He braced himself with one hand on the side of the truck, and reached underneath with the other to pull the door handle. The door seemed stuck, and he let go, intending to find a stick or something to pound on it a couple times. But just as he was turning away, there was a low groan, and then a creak, and the whine of metal shifting against metal as the door fell a crack, and then a full inch.
He couldn’t see May from his vantage point, but the sound of her painful moan about broke his heart. She shifted somehow, and the truck moved, and he watched as the door fell a few more inches.
“Will?”
He barely heard her as the truck groaned and metal on metal squealed. He was about to call out to her when the whole thing shifted one more time and the door fell open. May fell out with whine that stopped cold when her head and shoulders hit the ground.
“Oh God, May. What have I done? What have I done…”
Will fell to his knees beside her and wept.
Chapter 8
The moths were rising again.
Micah watched more and more of the little triangles float upwards until they were so numerous they blocked out the light from the street lamps. It would take a day or so, but all of the larvae would either be dead or gone soon, and he and Bailey would have to find real food to live on until the next wave of moths left larvae behind.
The Dry Rain, he’d heard someone call it. He guessed it did sort of look like rain when they all came out of the sky looking for food and a place to lay their eggs. He had so many questions, like why they left and came back, and whether it was the same moths or not, and where they went when they left, and what could they possibly be eating now that most of the food was gone. He’d heard some old guys talking, and they’d said the moths should be dying soon, on account of there being no more food for the worms. Made sense to Micah, but there were still so many moths flying up past the window…
“Micah? Are you okay?”
Angie’s question brought him out of his thoughts and back to the comfortable living room. Bailey was cradled in the crook of Angie’s arm, sound asleep, the book on the floor at her feet.
“I'm fine,” he managed, remembering that she’d asked him a question. “I was just watching the moths.”
Her brows drew together and she glanced toward the window where the light was visible again. Another wave started up as they watched, tiny little stealth bombers headed out on their next mission.
“Do you think they’ll be back again?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “There’s nothing left for them to eat…shouldn’t they die soon?”
She thought about that for a long minute, and then gave a slow nod.
“You know, you’re right. I think every bit of vegetation has been stripped, and a lot of old clothing and fiber fabrics are gone too, or that’s what I’ve heard. Nothing can survive for too long without food. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and they’ll all die this time. Then if the real rain would just come again, life can get back to normal, right?”
Micah nodded. There wasn’t much difference between normal life and moth life for him and Bailey aside from the larvae being easy food, but he was too polite to say so.
She tilted her head to one side, and gave him a strange look. “Where are your parents? Why are you and your sister out on your own?”
He turned away. She’d been really helpful, and he appreciated it, but if she decided to be even more helpful and turn them over to the authorities, they’d take Bailey away, and he couldn’t let that happen.
“Thank you again for letting us stay here tonight. If Bailey’s feeling better, we’ll be out of your way tomorrow.”
Angie’s expression was sad. “I was kind of hoping you’d keep me company for a few more days. Your sister and I were just getting to know each other, and I’d like to get to know you too. I’m here all by myself, and having company sure is nice.”
Her guest bed sure was nice too. And she had said she’d try to find more food. With the larvae disappearing, it might be worth the risk just for that.
It was late. Maybe he’d just ask, and get it out in the open. He and Bailey could be long gone by morning, if she was going to snitch.
“Our mom is dead, and our dad likes to hit. That’s why I got Bailey out of there. If we stay, you have to promise not to tell anyone who we are or that we’re here. If social services gets us, they’ll take Bailey away and I’ll have to steal her back.”
Angie nodded, looking thoughtful. “I see. You’re a very brave boy to get your sister away from your dad. Have you been on the streets long?”
“Just a year. It’s not too bad, once you get used to it.”
“Wow.” Angie stroked Bailey’s hair as the girl shifted in her sleep, her head still lolling on Angie’s lap.
“A year is a long time. I take it you were sleeping in the warehouse?”
Micah nodded. “Yes ma’am. But we’ll find another place. Plenty of abandoned houses now. We could have our pick.”
Angie smiled – a real one, not the kind adults used when they were lying.
“You could. Or you could stay with me, at least for awhile. I’ll keep your secret, and you and Bailey can stay in the guest room. We can help each other, okay?”
“I don’t know what we can do to help you though.”
“Keeping me company is a pretty big help. And when…if the larvae come again, you can teach me how to cook them.”
Micah looked at Bailey, and the smile on her face while she dreamed. She needed a warm, dry place, and someone like Angie. It was good for her to be here.
“Okay. We’ll stay for a few days more.”
Angie smiled again, bigger this time. “I’m so happy to hear that.” She gathered up Bailey and stood. “Let me just put your sister to bed, and then we can talk some more.”
Micah stood up too, unable to stop a wide yawn.
“If it’s okay with you, ma’am, I think I’ll lay down for awhile too. I’m still pretty tired.” A moth flitted by his head, and he brushed it away.
“Of course you can.” Angie led the way down the hall and arranged Bailey on the bed in the same room Micah had woke up in. “We’ll talk more after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
Micah crawled up on the bed and Angie shooed another errant moth. She pulled a blanket up over both of them, tucking it in at the edges. He could remember his mom doing that a few times before she’d died. It was nice.
Angie turned out the light and pulled the door mostly shut, leaving a crack of light for them.
A small triangular shadow flitted up through the crack in stark relief against the yellow hall light.
Micah closed his eyes.
Chapter 9
A loud pop-pop roused May from a fitful sleep, and she groaned, moving this way and that trying to find a comfortable spot. The mattress was slick and squishy though, and she was annoyed that Will had stolen the covers again. She shivered. Maybe he’d forgotten to close the window.
There was a rustling noise behind her, and she tried to turn over, but her muscles didn’t respond right. It hurt, though she couldn’t figure out where.
“May? May, can you hear me?”
Will sounded like he was far away, off in a tunnel behind her, and she tried to turn over again, this time making it onto her back. The bed squished and squirmed under her weight, and she wondered why it was damp.
“I’m here, Will. Where are you?” The words sounded right in her head, but not to her ear. She opened her eyes a crack, but her eyelids were so very heavy…
“May! Oh God, May. I thought you were dead. Can you open your eyes, honey? Can you talk to me?”
She thought she felt warm skin patting the side of her face — or was it rain? That would be silly, rain in the bedroom. She giggled, without quite knowing what was so funny.
“You forgot to close the window. It’s raining inside.” The words still didn’t sound right when she spoke them. She tried to pry her eyes open just a little bit more, but it was so hard. She w
as so tired.
“Let me go back to sleep, Will. I’ll get up in a little bit. So tired…”
Closing her eyes again, she thought she heard someone crying, but that wasn’t possible. Will never cried, and there were no kids or orphaned animals in the house just then. She wiggled a little, her joints stiff and the bed harder than she remembered. They really did need a new mattress. She’d talk to Will about that as soon as she—
“Hold on, honey. I’m gonna get you out of here. Just stay with me, okay?”
Will was talking again. Why was he doing that? She already told him she wanted to sleep. She felt him lift her arm up and put it near his neck, but she didn’t have the strength to hold it there. He picked her up, but she wasn’t sure how since she could feel one of his arms under her shoulder, but not the other one.
“Just stay with me, May. Stay awake. Talk to me.”
She nestled closer, pressing her face to his chest. She always had loved the smell of him — that earthy, musky, hard-working-all-man scent. She tried to breathe him in on a long breath, but her lungs refused to cooperate.
Then she was tumbling forward, out of his arms and hit that soft, squishy surface again. She tried to reach out as her body started to roll, but her muscles still weren’t working right. It was only a couple of rotations before she smacked into something solid, or more solid than she was, at least. There was a grunt, and a groan, and then she was being lifted into the air again, against a now-slimy chest that didn’t smell nearly as good as it had just seconds ago.
“Are you okay, Will? Where are we going? Why can’t I sleep?”
His voice was far away when he answered, like a man in a dream.
“We’re almost there, May. There’s a car. We’re gonna get help.”
“Help,” she repeated, or tried to. It was hard to make her mouth form the words. “Why help?”
The heartbeat in her ear was fast — too fast. It hurt when he put her down, but only for a minute. This mattress was better. Softer. A door slammed in the distance, and then she heard him again, calling her name. Why was he so far away?
“We got lucky, May. The keys are here. You just hold on now, you hear? Don’t you die on me!”
The bed rumbled and started to vibrate underneath her, and she managed to turn just a little, snuggle in a bit deeper. It was warm, finally, and she closed her eyes. She’d just ignore the tinge of guilt at not getting up to make breakfast, and rest for a little while. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that.
Will could wake her up later.
Chapter 10
Angie watched the moth flit up toward the hall light, until it was fluttering around the frosted glass, trying to find a way into the fixture. Funny how such a simple thing like a light bulb could be so irresistible. Of course it was the light itself they wanted, and she wasn’t sure why. It had to be something instinctual that led them to fly right into something that could only be created by something burning. They would happily give up their lives for what amounted to bright white brain candy. Maybe happily wasn’t the word, but they had no will to resist, all the same.
Leaving the light on for the kids, she went back to the living room and sat down, wishing she had water for tea. Or even just water. Tomorrow she’d have to fight the crowds and try to get rations for them all - not an easy task when everyone else needed the same thing, but at least the moths were rising again. A lull in the infestation tended to ease tempers and lengthen patience for a little while.
Maybe because there was hope that this time would be the last. That the moths wouldn’t return, and the rain would.
She turned off the lights and sat in the dark, watching more moths drift upward toward the streetlights. Sometimes they were thick as an opaque curtain, and others just a trickle of randomly fluttering shapes. She wondered where they would go and what they would eat, and if the next wave was already on it’s way from…wherever…to lay eggs in her yard.
Thinking back on her conversation with Micah, she smiled. Such a smart little boy, and so young to be taking care of his sister all on his own. He was right about the moths - they would eventually have to die off. It was either that, or learn to eat different things, since no living thing could survive without food.
They were already eating clothing - she could attest to that first hand after having to forgo more and more of her closet due to chunks of fabric missing from over half the clothes in it. She’d found some duct tape in the closet and taped up the seams of the windows and every crack and hole she could find, but there were always a few that found their way in, probably through the heating ducts.
Ironically enough, she couldn’t tape those over or the air would just get stale, but maybe she could find some screen material when she was out tomorrow and fashion some sort of moth-proof cover. Anything to keep them at bay for just a little longer. Just until they could starve to death.
Something stung her forearm, and she absently slapped her arm, mosquito-style, releasing a gush of something not-quite-warm and sort of sticky and way-too-big-to-be-a-mosquito all over her skin.
Looking down, she cringed at the smashed body of a large moth divided equally between her arm and the palm of her hand. Her nose wrinkled up and she went to the kitchen under the over-sink light, wiping herself clean with a torn piece of towel. There was blood mingled with the moth-guts, and she assumed it was the moths, until a dark red spot bubbled up on her freshly-cleaned skin.
Moths didn’t bite. Everyone knew that – it had been all over the news after the first wave of moths had come. Not once had anyone reported being bitten by one of the bugs. They’d been tangled in hair, accidentally swallowed, stuck in clothing and squished in all manner of gross ways, but never had she heard of a moth bite.
But her arm was bleeding.
The grass and trees were gone. Cloth was fast disappearing, and water was deep underground, accessible by only the strongest pumps and even those were drying up by the day.
The moths had to eat.
Chapter 11
Will held the steering wheel tight just to keep his hands and arms from shaking. It had been a force of willpower - he chuckled under his breath at the pun - to get May up the hill and back to the road, and a crazy stroke of luck to see the abandoned car several yards in front of the mass that had sent them off the road.
Not so lucky for the mass, which he had to pass on the way to the car. It was completely covered in white, wiggling larvae which was disturbing enough, but the bright red streaks of what he assumed must be blood were both unnerving and terrifying. Those worms were clearly feeding on whatever was under them, and it not only made him sick to his stomach, it presented a new danger that he had no idea how they could possibly survive.
When he got to the car, he sat May on the back trunk for a couple of minutes and wiped off every little worm he could find from her body, even checking under her shirt and paying careful attention to the parts that were already bleeding. Then he laid her carefully in the back seat and brushed himself off as well as he could before collapsing into the driver’s seat and thanking God or whoever that the keys were still in the ignition.
He had no idea why the other person had stopped, much less left their vehicle, but he had no desire to find out. Darkness was setting in, and if the larvae were feeding on human flesh now, he had to get them out of there as quickly as possible.
His breathing came in shallow bursts, his chest hurt, and the longer he drove the more parts of his body ached and burned. The pain served to keep him awake though, and he needed to get May to a hospital as soon as possible.
And they needed to warn someone. Everyone. If the worms were feeding on people, did that mean the moths were too? This next batch probably would be…
The sun went down, and he drove on, blinking through the exhaustion and alternating between rolling the window down for the cool air, and keeping it up to ward off any stray moths. The closer they got to the city, the more moths he saw flying around outside the car, p
lastering themselves to his windshield. They appeared to be leaving, rising up from the ground and disappearing into the night, and he was grateful. If the city was in between life cycles, there was still time. May could get help, and they could warn everyone to seal up their houses and buildings and hide before the next batch of eggs hatched.
Finally he reached the city, with its bright solar-powered street lamps shining down on near-empty streets. The last time he’d visited, it had been bustling and busy well after midnight, never stopping to rest, it seemed. Now all was quiet, and the only people he saw were the homeless shuffling the sidewalks.
It appeared that most of the moths had departed the city, though a few still flitted here and there, drawn to the lights. He pulled up under the emergency room overhang and parked, taking no heed of the uniformed guard striding toward the car and telling him to move.
Will got out and opened the back door, pulling May off the seat and into his arms.
“I need help!” He turned and started toward the hospital, not bothering to worry about the car door. Not his car, so who cared? He had to get help for May. “Help us, please!”
The guard pulled up at the sight of them and held up a hand. “You can’t go in there. The dead have to be dropped off on Sarpy Hill, just west of town.”
“She’s not dead - she needs a doctor! Get out of my way!”
The guard frowned, came closer. “I have to check for a pulse. She looks dead. What happened?” He laid two fingers at the side of May’s neck. William could see her pulse throb weakly against them.
“Car accident - we went off the road a few miles west of town. Larvae all over the road. Now go get a damn doctor!”
The guard stepped back, shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, mister, but she’s gone. You need to move your car. Now.”
This couldn’t be happening. Will looked down at May, her chest rising and falling near his, the pulse still beating at the vein in her neck. He didn’t even have to feel it, he saw it. What the hell was going on here? Why wouldn’t the guard let him in?
The Dry Rain Page 3
