This Deep Panic

by Lisa Stowe

  “Just shut the fuck up,” Spike said.

  Jennifer glared at him, her eyes defiant. “What we were, who we were, before the quake, doesn’t matter any more. That’s all dead. Our families are probably dead. Our lives are over. This is who we are now. Who the quake forced us to become. We’re not a bunch of high school seniors worried about graduating.”

  “That’s true.” Rowan closed her journal and stood. “Who we were before, how we faced our demons at home, doesn’t matter any more. This is who we are now, like you said. Which means you are someone who betrays others, who tricks them, who lets them die. That’s way worse than Payton acting the helpless female.”

  “Knock it off,” Ethan said in his old, firm, teacher-voice.

  “Time for a ‘we got to stick together since we’re all we have left’ speech?” Michael asked. “Time for some brave wise words that will inspire us all to live happily ever after?”

  “No.” Ethan flipped the shotgun’s safety on and slung it over his shoulder. “Time for you to fucking grow up. You and Jennifer and Payton. Just…grow the fuck up. A woman just died to save you, and the way you’re acting, it wasn’t worth it.”

  He left them and was almost back to Avenue A, regretting his burst of anger, when he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and sighed heavily when he saw Payton. She reached his side, used one hand to push her long hair coyly back, and linked her other hand through his arm.

  “She’s wrong, you know. This, between us, isn’t some survival game. It’s not some cave-man thing.” She giggled. “Though I don’t mind cave-man.”

  “Payton-” He tried to swallow down the anger and then gave up, pushing her hand from him. “Do you even care about what happened yesterday? Do you even care that one of us died? Or that Sharon died for us?”

  She sobered. “Look. Of course I care. I’m not some cold bitch like that Anya. But I also know Sharon’s gone and we’re still here. That’s what’s important now. You think anyone in this little shitty town is going to care if tonight, our sleeping bags are zipped together? The only thing that freak, Jennifer, has right is that we have to look out for ourselves now.”

  Ethan took a step closer. “I’ve watched you for a long time now.”

  She smiled and flipped her hair again. “I know you have.”

  “And what I’ve seen is a manipulative little girl. You play the helpless role on any guy who happens to be handy. I’ve seen you doing this for months. Even John, on the bus.”

  “John? Who?”

  Ethan stopped, fury washing through him. “John. The guy who tried to help you with your cell phone when we left on this field trip from hell. The kid who didn’t survive the bus crash. The kid who died out here in the woods and you don’t even remember him.”

  Payton looked genuinely confused. “But he’s dead, like Sharon, and lots of others, so what does that matter now?”

  The anger, so quickly kindled, just as quickly shifted to sadness. “It matters way more than you’re obviously capable of feeling. I’m not going to play your game, Payton. I’m not some naïve kid with raging hormones. You’re going to have to find someone else.”

  He walked away and left her standing in the middle of the road. When he reached Avenue A, he looked back. She still stood there watching him. He couldn’t tell if it was confusion on her face or resignation. Or hell, maybe fear, what did he know? He felt a twinge of guilt, but squashed it. Sharon and John and Amy and Paul and Zack deserved to be remembered and mourned. Payton on the other hand, didn’t deserve his guilt.

  He headed toward the general store but then saw Anya by a fire in an ugly purple coat, talking to Ben. He changed direction, crossing the street to her, leaving Payton to fend for herself.

  There were more important things to do than pander to a manipulative, selfish teenager.

  3

  Casey saw Max at the back of Ben’s truck and went to them, giving in to the overwhelming need to reassure herself Max was okay. She caught a whiff of herself in the light breeze. Her clothes were smelly and damp after six days in the same uniform, in rain and mud. She glanced at her shirt and saw brown stains across the front. Max’s blood. Her stomach gave a funny little flip, almost like fear. She knew, of course, that he was human like anyone else. Yet she’d still, somehow, imagined him invincible.

  But now, he’d been hurt. Sharon was dead. Monsters were still out there in the woods.

  Kind of put what remained of life into perspective. Things she would never have been able to give words to a week ago now needed to be said. The loss of Sharon made it clear that death was on all sides.

  She saw Ben hand Max a rifle and say something that made Max laugh. Then he winced and put a hand to his neck, before shaking his head and reaching in to the truck to pull out a box of shells.

  She stumbled to a stop in the street.

  That laugh. She’d always loved that laugh.

  Max looked up, saw her, and limped to her, concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Just thinking about Shep.”

  “Oh.” Max ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. Shep. Your boyfriend. Hope he’s okay.”

  “Same here.” Casey took a deep breath. “Because if he is, I’m going to need to break up with him.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s so.”

  4

  Curtis watched the sun come up as he paced Fifth Street. Down past the school, turn, back past the park, turn again. He’d refused the offer of oatmeal, barely aware of one of the McDonald’s kids offering it to him. His mind whirled, thoughts chasing themselves around and around and then swinging back to Sharon.

  It hurt so deeply to think about her, this woman he’d barely known. He couldn’t remember if he’d even talked to her in the short time they’d been in town together. Yet at the end, right before she’d gone into the Hole, she’d looked at him. And in her eyes he’d seen pain, and a deep panic.

  And resolution. And strength.

  In spite of her fear, she’d been strong. How had she found that willpower? What had made her decide to go, when she had to have known what the decision meant?

  She’d protected them by killing the shadow people. At least the ones that threatened them here. Curtis assumed there were more, in other cities and feeding off other groups of people. But for now, this area was an oasis, free of soul-vampires, and all because of Sharon.

  He wished he’d known her better. He wished he’d taken time to talk to her, share her company, find out what the source of her pain was, and maybe the source of her courage.

  Because now the Stone Woman had made him responsible for the others and he had no courage, no strength, no tools to save them from all the monsters that still surrounded them.

  Curtis paused in his pacing and dropped down to sit on a block of granite at the edge of the park, barely aware of the cold rock chilling his jeans and butt.

  He didn’t have the tools of bravery and strength like Ethan and Sharon and the others. But he did have his own gifts, the things he was good at. Intelligence and the ability to problem-solve. He knew how to research and find resources and piece information together into a working thesis. It might not be the same as fearlessness, but it might be enough to allow him to honor Sharon’s sacrifice. If he came up with a plan of defense then maybe he could help that way.

  His fingers itched for a keyboard, or even a book. He needed some sort of resource. And then he remembered a resource he did have and hadn’t yet used. He stood, wiped granite grit off his jeans, and headed to the fire department.

  In the converted bay, Samuel was checking the splint on Betty’s arm. There were several cots with people on them, including one with Henry, who raised a hand and beckoned Curtis over. But Curtis continued past him and went toward Samuel. Because sitting on chairs near him were Marie and the teenage boy. He didn’t remember the boy’s name but knew Samuel was his brother.

  He’d figured the boy would
be with his brother, and where the boy was, Marie would probably be, too. And he was right. As he got closer, he saw that Marie and the boy were holding hands.

  “Can I talk to you?” Curtis asked Marie.

  When she nodded, he looked around, found a folding chair, and set it up next to her.

  Curtis drummed his fingers on his knee. “We know the Windigo is still out there. Plus the black dog. The Shadows are gone. The Stone Woman and her raven are still around, maybe, but I don’t think they’re a threat. We know that your group killed another monster. The one your sister called a Matlose. We know one creature went into the river. We know about the bear and the wolf, and their companions, but they are most definitely not a threat-”

  Marie interrupted, her voice quiet as always. “But what you don’t know is if there are more.”

  “Exactly.” Curtis sat forward. “So I’m wondering if you can, I don’t know, sense them somehow. We need to know what we’re up against, how many more there might be, where the ones are that we know about, so we can plan a defense. Something long term, I’m thinking.”

  Marie stood. “I’ll be right back,” she told the boy and Samuel, and then turned her dark eyes to Curtis. “Will you go outside with me?”

  Once out in front of the fire department, they sat on the stone bench where Curtis had been with Ethan the day before. The rainclouds hadn’t completely gone, but they’d broken up enough that weak sunlight was coming through, angling down the Wall as the sun rose. The bottom of the small river valley where the town sat was still in early morning twilight though.

  Marie closed her eyes and sat still, with her hands in her lap and palms turned up. Curtis waited silently for several minutes before she sighed, opened her eyes, and turned to him.

  “There are many more. I don’t understand how I sense them so I don’t know exactly what it is I feel. Before my head injury I always saw things others didn’t. Like auras. I didn’t tell anyone, not even my parents. I didn’t want to be thought of as a freak.”

  “Understandable,” Curtis said.

  “After I got hit on the head, it was like everything amplified. For a while I thought I was dead. But it was just because everything looked so weird. Like the world was here, but not here. Everything was surrounded by auras, even the shadow people. And I don’t just see them. I can feel when they are near. It’s like the tingle right before you get shocked.”

  “That’s a good analogy,” Curtis said. “And might be exactly what you are sensing. Their energy.”

  Marie nodded again, but he sensed she wasn’t really listening. She looked up at the granite wall towering over the town. “So yes, I can sense them. And there are many out there in the mountains. And spreading down below to the cities. Everywhere that people are, all those myths you’ve talked about are going. They’ve all returned.”

  “Thank you,” Curtis said. “That’s what I was afraid of. That Sharon died only to give us a small reprieve. Can you help me gather everyone? I need to talk to them.”

  Marie stood. “Of course.”

  She went back into the fire department. Curtis stood as well, and started across the street toward June and the McDonald’s kids standing by the park. He wasn’t sure what exactly he would say, and his hands shook with nervousness. But the seeds of the plan were there in his mind, taking root and growing.

  5

  Curtis pulled out the folded and stained papers he’d used to scribble notes on mythical creatures, and found enough blank pages to start drafting out his thesis on defense. He sat on a stump of firewood, head down and writing, barely aware of the others gathering around the fire.

  Marie did a good job convincing people to come listen to him. Some, like the mayor, declined to join them, instead heading out in the backhoe. He and a few others were going to try and clear the road all the way to the Hole, where they intended to block it off completely as a memorial to Sharon.

  But most had come to the fire. When Marie touched his shoulder and he put down his pen, they watched him. It was like being back in the classroom.

  “Think back to your American History classes,” he began. “Remember what life was like in the 1700s and 1800s. Men hunted and fished and trapped. Women foraged for native plants, for food and medicine. Clothes were made from skins and furs. Shelters were built from logs and mud chinking. Light came from animal fat and beeswax. Food was foraged and preserved by drying and salting and fermenting.”

  “I doubt anyone remembers how to do that,” Tessa said doubtfully.

  “I do.” Anya shrugged when everyone turned to look at her. “It’s how I live.”

  “We do,” Ben said. “That’s the advantage of being old farts. We’re mayhap not as old as what you’re talkin’ about, but we remember the Depression and how our folks survived.”

  “What did people do back then?” Curtis asked. “They built forts. Lived within walls. What were those forts built out of? Logs, like their homes.”

  “I think I see where you’re going with this,” Max said.

  “It’s obvious.” Curtis pointed in the general direction of the Wall. “All these downed trees. We build an enclosure with gates we can guard. We make sure we’re all inside at night and we stay close during the day. We let nothing in once it’s dark. In the daylight, we hunt and fish, but in groups. No one goes out alone, or without weapons.”

  “You’re thinking we’re going to be on our own for a long time,” Ethan said. “But really, how long will it be? It’s spring. I bet in a few weeks we’ll have contact somehow with the outside world. Even if it’s just National Guard.”

  “True,” Curtis said. “But think about it. Even after contact, what will happen? They might be able to fly in supplies. Maybe airlift out our ill or wounded. But where will they take us? If the quake was devastating to the whole Pacific Northwest, they’ll probably have to take people to camps, like in eastern Washington, or out of state. Resources will be maxed here. Remember Hurricane Katrina? So many people moved out of state because there were no resources?”

  “I’d rather stay here and take my chances by the river than go to Yakima or some desert place like that,” Samuel said.

  Curtis shrugged. “Whether we go or stay will depend on how long it takes contact to come, and what they tell us about the outside world. Once we have information we’ll know more what to expect and can make decisions. But in the meantime, we have the monsters. And we need shelter that’s more secure than tarps.”

  Silence fell around the crackling fire.

  “And so we build a fort,” Max said finally. “And arm some guards.”

  Curtis pointed at Anya. “And maybe set traps. Marie says there are more myths out there than just the ones we know about. I’m willing to bet Anya knows how to build traps.”

  “No.” Max massaged his bandaged shoulder. “Traps won’t work. We don’t have any, and anything we could make won’t be big enough or strong enough. You’ve all seen these monsters. They won’t be killed by a snare.”

  Curtis sagged, deflated. “I didn’t think about that.”

  Spike tossed a piece of wood on the fire. “What the fuck else are we going to do? Might as well try it. It’s not like we have a whole lot of options here. We might be able to come up with something that holds the motherfuckers long enough for us to shoot them.”

  Curtis nodded to him, relieved. “That could work. But, honestly, I don’t know anything about killing monsters.”

  Max laughed. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

  “One thing,” Ramon said. “My niece is out there. We aren’t trapping or killing any bears or wolves.”

  Anya had been standing silently slightly behind Ethan, but now she moved closer. “I’m going back home. I need to be with my son and I need to make sure he stays safe. Whatever it is that he’s become, he’ll be in danger from anyone hunting the monsters. I think if I go home, he will follow me.” She looked at Ramon. “And maybe your niece, too.”

  “But we need you
to teach us how to live,” Curtis said. “And aren’t we your family now?”

  Anya blew out air in frustration. “Every time I say I need to be home, you people find a way to guilt me in to staying. Not this time. I’m going.”

  “When are you leaving?” Ethan asked, scowling.

  “As soon as Bird is well enough to travel,” Anya said. “So if anyone wants to pick my brain about skinning and preserving, there’s a couple days to do it. Then I’m gone.”

  6

  Curtis walked up the berm of land where Ethan stood in the middle of the railroad tracks, hands in the pockets of his dirt-stained jeans, studying the looming granite wall intently. Curtis had a sudden urge to tell him to get off the tracks but then remembered there were no trains.

  Rain clouds were thinning, pulled into long gray tendrils that slowly trailed through the trees, pulled upward by a wind he couldn’t feel. But these gray tendrils brought no fear because, thanks to Sharon, they were nothing more than thinning mist. Weak sunlight broke through clouds in a few spots, dappling the granite and creating deep shadows in cracks.

  “Some of my kids died,” Ethan said, tension obvious in his jaw, in his bunched shoulders. “From the quake, from Jennifer, from that thing. It’s still out there and I want to kill it. Not wait for it to find its way down here to hurt someone else.”

  Curtis’s heart stuttered in sudden consternation. “You’d have to go back to the woods. And besides, how would you kill it?”

  Ethan shrugged. “No idea. But I’m going to kill it. And not just for my kids. If Anya leaves like she says she’s going to, she’ll be alone to face that thing.”

  “She has a pet grizzly,” Curtis said, and then shook his head. “What a strange world we’re in now.”

  “And what if the grizzly doesn’t show up when she needs it?” Ethan asked. “She’ll be on her own.”

  Curtis was silent a few moments. He thought he understood why Ethan was worrying about Anya, but he wasn’t sure how to point that out without embarrassing both of them.