Reversion

by Paul B. Kohler

  “And you won’t, baby. Will you? Promise me you’ll never stop.” Clay rocked his daughter. Blood continued to dribble from Daniels’ punch. A wooden splinter was embedded above his eyebrow. He sniffed and swiped at the blood under his nose. The voices had filtered out, replaced with the comfort of Maia’s.

  “I promise, Daddy,” Maia whispered.

  As they sat together, holding one another close, the rest of the team moved away. Daniels studied his hand, looking at the already drying blood on his knuckles. The adrenaline from seeing the wild and frenetic energy in Clay’s eyes took a long time to dissipate.

  Alayna appeared beside Daniels, gripping his upper bicep. Daniels flinched at first, looking at her almost incredulously. She had a hand stretched across her abdomen, cradling herself, then threw herself forward and pulled Daniels close.

  Daniels couldn’t have imagined why. He couldn’t have imagined that Alayna was brimming with a strange mix of sadness and relief; that it had been a horrible thing to watch, as Clay had smashed through the church.

  One by one, the group stepped out into the sunshine. Clay and Maia found themselves alone—with the high ceilings of the church returning their voices, without anyone else to hear. His voice quivering, yet certain, said the only thing on his mind.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Maia’s eyes held his. “I know.”

  “For as long as I live, Maia,” Clay said with more grit, now. More passion. “For as long as I live, nothing is going to happen to you ever again. And that’s a promise.”

  Chapter 42

  Several hours later, the entire team was spread out in the pews. They’d been fed, watered—like cattle, Clay thought uncharitably. The devastation of Valerie’s death made his head spin. Still, Maia was with him, her head on his shoulder. She wouldn’t leave his side. Not now.

  Daniels got up and paced nervously. He strode toward Clay with his hand out. Clay shook it, giving Daniels a firm nod.

  “I see Lane patched you up,” Daniels said, gesturing at the bandages. “Good thing. You really tore yourself up there.”

  “Thanks for stepping in,” Clay said. “The only thing I could see was red. I couldn’t have stopped myself … not without—well, you. That punch. Man, you’ve really got a right hook.”

  Daniels didn’t laugh, but Clay sensed that the tension had dissipated. Walt and Hank began to speak in a more upbeat tone, as if the stress of the afternoon was now only a memory.

  “So, I take it your plan was to head up to Earlton, wasn’t it?” he asked.

  “Course it was,” Clay said. “To find Val, sure. But maybe to set up camp, possibly. To find some semblance of a life, off the road. I imagine that’s where the only civilization is around here.”

  Even as he spoke, he recognized that his words were wishful thinking. That, much like he’d pinned all his hopes on finding Valerie, he had also been building up what Earlton might bring for all of them. He’d been so sure of it, he’d promised it to the others. Telling them all things would be much better for everyone if they would only help him get there.

  “Tell me what happened,” Clay said, the question represented all he didn’t know, or understand. “There’s a reason you didn’t carry on, isn’t there? A reason that you’re here and not in Earlton.”

  As he waited for a reply, Clay’s eyes drifted toward Lois, whom he’d come to loathe. She was the one who’d last seen Valerie alive. He could blame her for that. As if she felt his eyes, she rose from her pew and turned to meet Clay’s eyes.

  “He thinks he’s in control of the world,” Lois announced, addressing everyone. “The General, that’s what he calls himself now. The minute he got ahold of that device and had so much power. He stopped listening to the other members of his brigade—to the others around the world—when he thought he was the only one left. He’s let the power go to his head.”

  Clay sat up. Maia slid away from him and was watching like a frightened child.

  “You mean, more so than when he just went by “Colonel’?” Clay asked sarcastically. “Because there was a whole lot of power hunger where he was concerned.”

  “It’s ten times worse,” Lois sighed. “Of course, our initial plan was to get to Earlton. But when we got here, and everything happened with—with Valerie and the others … I made my voice heard. I wasn’t about to stand aside and allow him to continue. Not with my people. I was meant to take care of my constituents. And I know I failed them.”

  Clay heard the semblance of an apology but held his tongue. He stared at her unmoved, waiting.

  “But of course, my protests fell on cold ears,” Lois continued. “And then, the self-appointed general had me thrown into the brig before they left for Earlton. He left two soldiers to guard the relay tower and babysit me, until they decided what to do with an old lady. Of course, I know all human decency is out the window. But I was battered and bruised and left to rot in that jail cell.”

  “That’s where we came in,” Daniels said. “We arrived here. Got attacked by the assholes in that bell tower. Only one of them made it. The other? Well, he’s out there on his own. Let him get to Earlton alone, for all I care. The guy tried to kill me in my sleep more than once, and we sent him to the wolves, with only two guns to his name.”

  “And you’ve all decided to stay? Not go rest of the way to Earlton?” Clay said. “Because it’s too dangerous? You’re not sure what you’ll find?”

  “Honestly, Clay, I don’t see how it would be any better up there than it would be around here,” Daniels said. “We can build something here if we want to. And we won’t have to make ourselves known to the general. He’s a monster, Clay. He used your wife like some sort of pawn in some weirdo game he knew he would always win.”

  Clay’s hands clenched. Again, the adrenaline began to pulse against his eardrums, making his breath come in chaotic puffs. Lois and Daniels watched him like a time bomb ready to explode.

  “We can’t just let him be, not in the place we want—a place that’s safe. We can’t just let him have it without a fight,” Clay exclaimed. Everyone from Agnes to Walt was completely mesmerized.

  No one spoke for a long time. Clay’s skin felt itchy and wild, craving the adventure of revenge. “Think of the others,” Clay finally said, turning his eyes toward Lois. “The women and men and children of your town. Our town. Carterville,” he said. “They’re up there with him, at his mercy. Who knows what other atrocities he’ll try, Lois. We can’t trust him. And I think not giving it a chance, not fighting for something we believe in—even at the end of the world—is the worst possible thing we can do.”

  Chapter 43

  Clay’s speech galvanized them. Every inch of him screamed for retribution, but he knew he had to explain it differently. In a way that wasn’t so selfish. In a way that showed the world. What was right. And, in the small part of himself still connected to his law enforcement roots—a time when he’d genuinely cared about everyone—he knew fighting the General was the right thing. A madman, power hungry and wild, with every kind of weapon in his arsenal (including the potential ability to control the crazed) wasn’t someone you could just leave alone. He wasn’t like a rat you avoided in the basement.

  “I just think you’re underestimating him,” Lois said. “I don’t know if we could handle him at his worst. I can’t imagine how much he’s changed since he’s taken over Earlton. It must be exponential, in the previous few weeks—”

  “Lois, we’ve been through a hell of a lot,” Clay said. “Maybe your little rendezvous with the General seemed intense, but we’ve been out there fighting the crazed, watching our friends die, and struggling to stay alive out there. If we can kill hundreds of those crazed monsters, I think—” he swallowed hard, the voices tickling the back of his mind again. They echoed in his ears, and he clung to the edge of the pew in front of him. A bead of sweat tracked from temple to chin.

  “Then I think we can take out the General,” he finished.r />
  “That’s something I cannot get on board with,” Lois said. She glanced at the scientists. “It seems to me that if the General can control the crazed, use them to attack us—how the hell can we possibly fight back?”

  Clay turned toward Alayna. This was the first time he’d looked at her, really looked at her, since learning of Val’s death. She was small, retreated into herself, alone in the back of the church.

  “Lois, I’ve been infected,” Clay said, speaking directly to Alayna.

  “What are you talking about?” Lois asked.

  “The nanites. They are inside me,” Clay said, speaking slowly. “I’ve been infected for months now. Alayna’s infected as well. And I’m still here. She’s still here. Which means we might have more control over this epidemic than we think, even without the General’s device.”

  Lois took a step backward, covering her mouth. She stared at Clay like a sideshow freak. “But how you both not one of them?” she asked, her fear audible.

  Clay shrugged. Lane said, “We initially monitored Clay’s symptoms. Over time, the symptoms changed a great deal. Rather than becoming one of them, he got stronger, wilder. Meaner, in some respects—”

  Clay closed his eyes against the flashing memories of tearing through the church, much like he had back at the hotel in Dearing. The anger he’d felt—it was unparalleled in his experience. It was a high he couldn’t explain.

  “We’ve speculated that the reason for this immunity is the radiation he was exposed to before leaving Carterville. It’s possible it allowed the nanites to be more adaptive within him, working with his body’s cells instead of against them.”

  Lois nodded, tipping her head at Alayna. “And what about her?” she asked. “I don’t suppose she was exposed to the same radiation.”

  “She wasn’t,” Lane affirmed, “And no, she isn’t one of them either. Thank God.”

  “Then what is it?” Clay demanded. “How is it that she’s okay?”

  Lane turned toward Marcia and Jacobs. They whispered, almost conspiratorially, while the rest of the crew waited impatiently. Clay contemplated going to Alayna. He had an idea of how fragile she was but he couldn’t bring himself to take that first step. Then, the voices swelled in his ears. Louder, more insistent, clamoring. Then Alayna was beside him, her hand on his upper back. He felt it, just as he could hear the three scientists whispering several pews away. But the screeching in his mind continued, tugging, pulling him away from his reality.

  “It could be a variety of reasons,” Lane finally said, sounding to Clay as if she was at the end of a very long, black tunnel. Clay had to really concentrate to hear her over the screaming, violent chorus in his mind.

  “A variety of reasons?” Clay asked putting his hands on his ears. “What—”

  “It could be because of the pregnancy,” Lane offered tentatively. “The female body has many, many ways to protect the fetus through development. In fact, it was one of my areas of research in college. But I digress …”

  Alayna’s hand gently traced Clay’s spine. The room continued to spin around him. He swayed, feeling himself falling into the spiral in his mind. “Okay. Okay.”

  “But it could be, that you—well. The fact is, you’re the one who impregnated her,” Lane said, her eyes boring into him. Clay half-wondered if they were accusing him. If people were whispering amongst themselves, “He cheated on his wife. He deserves this misery.”

  “So what?” Clay couldn’t make the connection through the torment. “So what …”

  “The point is,” Lane said, “Is that your sperm carries the nanites. And theoretically the same mutation caused by the radiation. That baby in there, well. It’s got—Clay, what’s going on?” Lane looked at Clay fearfully.

  Clay backed away from Alayna, away from Lane, suddenly feeling that everyone’s eyes were on him. The voices continued to inundate him, making him tremble.

  Clay didn’t want to be made to feel this way. He was fine. He had it handled. His wife was dead, but he’d get revenge. The world was falling apart, but he’d keep his daughter safe through it. No matter what, he told himself. No matter—

  Chapter 44

  Hunger.

  God, always so hungry. My tongue drapes over my parted lips, scraping my chin—my face, feeling—searching for just one more morsel … of flesh. Yes! I taste the brain matter and it’s glorious, but it’s … GONE! I need more!

  The world around me is grey, foggy, like a rain sweeping down all around me, and all I can do … all I can think of is—

  FLESH!

  Wild thoughts lead to confusion, which in turn leads to turmoil. I’m lost, I don’t know where to go. I … know something, but … what’s that sound?

  My limbs flail as if they have a mind of their own. I stagger on, aimless in my pursuit … toward a sound I cannot see. With each labored step, the pain—oh, the horrendous agony—stabs at my inner soul. The ache is deep, penetrating my bones. I tear at the skin—feeling the folds of it come apart, feeling the cartilage beneath. I yank, to stop the suffering.

  But God, I can’t … stand it. The world tilts in front of me, the sun falling through the sky until—BOOM—I slam my face against the pavement. I feel the blood oozing from my ear. I can do nothing, I am nothing—I feel … NOTHING, and everything …

  But I hear it. The world, it’s here, still. And the blood, it continues to pump through my veins. I remember … something! Something I was meant to do … before. Before what? Before I was blindsided, taken. Taken from where? Taken from this once-blue sky … before it turned this insanely horrible grey …

  Hunger. And pain.

  Aaaaaah!

  Still on the ground and my tongue searches, past my lips, to my nose. I chew at my bottom lip. I want to taste myself, and this … blood-soaked gravel, and this world.

  I know if I don’t eat, I will starve. But will I die?

  But what am I? And why am I so—

  What is that? That sound again, just out of sight? I drag my face around, toward the noise. The pavement scrapes chunks of my skin away, blood oozes.

  BUT WHAT IS THAT FUCKING SOUND—

  I flail, until—

  Chapter 45

  Clay came to on the floor of the church, his face pressed into his hands. He heard Maia’s screams as if they were far away. He dropped his hands to find Lane’s face inches from his. Her lips were pressed together, and she was as white as a crazed. She passed him a glass of water, which he accepted, but only held it in front of his lips until he could catch his breath.

  “Clay?” Lane finally said in the motherly tone that he’d heard her use when caring for Alex. “Clay. What just happened? Where did you just go in your head?”

  Clay gulped water. He could still hear the voices—wild, manic, angry, but they were distant. He still yearned for flesh. But he recognized these weren’t his thoughts. They came from somewhere else.

  He was beginning to understand—them. Even as the rage stirred; even as his blood pulsed with strength and vitality, he had an undeniable urge to destroy, to strike out, even at Lane if he had to, he recognized that it wasn’t coming from him.

  “Clay?” Lane leaned closer. “Clay, if you don’t tell us what’s going on, we can’t help you.”

  Clay used the pew to regain his feet, finding his knees were still weak. Several feet away, Maia was clinging to Brandon. Clay could see the brightness of her bones, pressing against her skin. The sight filled him with anguish. This feeling—this pain, reminded him to remain grounded, here with the humans. If he could.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” he sighed

  “Clay,” Lois said firmly, “tell us what just happened. You were rolling around, yelling things we couldn’t understand.”

  Clay shook his head; he didn’t have the strength to answer. He certainly couldn’t explain the truth.

  But what else could he do?

  “It’s been getting worse,” he admitted to Lane. “The voices—”

  He heard
Alayna whimper. Lane’s face was inscrutable

  “Voices?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know what they were before. But they’re clearer now. Louder. Calling out for … for flesh. They’re confused, angry, hungry. They don’t understand what’s happening to them, or why … why they’re so hungry.” The words tumbled from his lips now. Fast without measuring their cost.

  “They?” Lane asked. “You don’t mean …”

  “I don’t know.” Clay fought the rage. “I can hear them. And their anguish, as well as my anger, it’s worse. Much worse. As you can see,” He gestured at the mutilated pew, at the torn-apart walls. “It’s like they’re communicating with me, or I’m connected to them in some way. Or maybe I’m just going crazy. Take your pick.”

  Lane turned to see what her colleagues made of Clay’s admission. Marcia shrugged, Jacobs just frowned. Recognizing that this was new territory for all of them, Clay spun toward Daniels, an idea burning to get out.

  “Adam,” he said excitedly. “What’s powering the energy field out there? I think, well … it feels like they’re getting closer, and I want to make sure we’re protected. We need that thing to stay up, at all costs.”

  Daniels spoke carefully, as if he didn’t want to trigger the rage he’d witnessed. “The energy field is powered by twin diesel generators. We have to fill the tanks every twelve hours or so, to keep them up. It’s some new military-grade generator, left for the communication tower. They repurposed it for the energy field.”

  “Is there enough fuel to keep it powered up?” Clay asked.

  “Right now, we have enough diesel to last us another week or so. Ten days, maybe.”

  “And then? What’s the plan after that?” Clay asked sharply.

  “Clay,” Lane said. “Please tell me more about these voices. Can you control them? Or do you feel yourself wanting to give in?”