by Perrin Briar
Last Chance Gas was a deserving name of the establishment. It had been manned at one point by a Grayskin attendant. He lay behind his counter, unable to escape until he finally starved to death.
“I guess he didn’t have enough business,” Quinn said as they shopped in the small convenience store.
Siren wondered how long Wyvern would last without feeding. She grabbed a Texas Rangers ball cap and put it on his head, adjusting the fit and smiling at him. She detected a hint of a snarl and turned to Quinn.
“Are you getting tired?” she said. “Controlling him, I mean. Doesn’t it take effort for you to keep him contained all the time?”
She opened a Coke and took a big gulp.
“It’s pretty easy with one, or even a small band like I have now,” Quinn said. “If I was dragging a whole army around with me, it would be difficult. That’s why I wish I had help.”
He looked in vain for ammunition and firearms.
“Wishing is all we seem to do these days,” Siren said, walking by coolers full of dried sandwiches.
On one shelf she found a sewing kit, and stuffed it in her backpack, glancing at Wyvern again.
“I found some medical supplies, just pain relievers and Band-Aids,” Quinn said. “First aid stuff, mostly.”
“We should look at the cars outside and see if any of them work,” Siren said.
“Can you get the pump working?” Quinn said.
“All I need is a car battery,” Siren said. “Have Wyvern bring one out to me.”
“Then I’ll check the cars,” Quinn said.
Wyvern went to the auto parts section of the store and lifted a new battery. Siren found a crowbar and a screwdriver in the garage and opened up one of the pumps. As Wyvern slowly marched toward her with the battery, she looked at the tank covers. None were open or missing. She knew the tanks could still be dry, but when they were broken into, it was usually a brute force operation, and that hadn’t happened here.
She pulled a couple of wires from the pump and connected them to the battery as Wyvern stood by. She grinned as the pump came to life and the LED numbers changed to zeroes. It was always a thrill to see something electronic working. She looked at Wyvern, who stared ahead blankly.
Behind Siren and Wyvern, the engine roared to life. Quinn screeched to a stop in a dark green recent-model Toyota Camry by the gas pump.
“Fill ‘er up!” he said with a smile.
Siren watched as Wyvern obeyed, operating the pump with surprising smoothness. She could have almost believed it was his old self, except he would never have been that compliant.
Siren got into the front passenger seat as Wyvern climbed into the back. Siren was glad for the rest as she sucked on another Coke and slumped in her seat.
The pinpoint focus, the rigid concentration she had employed during her time on the motorcycle wouldn’t apply here. None of this was required of a passenger.
About a mile farther down the road, they passed another sign with the flag of Texas in the middle:
Welcome to Texas
Drive Friendly—The Texas Way
Quinn glanced at Siren. She shrugged. She still had not told him where she was going, and he still had not tried to tell her what to do. Siren thought on this. She had assumed he would try to control things. Instead, he was trying to give her some of the responsibility she never wanted. She Sensed the living, and that’s what Quinn needed. A large community of living. The Grayskins would take care of themselves, like cattle at the feed trough.
They blazed through a one-stoplight town, barely slowing down. No one was there. Texas seemed to have an unlimited supply of road and space. The sky was bigger. Siren could imagine the snow of recent days on the tops of scarce hills and trees. Clouds as big as whole cities passed overhead.
What must have been a farm loomed ahead. No structures in sight, but a fence that had been broken at some point and never repaired. Wooden slats were strewn over the highway. Quinn tried to slow down but momentum carried them right into the debris. They heard a loud pop as one of the tires was punctured. They rolled to a stop as the sun drifted toward the horizon.
“The spare’s good,” Quinn said, assessing the contents of the Camry’s trunk.
Siren shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, scanning the terrain.
Quinn peered at her inquisitively. She looked back at him, then waved her hand, indicating the driver’s side of the car.
“We won’t get more than a mile,” she said. “The rear tire’s blown out, and the front tire caught a couple of nails, probably from the same board.”
Quinn closed the trunk out of habit. Siren walked ahead on the road and the other two fell in behind her. Back to walking. Again.
Siren and Quinn searched the land on both sides of the road. It was getting close to needing to find a safe place to spend the night. They didn’t want to be anywhere near the road.
“Quinn?” Siren said, stopping in her tracks.
Ahead was a group of ten to fifteen Grayskins, heading right toward them, no more than two hundred yards away.
Quinn stepped forward.
“We were driving so fast I didn’t Sense them,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
Siren was always worried when she came across large groups of dangerous predators who wanted to kill her for food. But she knew Quinn could handle them.
As soon as the Grayskins noticed Quinn and Siren, they charged, some roaring angrily. But when they got within a hundred yards, they stopped and took on Wyvern’s calm demeanor, parting in the middle so Quinn could walk through. Siren and Wyvern followed. The Grayskins closed rank and trailed them.
“Since we have a posse with us,” Quinn said, “what do you say we check out that barn over there? It might offer a softer bed for tonight.”
Siren shrugged. It was as good as any idea, she supposed.
They walked off road, across an empty brown pasture to a well-kept but abandoned barn. It was painted bright red with white trim. The hinges showed no rust. There was a wooden floor inside. Obviously it was not a place where vehicles were kept.
Quinn turned around and raised his hands to shoulder level. The Grayskins turned and walked back toward the road.
“Why not have them stand guard through the night?” Siren said, propping the barn alley door open with a rock.
“I can’t control them when I’m asleep,” Quinn said. “It wouldn’t be safe to keep them here.”
Quinn watched thoughtfully as the group of Grayskins ambled away.
“What do you mean?” Siren said.
“I have to Push them away from me while I sleep, otherwise they end up doing what all Grayskins do,” Quinn said, looking Siren dead in the eyes.
Siren stared back, wide-eyed with shock.
“You mean they would turn on you?” she said.
“Most certainly,” Quinn said. “It’s what they do. When I was using them constantly at Whitegate, I still had to Push them away every night. But I could never get them far enough away. In the morning they would be close, sometimes inside the town, clawing at the doors and windows of the houses.”
Quinn said these things as matters of fact. He had accepted the way things were.
“And if they stumble upon you while you’re asleep?” Siren said, feeling more vulnerable now, shivering uneasily.
“Game over,” Quinn said. “I don’t like it. But that’s the way it is. It’s like having a wild animal for a pet. If you don’t watch it, it goes back to its nature, and follows its instincts.”
Quinn walked into the barn, casting around. It would be a step up from their usual accommodation in the woods. Siren watched with a heavy heart as Wyvern was sent out to wander the endless plains along with the others just like him.
Siren settled down after consuming some junk food salvaged from the gas station. Her sleep was fitful, full of dreams of Quinn’s plans. Siren craved security, distance from this new danger.
The problem of Wyvern
continued to bounce around in her troubled mind. She could not bear to leave him, especially now that she knew there was a chance he could be rid of the virus. She even considered letting him die so he would at least be free of his Grayskin state.
She was fully aware of how it would also free herself from Quinn. He would no longer have a hold over her. She wondered if she had the strength to do that for Wyvern—for them both.
Chapter Fourteen
AS THEY moved on, Siren watched Wyvern and Quinn. Her look was serious, a different kind of look than her usual road mode. Quinn had seen the wheels turning in Siren’s mind when he had answered her questions about casting out the virus and bringing the Grayskins back to whatever state awaited them without unwanted viral effects. He walked patiently while she worked these things out for herself. For most of the morning they were silent. Siren was clearly deep in thought.
A farm rose from the horizon like it was being born. Siren glanced at it.
“No living,” she said.
“No Grayskins either,” Quinn said. “Let’s see what else is there.”
The three quickened their pace, knowing no danger awaited them.
The farm was small, quiet. It was untouched, even though there were no signs of human life, as if the owners were only away on vacation. Siren checked the generator and vehicles. They were empty of fuel. There was a pond and a gaggle of migrating Canadian geese that made Siren’s mouth water. She moved in their direction and deftly drew her bow from her backpack.
Quinn watched in amusement, checking the chicken coop and elsewhere for other livestock. He found some bones in a smokehouse and gave them to Wyvern to chew on, then moved in the direction of the house.
Everything was as it had been left inside. There was even a small table in the kitchen with napkins and salt and pepper shakers. A full spice rack over the stove. With no electricity, the water did not run. Quinn was afraid to open the refrigerator—he could already smell the rotting contents. But it wasn’t a total loss. He found crackers and plenty of canned food in the pantry.
Checking the closet, he located a sixteen-gauge shotgun. Unfortunately there were no shells, but it would probably be worth carrying anyway.
Siren glanced at Wyvern gnawing on the bones on the floor, but did not give it much attention. She burst into the house calling Quinn’s name.
“Look what I found,” she said, holding up a fat goose by the neck.
“Good work,” Quinn said. “I guess you’re pretty good with that bow. Look what I found.”
“That’s surprising, on a farm,” Siren said, rolling her eyes. “What else did you find?”
“Everything looks pretty normal, just a little dusty, that’s all,” Quinn said, grabbing the goose and beginning to pluck. “I guess this means I’m cooking.”
Siren picked up the shotgun and cocked it.
“No ammo?” she said.
“I’ll take a look round later,” Quinn said.
“Not that we could use the gun in any case,” Siren said. “It’d be too loud.”
“Except I’ll be in control of the Grayskins,” Quinn said. “I’ll be able to hold them back.”
“Right,” Siren said.
Quinn was glad she was beginning to see the benefits of their abilities. They rewrote the rulebook on confrontations in this world. But Siren had a forlorn, distant expression on her face.
Siren was sat at the table, looking closely at the salt shaker. She appeared to be deep in thought. There was silence, save for the ruffling of goose feathers. Quinn occasionally looked over at Siren. She was quiet, but affected. She breathed faster than she would have had she just been sitting there. Her shoulders were hunched up and tense.
“Listen, Quinn,” she began, almost in a whisper. “I’ve decided I want you to try to try and bring Wyvern back.”
Siren finally looked at Quinn, directly, mouth a thin line. Determined. Quinn nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I would try to talk you out of it, but I suppose you’ve already thought through all the scenarios. He may die. He may become catatonic. The things he’s done may drive him insane.”
Siren nodded.
“You want to do this anyway?” Quinn said. “You’re absolutely positive?”
“Yes, I am,” Siren said, hands folded on the table.
“Then you’d better fetch some water for dinner, because I can’t do this on an empty stomach, and I’m starving right now.”
Siren left to get the water. Quinn didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t perturbed by this turn of events. He had thought she would care too much about the effects on her brother than to take this risk.
He took a long look at Wyvern through the window over the kitchen sink. He had ground most of the bones to dust and his gums were bleeding. Siren passed him and gazed at her brother’s sad state.
Anything is better than this.
Chapter Fifteen
THE SUN was still high in the sky when they finished their feast of roasted goose. Siren and Quinn sat at the kitchen table. Siren had finished very quickly and was sitting anxiously, tapping her feet, occasionally looking around the room, always returning her expectant stare to Quinn, who nonchalantly chewed on the carrots and potatoes they’d found in the garden.
“This is good,” Quinn said. “I’m actually proud of myself for cooking this.”
Quinn had relaxed a little. Wyvern was wandering more restlessly outside, starting to approach the house and growl.
“You should be,” Siren said, speaking softly for once to him. “That’s the best meal I’ve had in weeks. Maybe months.”
Quinn’s plate was finally clean. He took a long pull of cold tea from his glass.
“This will take as long as it takes,” he said. “I just want you to be prepared for that.”
Siren nodded in reply.
“I’m Pushing away all Grayskins except Wyvern,” Quinn said. “They will be at least a half mile away. If they come back, I need you to keep them off us. I’ll need my full concentration for Wyvern. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Siren said.
She steeled herself. And he knew he could rely on her.
Wyvern and Quinn sat across from each other cross-legged on the floor in the biggest room in the house—the front room. An ancient tube television set sat in a corner. Shutters and curtains were drawn. It was mid-afternoon, but the room was devoid of sunlight. Two candles on the floor were the only light inside the room.
Quinn’s hands stretched out, palms up, toward Wyvern, who sat still, staring blankly, mouth open, his breath making a rasping sound, as if something was stuck in his throat. Blood caked his mouth. He made no motion toward Quinn, but was aware of the presence of a living human. He had no idea she was his sister. The muscles in his chest and arms tensed, as if straining against invisible ropes.
SIREN kicked around in a shed behind the house, looking for weapons. There was no ammunition for the shotgun anywhere, but she wouldn’t want to use it in this situation anyway. That kind of noise would attract more Grayskins. She wanted to use this time wisely, when the Grayskins were far away.
Inside, Siren continued her search and began to watch more carefully. Unfortunately, she could not Sense the Grayskins like Quinn could. But she had good young eyes and was motivated to protect everyone in that house.
In the same closet where the shotgun had been, she found a compound bow and several dozen arrows. She supposed Quinn had been so excited about the shotgun that he did not notice, or forgot.
She already had her own bow, but good arrows were hard to find. She usually had to source them from sporting goods stores in larger towns. They were even more difficult to make, and the scarcity of good material meant she often had to use inferior arrows that did not take advantage of the speed and accuracy they might otherwise have had.
Siren found a hatchet by the fireplace and stuck it in her belt. She was sure it would come in handy.
QUINN sat motionless, breathing slowly. He concentrated
on the victim before him. Eyes closed, he could visualize the viral agents infecting Wyvern’s body, like millions of tiny glowing flies, moving within the confined space. His connection with each organism grew stronger and more individual, almost personal.
He Sensed the connections, Pushing and Pulling on them. He worked patiently, not commanding or asking anything of the microscopic creatures under his control, merely strengthening the connections with them, as a general walks battle lines, encouraging his troops.
It took thirty minutes before Siren spotted the first Grayskins. They were in the front yard. Siren didn’t know what had attracted them to that place, but there was no denying their existence there now. She watched through the windows in the front door, which were not shuttered like the big windows.
Quinn and Wyvern ignored her, as if in a different world.
Fortunately, there were only two of them. This should be easy. For now anyway. She stepped out on the front porch, drew her bow, and loosed one arrow at the nearest Grayskin. She hit him right in the center of his forehead. He dropped immediately.
Siren dropped her left hand to rest it as she drew the next arrow. She felt a painful pressure on her left arm. She looked to her left and saw it, a teenage Grayskin snarling at her. It had only one arm, the one that was grabbing Siren’s bow arm.
Siren drew the hatchet and planted it down the center of the girl’s skull, then wrenched it out for future use. More Grayskins slumped into the bushes.
This diversion had given the adult Grayskins time to close the distance to the farmhouse. A Grayskin that had the appearance of a deteriorated farmer’s wife, in an apron and flowery cotton dress, came at Siren.
Again, this one was too close for the bow. Siren had just enough time to grab the axe and wind up for a decapitating blow, the axe head striking the brick front wall of the house on the follow-through.
Three more Grayskins had entered the lawn, none beyond the road. Time to check inside. Siren backed through the open front door and heard glass breaking in the kitchen.
