“Shit happened. We can’t change that. You yelling about things is not helping.”
Joseph scowls at Shepherd, his body too tired to summon up a good fight response. The man is insufferable, though. Why do some people have a hard time dealing with their own crap but have no problem attacking others over theirs?
The older man straightens in his chair, his mouth open to berate the teenager, but he stops when his daughter whispers something to him. Joseph shakes his head and shifts his form to block the line of sight between Shepherd and Logan. He has no idea what Logan went through while trapped in his head after the initial attack. But he can guess what he is going through now. Logan has always been the first person to stand up and take the blame for everything that goes wrong. If someone misses a pass at a pivotal moment in a game, he won’t blame the people involved. He will blame himself for not guiding his teammates well enough. As though being the quarterback and captain makes him responsible for every little thing.
Now, with the death of a classmate being a direct result of his actions? Nobody, in this room or beyond it, can possibly say anything to tear him apart more than he is most likely doing to himself in his head.
One way or another, they will need to get away soon, and they can’t try and carry Logan out if he breaks down again.
“Hey. Talk to me.”
Logan stares at his hands between his splayed legs, rocking back and forth against the table. He doesn’t acknowledge Joseph’s words verbally, but his fingers tighten around each other.
“Logan, I need you to talk to me, man. Tell me what happened. Why did you go out there like that?”
Minutes pass, and Joseph is certain that no answer will be forthcoming. When Logan begins to speak, he is surprised and has to lean forward to hear the words.
“I thought…I thought it was a dream,” he begins, his fingers rubbing against one another. “Everything was a dream, and I was saving her over and over.”
He doesn’t specify who ‘her’ is, but Joseph knows. He holds his expression steady, not wanting Logan to stop.
“And then that last time I was on the floor and everything was so bright and I couldn’t focus my eyes, but Izzie was yelling and the door was opening so I knew I had to go out and get Stacy. She was waiting for me outside. She always was.”
He sucks in a shuddering breath. “But everything was different. The lights were flickering, white then orange then back, and she was laying down on the floor like she was asleep and she wouldn’t wake up and something was coming toward us. And then she was…there was…and I ran and-”
Logan wraps his arms around his face with a sob. “It wasn’t a dream,” he whispers, his voice choked with tears. “And someone died because of me.”
“It was your fault, and it wasn’t your fault.” Izzie sits down next to Joseph and hugs her knees to her chest. “Sometimes human brains will shut themselves down for a bit so they can deal with things. When they think it is safe they reboot. But the dreams your brain gave you while it took a break were ones were similar to what you went through, and you weren’t safely out of that situation yet. It woke you up at the worst possible time. You didn’t know what was happening.”
She reaches out and touches his knee gently. “But yes, someone did die. And a lot of that is on me. I stood there with the door open and yelled for you. If I had just run out and grabbed you we might have made it back before the monster got close enough. Instead, I stood there and yelled because I was scared, and it got in.”
Joseph frowns and puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Telling them both that they are idiots doesn’t seem like the right course of action at the moment. Any one of the people left in the room could have shut the door and moved the barricade back. But they didn’t. And pushing around blame afterward helps nobody. Looking back on his actions, he can’t say for sure that he would have let anyone else close the door anyway.
It’s true that if Logan hadn’t forced his way out the door, then things would have been different, but how different? The same thing could have happened if Leslie went out as planned. Something could have happened to make her panic and run back. Only it would have been her that died because the door would have been closed then. He wonders out of an infinite number of possible outcomes, how many of them would have resulted in everyone being alive and well. It seemed wrong to blame someone who wasn’t in control of his own mind at the time, though.
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“Something awful happened, and someone else died. You weren’t in control at the moment, and the same thing could have happened if someone else had gone out.” He decides to voice some of his thoughts, in case it will pull his friends back from their dark thoughts. “We need some more ideas. What do we do, Izzie?”
Izzie sighs and straightens up. Joseph lets go of her shoulder and drops his arm down against his side, already missing the warmth.
“I don’t know,” she replies after a long pause. “Maybe we should try the emergency door again. Figure out some way to get it open. Do you think it would stay locked if the electricity went out?”
Twisting around, he eyes the door in question. When no answer is forthcoming from the silent metal, he turns back to the others. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on what type of door it is. If the lock is magnetic, maybe? I don’t know much about security systems.”
“Sorry.” She gives him a shy smile and shrugs. “No, that makes sense. If it’s something magnetic activated by electricity, then it would probably unlock when the power goes out. But looking at how everything is maintained around here I bet it’s something much lower tech. A signal sent to an old bolt system that is keeping the bar from being pushed in. So we can’t just wait it out.”
“What do you mean, wait it out?”
Izzie shrugs at Joseph again. “Like when the generator can’t run anymore. The way the lights are dimming, I bet it won’t make it through the day. I wonder when the last time maintenance was done on it. “
Joseph hadn’t paid attention to the brightness around him. The glow does appear dimmer, he admits reluctantly to himself. “So, what does that mean? If the generator is powering the security system, then the door might unlock itself? Or it might stay locked forever?” He rubs his arms through the thin fabric of his work shirt. “Why didn’t we talk about this before?”
“You’re right, Joseph. It isn’t like anything else was going on, keeping us from having a rational discussion about security systems and the weakness inherent in a poorly maintained backup generator.” Izzie lays her cheek on her knees and attempts a smile. Something flutters in Joseph’s chest, but he ignores it.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. So we need to talk about it now. What are our options if the power goes out soon?”
“Freeze and die?” Leslie pipes up from behind them, but Izzie ignores her.
“Well,” she pauses, twisting her lips to the side. “Best case scenario, the door will unlock and we make a run for our cars. Worst case, Rusty is a piece of shit who designed a store that defies a best-case scenario and we are stuck here, in the dark. A few of us might have phones with flashlights, but I know mine is getting low on battery.”
“Mine is on the charger in my truck,” Logan supplies, his voice low enough that Joseph has to lean forward to hear.
“Well, sorry to break it to you man, but if you had your phone soaking up power from your charger all night then your truck is probably dead.” He tries to insert some humor, but Logan doesn’t respond. “You can ride with me if we get out of here.”
Izzie stands up and turns in a slow circle. “I can’t concentrate. Logan, I’m taking your shovel.”
The two boys watch as she walks to the unmolested vending machine, sticks the tip of the shovel in some gap only she can see on the side, and wrenches open the cover. She pulls out three sodas, handing them each one when she returns. “Maybe my mom is right, and I am addicted to caffeine. I can’t think without it sometimes.”
Joseph watches as she opens her bottle and tilts her head back to drain the brown liquid out. He looks down at the bottle of grape soda in his hand. Something flutters inside him again. He rarely drinks soda, but every now and then, when he gets the urge, it is always grape. Even his mom hasn’t noticed that before.
“Okay,” she gasps as she rights her bottle, now half empty. “So, if we wait until the power goes out then we might be stuck completely, or the locks on the door and grates might release. That seems like a bad gamble to make. I think we should take turns looking at the door again. Maybe one of us will see something the others missed.” She stands up, twisting the cap back on her soda and setting it down. “I’ll go look first.”
It takes all of his mental strength to not watch her as she walks away. He opens his soda and takes a drink, wincing as the cold liquid hits his taste buds with a wave of artificial grape flavor. The insulation in the vending machine must be great to keep the bottles so cold after so long without electricity.
“So, she isn’t trying to hide anymore, huh.” Logan fiddles with his bottle, fingernails dragging against the label edge. “I always thought it was dumb that she wanted to pretend she wasn’t smart, but I guess I get it. And you should stop hiding too.”
“What? I’m not smart, not like her.”
“No, idiot. Stop hiding that you like her. What better time to let her know, when we might not see tomorrow.”
Joseph narrows his eyes and punches the other boy’s foot. “Don’t talk like that. We’re getting out of here. Izzie will figure something out. And maybe I’ll ask her out after that.”
A mumbled comment about acting like a little kid gets ignored. Carbonation escapes from bottles as the others in the room get drinks, and packages crinkle before releasing the snacks within. The sounds are a piece of normalcy that doesn’t fit with their circumstances. Joseph pushes himself to his feet and looks around so he doesn’t have to think about it. Instead, he focuses on things that he can do in case things don’t work out. If they have to go out into the store to escape, what can he do? Is there anything else he can use?
The shrouded forms on the floor are never far away in the enclosed space, but he tries not to think about them as he pulls open a cabinet door underneath the counter. While Izzie is checking every inch of the emergency door, Joseph begins to dismantle the cabinetry with the idea that the doors might be able to be rigged up to make some kind of shields or things to cover parts of their bodies. He was sure he saw a little utility knife the night before, too dull to use as a weapon but it might have been useful to help unscrew hinges. Maybe he imagined it, he thinks to himself. He can hardly fault himself for wishful thinking if it kept him functioning. Dropping to his knees, he uses the edge of a plastic butter knife and starts to unscrew the panels. Doing something seems like a better idea than just waiting and seeing.