The boy nodded. “Susan. And the others. They helped us.”
“I don’t suppose they’d listen to me if I went alone, would they?”
Micah shook his head. “They hide while it’s light. If they don’t know you, they won’t come out. Bailey and I should go.”
“Not alone.” Angie looked the children over, top to bottom. “I think we’ve got you pretty well covered as far as clothes go, but let me see what I can find for scarves to protect your faces. We’ll still have to hurry.” Angie went to the coat closet and started digging through outer-wear, tossing gloves and boots every which way. Finally she held up three scarves and handed one to Micah, slung one around her own neck and motioned for Bailey to come over.
“Are you sure you don’t just want to stay here and wait for us, Bailey? You might be more comfortable, and we’re going to have to move pretty fast to beat curfew…”
“She can handle it,” Micah said with a grin. “When we’re on the streets, we sleep during the day and only go out after dark - it’s safer that way. We’ll be fine. But you can wait here if you want, Angie. If you’re scared.”
It was good to see him smile and hear the teasing note in his voice. With everything that had gone wrong for these kids, it was amazing to Angie that they could still be even a little hopeful. While their dad might be a complete asshole, their mother must have been a good, strong woman. Angie was sure that she’d be proud of her two children and the way they were handling things right now.
“I’m not scared if you aren’t.” She finished wrapping and tying the scarf to cover Bailey’s head, neck and the lower part of her face. “Do we need anything else before we leave?”
Both kids shook their heads - or tried too, which made them all laugh. Angie secured her own scarf and led them to the back door. It felt odd, stepping over the threshold with the two kids behind her. She had no idea where they were going, so she let Micah and Bailey take the lead, hand in hand.
They passed the occasional small patch of white, wriggling bodies, and moths floated in and out between them as they walked, not biting or threatening, just floating on the tiny breeze that wafted through. Maybe they weren’t all biting yet. Or maybe they only bit at night. Angie just hoped they could get to the homeless colony before anything bad happened.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren alarm went off. Then another and another, and another…
Chapter 17
“What do you think those are for?”
Angie wasn’t sure how to answer Micah’s question, but she knew they needed to get back inside. She’d only heard the emergency sirens all go off at the same time once, just before a tornado had torn a mile-wide chunk out of the city before finally breaking up just on the south side of town. Whatever had them going off now had to be big. And potentially life-threatening. She placed a hand on each child’s shoulder and squeezed firmly enough to stop them.
“I’m not sure, but we need to go back inside until we know what it is.”
Micah twisted out of her grasp and shook his head. “We can’t. We have to warn everyone! We have to keep them safe!” He held out his hand to Bailey, but the girl hesitated. “Come on, Bailey. It’s time to go.”
The sirens were still blaring in the background, and Angie took the hand Bailey offered her. She didn’t understand why Micah was so focused on saving everyone except himself, but she had to figure out how to get him inside, and fast, given steady roar in the distance that was growing louder by the second.
“You’ll never make it,” she said, realizing as soon as the words came out that it was the wrong thing to say. “Besides, your sister needs you. You have to choose - you can keep her safe, or everyone else. There just isn’t time for both.”
He stared into her eyes, his gaze cool and assessing. In that moment, he seemed far older than his twelve years, and she knew that nothing she could say would stop him. He’d already made up his mind.
“You’ll keep Bailey safe, and I’ll move faster without her. I’ll be back. I promise.”
Angie shook her head. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.” She looked at the darkening sky, feeling the wind gust against her skin.
“If you make—” She looked down to tell him they’d be waiting, but he was gone.
“We’d better get inside,” she told Bailey, who nodded. They ran back to the house and she unlocked the door, locking it behind them again. She helped Bailey out of the coat and scarf bundle before unwrapping herself and hanging everything in the hall closet.
“He’ll be back,” Bailey said as she watched. “He always comes back.”
Angie nodded, more because she didn’t want to dash the girl’s hopes than because she agreed. She pushed the front curtain to one side and looked out the window, with Bailey at her side.
“I don’t like storms.” Bailey peered out at the impending darkness. “They’re scary.”
Angie nodded, letting the curtain drop back into place. “We should do something to distract ourselves. Do you want to play a game? Or read a story?”
“Story,” Bailey said. “Something happy.”
Angie thought for a moment, and then smiled. “I think I have just what we’re looking for in the bedroom. There are some sad spots, but it’s mostly happy - about four girls just a little older than you and the cute neighbor boy next door. Want to try it?”
Bailey nodded and smiled. “Then when Micah gets back, I can tell him all about it. You don’t think he’s read it, do you?”
Angie shook her head as she led the way back to the bedroom bookshelf. “No, I don’t think he has.”
There was a pop against the front window, then another, and another after that. It sounded like someone was throwing rocks at the house.
“Stay here, okay? Don’t move - you’re safe in this spot.”
At Bailey’s nod that she would stay in the bathroom, Angie went to pull the curtain back again, expecting to see hail or big fat raindrops.
Instead she gasped and dropped the curtain again, tripping over her own feet in her attempt to get away from the sight.
Chapter 18
The alarms were still ringing and the lights were off when Will came to, and he was freezing. Cold, wet blankets hugged his shivering body and his teeth chattered against each other so hard his jaws hurt. He tried to move, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate, and his right leg might as well have been stuck in concrete. He tried to call out for help, but the only sound he could manage sounded more like a whimper than a shout.
He knew in that moment that he was going to die.
Everything around him was covered with water. The emergency sprinklers were visible in the ceiling and dripping, which explained the freezing mess. Considering all the wires he was hooked up to, he figured it was lucky he hadn’t been electrocuted in the chaos. The machines were all silent now. The whole room was quiet, in fact - not even a buzz from the florescent light fixtures. Shorted out, probably.
There was noise out in the hall, faint through the closed door, but he could see shadows passing quickly in both directions through the nearly-closed blinds on the window. Again, he tried to call out. And failed. If he could just get to the door, tell someone he needed help…
The shivers weren’t so bad anymore, and his teeth were only knocking together about half as fast. Uncrossing his arms felt like a herculean task, and he was tired. So very tired. He forced himself to sit up, the effort taking far, far too long though the pain sent pulses of welcome warmth back to his core. His right leg burned and he struggled to push the wet blankets off, letting them fall to the floor and revealing the massive brace and long metal rods sticking out of his skin. The metal was cold, but when he wrapped his hands around his thigh and tried to lift his leg off the metal frame at the end of the bed, the burn that radiated out from his knee was like nothing he’d ever felt, and he called out - a real shout fueled by true agony mixed with despair.
He fell back on the wet bed, the darkness providing welcome obli
vion before his head even hit the pillow.
It was warm when he woke again. Blanketed by a thick warmth, he was hot rather than cold - uncomfortably so. The room was dark, so it must be night, and he tried to sit up, but something held his head down. Had they strapped him in? Obviously they’d found him before he froze to death, thank goodness.
His nose itched, and he tried to reach up to scratch it, but his arm wouldn’t move. Strange. He wiggled his fingers to make sure they still worked.
What he felt made his blood run cold.
Small, slippery little worms between his fingers. He stretched them out, and felt more of the little buggers, covering the sides of both hips. Knowing it was important, he put everything he had into lifting his head, and nearly fainted again at what he saw.
Giving off a faint luminescence, his blanket was essentially made up of worms. Moth larvae, to be exact. And judging from the darker splotches seeping up from the ruins, they were feeding. On him.
He screamed.
Chapter 19
Angie could still see the red tinge through her translucent curtain as bird after bird was hurled into her window so hard their little bodies just split apart. The birds had been one of the few species to thrive in this new, moth-infested world, probably because food was so abundant for them. Normally they would have avoided the storm - found shelter or flown away. Why they hadn’t this time scared Angie almost as much as the fact that the one thriving predator for the moths was apparently being decimated at a rather alarming rate.
There was no thunder, but the wind roared outside, and she could still hear the thump, thump, thumpthump as more little bodies hit the window and the side of her house. Other houses too, probably. She went back to the bedroom and found Bailey still in her en suite bathroom, peering out with wide, glassy-looking eyes.
“Is it the moths?” The girl’s voice shook, and she stepped close when Angie knelt down beside her.
“No honey, it’s birds. The storm is pretty bad, so we need to stay back here where it’s safe, okay? Just for a little while. I’m going to get us some pillows and blankets, and we can pretend we’re camping out back here.”
Bailey looked at her like she was crazy. “In the bathroom?”
Angie grinned. “What, you’ve never slept in a bathtub before? You’re in for a treat!”
She pulled the pillows and blankets from the bed and made Bailey a nest in the bathtub. Settling on her own small pile of bedding on the floor, she noted that the thumps were becoming less frequent. Opening the book on the side of the tub, she was just about to start reading when a different type of thumping came from the front of the house. Harder, and more consistent.
Like someone was knocking.
“You stay here in the bathtub, okay? Don’t come out.”
At the little girl’s nod, Angie got up and closed the bathroom door behind her, heart pounding in her chest as she went to the front door. She stayed to the side and peered through the side window at an angle, hoping to get a glimpse of whoever was out there before they figured out she was home.
Or broke her door down.
At first, she couldn’t see anything, just bloodstains on the house next door, and the bodies of poor fallen birds littering the ground between. Maybe whoever it was had gone away…or maybe they’d just gone to tell their friends no one was home, and they could break in.
A man moved into view and raised a hand to knock again. The official city police patch on the shoulder of his black jacket almost reassured her that he meant no harm, not that the police had been any help when her husband had needed them. She stepped to the door and pulled it open, leaving the screen door closed and locked.
“What can I do for you, Officer?”
He wasn’t young like the two she’d spoken with before, but sort of weathered instead, perhaps a little older than she was. When he looked in her eyes, she didn’t see any of the challenge or fear the younger sort seemed to carry, but rather a quiet confidence that was somehow comforting.
“Are you alone, ma’am?”
“No.” She shook her head without hesitation, and would have even if the answer were yes.
The bird storm seemed to have abated somewhat, but just then a tiny feathered body bounced off the officer’s shoulder. He seemed impervious, but Angie was torn. She wanted to invite him in, felt like she could trust him, but if she was wrong, it could mean forfeiting not just her life, but Bailey’s too. Would he ask to come in? She waited, expecting the question.“The police department is requesting that residents stay in their homes until this storm has passed. It’s not safe out, and won’t be for a considerable amount of time after with all the…carnage out here. Is there anything you need immediately? Water or food? We have limited supplies, and can give you rations for a few days if that would help.”
Confused, she frowned. “No one’s offered this before, not with all the moths and the stores being looted and people fighting to get away. Why now?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that, ma’am. Only to offer you rations for yourself, and whoever is staying with you, in exchange for your agreement to stay in the house until we’ve given the all-clear.”
She nodded. “Okay. It’s myself and two others. We’ll stay here.” She hoped he wouldn’t need confirmation, but if Micah somehow made it back, she wanted enough for him as well.
The officer nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
She waited for minutes that felt like hours before he returned, a box in his arms piled with thick, dark gray envelopes and bottles of water.
“This should be enough for three days,” he said. “Would you like me to put it in your kitchen?”
She shook her head and opened the screen door, holding her arms out. “Thank you. I’ll take it.”
He didn’t argue like she thought he might, just handed her the supplies, tipped his hat and walked away.
Chapter 20
The whirlwind of birds seemed to have stopped for the moment, and Micah emerged cautiously from the cellar where he’d taken refuge. He’d nearly made it to the park before the windstorm hit and he continued on at a jog, sidestepping feathery carcasses and squirming worm masses as much as possible. When he reached the grassy area it was empty, of course, but he hurried across to the bridge and knocked six times on the maintenance access door.
Several minutes passed, and he’d nearly given up when the handle creaked and the door opened just a crack.
“Go away. It’s not safe.” A young, dirty face peered out at him from the darkness beyond.
“I need to talk to Sarah,” Micah said, pushing on the door with one hand when it would have closed. “It’s important. About the bugs.”
“Sarah’s gone. And we know about the bugs.”
Frustrated, Micah pushed harder. “You know they’re eating people? Where did Sarah go? I have to warn her, so she can tell everyone else!”
An older man’s face appeared higher up, the lines and dirt blending to look like old leather that had been creased too long. One bloodshot eye looked Micah up and down, and Micah thought he recognized the man from the larva hunting nights.
“Sarah’s dead,” the man finally said. “Along with a good many of the rest of us. Damned cops came out claiming they wanted to help. They told us if we stayed here, they’d give us food and water for three days.”
“So what happened?” Micah asked.
“The food was poisoned.” The eye Micah could see went glassy. “Everyone who ate the first batch died - women and children, mostly. Once we saw what was happening, we warned everyone not to eat it. Guess the government decided it was cheaper to kill us than to figure out how to solve the moth problem.”
Micah’s shoulders felt heavy, and his chest tight. “Okay,” he said, not sure what else to say. “I’m…sorry, mister.”The man gave a curt nod. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again, shutting the door in Micah’s face.
The walk back to Angie’s house took longer than he expe
cted, but he wasn’t really in any hurry. He wanted to see his sister again, and Angie too, but he felt sick at the thought of the police handing out poisoned food to the homeless. They weren’t hurting anything, and they weren’t causing any trouble, so why?
Maybe Angie would know.
Three blocks from Angie’s house, he saw a couple of police cars parked at the curb and four officers going door to door. Two were carrying boxes with them…
“Bailey.”
He sprinted the last little bit to Angie’s house and pounded on the screen door. “Angie! It’s Micah! Bailey?!”
The doorknob turned, but the door didn’t open.
“Micah?”
He could barely hear his sister’s voice through the door, but at least she was alive.
“Are you okay Bailey? Where’s Angie?” He glanced around the immediate area, looking for something to maybe break a window with.
“Angie’s sleeping. I can’t wake her up…can’t reach the lock…”
Micah found a good sized rock, one with some nice sharp edges.
“Stand back, Sis. Get away from the windows.”
He took two steps back and threw the rock as hard as he could at the window beside the door, putting a good-sized hole in the glass. Pulling one sleeve down to cover his hand, he reached up and pulled pieces of glass out of the window frame until it was clear, and then hoisted himself up through the opening.
Bailey ran up and threw her arms around him. “We were reading in the bathroom, and then a man came to the door, and then Angie said we could eat, only I wanted to wait for you. Now she’s sleeping and she won’t wake up.”
She pulled him into the kitchen where Angie lay on her side on the floor. Several gray packets were stacked on the table, one of them open and a plastic tray just a little smaller sitting nearby, about half full of some oatmeal-looking stuff.
Micah knelt down beside Angie and put two fingers on the side of her neck. Her pulse was still there, but faint.
The Dry Rain Page 5
