by Amy Cross
Suddenly I spot movement out in the yard. Startled, I turn and look, but now there's no sign of anyone. I swear I spotted something flitting into the shadows near the woodshed, and I stay completely still for a moment until finally I tell myself that I must have imagined the whole thing. Whatever I thought I saw, it was clearly too small to be one of them, and it's not as if there are any other living creatures near the farm. Months and months and months have passed, and it's been a long time since I lost hope of ever seeing another human face.
There's nothing out there.
Only cold and rain and darkness.
A moment later, I flinch as I hear a bumping sound over my shoulder. Turning, I spot a shadow moving across the wall out in the hallway, and then a dark shape lumbers into view. The shape stops in the doorway, and it's clear that it must have spotted me, although the lack of light means I can't be sure which one of them it is. Hopefully it's Friendly, not Meanie, because I really don't fancy getting caught late at night with just Meanie for company.
I stay completely still, as the dark shape squeezes cumbersomely through the doorway and into the kitchen. It has to duck down in the process, but then it quickly raises up tall again until the top of its head brushes against the ceiling.
It's Friendly.
I can tell from the fact that it's ever-so-slightly smaller than the other one. Meanie's bulkier, and not so careful when he moves about. Sometimes Meanie knocks chunks out of the door-frames.
Still not quite daring to move, in case I do something wrong, I watch as Friendly stumbles across the kitchen. Finally the floor shudders slightly and I instinctively take a step back. As friendly as Friendly might be, he still has a tendency to throw his weight around a little, and I'm not sure he appreciates how fragile I am. He's already accidentally hit me several times, he even broke one of my ribs, and I'm pretty sure that he could easily kill me without even meaning to. Still, I think it would be an accident if that happened. For the most part, even if he's a little thoughtless, Friendly seems to genuinely like having me around.
I stay completely still as he sniffles in the dark, and then slowly he leans toward me. I force a smile, hoping that he can see me in the darkness and that he'll understand I'm a friend, but I can smell his putrid flesh now and I can't shake a glimmer of fear in the pit of my belly as I stare at that lizard-like skin that grows over and between long, yellowing bones. A large knot of gristle-like veins protrudes at the base of his jaw, pulsing and throbbing with every beat of what I can only assume must be a heart.
And still he stares.
What if tonight is the night when he changes his mind about me and kills me? What if he no longer wants a human around the place?
I wait, and after a moment Friendly turns and leans down toward the counter. I feel a rush of relief as, in the moonlight, I see a slit opening on the front of Friendly's mottled head, and a kind of pale, foul-smelling paste dribbles down and forms a small pile next to the water jug. The paste splatters against the sideboard, and some even spreads as far as my bare feet.
“Thank you,” I stammer as soon as Friendly steps back.
Again I wait, but this time he seems to want to watch me eat. He does that sometimes, and I know I have no choice. One time I tried to resist, and he grabbed me by the back of the neck and forced my mouth down. Whether by accident or design, he damn near drowned me. Stepping closer to the counter, therefore, I force another smile as I lean down and start licking the paste. The smell is atrocious and frankly I want to gag, but I figure I should just get this over with so instead I lick as quickly as I can manage, and I try not to taste anything as I swallow the paste. The stuff is cold and lumpy, but at least I've learned by now that it's good for me. In fact, I think it's the only thing that's keeping me alive, so I lick it all up and then I wipe my lips as I take a step back and look up at one of Friendly's large orange eyes.
“Thank you,” I say again, making myself smile even though my stomach is churning. “It was really good.”
I wait, hoping desperately that he doesn't make me eat any more tonight. That happened once, and I damn near vomited right in front of him. Fortunately this time he simply leans a little closer, as if he's sniffing me, and then he turns to head out of the room. Once again, the floor shudders with each step he takes and some small pieces of plaster fall from the ceiling, and I don't dare move until Friendly's all the way out in the hallway.
“Thank you,” I say one more time, this time just relieved that he's gone.
I guess my evening snack is done.
I drink one more glass of water, just to start washing the last of the paste from my mouth, and then I look out the window to make sure there's nothing moving in the yard. Apart from the rain, I don't see anything at all, so I head to the hallway and over to the stairs. Just as I'm about to go up, however, I hear a faint clicking sound coming from the front room, and I turn to see the large, dark shape of Meanie huddled in the corner. I immediately back away, terrified in case he comes for me, and then I look around, hoping that Friendly will be somewhere to help.
Turning back to look into the front room, however, I realize that Meanie seems not to have even noticed me. Instead he's staring down at the floor, apparently mesmerized by something. This happens from time to time, and I'm always relieved when I know that he's in one of his trances. At least when he's in a trance, there's little danger that he'll come after me. This is one of the rules I've figured out about the creatures since they arrived. I have no idea what the trances mean, but they definitely seem to keep them busy, usually for hours and hours on end.
Still, figuring I shouldn't chance my luck, I turn and start creeping up to my bedroom. Outside a crack of thunder finally fills the night sky for a moment, followed by a low rumble of thunder as rain continues to lash the house. I think one day we'll get washed clean away.
Two
Rain is still falling several hours later as I step out of the back door. I never know the time these days, but the sun has risen and cold, muddy fields stretch to a dull horizon, while the forest has retained most of the night's darkness. A cold wind is blowing through the yard, and lots of water is still running from the guttering that Dad put up all those years ago. I wish he could see the guttering now, still doing its job even when the rest of the world has fallen apart.
As usual, I take a moment to look all around, watching the horizon and the sky for any hint – no matter how subtle or small – that there might be somebody else out there.
As usual, there's nothing.
After checking that the pitcher collected plenty of water, I decide to go and take a look at the main rain collectors over by the woodshed. I take off my shoes and socks, figuring that there's no point fighting the mud, and then I start making my way barefoot across the yard. With each step, my feet sink almost up to the knees, and it's a real struggle to walk. I'm actually out of breath by the time I'm halfway, and my calf muscles are killing me. Still, I'm fitter than I was when all of this started.
Turning to look back at the farmhouse, I look for any sign that Friendly or Meanie are watching from the windows. They never seem to pay much attention to what I'm doing in the mornings, but I've often wondered if they have a sense of humor. If they saw me now, would they laugh?
Hell, if I saw me in this state, I'm pretty sure I'd laugh.
By the time I get to the woodshed and start checking the main barrels, I'm seriously out of breath. I might be fitter than I was before all of this started, and thinner too, but I can't kid myself: I'm still hopelessly out of shape.
“Alright there, chubby girl,” I remember Brenda Mackintosh saying to me every day at school. “Been on the pies, have you?”
If only she could see me now.
Then again, Brenda Mackintosh probably got ground into dirt-meal a long time ago.
As I stand on tip-toes and reach up to straighten the lid on one of the barrels, I feel a flash of pain in my abdomen, and I can't help worrying that some of my old wounds aren't heali
ng so well. I might take another look later, if I get a chance, but for now I need to focus on the barrels. Moving to the next section, I dip of glass into the water and take a moment to check for algae. So far, so good, although -
Suddenly something moves behind me.
I spin around and raise my hands, ready to defend myself.
All I see is the rain-soaked yard, but my heart is pounding, and I swear I heard someone. Then again, as the seconds pass, I realize that maybe the sound was just caused by all this rain.
I wait a couple more seconds, before turning to finish straightening the barrel's lid. It won't fit properly, most likely because of the rain and -
Suddenly something grabs me by the throat from behind and drags into the woodshed. I try to cry out, but a hand clamps firmly over my mouth and a moment later I'm slammed against the wooden wall. In the low light, I can just about make out a man's wide-eyed, panicked face staring at me. An older man, maybe in his forties. Old than me, at least.
“Don't say a word!” he hisses, keeping his voice barely above a hushed whisper. “Don't make a goddamn noise, or I'll cut your throat! I swear to whatever god you want, I will cut your throat open.”
I let out a faint whimper as I feel the blade of a knife against the side of my neck.
“What are those things doing in there?” he continues. “And why are you in there with them?”
I wait, too terrified to even blink, and then slowly he moves his hand just a half-inch away from my mouth. I can feel tears welling in my eyes, and I can feel my own hot breath hitting the man's palm.
“You'd better start talking,” the man tells me. “I've walked thirty days or more without seeing another soul. What the hell's going on in this place?”
Staring back at him, I realize I must have been right last night when I spotted movement in the yard. Damn it, when will I learn to start trusting my instincts? This guy was probably watching the house all night.
Watching me.
“Can you speak?” he asks. “Do you still have a tongue?”
Shaking with fear, I manage to briefly nod.
“Well, do you want to keep it?” he continues. “Tell me what's going on here!”
Taking a deep breath, I realize I'm going to have to pull myself together. This is the first human I've encountered in a year or more, since Dad died. I was starting to think I might be the only one left in the whole world.
“Are there others?” I stammer finally.
“What are you talking about?”
I look around at the darkness of the woodshed, but I don't see any sign of anyone else.
“I'm traveling alone,” the man continues, with the blade still held up close to my throat. “I haven't seen another living soul in nine, maybe twelve months. And then imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon this place and spotted you. At first I thought maybe you'd somehow escaped those things, that I'd found some kind of sanctuary where they wouldn't come, but then I saw...”
His voice trails off for a moment, and I swear I can see a flicker of disgust in his eyes.
“Are you living with them?” he adds finally.
I open my mouth to reply, but I'm honestly not sure how to explain everything that's happened.
“Are you collaborating?” he asks.
“They let me live,” I reply, my voice trembling with fear. “They killed everyone else, they killed everyone in town and everyone who came close. But for some reason they let me live, and they let me be here with them. I used to live here with my father before the...”
I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of the right words.
“I lived here before everything that happened. I don't know why the creatures let me hang around. They just do.”
I wait for him to ask another question, but he's just staring at me with wild-eyed incredulity.
“I don't understand it,” I continue, worried that for some reason the man might be mad at me. Or just mad. “I've tried, but I don't understand much about them at all. I watch them sometimes, I try to figure out what they're doing and why they're here, and why they keep me around, but it doesn't many any sense to me at all. I don't know what's happening or -”
“Bullshit!” he spits suddenly, making me jump. “I know enough to know that those things kill every human they ever encounter. There's no way they'd just let you live without a damn good reason! What are you doing for them?”
“I don't know! I swear!” There are tears in my eyes now, and I'm terrified that this maniac might cut my throat at any moment. “One of them doesn't like me,” I continue. “I can tell that. I think he wants to kill me, but the other one... I don't know why, but the other one sort of protects me a little. Even feeds me.”
“Feeds you?” He stares at me for a moment. “Like you're some kind of goddamn pet?”
***
“I still remember the day it all started,” Frank whispers a short while later, once he's introduced himself and stopped holding a knife against my throat. “The hell of it. The chaos and confusion. You remember all of that too, right?”
I nod as I pass him a cup of water. We're still in the woodshed, sitting on a pair of logs that I rolled over from the wall. I've got one eye on Frank and one eye on the farmhouse, just so I can make sure we haven't been spotted. So far, so good. I doubt Friendly or Meanie would be very happy if they knew I had company, and I don't want to get them upset. The last time I did something wrong, I ended up with this broken rib.
“It was just an ordinary morning,” Frank continues, staring at the cup as his dirty hands tremble. “I got up, I shaved, I kissed my wife and kids, I got in my car and I headed off to work. Totally ordinary. And then just before lunch, there were screams. So many screams. And those... I don't know what they are, but those creatures were suddenly everywhere. Big, dark things with razor skin, like huge walking, killing clouds of burned wood, held together by rage. Hundreds of them, just in our small town alone, killing everyone in their path.”
“It was like that here, too,” I tell him.
“I think it was like that everywhere. I managed to get online, before all the power went off. The creatures had just suddenly appeared all over the world. New York, London, Tokyo, Paris. They just seemed to blink into existence in every country, in cities and towns and villages. One of the last things I read, before the internet died, was some guy who claimed the creatures must have traveled to our world from some other dimension. That they'd, like, broken through and come here en masse. The idea seemed crazy at the time, like something from a bad sci-fi movie. But as it continued, and as more and more people were slaughtered, I started to think it was the only possible explanation. They were just everywhere, all at once.”
He pauses for a moment, and I can't help noticing that his left eye is twitching. He seems nervous, which I guess is understandable if he's spent the past year or so foraging alone.
“I tried to go home,” he continues finally, “but it was already too late. That's the thing, it was so quick. Whole towns were laid waste in minutes! By the time I got to my neighborhood, these creatures had gone from house to house, ripping people out and tearing them to pieces, leaving the body parts on the lawns.”
I open my mouth to ask about his family, but at the last moment I hold back. I think I can guess what must have happened.
“I saw them,” he whispers. “My wife, my two boys... I had to know for sure, so I went to our house. They were dead. That's when I lost it. I wasn't the only one. A group of us went to where the creatures were killing more people, at an intersection right in the center of town. A few of us had guns. We expected help from the military, but I guess they were too busy in the big cities, so we did what we could. We shot at them, and we tried to burn them, and they swatted us aside like we were nothing to them! I don't even remember exactly what happened next. I just remember I was the only one left, and I was out of ammo, so I got in my car and I tried to ram two of the creatures. They threw my car through the air like it was a goddamn pebble.
When I woke up, it was all over and I was still in the wreckage. I guess by some miracle I survived, and by another miracle the creatures didn't notice.”
“And you've been wandering alone ever since?”
He nods.
“And I'm the first person you've met?” I ask.
“At first I was waiting for soldiers to show up and end this nightmare. But they never came. I guess I can figure out why. If it hasn't ended by now, after a year, it's never going to end.”
“Have you been to any cities?”
He nods again.
“And?”
“And they were overrun,” he continues. “I didn't go into the heart of the cities, I just saw a couple from the edges. Whatever these creatures are, it's like they invaded our whole world from some nightmare dimension, and now it's their world. I was starting to think I was the only human left alive anywhere.”
“Me too,” I reply, feeling a shudder pass through my chest. “I guess if we're alive and we found each other, there must be at least a few others. Mustn't there?”
“I wouldn't expect the cavalry to come riding to the rescue,” he mutters darkly.
“Of course not. I gave up on that a long time ago.”
“And the creatures came out here?” he asks. “They attacked your farm?”
“It was my father's farm,” I reply, “and yeah, they came. We tried to barricade ourselves in. It was me, my father and my sister. One creature came and...”
My voice trails off as I remember that awful morning. I've tried so hard to not think about it, but now I swear I can hear Debbie's screams. I remember hiding in one of the upstairs bedrooms with a rifle, knowing I only had one shot left. I remember peering outside and seeing Debbie out in the yard, with one of the creatures holding her legs. I panicked, I smashed the window and fired, but it was no use. My sister was ripped apart right there and then, and I saw blood spill out from her torso as her intestines slopped down into the mud. She still screamed for a few more minutes after that. And then Dad charged at the creature with an ax, and I heard his neck snap as he was swatted aside. Once the creature was done with Debbie, it tore Dad apart too, and I hid sobbing in the bedroom, convinced that I'd be next. I remember hugging the rifle, even though I had no more bullets. I was too scared to put it down.
