

  “Well how is the truck driving gig going?” John tried to change the subject.

  “It’s alright, I go to school for it. Then when I get the job the company is immediately screwing with me because of their rules. I have my mirrors where I need them because of my right eye. You know it’s not so good since the surgery but if I have everything where I need it then I’m fine. They keep telling me my mirrors are wrong and change them before I leave. Then I change them back so I can see around me. It’s pissing me off.”

  John didn’t know how Chris ever managed to adjust to civilian life.

  “Life was so much simpler in Iraq, ya know?” Chris took a swig of his beer. “Which reminds me. I found this new church.”

  John tried not to roll his eyes. He wasn’t a religious man and never wanted to talk about it. He figured that talking about made up ideals was a waste of time.

  “You would like the guy that runs this place. He puts these Muslims in their place. The other day they were trying to open this new mosque in town and we went out to protest. The Reverend was standing on the roof of his car with a blow horn telling them to get the hell out of town. I felt like I was back in the service again except I wasn’t getting shot at. So at one point he’s like ‘go back home you brown bastards!’ and I’m like ‘YA!’ so I pick up this rock and chuck it through one of the windows. Then the cops show up and arrest the Reverend but they released him an hour later because they forgot the Miranda rights or something. But you know how racist the cops are they don’t like these brown bastards either. I can’t even go to a gas station these days that have a towel head behind the counter. I’m not giving those guys my money. I free your country and you fuck us on gas prices. Fuuuuuuck you!”

  John missed Chris's rants.

  “You should check out this church sometime.” Chris added.

  “I don’t know man. You know it’s not my thing.”

  “There’s women there.” Chris continued.

  “Maybe someday.”

  Chris dropped the subject and they both drank their beers.

  They finished the six pack and Chris went home after dark. John went inside and set his Glock on the coffee table before laying on the couch. He didn’t care too much for beds. Turning the light off he fell asleep. The noise outside of the teenagers in the street reminded him of restless nights overseas. The chaos and yelling gave him some sense of normal. The worst nights he had was in silence. That was when things went bad. Quiet nights had surprise attacks you would wake up to. If it was busy outside nothing happened. There was comfort in the ruckus. If people were moving than everything was normal. If people were out, he was safe.

  Chapter 6

  Driving the large bus down the highway was not what Chris imagined for himself after the army. He didn’t imagine it for himself after truck driving school either. He thought he would be hitting the road in a big rig hauling trailers filled with goods. Instead it was a bus full of senior citizens going to a casino for a good time. It wasn’t what he wanted but it was a job.

  He made his stops at the retirement homes on time and was making good time on the freeway. He didn’t have a chance to move the mirrors back where he liked them but he was getting by. The radio was set to an AM talk show he found a few weeks before. The host discussed conspiracy theories while constantly trying to sell water filters.

  “Fluoride, you have to get rid of the fluoride. The government is slowly killing you to get you out of the way…” the host continued.

  “Fluoride,” Chris repeated.

  “How can you listen to that guy?” an old man sitting behind Chris asked.

  “He’s entertaining,” Chris replied.

  “He’s only trying to sell a bunch of stuff,” the old man said.

  “Everyone is, but at least he’s entertaining. Better than Rush Limbaugh,” Chris checked his mirrors for cars.

  The old man nodded and sat back in his seat.

  On the radio the emergency alert system started and nobody paid attention having heard it countless times over the years. They expected to hear the recorded voice come over the speakers and tell them this was only a test. Instead they heard the microphone in a studio being moved around. The sound of something tapping the microphone, maybe a finger.

  “Is this on?” a voice said in the background.

  “What’s happening?” the old man asked Chris.

  “Guess we’ll find out,” he replied.

  “This is not a test. I repeat this is not a test. As of nine o’clock this morning a nuclear detonation took place in Washington D.C. It is unknown who perpetrated the attack. We ask the public not to panic and remain calm while more information is gathered. We also ask to report anything suspicious to your local authorities. For more information please contact your local news networks. Information will be released as we learn more. God Bless America!”

  The voice cut out and went back to the AM show where the host immediately went into the events of the morning. False flag was mention a few times and Chris drowned out the voice thinking about what he had just heard.

  “God Bless America? Well he didn’t do a very good job,” the old man said to himself.

  Some of the more technologically adept seniors on the bus took their phones out and started learning more from the internet. Chris became lost in thought.

  Suddenly he realized he was about to pass their exit. He quickly looked at the mirrors and switched lanes.

  “Oh shit,” Chris said as he heard a crunching sound to his right.

  He jerked the large steering wheel back to the left and looked in the overhead mirror to see people peering out the window at something.

  “Why did they have to move my mirrors?” he said to himself.

  A second crash was heard as he pulled over to the breakdown lane. He stopped the bus and put it in park. Opening the door and stepping out he looked behind the bus to see a car sideways with the drivers side smashed in. He ran up to see the people inside appeared to be not injured. The passenger side was a long scrape from where they were pushing into the guard rail. Behind the car was a second car that had rear-ended the first one as it lost control.

  “Shit!”

  The police eventually showed up. Since no one was injured the accident didn’t take a high priority with what was happening across the country.

  When the officer arrived he wrote Chris two tickets for causing the accident.

  “Damn it.” Chris said to himself as he grabbed the ticket. “Sorry it’s not you,” he corrected himself to the officer.

  “Hey it could be worse. You could have been in Washington,” the Police Officer said.

  Chris looked at the tickets. Together they were over $250.

  With no other option available Chris drove the bus to the casino and once there he was met by a company representative. The man was dressed like the other drivers but Chris didn’t recognize him.

  “Are you Chris?” the man said looking at the bus number.

  “Ya,” Chris new what was coming. It wasn’t the first time he had been fired from a job.

  “I need your keys, ID badge, and any extra uniforms you might have with you,” the man demanded.

  Chris gave him the badge and tossed him the keys.

  “I need my uniform unless I go home naked.” Chris added.

  “I understand. We will deduct the cost of the uniform from your last check,” the man said.

  “When do I get my last check?”

  “It will be mailed to you,” the man said.

  Chris realized he had no money, no job, and was stuck on a border town in southern Michigan where the only attraction was a Indian casino. He took out his wallet and had
no cash for a ticket home. His credit cards were maxed out. He was hoping to use his next check to pay down the balance. Stuffed in with other business cards he collected over the years was a piece of paper with John's phone number. John was the only friend that remembered he had trouble remembering things. Chris had not remembered to program John's number into his cell phone.

  Chris dialed the number on the paper and waited as the phone rang.

  “Hello?” John's voice answered.

  “Hey,” Chris said without realizing John might not know it was him. “I mean, uh, it’s me.”

  Chris rolled his eyes as he realized how he sounded.

  “Who?” John said.

  “Chris, hey, I’m sorry to bug you and I don’t know if you’re busy but I’m in a tough spot right now.”

  “Ok, what kind of tough spot. Do I need to grab some shovels? You need some fire power? What are we talking about?”

  “I’m at this casino on the border…” He went through the story about the cars and the accident. Then he remembered the news on the radio. “Hey did you hear about Washington?”

  “No, I’ve been sleeping. I’ll come and get you. Stay at the casino and I’ll be there as soon as possible. Leaving now.”

  “Thanks man. You’re a lifesaver.”

  John got in his van and turned the key. He thought about a few days before when he worried his van could be rigged to blow. Nothing happened. Pulled out of the parking spot and drove to the highway.

  As he climbed up the entry ramp he pressed the power button for the radio and a voice was talking about incoherent nonsense. It took a minute for him to put together what was going on.

  “…the moment things are unclear. Who did it? We don’t know. Why they did it we can only speculate. Was the Muslim extremist finally able to enact their ultimate attack on the U.S.?”

  John was curious if his radio stations had been erased. He didn’t have it programmed to any stations that would play a Rush Limbaugh type personality. Then the buzzing sound happened for emergency broadcasting recording. Was he really listening to an emergency broadcast? Chris had mentioned something about Washington but things didn’t make sense yet.

  “This is the emergency broadcasting station. Currently we are assessing the event in Washington D.C. We will bring you information as it comes. So far all we know is that a nuclear event has taken place within the city…”