Whiteout (Book 3): The Numbing Page 5

  “That must be it,” she said. The bathroom door closed, and now that the coast was clear, I poked my head up and showed Mikey the OK sign. The confidence he’d taken on for that conversation vanished away in a fit of giddiness.

  “Really?” he whispered. “I don’t sound like an asshole.”

  “Not completely,” I joked. He frowned, and the face made me feel bad for the kid. “A joke, Mikey. Keep it up—”

  The door opened, cutting me off. My head fell back to the pillow and I closed my eyes, feeling like a boy at a sleepover who doesn’t want their parents to know he’s still awake.

  “Mind if I stay up with ya?” Mia asked.

  Stammering. “Uh, y-yeah, that’d be cool.”

  “You know, you’re pretty cute, Mikey.”

  “Thank you.”

  I almost felt the warmth radiating from his cheeks from where I lay, some twenty or so feet away.

  “You’re welcome.” A chair squeaked softly as Mia sat down, grunting. “You’re nice too. Don’t see that much. Good lookin’ guys, they’re usually dickbags.”

  Mikey laughed. I heard him swipe his shaggy hair. “I clean up real nice, I just haven’t really had the chance. I can’t tell you when the last time I had a proper shower was.”

  The smile on my face faded. He could’ve done better than that; you never want to talk about how unsanitary you might be to the opposite sex. Then again, that was the boat we were in. No showers. No hot water. Funny, you could go to any store and find more soap than you’d know what to do with, but it was worthless if you couldn’t get water running to use it.

  “I’d die for a bubble bath,” Mia said.

  “I’m sure I could work something out,” Mikey replied.

  “Not until I have this baby.” I heard her pat her belly. Mikey probably looked on in confusion, because Mia explained herself. “I’ve always heard pregnant women aren’t supposed to take baths. Something about raising your body temperature, I don’t know. I’d ask my mom, but she ain’t around.” Mia sniffled, then coughed, probably to cover up the fact she had sniffled. “My ma was so excited about her. She wanted to be a grandma more than anything.” She sighed. “I just had to follow Billy, didn’t I? Fuckin' idiot, that’s what I am.”

  “No, no,” Mikey said in a soothing voice. “Don’t beat yourself up over stuff like that.”

  “I wish it was that easy, Mike.”

  “I know, it’s not, but you gotta at least try. Believe me, I went through my own fight with depression not so long ago. I barely felt like opening my eyes, let alone continuing to breathe.”

  “What happened?”

  “I lost my mom and dad on the same night,” Mikey said. “Yeah, I know, not really a surprise. Tons of people lost their family and friends in a night, I bet.” He paused. “I accept they’re gone, but the worst part was how I treated my mom like a…a dickbag right before she died.” He paused again for a longer moment, and Mia said nothing. I thought she was letting him collect his thoughts. He continued a few seconds later. “I can’t even really remember what we were fighting about, something stupid and insignificant, I’m sure. I think I wanted to go hang out with my friend Alex, but my mom said it was too late, but she really knew I meant to get up to no good. Smoke weed, get drunk off cheap beer. I don’t know, something along those lines, but she was right. Mothers know best, or whatever the saying is. Anyway, I got all mad and nearly threw a tantrum—God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this—”

  “It’s okay. Go on,” Mia urged.

  “Yeah, so I told her she was being a bitch, and that stung. I heard her crying in the bathroom. An hour or two later, the snow began to fall and my dad went batshit and shot my mom. I never got to apologize to her either. She went to the grave—”

  “Don’t, Mikey,” Mia interrupted. “You’re just a dumb kid. I mean, who hasn’t called their mom or dad something they shouldn’t have? I sure as hell have.”

  “Yeah, I know, but she’s gone, and I’m still here.”

  “She knew you loved her, trust me, dude. Mothers know best.”

  It took a long while for me to collect my thoughts. Mikey, the poor kid, I had no idea. I remember him being real down in the dumps; I remember thinking it was completely justified; but I never would’ve guessed what he revealed to Mia.

  Heavy silence fell over the gas station, then Mikey broke it with the clicks of his tongue. Tsk-tsk-tsk.

  “What?” Mia asked.

  “I was trying to comfort you, and here you ended up being the one comforting me.”

  “Well, it’s like how Grady says. We’re all in this together, right?”

  “Right.”

  And that was the truth.

  3

  The Town

  Ell woke up feeling a lot better, and so did I. It really is amazing what sleep can do for your mind and body. With the snowmobiles, we found it much easier transporting our supplies, but still, we packed light. We were already pushing the weight limit with just our bodies. The snowmobiles were two-seaters, and we had five people. You do the math.

  We tried to divvy up the weight as evenly as possible. Stone and I were in one while Mikey, Ell, Chewy, and Mia were in the other. We wanted Chewy to ride with us, but both the dog and Mikey shot that suggestion down. Chewy couldn’t have weighed more than fifteen pounds, so it wasn’t a big deal. I’d rather the two of them be happy and comfortable because who knew how much longer we had left.

  The supplies consisted of junk food, junk food, and more junk food. Such was the way it went when you did your shopping at a gas station. Stone made an interesting point, however. He said if we were stranded in a health food store, like this place called Heavenly Grains back in my hometown, most of the stuff there would’ve rotted by now.

  Ell said, “The cold would preserve it.”

  Then Stone threw down his trump card and hit her with: “Okay, but no one wants broccoli and wheatgrass juice for dinner, Ell.”

  We all kind of agreed with him. Sure, potato chips and Pop-Tarts brought you another step closer to diabetes and/or heart disease, but at least you could enjoy the food while you ate it. Things to enjoy in this world, the way it was now, were few and far between.

  We set out in the waning light of the day, using a map we found in the BP. It was one of those fold-out jobs you see in old movies, you know, in the dark days before GPS and Apple Maps. Not only were we in a new ice age, but it seemed we’d been thrown back to the pre-tech days on top of that.

  I’m glad to say we made it work, the map, but I’d be lying if I didn’t miss Siri’s annoying voice telling me to take the next right. That voice was definitely better than Stone’s, who threw in more than a few expletives with his directions.

  We drove on for about two hours before we had to find shelter. Shelter consisted of a rest stop off the main highway. It was pretty nice, actually. The one bad thing being the tall windows, which were hard to cover. We only stayed a few hours and no one took a nap except for Mia. Cards were played and a bottle of red wine was passed around. Stone got pretty well tipsy on the stuff; he even went on one of his famous rants, this one about how terrifying whales were.

  As he got the ball rolling on the “behemoths,” as he called them, Ell told him to shut up.

  “If the wraiths catch wind of that, then we’re all fucked,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Stone replied.

  “She means they’ll turn into giant fucking whales, dude,” Mikey said. “How’d you like to be chased around by giant fucking whales?”

  Stone said, “No way. Where the hell are they going to swim?”

  I laughed. “Well, what’s snow but a bunch of frozen water?”

  I kept picturing an orca crashing through the wall of windows, like the Kool-Aid man did in those old commercials. That never happened, thankfully, and we left as soon as light shined through the clouds.

  This time, we made it about three hours before we had to pull over and refill the gas tanks, and
went on a couple more hours after that before calling it a night.

  Our shelter was an insurance building. It was squat, square, and made of brick, which offered us good protection from both the wraiths and the cold.

  Four days we stayed in that little place, and with each sunless day, the walls grew smaller. A lot of bickering and arguing went on. I was pretty sure one of us was going to go all Jack Torrance in The Shining soon, but luckily, the sun came through and we left.

  I couldn’t tell you where we were or how far south from Avery’s Mills we had gotten before I started to smell burnt rubber inside the cab of the snowmobile. It made sense; I should’ve been expecting it. All the extra weight of us and our supplies put a strain on the engine.

  Stone tapped the map. It was resting on his lap. “Yo, Grady, we go any farther and something important’s gonna pop.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. “Is there a town ahead?”

  “Yeah, a small place called Woodhaven. Ever hear of it?”

  I racked my brain. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Junk food wasn’t exactly brain food, I guess.

  “I think so,” I said. “How much farther?”

  Sure enough, a sign popped out of the gloom and told us. Stone pointed to it.

  “Apparently about two miles. Think this old girl can make it?”

  I chewed my lower lip, hoping. “Well, man, we’re gonna find out.”

  Woodhaven, Ohio—a place like every other small town in the Great Buckeye State, maybe like every small town in America. Except, this small town was now covered in large amounts of snow.

  Once off the highway, we came to a long and winding country road. Trees towered over us on the right, and what looked like miles and miles of farmland blanketed in white stretched endlessly on the left. The air was relatively clear here, and because of this, I saw a lone barn in the distance, its red like a splotch of paint on a blank canvas.

  “Isn’t there some restricted government building out here?” Stone asked. “A research place, I think.”

  I snapped my fingers, my other hand firm on the wheel. “You’re right! That’s how I know the town. Leering is here, or at least nearby.”

  “Yep, that’s it.” Stone tilted his head back and let out a bray of laughter. “I remember people saying a zombie virus escaped outta there after that guy in Florida chewed a dude’s face off. Turned out, he was just high as fuck on bath salts.” Stone’s smile waned into a grim line. “But on a more serious note, I hear they experiment on all types of weird shit there. You can’t even get within a hundred yards of the place without some Men in Black-type dude coming up to your car and flashing a badge in your face.”

  “‘Men in Black-type dude’?”

  “You know, like Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones in those movies.” He studied my face, but I kept my eyes on the road (or lack thereof). “The ones where they’re secret alien hunters? They have the penlights that wipe your memory? C’mon, they even made a crappy reboot last summer with the guy who plays Thor. You know what I’m talking about.”

  I tried to keep a blank face, but a smile slowly curled my lips. I was a bad liar. “No…I don’t…”

  “Fuck you, Grady. We went and saw Men in Black 2 for your, like, eleventh birthday or something.”

  “Damn, I’m surprised you remember that.”

  “Unlike you, I’m actually a good friend.”

  I clapped a hand over my heart. The puffy winter coat and many layers beneath made it less melodramatic than I intended. “How dare you! Of course I care!”

  I was winding up for a friendly punch to Stone’s shoulder when he suddenly slapped the dashboard and shouted, “Whoa, whoa!”

  I slammed on the brake, but it took a long moment until the snowmobile skidded to a stop.

  The trees along the side of the country road we were traveling on had begun to thin out, and the flat farmland was no longer empty but instead dotted with the top halves of residential houses set back from the street.

  In front of us, what had gotten Stone riled up, was what I presumed was Woodhaven’s town square. The few buildings in this area were set in more of a rectangle, but I guess “town rectangle” didn’t have as much of a ring to it.

  “Tell me I’m not imagining that,” Stone said in a shaky voice.

  Out of my peripherals, I saw the snowmobile Mia was driving pull up next to us. I looked out of the foggy window, swiped my gloved hand down it, and cleared a small opening to better see through.

  Ell mouthed What’s up?

  I faced forward again, taking in the sign I saw painted on the roof of the grand gazebo in the middle of the square, the one Stone’s wide eyes were currently glued to, and pointed.

  Ell looked that way, leaned a bit forward, and shouted with joy so loudly I heard it almost crystal clear. Mikey and Mia weren’t too fond of nearly having their eardrums busted, and they both made annoyed faces at her.

  The sign.

  Right, you probably want to know what was written on it, and I’ll get to that shortly.

  But hear me out first: I enjoy reading, I always have to some extent, but I wouldn’t call myself a bookworm. It was only in these days of the apocalypse where I really came to appreciate the written word. Take away TV and movies, Netflix, Hulu, Xbox and PlayStation—all of which can’t run without electricity—and what you’re left with to pass the time are very few things.

  Books, in my opinion, were the best time passers. Because books never run out of power, their screens never crack, and if you drop one in the bathtub, it’s not necessarily ruined like an iPad or an eReader would be. Hell, you can dry the book out and pick up where you left off a day or two later. The pages will have swelled a bit, and the ink of the letters might be a bit runny, but it beats losing out on a few hundred bucks.

  As one of my favorite authors, Stephen King, says in On Writing, “Books are uniquely portable magic,” and what a true statement that is. Without books, the apocalypse would be worse than terrifying; it’d be dull too.

  “Grady, I’m not messing around. Tell me that says what I think it says. Tell me I’m not crazy,” Stone said.

  “If you think it says ‘FOOD, SHELTER, & MEDICINE @—’ then you’re not crazy.”

  The rest of the message was obscured by the piles of snow atop it.

  The words were written in black paint on the sagging roof. I mean, the entire structure slouched like it was defeated, one strong gust away from going the route of the Three Little Piggies’ first few homes. White mounds piled up past its railings. I wasn’t sure what would come first: the snow consuming it completely, or the wind blowing it down.

  The sight of this wilting gazebo brought in me a pang of sadness. It was the kind of feeling I got whenever I saw a post on social media about the tragic passing of someone I’d gone to school with or had known in my childhood. It made you think, What a shame…they were so young, too young to die, and then you realize you’re the same age or near enough, and that could’ve been you showing up on their news feed; and now you’ve never been more aware of your own mortality. Great.

  I think we’ve all felt this before, and I think we can all agree that it’s a terrible feeling.

  “Where?” Stone said. “Where’s that at? Dumbass blizzards.”

  “I’m not sure, but I can find out.”

  “What, are you gonna go clear off the rest of the snow so we can read it?” Stone laughed.

  I didn’t echo him. I was completely serious. Medicine, food, shelter, other people—that could be a game-changer.

  Stone caught on to my seriousness pretty quickly. He knew me well, and he was giving me a look I’d seen him give me a hundred times before—hell, maybe a thousand.

  It was the look he gave me when I asked Carli Russo, the most popular and prettiest senior at our high school, to the Valentine’s Day dance when I was a lowly sophomore. She turned me down, of course, much to the amusement of the cheerleaders and football players she sat with at lun
ch, but that’s beside the point.

  Stone gave me that look then, and he was giving it to me now.

  I shrugged. “Who else is gonna do it? The pregnant chick? The guy with wonky legs? Maybe the girl still recovering from a busted head? Or how about the dog?”

  “Yeah, okay, good point, Grady.”

  I flashed him a smile and opened the door. Doing so took some muscle, it having already frozen shut during our journey south. No point in sticking around and arguing with Stone after I’d already made up my mind.

  And yes, I knew the risks, but my logic seemed ironclad. To me, at least. If it was a warning, then we needed to know.

  Ell knocked on her window. I turned and pointed at the gazebo. From over the wind, I heard her muffled protests through the glass, but as I walked on a little farther, the wind eventually won out.

  I wasn’t wearing snowshoes, not even the makeshift ones, so I nearly sank down to my knees with each step. If the snow beneath the freshest layer hadn’t frozen as hard as the ground beneath everything else, I’m pretty sure it would’ve been over my head and this journey would’ve been impossible. Since the journey was only a few feet, it was possible.

  The surrounding buildings seemed to lean in with each gust of the icy wind. I started feeling claustrophobic, which I hated.

  There was Nini’s Gardens, a flower shop; a diner called The Barn something, the snow covered the rest of the sign; and what looked like an antique store, judging by the piles of junk stacked in their windows, whose sign was gone completely.

  I reached the gazebo a few minutes later, out of breath, my face burning, and I climbed the banks of snow. The steps were buried deep, so I kept patting around until I hit a railing. When I made contact, I managed to stand on it and pull myself up on the roof. The whole structure groaned beneath my weight, and for a second I saw it caving in my mind’s eye, and me being buried beneath the wood and the white. Lost forever. I almost jumped down then, but decided I’d come this far, so it was too late to go back now.