JONATHAN
Consciousness found Jonathan slowly. Everything hurt. He struggled to straighten the tangle of thoughts that swirled around his head like loose threads caught in a breeze. He remembered the crack of the lightning, the shower of sparks, glass and rain as the lightning broke through the green house roof. He remembered the pain and then there was nothing. The world came into focus as his eyes finally adjusted to the blinding light. It must have been morning because the sky was clear, not a cloud in sight to indicate that there had been a storm. The early February air was crisp and cold yet, the smell of smoke still clung to the air. He tried to roll over but there was too much pain. It shot through his body, searing his nerves like fire and causing his vision to blur. He settled for turning his head. To his left was his record player, someone had switched out the vinyl. The sound was muffled but he could still make out the song playing over the speaker. Someone had a sense of humour.
"Stayin' Alive?" He rasped. The words were barely a whisper but speaking out loud wreaked havoc on his chest and he wheezed. The sound startled the stranger in a black mask and goggles squatting next to the record player. "You're awake!" The stranger yelped, in what almost sounded like relief.
"What are you doing here?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. The stranger cocked their head to the side as if considering him for a moment then, they reached up and slowly unmasked. Beneath the face coverings, the stranger was a girl with inquisitive brown eyes, glasses and long black hair that had been tied back in a ponytail. She was dressed in battered jeans and a faded hoodie. She was pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way. She probably looked even more beautiful when she wasn't scowling, a look that she directed at him pointedly like she thought he was an idiot.
"You called for help." She said matter-of-factly.
Jonathan struggled to recall when he could have done such a thing, but he still felt as if cartoon birds were circling his head. His muddled thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the girl moved towards him and his breath caught. He noticed his pistol tucked into her waistband. It was at that particular moment when his brain caught up enough to realize that he was defenseless and at the mercy of this stranger.
She leaned forward as if she might touch him. He flinched in surprise, an action that caused him to groan at the sudden pain in his neck and she pulled herself back, waited for him to compose himself before leaning forward, more slowly this time, then snapping her fingers beside his head.
"Judging by the fact that you're not freaking out right now, am I correct in assuming you were already deaf in your left ear?"
"ummm...Yeah."
"So," she said, "I've assessed the damage and I think you've broken a couple of ribs. From the looks of it, you also could use some stitches but first I think we're going to need to take that out."
Jonathan must have looked dumbfounded because the girl raised a slender finger to point. He followed her gaze to examine his lower body. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. She'd somehow managed to lift the beam off him but, his clothes were in tatters. His torso and legs had fared badly against the glass from the greenhouse ceiling. Nasty looking bruises and scrapes patterned his skin, the bloodiest of which had been crudely patched up, but that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was a foot-long piece of metal, probably from the antenna, that had lodged itself into his lower abdomen. The rod was, mercifully, one of the thinner ones, about the diameter of a pencil. The skin around the rod was raw, jagged and bloody but the area had been heavily bandaged with some kind of medical tape, holding the rod in place. He fought the sudden urge to vomit and then promptly pass out. He would not do that in front of the stranger.
"I wanted to wait for you to wake up first before I tried anything more with that." She said, carefully inching her way closer, "It doesn't seem to have hit any important organs or arteries, otherwise you'd probably be dead already. I didn't want to risk removing it... have you bleed out and all." She moved towards him slowly in a crouched position, as if she were trying to approach a skittish bird. He wasn't sure why, but the thought of the comparison made him angry. He was no wounded animal. She must have sensed his discomfort because she froze. "It's okay, Jonathan, I'm here to help."
"Who are you?" He tried to ask but could only get out, "Who?", before choking on his own words.
The girl's eyebrows raised, "Wait, what's your name?"
"You seem to know my name," Jonathan bit off.
"No, I know I know your name, I just want to know if you know your name. I don't know what kind of head injuries you sustained."
"How do you know my name?"
"Just answer the question." She pressed.
"Jonathan." He said relenting, "But how did you—"
"Because you're Jonathan Johnson from 88.3." She said, "My name is Evelyn."
"What?" He said, blinking slowly as his brain struggled to comprehend the words.
She stared at him quizzically, "88.3? Your radio show?"
His radio show. Jonathan drew in a slow breath. No one had ever called his broadcast a radio show before. No one knew about his self-indulgence. No one was listening. That was wrong, she had been listening. No one was supposed to be listening. Another more desperate thought tugged at the corner of his mind. But wasn't that the point of broadcasting so that someone, somewhere could hear it? Suddenly, he felt his cheeks grow hot. What had he said when he thought no one could hear? What kinds of things did this girl know about him? The girl, Evelyn apparently, had given up trying to make conversation with him and was busying herself with pulling supplies out of a weathered yellow backpack. The song had ended, and he could hear the familiar sound of the needle tracking vinyl in his record player in the corner.
What do you want?" Jonathan asked finally, breaking the silence between them. "I'm guessing it's not just to play me disco music."
"What do you mean what do I want?" Her face did an encore of the 'I'm confused' look, "I want to help you and what do you have against disco music?"
"I don't have anything against disco music— just out of all the records on this roof top, you chose that one?" Jonathan shook his head; he was getting off topic. "Everyone wants something. You're telling me you're just a good Samaritan that heard some random stranger calling for help over a radio and came running?"
"Yes." She said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. There was a look of earnest in her eyes and despite Jonathan's better judgement he almost felt like he could believe her.
"Why?"
Evelyn ignored his question and leaned over. There was a length of rope in her hand. "I need to close that wound or we're never going to get out of here, but I can't have you moving."
"I won't move." Jonathan promised, she already had his gun and there was no way he was going to allow her to tie him up as well.
Evelyn studied him closely, narrowing her eyes. "I am not kidding when I tell you this is going to hurt, a lot. But we can't risk an infection before we get you some actual help."
Jonathan met her gaze, "I'll be fine." He lied.
"Bite down on this." A wad of fabric was pressed into his mouth.
"As soon as we do this, we are going to need to move." She said, as she pulled out a swiss army knife from her pocket and began heating it over the fire. "I'm betting you're going to draw some unwanted attention. I had to break down the door to get up here but I didn't see any Soulless on this level so it will only attract the ones that hear us. Honestly, I didn't want to do this here, but you can't move until we close that up."
"Then don't help me." Jonathan's inner voice whispered in protest.
"Ready?" She asked. He was not, but he nodded anyway. She was beside him again, he could feel the heat of her body as she leaned over him and the cool of her fingertips brushing against his skin as she removed the medical tape and grabbed hold of the base of the rod. "Would you like a countdown or—"
Before Jonathan could respond a shock of pain ripped through his body as Evelyn liberated the metal. His teeth crashed down on the wad of fabric. He could feel the searing blade of Evelyn's knife in small bursts. The smell of burning flesh, his flesh, filled his nostrils. The pain tore through him like a wildfire, shredding his fragile nerves. The pounding of his heartbeat in his ear drowned out even his own scream. Jonathan fought the darkness that tugged at the corners of his vision. Just when he thought he would not be able to cling to consciousness for much longer, the sharp pain suddenly subsided and reduced to a sore but not excruciating ache.
"Thanks for staying still," Evelyn said, sitting back to admire her handiwork. Jonathan realized she too was breathing hard, but unlike him, her hands were steady. Jonathan caught himself staring and he looked away when she tried to meet his gaze. Her brows arched as a look of concern spread across her face, "Are you okay?"
Suddenly, without truly knowing why, Jonathan lunged for her weapon. Despite being taken by surprise, Evelyn darted out of the way causing Jonathan to flop over with a loud groan.
"I just helped you!" Her eyes narrowed, but her features betrayed the barest look of hurt.
"Without cause!" Jonathan countered, spitting fabric and blood onto the concrete.
"What part of helping someone makes me suspicious?"
"A normal person would have just left me."
"You were half dead when I found you, honestly, what would you have done if you'd gotten my knife? If you'd gotten your piece? What then?"
"I hadn't thought that far in advance," Jonathan reluctantly admitted to the ground, "Now we need to go. We're making too much of a scene up here, the soulless will be here in minutes."
"We will." She said, "But you have to promise me something first."
"What?"
"You have to promise you will not pull anything like that as long as I'm helping you," Evelyn's eyes were fierce. "Because if I wanted to kill you, I could have just left you to die." There was an edge in her voice, hot and sharp as the blade she tucked back into her pocket.
"I didn't ask you to help me," Jonathan said.
"Yes, you did." She said folding her arms across her chest, a gesture Jonathan found more than a little condescending. She was proving to be incredibly annoying and starting to test Jonathan's patience. If she kept this up, his frustration alone would trigger the soulless. "Well, I didn't ask you to keep helping me," Jonathan said gruffly.
"You didn't but I'm offering." Evelyn said. "Here." His pistol clattered to the ground in front of him and despite the pain in his side, Jonathan reached up to grab it.
Undeterred, she took a step forward, pinning the gun under her foot, "Now do you promise?" she asked, the intensity of her stare was unwavering.
"Fine, I promise."
"Good," Evelyn responded removing her foot, her tone was decidedly cheerful. "Now let's get out of here before the soulless show up. Can you stand? Because I don't know if I can lift—"
"I can." Jonathan said, willing his body to cooperate, "but first, I need my records."
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Walking was impossible at first. Jonathan dragged himself to his feet only to crash to his knees moments later. Evelyn was doing her best to be helpful by "helpfully" complaining about his decision to strap his record player, transmitter, and the surviving records to his backpack.
"We'd be faster without it, we need to go," She chastised him, "Just leave it or, at least, just let me help you!" He'd waved her off when she tried to help him walk at first, until finally he surrendered his pride and relented, allowing her to tuck her body beside his and loop his arm around her shoulders so he could lean on her like a crutch. For her small stature, she was surprisingly strong and the two of them were able to hobble across the rooftop to the stairwell. The journey down was a perilous one but, in unspoken cooperation, the two of them fell into a kind of rhythm. With one hand gripping the railing and the other Evelyn's shoulder, he was able to guide himself from one step to the next. Evelyn had helpfully tucked her right arm around his waist while her left arm held on to the opposite railing to balance them. His skin prickled where she touched him and it suddenly struck him how long it had been since he'd been touched in any manner resembling an embrace. He prayed that it didn't show on his face. His body ached considerably but he'd pressed on, banishing the pain and all other thoughts from his mind. The only thing he allowed himself to think of was the next step. His brush with death had shaken him more than he wanted to acknowledge at the moment, and he was perfectly happy to avoid the topic all together as long as he could.
"Can I ask you something?" Evelyn said somewhere between floor 20 and floor 19, breaking their fragile sense of quiet.
"Sure." He grunted as he heaved himself down another step.
"That song you were playing ... what is it called?"
"What?" Jonathan stopped moving and for the first time since they'd begun descending the stairs, he looked at her. She'd donned her mask again giving her the appearance of a comic book vigilante. The only visible part of her face was her large brown eyes peering out from the dark cloth. They were too large, and way too bright. Puss in Boots eyes. Yes, that's what they were, the giant helpless, pleading eyes of that cat in Shrek 2.
"Before the lightning, what song was that?" She prompted again.
"November Rain?"
Evelyn shrugged and then leaned into his back forcing him to start moving again. "Who is it by? I don't know it."
"You're telling me that you don't recognize the immortal genius that is Guns N' Roses?" Jonathan asked incredulously.
"Should I?"
"Well, that is just unacceptable! How have you not heard of November Rain? Have you been living under a rock?"
"It was a bunker actually," Evelyn said defensively, "so forgive me if I don't remember some obscure song I haven't heard in years."
"Obscure? Try one of the ultimate hard-rock power ballads! An undisputed masterpiece and arguably one of rock's greatest ballads of all time! I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering your music tastes. I mean who chooses Stayin' Alive? Out of all the records on that rooftop!"
"Excuse me?" She said turning to give him a pointed look, "You're seriously questioning my decision-making? After you literally made yourself into a lightning rod during the worst storm we've seen in years?"
"Wait, stop talking," Jonathan said, suddenly cocking his head to the side so he could listen with his good ear.
"No! I'd like to know what exactly gives you the right to—"
"Did you hear that?" He cut in.
Suddenly she slammed a hand over his mouth. In annoyance he removed his grip on the railing to shove her hand away. Why did she get to do that? She'd been the one talking! The movement was ill-advised because the sudden weight he placed on his bad leg almost caused him to buckle but Evelyn was able to steady him. The stairway lights flickered ominously above them as the generator, buried somewhere deep underground, struggled to keep the power on. The air was silent save for the hum of electricity that echoed around the stairwell. Jonathan raised an eyebrow at Evelyn but, she wasn't paying attention, her eyes fixed on the door before them. The door thumped again, this time more violently. He'd been too distracted by their conversation, he hadn't noticed. The wooden board bolting the doorway was old and rotting. The drip in the pipes from the walls had caused it to deteriorate more than he'd thought. Jonathan elbowed Evelyn, but she had frozen in place, pinning him against the railing. The door thumped again, and again and then suddenly the wooden board gave way. A soulless man, wearing what appeared to be a well-worn janitor's uniform stood at the entrance to the 18th floor. It bore the marks of those long affected: deforming facial features and pale, flushed skin that hung loosely on its frame like a bed sheet tossed over old furniture. On his faded coveralls was a name tag reading "Murphy" in red cursive. Jonathan felt Evelyn's grip on his shoulder getting uncomfortably tight and actually rather painful.
"Keep moving," He whispered, lowering himself to the next step. Evelyn remained frozen and Jonathan realized she was holding her breath.
"Breathe," He reminded her gently, giving her shoulder what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. Her lips parted slightly, and he watched her draw a slow, shaky breath.
"There you go," he whispered, "now walk, it's only triggered, not frenzied. We'll be okay. No big emotions,"
Evelyn nodded but he could feel her body trembling as she slowly began to move.
The monster's creamy white eyes watched them lazily like a drunk sizing up his opponents to decide whether he should risk starting a bar fight. Suddenly, Murphy lurched forwards and a small shriek escaped Evelyn's lips. That did it. It charged, snarling, and clawing like a wild animal. Jonathan did the only thing he could think to do, he threw the heaviest object he could reach at it. Murphy staggered backwards as the weight of Jonathan's record player slammed squarely into its chest. As the monster and the player hit the floor, the needle fell onto the familiar grooves of the vinyl and the hallway exploded with the sounds of the Bee Gee's.
"Seriously?" Jonathan breathed heaving a sigh, "you've got to be kidding me, more disco music!"
Murphy had entered a frenzy, it launched itself to its feet and lunged after them. Foam dripped from its gaping mouth as it clambered towards them with newfound speed and agility.
"Move!" Jonathan barked and the two of them took off down the stairs at top speed. Soulless office workers began pounding on the boarded-up doors of every floor within earshot, their thundering fists echoing around the walls as Evelyn and Jonathan scrambled down the narrow staircase, Murphy hot on their heels.
"He's gaining on us!" Evelyn shrieked over the cacophony of chaos as they tumbled past the next landing.
"Gee," Jonathan said, skirting around the corner, "thanks for the update! Here's another one for you, more running, less talking!"
Murphy tore down the steps after them, screeching like a pterodactyl. Suddenly, a door below them burst open and five more soulless tumbled into the stairwell. The newcomers wore frayed business attire and shared the same decaying features as Murphy.
"We're trapped!" Evelyn screamed, her head whipping back and forth between Murphy and the soulless below them.
"Thank you again, Captain Obvious!" Jonathan said, throwing his backpack at Murphy to keep him at bay. A part of him mourned the records inside which had likely shattered on impact, but he reminded himself that there were more important things to worry about at present. There was a loud smash as another door burst open, leaking Soulless into the stairwell. Suddenly, Evelyn's knife was in her hand and Jonathan knew exactly what they were both thinking. There was no way they could continue to outrun the monsters. Reluctantly, Jonathan drew his gun.
"What are you waiting for?" Evelyn shouted, "Shoot them!"
Jonathan's hands were clammy and cold as his finger hovered over the trigger. They were coming from all directions even with his shaking hands it would be hard to miss... Then from the corner of his eye something caught his attention and a terrible plan started to take shape in his mind.
"Better idea!" Jonathan shouted, Evelyn jumped back in surprise as Jonathan dove towards her and seized the fire hose mounted on the wall behind her.
"This is a terrible idea!" she informed him unhelpfully as he tied the hose around his waist and wrapped the excess around his arm.
"Grab onto me!" He instructed holding out his free arm to her and Evelyn wasted no time wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
"This is a bad idea!" she said again as they climbed the railing and stood as close to the edge of their uncertain perch as they dared.
"Time to Die Hard!" He said.
"We're going to do what?" She screamed; his movie reference lost on her.
Then they jumped. He'd intended to be smooth with the motion like Luke and Leia swinging across the chasm on the Death Star, but reality made it much trickier.
The good news was that they didn't immediately crash and die on impact. The bad news came after they dropped fifty feet. The next few moments were a blur. The hose caught against Jonathan's waist, abruptly stopping their freefall between the second and first floor. Jonathan remembered Evelyn screaming, he remembered the painful pull of both their bodies testing the strength of the hose as it pulled against his waist. For a moment, they dangled in the air and then, suddenly, the fire hose reel gave way and they hurtled to the ground. Jonathan, being the taller of the two, hit the ground first. The moment his feet touched the ground, his body exploded in pain, and his knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor pulling Evelyn down on top of him. Darkness clawed at the edges of his blurry vision. Whatever survival instinct that had been dulling the effect of his injuries seemed to have suddenly vanished. There was no way he could stand.
"Run!" He yelled, but his words sounded distorted like he was underwater. Evelyn was shouting something at him but the ringing in his ear drowned out any point she was trying to make.
Why wasn't she running? He wondered. It then occurred to him that she was trying to lift him in a stubborn and futile effort to save him.
"Save yourself." He muttered and his eyes closed allowing the darkness to claim him.