“Dad, what’s happening?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” he said. “When you get down to the basement you can turn on the television, I’m sure this has to be on the news.”
“What’s on the news?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, just do as I say! When you get to the basement, call me back.” Then there was a click and we were disconnected.
Hattie stared at me with wide eyes. “Was that your father?”
“He said to lock all the doors and get into the basement. I…I…don’t understand.”
“Not much to understand,” Hattie said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly. “Let’s just do what your father says and I’m sure everything will be all right.”
I felt frantic as we scurried through the house, locking every door to the outside. So many thoughts crossed my mind. I couldn’t help but think that it might have been terrorists, or a crazy storm coming our way, though popping noises and the screaming in the background didn’t sound like a storm.
I went to the front door and opened it, hoping to see a clue as to why my dad would sound so scared. I looked up and down our street only to see a few of the neighbors were closing their garage doors and running from house to house. It was as if the whole world knew something that I didn’t. I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder. I turned and saw Hattie. She looked from me to the street. It seemed as though she was planning to tell me to come inside, but she paused as well.
More of the popping noises echoed in the distance but I didn’t hear any screams this time. To our right, I could see more people running, this time sprinting away from something. I took a step forward. There were three people near the stop sign at the end of our road. Two of them were women, and one was a man. One of the women fell to the ground, perhaps twisting her ankle. The man bent down to help her, but he wasn’t getting up. I stepped out onto the porch even further and I saw that the man wasn’t helping her at all. The woman on the ground screamed out in pain as the man bit her ankle. The woman left standing just turned, crying her eyes out as the man ripped away tendons and flesh from her friend’s leg. I gasped loudly as I took it all in and Hattie’s arms wrapped around me as she saw it unfold.
“Get inside, Waverly,” she said slowly, pulling me away from the porch.
I didn’t protest. When we got inside, I slammed the door shut and locked the doorknob and deadbolt. I rested my back against the door and slid to the ground as hot tears rolled down the side of my face. “What was that? What did he do?” All I could see was a blurry, dark room with a form standing in front of me, shaking my shoulders, almost yelling for me to get to the basement.
Finally, I got up from the ground and Hattie led me to the basement door. There was no lock, but the house was secure, wasn’t it? We ran down the stairs and into the basement living room. With all the windows and a door to the outside, there were several exits down there and Hattie ran to each of them, making sure to lock them. I immediately walked toward the television and turned it on. Every channel displayed different versions of what I had just seen out in the street. The news anchors all seemed as spooked as I was.
“The question I have,” one of the anchors said, “is what are these things? They are people…but they aren’t! They are acting like vicious animals.”
“That’s right, and there have been multiple incidents,” a reporter said. “We had been tallying the reports from throughout the city, but now we’re into the hundreds, and we can clearly see that there is some unknown sickness that has taken over these people. Another thing to note is that we aren't the only city experiencing this catastrophe. There have also been sightings in Conway, Elkhorn, and even Dawson Springs.”
“What are they saying?” Hattie asked as she walked up behind me.
I didn’t answer as the images of these disgusting people eating others filled the screen. All of them seemed so evil…and almost dead. One of the news stations showed a freeze-frame of one of them to show that his skin had turned an ashy, grey color and that his eyes were almost completely black. But no station offered an explanation.
The ringing phone in my hand made me jump. I cursed, remembering I should have called my dad. “Hello?”
“Sweetie, are you in the basement?”
“Dad, what are those things? Why are they doing that?”
“Are you in the basement?”
“Yes.”
“Is Hattie with you?”
My eyes flit to her. “Yes.”
“Good, put me on speakerphone.”
I pressed the button. “Okay.”
“Hattie,” my dad said.
“I’m here,” she said. “We are both safe and in the basement.”
“Hattie, in the basement sitting room there is a large, black safe, do you know it?”
“Of course,” she said.
“Go there.”
I followed Hattie into the sitting room until she made it to the safe. It was taller than I and could probably fit a person or two in it. I hoped he wasn’t about to ask us to hide in there. “Okay,” she said.
“I want you punch in the code. It’s 0-9-0-2-1-9-8-8.”
Hattie punched in the code on the keypad in the middle of the safe and the sliding lock slipped free allowing Hattie to swing open the heavy door. The first thing I saw was a row of guns - a mix of metal and wood - ready to kill. On the other side was a row of pistols, all shined and polished as though they had never been used before.
“Do you know how to fire a gun?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” Hattie said, reaching for one of the large hunting rifles.
“Good,” he said. “Waverly, I want you to take one too.”
I felt sickness overtake my stomach. “I don’t want to use a gun,” I said.
“Sweetie, I’ve taught you how to shoot, now it’s time to put that into good practice. I want you to shoot whoever comes into the house that you don't recognize."
I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing. Dad wanted me to shoot an intruder? Were those monsters coming here? “Dad, are you coming home?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, I heard him yelling out. “No!” He screamed. “No, no, no! Get out!”
“Daddy!”
Glass shattered from his end of the phone. My dad’s voice was drowned out by grunts and moans.
“You can’t! You can’t! Oh no! Please!” His cries ended in a gargling noise and the phone fell from my hands as I dropped to my knees.
“Daddy,” I whimpered.
Hattie wrapped one of her arms around me and grabbed the phone with the other, ending the call.
“Those things just killed my dad,” I said as I buried my face into Hattie’s chest. She had no words for me. There was nothing she could have said that would have changed anything or made me feel better. She just held me close and rubbed my back.
Were those things coming to the house? Were they coming for us? Where was my mom? I finally pulled away from Hattie, wiping my eyes. I took a handgun from the safe, unsure of myself. I checked to see if it was loaded. Neither of us knew what kind of enemy we faced, but we knew we had to fight it, no matter what it was.
We went back into the living area and my eyes were glued to the television. I stood there numbly, unable to comprehend that I had just finished the last conversation with my dad that I would ever have. The reports kept coming in about these mindless grey people going around biting, scratching, and eating human flesh. That was all anyone knew. Had my father just been eaten by one of these things? A few of these things? Were these just normal people with a sickness like rabies or something?
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry more. I wanted my parents to be home. As I stared at the screen, just as clueless as the reporters at the station, I couldn’t help but wonder how big this must be.
I was lost in my thoughts until my heart jolted at the sound of the someone banging on the front door upstairs. “Mom?” I said as I stood up sharply. I headed straight for the stairs, but Hattie
grabbed my arm and pulled me to the ground. She raised a finger to her lips and motioned for me to stay quiet. The thought then hit me that it might not have been mom at all. I froze when I realized that it could have been those creatures. The banging got louder and louder. I could hear the wood start to crack underneath the weight of the intruders. Finally, there was a crash and the door sounded like it was flung open.
I held the handgun close to me. I hoped beyond all hope that my mother wasn't on her way home. As we sat at the bottom of the stairs, I could see shadows move under the doorstep. Something, a hand maybe, grabbed for the doorknob, but never turned it. Next, it started scratching, then hitting its fists hard against the wood. As the pounding became louder, I nearly screamed. Hattie pointed her rifle at the door, ready for anything to come through.
The noise, I thought. I instantly stood and ran for the television and shut it off. I then walked quickly to the light switches and shut off all the lights in the basement.
They sounded like ravenous animals determined to find meat before they died. Fear had replaced my grief, and I sat staring at the door, my hands shaking so badly that I had to set the gun down in front of me for fear of letting off a round by accident. Hattie took no notice of me as her remained fixed on the door above us. It took a minute or two, but the pounding became less severe and it seemed they had finally lost interest in us.
Then, I heard a noise that sent icicles through my chest. I could hear my mom’s voice from the front of the house.
“Waverly? Hattie? Are you home?” she yelled out. Her voice was frantic with worry.
I wanted to yell for her, to tell her to get out of the house, but Hattie reached out and covered my mouth, shaking her head vigorously.
“We’ve got to get out of the city,” she said, coming nearer to the basement door.
Hattie let go of my mouth, and it was everything I could do not to yell out, but if I did, I knew that the scratchers would be down here in a second. Mom would see them and run, surely.
Her steps came closer to the basement. “Waverly? Are you down…” Her words stopped short and were replaced by a scream that sent chills up and down my spine.
“No!” I scream out.
Something slammed against the door and the horrific grunts mingled with her screams flooded into my ears. I started running up the stairs, but Hattie grabbed me by my pants and pulled me down. “Waverly, no!” she said harshly. She dragged me to her and pulled me close. I tried to fight her for only a second before the screaming stopped and blood started oozing between the crack from under the door and onto the steps ahead of us.
My sobs were silent, but not because I tried to quiet them. I cried so hard I thought my ribs might crack. I had no way to gasp for air. It was as though my windpipe had closed off and would allow no breath to come in or out, yet the tears flowed freely from my eyes. I could hear the sounds of chomping jaws closing around soft tissue, lubricated by my mother’s blood that I could see dripping just above. Hattie pulled me away from the stairs and let me lie on the floor.
She lay next to me, holding me tightly. “Just breathe,” she whispered into my ear. “There’s no time for crying yet, just breathe.”
Just breathe, I thought. Just breathe. Finally, air entered my lungs and the result was a loud gasp. The chomping from upstairs stopped and the scratchers suddenly seemed interested in the door again. The moaning grew louder as the house became populated with more and more of these creatures.
“Why are they coming in here?” I asked. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Hattie said. She reached down and clutched her gun and handed me the pistol I had set on the steps. “We’ve got to get out of here. Whatever those things are, they know we’re down here.”
“Where are we going?”
Hattie nodded at the television. “They say it’s all over the city. We’ve got to get out of Oakridge. My house will be safer.”
“My parents…”
“Are gone,” Hattie said bluntly. She set the gun down and grabbed my shoulders with her sturdy hands. “Waverly, listen to me. If we don’t get out of here, those things are going to tear that door down and we’ll meet the same fate as your father and mother.”
“How do we know they are dead?” I asked.
“Waverly, stop it!” Hattie yelled. As a result, the scratchers started pounding against the door even harder. Both of us turned our heads toward the stairs. When the sound of cracking wood reached our ears, I jumped to my feet, gun in hand. Hattie turned back to me. “My car is in the driveway. If we run out the back we can get out of here fast enough.”
“Your keys?”
She reached for her pocket and nodded. “I’ve got them.”
The grunting and breaking of the wood became louder and then the door hinges snapped. I let out a scream as the creatures came tumbling down the stairs. The first few fell face first, but that didn’t deter them from getting back up to their feet, bones jutting out of their skin. I was frozen in place as about ten of them started toward me. The pictures I had seen on the news were not nearly as terrifying as seeing one of them up close. Their eyes were black, their skin was grey, yes, but their teeth chattered at me, biting the air as if they could already taste my flesh. They smelled like a dead animal, rotting on the side of the road. I lifted my pistol into the air and let off five shots into the chest of the first one coming after me, but he only gained in speed. Then, he was running toward me.
A hand grabbed my wrist. “Waverly, run!” Hattie’s voice screamed out. There was no time to fight them. I followed her through the basement living room and to the mudroom at the other end. She unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open. I ran out first and she tried to slam the door shut just as arms snaked through the opening. Hattie pulled on the knob, smashing the arms over and over, expecting their pain to make them recoil, but it was as if they felt no pain. I lifted my handgun again and shot twice into the crack. Even though their dark, black blood flew, they were undaunted. Hattie gave up on the door as two more arms crashed through the glass at the top. She yelled for me to run. Hoping she was close behind me, I bolted up the stairs and into the driveway. I stopped when I got to Hattie’s car, a sudden realization overtaking me. Looking up and down the street, the grey people were everywhere. Some had claimed victims; a group of them was devouring a man on the ground. I looked at the street in front of my yard and saw my mom’s SUV parked, but emotions of sadness would come later. Shock had taken over me. How could this have happened? Where had they all come from?
“Get in the car, Waverly!” came the voice of Hattie. The grey people were right behind her as she swung open the driver’s side door. She lifted her gun into the air and shot one of the grey people in the head and it dropped to the ground, lifeless. There was no time to think about it, however. I jumped in the front seat as the monsters crowded around the car, smashing through windows. One of them grabbed my shirtsleeve and was coming in to bite me, but Hattie revved the car into reverse and its fingers were unable to maintain its grip. We were in the street and Hattie slammed on the gas pedal, screaming past more of the grey people.
The tears began to flow again. “I shot five bullets into one of those things!” I yelled. “It didn’t even flinch! What are they, Hattie? What are they?”
Hattie simply stared straight ahead and shook her head, too focused to cry. Too shocked to answer.
My parents were dead. There was no way to know if my sister was still alive. It felt like my world had ended in a matter of minutes. Perhaps there was still time to save Hattie’s.
Chapter 5 - Remi
Sneaking through Crestwood in the middle of the night feels like walking through any old town at dark before the outbreak, minus the armed guards on the wall…and, of course, the wall itself. I’ve got to be careful, though. One of the first rules Gabe made sure to tell me when I got here was that curfew was always at eleven. Anyone caught outside their homes any later might be put in a holding cell, because anyone outside a
fter eleven was probably up to no good.
It’s midnight, and I’m up to no good.
There is a roundabout on Main Street in the middle of the town across from my apartment building. When I reach it and crouch behind some bushes, I look all around me. Crestwood isn’t huge by any means. In fact, it seems like it might have been the most boring town in the world before the greyskins. I would have hated living here. Its size also means that I have to be extra careful. Guards will usually keep their eyes fixed outside of the walls, but occasionally one or two will do a sweep of Crestwood to make sure everything is quiet and under control.
I look at the front wall and can see two guards holding their rifles at their hips, chattering quietly with each other. If I wanted to, I could listen to what they were saying, but I’ve done it before, and unless I want to hear how much liquor one could hold or how many women another has had, I’ll keep my ears focused on where it matters.
I look up at the red brick building to my right. It’s a three-story structure that used to have a café on the first floor. The sign has faded and boards have been nailed into the outside wall below it with writing that says: Headquarters. The first floor is usually reserved for Paxton to meet with people like Gabe or the food and ration committee, or the medical staff, but the second floor is where Paxton and the other four elders meet, and that’s where I want to be. The third floor is where Paxton sleeps, and I don’t want to be there. According to Gabe, Paxton doesn’t have a bodyguard, so I shouldn’t be running into anything unexpected. But he did warn me that the town leader is notorious for his insomnia and often spends much of his nights on the second floor, going over meeting notes or plans that may have been discussed.
All it will take for me to know if he’s there is a slight tilt of my head and my ears will be able to tell me. I have no idea why I gained this ability. I know when it happened, and it saved my life, but ever since then I’ve been able to turn it on and off as I need it. I haven’t told a soul about it, and I don’t plan to. That’s why I was so startled when Paxton had asked me about special abilities. I just knew he had me figured out, but he hasn’t asked me about it since. Of course, I don’t exactly make a habit of hanging around Paxton. Mostly I just try to avoid him whenever I can. He seems nice enough now, but I’m not going to take any chances. Then again, I’m crouched outside Headquarters ready to break into the floor just below him. I suppose my skills of avoiding him will be truly tested in a few minutes. I feel nervous, but confident. There is no reason I should get caught. I’ve got an advantage over anyone that might try to catch me. I suppose that the nervousness that creeps into me comes from knowing that I can’t be completely sure I won’t get caught.
Anywhere But Here (The Starborn Ascension) Page 5
