My Type

Jeff Fennern

All rights reserved.

                                                                      11:30 PM

            “How do you run out of ice and an outdoor new years eve party in Minnesota,” I ask. Floras “ End of the World” party started at ten, and from the look of things it’s been getting along fine without ice until this point. It’s thirty-two degrees and between the grills, the dozen or so portable fire pits lining the sidewalk, and the four story apartments blocking the little wind there is, it’s actually reasonably pleasant outside

            “That’s the problem Viv. We knew the food would be fine, no one thought to grab any for the bar,” says Flora.

            “If it’s such a problem, why am I the only one still sober enough to walk two blocks to get it,” I reply. Flora looks at me, not saying a word. She just begs with her bright green eyes. “God damn it. Fine but you owe me.”

            She makes a noise half way between the laughter of a child and a spoon scraping the inside of a metal cup, her version of a giggle. She hugs me and slips some cash into my back pocket. “I knew I could count on you.”

            “Just make sure Edwin doesn’t overcook my stake.” I say.

                                                                 11:59 PM

            I walk out into the street with the last bag of ice from the gas stations coolers. Floras luck, not mine. I would have loved to walk back into the party empty handed. Not that twenty pounds of ice is much of a burden when part of you job is moving unconscious people from one table to another. It’s more the principle of the thing. It had been a long shift at the emergency room and I really just wanted to unwind. Breath deep, another block and…

            That’s when it hit, half earthquake half explosion. It knocks me through the air and skittering along the pavement on my back. The sound of glass shattering fills the air. It gets fuzzy after that. The wind whispers around me, the air smells sharp and sweet. I have trouble focusing, the light changing from the dull yellow of the street lamps, to gray flecked with green and purple. I lay on the pavement until the stars in front of my eyes stop moving.

            I trace fingers over a cut across my forehead. Bleeding but shallow. It’ll stop. I fish around in my bag for my mirror and penlight. Pupil response normal. Not conclusive but a good sign. I dab at the wound with an antiseptic wipe as fall into ritual and run through the questions. 

            Do you know your name? Vivian Hibiki, 34,

            Dizziness? None.

            Pain? Some.

            Todays date? Friday, December 31, 1999. Wait its after midnight. I guess it’s January first.
            Can you tell me what happened? Good fucking question.

             I pick myself off the pavement with the help of a nearby wall. The ice bag is a good six feet away.  The gas station windows are blow out, along with half the streetlights. What the hell was that? The dull glow hangs over the city, showing that the power was still going. But things are oddly quiet. No fireworks, no sirens, no traffic. If the doomsday crew is right, why did the world only half shut down? Flora is going to be impossible if the damn computers really did go down.

            Flora. The party! I take off running, my footsteps the only sound.

                                                               12:20AM

            I round the corner to find two-dozen bodies lying in the street. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let the training take over. Don’t look at the faces. Assess the injuries. There are three or four people with possible broken necks.  Two others twisted, as if they fell from the top of one of the buildings. Three more torn apart by flying glass when the windows of the apartment building blew out, one of them is Edwin, now only recognizable by the tree of knowledge tattooed on his arm.

            I frown. A lot of the people look as though they just dropped. Most of the fireplaces are still standing. The few tables that are overturned seem to have gotten that way when someone fell into them. What the hell shatters glass and kills people, but leaves everything else untouched?  Then I see the glow, blue-purple with flickers of black and gold. The jagged line of color runs from one end of the street to the other. It’s not a crack. It’s even with the surface pavement. Like someone ran a line of glow in the dark paint down the middle of the road.

            “Anyone alive?” I call out.

            A lone form stands from where it was crouching over a body. The front of her coat covered in blood. “Viv?” Floras voice answers.

            Electric warmth runs though me. I can’t stop the little giggle that escapes as I run to hug her. She mirrors the laugh as she returns the embrace.

            “What the hell happened,” I ask.

            A lone form stands from where it was crouching over a body. The front of her coat covered in blood. “Viv?” Floras voice answers.

            Electric warmth runs though me as she tackles me, I mirror the giggle that escapes her as she squeezes tight.

            “What the hell happened,” I ask.

            Her eyes are a little vacant. “The world ended while you were at the gas station. Guess it’s up to us to repopulate the planet,” she says. 

            I roll my eyes. “Not the time.” I say as I retrieve my penlight and check her for signs of concussion. “Did you hit your head?”

            “No, I just got knocked around a little. One second, I’m handing out drinks for the toast. The next second glass is flying, people are screaming, and I’m on my ass in the azaleas.” She glances up at my forehead. “What about you? Need something for your head?”

            “I’m alright.”

            “Always such a masochist.”

            “Only when pain is involved. Lets get off the street,” I say. We lean on each other all the way to her apartment.

                                                                          12:30 AM

            Flora showers as I try the phones and make coffee and sandwiches. The landline is dead and there’s only static on my cell, same with the radio. I can’t check the television stations, as Flora’s prefers books.

            I take a bite of my stake substitute and look out the window. The crack in the road is growing. The strange colors still look even with the pavement, but I know it’s a crack now. The bodies near the edge fall in as the strange light replaces the ground underneath them. It’s twice as long as when I rounded the corner, and of the twenty-four bodies, only five are still visible. What the hell is this?

            “Do we have a plan,” Flora asks.      

“The phones are out, and the radio is dead,” I reply. “ The police station and the hospital are only two blocks apart. With all the Y2K hype, they were both already prepping for a busy holiday. Between the two, we should be able to find someone.”

            “My cars in the shop again,” Flora says.

            “Their both in walking distance. With that crack out there, I don’t know that I would trust the roads anyway,” I say. “You still have your fathers gun?”

            She takes raises her sweater to flash the little 9mm in its holster.

            “Flashlights?”

            “Just the one,” She says. We bundle up against the cold.

                                                                          1:00 AM

             The street is still quiet. The blue-purple glow is brighter.  The crack is still growing. It’s almost as wide as the street now. Branches are forming where it crosses the side streets, spreading out into the city. I try not to think about it.

             “We need to get out of here,” I say

            “You always have such a masterful grasp of the obvious,” Flora says.

            Our footsteps echo down the street. It takes me a moment to realize there’s another sound. A soft clacking noise coming from the fissure. I turn to see long spindly legs appear pulling the rest of the…thing into view. It’s about the size of a horse. Raw meat wrapped around splintered bone, a gash down the center of its belly, lined with rows of jagged shards of bone and glass. A tree tattooed on the one of the eight spindly legs…

            My gut tightens. Icy fingers crawl up my spine, out into my shoulders. Pressure welling up until it feels like it will burst out of me. Before this moment I would have said rage runs hot. In this second I know that’s wrong. It burns like ice. In that moment I want only to destroy the thing in front of me with my bare hands, the thing that used to be my friend.

            Two sharp cracks snap me back to reality. A wisp of smoke curls from the barrel of Floras gun. The thing still advances on us, two more crawl out from behind it. I kick over the two nearest fire pits, sending the glowing coals and bits of burning wood flying. A screech fills the air. The flesh of the thing smolders and blackens where the burning coals hit and it skitters backward again. I grab Floras sleeve and pull. We turn and run.

                                                                        1:30 AM

            We run until we were out of sight of the things and keep running until we are out of breath. The skittering noise faint behind us, but never quite gone.

            We are still blocks away from the hospital when we need to stop and catch our breath. We check doors of a little strip mall, and find the Walgreens unlocked. We duck inside and keep quiet. The sounds get louder. Flora aims her pistol as half a dozen of the things skitter down the street. Edwin is with them. I can see the black burns against the rest of the red, raw meat.

            “What are those things,” Flora asks.

            “You’re the end of the world expert. You tell me,” I reply. “You saw the tattoo?”

            She nods. “Whatever they are now, they were made from the people from the party or what was left of them.”

            “How,” I ask.

            “Fuck if I know,” Flora says. “Horror stories were never really my thing.”

            The sky overhead glows with the color from the cracks. The blue-purple crawls up into the night sky. It seems more real that the lights of the city or the stars. The night is no longer silent. Clacking noises fills the air, as do the spider things. The crawl across the strange glow as if it were solid ground. The sound is joined by whispers. They are only loud enough to make their endless presence felt. I can’t make out what they are actually saying. 

            They’re heading in the direction of the hospital,” says Flora. “Are we sure that’s still the best plan?”

            “It’s the only plan I can come up with,” I reply. “But maybe we can even the odds a little.”

            We head deeper into the store. I try to keep up a brave face. But the deeper we move into the store, the more panicked I begin to feel.

            “Who’s there,” calls a voice from the back.

            “Two weary travelers in search of solace,” Flora replies.

            There’s a pause. “What,” asks the voice.

            “You read to many fantasy novels,” I say to Flora. “We found the door unlocked and needed a place to hide. Who are you?”

            “Jamie,” replies the voice.

            “Are you hurt,” I ask.

            “No,” he says. “Just going to stay back here until things calm down.”

            “We’re headed to the hospital. You’re welcome to come,” says Flora.

            “No,” he yells. “The store’s closed. Get out!”

            I exchange a look with Flora. “Alright, we’ll be going in a moment. We just need some rubbing alcohol.”

            “Aisle five,” Jamie says.

            “You grab what you need to,” says Flora. “I’ll go check on him.”

            It doesn’t take long to gather supplies, four big bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a roll of paper towels, some glass bottles, and a couple of lighters. The busywork helps, somewhere in the middle of making the firebombs, the panic fades. By the time Flora comes back I’m relatively calm again.

            “Any luck,” I ask.

            “No,” she replies. “He says he’s good where he is. I told him we would send someone for him.”  

            “Best we can do I guess,” I say as I hand Flora a bag with half a dozen of the firebombs and a lighter. “They didn’t seem to like fire much.

            “You sure these will work,” asks Flora.

            “I’m sure they will burn, beyond that who knows,” I reply. “Lets get moving.”

                                                                             2:30 AM

            My hear sinks as I see the state of the hospital. A half dozen of the spider things crawl along the surface. No glass in the windows. No visible lights. No movement. No hope.

            The street beyond is worse. The crack in the world has spread is here to, and the things are crawling out.

            We stand in the shadow of the deli across the street. Both of us armed with a rag, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, and a lighter. Both of us carry a half dozen more firebombs in shopping bags. 

            “Your sure the hospital is our best bet? The police station is just up the street,” asks Flora.

            “ There’s two dozen of those things between here and there,” I reply “There’s beating a dead horse and there’s making pâté.”

            “What do you mean,” asks Flora. The confusion is clear in her voice. “Pâté is liver.”

Look, even if the place is deserted, the emergency radio equipment may still be working,” I say.” If nothing else, we could be able to find supplies and make more of these to help clear the way. We just need to get to the bay door.”

            “And hope there’s power to get it open,” Flora add.

            “Always so positive. That’s what I love about you.”

            We wait until the spiders are mostly out of view to dart across the street. The keypad light is still burning bright. I swipe my card and key in the numbers. The beep that signals the door unlocking echoes in the darkness, as does the door slamming behind us. I flip the switch and the lights flicker to life. I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. We’re alone in the empty bay. Both ambulances are out in the chaos somewhere. I jump as my stomach growls. Flora laughs

            “There’s bottled water in the cabinet,” I say. I sit down at the radio and start scanning channels.

            Flora sets a mug down next to me. “There’s coffee at least. The fridge is empty.”

            “There’s a vending machine with sandwiches just inside the break room. Just check to be sure anything green is lettuce.”

            “That doesn’t seem wise,” she replies.

            “I’ll chance it. With everything that’s going on, I’ll consider myself lucky if vending machine egg salad is the biggest threat to my life right now.

                                                                           3:00 AM

            “This is Vivian Hibiki broadcasting from St. Marks Hospital. Is anyone receiving? Over.”

            I flick the switch and way. I can hear the voices in the static. Someone’s on this line, but they can’t hear me or won’t reply.

            “What do we do now,” asks Flora as she hands me a coffee refill. “Keep at the radio or try for the police station?”

             “Maybe we should try to get some rest. Those things can’t get in here, or they don’t want to,” she says. “I found some pillows and a blanket, and it’s been a long night.”

            “I don’t think I could sleep now if I wanted to,” I say. “Maybe we should keep moving. I don’t feel safe sitting still like this.”

            “There are people on the other end of the radio. I don’t understand why you can’t get a reply. Maybe we can try again in the morning.”

            “I really think we should keep moving.”

            “Flip a coin. Heads we keep going, tales we get some rest.”

            “Really? You’re going to risk our lives on a coin toss.”

            “You have a better idea?”

            “Fine.” I say as I pull a quarter out of her pocket and flip it into the air.

            We never hear the coin hit the floor. The air fills with the sound of machinery. Two bright lights shine into the bay as the steel door slides open. We dive out of the way as the sound of screeching tires fills the room. The ambulance skids to a stop just short of the rear wall. The rear door swings open.

            “Close the bay.” I yell as I scramble to my feet. The door starts to close again.  But it’s not fast enough. One of the creatures lodges itself under the door. Three more skitter through the gap it creates. Unnatural crys fills the air as the lead spider bursts into flames. The other two skitter to the side and up the wall. Flora slides my bag of firebombs over to me with a grin.

            “Get another ready. These will burn quick.” I yell.

            The flaming spider screeches as it burns. High pitched whines with sharp edges. The sound makes my eyes ache. The icy chill crawls down my spine again. The others skitter across the ceiling to the back of the bay.

            “Flora, road flares! Second compartment. Light one, slide one under the truck to me,” I yell. As I yank open the back door of the ambulance. You two, out!”

            “We’re not going to be able to get close enough to use these,” Flora yells as the tube skitters to a stop at my feet. The EMTs scramble out of the back, each carrying their own firebomb. At least they were paying attention.

            “We’re just penning them in! Light the thing and run,” I yell back. I light the flare and toss it toward the creature. I take the rag from my one of my bottles and open the gas tank. “Everyone out, Now!”

            I set the rag on fire and dart out through gap under the door.

            The explosion is smaller that I expected, but seems to do the job. We find a way into the deli and scavenge some food. I find out over sandwiches that the EMT’s are Chris and Sam. They got called a party patching up a drunk who went through a window. Between the fissures and the creatures, they hard a hard time finding a clear path back to the hospital. They were about to give up when they hear me on the radio. The tried to respond but the handset wasn’t working. They got to us as fast as they could…

*Crack*

*Crack*

            I jump at the sound of the gun and the feel of blood spraying my face. I stare up at Flora, getting slowly to my feet, and carefully taking the gun from her. Her eyes are wide, tears streaming down her cheeks.

            “Why?”

            It’s all I can get myself to say. My stomach revolts I can feel the horror, anger and disgust, but it’s mixed with something I can’t put my finger on.

            “They deserved it. They nearly got you killed, nearly got both of us killed.” She says. But she’s not angry, or not just angry. She’s giddy, excited. I can hear it in her voice. The same feeling I’m trying to fight.

            “Try again.” 

            “The world is ending tonight. I’ve been telling you this for months,” She says with little smile. She wrapped her arms around me and hugs me tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the apocalypse would get this messy. I just thought we would have some time together after the party. That’s why I couldn’t have you there at midnight.”

            “What do you mean after the party? I was barely gone twenty minutes. The party was scheduled to go until dawn.”

            “Twenty minutes was enough,” she says. “I couldn’t have you there for the toast. 

            I could feel the happiness rolling off of her. “You poisoned them?”

            “I guess I did.”

            The cold runs down my spin. “You enjoyed it,” I said quietly.

            “One or to made me grin. But mostly I was just looking forward to spending the night with you.” She looks up at me bewildered. “You angry? Why? All those people are free. None of them will ever have to go though what we did tonight. I spared them.”

            “You couldn’t know that,” I scream at her. “You have been planning this for months! There was no proof that the world was coming to an end. If none of this had happened, they would all be dead for no reason. You would have murdered them for nothing.”

            “I didn’t know quite what to expect, but I knew it was the end of us. I’ve been telling you that for months. We’ve been talking about it on the BBS all year. We planned parties like this one all over the world. I was so excited when the kit got here. I wondered if it was a hoax for a while. I thought maybe we would all just wake up on the lawn in the morning wondering where our pants had gone. The quake was a hell of a thing to see. Greg and Tim were tossed a good twenty feet in the air when it erupted. It would have been enough to kill them if they hadn’t already been dead. I just thought one night alone with you would be enjoy. Then we could follow them in the morning.”

            The burning ice rises as I look into Floras blue eyes. No remorse, no pity, just adoration. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt?” I shove her away from me. She stumbles and lands on the floor. The cold tension snapped. I don’t even remember moving. And in that moment I destroy the thing in front of me with my bare hands, the thing that use to be my friend.

            The door clatter open and the Edwin thing clatters inside. I sink to my knees and wait, but no blow ever comes. When I look up, the thing has the bodies piled up. For of the spindly legs puncturing the bodies, working at them like knitting needles. I sit and watch as it puppet out of the bodies. When it’s done it faces me. It feels like it’s looking me over, even though it has no eyes. The whispers grow loud enough to make out he words.

            “You have potential.”