The Rain

by Joseph Turkot

  “I got you covered,” Russell reassures me. And he’s right—the shelving has enough open space that he can shoot anything before it gets to me. I tell myself that as I start to wriggle my way through the middle shelf. I stick my elbows onto the cold steel, then use my good arm to hoist my body in. My head pops through, and then it falls down to the ground. Russell guides my legs through and I’m in. I twist awkwardly on the ground and upset some of the crates, but none of them fall. Even still, it sounds like thunder to me and I look back to Russell, hoping his face doesn’t confirm what I fear. His eyes dart back and forth, from me to the hallway, and he nods because I’m okay—no one heard anything. I kneel down and start to push everything off the metal flooring but the boxes are too heavy. I tell Russell I might not be able to move them. Shove hard, he says, ignoring my desire to give up and squirm back to his side. I know I’m risking knocking the whole pile over, but I trust Russell. I dig my feet in and press my shoulder against the bottom crate, guiding the ones above with my outstretched left arm. Slowly, the stack moves. Then it stops again. It’s stuck on an edge—the metal on the floor has a raised lip, like a rim, and the boxes are stuck on its outside edge. I slip for a moment as the momentum slams to a halt, and my elbow falls down to break my fall. It touches the corner of the metal floor with a thump, and I pull back at a strange sensation. I touch my elbow where it hit the metal and look at Russell like he can read my mind. He looks back, confused, waiting for me to tell him what it is. Only I’m not sure what it is. Just that the metal was freezing cold, so much so that frost melted on my elbow, leaving it wet. Cold, I mouth to him. His lip drops for a moment, then his eyes open wide, like he’s figured something out. He doesn’t say what. Stay where you are, he tells me, then he starts to recklessly push boxes out of his way so he can escape the aisle and come around to me. Don’t, I whisper, but he’s already made up his mind.

  I watch him get past the boxes without spilling one, barely making any sound at all, and he runs around the end of the aisle and down mine. He gets to the crates I’m squatting behind and together we move them off the metal flooring. It’s a door to something. There’s a latch that can be pulled up, and it doesn’t even look like it has a lock. But Russell sees what I felt, a thin layer of frost on the metal. And now I know what he’s thinking. It’s exactly what he reminded me about earlier. In my imagination I still see it—the frost on the glass window. Aboard the carrier. The lines of red tubes, the steady pump motor, the screams. It can’t be that, I say finally. Both of us have become distracted from the scuffle in the tarp behind us, even though it’s come back louder, closer. Gunshots blast and they seem like they might be coming from the very next room. But Russell is oblivious for the moment, and he doesn’t settle for my dismissal—he kneels down quickly and grips the latch and pulls up. At first nothing happens, like it’s sealed shut, but then with a groan it opens. A cloud of frost curls up from the exposed cellar, the frigid air below released toward our faces.

  At first I can’t make out any shapes past the door—it all looks dark. There are no stairs leading down, just darkness and what I focus to see as reddish squares. They have a white plastic sheen. Russell drops the door before I can see better. Hey, I say, angered that he didn’t let me look. But he ignores me like he’s figured it all out in that three second glance. Quiet, he says, looking back out to the fray in the other room. What was in there? I whisper. But he gives me an angry stare, and I shut up and think the worst.

  I can’t imagine that Dusty and his family would eat people. What had those plastic squares been? Dark and cold, buried in there—hidden. Russell says it as I’m thinking it—bodies, he says. Bodies in there. Can’t be, you didn’t even look, I say. I did, chopped. They’re chopped and wrapped. Frozen in blocks. But his sudden willingness to tell me what he thinks he’s seen stops when two bodies storm into our room. I peer out from between Russell and the boxes. I see Dusty’s dad and a face eater. They’re grappling right at the opposite end of the room. Get down! Russell yells, and he slaps away the top box, revealing us, but gaining a clear shot at the face eater. Dusty’s dad turns to see us for a split second, his own arms stiff and out, keeping the face eater away. Down! Russell shouts again. Dusty’s dad sinks to the ground, the face eater falling right on top of him. This one has no hair on its head, like it’s old, or it’s all fallen out for some other reason. It’s scalp is red and scraped. The thought of an old face eater crosses my mind just for a second, the idea that someone could live that way for that long, but I can’t grasp it because the pistol goes off right in front of me, deadening everything else. Russell fires three times. The last shot sends it rolling off Dusty’s dad and into the tarp wall. Dusty’s dad scurries away down our aisle. Russell sidesteps around him and fires again at the downed man.

  Where’s Dusty? I ask as soon as I realize we’re safe again. I don’t know, he says. I saw him, he starts, but he can’t finish because Russell turns around and the gun is pointing at both of us. Down Tanner, says Russell. He’s got the gun trained on Dusty’s dad’s head. I duck and scream no. And I know the look on his face. He’s ready to kill.

  “What’s down there?” Russell asks. What? replies Dusty’s dad. Under there, Russell clarifies, and he points with one hand. As he does this, I slide through the shelving again to the last aisle and run to the front of the room. Watch the hallway, Russell tells me. I look for a moment and see nothing there, and I hear nothing, and I come back to hear what Dusty’s dad says about the metal door.

  “There’s no other way to survive,” Dusty’s dad says, catching on to the reason for Russell’s anger. Not out here in the West, he continues, hoping that’s logical enough for Russell to put the gun down. Russell’s face contorts, like he’s thinking up a reply, some kind of reason why it really isn’t necessary to eat people, like he’s always believed. But he doesn’t say a word. He just walks up to Dusty’s dad and whips the pistol across his face. A cry of pain fills the air and he goes down on all fours. Russell lifts his head up and says, Keys! Dusty’s dad doesn’t seem to understand because he’s dazed from the hit. Blood is running to the floor from his lip. Russell, don’t kill him! I shout, fearing his impatience. Then I hear someone coming toward us. I take a few steps to look who it is. I hear Russell again from behind me say, Boat keys! and finally the clinking of a set of keys. Then I recognize who it is that’s approaching. It’s the woman—Dusty’s dad’s girlfriend. She looks relieved to see me. Are you okay? she asks. Then she tells me there are more coming and we have to keep moving to get to the north tent. Where’s Dusty? I ask. She doesn’t know. But she hears her boyfriend shouting in the other room.

  “Kelly!” Russell’s dad yells. Daniel, she calls back. She runs into the room and I chase after. Together we see Russell at the edge of the aisle holding Daniel with a gun to his head. What are you doing? Kelly yells, terrified. She doesn’t understand. Only I do. And I can’t stop it. Drop it, says Russell. I can’t see what he means, but he points the pistol away from Daniel and toward Kelly’s chest for just an instant. I get out of the way, dodging back into the hallway. Then I hear a gun blast and a body hit the floor. Russell! I scream. I run back in and almost trip over Kelly and the blood pooling out from under her body. She’s still alive, groaning, but she’s losing a lot of blood. And by her outstretched left hand is a pistol. Pick up the gun, Russell tells me. Then he starts walking with Daniel still wrapped in his arm, like a human shield, his own pistol pushed against Daniel’s head. As Russell is about to step around Kelly’s body, Daniel loses it. He spins free in a fit of rage. He turns on Russell and barrels into him, throwing him headlong into the edge of one of the shelves. Stop it! I yell. Words are useless now. I charge in and kick Daniel in his ribs, putting everything into it, but it does nothing to stop him. It’s like he’s gone mad because Russell’s killed his Kelly, and he’s immune to pain. All he wants is to kill Russell in revenge.

  I drop to my knees so I won’t shoot into Russell, and I fire my gun point blan
k into the side of Daniel’s chest. He rolls off Russell. Get up, get up! I tell Russell. He rubs his head for a moment, no longer feeling the urgency he had just a moment ago. Then he snaps back, grabs his gun again, and stands up. Time to go, he says. We’re taking a boat? I ask. Yea, he tells me, leading me over the bodies and into the hallway. We pause to listen for noises. I can’t even look back, and I can’t think about Dusty anymore. The only thought that keeps coming through my head is did he know about the door? But I can’t bear to think through the possibility.

  Russell leads us into another supply room. Keep an eye on that hallway, he directs me. Then he grabs a canvas sack off one of the shelf posts and starts throwing in everything he can get his hands on. Water, cans, unlabeled bottles, small boxes. He doesn’t even know what’s inside most of them. He’s trying to give us a chance on the open sea. Hundreds of miles under the rain. And then our time runs out, because a bunch of footsteps erupt all at once in the next room down. I step to the edge of the hallway and see that the footsteps aren’t more face eaters—they’re a group of tarpers. Most of them have rifles, and there’s Dusty in the pack. I tell Russell and then I slip back before he sees me, but it’s no use. He spotted me the moment I stepped into the open. The group goes left to the bodies and starts to talk loudly. But Dusty’s seen me, that I’m still alive, and he doesn’t turn with them. I know what the talk is, and that the rest of the group has seen the bodies. They’ll think it was the face eaters, says Russell behind me, as if he’s psychic and understands the garbled discussion coming from the other room. We’re okay. But he doesn’t know that Dusty saw me. And he’s coming up the hallway with a smile lighting up his face. Then as the last of the pack has turned to find Daniel and Kelly’s bodies, another form comes charging, even faster than Dusty, toward me. It’s Marvolo.

  But before they can reach our room, Russell, as if sensing the presences coming, figuring things out, tugs on my arm. He hands me one of the canvas bags—he’s filled two—and tells me to carry it and run after him. I pause for a moment, because I know Marvolo and Dusty want to see me so badly. Dusty’s smile makes me think that the face eater attack is over. But Kelly said more were coming, so he must just be happy to see me—that I’m still alive. Russell shouts at me for lagging, Tanner! He slows to jerk me so hard I almost trip. I start to sprint after him and I don’t look back again. I can’t. It hurts too much to know what I’m leaving behind.

  We break through the blur of blue tarps and out into the rain again. The brown mud surrounds us and I realize in just a moment that something’s still following us. It’s Marvolo. He saw us run and chased after. Now he thinks it’s a game as we move out into the rain and over the hills. Hey! someone calls from behind. It’s Dusty. Where are you going? he shouts. He’s still unaware, he hasn’t figured it out yet. I can’t do anything but turn my head halfway, just enough to see Voley. I yell at him, Go home boy! But he won’t. He keeps chasing after me like he has to protect me. The docks are this way, Russell says. And I figure it out because he already knows the way—he’s been cooking this escape up ever since he had the strength to sit up. He’s seen the same barge I have, and all the motorboats surrounding it. And now, he has keys from Daniel.

  I fight off the question of whether or not Dusty will continue chasing after us. Soon, I catch up to Russell because it’s slow going over the wet hills and the dark makes it so that he’s not absolutely sure we’re going the right way. Then I recognize the giant hill I climbed earlier with Dusty. I know the way, I say. And I lead him on. Russell turns back and shoots at Marvolo. He misses on purpose, shooting to scare him so he’ll stay back and stop following us. Russell’s afraid Marvolo will give us away. And he will. He will lure Dusty. And I don’t want to know the truth about the bodies in the cellar, and I don’t want him to know the truth about Russell killing his dad. I just want to get off this rock now. As much as Russell does. We keep rushing and I think I hear footsteps racing along with Voley now. There’s a bark. We almost slide as we turn down the slope that heads all the way to the bay. The water opens up before us, a black and silent forever. We aim for a spit of rocky shoreline, to the barge and the motorboats.

  Russell charges again with full speed, reaching the edge of the water. This way, he yells. I follow him out onto a piece of wooden planking that floats on the water. I look back because I know the wide hill and spread of land is behind me now, and I’ll see the truth. And there it is. Marvolo and Dusty are at the top of the hill and speeding down after us. Russell throws his canvas sack into one of the motorboats and hops aboard. I follow him. Dusty has to realize now what we’re doing, that we’re stealing a boat. I can’t take my eyes off them as they trace our path down to the bay. Russell starts trying every single key in his clanking loop, working frantically for one that fits. Come on, come on. Damn it, he says for the third time as the key he tries won’t turn.

  I hear Dusty shouting at us but I can’t make out what he’s saying. It’s just him and Voley dashing together down the hill. No one else came with them. And then something startles me. At the top of the hill two forms appear. They’re following. Shit, they’re on to us, I tell Russell. They’re coming. Make it work. I’m trying, he says. But he can’t get a key to start the boat. And there are three figures now rushing down the hill behind Marvolo and Dusty, who are nearly halfway. They’re all coming because they know we killed Daniel and Kelly. But then something strikes me about the way the tarpers are running. I figure out what it is—they’re not running with Dusty and Voley toward us, they’re running at them. And the way they’re running. The crazed, wild stride. Face eaters! I scream to Russell. He’s totally in his own world now though, going through the last five keys on the loop, waiting for one that will turn the boat’s engine. I can’t wait for him to understand what’s happening. I lift my pistol and point into the rain, then jump off the boat and onto the plank. It wobbles for a moment. As soon as it steadies I run toward the hill to intercept Dusty and Marvolo, screaming, Behind you!

  Russell turns to see what I’ve done and he shouts at me, No! Get back! It’s at the same time that I hear the motor of the boat roar to life. He found the right key. I can turn around and leave, but that would be the end for Dusty and Marvolo. Behind you! I yell again. Dusty’s smile slides off his face as he realizes what I’m saying. He turns around to see the three forms closing in on him. Voley bounds toward me, then turns around and starts barking. Keep moving! I yell at Dusty. I fire my gun and miss. I fire again and they’re still coming, faster, enraged by my attempt to shoot them. Get in the fucking boat! Russell yells from behind me.

  Hurry, into the boat! I tell Dusty as he reaches me. And he thinks it’s just to escape the face eaters, and he doesn’t seem to understand that we’re leaving for good. I wonder if he even knows about his dad and his mom yet. I shoot one more time, the last chance I’ll have, and I hit one of the freaks. He slides along the mud, then slowly rises again. He limps forward. Together, we turn and run back toward the boat. Russell is standing at the wheel, the engine purring now, and he’s pointing his gun out into the brown slope. For a moment, I think he’s going to shoot Dusty down before he can climb onto the boat with me. But he fires and Dusty’s still alive and next to me. He’s shooting the face eaters. Then, he fires again and I hear a wet thump. I know he’s hit one of them. We reach the planks and jump into the boat. It rolls heavy to one side, almost dipping into the water. Voley jumps in after us. Russell kicks on the gas and a rush of white foam shoots out from the stern and pushes us into the rain sea. More dark figures crest the hill in the distance. A chorus of rifles fire. The remaining face eaters drop by the edge of the planks. It’s really the tarpers now. But they’re too late to get to us. We’re on the water now, speeding past the barge monstrosity, leaving its ugly fake hope, and the beauty of Blue City. I feel then for sure that I’ll never see the place again, and probably never again the fire and the warmth and the dry. Somehow, I know this was the last of it. The illusion of the veneer that
this place had going. I look shamefully at Dusty as he asks me, What the hell’s going on? It’s like he really hasn’t figured it out yet. He watches Russell steer us straight out to sea, not along the coast. I see it set in on his face. He gets it. We’re not just running from the face eaters. We’re gone for good.

  Russell slows the boat down, confident he hasn’t heard the sound of another motor boat pursuing us. What do you know? he asks. Dusty looks confused and Marvolo looks afraid of the swells that rock the dead motorboat. What do you mean? replies Dusty. I mean, what do you know about what’s going on? You asked what’s going on? Well—what do you know about it? Dusty looks like he’s still confused, and then Russell and I realize by the delay that he doesn’t know about his mom and dad. He has no idea. But the fact that we’re stealing a motor boat and leaving the tarp city has come to him now, and he says that. He asks us why we’re doing this.

  “Because we’re going to Leadville. That’s where we’ve always been going. And you don’t have to become a face eater to survive, do you understand me?” But Dusty doesn’t, and I can’t decide if he’s playing dumb because he doesn’t want us to shoot him, or if he really has no idea about the body meat stored under the metal door. For a moment it crosses my mind that Russell wasn’t sure either what was under there, but then I remember what Daniel said. He practically admitted it. Said it was necessary for survival. That angered Russell so much because we’re the evidence that it isn’t necessary, but he didn’t say that. There had been no point then. You can’t change their minds once they’ve started, Russell says. They’ve grown used to an easier form of survival. Something more basic, and somehow, more barren. Stripped.