Manesto Nights

Chapter 2

Vicky
"I thought Anchorage was a big city," I muttered, frowning at the scenery when the plane hit the tarmac.
Mountains.
Trees.
Water.
Where were the towering skyscrapers?
The multilevel highways?
"Anchorage is not a big city," Finn said.
"It is to me."
"Los Angeles has almost four million people, and that's just the city itself, not the surrounding suburbs. Anchorage has around three hundred thousand."
"What's your point?"
"Anchorage is not a big city."
"I don't see any city at all."
"You will."
"Are you from LA?"
"Yep."
"What's it like to live in a place like that?"
"It's okay."
"I want to go somewhere warm, where there's no snow."
"Then I hope Anchorage isn't your final destination."
"It's not. I want to travel everywhere, see the world."
My first order of business when I got inside the airport was to buy some clothes. Then I needed to find a place to spend the night. The next day, I would start looking for a job.
The plane came to a smooth stop in front of the terminal. Arlo emerged from the cockpit and stood at the front of the cabin, refusing to make eye contact with me. When he started picking at his eyebrow, I knew something was wrong. That was my best friend's nervous tell. When he came out to his parents, he was missing half of his eyebrows for months.
"A public health emergency is unfolding in the city," he announced. "An official from law enforcement is going to come onboard and explain the situation."
"Just tell us what's going on, Arlo," I demanded.
He reached over, opening the door of the plane. A burly, balding cop stepped inside the cabin, his eyes landing on me briefly before he addressed the group.
"Good evening, folks," he said. "I'm sorry to tell you that you've arrived in our beautiful city at a most unfortunate time. There are several fires burning in the Yukon, and this afternoon the winds shifted drastically, and the smoke is heading our way, carrying some dangerous toxins. The chief medical officer has declared a state of emergency for all of Southcentral Alaska. She has issued a stay indoors order, which will go into effect at eight o'clock tonight. Wherever you happen to be at that time, will be where you stay until further notice. You need to seal all doors and windows to minimize the amount of air entering your home. Close off any fireplace dampers, and turn off all fans or heating systems that draw in air from outside.
"Can we stay in the airport?" Hollis asked.
"No. All flights have been cancelled, and any incoming flights have been rerouted. This is the last aircraft allowed to land today. We can't have any more people coming into town. The airport will be closing in one hour to give employees a chance to get home to their families. By midnight, this city will be filled with smoke. The only people who will be permitted outside are those employed in emergency services and first responders."
He walked down the aisle, handing out N95 masks. "This will protect you until you get to your destination."
"It feels like we're back in 2020," Hollis sighed.
"It does," he agreed. He passed a mask to Finn with a small smile. "Congratulations. I guess you'll have an interesting story to tell about your wedding night."
"Oh, we're not married," I said.
"My apologies."
Finn got up to retrieve his bag from the overhead compartment. I squeezed past him, scooting up the short aisle.
"I've just received notification that all hotels in the city are booked," the officer announced. "But they're going to open the arena for people who have nowhere to stay tonight."
I poked Arlo in the chest with my index finger. "I want to invoke our apocalypse pact."
"This isn't an apocalypse," the cop said with a kind smile. "The fire will be brought under control, and in a few days, our air will be safe to breathe again."
"A few days?" I gasped.
"We're recommending people have enough food and water to last a week," he said before pulling his mask over his face and opening the door. "Good luck, folks."
"Are you going to stay with Horatio?" I asked.
"Of course," Arlo replied.
"Does he have a spare bedroom?"
"You can't stay at his place, Vicky."
"You have to take me with you, Arlo," I begged. "I can't sleep in an arena with a bunch of strangers. I promise you'll barely know I'm there. I'll wear ear plugs, so I can't hear you guys fucking, and I'll even cook for you."
"As much as I'd love to spend this unexpected gift of time with my lover vomiting and shitting myself, I can't accept your offer."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You can't cook, Vicky."
"I can so."
"You can't even make toast without burning it."
"I can bake yummy stuff."
"Horatio is diabetic."
"You're taking me with you, Arlo. End of discussion."
"Horatio has five cats."
"He does not."
He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. I glanced at the picture of a man surrounded by cats. "That isn't your boyfriend. You just found a random picture on the internet."
"That's Horatio," he sighed, snatching the phone from my fingers. He scrolled through before handing it back to me with a different photo. It was one of Arlo and the same man sitting together on a love seat.
"You doctored that other photo and added the cats."
"When exactly did I do this?"
"I don't know," I huffed.
"I'm sorry, Vicky."
"I'll just avoid the cats."
"You wouldn't last an hour in that house," he sighed. "The last thing we need is you having a severe allergic reaction during a shelter in place emergency."
"My allergy isn't that bad."
"You had to be airlifted to Fairbanks after you attended a birthday party at a house with a cat."
"I was eight-years-old."
"And that family had one cat. Imagine what would happen in a small house with five cats."
"I'm a grown adult now."
"And this is not the time to find out if you're still severely allergic to cats, Vicky," he barked.
"Don't raise your voice to me, Arlo."
"It's the only way to get you to listen."
"You can't just abandon me in a strange city. What kind of friend does that?"
"You're twenty-five-years-old, Vicky! It's time for you to face the consequences of your actions!"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You made the decision to run out on your wedding with just the clothes on your back, which happens to be a fucking wedding dress. And you got on a plane to the city with no plan for what you were going to do when you got here."
"I had a plan! How was I supposed to know that the city would be locked down right after I arrived?"
"Do you have a hotel reservation?"
"No. I figured I'd just find room when I got here."
"You have no choice but to go to the arena. I'll give you a ride there."
"Oh, Arlo," I gushed, dropping to my knees in front of him. "You'll give me a ride to the arena? Thank you. I'm so lucky to have a friend like you."
"Stop it," he warned. "You're making a scene, Vicky."
I sprang from the floor, rising to my full height, which was two inches taller than Arlo. At five-ten, I was considered to be above average height for a woman, but I was still shorter than the majority of the men I knew. But not Arlo. And he hated the fact that he had to look up to me.
"Fuck you, Arlo," I spat before spinning on my heel and barrelling out the door and down the stairs. I grabbed onto the railing with one hand, holding up my dress hem with the other while I navigated the treacherous steps. My heels clicked on the tarmac as I crossed to the terminal door and charged inside.
I followed the signs, heading toward a concourse full of shops and eateries.
They were all closed!
"That's just fucking great," I muttered.
I glanced around the deserted terminal, a shiver creeping down my spine with the realization I was alone. The overhead lights had been dimmed, casting eerie shadows across the empty seats.
How far did I walk after I entered the airport?
I was in a blind rage when I got off the plane.
Arlo was unbelievable. He didn't care about me at all.
And now I was lost in an empty airport.
All alone in a strange city.
I wandered back the way I came, reading the signs for clues as to how to escape the maze I'd found myself in.
"Oh thank goodness," I said when I spotted two security guards.
They glanced up in surprise when I hurried toward them, half walking, half running, with my heels in my hand, my bare feet slapping against the cement floor.
"Are you lost, ma'am?" one of them asked.
"Yes," I panted. "Can you please point me in the direction of an exit where I can catch a cab?"
"Ground transportation is that way," the other one said, pointing to the right. "But you'll have to call a cab. There won't likely be any waiting, because the airport is closing. And you'll have a hard time getting one. Everybody is panicking and trying to get home or to a hotel before the smoke gets here."
"Thank you," I said before I took off in the direction that they pointed.
I found the exit doors, bursting outside, my mask dangling from my fingers. The bitter smell of smoke and chemicals hit me. It wasn't pleasant like a campfire or a wood stove either. More like burning plastic or rubber. I glanced up at the sky. The late evening sun was surrounded by a heavy haze, the horizon cast in an ominous orange glow. I pulled my mask over my head, wrestling to get it secured on my face.
The security guards were right. There were no cabs. Not a soul in sight.
I pulled out my phone and searched up cab companies in Anchorage, clicking on the first one that came up. It rang several times before a message came on stating all their dispatchers were busy. The next one I called had a message stating they were closing at seven and wouldn't be taking any more customers.
"I guess I'll just sit here until I get arrested for being outside."
I glanced down at my wedding dress. It felt like a prison from the moment I put it on.
Literally and metaphorically.
Why did society insist on continuing an ancient tradition that suppressed women?
We'd come so far in terms of rights and equality, yet we were willing to wear ridiculous white gowns with veils and trains, our breasts and hips on display for our groom, as if to provide proof of our childbearing ability before he signed the papers. The white represented purity and innocence. A virgin gift, being walked down the aisle by her father and handed over.
What a fucking joke.
And it was even more sickening in Flungfarwood.
The backwards town built by men from the oil refineries on the North slope of Alaska. Most worked two-week on, two-week off schedules, which meant they were gone fifty percent of the time, leaving their wives alone. And that was how our little polyandrous community came to be.
A flash of movement caught my eye.
Three concrete pillars away from where I sat, a thin ring of smoke spiralled upwards before it evaporated into the heavy air.
A man emerged from behind the post, stomping out his cigarette before he started walking toward me. His eyes lingered a little too long on my exposed cleavage.
He's a man.
If you put them on display, they're going to look.
Even Arlo.
It doesn't mean he's dangerous.
He was tall and lean, his black athletic shorts hanging loosely off his narrow hips. His tight gray t-shirt revealed a muscular chest and decent biceps.
"Are you waiting for a cab?" he asked.
"Yes."
"How long did they say it would be?"
"A very long time," I sighed. "As in they're not coming at all."
"All because of some smoke from a wildfire. This happens every summer, and we don't shut down the fucking city."
"Where's your mask?"
"I don't need one," he scoffed. "It's all a bunch of bullshit."
"Aren't you worried you're going to get arrested for being outside?"
"My buddy is on his way to pick me up. He should be here any minute."
"That's good."
"What about you? Don't you have someone you can call to come and get you?"
"No."
He glanced toward the doors. "Where's your groom, honey?"
My spidey-senses tingled, fear settling into my gut when I sensed this man might be a predator or a psycho. Maybe both. I kicked myself for letting my guard down, and divulging far too much information to a stranger. Now he knew how vulnerable and alone I was.
"He's in the washroom," I said, rising from the bench. "I better go see what's keeping him."
He stood between me and the doors. "I don't think he'll mind if I keep you company out here."
"Excuse me," I said politely, attempting to go around him. I froze when he put his hand on my wrist, swallowing down the panic before I glared into his cold grey eyes. "Let go of me right now."
"My buddy is here. We'll give you a ride."
"No thanks. I'm going to go find my husband."
"We both know there's no groom in the bathroom, sweetheart."
"I'm not going with you."
"It's not safe for you to sit here all alone in front of an abandoned airport. There's a lot of bad people out there."
"I'll be just fine."