Distinct

by Hamill, Ike

  Coming from this man, the name held no power. Brad wouldn’t let it. This man couldn’t know a thing about Karen except maybe what Brad had told other people in the group. His memory of Karen was his own.

  “Okay,” Brad said. “Why is it so important for you to chase us down to talk about her?”

  “She’s important to you, right?” the man asked.

  “What’s the point of your cult?” Brad asked.

  “You still love her?”

  “Why do you call this man The Origin?”

  “You think Karen died, right?”

  Brad just wanted the man to shut up. He raised his voice hoping to shock him. “What does this have to do with…”

  Brad didn’t finish the question. Romie dropped her golf club and slapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Stop it!” Romie shouted. “Stop talking. I’ve read about cults. This is how they get you. They read you and they get you talking about something that bothers you.”

  She eyed the three men. They seemed perfectly at ease with Romie’s accusations.

  “Before you know it, you’re brainwashed. No more conversation.”

  “Romie, it’s okay,” Brad said as she removed her hand from his mouth.

  She choked up on her golf club, holding the metal part of the shaft in her fist. Romie leaned over the man who had been talking to Brad.

  “In a second, we’re going to stop asking and start demanding,” she said. “I want you three to take that time to decide which of you values your fingers the most. You can either lay them flat on the table, or I can clock you in the back of the head with this iron.”

  Romie was obviously playing “bad cop”—at least Brad hoped she was only playing. She had a violent streak. It was up to him to be the “good cop”.

  “Just tell us what you’re doing,” Brad said.

  “I’ll tell you,” a voice said. It came from the dead man lying on the floor.

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  “Tim, hit him in the head again!” Romie called. She backed up from the table.

  Tim and Ty were standing closest to the dead man. They each took a step back with their mouths hanging open. A moment later, The Origin rose. He looked to be in much better shape.

  “Why don’t you guys go sit outside for a bit,” The Origin said to the seated men.

  Not even Romie tried to stop them. The guards stood up and walked out. A second later, Romie’s radio screamed back to life with Lisa’s voice. Romie reached down and turned it off.

  The Origin took his original seat. He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe away the spot of blood he had left on the table.

  “You’re very strong people,” The Origin said. “So strong, and you’ve all lost so much.”

  His slow eyes turned to Brad.

  “I’m sorry that Daniel talked to you about Karen. He can seem disrespectful.”

  Ty was circling the man, trying to get a look at his chest. His sweatshirt was still open, but his shirt was draped over the wound.

  “How are you alive?” Ty whispered.

  The Origin turned his slow eyes up to Ty and he smiled. Delighted in Ty’s interest, the man zipped up his sweatshirt slowly, concealing the wound. When he was through, he covered his bald head with his hood again.

  Romie was the only person who wasn’t too shocked to act. She moved towards him, still holding her club like a hammer, and shook it in his face.

  “What is this horse shit?” Romie asked. “Why are you chasing us?”

  “You know better than most, these are troubling times,” The Origin said. He put his hands flat on the table and looked up at her with wide eyes.

  “I’ve been blessed or cursed, depending on how you look at it. I was given messages for each of you, and I consider it my last mission in this realm to deliver those messages. For Brad, I have news of Karen. For you, Romie, I have word from all of your family.”

  “They’re all dead,” Romie spat. “I watched them all go.”

  As The Origin slowly nodded, his eyes stayed locked on her. Brad had the idea that the man couldn’t have nodded any faster—his eyes wouldn’t be able to keep up.

  “You watched them go, but only Richie died. Momma, Fran, Pamela, Kenny, Ava…”

  “Stop!” Romie yelled.

  “They’re all still together. They miss you.”

  “Stop it,” Romie said. She slid her hands back down to the club’s grip and got ready to swing.

  “No,” Tim said. He moved between Romie and The Origin. “Information, Romie, remember?”

  Reluctantly, she lowered the weapon.

  “You didn’t have any of this information before,” Tim said. “Ty treated you when they brought you down out of the hills and you didn’t have any messages at all. What changed?”

  Instead of answering, The Origin looked over to Ty.

  “He travels to the other side,” Ty said. The declaration took the energy out of the big man’s legs. As soon as Ty finished saying it, he sat down in a chair.

  “We don’t have any interest in the dead,” Romie said. “We’ve made our peace and moved on.”

  “They’re not dead, Romie,” The Origin said. “I can tell you how to find them.”

  “Not interested,” she said.

  “Of all the people I named, who do you miss the most?”

  With his question, her club went up again.

  The Origin turned his attention to Ty.

  “I know who you miss the most,” he said.

  “No!” Ty shouted.

  Until that moment, Ty had seemed almost transfixed by the man. Ty dropped his club and sprinted across the dining room. He slammed through the doors to the kitchen. Tim stared after him, forgetting about Romie and The Origin for a second.

  Romie took a step to the side, so Tim wasn’t between her and The Origin again.

  With her swing, the shaft of the club sliced through the air like a whip. Slamming into The Origin’s forehead, it rang like a bell.

  Brad flinched as blood sprayed out from The Origin’s face.

  CHAPTER 27: VIRGINIA

  “IT’S NOT RIGHT,” ROBBY said. He closed his eyes and pictured the trip down. They had seen plenty of highway signs. Some of them may have had kilometers listed after the miles, but certainly none of them said, “Motorway Services.” The sign was much too formal—almost European.

  “It wasn’t just the water that shifted—we shifted. We shifted in the tunnel and we shifted at the river. What happens if we go back? Will everyone still be the same?”

  Gordie shifted in his seat. For once the dog looked distinctly uncomfortable, almost nervous.

  “I don’t know what to do. We’ve learned what we’re going to learn, but I’m afraid to go back when we’re clearly in the wrong place, you know?”

  Robby remembered his test from earlier. He reached between the seats to find his backpack. In the bottom, the GPS was still on. It read, “No Satellites,” so Robby put it on the dash to see what it would pick up with a clear view of the sky.

  He tried to think while they waited.

  His foot tapped on the floor mat. The engine idled. Gordie looked through the window and then sniffed the air.

  The device didn’t find anything.

  “Shit.”

  Robby slapped the wheel with both hands.

  “We’re going back. We’re going back.”

  He turned the Hummer around.

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  The vehicle chewed through fuel. Robby let it coast as they approached the washed out bridge. Another section of road had crumbled. With Gordie on a tight leash, they approached on the grass, testing each step as they neared the edge. The newly exposed dirt was dark red. The hillside had been cut away like rare meat.

  Down in the valley, the river continued to roar.

  “It’s dropping though,” Robby said. “See the waterline? The level is dropping.”

  Gordie didn’t want to be there any more than Robby did.

&nb
sp; They retreated to the Hummer.

  With the engine off, they waited. It took almost twenty minutes before the GPS finally found what it was looking for.

  “Okay, come on, one more check.”

  They returned to the grass along the side of the road and inched towards the river’s ravine. The level had dropped once more. It was almost back to the calm flow they had seen when they first arrived.

  “I don’t know how much time we have.”

  Gordie sprinted alongside as Robby ran back to the Hummer.

  They streaked up the road. The tires sang on the pavement. Fear built in Robby’s chest as he neared the backwards sign. He almost didn’t want to see. They had traveled to the edge of the real world and there might not be a way back. That idea was scarier than death. They might be trapped to live alone in a foreign place that looked all too familiar. The thought was terrifying.

  With a deep breath, he finally turned.

  “Food & Fuel, 1 mi,” the sign read.

  Robby exhaled.

  “Good,” he sighed. “I think. Let’s find some fuel.”

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  Robby found what he was looking for a couple miles north. He turned the Hummer around and took the exit. The road passed over the highway on the way to the truck stop. They found a truck with a full tank—no need to even pump from underground. The fuel looked good so Robby siphoned it over to the Hummer.

  While they waited, they toured the inside of the store, collecting food.

  “Hey!” Robby said, smiling. He held up cans of dusty dog food. Gordie barked and Robby piled them into a bag. Glancing through the window, he saw diesel pooling under the Hummer. The tank had overfilled.

  “Shit,” Robby said. He ran for the door and held it open for Gordie.

  He should have known something was wrong when Gordie stopped halfway back to the Hummer. Robby continued, jerking the hose from the fill spout and holding it up to stop the flow.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gordie’s hair was straight up.

  Robby didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even bother to screw on the gas cap. He threw open the door and whistle for Gordie. The dog streaked across the parking lot and flew in through the open door. Robby slammed it shut.

  “What is it?”

  Robby put down the window a little farther. He and Gordie sniffed at the air. There was a foul smell on the breeze. It smelled of spoiled milk and rotten eggs. Robby put up the window.

  The smell was still with them.

  Robby sniffed his hand. Some of the fuel from the hose was on his hand. That’s where the smell was coming from. Then, they heard it. It was the same mournful howling that Robby had heard farther north. The sound didn’t have a place in the sun. It belonged to the night. Gordie growled back.

  Robby put his hand on the key, ready to start up the Hummer and get out of there.

  He paused. His hand didn’t want to turn the key.

  “The fuel is bad,” he said.

  Something had contaminated it, and now it was in the Hummer’s tank, right up to the top of the fill spout.

  Robby turned the key. A tiny spark of relief burned in his chest when the engine fired up and ran. He didn’t waste any time. He dropped it into gear intending to get on the highway and speed away from the coyotes, or whatever was making that sound.

  As he cranked the wheel to the right at the end of the parking lot, the engine began to sputter.

  Robby’s eyes went to the rearview mirror as a four-legged shape jogged by the front of the store they had just been in. He had heard a dozen voices in that howling. The other animals were unaccounted for.

  Ahead of them, straight across the road, was an entrance to an amusement park. It was the closest manmade structure. Robby straightened the wheel and gunned the bucking Hummer with the last of the combustable fuel left in the line. He got up some decent speed before the engine cut. Robby clicked it into neutral so the transmission wouldn’t sap their momentum. The lot ran slightly downhill. Robby cranked the dead wheel, aiming for the visitor’s center.

  “When I open this door, we have to run for that building. We’re going to have to find a way in.”

  The only good news was from the mirror. Wherever the coyotes were, they seemed to be keeping their distance for the moment. The windows for the visitor’s center had big orange signs that read, “Closed for the Season.”

  As their momentum carried the Hummer up onto the sidewalk, Robby aimed for the doors. The Hummer rolled into the outer door. The heavy vehicle bent the steel frame. Robby and Gordie spilled from the vehicle and ran.

  Behind them, they heard the yips and calls of the pack.

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  Lisa could have popped the lock in seconds. Robby could only stare at it. The door led to the stairs. Robby wanted to get to the upper floors of the building so he could watch for the coyotes. In the bags on his back, he had food and water for a day, maybe two. Before that was spent, he needed to form a plan to get back on the road.

  Outside, barely audible, one of the animals yipped. Robby might have figured it was a trick of his ears except for the way Gordie reacted. Once again, the dog was stiff and the hair on his back was standing up.

  “Okay. Just give me a second,” Robby whispered.

  He used a screwdriver from his bag to pry the pins up on the hinges. The door popped off and wasn’t too heavy.

  Gordie started to bark as Robby moved it to the side and unlocked the handle from the back.

  Gordie snarled.

  Glancing back, Robby saw their bright eyes nosing around the Hummer. One was down on its belly, squeezing between the Hummer and outside door frame. With the door unlocked, he only had to get the pins back in the hinges to make the door functional again. He heaved the door back into the jamb and tried to shove the pin down.

  Gordie’s growling grew more intense. One of the animals was stalking forward.

  It didn’t look anything like Robby had imagined. The thing was too big and its muzzle was short and flat. Its ears hooked up over its head. The tips almost met in the center. The way it moved was hypnotizing. Only the feet seemed to shift. The rest of the thing’s body just hovered over the floor of the lobby.

  Robby pulled the door open. It swung unevenly on one hinge.

  “Come on, Gordie,” Robby whispered as he pulled his bag through to the stairwell.

  The dog didn’t respond. He was in a staring contest with the stalking animal.

  “Gordie!”

  Robby glanced back towards the outer door. At least three more animals were squeezing inside.

  “Come!”

  The dog spun and darted past Robby. The stalking animal charged.

  Robby tugged the door, trying to get it shut before the thing could get its strange muzzle through the gap. The swing of the door actually caught the animal’s nose before it retreated. The door slammed shut.

  Robby locked it and took a step back. He exhaled.

  They listened as the pack convened outside the door, sniffing at the gap beneath. Seconds passed with Robby and Gordie taking only shallow breaths as they listened for activity on the other side of the door. Robby looked down at his hand. He still held two of the hinges meant to keep the door secure. It was only standing because of the center hinge and the latch. He had no way of knowing if a concentrated effort from the animals would topple it.

  Gordie tracked with him as Robby backed towards the stairs and climbed. Before they made the first turn, they heard the sound of claws digging at the door.

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  They climbed to the third floor. Robby dragged a small desk from an office and shoved it against the door to the stairwell. They jogged the length of the building. Big windows along the backside looked out to the amusement park. On the parking lot side, tinted office windows looked down at the empty grid of white lines on dark asphalt.

  They found another sign for stairs at the far end of the building. The door had a small rectangle
of thick glass. Robby could see the deck through the window. There were outdoor stairs on the other side of the deck.

  “Shit!” Robby whispered as he saw movement.

  One of the animals climbed the stairs and padded across the deck towards the door.

  “How smart are they?” Robby whispered.

  The animal eyed him through the slit of a window. Robby backed up.

  “Okay—he’s not getting through there, but neither are we. They’re big. I wonder if we could get by one of them if we had to.”

  Gordie looked ready to take on the challenge. The hair on his back still hadn’t settled. The dog had a serious demeanor that Robby had never seen. Gordie concentrated sometimes. When the dog would sit outside a hole, waiting for a groundhog to emerge, he would wrinkle his forehead in supreme focus and concentration. This was different. Gordie appeared stony and disapproving.

  “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure they’ll give up quickly. A pack of animals like that has to know when to break off a chase, you know? They can’t be too stubborn. They would go hungry.”

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  With Robby leading the way, they mapped out their territory. The freight elevator was useless, of course. Even after Robby forced the door open, there was no way to get Gordie down the ladder, and the car would block Robby from getting down to the first floor.

  “Assuming the pack leaves us alone, we need another vehicle, or I have to drain the Hummer so we can put fresh fuel in it. Robby looked out through the windows that pointed south. Several construction vehicles—tractors and excavators—were parked near an empty lot. Some new attraction had been underway before everyone disappeared.

  “Those would probably have fuel, and there might even be a storage tank nearby to refuel. Not fast enough for an escape attempt though.”

  Gordie found a closet that was stacked with boxes. The dog was so insistent that Robby stopped his search to cut the tape. The box was labeled, “No Knife,” but Robby cut anyway. He saw why. Inside the box, stacked neatly into two levels of rows and columns, they found packages of popping corn. Each portion contained oil, popcorn, and seasoning for a 12 ounce machine.