For my part I turned to look out the window-not at the gathered dead people, I was barely aware of them but instead at theEmpireStateBuilding, clearly visible above the trees at the north end ofUnion Square. The iconic skyscraper seemed to just hover there detached from the world. I wondered what if anything you would find in its uppermost stories now-a hell of a walk, since the elevator wouldn’t be running, but worth it perhaps. What kind of safety, what manner of serenity might still exist up there? I’d visited the observation deck plenty of times when I was a kid and I knew you could see the entire city from up there but in my musing nothing was visible but long icy sweeps of cloud, white rarefied ribbons of nothing at all in particular. A veil between me and the filth and strife on the surface.
I’m told this kind of detachment is common among soldiers in combat zones. In the aftermath of a perilous fight the mind shuts down its faculties one by one and drifts-perhaps endlessly reliving the moment when a squadmate caught a bullet, perhaps trying to remember all the details of the chaos once it was past, perhaps just-as mine was doing here-wandering without thought or feeling at all. There’s even a name for this phenomenon, the “Thousand Yard Stare”, this kind of temporary mindlessness. Modern medicine sometimes refers to it as “Combat Stress Reaction.” Doctors are trained to look out for it. Sometimes it's healthy, just a purging of all the encrusted fear and bloodlust but sometimes it can be a sign of incipient mental illness. Usually a victim snaps right out of it as soon as a new task or duty presents itself. Sometimes soldiers drift in and out of it for the rest of their lives-that’s called “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” which everyone knows about.
It seemed to me then a pleasant enough way to escape the reality we were in. Nothing pressing presented itself, no duty I had to perform. Idleness would have proved a breeding ground for doubts and fears and now that we were safely (if hopelessly) ensconced there was nothing to do but wait-wait for the dead people outside to rot away. Wait for one of the girls to have a brilliant idea. Wait for all of us to starve to death. I watched the light change, theEmpireState transforming from a grey edifice to a ruddy obelisk to a stroke of black paint across the starry blue sky as afternoon gave way to evening gave way to unlit night.
In time I slept and I dreamed.
David Wellington - Monster Island
Monster Island
Chapter Nineteen
“Baryo,”the girl, the commander of the girls, moaned, stirring in her sleep.Gary had secured her to a padded office chair with his own belt so that she wouldn’t fall out if she went into convulsions.
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t-not quite yet. He knew she was dying and he knew what he would see if he turned around and looked at her and he didn’t want to see it. Instead he looked out through the glass at the crowd of the dead there. They pressed up just as tightly against the windows as before but over the last few hours their desperation had slackened a bit. Not that they would be any less hungry, of course-but night, and darkness, seemed to mellow them a little. They didn’t need to sleep.Gary knew that firsthand. Yet some kind of ingrained memory of their lives must be telling them that when the sun went down it was time to rest. It would be fascinating to study their behavior firsthand,Gary thought. What an opportunity to do science! The thing about sarcasm, of course, is that it’s wasted when you’re talking to yourself.
“Daawo,”she said, behind him. He started to glance over his shoulder. Stopped himself in time.
He would have plenty of time to live among the dead and learn their ways, anyway. It had become clear to him that the Somalis wouldn’t take him with them when they left. Of course they wouldn’t-he was undead! Yet some sort of bizarre vestigial hope of rescue had been swelling in him every since he saw their boat out on theHudson. In the heat of his capture and then the battle that followed he hadn’t been able to think clearly but now, now… there was no escaping it. No matter how much he helped them, sucked up to them, wheedled his way into their hearts. Well. He would be lucky to get a pat on the back. More likely a bullet to the forehead would be his recompense for all his good service.
“Maxaa? Madaya ayaa i xanuunaya… gaajo.”
Garyturned around and looked. The girl’s face had turned the color of cigarette ash and her eyes were protruding from her head. He bent down and lifted the blanket off her legs. They had swollen up so much he could barely tell where her knees used to be.