The Longest Night

Hours passed and things in the gym got worse. People began to slink against the walls, clutching their heads and moaning in low, terrifying gasps. Catherine waited for the headache to hit her again – It’ll come back any moment and destroy me – and it made time tick ever so slowly. It made her perspire, made her heart beat quickly. She was dying and she couldn’t even feel it.

One of the officers at the door turned to leave, and one man raised his hand and shouted in a wild, animal like howl. “Come back here, you don’t – don’t—” His voice was lost in a growl of pain.

“Where’s he going?” she wondered aloud.

“Maybe he’s going to go find someone who knows what the fuck he’s doing,” he muttered. “They haven’t offered us any sort of information outside of ‘We have dicks for heads.’ Plus, they haven’t given us any coffee or food yet.”

It then occurred to her that she hadn’t had anything since lunch the day prior. It also occurred to her that the officers hadn’t taken proper care of them because they couldn’t. The earthquake didn’t just happen to the people crammed in the gym.

“What’s going to happen, then?”

Dave gave a dry laugh. “I dunno, either.”

In twenty minutes, an officer with a cart of food came back (“Speak of the Devil,” Dave had said), and an old, thick, greying man in a dark blue suit with flair covering his breast walked in behind him. He was carrying his hat under his arm and wore a face mask. He whispered a few things to the officer by the door, or so Catherine assumed, for he leaned over and eyed the man wearily. He then straightened and said to the room, “Good afternoon, I am Superintendent James Long.”

Catherine shifted upward and Dave leaned against his knees, both of them alert and eager to listen. Only a few others showed piqued interest or any sign of hearing James. The woman from the highway was now leaning against the wall with her mouth hanging open while her children curled against her.

“We have some refreshments for you, as well as some food. We thank you all for your cooperation, and we promise that soon an area will be arranged for you to spend the night in the Wood Buffalo municipal region. We are doing everything we can to keep you informed and taken care of in the meantime.”

She saw Dave’s hands clench into fists.

“Why are we cooped up in this tiny shit hole?” a man shouted from across the room. He wasn’t sick, as far as she could tell. “You’ve made us sick by putting us in here. What’s happening with our vehicles? What’s the news with the earthquake? What the fuck is going on? Why haven’t you done dick all for us?” His voice echoed harshly.

“Fuckin’-A,” Dave growled.

James hesitated, licked his lips, and swallowed his apparent anger, then said, “We’re doing all we can for you right now. Please recognize this as a national emergency. This entire city is under distress, and we only have so many officers and resources to handle this situation. Thank you for your patience.”

With that, James left the room with a brisk pace. The officer who brought in the cart began to pick off some meals, and turned to the closest person on the floor. The woman swiped the small Styrofoam dish from his hand, sending sticky stew flying. “I want a fucking phone call.”

Prison, thought Catherine.

“Ma’am—”

“I want to know if my family is safe!” she shrieked. “There was a fucking earthquake and we’re all stranded, or didn’t you notice?”

The officer looked accosted. He looked to his colleagues by the door, and one of them stepped forward to touch the woman’s shoulder gently, to which she shrugged off angrily. “That’s enough, ma’am, or we’re going to have to detain you,” the officer said.

“You’ve already detained us,” she hissed bitterly.

“We can’t offer you a call because there are no outgoing calls possible.” He had tried to say it quietly, but the entire gym had fallen silent to listen. The words hung in the air.

Even though Catherine was at least thirty feet away, she could still see the slow way the woman’s face twisted around on itself just before she wept.

“Oh, God,” a man muttered from across the room, and made the sign of the cross.

“I guess I’m not getting back for work Monday morning,” Dave joked humorlessly.

All she kept thinking about was what had happened to her friends, her mother. The man. No phone. That ever-prevalent thought circled through her mind and she could not stifle it: This doesn’t happen here. This can’t happen here.

“This is fucked, Catherine. We’re all fucked.”

By the evening they were transported to a community hall, staffed with cots, blankets and more officers. Most of the people who had fallen prey to their crippling headaches were in functioning condition, but their pain was still visible in their faces, even after they received a booster shot – which, Dave swore up and down, was more likely to turn him into Spider-Man than help him fight the “fuckin’ virus.” Superintendent Long was at the hall as well, but he did not make any speeches. He knew no one cared to hear him speak any longer, for he, along with everyone else, only cared to know what exactly happened to everyone everywhere else.

“Hey, Catherine,” Dave said, glancing at her sideways. “You got any headaches yet?”

She looked up from her plate of pork and beans. “No.”

“Me either.”

“Do you think—”

“Some of the other people seem fine too. I dunno, now that we’ve got that shot in us…”

They were quiet. Catherine slowly turned her fork over in the pile of food on her plate. The beans slid over the pork. She hadn’t eaten anything in a day, but after a bite of her food, she’d lost her appetite. She clutched the water bottle and took a long sip. She wondered.

“Dave…do you have family there? In Edmonton?”

“Huh? Well, kind of. Yeah. I’ve got an ex-wife and kid back home. I…actually didn’t think about them ’til now.”

Catherine retreated into herself. She thought about her mother, wondering where she was, if she was all right. Then she thought about the man, and everything that had and had not happened in the last four years.

“You?” Dave asked as gently as he could.

She shook her head. “I mean – yes. My mother.”

“That’s right. And Dad?”

“No,” she muttered. After a long pause she added, “I never met him.”

“Oh.” His response was quick yet full, and she could tell he wanted more out of the story. Part of her wanted to keep it to herself but another part of her felt inclined to talk. Maybe it was the fact that Dave was the closest thing she had to a friend in this unimaginable horror that made her attach to him so readily. She briefly imagined being separated from him and found herself anxious.

“My mom never really told me…she didn’t…I don’t know what happened between them. I brought it up once out of curiosity, and…”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t know my old man. Sack ’a shit, he was. Not to say that your father woulda been a dick, but…fuck, I should just stick to sorry.”

Catherine smiled briefly – it felt so stiff, it almost hurt. “Thanks for trying.”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t eat this.”

“Me neither. Tastes like glue and cement.”

“I think I’m going to go find a cot.”

“Okay, sleep tight, kid.”

“Thank you.”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for everything. Very much.”

He looked at her wearily. “Yeah, okay…no problem.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next two days were quiet. Catherine woke up, ate a bite of each meal, spoke with Dave, went to sleep. All of them waited anxiously on any news, some word on what exactly was happening. Those who felt well enough to do so protested. There were no blows, just angry, terrified voices trying to claw their way out. The rest remained sedentary, not getting worse, not getting better. The thought of the virus floated away without much thought for Catherine. Perhaps what she felt wasn’t part of the epidemic at all, but a simple headache.

On the third day, Catherine awoke to see a group of people huddled around a cot a few rows up from her. She craned her head. She couldn’t see what they were looking at. They were all murmuring.

She got up, keeping her eyes glued on the group, then made her way over to them. As she drew nearer, she spotted Dave. He turned to look at her. His expression gave her pause. She approached hesitantly. Standing next to Dave, she peered through the crowd and down at the cot.

The community hall was lined with storm windows, high up along the ceiling. It was early morning, and golden light poured in from the cold, quiet outdoors. It made the dead, swelled, puffed skin on their faces and necks look translucent; she could see the broken blood vessels just under the surface, like they had melted. The mother died with her arms wrapped around her children, linked together tightly.

Her insides pulled up tight into her chest, and she turned away from the scene, trying not to throw up.

The same day, the refugees learned that a plane had flown south. The farther south the scout team went, the bigger the craters and crevasses were. By the time they got to where Athabasca had once been, they had to turn back.

It was Christmas Day.