Eying the field and then the town, she feels that she doesn’t have any other option than to go right through the middle of it. She starts riding, going as fast as she can. The grass may have stopped her, but she’s going to get to the other side of town. Emily builds up speed, although not much. The pedals go around so fast that she has difficulty keeping up with them at times. Small bits of gravel crunch under her tires. Steering to the center of the road, the crunch changes to the whirring sound of rubber on pavement.
Several of the bad people near the street turn at her approach. Emily’s fear rises at the same rate as her determination. She passes a gas station at the edge of town, then the motel. Heads turn to follow her as she madly pedals down the middle of the street. Several vehicles are parked near the curbs, most with the driver’s side doors open. Some are even on the sidewalk. Emily rides past the Dairy Queen and watches it longingly as she passes.
Ahead, four bad people run out into the street, their heads turning from one side to the other. Seeing her, they turn and charge in her direction. Sudden terror locks up her heart as if grabbed by a giant fist. Her thoughts desperately process a hundred different things she can do to save herself—turn to the far side of the street, hit the brakes and turn around, try to run them over—but her fear prevents the thoughts from turning into action. She finds that she can only continue pedaling as fast as she can.
How will it feel to have her flesh ripped away? Being tackled from her bike, skidding along the pavement and buried under a swarm of bodies. The thoughts she most wishes would go away stay the longest and are the clearest. Her vision blurs and she feels the warmth of the tears streaming down her chilled cheeks. Still she pedals.
Just before Emily meets them, the bad people come to a sudden halt. Emily is so close that she feels her coat brush against one of them. The godawful stench that rises from their bodies fills her nose, making her nearly retch even though her terror has driven away nearly every other sense. She rides past, their shadows creating flickers of light in her blurred vision. She expects the bike to be upended any second, followed by a fear-filled fall to the ground. Nothing of the sort happens, filling Emily with a confused terror. She keeps pedaling as fast as she can.
Nothing happens. There aren’t any screams, no pavement rushing up at her face. Awareness slowly begins to return. She’s only conscious that she’s still riding and hears the sound of sobbing, not recognizing it as her own. Wiping an arm across her eyes to restore her vision, she fearfully looks over her shoulder. Emily sees that the four are still rooted where they came to stop, staring after her. They don’t move or shriek. Emily again wonders why the bad people don’t attack her as they do others.
I was so sure that I was done for that time. Why am I different? Why is it that…
“Ooomph!”
Emily feels a hard thump and finds herself flying through the air. Her mind tries to process what is happening, but can’t.
She hits the ground on her shoulder and rolls several times before coming to a stop. Lying on the pavement, she feels a deep pain coming from where she landed. Her injured elbow flames anew, adding a sharp pain to the ache. Even though pain rocks her body, she’s really only aware of the blue sky overhead with clouds zipping past. As if far away, she can hear screams, and wonders if they’re coming from the clouds.
Are they hurt? Is it painful to fly that fast?
Emily lies on the hard surface, thoughts like that drifting through.
Wait, I must have hit a car, or something, she thinks, some awareness returning.
Emily rolls to the side, slowly coming to her knees. With her head hanging down, trying to gather herself, she wonders what is making all that noise.
Oh crap!
She rises unsteadily to her feet, sudden fear adding momentum. Looking back in the direction she had come from, she sees several bad people running toward her. She can’t really process why, but she’s in pain and mad at herself for making such a stupid mistake. How many times has her mom told her to watch where she’s going?
Hurriedly, she sheds her pack and removes one of the knives with no real plan, only mindless action. She’s angry and scared to death. Standing in the street, gripping the knife tightly, she watches the bad people draw closer, their mouths open and emitting ear-piecing screams. Emily has one thought, and it’s that she’s about to be swarmed. For some reason, that doesn’t strike the fear that it did a few minutes ago. She’s terrified, but even that feels disjointed.
Without realizing what she’s doing, Emily opens her mouth wide and screams back at the rapidly approaching bad people. They stop, nearly falling over as they skid to a halt. All of them stare at her, as if weighing the threat she poses. Then, they turn and walk away as if they hadn’t been in a frenzy only a few seconds ago.
That…worked? Maybe I’m still unconscious on the ground and this is a dream.
She thinks that can be the only plausible answer, because nothing in this world really makes much sense anymore. She must have hit her head, but she’s never had a dream that felt so real. She touches her body, wincing at the pain in her shoulder and elbow.
No, that’s real.
Emily walks to where her bike is upended near the trunk of the car she ran into that catapulted her into the air. She only hopes that she didn’t ruin the bike. Rounding the rear of the vehicle, she sees that although there’s a hefty dent in the panel of the vehicle, the bike itself looks fine. She spins the front tire and it turns evenly. She’s not certain how the bike survived when the car took that much damage, but she’s not going to question it.
Righting the bike brings stabs of pain. She looks at her shoulder and elbow to see that her coat sleeve is shredded. With utterances of language her mother wouldn’t approve of, Emily searches for a clothing store.
* * * * * * *
With a new and better coat, and having traveled further down the road, still feeling the aches of her falls, Emily tries to sort out what happened in the town. At first, they left her alone. Four charged out of the street, but they stopped when they saw her. Then, she ran into the car and they all charged. She remembers those in another city that ate one of their own after it became injured.
They must see the injured as food, she thinks, mentally noting that she has to be extra, extra careful when around them. Did they only attack people who were injured before? I don’t think so, but I really don’t remember much. No…no, I’m certain they attacked everyone. They came after us and we weren’t injured. So, there. But, why is it different now? Or is it? That man’s wife attacked him and he wasn’t injured.
If she had lost consciousness, she could have died. And the bad people would have eaten her. Aside from the fact that there aren’t any hospitals open, she’s going to have to make sure she thinks about every decision she makes.
Even something as small as pushing a bike down an embankment.
Emily runs into fewer and fewer houses as she cycles through the hills. The wind has less effect on her with her new coat, but she still feels the chill on her cheeks. Her injuries have settled into a dull ache and she has to take time steering with one hand while cradling her arm when it gets too painful. The rush of water pouring over rocks on one side of the road and the roar of the wind over the tops of the trees is her only company. The sun slides across the sky, its brightness becoming scarcer as the clouds gather.
Evening closes in and the shadows of the hills cover the valley she’s riding through. Emily stops at a large culvert running under the road, knowing that she has to find shelter before too long. She could camp under the trees, but having something over her head is important. Parking her bike on the road, she carefully scrambles down the shoulder.
A creek bed runs out of the woods, large stones lying in damp dirt. Emily looks into the large pipe to see the bottom covered with a thin layer of mud.
Well, there’s enough room so that I won’t be in the mud, she thinks, contemplating whether the place is suitable for the night.
&
nbsp; On the other side of the culvert, the creek bed continues sloping down until it meets the flowing river. Emily gazes upward, taking in the remaining light. With the hills in the way, she can’t do the finger measurement to figure out how many hours she has left.
I guess this is as good as any place.
It takes two trips for Emily to move everything to her chosen location. Unrolling her bag, she makes sure that she will have enough room without lying in the muddy bottom. Satisfied, she wanders into the woods to pick up as many dry branches as she can. Several trips later, she drags two longer and thicker branches back to her lair. Taking the hand ax, she begins chopping at them to make short logs for the fire she plans to build. She’s not worried about the smoke from a fire as the pipe has two openings that will surely drain it away from her.
Emily feels her sore shoulder with every swing of the axe. Several times, the blade turns and bounces away from the log, but Emily eventually gets the hang of it. Small chips of wood fly away, but it takes forever to get through one part of the log.
The movies sure make this look easier, she thinks, starting on another log.
As darkness nears, she wipes the sweat from her brow. Her shoulder is throbbing deeply as she carts all of the wood into her shelter. With the last of the light showing from both ends of the culvert, Emily chops some of the wood into smaller pieces, and then places them in layers. She watched the man do it several times, mentally noting how he carefully stacked them. The final result looks like the game she and her dad would play from time to time.
What was the name of it?...Oh, yeah, Jengo, or Jenga, or Jengi…something like that.
Emily strikes a match and lights the lower pieces. The thin slivers quickly catch, then the ones above, until she has a decent fire going in the middle of the pipe.
I did it…I did it…I did it, doing a little Snoopy dance in her head.
She wants to dance around the fire and celebrate her achievement, but settles for gleefully clapping her hands together. The flames cast a wavering light along the tunnel-like shelter, making Emily feel cozy and a little safer. She has a fire and warmth. She opens and sets one of the cans of food near the fire for it to heat up, then digs into her bag to get her phone. She made it through a difficult day and it’s the perfect time to settle back and play a game.
“Well, crap on a stick,” she mutters, remembering that she left the working phone at the house.
She opens another of the packaged phones and barely gets a signal, slowing the download operation to get it registered. She sets it beside her, grabbing her warmed meal. The fire sparks occasionally, and the crackling eases her into a more relaxed state. She feels content.
She still regrets having to leave the house. As comfortable as she is at the moment, it doesn’t come anywhere close to what she felt there. She had a soft bed, a roof, food, and running water. She didn’t have to travel into the unknown. It had been perfect.
If I find another place like that, I’m going to find a gun and keep it hidden. If anyone comes and gets sick, I’ll shoot them before they can turn into bad people. I liked that house and I’m not going to lose another one like it.
A beep notifies Emily that the phone has finished doing whatever it needed to do. She searches through it to see if there are any interesting games already on it. Disappointed, she downloads one of her favorites. Occasionally adding pieces of wood to the glowing coals resting on the now-dried dirt, she finds a suitable position and plays on her phone.
The light from the fire extends throughout most of the pipe, fading to blackness near the exits. Emily can’t see anything beyond the light, but can hear the wind whistle past, the sound much like blowing across the top of a glass bottle. Looking to the top of the culvert, she notes with satisfaction that the heat from the fire is driving the smoke to the sides and out toward the entrances.
Turning her phone off, she slips into her sleeping bag, again checking to make sure that she’s away from the mud and far enough from the fire. Even though the fire provides warmth, she still feels a chill on her cheeks. Emily snuggles completely into the bag, covering her head. The sound of the howling winds diminishes. She’s nestled in her own cocoon.
* * * * * * *
South of Pineville
October 15
A sharp peal of thunder wakes Emily, the sound rolling across the sky outside of the culvert, the echoing noise fading. Even wrapped in the confines of her bag, she feels chilly…and wet?
Why am I wet?
She pulls back the top of the bag, the cold sweeping upon her like an eagle tackling a rabbit. She hears the steady downpour of rain and sees that the bottom of her bag is lying in a quick-moving stream, tugged along by the current.
Oh…crap!
She rapidly extricates herself from what was once a comfortably warm cocoon, shuffling backward up the inclining pipe to get out of the water. Puffs of vapor float out of her mouth as she gathers the wet bag and reaches for her backpack, her shoulder and elbow deeply aching. She can’t find it and begins frantically searching, her head turning this way and that. The creek gurgles past, her pack nowhere to be seen. Emily looks at the exit end of the tunnel and sees the rapidly flowing water surge around the stones there.
“Fuuuck!” Emily screams, her voice reverberating within the confines of the aluminum pipe.
The surging waters rise higher.
I need to get out of here.
She can’t help but step into the edge of the stream, the water surging around her ankles. Knowing that the sleeping bag is already soaked, she still holds it above the rising waters as she trudges toward the entrance of the pipe. Heavy rain streaks past the opening.
Glad that I slept in my coat. At least I still have that, Emily thinks, her mind racing in near panic.
She’s lost her pack, which has all of her supplies…everything! She has no food, no water, and no way to get any. The matches were swept away along with the rest of her belongings. Fear surfaces, knowing that she will have to face the wilderness with only what she is carrying on her. At the entrance, she halts, not wanting to step out into the downpour. It’s raining so hard that the slamming drops cause a steady roar.
Emily squats down at the entrance, her boots submersed in the creek, and sobs. She doesn’t know what to do. She should have known not to camp in the tunnel, remembering the creek by her house and how it would become a raging torrent after heavy rains. She thought she was safe and warm…thought she was becoming better at surviving. Making that fire was a huge breakthrough, but now she’s in the middle of the mountains and has nothing. Everything is lost and she’ll starve to death.
Wind whips the rain, driving it. Flashes of light arc across the dark clouds, thunder bouncing off the hillsides and echoing down the valley. Emily pulls the hood of her jacket up to cover her head and wipes the sniffles away. She’s wet, cold, alone, and afraid. The rising waters force her up until she can’t go any further. Still sobbing, she rises and walks out into the pouring rain. The heavy drops hammer incessantly on the hood, arms, and back of her jacket.
She looks up toward the highway, her bike just a shadow against a background of gray. Raindrops bounce off the seat. A gust of wind catches the front wheel, turning it and the handlebars. With a sniff, Emily trudges up the embankment. With the rain pounding on the pavement making it look like a shallow lake, she pushes the bike down off the shoulder.
I’m not going to lose that too.
The bike tumbles down the slope, tipping over to lie on the sodden grass. Her jeans are beyond soaked, her whole body is cold despite her heavy jacket and gloves. Wrapping her arms around her, Emily trudges across the drenched pavement and looks down at the waters raging out of the culvert.
The stream races over stones, a miniature form of the rapids she’s seen before. If she were to step into those waters, she’d be swept off her feet and carried along the torrent into the raging river the creek flows into. Wiping another sniffle away, Emily follows the path of the creek, wo
ndering how far downriver her pack would be by now. She knows she’ll never see it again and will have to replenish her supplies by going near the bad people.
If I even survive that long. I’ll probably die tonight, if not sooner.
Near the larger river, an object being swept over by the fast-flowing waters catches her eye.
Is that…is that my pack? Emily thinks, leaning forward to get a better look.
Excitement replaces her despair. It is!
She scrambles down the embankment, sliding most of the way but not caring. The pain is forgotten, her only thought is to get to the pack before it’s swept away. She scrambles through the grass and bushes that line both the creek and river, heedless of the pouring rain as she pushes branches aside, uncaring as they scratch her face. At the stream, she sees that a strap of her pack is caught on a branch that extends into the turbulent waters. The limb bobs up and down as the stream tries to pull her pack away from its grasp.
Squatting at the edge, the water forming rapids just inches away, Emily stretches out and finds that the pack is out reach. She tries to grab the branch to reel her stuff in, but it’s too firmly entrenched in the bank. Frantic and afraid that the pack will be swept away at any moment, she searches the area for another branch thick enough to drag the pack to shore. There isn’t anything she can find; the bush limbs are too narrow to do any good.
Returning to the creek, she gingerly puts one foot into the fast-moving waters. The strong current instantly threatens to pull her off her feet. Water rushes around her pants as she places her foot further into the water and attempts to secure her footing among the stones.
Taking hold of the branch to keep herself steady, she places her other foot into the stream. Water sweeps around her legs, forming waves. It’s a lot deeper than she’d realized. The stream is frigid, like she’s stepping through ice into cold waters beneath.
Emily inches outward, still holding onto the branch to keep her balance while moving her feet in small increments. The downpour pounding against the hood and back of her coat mixes with the turbulent waters to create a constant roar.
ARES Virus (Book 3): Phoenix Rising Page 6
