by T M Edwards
For a moment I stood paralyzed, then Sam grabbed my wrist and pulled me after him as people caught sight of us and the shouts rose in intensity. I had to focus on keeping up, though every step sent pain lancing up my leg. We headed for the door that would lead us to the ramp and outside.
Just as we burst through the door and into the sunlight, I heard a voice behind us.
“Stop!” It was the two men who had found us earlier. They’d followed us up the ramp, and the one with the gun had it pointed straight at my chest.
Sam turned. “Sorry, guys. Little busy at the moment.” He took off for the truck, and I was forced to limp as quickly as I could behind him. We were closer, but they were faster. Sam and I parted at the back of the truck, and ran to our respective doors. Just as I threw myself inside, one of the men reached me. He yelped in pain as I slammed the door shut on his arm.
“Go!” I cried, shrieking as the arm grasped my sleeve. Sam started the truck and threw it into drive. Desperately, I pushed the door open and slammed it closed a second time. The man cried out again, but his hand was wound tightly in my sleeve. I slammed the door again. The truck roared forward, nearly throwing me out.
With a loud ripping sound, the fabric on my shirt tore, and the arm disappeared. I closed the door fully and looked back to see him tumble to the ground, a chunk of fabric clutched in his hand. My head hit the window with a painful thunk as we went over a bump.
“Hang on! Almost to the road.” The intense shuddering changed to the rumble of gravel beneath the wheels. The men behind us were lost to the hills and brush.
“They won’t be far behind.”
“I know.”
Within moments, the cargo van appeared in our rearview mirrors. Sam pushed the accelerator down even further. The rumble of the gravel grew louder, and the truck shook as if it would come apart.
The split was approaching. “Turn right! Turn right!” At my order, Sam yanked the wheel to the right, and we came up briefly onto two wheels as we spun around the corner.
The bulk of the egg loomed suddenly in front of us. Sam turned the truck to the right again, and drove a few dozen feet before braking, then shoving the stick into “park.” We both opened our doors, and Sam jumped down while I hit the dirt at a bad angle, and ended up tripping face-first into a bush.
“Deidre? Are you okay?”
I was horribly scratched up, but I waved my arm at him. “Go on without me! I’ll follow!” Far in the distance, but rapidly approaching, I could hear the van. I extricated myself from the bush, and limped after Sam’s retreating back as quickly as I could.
My good leg was sore, and I was out of breath by the time Sam stopped and crouched down. He waved for me to come, and then I saw him reach down and yank something up. It looked like some kind of trapdoor. Behind us, the van skidded to a stop, and I heard the slam of two doors closing. I redoubled my pace, ignoring the pain that flared through my leg. Sam had disappeared.
When I came to the spot where I’d last seen Sam, I found an open wooden trapdoor and a ladder leading downward. The door was the color of the dirt, and the whole thing would have been almost impossible to see if Sam hadn’t known where to look. I glanced behind me. The two men were running toward us. “Sam! What do you see?”
“Hands up!” One of the men called out, and I spun to see that both were holding guns. Guns that were aimed at me. My heart pounded fiercely as I dropped my cane and raised both hands above my head.
“Sam, they’ve both got guns!”
There was a loud thud down below, and a grinding noise from the direction of the object.
“Tell him to climb back out!” the shorter man demanded.
“Sam…”
There was clattering on the ladder, and Sam’s head appeared at the top of the shaft. “I got it, Deidre.”
“Hands up!”
Sam jumped up the last step onto the ground, and raised his hands. “There’s no need for this.”
“Back to the van! Now!” The man lifted the gun and aimed it at me.
Sam jumped in front of me, his hands held in front of him. “Guys, that’s not necessary.”
“It’s the spores, Sam. They’re paranoid.”
We allowed ourselves to be followed back to the van. Being forced to walk without my cane made my leg ache so fiercely that my head was swimming. A cold gun butt in my back prodded me to climb into the back of the van. Sam crawled in behind me. The door was slammed shut, and the men climbed into the front seats. One kept his gun pointed at us, while the other pulled the gear-shift, and the van leapt forward.
Sam sat next to me, and I hung onto his arm for dear life as the van lurched over bumps, throwing us around. “What did you see?” I asked him in a voice carefully pitched to be loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to alert the men in the front.
“Controls. Dalen definitely set this up, and there’s no way he did it alone”
I gasped as a particularly large bump caused me to leave the floor entirely, and crash back down with an impact that made my teeth crash together. “I...ow. Could you see how to stop it?”
Sam may have nodded, but we were being shaken around so much that I couldn’t tell. “I already did.”
“So why are they still acting like this?”
“Deidre, the spores have spread through the atmosphere. The effects will remain until they dissipate. It’s not going to happen immediately.”
Duh. “What are we going to do?” The van spun to the left, which threw both of us into the center of the floor. “Would you slow down?” I yelled at the two men, but the driver ignored me and the other just kept his gun pointed at me. Like I was going to try and hijack this runaway train…
After a few more moments, the bunker appeared in the distance. The men drove us onto the concrete, then they were at the door, gesturing with the guns for us to get out. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I was seized by the arm and roughly pushed toward the door with a gun nozzle sticking into my ribs. Sam was treated similarly. On the ramp, I just focused on not tripping and sending me and the man with the deadly weapon tumbling down it. I didn’t need any accidental bullets in my body.
When we passed through the door into the common area, I tried to stop walking, and we nearly went down anyway. People were standing, doing nothing. People were staring. People were looking paranoid and angry. It looked like Dalen had managed to unite them behind his lies.
That was when it hit me. That ever-present hum of the air filters was gone. Had Zena really turned the filters off? I thought she just turned on the alarm. Stupid, stupid girl. Was everyone breathing outside air?
“Sam…”
“Shut up!” the man yelled, and shoved the gun even harder into my ribs. “Keep moving!” We were pushed, stumbling and limping, toward the blue tent. Dalen stood outlined in the doorway. As we approached, he turned and walked inside, and we were propelled in the same direction.
When the tent flaps fell shut behind us, we were released, though the guns remained pointed at us. Dalen stood in the aisle between the tables, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked almost feral with his hair in his eyes and his suit wrinkled.
“So.” the word was almost a growl. “You really want to do this.”
I cringed, but Sam shook off the gunman’s arm and stepped forward. “Dalen. You have some things to answer for.”
I had never seen Dalen so deranged. He took a step and poked his finger at Sam’s chest. “You! You have destroyed this community!” He looked small next to Sam. He was at least two inches shorter, and fifty pounds lighter. Unfortunately for him, all of Sam’s additional weight was pure muscle.
Sam laughed in his face. “I? I’ve merely exposed you for the cowardly rat that you are.”
“How?” the words burst out before I could stop them. The enormity of what Dalen had done hit me full-force, wiping away the numbness and leaving only the rage. It was made all the more real by Sam’s confirmation that Dalen was really the one behind it all.
“How could you do this? You killed them. You killed all of them. They’re all dead.” I was seeing all of the dead bodies in the cars. The empty cities. Hearing the panicked news broadcasts. I choked on the thought of the man in the grocery store that I had struck with the crowbar. You turned me into a killer…
Dalen’s lip curled in a sneer. “I didn’t kill any of them. I told you that. They killed themselves.”
The next events happened so quickly that I was never quite sure how it started. Sam lunged, and the man behind him was too slow to stop him. A gun went off. Dalen and Sam collapsed to the floor, struggling. I was pushed aside, and fell against a table. The edge hit my ribs hard enough to knock the breath out of my lungs. Someone was screaming, probably me, as the two men grappled on the floor, and the two with guns yelled threats and pointed their weapons at the fighting pair. There was blood. Lots of blood. Why was there blood?
A crack, and Dalen stiffened, then stopped moving. Sam stumbled to his feet, pale and panting. The men raised their guns. As if we were connected, I lunged for the back of one man at the same moment that Sam kicked the gun out of the hands of the other. I grabbed the man around the neck and hung on for dear life, desperately trying not to hear the choking sounds that issued from his throat. Even when he crashed to the floor with me beneath him, I hung on. Another shot echoed. The back of his head collided with my nose, and I saw stars.
“Deidre! Deidre, let go!” Sam’s voice percolated into my brain, but I couldn’t make my arms obey. The man on top of me was no longer moving. Someone was forcing my arms apart. They hooked their hands in my armpits and pulled me from beneath the limp body on top of me. I was covered in pain. Pain in my ribs, pain in my head, in my leg. Just as I was pulled free of the man, darkness claimed me.
***
“Deidre, wake up.” That was Sam’s voice. Someone was tapping my face. “Deidre, come on.”
Consciousness returned in a rush, and I gasped. I opened my eyes to see Sam leaning over me. “Sam, is he…”
“He’s alive. Barely.” Behind him, there was a commotion. People were running and yelling.
“What’s going on?”
Sam just shook his head, and reached down to help me sit up. “Come on.”
My head swam. I sat up to see people standing over Dalen. People were staring, murmuring, arguing. Nobody seemed to know what to do.
A man stepped forward. He could have been brothers with Alan. He was tall and bearded, with arms that bulged with muscle. “What happened here?”
“It’s Dalen,” I gasped. “He made the object.”
The murmurs around us increased in intensity. “That’s impossible.”
“Sam, the map.” I looked up at him, pleading, but he shook his head.
“I lost it.”
I waved my hand to dismiss the idea. “Just go look. There’s a control room. Behind Dalen’s tent. He’s been watching all of us. He has cameras everywhere.”
The hum of conversation came to a crescendo. People were openly shouting now. Some called me crazy. Some demanded to see what I was talking about. Sam helped me to my feet. The crowd looked like they could attack us at any second.
“Quiet!” Sam shouted, then looked surprised when many people complied. “This is easy enough to determine. Just go look. Go look, before you dare call her insane. It’s there.”
The burly man nodded, and a few people ran off. In just a few moments, they returned, but they were shaking their heads. “There’s nothing. Just a wall.”
“What?” I pushed free of Sam’s arms. “That’s not possible! It was there!” Damn it, Dalen closed the door.
I limped forward, and pushed aside the arms that reached out for me. I didn’t know if they tried to stop me or help me. Out of the tent, across the concrete, and into Dalen’s shelter. I reached the back, and placed my hands through the slit.
A wall.
No. Shit. I threw the flaps aside, and stared at the metal. It was a solid wall. Gray, corrugated metal. No doorway.
I felt along the metal, searching. In the shadow behind the tent, I couldn’t see much. “Sam!” I called back. “Sam, look!”
“I’m here.” He was next to me.
“Sam, help me open it! It was here!” I beat against the wall with my fists, as if that would help.
“I know, Deidre. I know it was.”
“No!” I screamed, and turned to Sam. He caught my wrists and forced me to be still.
“Deidre. Look.” He pulled me around, and placed my hand on the wall. There, under my palm, was a crack. Thin, but unmistakable. Sam released my hands, and threw his shoulder against the wall. I could see the pain on his face when he bounced off.
I watched Sam lunge against the wall once, twice, three times. People were gathering behind us. Why did they all walk around like puppies following their mama? How long had the fans been off? Were they all just feeling the effects of the spores?
Something clanged, and Sam fell into the electronic room with a clatter as the door swung open. Behind us, people gasped.
“Sam? Are you okay?”
People moved past me, led by the large man. They filed through the door, until a couple dozen stood inside. They were all staring at the screens. I heard whispers, currents of fear.
“What is this?” Someone, I didn’t know who, demanded loudly.
Sam had regained his feet. “Dalen has been watching us.” He pushed through the crowd to the table with the monitor that showed the object. “And this.”
The bearded man joined him. I could only see their heads. I heard Sam speaking in a low voice. The man sounded incredulous. Finally, people parted to let Sam back through, and he rejoined me at the doorway.
“Well?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re all affected by the spores. I’m not sure any of them are thinking clearly.”
“What about Dalen? What about us?”
“I don’t think they will hurt us.”
“What do we do now?”
Sam closed his eyes. “I don’t know.” His face went a shade paler, and he staggered.
“Sam? What’s wrong?”
He stumbled to the cot, and sat down heavily. He stuck out his leg, and pulled up his pants to the knee.
“You’re shot!”
He looked up at me and smiled wryly. “No kidding.”
“Oh, Sam!” I knelt next to him. He was still bleeding. “Why didn’t you say something?”
I searched for something to stop the blood. That was when I realized that I was only wearing about half of a shirt. Oh. Maybe that’s why people kept staring at me. I was missing a sleeve and a good chunk of the right side of the garment.
I grabbed the pillow from the cot and removed the pillowcase, then pressed it to his leg. Sam inhaled sharply, but did not make any other sound. “Is the bullet still inside?”
“I don’t know.” he leaned back on his hands. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse. Within the past month,” he added.
“Don’t make me roll my eyes at you while you’re bleeding to death.”
He sat up. “I’m not bleeding to death. I’m fine. We should get out of this place. I know where Dr. Haroun keeps the medical supplies.”
***
I walked Sam to the hospital tent, then tracked down Dr. Haroun and convinced her to come extract the bullet. She was so nervous that her hands shook the entire time, and she forgot to numb Sam’s leg before she stuck her instruments inside the wound. I had to grab his arm as he bolted upright in the bed. By the time she finished, he was ghostly pale, sweating, and had bitten his lip until it bled.
As soon as I’d dragged Dr. Haroun back to remind her to bandage the wound, (after she tried to walk off the second the bullet was out), Zena appeared in the tent doorway. “They want to talk to you.”
“Who?”
The girl shrugged. “Everyone.”
“I’m fine. Go,” Sam insisted, when I tried to stay. So I followed Zena, who looked much older and more fierc
e with the gash on her head. She would always have a scar.
Most of the community was gathered in the common area around the tables. Even from here, I could sense the tension in the air. People shifted nervously, eyed each other. The atmosphere of camaraderie and industry was gone, replaced with one of distrust and paranoia. Not only were they probably being exposed to the spores, the leader of the community was injured and possibly dying. And it was my fault. Or, at least they’d probably think of it that way, especially after all he’d just told them about me and Sam.
