Under a Graveyard Sky

“Which hospital?” Navas asked.

“Not even sure of that at this point,” Steve said. “Mercy, I assume. It’s the closest. I’ve got to call back about that…Just…I’ve got this handled. I’ll get to you about what’s going on.”

“Call me at home if it’s after work,” Mr. Navas said, patting him on the back.

“Dad?” Sophia asked, her eyes wide. The fifteen-year-old had gotten her father’s looks and her mother’s height. It wasn’t a bad combination. With sandy blond hair, and five-five, she seemed to have stopped growing up or out. “What’s up?” She had her backpack over her back. If she had anything left in the locker it was going to have to stay there.

“Your mom…” Steve said, then paused. “We’ll talk about it in the car.”

“What happened to Mom?” Sophia said.

“We’ll talk in the car,” Steve said, taking her arm. “She was injured at the plant. Mr. Navas, if you could call the middle school?”

“Of course,” Mr. Navas said. “And call me.”

“I will,” Steve said. “Oh, release slip?”

“Oh…!” Janice said, fumbling with the papers piled on her desk.

“I’ve got it,” Mr. Navas said, trying not to sigh. He pulled the form pad out from under a pile and quickly scribbled the necessities. “There.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve said. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Navas said, frowning slightly. “I think I should be wishing you that.”

“Yes, yes,” Steve said, gesturing for Sophia to precede him through the door.

“Dad…?” Sophia said.

“In the car,” Steve said as they walked out of the building. It was a thin, nasty rain, cold for late spring even in Virginia. Which just fit his mood to a T.

His car was most of the way across the teachers’ parking lot so he continued:

“Don’t stop moving when I say this. It’s not your mother. Apocalypse code from your Uncle Tom.”

“What?” Sophia said, stopping and starting to turn.

“I said keep walking,” Steve said, grabbing her arm. “Which is why you’re going to drive. I need both hands free.”

“You pulled me out of a test for some code from Uncle Tom?” Sophia said angrily. “What about the dance tonight?”

“By eight PM we’re going to be in full bug-out mode,” Steve said. “This is not a drill, Soph. I still need to check the codes but it’s an apocalypse code. As in ‘end of the world.’”

“What end?” Sophia said, gesturing around. There certainly didn’t seem to be any major issues. Cars continued speeding past the school. None of them seemed in any more a hurry than they ever were. “Missing the dance is going to be the end of the world!”

“Not time for drama, miss,” Steve said, getting in the passenger side. “Drive.”

“Oookay,” the fifteen-year-old said nervously. “You want me to drive in an apocalypse.”

“The apocalypse isn’t here, yet,” Steve said, pulling out his phone again. “Now be quiet. Head to Faith’s school.”

“Dad this is crazy!” Sophia said, starting the car.

“Just drive,” Steve said. “No music and no talking. Hello? This is Steve Smith, Stacey Smith’s husband. Our daughter…Sophia…” He let a little check enter his voice. “She’s been hit by a car in the school parking lot. I really need to talk to Stacey immediately…Yes, I understand…”

“I got hit by a car?” Sophia whispered.

Steve waved his hand at her angrily, then nodded.

“Stacey! Alas, alas, alas…Sophia…has been…struck by…a car…in the parking lot,” he said, robotically. “I’m picking up Faith right now. Yes. I’ll meet you at home, then we’ll go to the hospital. You have your phone again? I’m forwarding you a text… Okay. Call me when you’re on the way.” He hung up the phone, then pulled up a file.

“What was the robot voice about?” Sophia asked, pulling carefully into traffic.

“False information versus true,” Steve said. “I mean, you could really have been hit by a car. The ‘alas’ code told her it was a real world emergency but not the one that I was conveying.”

“Mom is going to be that pissed, you know,” Sophia said.

“Part of our bargain was that if something hit the dunny she’d go with it,” Steve said, looking at a file. “Oh…Bloody hell.”

“What?” Sophia asked.

“Just concentrate on getting us to the middle school intact,” Steve said, consulting his smartphone. He pulled up an app and punched in certain parameters. On the third hit he’d found what he was looking for and dialed a phone number. “Hello? My name is Jason Ranseld with the Aurelius Corporation. We need to rent a boat matching the parameters of the one you have for sale. Is there any way that we can get a two week lease? No? We’d consider buying if we could talk about the price. And I’d need to look it over…Would Saturday afternoon work for you? This is a snap-kick for a major client… Of course, three would work perfectly… Thank you, I’ll meet you there…”

“Sailboat?” Sophia said. “That’s full up bug-out for a biological emergency!”

“I finally got to pull up the code sheet,” Steve said. “Biological, viral, latent, wide-release, previously undetected, currently no vaccine, hostile activities parameter.”

“I got all of that except latent and hostile…Wait! Zombies?”

“Something similar,” Steve said as they pulled up to the, fortunately close, middle school. “Cell phone.”

“Dad!”

“Cell,” Steve said, pulling a burn phone out of the bag. “This is your new one. Only the numbers on contact list.”

“I have friends who…”

“No!” Steve said. “You know why. I walked away from several people I like, to maintain your uncle’s cover. If it gets out…”

“Uncle Tom loses his position,” Sophia said, pulling out her phone and handing it over. “And any support he can give us. But Brad Turner…”

“Is going to have to take his chances,” Steve said, taking the phone, then pocketing the burn phone. “You get this when I get back.”

“Thanks for all the trust, Dad,” Sophia said, crossing her arms.

“I’m going to be trusting you to keep us all alive,” Steve said, then handed over the phone. “I guess that starts now. Prove you deserve it by not using it.”

“Okay,” Sophia said.

“Emergency conditions,” Steve said.

“Yes, sir,” Sophia said, then shrugged. “I’ll believe zombies when I see one.”

“Despite the fact that I’ve just burned my job and your mother’s, let’s hope this is a false alarm,” Steve said getting out of the truck.

* * *

“What happened to Mom?” Faith blurted the minute he walked into the school’s office.

“Still not sure,” Steve said. “Can I get a release slip?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Faith practically shouted. The thirteen-year-old had gotten her dad’s height and her mother’s looks, which, honestly, was a bit of a challenge for her older sister whom she already overtopped. Another inheritance was her mother’s temper but twice as passionate. In a guy the term “aggressive” would be more commonly used. She also had something like male muscle density and pain tolerance a Delta would appreciate. She only played soccer because there wasn’t a rugby team. On the rare trips to visit her Aussie grandparents she positively delighted in Australian Rules football. Although she just as passionately hated “Rule One”: No Weapons.

“Kintronics HR would only say she’d been ‘Injured,’” Steve said, taking the release form and signing for his daughter. “On the other hand the person I was talking to was pretty shaken up. So it’s serious.”

“Well then let’s roll!” Faith said, snatching up her bag and darting out of the