by Jason Brant
I leaned back in my chair, my face scrunched in confusion.
Jim continued, “A few women in line in front of me just stood there like robots that’d been switched off.” He snapped his fingers. “Then they came back, all at the same time. And they were all bat-shit crazy. One of them hosed me down with pepper spray.”
Nami gaped at him. “You’re telling us that these people answered their phones and then started killing each other?”
“No. They didn’t start killing each other—they started killing everyone who didn’t answer their phone. They beat Bob’s face in with a baseball bat.” Jim gestured to his burned clothing. “A few guys outside at the pumps started spraying gasoline everywhere. That’s why I’m a little well done.”
“We saw the gas station burning. How did you get away from them?” I asked.
“Ran like a son of a bitch. The place blew just as I got out the back door. The explosion must have blown me twenty, thirty yards through the air. I was on fire the whole way.”
“Stop, drop, and roll,” Nami said.
“Bet your ass.” Jim checked the monitors again. “Took me a while to get my senses back. I had walked halfway back to town before I could really think right again.” His throat worked. “And that’s when I saw everyone killing each other. Mothers shooting daughters, sons cutting up their dads.”
I really struggled to wrap my mind around Jim’s play-by-play.
The story fit what we’d experienced since we’d driven into town, but the whole thing was so fantastical. Even still, that didn’t keep me from believing it.
Nami shook her head. “No way. A phone call couldn’t make everyone lose their religion. It’s not possible.”
I agreed, but that didn’t change what was happening in the streets. “Is it any more ridiculous than a man controlling the minds of Secret Service Agents?”
“This is different.”
“Good argument.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“This happening when Smith’s men are in town doesn’t strike you as a bit of an odd coincidence?” I asked.
“Of course, but how could Smith pull off something like this? Are you saying he’s somehow weaponized a cell phone signal? He can reprogram people’s brains with a sound?”
Jim held his hands up. “What’s this now? Who is Smith?”
Nami turned her attention to him. “We’ll get to that in a minute. How did you get here?” Her feet kicked incessantly under her chair. “Why come into the middle of town? Shouldn’t you have run the other way?”
“I would have, but someone spotted me. They chased me toward downtown for a long time before I finally lost them. I might be getting old, but I keep myself in decent shape.” Jim looked around the office. “And I work here. I knew I could hide out in the garage better than anywhere else. Figured I’d hole up and wait for help to come.”
“And you ended up with us,” I said. “Lucky you.”
“Yeah. I was searching through Jim Johnson’s office for the pistol he keeps stashed in there when I heard the fire escape crash into the street and decided to see what was happening out there. That’s when I saw you two.” He raised his eyebrows at Nami. “I thought you were just a little kid. I couldn’t watch a girl get killed so close to me without tryin’ to help. Can’t believe I had to shoot the Briar boy. He was a bit of a troublemaker, but not a bad kid.”
I didn’t have to be a telepath to know the regret he felt. He hadn’t shown it while we were on the run or hiding under the car, but now that we had a chance to catch our breath, his emotions were creeping up on him. I could relate. The face of the boy I’d shot in the woods kept popping up in my mind.
In one of the monitors, someone carrying a scythe like the Grim-fucking-Reaper walked in front of the building. They paused, looked into the smashed door, and then kept going. I tried to pretend that I didn’t notice the Reaper was a teenage girl who’d barely hit puberty.
Nami kept fidgeting in her seat. “We’re so screwed. We can’t fight off the whole town, Ogre. How in the hell are we going to get out of this one?”
“Who are you people?” Jim asked. “If you didn’t know that everyone had gone nuts, why were you carrying a gun around?”
“I’m a federal agent,” Nami said.
Jim chortled. “Seriously, who are you?”
“I’m a federal agent, goddamn it.” Nami’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that shit about looking like a kid. I’ve been involved in some situations in my life that would make you piss in your pants.”
Jim looked to me for help.
“You don’t watch the news, I take it.” I pointed at my face. “Don’t recognize my handsome mug?”
“Don’t have time for that nonsense.”
“Well, our situation is a bit complicated. I’ve been living outside of Arthur’s Creek for a while now. We think some men who want me dead might have caused all of this.”
“You’re talking about terrorists? Terrorists want you dead?”
“Yup. My life sucks.”
“So all of this is because you live here?” Jim gave me a hard look.
I could tell that he was used to intimidating people with his size and gruff personality. That shit didn’t work on me, but the little guilt trip he’d just thrown in my lap sure did.
“I think so.”
“Sitting in an office with you probably isn’t good for my well-being, is it?” Jim slowly lowered his eyes. “Not that the odds are in my favor anyway.”
I spotted a mini-fridge in the corner of the room and practically exploded out of my seat. The door damn near tore off as I ripped at the handle and peered inside. A handful of water bottles and cans of soda sat on two shelves. Three pieces of cake were on a paper plate.
The first bottle of water went down in a hurry. The second didn’t take much longer.
I’d stuffed half a piece of cake in my mouth when I noticed that Nami and Jim were staring at me. The cake had to be a week old, at least. It was stale, the edges of the icing hard.
At that moment, I didn’t care.
I’d have chomped on roadkill.
I needed the calories.
“Be careful not to eat your hand.” Nami shifted in her seat. “It looks like you’ve never seen food before.”
The second piece went down even faster. It tasted like cardboard and settled in my stomach like lead. I washed it all down with a soda.
Then I belched. “Nothing burps better than old cake and soda.”
They continued staring at me.
“Jimbo, we need to get to Fine Cuts Barbershop. I know where it is, but there are a few dozen crazy people in the way. We need another entrance to the place other than the front door. Any ideas?” I knew how to get there because of what I’d seen in Allison’s mind, but I hadn’t dug deep enough to learn about alternate routes.
Not that she would have known about them anyway. Her husband had frequented the place, but she hadn’t even stepped inside. We couldn’t chance walking up to the front door.
Jim’s brow furrowed. “Barbershop? I’m pretty sure they’re closed from now until the end of time.”
“Sarcasm. I like it.” I gestured at Nami. “They have an internet connection that is still working. We think. Short Round can call in the cavalry if we can get close enough for her to reach out and touch someone.”
“Depending on how powerful their router is, we might not have to even get inside. The building beside it might work.” Nami slid out of her chair and adjusted her backpack. “Judging from the rest of the town, I’m guessing they aren’t using top of the line WiFi, but I’ll figure something out. Just get me close.”
Jim stood up, wincing as his singed flesh peeled away from the chair. “You two really are from the government?”
“I am,” Nami said. “Ogre is from Drunksville, population him.”
I nodded my agreement. “That about sums it up.”
“If I get you to the barbershop, you’ll make sure that I get out of
here in one piece?” Jim asked. “I’m in the first ambulance, cop car, or helicopter out of this dump, agreed?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “But we’re just trying to get a message to the outside. What happens after that is beyond our control.”
Jim slowly nodded, his brow furrowed. “Follow me.”
19 – Off the Beaten Trail
Allison sat between Drew and Sammy, her shoulders touching both of them. Sweat coursed down her brow and ran into her eyes. She kept swiping at her forehead with the back of her arm, but it didn’t help much.
John knelt in front of them, having to hunch over so his head didn’t hit the ceiling. He’d led them to a small hovel he’d built into the ground for hunting. It was only four feet high or so, and hadn’t been designed for more than one or two people. Having all four of them in there made it more than a little uncomfortable.
He kept eyeing Drew, his unease evident.
Drew looked through the foot tall opening that surveyed the woods. The trail they’d followed cut through the trees about fifty feet in front of them.
Dr. Franklin had stormed by several minutes ago, his maniacal screaming filling the forest. He hadn’t so much as looked in their direction as he’d run by.
“Everyone went crazy after answering their phones?” Sammy asked John. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“They didn’t just go crazy.” John winced. “They started slicing each other to pieces right there in the restaurant.” He gently touched his thrashed cheek. “I was in the back, trying to keep up with the orders as usual. We’ve been down a man since Joe Bob quit back in—”
“Get to the point,” Drew whispered.
“Sorry.” John straightened his back out. “I was working on some flapjacks when I heard a bunch of phones ringing, but I really didn’t think much of it. The screaming started a few seconds later. I never heard something like that before. They were just screaming, no, screeching in pain out in the dining room. It sounded like someone was butchering a lamb out there.”
Sammy reached out and took Allison’s hand. Allison squeezed it. They’d just met that morning, and Allison didn’t know much about Sammy, but at that moment, she needed the strength.
John paused and inspected his feet before continuing. “Sally Mae came out of the office then. I almost ran into her when she came through the door. I thought she was going out to the dining room with me to see what was going on.” He touched his ruined cheek again. “She clawed my face instead. She was going for my eyes.”
“Did she say anything?” Drew asked.
“Not at first. I pushed her away and then slipped on a slick spot on the floor where I’d spilled bacon grease. Cracked my head off the edge of the oven and damn near knocked myself out. Sally Mae was on me before I could get up, clawing at my neck and face again. She had this grin on her face that made me want to scream.”
“She was smiling?” Allison asked. She’d known Sally Mae for several years now. The woman was in her mid-forties and mind-numbingly boring. Allison couldn’t remember a single time that she’d seen Sally Mae smile. All she did was agonize over her diner and complain about the patrons. Calling her humorless would be an understatement.
“Like a fox.” John shivered. “I kicked her back and pulled myself up, hollering for her to stop. Begged her to stop. She grabbed a knife instead.”
“Oh, god.” Sammy’s grip turned into a vice around Allison’s hand.
“I tried to run away, but the floor was just so slick. I knew I should have cleaned that up when I spilled it, but...” John gulped. “She lunged at me with the knife, but her foot slid in the grease and she... she fell on the knife. When I went back to help her, she pulled the knife out of her stomach and tried to cut me.”
“She wasn’t concerned about just stabbing herself?” Drew asked.
John shook his head. “She got up and came at me again. Then she started taunting me.”
“Taunting you? After stabbing herself?”
“She called me a pussy. She said I didn’t have a girlfriend because I liked dick. Sally Mae had never even sworn in front of me before. When people used foul language in the restaurant, she would threaten to kick them out. She said vulgarity was for simpletons.” John paused and fiddled with the bolt action on his rifle. A tear spilled from his eye, running into one of the gashes on his check. If it hurt, he didn’t show it. “There was so much blood coming from her stomach. It was so dark, so thick. She slipped in the blood again and fell onto the stove.”
Drew finally peeled his eyes from the forest and looked at John. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.” He put a hand on John’s shoulder. “It’s really important that you try to remember if she said anything about the call she got. Did she mention a sound? A voice? A signal?”
John shook his head. “Nothing about the call. Just about me. Her hand sizzled on the stove stop. She was screaming in pain when I ran out of the kitchen. I wanted to stay and help, oh God did I want to.” He gave Allison a pleading look. His words came faster and faster. “But I was so scared. I just, I couldn’t. I ran into the dining room, not even thinking about the screams I’d heard in there.”
“Take it easy, John. You’re safe now.” Allison touched his knee with her free hand. “We’re OK here.”
“Yeah.” John nodded timidly. “Yeah, we’re OK. But not the people in the dining room. They were—they were—dismembering a woman by the front door. They were using the little steak knives we give people for breakfast and—”
John’s face pinched.
His shoulders hitched.
Then he burst into tears.
He let out a sob that was much too loud considering there were men in the woods looking for them. Allison slid over to him and threw an arm around his shoulders. She did her best to soothe him as he quivered against her.
Drew looked at Sammy. “We have to be prepared for something.”
Sammy’s eyes had moistened. “What?”
“This might be more widespread than we’d thought. This could be happening outside of Arthur’s Creek.”
“Oh, Jesus. Don’t say that.”
“I’m not saying that it has, but we need to be prepared for it. There might not be any help for us out there.” Drew set his jaw. “I shouldn’t have let Ash and Nami go in there by themselves. They walked right into an inferno.”
Sammy blinked away tears. “You don’t think—?”
Gunfire erupted in the forest somewhere behind them.
The barrage, constant and almost high-pitched, was unlike anything Allison had ever heard before.
“What is that?” she asked.
Drew’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s the minigun.”
The powerful drone continued on, unimpeded, filling the air with the cacophony of war.
20 – The Mean Streets of Arthur’s Creek
“Why are you half naked?” Jim grabbed a mechanic’s shirt off a workbench and tossed it to me.
I grabbed it in midair, showing incredible dexterity and awareness.
Nami rolled her eyes at my little show. “He likes to pretend he’s ripped.”
“There’s no pretending here, Short Round.” I unfurled the shirt, saw the name Frank on the tag over the breast. “Unfortunately, Jimbo, I’m always woefully unprepared when the shit hits the fan. It’s kind of my thing.”
“Woefully?” Nami asked. “That’s a big word for a moron.”
“Do you guys always act like children?” Jim asked.
I nodded. “Yup.”
“Great.” He started toward the back of the garage. “And don’t call me Jimbo.”
The shirt smelled of grease and sweat. I pulled it on and buttoned most of the front closed. Between my B.O., the grease, and the smelly shirt, I figured that I must have had a nice potpourri of funk.
Nami followed Jim. “What’s the plan?”
“The barbershop is two blocks down and three buildings over. If we can get across the parking lot and the st
reet behind the garage, we can stick to alleys and maybe cut through a lawn or two. Shouldn’t be too hard once we get past this first part.” Jim paused at a door in the back wall with a glowing Exit sign over it.
I caught up to them a moment later. “You sure you want to come with us? It’s going to be a lot safer for you to stay here.”
“If you’re really with the government, then I’m staying glued to your side. When they come for you, they’re taking me with them.” Jim cracked the door open and peered outside. “Looks clear.”
“Famous last words.” I moved beside him and put my hand against the door. “You should let me go first. I’m good at catching bullets with my body.”
Jim glowered at me. “Another joke. Another unfunny joke.”
“He’s not joking,” Nami said. “He gets shot, stabbed, and beaten down all the time. Basically, he’s a human punching bag.”
I eased the door open further and poked my head out.
People shouted from somewhere behind the building.
A woman let loose a bloodcurdling, agonized shriek that made me want to tuck my tail between my legs and go back to the office.
Two gunshots cracked from the hills surrounding the town.
A dog barked incessantly off to our right. It had the shrill, ear-piercing quality of a little ankle biter.
Behind the garage, a parking lot filled with cars stretched for a good fifty yards. Some of the vehicles had papers sitting on the dash, thick, black letters designating what I assumed to be a work order.
I paused there, scanning the area for movement of any kind.
Didn’t see any.
“Stay low and move fast. If you see someone, tap on my back. Don’t make any sound.” I looked back at them. “Got it?”
“Got it.” Nami adjusted the straps of her pack. “I’m so retiring after this shit.”
