This Rotten World (Book 2): We All Fall Down (16 page)

Katie's mouth felt dry and
funky. They had motored through the wine in her purse in no time, and now they
were in a luxury box, their clothes piled on the floor and rays of florescent
light reflecting off of her pale skin. It was "Portland skin" she had
always liked to joke, a skin conditioned by the clouds of the city into a milky
whiteness that almost seemed translucent in the right light.

The lights were off in the
luxury box, which was fine with them as they had broken down the wooden door to
get into the room in the first place. Now they sat on the floor, their hands
exploring, their dry, alcohol tongues caressing amid the stray rays of light
that managed to sneak in from the main floor of the Coliseum.

A strange feeling of guilt
flitted through the back of her mind, but was replaced by the touch of cold
rough fingers between her legs, flicking and teasing. She could feel herself
warm down there, a warmth that she hadn't felt in years.

There had been times when Jason
had made her feel that way, but it had been long ago. This was something new,
and then that feeling showed up again, that guilty feeling. In her head she
screamed at herself,
He's dead! There's nothing wrong with this! He's not
coming back!

She was divided, literally and
figuratively. In her heart, she felt a sense of loyalty that she had completely
forgotten about. Her legs were now spread wide, the skin of her back catching
on the cheap carpet of the luxury box as he slipped inside of her. She pressed
her hands against his chest, and marveled at the strength she felt there as he
leaned forward and put his weight on his arms.
How different.
Jason had
always been soft, somewhat flabby, but Zeke, though he looked much the same,
had a layer of hardened muscle underneath.

She wondered what he had looked
like when he was younger, training all day, keeping himself fit and in shape.
She closed her eyes and imagined him ten years younger, a ball of muscle and
strength, ravaging her. Before she could delve further into her fantasy, he was
done, and they lay on the ground, experiencing the awkward silence of a moment
come too soon.

Katie was glad it was dark. She
was glad he couldn't see her face and the disappointment on it. She sighed and
rolled over on her side.
What was she expecting, something out of a romance
novel?
She felt his arm snake across her ribs, and she suppressed a
shudder.

"It'll be better next
time," he said. He had all the tact of most men she supposed. He wasn't a
dream come to life. He wasn't her ticket to a new life. He was just a man, just
like Jason was. A little more muscular, but still just a man, just a false
sense of security that came with responsibilities. Nothing in this world was
free, especially not now. What was the price of their tryst? Polite
conversation? An expectation that there would be a next time?

Even at the end of the world she
had done it again, fallen into a trap that she made for herself.

Katie stood up, the light
playing off of her naked body. She looked down at him in the darkness, at his
hairy chest, his muscular forearms, his flaccid penis shining in a ray of
light.        "Who said there will be a next time?" Her words were
cold and as mean-spirited as she could make them.

Zeke put his arm under his head,
shifting to his side, his penis lolling on his hip and said, "Did I do
something wrong?"

"No, I did. I thought I was
ready, but I'm not."

Zeke looked at her, his brown
eyes taking her in. He smiled. "Hey, no harm no foul."

"Is that what passes for
smooth where you come from?"

Zeke's eyes rolled in the dim
light. He sat up and began searching for his clothes. "I wouldn't know
what passes for smooth. That's not the type of guy I am. Truth is it's been a
while since I've been with a woman. I just thought we could make the best of
the situation."

"The best of the
situation?" Katie kicked out at Zeke and he shrunk back from her.
"Here's the situation, Zeke. Last night I put a bullet through the head of
my husband and my son. Last night, my entire life was flipped upside down, and
I killed and ran and survived. Why?"

Zeke sat on the floor, looking
up at her. "I'm sorry."

Katie laughed out loud.
"Aren't we all? Aren't we all fucking sorry, right now?"

The room was filled with
silence. Zeke sat there, waiting for her to say something. She wanted him to be
mad. She wanted him to storm out of there and never talk to her again, but he
didn't. He sat there, like a rock, regarding her with a calmness that was
driving her wild.

"What do you want? Why are
you still here?"

"I'm just here. Whatever
you need, I'm just here."

Katie put her hands to her face,
groaned loudly and then sat down. "That's what I was afraid of. Listen.
I've got some issues right now, clearly, but I don't want to lead you down the
wrong path here. Whatever we do, that's just the moment. It means nothing. It's
going to go nowhere. I just want you to know that."

Zeke nodded his head and smiled
at her. "That's fine with me."

Katie looked skyward. "I've
never met a person so easy to get along with. It's maddening."

"Hey, I got nothing but
time to kill," he said, his teeth gleaming in a ray of light.

Katie reached into his lap, and
grabbed him, stroking back and forth. She felt him harden in her hand. He
leaned in for a kiss, and she slapped him across the face with her free hand.
He leaned backwards, and she straddled him on the floor. "Well, let's kill
a little time shall we?"

Lou woke up with the mother of
all cricks in his neck. Sleeping in a chair in an arena was not the secret to a
functioning neck and spine. He looked to his left and saw his leftover meal
sitting there, untouched and cold. How long had he been asleep? It was
impossible to tell time in the Coliseum. There were no windows inside the main
floor of the arena.

He guessed it was night, as the
majority of people in the arena were in various states of slumber. Snoring and
heavy breathing filled the air around him, along with the stifled weeping of
the few that were still awake. People slept wherever they could, bundled up in
scratchy, army-issue blankets that weren't so much designed for comfort as they
were to keep you functional.

Lou grabbed his plate of food
and began shoveling the remains of the meal into his mouth, swallowing the cold
globs out of prudence rather than hunger. He had to keep his strength up. As
soon as Zeke and Lou had touched down in the Coliseum, Zeke had known that the
place was doomed to fall.

"Look at those fences, man.
How long do you think those will hold?" Zeke had asked.

Lou knew the answer. He knew
that sooner or later, those fences were going to come tumbling down, and a lot
of people were going to die in the ensuing chaos. Lou was betting that he
wasn't going to be one of those. But he needed to know where Zeke was. It was
funny how quickly he had become used to the man. He wasn't what you'd call
likeable, but his quiet capability was comforting. While Lou was screaming
inside of his head and swearing under his breath, Zeke would remain cool, calm,
and logical. He admired the man, but he also felt a connection with him.

Now, he wasn't here, and while
he swallowed a load of cold mashed potatoes and congealed gravy, he began to
feel panicked by his absence. Lou looked to his right, and saw Brian and his
two daughters curled up on a landing. Their bodies were entangled underneath
several green blankets. Lou had wished to be a lot of things in his time, but
right now, he was glad he wasn't a father. Out of all the people he had met and
talked with in the Coliseum, Brian's case was easily the worst.

It wasn't that he had lost his
wife, plenty of people had lost significant others. It was that he had lost his
wife right in front of his kids, at the hands of the very people that were
supposed to be protecting them. For the whole evening, the children had
alternated between sitting in dumb, mute silence and sobbing uncontrollably.
Brian seemed like an alright sort, but he clearly had no idea how to comfort
two grieving children. Of course, that could be because he himself was
grieving. Lou doubted that he would be able to do any better if their roles
were reversed.

There were a lot of people in
the Coliseum who had lost friends and relatives, but the majority of the people
had simply not been able to contact their family members. They still had hope
that they were out there somewhere, holed up, with the doors locked tight and
the windows boarded up just like in an old horror movie. Brian had no such
hope. The only positive thing Lou could see about Brian's situation was that
Brian hadn't had to pull the trigger himself.

Then there was the fact that he
still had two little girls to look after. The teenage girl, June, with red hair
and a pouty face dotted with acne, seemed like she might be fine eventually. It
was the littlest girl, Ruby, that was the major problem. She was 6-years-old
and one-hundred percent helpless. Without someone there to protect her, she
would be gone in no time. Brian had to know that. He had to know that he was
guarding a ticking timebomb of sorrow that could explode at any moment.

It was a hell of a thing. Lou
was glad it wasn't his thing. He stood up and cracked his back, groaning as
quiet as he could at the noisy release of pressure. The arena was dim. Only
about one out of every three lights was on. Lou bent down and put his boots
back on his feet, though it pained him to do so. His first steps were stiff and
painful, a result of their escape from the city the day before. Lou couldn't
remember the last time he had run so far. Lou picked his way down the stairs,
stepping over slumbering bodies wrapped in blankets, lying on the concrete like
deep-breathing burritos.  He stepped out onto the concourse where the lights
were brighter.

The concourse was empty for the
most part, with the exception of a couple of soldiers and a few random night
wanderers like himself. "Hey, man. What time is it?" he called to a
soldier.

The soldier looked at the watch
on his wrist, "Two o'clock."

"Thanks," he said and
then strolled past the guard to the glass doors of the Coliseum. Outside, he
saw a soldier smoking, his brown skin illuminated by a brief puff of the
cigarette. Zeke had run out of smokes earlier in the day. He felt the pull of
nicotine. He pushed on the door, and was immediately assaulted by a combination
of noise and smell. The night was sticky hot. A bank of clouds had moved in
during the night, trapping the day's heat. The glow of the moon shone behind
the clouds.

"Can I bum one of
those?" he said loud enough to be heard over the buzzing of the dead.

The soldier looked at him, the
strain of the situation etched on his face. Lou sensed his hesitation. In the
man's brain, he was going through the typical cost-benefit analysis that any
smoker does whenever someone asks to bum a cigarette. Should I give him one? If
I do, how many do I have left for myself? Can I get more cigarettes if I need
to? If I don't give him one, will the person get mad or violent? Do I have to
see this person again?

The man reached in his pocket
and held the pack out to him. Great, generics. But beggars can't be choosers,
so he held out his hand and pulled a cigarette from the packet. He put it to
his lips, and then leaned forward when the soldier held out his lighter,
cupping his hands so the wind wouldn't blow out the flame, not that there was
any actual wind to do so.

Lou inhaled, and they stood
smoking in silence, two black men, united by their color and the decay around
them. "You think we're going to make it?" Lou asked.

The question caught the soldier
off guard. "Man, I don't know. Things are looking bad." The soldier
blew smoke into the air.

"Are we safe here?"
Lou asked.

The man thought about it for a
while. In between puffs, he said, "For now."

"What are you going to do
when things go bad?"

The man looked at him, smiled
and said, "I'm gonna use every bullet I got. Maybe get out of here while the
gettin's good."

Lou nodded, indicating that he
thought it was a good idea. "Any idea what's going to happen to everyone
in here?" The slight smile that was on the man's face drifted away, and
the look that was left behind was one of sincere sadness. "Lot of people
gonna die."

Lou hated the man for the
answer, but he appreciated his honesty. "Any idea how a man like me can
get one of those?" Lou pointed to the soldier's rifle.

The soldier stopped looking at
Lou. He was tight-lipped, and no answer was forthcoming.

"C'mon, man. We're all in
this together. I got every right to defend myself. What happened to the right
to bear arms?"

"You have no rights when
martial law is in effect. The last thing we need is a bunch of high strung
motherfuckers walking around this place with loaded weapons in their
hands."

"I'm not talking about now,
I'm talking about when things go bad. You leave us without weapons then, and
it's like you're pulling the trigger yourself."

The soldier dropped his
cigarette on the concrete and ground it out with his foot. "You want to
see something?"

Lou knew the question was more
than just a question. It was an answer without being an answer, the type of
question that really meant, "I'm gonna show you where the weapons are, but
you never heard it from me."

"Of course," Lou
responded.

Without speaking the soldier
walked onto the concourse. They circled around the arena for fifty yards, and
then the man stopped, looking both ways down the concourse. Seeing no prying
eyes, the man pulled a side door open, and they descended into the bowels of
the Coliseum via a set of gloomy stairs.

At the bottom, the soldier
opened the door a crack and looked out. Seeing no one around, he walked with
purpose down the nondescript hallway. Blue metal doors appeared on either side
of the corridor.

As the soldier walked past a
door that looked like any other, he pointed at it. It was a brief gesture, and
Lou would have missed it if he hadn't been paying close attention to the man.
Lou looked at the number above the door. Number 27. He burned the number in his
mind as they continued their trek through the bottom of the Coliseum.

Without warning, the soldier
turned and began yelling at him, "What are you doing down here? Citizens
are supposed to stay on the stadium level."

Lou was confused for a second,
but then another uniformed soldier appeared around the bend of the lower
concourse.

"What do we have
here?" the new soldier asked.

Lou understood now. The soldier
was caught, and now he was doing what he had to do. Lou played along.

"I was just
exploring."

"C'mon. You know you can't
be back here." The soldier grabbed him by the arm and marched him back the
way they had come. The new soldier followed along for good measure.

"Goddamn civilians are
worse than a damn child on Christmas, poking their nose in where it don't
belong," the new soldier said.

"Tell me about it."

Lou played the part of stupid
civilian. "I was just seeing if they had a couch or something down here.
Those cots are killing my back."

"You'll just have to make
do," the new soldier said.

When they reached the concourse,
the original soldier shoved him roughly and said, "Stay up here.
Downstairs is off limits."

"You got it," Lou
said.

The two soldiers walked off in
the direction of the front doors of the Coliseum. The soldier that had helped
him looked back over his shoulder and Lou nodded in his direction. The soldier
gave him a nod in return, and then he was gone, around the curve of the
concourse.

"What was that all
about?"

Lou jumped and spun around. It
was just Zeke, his clothes rumpled and a smile on his face.

"Just getting a little help
for the end of the world."

"Sounds good to me,"
Zeke said.

They bumped fists and then
walked back into the arena, while Lou told him about room #27 and what was
stored inside.