Trail of Blood

by Michael McBride

  “Here goes nothing,” she said, tossing it onto her tongue.

  “Well?” Missy asked, still holding her portion in her hand, watching as Evelyn finally started to chew. She tossed hers into her mouth and did the same.

  “Not bad,” Evelyn said.

  “Not good either.”

  Evelyn laughed. “It is pretty terrible, isn’t it?”

  Missy joined in, and together they laughed until they had drawn everyone else’s attention. Even Mare and Jill poked their heads through hole in the ceiling of the top room of the pueblo.

  “Come and get it!” Missy called, unable to stop laughing.

  V

  Salt Lake City

  THE LOW-LYING CLOUDS THE MORNING SUN HAD YET TO BURN OFF PASSED to either side as the riders descended. The lake fell away behind them, the briny smell replaced by something far less pleasant. Adam thought at first it must have been a garbage dump, the frozen piles of refuse releasing their foul aroma as the last of the snow melted away and they began to thaw, but from his vantage hundreds of feet above the edge of the city, he could see that it was no such thing. Blocks of enormous warehouses raced along beneath the equine’s churning hooves, their roofs collapsed in sections under the amassed weight of the sudden snowfall, still piled in the darkness atop the rubble. It was from these holes that the smell originated, hanging over the entire area like smog.

  The stallion set its wings and sliced through the air, right down the center of an industrial parkway, bland gray buildings rising to either side. The straps of flesh stretched between the bony framework of the wings snapped like flags in a gale until the steed’s hooves clopped onto the pothole-riddled pavement. It stopped in the middle of a vacant intersection and hopped nervously, pacing and shaking its head.

  “It’s frightened of something,” Phoenix said, tightening his grip with one hand so he could free the other to stroke the horse’s neck, calming it ever so slightly.

  “Do you know what’s scaring it?” Adam asked, trying not to rupture anything vital as he squeezed Phoenix around the gut.

  “I don’t know…” He looked around, but everything was silent and still. Several doors and garages stood ajar, housing only shadows. Trash blew down the gutters and wet brown leaves were stuck in the middle of the road. Cars were still parked where their owners had abandoned them, never again to move from those spots. Some had broken windows, while others had bowed hoods from the accumulation, but there were no silhouettes within. The lack of movement was more disturbing than if they had they actually seen anything. It felt as though any minute something black and evil was going to dart out from its hiding place, but there wasn’t even the hint of motion. There was only the stench of food rotting in the grocery warehouses and the bloated bodies of the dead decomposing where they were buried beneath the wreckage.

  Only the wind whistled along the street, channeled by the buildings.

  The seahorse stomped its front hooves, their cue to disembark. It acted as though it couldn’t stand being there even a second longer. Adam dropped to the ground first and barely moved out of the way before Phoenix leapt off. The strange creature didn’t hesitate. It raced back down the street in the direction they had come, spread its wings and took to the sky. It appeared as a blot against the pale blue sky, shrinking steadily until it vanished completely.

  “Man, something sure spooked that thing,” Adam said, turning in a circle. He felt exposed standing out in the open, surrounded by literally thousands of hiding places.

  “Can’t you feel it?” Phoenix whispered. “The air is thick with death.”

  Adam could definitely feel something. It was as though gravity had subtly increased, pulling down on the sky to create a smothering feeling of heaviness and oppression. The entire city, even postmortem, held its breath. The weight of invisible eyes was upon him, though he knew instinctively that nothing living remained. It was easy enough for the combination of festering scents to metamorphose into the smell he remembered all too well from the refugee camp in Iraq: the putrescence that crept into their tents when the wind changed directions, accosting them with the biological taint of the decomposing bodies in their shallow graves. He suddenly felt the same urge as the horse. The compulsion to get the hell out of there was overwhelming. His heart was going crazy, his legs beginning to tremble. He looked back to the sky, hoping to see the flying horse returning for them, but there was nothing but an empty expanse.

  “Let’s just get what we came for and get out of here,” he finally said, starting forward. The first thing they were going to need was a functional truck, preferably a semi. Then they were going to have to load whatever they could find as quickly as they—

  Something attracted his attention from the corner of his eye.

  He turned and stared down the street to his left. At first, he thought nothing of it; a hotel built to resemble a medieval castle like many he had seen before. Gray bricks and red shingles on sharp parapets, three stories tall. The first unusual detail to pique his curiosity was that all of the windows had been boarded up, though it had been an ineffective measure against whatever had broken through, loosing jaggedly splintered chunks of wood to clap against the shattered panes on the breeze. The iron fence surrounding the property had been reinforced with coils of barbed wire. A pair of semi-trailers was parked diagonally in front of what he assumed to be the main entrance.

  “That’s where they fell,” Phoenix whispered, following his gaze. “They never stood a chance.”

  Adam nodded. They had still held out hope that the larger faction might have survived the Swarm as the savage army swept westward, but deep down they had always known the fate the others had unknowingly accepted when they left Mormon Tears with Richard. Now that they had actually seen the aftermath, they would officially have to begin dealing with their feelings and the knowledge that it had been within their power to stop the others from migrating into the city and the dire consequences of that failure.

  “I’ll bet those trucks work,” Adam said. “They would have needed them to move all of that wood and barbed wire.”

  “You’re probably right, but are you sure you want to go there?”

  Adam didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Fear paralyzed his vocal chords, but unfortunately not his legs, which led him down the street of their own accord. As he approached, the castle grew taller and taller until it loomed over him. Some of the windows were still boarded and intact, while others were completely demolished. Strips of curled black scales adorned the sharp tips of the wire on the fencing, the coils now tangles. A single black arm reached out of the metal mess where its owner had shed it, the claws curled to the sky. The front iron gate hung askew, leaning inward more like a ramp. The swatches of snow remaining on the sidewalk in the building’s shadow were slushy with white fluid.

  The smell intensified as they neared, but changed slightly. There was no longer the hint of spoiling produce and garbage, the scent now unmistakably that of the dead.

  “I don’t think I can go in there,” Phoenix said when he caught up with him. “There was so much pain, so much…suffering, trapped inside that building with no way to escape. It’s still so fresh in there.”

  “Then just wait here and I’ll get the truck.”

  Phoenix looked around. Neither option held any appeal. At least if he stayed with Adam he wouldn’t be alone.

  “I’m coming with you,” he said, taking Adam by the hand in a gesture more suited to a child half his age.

  Sometimes Adam forgot how little experience Phoenix actually had in the outside world. The visions lent him an aura of maturity and confidence, yet he was still so incredibly naïve, though even that faded a little with each passing day.

  Adam released the boy’s hand when they reached the driveway leading up to the gate. He leaned against it, flattening it just enough to allow Phoenix to climb over and then did the same himself. Black, crusted stains marred the parking lot in starburst patterns that both tried their hardest not to think
about. Each represented a life cut short, they knew, but neither could recall the myriad faces that had passed through the gateway to Mormon Tears well enough to mourn them. They were anonymous souls that had touched their lives only briefly, yet they had no choice but to share the responsibility for the ending of their lives.

  When they reached the first semi, a white cab and trailer painted brown with dirt and grime, Adam climbed onto the driver’s side runner and peered inside. The keys were still in the ignition as he had hoped, the snow on the floorboards still frozen in the shape of the boots that had tracked it within, seemingly impervious to the thaw that affected the world without. On the dashboard was an empty coffee mug, beyond, through the front windshield, what remained of the glass doors leading into the hotel, the plywood sheets they had intended to use to board them still leaning against the wall in the foyer. Shattered glass littered the ground surrounding the metal frames, sparkling atop more of those horrible black stains.

  “Go ahead and climb in,” Adam said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Don’t go in there, Adam… Please.”

  “I need to know.”

  “You already do.”

  “Maybe,” Adam said, “but if anyone survived, we can’t just leave them here.”

  “Adam… There are no survivors.”

  “Then I won’t be in there long.” He walked around the grille and paused in front of the open mouth of the hotel, the stench of death blowing out into his face on septic breath. Tugging his shirt over his nose and holding it in place with his teeth, he stepped through the hole where the panes had been, his boots crunching on the shards, which fortunately lent traction atop the slick bloodstains. The entire entryway leading to the registration desk was littered with pamphlets advertising local attractions from the overturned rack against the wall, the paper congealed in a crust of crimson on the floor. He walked over the mess, glancing behind the desk before veering to his left into the main lobby.

  He gasped at what he saw, the shirt falling down from his face to welcome the odor into his mouth and sinuses.

  “Oh, God,” he groaned, turning away and clapping his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting.

  VI

  Mormon Tears

  THE SIX OF THEM SAT AROUND THE FIRE, ENJOYING A STRESS FREE MOMENT for the first time in a long while, and all thanks to what they agreed to be the worst way to prepare kelp. They had gathered around to try it, smiling and nodding as they chewed, trying to find anything positive to say about it while carefully skirting the glaring negatives. Mare had been the first to crack.

  “Mmm. This is good,” he had said, smiling even as tears formed in his eyes. “If I’d known sweaty socks tasted this good, I’d have eaten mine long ago.”

  The laughter had been spontaneous and a welcomed release of tension, allowing them to forget, if only briefly, the horrors around them. As it turned out, re-hydrating the leaves in boiling water made for a consistency like fruit leather, which truly wasn’t half bad. With the right seasonings, it could have been quite good.

  Mare sat with his back to the pueblo, tossing crusted phosphors he had scraped off the cavern wall into the fire. As soon as they hit the flames, they sparked like miniature firecrackers. Jill sat beside him, though at a distance that was readily apparent to all. She hadn’t said much over the last couple of days, so it was truly wonderful to see the sparkle in her eyes as she joined in the revelry. Evelyn and Missy giggled like they’d known each other all their lives, somehow bonding over the meal they had ruined together. Jake sat to Missy’s right, sticking his feet into the fire and holding them there until the rubber on the soles of his boots started to melt. He jerked them out only long enough for his toes to cool before shoving them back in again, giggling the whole while. Only Ray seemed distracted, as though only his physical shell was in attendance. He still occasionally chimed into the conversation, but for the better part he just faced the fire, crinkling and un-crinkling his brow, biting his lip and straining, tensing his entire body in an effort to make the fire reappear as it had initially with Jake’s help. While he could feel the heat on his face, he could see absolutely nothing.

  Eventually, the real world permeated their sanctum and the laughter trickled off, fading into silence.

  “Worms,” Mare finally said, his voice like an explosion in the quiet. “I’ll bet that now that the snow’s melted we could dig up some worms.”

  “Why?” Missy asked. “I’d much rather eat kelp than—”

  “No,” Mare interrupted. “I could make a fishing pole and bend up an earring or something to make a hook. I was just trying to figure out what to bait it with.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Ray said. “No offense, Evelyn, but man cannot survive on kelp alone.”

  “No need to apologize to me. I’d kill for a nice, juicy—”

  Their words dissipated as Jill leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. A massive headache was forming at the base of her skull and she was beginning to feel queasy. She was debating whether or not throwing up would help her feel better when the darkness claimed her.

  She was standing someplace unfamiliar, sweat draining down her face, through her saturated brow. Her wet hair was slicked back over her scalp, her clothes clinging to her damp body. The air was thick with black smoke, each inhalation bringing it into her lungs despite the cloth she held over her mouth to prevent it. She coughed it out, her lungs dry and brittle, and nearly screamed with the pain that felt like fire burning in her mediastinum and throat.

  Flames danced beyond the churning smoke, crackling as they consumed what appeared to be the entire world from where she stood. The ground was scorched black, the soot coming away with her shoes as she walked slowly forward, leaving footprints of brown earth behind. Charcoaled remnants of trees stood all around her, only appearing from the smoke intermittently before being swallowed again. All she could smell were the innumerable scents of forest fire: the acrid aroma of burning wood and sap, the almost sweet smell of pine and various bushes, of ash and soot. It felt different than her other visions at first, as though exhaustion had simply claimed her body and chased her mind into a dream.

  Until something moved through the smoke.

  Lumbering black shadows took form amidst the clouds of smoke obscuring the landscape. Hulking creations like nothing she had ever seen before. With inordinately broad shoulders and thick appendages, they appeared superhuman, three or four of them darting back into the cover provided by the fire as soon as she saw them.

  “Where did they go?” someone shouted, the voice resplendent with panic.

  “I can’t see them!” another yelled. “They could be anywhere!”

  Jill could feel her own terror, her rising blood pressure threatening to erupt as a scream. She wanted to turn and run, but the smoke was all around her. Someone shucked a shell into the chamber of a shotgun behind her.

  A thunderous roar filled the air as though an avalanche raced down a steep slope toward them.

  Jill screamed in the vision, her cries still echoing in the cavern when she emerged from the forest fire smoke into that from the bonfire, coughing.

  Her hands and cheeks were wet with tears, her breathing ragged. She raised her face from her palms to find that all of the others were looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something.

  Why is she crying?

  Was it another vision?

  Is she all right?

  Though they only asked with their eyes, she could hear their thoughts. She was so tired of having to endure the visions and how they made the others look at her. She just wanted to be free from them, to be normal like the rest of them. Was that too much to ask? Why did it have to be her? She was already struggling to deal with the other vision of having to sacrifice herself for her child. Adding this new one on top was simply too much. She wanted to scream and claw through her skull to remove whatever was wrong with her brain that forced her to see these things. This was no gift. It was a curse, an
d she just couldn’t deal with it anymore.

  Her shoulders shook as she started to sob.

  “It’s okay,” Jake said, hugging her from behind. “I have them too.”

  Jill looked at the boy through watery eyes.

  “My mom used to tell me that if you’re having a bad dream,” he continued, “all you have to do is change it.”

  “I can’t. I have no control over them. Everything I see comes true.”

  “Then if you can’t change the dreams, I guess you’ll just have to change real life.”

  Her tears stopped. Could it possibly be that simple? She’d always seen the visions as an end result, not a beginning point. She knew they would find themselves in the middle of a forest fire with terrible things hiding beyond the smoke, but she also knew that at some other point, she would be holding her own child. If she assumed that the fire came before the birth, then she knew she would survive. And if she could survive, then she could help the others to do so as well. There had been at least two of them there with her. She had heard two distinct voices. All she needed to do was have the vision again. If she could manage to isolate every little detail and scrutinize it, maybe she could figure out how to save them before the event ever came to pass.

  There was a weird, paradoxical logic to it that suddenly made sense.

  She may still have been cursed with terrifying visions, but somewhere in there, hidden behind the smoke with those creatures, were the pieces of the puzzle to their salvation.

  VII

  Salt Lake City

  ADAM COULD ONLY STAND THERE IN SHOCK AND REVULSION. HE WANTED TO turn away and look at anything else, but for the life of him, he couldn’t. He needed to see this. He’d never visited a slaughterhouse floor or seen a bear’s den, but this was how he imagined the two would look combined. Dried blood was crusted to the vaulted ceiling in brown droplets that would never fall, the walls splashed with the same rust-colored stains and the ribbons of blood that had only been able to drain so far before their momentum petered. The floor was covered with it, so thick that in spots it was still wet, his boots slapping it and tossing it into the air, leaving fresh scarlet footprints on the congealed mess as he walked toward the center of the lobby and the most disturbing display of all.