by Riley Flynn
Timmy’s flashlight clicked into life. A wide beam of light wandered over the inside of the building. A big room, perhaps slightly smaller than a school gymnasium. The concrete floor was mostly smooth with the occasional divot. On one side of the barn, straw bales stacked high up into the roof. On the other, a row of old tools lined the workshop wall.
Water dripped onto Alex’s face. He reached out, took Timmy’s hand and turned the flashlight upwards. The roof had plenty of holes and the rain fell in.
“It’s quite warm in here,” said Timmy. “That straw lining must be doing something right.”
“Bit wet.” Alex stepped between the raindrops.
“Not on this side.” Joan stood over near the bales, sitting down on one of them.
“Okay.” Alex pointed at Timmy and Joan. “You two wait here. We’ll check out the other buildings.”
No one protested. Taking a handgun each and the dog with them, Alex and Cam patrolled around the buildings. They worked together, one covering the other. Whenever they stopped, Cam gave advice, teaching Alex how they’d handle this situation in the army. When to move, when to wait, when to cover. Where to look when rounding a corner, how to watch every angle in case of attack.
The water ran down Alex’s neck, washing the advice away.
It was hard to concentrate in the dark, even harder with the storm raging around them, lashing against the roof and the walls, chilling them to the bone and drowning out their whispers.
“This should be scary, right?” Alex smiled as he spoke. “You know, driving up to a creepy old farm house in the middle of a storm. I’ve seen this movie.”
“You ain’t worried?”
“Not really. There’s something about this place that’s just… lifeless. There’s no one here.”
“Maybe.” Cam mumbled the answer as he rounded another corner. “Hope it stays that way.”
As well as the barn, there were two other buildings. A stable, now seemingly abandoned. The farmer must have been using it for storage. Old seed bags and farm machinery sat inside, losing their luster.
The other building was the farmhouse. The courtyard where they had parked the car was lined with buildings on four sides. Only one of the corners was closed, right where the living quarters bent round at an angle. The house had been big. But looking in through the windows with a flashlight, they could see that most of the rooms were coated with dust.
The wind howled around the farm, hurling itself against every surface. Alex could feel the damp rising up the inside of his jeans, every inch of him getting wetter and wetter simply by existing in the storm. His teeth chattered as he checked the farm house, relief and misery vying for his emotional attention.
The kitchen was in use. More people had lived here once, Alex decided, but the owners had downsized. He tried to piece together an image of the person who might live here, wandering from room to room by themselves. As the picture of an old man began to form in his mind, it took his father’s face. Furious, he drove the memory from his mind. No time to linger with the dead.
They arrived, finally, to the entrance to the living quarters. A single door, split in two.
“Real picturesque,” Cam quipped.
They looked at one another. Nodded. Alex held the flashlight in one fist and cradled his other wrist on top, nestling the pistol so that it followed the beam of light, shining straight onto the door. Cam stood at the entrance and hammered his fist three times against the varnished wood.
“Hey, is anyone home? We’re friendly, just want to rest for the night.”
No answer. Cam knocked again, shouted the same warning. He tried the latch. Locked.
Nothing.
He knocked, one more time. Still, the only sound was the storm. No one inside.
Cam stepped back from the entrance and took a fresh hold on his gun.
“You ready?” he asked. “I go on three.”
Alex lipped his lips. Nodded.
“One.”
The wind blew, thunder rolled. The storm raged.
“Two.”
The lightning lit up the courtyard. Abandoned and alone.
“Three.”
Cam tensed his knees and kicked his boot into the space just below the door handle. The lock broke under his weight and the man vanished into the dark. Alex stepped forward into the house, training his flashlight across the walls, following it with the pistol. And then it hit him.
The smell. Death. Someone had died in this house. Someone who had not been recovered or found. Someone left to rot.
Alex lowered his gun. He felt sick. Nauseous. It was either the odor itself or the sadness. Someone out here, dying all alone. No one to bury them. As his mind wandered, soaked in pity and horror, he realized that Cam was still on the ground.
He held out a hand, helped Cam up from the floor.
“There’s no one in here. No living person could handle this.”
Cam held his hand over his mouth. He nodded.
They exited together, walked around the courtyard, under the awning, and into the barn.
* * *
Timmy had been busy. While Alex and Cam had searched the property, he had found an old metal trough in the barn, dragged it near the bales of straw and laid a fire inside. He’d found logs and fuel. Enough for the night, he insisted. Enough to dry them out.
In his mind, Alex weighed up the risks of a fire versus the risks of catching pneumonia. His chattering teeth told him the answer and the warmth hit Alex as soon as he walked into the barn and he walked closer to dry out his clothes.
“Isn’t it too close to the straw?” Alex asked, looking over the bales.
“I asked that,” said Joan, wiping her rain-flecked glasses, “but he assured me it’s the right distance away.”
“It is, it is. I’m telling you. Plus, see, I found this bucket and filled it up with rainwater. Anything goes wrong, then all you’ve got to do is put it out.”
“And if we’re all asleep?” Joan placed the glasses back on her face.
“Don’t fall asleep.” Timmy rubbed his hands and held them to the flame. “Feels good, man.”
It did. Finn seemed happiest with the heat. He trotted in, stretched out, and fell fast asleep on the floor beside the trough. Cam and Alex lifted down bales and arranged them into a makeshift bed. The straw was dry and soft, though scratchy and not as fresh as they might hope.
“If a stable’s good enough for Jesus, it’s good enough for me, you know,” Timmy told everyone.
Alex had neglected to tell the others about the stench of death inside the house. Let them have tonight, at least, without having to think about disease and the dead. Let them sleep comfortably.
They even backed the car into the barn. Better to hide it from prying eyes, Timmy had said. Alex might even take a look at the worn-out tools the next day, to see if he could make any repairs.
Once everything was ready, they ate.
Once they finished eating, they talked.
Timmy collected together the dirty trays. No more crockery away from the cabin. They rattled as he laid them under one of the holes in the roof.
“That’ll wash them. Right, Joan?” She shot him a withering glare. He laughed. “I’ll wash them properly tomorrow.”
“You better watch that you do, Timothy Ratz. I’ve got my good eye on you.”
She pointed at her gray eye.
“Hey, Cam.” Timmy ignored the threat and shouted across the barn. “What’s that? What’re you unwrapping?”
Everyone turned to look at Cam. His fingers were picking at a piece of folded foil.
“This? You wouldn’t like this.” He picked something from the wrapper and placed it in his mouth. He started to chew.
“Is that gum?” Joan, laying back on one of the bales, propped herself up to see better.
“It is.” Cam kept chewing while he spoke.
“You’ve been keeping a piece of gum wrapped up in foil?” The disgust was etched across Joan’s face.
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“That’s pretty nasty,” Alex agreed. “How long have you have it?”
“’Bout three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” Three voices repeated the words as a chorus.
“You know how hard it is to get gum right now? World’s ending, people. Not much gum out there. You gotta be careful with it.”
“Man, we’re gonna find you some gum,” Timmy promised, sitting down beside the dog and stretching out.
“Why do you have to chew gum?” Alex asked. “Couldn’t you just go without?”
Cam shifted uneasily. He was sitting on a sleeping bag placed over a straw bale. Just within the warmth of the fire. Before, he’d told Alex he didn’t sleep well.
Since then, Alex had been watching him. When they switched guard shifts, when they fell asleep. Cam seemed to be battling something while he slept. Demons and dreams.
“I don’t know about you folks, but things changed real quick over the last bit of time. A lot happened. Now, I grew up with gum. A real army brat. My daddy picked it up in the war, always had the gum come with the rations. Then, when he was home, always had some in his pocket. Get into these routines, you know? Wherever we was around the country, he had a stick of gum in his pocket. When I signed up, it was just the same. Always had that gum. Well, things got bad now. We’re at war. Don’t know with who. Don’t know with what. Don’t even know if you can be at war with a disease. But this feels like war to me. And I like to have my gum.”
The words faded away and, in their place, was just the sound of the storm and Cam chewing and the fire crackling. Timmy reached out and pulled a long, thin strand of straw from a bale and placed it between his teeth.
“I know what you mean, man, I know what you mean. We had a few meal packs with gum in them. Think we ate them all. I’ll check for you tomorrow.” The straw bobbed up and down as he talked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone less ready for the countryside,” said Joan, “than Timmy. Look at you, sitting there.”
“Aw, shucks. Us city boys ain’t got nothing on you slick country types.” Timmy leaned over, took the straw from his mouth, and aimed it toward Joan’s leg. She swatted it away.
“I’m not a country type, Timmy. I just live in the country. Lived in the country, rather.”
“It’s all the same,” Timmy told her. “One place is pretty much the same as any other.”
“Nah, that ain’t true.” Cam, still chewing on his gum, was thinking. “I grew up all over, like I said. Places are different. They’ve all got different characters, personalities. I tell you, I travelled around but it was only when I came back to this area. Southeast. Bit rural. That’s only when I felt like I was home.”
“Don’t ask Timmy about that,” Alex laughed. “He’s hardly left Detroit.”
“Plenty to see in Detroit.” Timmy slipped the straw back into his mouth and stared at the roof.
The storm was building, the thunder taking center stage. Every clap followed a flash of lightning and Alex found himself counting the seconds between them. Five, four, three. The eye of the storm drawing closer.
“I felt differently,” Joan told Cam. “I moved around a lot. For school. For my husband. For this. For that. Found myself in Rockton and it never felt right.”
“It ain’t for everyone, ma’am, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I suppose I’ll have to keep looking. I should hope Virginia is right for me, isn’t that right, Alex?”
Before he could answer, Timmy was laughing to himself again.
“Oh, you’ll love Virginia, Joanie. Working on the farm every day. Callouses on your hands and-”
Lightning streaked across the sky, lighting up the whole barn. Timmy stopped mid-sentence. Mid-breath. He jumped to his feet. He grabbed the bucket of rainwater and drenched the fire. A billow of steam engulfed everything.
As the lightning flashed again and the thunder rolled, Timmy’s face flashed in front of them. Only for a second. His eyes were wide, his mouth open. He was petrified.
“Timmy,” Alex shouted, waving the smoke and steam from his face. “What the hell, man?”
A hand laid on each of Alex’s shoulders, pinching in with a tight, desperate grip.
“We’ve got to go, man. Now.”
Chapter 19
Timmy’s eyes were stretched open and glowing with fear, staring straight through the billowing steam. The lightning flickered again, sketching a skeletal line across the sky.
“We have to go. Now. Everyone.”
Running around the barn, collecting everything not nailed to the floor, Timmy ripped open the trunk of the car and threw it all inside. Alex grabbed his friend tight around each bicep.
“Timmy, you’re freaking everyone out. Tell us what’s happening.”
“I saw it, man. Up in the sky. They’re after us.”
Joan and Cam heard the words. Waving away the smoke and the steam from the hastily-extinguished fire, they turned their heads upward to the roof of the barn. The rain poured in through the holes, heavier than ever. Another burst of lightning.
“There!” Joan shouted, pointing. “I see it!”
“What? What do you see?” Alex had held on to Timmy.
Cam started moving, picking up the slack where Timmy had left off.
“Boy’s right. We got to go.”
Timmy wriggled free and went back to work, folding and flattening the sleeping bags.
“Will someone please tell me what you’ve seen?” said Alex, trying to look up through the hole in the roof, his neck straining and the raindrops falling on his face.
Joan stood next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. She raised a finger, pointed.
“Keep watching there. Wait for it.”
She joined the others while Alex watched. He could see them moving out of the corner of his eye, quick and efficient, packing up like they’d done it a thousand times. The lightning lit up the sky.
There it was. The dark, unmistakable shape fashioned from the electrical storm. The outline of an aircraft, a shadow against the flashing light. A drone. Alex joined his friends.
“It’s looking for us?” he asked. “Can it see us from up there? During the storm?”
“I’m not sure. Ask Cam.” Joan collected the trays and tried to corral the dog, whose tail wagged amid the excitement.
“Ain’t sure what they can see in these conditions.”
Timmy and Joan stood beside the car, asking one another questions.
“Could it spot a fire through a barn roof?”
“It is dark, maybe it showed up.”
“But most of the roof is dark.”
“A few orange dots? Probably spotting pixels for a machine like that.”
“Only if it knew what it was looking for.”
“Well, it followed us, didn’t it?”
“Dunno. Bet they don’t just have them everywhere. It’s got to be the same one.”
“So did it spot us?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure?” Joan paused, the car almost packed. Timmy scratched his neck.
“I… look, I saw it and I panicked. Those things… I don’t know what they can see.”
Cam wandered over, the sleeping bags in his arms.
“They’ve got thermal imaging. You did right, Timmy. If that thing’s out there, it knows we’re nearby. It could have spotted us.”
He handed over the sleeping bags and the blankets. Joan slid them into position inside the car. She whistled for Finn.
“Then we have to get away. Will they be able to track the car? I knew that fire was a bad idea, Timmy.”
“Hey, I didn’t see you complaining when we were warm.”
Alex had been standing at the barn entrance. Rolling the door back, he could position himself to see right down the road they’d travelled to arrive at the farm. It seemed the one way to approach the buildings.
“How long do we have before that thing in the sky calls us in?�
�� he asked.
Timmy and Joan turned to Cam.
“Hell, I don’t know. Depends when it spotted us. If it spotted us. Depends where them folks started. Too many variables.”
“Then we don’t have time,” Alex told them. “We need to move. Now.”
Looking back to the road, he made up his mind. No other option. He threw the car keys to Cam.
“You’re driving. You’re taking the car out the back. Down the slope and across to those woods.”
Alex’s finger was pointing to the rear of the barn. Away from the single road.
“Take it down there, hide in the woods, and wait.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Cam chewed his gum.
“Because I’m staying here.”
Mouths opened, words began. Alex talked over them.
“I’m staying and Cam is driving. I’ll hide. Up there, in the stacks. If they’re coming here, I want to see who they are. I want to see who’s after us. I want to find out why.”
“You’re going to try to kill them?” Timmy asked the question, his mouth flapping open.
“I don’t think I can. Two of them, both trained? I’ll stay hidden. Once they’re gone, I’ll send you a signal. Timmy, still got those radios?”
“I think so, man. Don’t know how their batteries are holding up.”
“I’ll keep mine off till it’s ready. I just need thirty seconds. Is that possible?”
“We can charge up ours with the winder. We’ll wait for the signal.”
It was Cam’s turn to look at the others.
“Hold up, you’re actually going to let him do this? We can’t let him stay here all alone.”
“I don’t know, man,” Timmy said, scratching his neck. “Me and Joanie aren’t doing much in a fight. I’m sick, she’s…”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter.” The words snapped from Joan’s mouth drenched in sarcasm as she hugged her jacket around her shoulders.
“Er, yeah. Right. But Alex knows what he’s doing. If he’s just hiding, gathering intel, it’s probably the best chance we got.”
Alex was busy sorting through his belongings. His clothes were still damp, still clinging to his skin. He’d been enjoying the fire and now he just had the brittle breeze wrapping his wet jeans to his knees. Each individual hair on his arms and legs was standing to attention. Fear or cold, he didn’t know.
