by David Peters
“Think they will make it?” asked Niccole.
“I’m hoping they beat the odds we have been seeing.”
“You and me both, such cute kids, wish we could have done more to help them.”
“Not sure what we could do beyond what we did. I feel better knowing he has a good weapon now and not that old double barreled artillery he has.”
The two crossed the remaining freeway and headed back into the shadow shrouded forest. They still had another three hours of riding before they would reach their next camp.
--1--
Two days passed without incident, no humans or Corrupted spotted, just mile upon mile of untouched wilderness scenery. Dylan had caught some small rainbow trout in a brook near their campsite. It was a welcome change from peanut butter and unidentifiable military food. The stream also gave them each a chance for a cold bath.
Looking down from the ridgeline they saw a highway and a rest area just off to the side of it about a mile away. There were two RV’s parked with people mulling about between the two. It looked like they had a barbeque set up between the two vehicles.
“So, skip them? Pass through? Stop and say ‘Howdy’?” asked Dylan.
“It would be a good place to stop for the night, might still have running water, be nice to wash some clothes, shower if possible with soap instead of a rock. It also might be my mind going nuts but if I didn’t know better I would swear I can smell burgers from here.” observed Niccole.
“Works for me, be really nice if no one starts shooting at us too,” Dylan said as they rode down into the valley.
They approached the rest area by way of a small stream that paralleled the highway. They came up out of the deep ditch at the entrance to the parking lot and rode up to the small group sitting around a small camp fire. No one looked surprised by their approach. In fact, neither of the two groups even got out of their lawn chairs when they rode up. Dylan tipped his hat “Greetings, name’s Dylan, this is my wife, Niccole.”
Niccole nodded to the group.
There were a total of five people sitting around talking. It looked like two older couples with a young girl sitting with the heavier set couple to one side of the fire pit. The older four were sitting in a semi circle around the fire while the young girl sat a short distance away.
The heavier of the older men stood up and approached Dylan. “Evening sir, what brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Passing through, was hoping there might be running water, maybe news of other cities,” Niccole said.
“Not much news here. We left Portland when we heard about the first riots. Can’t fool us though, been around the block too many times. We knew they weren’t riots,” said the smaller man. “Name’s Barley, like the stuff they put in beer. This fat guy is Gus, that’s his wife Sheryl and my wife Glenna. The youngster over there is Erica, but she don’t talk much.”
Barley was in shorts and a dirty sports team tank top. He both looked and smelled like he hadn’t known washing of any kind had already been invented. Gus appeared to have a similar pedigree and was wearing cut off camouflaged shorts and a t-shirt that had a faded out American flag emblazoned on the chest.
“We are heading south from the Pullman area, same story as Portland from the sounds of it,” said Dylan.
“We were heading south from Seattle and passing through Portland when the shit hit the fan. Figured we would save the park money so we are waiting it out here,” said Gus.
“Waiting it out?” asked Dylan, not quite sure he understood what this portly man was talking about.
“Ya, this will all blow over. Ain’t no big deal, some bug that makes people go bat shit crazy.” Barley continued, “Erica there, she was running from one of those things at a rest stop south of Portland from one of the black bastards. Hit it with the RV. Damn thing flew like a bird and landed against the jersey barrier. Knocked it out cold.”
“They saved me.” Erica said quietly.
“What’s your story Erica?” asked Niccole, walking over to kneel beside her. Erica was sitting slightly apart from the group. She appeared to be in her late teens and emotionally very distant.
“I’m here now. They are protecting me.” Erica said, appearing to want to say more, but leaving it at that when she made eye contact with Barley.
Dylan looked at Barley, “So you’re thinking this will all blow over? Just go back to normal?”
“Hell ya, why wouldn’t it?” He sat back down in his aluminum deck chair.
“Have you seen what has happened to at least Portland and Seattle?”
“Bah, bunch of hype by hysterical people. Hell, dumb-asses thought the swine flu was going to kill us all. I never even met someone who had it, let alone died of the damn bug. This is just like that. Very few people get the sickness, ones that do probably got it off a drug needle or somethin’.”
“So, you’re saying the Corrupted are just like the Swine Flu or Hepatitis,” Dylan asked amazed.
“Hell ya” said Gus, “maybe a little worse, ‘cause I ain’t ever seen a Flu that made your skin turn black and stuff.”
“I guess I just don’t have your level of confidence Gus.” Dylan stated flatly.
Niccole continued to try and talk with Erica to no avail. She was in no mood to talk to a stranger and she got the feeling all of these people were strangers to her. Something was scaring this poor girl but Niccole couldn’t determine what.
Dylan and Niccole walked back to their horses, talking quietly as they did so.
“These people are nuts,” whispered Dylan.
“Right there with you, but I’m concerned about the young girl, Erica. There is something going on here. We aren’t getting the whole picture” Niccole whispered back.
“I agree. Although I think these folks haven’t seen the whole picture for years.”
“You folks mind if we hang out for a while and give our horses a break?” asked Dylan.
“More power to ya, have a seat. We was just talking ‘bout how the ‘Hawks are lookin’ this year,” said Barley.
Dylan and Niccole took the horses over to the dog run area. There was a small pond and plenty of fresh grass to keep them occupied.
“Keep on your toes here,” said Dylan, “I have a feeling this could go south in a hurry.”
The next hour was spent having conversations about a world Dylan and Niccole assumed was gone forever, but Gus and Barley seemed to think was on a seasonal hiatus. The two older women hardly ever spoke. Glenna was busy knitting what appeared to be either a medium sized blanket, or the world’s largest scarf, while Sheryl just nursed a beer and nodded every once and a while or threw a ‘got that right’ out.
Dylan and Niccole would exchange looks every now and again when particularly outlandish statements were made, but for the most part played along. Dylan found it disturbing to talk about some of things they had seen so glibly.
Niccole tried several times to get Erica engaged, but on the third and final try Barley explained to her that “Erica don’t talk much, she ain’t talked since we picked her up south of Portland, running like a crazy woman. She ain’t right in the head or somethin’. Maybe she’s slow or whatever.”
“Just thought I would try and be neighborly,” said Niccole, more to Erica than Barley, giving her a wink and a nod. She knew Erica was holding back but she didn’t know why. She did know she was going to do her damndest to find out.
After a short spat of silence, Gus stood up, “anyone hungry? We got another package of burgers and brats if’n you are. That includes you folks, too.” He said as he pointed at Dylan and Niccole with his unopened beer.
“We would be much obliged,” said Dylan, “anything I can help with, I used to be pretty good with the grill.”
“Nah, only the captain runs the grill. You grab a beer and don’t let it get warm. That’s a sin where I come from.” Gus said with a smile.
Niccole and Dylan headed over to the cooler, once again whispering to each other, “they see
m like nice folks, maybe a step or two down the evolutionary ladder and a little crass at times, but nice none the less,” whispered Dylan.
“They seem like the kind of nice that would eat us if they ran out of burgers and brats.” Niccole whispered back. “I still need to understand what is wrong with Erica; she hasn’t said a word, just looks around a lot, and very nervously at that”
The small talk continued for another hour while the barbeque was brought up to speed and the food was soundly defeated by the fake briquettes. Dylan and Niccole heaped up their plates like it was a family reunion picnic and sat down in some aluminum lawn chairs that Dylan was pretty sure went extinct around the late 1970’s.
It was about half way through dinner, when Dylan was about to bite into his second burger when things went from weird to downright strange.
As Barley began to mundanely explain some random take on his version of life, the unmistakable cry of a Hunter ripped through the camp ground and echoed down the valley.
Both Dylan and Niccole’s food flew into the air as they grabbed for their rifles and began looking for something nearby to shoot at.
Dylan worked the action on his rifle and started scanning in one direction while Niccole flipped from safety to three round burst on her weapon and looked for the source of the scream in the opposite direction
“That Hunter is too close Dylan!” Niccole said worriedly.
“Ya, but why are we the only two to be worried about it?” asked a stunned Dylan.
Niccole then noticed the others hadn’t even stopped eating, with the exception of Erica, who was shaking as she stared in the direction of Gus’s RV.
Gus was spitting food and laughing as he spoke. “You folks can calm down, he ain’t goin’ anywhere until I let him,” slurred Gus. “Man, you guys should see your faces! You guys need to grab a beer and relax a little! Christ on a crutch, you two is wound tighter than a two dollar watch.”
“What the hell do you mean by that? That was a Hunter call. A yell like that can carry for miles, maybe further in this valley.” Dylan was obviously getting a little angry as he spoke.
“Nah, ain’t anything out here. Let me show you, follow me. And put the guns down before you shoot yer nuts off, probably haven’t even used one of those before. Think you are some sort of a cowboy or somethin’,” said Gus, sounding more than a little perturbed.
Dylan exchanged looks with Niccole and lowered the hammer and slung his rifle. Niccole put the safety on and slung hers also. In unison they both unsnapped the catch on their pistol holsters.
As soon as Gus opened the door of the RV they could smell the stench as it rolled out of the unlit interior. Dylan looked at Niccole and frowned. They knew that smell meant there was a Corrupted very nearby.
Gus walked the narrow hall towards the back of the RV. His large frame blocked any view they may have around him. They couldn’t see past Gus until he stepped into the rear bathroom of the RV. The big man opened the door to the back room and stepped past the small bathroom allowing the couple a full view of Gus’ prize. They both gasped at the scene in front of them.
The Hunter in the bathtub was bound hand and foot with assorted cords and duct tape. Its hands were resting on its stomach and bound at the wrist with its elbows strapped around at the things chest. Its legs were bound at the ankles, knees and a final wrapping around its dark black thighs. The Corrupted was held almost completely immobile and was only able to turn its head.
“I’ll be damned, that bastard is more black than the last time we looked at him, he just keeps changin’” observed Gus. He was still busily shoving the remains of a burger into his mouth.
“Why the hell do you have this thing? Do you know what this is? These things kill people!” Niccole was nearly yelling at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
As they argued back and forth, Dylan examined the thing in the tub. This was the first time he had a chance to examine a Hunter this well developed up close and still alive. He looked at the fingernails thinking back to what Jokester had said. The nail itself was completely gone and talons had just broken the skin as they started growing.
The Hunter looked like he used to be male, although all vestiges of that had fallen off, or were in the process of it. His skin was almost completely black, from head to toe. Both his forearms and fingers appeared to be elongating, growing at an astonishing rate, much like the rest of the bodily changes.
Although his face was still somewhat human, he might even have recognized him had he known him prior to the change. There were unmistakable differences between the human and the Corrupted Hunter. The eyes were the most noticeable. They were without that spark you are used to seeing, very black, in fact, almost completely black. You could only see edges of white when the Hunter would look far to his left or right. His nose appeared to be sinking into his face, forcing his nostrils into tight slits. Dylan could also see some large swelling in the lower jaw of the Hunter, making the sides of the monsters face appear almost droopy or swollen.
All of the man’s hair was falling out; the things entire body was nearly devoid of a single hair, and the texture of the skin looked like that of an old leather chair.
The Hunter stopped watching the argument going back and forth and met Dylan’s eyes and stared. Dylan had seen a stare like this before in a few people. The challenging stare, judging, looking for an angle, there was a lot of thought behind those dark menacing eyes. The Hunter was sizing him up, both physically and mentally. It was looking at Dylan like a fighter sizing up its foe. This thing wanted nothing more than to kill Dylan. Not just kill him, destroy him. Wipe him out like he never existed.
Dylan unconsciously gripped his pistol. The Hunter followed his hand to the gun grip and let out a hiss that sounded like a bus tire deflating. It stopped the argument cold. It was a deep, dark hiss that had come deep within the Hunters chest. It had a weight that pressed down on them.
“Don’t think he likes you much Dylan,” Gus said with a smile. Gus still had a smear of ketchup on his scraggly mustache.
“Feeling is mutual,” said Dylan without breaking eye contact with the Hunter.
As the thing continued to hiss, Dylan could see that its teeth were actually being pushed forward and falling out as they were replaced by razor sharp teeth from behind. This was the mouth of a predator, not one of a human. Its tongue was a dark purple and came nearly to a point. He could also see that the swelling visible from the outside was caused by large, very blue, bladders on the inside of the things mouth.
Niccole and Gus were starting to get into it again. Niccole wasn’t making headway with Gus.
“Wait, what was that last comment Gus?” asked Dylan.
“I said you guys can’t have any cut of the cash when we make a deal to sell this thing,” said Gus as he stuffed the last bite of hamburger into his mouth.
“You are stark raving mad aren’t you? You have no clue what is going on in the world. Gus, shit is over, our life, our world, is over. We are still alive, but we are most likely in the minority, at least in this area,” Dylan stated.
“You fear mongers are all the same. We ain’t got nothin’ to worry about here. The Government will fix this, you watch,” Gus countered back.
“Would that be the same government we watched get spanked down in Pendleton? Have you seen any military? We have. They lost.” said Niccole.
“A fluke, we can’t win every game, just most of them,” said Gus. “You ain’t changin’ my mind. I caught him, it’s my money. One of those grocery store rags will pay a million bucks for this thing alive. Hell, maybe I can train the damn thing after it calms down.”
“You aren’t going to get through to this guy, Niccole. He is in his own world. He has his cronies out there on that same planet,” said Dylan.
There was a brief silence as Dylan and Niccole looked at the Hunter. The Hunter started smelling the air, quick sniffs as it caught the scent of something interesting. As it met Dylan’s eyes, it spoke. Not in wo
rds that he or anyone there could understand, it was a sound that no human throat could make. It was like sandpaper talking. The monster was telling Dylan something specifically. At the end of it all, it let out a long raspy laugh.
“We need to go,” Niccole and Dylan said in unison.
“You two are all fired up about nothing. This thing does that weird kind of shit all the time,” said Gus. “It is tied up so tight it ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“Dylan, I think he is actually smiling,” said Niccole. The Hunter had finished its comments, spoken more as a growl than words.
The two headed out of the RV, leaving Gus behind.
