This Deep Panic

by Lisa Stowe

  And flowed like water into her mouth.

  Sharon drew in deep shuddering breaths, her body convulsing. But she sucked down the mist, swallowed the shadows.

  And then turned and forced her way through the narrow granite opening, disappearing into the darkness of the Hole.

  10

  The shadow people were ice in Sharon’s veins. For the first time in weeks her breast cooled, the fire of dying cells extinguished. To be pain free, fully pain free, was an exquisite joy. She slid into the narrow opening to the Hole, rocks tearing her clothes and skin.

  The damp air was filled with the sweet scent that pulled her forward. It smelled like life and she couldn’t draw in enough.

  With each breath she pulled in though, they shivered under her skin. They flooded her body, making her very cells tingle. She felt their deep hunger, their unending need to seek, to find, to devour life. And yet at the same time, as she breathed, they pulled back.

  What she found to be life, they feared.

  And she understood how trap them.

  She sucked them inside, baited them with the food they craved; her body, her immune system so gloriously alive and fighting. And then fully inside her, fully feasting, she continued to draw in breaths of radon gas.

  She felt her way deeper under the mountain, deeper into the blackness, deeper into that sweet and calling air. With each breath they fluttered inside. The shadows, cringing.

  She drew in a breath for Tessa. For Connor. For the old married couple. For the students. She’d kill the shadows. Catch the intangible and hold it and save the others. And then she drew in a deep, deep breath, pulled it all the way in to that deeper panic she’d been trying to kill for days.

  Because finally, finally, death was here.

  And by god, she was going to take these bastards with her when she went.

  The mist twisted deep inside, wrapped around her lungs and squeezed. They wanted to stop her breath, to allow them to escape. But the air she found sweet was a weight inside chaining the shadows to her soul.

  Pain arced through her heart, a bright searing heat that doubled her over. The shadow people cut into her, working to make her stop breathing. The blackness of the Hole pressed against her eyes but pain was there in tiny starlight sparks at the edges of her vision. She fell, hit the rocks, heard her bones splinter, and breath escaped on soul-breaking screams.

  Vapor seeped from her mouth and nose, cold like ice. For the briefest of moments she thought she had failed, that they would escape. And then she sensed their terror, their twisting from the radon. Sensed their disintegration. Even those still inside her. Pain came back as a bright fire, white light, shining, all encompassing, until thought was no more.

  Tiny sparks of cancer cells flared and died. Grayness filled her body, trapped and twisting and struggling.

  Seeking to consume life.

  But there was none.

  11

  Curtis hauled himself over the rocks until he stood at the cracked door. Cold air pulsed out as if the mountains breathed. He put his hand on the rough granite and leaned forward, listening. He heard the faint sound of water and knew it was the underground stream that used to flow beneath his workstation.

  All the work he’d done, gone. It would be a long time before anyone returned to research and studies. Time would be taken instead with simple survival. And even when people did return to things other than survival, no one would come back here. He’d make sure of that. This place would become the grave of a woman who had sought death, and in that seeking, saved them.

  Some day he would talk to Henry about the Shadows. About the Stone Woman’s words that they were not of this place. He didn’t believe in parallel universes. But they had to have come from somewhere. The quake had released old monsters. Maybe that fault line, the radon, the Hole, had somehow opened something else as well.

  Whatever it was, this was now a place to stay away from.

  He leaned in a little further. “Sharon! Are you there?”

  He heard nothing so he yelled again, feeling her name tear his throat. Silence. He shouted again, and once more, until he felt tears on his cold cheeks. Until a warm hand came down on his shoulder and Ethan spoke next to him.

  “Come on. She’s gone. We have to get back to town and it’s going to take a while with Bird and Max injured. We don’t want to be out here after dark.”

  Reluctantly, Curtis followed Ethan back down the slope. Max stood next to Casey, heavily bandaged and using her for support, but upright. A type of sling had been fashioned with cedar branches and Ethan’s jacket, and Bird, also bandaged from Anya’s first aid supplies, rested on it, panting lightly.

  The wind had dropped to a strong breeze, and Curtis caught movement in the trees where the Stone Woman stood. “Look,” he called to the others.

  The wind around her slowed. The raven stretched his wings and landed on her shoulder. She moved into the trees that still stood, moved through them until she was barely visible. But then movement stilled and they heard her ancient voice from the forest.

  “She sought death and so she summoned me. She is now gone from this realm.” She pointed her staff toward Curtis. “You claimed these people. They are yours to save.”

  There was a brief flurry of rising wind and then she was gone.

  “If I’m supposed to save everyone, you’re all screwed.” Curtis felt sick to his stomach at the thought. What had he done, claiming his friends before the Stone Woman?

  “Bigger guns,” Max muttered under his breath. He groaned as Casey helped him over a log. “We just need bigger guns.”

  Ethan reached for the poles in front of Bird and Anya took the ones at the back. Together they lifted the dog and carefully made their way toward the ruined road, trudging slowly towards the remains of the town. Rain came back down the mountains and shadows lengthened. Real shadows this time, reaching out as the daylight disappeared behind ridges and high crags.

  “Wish I’d known her,” Ethan said. “Sharon.”

  Max chuckled. “I got dispatched to a road rage call. Before the quake. It was Sharon, taking on this kid who’d almost rear-ended her. She was something.”

  “This will be hard for the McDonald’s kids,” Casey said. “I think she was kind of a mom figure to them.”

  “They won’t be alone.” Anya shifted her hands on the poles to get a better grip. “People will watch over them. Sharon would have wanted that.”

  Curtis was quiet as they walked, searching the road and the forest fringe. But he wasn’t sure what he hoped to see. Sharon, or the Stone Woman, or the raven. The Stone Woman had relinquished his friends to him. Queasiness churned again and he pressed a hand to his stomach. He wasn’t capable of saving people.

  But for Sharon, to honor her, he’d at least try to be braver.

  ~Day 6~

  1

  Anya ran a hand over the bandages around Bird’s stomach. She felt only the normal warmth of the dog and no heat of infection. At least not yet. She lifted her hand, but when the dog wriggled suggestively on his back and whimpered, she scratched the uninjured part of his belly.

  “You’re not going to milk this for attention, mister.”

  Bird’s tongue hung out. He was a sucker for belly rubs.

  They were on her sleeping bag under a tarp hung from rope tied between a bent light pole and the frame of a mangled car. A makeshift tent to keep the drizzle off while they slept, fitfully, near a fire someone had built the night before and others had kept burning during the dark hours. They were only one of several shelters along Avenue A. Safety in numbers, she supposed.

  The sleeping bag was still warm from her body, and it felt good to sit there for a moment, with nothing to do except check her dog and rub his belly, sinking her fingers into his fur. The spring sun was just coming up, and the rain had eased off during the night. The light wasn’t bright enough to make the world look clean and new and safe. It only illuminated the destruction of the place and the trauma etched in dee
p hollows on people’s faces. It wasn’t even enough to warm the air. But at least it wasn’t raining.

  Anya shivered in her damp jacket and thought about just shedding it and crawling back into the somewhat dryer sleeping bag. But then Bird snorted, rolled over, and stood stiffly, ears up and tail wagging. She followed his gaze and saw the two young McDonald’s workers coming toward her, bowls in hand.

  “Morning,” the girl said. Her eyes and nose were red as if she’d been crying.

  “Morning. Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “No worries. I’m Tessa, this is Connor.”

  The young man lifted a bowl in greeting. His eyes were also red. “June, the old lady who came with us? She saw you were awake and sent us over with oatmeal for you and your dog. She said if you come to the fire she’ll have hot chocolate soon.”

  Anya’s stomach growled. “Oatmeal? She made oatmeal?”

  “Real oatmeal,” Tessa said. “She made it with water since there’s no milk, but it even has brown sugar in it.”

  “Oh god, that sounds wonderful.”

  Tessa handed her a bowl with a mound of oatmeal still steaming, and a spoon.

  Connor put a similar bowl down in front of Bird. “June says they never grabbed pet food when they were stocking up. Sure hope this doesn’t give him the shits.”

  Anya laughed, and the sound startled her for a second. How could she laugh? “Even if it does, he’ll think it’s worth it.”

  She gestured with the spoon to her sleeping bag, and scooted to one end. Connor and Tessa hesitated, and then sat cross-legged next to her. Connor rested a hand on Bird’s back as Anya scooped up still-warm oatmeal. It tasted wonderful, but was tempered by raw sadness that was a weight on her heart. She put the spoon down after a second bite.

  “Sharon should be here eating breakfast with us,” Tessa said, tears rising in her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry.” Anya lifted the collar of her damp coat and pressed the cold material against the tears in her eyes. “She saved us. From those shadows.”

  “I think she was dying.” Tessa sniffled. “Just from things she said. And June said something about breast cancer. But Sharon helped us get here, kind of took care of us like a mom. I don’t think she wanted to, but she did anyway.”

  Connor bent, burying his face in Bird’s thick fur as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. Tessa’s breath caught on a gasp of pain as she folded over him, crying and clutching his coat with both hands.

  Bird turned his head but didn’t move. Tears ran down Anya’s cheeks as she put a hand on each of the kids. She understood loss. She knew they didn’t need her words. They needed what she had never received from Devon. Comfort in touch, in shared grief. And so she cried with them and let their pain be hers.

  Connor finally straightened, wiping his eyes with his hands. “Sorry. It’s just…everything. Sharon, this hell, being scared all the time.” His voice broke as more tears pooled. “Our families. We don’t even know if they’re alive or not. We’re alone now.”

  Tessa broke into fresh sobs and Connor put his arm around her shoulders, crying against her hair.

  “I’m so sorry,” Anya said again. “I know this doesn’t help right now, but you’re not alone. We can’t take the place of your family, but we’re here. And we won’t forget Sharon or what she did for all of us.”

  Tessa abruptly pushed up to stand. “It doesn’t help. I know it will, later, but right now-” Her voice broke as she cried. Raising a hand as if to stop any more words, she walked away.

  Connor hesitated, then stood and went after her. At the edge of the park, Tessa stopped, shoulders bowed and hands over her face. Connor came up behind her and put his arms around her. She turned and buried her face against his shoulder.

  For the briefest moment Anya deeply wanted someone to hold her like that, to take on her grief. She pushed down the hurt, the vulnerability.

  “We don’t need anyone,” she told Bird.

  The dog thumped his tail once, and burped oatmeal fumes.

  He’d finished her oatmeal when she wasn’t looking. Anya picked up the two bowls and stood. She could handle grief and fear and loneliness. She was strong. “We don’t need anyone.”

  Maybe if she repeated it often enough, she’d convince Bird it was true.

  She left the dog on the sleeping bag and headed toward the fire built in a ring of stones next to the burned out shell of the museum. It was big and burning bright, and she felt the heat of it on her face when she was still a few feet away. And June was there, overflowing a canvas camping chair. She had a long stick and she was using that to turn a pot of water that was steaming on a rock close to the fire. On a round of firewood next to her sat a circle of tin mugs with powdered cocoa mix in each one.

  Ben stood next to her, adding more wood to the fire. He nodded to Anya when she came up to them.

  “You look not much bigger than Marie,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Want a dry coat?” He gestured toward their old truck and homemade camper. “We got us some extra clothes when we were stocking up. And mayhap you could use something warmer.”

  “That would be wonderful. At least until I can get my jacket dry.” She shivered, wiped her eyes, and held her hands out to the heat of the fire.

  “Let me get somethin’ for you then.” Ben tossed a piece of wood on the fire and left them.

  June bent, wheezing, for the pot and tipped hot water into a mug. She stirred it briskly and then held the mug out. “Warm up your insides, too. We were sure sorry to hear about Sharon.”

  “The kids are hurting,” Anya said, feeling the ache in her own heart.

  “Give me a hand up.”

  Anya put her mug down then braced herself and heaved June upwards.

  “It’s been a long time since my children were that young,” the old woman said, gesturing toward the park where Tessa and Connor stood. “But I’m still a mom. And a grannie. You leave those kids to me and I’ll take care of them.”

  Anya started to speak, but then closed her mouth, not even sure what she wanted to say. But June paused and then folded Anya into a tight hug.

  “You’re not alone, neither, no more than them two kids are.”

  Anya couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, but June didn’t seem to need any words.

  “Drink that hot chocolate before it gets cold,” she said, walking away.

  Ben came back and handed Anya a quilted jacket in virulent purple. His eyes followed June’s slow progress to Connor and Tessa, and he nodded to himself. “Mother will take care of those two. They’re our kids, now.”

  Anya shed her damp coat and tugged on the new one, not caring about the color. It was dry and warm and she zipped it to her chin before picking her hot chocolate back up. “She’s a good woman.”

  “That she is,” Ben said. He took Anya’s old coat, shook it out, and spread it across a round of firewood.

  “What do we do now?” Anya asked, watching the high flames. “What happens to us now?”

  Ben lifted his chin to toward his old truck. She saw Max and Ethan at the back of the camper, pulling shotguns out.

  “Now we take care of each other,” he said. “And then, mayhap, we kill us some monsters.”

  2

  Ethan stood by another fire, over on Index Avenue, that had been built in the yard of the collapsed church. His students were around him, some sitting, some standing. They’d had oatmeal for breakfast, thanks to June, and had eaten in shifts, washing bowls as they finished and then serving others. He broke open a shotgun he’d taken from Ben’s camper, and slid a shell in.

  Rowan sat cross-legged on the ground, oblivious to the damp. She had her journal open and her hands rested across a sketch easily recognizable as Sharon. She watched the flames, her green eyes far away, and Ethan wondered what she saw.

  Jennifer stood at the fringe of their group, arms over her chest in her familiar self-contained hug. Her eyes went from one to another, but
no one acknowledged she was there. Not even Michael, on his second bowl of oatmeal. She’d refused her serving when June handed it to her, and Michael had quickly taken it.

  Spike had left a few minutes before, but now came back to the fire, carefully holding three steaming mugs. He handed one to Nathaniel and one to Lucy, and then stood next to them holding the third mug. Ethan saw how he asked Lucy something, how she put a hand to her side and twisted back and forth, and assumed Spike had asked about her ribs. He watched Spike put a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder and squeeze, how Nathaniel managed a smile. Somehow, in the midst of all their fear, in the midst of losing their former world, Spike had created a tiny family. He’d taken these two as if they were the most vulnerable, and made them his own.

  Payton, of course, stood too close to Ethan, shivering. He shook his head. “Why don’t you go talk to Ben. See if he has something warmer you can put on.”

  Payton stepped closer and slipped her fingers into his. “I’m fine when I’m with you.”

  Ethan tugged his hand free and scowled. “Lay off, Payton.”

  Jennifer laughed suddenly. “She’s only following nature, just like I did.”

  The low conversations stilled as everyone turned to her.

  “What are you talking about?” Michael asked.

  “All this.” Jennifer threw out a hand, waving at the destruction around them. “The world goes to shit and we all go back to caveman days. Survival of the fittest. I found ways to survive. And all Payton is doing is surviving the only way she knows how. By finding the alpha male to protect her.”

  “At least I didn’t kill anyone!” Payton said.

  “I didn’t either,” Jennifer said. “Not directly. I did what I needed to, just like you’re doing. Or trying to do.” She laughed again. “You had guys surrounding you in school all the time. Show a little tit, sway those hips, and they all came running. I saw it all the time. Miss Popularity. Doesn’t work so well out here, does it?”