by Ben Farthing
She couldn’t let Jackson die like this.
Cessy raised the revolver with both hands. She walked forward, holding her body steady, adjusting for her aching knee and missing shoe. She looked down the barrel, over the iron sights, down an invisible line that passed dangerously close to Jackson before terminating in Sheriff Miller’s chest.
She exhaled and squeezed the trigger.
Jackson jerked away from the round whizzing past.
The boogeyman of Cessy’s youth snapped backwards. His feet stayed locked in the sidewalk, and he bent at the knees. His arms sprawled to either side. The worm dragged him forward, beneath the rough sidewalk. He surfaced again, closer to Jackson, body still limp.
Cessy called for Jackson. It felt selfish. She didn’t want Kate to hate her. She didn’t want to hate herself. “You can’t hurt it!”
Jackson turned around. Black bruises covered his sallow face. They’d crawled up from his leg, and splattered across his bare arms and neck.
Cessy recoiled, thinking of quarantine.
Jackson laughed at her reaction. “Watch this.” He jumped onto the worm, ran atop it like a treadmill.
The worm surfaced on the sidewalk, down the street, out from the wall of the post office. Sheriff Miller’s corpse was dragged along, whipped about. It swung upwards at Jackson.
Sheriff Miller’s eyes snapped open. He lunged for the junkie.
Jackson sidestepped the old man. He stepped back atop the worm to let himself fall forward.
A mouth opened, parallel with the length of the worm, unnatural in the daylight. Cessy looked at it and a migraine burst into her head. Countless molars lined the gray repulsive flesh inside the mouth. Jackson landed in the narrow maw, shoulders catching on its edges. He wriggled deeper.
Kate’s muffled scream from inside the truck. Mom shouted for Cessy.
Cessy ran to Jackson as Dad shouted for her to come back.
Pistol claps from inside the worm. Cessy lost count after eight. Jackson emptied the magazine. Only his back was visible, and the edges of the mouth were closing.
An orange glow snuck out of the mouth, past Jackson. It was dim, like it had traveled far and long to reach Cessy’s sight.
Jackson struggled. He growled pain and frustration.
Cessy reached him, ran alongside the slithering worm, tried to grab Jackson. She couldn’t squeeze her hand between Jackson and the spongy, tooth-filled flesh.
The pistol fired again. Repeatedly, another full magazine. He hadn’t been struggling to free himself, but to reload.
Cessy locked her fingers under his arm. He sank deeper. Molars crushed down on her hand.
“Leave me alone. I’ve got two more clips. Oh. What is that? You can see-”
Cessy jerked her hand free as the mouth closed.
A puff of an acrid smell.
Muffled gunshots. The worm slithered on.
Cessy crawled backwards. She inhaled. “No.” She shouldn’t have let him out of her sight. He was already hurt. She shouldn’t have lied about his dad. She wanted to run alongside the worm, scream that she’d lied, that Gordon’s regret had broken him and he’d died hating himself, that Jackson shouldn’t die hating his father.
But it was too late. That weight settled on Cessy’s shoulders, finding lasting purchase.
Cessy ran back to the truck. Mom climbed into the passenger seat. Cessy jumped in the driver’s seat. In the back, Kate wept on Dad’s shoulder.
Cessy whipped the truck around and floored it back down Main Street.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. The worm circled Tapjacks, tossing cars in its wake. Countless perforations swarmed up the diner’s glass windows, almost enough to block Cessy’s final view of Lockler’s devotees’ panic as they realized they’d been had.
63
Kate cried. ““He didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”
The historical homes lining Main Street crumbled as the worm passed beneath them. Debris flew into the road. Cessy swerved around it. The high-sitting off-roader swayed heavy with the sharp turns.
She felt sick, and not from the swerving. She’d told a terrible lie to Jackson, and at the time it’d rescued him from being brainwashed and taken. But then he’d died thinking his father had purposely murdered his wife and daughter.
Dad let his broken wrist rest on his lap. With his good hand, he patted Kate’s back. He ignored the pain through stubborn grit, possibly the same emotion for which he’d traded his compassion. “That boy knew exactly what he was doing. Hamlin is better off without him.”
“You didn’t know Jackson after you left,” Mom said, more kindly. “He was vermin to this town. He sold drugs to kids.”
They bumped over a section of worm. The front wheels left the ground, smashed back down. They fishtailed, until Cessy regained control.
“What was that?” breathed Mom.
Cessy couldn’t believe her. “The same thing that just killed Jackson. The thing that sent you Lockler and the Maple Table. What did you think that was back there?”
Mom pursed her wrinkled lips. “Something the vermin brought, no doubt.”
Cessy navigated around a crevice in the road that grew bigger with the vibrating ground. “Stop saying that word.”
“You two young ladies need to remember who you’re talking to,” Dad barked. “You don’t give orders to us.”
Kate smacked the back of Cessy’s seat. “Don’t you feel anything for him?” she pleaded. “He made mistakes, but he’s a person.”
Even with the deadly track ahead, the question hurt. Had Kate realized Cessy’s purpose for bringing Jackson as a distraction? Did she understand Cessy’s immediate regret when it worked? “Of course I do. He helped me find you.”
“Mom,” sobbed Kate. “Dad, don’t you guys feel anything?”
She wasn’t accusing Cessy, but Mom. Cessy exhaled.
Kate had thrown up a barrier, a refusal to believe that Mom and Dad could really be so poisoned by Lockler and the Maple Table. And now, after seeing their dull reaction to Jackson’s death, that barrier was crumbling.
Cessy had hid from her own pain in the realization by strengthening her Machiavellian search for Kate. She’d had fifteen years’ experience as a police officer to learn to postpone emotional trauma. Kate had no such luxury.
“It’s sad what he let himself become,” Mom said.
Dad folded his arms. “Vermin don’t deserve sympathy.”
Cessy drove around a box truck on its side. “Stop using that word. Jackson was a piece of shit, but he was a person, not a rat.”
“He just died protecting us.” Kate’s voice dripped with venom.
Cessy caught up to a Toyota sedan, heading in the same direction, and drifting between the two narrow lanes.
“That’s hardly what I would call it,” Mom said.
Cessy agreed with Mom, but now wasn’t the time. She tried to pass the Toyota, but only got a glimpse of the teenager behind the wheel. Too young to drive, but old enough to realize it was time to get the hell out of town.
Maybe one of the people Landis and the state troopers had warned.
She switched on her two-way radio. “Landis, you out there?”
“Why weren’t you more shocked by that, Mom?” Kate asked. “Dad, did you know about the worm already?”
“We’re as surprised as anybody,” Mom said.
Landis’ voice crackled over the radio. “I’ve been sending folks out. Maybe twenty carloads. The two state troopers have done about the same. One old geezer shot at me. I’m hitting one more street and then I’ll head out, too. Did you find your parents?”
The crash of another collapsing house sounded outside and through the radio.
“They’re with us.”
“We’re escorting you to the town line,” Dad said.
“Making sure you get out safely,” Mom said. “You really made our neighbors angry. Once Hamlin gets rid of its vermin problem, you can try visiting again in a few years.”
<
br /> “After at least a few years,” Dad clarified.
A telephone pole fell through a house, one more destroyed building in a localized apocalypse.
“You’re right,” Kate said. “They’ve lost their minds.”
“Show some gratitude, young lady,” Dad lectured. “We saved your lives back there. You haven’t seen Chuck Davies lose his temper.”
“He broke your wrist,” Cessy said. “That doesn’t make him vermin?”
Mom looked out the window. Dad bit his tongue.
Cessy managed to pull up alongside the Toyota. The boy driving had a death grip on the wheel. He sat on the edge of the seat to see over the dash. Cessy honked. The boy looked over in fear. Cessy waved for him to follow, then pulled ahead.
“Once you two have some time to cool down, and get informed of the facts, you’ll understand why Chuck and your father are so upset about the vermin here in Hamlin.”
“Mom,” Cessy said, “you just saw a worm as thick as a school bus eat your daughter’s ex-boyfriend. It’s killing your friends as we speak. Your town is literally crumbling around you.”
“My friends are fine. It’s the vermin who are attacking the town,” Mom insisted. “They killed Sheriff Miller. You saw his body.”
“I killed him. In self-defense. Three times.”
Mom was finally stunned.
Dad spoke slowly. “Cecilia, what exactly are you admitting to?”
“Sheriff Miller defends our town,” Mom’s voice trembled. “He puts his life on the line for us. You wouldn’t do that.”
“You let him haul me off. You knew he was making people disappear.”
“Not people,” Dad spat. “Vermin. I didn’t think you were vermin, so I thought you were safe. Was I wrong?”
The shops of Main Street gave way to the rolling forest that lined Mud River Road on one side, and the namesake river on the other. Cessy checked her rearview mirror to see that the boy was still following. Behind him, Landis’ truck pulled into line in the caravan, followed by three other vehicles.
Past Main Street, Cessy’s view of the low sky above Hamlin was less obstructed. Hundreds of low dust plumes dripped shadow and rubble down onto the town.
For the first time since she’d been back in Hamlin, Cessy heard regret in her father’s voice.“I never would have thought my own daughter was capable of murder.”
“He tried to kill me.”
“He’s the Sheriff. He must have believed his life was in danger. And obviously, it was.”
“Dad,” Kate said. “Shut up.”
Mom gasped. “You can let us out here. We should give each other some space before somebody says something they can’t take back.”
A pang of grief in Cessy’s gut. She didn’t expect Dad to ever forgive her for what she was about to do. “Kate, don’t let Mom unbuckle.”
Kate leaned forward to grab tight to Mom’s wrist.
“Ow, you can’t do this.”
Dad grabbed Kate’s arm. Cessy shoved her seat backwards. The impact jolted Dad’s wrist and hip. He cursed and let go.
“I hope someday you two come to your senses, and you thank Kate,” Cessy said. “She loves you more than you deserve.”
“What an awful thing to say.”
“Not as awful as what Kate stopped me from doing,” Cessy said. She was grateful to Kate for insisting on coming for Mom and Dad. Jackson’s loneliness at his death was enough of a burden. “We’re taking you out of here.”
64
Cessy led the caravan up Mud River Road. The shallow river formed a barrier between Cessy and the landmarks from her youth. She passed the bridge to Rooster Ridge, then the bridge to the Church of the Morningstar, then to Rag Hill.
The road curved uphill, where it left the valley over the lowest point in the eastern ridge.
Cessy peered ahead, and into the thick forest. The tall man Chuck had sent ahead would try to block the road again. Cessy wasn’t sure where to expect him.
Two rounds left in the revolver.
“We’ve brought you to the edge of town,” Dad said. “Pull over and let us out.”
Cessy responded by pressing harder on the accelerator. The truck’s engine grumbled.
The two-way radio crackled. Cessy reached for it, ready to warn Landis about the tall man.
“Rats flee ships they think are sinking,” came Lockler’s angry voice. “That’s how you know they’re rats. But here’s the truth you can’t deny: rats aren’t any good at knowing when a ship is actually sinking. They see the littlest bit of trouble and think, forget this ship, forget my friends on this ship, forget my duty to this ship. And they turn tail and run. That’s how you know they’re vermin.”
Kate scoffed. “He’s really mixing his metaphors, isn’t he?”
Mom yanked her wrist away from Kate’s grasp. She unbuckled herself. “I’m not vermin!”
“Grab her!” said Cessy. She slammed her seat backwards into Dad again. The impact jarred his wrist. He grabbed it with his good hand and winced.
Kate reached around the front seat to wrap her arms around Mom’s chest.
“But if they turn around--if it turns out there was some sort of misunderstanding, and they’re really the type of person who loves this town--then of course we wouldn’t judge them. There’d be nothing to judge them for.”
In the rearview mirror, Cessy saw a truck behind Landis’s turn around, and speed back towards Hamlin.
Landis’s voice came over the radio, preempting Lockler’s. “Where the hell is that guy going? Whoever’s playing this stupid radio show over the channel, cut it out.”
Mom struggled, but Kate held her tight. “I love you, Mom,” she repeated over and over.
“You can’t do this to us.” Dad was doubled over in the backseat. “We’re free Americans. You can’t just arrest us.”
“You can call your lawyer once we get to D.C.” Cessy toggled on the radio to answer Landis. “These folks trust Lockler. God knows why. Let the escapee go. It’s enough trouble keeping two with you who’re already in the car.”
She took her finger off the button, and Lockler’s voice reinvaded the car. Cessy turned the volume to zero, but the broadcast kept on uninterrupted.
The nasally roar of a chainsaw from up the road drowned out Lockler’s unhinged rambling. A tree cracked, three short bursts.
The came around a bend to see a pine tree crash down across the road. Two more trees from the thick forest uphill already lay haphazardly across the asphalt, and a third had fallen too far, down the bare hill toward the river.
A truck was parked off the to the side of the road. A minivan was stopped in front of the closest downed tree, driver’s door open.
The tall man stood up hill from the road. His chainsaw rumbled and vibrated. He took careful steps along the steep hill to another tree.
Cessy said over the radio, “Landis, you find a way to move these trees, or find a way around. I’ll deal with Paul Bunyan.”
She parked. Sunlight reflected off the river, making the road uncomfortably bright and exposed.
Mom lunged for the door handle, but Kate held her tight. Cessy grabbed a pair of cuffs from her glove box and cuffed Mom and Dad’s wrists together. They held hands over the center console.
Dad spoke in a tone that’d always filled Cessy with guilt. “I thought you’d turned yourself around. But you’re still the selfish girl you used to be.”
“Fuck you,” Cessy said, but the harsh response couldn’t dull the abandonment she felt.
“You’re not doing yourself any favors with that language,” Mom said.
“Watch them,” Cessy ordered Kate, as if either of their parents were still nimble enough to climb over the console to escape together. “If they try anything, smack Dad in the wrist.”
“Aye, aye.” Kate saluted. Retreated to jokes to avoid confronting the people their parents had devolved into.
Cessy left her door open. Up the hill, the tall man’s chainsaw gnawed at another
tree. Wind carried pale sawdust over the dark muddy river embankment.
The caravan pulled up behind them, with Landis’ truck in the lead. He parked, but the asphalt under Cessy’s feet continued to rumble. A crack appeared across the faded yellow double lines.
They weren’t free of danger yet.
Landis hopped out. A state trooper jogged up to him, along with a thirty-something Hamlin resident. Cessy heard discussion about a winch, but she was already headed up the hill.
The tall man had his back to her. He finished a wedge cut on the downhill side of the tree, and swung the chainsaw around the back for the felling cut.
Cessy stopped out of reach of the chainsaw’s teeth, in case the man whipped around. “Drop it!” she yelled.
Back still to Cessy, he pushed the chainsaw harder in to the tree. The chain screeched and stuttered.
A hand fell on her shoulder. She jumped.
Landis yelled to be heard. “One of the escapees has a winch on his jeep.” He pointed at the tall man. “What’s his deal?”
Cessy shook her head. “Dangerous.”
She pointed at Landis’s pistol, which he drew.
“Stay here.”
Cessy climbed up the hill, circling the man until she knew he saw her. Dirt tumbled down under her feet. He noticed her, then went back to cutting. A series of rapid-fire cracks, and the tree swung down slowly, crashed overtop of the existing roadblock.
The state trooper and the local jumped back. The state trooper held out his arms in question to Landis, who held up a single finger in response.
Cessy aimed the revolver at the tall man. He stepped carefully to another tree.
“Drop the chainsaw!” she shouted.
Landis shouted the same order. The tall man startled; he hadn’t noticed Landis. But he gunned the chainsaw and attacked the next tree.
Frustrated, Landis yelled. “Hey buddy. I gave you an order.” He approached.
