South Willard Street
December 20th, 2020
7:52pm
Conor Foley
The gold road's sure a long road
The app on the phone flickered illuminating the dark room, a green logo with the letters VPR appeared before the player started. Conor waited for the live stream to start, as a pre-recorded message appeared,
“This livestream is brought to you by…”
He took the earpiece out and waited, hearing only the sound of his own breath and then the tiny voice changed and he again brought the bud to his ear,
“We will take you to the Christmas Fair as soon as the Mayor begins his remarks. We don’t know if the Mayor will remark upon today’s reports from Joseph Brant Hospital, with a unconfirmed number of staff reportedly infected in a breach of the quarantine restrictions, the hospital has received nationwide attention for it's treatment of the first confirmed case of the Kongo Virus in the continental United States. A group of concerned Burlington citizens has called for this year’s Christmas Fair and lightening ceremony to be cancelled as a precaution. Security is tight, with National Guard soldiers in attendance…”
Conor closed the app and locked his phone. Placing the second bud in his ear, so he wouldn’t be bothered, he stepped quietly out into the hall. It was silent, empty, he had watched the students leave, laughing and smiling in a large group, easy pickings every year.
Thank god for the fair
He brought out the bike and turned to close the door. It wouldn’t lock; the bump key was still jammed in the door handle, so he forced it closed, holding it tightly until the mechanism sprang back into place. Pulling up his hood and keeping his head down, he placed the backpack on his shoulders, adjusting it as the weight was cutting into his back and he began to walk down the stairs. He had attempted to perfect this, the casual walk, to avoid a watchful eye required confidence, if you believed you were meant to be there, chances were most people would believe it too. There was some difficulty at the door, getting the large bike through. But he persisted and stepped out into the cold.
On the street he kept his eyes down and hurried away from the door. It was only a few minutes on the bike from South Willard Street to the parking garage. Conor weaved on and off the sidewalk, a wide grin on his face as he veered close to passing vehicles and groups of pedestrians before pulling away at the last moment. With only five days before Christmas the city was full, but Conor was enjoying himself too much to care, feeling the wind on his face, taking his hands off the handlebars, blowing through stop signs and red lights, feeling like a kid again. A chorus of car horns followed as he turned off the tree lined street, past the 24 hour parking sign and up the first ramp. The garage was dark and quiet, with only a few cars slowly driving up and down the ramps. Conor lapped the garage twice, just to be safe, but there didn’t seem to be anyone waiting around. He paused at the top of the ramp, listening carefully and rocking in place, expecting for his parole officer to slip out from between the cars, but no one appeared.
Parked far away from the grainy security cameras and buried in a dark corner was a green 2000 Honda Civic, which hadn’t ran for months, it’s tires long gone flat. Feeling relatively safe, Conor rode over and stepped off the bike, dropped it to the floor and quickly walked around to the rear of the car. He knelt down and prised the license plate back; jamming his fingers into the newly revealed space, he fished out the hidden car key. Still breathing heavily from the ride, he stood up and unlocked the trunk. It was reassuringly familiar, grocery bags, a flashlight, a first aid kit and a spare tire. His mouth was dry as he pulled back the plaid woollen blanket,
They were gone
Rising up and down on his tiptoes, he slid the backpack off his shoulder and laid out his latest treasures on the blanket, before covering them again with the plaid. He stood back and closed the trunk. Walking around to the front of the car, his hands trembled as he used the key to unlock the passenger door and slid inside. The air was stale and heavy, Conor kept the door ajar as he opened the glove compartment. Aside from the registration and an owner’s manual, there was an envelope, Conor checked it and retrieved the cash and small wraps of white powder.
He stuffed the envelope into his backpack and stood up. He saw the bike; obviously it wasn’t going to fit in the trunk. So reluctantly, knowing he wouldn’t have a good excuse if he was caught riding it, he stepped on one pedal and rode it slowly down a ramp and onto the lower level. There he discarded it in one of the empty parking spaces, he had liked its distinctive yellow and black stripes and was disappointed to let it go, Cannondale bikes usually were worth something. As he was striding back up the ramp, he began to hear a cracking sound, then again, crack, crack, crack.
He made his way to the garage’s wall which overlooked downtown Burlington. Below people were running, screaming and panicking. A National Guard helicopter was flying low over the city, its loudhailer message garbled away by the whir of the rotor blades. People seemed to trample and wrestle each other in the panic, all attempting to run from the Christmas Fair. Conor stood back to cast himself in shadow as he watched, strangely excited by the scene in front of him. He stood rooted to the spot as he heard more shots, police officers were shooting at the crowd. They ran for their patrol cars and were firing wildly, some seemed to be overwhelmed by the vengeance of the mob. As more and more people flowed out of downtown, fleeing the gunshots and violence, he remembered his phone. Conor connected his earpieces and booted up the VPR app,
A worried voice was speaking,
“We do not know the Mayor’s status, he was dragged off the stage, but it appears that the annual Christmas Fair was disrupted by rioting. Police and National Guard were on scene at the event and according to eyewitnesses, we are checking social media for updates, we are seeing reports of shootings. This is all unconfirmed but clearly this is dangerous situation downtown, so until the situation is brought under control, you should avoid and leave the downtown area. We will try and reconnect with Barrie on the scene, as soon as it is safe…”
Conor ripped out the earbuds and listened over the sound of his beating heart, he could hear more shooting now, the streets below him were relatively clear, but the shooting continued. The Burlington Police would be rushing reinforcements to the area, locking the area down and arresting everyone in it. He didn’t want to be there when that happened, a convicted felon? He would absolutely catch a charge and be sent back. The Police were shooting unarmed people on the street. He knew they would be out shooting and arresting everyone to try and cover this up. He had known this for a long time, now the people would finally see it. Just how brutally they treated people like him on a daily basis.
As the shooting and screams continued, Conor dragged his eyes away from the flashes below him. He had to get away. Oddly calm he opened his backpack and retrieved his roofing hammer. He ran down the row of parked cars, looking for an easy target. His eyes set on a blue Honda CR-V; he smashed out the driver’s side window, triggering the alarm. He leaned in and opened the door, Conor was halfway in before he remembered the civic key. Apparently alone, he ran back to the Civic, and hastily stored the key beneath the license plate. The car alarm blaring the whole time, he sprinted back to the SUV and climbed inside.
Switching out his hammer for the lock pick set, he took some steading breaths as he opened the leather bound case and selected the lock pick gun. Steadying his hand, he inserted it into the cylinder and turned. Instantly the dashboard lit up, the alarm died and the engine began to idle. Conor put the lock pick back into his backpack and threw it into the front passenger foot well. Closing the door, he put the car in gear and set off. The tires screeched as he drove quickly down the ramps, he accelerated to smash through the exit barrier with a satisfying crunch, laughing Conor turned onto the street.
The Evergreen Motel
December 20th, 2020
The streets of Burlington had been filled with fleeing bodies and crashed and abandoned cars, Conor had enjoyed brushing both aside with the SUV, as he worked his way through the maze of darkened streets. He had seen glimpses of people attacking each other. At one junction as he tried to pick his way through the debris, he had his windows smashed out by a group of crazed individuals covered in blood who were trying to steal the car. Conor had just floored the accelerator and after crashing into the sedan in front of him, managed to throw them off and clear a path on through.
As he hit open country, he returned to the radio, twisting the dial. There was no music, on every station was the same message again and again, “Seek shelter, a state of emergency is in place”. After the message, repeated itself on a loop again and again, he switched the radio off.
He would have happily driven on all night, just to put enough distance between himself and the chaos. But far away from the city, a dull headache began to grow as the adrenaline and excitement wore off. The low fuel warning light then had made its appearance. As he drove, it blinked and blinked and no matter how much he willed it, it would always return to blink again. Not eager to stop for gas in the midst of all this and with the fuel tank running dry, he desperately looked for somewhere to pull in. Fortunately he saw a sign, “The Evergreen Motel. Open 24 hours” and he pulled the dying car into a parking space. He was already thinking about booking in for the night, abandoning the car and looking into returning to the city in the morning.
Then he saw the National Guard, weapons out, standing in the parking lot, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Not wanting to stare, he kept his eyes down, he didn’t need to draw that sort of attention and the trouble that came with it.
They’re here too
Doing his best to ignore the world outside, Conor used the car’s interior light; he reached into his backpack and with a rolling tip, rolled up a joint. It was only after a few draws did he begin to calm down and get up the courage to even think about stepping outside. As he reached for the door handle, he caught sight of the monitor around his ankle, he paused,
I could just slip it off
It was tempting; it offered the freedom he had desired for years. Perhaps in all the confusion, the Federal Courthouse would get burned up with his file in it. He could dream. But in the end, that was all it was, dreams, tomorrow or the day after, the city would be crawling with police and National Guard. He had seen the documentary on the LA Riots, it had all been fun and games for a day or two before the Humvees and trucks came rolling in.
Making sure to smooth down his jeans to cover the tag, he took one last draw on the joint before tossing it. He cleared his throat and stepped out onto the asphalt.
Here I go