by Jake Bible
“How’d he die?” Linder asks.
“That’s a strange thing to ask,” Gil replies. “But, to be truthful, I don’t completely know he’s dead. I’m just assuming on account of the hole.”
“The hole?” Linder asks. “What hole?”
“You don’t know?” Gil laughs. “Man, there’s a hole the size of Rhode Island out there! Nearly swallowed Missoula right up! Probably would have been more merciful if it had, considering.”
“Considering what?” Linder asks. “Stop talking in redneck riddles!”
Gil frowns deeply and stands up. He cocks his head, licks his lips, then turns and walks away, lost in the thick darkness beyond the candle’s light.
“Hey!” Linder shouts. “HEY! Where are you going? Where’s my son? Take me to my son right now!”
“We’ll see,” Gil’s voice calls out. “I’m gonna let you sit there and think about how you talk to people. Sometimes a little alone time is good for the soul.”
“Get your ass back here!” Linder yells. “You backwoods fuck! You think you can hold me? Do you? I get free and I’ll gut you! Slit you wide open from nuts to neck!”
A door opens far off and faint light spills into the space for a split second before the door slams shut behind Gil.
“Hey! HEY! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU DAMN REDNECK PIECE OF SHIT!”
Linder strains at the wire that binds his hands together and to the metal chair he’s seated in. The metal cuts into his skin, adding that pain to the agony already pumping through his head. The man focuses on the pain, drinking it in like a secret elixir, and starts to twist his wrists slowly back and forth, over and over, until he has a perfect feel of the tension and strength of the wire that holds him.
***
“He say anything?” Gil asks as he walks into a large room outfitted with old worn couches as well as rows of shelving laden with canned goods and various supplies.
Kyle is seated at a table made of thick wood, his hands handcuffed to a solid metal ring at the edge of the table. His eyes watch as Gil moves to the table and takes a seat across from him.
“He hasn’t said a damn thing,” a thin, wiry man says from one of the couches, an old paperback in his hands. The man, Moss Owens, sets the book down on a stained coffee table in front of him, stands and stretches then looks over at man sleeping on a second couch. “Fin. Hey, Fin! Get your ass up!”
Moss walks over and gives the couch a hard kick.
“What?” Fin asks. “I was sleeping.”
“I know,” Moss says. “Your time up top. Go find Lorelei and Brian. You all can relieve Jim, Scoot and Tomboy.”
“It’s damn cold up there,” Fin says as he sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the couch. “And we’re already out of whiskey.”
“I’ll add that to the list of provisions we’ll need to scout for,” Moss says. “Now get.”
“Fine, whatever,” Fin says as he stands, hitches his camouflage cargo pants up around his hips, and stomps out of the room.
Moss waits for the door to click shut before he turns to Gil. “That should give us a few minutes. What you learn from the Fed?”
“Not much,” Gil says, eyeing Kyle. “Except that he says he is the kid’s daddy. I’m inclined to believe him.”
“He’s not my father,” Kyle snarls.
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Gil says. “But I’m not so sure.”
“That’s it?” Moss asks. “That’s all you got out of the guy?”
“These two don’t know shit about what’s going on,” Gil laughs. “The guy didn’t even know about the hole.”
“How the hell can you not know about the hole?” Moss laughs with Gil. “It’s a giant fucking hole in the middle of the country.”
“What hole?” Kyle asks.
“See?” Gil says, pointing at the teenager. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Moss looks at Kyle then at Gil.
“I say we bring them with us,” Moss says. “Take a trip down the mountain and get some needed supplies.”
“Booze ain’t needed,” Gil says.
“It is if we’re going to be cooped up in the bunker forever.”
“Those things are out there,” Gil says. “One nearly got us on our way back here.”
“But it didn’t,” Moss replies. “You afraid of those things, Gil?”
“Hell yes, I’m afraid of those things!” Gil snaps.
“Don’t be,” Moss says. “They can’t get in here, and they’re too big to catch us on the horses.”
“The things are fast,” Gil counters.
“That they are,” Moss nods. “But they move funny and can’t handle the ridges like we can. Damn monsters must be from the plains.”
This makes both men cackle and Kyle looks from one to the other, puzzled by the behavior, and the situation he’s found himself in. At first, he was sure that Gil was the guy in charge, but after listening to the interactions between the men, he isn’t so sure. Everyone seems to go to Gil first, but when Moss speaks, they also listen. Kyle doesn’t know who he’s supposed to focus on.
And one thing his grandma taught him was always figure out who is in charge; saves a lot of time and hassle that way.
“What was that thing?” Kyle asks. “That went by us?”
“Don’t know,” Moss shrugs. “But there’s more and they are ugly as sin.”
“And those are the small ones,” Gil says.
Once Linder had been knocked out, the people with Gil and Moss had picked Kyle up and dragged him through the woods to a small clearing where several horses were waiting. They draped the unconscious Linder over a pack mule and then shoved Kyle up into a saddle of an extra horse. Kyle stayed silent as his hands were cuffed and the reigns shoved into his palms. Luckily, he’d been riding horses most of his life or he would have fallen once the group got moving.
Maybe an hour of hard riding had gone by when they heard the screeches and howls coming through the woods. Trees that still stood snapped in half as something big moved past them quickly. Kyle barely got a glimpse of it before it was lost from sight, but what he saw, he didn’t like.
“Kid needs an education,” Moss says. “So does the Fed. We take them with us and head to Missoula. Might find some survivors along the way.”
“We don’t need more people here,” Gil snaps. “They’ll just waste our resources.”
“Oh, come now, Gil,” Moss says. “The more the merrier.” He gives Gil a wink. “And we could use more ladies than just Lorelei, Janey, and Tiff.”
“Can’t argue there,” Gil says. “May have to repopulate Earth someday, won’t we? It’s God’s will.”
“I’d say so,” Moss nods. “I’d certainly say so.”
“Oh, great,” Kyle says. “You two should get along with Linder just fine. Crazy God nuts.”
***
It takes two hours to get down the mountain on the horses, and another full hour before they are in sight of the outskirts of what used to be Missoula, Montana. It would have been a much faster trip if it wasn’t for the fact they had to constantly change routes each time they heard the loud howls of the unknown creatures.
By the time they reach a ridge, just above their destination, the horses, as well as the group, are exhausted and it’s all Kyle can do to keep his eyes open. At least until he catches sight of what lies just beyond Missoula.
Instead of the hills and mountains that should be visible, there is only a vast chasm for as far as Kyle can see. And standing at the edge of the chasm are monsters that make him wish he was a little boy again and could just crawl into his mother’s lap to make it all go away.
“And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years,” Linder says.
“Hoohoo. Someone knows their Revelations,” Gil smiles. “Good thing, ‘cause I think the end of the world is at hand.”
“What are they?” Kyle whispers as he sees the beasts that stand
close to a thousand feet tall. “They look like Godzilla.”
“Boy, you don’t know your monster movies if you think that’s what Godzilla looks like,” Gil says, pointing towards the creatures. “Godzilla is thick, with huge haunches and short arms. Kinda like a T-Rex that don’t work out no more.”
“But with a smaller head,” Moss says.
“Yeah, with a smaller head,” Gil says. “In proportion to its body, that is. Godzilla is way bigger than a T-Rex. But the proportions are different. But these things?” He moves his hand, indicating the distinctive differences as he starts to describe the beasts. “That head there? Too flat and wide to be like Godzilla. And look at all those horns! Must be like ten horns on top of that head. Godzilla has scales and ridges, but no horns.”
“Mouth is all wrong too,” Moss says. “Godzilla has a mouth like you and me, all up front. Them things have a mouth that near wraps all the way around the back of their heads.”
“Too many teeth too,” Gil adds. “All sticking out and shit. And the arms are too thin and long. Plus, the ugly things have two sets of lower legs. Godzilla has only two legs.”
“Like it should be,” Moss says. “What the hell do these things need four legs for? Especially when they are just sitting there.”
“You guys are fucking crazy,” Kyle says. “I’m not kidding. You’re flat out bug fucking nuts.”
“Why? Because we know our monsters?” Moss asks. “The world didn’t used to be ruled by the internet. When I was a kid your age, I had to watch whatever movies came on TV. I didn’t get to dial up anything I wanted on Netflix.”
“We watched a lot of Godzilla movies late at night, didn’t we, Moss?” Gil laughs. “And Frankenstein and Dracula and that wolfguy.”
“If it was on, then we watched it,” Moss nodded.
“Are you two brothers?” Linder asks. He keeps wiggling his wrists in the wires that now have him secured to the pommel of the saddle. He knows eventually he’ll figure out their secret. And when he does, he plans on truly teaching the men around him what he knows of Revelations.
“We ain’t brothers,” Moss says. “Just grew up together.”
“The smaller ones are gone,” Gil says. “Must have cleared out. Tired of getting picked on by those big guys.”
This gets Linder’s attention and he looks over at Gil. “Picked on? How do you mean?”
“The big ones don’t like the little ones,” Gil replies. “We watched from up on that other ridge back over there for like an hour.”
“Using binoculars,” Moss says.
“I figured,” Linder nods. “What did you see?”
“The big ones seem annoyed by the little ones. Constantly stepping on them and eating their asses,” Gil explains. “Squish then chomp. Those little ones finally got cleared away from here, looks like.” He turns in his saddle and his eyes scan the hills and the mountain ridges above them. “Kinda makes me wonder where they all went.”
“Makes me wonder why the big ones aren’t leaving too,” Linder says.
“That’s what you’re wondering?” Moss laughs. “We show you a huge hole in the ground, with giant monsters all about it, and you wonder why the monsters aren’t taking a stroll through our fair state? And your kid thinks we’re the crazy ones.”
“Where they came from or why they are here are questions that are almost philosophical in nature,” Linder says. “Might as well ask why man is on this earth.”
“Because God put us here,” Gil says.
“I’m not disagreeing there,” Linder nods. “But, the question that really needs to be asked is now that the things are here, what do they plan on doing? That’s the reason I wondered why they are staying by the hole and not spreading out across the land.”
“Huh,” Gil nods. “Never thought of it that way.”
Kyle rubs at his face over and over, hoping his brain will kick in and make sense of everything. Here he is, riding a horse, with a bunch of what he thinks must be survivalist militia types, not to mention there’s a man on the horse next to his that keeps saying he’s his father, while all around them the world is broken and dead and giant fucking monsters stand guard over a hole that’s so big he can’t see to the other side.
“Am I the only one about to freak out?” Kyle blurts out. “What the fuck are we doing here? We should be up in that bunker staying safe and as far away from this shit as possible!”
He looks around, and other than Linder, only sees blank stares.
“We need booze,” Moss says. “And maybe ladies.” He looks over his shoulder and nods to the only woman in the group that rode down. “No offense, Tiff.”
“Ain’t no thing,” Tiff replies. “Go ahead and look for more ladies, ‘cause ain’t none of you getting in my pants.”
The whole group bursts out laughing and Kyle can’t help but hunch his shoulders in some instinctive reflex to shield himself from the insanity that surrounds him. He glances over at Linder, but for once, the man isn’t looking at him, instead he’s staring at the giant monsters that stand miles away.
“Come on,” Gil says. “Moss needs booze. Let’s go find him some.”
He clicks his mouth and gives his horse a quick kick to the haunches, overriding the animal’s natural, and understandable, fear of what is before them all.
***
“What is that?” Dr. Probst asks as she and Coletti crest a large hill and look down at the ravaged city below. “Where do you think we are?”
“Missoula,” Coletti replies. “Hard to tell by looking at it the way the landscape has changed so much. But this is where we’re supposed to go and the map says Missoula.”
“You’re sure about this?” Dr. Probst asks. “Why do you think that little black disc isn’t sending us on a wild goose chase?”
Coletti looks at the thick, round piece of metal in his hand. Even though it’s only the size of a large pocket watch, it’s surprisingly heavy, the weight part of the heavy duty shielding that keeps the disc from being fried by an EMP. In the middle of the CLD is a small glass circle and Coletti puts the disc to his eye, double checking the coordinates that flash within.
Slipping the disc back into his pocket, he crouches down and opens a pouch on his pants leg and takes out a plastic coated map and a small compass with a magnifying glass attached.
“This is where we were,” Coletti says, pointing to the spot several miles north. “This is where we are.” His finger traces a route down to a new point on the map. “The coordinates on the CLD are on the edge of that city down there. Something is waiting for us and we need to find it right away.”
“What do you think it is?” Dr. Probst asks. “Food? Water? Weapons?”
“You’re probably right on the last part,” Coletti replies. “There could be food and water, but I doubt that’s the priority at the moment.”
“Why the hell not?” Dr. Probst asks, her voice rising an octave. “Why wouldn’t someone send food or water to us? We’ll die without it!”
“Doctor, calm down,” Coletti says. “Getting pissed isn’t going to change reality.”
Dr. Probst laughs and turns to look towards the chasm. And what stands by it.
“Don’t talk to me about reality, Lieutenant,” she sneers. “That ship sailed a long time ago.”
Coletti places the map and compass back into his pants and stands up.
“I’m not saying there isn’t food and water waiting for us,” Coletti says. “I’m just saying that there are bigger priorities than just keeping us alive. Odds are there’s some type of com system that got dropped down there.” He pats his pocket where the CLD sits. “I saw twelve sets of coordinates before the CLD locked onto these as the closest. That means the brass is fishing for eyes on the ground. They are hoping someone is alive to tell them what’s going on.”
“Because of all of that,” Dr. Probst says, pointing up at the ash that is the sky. “The satellites can’t see through there, can they? Even the military ones. Our government is
blind and has no idea what we’re dealing with.”
“That could be,” Coletti says. “Which is why they need us more than ever. We have to get down there and find whatever it is they dropped for us. If it is a com system then that may be better than food or water.”
“We have been hiking all night long,” Dr. Probst says. “There’s nothing better than food and water right now.”
“How about a ride home?” Coletti grins. “That would be way better.”
Dr. Probst’s eyes go wide and she stares at the lieutenant.
“You think that? You think they’ll come get us?” she asks, her voice a hopeful squeak.
“They aren’t going to find two people with better intel on the situation,” Coletti shrugs. “They’d be crazy not to come get us.”
The thought of being rescued brings new hope to Dr. Probst. She shoves the fatigue from her mind and straightens her back, eyes fixed on the ruined city below.
“Then what are we waiting for?” she asks. “Let’s get our asses down there.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Coletti says, giving her a reassuring smile.
He turns and heads off down the hill, the reassuring smile instantly dropping from his face.
***
“Where are all the people?” Kyle asks as he is helped down from his horse.
One of the group, a man Kyle thinks is named Scoot, leads the horse over to the others that are tethered to a porch railing as they all stand in the front yard of one of Missoula’s many abandoned homes. The horses snuffle through the ash on the ground, trying to find some grass they can munch on, but come up empty, their nostrils flaring and feet stamping in frustration.
Kyle knows just how they feel.
“Missoula was evacuated weeks ago,” Gil says. “Most everywhere was.”
“Only people left here are the crazies,” Moss says. “And they ain’t all bad.”
“They ain’t all good neither,” Gil says.
“True,” Moss nods. He glances around at the quiet, ash covered neighborhood and then claps his hands together. “Let’s find some booze.”
