Cinders

Cinders, Unfinished Young Adult fiction project, copyrighted by Jill Luberto

One more thing before we start the final face off

I will be the one to watch you fall

So I came down to crash and burn your beggars banquet

Someone call the ambulance there’s gonna be an accident

I’m coming up on infra-red,

There is no running that can hide you

Cause I can see in the dark…

-Placebo, “Infra-Red”

“Nobody told me there would be days like these…strange days indeed.”

-John Lennon

“Like cinders by a fire, we have collected

 Now we wait to be carried away…”

I- Aestas  -  In the Beginning there was…

Skylar Pruce, 8

May 2^nd

Coventry, CT

Dear Daisy Diary,

The bus is late today. It looks like rain. I didn’t dream of rain though so I didn’t bring my umbrella. Toby is sitting on the sidewalk picking at some gum on the bottom of his sneaker. Mom is gonna be mad if he gets his pants dirty. I keep telling him but he won’t listen to me. He doesn’t listen lately. He looks at things. Stares at them. A lot. Until Mom or me yell then he wakes up and doesn’t remember. Mom is still sick. Coughing and sneezing. I don’t think its allergies like she said.  She stayed in bed all day yesterday. Toby made me my lunch. Peanut butter and fluff but kept the edges on the bread. I didn’t want to bother him to cut them.  I dreamed of her again last night. Not mom but the other girl, the teenage girl with brown hair and the scar on her face. We were out on the street in front of my house. She was holding her arms out like she wanted to hug me. She didn’t look scary but I didn’t want to go to her. I never want to go to her. But she was calling my name. I turned to run back into my house but it was on fire and I could hear mom screaming from inside. Then I woke up. The bus is still late. “Maybe there’s no school today.” Toby said, “I don’t want to go home though with mom still being sick.”  The bus is here. Got to go.

 

Makalia Adams, 17

May 13^nd 2008               

Windham, CT

“Did he ask you?” the note Courtney passed read, “Did Jack McCarthy ask you to watch him play?”

Makalia smiled, her cheeks flushing with warmth.  Yes. She wrote back and then hastily folded the note back up and tapped Courtney on the shoulder. She heard Courtney’s fingers hungrily open the note followed by a dissatisfied grunt.  A few seconds later she tossed the note over her shoulder at Makalia.

You’re killing me. Could you elaborate a little more please?

This morning in science class Makalia took her normal seat in the back of the classroom where she would occupy the next sixty minutes with Jack McCarthy.  They had been lab partners since December.  Makalia, herself, never really said much, so Jack usually filled the uncomfortable quiet with his dazzling charm and small talk. He was always laughing or smiling. He could charm a three year old to give up their ice cream cone to him. As the school year carried on Makalia realized that she had it for him bad and always caught herself staring at his copper colored hair, the way it settled so perfectly on his head, swooping into a cowlick that brushes past his eyebrows. His green eyes were kind, always surrounded by thick lines of mischief. Nothing seemed to faze him. He was as cool and abnormally confident as they come and well liked for it. He had been voted captain of his varsity field hockey team and was leading them in an undefeated season so far although Makalia never heard him brag about it.  He would shrug and laugh off the compliments, the admiration. The guys respected him. The girls naturally swooned. Whispers of his single status for the prom echoed in the halls, tailing after him as he went from class to class. Makalia had never let the thought cross her mind that Jack could possibly be interested in a girl like her.  Her Boston Red Sox baseball cap firmly in place over the sponge of fierily red curls she kept religiously contained. Her freckles had only begun fading away last summer, but they haunted her still, walking under her skin, never letting her truly forget her awkward self esteem. Makalia’s dad was given a girl but raised a boy out of her. He didn’t know, it wasn’t his fault.   It wasn’t until his second marriage that he began realizing his mistake. His wife, Makalia’s step-mother, Barb was pretty and nice. Sweet and caring without ever trying to replace Makalia’s mother.  So, the likeliness of Jack McCarthy even having the tiniest of interest in a tomboy like her seemed truly unreal.

 This morning, Jack had the typical bounce to his step as he walked into class. From under her cap, Makalia saw Andrea Davis and Alexia Grouper whisper to each other as they watch him walk to the table he shared with Makalia.  Makalia felt a small tinge of satisfaction as he came her way and tucked a wary curl back behind her ear.

“Hey there Adams.” He pronounced as he tapped the tip of her baseball cap softly. “Did you see your boys play yesterday? They sure did give the Yankees a run for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised they played. They’re down six players and have no substitutes.”

“It’s little odd isn’t it?” He said, as he threw his bookbag underneath his stool and looked up at her. The proximity of their faces was unnaturally close and Makalia felt her body go into full deer-in-the-headlights mode.  Jack looked at her, the smile breaking through at the corner of his mouth and then laughed softly to himself.

“What is it?” Makalia asked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. You always look like you’ve got a secret.”

“That’s because I do.” Jack said.

“But I’m your lab partner.” Makalia said instantly regretting the immature squeak her voice had mutated in.

“Well, good thing, or I would be failing this class.”
“So you’re using me is that it?”

 “Maybe.” He said, his smile a full on attack to Makalia’s senses. She quickly turned away and focused on Mrs. Gypson whose monotone voice drolled on about today’s experiment with Bunsen Burners.

Once they got the assignment Jack and Makalia went to work in slience. He watched as she poured chemicals in various beakers and labled them. Makalia was trying to light the Bunsen Beaker on the table between them with a match when he suddenly spoke.

 “ Hey Adams, listen, would you like to…would you like to come watch my game tonight? We’re up against Sacred Heart and they’re second in the state so it should be pretty exciting.”

“You want me to come to your game?”

“Yeah, if you want to. Some of us usually go out to Denny’s afterward for a bite weither we win or not. You could join us if you’d like.”

Was Jack McCarthy blushing? Makalia thought to herself.  Am I blushing? Can he tell?

“Hey Jack, you’re on fire!” A voice yelled from the front of the room.

Makalia was shaken from her thoughts to see the sleeve of Jack’s varsity jacket on fire, the lit match in between her fingertips being the culprit.

“Holy shit!” Makalia yelled as Jack quickly threw the jacket to the floor and stamped out the fire.

Mrs. Gypson hurried over with the fire extishiger.

“No, Mrs. G. It’s not necessary” Jack said quickly with a laugh as he picked up his smoldering jacket and brushed at the sleeve. Bits of charred fabric fell to the floor,  “It’s out. You can call off the fire department. See, just a little hole.”  Makalia hid her eyes hidden under her cap, her ears burning with embarrassment.

 “It’s no big deal,” Jack said to her.

“You two need to be more careful.” Mrs. Gypson scolded. “You could burn the whole school down.” She shook her head in disgust. “Jack, I want you and Makalia to go to the office to report this little incident. I can’t have a law suit on my hands. Everyone else get back to work and remember to watch what your doing.”

Makalia groaned and quickly stuffed my notebook in her bag and headed out the door with Jack not too far behind.

“Hey Adams. It’s not that big of a deal. Slow down will ya?”

He grabbed her shoulder gently and turned her to face him. He tapped her cap upwards so he could see her face, bright red and soft with tears.

“Hey, silly girl. Why are you crying?”
“I totally ruined your jacket. Your varsity jacket.”

“So? I can get another one.”
“But you love that jacket.”
“It’s just a jacket.”

“But it’s yours…”

He smiled and laid his hands on her shoulders, “Ad-…Makalia, it was a accident. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I distracted you. I should have waited to ask you.”

“No, it’s not your fault.”
“We’re going to go in circles aren’t we?” He said, rolling his eyes playfully, “Look, you just owe me now.”

“A new jacket?”

“No. Come to the game tonight. And then I want you to consider going to the prom with me. That will be your punishment.”
“Hardly seems like a punishment.” The words slipped so fast out of Makalia’s mouth she had no time to catch them. She looked up at Jack and his smile grew.

“Well then.” He said, “I guess I will have to come up with something else.”
“No,” she replied quickly, “The prom is more than enough. You probably won’t let me wear my baseball hat.”

“Nope.”

“And I’ll have to wear a dress and make polite conversation with your friends…”
“And you’ll have to kiss me.”

“Kiss you?”

“Yep.

“I think that’s-“

He cut her off with his mouth swiftly moving over her’s. Makalia’s heart was pushed so far back into it’s cavity she thought she was going to fall over but Jack held her shoulders tight, and gently extended the kiss.  Makalia didn’t even hear the bell ring for next class period. In that moment, the world just spun beautifully around Jack and her.

My god, Makalia thought, her pulse racing, her heart singing, please let it never end. 

Sean Hayer, 16

June 2^nd 2008

Windham, CT

After days of suffering in the hospital, Sean’s father finally laid dead. Nurses and doctors raced about like frantic mice, many themselves coughing or flicking beads of sweat off their furrowed brows. They were literally working themselves to death, and in the end there would be no one to commemorate their bravery, their heroics in a time where most people scattered to whatever short winds would carry them. After the final flicker of light flashed in Sean’s father’s eyes, Sean himself turned off the machine, drew up the blanket over his father’s face, said a silent prayer and slipped quietly and easily out the hallway, down the east wing staircase he had come so familiar with over the past month, when sneaking in to visit his father. Now, not wanting to go back home to Henderson, one town over, Sean walked out the doors into the desolate streets into downtown Windham. Windham was a small city, and for a Sunday it was quite normal for stores to be closed and the streets vacant.  Instinctively, Sean walked towards the diner on the corner of Main St that is always open twenty four seven. A place he came it know and love as his father lay dying in the hospital a mere block away.

The diner was closed today, a large sign hung on the front door. Closed due to sickness. Vandals had already taken advantage, and the windows were smashed. Sean peered inside and saw tables turned over, coffee cups strewn all over the floor.  Something caught Sean’s eye from the corner of the room. It was the antique jukebox, a light still shinning from its mechanical body. Mrs. Dupress, the cafe owner recently had it fixed and in trying to make Sean happy installed some R.E.M classics.  Sean crawled in through the window, careful of the glass, and walked towards the jukebox. He looked at it for a moment in quiet amazement. Sean searched his pockets and found three quarters. He popped them into the slot and made his selections. As the first played, Sean sunk down next to the jukebox and laid his head against the side, warm and pulsating with sound.

Michael Stipe’s voice coaxed Sean into a much-needed sleep.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.”

(New Posting, 6/14/2011)

Makalia Adams

June 15^th

Windham, CT

Makalia let the record play out as she packed her bag full of necessities. Soap, a flashlight, band aids, aspirin, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, underwear, her favorite Radiohead album, her journal, a picture of Dad and Barb.  Doogie’s dog tags. As she tossed this last item in the bag she glanced at her hands. The dirt still clung annoyingly under her fingernails and blisters had begun forming from where she had clutched the shovel tightly, spending the morning digging a 3ft hole in the backyard. Doogie died yesterday, hit by some crazed minivan driver. Emotionally numb, Makalia laid her only companion to rest before deciding her next move was to get the hell out of Windham. She had no idea where she was going to go. Before the cable and electricity went out, the news reports said it was everywhere and it was still spreading. Makalia didn’t need the news to figure that out. Her father and Barb were some of the first to succumb to the disease that seemed to only infect those over the age of twenty. It began as flu, then worsened into symptoms much like found yellow fever and smallpox. Final stages before death including comas or sudden strokes. After that, it was only a matter of time.  One night George and Barbara Adams went to bed and in the morning Makalia found them in their bed, Barbara’s head upon her father’s chest, her eyes closed tight, her lips slightly parted.  Makalia called 911 and it took four hours for the ambulance to come.

“We’ve had so many calls.”  A female EMT’s told Makalia softly. “We’re so sorry we couldn’t be here sooner. We’re going to take them to St. Mary’s. Do you have other family in the area?”
“My Aunt is coming.” Makalia lied, not wanting to be taken elsewhere, “And I have Doogie.”

“He’s certainly a beautiful dog.” The woman said as she looked at the dog that had been sitting on Makalia’s lap, occasionally licking up the tears that rolled down her cheeks. TheEMT’s face was soft and kind. She looked to be in her early twenties, but Makalia could see the tell tale signs of the disease in her face. Dark hollows had formed under the woman’s blue eyes; her lips were bitterly chapped and cracked in the corners, early signs of dehydration. As the woman walked away, Makalia heard a loud cough resonate from within the woman’s chest. The woman was dying, and didn’t even know it.

Makalia felt helpless in those few first days without her parents. She dreamed often of going to the hospital where she volunteered in the summer and helping out, tending to the sick, but she knew she would never be allowed it.  When her friend Allison’s mother was taken to the hospital Allison was told she wasn’t allowed to visit, in fear of being contaminated. That was in the early days when no one knew what was going on. Everything was a threat but everyone was being kept in the dark. Schools closed down, curfews were instated, and the police circled the streets continuously until the phantom disease took them down. Then the streets became empty, unnaturally quiet. Makalia’s street, a small cul-de-sac of a community usually swelled with the sounds of children playing, of parents sitting on their front porches talking with the neighbors. Her dad would be out in the driveway most nights working on his 64 Volkswagon Beetle, while Makalia and Barb sat on the porch listened to the Boston Red Sox game on the radio. Doogie would be faithfully perched by Makalia’s legs, his head lying on one of Makalia’s ratty converse sneakers. 

Now Doogie laid three feet in the ground. Dad’s beetle sat neglected in the driveway and when Makalia turned on the radio, there was nothing but static.

Makalia looked around her room, trying to figure out what else she could stuff into her bag but everything else seemed insignificant. She went to her dresser and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Tired brown eyes glared back. Makalia pulled at her hair, frizzled and fried at the tips. She grabbed her Red Sox cap and tucked the curls underneath.  The small picture taped to the top corner of the mirror caught her eye and she stared at the high school portrait of Jack McCarthy.  Prom would have been a week ago. Her dress still hung in its plastic bag in the back of her closet.   Things had been going well. Her heart thumped as she remembered the kiss they shared in the hallway on the day she burned his varsity jacket and the many kisses that followed after that. After the win from Sacred Heart, in the Denny’s parking lot. After their first date to the movies.  Between classes.   Jack had left school a week before they shut it down, his mother sick and transported to Boston where many of the contaminated were being herded like cattle.

“I’ll call you, ok?” He had said to her. “I’m sure it’s nothing, just a flu.” His smile held tight on his face, never caving into worry as he gave a swift kiss to her lips and left.

He never called and things got worse.

And here she was, staring at his picture, wanting to hate him but couldn’t find the energy to.

He might not even be alive, she thought to herself. He might be dead with the rest of them.

Yet for all her justifications, Makalia couldn’t help herself as she tore the picture from the mirror and placed it into the pages of her journal before throwing it into her book bag.  She looked around the room one last time, a sharp breath inhaled kept her heart glued together as she turned off the light and closed the door. She went down the stairs, stopped in the kitchen to grab a few bottles of the water, a box of pop tarts, and the spotted bananas on the counter.  She looked at the picture of her family on the fridge and placed her head against the warm refrigerator door. You can do this. A voice from within said. You’ve got to go. You’ve got to get out of here.

Brushing away tears, she tossed the book bag over her shoulder, and walked out of the kitchen towards the front door.  It was a deceivingly beautiful day out.  Warm, accompanied by a crisp breeze that tickled Makalia’s skin. The sun was bright with only a few clouds keeping it company in the mid-afternoon sky.

It was quiet thought as Makalia walked out onto the front porch. The neighborhood was still. No birds. No movement. House doors left open in a rush, furnishings and belongings spilled out onto front lawns and driveways.  She turned to lock the door and laughed to herself. No one was going to go in to steal and even if they did, what did she care? There was nothing here she wanted. All that was hers was now gone. She opened at the garage and had to steady herself as she gazed on her father’s prized possession, the 64 Beetle. She opened the door and the scents of her father-lemon drops, vanilla, and cigar smoke rose up to meet her causing tears to flow freely from her eyes as she got into the car.  The car started up with a cough and a spurt. Makalia took hold of the steering wheel as she felt her body quiver with anxiety. Go go go the voice commanded.

But where? Makalia silently asked back as she drove the beetle out of the driveway and out into the desolate streets.

Jack McCarthy, 17

June 17 2008

Boston, MA

Jack’s mom told him not to give up before she died.  She looked so beautiful before she went. So selfless as she talked about his “bright future.”

“You’ll be amazing at whatever you do Jack.” She had said her tears running red from the infection that had taken control of her body. “Just keep plugging along with that brightness that you have. People will follow you and respect you wherever you go. You’ll be a great leader someday my love.”

“I don’t want to be a leader Mom,” Jack said, caressing his mother’s small hand, the bone noticeable under the thinned skin, “I just want this to be over. I want you to get better.”

“Tell me about the girl.” She said, politely ignoring his statement.

“What girl?”

“You know.” She said smiling through cracked blackened lips. “The Adams girl.”

“Makalia?”

“Yes. Tell me about her.”

Jack looked at her mother, so small and frail in her hospital bed.

“She’s great Mom. Just great. Super nice. Smart. She wants to be a nurse. Her hair is the weirdest color red I’ve ever seen. She wears a Boston Red Sox hat over it cause she hates the curls but they look great. She smells like mint sometimes. She covers her mouth when she laughs…”

Jack stopped and looked at his mom, her tears flowing more freely but her smile lingered. “And?” she whispered.

“And?”

“You asked her to the prom?”

“Yes. And she said yes. She resisted at first. I thought she might say no.”

“I like her already.” My mom teased. “Not letting you catch her so easily.”

“No, it’s the other way around. She’s the one that caught me. By surprise actually.  We were lab partners and one day I just looked over and saw a curl sticking out from under her hat. Just this one little curl. And it drew me in. I never stopped looking.”

“Don’t ever stop looking Jackie.” She said, her hand tightening in his grasp. “When this is over, you have to go back. Find Makalia and take her somewhere safe.  Start something beautiful out of this ugliness.”

Jack felt a tightness in his chest, his heart thumping slowly. He didn’t want to cry in front of his mother. Jack’s father never cried. Never showed weakness.  He was a good man. Mom didn’t know he died two days ago. Jack was faced with the heavy responsibility of telling her and he was scared too. He was a coward.

“I don’t think I would be strong enough to do that Mom.”

“Listen to me Jack” she said, her eyes instantly bright, “You cannot let this stop you. You were meant to go on. To fight. To live. To survive. To continue where your father and I can not.”

“Mom-“ Jack started, the guilt beating him from within. “I have to tell you…about Dad.”

“I know, my darling.” She said softly, her voice falling into a deep sigh, “I felt him go.  When you love someone so much, you know when they go.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s alright honey. I understand.”
“Do you think Makalia is still alive? Do you think she’s safe?” Jack asked.

“You care for her don’t you?”
“Yes. Very much.”

“Your heart will tell you the answer. The heart is like a radio transmitter. It sends out signals with its beating. It calls out to those we love. Like your father and I. I loved him so much Jack that I knew when his signal died. I knew when his heart stopped, cause I couldn’t hear it anymore. I couldn’t feel it. You have to listen, Jack. No matter how cheesy that sounds.” She smiled. “It must be the drugs. I’ve never been one to sound so cheesy, have I?”

“Well, you do like your chick flicks.”

“We all have our guilty pleasures.” She began coughing then, a mad fit that choaked her from within, bringing up flem and blood between her lips. Jack caught some of it with a facecloth as he stroked her sweaty forehead. Her skin burned under his fingers.

“It’s ok Mom. Just try to breath.”

She took a deep breath, trying to relax herself, but her eyes fluttered with panic and her hands seized tightly onto the sheets. Her face flushed different shades of red until the fit ran its course.

She sank back into the pillow and looked at Jack as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“My boy, my darling Jack. You have to go find her. You promise me?”

“Yeah Mom. I promise.”

She collapsed then, her eyes rolled up into their sockets and she drifted off into sleep.

Jack was reading through a week old newspaper when she woke briefly that evening.

“Tell your father I left the radio on.” His mother whispered in a fevered madness and then lost consciousness for the last time.