Into The Frying Pan

In how many ways can one greet the apocalypse in a bear suit?

Penny opened her eyes.

She drew a sharp breath. Her head was pounding. She wanted to vomit. She was impossibly hot, soaked in sweat, and delirious.

Her vision was blurred, dark. The mask over her nose & mouth was stifling.

In her haze, she went to remove it, but her hand landed too soon. She blinked hard, slowly recognizing the inside of the bear suit. She groaned.

Rolling to her side, she tried sitting up, pausing halfway. Her head sagged low between her shoulders. A retch launched up in her throat. She stopped it at the gate. Barely.

She tried again.

Pushing upward, she rocked to her feet, teetering at the top. A burp. A groan. She leaned forward again, holding her knees.

A deep breath. She had to get this mask off.

She righted again, pulling the bear head from her shoulders.

Holy shit it was bright. She squinted hard. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the source of the light. And heat.

The sun.

The sun?!

That means outside.

What – fuck?!

Last she remembered, she was hundreds of feet underground inside a bunker. She hadn’t seen the sun in two months. Her breath quickened.

The mask.

Her hand came to rest on it. Her eyes were wide now, seeing her predicament.

Absently, she grabbed the hose, eyes following it down. It ended a few feet from her oxygen tank, glinting there in the sun.

Wait.

It wasn’t connected.

It must have detached when she got up.

She panicked.

Her hands shot back to the mask, a finger catching in her necklace, snapping the thin chain. Gasping, she was briefly dismayed, then returned to the tank.

Falling to the ground, she crawled to it, a knee landing on the hose and ripping the mask from her face. She choked in surprise. Replacing it, she reached frantically with the other hand, still moving toward the tank.

Black spots formed in her vision. Her hands fumbled to connect to the regulator.

Finally secure, she opened the valve.

Nothing.

No sound.

No air flow.

Through the increasing blackness she read at the gauge.

Empty.

She blacked out.

*—*—*—*—*—*—*

“Tell me this is a joke!”

He spun around. The vein in his temple throbbed bigger than ever. His eyes bulged to escape his reddened, seething face.

“It’s not a joke,” a woman’s calm, curt voice responded. “Nearly all executives have fallen to this illness. I have no doubt she’s behind this.”

“Of course she’s behind this,” he growled. “She’s always fucking behind it. Get me the surveillance footage. And call the med staff immediately.”

“Already done.”

“This is it,” he continued, ignoring her, “this breaks the goddamn camel’s back. She's gone. We’re removing her immediately.”

“Oh yeah? How shall we do that, Hoffman? Walk her to the door and wave farewell? The commune would love that. Really build morale. Strengthen their faith in us.”

“Eat shit, Dyers. Every problem has a solution. You just need imagination.”

“Cute.”

“Get Miller in here now,” he growled again.

“He’s vomiting his toes up.”

“Give him some goddamn Dramamine and get him here!”

*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Dyers returned, Miller staggering behind her - a lanky, pale man who was now an ashen shade of green.

He dropped into the nearest chair, head in his hands.

“We’re putting an end to Penny,” Hoffman said without turning, untroubled by his colleague’s infirmity.

“Yes,” Miller groaned into his knees. “Down with that bitch. She – ugh… God, I think I’m dying…”

“You’ve been on surveillance. What do we know?” Hoffman pressed.

“Not much,” Miller sighed, “mostly keeps to herself. She spends some of her time with that Latina lady and her kid.” He suppressed a gag.

“The one who bust his head open in the grow room?” asked Hoffman.

“Yeah. She patched him up and seemed… urgh… particularly irate that day. I think she couldn’t get first aid stuff because we took the med staff for Gin & Golf Day.”

Hoffman thought a moment. “What do we know about them?”

"The med staff?"

"God damnit Miller, the Mexicans."

Dyers chimed in. “Colombians, actually. The woman's name is Alma, her son is Alex. They live in the suite next to Penny’s. If I’m not mistaken, they’re planning a birthday party for Alex in the pool room on Wednesday.”

“That’s right,” said Miller, reaching up a feeble finger. He chuckled, “they fuckin’… they talked Penny into wearing this fuckin’ bear costume, haha. Ha! The kid really likes her I guess. Wants her to play a big part in his b-day bash.”

Dyers laughed smugly. “I’m sure she’s thrilled.”

Hoffman remained silent, back still to his colleagues.

“It’s perfect,” he said suddenly. “Get the doc. We’re gonna make that bear dance.”

*—-*—*—*—*—*—*

Penny shifted for the 100th time inside the suit. It was hot, stuffy, itchy, and why the hell was something like this with them down here? Seriously? This is what Alex wants?

Kids are strange.

She’d never been particularly drawn to children or motherhood, but once the six-year-old had seen his neighbour, he’d fallen hard & fast.

Alma was kind and a staggeringly patient mother, and -- given their shared state of affairs -- they almost instantly became family. She often invited Penny over for meals, and Penny tried to give Alma some time for herself now and then.

If it’s what he wants… Penny shrugged.

Thirsty, she found her way to the punch table through the badly placed peep-holes. She had no plan yet for the drinking part, but she had to make something happen with all the sweating she was doing.

Alex and the other children at the party were taking turns cannonballing into the pool. She smiled to herself as she ladled some punch into a cup.

Suddenly she sensed someone across the table from her. Or someones.

She looked up.

She made out the image of that frigid bitch, Dyers, and a couple other “Elites.” Her smile turned to a scowl, though nobody saw.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Penny snarled.

“We want to revel in the birthday fun, too,” Dyers said, forcing congeniality.

“Well you weren’t invited,” Penny said. “Just like you assholes weren’t invited to lord over the rest of us when we all raced into this bunker together. Remember that day?" The bear cocked her head.

"And yet -- somehow -- you convinced everyone you have some patent claim to authority. But some of us know better. So kindly take the sum of your smarmy parts and get the fuck out of here.“

“Oh, I’m so sorry you feel that way,” Dyers replied coolly, though her face flushed pink. “I’m sure the birthday boy wouldn’t like such an angry bear at his party. Such nasty language. Did someone poke you with a stick? I guess we’ll just give our birthday wishes and leave then.”

“Chop-chop,” Penny snapped.

She watched the lot of them walk to the pool, speak an awkward word at a wide-eyed Alex, and finally leave the room.

She'd nearly forgotten about the cup in her hand, easing her death-grip once they were out of sight. Remembering her monstrous thirst, she turned away from the pool and lifted the head enough to fit the cup inside.

“That was odd,” Alma said from behind Penny’s back. Penny choked. She reset the head and spun around.

“Ooh, sorry,” Alma laughed, “didn’t mean to scare you.” Her ever-joyful eyes glittered, drifting down to Penny's collar. “Such a pretty locket. I always see you wearing it. Is someone special inside that heart-shaped box?”

Penny hastily tucked the necklace back in. “Uhh, it’s… No. I mean… It’s special. But there’s no one special. No.”

Alma smiled. “You must be miserable in that getup. Do you want to sit by that vent over there? The kids are distracted.”

“YES.” Penny nearly cried. She walked over and plopped down, watching the children play again.

As time passed, a dizziness washed over her. Maybe it was the heat.

She couldn’t stand the suit any longer. As she stood to say goodbye, she immediately felt time was not on her side. Turning quickly back to the door, she fell onto the latch and out into the hallway.

That’s the last thing she remembered.

*—*—*—*—*—*—*

“Hurry up!” a muffled Hoffman barked through his oxygen mask. “What are you doing??”

“I’m giving her an ox tank,” Miller answered. “We talked about this. We don’t need murder on our hands. Besides, this way she can think about what she’s done and die a long, stupid death out here in Apocalyptopia.”

“Jesus. You and your karma bullshit,” said Hoffman. “You have five seconds.”

“There,” Miller sat back. “All done. Cute as a bear in a dystopian frying pan!”

“Whatever. Let’s drop her.”

The van doors opened and the hot orange sun burst in. They shielded their eyes as the temperature skyrocketed. Hoffman, Miller, and two other men lifted the unconscious bear and unceremoniously dropped her to the dirt. A cloud of dust puffed around her.

“That’ll do!” Miller gave a twirl of his finger and motioned to the van. “Hoffman?”

Hoffman stared at the body below him. His fists clenched and his veins bulged as he resisted the urge to kick as hard as he could.

“Yeah,” he finally responded.

He turned to leave, then turned back with a second thought. He crouched down where only Penny could hear him.

“You fucked with the wrong king, Robin Hood,” he said through gritted teeth. In one move he grabbed her hose and ripped it from the tank, turning to walk to the van.

The vehicle’s occupants took no notice.

“Jesus it’s hot as shit out here!” Miller exclaimed as he slammed the door behind Hoffman.

*—*—*—*—*—*—*

At the bunker, the “Elite” gathered the entire commune, making a portentous display of the surveillance footage showing Penny wreaking havoc – in the bear suit – on their food stocks, medical supplies, and trashing the children’s classroom.

Some gasped in horror. Others expressed that, yes, well, she did seem like kind of an odd duck, a loner… Nodding to each other that perhaps she really had just snapped, as the Elite had said.

Alma stood silently in disbelief, still processing the news.

She had left the party quite oddly the night before… But this wasn’t like Penny at all. She wouldn’t do this. She wanted supplies spread equally. Not destroyed. And she never showed wild fits of emotion…

As she watched the footage play out in front of her, there was a moment when Penny leaned in close to taunt the camera.

It was Alex who noticed that she wasn’t wearing her necklace.

*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Penny opened her eyes again.

Shade had reached her now, but her face & neck were badly burned. Now her head was splitting.

Moaning, she tried to sit up again. This time the retch came on hard and fast and -- by some miracle -- she got the mask off just before she violently puked. After several heaves, she hung there, eyes forcefully shut, her face drawn with a scowl.

When they finally opened, she looked down at the mask smashed beneath her supporting hand. Then she remembered.

She lifted the mask in horror. How? How was she alive? How could she breathe this toxic air? Was this a dream? Purgatory? Okay - hell?!

But the longer she questioned, the more the panic waned.

Her breathing slowed.

Her vision cleared.

Then she felt a breeze cool her sweat. Birds were chirping. She smelled the evening summer grass -- and vomit.

Then, for the first time, she took a long, deep inhale.

Penny looked down. A golden, heart-shaped locket twinkled a meter away. She reached for it, admiring as if seeing it for the first time.

She laughed softly to herself.

Then it grew to a chuckle.

Then a cackle.

Soon she was hysterical, bellowing guffaws at the world around her, holding her stomach from the fit.

Then she stopped, holding her head in pain.

Eyeing the locket once more, she tossed it. Carefully righting herself, she staggered toward the nearby road.

The locket careened into a small rock, bursting open. Lying there to fade in the sun’s rays, a tiny photograph showed Penny and Miller in warm embrace, smiling jovially for the camera.