by Maaja Wentz
They were driving back toward Loon Lake. The station wagon slowed down and turned in at her aunt’s shop. Why had Aunt Helen texted Tonya and then gone dark again? It wasn’t like her, but her aunt hadn’t been acting like herself for months.
They parked away from the building, close to the road. Even before they told her to get out, she guessed they were taking her across the road to the Ash Tree.
“Time to meet the Boss.” The farmer led her into the cemetery.
“Shut up.” Len walked a few steps behind her right ear.
“I practically grew up in the Ash,” said Tonya. “It won’t infect me.”
The farmer stopped and leered back at her. “The Entity already owns your mind. Now it wants your luscious curves.” With rough hands, he cupped bosoms of air. “Heh, heh, heh.”
Tonya gave him a hard shove, but his body was so solid, it didn’t move.
“Get going,” said Len.
It wasn’t a long walk to the break in the cemetery fence. They didn’t say another word until they reached the Ash, the trunk almost black in contrast to the few remaining yellow leaves. At its base, the grass was disturbed as if the earth had been turned over.
Len pointed to the dirt at its gnarled roots. “Lie down there.”
“You don’t want me. I can’t even do magic.”
He grabbed her by the necklace, hauled her towards him, then shoved her down, snapping the chain.
“Give that back!”
Her head lay near the tree, close to where white roots had grown into her professor’s eyes, ears, and nose.
“Lie still.” He held the leaf pendant aloft, examining his prize.
Shivers shook her, but it wasn’t fear, it was magic. Her senses flooded with cut grass and herb scents too vivid for memory, but they weren’t coming through her nose. It was the tree! Her scalp tickled and thrummed as green-flavored energy flowed irresistibly from the ground and through the tree roots into her. She tried to stop it. The speed of flow was frightening, but she had no control. As the tickling sensation intensified she started to giggle.
“Shut up!” said Len. The tiny fireball above his shoulder inflated to baseball size.
Tonya tried to stop laughing. She held her ribs in a crisscross hug, but snickers escaped. Tonya spluttered, “I can’t help it.” Power surged through her, strong and delicious.
The farmer frowned. “Better keep quiet, people will hear you.”
“But not for long.” Len smirked and went for her throat but an invisible force knocked him back. As he fell, Len dropped the necklace on Tonya’s chest. She grabbed the pendant and slipped it into her pocket. What was this enchantment that repelled Waldock yet let her necklace fall through?
Power rolled around inside Tonya. Even with Len’s fiery threat hanging hot and heavy above her, like a joke at a funeral, she exploded with laughter.
Len hurtled the fireball at her head. It filled her vision, but Tonya couldn’t budge. At the moment of impact, she shut her eyes.
WHAT IMPACT? ENERGY flowed around her. The moment stretched on. She was alive, still. How was that possible? After a moment that felt like minutes, Tonya opened her eyes.
The fireball was frozen in the air, spinning above her face, brightness hurting her eyes, but nothing more.
“Helen is her aunt,” said the farmer. “Maybe we should leave her.”
“You are telling me what to do? Look at her. She’s helpless.”
“Sorry.” The farmer scratched his stubble.
“Don’t worry. We don’t even need her nutrients. Jack just wanted us to use her for payback.”
“The sins of the aunts . . .” The farmer showed tea-stained teeth.
Len leaned over and Tonya squirmed away from the fireball.
“So, why aren’t you cooked?”
She leaped to her feet, blinded by the swirling orange and white flames. Hovering in the air, the fireball matched her movements so closely she should have ignited, but the air between it and her face remained cool.
“Fine, if I can’t burn you, we’ll feed you to Him the slow way.”
Tonya tried to run but Len grabbed her legs, toppling her over. The farmer held her down while Len bound her legs with duct tape. Next, he held down her left hand, and the farmer held her right. They pressed her to the ground, the fireball directly over her face. Tonya should have felt terrified but the power surging inside gave her hope. Was tree power keeping the fireball back? It had taken such effort to draw even a little power out of that branch when she demonstrated magic for Priya, but now she felt like a bucket overflowing.
“I don’t get it.” The farmer scratched his chin. “Why aren’t the roots coming?”
“Patience. She’s inherited Helen’s gift for channeling power. We can use that.”
“How?”
“Jack will know.”
“So, she’s not worthless.”
“Look, they come,” said Len.
Worming up from the ground on either side of her, the white shoots stretched and snaked side-to-side as they grew, then curved over Tonya’s legs, arms, and body, like woody fingers, digging into her flesh.
Len clapped his hands. The fireball shrank and floated back above his shoulder like a flaming pilot fish. “Once the roots have her, she won’t be able to resist.”
“Let me go or my aunt will curse you.” Tonya tried to fight her way free. “If I don’t check in with my best friend in fifteen minutes, she’ll call the police.”
The farmer held up the roll of duct tape and waved it at his accomplice. “Want her quiet?”
“Please.”
The farmer ripped off a silver strip and hunkered down. He extended the tape between his hands.
Tonya tried to struggle but the woody shoots held her fast. She couldn’t even turn her head.
“Now you’ll shut up.”
She could see the pepper sprinkle of blackheads on the farmer’s nose. How could a man with so many wrinkles still be oily?
He suddenly fell forward, landing on top of her.
“Ugh!”
“Sorry, are you okay?”
Tonya recognized her warm alto, even muffled through an unconscious body. “Aunt Helen!”
In a flash of green light, the roots and tape binding her disappeared.
Tonya pushed free of the farmer and stood up woozily. Helen and Len were taking cover behind trees, hurling projectile curses at each other and leaving burn marks on the trees. The farmer fled the scene and Tonya hid to watch the magical exchange of fire.
With each shot, Len’s fireballs got smaller and duller, as Aunt Helen’s green lightning began to fade. Ten minutes into the duel, Aunt Helen’s mouth looked thin and gray. Her knees buckled, and she fell forward, throwing an arm out to brace herself against the tree shielding her. Len looked equally exhausted.
When he’d first captured Tonya, Len was quick-moving and strong. Wounded by Helen, he propped his limp right arm across his chest with his left. His body trembled, and his fireball had fallen to the ground, flattened, like an ashy fried egg. Tonya thought it would have taken magic users hours to reduce each other to such feeble states but this had taken minutes.
Noting Len’s weakness, Aunt Helen closed in for the final shot, but it fizzled.
“Taste this!” He came at her with a tree branch raised to strike.
Helen retreated, pursued by Len, slipping and sliding in the autumn leaves.
The sound of a hound dog barking announced the farmer’s return. He was carrying a rifle.
The dog bounded after Helen while the farmer dropped to his knees to take a shot. Tonya dove at him, knocking his arm off target. In the scuffle, she tried to pry the rifle out of his hands, but he was too strong.
Nice try, little girl.
His words in her head, stung like a slap. He tossed her off with a laugh.
She fell on her back, her head just missing a rock. Angry, Tonya picked it up and ran at him, whacking him on the back of the head.
He dropped, senseless. Tonya picked up his rifle, being careful not to touch the trigger. Tonya didn’t want to shoot anybody, not even in self-defense. She looked at the farmer’s limp body and the bloody bump where she struck him. Her stomach lurched. Had she killed him?
Somewhere a crow cawed. Another answered, throaty and verbose. Tonya stood very still, listening for Len and the dog. The sound of rustling leaves drew her attention to flashes of color, moving between the trees. Someone was circling around behind her. She turned to follow their movements, but they were obscured by the branches.
Lightning hurtled toward her. Tonya sidestepped but too late—it was going to hit her. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact, but . . . nothing happened. She opened her eyes.
Suspended in front of her, the lightning sparked and crackled in midair, frozen by some invisible barrier.
Tonya was so fascinated by this phenomenon that she didn’t notice movement behind her. Before she could react, strong hands grabbed her. She struggled. The man gripped her throat and squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t faint now, girl. I prefer a walking human shield.”
It was Len. He pivoted behind her, keeping Tonya between himself and Aunt Helen, when she broke out of the bushes in front of her.
“This is more like it, eh? I can cast spells at you, but you can’t retaliate.”
“This is bigger than you or me, or Tonya.” Aunt Helen coughed until she choked. Finally, she gasped enough breath to say, “If Jack Waldock rises, don’t expect him to reward you.”
“He will, and there’s nothing you can do.”
Aunt Helen shrugged at Tonya and sighed. “Sorry, Love.” She raised her arm to cast a spell at Len, right through Tonya.
WORST FEARS
Drake’s mind was usually more preoccupied with his next movie than his next meal, but it was late morning and his stomach growled. Too bad there was no time to eat. If he and Zain wanted to rescue their friends he’d have to be crafty and act fast.
Drake wove his car through the campus parking lot as wild-eyed students yelled and banged on their windows, desperate for a ride off campus. It sent shivers up Drake’s spine when he noticed slower ones shambling their way. He drove at a crawl for fear of harming them.
Time passed slowly, until at last they reached the road through campus, where the foot-dragging crowd forced him to wait for a break in traffic. Handfuls of rocks pelted at his back window. He glanced at Zain in the passenger seat. “Are you scared?”
“Do zombies eat brains?”
“What’s going to happen if we try to leave town by driving around the roadblocks? The police wouldn’t shoot innocent students, would they?”
“Nah, but let’s hope they don’t redefine innocent. Let’s go!”
“I don’t want to leave without the girls.”
Students ran into the road, banging on his windows, and blocking Drake’s path. “Could you keep a watch out for them?” He kept his voice steady but didn’t feel as confident as he sounded. Priya and Tonya had spent hours in the cemetery on Halloween. He and Zain had too.
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” Zain mimed ripping an eyelid off. “Pop!”
Drake was happy to let Zain do the looking. What if the next wandering sleepwalker was Tonya?
“I don’t understand the police,” said Drake. “If the cemetery is making people sick, they should be helping us leave town.”
“Diseases spread person to person. Like, you know, if you get bitten by one of the walking dead out there . . .”
“This isn’t the zombie apocalypse!”
“Potato, po-tat-oh. We still go splat-o.”
Drake gripped the wheel as he drove west through campus. At first, he tried to leave via the main exit, but it soon became clear nobody ahead of them was getting through the police checkpoint onto Kenny Road. There had to be another way to get a car off campus, but every route out was barricaded. In desperation, Drake did a U-turn and pulled into the faculty parking lot which faced the lake.
“What are we doing here?” asked Zain.
“I want to think, away from the hordes.”
“Literally. Alright Duck, let’s watch those waves roll in.”
The beach gave Drake an idea. Looking first to make sure he wasn’t observed, Drake drove over the narrow strip of grass separating the parking lot from the beach. Loon Lake had a pebbly shore which allowed him to drive across it without sinking into the ground. He drove west along the shoreline, then cut up onto the boardwalk, continuing until they reached Kenny Road.
“Hold your breath they don’t see us,” said Zain.
Drake turned north, not daring to look back. From there he took small roads west and north in a zigzag pattern, looking to distance themselves from campus before they circled back south to the highway.
He looked for a route they could use to leave the area once they found the girls, but every time he tried to go south, the road was blocked by sawhorses and police vehicles. Was there no way onto the main highway?
Forced yet again to turn the wrong way, Drake slowed as they approached the northeast end of Loon Lake. He didn’t see many other cars or people on the tree-lined road until they neared a complex with fast food joints, a grocery store, Canadian Tire store, and a gas station.
“I’m hungry,” said Zain. “Let’s eat here.”
Drake slowed right down and cracked open his windows. An alarm shrilled through the air. Somebody had driven a car through the plate glass storefront of the grocery store and it sat, half-in, half-out. Safety glass glittered on the sidewalk where people scampered, arms full of packages.
“It’s Christmas Eve for looters!” Zain rolled down his window and leaned out, adjusting his camera. “Park the car.”
Unwilling to get closer, Drake pulled onto the gravel shoulder. Across the berm, people fled the store with boxes and bags of food, but few escaped peacefully. The whole adult population of Loon Lake seemed to be tussling in the parking lot. People fought tug-of-wars over cases of canned goods. Ladies in grocery store uniforms rammed shopping carts through the crowd. A middle-aged gang, armed with golf clubs and hockey sticks, intimidated people and commandeered their supplies. Drake couldn’t tell the healthy from the infected. Everyone looked desperate.
A flash of color drew his eye to where the turquoise fringe of a leather jacket flapped by his window. It was a woman running past, cradling a turkey like a wide receiver. She was pursued by three young men.
One of the guys attempted a flying tackle.
“Get your head back in the car. I’m driving between those guys and that poor lady.”
“Wait. She’s getting away.”
The woman dodged between parked cars and hopped on the back of a waiting motorcycle. A fat man in leathers roared away with her, flipping them the bird.
“We should go,” said Drake. Dull-eyed shoppers had noticed their car and started shuffling toward them.
“First let’s get supplies or we’ll starve when the town runs out of food,” said Zain.
“Open that door and you’re not coming back.”
Zain looked at him with a pained expression until a guy in a suit jumped onto the hood and started beating the windshield with his fists.
“The lineups were gruesome anyway.” Zain did a zombie face. “Argh!”
“Not funny.” Drake’s empty belly ached. “Know what I’m gonna do when this is over?”
“Eat ten steaks?”
“Donate to the food bank. Nobody should live like that.” He pointed to the guy beating on the windshield. “I’m so hungry, I can’t think of anything else.” Drake started the engine and took off, cranking the steering wheel hard to dislodge the man.
“Let’s get outta town,” said Zain
“One more stop first.”
Drake texted their location and ETA to Tonya and Priya. Then he pulled back onto the road and circled back around the east end of the lake.
“Are you insane
? You’re headed back to campus.”
“We can’t leave without the girls.” Drake hit the accelerator.
They were between campus and the hospital when he heard a siren. Red lights spun in his rear-view mirror. An OPP car flashed its high beams and Drake pulled over.
He got out his papers and rolled down the window, but the officer was in no rush, still sitting in the cruiser and talking on his radio.
“Trust the Ontario Party Poopers to nitpick us in the apocalypse!” said Zain. “You were hardly speeding.”
“Exactly. Shouldn’t the OPP be stopping that riot at the grocery store?”
“Like good little piggies.”
“No matter what happens, don’t get out of the car.” In the wing mirror, Drake watched the officer amble up to the driver’s side.
“Let’s see your license and registration.” The cop looked at his papers, as if this were another sleepy day in Loon Lake, when doing ten over the limit was the worst event conceivable.
He peered in the window. “Have either of you boys been eating? Uh . . . drinking?”
It was a small slip, but after that Drake knew. A glance confirmed the presence of drool at the corner of the cop’s mouth. He fought the urge to jam his foot onto the accelerator.
“No sir. We’re perfectly sober. It’s barely lunchtime.”
“Have you any food in the car?”
“No.”
The cop flashed a broad smile and peered into the back seat. “Everybody has something.”
“Not a crumb.”
Drake waited. The officer’s eyes were glassy, and he circled the car in a trance. Drake’s instincts screamed at him to go, except the officer still held his license. He started counting down from ten in his head. If he got to zero, he would drive away, with or without papers. The cop moved like wading through tar.
He had counted down to one when the officer returned and said, “I have to warn you . . .”
Drake stuck his hand out and snatched back his papers. “Sorry! Gotta go. It’s the end of the world!” He pulled onto the road with a screech of tires.
