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Deadtropolis

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode One: Band-Aid On A Neck Wound

Waking up to a crashing sound, Cameron and Jamie sit up in bed.

“What the hell was that?!” Cameron thinks aloud.

Another crash startles them and the nude couple scramble to their feet. Jamie uses a sheet to cover herself, while Cameron slips on his underwear as he stumbles toward a window. Looking outside, they are both shocked to see what can only be described as a small-scale riot. Men and women, both human and Voeldahn, wear mostly dark colored clothing and smash a few windows of nearby stores. Police on the scene pelt them with CS gas grenades and water from a firehose. As he walks past his lover, Cameron glances at the clock. It’s nearly one in the afternoon; their late-night escapades caused them to sleep in.

Turning on the TV in the living room, Cameron checks the news while Jamie watches in horror at the chaos below. She covers her mouth as she witnesses a Voeldahn man in somewhat ratty clothes jamming a thin metal rod into a cop’s neck, just over his riot shield. Gunfire erupts as the police panic, shooting at random into the crowd.

“Once again, the government is urging people to stay inside while the error is resolved.” A reporter begins.

Reading the text running before the reporter’s desk, Cameron understands what’s going on; government assistance was not paid out. Across the country are similar riots, and even with much of the populace disarmed, many are overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies they are up against. A few minutes later, Jamie enters the living room, now wearing at least her panties and bra. She passes Cameron his clothes as they stand and watch the news report.

“I knew this would happen. They’re probably broke.” Cameron remarks.

“Who?”

“The big bad government; they finally ran out of money.”

He chuckles at the irony, but he knows that this will only grow worse. His heart sinks at the realization that he must do something. Looking to Jamie, she appears terrified.

“You’re not going home today. You need to stay until this all blows over.” He says quite calmly.

“O-okay.” She stutters as she nods.

Taking his keys, he walks toward his door and collects his shoes from the mat.

“Where are you going?!” She asks in a panic.

“Nowhere, but I want these on, just in case.” He casually explains.

Cameron never wears shoes inside his home. His grandfather liked keeping his house clean and the floors spotless, something both J.D. and Cameron do as well; this is highly unusual behavior and Jamie knows it. She immediately imitates him, pulling up her pants and putting on her shoes as well. As she ties her laces, Cameron exits the bedroom with a firebox that she’s never seen before. In his right hand is a coiled fabric belt with a gold colored buckle.

“What’s that?” She sheepishly asks.

“Just a precaution.” He coolly replies.

Opening the box, she can see the contents and feels her heart sink. Inside is a single pistol, a semi-automatic similar to one she’s seen in many old movies, back when firearms were commonplace in America.

“Oh god...” She murmurs.

“Hey, it’s just in case anything should happen. We’re safe in here, baby.” He coos, wrapping his arms around her. “Security is downstairs and the elevator is probably on lockdown. It’s alright.” He says, softly stroking her hair.

“What about food? We won’t have more than a few days; three, or maybe four with the leftovers.” She reminds him.

“Oh... About that... Check the cupboard.”

Pulling back, she looks up at the nearly six-foot tall Cameron. With a furled brow, she pulls away and walks into the kitchen, opening the cupboards. She’d only ever seen the cupboard where he kept his china and wine glasses, but the others are vastly different. Inside the cupboard is a stack that fills the space almost completely. Dozens of one-pound bags of rice, easily over one hundred cans of food, and a dozen jars of beef and chicken bouillon. Is her fiancé some kind of crazy survivalist?! Taking a jar of bouillon cubes, she turns to him with a raised brow.

“For when we get tired of just drinking water.” He says, shrugging his shoulders.

“So, we’ll drink broth?” She asks with an amused grin.

“There’s lemonade and Lipton sweet tea mix in the next cupboard.” He quips, attaching the holster to his belt.

“I guess it is true what they say.” She murmurs as she sets the bouillon jar back in the cupboard.

“What’s that?”

“You never really know someone until you live with them.” Jamie explains.

“I love you Jamie... You’re my fiancé, and that makes you my family. I protect and provide for my family. It’s what real men do.”

Though somewhat unnerved by the discoveries she’s just made, as much as the chaos outside, she cannot deny that she appreciates his care. Her heart aches, however, as she worries for others who don’t have this level of protection.

“Holy shit!” Alexey yells, whipping the wheel to the left.

The truck’s tires squeal as the straight truck nearly turns over from the hard left. A man with a Molotov cocktail tries to burn the truck, which carries supplies to local convenience stores. He throws the weapons, but misses; it explodes on the sidewalk, just beyond the speeding vehicle. Already half-empty, the chaos that Hal and Alexey are enduring began just after noon, when the government aid account didn’t pay out. Since 2033, government aid is paid at noon on the first and third Thursday of every month.

Even Alexey, a relatively outspoken critic of the current government didn’t realize how many people would be affected, nor how angry they would be without their money; the entire city of Detroit is exploding with violence.

“Take it easy!” A nervous Hal yells at Alexey.

“Screw that! Do you see what’s going on?! No one’s stopping this train!” Alexey barks back.

“What are you suggesting?”

“We have to get out of the city.” Alexey answers, making another sharp turn.

“Just leave?! This is company property!” Hal argues.

“A minute ago, it was almost a bonfire. Screw the company. We need to save ourselves.”

“I can’t just leave!” Hal snaps.

“You’re a divorcee with two adult kids who live in Florida. What are you missing? Your orange tabby cat? Steve can fend for himself.” Alexey growls.

“Fine, but take it easy. I don’t want the police scraping my carcass off of the road when this is all over.” Hal grumbles.

Pressing hard on the accelerator, Alexey picks up speed, flying past the market where Lauren and Natasha work. Locked inside of the saferoom, disguised by shelves of cigarettes near the far end of the store, they can hear people pillaging. Their hearts pound as angry looters rip cartons from the shelves; they’re terrified of being found. God only knows what will happen to them if they are. Inside of the safe room is a small quantity of dry food and water, though when the chaos began, both girls collected two shopping baskets full of goods to bring with them.

“Give me those!” A man growls.

“Take these!” Another snarls.

“Fuck you! I don’t smoke Virginia Slims!”

“You do today, bitch!” A third laughs.

“Oh yeah?! Smoke this!”

Lauren and Natasha both jump at the sound of gunshots. Even more chaos erupts in the store and the walls thud. Time seems to slow to a crawl as the lights inside of the building flicker. Soon, the safe room grows dark, lit only by a single, dim emergency light powered by a small, 6-volt battery, similar to those used in old motorcycles.

“What’s going on?” Lauren asks in a whisper.

“I don’t know.” Natasha murmurs.

Pacing frantically in the comfort of Cameron’s apartment, Jamie’s mind races. What if this is all going to blow over soon? What about her marriage to Cameron? Is he really the kind of man she needs? Armed and prepared; not trusting in their government. If she stays, what about her job and her car? Sure, it’s a wreck, but if she doesn’t report to her job as a secretary tomorrow morning, she’ll most likely be fired. She won’t have the money to pay the last rent bill, will lose her security deposit, and be completely dependent on her future husband. Worse yet, what if it doesn’t blow over?

Her heart races as she walks back and forth. All of the old movies about the end of the world creep into her mind. Now considered laughable by many, the premise of those films, some of which she’d seen as a teenager, now feel distinctly possible. Can she endure that kind of life, or would she be better of ‘opting out’? She turns to Cameron, who sits calmly on his couch. Her eyes glance down to his pistol on his hip. She shakes the thought from her mind, closing her eyes tightly.

“You can do this. It’ll be okay.” She whispers to herself.

Opening her eyes, she sees that Cameron has turned to look at her. Straightening his back, he scoots toward the edge of the couch, shifting as if about to stand.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m fine. J-just a little scared.” Jamie answers.

“Hey, I’m scared too.” He begins, standing to his feet. “It’s all going to be okay. I’m here for you.”

Wrapping his arms around her, she feels safe in his embrace. Resting her hands on his shoulder blades, she buries her nose in his neck, near his collar bone.

“Okay. I trust you.” She says softly.

He kisses her cheek tenderly, his fingers gently stroking her back. For nearly the last hour there’s been chaos in the streets. Gunfire has grown more prominent as rioters began retrieving their own weapons or stealing firearms from the police and shooting back.

“Due to the drastic increase in violence, President Cortez has declared martial law in the following cities: Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Atlanta, Chicago, Cleveland, Toledo, Cincinnati, New York, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, Detroit, Flint, Saginaw, and Charlotte. Power will be limited in these cities to help the authorities quell the rioting. Regulations will begin in ten minutes.” A reporter’s voice says on the TV.

“Shit... I cleaned the bathtub right after I got home from work. I want you to fill it up.” Cameron says to Jamie.

“Why?” She raises a brow in confusion.

“Please, just do that for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“What?!”

Cameron pulls away, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?!” Jamie asks in a panic.

“I’ll be right back! Fill up that bathtub, right now!” Cameron orders.

With a subtle nod of her head, Jamie walks down the hall and into the bathroom to do as he says. Stepping outside, he closes and locks the door behind him, looking both ways down the hall. It’s as quiet as a tomb inside of the hallway, except for a faint echoing from the violence taking place outside. Walking swiftly down the hall, he is startled as a door swings open. Jeffrey, his thirty-year-old neighbor and a lawyer working at the Frank Murphy Hall of Justice pokes his head out. Cameron swiftly covers his pistol with his hooded jacket, concealing the weapon from his neighbor.

“Woah! You scared me!” Jeffrey exclaims.

“Me?! Look who’s talking. I was about to sue you for negligently inducing a heart attack.” Cameron chuckles.

“You’d win that case... What are you doing out here?! It’s not safe.”

“Just checking to make sure that the elevator is on lockdown.” Cameron explains.

Stepping out from his apartment, the equally tall, canine Voeldahn runs his clawed fingers through his short black hair. Covered in equally black fur, he turns his yellow eyes toward the elevator, subtly nodding his head.

“Good idea. I’ll go with you.” Jeffrey insists.

The two men walk down the hall, another door opens and a couple stand beyond the doorway.

“Stay inside Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael. We’re just making sure that this floor is safe.” Jeffrey assures them with a calm, confident voice.

“Alright, Mr. Carmody.” The husband replies.

“Everything’s going to be just fine. The elevator stops at the eighth floor, but our new neighbor here needs some assurances.” Jeffrey continues.

Cameron raises a brow at his statement. Is he claiming credit for the idea? The younger human is suddenly a little apprehensive of his neighbor, whom he hasn’t known for very long. Checking the elevator, it is indeed on lockdown. Though they can open the doors manually, all they see are the cables and the top of the elevator. Without a proper key, and of course, power, they won’t be able to use anything but the stairs. Hearing another crash, this one much closer, they race to a window near the end of the hall. Gunfire erupts as rioters break into the ground floor of their complex; the guards are armed, and must have opened fire in a panic.

“Shit! Are these doors locked?!” Cameron asks, racing to the stairwell, only ever used in the event of a fire. “Of course not.” He sighs as he pushes a door open. “We need to lock these! Maybe barricade it first!”

“Right!” Jeffrey nods.

The two men move from apartment to apartment, collecting some furniture from volunteers, who also help them build a decent barricade. As they construct the barrier, a copy of the keys are found, as there are an emergency set on every floor, in a maintenance closet. Using the keys, they lock the doors after constructing the barricade. Before he can even ask about them, Jeffrey pockets the keys in front of Cameron.

“I’ll hold onto these; they’ll be safe with me.” Jeffrey immediately assures Cameron and the others.

“Yeah... Sure...” Cameron murmurs.

After hours of waiting in the dim light of the safe room, the sounds of violence finally grow quieter. Lauren and Natasha look to each other. Lauren checks her cell phone for the time.

“Heh...” She chuckles.

“What?”

“We should have clocked out two hours ago.” Lauren explains.

“Well... I could use the over-time.” Natasha quips.

“It sounds like they’re going to need it.” Lauren nods. “Do... Do you think it’s safe to poke our heads out? Just to see?”

“What?!” Natasha struggles to keep quiet.

Looking to Lauren, she can see the terror in her face; the fear of pain and death are one thing, but the fear of the unknown is quite another entirely. Though twenty-two-years-old, a year younger than Natasha, the human’s soft curves and young face give her the appearance of a frightened teenage kid.

“We’ll wait an hour or two to be sure. If we don’t hear anything, we’ll take a peek.” Natasha finally answers.

“Okay!” Lauren whispers loudly and excitedly.

The truck’s engine sputters as it begins to run out of fuel. Looking down at the gauge, Alexey grumbles in frustration.

“I told you we should’ve refilled it.” He turns his eyes to Hal.

“Hey, we were running behind because someone was nearly ten minutes late.” Hal replies defensively.

“We have to find a place to dump this thing.” Alexey thinks aloud.

The sun begins to sink behind the horizon as they drive through Romulus, a rural town nearly an hour from Detroit proper. Using his knowledge of backroads, Alexey avoided the freeways, all of which were jammed with cars. Somehow, they miraculously avoided most of the rioters, though now they face a new problem. Surrounded by vast fields as they head for Monroe County, they’ll soon be left stranded, without fuel, weapons, and in a truck half full of dry goods that are most likely now worth their weight in gold.

“Look!” Hal points to their left.

“A cow house!” Alexey excitedly exclaims.

“Yeah a... What?” Hal raises a brow.

“You never saw that old show? It’s a classic!”

Hal merely stares.

“Pfft. Barbarian... Well, hopefully that barn is empty. We’re running on willpower as it is.”

Pulling up to the barn, they are struck by the fact that there are no houses nearby. A vast field of corn surrounds the barn, which upon opening, they discover houses a single combine harvester. The massive, green and yellow machine takes up most of the barn, but with Hal’s guidance, Alexey is able to back the truck into what little space is left, parking just to the left side of the harvester. Closing the barn door and barring it shut with a large two-by-four, Hal turns to Alexey as he shuts off the starving turbo diesel engine and climbs out of the cab.

“Thank God it’s summer. If this happened in winter, we’d never make it a night.” Alexey comments.

“We might. I’m a snuggler.” Hal teases.

“Oh, so that’s why you were so close to my dad? To get to me?” Alexey retorts.

“You wish, kid.” Hal smirks.

“I’m twenty-nine.” Alexey comments.

“And I’m fifty-seven. You’ll always be a kid to me.”

“Whatever... Hey, maybe a store had some Faygo on order!”

“Be my guest. We’re fired anyway.” Hal says, tossing Alexey the keys to the rear door.

“Hell yeah! I’m thirsty!”

Sitting together on their couch, Cameron and Jamie snuggle together. Cameron can’t help but look at the locked front door to his apartment. He knows that the emergency key ring probably contains the maintenance man’s keys to every apartment, and Jeffrey now has them.

“We should get to bed.” He says to Jamie, before softly kissing her head.

“Okay. I’m tired anyway.” She replies.

Rising from her rather comfortable spot pressed up against him, she yawns, stretches, and heads for the bathroom.

“Hey, don’t flush afterward. I’m going to use it too.” He replies.

“Uh... Why?” She raises an eyebrow.

“I just want to see something.” He answers.

“How much I pee?” She laughs.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. Fine.”

While Jamie uses the bathroom, Cameron takes a dinning chair and jams it against the underside of the doorknob. As his door swings inwards, it’s a decent barricade. Still not satisfied, he takes a paring knife and jams the short blade deep at the back of the door, nearest the hinge. Using a bottle of hand sanitizer, Jamie steps out of the bathroom and walks into the bedroom.

“Done!” She calls to her lover.

Cameron enters the bathroom, and after finishing his business he flushes the toilet. To his dismay, it doesn’t refill.

“Shit... That’s not good.”

Glancing over to the bathtub, he sees that it’s completely full of clean water.

“I should’ve had her fill the sink too...”

Jamie sits up in bed for what feels like an hour, though she can’t be sure as the clock is not battery powered and her relatively cheap cell phone has a dead battery. Finally stepping into the bedroom, Cameron takes off his belt and holster, setting the gun atop his nightstand. He strips down to his underwear and climbs into bed with his fiancé, who looks to him with worry.

“We’re going to be fine, baby.” He assures her, leaning in and giving her a loving kiss.

“Okay.” She replies, kissing him back.

Lying down, she rolls over, her back facing him. Sliding down in their bed, he wraps his arms around her, his chin resting on her shoulder as they spoon together. Staring out of the window at what appears to be the glow of burning stores, they both struggle to sleep, although they are certainly quite tired.

“We’re going to be fine...” He quietly repeats, now speaking only for himself.