Lost Heaven

Jason’s calves burned to high Hell, and his thighs felt like they would burst open at any second as he climbed the stairs of the Statue of Liberty, thinking about the day he had gone to the shelter to pick out his dog, Marty, who was lurching up the stairs one after the other, breathing heavily, although it seemed that his old age was adding absolutely no stress to their situation.

“One hundred eighty-seven., one hundred eighty-eight, one hundred eighty-nine…” Jason counted out loud each step as he went. Most of his words were only partly audible due to his heavy breathing. He stopped at the 190th step to take a breather and drink some water. He sat down and pulled out a Boy Scout handbook, which had been his main reading material for a few years now. While he loved the book, it always reminded him of the day his mother died...

“Doctor says you’re autistic. Not retarded.” Jason’s mother told him as she held the steering wheel and a cigarette in her left hand and using the right hand to turn the radio down so he could hear her. “That’s different from retarded. Don’t let the kids at school say anything like that again. Tell me if they do. I’ll get their asses in trouble. You’re special. And I bet you’re smarter than everyone in class.”

“There was a man there today. He had on a uniform. He said he needed new Boy Scouts.” Jason told his mother.

“Boy Scouts?” his mom replied. “I didn’t think you liked it around a bunch of people.”

“I don’t. But he gave me this book.”

He pulled a small tan book out of his backpack and showed it to his mother. It read The Boy Scout Handbook. His mother glanced at it for a moment and turned her eyes back to the road, puffing her cigarette again.

“The book says smoking is bad. Says if you smoke you can’t run because your lungs will shrink. And you get cancer.”

“I don’t need to run.”

“You don’t need to smoke.”

Jason’s mother looked over at him, then at the cigarette, and back to him. She opened her window and tossed the cigarette out.

“Happy?”

“And the book says to wear a seatbelt.” Jason told her. She put her seatbelt on, shaking her head and smiling. “Where are we going?” Jason asked.

“It’s right up here. We’re getting your birthday present. You get to pick it out. Whatever you want.”

She turned the vehicle into an almost empty parking lot that surrounded a small white and grey brick building that had a tall fence behind it that extended another few hundred feet or so. The building didn’t even have a name on it; it just had a hanging sign over the door with a silhouette of a dog’s head on it. It seemed, to Jason, rather ominous for somewhere to get a 10 year old boy’s birthday present. He and his mother got out after the car was parked and entered the building.

“Oh…” Jason said to himself as he saw the other side of the hanging sign that read “County Animal Shelter.” He swelled with excitement and his eyes widened as he walked a little faster, passing the lady at the door (who said hello and got no reply from him) and on into the kennels. There was an immediate cacophony of barks, squeals, howls, meows, scratches, clanks, bangs and yelps. A rare smile came to Jason’s face as he passed each kitten, cat, puppy and dog. Each was so lively; full of energy and extremely playful. He liked each one of them but just had no clue how he could pick one. Toward the end of the alley, at the second to last kennel on the left, was one dog: A large Alaskan Malamute, cowering in the back corner, sitting in his own feces, ears laid down and seeming to never look Jason in the eyes. The dog was terrified.

“Find one?” Jason’s mom had caught up with him. “That one? He’s in his own poop.”

“Oh we’ll wash him up for you if that’s the one he wants.” The lady from the door interrupted. “He’s been here for a while. Someone dropped him off with a broken leg. I’m pretty sure whoever had him before beat the Hell out of him.

“Well, I want him, then.” Jason immediately decided.

“He’s old, son. You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Jason sat in the back of the car with the husky on the way home.

“Marty.” He said aloud.

“Huh?” His mother asked.

“His name is Marty.” Jason answered. “Like in Back To The Future.”

“Hmm. Okay.” She agreed, fondling with the radio controls, not paying attention to the road again. She'd also forgotten her seatbelt again.

The car slammed into a truck at well over 50 miles per hour. She went right through the windshield and left a crimson trail as she ground to a halt some 30 feet down the asphalt.

Jason had finished half the bottle of water, letting Marty lap the other half off the step. “354 steps. I think we’re about halfway now.” Jason’s breathing was almost at its normal rate after a few minutes. Marty still was silent. He never really made much noise at all. Jason lifted his head up, resting his hands on his right knee, looking up at the spiral of stairs above them. He hated climbing all these stairs but he figured the payoff would be great just for the view. He was sure Marty didn’t really give a crap what they did. He was always just along for the ride; they were each other’s only friend.

“Let’s go.” Jason said to Marty as he began the second half of their trek up the ridiculous amount of stairs. It took about another 15 minutes to get to the top. Jason had read somewhere that it usually took most folks around 10 minutes for the whole climb but most of them probably weren’t as exhausted as these two. Marty once had no problem with the stairs, but now looked as if he was about to fall over. But he trucked on, just behind Jason, who had counted every last step despite his lack of energy. They both stepped over the 354th step and took in the fresh air that was let in through the windows. Through those windows was the clearest view of the city Jason had ever seen. If this had been a few years ago, the city would probably have looked like the pinnacle of modern life; most were convinced that’s exactly what The Big Apple was: the pinnacle. The apex. The very symbol of freedom, liberty, happiness and the American Dream. It was now a steel, glass and concrete death trap; overgrown with vines and weeds; smothered by its own faded glory.

For over three years now the city had been silent. There were no sirens wailing or horns honking. There was no laughter or music playing; the dominant sound was an eerie symphony of bird chirps and wind slicing through the streets. Jason eventually gathered himself and turned to walk out the large double doors between a couple of the windows. It took a bit of pushing and kicking to un-jam the metal doors but they gave way quickly. Marty followed Jason out onto the balcony. Jason, looking up and back at the enormous spiked crown of Lady Liberty, finally realized this was most likely the safest place in the city, if not exactly the most practical of locations what-with all the climbing of the stairs and finding a boat to get to the island. It didn’t matter anyway. It was time for them to leave the city once and for all.

“We’ll just stay here. Seems safe enough. Can actually sleep for once.” Jason told Marty. Marty only “smiled” and nodded, like he usually did. Jason smiled back at Marty, knowing he would have agreed no matter where they stayed. They always had each other’s back. Neither of them were ever asleep at the same time. After taking in the cool dusk air, they both went back inside the doors. Jason dropped the pack off his back and loosened the ties that held the blankets and foam pad he’d used every night for the past 3 years. Before he unrolled them he opened the pack and pulled out enough food for his and Marty’s supper; it wasn’t much-just some canned Hormel Chili for Marty (he adored that crap) and some packets of albacore tuna with sweet relish for himself. Jason figured they’d better ration the food they’d gathered on the way out of the city. They weren’t heading back into the city; it was too dangerous. There weren’t many more of those things left but there were enough to ward Jason and Marty off for good.

Jason ate his dinner in silence under the light of the smaller of two flashlights he brought along. The other was a 300 lumen military-grade tactical light. It burned through batteries faster than a shitty cell phone so he usually used it only for defensive purposes and also kept the end unscrewed to break the connection of the batteries to save power. The strobe function had gotten them out of many-a-pickle. He’d pulled it off the corpse of a dead man a year ago.

“Maybe we should get some guns.” Jason said, finally cutting the silence. “It makes sense. Probably won’t have to use ‘em but it’s probably nice to have ‘em. Yeah. We’ll get guns. And we need MREs. Dang it…we shoulda raided the military compound before we left. We’ll find a military supply store or something in the next town out. And a pawn shop. We can get all we need there.”

Marty was already lying down and half asleep. Jason snickered, wondering how long he’d been talking to himself. He laid down on his bedding and pulled the small camping pillow out of his pack, snuggling it under his head. He closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be one of the hardest days they’d ever experienced. Marty and Jason had spent their entire lives in the city. This would be the first time they’d ventured further than a few miles outside New York; this would be the first time they would ever experience the countryside. Jason sifted through one of the front pockets on the bag and pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills, taking one to help him fall asleep; he was sure he’d developed some form of insomnia. His last thoughts as he fell away were that there can’t be many of those things outside the city- and then his mother’s voice. He’d been through so much in the last few years he couldn’t even remember her face although he would never forget her soothing, heavenly voice. It had been three years since he heard that voice, but it still sang him to sleep every night.

The creeping sunlight had made its way into the windows of the room, prompting Jason's eyes to open and his brain to wake up. Marty was already up, roving around and periodically staring out the window. Jason let out a short grunt as he sat up, realizing the sun had been up for a while already. He didn't stay up long; he just fell back to his side, burying his face in the bedding to hide from the sunlight.

"Muuuuuhhhhhh." He groaned, not ready to face the day. Ready or not, he had to. Without looking, he reached his hand up over his head and grabbed the pack, pulled it closer and finally lifted his head to search inside for his mouthwash and Claritin. He seriously wished it wasn't spring. Claritin was probably the only thing keeping him going through the clouds of pollen and ragweed. He sat up again to open the bottle of water from dinner the night before. He drank half of what was in the bottle and used some to down the pills, washed his mouth out with the Listerine and drank what was left of the water.

"Oh yeah. Oops, sorry." Jason remembered to pull out another bottle of water for Marty, who gulped it down within seconds. Jason squatted to roll the blankets and foam pad up and tied it onto the bag after neatly organizing all the items in it; the mouthwash, the allergy medicine, the sleeping pills for those hard nights, socks, underwear, shirts, a pair of pants, The Boy Scout Handbook, both flashlights, all the food they had, 5 bottles of water left. He had an iPod touch in there but it was out of juice when he found it and he'd had trouble finding a charger for it.

“Hmmm…” He said to himself, taking the iPod out and sliding it into his left cargo pocket. Maybe he’d find a charger. He needed a solar one; most of the power in the city wasn't on anymore. He’d seen in a shopping magazine there were solar powered backpacks available. One of those would be perfect. He always told Marty if they run across a solar powered building that that is where they would stay for the rest of the ordeal. Of course now his main goal was getting out of the city. He’d been wondering for some time if other cities near there were in the same predicament. Maybe other cities were still alive. For now, all Jason wanted to do was get out of the city to see what his options were. Before the outbreak happened he never really cared for having people around but he was beginning to miss having someone talk to him.

"Okay. Let's go." Jason jumped up, using his momentum to lob the heavy pack onto his back. Marty followed suit. The trip down the stairs took only a little while this time. He didn't even get tired. Apparently the sound sleep had done its job. Jason made his way out of the statue, down the cobblestone walkway and to the dock where he'd parked the small boat he stole from Pier 57. They jumped in, Jason started it up and they made it across the bay just fine, slowing down before they reached the shore to check for those things, just in case. None were in sight. More importantly, none were near Jason's car. Jason nodded contently and powered the boat to the dock.

Jason cautiously walked toward the car, keeping an eye on the city's streets for the things. They were insanely fast. A couple of times they'd made it upon them without any sound at all, seemingly materializing out of thin air. Marty, even though elderly, had enough fight in him to hold off or distract them while Jason fiddled around to find a weapon; usually the nearest big stick or steel rod. It usually only took one good whack to the head or legs to either stop them or slow them down enough to get away. But now, as Jason opened the door of the old, rusty Buick, none were in sight. He tossed his pack in the back seat as Marty climbed in through the driver side. The passenger door didn't work. Jason sat into the car, taking one last look of assurance around them to ensure they were clear. Nothing in sight. Good.

Nothing happened when Jason turned the key. Nothing at all; not even a click.

"Crap." Jason was actually surprised. The car was a piece of crap but it had never failed him. "Well shit." He looked around, eventually spotting through the Buick’s rear view mirror a newer model Chevy Silverado. It was huge. It was black with a grill on the front, a roll cage with those big fog lights on it and gigantic mud tires.

"YES!" They both jumped out of the dead car and jogged over to the truck, hoping that it would start. Jason got his wish. The driver door was open; it looked like someone had just run out of it for some reason but the keys were still in it. And it cranked right up, like a charm, miraculously. Jason had no clue how the truck could crank after 3 years of sitting there. He then thought more logically; maybe it hadn't been sitting there three years. Someone probably was in this truck recently. Someone alive. They had to have a pretty good damn reason to get out and leave it. They probably weren't alive any longer. He shook the thought off and stretched his foot out toward the gas pedal-it was too far. He found the button on the seat that moves the seat forward and pressed it, bringing himself as far up to the steering wheel as the vehicle would allow. The pedal was still too far away. “Dammit!” He searched around again for another car; something smaller. Nothing.

“Okay. We have to walk around again…” he said to Marty, who was panting and sniffing everything in the truck. Jason hopped out and grabbed his pack, motioning to Marty to follow. It didn’t take long to find another vehicle. This time it was a Jeep, which was just about perfect for his size. He opened the driver door and a stinky, mushy, maggot infested corpse fell right into his face, forcing terrified screams from his mouth. This one clearly hadn't been dead very long. The body pushed him to the ground and pinned him for a second or two while Marty barked and growled in response to his screaming. Jason frantically wiggled out from under the body after releasing the straps of his pack, which was making it harder for him to get up.

“Shit!” Jason yelled, out of breath and pulling himself backward against a wall. “Well I don’t want that car.” He lugged the pack out from under the corpse and connected the straps again. The search was on again for a car.

An hour passed and he had no luck. Every car had a dead body or two in it, which usually meant the bodies were alive in the car once, and it had never been cut off, which meant it was out of gas. He found that cars with no one in them were usually capable of working-even though he had to search nearby stores for keys; more specifically nearby bodies for keys.

“I give up. I’m making that truck work.” Jason finally said, turning around. Marty followed. It took another 20 minutes to get back to the truck and now Jason had to figure out a way to reach the pedal.

“Wait a minute…” Jason spotted some jumper cables in the back seat of the truck. “Why didn’t I think of that earlier?” He grabbed the cables and waltzed over to the Buick, not even thinking that he would have to get the car near the truck for the cables to work. He stopped halfway to the car when he realized that, and looked back at the truck, then to the car, and decided he would have to push the Buick over to the truck somehow.

Then he noticed the winch on the front of the truck. It was too perfect. There was no way he was having all this luck without something bad around the corner. It only took a few minutes for him to haul the Buick over and the cables to be connected. The Buick was running again. Jason dropped his pack into the back seat, Marty climbed in and he drove off towards the tunnel that led out of the city.

Marty was breathing heavily now. Heavier than usual. Jason usually wasn't concerned since Marty was such a tough old bastard but this didn't sound right. He was almost wheezing; forcing each breath out and using all his strength to pull more oxygen in. Jason wanted to pull over but they were in the middle of the tunnel and he remembered how bad of an idea it was to pull over in tunnels. That had not been a good night. Jason instead floored the gas pedal to make it to the end where he could pull over outside in a relatively more safe area to help Marty out. Maybe he could fish that asthma inhaler out of his pack he'd found a while ago. It could help.

They’d made it about ¾ of the way across the tunnel when Marty collapsed in the passenger seat, wheezing and snorting air. Jason looked over, panicking.

“Come on Marty!” Jason yelled at his dog. “You know we can’t stop here! Just hold on!”

Marty’s breathing slowed to almost nothing. His eyes were closing slowly and he’d laid his head sideways in the seat, opening his mouth for more air. It wasn’t helping.

“DAMMIT!” Jason yelled, slamming his palm on the steering wheel. He knew he had to stop the car or his friend wasn’t going to make it. He drove on until the cars inside the tunnel were further apart from each other so he could observe his surroundings a little more and screeched to a halt. He hopped out of the car, dragging his pack out of the back seat and dumping everything in it out, immediately finding the asthma inhaler and the first flashlight he touched-the military one. He ran around to the passenger side, sticking the flashlight in his mouth, and opened the door. Marty’s body fell outside into his arms and Jason lowered the barely alive dog to the road and stuck the inhaler to his mouth. He pushed the canister-nothing happened. The inhaler didn’t work. He pressed the canister again. And again. After a dozen presses, Jason dropped the inhaler and picked Marty’s head up with trembling hands.

Marty looked up at Jason and let out a whimper, and licked Jason’s forearm and closed his eyes. He took one deep breath, let it out-and never drew in another. Jason could feel Marty's heart stop beating against his side.

The memory of Marty in the kennel, sitting in his own feces and cowering came to Jason’s mind for some reason as he stared blankly at his lifeless friend. He was already 10 years old when he’d been rescued from the shelter. Now at 13 years old, he’d already lived longer than most Malamutes could, especially in this environment. He couldn’t grasp the fact his best friend was dead. Jason leaned his back against the car and sat there for a while with his buddy, appreciating the disturbing silence of the tunnel for hours. A sliver of light at the end of the tunnel was getting less intense as dusk drew in like a stalking wolf.

"Okay." he muttered to himself. "Get up." He had to motivate himself somehow. Standing up and letting Marty's head lay on the road felt like trying to walk into a tornado and keep his footing. He didn't have time to bury him. He had to go. It was getting dark. They came out more at night. He shuffled around the car, running his hands along the side. The car had burned through a quarter tank of gas in the amount of time he’d been sitting on the road. He gathered his pack and tossed it inside; he dropped the flashlight into the center console. He paused at the door and took a few breaths, then sat inside and closed the door. He reached over to close the passenger door; he'd forgotten to close it. As he leaned over to reach the door his eyes widened and he heaved a breath of horror-Marty’s body was sliding away. Jason moved his eyes up from the moving body and out through the back window, where he saw it. Rotted, wretched, maggot filled and sagging flesh; exposed bone, torn ligaments. Teeth with rotting flesh stuck in between. It was dragging Marty’s body away.

“Stop!” Jason screamed at the thing and turned to exit the vehicle. He plowed right into another one, cracking through its exposed ribs and even tasting the death inside. He hadn’t even gotten his face out of the monster before he started screaming and punching wildly. The second swing landed square on the thing’s left temple, cracking its skull open as a putrid, greenish black goop oozed out. The thing lurched forward and grabbed Jason’s left arm, attempting to pull him from the car. Before it could succeed, Jason kicked its leg, cracking the knee open. The bastard collapsed on itself allowing Jason to leap over and around the car. He ran full speed into the one that was dragging Marty behind a truck for its next meal. This one was a bit healthier though; it effortlessly raised its arm and diverted Jason into the truck’s grill. The speed and angle Jason was heading made things worse-his middle finger went into the grill and snapped.

Jason barely noticed any pain. He jerked his broken finger out of the grill and punched the thing in the side with the same hand, feeling his finger crunch under the force. The thing retaliated, swinging at Jason’s head, connecting again. This time Jason fell to the ground. Gaining his composure again, he finally noticed the other ones. At least a dozen or so were coming down the tunnel toward him at full speed, jumping and running over cars and punching each other to get to the food first. To Jason, it looked exactly like one of the Velociraptor scenes from Jurassic Park. He looked back at where Marty was and saw nothing. The dog was gone. He jumped to his feet, hearing the sound of ripping flesh and blood being splashed on a wall beside him. Jason stumbled over the fallen monster with the hole in its head, still reaching and gasping for blood. Jason opened the back door of the car, knowing he needed his pack. Grabbing the bag, he looked back. The things were only a few cars away now. He had enough time to grab the tactical light from the console and turn on the strobe to blind the things; he kept the blinding strobe on as he snatched the pack out and started running while sliding the bag onto his shoulders. Thankfully, most of the things turned and went after Marty’s corpse, easily taking down the monster that had given Jason so much trouble. Two still pursued. One got so close it grabbed onto his pack, nearly pulling him down. Jason had no choice but to release the straps and give up all his belongings.

Jason didn’t even look back. He had to concentrate on the obstacles in front of him. Cars, trucks, bodies, bicycles…bicycles!. A bicycle was perfect. He passed the one that gave him the thought; no time to stop for it. He would grab the next one he saw. His heart felt like it would explode; his eyes were popping out of their sockets and he couldn’t even breathe-but he couldn’t stop. Finally he saw a mountain bike. Barely breaking stride, he snatched the bike up and jumped on, easily breaking away from the things and out of the tunnel.

He rode on for another mile or so until he exited the tunnel and the deadened traffic thinned out. He’d lost everything he had. Noticing a small Chevy Colorado, a truck small enough for him parked at a house, he rode onto the driveway to search the home for keys-and maybe something alive...

He found the keys inside after breaking in but no one to talk to or anything that could kill him. He was actually relieved at both facts. He did miss people, but he had no clue how to interact with one once he found him or her. He shuffled out to the truck, exhausted. It started, luckily.

He looked down at his broken finger-bloodied, bruised and throbbing. He didn’t know how to fix it. Then he began to cry. He didn’t cry for the finger. He cried for Marty. He cried for his mother; taken from him in the car accident on the way home from the shelter. He cried because he knew he was truly alone now.

He looked over to the console. The truck had an iPod dock installed. He reached into his cargo pocket, fondled a few seconds and found the iPod Touch. He pulled it out and plugged it up, feeling a rush of happiness as he heard the guitars flare up. He hadn’t heard music in almost a year. The drums pounded his problems away, if only for a while. The lyrics only accented his situation, somehow lifting some of the weight off his soul.

"As I walk this world, tired and alone, got one foot in the grave, Lord help me make it home."

Home. Home was anywhere now. Jason somehow felt satisfied with the thought that now, since he had nothing, why not enjoy his home. Why not enjoy the world? He put the truck in gear and drove off, pushing everything to the back of his mind for later. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care. It didn't matter to him, really-as long as it was somewhere else. He was probably the last person alive on Earth. He may as well enjoy it.

Jason passed a sign that read "Seaside Heights." It was probably one of the best beaches near New York. He took the exit leading out to the shore. He had an urge to go swimming; something he hadn't done since he was five years old. It didn't take long to get to the beach; there was no traffic. He drove his truck right up onto the sand. After all that's happened-after all that he'd forgotten, he remembered the smell of a beach. He smelled the salty air mixed with the genuine purity of an unbroken, blue horizon. The gulls and crashing waves were a nice break from the gloomy sounds of a dead city. He didn't even bother to take his shirt off.

He just waded right out into the water, letting the cool waves soothe his skin-washing away the blood, dirt, sweat, rotted flesh and smell from his body. He didn’t bother looking for the things he was sure were there somewhere. One large wave washed over his entire body. When the water cleared, he didn't even shake it from his eyes. He left them closed, reveling in the feeling, and smiled.