Harry Styles and the New York Apocalypse (4 page)

Feeling like a Japanese soldier on a Pacific island at the end of the Second World War, with nobody coming to relieve him, Ziegler decided to walk to his car. He glanced around, then opened the trunk and unzipped a black holdall he always kept in there. Without bringing it into plain sight, he lovingly handled his Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun. Then he placed it back down. Also in the holdall was a solar torch, a crowbar and a packet of emergency rations, which included a chicken curry, tea bags, sweets, oat biscuits, a powdered electrolyte drink and chewing gum. He slung the bag onto his shoulder, left his dead Kindle in the trunk and locked the vehicle. Then he set off walking, not towards his home, because his home was in Queens. Instead, he headed into the complex.

He had a general idea of which families had been away from home when the situation started. He would say it was a fifty-fifty split, actually. He passed the first group of houses because that was a cul-de-sac, but the first stand-alone house on the left fitted the bill nicely. He was sure the husband and wife who lived there had left early that morning, and it was partially covered by conifer trees. He went up and rang the doorbell. When he was completely sure that nobody was home he walked around the back, placed down the holdall, took out the crowbar and forced his way into the kitchen within three seconds.

First of all, he went through all the rooms. The kitchen was, at a guess, done out in Italian marble. The lounge was huge with leather sofas, white carpet and a massive television. He had an urge to smash the screen, but he kept the feeling down. He closed the front blinds. Upstairs were four luxury bedrooms. He chose one for himself and put the light switch in the on position, to give him warning if the power should come on. The family bathroom was bigger than his whole apartment in Queens, with a walk-through wet area - what a shame that wouldn’t come on when he tried it.

Back in the kitchen he boiled water on the gas hob, to make coffee and a noodle dish from one of the cupboards. While he waited, he checked the fridge, pleased with the beer and Krug champagne in there. Overall, he was happy with his choice. ‘Okay,’ he said to himself. ‘Yeah, man, okay.’

***

It couldn’t get any worse for the bride and groom. Because the Bridal Suite key-entry system wouldn’t work (and Assistant Manager Mr Fassbender, still in his office, refused to authorise breaking the door down), they were put up for the night in one of the staff bedrooms - even with a perfunctory tidy-up of dirty clothing, pizza boxes  and toiletries, it was still the blandest room imaginable, and with two single beds pushed together. Even with the most expensive bottle of champagne and anything she could possibly want to eat (cold), the bride went to bed crying her eyes out.

Now Taylor really felt sorry for her. She had been part of the entourage moving the couple through to the staff quarters. She also felt a little bit sorry for Mrs Flynn, who had been dealing with the disaster all day. Now Mrs Flynn turned to Taylor and two male waiters.

‘Go and try to sleep,’ she told them. ‘In the morning we’ll either have power or we’ll be hiking out of here.’

Taylor went to find Kacie and Paula, having agreed to gorge themselves on whatever they wanted from the kitchen fridges. If the power didn’t come back on in the morning they were out of a job, never mind out for a hike. She passed through the foyer where dozens of stranded people, members and wedding guests, had chosen to bed down for the night. Candles provided some light but she was only able to get around because she knew the place so well. A woman was being hysterical over her cell phone, either because she was addicted to it, or that she was barred from contacting loved ones. People were trying to comfort her, or just staring at her in annoyance. Outside was pitch black - Taylor had never been here without the long drive being all lit up. A hand suddenly grabbed her and she jumped out of her skin. It was Paula - they giggled. Taylor was dragged into a conference room, where an impromptu buffet had been laid out. Kacie was there with three of the younger chefs, eating sandwiches and drinking beer. Taylor took her place. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the blackout, except perhaps Eric, next to her, who seemed a little more reserved than usual. Taylor assumed he was worried at not being able to contact his family.

‘You okay, Eric?’ she asked, rubbing his upper arm.

He found a smile and nodded. ‘I don’t like not being able to call home. My mom’s disabled.’

‘You live quite a way, don’t you?’

‘It’s about fifteen miles. If the power’s not back on in the morning I’m gonna start walking.’

‘It’ll be on, don’t worry.’

‘What are you gonna do?’

‘Geez, I’m too far to walk anywhere, even if I wanted to. I guess I’ll stay here, wait for it to calm down.’

Another chef, Jake, passed her a bottle of beer.

‘Thanks, Jake. This is nice.’

‘Where are you sleeping tonight, Taylor?’ Jake asked.

She sipped the beer, squinting at him suspiciously. ‘In my room.’

‘That would be a negative, baby.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘They gave your room to wedding guests.’

‘Oh. Good that I don’t actually own any possessions, then.’

‘I’m sleeping in my van.’

‘Well I hope you have a good night’s sleep.’

‘You can join me, if you like.’

‘Tempting, but…’

Everyone else laughed. Jake smiled at Taylor. They all often did things together, so the gathering was friendly; it took their minds off the bizarre circumstances.

In the end, they all crashed out in there, once the boys had gathered cushions and dragged another sofa in. Taylor, Kacie and Paula lay close together, talking in whispers. Kacie’s family were in the New York area, so she would be staying, whereas Paula was a fairly local girl who would be walking out in the morning, probably with Eric.

***

Frank, the concierge in the Springsteen building, had left them before it went dark, to join up with his wife, who also worked on Manhattan. So it was just Lulu, David and Jonathan with Charlie, deciding to settle in for the night. Jonathan was a single guy, so quite happy to remain near to Charlie, although he knew he was not in her league.

Because she was there originally to be interviewed for an au pair position, Charlie asked Lulu about her two boys. Lulu hid her fear, saying that their current au pair would look after them, and that her own sister would go round to the house on Long Island if this situation continued.

Jonathan made coffee and they had a little food in the office. There were candles left over from the Christmas party, so it wasn’t exactly slumming it.

‘Where do you live, Jonathan?’ asked Charlie. ‘Won’t someone be worried?’

‘I live with my cousin and a cat in Brooklyn. The cat’s his. He’s gay. I’m not.’

‘Right.’

‘So, you’re from London. I read your application, of course. I bet you were excited to be coming to New York.’

‘Very excited, but not for the obvious reason. You see,
One Direction
are in town. I’m a huge fan. I adore Harry Styles.’

Jonathan thought about that for a moment.

‘Is he the one with the dark, curly hair and the tats on his chest?’ Charlie smiled and nodded. ‘He’s a cool guy, that Englishman.’

‘He’s certainly that.’

‘Were you planning on seeing them perform?’

‘Oh no, not here. But I’ve seen them many times. In London and Manchester and Birmingham and…’

They both giggled.

‘Are you here with anyone?’ asked Jonathan.

‘My boyfriend. But I can’t walk to the hotel under these circumstances.’

‘No, definitely not. I’m sure they’ll have the power on tomorrow.’

‘But how do you explain the cars, Jonathan? And those massive fires in the distance that look like plane crashes?’

He didn’t know what to say. Any answer he came up with would be straight off science fiction television shows.

Charlie and Jonathan had been up on the roof at twilight. They had watched thousands of people streaming over the bridges off the island. Both of them were too young to remember 9/11 first hand, but they recognised the similarities.

There came a massive crash from along the street. David puzzled over it for a moment, then suggested, ‘Sounded like a big plate glass window coming down. I’m surprised we’ve not heard any gunfire yet.’

Charlie was alarmed by that. ‘Would people go crazy, so soon into a power cut?’

‘Sure they would,’ answered David. ‘And as you’ve just said, this is different in scale to a normal blackout. Something odd is taking place.’

Lulu reached for her husband’s hand on the sofa they occupied. ‘Darling, what are we to do? In the morning if there’s no power?’

‘I suggest we pack up what supplies we can and start walking.’

***

There was gunfire during the night in Wethersfield. Michael and Molly weren’t sleeping anyway. They chatted away, in candlelight, eating the snacks she had in the apartment. It had just been the occasional pistol shot ringing out. But then a burst of automatic rifle fire sounded quite nearby, causing Molly to pull a cushion against her chest in a token gesture.

‘This is fucking bad, mate,’ she said, in that way only an Australian could. ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

‘What? Now?’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘What do you mean you’ll come with me? My mind’s in turmoil thinking about me getting to New York, I can’t even start on why you would want out of here.’

‘I like a bit of adventure. I came to the States on my own, didn’t I?’

‘But the people downstairs, you’re obviously close to them. What if the power comes back tomorrow, and you’re in the middle of nowhere with me?’

‘We both know it won’t be coming back on. But if it does, then I’ll come back.’

They lapsed into silence in the flickering gloom.

‘What a crazy thing to happen,’ he said, rubbing his face. He noticed her tiny pink ankle socks. ‘If you’re going, you can’t be wearing those.’

She peeled off the socks and flung them. ‘I like to hike. I’ve got all the gear.’

‘I plan to find a new bike.’

‘The people downstairs have bikes.’

‘You plan to steal from them?’

‘That will be the least of their problems, I’m guessing. Besides, they might prefer me gone if the shit really has hit the fan.’

‘You Aussies are so uncouth.’

He leant forward and took hold of her tiny feet. He put them in his lap and started to massage them, much to her amazed amusement.

‘What
are
you doing?’ she asked.

He bent her toes back, almost to the point of pain. ‘There, isn’t that wonderful?’

‘It is, actually.’

Then he massaged them all around.

‘My girlfriend loves having her feet massaged.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear about you doing mine.’

‘I’m great at doing backs, as well.’

Another loud crack sounded, quite near. Molly seemed to weigh up the possibility of this man massaging her back against the chance of a bullet coming through the wall. She got up and started rooting through her cupboards, throwing a backpack at him. ‘Fill that with what you think we’ll need.’ Then she started writing a note.

He did as he was told, finding bread rolls, chocolate bars, a box of cakes, a packet of rice, which he thought would be easy to boil somewhere on the road. From the fridge he took as many OJ cartons and soft drinks as he thought it feasible to carry. Then he started laughing.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘In the film,
War of the Worlds
, Tom Cruise has to do this before he and his family flee the alien invasion. I can’t remember what he put in his rucksack but it was all junk. Oh, that’s right, it was like ketchup and other condiments. What are you doing?’

‘Writing a note to my landlord, apologising for stealing his bikes.’

‘Oh, I see.’

Then she went to change her clothes. Michael went through all her drawers, not even finding a torch. There were some vitamin tablets which he ate two of, then he drank some milk. He took the best knife from her wooden block and put that in the rucksack.

When she came back, she looked like a lumberjack. She sat to put on heavy hiking boots. She smiled at him in the gloom, her whiter than white teeth cheering him.

‘Have some milk,’ he said, offering the carton.

‘Why?’

‘Pre-loading. Good for your energy levels.’

‘Cool.’

‘By the way,’ he asked, ‘do you know which way to leave town?’

‘Oh, yes. We’ll be heading towards Berlin.’

In Salem, Liam McAlister’s group endured a terrible night, mainly because Allison Davies refused to stop her incessant complaining. Clearly the enormity of what was happening had begun to dawn on her. The main focus of her complaints was that they were being left to fend for themselves by the authorities - where were Homeland Security, the FBI, the State Police, the man from the British Embassy?

There had been a couple of gunshots in the distance, which didn’t help Allison’s mood. They were billeted in an unfurnished apartment above a hardware store, on camp beds, with heavy, coarse blankets. At least they had full bellies and a plentiful supply of water. Finally, Allison had fallen asleep. Liam considered sneaking out and leaving her there. He sat in deep consultation with Julius, near a window where the first rays of sunshine were reaching their faces. Still none of their cell phones worked. Julius handed Liam a heavy handgun. Julius had left them for an hour during the night. He had procured two guns and two boxes of ammunition. When Liam had asked him where from, he had said from the floor of the local gun shop, which had been stripped of everything else there.

‘Are you okay with that weapon?’ whispered Julius.

‘Oh, sure,’ answered Liam, none too convincingly. ‘That’s the safety there, yeah?’

‘Yes, that’s the on position.’

‘At least I’ve got that bit.’ He saw Julius frown. ‘Seriously, man, I’m okay with it. Back home I was in the TA’s.’

‘What in the hell is the TA’s?’

‘Territorial Army. The back-up to the regular British Army. I fired the machine guns a number of times, just never used a handgun. Maybe we can practise, tomorrow, yeah?’

‘Okay. It’s loaded. Just keep the safety on; we’ll have a lesson on the road tomorrow.’

Gus was awake, watching them from his nest of blankets. ‘Are we leaving now?’

‘In a few minutes, Gus,’ said Liam. ‘We’ll eat, then set off. I’ll wake the girls.’

Sabrina opened her eyes and smiled at his little shake of the arm. Allison snorted and complained like a drunk being kicked by a policeman. ‘We’re hitting the road soon.’

The girls got up. Allison complained that she had to wash in cold water. Liam, walking about, while eating a stale doughnut, very keen to get going, happened to see Sabrina splashing her face with water in the kitchen. She had stripped to a little vestlet, and her toned, tanned shoulders and arms were endearingly feminine. She had put her hair up at the front with a clip, which made her look cute beyond belief. She caught him looking at her in the mirror and smiled. Shaking any naughty ideas from his head, Liam checked if everyone else was ready to hit the road. ‘Where’s Gus?’

‘Ablutions,’ answered Julius. ‘He’ll meet us downstairs.’

‘Allison, are you ready?’

‘If we must.’

They all went down into the warm morning. Gus joined them. They walked the short distance to the main road. Liam was going to ask Julius which way to go, but a thin stream of refugees were only moving one way out of town, so the five of them joined in.

Liam was alongside Julius.

‘Julius, this is going to be a horrendous journey, right?’

‘I think that’s safe to say.’

Allison was alongside Sabrina. ‘So why did you get off the ship?’

Sabrina was a little shocked to be spoken to by Allison. ‘I don’t know. I got seasick all the time. I hated it anyway.’

‘Where did you say you were from?’

‘Jakarta.’

Allison gave that some thought, then dropped the topic.

Other travellers turned back to their group, enquiring about news and circumstances. Liam chatted with them as they kept moving, but the event was all still a mystery.

‘Are you going to Boston?’ Liam asked them.

‘Not that far,’ answered a man. ‘We have family in Revere. We thought it best to join up with them. Good luck getting through to Boston.’

‘Thank you. Good luck to you, too.’

***

Michael and Molly cycled slowly along the Berlin turnpike, on the bikes liberated from her landlord’s shed. The sun was only just above the horizon. They passed two types of people out there; those camping near their broken-down vehicles, and those walking. They talked between themselves about possible causes for the disaster, but quickly gave up on that. Molly was a fan of women’s soccer - when he commented with “quite skilful but when they try to have a shot at goal it all becomes a bit laughable” that conversation died a death.

‘I love the Beatles, you know,’ she said, a mile later. ‘What’s Liverpool like?’

‘I’ve never been to Liverpool.’

‘Oh.’

He stopped briefly to lean down and pick up a discarded baseball cap. It was blue, with the New York Mets logo on the front. He decided to wear it.

‘A good omen,’ she said.

‘Does it suit me? Go on, tell me I look good in it.’

She laughed. ‘Okay, you look good in it.’

They cycled on, swerving around a forlorn family of walkers, who all stared at them.

‘If we ever get back to normality,’ said Michael, ‘I promise to take you to Liverpool. There must be a Beatles museum.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

The road was very straight and monotonous. They passed a famous donut shop, on fire. At one point, Michael glanced at the other side of the highway and watched a fist fight between two young men. More than once they rode by young girls sitting on the side of the road, distraught that their cell phones had failed them - it seemed to sum up the whole disaster for the younger generation.

Michael had been joking with Molly, but really, psychologically, he was in a bad place. Reaching New York in that fashion scared the life out of him. Physically, however, he felt very strong. He looked across at Molly, seeing a sheen of sweat on her brow, but pedalling away without any clear signs of fatigue. Even so, he felt they had been going for long enough, and should stop for lunch. She agreed. They crested a rise, then dismounted and sat on the side of the highway, hidden by a truck, and ate some of the food from her cupboards.

‘What’s after Berlin?’ he asked.

‘A few more towns. We should head for New Haven, then down into New York.’

‘Yeah, I came up through New Haven.’

‘What did you leave New York for?’

‘I was visiting… someone.’

She grinned, shook her head slowly. ‘You’re a shitty boyfriend.’

‘I know.’

In a flash, before he knew what was happening, there were hooves and a black metal carriage on them, in a terrifying, ear-splitting clatter of horses and wheels and distraught whinnies. It had come over the rise at speed, the noise all-consuming, two horses and a wagon, one man up driving. They were trampled. Michael found himself face-down, spun into the road, bleeding, and losing consciousness.

***

Chefs are dogged, determined people, sometimes bumptious and crazy. They are a strange bunch, who enjoy getting stressed to hell and back in a boiling kitchen. It was not surprising that the chefs at the Country Club were the last members of staff to stop working. They improvised barbecues to cook a full breakfast for whoever was still at the club -  they were there at the crack of dawn in their whites, putting on a military-style operation.

Taylor and Kacie, among the staff who had no intention of doing anything more for the management, enjoyed their bacon, egg and hash browns, and delicious coffee, before saying farewell to Paula, who was walking out with a group of about twenty people. There were emotional hugs and words of good luck. Paula begged them to go with her, but both girls thought it best to sit it out where they were and see what developed. At the last second, chef Eric came running across, and left with Paula.

It was surreal watching people abandon their friends, and their cars, to trek to a more populated area. Taylor held Kacie. They both recognised the bride and groom, in casual clothes and with fixed expressions, walking off; they would certainly never forget their disastrous wedding day. Finally, when Paula and Eric were just dots far across the 18
th
fairway, they went to their room to clean up as best they could. They found that the wedding guests who had used the room had been very tidy, so they just stripped the beds and cleaned the bathroom. Then they took turns (cold) showering, and dressed in their own clothes. A meeting had been called for ten o’clock, in the Members' bar, where hopefully something would get resolved.

So the two girls did their hair, painted their toenails, then sat about talking. At one point Kacie fondled her cell phone and became quite emotional at the state of affairs. Near to the meeting time, they wandered through to the bar, passing some of the wedding guests who were still hanging around. A long table had been set out, with a semi circle of chairs facing it, with most of the staff who had stayed already seated. They joined chefs, Jake and Ben, as well as a barmaid by the name of Gwyneth, an oval-faced, apparently shy young lady, who had the capacity to surprise with one of those multi-coloured full arm tattoos and a piercing that was legendary amongst the male staff.

‘How long shall we give them?’ joked Gwyneth, making fun of the crisis.

Ben started a slow hand clap, until Kacie stopped him. Finally, Mr Fassbender led the way to the top table, followed in by Mrs Flynn, then Head Chef, Dwight Goodson, Leisure Manager, Tina Conway, and, to everyone’s surprise, club member, Mr Ferguson. And Mr Ferguson was deferred to by Mr Fassbender, allowing the man to sit in the middle. Taylor was very surprised. It was obvious that Mr Ferguson was going to be doing the talking.

Ferguson sipped some water, then stood up. ‘Good morning to you all. Most of you know my face. I’m Lester Ferguson. I’ll tell you straight off, I’m the owner of Fletcher Ridge Country Club. Mr Fassbender here will confirm that with you. I’m going to address you. Thank you, first of all, for your great efforts during this unprecedented event. I’ve sent some of my people to the nearest town to try to ascertain the cause of the power loss, and the possible time it will be resolved. As soon as I know, you will know. Okay, there is not going to be any proper business happening while we are in this situation, but you will still be paid. I want you to speak with your managers after this meeting, to agree on certain duties you can be carrying on with. We have approximately sixty-five customers still with us, I’ll be speaking with them, but obviously we can’t just turn into a squat. Rules will remain in place as if everything was normal. We have more than enough supplies, although, of course, the fridges are down and we shall all be eating steak today.’ A cheer went up. ‘Let’s not worry about things. Once we know the situation in the local area as a whole, we can decide on our next move. Okay, I think that’s all for now. Any questions?’