The Fall

by Michael McBride

  Peckham tripped, managed a few move stumbling strides, and then collapsed onto the dirt road, rolling onto his right shoulder to absorb the brunt of the impact and keep from smashing the child.

  Adam stopped and turned at Peckham’s cry.

  Norman, who was already fifty yards up the road, stopped as well, his fidgeting legs seeming unable to decide whether he should turn around to help or not. It was only a matter of seconds before he joined Adam at Peckham’s side. The older man had managed to roll the boy off of his chest and onto the ground, freeing him up to grab at his right shoulder, the arm hanging limply at his side.

  “It’s dislocated,” Adam said, taking Peckham by the arm while Norman helped him to his feet from behind.

  “Ya think?” Peckham barked, wincing at the pain caused by even the slightest movement.

  “I can reduce it for you right now,” Adam said, taking the sergeant’s left arm by the biceps and bracing the top of the shoulder.

  “Wait! Wait!”

  Adam took a step back.

  “Okay,” Peckham said, blowing out a deep breath and biting down on his lower lip.

  Adam nodded to Norman, who matched Adam’s hands from the opposite side. With a sickly crunch, they forced the shoulder back into the socket. Even though he thought himself prepared, Peckham screamed like he’d been shot.

  “Holy Mary Mother of God!” he shouted, turning in a quick circle and grabbing his right arm.

  “Show me your palm,” Adam said.

  Peckham rolled his wrist and flashed the underside of his hand at Adam.

  “Bend your elbow.”

  He did, though tears were pinched from his eyes with the exertion.

  “Good to go,” Adam said, turning and offering his hand to the boy.

  “What’s your name?” he asked as the boy grasped his hand with long, delicate fingers.

  “Phoenix,” he said, his eyes meeting Adam’s. The boy’s irises were reddish-pink, like an albino’s.

  “What’s the best way out of here?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never…never been out here before.” Phoenix’s stare moved from one side of the road to the other, absorbing the sights for the very first time.

  On the left side of the road were endless fields of what had once been corn, the tangled and sharpened leaves, the stalks capped by pinecone spades. Even in his imagination he’d never seen anything like it. Thin tufts of weeds sprouted from the rut running down the middle of the gravel lane. He hadn’t seen those before. Not until just now. The road terminated in a bend about a hundred yards west, the trees closing around it like a mouth, leaving the blackened impression of a tunnel. To the right, he could hear a faint trickle of running water beyond a wall of what had formerly been cottonwoods and willows of some sort. Rather than broad, flat leaves, vines now grew from the red stems of the cottonwoods, bowing the branches so low that it almost looked like a wig. Small red thorns lined the vines, which terminated in tiny spirals like a pig’s tail. The trunk was invisible somewhere in the shadows contained beneath. The long, sharp willow leaves had grown even more so, taking on an olive gray color and an exaggerated weight that made them point straight down from the buckling branches. A gust of wind made the tree shiver, dropping handfuls of those spiked leaves straight into the ground where they stuck like lawn darts.

  Adam watched it too.

  “What’s happening?” he whispered.

  “I don’t care,” Norman said, grabbing Adam by the shirt. “Nothing matters right now but getting out of here and finding—”

  “Finding what?” Peckham interrupted.

  “I don’t know…other people, other soldiers, what the hell do you think?”

  “Have we seen any other people?”

  “This isn’t the time, guys,” Adam interceded, stepping between the men before Peckham could take a step forward with that bright red face.

  “Tell that to Samuels and Carter!” Norman shrieked.

  “Please stop,” Phoenix whispered.

  “Oh, I see. You can’t, because they were torn to pieces back there!”

  “Please,” Phoenix said, unaccustomed to the sound of his own voice spoken at a normal human volume.

  The others looked at him, this thin boy in fatigues a dozen sizes too large, his pants barely staying up by the bundle of fabric in his fist, the rest of the shirt coming nearly to his knees.

  “More man tears,” he said, watching each of their eyes in turn for any sign of recognition.

  “What did you say?” Adam asked, all of the blood draining from his face.

  “More man tears,” he repeated.

  “I’ve heard that before,” Adam whispered. “What does it mean?”

  Phoenix turned and locked his eyes on Adam’s, no longer even aware of the presence of the others.

  “It’s where we need to go,” he said. “It’s where the others will be.”

  “There are other survivors?” Peckham asked.

  “Not many,” Phoenix said. “At least that I know of, but I do know that there is a plan for us. What, I’m not sure, but we’ll find out when we find More man tears.”

  “None of this makes any sense,” Peckham said. “What were those things back at the house? What happened to all of the people? Where is everyone?”

  “Those…things…they were The Swarm. And the people…” Phoenix’s eyes grew distant. “So much death…so much pain.”

  He closed his eyes, loosing the burgeoning tears from his lashes to stream down toward the corners of his thin mouth.

  None of them knew what to say to this…child.

  Phoenix cocked his head suddenly, his gaze shooting through the now feral trees.

  “What is it?” Norman asked, his hand quickly finding his assault rifle.

  “I don’t know,” Phoenix whispered. “Can’t you hear it?”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Adam said, but by the time he finished the sentence, Phoenix was already stepping off the right side of the raised road toward a gap in the trees. “Where are you going?”

  “This way,” the boy said, as if the answer had been self-evident.

  He passed between a pair of cottonwoods, and if Adam hadn’t known it was just the wind, he would have sworn that those long vines had been trying to reach out and grab the boy.

  “Hold up,” Adam called, jogging between the trees after Phoenix.

  The boy was already a dozen paces into the middle of a field of knee high grasses as yellow as spun gold. They swayed back and forth in a rhythmic pattern, lapping at the boy’s knees, almost appearing to caress his thin legs as he swept through. It reminded Adam of the motion of underwater plants on the current, the whole field moving in time.

  “Phoenix!”

  The boy stopped and dropped to his knees in the middle of the meadow, the grass now hiding everything below his ribs. He looked back at Adam and appeared to smile without moving his lips, then looked back down into the grass.

  At first Adam thought the boy was crouching in a pile of manure, but the closer he got, the clearer the picture became. The boy stroked a thin layer of brown fur, the hair cropped closer than a dog’s. The opposite side of the fur was clearly made of flesh in the process of drying to hide as evidenced by the thin web of purple veins and red blotches of burst capillaries. It wasn’t until he saw the long black tail tangled in the weeds that Adam knew exactly what he was looking at.

  “Don’t touch that!” he snapped.

  “Why not?” Phoenix asked, looking up to him with dewy eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s dead.”

  “Only the outside.”

  Adam reached down and took the boy beneath the armpits, coaxing him carefully to his feet. It almost looked like the long blades of grass tried to hold onto his legs.

  “We need to keep moving.”

  He set Phoenix back on his feet and looked over his shoulder. Norman and Peckham were through the wall of trees and crossing the fluid weeds toward them.


  “I think—” Adam started to say, but turned around to see Phoenix running deeper into the field toward a clump of trees that looked almost like an island in the middle of a glimmering sea. The leaves were the most perfect shade of green, the tree so wide and tall it looked like an emerald cloud had settled on the earth.

  “Phoenix!” Adam called, running after the boy.

  All he could see were flashes from the boy’s light blond hair and his alternating heels kicking up behind him, the desert camouflage of his outfit barely standing out from the golden straw.

  Phoenix ran straight into the tree. There one moment and gone the next.

  Adam stopped within feet of the closest branches, marveling at the fact that while they had looked like wide leathery leaves from a distance, they were actually long needles only vaguely resembling those of a pine. He reached out and felt them, expecting the sharp-looking tips to poke his skin, but instead they felt like velvet. Walking into it was like he imagined it must have been to walk through a hippy’s doorway, though rather than beads hanging down in the stead of the door, they were like warm noodles that licked him as he passed beneath.

  The ground was soft and spongy beneath his feet, like the track at his old high school, giving just enough to remind him of Nerf. He hadn’t noticed that the sounds were absent until he heard them. There was a twittering of birds all around him, though he couldn’t see anything through the fern-like fronds of the pine. It was how he imagined a tropical rainforest, the lush vegetation closing in all around him in an earthen embrace while animals of all color combinations called merrily out of sight.

  He passed through to the other side, brushing aside the branches like drapes.

  Phoenix was only a few feet in front of him, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the enormous thing that towered over the boy that held him enrapt. It had bulbous eyes like drops of melted chocolate and fur so pale blue it appeared gray. Twin triangles capped its elongated head, a long tuft of blond hair hanging down the snout like spun silk. It crinkled the tip of its nose like a rabbit as Phoenix reached toward its muzzle.

  Adam wanted to tell him to stop, to move away from that thing, but no words would form. His mouth merely hung slack as he watched the boy gently place his palm on the thing’s nose and stroke it carefully.

  It gently raised its front hooves alternately, stamping them back down into the tall weeds, shifting its weight from side to side as the muscles in its chest bulged. It was like a horse, though unlike any horse Adam had ever seen.

  Phoenix turned back to Adam with a brilliant smile lighting his face, then quickly returned his attention to the animal.

  “What is it?” Phoenix asked.

  “I…” Adam started, having to stop to whet his dry mouth before proceeding. “I don’t know.”

  Peckham and Norman burst from the foliage and nearly slammed into one another in their hurry to keep from clobbering Adam.

  “What in the name of God is that?” Peckham gasped.

  “It’s our ride,” Phoenix whispered, stroking the long face all the way to the swelling under its right eye.

  With what could only be described as a whinny, two long appendages like the pincers of a praying mantis arose from the thing’s sides, standing straight up from the shoulders. With a snap, they fell to the sides, a long flap of skin stretching from one end to the other, divided into smaller triangles by hooked extensions that grew from the joint in the middle of the long arms like bat wings.

  The animal knelt before Phoenix, dropping its nose to the ground and flattening its wings out atop the grass. Phoenix stepped to the side and grabbed a handful of the golden mane, giving it a solid tug as he leapt up onto the thing’s back, straddling its midsection.

  Adam took a step forward and placed his hand on what had surely once been a horse’s head as it arose from where it knelt. It was thick with a downy fuzz so thin that it was nearly invisible, but it felt like he was touching a puppy.

  The other soldiers walked up behind him and he watched their trembling hands reach out to the animal. It snuffed a gust of air and shook its head from side to side, but allowed them to touch it.

  “What’s happening here?” Peckham whimpered, tears streaking his red cheeks.

  He collapsed to his knees in front of the animal, holding his face in his hands, and started to sob.

  IV

  Fallon, Nevada

  JILL WAS THE FIRST TO REACH LINDEN’S CORNER, AS IT HAD BEEN CLEARLY identified by the dozen or so billboards leading up to it counting down the miles until they could try the “World’s Best Cinnamon Rolls.” From a distance, it had looked as though everything there was normal with cars parked at the pumps and the lights on in the store, but they’d already seen that same image so many times on their travels, each time reaching the station with a newfound sense of hope only to have it dissipate as they drew close enough to smell the bodies. This one was no different. Fortunately, she hadn’t allowed herself to even consider the possibility that there were survivors there. With each town they passed through and every highway clogged with cars they skirted, the chances of finding anyone appeared more and more remote.

  At least they’d be able to fill their tanks.

  She pulled in beneath the well-lit overhang and parked at pump number six. On the other side was a dirty old pickup truck with the driver’s side door standing wide, but she’d grown accustomed to such sights. Where there was an unclosed door, chances were there was a body within a few paces, so she didn’t even try to look anymore. She unscrewed the gas cap on the bike, removed the handle, and shoved it into the tank. She didn’t know how Ray did it, but he knew how to activate the pumps from behind the counter from the handful of months he spent working graveyard at a 7-11 to save money for school.

  Jill was sitting on the seat, facing backward at them when the others caught up, leaving their engines idling as they pulled up beside her.

  Ray revved the engine as Tina climbed off, pinching her knees together with a look of extreme discomfort on her face. The dried blood looked almost white from the dust accumulation on her face.

  “It’s about time you guys—” Jill started, but stopped at the sound of a loud bang from the convenience store. Tina had been just about to clear the tailgate of the adjacent truck when she heard the sound and halted dead in her tracks.

  Footsteps pounded across the asphalt, changing quickly to scuffing on the dirt lot to the north.

  Ray looked quickly to Tina and then to Jill.

  “You get her out of here,” he said firmly, revving the engine again and then lifting his feet. The tires caught with a squeal and Ray rocketed straight across the parking lot.

  A shadowed figure passed through the glare of a semi’s headlights and raced to a sign by the side of the road, merging with the shadows.

  “Ray!” Tina screamed. “No!”

  She blew past Jill at a sprint, but April was quick enough to hop off the back of Darren’s bike and catch her by the arm. Both went down on the cement, April using her slightly larger size to keep Tina pinned beneath her.

  With a roar, Darren’s bike rocketed forward after Ray’s and April realized she’d just made the same mistake as Tina.

  Ray gritted his teeth and clenched the handlebars so tightly he cut off circulation to his fingertips. He had no idea what he was going to do. The only thing he could come up with was that he was just going to have to ram that creature and hope he did enough damage that he could finish it off from there. He didn’t have anything resembling a weapon, shy of his own two fists, and those hadn’t been used since about the fifth grade.

  The headlight illuminated the shape in front of him, casting a shadow that reached clear up and over the highway sign, focusing in like a microscope as he sped closer. Details grew from the wash of light. He recognized a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, long hair tied in a ponytail. Whoever it was whirled to face him at that precise moment. He was about ten yards from laying the bike on its side and hoping to b
reak the thing’s legs when her eyes flashed in the headlights and she opened her mouth into a scream. She held up something in her right hand that he couldn’t immediately identify, but he was sure whatever it was, she was aiming it at him.

  He slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop on the gravel, the rear tire kicking out to the side and covering whoever it was with a spray of pebbles.

  “Drop it!” he shouted.

  The woman looked at him strangely and then looked to her right hand.

  “I said drop it lady!”

  Ray hadn’t the foggiest notion of what he might do if she didn’t.

  She looked back at him, through loosened strands of bangs that fell across her face after freeing themselves from their tether.

  “Stay back!” she screamed, pointing the thing in her hand at him and spraying out a cloud that looked a lot like glitter.

  “You think I’m going to hurt you?”

  “I’m warning you!”

  “Guys,” Ray called back over his shoulder. Darren stopped the motorcycle right beside his friend. “She’s one of us!”

  He looked back at the woman with a beaming grin on his face.

  “You’re alive,” she gasped, dropping the can, which clattered to the ground with a ping of the steel ball inside. “I thought I was the only one.”

  Tears shimmered on her eyes in the headlight’s glare before issuing gleaming streaks down her cheeks.

  “I’m Ray,” he said, taking a couple steps toward her and offering his hand. “Ray Gorman.”

  She just looked at it for a minute like she was uncertain exactly what she was supposed to do with it. With a quick glance at his face, she shivered out a sigh and walked toward him.

  “Evelyn Hartman,” she said, briskly shaking his hand and taking a quick step back.

  “And I’m his girlfriend,” Tina said, stepping out from behind the headlight that was still trained on Evelyn. She strode up beside Ray and wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning into him. “Tina.”

  Evelyn nodded and forced a smile.

  “Evelyn,” she said, uncomfortable under the younger girl’s glare.