“We gonna find a spot soon?” Carmine asked from the back of the van as they hit a logjam of dead metal, making them backtrack in a snaking line away from the highway.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, “You all want to find a house, or a hotel?”
“Whatever’s first,” Gramps said from the back, “I need to use the facilities something fierce.”
“OK,” Ryan said, getting off the highway and driving into a small nothing town.
Ryan killed the headlights, and drifted through darkness, not wanting to attract any attention. The main street stretched for a bit before they found anything worth finding — a strip mall. They passed the strip mall, then turned down the first connecting street, searching the neighborhood for homes that looked secure and vacant, finally killing the engine at a cul de sac with 13 houses. They picked the two story house at the end since it offered the best view of the entire street.
Ryan pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine, and rolled down his window, listening to the night for sounds of creatures.
“I remember when the sound of night was like music,” Gramps said, “Back when I was a kid, we used to go to my Grandpa’s house out in the country, and I remember opening the window so I could listen to the crickets sing. To a city kid used to hearing traffic as music, it was almost magical.”
“Sounds like the magic is gone,” Ryan said, “I haven’t heard crickets, or seen much insect or animal activity, since October. It’s like whatever took the people got greedy and took everything else, too.”
Gramps started to say something about the rapture and animals, but stopped when something grabbed his attention outside the van.
“Do you hear that?”
“What?” Ryan asked, reaching for his pistol, before he heard the sound a second later.
“A helicopter?” Ryan said, confused. “I haven’t seen one of those since October!”
“Let’s flag them down!” Gramps said, “It’s the government, and they’re looking for survivors.”
Gramps started to open the passenger door, even though he’d have to wait for them to get his wheelchair from the back.
“Wait, Joe!” Ryan said, “We don’t know for sure who or what they are, or even if they’re looking to help anyone.”
“Have some faith, boy!” Joe said, “That sounds like a Black Hawk, and that means armed services, or maybe FEMA or something, someone able to help.”
“Let’s just wait to see if they come closer before we get out of the van. We don’t need to be outside screaming our heads off and attracting the creatures. If they come, I’ll hit the lights and honk the horn to get their attention, if they’re even looking.”
“OK,” Gramps said, wrinkles crinkling with agitation.
Though they’d gotten along well the past three days since Ryan was attacked, Gramps could be on the cranky old man side at times, especially when his blood sugar dropped. It wasn’t like Ryan was feeling himself since the attack, either. Though his body had mended remarkably well from the gunshots and bite wound, and despite feeling stronger than he had in years, he was also feeling irritable with excruciating migraines, which hurt bad enough to make him vomit. Worse was the pain-inducing sounds it seemed that only he could hear. Initially, it sounded like a light ringing in his ears, but then the ringing grew more distinct, like the buzzing of an insect. Dozens, maybe hundreds.
The buzzing came and went at random intervals, a few minutes here and there. Usually, it was a minor annoyance. Sometimes the pain was so loud, not in his ears but rather his head, that it was as crippling as the migraines.
Add to that a lack of a full night’s sleep since they began keeping watch, and it was easy to see why his, and everyone’s, nerves were rawer than usual.
There was also the little issue of their journey.
Ryan had to convince Gramps and Carmine that they couldn’t stay in their apartment any longer, that it was no longer safe now that the monsters had locked onto their location. And while Gramps was a helluva shot, he was disabled and unable to run if necessary, a fatal liability. Gramps resisted at first, headstrong and full of pride. In the end, he relented, admitting that yes, there was definitely strength in numbers.
But the issue of where they would go was a simmering debate. Gramps wanted to head to Virginia where he had an old friend, Harry, he wanted to check on. Ryan insisted that they first go to Alabama, where he believed his ex-wife and daughter were, thanks to the dreams he’d been having since the attack.
“Yeah, but you’re going off a dream. We don’t even know if that’s where they are, assuming they didn’t vanish,” Gramps said. “At least with Harry, I know where Harry is, if he’s still here.”
“Yeah, well I knew where Mary and Paola were, too,” Ryan argued. “They were at their house, but had to leave, remember? What are the odds that your friend Harry stayed in one spot? And if he’s still there now, then there’s a good chance he’ll still be there after we find Mary. Besides, I’m looking for two and you’re looking for one. And my two are family.”
“Come on, Gramps,” Carmine had said, “He’s right. It’s his family. They’re more important than a friend, aren’t they?”
Gramps apologized and agreed, and they began their trip. However, Ryan felt like the old man was rushing him at times, in a hurry to get to Alabama to either find Mary and Paola or not, so they could get on to Virginia. If it came to that, and Ryan’s family wasn’t in Alabama, Ryan was going to have to really upset Gramps. Because when it came right down to it, Ryan had no intention of going to Virginia, unless he found his family. If he didn’t find Mary and Paola, he would circle the state until he did. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, as he didn’t want to pull rank, and didn’t want Gramps and Carmine going off on their own, since Carmine was just a kid, and still unable to take care of them both. They needed Ryan.
Besides, he’d come to like them.
They listened for the sound of the chopper to come closer, but instead, it faded away.
“Aw, hell,” Gramps said, “OK, let’s go inside. I need to whiz.”
**
Ryan took the first watch, at the upstairs bedroom window, watching the street for any sign of a threat. It was nearly 2 a.m. and Carmine, who had the next shift, lay sleeping in a bed just feet away from the chair Ryan was sitting in. Gramps slept in the room next door.
From past experience, Ryan figured they were safe as the monsters generally only seemed to go into homes when they saw or heard something inside. As long as the three of them kept quiet, it wasn’t likely anything would come bursting through this house, of all houses on the street, hunting for people. At about 2:14 a.m., Ryan was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He fought the urge to nod off by drinking warm cans of energy drinks. Unfortunately, that also made him have to pee — a lot.
He went to the bathroom, then back to his spot in front of the window. The shades were drawn almost all the way, save for a sliver through which he spied the street below. Five minutes after he pissed, Ryan saw a pair of monsters at the other end of the block, where his street met the main connector road.
Ryan hoped like hell they’d keep right on going. Instead, they stopped, staring down the cul de sac. Ryan’s heart began to accelerate as his breath froze. He reached down blindly behind himself, his fingers fumbling for the gun.
The creatures turned their gaze in his direction, though he doubted they could see him a full block away. They must’ve heard, seen, or smelled something of interest, since they started to lope down his street, headed toward his house.
Fuck!
Ryan looked down at Carmine, wondering if he should wake the boy, or wait until the monsters drew closer. If he woke the boy, he risked startling him and shattering the silence of the house, which would put them in graver danger. So he waited, watching the street below.
The pair of creatures were halfway down the block, eyes on one of the other houses on the left. They lifted their heads high, as if sniffing something through
their slits for noses, then turned their attention back to the end of the street and seemingly on Ryan’s house.
Fuck, they can sense me.
Go away, go away, FUCKING GO!
The creatures stopped dead in their tracks, as if they’d heard his last command, turned around, and began to bound away, on all fours, like wild gazelle running from a lion.
What the hell?
Ryan’s head started to throb, and the buzzing sound hummed in his ears again. It grew louder, as if someone were cranking up the volume in his brain. His stomach churned as he grew dizzy and nauseous. He hurried out of the room and into the bathroom, found the flashlight on the sink, clicked it on, shut the door behind him, then fell to the floor over the toilet. Before he even had a chance to determine if the bowl had a floater, he vomited forth a bag of Chili Fritos and three energy drinks.
Oh God!
His stomach was churning, painful cramps pinching his gut from all sides, as he continued to splatter the toilet with puke. His head continued to buzz like hornets were swarming through his ear canals.
His hands gripped the cold bowl tight as his arms shuddered, continuously spitting until he was all finished retching, and the sound faded from his head.
He swallowed, turned, and grabbed a towel off the towel rack. He wiped his mouth, collapsing against the bathroom wall, exhausted. As he sat on the floor, his eyes grew heavy, and he thought about going to sleep right there. Just a few minutes. The monsters had run away, after all.
But what were they running from?
What scared them so bad?
Ryan didn’t want to consider that something worse than the monsters might be lurking nearby. Perhaps they’d seen or heard the helicopters, even though Ryan hadn’t. Maybe the monsters could hear at longer distances.
No, that’s not it.
You know what happened.
His inner voice had obviously figured out something his conscious mind hadn’t yet assembled. He felt like he should know why they ran, but was coming up empty. He tried to think back on the moment, and then he heard the sound of something wet.
He rose to his feet, carefully, his head still throbbing, and still feeling waves of vertigo.
Where is that sound coming from? The toilet?
He grabbed the flashlight and cast its beam into the bowl, where he saw his vomit, black and thick, alive with inch-long writhing things, like worms or maggots. There had to be hundreds, if not a thousand, in the bowl.
Jesus, what are those?!
Were those in me?
Then the light caught movement, something racing across his left arm.
No, not on it, but in it, just beneath the skin.
What the hell was that?
He thought he was seeing things, floaters in his eyes, shadows, something! But when he cast the light fully on his forearm, he saw the shapes writhing beneath his flesh. Worms, just like in the toilet.
He stared in disbelief, revulsion growing, and threatening to make him return to the toilet to vomit up whatever else was in him.
What is happening to me?
His mind began to pull at the thread of his question: the weird dreams he’d been having where he was running with the creatures, like a pack of animals; the weird buzzing sounds; how he’d healed so quickly from wounds that should have laid him up for weeks if not killed him; how the creatures turned tail when he thought at them to go.
The answer unspooled before his mind’s eye, leading him back to a sickening conclusion.
He was infected.
* * * *
MARY OLSON: PART 1
Kingsland, Alabama
The Sanctuary
March 27
4:01 p.m.
Paola was nestled deep into her mother’s chest, sobbing, but Mary pet her head and pushed her deeper. “It’s okay,” she soothed, “We’ll figure this out.”
Paola tried to make words, but couldn’t. Through fresh tears, she finally confessed. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“I know, honey; I know.”
“Do you think Desmond’s okay? What do you think they’ll do to him? Will they throw him in the box, like they did to Rebecca?”
Mary held her tighter. “Everything is gonna be okay. I’m sure Desmond is fine. The situation was getting out of hand, and they had to disarm him. Things were confusing. People didn’t know what Luca could do, because they hadn’t seen it. Desmond had a gun, so he looked like the aggressor. That Boricio guy was only trying to help. And no, I don’t think they’ll throw him in the box, not at all. I think they’ll ask him a few questions. Then he’ll be back with us, telling us his stories.”
Of course, Mary didn’t believe a word that left her mouth. While she hated lying to Paola, it was better than the alternative. She had no clue whom to trust, which was partly why she shuddered when Paola said, “Do you think there’s anything John can do to help?”
“I’m not sure,” Mary said, “but I’ll find out right now.”
She hated the question, but hated her answer even more. Mary told Paola she’d be right back, then left to go find John. She found him talking to a pair of Brothers. She called his name and he turned to face her. “I’m so sorry about what’s happened, Mary.”
“Does that mean you know what happened?”
John said, “You mean what’s happening now, or what happened a few minutes back when our buddy Desmond was waving a gun in the air, a gun he shouldn’t have had. Brother Rei will want to know where it came from. Safety is the most important consideration for everyone at The Sanctuary, after all.”
“Yes,” Mary agreed, “especially for Desmond right now. I’m sure that after what happened to Rebecca turning up ice blue in a box, and Carl, who no one has seen for days, you can appreciate my concern.”
John’s face softened, though it was closer to the jelly of missing emotion she’d seen since arriving at The Sanctuary, rather than the simmering sorrow she’d known during their time at the Drury Inn.
“I need to know what you know, John. Please, I deserve it. You know that’s true.”
“I’m really sorry, Mary, but I really, truly don’t know anything. Desmond is with Brother Rei right now, probably getting questioned. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure Desmond’s punishment isn’t harsh. He was only acting to save the child, after all. Everyone could see that.”
Mary said thank you, then turned her back to John. She wanted to ask if she could see Rebecca, but didn’t want to push it. She hadn’t seen her, or her mother, Sarah, since the incident. Mary wanted to go check on them, make sure the girl was okay, but wasn’t sure where they were. They may have been in the women’s house being tended to by Angela, a former nursing student who lived at The Sanctuary. Wherever they were, it was surely under guard.
Mary was on her way back to Paola, but decided to find Linc instead. He may have grown distant, but Mary understood why. He’d grown quickly accustomed to life at The Sanctuary; that didn’t mean he would turn his back on any of them, especially since Desmond and Luca were being held, both because they were trying to save a little girl. Linc had tried to intervene in his own way, after all.
She found Linc standing guard at the front gate, alone.
Linc almost seemed like he’d been expecting her.
Mary spilled her guts, but kept her tears inside.
Linc listened to everything, then said, “I don’t know much right now, other than John and Luca are with Carl in the hole.”
“The hole? When will they get out? Are they okay?”
“Sorry,” he shook his head. “I don’t know. And I can’t really ask. None of the Brothers I talk to know a thing, and it’s not like I can ask Rei. He definitely doesn’t trust me. He sees me as one of you. No offense.” He met Mary’s eyes.
“None taken,” she said.
Linc smiled, then continued. “At best, he thinks of me as no better than John, and I don’t think that’s any help to you at all.”
“No better than John
?” Mary said, “I thought John was up there with The Prophet at the top of the chain of command.”
“Exactly,” Linc said. “John has the ear of The Prophet, and his trust. Rei doesn’t like it.” Linc lowered his voice to a whisper and stepped closer to Mary. “That’s just one of the things that makes the guy so dangerous. Rei’s totally out of control, Mary. If he’s not put under control, and soon, we’re all gonna pay. The Prophet is strict, sure, but at least he kept everyone safe. Strict as he was, he’d never allow a little kid to die. Rei said it was God’s Will, but if you ask me, we sure as hell didn't leave God with much of a choice.”
Linc looked around to check for any extra sets of ears before he continued. “Something’s happening, Mary. And it’s happening quick. I think Rei is planning something, maybe has been for a while. And I’m not sure whom I can trust, other than you all.”
“What are you saying?” Mary asked, a new thundercloud of dread rolling into her mind.
“I’m saying I don’t think it’s a coincidence that The Prophet has gone sick just after our arrival. I think we upset the apple cart and pushed Rei to speed up some plans he’s got brewing.”
“What’s wrong with The Prophet?” Mary asked. “Do you know?”
Linc shook his head. “No idea, but Brother Stephan said he was making some awful terrible sounds while he was on watch.”
“What sort of sounds?”
“Loud, like he was choking on something. But they stopped right before Brother Stephan was about to head in. Brother Stephan knocked on the door and asked if The Prophet was okay, and he said yes, so he didn’t think much of it until the next day. Brother Rei has been the only person in or out of the room, lately. Not even Brother John has been in.”
“I thought John was The Prophet’s right hand,” Mary said.
“Yeah, but he’s been weird, lately. Like he’s not even paying attention anymore. Rei’s planning a revolution right under his nose, and he’s not batting an eyelash.”
Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone) Page 43
