“The road’s out.”
A high, keening sound poured out of Mike as Charlie leaned to one side and peered past Jeff’s shoulder. Sure enough, the patchy blacktop road was ruined in front of them. A gouge almost ten feet wide cut through the hardtop, edges peeled back like a deep cut. He couldn’t see much through the black and amber air, but it looked to be at least a few feet deep. What could have done that?
The scene stretched out in front of them and the ragged note Mike kept screeching found his panic button and tickled it, a scabbed finger tapping it again and again, wondering if it was time to give the damn thing a nice, hard push.
“We can go back,” Eric said.
“Right,” Jeff replied. “We’ll just go wait out the forest fire in the pretty log cabin.”
“Might be an air rescue,” Charlie said, more to himself than the rest of the car.
“You think so?”
He considered it.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Mike’s panic note began to stutter. He hitched in a frightened breath in each space. Denise squeezed his arm with both hands, her eyes pleading with him.
“It’ll be okay, Mike.” She looked to the front seat. “You need to do something.”
Jeff wheeled on her. “Like what? What’s your awesome idea?”
They started shouting back and forth. Noise filled the car thick as the smoke outside. Charlie listened for a second, and then it became too much. Instead, he looked past his friends and scanned the forest and road, searching for any way out of their mess. He didn’t like what he saw, but there was no other choice, and after a moment of hesitation, he reached out with both hands and motioned for silence. Somehow, Jeff and Denise decided to oblige.
“We have to go around it.”
Jeff contorted in his seat so he could look at him. “Are you joking?”
“We don’t have a choice, okay? Cut to the right. There’s space between the road and the trees. I think we can get through.”
“What if we can’t?”
“Does it change anything?”
Jeff watched him a moment longer, and then he gave a weak nod. Charlie knew there wasn’t any argument to be had. Their options had boiled down to take a chance and maybe live or don’t and definitely burn.
“Hang on, everybody. We’ll see what we can do.”
The car rolled forward, and Charlie felt his jaw tighten. He gripped the sides of Jeff’s seat until his knuckles popped white, and he found a prayer running through his head. The Toyota’s nose veered to the right, aiming at the trees. Jeff kept the car moving just over a crawl, and Charlie hoped that meant his friend had found the sweet spot that would keep them from getting stuck.
He took in a last breath and held it as the car’s wheels left the blacktop. The entire vehicle canted to one side as it reached the uneven ground. Charlie could feel the heat from the surrounding forest despite the air conditioning, and he wondered if they could die without the fire touching them, baked alive inside a slightly used midsize.
Their pace slowed to a crawl as the Toyota moved over the uneven ground. Charlie listened as pieces of the forest that hadn’t burned scraped the vehicle’s undercarriage. The side-view mirror came within a few inches of a tree but just squeaked past. He felt his breath ease past his lips. Maybe they would make it.
As they crossed the roadway’s wound, the car dipping into a shallow ravine, he couldn’t help but look. The first thing he thought of was a meteorite, the kind that comes in at the perfect angle to hit the ground and keep going, splitting the earth like a scalpel. Beyond the ruptured pavement, he saw blackened and splintered trees, each one angled away from the gouge as though afraid of falling in. He saw charred bark on the trees and cooling embers glowing on the ground. Could it have been a meteorite? Was it possible for something falling from space to start a fire like this?
His thoughts froze when the world shook. The car filled with screams and a single, heavy jolt shuddered the car to the right, bouncing the passenger door off a tree. A sound like a bass drum accompanied the impact, and Charlie saw Eric all but jump in his seat, head whipping in every direction at once.
“That’s it! That’s it again!”
“That’s what again?” Jeff asked through grit teeth. He was wrestling the steering wheel, goosing the throttle a bit at a time. Charlie heard the tires spin, and he wanted to join Mike in crying. He sucked in another breath, feeling the hot air surge down his windpipe, and bit back the tears.
“I heard something like it before I went out and saw the fire. I thought…I don’t know what I thought.”
“Meteor?” Charlie said.
“Maybe.”
“Why aren’t we moving?” Mike asked. Sobs choked his voice.
“I’m trying!” Jeff shouted. Panic had entered his voice, and the tires whined again as he stomped on the voice. “Shut the fuck up!”
“Less gas,” Charlie said. “You’re digging in.”
“I know what I’m doing!”
The bass drum thumped again, and the ground shook right along with it. Charlie felt it in his chest, a little earthquake that shook his entire core and then traveled up his spine to throb in his skull. Had it sounded closer than the last one? How could he even tell when it seemed to come from every direction at once? A part of him knew differently, though. Some part of his brain that wasn’t throbbing or battling back panic like some kind of dying centurion knew the sound had come from across the road, from some place at the end of that burned wound, and he knew it really was getting closer. Because somehow, whatever had made that sound had heard them, and now it was curious. Or angry.
Reaching over the seat, he grabbed both of Jeff’s shoulders in a firm grip. He leaned forward and spoke right into his friend’s ear.
“Listen to me, Jeff.” His fluttering voice sounded alien, and he wondered if the rest of him was shaking just as much. “Breathe deep a second. If you keep hitting the gas like that, we’re going to burn. It’s just like ice. You need to go slow, or you’re not going to get traction. Understand?”
For a second, he thought Jeff would snap, that his friend would swing an elbow at him or just scream some more. Instead, he heard a deep breath travel in and out. He felt some of the tension seep out of Jeff’s muscles, and then the driver nodded.
“Okay. Right. Thanks. Let’s go.”
A terrible crash from deeper in the woods tore screams from all of them and jerked their attention across the broken road. The bass drum came again and again, gaining speed and power, and another crash reached them.
Charlie heard snapping wood and the thunderous sound of a giant tree hitting the ground. He looked through his window and peered deeper into the woods. Beside him, Mike kept screaming, face buried in his hands and shoulders jumping up and down. He couldn’t calm his friend, though. Maybe a hundred yards away, he saw waves of flame roll through the forest like an angry tide. He saw another tree crash to the forest floor, and then he saw what had knocked it down.
If there was a scream left inside him, it died before it reached his lips.
It had the shape of a man, the boxy frame of a dustbowl strong man holding a giant dumbbell over his head in a fist the size of a ham. Maybe it was a strong man, one so tough he didn’t feel the flames rolling over his entire body like living things. No, it couldn’t be a man. Only a thing could do that, could climb over a fallen tree and drop down on the other side while burning like a discarded Christmas fir, spitting sparks and embers with every movement. Only a thing could shake the world with each footstep or send another tree collapsing to the ground with a violent backhand. Behind the burning creature, the forest had become a kingdom of fire, flames spiraling into the sky, sucking up the air to feed itself.
The cries of terror that filled the Toyota told him the others had seen it, too.
“What the fuck?” Eric screeched from the passenger seat. He had pushed himself against the door, and his eyes were wide as silver dollars. The color
had left his face.
Charlie turned from his friend and looked at the monster again. Maybe sixty yards away now, approaching one step at a time, not hurrying or appearing to care about anything but destruction. It stalked toward the car, its course so straight and its stride so steady that he couldn’t fool himself that the burning thing might be heading elsewhere. It was coming for them, and he knew it didn’t intend to carry them to safety.
“Get the car moving, Jeff,” he said.
“You see it?”
“Yes. Now—”
“It’s real?”
“Yes, Jeff! It’s real! Now get us the hell out of here!”
Once again, the tires whined against the ground. The car didn’t do a single thing but sink a few inches.
“Goddammit!”
“Easy, remember?” Charlie said.
“Fuck you!” The tires whined even more.
The bass drum note of the burning monster’s footsteps was a steady thing now, a beat that marked the time until pain and death ripped open the car or crushed them inside. Charlie felt his heart fall in step with it, thudding in his chest so hard it made him dizzy. Everybody fell silent, the only remaining sounds the thing’s footsteps, the rumble of flames, and Mike’s soft, hopeless weeping. Even the most terrified of them had lost the will to scream. Charlie sniffed. Somewhere among all the smoke, he smelled urine, and he wondered if he’d been the one to lose control of his bladder first.
Jeff began to whine on his own as he jerked the car into reverse and started rocking it, trying to escape the hole the tires had dug. Charlie put his hand to his window and felt heat press against his palm.
“I can’t breathe,” Mike said. “I can’t.”
“You’re fine,” Denise told him. “Close your eyes and try to breathe deep.”
“I can’t! There’s no air in here!”
“You can.”
“You’re fine,” Charlie said, but Mike’s hands were reaching across his lap, searching for the window’s controls. He batted at them. “Stop it!” If the window dropped, they’d lose their air in a matter of moments, all their oxygen stolen by the fire that was getting closer, walking toward them with steps like kick drums, like earthquakes.
The thing closed to within thirty yards, its stride steady and mean, thick arms swinging at its sides, shoulders hunched and head forward. Charlie watched the flames roll over its body, flaring hotter and higher the closer it came to their car. Behind the beast was Hell itself, a land of fire and torture and death. Soon, Hell would swallow them. They’d die in flames, their screams matching those of the tires as they tried in vain to free the car from its shallow grave.
“You guys are my best friends,” Eric said. His voice was quiet and calm. “I love you guys. I want you to know that.”
Charlie wanted to say something similar, and then Mike’s elbow crashed into his cheek like a wrecking ball. Sparks filled his vision, and pain like a living thing pounded at the inside of his skull. He cried out and threw up both hands in an attempt to defend himself, but a fist managed to find a path through and connect with his nose. The pain doubled, and his hands dropped, and in the next second he felt Mike reach past him and shove open the car door.
No!
The heat hit him like a second fist, one that grabbed hold of the air in his lungs and yanked as soon as it was done hitting him. Mike shoved him, and he tumbled out of the car and to the forest floor.
There was a sensation of terrified movement as Mike rushed past him, and he thought he might have heard screams somewhere beneath the inferno’s roar, but all he could think of was that thing and how it would tear him apart as he choked on burning air. Somehow, Denise’s voice cut through everything else. She was screaming Mike’s name and trying to follow him out of the car. It was all the motivation he needed, and he surged off his back and shoved her back into her seat before she could escape. She slapped at him, but he couldn’t feel her blows. Too much terror and pain had already overloaded his system. Reaching into the car, he wrapped her up with both arms and held her tight, making sure she wouldn’t bolt out the other door. Once he knew she wasn’t going anywhere, he looked back to see where Mike had gone.
His friend hadn’t made it far. Mike was dashing down the road, trying to outrun an entire burning forest. The thing had spotted him and changed course. Instead of its steady pace toward the car, it had turned after Mike and started running. Its footsteps shook the car, moving it along the ground. The Toyota’s passenger side groaned its way along the tree it had struck.
Charlie slammed his door and punched the lock. He knew there wasn’t time to bring back Mike. As they watched, all of them but Denise silent, the burning thing ran down Mike and grabbed the back of his neck in a massive, flaming hand. Fire swept over Mike’s head, scorching hair and skin. His limbs jitterbugged as the fire engulfed the rest of his body. He became the thin, agonized version of the burning thing. The creature began throttling him, shaking him out like an old blanket, sending his limbs whipping in every direction. Charlie thought he might have heard his friend’s scream over the inferno’s roar and the pounding in his skull, but he couldn’t be sure. Denise let out a scream like an ice pick right to Charlie’s ears, and then the monster threw Mike away.
Charlie watched his friend fly through the air, part bullet and part burning ragdoll. When Mike finally struck a tree his body shattered, physics taking hold and rendering muscle and bone useless. What fell to the ground was less a person and more a burning pile of tissue, a broken sack of powdered bones and pierced organs. No other outcome was possible, and Charlie thought that might be a small mercy.
The burning thing turned to face them. Charlie saw the pavement melt at its feet, saw footsteps like smoldering craters in its wake.
And then the flames disappeared. Charlie found himself staring at scar tissue and muscle. His eyes traveled over the thing’s body, and he realized it was a man, one whose flesh looked like it had been all but destroyed, but still a man. He looked at the man’s bald head, skin stretched tight and shining like plastic, and then he looked at his face.
The man smiled. An evil grin that showed toothless gums and cracked the stretched skin of its face. His black eyes glittered with flame.
And then the fire returned, swallowing him whole.
“Gas, Jeff,” Charlie said.
“What?”
“We’re out of the ditch. Fucking gas pedal!”
The Toyota’s engine came close to roaring, and its rear fishtailed back and forth for a terrible, agonizing moment before the tires found traction and the car rocketed forward. In an instant, they were on the pavement again. Denise was screaming Mike’s name over and over. Her voice filled the car like a siren, and Charlie ground his teeth to keep the pain at bay.
The burning man stalked toward them, one arm cocked back for another punishing backhand.
“Right!” Charlie screamed. Jeff did as he was told and jerked the wheel hard. The passenger side wheels left the road in the same moment the man swung. His flaming hand sailed past Charlie’s window, missing it by inches. As the car screeched down the road, cutting through smoke and fire, Charlie turned to watch the man. He chased after them in angry, lumbering strides. For a moment, Charlie feared the man would be fast enough to catch them, but Jeff worked the gas like a master, and soon the burning man disappeared into the black fog of smoke.
Charlie exhaled and let himself cry. His entire body shuddered as waves of grief, fear, and relief flooded him. Denise’s head appeared in the crook of his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“Mike,” she said through her sobs.
“I’m sorry. So damn sorry.”
Jeff found the main road and jerked the wheel left, skidding but keeping the Toyota on the pavement. He raced away from the fire and the terrible thing that had caused it, and he didn’t let off the accelerator until they were well out of the smoke and back in fresh air.
They drove in silence for several minutes until Eric fi
nally spoke. “What was that thing?”
Charlie shook his head. He had no other answer.
“We should tell somebody,” Jeff said.
“They won’t believe us.”
Eric nodded. “Fuck.”
Then something streaked out of the sky. It was on fire.
WHY I DO IT
I sleep under my bed because I’m afraid. I know how it sounds, and I’m not proud or anything, but I thought I’d better be up front about it. Y’see, the first night I spent in Vietnam, lying awake in a barracks and hearing the distant pop of artillery fire, I decided to sleep underneath my mattress. No way was some stray grenade or mortar shell taking my ass out. I slept like a goddamn baby under that thing. I’m serious. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well in my life.
The next morning, I couldn’t move my arms or legs, so some of the other guys in my platoon—I think it was Sampson and Evers—had to lift the mattress off me. I got a good ribbing for it, but I didn’t give a damn. I was alive, man. That’s what counted.
The next night, I started sleeping under my bed, the springs keeping my mattress from crushing me, and my mattress keeping me safe from attack. The platoon was merciless in how they gave it to me, and my CO threatened me with disciplinary action more than once. I dealt with it, though. No big deal.
I dealt with a lot while I was over there.
Y’see, the first few weeks you’re out in the jungle or trudging through villages, it doesn’t feel right. It’s like creeping through a dream or something. We called our lives back home The Real World. “I’ve got a wife and baby waiting for me back in The Real World,” or “I’d rather be digging ditches back in The Real World than this shit.” That’s because being out in the jungle is like marching through some nightmare. Nothing feels the way it should.
I’m not explaining it right. I know that, okay? Just try to hear me out. I’ll get there.
You do a one-year tour over there, and you go through three phases. The first phase lasts three months. That’s when you’re reckless, a hero. Fuck those bullets, man. They can’t touch me. I’m the Pride of America, a Son of Liberty. Those are the days of charging the enemy and grabbing that grenade and throwing it back. No way is that thing going off in your hand. Nah, that happened to some other guy you never even met. Just a rumor, probably. You got time before it goes off.
Selected Stories Page 11
