I think about Hayden’s words this weekend and shake them off. What if he really was right and I accused him of lying and being borderline psychotic? He hasn’t been in school since the week of the party and nobody knows where he went. I’ve asked around, but hardly anybody even knows the kid.
“Jo, take the stand at the far end of the property. Charlie, you and Bosco take the one by the house and I’ll take the one at the nearest end. What do you say we meet back up in two hours?” Dad asks.
“Okay,” I reply tersely. “And we’re only shooting wild hogs?”
“Yeah, just keep a running tally of how many animals you come across. We need to find out what’s going on around here.” Dad takes off toward his tree stand and Charlie turns to me and shakes her head.
“Do you think something bad is happening, or maybe a lot of the animals are getting out of here because of a natural disaster or something? I mean, they say that animals can sense things that humans can’t,” she proposes. Bosco sits at her side, leaning into her legs for support. I’ve noticed that she may be receiving support from the dog, but she loves him more than I’ve ever seen her love anything.
“I think that maybe the animals are migrating somewhere for some reason. I don’t think there will be any kind of natural disaster around here,” I reply, thinking over her proposition. “I mean, Indiana isn’t exactly known for earthquakes or tsunami’s.”
“You’re right. We’d better head to our stands. Yours is a long walk,” Charlie insists. We both know that dad gave her the central stand in case of an emergency. She always has her medication on her person, but if she’s about to have a seizure, she’ll be able to receive medical assistance and our help much quicker than if she were in the back part of the woods.
I begin my long hike North and turn to watch as Charlie climbs her stand, Bosco sitting at the stump of the tree. We may live in the middle of town, but we own about a hundred acres of woods for hunting. We’ve always thought about building on the property, but it’s not affordable with Charlie’s constant medical bills.
As I make my way through the woods and avoid the blunt of the briars, I come to realize that something’s different. The only sound that reaches my ears is that of the breeze blowing the fallen leaves around the ground. It feels as if I am the only living, breathing creature in the woods.
I grip my shotgun tighter and continue walking, realizing that I only have a short walk left before I reach my stand. The woods have always been a safe area for me. All my fears and worries have always dimmed as I grow further from civilization, but it’s different this time. It feels like the place I’ve always called my haven is preparing itself for destruction and mayhem. It seems like something is changing, and the forest knows to prepare.
I shake myself from my doomsday thoughts and lay my eyes on my tree stand. For the next hour and a half, I sit still, staring into the trees and looking for any sign of motion, but there’s nothing.
I rush back to the truck and make it right on time. Charlie is jumping in the car and Bosco is running around as far as his leash will extend. Dad is loading the guns back into the truck. “Did you guys see anything?” I ask, knowing the answer to my question before the words cross my lips.
“Nothing. Not so much as a squirrel,” Dad says, shaking his head. I detect mild concern in his tone but try to brush it off.
A twig cracks a few feet to our right and I whip my head around. Bosco rears back and growls at the woods and Charlie takes a step out of the truck, peeking around it with fascination. Nothing is in our line of sight, but something is out there, and that is equally relieving and terrifying. Relieving because there is still at least one animal out there and terrifying because it’s the only animal we have heard all day.
Our focus is so intensely on the tree line beside us, when Bosco barks, we all jump backward, startled. And we’re not the only things that startle. A large, eight-point buck rushes from the woods, running quicker than I’ve ever seen a deer run. It rushes straight toward the car and I stand frozen, unsure what to do about the beast barreling in my direction. “Jo, get down,” Dad shouts. My mind doesn’t process the order, but my body does as he says unthinkingly.
The buck leaps over my crouched form and I close my eyes. Less than a second later, an ungodly crack sounds through the air and the noise made by the wild animal evaporates. I open my eyes and a shrill shriek cuts through the air. I look at Charlie in what feels like slow motion. Bosco stares across the road with narrowed eyes and a vicious growl and Charlie stands with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. I turn and look at the other side of the road.
The deer, once lively and beautiful, lays on the ground, completely unmoving. “It—it just ran into the tree. It didn’t even slow down,” Charlie utters, trying to make sense of the odd occurrence that none of us are able to explain.
“Something’s not right,” Dad admits, staring at the deer that broke its own neck. “You know how they say that animals sense things that humans can’t? Well, I think something’s going to happen,” Dad admits, shaking his head.
“Or it’s already started,” I whisper. I don’t know if they hear me, but Hayden’s warning rushes through my head and I wonder if I should listen to him from here on out. He may not have explained what’s happening exactly, but he told me enough to prepare myself and my family, so that has to be enough. “You guys, I think I might know what’s happening,” I begin.
*****
Chapter 10
Explaining to my family that we need to get as much water as possible is likely the craziest, most awkward experience of my life. I can’t tell them that I have a friend, or rather acquaintance, who seems to be able to predict the future in some odd way, but I told them what he said to me: something was coming and it had to do with water.
Mom and Dad ran to the grocery store and came home with more water than I’ve ever seen them buy. When each case was inside, I counted twelve. Each case held twenty-one water bottles and they stacked to the ceiling in our pantry. Soon after, we went to bed, unsure what was to come in the leading days.
A day passes and then a few more, but by the following Monday, when we wake up to go to school, we find that it’s canceled. I search the website for any reason behind the unusual spring cancellation, but no information is provided. It looks almost as if they canceled just to give students an extended weekend, but there must be a reason.
I grab my phone and look toward the bathroom where Charlie is brushing her teeth. As the phone begins ringing, I lean back against my pillows. “Buckhorn High School,” Mrs. Lowers answers.
No matter the conditions, I know that she will be there, answering any questions that parents or students may have. “Hey, Mrs. Lowers. Why exactly is school canceled today?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.
“Dear, I’m required to tell people that it was a water line break,” Mrs. Lowers begins, “but Jo, you and your sister stay inside, you hear? Don’t leave you house for anything.”
“Mrs. Lowers, this isn’t actually a waterline break, is it?” I ask. She sighs on the other end of the phone and the line goes dead. I’ve never heard Mrs. Lowers sound so serious. I can’t understand what could have happened.
I stare at the ceiling above my head and allow my mind to wander to the one person whom I wanted to forget: Hayden. When I least wanted him to come into my life, he appeared from thin air and spread his theories like a wildfire, not yielding to my perfectly normal life or traditional beliefs. Now that I am willing to listen, he’s gone. It’s almost like he was never here. Nobody in my life knew him well or even saw us speak.
Sometimes I think that I hallucinated our encounters, but then I remember the single splotch of blood on my car’s passengers seat and conclude that he was real, no matter how insane his warnings may have sounded.
“Girls, I want you to come downstairs,” Dad yells. I find it odd that he’s still home, but as I think about the animal depletion, I realize that he has nothing to do at work, so there is l
ittle point in going.
Charlie struts out of the bathroom in her gray leggings and navy blue T-shirt, pulling her long curls onto the top of her head in a sloppy bun. She looks thinner than usual, but I don’t comment on her appearance. Among our many differences, she has always been thinner than me. We rush down the steps and Bosco follows closely behind Charlie, nearly stepping on her heels a few times.
“What’s up, Dad?” Charlie asks, leaning against the counter.
Dad clears his throat and drops his gaze to the floor. Mom stands at his side and nudges his arm. When he doesn’t speak, Mom does. “I know that school was canceled today, but you girls need to stay home and in our line of sight today. Some strange things have been happening in surrounding areas and we would feel safer if you would stay close,” Mom explains gently. I can tell that she’s leaving out information, but I don’t press—not with Charlie in the room.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I pull it to my ear. “Yeah,” I speak into the phone, not looking at the caller’s ID.
“Hey, Jo. So, Karter and I are driving around and he wants to stop by for a bit. Think your parents would be okay with that?” Romo asks.
I shrug my shoulders and look at Mom. “I know we’re on house arrest for today, but do you think Karter and Romo can stop by for a while?” I ask. Mom nods and I transfer the information through the phone before hanging up.
“Do you know when they’ll be here?” Charlie asks, looking over herself.
“Probably in a second. You look beautiful, Charles.” Charlie looks unsure, but sits down nevertheless, knowing that there’s nothing she can do before they get here. Almost as soon as she takes a seat, Bosco lays down under her feet. I don’t think much of it until a quiet whine erupts from the pup.
“Are you kidding me,” she mumbles. Mom rushes to the other side of the kitchen and gets Charlie a full glass of water and a few pills. Bosco continues crying and looking at Charlie until she pets him in reassurance. “It’s okay, Bosco. I’ll be okay, buddy.”
The front door flies open as Charlie takes a drink from her glass of water to wash down her pills. “We’re here,” Karter shouts through the house. He’s been here a lot for Charlie, so my parents are used to him making himself at home. In fact, they prefer it. Romo only comes over occasionally and never for more than a few minutes. I typically spend my time at his house or the football fields.
Charlie stands slowly and makes her way to the front door. “Hey, Karter,” she greets with her usual smile and friendly tone. Only this time, she knows she’s about to seize and her eyes show clear anxiousness.
“What’s wrong, Charles?” He asks, concern etched on his features.
“Bosco thinks I’m about to seize,” Charlie explains gently. The husky lays on the floor, head between his paws. One of his pointed ears is down and a very quiet whine continues in the back of his throat. Bosco is always a happy dog, but when Charlie’s about to seize, his demeanor does a one-eighty.
“We were going to ask if you two wanted to go out to breakfast with us, but we can stay here instead,” Romo proposes, taking a seat on the couch adjacent to Charlie’s chair. His inch-long, dark hair remains stiff even as he flings himself on the sofa and the subtle scar across his right eyebrow is blatantly noticeable in the morning light. Karter, instead of taking a seat on a sofa or chair, walks to Charlie and sits on the floor in front of her, grabbing her hand in between his. Almost immediately, Charlie’s eyes roll back into her head and she begins twitching. Only this time, with the meds in her system, the twitching isn’t like a full-on seizure. I rush to her and place my hand between her head and the couch and Karter squeezes her hand.
And in less than five seconds—before mom can even reach the room—her pupils return and her seizure takes the form of minor twitching. Charlie doesn’t look sick or tired, but she closes her eyes in embarrassment as the remaining twitches shutter through her body. “Whoa,” I hear Romo mutter. I assume it’s about Charlie and I ignore it, stroking her hair gently. “You guys, you need to look at this.”
“Romo, can’t it wait? We’re busy over—” I cut myself off when I look outside. At first, it looks like the morning light has evaporated and the darkness of night has replaced it, but as I look closer, I realize that that isn’t the case. I turn away from Charlie.
The light still shines outside, but the dark liquid falling from the sky drowns each of the tendrils of light before they can reach the ground. It looks as if oil is pouring from the heavens. It sounds like rain pinging on our tin roof, but it clearly isn’t. It’s something entirely different.
“What is it?” Charlie asks. I shake my head and back away from Charlie. My body is moving on its own accord and I can’t control what it’s doing.
“It’s the beginning,” I mumble. The silence is filled with the patter of the black substance all around our house.
*****
Chapter 11
As the black rains fall from the sky, my parents refuse to allow Romo or Karter to leave until they are sure the liquid is safe. We turn on all the lights in the house due to the lack of natural light and begin making phone call after phone call. Did the school know this was going to happen, or were they preparing for the possibility that something like this would? With each phone call comes new information.
Karter turns on the local weather station and Charlie lies against his chest. Mom is in the middle of a conversation with my grandma, who lives a few hours west. She hasn’t experienced the rains yet, but her local weather station is predicting them to come soon. The sirens of an emergency broadcast fill the TV screen and we all still. Mom tells grandma that she’ll call her back and hangs up the phone.
Attention. Attention. Attention. This is the Emergency Broadcast System. Remain indoors and avoid all contact with acidic rain if it takes the form of a black color and DO NOT consume. Avoid consuming any liquids that may have come into contact with this rain, such as, but not limited to, the city provided water and well-water. The rain is fatal upon consumption and will burn skin to the touch. If rain enters your system or touches your skin, please contact the CDC for further instruction immediately.
The message continues two more times and we listen to it carefully, trying to figure out what is happening, but we already know. Hayden’s predictions are coming true one at a time and because of him we are prepared. “How are we supposed to take Bosco outside?” Charlie asks, looking at her puppy and giving him a rub on the head.
Everybody looks at her and Dad is the first to chuckle. “You find out that our city is being flooded by acidic rain and you wonder how you’re going to take your dog outside?” He asks.
“It’s actually a great question,” Karter defends. “Bosco can’t go out in this rain and we don’t know how long it will last.”
“Our front porch has a roof over it. Worst case scenario, Bosco could use the bathroom on the porch and we can clean it off once he’s done,” I propose.
“That dog is not using the restroom on my front porch,” Mom protests.
“Well we’re open for ideas if you have any better ones, but he isn’t using the restroom in the house, so the porch seems to be the best bet. When he pees, it will run through the spaces in between the wood and when he poops, we can shovel it into the yard,” Dad proposes.
“How are we going to get home?” Romo asks seriously. His parents are extremely protective and won’t like that he’ll have to stay here during this uproar.
“You two will need to stay with us until this rain stops. We can’t send you out there until it does,” Mom says. “Karter can show you where the blankets are. We have enough food and water for everyone, so don’t worry about that.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Jacobs. It means a lot.”
Romo leaves the room to call his parents and Mom calls into her work, explaining to them that she can’t make it until the rain clears, so they’ll have to use the nurses and surgeons already at the hospital. Karter and I sit beside Charlie and exchange a
mutual look of worry. Could things get any worse?
The answer is yes—things can get much, much worse.
*****
Chapter 12
Karter and Romo learn to make their selves at home rather quickly. As it turns out, Romo is an excellent cook and helps Mom in the kitchen every evening for dinner. Karter is an exceptional caregiver and spends all his time looking after Charlie, which gives the rest of us a well-needed break.
By day two, we were finally able to source the pollution to an “eco-friendly” factory in China. It was credited for being environmentally safe. As it turns out, the waste that they “harmlessly” disposed of, changed the chemical compound of the surrounding water. The contamination spread throughout Asia and Europe, then eventually to the sea, where the pollutant became a wildfire, spreading to every crevasse of our world. And the rains were still falling.
By day three, new information was released that the Chinese population was becoming ill and a disease was spreading quickly and following the contaminated water across the world. The disease was unheard of and scientists were unable to find out how it correlated to the water. It was an unstoppable strain of a disease we had never seen. It was highly contagious, but we didn’t know how it was spreading so quickly.
The disease didn’t appear to be airborne, but it was spreading too quickly to be anything else. And on top of this illness, the rains didn’t stop.
By day four, the news was showing the devastation in China and surrounding countries. The disease was sweeping through closed borders and finding its way into locked homes. A cure was being quickly researched, but no scientist could be near the bacteria—even in an airtight suit—without contracting it. A cure, or even measures to prevent this bacterium, became increasingly harder to find.
But we had hope that America would be safe. All flights in and out of America were closed upon the first outbreak of the sickness, and as far as we could tell, nobody had contracted it. America seemed to be the only haven in the world. Everyone else was being infected and over 99.9% of people were perishing. And the rain was still falling.
Eternal Rains: A Dystopian Trilogy (BOUND Book 1) Page 5
