Fracked (13 page)

After about fifteen minutes of speeding along the deserted road in silence, they finally arrived at their house.

Their two-story brick house was pitch-black.

Fortunately, given Texas’ tendency for volatile weather, John had the good sense to invest in a generator a few years ago.

John pulled the pick-up along the dirt driveway, stopped in front of the carport, and shut off the engine. He squeezed the steering wheel and stared down at the dash with a frown.

Rebecca stared at him.

John sighed.

“They were dead… They were all dead,” John said, closing his eyes. “They had kids in the house, Becky… Kids…”

His voice trailed off.

Rebecca blinked and shook her head, frowning.

“…how did they get sick if they weren’t downtown?” she asked.

“This… whatever it is… it’s in the ground and polluting the wells,” he muttered. “I saw it coming out of the sink…”

Rebecca stared in silence for a few moments.

“How far do we have to go before its safe?” she asked as if he had the answers.

John gave a dismissive shrug.

“I have no idea… I imagine that the whole shale is contaminated,” he said. “Most of us rely on wells for water. If the groundwater is contaminated… well, you can imagine...”

Her eyes started to water as she looked at him, but she didn’t allow herself to cry.

“Do you think Austin is safe…?” she asked.

He looked over at her and nodded.

“I’m sure of it,” he said without really knowing. “We need to get out of here though. I imagine that they’ll be taking some pretty drastic actions just to contain this thing and I don’t reckon we want to be around here when they decide to do something extreme.”

“What do you mean by extreme…?” she asked with fear in her voice.

John looked into her eyes and placed his hand on her knee reassuringly.

“Just stay here a moment while I get the generator started and make sure it’s safe,” he said. “We’ll get the lights working, take what we need, and get far away from here.”

“Let me help,” she said with a scowl. “I’m not defenseless, John.”

“I’m not saying you are,” he said. “After what I saw at Cooper’s place, I have no idea what’s waiting inside. That’s why I just… really need you to stay here. We’ve already lost so much today… I can’t stand to lose you too. If I don’t come back in five minutes, just drive away.”

“But–”

“Promise me, Becky!” he said as he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try looking for me! Promise me that you’ll drive away!”

Rebecca couldn’t hold back her tears.

“You’ll be back… I know you will…” she said.

John gave a half-hearted smile and kissed her gently.

Rebecca sunk into the kiss as she choked back her sobs.

John pulled back and smiled as he caressed her cheek with his calloused hand.

“See you in a bit,” he said.

He opened his door, grabbed his gun, and stepped outside.

The silence was unusual; even the crickets were silent.

John took a deep breath and walked along the dark driveway with his weapon ready. He walked around to the back of his house and looked around the backyard.

The back of his property was massive and flat, but he couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

He waited, but nothing came running out of the shadows.

John blindly made his way towards the old generator that sat next to the propane tank behind his back patio. He waded through a patch of tall grass and knocked away the spider webs, praying to God that a snake wasn’t resting in the weeds waiting to surprise him. He leaned his rifle against the house and grabbed the generator’s pull start.

After two pulls, the diesel generator rumbled to life.

The lights along the back of the house flickered to life and revealed the dusty, dying patch of dirt that John called a backyard. It had a few patches of thorny weeds and wild grass, but for the most part it looked as desolate and depressing as the rest of the town.

In the corner of the dry yard, near the edge of his property, he spotted Lucy staring at him with her head lowered. Her fur looked matted down and her tail and ears hung flat. Black slobber dribbled from her mouth.

“Oh no…” John muttered as his heart broke and his face sunk. He slowly grabbed his gun…

Lucy didn’t move.

He took a nervous swallow and pointed the gun towards her as his eyes started to tear and a lump formed in the back of his throat.

“Lucy…? Are you alright girl?” he called out hoarsely, weakly.

Lucy growled and lowered her head as she bared her sharp teeth.

“I’m sorry girl… I’m so sorry,” he said as salty tears rolled down his ashy cheeks. He brought the rifle to his shoulder and put her in his iron sights.

Lucy bolted towards him, head twitching.

Rebecca sat anxiously in the truck with her rifle, staring at the house with nervous anticipation.

She heard two gunshots.

“John!” she shouted. She opened the door and ran outside.

John slowly emerged out from behind the house with his head lowered and the rifle slung at his side. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were wet.

Rebecca slowed as soon as she saw him.

“What happened…?” she asked as she stepped towards him.

He looked at her and simply shook his head.

“It’s Lucy…” he said.

Rebecca’s eyes widened. She tried to go around him and get to the back yard just to see.

John held up his hand and stopped her.

“Don’t,” he said weakly. “You don’t want to see that… Just trust me. Let’s just go inside, get what we need, and go.”

Rebecca looked down and nodded, sniffling.

The couple sluggishly made their way up the steps to the front porch.

John stopped on the steps and looked at the cobblestone well with a frown.

The well had a strange, oily black film around its base.

Rebecca opened the front door, stopped, and turned towards him.

“When we get in there, don’t turn on the water,” John warned without looking away from the well.

Rebecca turned away from him and entered the house.

John followed.

Everything inside was just like he remembered it; the lights were on, the television was playing quietly in the living room, and the refrigerator was humming softly from the kitchen. It was hard to believe that the world outside had changed so suddenly.

Yet there he stood in the foyer with his wife, both covered in blood.

“I’ll go upstairs and get us some clothes,” Rebecca said listlessly as she started trudging up the old wooden stairs.

“I’ll get the food,” John said as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchen.

Inside the dim kitchen, John grabbed the plastic garbage bin and carelessly dumped the contents on the floor. He opened the pantry and started tossing every canned good he came across into the bin. He wasn’t sure what to take, but he knew that canned goods were essential. He grabbed a case of bottled water off of the pantry floor, broke the pack, and dumped the plastic water bottles into the bin. He even added a few boxes of crackers and some snacks for good measure.

The bin was almost full to the brim.

He started to walk out of the kitchen but stopped when he realized what he was forgetting.

John opened one of the cutlery drawers and tossed in a can opener.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, he glanced at the fridge and frowned, thinking.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath.

He walked to the fridge, opened the door, and tossed a six-pack of beer into the bin.

John closed the refrigerator door and looked across the bar into the living room.

The San Antonio news broadcast was playing.

Curious, John sat the bin down in the foyer and walked into the living room. He turned the volume up and listened.

“–eagerly looking forward to the heated rivalry as the Spurs take on the Heat later this week,” the anchorman said with a smile. “That’s all from the locker room, back to you in the studio, Gina.”

The image on the screen switched to an attractive Latino woman in her early thirties. She smiled at the camera.

“Thank you, Richard,” Gina said. “We now go live to the field where Lisa Reynolds has new information about the chemical spill in the south of our viewing area. Lisa, what have you been hearing on the ground?”

The image switched to a young white woman wearing an orange safety vest. Behind her, traffic was gridlocked and the drivers looked frustrated.

“Yes, Gina, TXDOT has informed us that the interstate may not reopen for quite some time, definitely hampering weekend plans for beachgoers and making life difficult for the residents of the small ranching communities trapped within the spill’s quarantine zone. Due to the volatile nature of the toxin, hazmat teams and first responds have been forced to temporally pull back for their own safety. The spill quarantine zone radius has been extended for ten miles in all directions out of an abundance of caution. Meanwhile, federal officials have not commented at this time on the–”

John heard a helicopter outside and immediately muted the television. He walked towards the window and looked outside…

A black helicopter was hovering over the pick-up truck with its searchlight centered on it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” John muttered as he peered through the blinds.

The helicopter suddenly centered it’s searchlight on the living room window.

John covered his eyes and stumbled away from the window.

“John!” Rebecca called from upstairs.

“Becky?!” he shouted back.

He turned around and ran upstairs as fast as he could, knocking down his trash bin of supplies in the process.

The upstairs hallway was narrow and led towards the master bedroom, two guest bedrooms, and a small bathroom. Photographs and paintings covered the walls.

John made his way into the master bedroom and stopped as he looked at his wife, breathing frantically.

Rebecca was staring at the bay window with her hands cupped over her mouth. She was backed all the way against the bed. On top of the bed lay two suitcases stuffed with clothes, jewelry, and some old family photographs.

“What’s wrong?!” he asked.

She looked at him with a pale expression and pointed at the window.

“Do you see what’s out there?!” she asked.

“Yeah… I saw it,” he said gloomily. “They know we’re inside.”

“But why are they doing this? With everything going on, why are they chasing us?!” she asked.

“I wish I knew…” he said.

Rebecca stared sobbing.

John frowned and went to her side, embracing her.

She held onto him tightly, squeezing him.

Something loud approached from outside, diesel engine rumbling.

“What’s that?” Rebecca asked as she stifled her tears and looked up at John.

John shook his head.

“Trouble, I reckon,” he said. “Stay here.”

He kissed the top of her head and walked towards the bay window to take a look.

Rebecca followed.

John looked outside and felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

An armored vehicle was parked in front of the house. It had a gun turret on the roof and no identifying marks, flags, or emblems. It had a row of high-powered lights along the front and every light was pointed towards the house.

The helicopter circled the house overhead.

The armored vehicle’s speaker crackled.

“Attention,” the voice over the speaker boomed. “This is the United States National Guard. You’ve been exposed to a toxic agent. We’re here to take you to safe place and give you medical treatment. Step outside with your hands in the air. We are here to help you.”

Rebecca and John exchanged an uneasy glance.

“Do you believe them?” John asked.

“No,” she replied coldly.

“Me neither,” John said with a scowl.

“Do you think they’ll go away if we just stay inside?” she asked.

“No,” he replied in a low voice.

“What do we do…?” she asked.

John turned and looked at her rifle on the bed. He turned his attention back out the window.

“Grab your gun.”

He cut his sentence short as soon as he saw a solider crawl up into the gun turret’s seat.

The gunner pointed the weapon up towards the bay window.

“GET DOWN!” John shouted as he grabbed her.

They dropped to the floor seconds before the gunner fired.

Every window along the top floor shattered as the heavy artillery punched through the wall.