Todd said nothing, racking his brain for something to say, maybe something funny that would ease the tension.
She sighed. “I got to go, Todd. My mom is yelling for me.”
“All right.”
“Oh my God,” Sheena X shrieked happily. “Mom says Dad is waking up!”
“That’s great,” Todd said, laughing.
“I got to go. Bye, Todd!”
Todd hung up, grinning. If Sheena X’s dad was waking up, so was his mom.
His grin evaporated. And so are all the others. Like John Wheeler.
And they would reopen the school. Maybe even keep school going past the end of June to make up for the lost time. Todd felt deflated at the thought. God had a crappy sense of humor.
The phone rang. That would be his dad bearing good news. He picked up the receiver.
“Todd, listen—”
Couldn’t they all just stay asleep for one more month?
“Hey, Dad. Are you calling about Mom?”
“Listen to me. I don’t have much time. That barricade is not going to hold. We have nothing to fight them with—”
“Aren’t you at work?” His dad worked in an office as a manager of something. In one of those big cubicle farms like you see in Dilbert.
“You need to get my gun. It’s in a shoebox on the top shelf of me and your mom’s closet. Make sure you get the bullets, too. Don’t leave the house. Shoot anybody who breaks in. Shoot to kill.”
Todd laughed. “Dad?”
“They’re coming in. DON’T RUN! STAY TOGETHER! FIGHT! Todd, I don’t know. I don’t know. We’re fucked. I love you, kid. Yeah. I guess that’s it. Take care of yourself.”
A flurry of screams at the other end of the phone.
“Dad?” Todd said into the dial tone.
He smelled smoke through the open window. Sirens continued wailing from all four corners of the city. Other sounds ripped the air: screams. And splashes of gunfire, startlingly loud. Todd looked out the window but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just his boring little typical suburban street washed in bright May sunshine. Every lawn was perfectly manicured; even the front yards of the homes abandoned by the screamers had been well tended by charitable neighbors. Looking at this gentle scene, it was hard to believe that even the Screaming had happened.
One thing was wrong, though: The street was empty except for a single distant running figure, which quickly disappeared behind a house. The headlines on the major news sites on the Internet announced widespread rioting in California. Todd wanted to head downstairs and turn on the TV to find out what was going on, but remained rooted where he stood, torn between the thrill of massive developing tragedy and the uncertain terror of finding out that something awful had happened to his dad. He tried calling his dad’s office line and got voicemail. He left a message, trying to figure out what to do next to keep his growing sense of panic at bay a little longer.
He looked down at his front yard and saw a big cop in a motorcycle helmet marching purposefully down the sidewalk.
“Hey, officer!” he called. “What’s going on?”
The policeman looked up at the window, showing his gray face and wet, blackened chin.
“Are you okay?” Todd said.
The man ran up the front walk of his house, quickly disappearing from view.
“What the hell is he doing?” Todd mumbled to himself, both alarmed and amused.
He heard the front door crash open. Moments later, the motorcycle cop came banging up the stairs.
“Oh, crap,” he said.
Todd threw himself onto the floor as he heard the stomping in the hall, and crawled under the bed as his door flew open, knocking half his Space Marines off his dresser.
The cop paced around the room impatiently, sniffing the air and shouldering the walls. Todd lay under the bed and tried not to breathe, flooded with panic and fear. The emotions reminded him of school, the strange feeling that everybody hated him. He watched the cop’s boots track blood across his carpet. The minutes ticked by. The cop continued to pace and knock things over. The room began to fill with a rancid sour-milk stench, forcing Todd to breathe through his mouth. After an hour, the cop left. Todd heard him in the bathroom, splashing in the toilet. Then the man came back, coughing wetly, and resumed his march around the room.
After a few hours of this, Todd grew bored and eventually fell asleep.
He woke up dry-mouthed and sweaty and fighting a massive urge to piss. He almost cried out at the jolt of confusion he felt waking up under his bed, but remembered the danger he was in and wisely kept his mouth shut. Thank God he had not snored or farted or laughed or did any of the other things he speculated that he did in his sleep. He had no idea what time it was; the sun had gone down and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. The maniac cop was no longer pacing but was still in the room. Todd could smell his sour stink and hear him breathing in quick, shallow gasps. He wondered if the man was sleeping. Should he risk moving? The thought of leaving the security of his hiding place paralyzed him with fear. He did not know exactly what the cop would do to him if he caught him but just the idea of being dominated physically by a stronger man electrified him with revulsion. He stalled by fantasizing about his dad coming home, and warning him just in time that the cop was there, saving his life. Then he fantasized about Sheena X coming over to check on him, and saving her life, which gave him an erection. An hour went by like this while the night breezes delivered the sounds of screams and squealing tires and gunfire through his window.
He realized that he had to do something soon or he might be trapped under this bed for another full day. He crept towards the far edge of the bed, stopping to listen every few inches. The policeman panted like a dog. Finally, he left the shelter of the bed and wondered what to do next. A part of him wanted to stand up and make a run for it on pure adrenaline, but this notion was quickly overruled by his tiny but growing voice of common sense. Do nothing and you’re going to die, Todd old man, he told himself. So do something. The bedroom door was open and the cop was somewhere to his left. If the man was facing the door, he would see Todd. If he was not, then Todd might have a chance.
He slithered forward like a snake and paused at the edge of the bed, peering at the dark form swaying on its feet in the darkness. The cop was facing the corner. The white motorcycle helmet bobbed as the man breathed in his little shallow gasps, his shoulders shrugging in rhythm.
This is really freaking ninja, he thought.
Within minutes, Todd was free and gently closing the door behind him. He tiptoed to his parents’ bedroom, emptied his bladder quietly into the sink in the en suite bathroom, and began pulling boxes down from the top shelf of the closet until he found a heavy blue shoebox. Inside, he found nestled a small handgun, box of bullets and sheet of paper. He took the sheet to the window and squinted at it under the light of nearby streetlights. It was a note from his dad to him saying the gun was loaded and had no safety, so do not even think about touching it if he ever found it.