Sleeper Cell Super Boxset (143 page)

“Hey, guys!” Fay said.

Both of them looked up at her and smiled. They were both young enough not to grasp the gravity of what was happening around them, but old enough to recognize that their mother wasn’t there anymore, and that something was wrong with their dad.

“Hi,” Jung Jr. said.

Fay was always amazed at how much Jung Jr. looked like his dad. Claire still couldn’t speak, at least not in terms of anything that Fay could understand. She put her arms out, wanting Fay to pick her up. Fay reached down and grabbed her, swinging the rifle out of the way and positioning Claire on her hip.

“You guys hungry?” Fay asked.

She tickled Claire and Jung Jr. threw his arms up in the air, waving.

“Let’s get something to eat. Do you guys like Brussels sprouts?” Fay asked.

“EEEWWWWWWW!” Jung Jr. said, sticking his tongue out and scrunching his nose up.

Fay laughed and Jung Jr. grabbed her hand.

“Jung, you want anything?” Fay asked.

She always asked, and there was never a response. He hadn’t said a word since Mike and everyone else left.

“I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen if you change your mind,” Fay said.

Both kids squinted into the sun. Jung kept the blinds drawn to their room all the time, so it always took some time for their eyes to adjust.

When they made it down into the courtyard Jung Jr. wrestled out of Fay’s grip and sprinted around the courtyard, jumping up and down, enjoying being outside.

Fay wanted to pull him back, but there wasn’t anything left in the town that could hurt him, and she hadn’t seen him this happy since they were at the airport. She didn’t want to be the reason the smile from his face faded.

Claire squirmed in her arms, letting her know that she wanted down too. Fay set her on the ground and she chased after her brother, her chubby legs unable to keep up with him, squealing in the delight of trying.

Whatever obstacles she’d have to face in the future seemed less strenuous. The sight of those kids running after each other, and the smiles on their faces, hardened her resolve. She wasn’t going to quit. She wasn’t going to fail.

It was the sudden sound of silence that snapped Fay out of her daze. Both Claire and Jung Jr. were standing frozen by the fountain in the courtyard. Fay turned around, rifle aimed with her finger on the trigger, and the figure she saw through the scope was Billy with his hands in the air.

Fay lowered the weapon slowly. Of all the people she thought she’d see standing behind her, he was the last she’d expect.

“What are you doing here?” Fay asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. I thought your group went to Cincinnati?”

“They did.”

Fay could see the rifle on Billy’s back. Even though her gun was lowered, she kept her finger on the trigger.

“Where’s the rest of your family?” Fay asked.

“At the farm. It’s just me here.”

“Why?”

Billy didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Fay knew why. Her finger slid off the trigger. It made sense. Billy killed his own father to save Mike’s daughter’s life. He helped save all of them, including Fay.

“I just couldn’t stand the way they were looking at me anymore,” Billy said. “It was too much.”

Fay considered her options. She could kill him, but then that might cause more repercussions with the rest of his family. As mad as they were with him now, she was pretty sure that his family would still be upset if he died.

“You planning on staying here?” Fay asked.

“I figured there would be plenty of space available. I don’t need any of your supplies. I’ll be fine on my own. I just need a place to stay.”

Fay slung the rifle back over her shoulder.

“C’mon, we were about to have some lunch,” she said.

***

The prayer beads were lying on the sheets next to Jung’s stomach as he was curled up on the bed. He was thankful for Fay. The burden of having to think, to act, to do anything, was lifted from him.

The whiskey was gone, but the numbness still remained. Fay had poured all the bottles she could find in his room down the drain, in hopes of snapping him out of the stupor he was in. It failed.

He would hear his son say his name, call after him over and over, shaking him on the bed. He could hear the desperation in his voice, needing his father to help him with something, but it didn’t matter how much his children cried for him, he wouldn’t move.

He felt better when Fay would come and take the kids from him. He didn’t like to be left alone with them anymore. They reminded him too much of his wife, and they represented his failure as a husband, and a father.

Jung rolled onto his back. It took more effort than he thought it would. The past week of drinking with little to no food had left his body weak. He tried pushing himself up with his elbows, but he collapsed back on the bed.

He could feel the strain of his heart from the exertion of moving, the pounding of his chest trying to pump life throughout his body, struggling to keep him alive. His breath accelerated. He could feel his muscles tightening from the stress. He gulped for air.

Finally, his heart rate slowed and the panic subsided. He lay there for a few more minutes before he tried again. This time he managed to sit upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

One of Claire’s dolls was lying on the ground next to his feet. The doll’s eyes were staring back at him, motionless, lifeless. He flipped the doll over with his foot and tried standing.

His steps were wobbly, uneven. A sharp pain shot through him when he moved. Everything was so stiff and rigid.

Jung grabbed a paper cup sitting next to the sink in the bathroom. He reached for the faucet absentmindedly, forgetting there wasn’t any running water, there wasn’t any power, and soon there wouldn’t be any food.

He crushed the cup in his hand and threw it against the wall. The moments of helplessness he’d felt since all of this started began to well up within him.

The riots at the airport, the struggles on the road, the events at the cabin—he was nothing more than a pawn in the rest of the world’s game. Each member of his family was a pawn, and one of them had already been sacrificed by his lack of power.

When the lights went off it didn’t just shut down the country, it shut him down. All of his wealth, all of his influence and contacts meant nothing with the power turned off.

Jung grabbed the shower curtain and ripped it down. The ringlets and shower bar crashed to the bathroom’s tile. He flung the curtain out of the bathroom and onto the carpet.

Soaps and other cups still lined the bathroom sink. Jung swept his arms over the marble tops, knocking everything off.

He ripped the towel rack from the wall and smashed the mirror with the blunt end, splintering the mirror into hundreds of cracks and broken lines. He sent his fists through the walls, putting holes in the drywall.

He flipped the mattress from the bed frame, smashed the lamps, pulled the drawers out of the dresser, and crashed the impotent television to the ground.

When Jung finally collapsed to the ground he felt a stinging in his hands from the cuts and bits of glass stuck in them. He yanked out the pieces he could then lay down on the carpet.

The destruction of the room was something he could control. He knew men couldn’t come back from the types of things he did, the things he saw. There was only one other thing within his control. There was only one way out.

***

Claire and Jung Jr. munched on some Cheerios. Billy would make faces at Claire, and she kept giggling. It was the first time he let himself laugh in a long time.

“What happened?” Fay asked.

“You know what happened.”

“They just kicked you out?”

“I left. Whatever damage I caused will take a long time to undo. My brother won’t speak to me. My mother won’t look at me. Whatever family I had died with my father.”

They were words Billy had been thinking for a long time, but never said aloud. It was odd for him, talking about it.

“I’m sorry,” Fay said.

She grabbed his hand and he felt the rush of life flow back into him. The way she was looking at him made him feel things would get better.

“Thanks,” Billy said.

“I’m done!” Jung Jr. shouted.

Fay let go. The warmth of her touch lingered on him for a moment, and Billy refused to move his hand, afraid that doing so would cause the feeling to disappear.

“You guys want to go outside for a little bit, while I bring some food up to your dad?” Fay asked.

The two of them squealed with excitement. They ran outside before Fay could say another word.

“Can you go out front and keep an eye on them for me?” Fay asked.

“Sure.”

Billy chased the two of them outside. They were both pretty fast, but he was able to keep up with them. He set the rifle down on the fountain and found a few rocks. He grabbed some empty cans and bottles and set them up on the short stone wall that surrounded the courtyard.

He tossed the rock over to one of the cans and knocked it over. Jung Jr. laughed and picked up his own rock. When he threw his he missed, but found that even more fun than hitting the can.

Claire got excited since her brother was excited and Billy sat back and watched the two of them just be kids.

Billy remembered when his brother was that little. He was always smiling. There wasn’t anything that he couldn’t make fun.

Out of everything that happened, damaging the relationship he had with his brother was the one thing he wished he could have changed. He still hoped that they could go back to the way things used to be, but it might not be until Joey was older. Until his brother understood the type of man their father really was. He knew the pain would never fully wane, but perhaps it would fade enough for them to be brothers again.

***

Beth dumped the last of the hay bales into the fields as the cows came trotting over. She knew there was a stockpile in town at the feed store, but she had no idea what kind of shape it would be in.

She also had no idea if Mike and his family were still there. She wouldn’t be able to take out their entire group by herself. It would be suicide.

But she knew if she didn’t make the trip into town the livestock wouldn’t last much longer, and with her husband gone Joey would be the only provider of food.

There was always Billy, but she wouldn’t allow herself to go down that road yet. She was still too conflicted and upset about what happened. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to forgive him.

She left the cows to their food and headed back toward the house. Joey was on the porch when she walked up.

“Get ready for supper,” Beth said.

“I’m not hungry.”

Joey had his rifle apart, cleaning it. He put a few drops of oil onto the barrel and wiped it down.

“You have to eat something,” Beth said.

“I told you I’m not hungry.”

He wasn’t looking at her. Beth snatched the rifle from his hands.

“Give that back!” Joey said.

“You don’t talk to me like that!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore!”
Beth brought her hand to the side of Joey’s face. The slap silenced both of them, and each looked shocked at what happened.

Joey’s lip quivered. Beth’s mouth dropped. She reached out to him, but he backed away. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes.

“Joey, I…” Beth said.

Beth could hear his footsteps thump along the steps as he ran up the stairs inside the house. She looked down at the gun still in pieces on the porch. She bent down and finished cleaning the parts of the rifle Joey left and reassembled the gun.

Beth’s hand was on the handle of the screen door when she heard it. At first she thought it was just a bug buzzing around her ear, but when she realized what it was her eyes found the road.

The truck was slowing down as it approached the farm. When it arrived at the front gate it idled there for a moment before it finally inched forward onto the dirt road leading up to the house.

The dust from the road flew up and swirled into the summer sky. Beth couldn’t see the face of the driver because of the glare of the sun, but from what she could tell it was a military vehicle of some kind.

The tires were large and ribbed for different types of terrain. There was a mounted machine gun on the top and heavy armored plates protecting the whole vehicle.

Beth kept the rifle crooked under her arm. She knew it wasn’t loaded, but whoever was in that truck didn’t know that.

The door to the truck swung open and Beth brought the rifle up to her shoulder. A boot hit the gravel followed by another. The man that spun around from the door wore beige army fatigues, aviator sunglasses, and had short crew-cut hair with a clean-shaven face.

He also wore a 9mm pistol holstered on each hip, held together with a belt and additional ammo. He kept walking toward Beth, but neither of them said anything. She was still in shock at the sight of a working vehicle in her front yard.