Degeneration (9 page)

Richard felt embarrassed; it had to have been the thousandth time he knocked into the man throughout the night.
Besides
,
he
figured,
perhaps this guy could offer some conversation.
After all, it was visiting day, and he had to keep himself awake and focused.

“Sorry,” Richard mumbled to the
man with
an awkward smile. “My legs keep falling asleep.”

The man looked over
at him
with bloodshot eyes and his stare softened some. In his lap a paperback novel lay open, unread for hours.

“It’s fine, I know how these c
oach seats are,” the man said, thinking about o
ffer
ing
a
quick
smile. He decided on an understanding nod. He settled, looked down at his book with crossed eyes, an
d felt his eyelids slowly begin to–

“Richard.”

A
hand adorned with tacky gold rings
flew
in front of
the man’s book, inches away from his
fac
e. He startled awake
.

“Terry,” he said in a tired
voice, taking Richard’s hand in a
weak handshake. He looked
at the collection of cheap
-looking
rings
as they
glisten
ed in the morning sun and
yawned deeply.

“Sleep on here and all you get for your troubles is a stiff neck,
right?” Richard said, laughing.

Terry smiled and grunted. His eyelids slowly started to–

Richard elbowed
him jovially.

Terry
jumped,
settled
,
and slowly started to nod off again.

Richard frowned.

“I’m headed to
Butner
, you?”
Richard asked.

“Newark,” Terry mumbled
with his eyes closed.

Newark, New Jersey.
Thoughts of his
ex-
wife, Patr
icia, crept into his mind and roused him out of his sleepy state. Sleepiness was replaced by depression as it started to wrap itself around him. He needed a distraction.

He
opened his eyes and
looked at Richard.

“What’s in Butner
?” Terry asked, yawning.

“My brother,” Richard said proudly
, cracking his knuckles. “What takes you to New York?”

“
Newark
in Jersey
,” Terry corrected, rubbing his stiff neck with his left hand; the silver wedding band he wore glistened in the early morning sunlight.
Even after all she did, he still refused to take it off.
“Newark is home.”

Richard stared at the wedding band and nodded.

“Where’s the wife
?” Richard asked, and then pointed casually at the wedding band. “Or do you frequently vacation alone?”

Terry quickly lowered his hand to his lap and covered it with his righ
t hand, feeling violated.

“We… don’t travel together anymore. We’re… separated,” Terry lied, as if it was a temporary situation.

Terry was used to hearing the insincere ‘
I’m sorry to hear that’
or something along those lines, but Richard didn’t put up any false pretenses. Instead, an awkward silence settled between the two men.

Richard frowned; his intended conversation
fell
flat.
Andy was always a better talker. Andy was better at a lot of things.

A wo
man in the front row mashed
on her smart-phone, cursing.

“
Stupid Verizon!
” she exasperated. She shook
her husband
awak
e to see if his phone
had a signal;
of course,
he, and the
rest of central North Carolina, did not
.

Richard leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes as
they pulsed under his lids. His head started to twinge and his left ear started to ring.
It was time for another dose, even though he hated to visit Andy while medicated.
If he didn’t, though, the whispers would arrive and distract him.

             
Richard couldn’t afford to be distracted on visiting day.

He fr
owned,
slid his han
d into his front pocket, and retrieved an
amber
pill
bottle. He
twisted
the white lid off and
dumped
a pill into his hand. The pill bottle read ‘Chlorpromazine – 100mg’.

Richard dry-swallowed the pill,
snapped the lid back onto the bottle
,
and slid it back into his pocket.

Terry stared
past Richard and looked
vacantly out the window at the passing trees,
lost in thoughts about Patricia. It would be a long time before he got any sleep.

Howell sat with his
fingers laced together, licked
his lips nervously (an old habit of his),
and
thr
ew
the old black woman next to him
a
cautious
glance. She was dead asleep and had a line of saliva dangling
out
of
the
corner of her mouth. He had tried to catch some sleep, but he was too wired to unwind.

H
is
eyes kept wandering down towards
the duffle at his feet.

The doors at the front of the car slid open and two Amtrak police officers stepped into the center of the aisle. The few passengers who were a
wake started murmuring, knowing that something was up.

One of the officers
held up his hand and the passengers silenced
.

Howell’s fa
ce froze with terror
.

“
May I have your attention
, ladies and gentlemen,” one of the officers announced loudly. “There has been an incident in Raleigh, so we will
not
be stopping at the downtown
Raleigh s
tation.” Angry grumbles of protest greeted the news
and made
the officer speak louder. “We have been ordered to continue through to the next available station
in Virginia
, for your safety.”

“I don’t need to go to no damn Virginia! My flight leaves out of
Raleigh
! RDU
!” a man shouted from the back.

“Sir, I underst
and that, but–
”

“What sort of incident? Was it
the Muslims
?” a woman shoute
d from the middle.

P
anicked murmurs echoed through the car.

“–
the orders came directly fro
m FEMA,” the officer continued.
“We will
receive farth
er instruction once we get to the station
.
Right now, our communication equipment is acting up, so we’re in the dark.
”

“
What happened?” a
m
an near the front asked, voice shaking.

One officer shrugged and the other shook his head.

Richard didn’t care
what
happened, just as long as he
could rent a car at the next station
. Besides, he had no
real business in Raleigh anyway. Butner was his ultimate destination.

Terry stared at the two officers in a sleepy confused glare.

“
At this time, we know as much as
you do, I’m afraid. As I said, w
e’re having some communication difficulties,” the officer said.

The second officer stepped forward.

“In the meantime, due to the increased security risk, we will be performing additional baggage screening. So please have any and all carry-on luggage out, unzipped, and ready to be searched. Thank you.”

T
he murmu
rs intensified
.

Terry reached under his seat, slid out his briefcase, and p
lopped it on his lap
. He didn’t particul
arly care if they skipped the stop in
Raleigh;
he just wanted to get the
trip
over with.

Howell, just a few rows behind Richard and Terry,
was absolutely terrified.
I’ve been made, goddamnit!
He snatched his duffle up from the floorboard and squeezed it tightly, holding the twenty pounds of plastiques close to his chest.
Looks like I can’t make it to New York after all,
he thought. He knew they were
approaching
Raleigh, a major city as good as any. He also knew that the Raleigh Amtrak station was downtown…

Oh well, plans were made to be broken, right?

Howell reached a hand into his duffle and activated the timer, just in case the Amtrak cops got to him before he could bring his alternate plans into fruition.

8

T
he helicopter continued along its ill-fated course
as it hovered towards
the edge of downtown Raleigh; it swayed from left to right, dropping altitude, and then gaining altitude.

Two fighter jets approached t
he wayward helicopter, flew past
it in an in
stant, turned
in-between
two
skyscrapers, and then
banked
back to
wards
the helicopter.

The cockpit of the helicopter was splattered with
death. Blood and vomit was caked
on
the
inside of the
windshield and
across the
flight controls
.

The pilot reached up weakly and smeared
his bloody palm across the glass
, creating some blood-streaked visibility
.

The pilot breathed shallow, rattling breaths while
mucus ran freely out of his nostrils. He
was
slouc
hed over the controls with both
hands
weakly wrapped
around the cyclic stick. In his lap lay the nearly d
epleted pistol.

Behind him, inside
the cabin, came guttural screams and loud bangs
.
His infected comrades
desperately tried to smash their way th
rough the door into the cockpit, but
the
corpses of the
co-pilot and sergeant
were stacked tightly against
it
inside the cockpit. So far, th
e makeshift barricade
held.

The pilot struggled to remain conscious
.

“
Whiskey-Tango to Eagle One
, come in, over,
” the
helicopter
radio chirped next to the pilot. “
Eagle One
, come in, over.
”

“
Hawk N
est to Whiskey-Tango, go weapons hot,
” Lt. Gen.
Yates bellowed over the radio. “
Quarantine is established down below and we cannot allow them to leave
the
downtown
perimeter
, over.”

The pilot ignored the radio traffic and focused his energy on keeping the bird steady
, destination unknown
. He erupted into a
rattling coughing spasm and sprayed
the windshield with blood
y
mucus.

“
Whiskey-Tango to Eagle One
, you are ordered to
stand-
down and accompany us to the designated downtown landing zone immediately. Do you understand, over?”

The pilot continued to ignore the radio and
kept peering through the smeared windshield. He couldn’t remember where he was going. He briefly remembered trying to find a hospital, but he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t feel much of anything anymore. He was drifting…

“
Hawk N
est to W
hiskey-Tango, t
ake it down! Take it down now!
” Lt. Gen.
Yates ordered.