Then we came to the school bus. Maybe it had been the same one I'd seen that afternoon, a couple of hours and a million years ago. The bus had stopped diagonally across both lanes. Some of the windows were smashed out, and the emergency door in the back swung open on its hinges.
Rolling the Hummer to a stop, I watched the windows for movement inside. It was the dead of night with two fluffy cedars on either side of the road creating a thick shadow in the moonlight. If anyone was still in the bus, I couldn't tell.
"What are you doing now?” Lilly asked. "We should just backtrack again and go around." She sounded tired, or maybe she was still sulking over my decision to bring Jane along.
I unbuckled my seatbelt. "I'm going to see if anyone’s still in the bus."
For once, Lilly stayed silent. I didn't wait to press my luck—didn't care if she disagreed anyway. Carefully, I pushed the door open and stood.
"Hello?" I called in a low voice. "Anyone in there?"
Nothing.
Keeping the door half-open in case I had to dive back in, I stepped away from the car. The door at the front of the bus was still closed, so I headed for the emergency hatch in the back. I only got a few steps before I caught a thick scent in the air; iron, and a cloying smell that reminded me of an open sewer pipe.
I stopped. I’d read my share of gory and violent books when I was younger, before Mom died and death hadn’t seemed real. In them, there had been passages about disemboweled men in battle—the smell that rose up when guts had been split open.
And I knew that I did not want to see what was inside that bus.
Lilly remained quiet as I sat back in the driver’s seat. She reached over and pressed the lock button on my door after I closed it.
Merlot leaned to peer through the windshield. "You didn't go in. Are you sure it was empty?"
"Yeah." I forced myself to take a deep breath of air untainted by blood and sewage. "I'm sure."
Clicking the shifter down, I started the slow, halting process of backing up. Turned out, I was worse at it than going forward.
****
Traveling around the casinos took another hour and a half, and that was only after I got tired of backtracking blocked roads, and started using the Hummer to push more stopped cars to the side. By the time we rolled back onto the highway on the Nevada side of Stateline, the Hummer made sputtering noises, and the steering wheel shimmied under my grip.
"I told you not to push that last truck. You damaged something," Lilly said scornfully. "What do we do if our car breaks down?"
"Jump in and drive another one," I told her. "There's kind of a lot around."
I tried not to glance at the clock often. If I was right, the griffins would become active again at daybreak. Well, not the ones flying madly around fires. But if we didn't make it home by the time the sun was up, we’d have to stop and hope that griffins didn't figure out how to break into vehicles.
The sky to the east was starting to edge into gray by the time we were a mile away from mine and Lilly's house.
I pressed the gas harder, grimly twisting around stopped cars, and once, running over a small pine tree that had been felled across the road. The faster I drove, the more the Hummer shook. It felt like the wheels wanted to come off.
We arrived at the gated driveway which led to our house just as the first griffin shriek split the gray sky.
Lilly sat straight with a gasp. "Did you hear that?"
The high call sounded again, echoed by a second voice. They came from far off, but I didn't want to chance it. I reached out and pressed the code box that was supposed to open the wrought iron gate. Nothing happened. Maybe the electricity was out.
"Stay here." Opening the door, I hopped out and went to the latch. You could walk through the small side-gate with the right code, because that didn't require electricity, but I wanted to drive the car through. In an emergency, the gate could be opened from the inside by pulling a short length of chain. Gripping it, I leaned back and hauled.
The rusty metal squealed as the heavy gate rolled on the tracks. Five shrieking calls answered from the trees above.
I pulled my whole weight against the chain. The gate rolled open, but too slow and too loud. Dropping the chain, I ran to the edge of the gate, set my shoulders, and pushed with all my strength.
I thought I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, but the gate was moving. I was almost there...
"Dylan!" Merlot cried from the car.
I didn't dare look up to see what was wrong. With one final push, the gate rolled open wide enough to drive through.
I turned to see a griffin standing between me and the Hummer.
It was larger than any of the others I'd seen so far. Draft-horse size, and daffodil yellow with a white underbelly. Sort of pretty, except for the fact it faced the open driver’s side door. Its head cocked back and forth as if trying to figure out if what was inside was edible or not.
Lilly and Merlot crouched against the other side of the Hummer, frozen in fear.
Jane gave a wail, and the griffins lion-like tail lashed as it bent to poke its head in.
I grabbed the first thing I could find — a stick as long as my forearm—and hurled it at the thing. It bounced off the yellow back.
The griffin whipped around, quicker than something that size should.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst. "Hey!" I yelled, waving my arms over my head and backing up, edging to the other side of the gate to put thick wrought-iron between us. "Hey! Over here!"
The griffin let out a low rattling his, feathers and fur rising along its spine.
My knees felt like a pair of disconnected rubber bands, but I waved my hand over my head to keep the griffin’s attention on me and off the girls.
Hoping griffins didn't understand English, I yelled, "Lilly! Pull the car around!"
Lilly was already scrambling to the front seat. One step ahead of me, as usual.
The griffin advanced towards me, menace in every line of its body.
"Where are the keys?" Lilly shrieked. "Merlot, do you see the keys?!"
I had one moment of frozen, crystalline horror. I didn't have to look. The keys were still clutched in my left hand.
The griffin made an easy leap and landed on top of the gate. The metal groaned and swayed under its weight, but held. And the griffin stared down at me, hunched to spring.
Scrambling backward, I tossed the keys towards the car. I didn't see where they landed. It didn't matter. The griffin was going to tear me apart, just like the girl in the auditorium.
It should have leaped already. It was hesitating. Why—
A boom of noise, a gunshot, went off just behind me. The griffin jerked in place, slipping off the top of the gate in an ungainly mess of feathers. Catching itself, it spread its wings in a span longer than the Hummer. It screeched so shrilly I would've clapped my hands over my ears if I weren’t paralyzed with terror.
The gunshot went off again. The griffin staggered before slipping completely from the gate and landing with a thud. A bloodied chunk of flesh as big as a baseball was carved out of its feathery chest.
Lilly yelled... Something. It sounded like triumph. But shock and adrenaline made my thoughts skitter without anything to connect to.
I turned.
Just up the driveway stood my cousin, Terry, with my father's bear rifle still up to his shoulder. Beyond him stood a blonde girl my age and a younger boy about ten-years-old.
Terry stepped forward, pumping in a new round and blasting the felled griffin three more times, just in case. Only when it stopped twitching did Terry lower the rifle. He shook his head at me, almost laughing. "Holy cow, cuz. Can I shoot, or can I shoot?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
- Clarissa -
Someone had planted tall, ornamental bushes which lined the long winding driveway—The type that rich people liked to make their yards look like that maze from The Shining. The bushes provided cover, but I still kept an eye ou
t as all of us trooped back to the house.
No one could manage more than a fast walk. Every face was lined with exhaustion. Ben leaned heavily against me. He’d refused to stay behind in the house when Terry and I went to see what had been making all the noise by the gate.
Dead tired or not, we had to get under cover fast. The distant griffin calls picked up in volume and sharpness as the sky became brighter. It sounded like they were egging each other on. I shuddered. Terry had suggested we shut the gate again, with the beat-up Hummer parked outside to block anyone from driving in. But it wasn't like that was going to stop a flying animal.
I'd found a big hoodie in the house and wore it to hide the cut behind my shoulder, but it stung whenever I shifted the wrong way. The russet red feathers were still there—a soft, downy line instead of crusty scabs, though I didn't think they'd grown during the night.
At least I hadn't woken up with a beak.
I hadn't told anyone, yet. Ben had enough to worry about, and it was too weird, too... intimate to show Terry.
Ahead, one of the new girls, Lilly, was telling Terry about their trip here. I guess this was their house, and they were related to Terry. They had a similar dusky-red skin tone and straight dark hair. Lilly was a couple years younger than me, slender and pretty. Dylan was about my age, a little overweight, with sloping shoulders and a heavy jaw.
He's either really brave or not too bright, I thought, turning back to look at the dead, bloodied griffin by the gate.
Merlot, a freckly redhead, clutched a baby in her arms like a lifeline. Her blue eyes were haunted, but whose weren’t after yesterday?
I'd half-expected things would magically return to normal in the morning. Like, all the people who had changed would... revert back to normal. Somehow.
Instead, we had a growing band of survivors. All of us teenagers or younger.
"How old are you, Terry?" I asked as the house came into view.
Terry had the rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked back at me with an easy grin. "Going to be seventeen in a couple months. Why?"
"She's wondering if you're going to go griffin." Lilly rolled her eyes. "We all discussed that, back at Stateline. Merlot saw a girl our age mutate—"
"Jennifer didn't mutate," Merlot murmured. "It looked like she was having an asthma attack." She winced. "At first. Her breathing was all gurgily."
"Whatever," Lilly said. "I think it has to do with virginity."
Terry barked out a sharp laugh, and then quickly glanced to the trees. We were halfway to the house, still dangerously in the open. Luckily, nothing moved in the branches. "What, like in the horror movies? You get laid and then you die?" He shook his head. “Then, I would've turned into one."
My cheeks heated, but I'd picked up on what else Lilly had said. "You guys drove through Stateline?"
"Did you see anyone?" Ben piped up. "Our mom works at a casino."
Dylan met my eyes and then looked away.
My heart sank. "How bad was it?"
His voice was soft for such a big guy. "There were griffins everywhere, and the casinos were on fire. I’m sorry."
That orange glow Terry and I had seen from the top of the ridge...
I looked at Ben, who stared down at his shoes. I wasn't sure what to say to him. Mom couldn't be... gone. She just couldn't be.
"Cheer up, little man," Terry said to Ben as we reached the top of the driveway. He opened the front door and waved us in. "I'm sure there are lots of people who got out of there just fine."
"If there were, we didn't see any."
"Lilly, shut up," Terry said.
Ben clutched my hand tightly, his head bowed. Probably hiding tears. I wanted to cry as well, but too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I squeezed his hand back and felt empty inside.
But moving my arm made my shoulder twinge again. What if I turned into a griffin next? Who would take care of my brother?
The muscles in my legs were sore from walking all night long, and the news of the casinos had washed through me like a wave, taking the last of my energy along with it. I wanted to curl up in a ball and be alone for a while.
The house was large—even more so in the daylight—but comfy space to lay down was limited. No one wanted to sleep in the master bedroom, in respect to Lilly and Dylan's dad. Terry was already using the guest room. So, the couch went to Merlot and the baby, and Ben slumped his way back to the loveseat. I grabbed a spare blanket from him and stretched out on the carpet next to him. It was thick and soft. None of that twenty-year-old stuff that covered the floor of my apartment.
Outside, the griffins called to each other in terrible disharmony.
They did that as the sun was setting, too. I wonder if they're going to do that every morning, I thought. Someone should stay up and keep watch...
That was my last thought before I fell asleep.
****
I woke several hours later to the sound of the baby crying.
Lilly sat cross-legged nearby, in front of one of the largest TVs I'd ever seen. As I stirred, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye.
"Merlot's trying to feed the baby, but it's being a brat." Lilly held a complicated remote control in both hands. "I told everyone it was a bad idea to bring it along. You know, you're wearing Dylan's hoodie?"
I blinked and sat up, curling the blanket around my shoulders. The line of feathers itched, but I didn’t reach back and scratch it. Somehow, I thought Lilly would notice and remember. "I found it laying around, and I was cold." Outside, the window was bright in afternoon, highlighted by several lights streaming in from the granite and stainless steel kitchen. "Did the electricity come back on?"
"No. I turned on the emergency generator."
“Is that a good idea?”
“Why not?” Lilly shrugged. “The griffins have got to be all over the news, right?”
I remained silent as Lilly switched through channel after channel. Clearly, their family had one of those premium packages which let them have a couple hundred stations. Most of the channels were either snow or a rerun of a syndicated show. No emergency broadcasts.
Lilly finally hit on a new station and stopped.
The scene was an empty desk. One of the overhead boom mics had been knocked down and hung in view. Nothing moved.
"Where is this channel filmed out of?" Lilly asked.
I shook my head.
Terry's voice broke in from behind us. "That one? New York, I think." He came around the couch and plopped down, rubbing at his eyes. His cousin, Dylan, was close behind. Both boys had a bad case of bed head. It was kinda cute.
Ben stirred from his nest of blankets on the loveseat. I joined him, and wrapped my good arm around him to bring him closer.
"It looks like..." I began, then stopped. My thoughts were reflected on everyone else's faces, and I couldn't make myself be the one to say it. The griffin mutations happened so fast, no one had time to shut off the cameras or switch to commercial. "When Terry and I hiked here, we went across the ridge that should've let us see to Nevada, but the lights were out. If whatever has happened here, also happened across the country in New York..."
"It's probably all over," Lilly said, flatly.
Then this really is the end of the world. I hadn't wanted to admit it, but I'd been counting on a rescue. Sure, it would take a few days, but somewhere in the back of my mind I had expected help to come. Then this would be one of those stories I would tell my friends at school.
Where were you when the griffins attacked? I crashed at a hot boy’s house, and my mom was so glad that me and Ben were alive she wasn't even angry about the car.
"What do we do?" I asked.
Terry reached over, gently took the remote from Lilly's hands, and turned off the TV. "Survive."
"How? Without food or water—"
"We have food," Lilly said. "At least for a little while. And we have a whole freakin' lake about fifty feet from the house."
"Ew, you can't d
rink lake water," Ben said.
Dylan's tan complexion had gone a few shades paler. He looked just as freaked out as I was. "We have some canned food and some meat and stuff in the freezer, but it's not going to last forever."
"He’s right. What happens in the winter when we’re surrounded by six-foot snowdrifts?" I asked.
"If we even make it to winter," Ben said. "The griffins will get us before then."
I checked myself. This conversation was getting dark, fast. "Don't talk like that," I snapped.
Ben looked away.
Despite that, I couldn't help wondering what I would be in six months. What if my feathers kept growing?
"Then we'll raid the neighbors houses for food, too. We'll figure it out." Terry stood up and looked at us all. "We've got hours of power on the generator. We should fill all the bathtubs with tap-water, so we have a clean supply." He turned to Lilly. "Gather together flashlights, batteries, and candles—"
"No candles," Dylan said firmly. Then he blushed as everyone looked at him. "All the griffins were going crazy around the burning casinos. I think... I think it's a good idea if we don't have any lights on after dark, just to be safe."
"We used flashlights last night," I said.
"Then maybe you got lucky, or most of the griffins were still buzzing around the fires. Sooner or later, all those buildings around there will burn down. And food—" Dylan visibly swallowed, "—food will become scarce. They’ll come looking for more. I know I'm guessing—"
"It's probably not a good idea to have a big neon sign pointing out we're here. I got it." Terry reached over to tousle his cousin's hair as if Dylan were a little kid. "Speaking of food, we’re turning off the TV and hooking the generator up to the freezer in the basement. Otherwise, the meat's not going to keep."
Under Wicked Sky: Book 1 Page 5
