The Fall

by Michael McBride

  She tried not to look, tried to focus solely on her own headlight, watching the relatively flat shoulder of the bubble-gum pink highway to ensure that she didn’t run her front tire into a large rock or drag her legs through a tangle of yuccas, which were by now starting to look more like collections of javelins. Every time she wanted to look at the spotted abandoned cars or the living desert to her right, she forced herself to look down instead. It was impossible not to read the gas gauge, the needle flirting passionately with the thin red line before the E, the little orange light flashing on and off as it tried to make up its mind about warning her of its impending threat to stall out there in the middle of nowhere. All three of the Yamahas had been full when they found them, the keys still in the ignition as she could only imagine the dead people surrounding the bikes in a ring had been in the process of test-riding them.

  Jill looked back up in time to see the taillight in front of her rapidly growing larger through a swirling cloud of dust. She gasped and hit the brakes, the entire works beneath her wanting nothing more than to start sliding on its side, but with a lurch she regained control, slowing just enough that when she hit the rear tire of Darren’s cycle, it only made their torsos buckle forward.

  “Jesus, Jill,” April whined. Her tear-soaked eyes shimmered in the bike’s headlight, highlighting the streaks where the saline had dragged the mascara across abraded skin to her temples.

  “How was I supposed to know you were stopping?” she blurted, immediately wincing and taking a deep breath. The last thing that any of them needed now was an argument. Things were bad enough without turning on each other.

  “It’s okay,” Darren said, forcing a smile. “I don’t even think I know where the turn signals are on this thing…if there even are any.” He patted April reassuringly on the thigh and waited for Ray to turn his bike around and let him know why they had indeed stopped so quickly.

  Ray rolled the bike up beside Darren, the headlight pointing right into Jill’s face. Their forms were shadowed and often eclipsed by the bright glare, but she could see Ray lean close to Darren so that he was speaking almost directly into his friend’s ear. She could see their mouths moving, but couldn’t hear a word over even the gentle purring of the beasts between their legs. Both of the guys turned as one and looked straight down the highway, past the lone pair of crimson taillights watching them vacuously from the middle of the deserted road.

  She hadn’t seen it at first, but there was a small halogen glow in front of the all-but-invisible foothills rolling along the horizon. Had it not been for the hills beyond, it could have been easily mistaken for a distant star sitting low in the night sky.

  With considerable effort, Jill found the kickstand with her heel and forced it down, leaning the bike to the side until it balanced, and climbed off. The others didn’t even notice her until she was right there between them.

  “I don’t know either,” Darren said, “but it could be more people out here on the road like us.”

  “Or it could be those things we saw back at the hospital,” Ray said.

  “I don’t think so,” Jill said, still scrutinizing the small light. “It almost looks to me like a truck stop or something.”

  “There’s no way to tell from this distance,” Darren said. “With how flat this desert is, we could be fifty miles from it for all we know. It could just as easily be Vegas.”

  “It’s not Vegas,” Ray said.

  “I know, I was just exaggerating, man. No need to take everything so literally.”

  Ray’s eyes narrowed, his frayed nerves playing like worn guitar strings, but his pursed lips slowly relaxed and he just nodded.

  “The only way we’ll know for sure is if we get close enough to check it out,” Jill said, immediately looking off into the darkness to her right where she could have sworn she saw a shadow run past.

  “Are you volunteering?” Ray asked.

  “Leave her alone, Ray,” Tina said, leaning forward to softly kiss his neck.

  “I didn’t mean…” he started, but fell silent. He felt as though simple conversation was now more like trying to cross a minefield. “Look. We’re all scared, and who in the world knows what’s up there. All I’m saying is that we need to come up with some sort of cautious plan so we don’t get ourselves into even more trouble.”

  April nodded against Darren’s shoulder, dragging her runny nose up and down the back of his sweatshirt.

  “Don’t you, you know, see anything about this?” Darren asked, turning to Jill, who shook her head.

  “All I know is that we’re heading in the right direction and it’s important that we find ‘More man tears.’”

  “Whatever that means,” Ray groaned.

  “I wish I knew,” Jill nearly shouted. “I just keep hearing those words over and over like some kind of recording or something. That’s all I know!”

  Ray opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced before he could by a squeeze around his ribs from Tina, who looked quickly back into the field to her left, shaking her head slowly before returning her gaze to the others.

  Jill looked out into the desert as well. There was no movement as she thought she had seen earlier, but she could have sworn that the sage had been shorter a moment ago, the cactuses farther from the road.

  “We’re just wasting time,” Darren finally said. “The way I see it, we only have two options. Either we keep going forward or we turn around and head back. It’s that easy.”

  “We could head out into the desert and swing wide around whatever it is,” Ray offered.

  “No,” Jill and Tina said at once, looking curiously at each other.

  “I’ll go,” Jill said softly, lowering her eyes. Without another word, she scuffed back to her motorcycle and climbed atop it. It took several tries, but she finally knocked the kickstand back into place and revved the engine. She guided the bike around the others on tiptoes before bringing her feet back to the pedals and taking a deep breath. When the nerve finally hit, she launched the cycle into gear, unintentionally showering her friends with gravel, and rocketed as fast as she dare go down the side of the road.

  As soon as she passed the lone stalled car, she looked back over her shoulder.

  Two headlights were gaining on her from behind, one brighter than the other.

  She allowed the stale air in her chest to slip out, easing her thrumming heart just a touch, and then returned her attention to the weathered interstate and the distant glow at the edge of the desert.

  II

  The Outskirts of Fallon, Nevada

  EVELYN LEANED AGAINST THE SIDE OF HER DUSTY PICKUP, UNCONSCIOUSLY scraping rust from the wheel well with her fingernail while gas coursed through the black hose into her nearly bone-dry tank. This was one of the few things that she could be thankful for. She’d been driving down some two-lane highway she couldn’t even find on the map through the Anargosa Mountain Range bordering Death Valley into Nevada for the last three and a half hours before she’d seen the glow from the overhead lights of the gas station. Wonder of wonders, the pump even took her credit card. It was obvious the attendant was dead as she could see him through the bug-pocked front window of the place on the floor in front of the register in his bright red vest. She had no idea what they did behind the counter to make the gas flow, so she considered herself fortunate enough to have found a pump without a balance on it.

  The store shared space with a diner servicing the lines of interstate trucks parked in the dirt lot to the east past the building, though she tried not to look at them. A mesh baseball cap tumbled across the gravel, presumably from the lump of black flesh sprawled in front of an International Harvester, the man’s flannel flagging on the breeze. A pair of headlights stared past him over the rumbling engine, but from the looks of the people inside the restaurant, it wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

  The lights above the counter inside Linden’s Corner blinked every couple of seconds, alternately exposing the bodies littering the
floor surrounding the red vinyl stools and then hiding them. Unfilled tickets still hung from the wheel for the short order cook who was presumably back there somewhere in the rich black smoke from what remained of the burgers and eggs that had been on the skillet. Flies buzzed around the corpses rather than the food on the counter, looking like a cloud of pepper from this distance.

  Gas squirted over the back of Evelyn’s hand as she’d been paying less than close attention. Shaking her fuming hand, she hung the nozzle back on its perch and looked over the bed of the truck into the convenience store, separated from the diner by a wall displaying rims and tires. Past the register she could see a wall of refrigerators holding all kinds of cold drinks. Her gaze dropped again to the clerk lying facedown in the middle of the main aisle between her and her destination.

  She tried to swallow, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  There was no choice. Much as she detested the prospect, she was going to have to step over that attendant and get something to drink or she was going to die out here. It couldn’t have been more than forty-some degrees now, but when the sun rose—assuming that it would indeed do so again—it was going to get hot in a hurry.

  She spun the gas cap back into place and closed the hatch.

  Trying not to think about all of the bodies in the diner or the one in the adjoining convenience store she would soon have to come way too close to, Evelyn hurried across the parking lot, slipping between two cars she knew would never move again, and stopped as soon as she reached the door. Tugging her shirt up over her mouth and nose, she held it there with her teeth and threw open the door. Even through the fabric the smell was atrocious, but she didn’t intend to linger. She went straight to the back of the store, pressing her right hip against the counter and sliding along, doing everything in her power to keep from looking down. Her left foot knocked aside the clerk’s Nike-clad foot, but that was the worst of it. Pocketing handfuls of candy and gum, she went directly to the nearest glass case and slid the door to the side. She grabbed a twelve pack of Pepsi in one hand and a twelve of Diet in the other, having no preference in the slightest. She could almost feel the burn of the carbonation in her ragged throat already. Stacking both onto her left arm and leaning back to brace the weight against her chest, she went straight for the energy drinks. If they’d had IV drips of caffeine, she would have loaded up on them, but these drinks with their ginseng, taurine, guanine, and natural caffeine would have to suffice. The last thing in the world that she wanted right now was to have to sleep. Not that she felt the urge now, but it was only a matter of time.

  She grabbed a Red Bull, but put it right back. It was too small and she was only making one trip. She reached instead for the energy drinks in the largest cans, pulling down the front can from each row until she had all she could hope to carry.

  The shirt slipped from between her teeth, but there was nothing she could do now but hold her breath. Walking as quickly as she could, eyes focused solely on the front door, she passed the corpse on the floor and burst back out into the night, allowing her pent-up breath to explode out before sucking madly to replace it. Part of her felt guilty for taking the food and drinks without paying for them, but the majority of her was counting down the seconds until she could crack open one of those cans.

  Leaning against the side of the truck, she opened the passenger door and shoved the stack of drinks onto the seat, knocking her backpack onto the floor. At the moment, she didn’t even care. All she could think of was pouring something cold down her throat. Seizing one of the energy drinks, she popped the tab with a hiss and brought it to her lips so quickly that she smashed her upper lip against her tooth. Inhaling it, she fought the pain in her throat to force it down, gulping and gulping until she had to come back up for air. Lowering the can from her face, she panted heavily, trying to resume normal breathing while enjoying the wet feel of her esophagus, no matter how much the carbonation felt as though it were burning holes through the tissue.

  “Ahh,” she said aloud, the sound even startling her.

  She rotated the can in her hand until she could see the label. She hadn’t looked at what she was grabbing any more than she had tasted it going down. It was a black can with lime green writing, taller even than a can of soda.

  “Monster,” she read, tipping it back again.

  She stopped, a wash of the amber fluid passing her lips, but that was all. Her brows formed a thick ridge over her eyes.

  Slowly, she brought the can away from her face, trying to keep the same arc she’d used to raise it in the first place. She’d seen something, but it had taken her brain a moment to rationalize it. The can. The way she was holding it, her thumb covered all but the first three letters of the brand name.

  Mon.

  She looked out at the highway. There was a large reflective sign right at the eastern edge of the gas station’s property:

  Austin 38 miles

  Battle Mountain 80 miles

  Salt Lake City 246 miles

  Tears streamed from her eyes, racing down through the dust on her cheeks.

  “It isn’t More man, it’s Mormon,” she said, the can falling from her trembling hand and spilling out onto the asphalt. “Salt Lake. Saltwater. Saline. Tears.”

  Evelyn mewled with joy, darting toward the driver’s side of the truck, before dashing back around to close the passenger door. She was nearly around to the driver’s side again, when she quickly looked back to the building. There were a couple of things she was going to need, she thought as she sprinted back across the parking lot. She didn’t think about the man on the floor or the flies ravaging the corpses in the diner as she nearly threw the door off its hinges in her hurry to get in.

  Dashing straight toward the automotive aisle, she grabbed a folded map of Utah and another of Salt Lake City itself, and was nearly back out the door when she saw a can of spray paint. Snatching it up, she ran out into the fresh air, the thunder grumbling so loud now it sounded like a gang of motorcycles, past her car and the parked semi-trailers to the sign. She tucked the maps beneath her left arm and shook the can, the metal ball inside clanking loudly, and then ripped off the cap.

  At the bottom of the sign, she spray-painted two words right over the top of the reflective white lettering of Salt Lake City.

  “Mormon tears,” she said, inspecting her work only long enough to watch the lines of paint start to roll down from the words toward the bottom of the sign.

  Beaming, she whirled and was about to run excitedly to her car when the first of the lights hit her directly in the face and she screamed.

  III

  Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

  THE BOY HAD BEEN ABLE TO RUN FOR THE FIRST HALF MILE OR SO BEFORE HE just fell flat on his face on the dirt road. He had absolutely no stamina, as though he hadn’t exercised a day in his life. With his pasty white skin and dark rings like Goodyears around his eyes, Adam wondered if he’d ever actually left the house. He was little more than skin draped on bones. All he was missing was that malnourished bloated belly and he could have passed for one of those starving African children.

  Peckham turned around at the sound of the boy slamming into the gravel and dashed back to where he had fallen, scooping him up and carrying him in his arms like a babe.

  Adam nearly ran right into them in his mad dash away from the house. The fear was so intense that he couldn’t even bring himself to look back over his shoulder. What good was running, anyway? How far could they possibly get? Where could they go? They were in the middle of nowhere in eastern Pennsylvania to his best assumption. The nearest Army installation would be either the Tobyhanna Army Depot to the north, but it was mainly just information and electronics, or Willow Grove to the south, but that had to be at least a hundred miles away and they were on foot. The chopper was in ruins and he hadn’t the slightest clue how to hotwire a car. They were just delaying the inevitable if whatever those things were inside that house came after them. Samuels had been about as big and strong a
soldier as Adam had ever seen, and no doubt a world class marksman, but he’d been ripped to shreds before he could even get any of those nearly invisible creatures in his sights.