by Ryan Husk
They reached the top and stepped out into the exterior cave, opened the blast doors, and walked outside to a day that was gray with clouds and with black spider webs crisscrossing the sky. The Face was not visible, either it was hidden behind the clouds or it was currently on the other side of the planet.
Edward put the ham on top of a stack of cinderblocks someone had left by the main entrance, and started cuing it up. Took him a while to find the signal. Rebel Fuckin’ News liked to change his frequency every couple of days, he would sign off each day letting his listeners know which frequency he was moving to—if government officials were listening, they would just be able to follow him to new channels, too, but at least he was making them work for it. Edward came up here every day to check in and get the latest.
Gordon looked around at a changed world. Would it always remain this gray? The sun was coming out less and less, and what sunlight made it through the Face was that sickly yellow. A sparrow chirped its lonely song somewhere. Other than that, nothing stirred.
“How are you this morning, Gord-O? Still with us?”
Gordon sighed, and nodded. “Still with you.” Beside him, Atlas licked his fingers. Gordon smiled down at him, gave him a pat. Then Atlas turned, as if hearing something, and went trotting off. “Where’s he going?”
“Probably to forage,” Edward said. “I didn’t grab his food, I was in such a hurry to leave. He’s been nibbling off my scraps. That’s another reason I come up here every day, gotta let him find his own sustenance. That, and I’ll take what little vitamin D I can get. We’re not going to get a lot of that living down in the caves. You sleep okay?”
“For spending the night in my own tomb, sure.”
“Don’t think of it like that. Best to think of it as an adventure. Didn’t you ever dream of exploring caves and unknown places when you were a kid?”
“When I was a kid, yeah. But I’m damn near sixty, and that has a way of settling a person into certain patterns. Dreams of new adventures fade. You’ll find out someday, if you live long enough.”
“That’s the plan,” Edward said. “To live long enough.”
“You certainly planned for it.” Gordon looked around at the grass and the trees, both swaying gently in a sourceless breeze. “Jesus, you really had a go-ready plan, didn’t you? Heh. You know, I never thanked you for taking us this far. I’d say I’m sorry I carjacked you, but if I hadn’t, Janet and me wouldn’t be here. We’d be…well, God only knows.”
“All’s forgiven, Gord-O. I hope you’ll forgive me, too, for my…eagerness to escape.”
Gordon shrugged. “Might as well get used to forgiving each other. Looks like this could be the way it is for a long time.”
“Yep.”
In the east, the clouds parted slightly, and they could see the Face’s grin for maybe thirty seconds before it was once again covered. It was almost impossible to conceive that it was becoming normal to see that Face.
Edward found the right frequency but Rebel Fuckin’ News wasn’t on just yet, so he led Gordon around the hill. They chatted about nothing, just how cool it was down in the cave, how they would need to conserve food in the days to come, and for the first time Gordon didn’t bring up Molly and where she might be. Edward put a hand on his chest, pulling him up short. He’d spotted a rabbit about twenty yards away. He took the Ruger off his back and wrapped the strap around his arm. Took aim quietly, shot it, and went over to claim it. Atlas came back, excited.
Edward held the rabbit up by its legs. “Something for you tonight, boy,” he said.
Atlas sniffed at the rabbit in his master’s hands as they walked back to the ham, which was just then picking up a scratchy signal. Edward did a little more adjusting, and then they heard the voice of Rebel Fuckin’ News. He started with a short greeting and a recap of yesterday’s news.
“But now let’s get into the meat of it, folks,” said the voice. “Here’s the landscape as we see it. Here at home, we’re lookin’ at more mobilizations of the Eighteenth Airborne to St. Louis and D.C., they’re still a-workin’ on containment. I’ve talked with a few other ham operators, an’ they tell me they’re pickin’ up military chatter that says FEMA’s done. I mean done. Completely broke after just the first week o’ the strikes, an’ what little help they were able to send has been squashed, torn t’pieces by raiders, by demonspawn, by fuckin’ swarms from the sky, an’ they’re kaput.
“That’s locally. Internationally, things are lookin’ about the same. I’ve picked up chatter of military personnel talkin’ about ‘our Israeli counterparts’ and the intel that Mossad’s sent our way. She ain’t pretty, folks. Most of Israel’s off the map, as well as most o’ their neighbors. Some talk says the Chinese gubment has completely retreated to submarines, an’ that they’re at the bottom o’ the goddam ocean.
“Ehhhh…just to update you, the Face is now passing over the East Coast, so if you live in that area and you’ve got young’uns, and they’re scared o’ the Face, might wanna take ’em inside right about now.” The guy always gave hourly updates of where the Face was, like a weatherman following a hurricane forming in the Pacific.
“We’ve also got updates for you about Kansas and Oklahoma. People there have reported that the Face actually comes down from the sky from time to time, an’ forms a huge storm of black dust that covers all the land. We’re hearin’ that all the farms have been devoured, nothin’ left but gray sludge after the swarms ate it all up. The Face—er, the swarm, whatever—it does this once every few days after making its rounds around the planet.”
Gordon looked at Edward. “You were right. It’s an ecophage. A swarm of nanomachines or something, eating the land.”
“And it has a nest. It comes down to Kansas and Oklahoma to rest a spell.”
“Why would it need to do that?”
Edward shrugged. “Maybe like after a big meal, we need to rest. It needs to convert all that biomass into more nanites.”
“Let’s see…what else? What else?” There was the sound of shuffling paper. The voice of Rebel Fuckin’ News had a habit of whistling and clucking his tongue while he searched for the next story. “Oh! Had this tidbit come in over the wire from a feller in…well, I best not say where I got this info, might be folks listenin’ that I don’t want hearin’. Suffice it to say, he’s reliable, an’ he sent me this report of an interestin’ conversation he picked up between an army commander an’ a diplomat somewheres, a senator from Kentucky, I think he said. Anyways, there’s been more sightings of the Clockwork Man, apparently movin’ across Daytona Beach, but I don’t know where he’s gone since. I’ll try an’ keep you all posted.”
At this, Gordon’s brow wrinkled. “Clockwork Man?” He looked at Edward. “What the hell’s he talking about?”
Edward shrugged, and tossed the rabbit on top of the cinderblocks. Atlas whined, licking his chops as he eyeballed the corpse. “Not sure, exactly. Been trying to figure it out. He’s been talking about that for a couple of days now. I don’t think he knows. There have been reports from military liaisons and warnings put out about someone or something called the ‘Clockwork Man.’ No one in the Rebel News network of ham operators seems to know what it means. Possibly code for some weapon or other.”
Gordon was amazed at how little he understood of what was going on. Usually the world went on without the rest of us being involved, politicians and militaries doing basically whatever they wanted without our feedback, but at least there had been some illusion of having say. Democracy and all that.
As they listened to the radio, Edward took out a knife and began skinning the rabbit. He cut off bits to toss to Atlas. Gordon turned his back on the slaughter. He liked meat as much as the next guy but he’d never liked seeing how the sausage was made. He looked east at a brewing storm. Felt a tiny needle of rain on his head. Then another.
“Best we get back inside,” Edward said, wiping his hands off in the grass. “We might be in time for breakfast. Wouldn’t want to make
Greta mad, you know how she likes us all to sit and have meals together.”
Gordon nodded. He turned back inside. For a second, he wondered if Molly was safe, but already her face was disappearing behind a fog in his mind. It felt like the loss of someone, as in death. He knew that soon, he would weep for her, mourn her. He knew he was never going to see her again. It was becoming real.
* * *
The strangest thing about living in the caves for Colt wasn’t the fact that they were all two hundred feet underground, or that they now lived in a world bereft of sunlight. No, weirdly enough, the thing that was the most off-putting was watching his wife serve people at table again. She hadn’t done that since their youngest, Vincent, had left the roost.
The plastic plates were set at the table with candles lit. Rice and soup from a can was breakfast. Colt had hoped for biscuits, but Greta said they had gone bad. The bikers, Wade and his lot, they no longer sat together, Colt noticed. They had the first few days, like in a school cafeteria, all the cliques unconsciously gravitating towards one another. But not anymore. Now they all intermingled.
They had found equilibrium. The party was now something more than it had been. Not a family, perhaps not even close friends. But there was gestalt. Yes, there was that. Some of it was born from what they had collectively seen and experienced in that first horrifying day, but much of it, Colt supposed, was just what came with living in close proximity with others.
“Everybody doin’ okay?” Greta said. “Jeb, you got enough soup?”
“Mm-hm,” he said while slurping.
“Good, good. Hey, Janet, I’ve fixed you a plate. Here ya go.”
“Thanks.”
“Edward, Gordon, you boys eating?”
“I’ll grab a bite, yeah,” said Edward.
Gordon accepted a plate with thanks.
“What were you two doing up there?” Colt asked, taking a seat across from Margery and passing her a bottle of water.
“Ah, Ed here bagged him a varmint. Fed it to Atlas over there.”
“Oh, I bet he was happy.”
Edward smiled, and gave the dog a petting as he trotted by and went to begging Janet for table scraps. “You don’t need to feed him, he’s had enough for now. Colt, you and Greta haven’t been up top since we got here. Sure you don’t want to come up on my next trip, get some fresh air?”
Colt glanced over at Greta, who kept her back turned as she messed with something inside the sink. “Uh, maybe some other time, Ed. We’re good.”
Edward looked over at him. Then over at Greta. Seemed to read the situation. “I understand you’re scared, but up top seems safe for now. The Face comes and goes, mostly goes.”
“I trust you but…I think we’re good.” He hoped Edward would drop it after that, and he did.
“You know, we heard something strange while we were up there,” said Gordon around a mouthful of rice. “That Rebel News guy, he was talking about all these agencies working on containing people inside certain cities. And then he mentioned something called the Clockwork Man. Any o’ you ever heard that before?”
Everyone around the table shook their heads.
“What did he say about the Clockwork Man?” Janet asked, looking up from her phone. The device was mostly useless now, but there were games she could still play on it, and both Margery and Greta had thought to bring phone charges with them, and there were outlets littered around the caverns for her to plug into.
Poor girl, Colt thought. That’s pretty much all she’s got, being stuck with all us stuffy grownups.
Gordon shrugged. “He didn’t say much. Said the Clockwork Man had been spotted somewhere around Daytona Beach. Edward here thinks it’s code for something, maybe some kind of weapon. You know, like the A bombs, what were they called? ‘Big Boy’ and ‘Little Man’?”
“Think maybe the Army’s got themselves a weapon they can use to fight against the Face?” asked Wade.
Colt watched their faces. Every one of them turned, or at least glanced, in Edward’s direction. People expected him to know things. He had become their leader, with Wade as vice-president, and Marshall, Margery and Jeb as a kind of Congress. It was interesting watching the group dynamics begin to emerge and then evolve. He’d seen lots of it in jury selection, and heard of strange dynamics developing as the trial went on.
Edward said, “Honestly, Detective, I have no idea. The weapon thing’s just a guess. They made it sound like it was on the move, and I’ve heard Rebel News bring it up a few times, saying other ham operators have been monitoring it using drones. Not military drones, just the kind you buy at Radio Shack.”
“People sure do get creative in times like these,” Margery noted.
“They sure do,” Marshall agreed, and gave her shoulder a reassuring rub.
They went back to eating in silence for a time. Then, Edward said, “I’m thinking of taking the vehicles out for a long drive today.”
Everyone looked at him again.
“How do you mean, ‘out for a long drive’?” Jeb said.
“I mean I’m going to scout around the area, see what all we’ve got around us. Maybe there are others coming up this way, others who had the same idea as me, might need a lift.”
“Are you crazy?” said Greta, turning around and tossing a dish rag over her right shoulder. Edward looked at her quizzically. “With all that’s goin’ on out there, you’re gonna go out and put yourself at risk?”
“Don’t think it’ll be much of a risk. The Face is moving on, and I can listen to Rebel News to tell me when it’s coming back around.”
“What has the Face got to do with safety?”
“I have a theory. I think maybe whenever the Face is dominant in the sky, it’s active in that region. When it moves on, so do its…minions. The roly-polies, the swarms. I think I can get some good scouting down while it’s on the other side of the planet.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Colt asked. “What happens if you get caught out there, Ed?”
“If I don’t come back, that in itself will tell you something.”
Edward smiled at all of them, but Colt noticed none of them were smiling. Ol’ Ed had about him a kind of gallows humor that no one else in the group shared. Colt worried about Edward sometimes, not just for his own sake, but for the group’s. He’d gotten this far and he was an A-1 survivor. And the group listened to him. They might argue with him, might even disagree with his approach in matters, but they listened. And listening to him had saved them all. If he went out and got himself killed, it would do more damage to their gestalt than if anyone else among them died.
And Colt also believed some of them were sad for him. He knew Greta was. She had told him so one night a few days ago. “I don’t think Edward should be left alone,” she’d said as they went to sleep. “He goes off a lot on his own, and I don’t like it. Man like that, he’s used to doing it all by himself, relying on nobody. It’s not right. It’s not healthy. And it’s gonna get him killed.”
“Ed knows what he’s doing,” Colt had replied in the dark, watching her face by flickering candlelight.
“I didn’t say he didn’t know what he’s doing, old man. I said he’s gonna get himself killed. And I worry…” She trailed off.
“You worry, what?”
“I worry he wants to die. And when I look at him, I think of Vincent. Remember when he got all independent, went off half-cocked, getting into fights, and dating that girl?” Colt did indeed remember those days. And he wondered if Greta had just struck upon something that had been building inside of Colt ever since he met ol’ Ed. Here was a young man that seemed friendless, untrusting, oftentimes angry.
Colt had thought about that, long and hard. He remembered feeling regret for not having been there for Vincent when he needed a father to talk to. All because he had made some bad decisions, not the least of which was that girl. He remembered his own father once telling him that young men are amazing creatures, built tough, machines for fighting and
building things, but they required guidance. Careful guidance. Or else they can take a bad, bad turn.
Presently, Colt watched Edward as he explained which direction he would be driving, what he would be looking for, and how long he would be gone. “Shouldn’t be more than four, five hours. Truck’s still close to full on gas. Anybody wants to come with me, we can drive separate, in case one of our vehicles breaks down. But if you wall want to stay, no problem, I understand.”
“I’ll go,” Colt said. He said it before he knew he was going to, and instantly wished he could take the words back, but they were the kind of words you just somehow couldn’t.
Greta looked over at Colt, giving him a warning. Colt could feel it, though he di not look at her.
Edward glanced at him. “Cool. We’ll take Atlas with us. Who knows, he might sniff something interesting. Anybody else?”
“Reckon I’ll go,” Wade said.
Jeb looked a question at Wade, then shrugged and said, “Me too.”
“Marshall, you got the keys to the truck?” Wade asked. Marshall fished them out of his pocket and tossed them over. “Thanks, bud.”
“Can I go?” Janet asked.
Margery said, “Honey, you really shouldn’t.”
“Sorry, kiddo,” Edward said. “Need you to stick close to base in case you spike, and need more meds.”
Colt noticed that Greta looked relieved to hear Edward say that, but then she looked back at him. Colt sensed an admonishment coming later.
* * *
The vehicles had been pulled down into the caves using the freight elevator they had found on their third day of exploring the caves. Meant to pull RVs down into the sanctuary, they were plenty big enough to bring all their vehicles inside to hide from whatever else was out there. Janet went as far as the blast doors, and watched the four men and Atlas head out carrying bags and guns. Margery and Gordon stood on either side of her. She looked up at the sky. There was black webbing moving through the clouds, but no sign of the Face. The sun came through the clouds in fits and starts. Her vision was a little blurry. Probably time to check her blood-sugar.
