"I've been wondering the same thing. I know they landed in ships. I only saw one, but apparently, there were others." She hesitated, not wanting to face the next thought. "Perhaps many others."
"Ship?" Penny screwed up her face in puzzlement and then took another hearty bite from her brother's limb, chewed briskly and swallowed. "Whose ship?"
"I don't know. Um, would you mind stopping eating your brother? You realize what you're doing isn't right, don't you?"
"I haven't really thought about it." She pursed her bloodstained lips reflectively for a few moments. "It's true – I've never had an appetite for my brother before."
"You loved him, didn't you?"
"I guess so." The girl's shrug suggested that was open to question. "Though I've never felt exactly the same things other people did. But I think I remember caring about him before, and about my mom and dad and Grandpa Larson."
"But you don't, now?"
She reflected for another few moments and shook her head. "I don't seem to."
"You said he was dying." Diana hesitated. "Does that mean he was alive when you woke up?"
"Yes."
"Then you killed him?"
"Uh huh. He was weak and making all these super-annoying whining sounds. Couldn't even speak like a real person. So I just hit him on the head and he stopped. That was when I realized how hungry I was." She gave Diana a vaguely apologetic smile.
For the first time, Diana noticed the purplish dent in the dead boy's left temple. "You clubbed him to death?"
"Nah." Penny made a fist of her right hand. "Just punched him."
"It looks more like you hit him with a baseball bat."
"Nope. I can hit pretty hard now. I'll show you." Penny dropped the remains of her brother's arm on the floor and hopping to her feet slammed her fist down on the top of a pink dresser. The wood splintered and crushed inward as though struck with a sledgehammer. "I always thought it was painted such an ugly color."
Diana took a step back, her shotgun edging upward in her hands. Clearly, the airborne agent had altered more than just her mind.
"Do you feel like hurting people?" Diana asked.
"No." Penny frowned. "Unless I'm hungry." She regarded the older woman with sudden attentiveness. "You smell nice."
"If you like the smell of sweat and body odor."
"No, you smell clean. Fresh. Healthy."
"Tasty?" Diana's shotgun angled up a bit more, now aimed at the girl's midsection.
Penny smiled. "I'm sure you would taste great, but don't worry, I wouldn't hurt you. You're an adult and I'm just a kid and I don't know what to do."
"What if I was just a kid, too?"
The girl grew reflective. Her eyes shifted away from the older woman's gaze to the barrel of the shotgun. Diana had the impression that Penny, who'd seemed innocently candid to that point, was reconsidering that policy.
"Killing people is against the law," she said flatly. "I don't want to go to jail."
Not a very reassuring answer, Diana thought. "You don't know what's happened out there do you, apart from the strange animals showing up?"
"What's happened?"
"Almost everyone in the area is dead. It occurred yesterday afternoon. No warning. People just started coughing and struggling to breathe. But not everyone died. For some reason, I survived, and so did you. And at least two other people."
Penny stared at her with abrupt focus. She didn't look shocked, as Diana would've expected, or upset. Just curious and attentive.
"What caused the people to die?"
"I don't know. And I don't know why we survived. Or the animals. I mean our animals."
"Yes. The horses seemed fine until that dragon killed them."
Diane had a sudden thought. "You said your brother didn't die...until you hit him. Do you and your brother have something in common besides being siblings? He's not... different like you are, is he?"
"Not autistic, if that's what you mean. Or as my family used to say, 'special.' He just suffered from asthma."
"Asthma." Gears were slowly turning in Diana's head. "Was she on any special medication?"
"Inhalers."
"Are you on any special medication?"
"Adderall." She shrugged. "Thioridazine." Her eyes had a challenging glint. "What about you?"
"I was under general anesthesia when people starting getting sick. I was having my appendix removed."
"Did they remove it?"
"No. But they'd already administered the anesthetic, so I lost consciousness. I woke up this morning to a hospital – a town – full of dead people."
"Did you call the police?"
"The phones aren't working. Neither is anything electrical, as far as I can tell. Including batteries."
"But..." Penny frowned, her light-blue eyes shifting in thought. "What could cause all this?"
"I don't know."
"Then what should we do?"
"Let's start with going to my house. I don't know if you're still hungry, but I haven't eaten for about two days. And I have a lot of meat that's defrosting, I'm sure."
"That sounds good." The girl smiled. "I could use some dessert."
Chapter 3
LAURIE AWOKE TO A wet tickling on her cheek. She opened her eyes and found herself nose-to-nose with a kitten. When she stirred, it scampered off. Their farm cats, even kittens, were not warm and touchy creatures.
She was so cold she might've been laid out in a morgue. She shifted her arms and legs a few inches, feeling like an ice sculpture. Her head was pounding – a dull, thumping ache that seemed to match her pulse. Had she been out here all night? Why was she here?
Only when she sat up facing the open garage door and saw her family lying on the cement floor did she start to remember. Memories returned in fragments, not a flood. The power had gone out. Strange lights in the sky. Even stranger flying objects. Everyone getting sick. Mom's medicine bag...
Laurie crawled to her feet, fear charging her muscles. Her family was lying there so still. Were they dead? Unthinkable...and yet so was everything else. Nothing was really connecting. Friday after school. She'd been shooting a bow. Dad had been out planting corn. Donny on his computer. Mom drinking coffee. Then normal life stopped, and the bizarre began.
She entered the garage on rubbery legs, her head continuing to pound. Her mom and dad were flopped together. Her dad was softly snoring. Her mom stirred. Laurie's chest heaved as she choked back a sob. Oh God yes. With heavy steps, she moved past them to her brother and kneeled beside him.
Donny was breathing. Laurie bowed her head for a moment, drawing in a shivering, grateful breath. She touched his face. He released a whispery groan that held an edge of protest, much like the sound he'd make when their mom would shake him awake on a school morning.
Laurie reached back and grasped her mom's arm while gently shaking her brother's shoulder.
"Hey," she said. She raised her voice. "Hey, Mom! Wake up!"
"Mmmph," said her mom. She opened her eyes halfway. "What?"
Laurie gripped her shoulder. "Mom – something's happened."
Sonja made a smacking sound with her lips as if tasting something suspect. Dan massaged his forehead and winced, his eyes still squeezed shut.
"Dad," Laurie said. "Daddy."
"Yeah..." Dan raised his eyebrows as though to drag his eyes open. He managed just a crack. "Hey, sweetie. What's going on?"
"That's what I want to know. Are you guys okay?"
"Good question." Her dad coughed into a drawn-out throat-clearing. His eyes opened wider. "The nerve gas?"
"I guess we survived."
"Feels like the worst hangover of my life."
"I know. My head is killing me, too."
"Donny?" her mom asked.
"He's alive."
Sonja craned her head to follow her daughter's gaze to the slowly stirring boy. She eased off her husband's shoulder and rolled toward him.
"Donny?" She ran her fingers through his curly blon
d hair. "Can you hear me?"
"Uhhhh..." The boy grimaced, not opening his eyes. "Can't I sleep in a bit more, Mom?"
Sonja choked out a sobbing laugh and ruffled his hair. "Okay. But you might prefer your bed."
She and her husband dragged each other to their feet, with a minor assist from Laurie. Donny had opened his eyes and was perched on one elbow.
"We survived," he said.
"We were very lucky, Donny," said their mom. She extended one shaky arm to Laurie. "Thanks to your sister."
Laurie slipped into a one-armed hug from her mother. Dan embraced them both, joining his wife in kissing the sides of her forehead. For once, she didn't feel like pulling away.
"Please stop," said Donny. "I don't want to get sick again."
The three of them helped him to his feet. He swayed in their arms, making whooshing sounds for a few moments before stabilizing enough to stand on his own.
"Let's go inside," said Dan.
They made it as far as the living room. Donny collapsed in his father's recliner, while his parents flopped on the couch. None of them looked to be going anywhere soon. Laurie was tempted to join them, but an impatient curiosity gnawed at her. Had the world she knew truly come to an end? She couldn't believe that, but she knew that the answers lay a few miles to the south in the quaint but bustling little city of Glenwald, Minnesota.
Donny was soon snoring happily away, and so was her dad. But her mom motioned Laurie closer.
"I'm remembering," she said, just above a whisper. "There were only three doses of atropine."
Laurie swallowed down a sour lump of guilt. "I injected Donny with epinephrine."
"It's okay, honey." Sonja reached up from the couch and smoothed a strand of strawberry blond hair from her daughter's tearing green eyes. "You did what you thought you had to do."
"Please don't tell Donny."
"Nope. We'll keep that between us." Her mother studied her, releasing a shuddering, pent-up breath. "Epinephrine would not have worked if it was any kind of nerve gas. In fact, it would've killed him pretty much instantly."
"Then it wasn't nerve gas?"
"No. My best guess is something that induced anaphylactic shock...or simply a strong allergic reaction. We might've been okay without the injections."
"I've never had an allergic reaction like that."
"I know. The symptoms don't match up well with anything I know of..." Sonja's eyes drifted closed. She roused herself with a sharp breath. "We'll figure it out. Right now, we just need to rest."
She took Laurie's hand and held it against her cheek. Her smile persisted as she fell asleep.
Laurie slid her hand free. Her own drowsiness was retreating before her need to know. She didn't like unanswered questions – at least not when she was the one asking them. Going into town could provide the answers. But was she strong enough now?
Hunger seemed to strike out of nowhere with a massive craving for the chicken casserole her mom had made yesterday. Laurie opened the darkened fridge and pulled out the cellophane-wrapped deep dish. She spooned out a mound onto a plate and popped open the microwave... Duh. She'd have to eat it cold. Which got her thinking. If the power didn't come back on, everything in the refrigerator would go bad. Not to mention everything in the garage freezer.
She set aside those worries as she stuffed down the casserole. She would never have believed that cold casserole could taste so heavenly. The food seemed to melt into her body. After another helping, she returned the casserole to the non-functioning but still-cold fridge.
Laurie headed back to the garage feeling one thousand percent stronger. She located her bike where she'd fallen on the driveway, and started it rolling toward town. By the time she'd reached the road, other than a slight residual queasiness, she felt close to normal.
Her queasiness returned in full force a half-mile down the road when she encountered the body of a man, maybe fifty, overweight, wearing a jeans vest with an NRA button, sprawled off the side of the road. Laurie slowed to a stop. The man was lying there with a puzzled expression on his face, as if he had fallen asleep and was having an odd dream. Except for the bluish tinge on his face and hands. Laurie turned away with a grimace and rode on.
A short distance later, Laurie encountered a semi-truck parked half off the road. Did it belong to the dead man? Had his truck stalled out yesterday at the same time they'd lost power? She could see him getting out and walking toward the nearest farm.
Until the body, Laurie had entertained the hope that whatever had happened was a temporary blip, an "anomaly," as her brother would say, that would fade away in the light of a new day.
Another mile and a big, shiny SUV was parked off the road. Laurie rolled up to the driver's side, bracing herself. A young woman sat hunched over the steering wheel, hair fanning over her face. A boy, maybe seven or eight, lay curled up on the seat beside her, his eyes open, staring blindly. Nancy Turner and her son, Wesley. Laurie turned away, her stomach squeezing into a tight, quivering ball. For a few seconds, she was certain she was about to lose her chicken casserole breakfast. She forced herself to breathe. Nausea retreated grudgingly.
Laurie rode on. She wanted to turn around and ride home. She didn't want to face this, whatever it was, alone. But her family might not be able to go anywhere until tomorrow, if then, and she needed answers today.
Laurie could see the town and the lake from a hill about a mile out. Nothing shouted disaster: no fires, no church bells ringing, no one screaming for help. Just another quiet, sleepy Saturday afternoon in Glenwald.
Riding down Main Street, she encountered a few cars parked at odd angles just off the street – the drivers, she assumed, trying to steer them out of the way when the engines died – but no dead people inside.
Then Laurie arrived at the sidewalk in front of Melvin's Market. The bodies of two girls, maybe nine or ten, lay by the entrance, eviscerated down to their bloody spines. Large chunks of their faces, framed by bloodstained blond hair, were missing. Three creatures that may have been responsible lay nearby. She struggled to fit them into a familiar animal shape. Her first thought was: punk rock elves. They were slim and wiry, with compacted faces and transparent, insect-like wings jutting from their sides. Their partly opened mouth revealed rows of fangs. What in the world were they and where had they come from? One was missing part of its head, while the others had holes in their chests. Gunshots? Had the girls shot them? But then where were the guns?
A breeze carried the rotting carrion smell into her nostrils, and Laurie made a choking sound, backing away to lean against the side of a van. After her stomach settled a little, she leaned her bike against the van and entered the grocery store. The lights were out, of course, but enough sunlight shone through the big front windows to dimly illuminate the store. A funny, rotten smell assaulted her. More dead bodies? But no, it was just the food in the refrigerated sections starting to go bad. The store was deserted – except one elderly woman curled up by the meat department at the far end of the store, a cane clutched in one hand. Laurie didn't recognize her.
Outside, she rolled her bike down the sidewalk, peering into the businesses and stores, which all looked empty. A mystery was mounting in her head about the missing people until she spotted the gleaming windows of the largest structure in town at the end of the block: Winneska Lake Medical Center and Hospital. And where would you go if you suddenly felt horribly sick? Well, duh, as her charming baby brother would say.
Laurie climbed on her bike and coasted down the sidewalk into the hospital parking lot. No more cars than usual for a Saturday afternoon and only one stalled pickup halfway out of a parking space. She pedaled to the entrance.
Through the glass, she saw that the lobby was stuffed wall-to-wall with bodies. She imagined the people staggering in yesterday afternoon, collapsing on the couches, chairs, and floor, groaning, struggling to stay upright, and begging for help. The terrified nurses at a loss, but they were succumbing at the same time, as evidenced by the
number of white and blue-uniformed women lying among the dead.
It was becoming more and more clear that the injections of atropine and epinephrine had saved their lives. But if her mom had thought of it, why not some of the doctors here? Should she go inside and see if anyone was alive? She recoiled at the thought. A whole hospital filled with dead people. If someone had survived, they wouldn't stay here. Laurie leaned against her bike, fighting a fresh wave of nausea. There was nothing she could for them. Time to go back and tell her parents what she'd seen.
A soft whine made her jerk around. A yellow Lab was approaching, head down, tail frantically wagging. Laurie leaned her bike against the entrance doors and kneeled before the dog.
"Hey, boy," she called.
The Lab perked up and trotted to her. She scratched his head. Her fingers paused. Wait a minute. The dog wasn't sick. The kitten that licked her awake hadn't been sick, either. Weren't the animals affected?
Laurie grabbed her bike. "Follow me, boy."
She rolled out of the parking lot, past the last of the buildings to an open area where she had a clear view out of town past a wooded area to the northwestern edge of the lake. She scanned the trees and the skies. Yes. There! A crow or raven flapped over the treetops and landed out of sight. The soft squawk of a blue jay sounded from a nearby oak. A squirrel skittered between two trees. So the animals, at least some of them, were okay. Maybe her mom or her big-brained brother would have some theories about that.
But as Laurie gazed at the lake, she noticed something out of place: a tall, rounded object, or maybe the end of an object, peeking out from trees on the beach. It was grey-blue, metallic, but not shiny. A hill blocked a clear view of the beach extending back from the rounded object...but wait, she thought. Wasn't that its top rising just above the hill, nearly level with the tops of the trees?
Laurie headed down the road, the Lab trotting along behind. She exited Main Street and followed a walking path along the beach, the object less than a hundred yards ahead. It was a lot longer than what she'd guessed, close to seventy-five yards. And taller. She'd underestimated the height of the trees, which were pushing forty feet. It looked like a submarine that had washed up onshore.
ZooFall Page 4
