Liam Hall

Monday, April 11th, 2022 (21 days after the Shutdown)

Liam was busy hurling his guts out when Kyle and Brendan found him near the garbage can.

After waking up on Earth, the sensation of having been ripped from his body and then thrown back in had left him nauseous. Pale-faced as the two of them struggled to get him back onto his cot, his limp body refused to cooperate.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kyle assure his crying son that this wasn’t his fault.

Finally managing to persuade him to leave, sniffling, Kyle sighed and took a checkered handkerchief from his pocket.

“You had me worried kid,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “When Brendan came crying to me about some kind of seizure you were having, I rushed over there with Carl, and you’d gone whiter than milk.”

At the mention of his name, a well-built man waiting outside the tent raised his hand in greeting.

“Freezing cold, too,” Carl added, handing Liam a bottle of water.

“Either you have divine intervention on your side or you have extraordinary genes. A day after you collapsed for the second time, the army arrived and helped treat you.”

Liam nearly choked on the water. “The army? Why are they—”

“Wait, has nothing turned back yet?” he asked, realizing where he was.

“Nope,” Kyle responded despondently, shaking his head. “Never seen anything like it. They came strolling in and declared ‘martial law’ if you can believe it.”

“Less freedom now which sort of sucks,” Carl grumbled, scratching his scruffy beard. “They scrapped the council and installed their own. Honestly though? Any petty disputes about food or water have been put to rest but some people are pissed.”

“Well, at least there is some structure again,” Kyle said, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket.

Kyle leaned closer to Liam and whispered in his ear, “They’ve been having some trouble controlling the residents. So, please don’t give them trouble and they won’t trouble you. I understand you still haven’t had time to cope, but please don’t give them attitude.”

Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, he nodded, making Kyle smile.

“I have a question… It might sound weird, but my body has been here the whole time right? It didn’t… I don’t know… vanish?” Liam probed, trying to make his voice as nonchalant as possible.

“Well, if you mean you were moved here from the plane wreck, then yes. Aside from that, I don’t understand the question. Vanished? Like into thin air?”

Sighing out a breath of relief, Liam shook his head. “No, never mind just… forget it.”

So it was a figment of my imagination. Another nightmare.

Motioning that he wanted to get some fresh air, Kyle lent him an arm.

Leaning against Kyle, the two hobbled outside. The sky had become leaden with overcast, a dull gray as far as the eye could see. Gazing over the treeline in the distance, the dark silhouette of skyscrapers caught his eye.

He remembered the promise he made to himself to leave the neighborhood, but thinking back on the emotion he said it with, it was so unrealistic. To abandon food and shelter because he was weary of it? It was stupid.

Getting a bearing of his surroundings, Liam was bewildered to find that he was inside the walls of the community.

Picking up on his confusion, Kyle explained, “The military brought everything inside the walls of the community. They’ve come up with a mandate to limit access to resources, so there are guards patrolling around. If you don’t live in the neighborhood, you get turned away. I’m going to repeat this but please just stay calm and stay within your boundaries.”

All of the vehicles lined the main road into the neighborhood and the entrance was blocked by a pair of defunct 4-by-4 pickup trucks.

“How are you feeling?” Kyle queried, waving to the team of soldiers guarding the entrance.

The soldiers waved back.

As Kyle and Carl walked alongside him, he checked the burns on his arms.

The angry welts he had before had largely subsided, replaced with some light scarring. His fingers and back whose burns were the most severe still hadn’t, making his damaged nerve endings scream bloody murder every time Kyle or Carl touched him.

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“Like someone drop-kicked me into a vat of boiling oil, peeled off my nails, and shoved a stick up my ass. You know, the usual,” he said, wincing as Carl grabbed him to stop him from tripping.

“My bad,” Carl apologized.

Staring at him blankly, Kyle cleared his throat. “Well, that was… colorful.”

Carl chortled at Liam’s dark sense of humor. “How flexible is your back feeling? Honestly.”

Leaning backward, Liam felt a stiffness that came along with the healing process. But the spikes of pain weren’t there.

“Well, I can move well enough, as long as no one is slapping me in the back the whole time.”

“How about we get you in a shower, eh? Wipe off some of that dirt?” Kyle suggested.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the mention of a shower. Willingly following behind them, they guided him to an outdoor wash basin that had been set up.

“Hey man, I took the liberty of picking up some fresh clothes for you so switch out into these after you’re done,” Carl said, handing him a pair of clothes. A long-sleeved white shirt with a pair of black jeans.

Thanking them both, they walked away after setting him up.

Alone, he took off his soiled clothes and began doing the same with his bandages, grimacing as the dried flesh and scabs peeled away. The skin underneath had a long way to go until it was completely healed. It was a patchwork of indented flesh, pockmarked by the fire.

Struggling to see his back in the small mirror they had hung in the corner of the stall, he gulped when he saw the state of it. With the pus and boils gone, deep lacerations scarred the skin underneath, strips of his skin burnt away by the house fire.

Taking water from the wash basin, he slowly trickled it onto his head, relishing the cool sensation as it washed the weeks-old grime from his body. A drop of water hit his back causing a shiver to run up his spine.

Sighing, a sudden knock on the stall’s door startled him

“Buddy, your water limit is up,” a voice outside informed him, continuing to aggressively knock.

Blinking the dripping water out of his eyes, he looked down at the two cups of water he’d taken. What the heck is that allowance?

“Yeah, I heard you. Stop with the banging,” he yelled back.

Using his old shirt to wipe himself off, he put on the new pair Carl handed him. A man in uniform greeted him as he walked out.

“Residents of Half-Moon Bay are allotted a maximum of half a gallon of water per day for washing needs,” he recited.

And how do they know if I used “half a gallon”?

“My bad, I’ve been in a coma so I wasn’t aware of the procedure,” Liam said.

Eyeing him suspiciously, the soldier replied, “Keep that in mind for next time.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he muttered, walking past the soldier.

Transferring his mother’s jewelry to his new pair of jeans, his fingers stopped on his mother’s wedding ring.

Staring at it, he tried to process his feelings.

The grief over the death of his parents sat like an anchor on his chest, but there was relief as well. His father had regretted that their financial situation had made Liam grow up too fast. He’d picked up odd jobs after elementary school and later became an intern for a law firm while skipping out on his social life, just so he could help pay the mortgage and the bills. Now, there was no house to pay the bills for.

His stomach turned at the thought.

Slipping the ring back into his pocket, he pushed away those emotions.

***

At the large community dinner that the military had organized, around a thousand residents who had survived the events of the “Blackout” — the title the residents had given the historical event — were being fed by a group of volunteers.

Liam, Carl, and Kyle were sitting quietly with Kyle’s family, watching Brendan play with his younger sister.

Filling his mouth with another spoon of peas, movement at the front of the crowd drew Liam’s attention.

Ten soldiers were walking towards the stage that had been set up at the front of the crowd. Silence grew over the crowd as more heads were drawn to the front.

Standing at the forefront of the stage, a small man, perhaps a couple of inches shorter than Liam scanned the crowd. By now the entire crowd had put their bowls down and were waiting expectantly.

“If I knew that walking would get me this much attention, I would’ve walked more,” the soldier quipped, awkwardly covering up his laugh with a cough when no one joined in. “Tough crowd.”

An officer behind him gave him a pointed look and he sighed in defeat.

“For those who don’t know me, my name is Sergeant First Class Reeves Hutchinson from the 16th Regiment of the National Army’s 2nd Division. I want to thank you for inviting us into your home and cooperating with martial law. I understand this has been difficult for many of you and this period has been filled with lots of uncertainty. To move forward together, mutual trust is very important. And as a firm believer that actions speak louder than words, I’ll start.”

The crowd hadn’t spoken, hanging onto his every word, holding onto the hope they would announce that this nightmare was finally over.

“The surplus of supplies that you had collected is down to a few boxes and cans. In fact, what you’re eating right now is the last of what we have.”

Shouts and cries of disbelief cut off his next words.

“I ONLY SAY THAT,” he yelled, raising his hands to placate the crowd. “I only say that, because what I say next will affect each and every one of you.”

Liam smirked as everyone became silent once more.

“Starting tomorrow, we’ll have to scavenge beyond the neighborhood’s boundaries. We cannot send all of the military to do so, as that won’t only limit how much we’re able to accomplish but also leave the neighborhood vulnerable to insurgents. Which is why we’ll be organizing scavenging parties of 6 people led by a soldier to scan the surrounding area and bring supplies back here for everyone.”

Taking a deep breath, he concluded, “I want everyone to get a good night’s sleep in because tomorrow… Tomorrow we hunt.”