《Broken Sky and Shattered Earth: Apocalypse Convergence》 01: Bad Noose and Bad News Am I ready? Wilfred Davis asked himself as he stared at the noose, mere seconds before the TV told him the world was over. He had bought some nice, soft, silky rope from the hardware store earlier in the week. It was expensive for anything but the few short feet his intended purpose called for. He wasn¡¯t sure if he would go through with it, but there was no harm in preparing, so he¡¯d looked up a tutorial on YouTube and had it sorted a few minutes later. Looking at the noose, at the finality the loose circle of fine woven threads represented had been intimidating, but also relaxing, in its way. But it was too quiet. Wil didn¡¯t want to go in silence. There would be enough of that after. He had tried to find some good music on his phone, but the reception was piss-poor, and Wil didn¡¯t want his musical choice to be buffering while he swung from the strong central rafter of the cabin. So he¡¯d turned to the TV. The reception was bad, as a lot of channels were only static on humming rainbow-barred screens. The weather channel was stable, however. Its synthesized, lyric-less covers of 90s songs weren¡¯t ideal, but it was better than nothing. A version of ¡°Mambo No. 5¡± that sounded like it was being played in an elevator through a tin-can started playing and Wil rolled his eyes and shrugged. He still wasn¡¯t sure if he could go through with it anyway. Maybe this was a sign telling him he shouldn¡¯t. Or maybe that he was right, and this was the best he could ever expect. His life was the muzak Lou Bega: a shitty version of a mostly-forgotten song. Wil put a sturdy table chair under the central rafter of the cabin and swung the rope over, then got on his tip-toes to secure it in place. That was when a flustered voice cut into the terrible keyboard cover of the fifth Mambo, and Wil paused with his fingers on the knot. ¡°Attention, attention. I don¡¯t know how¡­shit. All future weather reports are, uh, not forthcoming. I mean, we do not have any forecasts for the weather beyond the next few days, and this station will be going dark very soon. There is something happening outside the station and, and, and I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know what to say. I think it¡¯s an attack or¡ªor a disaster or something. The manager is dead. I saw him and he¡ª¡ªoh my god.¡± Wil stood there, an odd and macabre tableau: a pale man with unkempt black hair and hollow-looking green eyes, in his pajamas and on tip-toes tying a hangman¡¯s noose. It was not the first time he had been uncertain about his own demise. He¡¯d questioned it many times over the last few years. It was the first time in a while that he had felt alarm, however. The concept of continuing as he had¡ª¡ªalone, aimless, with no prospect of meaningful change or improvement¡ª¡ªhad been daunting. The idea of ending it was something of a concern, but also a relief. He¡¯d been pulled between the two more often than he could recall: a drab life of quiet resignation, or a quick entry into oblivion. It had been so calming, in a way. To give up and surrender to one or the other. And now, this. Whatever this was. He remained atop the chair, on his tip-toes for another few minutes as he stared at the TV. It¡¯s not like this really matters, Wil thought. And in truth, it didn¡¯t. Not to him, anyway. He had already narrowed his choices down to going along with the meandering flow of his existence or sinking beneath it. Whatever was happening Out There wasn¡¯t his concern. He was In Here, in his parents¡¯ cabin, in his head, in an almost Zen-like state of calm and tranquility, and thinking maybe yes, it was time to get off this ride for good. He¡¯d never asked to get on it, after all, and he hadn¡¯t enjoyed most of his time up until now. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡ªI don¡¯t think it¡¯s a nuclear thing. There are explosions but-but-but they¡¯re not that big. Maybe cars or¡ª¡ª¡± the announcer trailed off, his trembling voice fading as he moved away from the microphone. Wil sighed and lowered his feet so they were flat atop the table chair. The noose swung a little at his expulsion of air, and moved in an easy pendulum in front of him. Back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Hypnotic, in its way. This sounds like perfect timing. What better moment to off yourself than some kind of emergency? He thought. On the heels of this question were a dozen others though. Is it a prank? For real? Is it war? Natural disaster? Riots? Plague? The Rapture? Some other judgment or doomsday event? Aliens? It¡¯d be a shame to miss out on aliens before I die. ¡°Dammit,¡± Wil grumbled. He made to step down from the chair but wound up shifting his weight the wrong way, tipping the chair to the side, and pitching forward onto the floor. Wil had a split second to berate his own idiocy before he face-planted onto the hardwood floor and the room went dark.
Portland, Oregon Seven Days ago ¡°How¡¯d the interview go?¡± Ralph asked as he leaned against the entrance of Wil¡¯s cubicle, elbow up on the flimsy gray partition. Wil didn¡¯t hate Ralph, but he didn¡¯t care for him raising his arms. He was constantly sweaty, regardless of the season, and his armpits were always a Rorschach of sweat and grime. Wil wondered what his shrink would say about the shapes he saw under Ralph¡¯s arms: an sad goblin, a wilted butterfly, a bird with broken wings. Today Ralph¡¯s pit stains resembled two lumpy people turning away from each other. Ralph¡¯s pits were such a unique window into Wil¡¯s psyche, and Wil scoffed at the idea. ¡°Something funny?¡± Ralph asked. ¡°No. Sorry. The interview was fine. It was fine,¡± Wil said. And it had been. He had sat down with his boss, his boss¡¯s boss, and a rep from HR to discuss why he deserved the promotion to lead designer. Currently, and for the last several years, he had been working under his boss, Yvonne, making instruction manuals for various products that required assembly. Everything from do-it-yourself furniture to model trains to dissection guides used in high school biology classes to automobile kits. Each of those manuals required a lot of precise technical drawing, and that was where Wil and his coworkers came in. Drawing book cases and engine blocks and frog organs and laying out the designs for the manuals day after day. It wasn¡¯t awful, but it wasn¡¯t how he had hoped to use his art degree. Concept art for game studios, covers for comics, posters for movies, something with a little joy in it. Not¡­bookshelves. But he did it, he did it well, and it paid the bills. And after a few years working with his studio, he felt he might be able to get a little more. He¡¯d worked hard, worked well, and had experience. And the interview had been fine. Fine. Not bad. Not outstanding. Just¡­fine. Like everything. Like everything had been for years. Wil had hoped he might upgrade to Fine & Dandy, maybe even Mighty Fine, or possibly someday, So Fine It¡¯s Divine. But no. Yvonne had come up to him an hour after the interview and told him they had decided to consolidate the position with hers. His name would be on the shortlist if anything came up. Wil smiled at her and nodded and in that moment, decided killing himself might be the way to go. ¡°They¡¯re just not going through with anybody. Decided to merge Yvonne¡¯s position with the new one, cut costs. You know,¡± Wil said. ¡°That I do!¡± Ralph said, too loudly. ¡°Maybe next time!¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Maybe,¡± Wil said, but he already knew better.
Now Oak Rest Cabin 30 miles outside Portland, Oregon ¡°¡ª¡ª¡ªjust don¡¯t want to die in here. Not in this stupid crappy local weather station. If anybody can hear me, they¡¯re outside. They¡¯re banging on the doors. I think one of them got in already¡ª¡ª¡± the trembling, sniffling voice of the weather announcer brought Wil back to consciousness. He didn¡¯t have to feel for the lump on his forehead to know it was there. It felt like somebody had spot-welded an apricot to the area just above his left eyebrow. He touched it anyway and winced. It wasn¡¯t as big as it felt but it was still sizable. There was still gray October light filtering past the curtains and into the rustic cabin living room. He¡¯d only been knocked out for a little while, maybe a few minutes, tops. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry,¡± the announcer on the TV said. Wil squinted up at the old television set. It only showed the same picture of the Portland area, with multi-hued computer-generated cloud banks moving in the same short loop over and over again. Wil winced as he got to his feet and his head throbbed in protest. The announcer was just crying now, sobbing as some other noise rose in the background: thumping. Thumping turned into banging turned into crashing turned into some wretched croaking howls and the screams of the announcer. Then there was wet tearing and snapping, a sloppy smacking sound, another bang, and silence. ¡°Huh,¡± Wil said. He didn¡¯t have any prior experience or anything to measure it against, but he was pretty certain he had just heard somebody die. Pretty horribly, from the sound of it. It had to be a joke. Wil found the TV remote and changed the channel to one of the news stations he had skipped over before. A harried-looking woman with dried blood on one side of her neck, a bandage over one eyes, and torn, dirty clothes looked ahead into the camera with obvious shellshock. Her visible eye was wide, but vacant. Her skin was pale, and drawn tight. It took him a moment to recognize her, but that was Rebecca Cunnigham, half of Portland¡¯s evening news anchor duo. Her cascade of blond hair had been partially burned off, the rest cut short and with several missing patches. ¡°¡ª¡ªadvised to leave the city immediately. Do not, under any circumstances, approach Portland or any other major city. We have confirmation that similar events are happening all across the country, and from what we can tell, many other countries as well, if not all of them,¡± Rebecca said. ¡°There are conflicting reports as to the nature of what is happening outside right now, and continues to happen. Traffic Chopper 04 has still not responded since it was hit by something. We have not heard back from the pilot or our traffic expert, Bill Jenkins, and our outward facing weather and security cameras have also ceased to work. Have we heard back from Mary?¡± Rebecca asked this last of somebody off-camera, and Wil heard a distant echoing, ¡°No.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been a half hour,¡± Rebecca said. ¡°She was just supposed to pop up to the roof and peek outside.¡± ¡°She¡¯s probably dead,¡± the same off-camera voice said and Rebecca bit her lip and frowned. ¡°Uh, sorry, about that,¡± she said in a halting voice that had a faint tremble in it. Wil had edged closer to the TV without realizing it. He pulled the sturdy old chair he had accidentally knocked over to within a few feet of the TV and sat down on it. Rebecca Cunningham had paused, unable to get any words out as she took several deep breaths. Wil changed the channel to see if there were any other unusual announcements being made. Next channel. No signal. Next channel. No signal. Next Channel. No signal. Next channel. The vertical view of a phone camera hurriedly running through a city somewhere. Not Portland. The video showed a street crowded with cars, most of them wrecked and abandoned, but several wrecked and occupied by still figures with blood seeping from their heads. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Wil said. One of the cars had flames licking along its side and exploded. Fleeing pedestrians caught in the explosion were thrown away and across the street like leaves in a hurricane. The quality of the video was blurry but Wil saw limbs flying off torsos for a brief second as the explosion tore through a small crowd. People screamed and the cameraman (or woman), continued to flee ahead through the streets. Their breath came in rapid, terse gasps as they fled and tried to speak over the din. ¡°They won¡¯t stop! They won¡¯t stop!¡± the breathy voice of the cameraman (definitely a man, now that Wil heard him speak) panted. There were screams from somewhere off camera, and not the panicked shouts of alarm and dismay from the survivors of the car explosion. They were more visceral somehow, more sharp and desperate. There were other sounds too: much like the weather station¡¯s last broadcast, strange, inhuman sounds could be heard underneath the high-pitched shrieks of terror and pain. They reverberated through the TV speakers at a tone or pitch they couldn¡¯t decipher without crackling and Wil winced as he turned the volume down. The upper half of a man flew past the cameraman¡¯s shoulder and smacked into the side of a wrecked delivery truck. The torso splatted against the side of the truck with a wet and heavy thud that left a firework pattern of blood against the truck¡¯s white side. Wil actually screamed as he saw a cornucopia of entrails and organs slide out of the torso¡¯s open end, just below ribs and the nub of a spine. Then, worst of all, Will saw the person flail it¡¯s arms, saw the look of shocked, confused disbelief on the face and realized they were still alive. ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± Wil hissed and fell back out of the chair again, though only on his rear this time. The cameraman spun around and his voice rose into a wail of horror as something descended on him. That was when the shot froze, giving Wil the opportunity to study the dark shape. The picture was blurry, the lighting bad, but it looked human¡­ish. It had a head, a torso, arms and legs, maybe even clothes. It might have been wearing a flannel shirt. It had a rather elongated skull for a person, not inhumanly so just noteworthy. What little could see of the shape¡¯s skin beneath the heavy shadows was grayish. It might just have been a regular person with bad complexion save for one thing: the eyes. The eyes glowed a ferocious and unearthly green, like will-o-wisps shining through the heavy mist of a swamp. Their light was poisonous and unclean and even through the shitty quality of the camera and the even shittier resolution of the old TV, the clarity of their venomous light was unmistakable. ¡°This is the best picture we¡¯ve received so far of whatever is happening in Dallas, right now,¡± a man¡¯s voice said. ¡°It was posted online about thirty minutes ago from a livestream. We¡¯re trying to locate other streams but reception is spotty in many areas, and many social media websites are slow due to what we¡¯re assuming is an exceptional level of traffic.¡± The view of the green-eyed humanoid shrank up to the upper right of the screen and gave way to reveal the desk of another news anchor, a national one, this time. The man explaining the clip was in a drab gray suit and blue tie, had short white hair, and a weathered face. His tone was even, but Wil heard a subtle tremor just beneath. ¡°We apologize for the extremely graphic content, but we do not have the time or staff to edit the raw footage properly, and it does provide an accurate depiction of how dangerous it is outside,¡± the man said. Simple white text appeared below the man that read ¡°Mark Howard, Senior Anchor.¡± ¡°To reiterate the message from the White House: everybody must stay in their homes. Lock all doors and windows, close all curtains, bar any entrances and exits. Landlines for telephones are unreliable, but cell phone towers are mostly intact outside of major cities,¡± Mark Howard said. Wil immediately patted himself down for his phone. He¡¯d left it on the coffee table after he couldn¡¯t find any good reception. He picked it up and tried it again, but the reception was still less-than-ideal, but functional. He checked his social media feeds (which were very slow), full of workplace acquaintances and people from high school and college he never really spoke with anymore. Many of them had last posted about mundane nonsense, the kind of banal updates that made Wil dread the next forty-to-fifty years of life. ¡°Traffic sucks. Thanks Portland.¡± ¡°Rent went up again. Always fun!¡± ¡°My friend set up a GoFundMe after his accident and it would really help if¡­¡± ¡°Kids stayed up all night crying. Lord why did I ever think¡­¡± ¡°Just got out of the new MetalliMan movie! It was fun but they¡¯re starting to run together¡­¡± That was the most recent post for most of Wil¡¯s acquaintances. Just the day-to-day drudgery. They had all been posted last night, with the latest being shortly after 2:30 AM. But there were quite a few from this morning. ¡°Heard the news. This a joke?¡± ¡°Kelly went out last night for her friend¡¯s party. Anybody heard from her? Not responding to texts.¡± ¡°Crazy weather. Everybody stay safe.¡± ¡°IT¡¯S OUTSIDE MY HOUSE POLICE WON¡¯T ANSWER SOMEBODY HELP¡± The last message was only thirty minutes old and contained a picture. It took a while to load, but when it did, Wil¡¯s skin crawled and the hairs on his neck prickled. It was from Ralph, of all people, he of the Rorschach-pits. The picture had been taken from inside Ralph¡¯s house, from just behind the curtain of a window, discreetly pulled aside to reveal the front yard and street. It was foggy in the picture, dense enough to almost obscure the house across from Ralph¡¯s. However not so dense as to obscure what looked like insectile legs longer than street lights stepping on Ralph¡¯s lawn. There were eight of them, each glossy and dark black, like some giant arachnid had decided to construct its web and catch Ralph on the way to work. The legs extended up through the fog and frame of Ralph¡¯s camera, well over twenty yards in length. A notification popped up as Wil stared at his screen. RALPH ATKINS IS STREAMING Wil clicked on it and almost dropped his phone as he was greeted by hysterical shrieks from Ralph. The camera focused on the front door which was bowing inward. There was a sharp gunfire crack of wood splitting and the front door, frame, and a good chunk of wall collapsed in. A chittering droning noise like a swarm of locusts emitted from outside, and Wil saw those long black pointed legs move forward, one stepping into Ralph¡¯s ruined entryway. Ralph continued shrieking and then the feed ended. Wil looked back up at Mark Howard, talking about some kind of massive riot in Dallas. He flipped back to Rebecca Cunningham, who had composed herself and was advising all Portland residents to go to any available basements or secure area in their homes. He looked down at his phone again, and the now rapidly growing feed of panicked, confused, and terrified posts. Finally, he looked out the window. The forest outside was calm. Quiet. More than quiet. It was silent. No birds sang, no insects buzzed, no distant traffic hummed. ¡°What the hell is happening?¡± Wil asked the empty cabin. 02: Wil, in the Dark Watching the news for the next several hours did nothing to answer Wil¡¯s question beyond the most basic. What was happening was very bad, it was widespread, and it wasn¡¯t a joke. A better question might have been ¡°What wasn¡¯t happening?¡± because from the brief clips he saw, it seemed like everything that could go wrong, was. Riots in Dallas, Portland, Chicago, and dozens of other cities. Tsunamis in LA and Miami. An earthquake in Arizona (Is that even on a faultline? Wil thought), fires in New York, possibly some kind of coup attempt in Denver, and tornadoes in Seattle. Live footage from the disaster area themselves was rare. The few brief clips that did make it through the bad reception and heavy internet traffic were blurry, and usually didn¡¯t last longer than thirty seconds or so before something happened to the camera-holder. Finally, after several hours of watching harried news anchors and impromptu-announcers make confused, stammering reports, the TV clicked off. Wil stood from the chair he had been sitting on and flicked the TV¡¯s power switch. Nothing. He tried the light switch next. He¡¯d had it off, as there had been enough light from the overcast day outside to illuminate the small cabin¡¯s living room. Nothing from the light switch. He checked the fridge next, and it was dark when he opened it, though still cool. He hadn¡¯t brought much food, just enough for a week to mull things over, and the fridge was mostly empty save for some left over pizza, spam and eggs, and a few beers and bottles of water. Ditto the freezer, except itheld only ice. He had plugged his phone into a wall outlet while he watched the news, but it showed it was no longer charging, and had stopped at 83%. ¡°Damn,¡± Wil muttered. With the TV out his phone was his only source of information. It wasn¡¯t like he had anybody to call. His parents were long since passed, his ex hadn¡¯t spoken to him since their break-up over a year ago, and he wasn¡¯t close friends with anybody. Maybe his therapist? His shrink was the last person he had texted, the day after he¡¯d been told there would be no promotion, no progress, no change.
Portland, Oregon Six Days Ago Wil strode down the aisles of the Home Depot, taking in the somehow comforting smell of wood and paint that permeated every facet of the high-ceilinged building. Bright halogens cast uniform, flat light over the store below, throwing the various goods into stark relief and creating sharp, black shadows beneath the metal shelves. Wil didn¡¯t have a shopping cart. He wouldn¡¯t need one. He only needed one thing, and it would be easy enough to carry in his hand. He saw the long spools of rope lined up neatly on racks, wound tightly up above their price tags, priced by length. As if on cue, his phone buzzed when he approached the large spools and touched the first rope. Buzz buzz. The rope was cheap, but too thick, and too rough. Difficult to make a noose with that, and even if he could, it would hurt like hell. Pain was something he wanted to avoid. Buzz buzz. The next rope was thinner, but made of plastic fibers. Absolutely not. He wasn¡¯t certain that he was going to hang himself, but if he was he wanted to have something nice at the ready. Just in case. Buzz buzz. Wil sighed and took his phone out. The display read, ¡°Dr. Carroll,¡± and showed a picture of a smiling man in his fifties with a glossy bald head, a white goatee, and thick tortoiseshell glasses. Wil grimaced as he considered sending it to voicemail or just answering with a text, but Dr. Carroll was nothing if not persistent. If he ignored him, blew him off, or didn¡¯t act properly, the doctor would likely notify the police. He¡¯d done it once before when he thought Wil might be about to do something permanent. Wil had considered just dropping the doctor numerous times, but just couldn¡¯t. He¡¯d started seeing Carroll at the behest of his ex, shortly before they¡¯d broken up. Maybe it was because he felt like it was the one remaining connection he had to somebody who cared, or because he wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to be dead more than he wanted to be happy, or because he, grudgingly, found the doctor likable. Wil accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear with another sigh. ¡°Hey Doc,¡± Wil said. ¡°Hey yourself. You¡¯re twenty minutes late and no cancellation notice. You okay?¡± Carroll asked. He had a voice that bordered on deep but without going over into intimidating. Wil sometimes wondered if it was natural or if it was something he¡¯d perfected over the years. ¡°Yeah, sorry, just busy with, uh, work,¡± Wil said. ¡°Did you get the promotion?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah I did,¡± Wil said. If he told Carroll no he hadn¡¯t then that paired with his absence for their meeting might set off some alarm bells. Wil just wanted some time alone, time to evaluate, to really sit and think and decide whether he was going to shoulder on or let himself slide out into oblivion. He couldn¡¯t do that if Carroll had him involuntarily hospitalized or notified his ex-girlfriend, who was his only emergency contact. ¡°I¡¯ve been prepping some new manual layouts for my first day at it on Monday. I guess I¡¯ll actually have people working under me and want to make a good impression.¡± There was a pause from Carroll¡¯s end of the line. ¡°What kind of manuals?¡± he finally asked. Carroll wasn¡¯t stupid. He must have heard something in Wil¡¯s voice that made him suspicious. ¡°A couple furniture manuals, a car seat manual, and one for a sink,¡± Wil said. Just then an announcement for customer assistance to the paint department sounded over the store¡¯s loudspeakers. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m at Home Depot. I needed some screws, pipes, and other literal nuts and bolts for reference.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°I see,¡± Carroll said in a way that made Wil think he saw something else. ¡°Well that¡¯s fantastic news then. I know you were concerned about that last week, saying you¡¯d been struggling with ideation a bit more the more uncertain you were. How¡¯s that been? Still having regular ideation most days?¡± Wil had lied a bit to the doctor earlier when he¡¯d told him he only thought about suicide on ¡°some days.¡± He¡¯d been worried that telling him it was closer to ¡°some hours, every day,¡± would be too big of a red flag. ¡°Getting better. Good news like this obviously helps, of course,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m glad, but you can¡¯t just rely on good news. Life isn¡¯t just about good news. You should be happy, proud of yourself, but I want to make sure you¡¯re going to be okay whenever the next time bad news rolls around is. Hopefully not for a very long time, but still,¡± Carroll said. ¡°I know, Doc. Thank you. But really, I¡¯m good,¡± he said as he touched another strand of rope. Too thin. He¡¯d likely decapitate himself if he used that. The last thing he wanted was to unduly traumatize whoever found him with unnecessary gore. Carroll¡¯s words cut into him just as much as the thin rope might have. He should be proud, he should feel good, but he hadn¡¯t actually gotten the promotion. So should he be ashamed? He was, as usual, just Fine. A flat existence, like the bright but charmless halogens overhead. Functional but nothing more. ¡°You know you¡¯re supposed to cancel at least twelve hours in advance or there¡¯s a partial fine?¡± Carroll asked. ¡°Yeah, sorry about that. I¡¯ll pay it next week, okay? I should be settled into my new position by then,¡± Wil replied. He touched another rope on a spool in front of him. It was as thick as two of his fingers, and smoother than a baby¡¯s new hair. It wasn¡¯t cheap, but Wil didn¡¯t need much of it. ¡°Wil, if you want, we can just push your session back a couple hours. Two other patients canceled for this evening and I¡¯ve got some spare time. If you¡¯re out already, it wouldn¡¯t be too hard for you to swing by would it?¡± Carroll asked and his voice softened. Wil had never done therapy before. It had all seemed a little too much for him. But this had still been when he was with Naomi. He would have done anything for her, so he had agreed to see Carroll, his reluctance an obvious chip on his shoulder from day one. But Carroll had been patient, calm, and quite adept at pointing out bullshit. And when Naomi had left him, she had made him promise to keep seeing Carroll for at least a year. And even then, he would have done anything for her, so he promised. And now it had been a year. And nothing had changed. It wouldn¡¯t change. Wil couldn¡¯t bring himself to smile, but he managed to make his voice sound like he might have been. ¡°I would but I¡¯m just swamped right now. Good swamped though. It was a good day,¡± Wil said. Another pause from Carroll. Then, ¡°Call if you need to, Wil. I¡¯m always available.¡± ¡°Thanks, Doc,¡± Wil said, then a quick good-bye as an employee in an orange canvas vest approached. ¡°Help you, sir?¡± the man asked. ¡°Twelve feet of this, please,¡± Wil said and held up one end of the soft rope.
Texting Dr. Carroll now wouldn¡¯t help him. Ralph would normally be even less helpful but Wil wanted to know what the deal was with that last video. Ralph hadn¡¯t posted anything since then, but if he had seen something, maybe he could tell Wil what was going on. Even with the power out in the area, phones still seemed to be working and his text went right through. WILFRED: Ralph? Are you okay? I saw your video. Wil wasn¡¯t really expecting a response. Unless Ralph proved to have a very elaborate and poorly timed sense of humor, what the video had shown looked very serious. The house caving in and those arachnid-esque legs¡­ Wil shuddered and then looked down at his phone as it vibrated. RALPH: Hello. I am fine. Please come visit me. Wil squinted at the phone. He hadn¡¯t had many text conversations with Ralph, but those three short sentences didn¡¯t sound like the fat, boisterous man with psychologically illuminating armpit stains. Wil scrolled back up to their last conversation, over three weeks ago. RALPH: gettin drinks w/ mike after wrk. U in??? :D WILFRED: Sorry, not feeling well. Just gonna rest. Thank you, though. RALPH: Man you gotta get out sum get you drunk and unwind u knoooooow :O WILFRED: Hah, maybe next week. See you Monday, Ralph. RALPH: l8r t8r All of their brief interactions had been like that, with Ralph peppering his texts with shorthand and emojis. Wil glanced as his phone vibrated again. RALPH: Come visit me here. I am here. I like you. Come visit here. Wil frowned as he read the text. Maybe Ralph had had a concussion? Maybe somebody with questionable English skills had come to help Ralph after hearing his house cave in. An actual call would clear things up. Wil was usually loathe to make a voice call, but this as an emergency. He hit the dial button for Ralph¡¯s number and waited. Ring. Ring. Ri¡ª¡ª ¡°Hello,¡± a voice said. Ralph¡¯s. ¡°Ralph! Thank god. What the hell is going on? What was that video you posted?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Video? Video. I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m Ralph. Come visit me,¡± Ralph said. Wil pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at the screen. Ralph sounded like Ralph. It was his voice but¡­sleepier? Slower? Putting the wrong emphasis on the wrong syllable. ¡°Ralph?¡± Wil asked. Silence. ¡°Come here,¡± Sleepy Ralph said. ¡°Hiding will not save you. Running will not save you. Come here. Be with us. We can save you.¡± Wil¡¯s skin crawled as the voice spoke. It wasn¡¯t Ralph, not really. Its voice changed as it continued to speak, and a chittering noise rose in pitch behind Not-Ralph¡¯s voice. ¡°Who is this?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Come to us, or wait, and we can come to you,¡± the voice said and then there was a piercing shriek and the line went dead. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Wil breathed as he dropped the phone onto the table. He rubbed at his ear as it continued to ring after being subjected to the shriek. Nothing human could have screamed like that. So then what was it? Wil thought. If it sounded like Ralph but wasn¡¯t, if it shrieked in a way no human could, then what? Was it that thing with the tall legs that had broken in? How would it use a phone? Wil still wasn¡¯t sure if what he had seen on Ralph¡¯s video had been what he thought. Maybe those tall black columns hadn¡¯t been legs. Maybe they had been the poles of a machine, or trees blown in by some freak tornado like what had happened in Seattle. Maybe. Wil looked out the window of his parents¡¯ cabin again. The pine trees rustled in the wind, and if Wil strained his ears, he could hear distant sirens. The whapping of helicopter blades sounded overhead, then faded away. But there were still no animal sounds, not even the buzzing of insects. Just the quiet, indifferent rustle of evergreen needles: a billion tiny fingers tapping to keep time until whatever was happening finally passed. Wil jumped as his phone vibrated. ¡°Ralph,¡± was calling. Will hung up and then blocked Ralph¡¯s number. He quickly set about closing all the curtains and pushing the now useless fridge in front of the front door. He leaned the table up against the largest window, and braced it against the sofa. A pair of bookcases covered the other two windows, and then Wil retreated to the bedroom with his phone. There was another window in here, but it had shutters on the inside, which Will closed, and latched shut. He took a couple pillows from the bed along with the top blanket, and then locked himself in the dark bathroom. He climbed into the tub and stretched out as best he could. The bathroom lacked windows, and if somebody wanted in they¡¯d have to break through the window, shutters, and the locked door. He was as safe as he could get. That was when it occurred to Wil. For the first time in what was probably months, if not years, he had gone hours without thinking about his suicide. He¡¯d even forgotten his soft, expensive rope out in the living room. Wil snorted to himself in the cold darkness of the bathroom. It had taken what appeared to be a wave of national disasters, but he¡¯d finally been able to focus on something other than his meandering life and potential death for once. Wil snorted again, then started to laugh into the empty black around him. 03: An Overdue Phonecall Wil had the presence of mind to fill the bathtub with as much water as he could rather than sleep in it once his laughing fit had passed. True, it provided more protection from¡­whatever was Out There, but the power had already gone out. He figured it was only a matter of time before the water went too. ¡°So am I not killing myself? Why bother?¡± he muttered to himself in the darkness of the bathroom as the tub filled to capacity and he shut the water off. If he was just going back to the noose, he wouldn¡¯t need a bathtub full of water. He¡¯d been knocking the idea of becoming one with the infinite for years now, and had done all the serious prep work for the months leading up to this. He had a will drafted, done his research on methods, made plans for the local rangers to find his body a day after the deed was done before decomposition set in and potentially ruined the cabin. Good-bye letters had been written, though since he didn¡¯t know anybody that well, they were mostly just informative: a letter of notice to Yvonne at work, apologies to Ralph for leaving in the middle of their project, a letter clearing Dr. Carroll of any responsibility he may have had as a doctor, and so on. The noose was still out in the living room, but Wil found its pull on his attention waning. The small oval of fine rope had been all he had thought about the past week. It had motivated his every action. Now, his mind kept slipping away from it and to¡­ Pretty much anything else. How many natural disasters had the news mentioned? At least four. Riots and a coup in cities that weren¡¯t even in the same state, at roughly the same time? Couldn¡¯t be a coincidence. Green-eyed things, long-legged things, and something that was definitely not Ralph answering Ralph¡¯s phone? An understatement to say that was all a bit unusual. And finally, all of this happening on the same day, the same span of hours? How? Why? Wil had spent the last several months, years, knowing¡ª¡ªnot just feeling but knowing in his bones¡ª¡ªthat his life was, at best, just going to be one big hamster wheel. Movement, but no progress. An endless loop of exertion for no reason. But now, he wasn¡¯t sure what he knew. He knew something very serious and very strange was going on Out There. And that the In Here of his mind that had once been so orderly, so directed toward such certainty, was now in disarray. Wil sat on the toilet and ran his hands through his hair. There was something else, too. Among the many things he had known about his own bleak and dull future, he had known that Naomi¡¯s life would be better without him. She would be better than Fine. She would be great. But now¡­ It seemed like, among the many things going on Out There, that death was among them. It was apparent from the news, from social media, from the unnatural silence outside the cabin, that death had come. Likely a much more grisly death than a noose would offer. Wil shot up off the toilet and stared at his phone. He had deleted Naomi¡¯s number the night they had broken up. He didn¡¯t want to tempt himself with calling her back, but it was a symbolic act. He¡¯d had her number memorized since the second week they had dated. He hadn¡¯t bothered her, not once. He knew that would only cause her pain, and that was the last thing Wil ever wanted. But he had to know. He had to know if she was okay. He wanted to kick himself for not calling immediately, but the news, Ralph¡¯s call, the panic after, it had all happened so quickly, so arrested his attention from anything and everything else. He dialed Naomi¡¯s number and waited a subjective eternity. If she answered he¡¯d have to talk to her, apologize again, dig everything back up maybe. If she didn¡¯t answer what would that mean? That she didn¡¯t have her phone (unusual for her but best-case scenario for no answer). That she didn¡¯t want to talk to him (bad, but expected). That she was dead. Wil swallowed the fist-sized lump in his throat and felt it settle into his stomach like a hot stone. The phone on the other end rang for the first time. Wil let out a breath and bounced on his feet. ¡°C¡¯mon Naomi. C¡¯mon, dammit,¡± Wil muttered.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Second ring. Third. ¡°Jesus,¡± Wil said and scratched at the back of his neck hard enough to get the upper layer of skin under his nails. ¡°Wil?¡± a musical, soft, feminine voice answered the phone. Wil hadn¡¯t heard it in a year, and the single syllable of his name said by that voice almost made him cry on the spot. He let out a shuddering breath. ¡°Yeah. Naomi,¡± he said, the first time he¡¯d said her name outside of his meetings with Dr. Carroll. When he said it in the psychiatrist¡¯s office, it felt like he was reciting the scientific name of some long-extinct creature: Here is Naomis Maximus, the remains of a once great person in my life, now reduced to bones. But saying it to her brought that all back to life in a heartbeat. ¡°Shit,¡± Wil said. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­I didn¡¯t prepare for this. Sorry. Fuck. Are you okay?¡± ¡°Wil, god,¡± Naomi said and her voice cracked. ¡°I¡¯m okay. I¡¯m in my apartment.¡± ¡°Shit,¡± Wil said. Her apartment was in Portland. Not on the outer edges of the city like his shitty studio, but damn near downtown, near 9th Avenue and Washington Street. He knew it well enough. It was on the seventh floor of a converted factory on the southeast corner. He knew it well because it hadn¡¯t always been her apartment. For a few years, it had been theirs. ¡°It¡¯s crazy out there,¡± Naomi said. ¡°Are you safe?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m at my parents¡¯ old cabin,¡± he said. ¡°What are you doing up there?¡± ¡°I just¡­I was just getting some time to myself. Been hanging out with Ralph from work a lot, felt like I¡¯d earned a little weekend to myself.¡± ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± Naomi said with a faint laugh. Wil smiled. ¡°You always did know. Are you safe? I mean, it sounds like every major city is going nuts, but is your apartment okay for now?¡± ¡°Yeah. Yeah I¡¯m all right. I locked the door, shut the curtains and moved my book cases in front of the windows,¡± Naomi said and sniffled. ¡°There have been sounds from a few floors down, though. I don¡¯t know what could make sounds like that.¡± ¡°Do you have power?¡± ¡°No, it went out an hour ago.¡± ¡°Water?¡± ¡°Yeah, I checked.¡± ¡°Fill up the sink, bathtub, any pots and pans and containers you have.¡± ¡°Oh shit, that never occurred to me,¡± Naomi said and then her voice moved away from the phone, followed by the sound of rushing water. Wil waited, alternating between snapping his fingers and slapping his palms against his thighs. ¡°Okay, tub is filling, I¡¯m getting my pots and stuff out,¡± Naomi said a short time later, and a rattling clang of metal accompanied her. Wil visualized the apartment in his head. It wasn¡¯t hard. He did nothing but technical drawings all day during the week, had for years, and for years before that had trained his mind¡¯s eye to soak in details for the canvas, digital and traditional. They''d shared the apartment for years as well. ¡°Have you moved things around much since I left?¡± he asked. ¡°What? No? I mean¡­why?¡± ¡°Because if you move that tacky armchair into the entryway, its big enough to keep the door stuck in the frame even if somebody breaks it down. It won¡¯t hold forever, but its better than just your deadbolt,¡± Wil said. ¡°Also my old baseball bat should be tucked up behind your shoeboxes in the back of the closet.¡± ¡°You told me you took everything of yours,¡± Naomi said. ¡°Well, I lied. Didn¡¯t catch that one did you?¡± ¡°Asshole,¡± Naomi said, but there was affection there. ¡°Shithead,¡± Wil said right back with the same tone. God it felt good to talk to her again. He spared a half-second to marvel at how familiar it became, even after a year of silence, and even in the middle of everything going on. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve changed your mind about guns, its probably the best weapon in the apartment. Knives aren¡¯t a bad choice either though.¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯ve been carrying one of the kitchen knives around since shit went crazy,¡± Naomi said. ¡°I¡¯m not a complete idiot.¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry. Just worried,¡± Wil said. The best place for her to hide in the apartment was likely the bathroom. The place had cost more than Wil made in a month in rent, mostly because of the expansive views it boasted, but those were a liability now. Still, they¡¯d have given Naomi a decent view before she wisely barricaded them. ¡°What¡¯s happening there? I¡¯m out in the damn woods and I just saw the news, my social pages, but nothing here. It¡¯s just weirdly quiet,¡± Wil said. ¡°Some kinda riots, or something. And a really weird-ass storm. And¡­and some thing in the streets. I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t see more than a few blocks away. Smoke from fires and rain and mist from the weird storm have cut visibility to practically nothing,¡± Naomi replied. ¡°What was weird about the storm?¡± Wil asked. ¡°It had green light in it,¡± Naomi said. ¡°Like the Aurora Borealis.¡± Wil immediately thought of the dark humanoid shapes with the venomous green light glowing from their eyes. ¡°And what did you see in the streets?¡± ¡°Something. I don¡¯t know. It was bigger than a truck, crawling on the side of a building. I only saw it for a few seconds and thought I was hallucinating. I hope I was. Jesus, I watched it kill like, five people and run off into the smoke with their bodies,¡± Naomi took a hitching gasp and let out a sob. ¡°I was just glad it hadn¡¯t seen me. Five people ripped apart in a second and all I could do was be happy it wasn¡¯t me.¡± ¡°Naomi, it¡¯s okay,¡± Wil said. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. Look, I¡¯m going to come get you, okay? You can stay with me in the cabin, it seems quiet here. We can just wait it out. Until then just hunker down and stay put.¡± ¡°No, Wil! It¡¯s insane here. I can¡¯t let you do that,¡± Naomi said. ¡°I have an idea, I¡¯ll g¡ª¡ª¡± And the line went dead. ¡°No,¡± Wil said in a voice like a parent scolding a naughty child. ¡°No no no.¡± He pulled his phone away and almost crushed it as the ¡°NO SIGNAL¡± sign flashed in the upper left. ¡°NO!¡± Wil shouted in the darkness of the bathroom. ¡°No you son of a bitch! You shitting piece of ass!¡± He raised his hand to smash the phone in his fury but stopped himself. He was furious at the timing of it, but the signal might come back. He might still be able to get WiFi somewhere, message her or get her on video chat. But there was no power in the cabin for wifi. And it sounded like there was no power anywhere. ¡°The ranger station has a generator,¡± Wil said to himself. He had seen it when he had checked in and told the local ranger that he would be staying in the cabin for the week. It had been on the side of the station, black and bright yellow, like a gas-fed bumblebee. He had remembered it because he had seen one just like it on his last visit to Home Depot. A Champion 3800 Dual Fuel generator. Of course, just because he might be able to get a signal wouldn¡¯t mean Naomi would. It could be for nothing. But he had to try. He had to know she would be okay. And that meant he had to go¡­ ¡°Out There,¡± Wil said as he looked at the locked bathroom door. 04: Down the Road Wil shoved the fridge away from the front door and back into the kitchen and then stood before the door. It had a deadbolt and a simple lock in the doorknob to keep it sealed, but that was it. It was only an inch and a bit worth of wood. If somebody was really determined they could just kick it in. It wasn¡¯t going to stop whatever was going on Out There. Wil had spent most of his adult life depressed at where he had ended up: a dull, dead-end job, single, a shitty apartment, few¡ª¡ªif any¡ª¡ªfriends. But he had never hated himself. Carroll told him some people with depression actively, aggressively hated themselves. Wil did not. He just didn¡¯t see the point. But if he stayed In Here¡ª¡ªthe bathroom, the cabin, his own head¡ª¡ªwhile Naomi was Out There, he would most definitely hate himself. He wouldn¡¯t just kill himself then, he would absolutely murder himself if he let that happen. So there might as well have not been any door at all. Naomi was Out There and if he was going to do one good thing with his life, this would be it. Wil opened the door and stepped out onto the small front porch. Aside from the continuing and eerie stillness in the woods around him, the outside of the cabin looked just as normal as it always had: a short dirt drive leading away from the cabin and down to the main paved road. The drive was flanked by sturdy pines and thick oak trees, the latter of which were now turning yellow and red with the onset of autumn. It smelled heavily of damp earth, pine needles, and woodsmoke. The last was likely coming from the ranger¡¯s station a ten minute drive down the road, or possibly one of the neighbors making their own cabin cozy. Wil hadn¡¯t even thought about the neighbors. Granted, Oak Rest was more of a vacation retreat and not a livable neighborhood. It was Friday, sure, but people usually came up for the weekend after work, not in the middle of the afternoon. Wil¡¯s car, a 2012 Toyota Corolla whose once proud and regal sapphire paint had long ago faded to the chalky blue of a dead man¡¯s frozen lips, sat in the middle of the drive. It had several dings, dents, and scratches that Wil had never cared enough to get fixed. It worked, and that was what mattered. He made sure he had his phone, then realized he needed something else: a weapon. He¡¯d told Naomi to use one, and she was (hopefully) secure in her home. If Wil was going to go driving Out There, he definitely needed something. He was reluctant to take any of the kitchen knives. They were all on the dull side and he didn¡¯t think he would be able to do much with one even if they were razor sharp. There was an old wood-axe behind the cabin though. If nothing else, it was heavy. Wil grabbed it and rested it on the floor of the Corolla¡¯s passenger side. The car started up without coaxing, which was the norm. Still, given everything else that was going on, Wil wouldn¡¯t have been surprised to find the car had suddenly died or something. He immediately locked the doors, then turned on the radio. Static as he backed down the drive towards the main road. He tried another station as he slowly crawled up the asphalt road toward the neighbor¡¯s cabin and the ranger¡¯s station beyond. More static. A third station yielded a voice, but the signal was weak, distorted, and came through in unintelligible bursts. Wil tried a few more, but it was either static, or garbling nonsense. He shut it off just as he arrived at the next dirt driveway and pulled up to the neighbor¡¯s cabin. There was no car in their drive, no lights or sign of movement inside, so he backed out and left. The next neighbor¡¯s house was similarly deserted, and the third. Wil decided to just ignore the other houses and head right for the Ranger¡¯s station. He was wasting valuable time. He pressed his foot down gently on the gas and accelerated down the smooth but narrow road as it wound down the gently sloping mountain. The lake from which Oak Rest took its name was on his left. A single small boat was out in the middle of the lake, but it was vacant. Wil squinted to make sure there was no occupant leaning down, and saw there wasn¡¯t one. It was just an abandoned boat sitting in the middle of the lake. He turned back to the road, wondering how an empty boat had gotten into the lake without any strong winds or storms, and saw something huge and dark standing in front of the car. Wil gasped, his muscles tensed, and he slammed on the brakes, too late. His car rammed into the thing in the road, knocked it down, and the Corolla¡¯s front tires thumped mightily as they plowed over the thing like an organic speedbump.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. The car swerved to the side and Wil shouted in pain as his neck was whipped to one side, and then it was over. His car was stopped in the middle of the road, the hood bent upwards, but the engine was still puttering. There was a definite hitch to it now and Wil thumped his head on the wheel. ¡°Fucking stupid. Not watching the god damn road during an emergency,¡± he berated himself. He took a breath and pressed his head against the driver¡¯s side window to look out as best he could. A pair of deer¡¯s legs poked out from under the car. Wil sighed and cursed again. A deer. Normally he would have gotten out of the car, checked the deer, and at least pulled it off the road so other drivers wouldn¡¯t hit it. But he was in a rush, and he suspected that if the deer wasn¡¯t dead already, finishing it off would be a mercy. ¡°Sorry buddy,¡± Wil said and began to roll forward. He braced himself for the bump of his back tires running over the deer, but it never came. Wil blinked and glanced out the closed driver¡¯s window again, and in the rearview mirror. The deer was up. He saw a pair of proud antlers in the rearview mirror. Not a deer then, a buck. Its wet, black eyes blinked at him. There was some blood on a white patch of hair across the buck¡¯s chest, but no other sign of injury. ¡°Tough guy,¡± Wil said, glad despite the emergency that he hadn¡¯t killed an animal. He gave the buck a last quick look and started to pull away when the animal opened its mouth. Its mouth kept opening, impossibly huge, until the opening spread to its neck, and that continued to open as well. The buck¡¯s obscene mouth was lined with crooked, stubby fangs going all the way down its throat. That was when Wil also saw some sort of viscous dark fluid leaking from its eyes. ¡°What the hell,¡± Wil asked in a monotone. His mind didn¡¯t understand what he was seeing, but his body didn¡¯t give a damn. His foot was on autopilot and it slammed on the gas pedal. Wil snapped his eyes off the rearview mirror, determined not to make the same mistake twice, and sped forward. The buck followed, and at speed. The sides of it split outward, exposing more teeth and the raw, red tissue of the buck¡¯s musculature. Wil heard himself screaming and wondered how long he had been doing it. The buck lowered its head and slammed into the back of the Toyota, sending the back end fish-tailing to the side, the front turning back towards the buck. Wil continued to scream, and then grunted in pain as the buck slammed into the side of the car. The windows shattered and Wil was peppered with a glittering hail of safety glass. He leaned away from the window and the sharp points of the horns that threatened to gouge his face. He kept his foot on the gas, tried to get the Toyota under control and point it back toward the ranger¡¯s station, but the buck was relentless. It slammed the side of the car again and dented the driver¡¯s door in. Wil grunted in pain as the door crumpled inward and struck him in the side. The car tilted, rose up, then landed on the passenger side. There was another hard bang as the buck struck the underside of the Toyota and finally sent it tipping over onto the roof. How the hell is that thing so strong? Wil thought somewhere amidst the shrieking alarm claxons blaring in his head. The buck hit the car again and it screeched as the roof rotated along the asphalt and the car turned in a wobbling circle. Wil shook his head and had a moment to wonder why the airbag hadn¡¯t deployed in his shitty car before movement caught his eye. The buck lowered its head and Wil saw its obscene, elongated mouth inches away from his shattered window. By rights the buck should be dead. Its throat had been effectively torn open from the back of its jaw to the bottom of its neck. It should have bled out in seconds, not had the strength to chase down and knock over a speeding car. All those teeth, Wil thought. They looked like shark teeth: triangular, stumpy, serrated, and lined up in militant rows, ready to march to the fore at a moment¡¯s notice. No deer on the planet had teeth like that in its mouth, let alone down in its throat. But evidence to the contrary was slobbering and snarling inches away from Wil¡¯s face as the buck leaned its snout down and towards the broken window. Wil fumbled with his seatbelt and leaned away from the window as the buck snapped its lethal jaws at him. It missed his shoulder by the width of a fingernail, its slobber sprinkling onto his shirt. It reared back and lunged forward again for his neck, just as Wil found the seatbelt buckle, but too late. And the airbag deployed. It burst out of the steering column with an almost comical pffft! sound and slapped the buck''s mouth back and away. The buck snarled at this assault and snapped at the bag, popping and ripping it open with ease, but giving Wil enough time to unbuckle and scramble away. His arm bumped against the wood-axe, which somehow hadn¡¯t struck him during the wreck. He grabbed it as the buck lunged at him again, and Wil forced his shoulder against the passenger door. He rolled out of the car more than crawled, then sprang to his feet in a wobbly jump, axe in hand. With a very un-deer-like bellow, the buck opened its huge maw and charged at Wil. 05: The Buck Stops Here Wil had never been particularly athletic. He kept in reasonable shape, but nothing really stood out about him physically. He was six-feet tall on the nose, about 160 pounds, and had taken a self-defense course in college for the hell of it. He could have defended himself well enough in a fight with another average person, maybe a little better-than-average, but he¡¯d never had any direct experience with violence. Though even if he had, he didn¡¯t think it would have prepared him for the monstrous, black-eyed buck charging at him. Wil had his axe, but didn¡¯t even bother to swing. He dove aside, around the edge of his upside-down Toyota. The buck slammed into the front of the car with its legs and chest, its antlers just above it, and the car spun to the side. It slammed into Wil and he lost his footing, stumbled, and turned it into a roll. The buck trotted to a stop and then turned its head to glare at Wil. Except it wasn¡¯t an actual turn. It snapped its neck to the side, audibly cracking with the sound of a dry branch. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Wil breathed. Since it wasn¡¯t limited to a flash out the windshield or the narrow strip of the rearview, or obscured behind the car, Wil finally got a good look at the deer. Its mouth extended almost down to its chest, and when it fully gaped open Wil could see its ribcage. He could also see the organs inside: lungs, heart, a peek of others. The heart wasn¡¯t beating. Wil had to stare for a precious extra couple of seconds but the fist-sized organ was dead still. The lungs didn¡¯t inflate either, and the bucks sides were still, despite what should have been very exhausting activity. A normal buck could just slam a full-sized car over like that. Damage it, sure but completely flip it over? The buck turned to fully face Wil and its muscles flexed. Wil saw veins throbbing beneath its fur, and wondered how that were possible if its heart wasn¡¯t beating. Then he realized the veins weren¡¯t pulsing, they were squirming. They moved beneath the buck¡¯s skin, subcutaneous worms that stretched from the buck''s head to its hooves. The skin split in several places and more black fluid oozed out. It had the consistency of custard, and splatted onto the asphalt with audible plops. The buck opened its mouth and bellowed at Wil, another curiosity given the stillness of its lungs and inability to take in air, let alone expel it. But nothing else about the monstrosity before Wil made any sense, and it seemed suicidal (Haha, Wil thought to himself) to focus on such details when the buck was clearly readying to gore him. Wil jumped to the side and grunted in pain as one of the buck¡¯s antlers managed to snag him on the side, just above his right hip. His shirt and the skin beneath tore open in a shallow but painful gash and blood welled out of it and stained his shirt and jeans. Wil hit the ground again, harder this time, and rolled away. He scrambled to his feet and ducked as the buck snapped its head to the side to take another swipe at him. It pierced the back of his shoulder with the farthest prong of its antlers, and this time it really got into him. Wil screamed as the antler went into him, then out as he took a staggering leap away. The buck had turned around, and Wil saw his own blood highlighted on the prong. If Wil stayed here, he would die. And not quick and relatively painless like with the noose. The buck, or whatever it was now, would gore him, trample him beneath its sharp hooves, rip him into tiny Wilfred chunks. And then Naomi would be alone. Wil gripped the axe tightly and ran off the road, into the trees, and down the hill toward the ranger station. The buck bellowed again behind him but Wil didn¡¯t look back. He could hear it crashing and thumping after him. He darted between oaks and zigzagged through the pines. The buck had managed to keep pace with his Toyota for a little while. No way was he going to outrun the thing in a straight line. But even his erratic flight through the woods didn¡¯t buy him much time. It was gaining, it would be on him in seconds and then that would be it. The ranger station was still at least a half-mile away. Something nipped at the back Wil¡¯s hair, tugged on it, and then yanked a bit of it away. He was out of time, out of space. And then he tripped. His foot caught a root and he fell forward and slammed into the pine needle-strewn ground just as the buck leaped forward, antlers down for the final charge. It flew over him at speed, its rear hoof scraping the same shoulder it had pierced earlier. Wil shouted in pain and surprise, quickly turning into a gasp as the wind was knocked out of him. The buck soared over, snapping its head down and to the side to look at Wil as it sailed past, an then slammed hard into a thick pine in front of it.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. If Wil hadn¡¯t tripped, he would have been gored and pinned like a bug in a box. The buck rasped with its huge mouth and snapped its head again, but didn¡¯t move. It¡¯s stuck, Wil thought. The creature had slammed itself forward with such tremendous force that it had fully buried several of its prongs into the welcoming body of the pine. It struggled with impossible strength, its neck, spine, and legs cracking and snapping with the buck¡¯s efforts to free itself. Those worm-like veins thrashed beneath its skin, making the muscles bulge. Wil had seconds, maybe less, before it freed itself. He still hadn¡¯t caught his breath, his breathing coming in hitched gasps, but he didn¡¯t have time to lose. He had dropped the axe when he fell, but spotted it, inches from his hand. The buck lashed at him with its hind legs as it bellowed again. Wil rolled under them, grabbed the axe, and leapt to his feet. He was on the buck¡¯s left flank now, slightly behind it. It rolled one pitch-black eye back at him, more of that custard-like dark ooze seeping from it in thick gobs. Wil didn¡¯t think about it. He wasn¡¯t thinking about much of anything. His arms moved, he took a step back like he was at home-plate (like he had been many times with the bat he had left with Naomi), shoulders flexed, winding up for a homerun. And he swung the wood-axe, hard, fast, true, at the back of the deer¡¯s neck. The heavy old axe blade hit with a weighty thunk!, a sound that was both satisfying and grotesque. It severed the buck¡¯s spine, wedging between the gaps of the spinal column and severing it as it cleaved through the flesh and muscle around it, and then it stopped. The buck thrashed wildly, contorting itself into painful angles. Wil screamed and yanked the axe back, then swung again. Again. Again. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The buck¡¯s neck, made thinner by the huge gaping maw that had already split it, finally separated from the body. The body thrashed once more and then fell to the ground with a heavy thud and a rustle of needles. Those ropey veins twitched, spasmed, and became still. The buck¡¯s head, however, did not. Its tongue lashed, its eyes rolled, and a wet slurping noise came from the back of what remained of its throat. Its hundreds of tiny teeth rattled against one another in a way that reminded Wil of a rattlesnake. The axe blade was coated in the black custard gunk. Wil held the weapon up to look at it as he stepped away from the buck, and winced at the smell. It was a deep, earthy smell: rot and potent mushrooms with a side of shit. Wil wiped the axe blade on an oak nearby, now focused on the buck¡¯s head and separated body. Those vein-worms in the body had gone still. A few of them poked out of the severed neck. The thinnest of them was similar to the width of a single human hair, while the thickest was as big around as a thick noodle. They were as black as squid ink, and Wil noticed that the all radiated outward from the spinal column. The buck''s body fell to the side, and the vein-worms slid out onto the ground, twitched, and then went still. Wil didn¡¯t get near the damn things. He stayed a few feet away and studied the buck¡¯s head, still lodged into the side of the pine tree by the prongs of its antlers. It was still very animated. A thick rasping noise emitted from its convulsing throat, its teeth clicked together and actually moved, vibrated, an organic chainsaw eager to carve into something. The nose twitched and the ears flapped, and what remained of the neck whipped back and forth. More of those black vein-worms dangled from the end of the roughly hewn neck amid the raw, red meat and muscle, and these lashed wildly at the air, as if searching for something to snag on to. One of the buck¡¯s eyes actually emerged from its socket and Wil let out a cry of alarm and backed away further. The eye, solid black, extended several inches out of the socket, held by a writhing mass of those black veins all knotted together in a loathsome braid. The eye waved around on its writhing stalk of veins, stretching, stretching, then drooped and pulled back into the socket with a wet squish. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Wil said and felt what he¡¯d thought was his last meal rise in the back of his throat. He turned and vomited onto the ground while using a tree for support. Adrenaline had left him shaking, his head light, his legs still humming with the need to sprint. He looked at the buck¡¯s head as it continued to rasp breathlessly and glare at him. He considered taking another lop at it with the axe, but it was just a head. Maybe it was only still functioning like that out of reflex. Corpses still blinked their eyes and occasionally twitched. Even if it was still somehow alive, or consciously animate, or whatever, Wil didn¡¯t want to smash the thing for fear of getting that black slop on him. The eyes and mouth were practically leaking with it. It smelled awful, and it could be infected, contagious, god knew what. He¡¯d been lucky with his chops: the neck wound had bled, but only a little had actually gotten on his collared shirt. Wil decided he didn¡¯t want to take any chances and removed his shirt right there, leaving him with his black t-shirt underneath. He threw his overshirt away, then studied the head of the buck again. It was still moving. It wasn¡¯t just a reflex. It wasn¡¯t dead. Wil backed slowly away from it, hands still on the axe, and only turned when he had several trees between himself and the buck. He took off back toward the road at a quick jog and glanced over his shoulder every couple of seconds. The buck didn¡¯t follow, and it was behind him and out of sight soon enough. It only took him a few short moments to return to his car. The run from the buck had felt like hours: a result of adrenaline and his winding path. His car was still upside-down, and he didn¡¯t have anything to right it back. Wil retrieved his phone and its cord from the ceiling of the car where it had fallen, then hurried toward the ranger¡¯s station. 06: The Rangers Station The ranger station for Oak Rest was a quaint two-story log cabin with a pale blue roof and a stone chimney poking out of the side. Gentle puffs of white smoke floated out of the chimney, and the scent of woodsmoke hovered over the area. A tan jeep with a yellow emblem on the side that read ¡°OAK REST STATE PARK RANGER,¡± was parked in front on a short dirt driveway. A black and yellow generator sat on the side of the cabin in a small, locked, enclosed metal box with grating along the sides. A sign hung in the window of the front door displaying who was stationed at the cabin and when, along with a paper of phone numbers of local and federal parks and recreation-related services. An expansive dirt parking lot with spaces marked by thick wooden logs sat next to the station. The lot marked the boundary where the Oak Rest recreational housing development gave way to Oak Rest National Park. Wooden signs with bright, friendly letters carved into them and maps as big as refrigerators pointed and outlined the numerous hiking trails and points of interest. Wil almost leapt onto the station¡¯s wooden porch, seized the front door¡¯s handle and tugged. The door thunked in place. Locked. The door had a large window in its center, and Wil peered through it while cupping his hands around his eyes to shield from the gray glare of the overcast October sky. The interior of the ranger station was dark, with most of the curtains drawn tight. The cabin wasn¡¯t very big, and the second floor was actually more of a loft with a ladder/narrow staircase leading up to it. There were two desks, a locked metal cabinet, some wooden chairs, and what looked like bunk beds up in the loft. There was probably more but that was all Wil could see through the window. He rapped on the glass once. Twice. ¡°Hello?¡± he called and checked the timetable on the door. According to the table, Rangers O¡¯Donnell and Gutierrez should be on duty and at least one of them should be present in the station. Wil banged on the door and shook the handle. ¡°Hello? Hey!¡± he said and banged again. Their jeep was here. One of them should be inside. Even if they had panicked during all the news and left, they wouldn¡¯t leave without their jeep. Or at least if they did, they wouldn¡¯t have gone far. The buck hadn¡¯t been far from his cabin though. Were there more like it? Maybe the woods were full of obscenely strong, black-eyed animals with worms under their skin who wouldn¡¯t die. Wil stopped banging on the door. He turned and put it to his back as he raised his axe to his chest and faced the road and the woods beyond. The woods loomed on the other side of the road, a cathedral of needles and leaves held aloft by its endless wooden columns. Wil had always liked the woods. It was why he had come out here, to have a final communion with nature, in a place he had fond family memories (and not a few with Naomi). But now, as silent as the woods were, and knowing that things like the black-eyed buck might be out there, they were more like a tomb than anything else. Something bumped behind Wil and he nearly screamed as he whirled around, axe held over his chest in a weak attempt at defense. A short Latina woman stood on the other side of the door. Her wavy black hair was a prime example of disheveled bedhead, matched by her narrow, irritable squint. She was fully dressed in dark green pants and a light olive-green shirt with a shiny badge on the ffront and patches on the sleeves that marked her as one of Oak Rest¡¯s assigned rangers. She filled the uniform out well enough, her build diminutive but stocky, like a boxer or wrestler. Though her face was tight with irritation and lined from her squinting, she couldn¡¯t have been much older than Wil. Early-thirties at most. She cracked one eye fully open as she put her hand on the doorknob, then stopped when she noticed the axe Wil was holding. He saw a reflection of himself in the dark glass, overlaid atop the woman behind it as a grim phantasm. The axe still slightly splattered with black gunk and bright red blood. Wil¡¯s chest rose and fell as if he had just run a marathon. His hair was a wild nest, made even more so by the twigs, needles, and leaves in it. He was bleeding from his side, his shoulder, and multiple smaller cuts and scrapes. His eyes had the wide and wild look of a paranoid lunatic and his mouth wavered open and closed as he sucked in deep breaths. Wil saw her mouth the words ¡°What the fuck?¡± and backed away from the door, both eyes very wide now. ¡°Wait!¡± Wil said and dropped the axe on the station porch. ¡°There¡¯s an emergency! Please, I¡¯ve been attacked and my car was wrecked and we have to call¡­somebody!¡± Wil had been about to say ¡°My ex-girlfriend,¡± but realized at the last second that doing so wouldn¡¯t do much to assuage the ranger that he wasn¡¯t a stark raving psycho. A panicked man wielding a bloody axe and shouting about his ex-girlfriend was probably one of the worst things to see on one¡¯s front porch. It could be worse, Wil thought, I could also be selling insurance or something. He felt a mad giggle rise up in him and bit his lip to cut it off. Giggling wasn¡¯t going to do him any favors either. The ranger paused in her retreat at the mention of ¡°emergency,¡± and ¡°attacked.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked. ¡°Are you serious?¡± Wil replied. But if she had been asleep, she might not know. Wil hadn¡¯t known until a few hours ago, and by then whatever had been happening had already been happening for several hours before that. Wil didn¡¯t stop to think too much about why a forest ranger was asleep in the middle of the day and shook his head. ¡°Look, I was attacked by a¡ªa wild animal. A deer. Buck. It almost gored me and I hit it with my axe and ran away. It was, I don¡¯t know, rabid or something,¡± he said. He didn¡¯t want to scare the ranger off with tales of a super-buck flipping his car over and then extending its eyeballs out of its skull to glare at him, post-decapitation. ¡°A rabid deer,¡± the ranger repeated. ¡°Please, my phone can¡¯t get a signal and I need help. I¡¯m not a threat I just¡ªI need to make some calls and maybe get patched up.¡± The ranger eyed him again, her dark eyes giving him a once over up-and-down. ¡°Where are you coming from?¡± she asked. ¡°106 Pine Hill. Wilfred Davis. I¡­shit I left my ID in the cabin,¡± he said. ¡°Mm. I recognize you. Been up here about a week, right? You checked in last Friday,¡± the ranger asked and yawned. Her casual, sleepy demeanor was making Wil want to pick up his axe and hack the door in. Go full Here¡¯s-Johnny if she wasn¡¯t going to let him in. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me,¡± he said instead after he took a deep breath. ¡°Please, will you help me? I¡¯m serious. Some bad shit has happened out here.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Gimme a sec,¡± she said and walked away. Wil looked down and noticed she wasn¡¯t wearing any shoes or socks and her shirt wasn¡¯t fully tucked in, and that one of her shirt buttons was misaligned. She must have really been sacked out. Where was the other ranger then? This was (probably) Gutierrez, so where was O¡¯Donnell? Gutierrez came back into view strapping a belt around her waist. Wil spotted a pistol in a holster on the right side. Gutierrez saw him looking and gave it a pat. There was also a can of bear mace, a radio, some utility pouches, and a couple extra clips alongside a pair of cuffs. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything stupid,¡± she said as she reached for the doorknob again. ¡°And leave your axe out there.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Wil nodded. She glared at him for a moment, unlocked and opened the door, then stepped aside. There wasn¡¯t much more to the ranger station than what Wil had glimpsed from the window apart from a stone fireplace, a sofa, an old TV, and a huge map of the park stuck to a corkboard up on the wall. Wil pulled out his phone and tried to find a WiFi signal, but there was nothing. Made sense if the power was still out, but that¡¯s what the generator was for. ¡°You have to start the generator,¡± Wil told Gutierrez. ¡°What? No,¡± she said as she sat at one of the two desks and put her socks on. ¡°Yes, you do. The power¡¯s out here, maybe in Portland, maybe in the whole state.¡± Gutierrez grimaced and hit a button on the computer atop her desk. She pushed it again, frowned, and a third time. ¡°All right, power¡¯s out. That¡¯s probably why O¡¯Donnell¡¯s gone. Guy coulda left a note though, geez,¡± Gutierrez said and then took the radio out of her belt. ¡°O¡¯Donnell this is Gutierrez, do you copy? Over.¡± Static. She adjusted a knob on the side of the radio and tried again. ¡°O¡¯Donnell this is Gutierrez. Repeat: do you copy? Over.¡± Static. Gutierrez tried a few other frequencies and repeated herself, cursed, and put the radio back in her belt. "Mayba a radio antennae got broken somewhere?" Wil asked. ¡°Possible, but that wouldn''t affect two-way radios like this. They''re set to trasmit and receive to each other, independent of any outside systems. O''Donnell either isn''t listening or something else might be screwy,¡± she said. Wil sighed. ¡°Please, just start the generator and¡ª¡± ¡°Look, Mr. Davis, you need to calm down. My fellow ranger is probably sorting the power issue out as we speak. Probably a tree fell over and hit some lines. I¡¯m more concerned about this attack and rabid deer you were talking about. You look a little roughed up too. You need medical attention?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s just scratches mostly. But the power, it¡¯s not just¡ª¡± Wil said and then cut himself off. She didn¡¯t know. He couldn¡¯t prove it to her without power, short of driving down to Portland, which he didn¡¯t think she would help him with. At least not without some more convincing. ¡°Fine. You might need that though,¡± he said and pointed at her pistol. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it handy,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Now you gonna show me where this thing attacked you or do I need to go over the whole park myself?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just up the road,¡± Wil said as Gutierrez finished lacing up her boots. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯ll take the jeep,¡± she said and strode outside, back Out There. Wil tried to keep his impatience in check and followed her into the car. Gutierrez adjusted the misaligned buttons on her shirt as she drove with one hand and Wil caught a glimpse of a black sports bra beneath before he looked away. Had she been sleeping in her underwear? In a cabin she shared with another¡­ Ooooooh, Wil thought. She and Ranger O¡¯Donnell had probably been getting up to some frisky business earlier and she¡¯d fallen asleep after. He wondered if it was normal for rangers to be getting laid instead of on patrol or something. Then again, the parking lot outside the station had been mostly empty, save for the jeep. His internal examination of what the rangers had been doing was interrupted as Gutierrez brought the jeep to a halt in front of Wil¡¯s upside-down Toyota. ¡°That yours?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± Wil said. ¡°How in the hell¡¯d you get it to flip over like that?¡± ¡°Deer.¡± ¡°Excuse me? A deer did that? A whole mess of deer just came up and trampled your car over onto its roof?¡± ¡°Well, a buck. And just one,¡± Wil said. Gutierrez looked at him sin silence, then she snorted and chuckled. ¡°This would be the rabid buck?¡± ¡°Yes. Look, I can show you where I killed it,¡± Wil said as he got out of the car. He was desperate to hurry this along, convince her to fire up the generator so the WiFi would work and then maybe get a signal. It was still no guarantee, but it was something. If that didn¡¯t work, maybe he could convince her to drive him into Portland or at least help push his car over with the jeep. ¡°Gimme a sec,¡± Gutierrez said and reached for something in the back. She exited the vehicle a moment later wielding a pump-action shotgun, which she pumped once with an ominous chik-chik! ¡°Show me where you were attacked.¡± ¡°Well it started here, and then it chased me down the hill,¡± Wil said as he walked forward. ¡°If you killed a rabid buck on your own with just an axe I¡¯ll be pretty impressed,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Wil said, half hoping the head was still alive, half not. If it was, that was even more proof. If not, well, he¡¯d be spared having to look at the thing again. His blood from the attack had dried to brown splotches on the forest floor but it was still easy enough to follow. He rounded the side of an oak and saw the place where he had killed the buck. Except that it was gone. Head and body both, just gone. There were still thick splotches of that black blood or custard or whatever it was. The pine tree the buck had embedded itself into still bore a number of deep holes in its bark. But the creature itself, or its remains, were nowhere to be seen. ¡°What the hell?¡± Wil asked. ¡°What?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°It¡¯s gone,¡± Wil said and gestured at the ground. ¡°Uh-huh.¡± ¡°Look, it was here! That¡¯s where its antlers almost impaled me! This is where the body was sort of bleeding out!¡± Wil pointed at the tree and the ground respectively. ¡°That black shit?¡± Gutierrez said and stepped forward. She leaned down and sniffed, then gagged and stepped back. ¡°Christ, that reeks. Well, if you did kill it, maybe something else took it. Bear or something.¡± Wil hadn¡¯t even thought of a bear. If a buck with those black worms in it had done this to him and his car, a bear would be an absolute terror. ¡°We¡¯ll get back to the station, file a report, get you patched up. Call a truck for your car. You definitely hit something, dunno about a buck flipping it over, though. I¡¯m gonna ask you to take a breathalyzer test when we get back, maybe a urine sample.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not drunk or on drugs!¡± Wil said. ¡°Sir¡ª¡± Gutierrez said and then the buck burst out from behind a grouping a oaks and charged. Wil grabbed Gutierrez by her forearms and yanked back hard enough to pitch himself backward and onto his ass. Gutierrez was pulled off her feet as the buck rushed past where she had been standing a second before, but not without one of its antlers gouging her leg. Gutierrez screamed in pain and surprise as she fell onto the ground next to Wil. Wil rolled to the side and hobbled to his feet as he tried to pull Gutierrez up. The buck seemed more aware of its surroundings this time, and hadn¡¯t charged with full force. It avoided getting its head stuck in a tree again, but still skidded forward on its hooves for several feet before it turned around to face them again. ¡°That¡¯s it! Holy shit it put its head back on?¡± Wil babbled. The place he had cut into could still be seen: the hair around the neck was uneven, and several of those wormy black veins had gone out of and back through the skin, like living thread. There was dried blood around the wound as well, and the buck no longer had full use of its long, hanging mouth. What it did have was still full of wicked little teeth though. Wil noticed something else as it began to turn back to face them: its legs were wobbly. Its entire body below the cut twitched and jittered and tilted. It movements were no longer strong and precise, but slower, more awkward, at least when it came to turning. It had run in a straight line without much difficulty. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with it?¡± Gutierrez said as she finally focused on the buck. ¡°Shoot the god damn thing!¡± Wil shouted. The buck bellowed, spitting up chunks of its own internal organs out of its maw. Gutierrez raised the shotgun and the buck charged. The shotgun roared and the buck''s head vanished off its neck. Its antlers stayed attached, but fell to either side as the central skull and all connective tissue was decimated by the tight cloud of buckshot. The buck fell forward onto what remained of its upper neck and skidded to an almost comical stop against an oak. ¡°Shoot it again!¡± Wil said. Gutierrez shot it again, straight down that massive gullet, then a third time in the chest. The buck''s body twitched from the impacts, but made no other movements. Wil kept his back against the pine behind him, looking between a splattered chunk of meat several yards away that had been the buck¡¯s head, and its still body. There was movement from a large chunk of skull. Wil gasped and pointed. Scattered among the shards of bone and brain were leathery black chunks of something. They throbbed and wiggled. Some of them had pieces of the vein-worms attached to them and extended back for a few inches. These lashed and slapped at the ground briefly, and then flopped, and then stilled. The body of the buck seemed to deflate, and a thick puddle of dark fluid seeped out of its wounds and orifices. The smell was repulsive, and covered the area in a thick cloud of stench. ¡°I¡¯m going back to the station and finding O¡¯Donnell,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°And you¡¯re going to tell me just what the hell is happening.¡± 07: Last Appointment Gutierrez finally started the generator and Wil found a WiFi signal from the station¡¯s office almost at once. It was labeled, ¡°Take my WiFi, Pls,¡± and Wil found the password on a post-it next to the router. The generator outside chugged and rumbled as Gutierrez stood at the far side of the station looking out the window, radio switching between her mouth and ear, trying different signals for O¡¯Donnell. Wil ignored her as he tried to send a message to Naomi. He held his breath as the little indicator below his text spun, indicating it was searching or trying to connect. He almost cried out with relief when it finally had a check mark appear next to it. WIL: Lost power. With forest ranger. OMW to get you. STAY THERE unless 2 dangerous. Leave note if u go He had considered ending it with ¡°I love you,¡± but didn¡¯t think that would help. One, Naomi already knew that. Before today, those had been the last words he¡¯d said to her, prefaced by ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Two, he¡¯d made the text as long as he dared and was terrified he would lose the signal any second and had used as much shorthand as he could. Wil stared at his phone, hoping she would respond, but none was forthcoming. It didn¡¯t mean anything. Maybe she gave up on her phone not working and had set it aside to try later. Maybe she had it on silent and didn¡¯t hear it vibrate. Thinking of that, Wil immediately checked his own phone¡¯s setting and put everything to silent. It didn¡¯t matter much now with the generator rumbling away outside, but if he got caught Out There on foot again, maybe hiding from another monster buck, the last thing he wanted was his phone giving him away. ¡°Shit!¡± Gutierrez said as she put the radio back in her belt. ¡°Nothing. Not a single god damned thing.¡± ¡°Look, I have to get to Portland,¡± Wil said. ¡°My¡­I have to help somebody there.¡± ¡°You and me both. My whole family needs help. God, they sent me like a hundred messages and I was just¡­¡± Gutierrez trailed off as she bit her lip and studied her phone. ¡°Are they responding now?¡± Wil asked. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°O¡¯Donnell either went to the park entrance and the ranger lodge or the radio tower. How long ago did the power go out?¡± ¡°Uh, a couple hours ago, maybe.¡± ¡°All right. We¡¯re gonna lose phones entirely if we go out in the jeep, so text whoever you¡¯re gonna text and get ready. I¡¯m gonna throw some stuff together.¡± Wil nodded as Gutierrez left the main living area and entered a smaller side room filled with shelves. He plugged his phone into an outlet nearby and kept glancing at it over his shoulder as he strolled around the station. The metal cabinet he had glimpsed from outside held guns, judging from a quick peek through some metal slats near the top, and was sealed with a padlock. He wasn¡¯t an expert, but there looked to be a scoped rifle and another shotgun, and some spare handguns along with boxes of ammo. Wil had last shot a gun with his dad years ago at a target range, just for fun. He¡¯d never owned a gun, but had considered buying one for his own purposes. It would have been faster and less painful than the noose. He¡¯d be dead before he realized he¡¯d finished pulling the trigger. It would have left a tremendous mess though. And he didn¡¯t want somebody to have to go about cleaning up his brains off the cabin ceiling after the cops hauled his body away. The noose had been a compromise: relatively quick and painless, very little mess to speak of once the initial removal of the body was handled. Wil shuddered. What was that? He thought. Was I just afraid of dying again? He hadn¡¯t been afraid to die for years. It wasn¡¯t a bravery thing, it was a giving-up thing. He just didn¡¯t give a shit. But seeing that buck coming for him had made the prospect of death a much more frightening conclusion than the noose ever could. It wasn¡¯t just death, then, it was being killed. Maimed. Brutalized at the whim of something truly strange and unknown. The fact that the buck itself had apparently been physically dead added another layer of unease. Seeing death coming for him like that was something he hadn¡¯t been prepared for. Wil stepped away from the gun cabinet. Gutierrez had left some basic medical supplies out for him, and he removed his black t-shirt to clean his wounds. He winced as the rubbing alcohol stung and burned in the shallow hole the buck had bored into him, along with all his other cuts and scrapes. If things were as bad as he thought, then any amount of pain was better than the risk of infection. A quick trip to the doctor didn¡¯t sound like something that would be in the cards for a while. He finished bandaging himself and putting his shirt on just as Gutierrez re-emerged from the back room. She had a pair of duffel bags in her hands, and set them by the front door of the station. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± Wil asked and nodded at the bags. ¡°Supplies. If O¡¯Donnell isn¡¯t answering, I gotta find him, and like I said, there¡¯s only a couple of places he would be. I¡¯m going to the main entrance and the ranger lodge to check in with the other rangers. They¡¯re not answering the radio either. From there, I dunno, but I don¡¯t like the idea of going out there unprepared if things are as fucked up as the news made it sound like. If half the shit my family texted me about is true¡­I can¡¯t even think about that right now. I¡¯m gonna fill up a couple canteens with water and then I¡¯m out. You coming?¡± ¡°Well since my car is still upside-down, yes, I think so.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Good, I¡¯m gonna load the jeep. Fill those up,¡± Gutierrez said and nodded at a pair of steel canteens. She stomped out of the station with the bags and Wil took the two canteens over to a metal sink in a tiny bathroom. He turned the tap and the faucet squeaked loudly, sputtered a few gushes of water, and then stopped. ¡°Yeah, that seems about right,¡± Wil said. His stomach was tightening like a closed fist with every second he stayed here. This was just another delay. He hurried outside with the empty canteens and Gutierrez glanced up at him as she closed the back of the jeep, hands now empty. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked. ¡°Water¡¯s not working,¡± Wil replied. Gutierrez grumbled. ¡°Resupply is tomorrow. We can check the lodge for water but they¡¯ve probably already rationed it out or moved it if they had any brains.¡± ¡°I saw what was happening a few hours ago before the power went out and filled up my tub and a few other things. We can just use that and be on our way.¡± ¡°Smart guy. That works for me. Get in the jeep. I¡¯ll be right back out,¡± she said and jogged past him. Wil wanted to tell her to move her ass, that it was important, but she already knew that. She had family, and O¡¯Donnell, and probably the other rangers she was worried about too. So Wil sat in the jeep and studied his phone. He was still getting a signal from the cabin¡¯s WiFi, but nothing yet from Naomi. His phone suddenly buzzed as soon as he thought of her name and his heart beat a quick tattoo inside of his ribs. It immediately settled down when he saw who it was from. Dr. Carroll. Wil liked the doctor fine, but he hated him in that moment for raising his hopes. CARROLL: Wil, are you okay? I¡¯m checking on all my patients. WIL: Fine. I¡¯m up at my parents¡¯ cabin. You in Portland? CARROLL: Yes. Very dangerous here. Police and maybe National guard fighting people in the streets. Wil raised his eyebrows. That could have been good or bad, depending. WIL: Fighting people? CARROLL: Not sure. Riots or an invasion or something. Lots of screaming and shooting, explosions. If you¡¯re out of the city, best to stay that way. WIL: Naomi is still there. CARROLL: I understand. Do what you have to do. I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re still okay. If we don¡¯t talk again, I wish you the best. WIL: You too Doc. And thanks. CARROLL: Always my pleasure. Wil left the chat and put his phone in his shirt pocket. It wasn¡¯t the person he¡¯d been hoping for, but it was good to know the cops and the Guard were still there. As for the people being shot, Wil wasn¡¯t sure if he was hoping for a riot or invasion. If it was an invasion, that was pretty straightforward. Enemy combatants. Get rid of them and the problem was over. But if it was a riot, then it would be more complicated. But then where did all the natural disasters fit into it? And the monster buck? And that thing that had been outside Ralph¡¯s house and the disturbing phone call after? What about the thing on the building Naomi had mentioned? The sound of the ranger station door slamming open brought Wil¡¯s eyes up to see Gutierrez hurrying out with another bag. This one had the stocks of the rifle and shotgun poking out, and was heavy with what Wil assumed was ammunition. Gutierrez threw it into the back of the jeep, then jogged around the side of the ranger station to shut of the generator. She all but leapt into the driver¡¯s seat when she came back and started the vehicle before the door was closed. ¡°Buckle,¡± she said. ¡°I am,¡± Wil replied as Gutierrez simultaneously buckled herself in as she put the jeep in reverse and headed back up towards Wil¡¯s cabin. ¡°Can you shoot a gun?¡± she asked. ¡°Uh, sort of,¡± Wil replied. ¡°Nevermind then. Likely to shoot me or yourself if you¡¯re not familiar with them.¡± Wil just shrugged and nodded. ¡°Ah, shit. I left my axe on the porch,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s in the back. I threw it in there while you were patching yourself up.¡± ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± Gutierrez said. They sped past Wil¡¯s Toyota and up the hill. He glanced out the passenger window at the lake. The empty boat was still there, lazily floating across the surface of the wide lake. There was still no sign of whoever had taken it out onto the water. That was when Wil saw something in the water move. A vast, dark shape briefly emerged from the surface, its gentle breaching causing the boat to tilt to one side. Wil only saw it for a second, only a brief glimpse of a sleek, black arch of organic mass before it dipped back below the water. It displaced enough water to cause broad ripples to expand out, rock the boat, and lap at the shore. Just the tiny bit Wil saw was as big as a mini-van. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Wil breathed. ¡°Huh?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°Nothing. Sorry,¡± he said. He didn¡¯t want to risk distracting Gutierrez and having her investigate the lake. There was nothing down there for them anyhow. Maybe it was nerves making him see things, maybe it was just a big fish reflected strangely in the water, or maybe it was real. But going down there or the possibility of going down there wasn''t something Wil wanted to do. They drove past and Wil let out a sigh. ¡°Cabin 106, right?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Wil said as the ranger swung the jeep tight around the next corner and pulled to a hard stop in front of 106 Pine Hill. ¡°You got any bottles or anything in there too?¡± Gutierrez asked as she got out of the jeep with him, shotgun in hand. She looked around the woods as Wil hopped onto the porch and opened the front door. ¡°Yeah, I got¡ª¡± Wil started to say and then paused. He had left the noose hanging from the central beam. It hung there, dark and obvious in the dim light, stark evidence to his suicidal intent. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Gutierrez asked and shouldered past him, shotgun at the ready. She clicked a flashlight at the end of the shotgun on and swept it across the living room, then paused in the center. The light moved upward and centered on the rope. ¡°Oooookay,¡± Gutierrez said and then looked at Wil. His brain scrambled for a rationalization. Anything except the honest and obvious truth. Yeah I came up here to maybe hang myself because I just kinda didn¡¯t see the point of it all anymore, you know? He thought to himself. That wouldn¡¯t go over very well, and it would only delay further. ¡°Look,¡± he said after taking a breath. ¡°I-I saw the news. And it was like the world was ending. And I got scared and thought about just doing myself in instead of dealing with whatever was going on out there. I changed my mind, obviously,¡± Wil said. ¡°Huh,¡± Gutierrez said and lowered the shotgun. ¡°I get it. Kinda shitty, but yeah, people do that sometimes when bad shit goes down. Good for you for toughing it out, I guess.¡± ¡°Yeah, good for me,¡± Wil said with a weak smile. Gutierrez gave him a wry look and then pointed at the rope. ¡°That might come in handy too. I¡¯ll fill up the canteens. You get the rope and bottles and any food that¡¯ll travel well,¡± she said and then vanished into the back room of the cabin. Wil did as she asked, filling up a reusable grocery bag from beneath the sink with the rope, bottles of water, and a few tins of spam and tuna and a couple packets of instant ramen he had left over in the cupboard. He did a brief sweep of the kitchen, and also put a pair of scissors, a couple knives, and a few heavy-duty black garbage bags in with everything else. Gutierrez emerged from the back room just as he finished and nodded at the door, and they left the cabin together. This time, Wil locked it behind him. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d be back, or if locking it was even worth a damn, but he wanted to be thorough. He and Gutierrez put the supplies in the back and then climbed back into the front of the jeep together. Gutierrez put the key in the ignition, but didn¡¯t start it. She turned to face Wil, her face stony. ¡°Uh,¡± Wil said and leaned away from her. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Look. Finding my partner, finding my family, that¡¯s what matters. If you got some kinda death wish or something that¡¯s gonna be a problem, I will leave you on the side of the road. Got it?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a death wish,¡± Wil lied. Is it a lie? Wil thought as he recalled the black eyes of the buck, the darkness of its tooth-filled maw, the stench of death and rot that hung over it like a veil. He knew he didn¡¯t want to die like that, at least. And even if he did, not before Naomi. Not before he knew about her. Gutierrez stared him in the eye, unblinking, then grunted and started the jeep. ¡°Just don¡¯t make me regret this,¡± she said and peeled out of the driveway of the cabin. 08: The Lodge There were more deer on the way to the ranger¡¯s lodge. A whole herd of them, ten at least, but they were normal. Gutierrez slammed on the brakes as the herd bounded into the road and Wil¡¯s blood froze. The deer and the couple of bucks with them merely skittered to the side as the jeep pulled to a stop. Their eyes were brown, not black. Their sides were heaving with their breaths and not the squirming of thick, unnatural veins. Their mouths were suited for plant chewing and nothing else. A few of the deer paused in the road to regard the jeep with flicked ears and placid eyes. Gutierrez let out a sigh of relief and honked the horn. The deer balked and then darted off into the woods beyond. ¡°So it¡¯s not all of them,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°What?¡± Wil asked. ¡°It¡¯s not every single deer. I was worried maybe everything had gone crazy at the same time or something. Like all deer are like the monster one. Glad to see they¡¯re not.¡± ¡°Those are the first animals beside the monster deer I¡¯ve seen or heard since I first noticed something was happening.¡± ¡°Yea, now that you mention it. Usually can¡¯t go five seconds without seeing a squirrel or hearing a woodpecker or something,¡± Gutierrez said as she continued to drive. ¡°What do you think it is?¡± ¡°The buck?¡± ¡°Everything.¡± ¡°I have no idea. It sounds like everything that could go wrong has, all at the same time. I might be able to chalk it all up to bad luck or something but¡­whatever was going on with that buck wasn¡¯t natural. That was some Hammer Film shit,¡± Wil said and ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Hammer film?¡± ¡°Just gory old horror films. And that thing my co-worker sent me,¡± Wil said and told Gutierrez about the photo, video, and following phonecall with Ralph. Gutierrez shuddered. ¡°To hell with all of that,¡± she said. They drove in silence for a while, until the jeep rounded a corner of dense pines and a large, two story building came into view. It was at least three times as big as the ranger¡¯s station they had just come from, and was beside an even larger building that served as Oak Rest¡¯s visitor center. There were four vehicles in a paved, asphalt parking lot situated between the two buildings: two jeeps like the one Wil and Gutierrez were in, a third jeep but with flaking white paint, and a blue minivan. ¡°Thank god. People,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°And there¡¯s O¡¯Donnell¡¯s jeep. If he¡¯s just been ignoring me on the radio I¡¯m going to kick his balls out his ass.¡± Wil winced a little. Gutierrez didn¡¯t have a lot of leverage with her short legs, but each of them was sturdy looking enough to kick down a tree. She screeched to a stop outside the ranger station HQ and immediately ran up to the double doors. Wil took his axe out of the back of the jeep and hurried after her. The park¡¯s primary ranger station and lodge was also two stories tall, like the smaller one had been. The previous station had been more like a glorified studio apartment with a loft. This was essentially a house. The visitor¡¯s center across the parking lot was more of the same: two stories, but spread out over more land. ¡°Hey! O¡¯Donnell! Birkin! Sandoval! Jacobs! You assholes in there?¡± Gutierrez said as she banged on the door and peered in through a window, then cursed. All the windows on the station were covered by curtains. ¡°Hey, maybe uh, keep your voice down?¡± Wil asked. ¡°It¡¯s still really quiet out here and if there¡¯s more of those monster bucks out there¡­¡± ¡°Then I¡¯d rather be inside than out here. Stow it,¡± Gutierrez snapped and hammered on the door again. A curtain on the upper story twitched to one side and Wil¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Somebody¡¯s in there, at least. The curtain upstairs moved,¡± he said. ¡°Let us in! I¡¯d rather not break a window!¡± Gutierrez said. No answer or other movement from inside. ¡°All right, window it is,¡± she said. ¡°Gimme your axe. I¡¯m gonna break the glass just over the knob here.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± a man¡¯s voice came from inside. ¡°Don¡¯t break the door!¡± ¡°Who is that? Sandoval?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°It¡¯s Rosa! Let me in.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not¡­I mean, Ranger Sandoval left us here. He and the other two took a couple of jeeps and drove somewhere to check on something. I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Well I¡¯m Ranger Rosa Gutierrez and if you don¡¯t let me in I¡¯m gonna be pretty pissed off at you when I force my way in.¡± ¡°Okay! Okay!¡± the man said from the other side. The curtain in front of the door¡¯s window slid to the side and a pale oval of a face leaned out of the darkness behind to peer at them. He was a bald man, forties, with a head like an egg: wide and smooth with fat around the neck and chin, but coming to a narrower peak at the bald top. He was about the right shade of shell-white too, though whether this was natural or fear or the contrast of the dark cabin interior behind him was uncertain. Gutierrez spread her arms to indicate herself and lack of patience, and there was a series of clicks from the other side of the door. Gutierrez shoved the door open and the pale man grunted in surprise as he was shoved back. Wil hurried in after the ranger, then closed and locked the door. The interior of the lodge was significantly different than the tiny station had been. It resembled a cross between an expansive house and a police station. The first floor was a vast open space filled with sixteen desks, each placed back-to-back and arranged in neat rows. A couple side hallways lead back to a kitchen, and a much smaller office space with a metal plate beside the door that read, ¡°Nathan Sandoval, Chief Ranger.¡± There were bathroom doors for men and women each, and a closed door with a medical cross on it and ¡°FIRST AID¡± written below it.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A wide chandelier made of antlers hung dark over the main room, from the roof of the cabin itself. The second floor was open to the floor below, a balcony following the perimeter of the main room and lined with unmarked doors that led elsewhere. A flight of wooden steps was situated on the side of the main room, taking a single sharp right angle onto a narrow landing before continuing up to the second floor. An older woman with a doughy face stood on the landing, clutching the railing and peering down at the main entrance as Gutierrez burst in. ¡°Which two rangers did Sandoval take?¡± Gutierrez demanded. ¡°I didn¡¯t catch their names,¡± the egg-headed man said and backed away from her. ¡°They said we shouldn¡¯t let anybody in!¡± the woman on the stairs said. Wil spotted movement from the kitchen as an elderly Asian man leaned out from behind the door frame. Wil had a glimpse of thick glasses, white hair, a goatee, and long jowls. He held a mug of something steaming and then the old man disappeared into the kitchen again. ¡°Describe them,¡± Gutierrez said to egg-head. ¡°Uh, there was Sandoval, big guy, black hair, mustache. Then there was a ranger with reddish hair, and a lady ranger with blond hair,¡± egg-head said. Gutierrez sighed. ¡°O¡¯Donnel and Birkin,¡± she said. ¡°The red-haired man mentioned something about his partner. Is that you?¡± he asked. Gutierrez nodded. ¡°He wanted to go check in on you, but Sandoval said their priority was the road and some power lines. He said he¡¯d already sent another ranger to go check on a radio tower.¡± ¡°Probably Jacobs,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°How many people are in here now?¡± Wil asked as he continued to look around, but kept looking back at the kitchen. ¡°Just me, my wife, our daughter who¡¯s asleep in the nurse¡¯s station back there, and Mr. Matsuda,¡± egg-head said and pointed at the kitchen. ¡°How long have the other rangers been gone?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°Less than an hour. That Jacobs fella took off first and the others not long after.¡± ¡°Maybe we should go to the main road, check on O¡¯Donnell before we go to Portland,¡± Wil said. He was eager to be off, to get to Portland and figure out how best to reach Naomi, if that were even still possible. He knew it was manipulative, but he added, ¡°and then you can check on your family.¡± ¡°Yeah, I should,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°If Sandoval was fine leaving you all here, I am too. I¡¯m¡ª¡ª¡± The sound of a car speeding toward the station broke the silence from outside. Gutierrez threw the curtain on the door aside and revealed another one of the jeeps skidding to the very front of the station. A man with reddish hair and a woman with blond jumped out of the jeep and threw open the passenger door. They pulled out a flat plastic stretcher, upon which was another man in a ranger¡¯s uniform. His face and shirt were streaked with mud and blood and something darker. Both of the other rangers had blood and blood as well, but only a few flecks of the darker substance. ¡°Oh, Jesus. Sandoval,¡± Gutierrez said and threw the door open. ¡°Sandoval!¡± ¡°Rosa!¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Where the hell have you been?¡± The blond woman, Birkin, asked. Gutierrez ignored her as she ran forward. ¡°We got him, get the first aid ready. Bandages, alcohol, stitches,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Gutierrez did a quick about-face and charged back through the front door. Wil stood aside and hel the doors open for the incoming rangers, who didn¡¯t even look up at him as they hurried past. ¡°Our daughter¡¯s in there!¡± the woman on the stairs said as Gutierrez burst into the medical room. There was a high pitched shriek of terror as she did, then clattering and rummaging. ¡°Get out! Move!¡± O¡¯Donnell shouted as he and Birkin carried Sandoval into the medical room. There a scream, a thud, and then childish crying. A girl no older than ten came stumbling out of the room, eyes wide and frightened and bright with tears. ¡°Muuuuhhhh,¡± she wailed and the older woman hurried down from the landing in quick steps that made Wil think of a quail. She scooped the girl up and cooed to her silently, furthering the birdlike impression. ¡°It¡¯s okay! We just need to stay out of the nice ranger¡¯s way. It¡¯s okay, Mama¡¯s here,¡± the woman said. Wil closed and locked the front doors again after a quick peek outside to make sure nothing had been following the rangers. The parking lot was empty, save for the other cars. With the door secured, Wil walked to the edge of the medical room and peered in. Gutierrez, Birkin, and O¡¯Donnell loomed over Sandoval, who was mostly hidden behind the other three. Wil only had a glimpse of a blood-covered hand in the darkness, twitching and flexing as the man gurgled and choked. ¡°What the hell is wrong with him? Is he having a seizure?¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I don¡¯t know! But his belt in his mouth! He¡¯s going to chew off his own tongue at this rate!¡± Birkin said. ¡°Oh hell, oh hell,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Wil backed away from the door and stopped as he glanced to the side. Among the many wildlife and nature posters, stark governmental notices, and maps along the outer walls of the office, was a glass case in a wooden frame. There was a single set of keys inside, presumably for one of the jeeps in the parking lot. All of the rangers were distracted with Sandoval. The older couple was fussing over their daughter. Wil edged toward the case. ¡°Very strange things happening out there,¡± a quiet voice said behind Wil and he almost screamed. The elderly Asian man, Matsuda had been what egg-head called him, stood a few feet behind Wil with his steaming mug. Coffee by the look and smell of it. He was shorter than Wil by almost a foot, just coming up to his chest. His glasses were almost as thick as Wil¡¯s little finger, and his gray hair was thin on top. He sipped his coffee and looked from the medical room with the rangers to the covered windows. ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Wil said. Mr. Matsuda stepped around from behind Wil and on his left side, facing him. He¡¯d placed himself between Wil and the case on the waill containing the jeep key. Did he know what I was thinking? Wil thought. ¡°Sandoval! Nathan! Nate god dammit! Hold him down!¡± Birkin shouted. The little girl was crying into her mother¡¯s chest while her father stood uselessly nearby. ¡°Not much good going on in here, either,¡± Matsuda said and wandered away. Weird old guy, Wil thought and then jumped as something banged inside the medical room. ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± O¡¯Donnell said and Wil peered around the edge of the door to see the red-haired ranger putting his arm around Birkin¡¯s shaking shoulders. ¡°What happened? He¡¯s not even¡­I mean his cuts aren¡¯t even that bad,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°It was that shit he fell in,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Birkin slid out from under his arm and then hurried out of the room. She almost knocked Wil over as she passed and ran into the women¡¯s restroom. ¡°What shit?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°Nevermind. You can tell me on the way. I gotta get to Portland.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Road¡¯s gone.¡± ¡°What do you mean the road is gone?¡± Wil asked. ¡°I mean there¡¯s a thirty-to-fifty foot wide gorge stretched across the main road and a good chunk of the forest on either side,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°It¡¯s not that deep, maybe just a couple stories down, but there¡¯s no way any cars are making it across that.¡± ¡°What about other roads out of the park?¡± Wil asked as his stomach knotted. ¡°If you wanna get to Portland, there¡¯s a couple roads on the opposite side of the lake that go around the mountains,¡± O¡¯Donnell replied. ¡°But that¡¯ll take you an hour out of the way, at least. Assuming traffic¡¯s clear, and from what we were hearing on the radio before it went down, traffic into and out of the city is a mess. Nothing¡¯s getting in or out of Portland anytime soon.¡± 09: ODonnells Story ¡°What the hell did you see out there? What happened to Nate?¡± Gutierrez asked when all of them were out in the main room. Wil stood near the wall and stared at the map. O¡¯Donnell hadn¡¯t been lying to him: there were three major roads out of Oak Rest, and they all lead to Portland. Eventually. The nearest road, and the park¡¯s primary entrance, was the one O¡¯Donnell had said was a no-go. The other two veered away from Portland and went South or further East, and would require changing to another highway. On a normal day, a minor inconvenience. On a normal day. O¡¯Donnell sat on the edge of a desk, while Birkin sat in the chair, her face in her hands. Gutierrez tried her best to loom over them, but her lack of any significant verticality meant she was mostly just leaning forward. The couple and their young daughter sat in a tiny waiting area that consisted of an old, patchwork sofa, a coffee table covered in creased magazines, and a rocking chair. The girl was still sniffling from being scared earlier, and the mother was still cooing at her. The father tried to frown at the rangers, but his tiny mouth made it look more like a pucker, as if he were angrily awaiting a kiss. Matsuda stood nearby and off to one side, just out of Wil¡¯s peripheral vision. Wil also noted that the old man¡¯s position also put him behind a pillar from where the mother, father, and daughter were sitting, and behind Wil from where the three rangers stood bunched together. Wil turned so his back was to the wall and he could keep an eye on the rest of the room more easily. He couldn¡¯t look at the mpa, but it wasn¡¯t going to change its lines and routes just because he was desperate. ¡°He just fell down a little,¡± Birkin said and sniffled. ¡°He got right back up, but that stuff was all over his face.¡± ¡°What stuff?¡± Gutierrez said and her voice rose with impatience. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay. Birkin, I got it,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°If you feel like it, maybe go check up on the Stewart family?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah just gimme a minute,¡± Birkin said and wiped her eyes, then went to go see the family in the corner. When she was gone, O¡¯Donnell took a deep breath and regarded Gutierrez, Wil, and Matsuda before he started. ¡°I left our station after we, uh, well, I left to get some fresh air. My radio went off and Sandoval said we needed to get down to the main lodge for some emergency. I said you were just checking your gear and about to head out on patrol to check on some of the locals in the cabins and you¡¯d join us,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Here, he paused, and Gutierrez shot Wil a look with narrowed eyes. He glanced to the side and didn¡¯t say anything. Matsuda sipped his coffee and blinked. ¡°I got down here with Birkin and Jacobs, and some other folks they had rounded up. We saw the news on the TV, and Sandoval was saying we needed to do a full sweep of the park, make sure everybody was safe, keep folks around the main lodge and visitor¡¯s center. Things weren¡¯t too bad. It¡¯s not a holiday weekend or anything, and overnighters are pretty much non-existent during the week, so it wasn¡¯t too busy. ¡°Some people took off. Said they didn¡¯t wanna stick around up here because they had family or friends or something in the city. That was when we lost power, and radio right after. So Sandoval says we¡¯re going to check out some of the power lines that¡¯re close to the main road on the edge of the park boundary lines. We get there and¡­and we see this gorge thing. ¡°It split the damn road clean in two, and the forest on either side for at least a quarter mile in both directions. Woods are too thick to drive anything but a dirtbike or something through, so we¡¯re about to go back when Sandoval says he wants to investigate. Cause its like¡­the gorge wasn¡¯t just a crack in the earth. It was like something had carved into it. Something had come through and snapped all the trees off at an angle too, like it came from the sky. It was shallower at one end and deeper on the other. But even at the shallowest spot it was too deep to drive across, and even if it wasn¡¯t, it was ¡°So we all go into the woods near the deep end and we find it. About a thirty foot slide down. Some kinda smoking rock or something. Bigger than the jeeps.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Hold up,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°A rock bigger than a jeep fell from the sky at an angle and made a gorge thirty feet deep? Are you saying this was a meteor or something?¡± ¡°It sure looked like it,¡± O¡¯Donnell shrugged. ¡°A jeep-sized meteor crashing into the woods would¡¯ve thrown up a huge amount of dirt. We¡¯d have probably felt it too. It would¡¯ve been like a bomb going off,¡± Wil said. ¡°Mm,¡± Matsuda said and sipped his coffee. ¡°It was split open. The big rock, I mean. And it was like a geode or something inside. All crystalline and sparkly. And there was a lot of water and mud around it. Or we thought that was all. Sandoval said he was gonna go check it out. It wasn¡¯t a steep drop or anything, and he slid down easy enough. Birkin and I stayed up top and threw out some road flares on either side of the gorge in case any drivers came by. ¡°Then there was some kinda noise from the gorge and Sandoval shouted¡­¡± O¡¯Donnell shook his head and for the first time since he started, he looks almost as nerve-wracked as Birkin. Wil glances at the other female ranger, still with the Stewart family in the corner. ¡°And, uh, me and Birkin we ran over and Sandoval was just lying face first into the cracked rock. We called out to him, but nothing. He started twitching like he was having a seizure, so Birkin gets down there, just, boom. She said it stinks, gagged, then yells at me to get the rope from the jeep because Sandoval wasn¡¯t responding. ¡°We haul him up, and he kinda started to talk. Well, he made sounds. Birkin climbed up after him and we gave him a quick check. His eyes had rolled up in his head and there was some kind black junk on his nose and mouth, and I guess that¡¯s what Birkin smelled because it was¡­Christ, I never smelled anything like it. ¡°Birkin was scared he was having a fit and would hurt himself spasming, so we tied him to the stretcher and hauled him back here. Got him in the medical room and¡­¡± O¡¯Donnell spread his hands and shrugged as he frowned. Gutierrez met Wil¡¯s gaze at the mention of foul-smelling black stuff. ¡°Anything else?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°Nothing. That was it. The only injury he might have gotten was when he fell forward three feet into that cracked rock. But shoot, that¡¯d maybe give somebody a busted nose or chipped tooth, worst case,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Did you happen to see any animals while you were out there?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°Uh, maybe some birds? Wasn¡¯t really paying attention,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Something this guy and I saw on our way here,¡± Gutierrez said and nodded at Wil. ¡°Hey, can we talk a moment?¡± ¡°Sure?¡± Wil said as Gutierrez took him by the elbow and all but dragged him to a far corner of the station. ¡°Geez, easy there.¡± ¡°Are you thinking what I¡¯m thinking?¡± she asked. ¡°That black stuff?¡± ¡°Yeah. It was all over that buck. If it got on Sandoval¡­¡± ¡°Wait, you think it¡¯s gonna turn him into a zombie?¡± Wil asked and almost scoffed. That was the rational thing to do. Zombies weren¡¯t real. The dead didn¡¯t rise and walk around. Except the buck had been physically dead. It had walked around. It had been insanely strong and had a few very unusual extras not common to deer. ¡°Actually yeah. Holy shit,¡± Wil said a second later. ¡°We gotta get Sandoval¡¯s body out of here,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°But they¡¯re not gonna believe us if we just say we saw a monster zombie buck and think Sandoval might be infected too.¡± ¡°Biological contaminant,¡± Wil said. ¡°It¡¯s why I took my shirt off when I decapitated the thing. I was afraid that black gunk was poison or something.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll do. I¡¯ll tell O¡¯Donnell I saw an infected deer in the woods, obviously sick. He¡¯ll buy that, especially if you back me up.¡± ¡°Done,¡± Wil nodded. Then maybe they could figure a way to get to Portland. There had to be another way out of the park that wouldn¡¯t take them ages to circle back around to Portland. Gutierrez strode over to O¡¯Donnell while Wil walked along the perimeter of the main office area, opposite the medical room. He wanted to keep it in sight at all times just in case something happened. This is crazy. Zombie deer? Zombie rangers? Meteors from space and black goop? Bullshit is what it is. Please god, let it be bullshit, he thought. That was when Matsuda appeared at his side out of the shadows and Wil nearly screamed. ¡°Jesus!¡± he hissed. ¡°What is it with you? What is your deal, man?¡± ¡°You think something unnatural is happening,¡± Matsuda said and Wil blinked at him. ¡°Ah, allow me to rephrase. You have seen unnatural things happening. I¡¯ve heard some things on the radio and the news before the power went out. But I know many people are still doubtful. The other campers who left didn¡¯t believe it. They knew something was wrong, yes, but they thought it was something wrong in the normal way. We know differently, first-hand, yes?¡± ¡°Uh, we do?¡± Wil asked and looked away from the medical room door to focus on Matsuda. The old man wasn¡¯t much taller than Guiterrez, and wrinkles around his eyes bowed upward just a bit to match the wry smile he wore. ¡°I did not have to wait for the rangers to come and find me. I came here at once. After I saw it,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°A pair of long legs in the distance, like trees that moved on their own, but sleek and dark.¡± Wil thought at once of the thing Ralph had taken pictures and video of outside on his front lawn. He started to ask the old man what else he had seen when something banged on the floor. Wil glanced around the open room, but only saw everyone else looking for the source of the noise. That was when the door to the medical room snapped in half and flew off its hinges into the room. 10: Black Eyes The buck had been disturbing. Seeing an animal continue to move after being decapitated, its eyes popping out of its skull on veiny black stalks, its whole demeanor and unnatural, jerky movements, it had all been nothing short of grotesque. It wwas going to be making an appearance in Wil¡¯s dreams for years to come, assuming he lived that long. But the thing that emerged from the medical room was a living nightmare. It had clearly been Sandoval. It still wore the remains of a ranger¡¯s uniform and even had the shiny metallic ¡°SANDOVAL¡± nametag on the left side of its chest.What it had become since the others had closed the door mere minutes before¡­Wil couldn¡¯t guess. Its limbs and torso had stretched beyond the capacity for the skin to hold it, tearing the flesh and exposing the wet muscle beneath. That had torn as well, and beneath the musculature were thick black ropes that glistened. Wil thought of his own rope, currently in the back of Gutierrez¡¯s jeep. Sandoval¡¯s arms and legs stretched out to at least five or six feet long each. His hands had split down the middle, and the insides were lined with broad, sharp teeth, just like the buck had. Sharp black thorns that shone like obsidian emerged from his all over his body. Some of them were no bigger than the tip of a finger, while others were as long as Wil¡¯s forearm. Twisted around and beneath the thorns were those thick veins. Wil could see them squirming and pulsing even in the dim light of the station. Sandoval¡¯s skeleton had warped from all the stretching of muscle and sinew, but also expanded. His ribcage wove in and out of his chest, his shin bones had splintered and poked out in white shards, his finger bones extended far past the limits of the fingers themselves and stuck out in blood-soaked talons. The worst of it all was Sandoval¡¯s face. It was a melted, twisted mockery of what it must have been before. The mouth yawned open and merged with the neck and created the same sort on elongated orifice the buck had tried to eat Wil with. It was lined with more of those broad, sharp teeth set in rows that clacked together. Three long, prehensile tongues emerged from the dark pit of the Sandoval-thing¡¯s mouth and lashed at the air, the hardwood floor, and the nearby wall. Each left a thick, gummy white paste behind it. The Sandoval-thing¡¯s eyes were entirely black, and seeping that thick dark fluid. A third, smaller eye opened on the right cheek, while a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh blinked open on the scalp, forehead, and neck. The thing screamed, a horrible, piercing sound not of the Earth. It slapped at Wil¡¯s conscious mind and turned it to mush. He had been taking in all the horrific details with the stark clarity of adrenaline and terror, but now there was only the scream. It made it impossible to think, to understand what was going on. It utterly derailed any train of thought he might form, and reduced his thinking to a simple command: run. So he ran. He flung himself over the nearest desk and bolted toward the window beyond it. He would throw himself through the glass, damn any cuts he might get, and keep running. If he came to a cliff he would run over the edge. Death would get him away from the god-awful noise better than any amount of running. A single gunshot stopped the scream and Wil¡¯s feet just as he prepared to leap out the window. His mind returned to normal (As normal as a suicidal shut-in gets, Wil thought)and while still terrified beyond anything he had experience in his life, he could think again. He spun around and saw many of the other residents had scattered as well, flung themselves over furniture. It looked like Mr. Stewart, he of the egg-head, had run directly into a wall and bloodied his nose. Matsuda and Gutierrez had fallen where they had stood, hands over their ears. Gutierrez was fumbling for her side arm, and O¡¯Donnell was nowhere to be seen. Birkin had shot. She stood in front of the Stewart family, pistol out and aimed at the Sandoval-thing. If she hit it, Wil couldn¡¯t see where, and it hadn¡¯t hurt it, because it roared and charged right toward Birkin in a shambling, arachnid sprint on its hands and feet.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Move, Birkin!¡± Gutierrez said as she pulled her pistol out and fired. Wil saw the bullets hit the thing¡¯s side, but it didn¡¯t feel or didn¡¯t care about the impacts. Birkin fired wildly, and then fell beneath the thing¡¯s charge. It pinned her and Wil screamed as one of those dark obsidian thorns emerged from the end of one tongue, and it plunged into Birkin¡¯s skull. The woman jerked, her eyes rolled up in her head, her mouth went slack, and she twitched violently ad the thing¡¯s tongue flexed and lashed as it punched through her skull and into her brain. ¡°Fuck!¡± Gutierrez said and emptied her gun. She started to reload when Matsuda grabbed her arm. ¡°No! Run! Out the kitchen door!¡± he said. The Stewart family were in the far corner, behind Birkin, a few short yards away from the Sandoval-thing as it continued to ravage Birkin¡¯s skull. Wil, Matsuda, and Gutierrez all had a clear way out through the kitchen. O¡¯Donnell had presumably already left, but the Stewarts were too close to the thing. ¡°Fuck it,¡± Wil said. He picked up a heavy glass paperweight off the corner of a nearby desk and hurled it at the back of the Sandoval-thing. It struck it square on the back of the head, which looked oddly swollen and lumpy, as if the brain had expanded beyond the skull. It turned to glare at him with several of its black eyes and Wil gulped. ¡°Ah, shit,¡± he said, then looked at Gutierrez and Matsuda. ¡°Run!¡± The thing took a shambling step toward him and Wil backed away. It dragged Birkin along with it by its tongue for a moment before retracting the prehensile muscle. Black sludge leaked out of the dark hole in the midst of Birkin¡¯s blond locks. She twitched. And then she stood. ¡°What the fuck,¡± Wil said. He glanced to the side as Gutierrez gave him a quick nod, and then she was gone down the kitchen hallway. Matsuda had already left. The Stewarts remained, facing the backs of the two ungodly creatures that started at Wil. Birkin did not stretch and contort and change like Sandoval had. She more closely resembled whatever had happened to the deer. Her muscles bulged, her veins lashed under her skin, and her mouth extended and grew even as Wil watched. He took his eyes away as he backed up and put a couple of desks between him and the two creatures. He met eyes with Mr. Stewart, then darted them to the front door, which was closer for them. The egg-headed man glanced to the side, nodded and began to edge away. Mrs. Stewart held her daughter¡¯s hand and all three of them stepped toward the door. One of the Sandoval-thing¡¯s eyes rolled backwards. It blinked as it saw the family moving away, then roared. ¡°No!¡± Wil shouted as the creature fully rotated one of its long arms in a circle so it face back behind it, seized the trailing Mrs. Stewart in its tooth-lined hand. She let out a gargling choke as it slammed her to the ground with a brutal crack of her skull and she lay still. ¡°Mommy!¡± the daughter wailed. ¡°Oh god! Oh god!¡± Mr. Stewart stammered and tried to grab his daughter. The Birkin thing spun on him and tacked him to the floor with ease. Her huge mouth tore his neck open and a spray of arterial blood coated the wall and floor behind him. The daughter fell to the floor and curled up in a ball, and then the Sandoval thing fell on her with its mouth. It had taken two, perhaps three seconds, and the family that had been there was gone. Wil was across the room, his view mercifully blocked by desks and and overturned chair. He had a clear shot at the kitchen exit now, and he took it. It was a short, narrow hallway to a cramped cooking and dining area, but Wil didn¡¯t notice any of it. He only saw the tall rectangle of gray light of the exit and threw himself out into it. Gutierrez, Matsuda, and O¡¯Donnell stood there, the former and the later with guns drawn. ¡°The family¡ª¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Dead. We have to go! They¡¯re probably gonna be up any second!¡± Wil said. ¡°Jeeps!¡± Gutierrez said and all four of them ran around the side of the station towards the parking lot and the two jeeps. O¡¯Donnell and Matsuda climbed into one, and Gutierrez and Wil jumped into the one they had arrived in. O¡¯Donnell peeled out of the parking lot and sped away up the road, and Gutierrez wasn¡¯t far behind. ¡°Oh god,¡± she said as she glanced in the rearview mirror. Wil knew he wouldn¡¯t see anything good, but looked anyway. Birkin and the Stewarts stood on the porch of the station. All of their eyes were black. Birkin, Mrs. Stewart, and the little girl all looked swollen with muscle, and began to sprint after the jeeps as soon as they saw them driving away. Mr. Birkin was far slower, shambling forward with awkward steps and tripping on the short stairs that lead down to the parking lot. The Sandoval thing had to duck to get its long, gangly, nightmare form through the door. It look at the fleeing vehicles, then climbed up the side of the station like an enormous spider and disappeared behind it. The jeep far out-paced the chasing pack of black-eyed creatures behind it, and they were soon out of sight. Gutierrez let out a long breath and Wil did too. He hadn¡¯t realized he had been holding it in. As they sped after O¡¯Donnell and Matsuda in the jeep ahead, he tried to block out the screams of the Stewart family and the sight of what they had become. He failed. 11: A Way Out It was a demon. It was an alien. It was a zombie. It was a mutant. It was¡­awful. Wil thought as Gutierrez continued to drive after O¡¯Donnell. Wil had never been religious. His parents had been atheist, and he¡¯d never seen the appeal of organized faiths. Since he¡¯d begun thinking about offing himself years ago, he¡¯d been even less inclined to seek out some form of salvation or enlightenment. The concept of more life, of a never-ending existence, exhausted him. It was oblivion he had wanted: the quiet, empty dark that waited with infinite patience for all things, from ants, to men, to the stars themselves. Wil had thought of it in the same way he thought of sleep: warm, comfortable, restful. It would have been a gentle shushing of his harried mind, a final silence to all the quiet desperation. The things that had been in the ranger HQ had shattered those childish notions. The darkness in their eyes was both lifeless and brimming with malice and fury that was terrifying in its vitality. They had all been dead. Sandoval, Mr. Stewart, Mrs. Stewart, little daughter Stewart, and Birkin. All very dead. Yet they had moved, lunged and grasped with purpose. The oblivion those things promised was not eternal slumber, but a nightmare of thorns and teeth and writhing worms. ¡°Christ, Sandoval,¡± Gutierrez whispered and broke into Wil¡¯s thoughts. ¡°Huh?¡± he said. He¡¯d been playing the memory of the Sandoval-thing breaking through the door and killing Birkin and the family over and over. He tried to skip over the parts where it stared directly at him, and especially when it fell on the daughter with its teeth, but those parts were the sharpest in their clarity. ¡°He was the boss when I started here four years ago. Bit of a hard-ass, but y¡¯know, nice,¡± Gutierrez said. Her voice was flat, as though reading from a cue card just beyond the windshield. Her face was slack too, and she didn¡¯t blink. ¡°Had a wife and three kids. Always helped out the rookies. We butted heads sometimes but¡­good guy. I didn¡¯t¡­I mean, you saw that, right? That was real? Sandoval was¡­wrong?¡± Gutierrez asked and her face finally twisted into an expression. Not a pleasant one: somewhere between confusion and despair. ¡°Yeah. I saw it,¡± Wil said. He thought of the numerous black eyes splitting through Sandoval¡¯s swollen scalp and blinking their newly formed, bloody lids. He shuddered. ¡°It was real.¡± ¡°Birkin¡¯s dead,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°And that family. The little girl too.¡± ¡°Dead.¡± ¡°But they chased us. After they were dead.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Holy shit,¡± Gutierrez said and her whole body trembled as she let out a breath. They drove in silence for several moments before she swallowed and asked, ¡°Zombies?¡± ¡°I was thinking that. The girl, the mom, and Birkin were all like the deer. Big muscles, fast, aggressive. Mr. Stewart was so slow, though. Just shuffling around, awkward, like he was asleep or drunk. They were kinda like zombies. Sandoval though¡­not what I¡¯d call a zombie.¡± ¡°Hell. Can¡¯t believe I¡¯m talking about this shit,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Zombies. Fucking zombies.¡± Wil saw the passenger window roll down and an arm extend from inside. Matsuda waved at them, then pointed to the side of the road as the jeep¡¯s right blinker turned on and the vehicle began to slow. ¡°Looks like they wanna talk too,¡± Wil said. Gutierrez grunted and pulled in behind O¡¯Donnell¡¯s jeep. They were on the western side of the lake, still following the main road around its perimeter. O¡¯Donnell had stopped by a small lookout point and picnic area that had a number of wooden tables and benches covered in flaking green paint. It reminded Wil of peeling, fungal skin. A wide wooden sign covered in a thick pane of clear plastic stood at the edge of the picnic area, displaying a map of the lake and the forest around it. Several helpful stickers had been stuck to like, like a cheerful yellow ¡°YOU ARE HERE¡± arrow, and places like ranger stations and the visitor center clearly marked with red dots. O¡¯Donnell got out of the jeep, shotgun in hand, and waved at Gutierrez. She took her shotgun and stepped out onto the road with him. Wil debated whether or not he should stay in the jeep, then realized there wasn¡¯t much point if he didn¡¯t have the keys. Gutierrez had tucked them into her pants pocket. He grabbed his axe and hopped out with the other two. Matsuda joined them, and Wil saw he had a small hatchet in a leather case strapped to his belt. He immediately approached the map on the edge of the picnic area and began to study it. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Gutierrez asked O¡¯Donnell as they met between the two jeeps. Wil stood a short ways behind them, near the middle of the road where he had a clearer view of the woods around them. He didn¡¯t want any crazy wildlife or black-eyed things emerging from behind a tree without warning. ¡°I was about to ask you the same thing,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°What? Like I know what the hell is happening?¡± ¡°Rosa, that¡¯s not what I meant. Just¡­we can¡¯t keep driving with no plan. We¡¯re gonna come up on the south-west exit soon,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°I gotta get to Portland. My family is¡­my parents are old and my brother and sister are too young for whatever is going on,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Okay so we take the exit. I got a few friends I need to check in on.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll take ages.¡± ¡°Well the main road is out. That¡¯s where Sandoval¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°I know. I got it. Believe me,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Are there any ranger-only roads?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯re pretty much all just inside the park. Makes it easier for us to get around and check on things, but none of them lead out to the highways or anything,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Not entirely true,¡± Matsuda replied and tapped the map. ¡°Look here.¡± He was pointing at a thin green line, just a few miles west of the visitor¡¯s center. It curved away from the thicker gray line of the main road and slithered up north, roughly parallel to the road that lead north out of Oak Rest and directly towards the highway to Portland. ¡°That¡¯s a ranger trail. It is big enough for a jeep, and leads up to one of the radio towers, but it just curves back towards the park after a few miles,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Shit, the radio tower. You said Sandoval sent Jacobs there, right?¡± ¡°Oh god, yeah,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°We have to go tell him. If he goes back to the main station, those things could still be there.¡± ¡°Also a good idea,¡± Matsuda said, ¡°but I was thinking more about this.¡± The old man tapped at another side of the map. It showed an aerial photograph of the park. It was mostly just the silver-blue of the lake and lush green of the woods, but here and there Wil spotted the industrial gray of the main road, a square of a house¡¯s roof, and so on. Matsuda was tracing his finger along the area where the ranger¡¯s trail was, but then veering off it and continuing north-east. Wil stepped forward and squinted at the aerial photo of the park. At first it looked as dense and green as the rest of the forest, but then Wil noticed it wasn¡¯t. It was a long, narrow strip of pale brown bald earth peeking through the trees that lead toward the main road. ¡°What is that?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Another ranger trail?¡± ¡°No,¡± Gutierrez said as she and O¡¯Donnell stepped forward. ¡°Old logging trail. It¡¯s been decades since logging was permitted. Oak Rest¡¯s a fairly recent national park. There hasn¡¯t been a lot of time, relatively speaking, for trees to grow there. Even if it wasn¡¯t sometimes those loggers ruined the soil. Gas spills, litter, excessive traffic, that sort of thing. Made it hard for plants to take root and grow.¡± ¡°If it is an old logging trail, it¡¯d have been made for trucks. Way wider than a jeep,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Even if the forest has started to come back, we might still be able to drive through it. Not at top speed, but it¡¯s a possibility.¡± ¡°And it¡¯ll likely join up at or near a major road sooner or later, or at least take us out of the woods,¡± Gutierrez said. The corner of Wil¡¯s mouth twitched upwards in a smirk. He knew Gutierrez meant it literally, but ¡°out of the woods,¡± was not something Wil thought anybody would ever be for a while, metaphorically. ¡°Then Portland, get our people and find out what¡¯s going on,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Everything I heard on the news and online seems to indicate a certain level of¡­instability in all major cities.¡± ¡°Only more reason to get to my family,¡± Gutierrez said. Wil didn¡¯t say anything, but he felt the same: the more dangerous Portland may have been, the more he needed to make sure Naomi was safe and out. If he got killed in the process, so be it. He¡¯d been willing to die for nothing. Far better to do it for something, or someone. ¡°It would be safer to head for the coast,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Why?¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Normally in a case of populated areas experiencing upheaval, it¡¯s better to be in a place like where we are now: secluded, very low human population, lots of natural resources. But there¡¯s too many unknown factors out here. I think the wildlife may be hostile as well,¡± Matsuda replied. ¡°The wildlife?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked and scoffed. ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Wil said and explained his encounter with the buck, which Gutierrez confirmed. ¡°Jesus. Just like Birkin and that family,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Hmm. I only saw a few squirrels. But they were all in a similar state: black eyes, muscular, extensive vascular development,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Saw a small swarm of them take down a stray dog. Left before they noticed me. It¡¯s another reason to get out of here: lots of wildlife, some of it already potentially hostile under the best circumstances. Lots of places for things to jump out at us with all these trees, and no infrastructure outside of a few stations and cabins built for luxury instead of utility. ¡°The coast will give us an ocean at our backs, long sight lines, and other options for travel, like a boat, if the road is blocked or otherwise impassable. The ocean is also a source of food, and plenty of freshwater rivers empty into it if we need water.¡± ¡°So you just wanna be a beach bum?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked. ¡°No. Getting to the coast is just the start. From there we go north, about forty-some odd miles to the Air National Guard Outpost near Sunset Beach. They¡¯ll have fences, supplies, weapons, and hopefully information. There are other military outposts between here and there, but most of them are in Portland or harder to get to.¡± Wil blinked at Matsuda. ¡°And you just happen to know the locations of all the military bases in Oregon?¡± Wil asked. Matsuda looked at him from behind his thick glasses and gave him a gentle smile. ¡°Old men like me need their hobbies or we go senile,¡± he said. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Wil said. My ass, he thought. ¡°I¡¯m going to Portland. You do what you want,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Hey,¡± O¡¯Donnell said and took her hand. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go alone.¡± The two rangers looked at each other in silence and Gutierrez smiled at him. She squeezed his hand and dropped it as she turned back to her jeep. ¡°We should hit one of the other ranger stations for any supplies they have before we go,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Real quick, in and out.¡± ¡°Do all the stations have generators and wifi?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Yeah. Wouldn¡¯t hurt to do a check and see if there¡¯s any news,¡± she replied. ¡°Let¡¯s do it and then see if that logging trail is worth a damn, and get the hell out of here.¡± Matsuda sighed and shook his head. ¡°Better to stay together for the time being.¡± With that, all of them got back in the jeeps and sped away to the nearest ranger station. 12: The Ranger Trail Gutierrez identified the ranger station they pulled up at as Station #08. It was back the way they had come, but only by about a mile. Wil didn¡¯t like the idea of going back toward the Ranger HQ and those things at all, and even an inch back in that direction set his hairs to prickling. Everybody agreed they needed the supplies, and that they needed to find Ranger Jacobs before they left. Ranger Jacobs was hopefully on the way out along the ranger trail, before it split off into the logging trail. Each minute they spent here was another minute the absent Jacobs could be blindly heading back to the main station and into the waiting hands or claws of the black-eyed creatures. Of course, they all could have abandoned the ranger HQ by now and be sprinting right for them. That Sandoval-thing could be leaping from tree-to-tree like a jumping spider, lurking in the branches. It coud be waiting with its lashing tongues to spike one of them in the brain and¡ª¡ª Wil shook his head. That wasn¡¯t productive. No biggie. Just don¡¯t think about the monsters you saw that violate every natural law you know of and could be stalking this whole god damn park by the hundreds or thousands, Wil thought. He sighed. Still not productive. Gutierrez did a circuit of Station #08 and confirmed that it looked clear. Empty, but clear. O¡¯Donnell started the generator and Wil winced at the noise. Matsuda did the same. ¡°Get whatever information and supplies you can, and then we should go,¡± Matsuda said as he hurried into the station behind Gutierrez. O¡¯Donnell waved Wil inside and came in last. Wil immediately connected to the WiFi and almost sobbed when he saw he had a message from Naomi. NAOMI: I¡¯ll stay here for now. Streets outside are batshit anyway. Cars piled up in the roads, looters or rioters or something. Smoke and fire and mist make visibility shit as well. I hope you get this. WIL: I¡¯m here! I got it! I¡¯m with a couple park rangers and a weird old guy and we¡¯re coming to Portland to get you! Wil put his phone away, figuring he wouldn¡¯t waste time staring at the screen in hope of an immediate response. Instead he swept through Station #08 in search of anything useful. There was another gun cabinet, but O¡¯Donnell was already loading another shotgun and rifle into it. Matsuda approached him from the side and pointed at the rifle. ¡°I¡¯d like that, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± he said. ¡°You got experience with an AR-15?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked. ¡°Mostly the M-16. But yes, I know it,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Lotta use for these at the retirement home?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked and passed the unloaded assault rifle to the old man. He turned it deftly in his hands, checked the sights, and handled it as well as Wil handled a drafting pencil. ¡°Bingo night can get ugly,¡± Matsuda said with another small grin. O¡¯Donnell gave him a funny look, but also handed over a pair of magazines. ¡°Do park rangers normally have this kind of firepower?¡± Wil asked as he poked through drawers. He found a stash of granola bars, a bottle of aspirin, and two unopened water bottles. ¡°We¡¯re technically a sort of law enforcement agency too, y¡¯know,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°This Sig Sauer on my hip isn¡¯t for bears. That¡¯s what the mace is for.¡± ¡°Lotta crime in a place like Oak Rest?¡± Matsuda said and he loaded the AR-15. ¡°Mostly just drunk and disorderly types. But sometimes, yeah. Somebody comes up here to stash a body, or a criminal from the city figures they¡¯ll camp out in the woods until the heat blows over,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. He took a pair of large black metal flashlights and a few batteries. ¡°Nothing like today, tell you that much,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I hit my weird-shit-o-meter limit as soon as this one showed up on my porch with a bloody axe.¡± ¡°Yeah, speaking of that, am I just gonna keep this or do I get a gun too? I feel like after what we saw at the lodge, I might like one after all,¡± Wil said. ¡°What training do you have?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Uh, none,¡± Wil replied. Matsuda frowned. ¡°Normally I¡¯d be happy to teach you, but we¡¯re on the run. And shooting isn¡¯t really one of those sink-or-swim type of situations.¡± ¡°Hey, you¡¯re with two law enforcement rangers and an old guy who knows how to handle himself on bingo night. You¡¯ll be fine,¡± Gutierrez said. Wil grimaced but didn¡¯t press the point. She wasn¡¯t wrong. He had, in a way, very much lucked out. Sure his peaceful considerations for embracing the void had been interrupted in possibly the most nightmarish way possible. And he¡¯s almost been gored or turned into a shambling monster a couple times. But, if he had to be stuck in the wilderness with killer things, he could do worse than two forest rangers and a weird old guy who knew a puzzling amount about how to handle himself in such dire circumstances. Bingo night notwithstanding. Still, it left Wil in the unenviable position of being not much good at all. He supposed if they ever needed a very quick and precise drawing of a bookcase done then he would be their go-to guy. Until then he contented himself with finding anything that looked of use that wasn¡¯t a gun.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. His phone buzzed in his pocket and Wil immediately dropped everything he had with a heavy thud as he scrambled to dig his phone out of his pocket. NAOMI: It¡¯s dangerous here Wil. It might be better to wait a day, let the military clear things out. WIL: Whatever¡¯s happening isn¡¯t normal. Military might not be able to handle it. NAOMI: And you can?¡± WIL: No, but I¡¯m not going to fight. I¡¯m just going to get you and get out. The people I¡¯m with are handy, they got guns and supplies. We¡¯ll be okay. You stay safe. NAOMI: Stubborn asshole. WIL: I mean it, shithead. NAOMI: I¡¯m not leaving my apartment alone. I¡¯ll wait here for now. Text me when you can. WIL: I will. I love you. No response. Wil swallowed. . NAOMI: I love you too, asshole. Be safe. Saving battery now. I¡¯ll turn it on once every few hours. WIL: Good plan. See you soon. Wil put his phone away with an almost giddy excitement. It was Christmas morning and his birthday rolled into one. She said she loved him. Still. ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± Gutierrez asked him. ¡°Why¡¯d you drop all that stuff?¡± ¡°She still loves me,¡± he said, the ranger¡¯s voice barely registering for him. ¡°Oooookay,¡± Gutierrez replied. ¡°Sorry. Just¡­my girlfriend, she¡¯s alive. She¡¯s gonna stay put until I can get her,¡± Wil said. ¡°Hey, good news. We cleared the place out and packed the jeeps. You coming?¡± ¡°Yeah. Yeah, sorry,¡± Wil said as he hurried out and into the jeep. O¡¯Donnell and Matsuda gave them a wave as they pulled out and rolled away toward the distant ranger trail. Gutierrez buckled in, and she and Wil followed after. ¡°So where is this Jacobs person?¡± Wil asked as they drove. ¡°They said Sandoval sent him to one of the nearby radio towers. It¡¯s not far off the ranger trail we¡¯re heading for. If there was a problem, he would¡¯ve been able to fix it, short of the whole antennae collapsing,¡± Gutierrez replied. ¡°And if he¡¯s not there?¡± Gutierrez sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter. ¡°Dunno. Depends. If he¡¯s there but his jeep isn¡¯t, we do a quick search. If neither are there, it means he probably went back to the lodge, in which case¡­¡± Wil swallowed. ¡°I really don¡¯t wanna go back there,¡± Gutierrez said and there was a tremble in her voice. ¡°Me neither.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just hope Jacobs is there, yeah?¡± Wil nodded. Eventually O¡¯Donnell stopped along the side of the main road. There was an obvious dirt path blocked by a metal gate painted yellow. A matching yellow metal sign with black letters that read ¡°OFFICIAL PARK PERSONNEL ONLY¡± was bolted to the center of the gate. A thick chain with an equally thick padlock held the gate closed. It wasn¡¯t much taller than Wil¡¯s waist, but it would¡¯ve prevented any vehicles from getting through. O¡¯Donnell emerged from his jeep with a ring of keys, unlocked the padlock and chain, then waved Gutierrez through. She was driving slowly past him when Wil leaned forward. ¡°Bring the chain and lock,¡± Wil said out of Gutierrez¡¯s open window. ¡°Huh? Why?¡± he asked. ¡°In case we want a secure way to close another door or gate or something. Or hell, just beat something with the chair and padlock if it comes to that,¡± Wil said. ¡°He¡¯s right. Good idea,¡± Matsuda said from the other jeep. ¡°Yeah, might as well. Not like leaving the gate locked is gonna do any good,¡± Gutierrez agreed and O¡¯Donnell shrugged as he took the chain and lock back to his jeep. Gutierrez drove steadily ahead of them now, along the dirt path. Wil kept an eye on the surrounding woods, watchful for any movement. Nothing stirred. This only made him more uncomfortable. Either the animals were all changed into those black-eyed things, or they knew to stay hidden. He hoped it was the latter, but that still wasn¡¯t a comforting thought. It meant that whatever was happening was pervasive enough and of significant magnitude to instinctively drive wildlife away and into hiding. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it like this. Been here almost a decade and it¡¯s never been this quiet and still. Even in the middle of night there¡¯d be something. Owls, rats, crows, a fucking mosquito. Something,¡± Gutierrez said as if she could hear his thoughts. ¡°You got anything big in the lake?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Fish. Trout. Biggest I ever saw was a few feet long. Why?¡± Gutierrez asked and Wil told her about the shape he had seen past the abandoned boat. ¡°Holy shit. A couple hours ago I¡¯d have said you were high or stupid. Really glad we¡¯re driving away from the lake now.¡± ¡°I am too but what I mean is, the things we¡¯ve seen. They all used to be something that was natural,¡± Wil said. ¡°Whatever was in the lake was massive. Even Sandoval¡­when he changed, he didn¡¯t get more than a few feet taller. Whatever was in the lake was bigger than both of these jeeps put together. If there was nothing really big in the lake to begin with, what was it?¡± ¡°Hell if I know,¡± Gutierrez said with a sigh. ¡°I got enough on my damn plate right now. I¡¯m just trying not to imagine any of this shit happening to my family.¡± The trail continued forward, but Gutierrez made a sharp left along a smaller trail that lead up a steep incline. The trail was rockier, and the jeep bumped and jostled along it as Gutierrez cut their speed and put it into four-wheel drive. Wil held onto the sides of his seat as the jeep rocked and bounced upward. There was still no movement beyond the windows, but Wil did notice that it was getting darker. He checked his watch. 4:07 PM. It was October, sure, and it was overcast, but it was still too early for it to be getting this dark. The trees started to thin the further up the mountain they went, which should have let more light down. The jeep gave a final jolt as it crested the top of the mountain path and a squat, wooden shack came into view. A tall, narrow metal structure rose up behind the shack, the top of it sharply bent to one side as if it had been struck by something. A third Oak Rest Park jeep was parked next to the shack, the driver¡¯s side and rear doors open. ¡°Well, I guess we know what¡¯s wrong with the radio,¡± Gutierrez said as she got out of the jeep and looked up at the bent antennae. ¡°And Jacobs can¡¯t be far.¡± O¡¯Donnell pulled up behind them with a grinding of rock and earth and rubber. He all but jumped out of the jeep while Matsuda remained inside and scanned the area from behind the windows and locked doors. When O¡¯Donnell and Gutierrez approached sole wooden door of the shack, he finally exited the jeep, and Wil followed his lead. ¡°Door¡¯s still locked,¡± O¡¯Donnell said as he lifted up a small padlock. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Tools. A few spare walkie-talkies. A dusty-ass old cot and a couple first-aid kits,¡± Gutierrez said while O¡¯Donnell fumbled with a ring of keys at his belt. Matsuda had strapped a pistol to his belt at some point during the ride with O¡¯Donnell, the same sort of hand gun the other rangers had, and Wil further felt like he was being excluded from the cool kids¡¯ club. An absurd feeling, given the circumstances, but still there nonetheless. The old man put a hand on the pistol and circled around one side of the shack and Wil followed him at a distance. He came around the back of the shack where the antennae was surrounded by a small chain link fence, then stopped short. ¡°What is it?¡± Wil asked and walked up to Matsuda¡¯s side. The chain link fence sported a large hole in it from top to bottom. The thin interlocking metal wires had been yanked apart by something and shoved aside. A small metal box that looked like it had been a power source of some kind was flattened and broken off of where it had been attached to the antennae pole itself. Within the perimeter of what remained of the fence, against the back wall of the wooden shack, was a wide smear of what had once been a man. Wil only knew it had been a person because the legs and hands were still intact. The rest had been shredded and pulped and squished against the ground and the back wall of the shack. The earth was a wet, rusty brown from the blood, and there were torn pale tubes that might have been intestines at some point. The head had been scraped off and brain, teeth, and a crushed eyes stuck to the wooden side of the shack, so there was only a ragged red stump of a neck and the bottom of a hairline. Wil recognized the boots and the pants as the same ones Gutierrez and the other rangers wore. He covered his mouth, then turned and began to vomit. ¡°Guess we found Jacobs,¡± Matsuda said with a sad sigh. 13: Theories Gutierrez swore upon seeing the mutilated body and spun on her heel in a mix of fury and shock. O¡¯Donnell covered his mouth and quietly wept. Matsuda stood a short distance away, gun out and watching the woods. Wil had already returned to the jeep after he finished vomiting, and he looked at Gutierrez as she stormed back. She kicked a nearby tree over and over again, to the point that Wil thought she might be about to break her toes. Then she started hitting the tree and he hurried forward and put a hand on her shoulder. She spun on him, grabbed him by the shirt, and shoved him back against the jeep. ¡°Whoa! Hey!¡± Wil said and put his hands up. Gutierrez had her fist drawn back and her eyes were shiny with tears. She let Wil go and turned away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°What the fuck are you sorry for?¡± she asked. ¡°Sorry that¡­I¡¯m assuming Jacobs¡­is dead,¡± he replied. ¡°You didn¡¯t know him.¡± ¡°No, but you did. And I¡¯m sorry you lost him.¡± ¡°He¡¯s not ¡®lost.¡¯ He¡¯s spread across the ground like fucking butter!¡± ¡°I know, I just¡­¡± Gutierrez sniffed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. At least he¡¯s not moving around like Sandoval. Dead is better.¡± Wil didn¡¯t say anything but he definitely agreed. If it wasn¡¯t for Naomi, he¡¯d probably have taken one of the several guns they had and done himself in already. Anything to keep from turning into one of those black-eyed things. ¡°We should go,¡± Matsuda said as he walked back to the jeeps with O¡¯Donnell. The ranger was dabbing at his eyes and sniffing. ¡°I knew him for fifteen years. Knew his kids,¡± he said. ¡°Shit, they¡¯re¡­they might not even be alive either.¡± ¡°Whatever killed him wasn¡¯t injured,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°It could still be around.¡± ¡°How do you know that?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°His gun was still in its holster,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°So was his mace. Whatever got him was quick and strong enough to rip through the fence and kill him before he could get a shot off.¡± All of them glanced around the woods. ¡°There¡¯s no reason to waste time or effort with the radio antennae,¡± Matsuda continued. ¡°We should be on our way. It seems to be getting dark quickly and being in a dense forest with things that can kill a man like that doesn¡¯t seem like the best idea.¡± ¡°Yeah. Hell,¡± Gutierrez said and spat. She got into the jeep and waved at Wil to follow her. He did, and she was already pulling away from the shack before he had finished closing the door behind him. ¡°Hey, gimme a sec,¡± he said. ¡°Just wanna get out of here,¡± Gutierrez said as she drove back down the mountain. She turned the jeep¡¯s headlights on to illuminate gray-green twilight of the forest as it closed in around them. Beyond a couple hundred feet, the reddish-brown of the pine tree trunks turned to dark gray and then black in the coming gloom. They stopped looking like trees and more like prison bars. Maybe they were. They were all locked in the park with things that could splatter you into paste, gore you, turn you into a shambling, unliving husk¡­ Wil took a breath and checked the mirror. O¡¯Donnell and Matsuda were behind them, their own headlights shining. ¡°Maybe we should let Matsuda and O¡¯Donnell lead. The old man was the one who spotted the logging trail,¡± Wil said. Gutierrez just nodded and pulled along the side of the trail once they had reached the bottom of the mountain. She rolled her window down and waved at O¡¯Donnell and he gave her a brief wave as he and Matsuda passed and drove on. There were a few false stops along the way. There would be a break in the trees, what O¡¯Donnell or Matsuda thought was the logging trail, but wasn¡¯t. Eventually, they got it. A trail covered in pine needles and with a few hardy saplings growing out of it led away from the ranger trail and deeper into the woods. A pair of pines had grown up close around the entrance and almost blocked it from casual observation, but a wary driver would be able to see the clear line of a trail easily enough.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Looking good so far,¡± Gutierrez said as she followed O¡¯Donnell. ¡°So we take this, and let¡¯s say we get extra lucky and the highway is relatively open and we can make it to Portland. What then?¡± Wil asked. ¡°I go check on my family,¡± Gutierrez replied. ¡°What else?¡± ¡°I mean do we all go with you? Do we check on your family first, or my girlfriend, or¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care what you do, but nothing is stopping me from finding my folks and my brother and sisters. That is job number one. Come with me or go, but I¡¯m not doing anything else until that gets done,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Right. Gotcha,¡± Wil said and frowned. He¡¯d have to find some other way to get to Naomi. If getting Gutierrez to her folks was an easy enough thing to do, he could wait a little bit longer. But if it was some massive under-taking, he¡¯d have to leave. And he wasn¡¯t leaving without a real weapon. They had at least two extra pistols and enough ammo for triple that. Plus the shotguns and rifles. He figured he could take his pick and they¡¯d be fine regardless. Wil started making a mental list of basic supplies he should take with him if he needed to bug out. He rested his forehead against the window and watched the gloomy trees pass by. A flashlight for sure, and batteries. First aid. Water and food, of course. Any kind of map or compass. A bag to carry it in, preferably a backpack. His eyelids slid down as he made his list. He¡¯d spent so much of the day terrified, that the rocking of the jeep, the hum of the engine, and the oncoming dark was lulling him into a warm and comfy slumber. This is what he had wanted. This gentle drifting away. Out There was a host of problems, nightmares and blood-soaked death, and god knew what else. In Here, there was quiet, and dark, and the slipping away of all of it. Away from the black-eyed things. He saw the attack in the lodge play out again. Sandoval, stretched out beyond his skin¡¯s limit to contain muscle and bone, with new eyes and those black thorns all over himself piercing Birkin¡¯s skull like a kid poking a straw into a juicebox. Then she had gotten up and attacked Mr. Stewart while the Sandoval thing had felled Mrs. Stewart and the daughter. And then they had all sprinted after the jeep. Except Mr. Stewart, who had merely shuffled along. And who had also been the only one who hadn¡¯t been directly attacked by the Sandoval thing. Wil snapped his eyes open as the jeep gave a sharp jolt and he snorted. ¡°Welcome back,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I was asleep?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah. About twenty minutes. This trail goes on for a helluva long ways. We¡¯re well past the main entrance by now,¡± she said. ¡°If I had to guess, I¡¯d say the highway is about a mile or two to our right, and we¡¯ve been driving parallel to it for the last few miles. Just a guess though.¡± ¡°No trouble?¡± Wil asked as he blinked and rubbed at his eyes. ¡°No, which means we¡¯re overdue,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Don¡¯t even,¡± Wil replied. He checked his phone and then put it back as soon as he saw there was still no signal to be had. ¡°Hey, I was thinking about what happened in the lodge.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been trying not to,¡± Gutierrez replied. ¡°The ones who ran after us: Birkin, Mrs. Stewart and¡­the girl,¡± he said with a slight wince. He could still see her face in his mind. It had been twisted into a look of madness, agony, and fury that should have been alien to a child. ¡°All of them had been directly attacked by Sandoval.¡± ¡°That wasn¡¯t Sandoval anymore.¡± ¡°The thing that used to be Sandoval,¡± Wil corrected himself. ¡°Mr. Stewart, he was slow and kinda goofy, like he was just learning to walk. Bi¡ª¡ªthe thing that used to be Birkin killed him.¡± ¡°So? Whatever this thing is, it makes women faster if it infects them? Takes them over? Whatever?¡± ¡°No. The buck was a male. And so was Sandoval.¡± ¡°Yeah. Okay,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°So maybe it was diluted,¡± Wil said. ¡°That big thing, it changed after Sandoval died, after he¡¯d fallen into that rock or meteorite and gotten a face full of it. And it was¡­it looked very strong. It was big and fast and you shot it and it didn¡¯t even flinch. Then it killed Birkin, and she was strong like the buck. Not as much as the big thing, though. Then Birkin killed Stewart, and he was just kind of shuffling along.¡± Gutierrez drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. ¡°I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re right, but it makes sense,¡± she said. ¡°So if Stewart killed somebody¡­¡± ¡°Then maybe they¡¯d be even weaker. Or maybe they¡¯d just die and not get back up. I dunno. Not interested in finding out, but it just occurred to me.¡± ¡°Mm. Well, we know to stay away from that black shit,¡± she said. ¡°O¡¯Donnell and Birkin both had it on their clothes. We both got a little on us fighting the buck. I thought it might be some kind of contagion when I cut the buck¡¯s head off, but it only got on my shirt and a little on my arms.¡± ¡°O¡¯Donnell said Sandoval fell face-first into the cracked rock. And when the big thing killed Birkin, it went straight into her skull.¡± ¡°The Buck didn¡¯t die until you blew its head off,¡± Wil added. ¡°Damn, they really are like zombies. Kinda,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Well, never seen transforming zombies with tongue whips that could crawl over a house like a spider, but the basics seem the same: infect by biting, headshot kills them.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll need to tell O¡¯Donnell and that old guy when we stop,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if Matsuda didn¡¯t already know.¡± Gutierrez smirked and grunted. ¡°Something¡¯s up with that guy. I¡¯m betting ex-military.¡± ¡°I guess,¡± Wil said. The old man was a curiosity, but all of his concern for other people was directed towards Naomi. If they could just get out of this damn park in a way that wouldn¡¯t point them at the opposite end of the state, he might have a chance. She might have a chance. ¡°What¡¯re they doing?¡± Gutierrez muttered as O¡¯Donnell slowed down in front of them, then came to a halt. The ranger hopped out of the truck and shook his head. Gutierrez leaned out the window and shrugged. ¡°What the hell?¡± O¡¯Donnell¡¯s shoulders slumped forward as he jerked a thumb at the trees. ¡°Trees are too thick from here on out. This is as far as we go on wheels,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Wil groaned and thumped his head against the dashboard. Of course. 14: Five Miles O¡¯Donnell wasn¡¯t lying. While the trees ahead of them were definitely younger and smaller than the rest of the dense wood, they were all big enough to make getting a jeep through them impossible. ¡°We turn around, try one of the southern or eastern roads,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°There¡¯s no guarantee they¡¯ll be passable,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°No, but there is a guarantee that this route is not,¡± Matsuda pointed out. ¡°It would take hours just to get back there. And then maybe a half-day to make it back around to Portland, and that¡¯s under ideal conditions,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°My family might not have that long.¡± ¡°My girlfriend either,¡± Wil added. Matsuda shook his head. ¡°They might already be dead,¡± he said. ¡°And they might be alive, but the longer we stand here, the less likely that is,¡± Gutierrez snapped. ¡°Now either help or take a hike.¡± Matsuda took a deep breath and said nothing. ¡°We¡¯ve been driving on this logging trail for almost thirty minutes, going 20-30 miles per hour that whole time,¡± O¡¯ Donnell said into the silence. ¡°Maybe we can just walk it.¡± ¡°Walk to Portland?¡± Gutierrez said, her voice going up a notch. Wil flinched and swept his gaze around. The jeeps had been parked front to back, but all four of them had gotten into O¡¯Donnell¡¯s jeep to talk, with windows up and doors locked. Wil didn¡¯t think Gutierrez¡¯s voice, even raised, would carry far beyond the confines of the jeep, but he¡¯d rather not take a chance that something would hear them. They weren¡¯t that far from where Ranger Jacobs had been turned into red paste. Whatever had done it could still be nearby, skulking between the dark columns of the pines. ¡°Not all the way to Portland, just the highway,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°This logging trail wasn¡¯t that long, based on the map. I mean, the trail isn¡¯t on the map, but I know where we are. Look.¡± O¡¯Donnell pulled a fold-out map of the park and the surrounding area out of a pouch at his side, along with a compass. Wil and Gutierrez leaned forward out of the backseat and Matsuda adjusted his glasses. ¡°This was the ranger trail, and the radio tower where Jacobs¡­where we were before,¡± O¡¯Donnell said as he pointed at the map. He dragged his finger along the thin green line of the ranger trail and stopped at a curve. ¡°This is where the logging trail began, roughly. So at the rate we¡¯ve been going, we¡¯re about here.¡± O¡¯Donnell pointed farther up northeast of where the ranger trail curved. It was about five miles short of the highway. ¡°We hike through the woods, hit the highway, wave down a car or maybe get lucky and hotwire one,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°If we want to do that, we¡¯d be better off going back to the main Park entrance and just going around that gorge with the meteor in it or whatever it was,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°If it was just a normal obstruction, I would agree,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°But that rock or meteorite, whatever it is, what it did to that Ranger, it could have done to other people or animals in the area. Being at ground zero for something like that does not seem wise to me.¡± ¡°Well, yes, but does walking five miles through that sound like a good idea?¡± Wil said and pointed out at the woods. The inside of the jeep became silent as everyone looked out the windshield. It had begun to remind Wil of the bottom of the ocean. The thick branches of the pines, bristling with their green needles, cast the forest floor in surreal emerald darkness. The pines themselves could have been vast stalks of kelp or other sea-plant. Motes of dust drifted lazily past the windows of the jeep, the particulate remains of unseen life. The gloom obscured everything beyond a certain radius, which shrank with every passing second as the sun came closer to setting.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. It didn¡¯t help matters any that like the ocean, there were any number of predators out there: some small, like Matsuda¡¯s squirrels that had devoured the dog; others large, like the Sandoval-thing, or whatever had smeared Ranger Jacobs across the earth like jam across so much bread. It would be impossible to spot something until it was close enough, until it lunged out of the encroaching green darkness. Shit, if I wasn¡¯t crazy before, this would definitely do it for me.Three hard-asses and a suicidal technical artist and their adventures in the sea of trees. What a time, Wil thought and bit his lip to keep from giggling. ¡°Even under normal circumstances, a walk through dark woods is dangerous,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Now¡­shit, I dunno.¡± ¡°Those things might be out there, but they¡¯ll probably definitely be by that rock,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°There¡¯s also the matter of all our supplies,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°We can carry some, but not all of it.¡± ¡°Fuck, forgot about that,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I¡¯m going to Portland,¡± Wil said. ¡°And this looks like the best way to get there, right?¡± ¡°Well, maybe the fastest,¡± O¡¯Donnell admitted. ¡°Maybe not the safest.¡± ¡°It would probably be suicide to go alone,¡± Matsuda said and Wil almost laughed again. He caught Gutierrez give him a look but ignored it. ¡°I¡¯m going too,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing out here. No people, no campsites, and most of the game trails and hunting grounds for animals are back the way we came. We have enough supplies here for days, and even if there¡¯s trouble on the highway, it won¡¯t take us that long to get into Portland or find a gas station along the road to resupply if we have to. But I¡¯m not going to spend a day running around this park when the road to Portland is maybe five miles in front of me.¡± ¡°Shit,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Well if you¡¯re going, I¡¯m going.¡± ¡°Gee, thanks,¡± Gutierrez said, but with a note of sincerity. Matsuda looked between the three of them and shook his head, making his jowls sway. ¡°Suicide to go alone,¡± he admitted. ¡°We should decide what to take with us, and then hurry before it gets much darker.¡±
They finally gave Wil a gun. Gutierrez called it a Sig Sauer, and it was supposed to be pretty good. She told him the basics in a 90-second crash course in their jeep: trigger, hammer, safety, clip, never point it at anything you aren¡¯t ready to kill, and keep it in the holster. She did give him a holster to slide onto his belt, and was adamant about using it. ¡°None of that bullshit tucking it in your pants crap,¡± she said. ¡°Good way to shoot your dick off or give yourself a new asshole or something.¡± ¡°Holster only, got it,¡± Wil said. ¡°I think that¡¯s it. Got your bag?¡± Gutierrez asked. They had consolidated the supplies into two heavy-duty backpacks stashed in the trunk of the jeep. They were still leaving a lot of supplies in the jeep, but they weren¡¯t going to be going away empty-handed either. Wil¡¯s pack alone could probably keep him fed and hydrated for two-or-three days. He also had enough basic medical supplies, flashlight, batteries, and other essentials that would help him deal with most problems to be found in the wilderness. There was also a map, compass, flares, poncho, blanket, multi-tool, field-knife, matches, and some extra rounds of ammo. Wil also carried his rope. The rope wasn¡¯t really essential but it was easy to carry and might provide some use down the road. He¡¯d also been tasked with carrying a bit of extra water while the others carried some extra ammo for the rifles and shotguns. They had agreed to distribute the supplies evenly. That was in case somebody had an accident and lost a bag, or ¡ª¡ªheaven forbid¡ª¡ªgot killed, they wouldn¡¯t lose all their food or whatever in one go. Everybody¡¯s bag was as close to equal as it could be, save for the aforementioned additional ammo and water division. Gutierrez carried her pistol and a shotgun, Matsuda had his hatchet and the AR-15 as well as a pistol, and O¡¯Donnell had a scoped hunting rifle and pistol. Wil kept his wood-axe as well as the pistol at his side. The only major issue was Wil¡¯s footwear. He hadn¡¯t planned to come up to Oak Rest for hiking, and wore ordinary sneakers. The two rangers and Matsuda each had hiking boots and thick socks. ¡°Your feet are gonna start to hurt pretty quick,¡± Gutierrez said as she shouldered her bag and tightened the straps. ¡°Yeah, well, more motivation to get out of this place,¡± Wil said. ¡°We should keep it down while we move,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°No telling what¡¯s out there.¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°I¡¯ll take the lead. Gutierrez, you bring up the rear. You two in the middle.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll follow behind the ranger, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± Matsuda said. Wil shrugged and fell into step behind the old man. The four of them set off into the dark green gloom of the silent woods. Within minutes, the shadows swallowed them, and left nothing behind. 15: Distortion It seemed like every other fairy tale Wil ever heard growing up involved stupid children getting lost in the woods, and that this was the scariest thing ever. Wil¡¯s only experience with forests had been as national parks and that sort of thing: calm, preserved places of natural beauty that offered a break from the concrete jungle of the city. Now, he got it. Some long-buried instinct rose up inside of him and told him that this was A Very Bad Place. It was a part of him that hadn¡¯t gotten much use in the city, but no less vital. It had been a part of daily life for his distant ancestors, that little inner voice that told them to watch their backs for things with fangs and claws. Every step he took seemed too loud: the crackle of pine needles an auditory GPS letting every horror that could be in the shadows know his exact location. It wasn¡¯t so dark that they needed a flashlight to see the ground in front of them, but it was getting close. Wil dreaded the coming dark, not only for how it would plunge the woods into total blackness, but how it would necessitate the need for flashlights. They would become a beacon for anything out there. ¡°How long have we been walking?¡± Wil whispered. The pack was heavy, and his feet were starting to ache a bit as he trod over stones and roots. ¡°Thirty minutes,¡± Gutierrez whispered behind him. ¡°A little over a mile, maybe more.¡± ¡°Oh my god,¡± Wil sighed. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°We¡¯re on uneven terrain carrying at least twenty pounds of gear and supplies each,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°And we got an old man and a lazy civilian slowing the rangers down,¡± Gutierrez said. All of them kept their voices low, barely audible, but Wil knew it wouldn¡¯t be wise to carry on a conversation for long. He only nodded at Gutierrez¡¯s jab and kept walking. Matsuda appeared to be doing fine. They all trudged in silence for a while, only stopping briefly for O¡¯Donnell to check his map and compass by the dim light that barely filtered through the trees. Wil gripped his axe tightly while he leaned back against a tree. Gutierrez and Matsuda did the same, and everybody took the brief respite to have some water. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re going in the right direction,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Hopefully another two or three hours and we¡¯ll clear the forest and hit the highway, and then we can try our luck getting a car. Worst case, there¡¯s a gas station another mile up the road and we can take a longer break there and restock if we need to.¡± ¡°You¡¯re sure this is the fast way?¡± Wil asked. ¡°It would¡¯ve taken us two or three hours just to reach the highway on the south end of the park,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Then maybe another three or more to get halfway around to Portland. And again, that¡¯s if there were no more road hazards. Even if we can¡¯t find a car right away, we¡¯ll still be going in the right direction.¡± ¡°Assuming all of your loved ones are fine, what then?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Before power went out, the news was saying to stay out of cities. Do you just plan to hole up with your family?¡± ¡°No. Get them out,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Do what you suggested earlier and head for that army base.¡± ¡°Air National Guard,¡± Matsuda corrected. ¡°Whatever,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I¡¯m going there, with my folks and my brothers and sister.¡± ¡°Same,¡± Wil said. ¡°If¡­when I get to Naomi, I¡¯m getting out of the city.¡± ¡°Getting into Portland is one hurdle. Getting out the other side is another entirely,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°First step to getting out is getting in,¡± O¡¯Donnell said as he folded his map up and pointed further ahead into the murk. ¡°About four more miles that way.¡± Everybody took another moment to collect themselves, then shouldered their packs and continued on.
It was another hour before they took a break again. During that time, the woods had continued their eerie and unnatural stillness. Not even insects stirred. There was noise, but it was distant, and none of it was comforting: helicopters, explosions, what might have been the roar of fighter jets, an air raid siren. All of it was muted with distance, barely audible or recognizable until they had all paused to take a minute. Whenever they did hear a noise, or thought they heard one, they all froze and waited. O¡¯Donnell was usually the first to identify it, then wave them forward. Wil fell into lock-step behind Matsuda, his body edging past being tired and moving towards worn out. The edges of his rattled nerves had begun to smooth out from fatigue rather than actually feeling better. Naomi still needed him, and there might still be any number of horrible things waiting for them in the woods. But his brain was starting to care less about those things, and his body was taking over: it was tired from adrenaline pumping and being constantly terrified. It needed another rest.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Stop,¡± O¡¯Donnell said, his voice quiet, but tense. Wil¡¯s body tensed at once. He longer cared how much his feet hurt or how heavy the pack was, only how quickly he could run and in which direction. There was a rustle behind him as Gutierrez put the shotgun stock against her shoulder. ¡°What is it?¡± she whispered. ¡°Ahead. Trees,¡± O¡¯Donnell said and for a moment, Wil wanted to laugh. If O¡¯Donnell only noticed that there were trees ahead of them now, perhaps he wasn¡¯t the one to be leading. Then he looked up from his aching feet and saw the trees. The pines all around them were normal, save for a small copse about twenty yards ahead. There, in a rough circle about as wide as a city bus, they had changed. It was as if the trees had been turned to rubber, pulled outward, then turned back into hard wood. All the pines curved away from a point in the middle of the circle as if repelled by it, but they hadn¡¯t bent or broken or splintered in the slightest. They were all smoothly curved away, branches, needles, and all. The center of the circle was nothing but bare earth, void even of the countless dead pine needles that provided a soft carpet for the rest of the forest. Well, not quite bare. There was a dark puddle in the center, and Wil noticed a single ripple spread across its surface at regular intervals. ¡°There¡¯s something new,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°What the hell is it?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Definitely not anything normal,¡± Gutierrez said. The small party edged closer, but not too close. Gutierrez¡¯s observation was obvious, but correct, Wil suspected. Whatever it was had probably happened around the same time as every other crazy thing. Which, as far as Wil was concerned, made it Bad News. As he came closer he saw a very subtle waver in the air, like a heat mirage. It was several feet above the dark, rhythmically rippling puddle, and the size of a beach ball. It was easy to miss in the darkness of the forest, but if he focused, he could definitely see the air shimmering. ¡°It¡¯s blood,¡± Gutierrez whispered beside him. ¡°What?¡± he asked. ¡°That puddle. It¡¯s blood,¡± she repeated. Wil squinted and then nodded. It had been hard to tell in the dim light of the woods, but now that she had mentioned it, he saw the puddle had a tell-tale reddish hue. ¡°I¡¯m not going near¡­whatever that is,¡± Gutierrez added. ¡°Lucky for us, we don¡¯t have to,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°I wanna try something,¡± O¡¯Donnell said and picked up a pine cone. Before anybody could protest, he lobbed it underhand at the center of the distorted area. It thumped to the ground, inches from the blood puddle. Nothing. ¡°Well¡ª¡ª¡± O¡¯Donnell started to say. Wil was still staring at the puddle and noticed a ripple cross its surface. The pine cone moved, pulled into the air by an invisible force and accompanied by a sucking sound. It began to spin around as if in an invisible tornado, faster and faster. It spun violently, each rotation bringing it closer to the circle¡¯s center. Then, faster than Wil could blink, some force crushed it into the size of a penny. The sucking sound grew louder, and the crushed pine cone vanished into the center of the invisible vortex. ¡°Holy hell,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. The vortex had picked up some dust and pine needles from the forest floor, and they drifted down and toward the center of the circle and the pool of blood. ¡°Guess we know how the blood got there,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Some poor critter walked right into it, and smoosh.¡± Wil stared, open-mouthed at the distortion. It didn¡¯t move, it didn¡¯t change, it just stayed where it was, at the center of some Dali-esque partially-melted looking trees, over a puddle of blood that had a single ripple move through it every five seconds. ¡°Lucky the trees are a dead giveaway,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°If this thing was in an open field somewhere¡­¡± ¡°Worry about that if we¡¯re in an open field,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°C¡¯mon.¡± Wil cast a final look over his shoulder at the distortion of the air and forest, and followed Matsuda and O¡¯Donnell. The temporary jolt of confusion and surprise started to fade, and his body¡¯s demands for rest continued. They had walked about ten minutes when the steady thumping of Gutierrez¡¯s boots stopped behind him. Wil paused and turned around to find the ranger looking off to the side. ¡°What is it?¡± he hissed. Gutierrez snapped her fingers once, then held a finger to her mouth. Matsuda and O¡¯Donnell halted and turned, both bringing their guns up. Wil had to look down and fumble with the strap of his holster before he got his gun out. Then he had to turn it to the side and locate the safety and switch it off before he was ready to actually shoot. He kept the gun pointed down at the dirt, mindful of Gutierrez casting a disparaging look at him while he had fumbled with the Sig Sauer. Nobody moved. The woods were still. Snap. The sound of a branch cracking under pressure, somewhere to the group¡¯s right. All of them turned to face the sound, guns raised. ¡°Do not fire until you¡¯re sure you want it dead,¡± Gutierrez whispered, barely audible, at Wil. He nodded and took a deep breath. The sweat he had accumulated during their hike turned cold on his skin and he shivered. ¡°Raagh,¡± something moaned/growled from the darkness. The sound was deep, echoing among the trees, a primal dirge. It definitely wasn¡¯t made by anything human. ¡°Oh fuck,¡± Wil said. ¡°Easy,¡± O¡¯Donnell whispered. Something moved from behind a tree thirty yards away. At first Wil thought it was a mossy boulder rolling aside, but then its features began to sharpen as it moved forward. It was a bear. Or it had been. It had the tell-tale black, wet eyes, thick black mucus running down its cheeks like a mourner¡¯s tears, and an unnaturally misshapen body. Sandoval had been stretched out, taller but thinner. The bear had broadened. Its muscles had fully torn through its shaggy brown fur in bulging red hills. Thick, obsidian black thorns protruded from the folds of the muscle, some as long as Wil¡¯s forearm. Its mouth split open into three tooth-lined segments and allowed five long, barbed tongues tipped with bone drills to slide out and lash at the ground. Its claws were vicious, each one thicker than Wil¡¯s hand and gouging deep furrows into the earth as te bear plodded forward. The thick black veins¡ª¡ªworms, or whatever they were¡ª¡ªpulsed visibly, and some of them detached and waved in the air like tentacles, as big around as two fingers and several feet long. The bear reared up on its hind legs and exposed that its stomach had been torn open at some point. Its intestines were visible, thick, slick ropes of gore, but they moved with their own vile life. One end of the intestines reared up, cobra-like, and displayed a toothy, sucking mouth like a lamprey. Wil thought he might actually piss himself. The black-eyed bear was over twelve feet tall standing, and wider across than three grown men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. ¡°Fire!¡± Matsuda said, breaking the horrified spell of silence that had befallen the group. The bear roared, its lamprey-intestines squealed, and then the forest was full of gunfire and snarling as the bear charged. 16: Unbearable Wil fired, fired again, again, the bear didn¡¯t stop. It didn¡¯t even slow. He had no idea if he was even hitting the damn thing. Matsuda¡¯s AR-15 chattered in short, staccato bursts, Gutierrez¡¯s shotgun roared, and O¡¯Donnell¡¯s hunting rifle cracked. Wil saw some bullets hit, saw patches of fur and flesh spray off the charging behemoth. A few even struck the skull and sheared skin away to reveal a bloody white skull beneath, but nothing more. Wherever the bear was struck, those lashing black veins converged, writhed, and held together. The lamprey intestines chittered and hissed, and some of the bear¡¯s guts actually fell out of it as it lumbered forward. These pieces of intestines moved on their own, blind serpentine organs with gnashing teeth at both ends. ¡°Scatter!¡± Gutierrez shouted and ran to the side. Matsuda and O¡¯Donnell split in the opposite direction, and Wil and his dumb, slow, graphic artist reflexes were left standing alone. In front of the charging bear. For the second time that day, Wil found himself flying through the air to dodge an oncoming attack from an abnormal specimen of forest wildlife. Twice in one day, maybe this means I¡¯ve hit my lifetime cap and won¡¯t have to worry about it anymore, he thought and laughed out loud as he flung himself aside. The bear crashed into the tree that was at his back, but unlike the buck, the tree didn¡¯t act as an anchor for the animal: the pine snapped loud enough to hurt Wil¡¯s ears. It was no match for whatever unearthly, brutish strength the bear possessed. The wood turned to splinters as the bear shouldered the great pine into two pieces as easily as Wil might snap a chopstick. More gunfire sounded behind Wil. The bear roared and Wil caught it taking a swipe at Matsuda. The crazy old man had approached the hellish animal and was spraying it in the side and back with round after round until his gun clicked dry. ¡°Go for the head!¡± Gutierrez shouted and fired a blast of buckshot at the bear¡¯s skull. The bear¡¯s head jerked to the side, its eye and half its face bursting open, but its skull remained intact and unmarked. Black veins slithered forward and covered the wounded area in a throbbing mass of tangled flesh and black sludge. Wil clambered to his feet just as one of the intestinal lamprey-things approached him, coiled, and sprang forward. ¡°Shit!¡± Wil said as it latched onto his leg, its stubby, pointy teeth shredding through his jeans and digging into the thick meat of his calf. He screamed as he gripped the slick, veiny length and yanked it to no avail. Then he grabbed his axe close to the head in one hand, and pulled the intestinal creature taut with the other, and swung. The bit of guts split and Wil threw the long end off into the woods as he limped away from the furious bear. The mouth was still embedded in his leg, however. He screamed as her got the blade of his axe beneath one of the thing¡¯s teeth, pried up, and then ripped the disembodied mouth out of him with a disgusted shout. The whole time, Wil had been thinking of what Gutierrez said. They¡¯re really like zombies, huh, she had said after killing the buck. And everybody knew what happened when a zombie bit you. ¡°Oh god,¡± Wil moaned and looked down at the bloody red ring on the side of his calf. ¡°Look out!¡± O¡¯Donnell said and Wil jerked his head up. The bear had turned away from the other three and their substantial firearms and focused on Wil while he had been struggling with the gut lamprey. It was getting ready to charge again. Wil figured he was dead already. A zombie intestinal eel-thing had bitten him, and he was probably infected, just like the Stewarts had been. Soon he¡¯d be a black-eyed monster and he¡¯d be putting the others in danger. ¡°Naomi is on 9th Avenue and Washington. Save her!¡± Wil yelled, then dumped his pack and axe and fled back the way they had all come. He could lead it away from the others, give them time to escape, give them a chance to save Naomi. The bear followed him. Wil didn¡¯t need to look over his shoulder. Its paws thundered against the ground, and it shouldered into and through any trees in its way with more deafening cracks. Wil ran for all he was worth (Which isn¡¯t much, ha ha, he thought somewhere in the distant part of his mind that wasn¡¯t screaming and producing more adrenaline), despite the bite wound in his leg. His legs pistoned with mechanical efficiency, arms pumping in time. He felt almost weightless without the pack, and the pines zipped past him. But he wasn¡¯t losing the bear. That was Fine. That was Mighty Fine. That was so Fine it¡¯s Divine. The longer the enraged bear thing followed him, the more noise the two of them made, the safer the others would be. Wil laughed madly, almost cackled. He was going to die horrendously, and he was laughing. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. It would catch him, rip him apart, snap him in half. Maybe Wil could get it to crush his skull and he wouldn¡¯t reanimate like the Stewarts had. Just get the thing to crush his head like the pine cone and¡ª¡ª ¡°Holy shit,¡± Wil panted. He was starting to slow down, starting to flag, and the bear was almost upon him. But not now. Not when he had an idea. He had run far, almost far enough to see it. And then he did see it, the shape of the trees unmistakable even in the gloom. The bent area of the distortion, maybe fifty yards ahead. Maybe less. And the bear closing, closing. Wil thought he might actually feel its breath on his neck, and there was the desire to just spin around, throw his arms wide and let it happen. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. But then there was the chance it would just go hunt the others again. He had to try. Wil put on a hard burst of speed, emptying out whatever reserves he had. Do or die. He came closer, within sight of the distortion, and most of all, that red puddle of blood. It rippled. Five seconds. He had to close a distance of maybe another two dozen yards. Something thick and sharp and lethal swiped at his back and Wil screamed as it sliced his skin. Three seconds. He was almost there. Almost. One second. A gnashing, hungry bite of wicked teeth caught a few locks of his shaggy black hair and snipped it off his head. Ripple. Wil leaped forward, across the distortion, just a few feet to the left of that central shimmer in the air above the blood puddle. Wil winced, bracing himself for a spinning, crushing death, but he soared through the empty area and landed with a thud on his side. Wil turned, and stared at over twelve feet and at least a literal ton of hair, muscle, fangs, claws, thorns, black veins, and hissing guts descended on him¡­ And was yanked back into the distortion by unseen hands. The bear spun, faster, faster, fast enough to snap its back, break its arms and legs, flay its fur and flesh from its bones. It bellowed, reaching and snapping for Wil with single-minded, insane intensity even as the vortex twisted it around itself. Then there was a sucking sound and Wil screamed as the bear, the entire huge mass of it, was smashed down into a squishy red sphere no bigger than a marble.Its blood burst out of it, circled within the vortex, then fell to the ground with a splash as the fleshy marble vanished amidst another sucking noise. And then Wil was alone, on his bruised side at the edge of the distortion. And the woods were silent and still once again. Ripple. ¡°Holy balls,¡± Wil breathed, and giggled. It took him several moments to catch his breath, realize he was still actually breathing, and then another few moments to realize how close he had come to getting violently mauled to death. Or crushed into a flesh sphere. Or worse. Wil looked down at his bitten leg. ¡°Or worse,¡± was still a distinct possibility. The bite hurt, but it had stopped bleeding. Wil rolled up the leg of his jeans and studied the bloody circle of puncture marks. The skin around it was a little red, but nothing unusual. There was no obvious sign of anything wrong save for the holes themselves. He might as well have been chomped by a house cat. Still, whatever weird zombie virus could be working its way through him right now, which begged the question: stay here and wait for it to take hold, or run back to the others so they could put him down? He¡¯d rather not live on as a black-eyed zombie. He might stumble across some other poor sap and chomp them. That settled it. Gutierrez, Matsuda, and O¡¯Donnell had their shit together and they were armed. Better they take him out than some unwary, unarmed traveler. Wil got to his feet and cautiously circled around the distortion. The blood puddle had grown, but aside from that and some broken trees, there was nothing to indicate that a terrifying undead monster bear had been there mere moments ago. Wil shuddered and hurried, as best as his leg and exhaustion would allow, back toward where he had left the others.
Finding his way back was easy enough. The bear had broken or outright uprooted almost every single tree in its path, and Wil just followed that backwards. It must have been going like a damn freight train, Wil thought as he looked at the decimated trees. He found the sight of the attack a few minutes later. Shell casings littered the forest floor, their brass twinkling in the faint light. His bag was gone, though, and so was everybody else. For a second, Wil felt real panic start to creep up on him. He had been making a lot of noise with the bear. Anything could have heard them for miles. Even if he hadn¡¯t the gunfire alone would¡¯ve been an auditory signal flare for anything looking for signs of life. The others had taken his supplies and moved on. He couldn¡¯t blame them. Last they saw he¡¯d been chased by a monstrous hell-bear. He¡¯d been good as dead, and they had taken advantage of his sacrifice. Good for them. Still, some kind of note or an arrow carved into a tree wouldn¡¯t have taken too much time. Just in case he survived. Wil chuckled. He seemed to be finding a lot of reasons to laugh now that everything had gone to shit. That didn¡¯t seem right. Still, the thought of any of the other three thinking Wil might have survived the encounter was nothing if not amusing. Matsuda seemed far too pragmatic. Gutierrez had already seen his noose. And O¡¯Donnell looked at him like he had found a lost, stupid puppy. Still, that would make his return even more amusing. Wil glanced around at the chaos of what he had assumed would be their last stand. The pine needles and other arboreal detritus had been thrown around with the dirt as they had panicked and scattered. But there was a clear trail leading away, almost as if somebody had been purposefully dragging their feet in a pair of lines through the fallen leaves. It wasn¡¯t a note or an arrow, but it would do. Wil hurried along as best he could, a slight limp in his step. He didn¡¯t want to be caught alone if another thing came at him. But worse than that, he didn¡¯t want the others to get too far ahead of him and leave him to get to Portland on his own. He followed the trail as best he could in the light, but it was getting darker and darker now. Night was coming. Wil didn¡¯t have a flashlight, just his phone. He didn¡¯t relish the thought of making his presence known for everything in the damn woods, but if he didn¡¯t find the others soon, he wouldn¡¯t have a choice. He was surprised he hadn¡¯t turned into a zombie yet. The Stewarts had gotten back up within moments, but it had been at least twenty or thirty minutes for him. Just as he was about to stop and check his leg again, he heard rustling up ahead. Something clicked. ¡°Son of a bitch,¡± Gutierrez said and emerged from behind a tree. She had her shotgun up, but lowered it as she stepped into view. O¡¯Donnell also came out from behind the cover of a pine, rifle easing down. Matsuda was nowhere to be seen. ¡°How in the heck did you not get eaten?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked. ¡°That thing. The swirling crusher air thing,¡± Wil said between breaths. After his mad sprint from the bear and his hurried trek back, he was soaked with sweat and short on air. He pointed behind him. ¡°Lead it into that. Crushed the bastard in half a second.¡± ¡°Holy shit,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Very clever,¡± Matsuda said. He appeared from behind a tree slightly behind Wil on his right. His rifle was still up. ¡°I thought that¡¯s what you might be doing but wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°It¡¯s why I¡¯ve been dragging my feet for the last mile.¡± ¡°Careful with that rifle there, sir,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°I am being very careful. Your fellow ranger, Birkin, and the Stewart family, they were all bitten or injured by a creature with black eyes. So too was Wil, here,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Wil said and put his hands up. ¡°It¡¯s been like, almost forty minutes. And the bear didn¡¯t actually bite me, just scratched me. The bite was from one of those intestine snake things.¡± ¡°We still don¡¯t know what effect it could have,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Show us the bite.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Wil said and raised his pants leg once more and turned. Matsuda flicked a light on the end of his rifle and aimed it at Wil¡¯s calf. ¡°Looks like a normal bite,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°It should be cleaned, but that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°No symptoms?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°I¡¯m kinda tired. Oh, and I crave brains,¡± Wil said then raised his hands. ¡°Joke. It¡¯s a joke.¡± ¡°Not smart,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Fine. No, no zombie symptoms, as if I¡¯d know. I¡¯m just tired and scared and wanna get out of here,¡± Wil said. ¡°Hm,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Fine. Clean it and you can get your pack again. If you are going to turn, it might be worth it to watch the process before we shoot you.¡± ¡°Just go for the head. Gutierrez can vouch for that,¡± Wil said. ¡°C¡¯mere, let¡¯s take care of that,¡± O¡¯Donnell said as he took out a first aid kit from his own pack. A little bit of rubbing alcohol and a sterile bandage later, Wil was ready to go. He put his backpack back on, reloaded his pistol, and fell into place behind O¡¯Donnell, second in line now. ¡°So two people can keep an eye on you instead of one,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Fine, let¡¯s just go,¡± Wil sighed. ¡°Hey. You killing that bear is pretty badass,¡± Gutierrez said from the rear. Wil smirked, and followed behind O¡¯Donnell with a very faint pep in his limping steps. 17: Moonlight The rest of the hike through the woods was uneventful, save for spotting another two distortions. One of them looked like the first they had seen: bent trees, a shimmer in the air, and a crushing, sucking force at its center. There was no handy puddle of blood to create ripples and effectively gauge the ¡°safe¡± time of the distortion, but it didn¡¯t matter. Wil and the others kept far away from it, and it wasn¡¯t an issue. The second distortion they saw was a little different. The trees were, once again, the tell-tale signal that something was very much wrong. There was another roughly circular area that had been cleared of trees, and the trees around its perimeter had once again been altered. Wooden spikes, some as long as five feet, had extended from the trees. Their points were needle-sharp, their sides smooth. The spikes had emerged in thick, clustered bunches, and all of them pointed at the center of the clearing. Several birds and squirrels had been impaled on the spikes, with one or two still twitching. The only other similarity this distortion had to the other one was the shimmer in the air, precisely at the center of the cleared circle where the spikes pointed. ¡°Weird,¡± Gutierrez muttered as they continued past the distortion. The woods continued to darken, and visibility was cut to just a dozen yards or so ahead. ¡°I was really hoping we¡¯d be out before we needed to use flashlights,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°It¡¯s been a while. Aren¡¯t we close?¡± Wil asked. ¡°We should be,¡± O¡¯Donnell confirmed. ¡°If we¡¯re not out by the time the sun finishes setting, we can re-evaluate. Mean time, keep it dark and quiet as long as we can,¡± Matsuda whispered. ¡°As long as I can see the ground, I think we¡¯re okay. When it becomes a hazard, we get a light out.¡± ¡°I¡¯m with the old guy on this one,¡± Gutierrez said. Wil didn¡¯t want to risk unwanted attention either, and so the trudged on through the growing dark. It didn¡¯t take long for the shadows to grow even deeper, and for the ground to become a nebulous haze of dark gray and black shapes. Wil was about to suggest they use a flashlight when he heard O¡¯Donnell gasp. ¡°There!¡± he said and pointed. It wasn¡¯t much, but there was some light ahead. The trees stopped blending together in shadowy gray-black columns and could be seen distinctly as muted, pale light shone through from behind them. It was moonlight, and it illuminated a strip of grass turned pale green in the silver rays of the moon, beyond which was a thick bar of paved darkness, beyond which was more grass and more woods. The highway. ¡°Holy shit!¡± Wil whispered. ¡°O¡¯Donnell I could kiss you.¡± ¡°I will,¡± Gutierrez said and broke the line to come up beside O¡¯Donnell and kiss the red-headed man firmly on the mouth. ¡°Nice guide-work there, Ranger.¡± ¡°Aw, shucks, ma¡¯am,¡± O¡¯Donnell said with an obviously put-upon folksy accent. ¡°That¡¯s one problem solved then,¡± Matsuda said as he continued past the muted celebrations. Wil followed him, the faint pain in his leg forgotten, and emerged beside Matsuda as they broke the tree line. They stood in knee-high grass that stretched for about fifty yards before it met the precise black surface of the highway. There were no cars, to Wil¡¯s dismay, but there was also no sign of tragedy or catastrophe. The highway stretched in either direction, an unmarred dark river that flowed to Portland. ¡°Well, at least walking will be easier,¡± Wil said. ¡°And no reason for flashlights now that the moon is out.¡± ¡°Kinda out,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. There were a few wispy gray clouds blocking the moon, but most of the rest of the sky was clear, and the silver light managed to shine despite the minimal, receding cloud cover. And the stars were out as well, twinkling and distant as they had always been. Wil hadn¡¯t really looked up at them in a while, his gaze was usually directed at his phone or his feet, but it was nothing short of a relief to see that they at least hadn¡¯t changed. Whatever happened wasn¡¯t enough to knock them out of their heaven. ¡°Gas station¡¯s about a mile up this way,¡± Gutierrez said as she emerged behind O¡¯Donnell. Wil took a step toward the road but Matsuda held up a hand. ¡°What is it?¡± Wil asked. ¡°The road will make walking easier, but we¡¯ll be easy to spot out there even without flashlights. Anything in the woods would be effectively invisible to us while we¡¯d be clearly visible to it.¡± ¡°We¡¯d have a lot of space to see or hear anything coming at is if we stay in the middle of the road,¡± O¡¯Donnell pointed out. ¡°And if we stay along the tree line, we¡¯re still at risk of tripping over something in the dark, unless we use flashlights which would make us even more visible.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Mm,¡± Matsuda grunted. ¡°True. The road it is then.¡± ¡°Thank god,¡± Wil said as he and the others hopped over a low barrier along the edges of the highway. It was only about three feet high, made of thin metal, and rooted to the ground by thick, stubby wooden posts. If they¡¯d still had their jeeps, they would¡¯ve maybe been able to break through, but Wil doubted it. They¡¯d be more likely to flip the vehicles or merely bend the railing. ¡°If the gas station is safe, we should rest there for the night,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°But¡ª¡ª¡± Wil started to say. ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Gutierrez cut in. ¡°We¡¯re all tired. It¡¯s night, we have no idea what¡¯s out here. Even if we find a car, getting into Portland tonight is a bad idea. We need to recharge, rest-up, take stock. At least for a few hours. I don¡¯t like it, but I can feel myself flagging. I¡¯m not gonna get to my family if I die because I¡¯m too tired to notice some thing lunging for my ass.¡± Wil frowned, but she was right. A bite to eat and a nap sounded like heaven. But the idea of kicking his feet up while Naomi was still stuck in the heart of the city made his guts clench. Still, she¡¯d be stuck even worse if nobody was able to come and get her. They marched along the road, no need for O¡¯Donnell¡¯s map now. Their speed had picked up, despite all of their waning endurance. It was far easier to hike along a paved road than over loose rocks, gnarled roots, and weaving between trees. ¡°It¡¯s dark,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Wil agreed. ¡°It¡¯s night.¡± ¡°We¡¯re less than thirty miles outside of a major US city. There should be light pollution. There isn¡¯t,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Wil said. ¡°Well, the power went out hours ago at Oak Rest. And Naomi said it went out in Portland when I talked to her.¡± ¡°Mm. If it¡¯s been out this entire time, that¡¯s serious. It means the power stations are wrecked, or the infrastructure to get power going again isn¡¯t in place. Also, I haven¡¯t heard any choppers, jets, or explosions for hours, now.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that a good thing?¡± Wil asked. ¡°No explosions, maybe. But no choppers or jets? It either means the emergency is over¡ª¡ªbut judging by the lack of power, I¡¯d say that¡¯s a no¡ª¡ªor it means there aren¡¯t any more choppers and jets,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t just have to mean those two things,¡± Gutierrez said, but there was tension in her voice. Wil wanted to agree with her, but what Matsuda said made a terrible kind of sense. During any noteworthy catastrophe Wil could think of, news choppers had been omnipresent. Aerial footage had been non-stop: terrorist attacks, forest fires, earthquakes, whatever. ¡°No sirens, either,¡± Wil said. Maybe they were still too far away, too isolated out in the forest, but everything was far, far too quiet. ¡°We can theorize once we¡¯ve had some sleep,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Frankly I¡¯m hoping whatever this is will be worked out in the morning. Maybe not solved, but something will make sense at least.¡± ¡°Yeah I wouldn¡¯t get your hopes up,¡± Gutierrez said. That brought the whispered conversation to an end, and the quartet or survivors marched on. All of them kept an eye on the dark woods as they walked. The night wasn¡¯t as silent as they would have liked. An inhuman howl or bellow broke the dark silence more than once, and whenever it did, all of them drew close and readied their guns. Nothing emerged from the black forest, however, and the sounds echoed and faded with distance. O¡¯Donnell figured they were miles away somewhere, and the others agreed. That was good enough for Wil, but still, he¡¯d seen how fast the buck and other creatures had been. A few miles to them might be nothing at all. After another several minutes of walking, they saw a dark, boxy shape on the side of the highway. ¡°Car!¡± Gutierrez hissed. They all walked a little faster toward what looked like an SUV, but stopped when they got close enough to make out the details. It had crashed into the railing, the front end crumpled up like an empty beer can. Nobody was inside, but there was some blood on the dashboard, dried hours ago and turned a rusty brown. ¡°Shit,¡± Gutierrez sighed. ¡°Checking it,¡± Matsuda said as he reached into the open driver-side door and popped the trunk. They spent a couple of minutes examining the SUV, and found what appeared to be the supplies for a family going on a weekend camping trip. There was a plastic pink backpack shaped like a bunny in the backseat, along with a simpler black canvas backpack that had patches of what Wil guessed were metal bands he¡¯d never heard of sewn into it. He assumed it was metal bands because they were all written in thorny faux-Gothic script and had names like ¡°SATAN¡¯S WHORES¡± and ¡°LORDS OF VALHALLA¡± among others. ¡°Some MREs,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Sleeping bags. Gas stove. Might be worth it to haul this to the gas station just for the night.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go inspect the gas station first,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Agreed,¡± Matsuda replied. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they take any of this?¡± Gutierrez asked as they continued past the SUV. ¡°Didn¡¯t wanna carry it all?¡± Wil shrugged. ¡°Maybe not all, but they didn¡¯t take any of it. A woman¡¯s purse was still in there, and it looked like all of their individual carrying bags, too.¡± ¡°Maybe somebody picked them up?¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Maybe,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Up ahead on the right. Gas station maybe? Quarter mile,¡± Matsuda said and pointed. There was a bend in the road that the woods followed, and there was some kind of structure in front of the dark forest. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°No power, big surprise.¡± ¡°At least we¡¯re getting a little more light,¡± Gutierrez replied as the clouds moved away from the moon. It cast its pale light on a typical gas station: a handful of pumps stood below a wide overhang, adjacent to a squat building. A tall plastic sign out front advertised the current prices per gallon, and several cars, big and small, were parked around the station. Wil didn¡¯t see any movement inside or around the dark gas station, and glanced up at the moon to see if any clouds still blocked its light. ¡°Holy shit,¡± he said in a quavering whisper. ¡°What?¡± Gutierrez asked and held her shotgun close while she scanned the woods. ¡°The moon,¡± Wil said, and the others stopped to look upward. Something had struck the moon and left an enormous, jagged crater in its surface. Thick chunks of moon rock floated around it or hung in orbit. Larger pieces could be seen floating away, streaking down toward the earth below, and lighting up as they ignited in the atmosphere before vanishing. The heavens were not quite the same, after all. 18: Green Means Go Matsuda rightly pointed out they couldn¡¯t stand in the middle of the road and gawk at the moon all night. With what felt like a monumental effort, Wil pulled his gaze away from a ruined sky and to the terrestrial gas station. Even then, it was difficult to pull his mind away from the sight of the moon: a moon that had been the same chunk of pale gray rock in the sky since¡­before the dinosaurs, surely. He was sure its surface had seen numerous new craters over the ages, but nothing like what had happened to it now. Nothing that had scoured a chunk out of it and sent the debris circling like a miniature Saturn. ¡°Lots of cars,¡± Matsuda said as they approached the station, and Wil snapped his eyes forward and focused on what was ahead. There were seven of various makes and models. He needed to concentrate, at least try to think about something else. He could finally rest inside the station, put some doors and walls between him and the outside, take his shoes off, maybe steal some food from the station shelves¡­ ¡°Most of them wrecked,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. At least four of the cars were beyond driving, either on their sides or with their front ends smashed. It appeared as though they had been trying to flee something and get away from the gas station but instead rammed into each other, the railing along the highway, or the sign for the gas station. The other three cars appeared banged up, but possibly drivable. Some dents in the paneling, a shattered window or two, but nothing more obvious than that. Though that makes me wonder why the owners would abandon them, Wil thought. He drew his reloaded pistol as they all came closer to the station, but kept it pointed at the ground. Wil glanced down and saw circular impact marks in the hard asphalt. They were about the right size for something like a bowling ball. There were two rows of them, at roughly regular intervals, and they headed toward the gas station. ¡°What¡¯re these?¡± Wil whispered and glanced down. ¡°Huh,¡± Gutierrez said, ¡°Looks like somebody kept hitting the street with a hammer or something.¡± ¡°Looks like somebody hit the front of the station, too,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. The front of the gas station had been caved in, the roof, glass, and part of the wall smashed in and then dragged into the street, like something had just scooped it out. ¡°These look like tracks,¡± Matsuda said as he looked at the impact dents in the road. Wil looked between the impacts and the ruined front of the store and thought of Ralph¡¯s video: the giant arachnid-like legs that had destroyed the front of his house, the locust/cicada-like buzzing, and the eerie phone call after. Wil no longer wanted to go in the gas station. ¡°We should keep moving,¡± Wil said. ¡°Why?¡± Gutierrez asked. Wil explained to everybody what he had seen and heard on Ralph¡¯s video. ¡°Sounds about as normal as everything else that¡¯s happened today,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°But we don¡¯t have much choice. I¡¯m not as young as I used to be, and my battery¡¯s running low. I need a rest or I¡¯m going to start getting sloppy. Besides, whatever happened here happened a while ago. I¡¯m not thrilled that the front of the station¡¯s been caved in, but we could still hole up in the bathrooms or the storage area or something.¡± ¡°Agreed. At least for a few hours,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Gutierrez sighed and nodded. Wil gulped. ¡°All right, just don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you,¡± he said. O¡¯Donnell was the first to approach the gas station. The pumps had couple cars at them, both with only minor dings: a VW Beetle and an old BMW. Neither of the cars looked like great options even if they were in tip-top shape. There was the possibility of rough terrain if the road ahead was damaged, and neither car looked up to anything more rugged than a gravel driveway. O¡¯Donnell approached the collapsed entrance of the gas station and peered in. It was darker inside than out, and he withdrew a large flashlight from his belt with one hand while the other raised his pistol. The broken brick and mortar of the smashed wall clattered under his boots and Wil winced at the sound. Matsuda had turned to face the road behind them, rifle raised, while Gutierrez kept her shotgun pointed to O¡¯Donnell¡¯s left while he checked his right. O¡¯Donnell clicked on the flashlight, but kept it aimed at the floor. The walls of the station would keep the beam from traveling far, but Wil winced again as it clicked on. O¡¯Donnell checked with quick, precise movements between each of the few aisles that held snacks and basic goods a driver might need. He checked behind the check-out counter next, and then each of the bathrooms. He gave Gutierrez a thumbs up, then pointed at the remaining door leading into the storage area. ¡°Move up,¡± Gutierrez whispered over her shoulder. Matsuda edged backward in an easy, deliberate shuffle so he didn¡¯t trip over anything while he kept his focus on the road, and didn¡¯t turn around until his feet touched the edge of the rubble. Wil just hurried forward and into the store. He crept over to behind the check-out counter where there was the best cover. Gutierrez and Matsuda positioned themselves near the storage room door while O¡¯Donnell grabbed the handle, then pulled. It was locked. The handle didn¡¯t budge and O¡¯Donnell sighed. Wil glanced down and saw a series of hooks underneath the counter, each with a key on it. The hooks each each paper labels that had been taped over and read ¡°MEN RR,¡± ¡°WMEN RR,¡± ¡°STRG,¡± and ¡°GATE.¡± Wil grabbed the one labeled ¡°STRG¡± for what he assumed was ¡°Storage,¡± and held it up so the others could see. This time O¡¯Donnell gave him a thumbs up and Wil smiled. The ranger holstered his pistol and Wil tossed him the keys, which unlocked the door. O¡¯Donnell withdrew his pistol, then looked at Gutierrez and nodded. She grabbed the door handle and O¡¯Donnell stepped back, pistol at the ready. Gutierrez twisted the handle and yanked the door open and O¡¯Donnell stepped in, light and gun up and ready. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Matsuda came in behind, apparently quite familiar with this sort of tactic, and Gutierrez stayed outside, but holding the door open. Wil craned up to see anything, but only caught glimpses of the bouncing flashlight behind tall shelves and boxes. ¡°Whoa,¡± O¡¯Donnell said and then whispered. ¡°Got a guy here, passed out or something.¡± Wil crept out from behind the counter and towards the storage room, then took position on the other side of the door opposite Gutierrez. ¡°Keep the door clear,¡± she said and looked at Wil, who nodded, then leaned forward just enough to peer into the room. It was about half the size of the main gas station store, with the center of the back wall taken up by a sliding metal gate that rolled up into the ceiling. Several tall shelves lined the walls with a few more arranged in the center of the room to from aisles. All of the shelves were piled with boxes, some of which had been opened but many remained closed. O¡¯Donnell and Matsuda were in the back corner, both with their lights on now and both pointed at the body of a man beneath a small pile of boxes. He did not have the ashen skin of the Stewart family, nor any of the obviously bulging veins any of the black-eyed things had had. He looked like a man who¡¯d had some boxes fall on him and get knocked out. ¡°He¡¯s breathing,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Shit, some of these are really heavy,¡± O¡¯Donnell said as he tried to move a box. ¡°Do you need help?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± O¡¯Donnell grunted again. Wil hurried forward as Matsuda stepped back, flashlight still focused on the fallen man since O¡¯Donnell had put his away. Will saw that some of the boxes were actually plastic crates that had been over-filled with small kegs of beer. It was a wonder the wide-bodied man beneath was still breathing. One of these on anybody¡¯s head would be a one-way ticket to a snapped neck or a crushed skull. But the man¡¯s skin was a healthy pink, and he looked fine apart from a knot on the side of his bald head. Wil grunted as he and O¡¯Donnell moved on of the heavier crates aside. The rest was easy, if still somewhat cumbersome. Wil lifted the last box off as O¡¯Donnell bent down. ¡°Hey buddy, you okay?¡± he asked and gently patted the man¡¯s cheek. Nothing. ¡°Shit, he might be¡ª¡ª¡± That was when the stout, middle-aged man opened his eyes. They glowed a bright, toxic green. The man lunged up and grabbed O¡¯Donnell by the throat with both hands as he darted his head forward and sank his teeth into the side of the Ranger¡¯s face. O¡¯Donnell hurled himself backward as he screamed, bumping into Matsuda and sending the old man tripping backward. ¡°Shit!¡± Wil said and leapt back in surprise. ¡°Agh!¡± O¡¯Donnell screamed as blood welled up from his cheek and beside his ear. He punched at the man with the green eyes, struggled beneath as he threw his bulk on top of the ranger and pinned him. ¡°Get outta the way!¡± Gutierrez snapped at Matsuda. Wil dove behind one of the shelves, not wanting to be anywhere nearby if she was going to fire that shotgun. Matsuda grabbed the green-eyed man by the shoulder and yanked back. O¡¯Donnell cursed in fury and pain as he kicked out and shoved, his voice cut off by the hands at his throat. ¡°Dammit!¡± Matsuda said and withdrew a knife from his belt, then plunged it into the green-eyed man¡¯s neck once before yanking it out. An arterial spray of red blood gouted from the wound and soaked O¡¯Donnell and Matsuda both. Wil screamed in surprise at the sudden fountain of gore. There was a pause in the spray, and then it spurted again, in rhythm with a heartbeat. ¡°Huuuggghhh,¡± the green-eyed man said as he released his hands and mouth from O¡¯Donnell, then turned toward Matsuda. His movements were clumsy and obvious now that they knew he could move. The old man dodged, then stabbed him in the throat again. Another spurt of blood and the man fell forward into a puddle of his own making. He flopped weakly, scratched at Matsuda¡¯s boots with his fingers, then twitched and went still. ¡°Holy shit, aaaaah,¡± O¡¯Donnell said and touched the side of his face. The skin on his left cheek and near his ear was bloody and ragged. ¡°Roger!¡± Gutierrez ran forward to O¡¯Donnell and fell to her knees beside him. He winced and nodded at her. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± he said. ¡°Hmm,¡± Matsuda said and looked at him and the man on the ground as the last of his blood seeped onto the concrete floor. ¡°I¡¯ll get you patched up,¡± Gutierrez said and started to rummage through her pack. Wil hurried to close the storage room door to not let any more light or sound out, and so nothing could sneak up on them. He locked it for good measure and Matsuda gave him a silent nod of thanks. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± O¡¯Donnell and hissed as Gutierrez started dabbing disinfectant on the bite marks. ¡°Not like the others,¡± Matsuda said, then leaned down to grab the man¡¯s hands and pulled him forward. ¡°You, Wil. Help me move him and strip him.¡± ¡°Excuse me? No,¡± Wil said. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I want to examine him. He¡¯s not like the others. Knowing why could save us trouble later one. I mostly want to make sure there are no injuries or bite marks.¡± ¡°Ah. Still going by zombie rules, huh? Fine,¡± he sighed and got the man¡¯s feet, grimacing as he sloshed through the widening puddle of blood. There was a table on one side of the storage room with clipboards, folders, and other office supplies, and Matsuda cleared it off and hoisted the dead man up onto the table with Wil¡¯s help while Gutierrez continued to tend to O¡¯Donnell. ¡°Notice anything?¡± Matsuda asked as he started to cut the man¡¯s clothes off. ¡°He had glowing green eyes and tried to eat Ranger O¡¯Donnell¡¯s face?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Aside from that.¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t seem to care much when you shanked him in the neck, aside from trying to go after you rather than O¡¯Donnell.¡± ¡°Mm. The blood,¡± Matsuda said. He removed the man¡¯s shirt, then rummaged around in some nearby boxes until he found a bottle of clear cleaning fluid and dumped it over the man, washing the blood off him and providing a more unobstructed view of his pale flesh. Wil looked away. ¡°Yeah there¡¯s a shitload of it.¡± ¡°It sprayed,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°It¡¯ll do that.¡± ¡°Only when you¡¯re alive.¡± ¡°Yeah, so¡ª¡ª¡± Wil paused. He thought of the buck, how he had seen into its chest at its still lungs and unbeating heart. ¡°So this guy was alive, not like the black-eyed things.¡± ¡°Mm. And looking at his body, I don¡¯t see any signs of injury, apart from what I did, and maybe some bruising when the boxes fell.¡± ¡°So does that mean I¡¯m not gonna be a zombie?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked and hissed again. ¡°Can¡¯t say. He could ingested something and passed it on orally, but whatever changed him, it wasn¡¯t the same way those veiny things changed Birkin and the Stewarts.¡± ¡°Or he could just be something else entirely,¡± Wil said. ¡°Great, the list of shit we don¡¯t know keeps getting bigger,¡± Gutierrez grumbled. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be getting shorter anytime soon,¡± Wil replied as he looked at the dead man. ¡°Figure it out after we¡¯ve had some shut-eye. I vote we just stay in here: locked door, no windows, concrete walls and metal doors,¡± O¡¯Donnell said as he finished patching up the side of his face with Gutierrez¡¯s help. ¡°Works for me,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°I¡¯ll take first watch, finish examining this guy. Think we should stay here until dawn?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to leave as soon as possible,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Same here,¡± Wil agreed. ¡°Six hours okay?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked and everybody nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll take the next shift in three hours then. Rosa and Wil, you guys get to sleep but next time we rest, you¡¯re on duty.¡± ¡°Sounds fair to me,¡± Gutierrez said, then rolled her jacket into a pillow and laid on her side. Wil did the same and closed his eyes, trying not to let his mind spin away and latch onto the memories of the black-eyed things, the gore, the blood, the moon. And again, he failed. It was the end of the first day of the end of the world. 19: Four and Seven Despite the whirling vortex of horrific images in his mind, Wil was able to fall asleep almost at once. Exhaustion took its toll and its hold of him, and he did not so much fall asleep as he was yanked down into it. Wil dreamed that he was on a highway, long and straight and perfectly flanked by evenly spaced, identical pines.The pines stretched back forever in neat rows, like one gigantic orchard. Things moved among the wooden columns, shadowy, inhuman, bestial shapes with predatory lopes that ran parallel to the highway. The sky above was powder blue and tinged newborn pink. Dawn. The moon hung in the center of the sky, forever ruined and marred and circled by its scattered parts: a celestial Tantalus whose gravitational reach would never help make it whole again. There were four huge stars and seven smaller ones in the sky, but as Wil watched, each began to fall and left pale streaks across the sky as they plunged toward Earth. ¡°Wil,¡± a familiar voice breathed the note of his name. Naomi. She was ahead, a dark figure at the end of the highway, and in the same direction all those writhing shapes in the woods were heading towards. Wil ran. His run was the usual run of nightmares: slow, futile, almost sending him backwards. Some of the shapes in the woods on his left turned to look at him with black eyes. The ones on his right glared at him with glowing green eyes. Other things moved in the woods to his right, and what he had first taken for trees were actually giant arachnid legs. Wil tried to yell to Naomi, to tell her to run, to hide, to do anything but stand in the middle of the road. He had no voice. The sky above him shook, began to break in spider-webbed fragments as if it were nothing but glass. Two chunks of it fell out, one over the left side of the forest, another over the right side. The missing piece of the sky on the right revealed a squirming black void. It sucked in light, darkened everything around it, spread oily veins across the heavens. The hole on the right side emitted green light and was filled with tall, slender, scuttling shapes. The green light was poison that burned the sky, and a million watchful eyes stared out from the scuttling shapes, and their glare burned Wil¡¯s mind. The darkness and the light, both spilled out and flowed from the holes in the heavens like blood from a wound. It splashed into the woods and consumed both sides. Wil stood between the flooded forest, a panicked Moses who had failed to hold back the walls of the sea as they began to crash down. Wil had a thought as the writhing darkness and the burning light consumed him, a horrible thought that sent him catapulting out of his dream. There was more than this, he thought and then woke from one nightmare and into another. ¡°Huh!¡± he said as he shot straight up. He was in the gas station storage room. It was dark, save for a small glowstick that cast neon green light around the room. It reminded Wil a little of the toxic light from his dreams, from the eyes of the man who had tried to eat O¡¯Donnell, and the shape on the TV. It wasn¡¯t the same, though. It was just garish, not bad. Actually quite helpful in this case, though as Wil looked around at O¡¯Donnell, Gutierrez, and Matsuda, he thought that it did make them all look a bit like Martians with green skin or something. Better green skin than green eyes, he thought. ¡°Hey, we were just about to wake you,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. The side of his face had been bandaged, gauze wrapped around his head like a slap-dash Halloween mummy. ¡°It¡¯s about five in the morning,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°We overslept a bit. Well, O¡¯Donnell let us.¡± ¡°We all needed it,¡± he said. ¡°Plus, I dunno, my head was feeling funny.¡± ¡°You and me both. Had some weird-ass dreams,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°But we¡¯re running behind, and my family might not have time to spare, so shove something in your food-hole and let¡¯s get going.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°We should at least do a quick check of the store for anything useful,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°He¡¯s right. Ten minutes to look things over and find a car,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°I know for sure at least three of the cars out there have their keys in them.¡± ¡°Even if they don¡¯t, I can just hot-wire them,¡± Matsuda added as he checked on his bags. Wil ignored the fact that the old man was apparently hot-wiring any sort of car they might find and focused on what Gutierrez had said. ¡°I had a weird dream too,¡± Wil replied. ¡°Pretty sure all of us did,¡± O¡¯Donnell replied. ¡°Hard not to after a day like yesterday. It almost doesn¡¯t seem real now. Like maybe we all just got got drunk and wound up in a gas station storage room together, and when we go out there everything will be normal.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t even make me hope for that,¡± Gutierrez muttered. ¡°What did you dream about?¡± Wil asked Gutierrez. ¡°I dunno. I was having Christmas dinner with my family, but the tree was weird, and my family¡¯s eyes were either black or green, and they didn¡¯t have any other facial features.¡± Wil felt his skin begin to crawl. ¡°What was wrong with the tree?¡± he asked. ¡°Mom always makes a big deal about decorating it, but there were only a few ornaments on it,¡± Gutierrez said and shrugged. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°How many? Four big ones and seven small ones?¡± Wil asked. Gutierrez¡¯s eyes widened and Wil saw her pale even in the eerie light of the green glowstick. ¡°How the fuck did you know that?¡± Gutierrez breathed. Wil noticed Matsuda and O¡¯Donnell were staring at him too. ¡°What about you guys?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Sound familiar?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Yeah. It wasn¡¯t Christmas. I was in a gas station, like this one, except huge. The shelves were stuffed with black jars on one side, glowing green on the other. And there were only a few lights hanging from the ceiling: four big and seven small.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± Matsuda said and rubbed his chin, which now had a bit of stubble on it. ¡°I was¡­somewhere familiar, with people I knew from a while ago. Like Gutierrez¡¯s dream, half of them had black eyes, the other green. We were in a room with a chandelier: four large candles and seven smaller ones.¡± ¡°What the fuck does that mean?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°Just more wild shit for the list,¡± Wil said. ¡°That ever happened to any of you before? Sharing dream details or whatever this is?¡± she asked. ¡°And none of you are bull-shitting?¡± ¡°Absolutely not to all your questions,¡± Matsuda said. O¡¯Donnell and Wil both shook their heads. ¡°Whatever. Got bigger shit to worry about. Me and the old man will check the cars, you guys search the store?¡± ¡°Works for me,¡± Matsuda said and picked up his rifle. Gutierrez made sure everybody was ready before she unlocked and cracked open the storage room door. Wil didn¡¯t bother to stand and watch what Gutierrez and Matsuda did: they were on the clock and they might not be able to come by food and other stuff this easily again. He roved the aisles with several empty bags he¡¯d taken from behind the register and began filling them up. Water took priority, then food that would keep. Then any sort of medical supplies, and then any tools or assorted useful items. O¡¯Donnell took several lighters, knives, a few maps of the area, batteries, smaller, pocket-sized flashlights, some of those tiny energy drinks, and a tire-patch kit, on top of the basics. Once he¡¯d filled several bags, he stopped at a display of hot dogs and made himself two, which he hurriedly wolfed down. ¡°Eat the stuff that spoils first,¡± he said around his last bite, then belched. He drank from one of the many bottles of water they had left behind, then waved at Wil to follow. Wil made himself two hot-dogs as well, and while they were cold, they were still very edible. Almost as soon as he exited the station, Wil was greeted by the sound of an engine turning over and coming to life. Matsuda had managed to hotwire an old Ford Focus, by far the least damaged of the cars available, but with the most room. ¡°This¡¯ll do,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°You two should grab some hot dogs while we put the stuff away, and grab anything else that might be good.¡± ¡°Will do,¡± Matsuda said as he and Gutierrez returned to the station. ¡°I¡¯m surprised there was so much left,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Wil nodded. Nothing had been touched. The only sign that anything was out of place was the front wall being smashed in and the wrecked cars. ¡°Add it to the list,¡± Wil said. ¡°Should we actually make a list?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked. ¡°Did we get a pen and paper from in there?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll nab one,¡± Wil said and then ran inside, snatched a few pens and small pads of paper while Gutierrez and Matsuda gobbled some hotdogs, and then hurried back outside. The two emerged just as he finished drafting the list. -Broken moon -Sharing Dreams? -Black eyes/Green eyes? -Black-eyes dead, change shape (only sometimes?) -Black-eyes: SHOOT HEAD 4 DEAD -Green eyes alive, look normal -Green eyes: Any vital area=Dead -Crater footprints/spider-thing? -Rocks with black goop/worms/veins? -Black-eyed ones get slower with progressive bites? -I¡¯m still not a zombie -Air distortion in woods/spike distortion ¡°I think that¡¯s it,¡± Wil said and glanced down at the patch on his leg where he¡¯d been bitten by the intestinal lamprey-thing. ¡°Still don¡¯t feel like a zombie.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it, he says,¡± Gutierrez replied as she got into the front seat. O¡¯Donnell sat behind the wheel while Matsuda and Wil took the back. The trunk was now full of supplies and their backpacks, but they kept their guns (and Wil¡¯s axe) with them. ¡°For now,¡± O¡¯Donnell replied. ¡°Fingers crossed. Portland here we come.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Matsuda grunted, and they four pulled away from the gas station and back onto the highway. 20: Highway to Hell The first ten minutes were a breeze, literally. Wil had the window down and let the gentle wind blow into his face. The sky was overcast once again (not a huge surprise for autumn in the Pac-Northwest), and the gray of underside of the clouds could have been nothing but the lid of an enormous sarcophagus set to entomb him in this nightmare. But for a few minutes, Wil could just imagine himself on a roadtrip. Just a little drive back from a camping trip, with a couple of outdoors nuts and a very strange old man. Normal things. Then he would think of the buck, Sandoval, the bear, the distortions, the moon, or what might be happening to Naomi with every passing second, and he would have the urge to piss himself, scream, yank out his hair, or all of of the above. If I¡¯d just been a little bit more decisive about killing myself, he thought. I wouldn¡¯t have to have seen all this. But then, maybe Naomi¡­ The train of thought about what might happen to Naomi under any current circumstances was one Wil did not want to board. Better to let that particular train derail and allow a more productive engine through. ¡°Something up ahead,¡± Gutierrez said and raised a pair of binoculars to her face. Wil shot up and peered around her seat. The road had been clear for miles, but now there was a line of cars across both lanes not far ahead of them. O¡¯Donnell began to slow and brought the Ford to a gentle stop a couple hundred feet away from the traffic jam. Many of the cars had crashed violently, and Wil saw a bloody arm emerging from a broken window. Some of the cars had backed up over the guardrail along the sides of the highway, while others had been completely flipped on their roofs or sides. It looked like both lanes of traffic, coming and going, had tried to get away from something beyond the pile up that Wil couldn¡¯t see. ¡°What do you think?¡± Gutierrez asked. ¡°Not really much driving space outside the highway,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. The forest practically comes right up alongside the road, so no going around it. Even if we did have room, getting over the guardrails in this piece of junk would be rough.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t just bash through,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Might be able to drive some of those cars out of the way, at least enough to clear a spot,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Assuming it isn¡¯t like this all the way to Portland.¡± ¡°Yeah that¡¯d be worst-case. Then it¡¯s back to hiking,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Please god no, Wil thought. Not just for the sake of his feet and that they¡¯d have to ditch their new supplies again, but that it would delay their arrival to the city and Naomi by that much more. He hadn¡¯t been able to contact her since the ranger station yesterday and probably wouldn¡¯t talk to her again unless he could make it to her apartment. ¡°Gotta check it out first. Looks quiet enough, though,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Now that you said that, something¡¯s gonna happen,¡± Gutierrez said and tried a weak laugh. ¡°Don¡¯t even joke,¡± O¡¯Donnell replied and slowly rolled the Ford closer to the traffic jam. Wil swallowed the lump in his throat and tightened his grip on his axe. O¡¯Donnell stopped the car when they were only a few dozen feet away and put it into park. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get out and check with Gutierrez. You two keep on eye on the woods and anything behind us,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Works for me,¡± Matsuda said. He stepped out of the car and brought his rifle up as he took cover behind the open door. Wil stumbled out the other side, dropped his axe, and had to stare down at his holster to get his gun out and make sure it was ready to fire. Matsuda glanced at him from the side and smirked. ¡°Hey, we can¡¯t all be¡­whatever you used to be,¡± Wil said. ¡°And still am,¡± Matsuda replied and then turned his attention to the woods and the road behind them. Wil did the same for his side of the highway as O¡¯Donnell and Gutierrez approached the blocked road ahead. There was some fumbling sounds behind Wil as the two rangers climbed up on one of the cars and Wil turned to glance at them. ¡°Stay focused on the road,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Even under normal wartime conditions, things can go sideways very quickly. We have no clue what¡¯s going on aside from the fact that it¡¯s widespread and¡­unnatural. A second looking at the rangers is a second something has to run out of the woods at you.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Wil agreed and turned back to face the area ahead and to his side. The back of his neck itched every time the rangers made a sound, but it was nothing that sounded like trouble, so he forced himself to stare ahead. ¡°So what¡¯s your deal? Seriously,¡± Wil said. ¡°The rangers are, well, rangers so their training makes sense. What were¡­what are you? Military? And don¡¯t give me this ¡®Just an old man,¡¯ crap. My grandpa was ¡®Just an old man,¡¯ and all he did was watch day-time TV, complain about modern music, fall asleep at 6:30 at night, and fart a lot.¡± Matsuda smirked. ¡°Fair enough. Yes, I have some official training in survival and that sort of thing. But no, not military.¡± ¡°Then¡­?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Does it matter? Do you not have enough other mysteries to occupy yourself with? I¡¯m human, so are you. I¡¯m alive, so are you. For now, that¡¯s good enough for me.¡± Wil sighed. Wil could see by the set of the old man¡¯s jaw that he was done talking about this. He didn¡¯t want to push one of his few companions to irritation, so he let it drop. There was a heavy thump and some muffled chatting from O¡¯Donnell and Gutierrez behind them and Wil had to resist the urge to take a peek at what they were doing. ¡°How¡¯s your bite?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Fine. Checked on it as soon as I woke up. It¡¯s scabbed over, don¡¯t look infected or anything,¡± Wil said. ¡°Which is¡­weird. And inconsistent. The Stewarts all got bit and they hopped right up.¡± ¡°The Stewarts were also dead, from what you described,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Birkin too. That thing pierced her skull, then tore out the girl¡¯s throat, based on the glimpse I had of her when we were driving away and she ran out of the station. Mr. And Mrs. Stewart had similar injuries.¡± ¡°You saw that?¡± Wil asked. O¡¯Donnell and Matsuda had been in the jeep ahead of them, already peeling out, and the victims of Sandoval¡¯s attack had only just emerged from the lodge. ¡°Mm-hm,¡± Matusda said. ¡°Also you got bit by that gut snake-thing, not the bear itself. Maybe whatever they transfer that makes victims get up again has to come from the primary orifice or something. Or maybe it¡¯s why Mr. Birkin was so slow and clumsy and the others were so fast.¡± ¡°I mentioned that to Gutierrez,¡± Wil said. ¡°But the bear was like Sandoval: huge, mutated, swelled up, black thorny things. I should¡¯ve been infected, or taken over, whatever word works.¡± ¡°But again, you didn¡¯t suffer a fatal attack. The victim might need to be dead first. And the bear didn¡¯t directly attack you, just that snake-thing. I¡¯m not trying to suggest there¡¯s nothing to worry about, but so far as your bite is concerned, no news is good news.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°No kidding. Did you find anything out from looking at the green-eyed guy in the storage room?¡± ¡°Nothing very illuminating. He had no injuries apart from what I gave him. I did a quick examination of his chest cavity, but everything looked normal. The only obvious signs that something was wrong were his eyes. They looked like they¡¯d been blinded, somehow.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± Wil said. ¡°Hey!¡± O¡¯Donnell called out. ¡°See what they want and I¡¯ll watch the road,¡± Matsuda said. Wil nodded and approached the ranger. He stood on top of a wrecked SUV with broken windows. The driver¡¯s door was open, and the seat had a splash of dried blood on it. ¡°The blockage is about four or five cars deep but then it clears up again. Some cars on the road, but not all bunched up like this. Gutierrez and I are gonna move some of these out of the way since most have their keys and then we¡¯ll keep moving.¡± ¡°Any chance of us getting an upgrade?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Not likely. It¡¯s mostly all smaller cars and family vans. What isn¡¯t totaled, that is,¡± O¡¯Donnell replied. ¡°Anyway, if you hear car engines, it¡¯s just us moving stuff. We won¡¯t ditch you.¡± ¡°Good to know,¡± Wil said and returned to the Ford and Matsuda to tell the old man what the plan was. He only grunted and kept his eyes on the road and the woods beyond. Gutierrez and O¡¯Donnell set to clearing the highway as best they could, with much scraping of metal and rumbling of damaged engines. The big SUV barely worked, and its engine chugged and rattled, but it was enough to push some of the smaller cars out of the way. It was almost ten minutes later, and they¡¯d only cleared a narrow corridor that got halfway through the jam of wrecked cars. It was like some awful, automotive Tetris, moving one misshapen vehicle a few inches and then moving a second one to fill the tiny gap, and on and on. Wil¡¯s attention was starting to wander. He kept thinking of Naomi, praying she was all right, that this delay wasn¡¯t going to be fatal for any of them. He wondered what could have caused the pile-up, if the rest of the highway beyond looked relatively clear. Something had attacked the driver of the SUV and yanked them out of the big vehicle by the look of it. Wil was wondering what it could be when light caught his eye. He tensed and looked past the guardrail of the highway. Green light. Two of them, twin emerald pinpricks in the darkness. ¡°Shit,¡± he whispered. ¡°What is¡ª¡ªoh,¡± Matsuda said as he followed Wil¡¯s gaze. The lights were moving toward them, the human figure they belonged to becoming more visible in the wooded gloom as it approached the road. It was slow, its arms limp at its sides, its steps plodding but steady and deliberate. ¡°Go tell the rangers. I¡¯ll keep an eye on it.¡± Wil ran over to where Gutierrez was shoving a small Kia with a ruined front end back into a space O¡¯Donnell had cleared. She glanced up at him and frowned. ¡°If you¡¯re just here to compl¡ª¡ª¡± she started. ¡°Green-eyed thing! Woods!¡± Wil said and pointed. Gutierrez paled and looked around the side of the tiny Korean car. The green-eyed creature emerged from the woods. It was a woman, average height and build, dressed like she had been on her way to or from work when whatever happened had happened. She had lost one dress shoe in the woods, and there were pine-needles and twigs in her dark hair. She had a few smudges of dirt on her clothes and some scratches on her hands, but nothing serious. She stared straight at Wil with her luminous toxic gaze and plodded toward him, until Matsuda snapped his fingers and waved his hands in the air. ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Buying us time. Roger?¡± Gutierrez asked and looked over her shoulder. O¡¯Donnell was slowly backing a mini-van up into a ruined truck. He leaned out the window and gave her a thumbs up. ¡°Help me push this thing,¡± Gutierrez said and Wil holstered his gun, then put his shoulder into pushing the Kia. He didn¡¯t take his eyes off the green-eyed woman though. She¡¯d fully emerged from the woods and was stomping towards Matsuda with obvious intent. Her limp arms rose up and extended, fingers clutched at the air, mouth agape with drool welling up along the sides. To Wil¡¯s surprise, Matsuda didn¡¯t fire at her. Instead, he lowered his rifle and stood away from the car, after checking behind him. His gaze snapped back to the Kia as it lurched backward with a screech and then Gutierrez hurried to another car nearby. ¡°Okay, go watch his back. Don¡¯t run into his line of fire either!¡± she snapped and Wil approached Matsuda from the side. The green-eyed woman had approached the guardrail, but instead of stepping over it, she bumped into it with her shins and pitched face first onto the highway. Wil winced at the sickening, meaty whack her face made as it struck the asphalt. She pushed herself up after one, two, three attempts, her nose and mouth bloody from the impact of the street. ¡°She¡¯s slow,¡± Wil said. ¡°The one that got O¡¯Donnell was quick.¡± ¡°No, the one that nibbled on the good ranger surprised us. It only moved a few inches to chomp his face,¡± Matsuda replied, then stepped forward, rifle gripped in both hands but still not aimed at the woman. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Wil hissed. ¡°Experiments,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Watch the road and the woods behind me.¡± ¡°God dammit,¡± Wil said and checked the area around him. There was nothing, and he wasn¡¯t about to turn his back on the green-eyed woman for more than a second or two. Gutierrez and O¡¯Donnell had expanded the narrow aisle between the cars and there were only one or two left in the way. The ford would get its paint scratched up, maybe break a side mirror, but it would fit. Probably. ¡°Hey,¡± Matsuda said and made soft clicking noises like he was trying to summon a cat. He moved to the side and woman followed him with an awkward step to the left. ¡°Meeeeeting,¡± the woman groaned. ¡°What?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Meeeetiiiiinnngg,¡± the woman said again, almost a growl and took a lunging step toward Matsuda. He dodged her with ease, and then slammed the butt of the rifle against the side of her head. Wil winced again as the woman fell to the asphalt for the second time. Her face remained unchanged during the assault. She didn¡¯t even flinch. A couple teeth fell out of her mouth and she rose again, face Matsuda, and lunged once more. ¡°Meeting!¡± she said and blood sprayed out of her mouth as she spoke. ¡°Can you understand me?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Meetiiiiing!¡± Another growl, another lunge. Matsuda stepped on her foot with one of his, then slammed the butt of his rifle down on her kneecap hard enough to bend it backward. ¡°Oh shit! Damn!¡± Wil said and covered his mouth as the woman fell again, her left leg now bent the opposite way that it should be. ¡°Watch the woods, not me,¡± Matsuda said. Wil checked behind him. Still nothing. ¡°I can¡¯t, that thing it could,¡± Wil said and pointed at the woman. She, or maybe it would be a better term now, limped toward Matsuda on one leg with the other dragging behind. ¡°It¡¯s slow and stupid,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Watch my back.¡± Every instinct Wil had told him to not turn his back on that thing, but Matsuda was calm, collected, and keeping his distance. Wil compromised and looked back and forth between the woods behind Matsuda and the man himself. ¡°We¡¯re almost ready!¡± Gutierrez said from behind Wil and almost made him scream. She jumped into the driver¡¯s seat of the Ford and waved at him. ¡°Get in!¡± ¡°Hey, Mr. Matsuda!¡± Wil said. ¡°Mm,¡± Matsuda replied and then gave the woman a hard shove onto her back and stepped away. He jogged to the car and hopped in. The woman scrambled around on her back like a turtle, her broken leg flopping uselessly. ¡°Good experiment?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Seemed kind of¡­sadistic.¡± ¡°Only sadistic if the victim can feel something. There was nothing there,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°No reaction to pain at all, only basic reaction to other stimulus. Is Ranger O¡¯Donnell ready?¡± ¡°Yeah he¡¯s just got one more thing to move and then we¡¯ll be gone,¡± Gutierrez said and began to roll the Ford towards the traffic jam. Wil glanced out the window at the woman in the road and frowned. He looked up at the opposite side of the highway, into the woods, and sucked in a breath. More green eyes. Four pairs. ¡°Guys, more of them,¡± Wil said and pointed. Matsuda glanced up and grunted again. ¡°We¡¯ll be gone before they can trip over the guardrail,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Wil said and Matsuda and Gutierrez both turned to look at the distant woods. The four pairs of green eyes were each bobbing up and down quickly, as if their owners were running. As their figures became clearer, Wil saw that¡¯s exactly what they were doing: four human figures in all out sprints, charging toward the edge of the woods. They broke the treeline at the same moment, each keeping pace with the other. Not just keeping pace, Wil thought, they¡¯re in perfect sync. All four had the exact same rhythm and were in perfect step. Wil had seen professional marching bands with sloppier precision. When the four green-eyed things reached the guardrail, they didn¡¯t trip, they vaulted over it, again in perfect harmony. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Gutierrez said and sped forward, leaned out the window and honked the horn. ¡°O¡¯Donnell!¡± ¡°What on Earth,¡± Matsuda said as he turned to look at the pursuing figures. The woman stood up with sudden grace and efficiency, then twisted her leg so it popped back forward, and joined the other four figures. She had a slight limp to her now, but the more she ran, the more it faded. She synced up with the others, and her slack face tightened into something resembling determination. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Wil breathed. The car jolted as Gutierrez rammed it through the narrow aisle she and O¡¯Donnell had made, and O¡¯Donnell just managed to back the last car enough out of the way to allow her through. ¡°Get your ass in!¡± she shouted at him. O¡¯Donnell practically threw himself into the passenger seat and Gutierrez was speeding away before he¡¯d even closed the door. She had to weave around stalled cars, wrecked cars, flipped cars, but she had enough room now to do so. As she sped up, faster and faster, the green-eyed pack fell away. Wil saw them slow, then turned as one and sprinted back into the woods. ¡°Did you see that?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Not all of it,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°None of it,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°What the heck happened?¡± Matsuda sighed and pointed at the pen in Wil¡¯s shirt pocket. ¡°Add it to the list,¡± he said. 21: Portland Once the green-eyed figures were out of sight, Gutierrez began to slow. It became more an more necessary to take it slow and steady the closer they got to the city. Cars became more frequent, all of them abandoned. Some were wrecked and showed signs of violence: bloody windshields, human body parts, gore on the road around them. Other cars looked as if they¡¯d come to an abrupt halt and the drivers had just left them to roll on ward until they hit a guardrail or another car. The gore became more frequent as well. At first it was just a little blood, maybe an arm. By the time they turned onto interstate 84 that ran alongside the Columbia River, Wil guessed he had seen evidence of at least a hundred brutally killed people, if not more. He¡¯d gone his entire life without seeing any actual remains. Even his parents¡¯ funeral had been closed casket. The forest had become less dense, and mostly made of oaks and spruces and fewer pines. Vast pillars of smoke rose up in the distance, thick billowing fingers that clawed at the hanging sky. ¡°That¡¯ll be Portland,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Christ,¡± Gutierrez said. The highway widened into four lanes now, giving them more room to maneuver, but traffic was once again becoming an obstacle. ¡°Where¡¯s your family?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked. ¡°Few blocks east from Grant Park,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°What about your girlfriend?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked as he craned his head around to look at Wil. ¡°Washington and 9th,¡± he replied. Matsuda sucked a breath through his teeth. ¡°I know, it sucks, okay? She said as much over the phone. It was a mess. But I have to.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Gutierrez said and Wil scowled. She caught his eye in the rearview mirror and raised her eyebrows at him. ¡°Put yourself in my shoes, man. Let¡¯s say you got your girlfriend: she¡¯s safe, you¡¯re safe, now you just gotta get the hell outta Dodge. But then I want to go to the heart of the damn city, across any one of the bridges that might not even be passable if current traffic is any suggestion, and into what you¡¯ve been told is a nightmare. Does that sound good to you?¡± Wil looked down. ¡°Yeah, me neither. Now, instead of one young woman who I¡¯m assuming is about your age?¡± Gutierrez continued, ¡°Yeah, replace her with two old people, a couple folks around my age, and a teenager.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll need a bigger car,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°One of my brothers has an SUV. Goes off-roading with it sometimes,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Still, maybe a couple cars.¡± ¡°If we want supplies for that many people, it¡¯ll be essential,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°My point is, not the best situation for going into the middle of downtown,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I understand,¡± Wil said. ¡°But I can¡¯t just leave her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not saying you should, only that I¡¯m not going with you,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Rosa, geez,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°What? I don¡¯t see you volunteering,¡± she replied. ¡°Because I can¡¯t leave you the same way he can¡¯t leave his uh¡­partner,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Gutierrez snorted and laughed. ¡°You suck at sweet talk, man.¡± ¡°You know what I mean.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Wil snapped. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna have other people die for me. I¡¯ll just¡­I was gonna go alone in the first place. I¡¯m lucky to have gotten this far. If you guys are moving on, and your family has better cars, can I just use this one?¡± ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t see why not,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, it¡¯s not personal. I don¡¯t want you to die, and you¡¯re welcome to come with us¡­¡± ¡°But I can¡¯t,¡± Wil finished. ¡°Thank you, though. I appreciate it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± Matsuda said. Wil raised his eyebrows at the old man. He didn¡¯t miss O¡¯Donnell and Gutierrez looking back either. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t ran off with the bear, we¡¯d probably all be dead. Besides, part of me wants to see how bad it is.¡± ¡°You¡¯re crazy, old guy,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Just curious,¡± Matsuda replied. ¡°You know what that did to the cat, don¡¯t you?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked. ¡°I do. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Never heard the second part before,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°Thank you,¡± Wil said. ¡°Thank you so much.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± Matsuda smirked and nodded. ¡°You two fine rangers do me a favor though: get your family and then get out of here. Head for the Air National Guard Outpost we talked about. It¡¯s on the map, not far from the Lewis and Clark National Park. Do you know where that is?¡± ¡°Just because we¡¯re rangers doesn¡¯t mean we know every single park in the state,¡± O¡¯Donnell said, ¡°but yes we know it.¡± ¡°Good. Get there. If we¡¯re alive, we¡¯ll meet you. I might know some people who owe me favors. If they ask you any questions, ask for a Colonel Eddings, and tell him old Matty says he¡¯s calling in his chips.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Mm. We¡¯re not there yet. Thank me when we get our people and we¡¯re still alive,¡± he said. Wil looked out the window as they slowed more. He winced as Gutierrez ran over a dead body and it thumped under the car. The highway had widened even more as they were now within a few miles of Portland, but the cars on the road had increased to match. ¡°I¡¯m getting off the highway here,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°I don¡¯ trust that it won¡¯t get worse. Better to take the back streets. It¡¯s a couple miles to my parents¡¯ place from here.¡± ¡°Do what you gotta do,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. Gutierrez pulled off at the nearest exit ramp, having to avoid a few crashed cars that had gone up it, the wrong way.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Oh god,¡± O¡¯Donnell said as they left the highway. They were in an older neighborhood lined with towering oak trees and quaint two-story houses. The houses all bore signs of violence: broken windows, splintered doors, walls torn down. There were dead bodies out front, streaks of rust red across emerald lawns. As Gutierrez drove past, one or two of the bodies began to stir. An old man with his stomach torn open to reveal black guts picked himself up. His skin was gray, his eyes black, his skin slowly squirming with the veins beneath. He shuffled after them in an awkward, hitching gait. A young boy no older than ten emerged from a dark doorway, the skin around his neck loose, the neck itself bent at an odd angle. He was slow as well, his mouth, obviously dislocated, hung open and black fluid slopped out of it and splattered to the ground. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Wil breathed. ¡°They¡¯re everywhere,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. As Wil looked, he saw the ranger was right: all of the bodies they saw had the tell-tale gray, ashy look to them, and now that he knew what to look for, he saw them twitching to life (or undeath, maybe) as the car drove past them. All of the creatures were on the slow side, and usually they were at the end of the next block or turning a corner before they even got to their feet. But if they came across something like the Sandoval-thing, the bear, the buck, or even just the ones that ran¡­ Wil gripped his axe. Please god let Naomi be okay, he thought. She was in a sturdy old brick building, several floors above street level, behind a metal door with no less than three locks. All she would¡¯ve had to do was stay quiet. She could still be okay. Please, god, Wil begged. They drove at a steady but cautious pace: more than enough to keep ahead of the black-eyed shamblers, but slow enough to not crash into any of the abandoned cars or other debris in the road. ¡°How much further?¡± O¡¯Donnell asked. ¡°Few blocks,¡± Gutierrez said, her tone clipped, voice tense. ¡°Just turn left here and¡­¡± What happened after turning right, Gutierrez didn¡¯t say, and nobody asked her. She slammed on the brakes with a faint squeak of the tires and a firm lurch. The thing blocking the road looked like some kind of water tower that had fallen on its side: a fat bulbous top on top of long, slender supports. Wil thought it was painted black at first, but then saw it was actually a dark emerald that shimmered, like the shell of a beetle. The top of the bulbous shape had a ring of glowing green orbs around it, each one the size of a watermelon. The light from the orbs was dim, and darkening fast. The hole thing was massive, taller than the oaks, maybe as tall as an actual water tower. Wil couldn¡¯t see all of it. A sizable crowd of people had gathered in front of the thing, hunched over it. Their arms were busy with something, maybe trying to lift the strange tower up or¡­ ¡°Oh shit,¡± Wil said. The tower wasn¡¯t a tower. It was whatever had been in Ralph¡¯s yard. Its many legs ended in sharp points that bristled with tiny spines. The bulbous top had a definite insectile quality, though it was difficult to make out details in the dim light and from a distance. But Wil could see that whatever it was, had been alive at one point, and had to be at least four or five stories tall. The people in front of the massive arachnid creature weren¡¯t just people either. Their skin was gray, and some of their bodies bulged with muscle and their skin writhed with maleficent purpose beneath. Worse, as some of them stood they revealed themselves to be far taller and lankier than any normal human, and their skin had torn to expose raw muscle and bone beneath. Black thorns sprouted from their bodies, and long ropey tongues lashed from their destroyed mouths. ¡°Oh god. Oh, god,¡± O¡¯Donnell said. How long has it been? Five minutes? Wil thought. It had really only been a second or two, just long enough for the realization to set in. At least thirty of those black-eyed things had turned and spotted their car. Half of them were the fast muscular type, and perhaps as many as eight were of the same type as Sandoval. ¡°Ranger, get us out of here,¡± Matsuda whispered. ¡°Full reverse, now.¡± ¡°Y-yeah,¡± Gutierrez said and threw the car into reverse. One of the tall creatures roared, a nightmarish and agonized scream of fury. Wil actually felt a few drops of piss leak out of him at the sound. He slumped forward as Gutierrez slammed on the gas and they sped backward. ¡°Keep your heads down!¡± she said. Wil had a glimpse of the mob of black-eyed things charging them, mouths open and dark and hungry,and then he ducked behind the front seat and tried not to continue wetting himself. He was thrown to one side by inertia as the car spun, then thrown back as Gutierrez sped forward. ¡°Behind!¡± O¡¯Donnell said. ¡°I know!¡± Gutierrez shouted. Something thumped hard against Wil¡¯s door and he glanced up. An ashen face, distorted by how wide the mouth stretched, beyond dislocation, appeared in the window. One of those things had grabbed onto Wil¡¯s side of the car. He screamed, looked down, fumbling with his holster, then a hand grabbed his hair from behind and he thought it was another one, somehow in the car with him, before Matsuda shouted. ¡°Down!¡± the old man said and shoved him forward as he aimed his pistol behind Wil¡¯s head. There was a road and a splash of brains and black goop against the window and the creature fell away. Another thud from above them, and long, inhuman hands broke Wil¡¯s window and reached for him. ¡°Big one on the roof!¡± O¡¯Donnell said and took Gutierrez¡¯s shotgun, pointed it up, and fired. The roar of the shotgun was deafening in the enclosed car, and the buckshot punched a fist-sized hole in the roof. There was a roar and black sludge dribbled through the hole and down towards O¡¯Donnell. ¡°Shit!¡± the ranger said and tried to squirm away from it. His back hit the window, and Wil shouted a warning as one of those inhuman hands shattered the glass behind O¡¯Donnell. ¡°Roger!¡± Gutierrez screamed. A bony spike emerged from the center of the hand and pierced O¡¯Donnell¡¯s throat. Red blood splattered onto Gutierrez, gushed over the dashboard, soaked the front of O¡¯Donnell¡¯s uniform. ¡°No!¡± Gutierrez wailed. She wasn¡¯t even looking at the road anymore, too distracted by the brutal end of her lover. O¡¯Donnell stared, wide-eyed at Gutierrez, and then he was yanked with horrifying ease out the window. There was a howling roar, and then he, and the thing on the roof, were gone. ¡°Ahead! Watch out!¡± Matsuda shouted. Too late. The Ford crashed over a curb, into and over a fir hydrant, and a thick oak on the other side. The car managed to break the hydrant off its bolts, and the hydrant tore the bottom out of the passenger side of the car where O¡¯Donnell had been seconds before. Water sprayed up into the cab of the car, blinding and soaking all of them in moments. ¡°Out! Out and ready!¡± Matsuda shouted above the roar of the water. ¡°Roger! Roger, god dammit!¡± Gutierrez screamed. ¡°Hey! Rosa! Come on!¡± Wil said as he reached for the shotgun that O¡¯Donnell had dropped on his way out. On his way out, Wil thought, Like going to the store. Just with this crazy bone spike shoved in his neck. The urge to laugh again started to rise, and Wil bit his lip so hard it bled. Hey, at least with all this water, nobody will know you had a few drops get past the flood gates, Wil thought and snorted and coughed out water as he fumbled his way out of the car. None of this was funny. So why? Why was his brain trying to make him laugh now, of all times? Survival instinct, maybe? A distraction? He thought. It didn¡¯t matter. Wil scrambled to his feet in the puddle around the car, axe in one hand, shotgun in the other. Matsuda had his assault rifle up, and Wil saw him switch it to full auto. The car door slammed as Gutierrez emerged with O¡¯Donnell¡¯s rifle. She was shaking, either from the cold water, fear, fury, all of it, Wil could only guess. The thing that had taken O¡¯Donnell hunched a couple blocks away, crouched on a street corner and driving its tongues into the ranger¡¯s skull. It removed them and O¡¯Donnell fell to the street with a thud. The big thing turned from O¡¯Donnell to stare at Wil and the others with the black pits of its eyes. The mob of other creatures rounded the corner, a howling, gibbering, snarling pack of nightmares. O¡¯Donnell rose, and joined them. ¡°No,¡± Gutierrez said, her voice thick, breaking. ¡°No, baby.¡± ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± Matsuda said. Gutierrez sobbed, then raised the hunting rifle to her face, aimed, and fired. There was a single, sharp crack, and O¡¯Donnell¡¯s head burst. A black spray of tainted brains and dark sludge popped out behind him, and the ranger fell. ¡°Now he is,¡± Gutierrez said then chambered another round in the rifle. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon, Roger.¡± The creature that had killed O¡¯Donnell looked at the fallen ranger, then howled at Gutierrez, as if offended she had ruined its work. ¡°C¡¯mon you ugly fucker,¡± she said. ¡°Can¡¯t get any worse,¡± Matsuda sighed. Movement behind them caught Wil¡¯s eye. Movement and green light. A lot of green light. ¡°If we weren¡¯t about to die I might just have to kill you, old man,¡± Wil said, though it felt like somebody else was saying it. Wil wanted to scream and put the shotgun in his mouth, not make little quips at Matsuda. Thirty or forty of the green-eyed people stood another couple of blocks away, opposite the black-eyed mob. ¡°Hell,¡± Matsuda said as he saw the two groups, and both began to head for the three survivors. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what it looks like,¡± Wil said, and prepared himself for the end. 22: Leapfrog Gutierrez fired again, tears running down her face. Another black-eyed runner got a hole in their head and face-planted. Matsuda opened fire on the mob of green-eyed things behind them. Wil finally managed to take his pistol out of the holster without looking at it. He didn¡¯t have much choice. His eyes were stuck, wide and unblinking, on the nightmare horde before him. He stared into their black eyes, took in every facet of their twisted and writhing forms. He raised his pistol and fired. Nothing fell. He didn¡¯t even know if he had hit anything. There were so many of them, and all of them had had their bodies ravaged in some way or another. He fired again. Gutierrez swore at them and her rifle cracked and another one fell. Matsuda continued to fire behind them but Wil couldn¡¯t take his eyes away from death charging at him. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. They would be on him and the other two, and they¡¯d be turned into those things, torn apart and brought back. He wasn¡¯t doing shit with his pistol. Better to put it to where it would be the best use. Wil felt a familiar and not unpleasant sense of surety settle over him. He¡¯d tried to get to Naomi. He¡¯d gone Out There, done his best, but this was it. One thing left to do. Wil turned the gun toward himself, put it against his temple¡­ ¡°Get down!¡± Matsuda said and grabbed both Wil¡¯s and Gutierrez¡¯s heads and shoved them down towards the soaking lawn they had crashed onto. Gutierrez grunted and Wil¡¯s pistol went off, inches away from the side of his skull. Shadows fell over them, howling green-eyed shapes that moved with the same uniformity as a flock of birds or a school of fish. And they descended¡­ On the black-eyed things. The two horrific forces broke against each other in a crashing wave of violence. They completely ignored Wil, Gutierrez and Matsuda, and focused their brutal attentions on each other. The black-eyed things tore into the green-eyed creatures with visceral savagery: blood and limbs flew, bones snapped, viscera spilled. But the green-eyed things took no notice. They fought with precision and an eerie, nimble grace. And while Wil couldn¡¯t be certain, he thought he saw several of them fight without touching the black-eyed things. Some invisible force grabbed several of the undead attackers and flung them away or snapped their legs off. ¡°Go! The house! Go!¡± Matusda shouted over the hellish howling and snarling. The water from the fire hydrant had turned into a small lake of blood and guts and Wil was almost shoved down into its sloshing, chunky carmine surface. He gagged at the smell and shambled in a low crouch, Matsuda¡¯s hand on his back, behind Gutierrez. The house in question was the one they had crashed in front of, and its door had been knocked off its hinges. Gutierrez hurried in while the monstrous melee continued behind them. Wil dared a single look back and regretted it at once. Fountains of blood, piles of intestines, livers, lungs, rolling heads, flayed skin. Shards of bone, all scattered across the street. There were still dozens of the now inhuman combatants tearing each other to pieces, howling in fury, and that was enough for Wil. More than enough. He scurried after Gutierrez and ducked into the dark interior of the house, Matsuda right behind. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Wil said. His chest was heaving, and not only from barely escaping the mob of things. He¡¯d been ready to do it, almost offed himself, would have offed himself if not for Matsuda. ¡°Keep moving, no cover,¡± Matsuda said and continued to walk in a rapid, tactical hunched way toward the far end of the house. Gutierrez said nothing, tears still rolling down her cheeks, but her face was still neutral. She followed Matsuda with the grace of a wind-up doll. Wil trembled as the bestial sounds of slaughter continued outside and followed after. They entered a narrow kitchen with a back door that was still intact. Matsuda peered up over the edge of a window, then opened the door and waved Gutierrez forward. ¡°Through the back yard, into the next house. If their back door is locked, go to the right,¡± Matsuda said in a rushed whisper. Gutierrez nodded, clearly on autopilot, and crouch-walked across the yard. The houses did not have fences separating their back yards, though a few had planted hedges. Gutierrez tried the back door at the next house, shook her head, and continued around the other side.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Wil followed her and Matsuda brought up the rear. Wil wasn¡¯t sure he was comfortable with that. Gutierrez was in shock after seeing O¡¯Donnell get killed, and then having to shoot him after the fact. Wil was still coming off the pleasant mellow of certain death, and even if he was in a good headspace, had no idea what the best course of action was. Matsuda should have been in front. ¡°How far are we from your family¡¯s house?¡± Matsuda whispered ahead to Gutierrez as all three of them hid in the bushes alongside the next house. The sounds of the brutal fight behind them were fading, either with distance or a lack of combatants. Wil doubted their luck would hold to the length that all of the monstrosities took each other out. Surely there would be some survivors, and what then? They¡¯d likely go looking for the living people who had escaped from right under them. ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t¡­I got turned around. Gimme a sec,¡± she said and sniffled. Matsuda just nodded as Gutierrez peered out from the side of the house, looking for street signs. She came back a second later. ¡°Two blocks to the left.¡± ¡°I assume you still want to go there?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Yes. I have to make sure. One way or another,¡± she said. Matsuda nodded and so did Wil. ¡°You lead for now then. Let¡¯s check on your family,¡± the old man said. What followed was a hurried, silent, and terrifying sort of game of leapfrog. Gutierrez would poke her head out, scan the road, and then wave them forward to the next house or bit of cover. Wil and Matusda would hurry forward, check out the area, then wave her on when it was clear. Repeat. They spotted some shambling figures at varying distances. Wil couldn¡¯t tell if they were the low-tier black-eyed ones or the green-eyed ones from this distance. Fog had begun to settle in the streets, cutting visibility to just half a block. Wil only saw indistinct human shapes shuffling in the ethereal gray. Once, after they had cleared one block, they all froze in the shadow of a house as something huge thumped past them on the street they had just crossed. Wil smelled it before he saw or heard it: a foul odor of rot and vomit that made Wil gag and cover his mouth. It could have been one of the stretched out humans-things like Sandoval had been but it sounded much, much bigger. When they approached the second block, Matsuda hissed at them to stop. The coast was clear, no shapes loomed out of the fog. It looked clear. Then Wil saw the distortion. The asphalt had been swirled around into a spiral of rocks and tar, then frozen in place. That could have been mistaken for a construction error, though. What could not be dismissed was the fog subtly ebbing, waning, and swirling around the same same area. God, it¡¯s practically invisible. I would¡¯ve walked right into it, he thought. The more Wil studied the distortion, he saw at least some people had walked into it. There were quite a few abandoned clothes in the street. Normally this might have been enough to raise Wil¡¯s eyebrows, but the streets were riddled with debris. All of the clothes were gathered roughly around the distortion, and all of them bore faint scorch marks. So not the same as the sucking one or the spiky one, Wil thought. Matsuda waved his hand and made a going-around gesture with it, pointing the way he wanted to go. Gutierrez didn¡¯t acknowledge him, just moved as he directed, across the street. Another round a life-or-death leapfrog later, and Gutierrez stopped. She froze ahead of them, at the corner of the next hour, head just beyond the edge of some blood-spattered siding. She was staring at something, still as a rabbit listening for a fox. ¡°What is it?¡± Matsuda whispered. Gutierrez didn¡¯t answer. Wil leaned forward and followed her gaze across the street. Gutierrez stared at a two-story house painted a pleasant sunflower-yellow with white trim and dark blue shingles on the roof. It was a happy-looking house, and somebody had even taken the time to paint the mailbox out front with swirling lavender letters that spelled a name. ¡°GUTIERREZ.¡± The house had been ruined. Windows were broken, the door had been snapped off its hinges, and there was a long streak of blood in the concrete driveway that lead to the sidewalk, then continued down the road and out of sight. ¡°Oh no,¡± Wil sighed. ¡°They have a basement,¡± Gutierrez said. ¡°They could be in there, holed up.¡± ¡°It¡¯d be dangerous. Whatever did that damage could still be in there,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°We¡¯re exposed out here. Everything is dangerous. Follow me or don¡¯t,¡± Gutierrez said and then ran forward without looking. ¡°Hey!¡± Wil hissed, then grumbled and checked the road before he hurried after her. Gutierrez wasn¡¯t trying to be sneaky any more, she ran upright, ranger¡¯s boots tromping up wooden steps to the porch then through the open doorway. Matsuda and Wil followed after, albeit much more quietly. ¡°Mama? Papa? David? Hector?¡± Gutierrez called out as she went from room-to-room. ¡°Shh!¡± Wil hissed but Gutierrez ignored him. ¡°Raul? Esmi?¡± she asked as she ran up the stairs. Wil glanced out the open doorway and shattered windows. Nothing was coming near them, nothing appeared to be near enough, but every house was a possible den of horrors, and every corner might have concealed another horde. Wil didn¡¯t think they¡¯d get lucky enough to have two groups cancel each other out that often. Something in the house thumped. Gutierrez was upstairs, but the noise had come from below. Matsuda and Wil looked at each other, and the old man pointed down. Wil nodded. ¡°There¡¯s nobody here¡­but, but there¡¯s no blood and no¡ª¡ª¡± Gutierrez came back down the stairs and saw the two men looking down at the floor and backing away. Matsuda put a finger to his mouth as he looked up at the ranger, then pointed down at the floor. ¡°Basement,¡± Gutierrez whispered. She rushed past Matusda and almost knocked Wil over, then rounded a corner. ¡°No!¡± Matsuda whispered. ¡°Careful!¡± More thumping as Gutierrez hurried further back into the house and Wil followed. He saw her just as she reached a door. It began to open even before she touched the handle and time slowed down as Wil saw only darkness beyond. The door opened fully onto a dark staircase leading down. Hands emerged from the shadows. They embraced Gutierrez, drew her close, into the shaking arms of an elderly Hispanic couple. Their eyes were bright with tears, and perfectly human. Gutierrez sobbed as she embraced her parents, fell to her knees, and hugged them close. They were alive. 23: Family Reunion Wil and Matsuda were hustled into the basement and past the embracing Gutierrezes by another woman, likely not direct family judging by her Middle-Eastern descent. She had a short, punkish hair-do, buzzed on the sides and longer and tousled on top. She was short, but not as short as Ranger Gutierrez (Guess I¡¯ll need to start thinking of her as Rosa now, Wil thought), and sort of wiry. She was smudged with dust and a few spatters of mud or blood on a dark leather jacket she wore, and her right hand had been heavily bandaged. The Gutierrez parents and their daughter descended the basement stairs in a sort of hugging shuffle, all of them sniffling and crying as they reached the bottom. Mr. Gutierrez waved somebody over, the and the hug huddle increased by two: a slender girl who looked like she was barely in college, and a stout man in his forties. Sister and brother. ¡°I¡¯ll uh, get the door,¡± the punk woman said and hopped up the basement stairs. She placed a plank of wood on the stairs and tilted it so it jammed under the basement doorknob, then backed down the stairs as she studied the Gutierrez family hug pile as well as Wil and Matsuda. Wil took a moment to study the basement. It had a simple concrete floor, a washer and dryer in one corner, a few metal shelving unites stacked with heavy-duty plastic containers, water, cans of food, and cardboard boxes with labels like ¡°X-Mas Lights 1¡± and ¡°Taxes 2015¡± and so on. Sleeping bags and pillows had been laid out in a far corner, near a battered gas camping lantern and a box of shotgun shells. The lantern was lit but it was still incredibly dark in the basement because the windows near the ceiling had been painted over and covered with pieces of wood. The paint was definitely recent, as there was still the scent of it in the air. ¡°Can¡¯t believe you¡¯re alive,¡± Rosa said as she held her family. ¡°I saw the house and I¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay mija, we¡¯re okay. We were just so worried for you,¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said. ¡°Where are David and Raul?¡± Rosa asked. ¡°David was on duty when things started happening yesterday,¡± the middle-aged Gutierrez said. Wil assumed this was Hector. He had a lined face, short black hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee streaked with a few strands of gray. His hands were chapped, calloused, and despite being a little on the hefty side, looked like he could¡¯ve punched through a wall. ¡°He called us, told us to get to Mom and Dad¡¯s place and hole up with them because something was happening. Haven¡¯t heard from him since.¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t call me,¡± Rosa said. ¡°Probably figured you were the safest one of all, out in the woods,¡± the young woman, Esmi, said. She was mostly Rosa¡¯s polar opposite: a softer, kinder face, tall and almost willowy where Rosa was short and compact. ¡°As for Raul, he¡¯s trying to find us a car,¡± Hector continued. Something crashed into the garage when things really started getting bad and totaled the truck. All the cars in the neighbors¡¯ houses are either gone or busted, so he¡¯s on the next block sneaking around.¡± ¡°We were thinking of heading towards Oak Rest. Is it safe out there? In the park? No people, right?¡± Esmi asked. ¡°Not safe in the least,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Who are these folks?¡± Mr. Gutierrez asked as he wiped at his eyes. He looked like an older, fatter version of Hector, his hair gone stark white. ¡°Sorry, right,¡± Rosa said. ¡°This is Mr. Matsuda and Wil. They were staying up at Oak Rest when it all happened and they helped me get out of the park.¡± ¡°Hello,¡± Wil said and waved. ¡°Was Roger not there to help you?¡± Mrs. Gutierrez asked. She bore more resemblance to Esmi than Rosa: thin, and with long, flowing white hair. She had a definite accent when she spoke, pronouncing ¡°Roger,¡± more like ¡°Raw-Her.¡± ¡°He¡¯s dead, Mama,¡± Rosa said and her voice cracked. Her mother began to cry again and embraced her daughter. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± her father said and put his hand on her shoulder. Hector folded his arms across his chest and shook his head while Esmi came forward to hug her sister and mother and join them in crying. ¡°Thank you for helping our daughter,¡± Mr. Gutierrez said and came forward to shake hands with Matsuda and Wil. ¡°She helped us just as much,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°May I ask who your guest is?¡± Matsuda gestured at the young punk woman standing against the far wall. She nodded, as if in mock appreciation of finally being acknowledged. ¡°Ah. This is one of our neighbors¡¯ kids,¡± Mr. Gutierrez said. ¡°I guess she was house-sitting while her parents were away on vacation.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Qadira,¡± the young woman said and shook with Matsuda and Wil. Wil found the gesture a little aggressive: her grip was too tight, he pumps a little too enthusiastic. When she was done she jerked her hand back as if she¡¯d had it in a rat¡¯s nest. Wil frowned at her, but she only widened her smile. ¡°Yeah my parents were out, things started going crazy, figured I¡¯d stop in and check on others. Wound up staying here rather than alone.¡± ¡°No car at your place?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Parents took it on vacation,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Mm. And I suppose you didn¡¯t drive here?¡± ¡°Taxi.¡± ¡°Mm.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been down here since when?¡± Rosa asked and wiped at her eyes. ¡°Late afternoon yesterday. We saw some stuff on the news, but it looked like it was all in LA and Dallas. Then there was an emergency bulletin for downtown Portland, then the whole city,¡± Esmi said. ¡°We heard explosions and sirens, and it all just seemed to go bad right away. Then something hit the house in the garage and wrecked the truck. That was when we all ran down here. ¡°Stayed here for a few hours while things got bad outside. We heard noises. Screaming, a lot, but other stuff, like animal sounds. Papa poked his head out for a bit and said he saw some weird things and that we had to leave the city, maybe come see you, Rosa. So Raul volunteered to start looking for cars. He went out a couple time yesterday before it got dark while we started securing the basement. Raul came back with Qadira, and we¡¯ve been holed up since then. This is the first time Raul¡¯s gone out today, been about an hour or so.¡± ¡°Is the park really just as bad as the city?¡± Hector asked. ¡°It¡¯s not as crowded,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°But it¡¯s still bad.¡± He, Rosa, and Wil explained the dangers of limited mobility on roads, walking through the woods, the distortions, the buck, the bear, the squirrels Matsuda had seen, and the rock with the black stuff inside that had turned Sandoval. ¡°Uh, that¡¯s what hit the garage,¡± Hector said. ¡°What?¡± Rosa asked. ¡°Some roundish rock bigger than a beach ball slammed into the side of the garage and totaled the truck,¡± Hector said. ¡°It was cracked open and there was slime or something coming out of it. I just saw it for a second and then came back inside because there was an explosion down the street.¡± ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± Rosa said and her mother slapped her on the arm. ¡°None of that here,¡± she said. ¡°Especially not now.¡± ¡°Mama, if the lord is more upset by my blasphemy than what is happening outside¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°Has anybody else been near the rock?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°No, nobody,¡± Mr. Gutierrez said. ¡°Thank god for that,¡± Wil said. ¡°Nobody in this basement, anyway,¡± Mr. Gutierrez said. There was a lot of ruckus up there yesterday evening, after Raul came back. He¡­he might have gone to inspect it when he went p a little while ago.¡± ¡°No. No no no,¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said. ¡°He¡¯s smart enough to stay away, I¡¯m sure, but there were people, or something, up there last night,¡± Mr. Gutierrez continued. ¡°Raul should be able to find something,¡± Rosa said. ¡°If not, Mr. Matsuda here is pretty good at hot-wiring things.¡± ¡°That a common skill at the old-folks home?¡± Qadira asked. Matsuda glanced at her and smiled kindly. ¡°I used to work on cars in my younger days,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s an Air National Guard Outpost outside the city, near the coast. We should go there,¡± Rosa said. ¡°It¡¯s away from any major population centers, it¡¯ll be better defended, and they might know what¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°We were just thinking we should stay here if you or David came back,¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said. ¡°Expecially now that you said the woods are no good.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll die in here,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Geez,¡± Wil replied. ¡°No time to mince words, I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯re very lucky you¡¯ve all survived this long. Your home is open to the road, you¡¯ve got no real defenses, and everything we¡¯ve seen so far could smash in here within a minute or two, tops,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Staying is suicide.¡± ¡°Going out there isn¡¯t much better,¡± Qadira said. ¡°It sounds like you all spent most of your time in the woods and on the highway. How long were you actually on the city streets before that ranger died?¡± Rosa grit her teeth and clenched her fists. ¡°Not long. A few minutes, tops,¡± Wil said. Qadira nodded. ¡°It¡¯s dense with things out there. Black eyes, green eyes, and other shit. I saw something that looked like a cockroach the size of a station wagon crawling over a house five blocks away. It had a grown man in its mouth. Shit like that out there, I dunno. It¡¯s a gamble either way.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t stay here forever,¡± Matusda said and glanced at the shelves. ¡°With this many people, food and water will be gone within a week, even with rationing.¡± ¡°Ah, our supplies,¡± Wil said. They¡¯d had to abandon all of their supplies yet again. Worse, they hadn¡¯t even been able to grab their bags when they¡¯d abandoned the Ford. They were worse off than they¡¯d ever been. And they were still soaking wet from the fire hydrant. Mrs. Gutierrez seemed to notice this for the first time and touched Rosa¡¯s wet hair. ¡°We aren¡¯t leaving without Raul. David¡­David is with the other police. He will be able to handle himself until the military or somebody comes. But in the meantime, you should all change. How did you get so wet? Is it raining?¡± ¡°Fire hydrant crash,¡± Rosa said. ¡°You¡¯ll catch a cold!¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, Mama,¡± Rosa said. ¡°No, she¡¯s right. Catching a cold or pneumonia with everything going on is as much of a death sentence as giant roaches or green-eyed creatures. I don¡¯t see any clothes down here though,¡± Matsuda said and looked around. ¡°You¡¯ll need to sneak upstairs. Mama still keeps a closet with some old stuff of mine and David¡¯s and Raul¡¯s in the spare room. David¡¯s are probably gonna be the closest fit for you too. Raul and I are both on the bigger side of the clothing rack.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Wil said and Matsuda nodded. ¡°Your clothes are in the other room, mija,¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said to Rosa. ¡°WI should get changed and go,¡± Wil said. ¡°Naomi is still out there.¡± ¡°Who?¡± Mr. Gutierrez asked. ¡°His girlfriend,¡± Rosa replied. ¡°Is she in our neighborhood? Nearby?¡± Esmi asked. ¡°She¡¯s welcome to come down here with us.¡± ¡°9th and Washington,¡± Wil said. ¡°Downtown.¡± Qadira barked out a sudden, harsh laugh that made everybody except Matsuda jump. Wil turned to look at her as she put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s not funny. Just¡­the idea of going downtown is absurd.¡± ¡°Why? What happened?¡± Wil demanded. ¡°Did you not see it?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°It got foggy as we were coming in. We saw some smoke in the distance but nothing else,¡± Wil said. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Downtown¡¯s toast, man,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Half the buildings got blown up or knocked over by something. It¡¯s done.¡± 24: Resupply ¡°I thought you¡¯d been here watching your parents¡¯ house?¡± Wil asked. ¡°How do you know what downtown is like?¡± ¡°Cause it was on the news,¡± Qadira said. ¡°And because you could hear the explosions for miles.¡± ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Hector said. ¡°It was one of the last things on the news. Something exploded in the Wells Fargo Center, blew off the top ten or fifteen stories of the building, and then it collapsed. The power went out a little after that, but we heard other explosions too, even down here.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean the entire city is lost,¡± Wil said. ¡°There were at least fifty or sixty of those things just two blocks from here. You managed to survive this long, and Naomi could too.¡± ¡°Hey, you can do what you want,¡± Qadira said, ¡°but if their son gets back her with a car that can fit me, I¡¯m out.¡± ¡°So am I,¡± Rosa said. ¡°Same as before.¡± ¡°It would have to be a full-size van to fit all ten of us,¡± Mr. Gutierrez said. ¡°I¡¯ll be moving on with Wil,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°So eight,¡± Rosa said. ¡°Mama, where did Raul say he was going?¡± ¡°Up Knott Street, said he wasn¡¯t going to go past 40th,¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said. ¡°Shit, that¡¯s where that huge-ass fight was,¡± Rosa said. ¡°How long has he been going out for?¡± ¡°Not long, maybe an hour at a time at most.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been at least that,¡± Mr. Gutierrez added. ¡°Okay,¡± Rosa said and took a breath. ¡°I¡¯m going out to look for him.¡± ¡°Mija, no!¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said and grabbed her daughter¡¯s arm. ¡°We need that ammo from our car too,¡± Rosa said. ¡°If we can get the other stuff, great, but the ammo is hard to come by.¡± ¡°It might¡¯ve gotten soaked by the fire hydrant spraying everywhere,¡± Wil said. ¡°The stuff we got from the gas station might be, but the ammo was in those ranger packs, zipped up tight, inside the trunk. Should still be dry,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°I was going to suggest going back. We already know the way.¡± ¡°Might as well,¡± Wil said. If they were going to head into the center of downtown, and it was half as bad as the outskirts, they¡¯d need every bullet they could carry. And at least one extra for ourselves, Wil thought. ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye out for Raul and any cars on the way,¡± Rosa said and kissed her mother on the forehead. ¡°Stay here, and if Raul comes back, wait for us for an hour. If we¡¯re longer than that, and he has a car, you go.¡± ¡°Absolutely not,¡± her father said. ¡°Papa, you go,¡± Rosa insisted. ¡°We should be fine. Just a couple blocks, right?¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Matsuda grunted. ¡°Yeah, no biggie,¡± Wil said though his voice shook. Qadira snorted and shook her head. ¡°Good luck,¡± she said in a tone that suggested it wouldn¡¯t make much difference. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Rosa said and gave her family a last quick hug before she, Wil, and Matsuda left the basement. Once they were on the main floor of the house, she crouched down and moved with slower, softer steps. The house was still completely open to the street, and the streets didn¡¯t belong to normal people any more. ¡°Same way we came in?¡± Wil whispered. ¡°Mm,¡± Matsuda said, ¡°You okay leading us back, Ranger?¡± ¡°Yeah, no problem,¡± she said. Wil was glad to see that neutral, dead-eyed look had left her. He couldn¡¯t imagine what she was going through, having to watch her lover get brutalized and then reanimate and then having to put him down. To be that low, and then to be brought back up upon finding her family. Whatever she was feeling now, she appeared steady, at least. Rosa waved them forward and they crouch-walked out of her home. ¡°Mind the garage,¡± Matsuda whispered. The garage was on their left, a narrow addition to the side of the house with enough space for one car and some storage. The roof had been smashed in, and the truck inside tilted forward with the weight of something just out of sight. The rock with the black stuff in it. Wil had to admit he was curious. Not curious enough to risk horrible death and mutation into something unnatural, but definitely curious. From out here, he could only see the lines of its descent. From what O¡¯Donnell had described about the one that had destroyed the road leading out of Oak Rest, it had fallen at an angle. Judging from the damage to the garage and the way the truck was slammed into the concrete floor, this one looked like it must have fallen straight down. ¡°Wil?¡± Matsuda whispered. ¡°Sorry. Just¡­it¡¯s not important. I¡¯m ready,¡± he said and followed Rosa across the street. The fog had lifted a bit and they could see further along the streets and ahead of them. This also meant they could be spotted more easily, but then Wil realized he wasn¡¯t entirely sure how the things tracked their targets. Vision seemed obvious for both the black and green-eyed creatures. But if the black ones were dead, did their brains still function? Could they interpret visual stimulus? What about the green ones? The one that had attacked O¡¯Donnell in the gas station had eyes that had gone almost entirely white once it died, like it had been blind. But if they have some other means of tracking people, the Gutierrez¡¯s wouldn¡¯t have been able to survive, Wil thought. So it must be at least partly visual. Maybe.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. His attention was drifting again. Normally he would have seen this as a good thing, and Dr. Carroll would have agreed: interest in subjects that engaged him were positive things. Still, it was cold comfort given the reality of everything around him. Somebody¡¯s arm was in a bush, fingers curled in tight with rigor mortis. Wil wondered who it had belonged to. It was a right arm, and he wondered if they were an artist like him, if that was what they¡¯d used in their life to draw, or write, or play music. How many hands it had shaken upon meeting people, how many lovers it had caressed, if it had ever held children. Now it was just a macabre addition to a bush, one limb amongst many, doomed to rot and die. So cheerful, Wil thought and looked away. The apocalypse really is great for a distraction. ¡°Distortion ahead,¡± Rose whispered. It was the one with the scorched clothing around it and the swirl of asphalt marking its presence. They crept around it and passed through the next pair of backyards without incident before Rosa halted. ¡°One more street to cross and a couple yards and then we¡¯ll be back at the wreck,¡± she said, voice low. All three of them squatted against the side of a house painted off-white and surrounded by long-neglected rose bushes. They would be hard to spot from the road, but could see most of the street just by leaning up a few inches. ¡°If any of those big things are still there, I vote we forget it and just head back, maybe do a quick sweep up another road for Raul. But if it¡¯s just the slow ones, I vote we get as much shit as we can carry.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Though the green-eyed ones quickness seems to vary. If there are five or six of the slow black-eyed ones, it shouldn¡¯t be an issue. But if there¡¯s two or three of the green-eyed ones, they might be a problem.¡± ¡°Right. Yeah they¡¯re different when there¡¯s more, or something,¡± Wil said. ¡°Okay. If there¡¯s more than two of the green-eyed ones, we bail. Agreed?¡± Rosa asked and Wil and Matsuda nodded. With that settled, the group eased forward and scurried across the open street. Wil caught a distant glimpse of a large, shambling shape in the distant fog at the far end of the block, but it had already loped away before he could think to mention it. Wil thought of Thalassophobia: the fear of the sea. The woods had felt a bit like this, murky beyond a certain distance, the sun filtered and faded through layers of branches. It was fog now, but it gave off the same impression. Any moment, some hideous predatory abomination could come swimming at them from the gray depths and that would be it. Except they crossed the street without incident. Wil didn¡¯t even know if Matsuda had spotted the whatever-it-was. Wil thought of what Qadira had described: something like a roach as big as a station wagon, with a grown man in its mouth and crawling over a house. Wil took a deep breath and tried not to think about a huge roach or giant spider grabbing him. He managed to succeed this time, but mostly because he had to focus on Rosa ahead. She had passed the first house and was now approaching the second. This was the house they had ducked into, immediately following the attack and the crash. The kitchen door they had exited through swung open in the still, foggy afternoon. The hideous roars and bellows that they had all fled from were gone. Rosa pointed around the side of the house, indicating she would stay outside rather than risk going into the house again, and Matsuda nodded. Wil just shrugged. He trusted the ranger and the¡­whatever Matsuda was. Spy. Survivalist. Ex-Mercenary. Whatever. Rosa took the approach to the street one slow, silent step at a time, easing her feet down heel-first with each progressive move forward. It was progress by inches, but Wil was in no hurry to fling himself into what had been a battlefield of nightmares not even an hour before. Rosa let out a sigh as she poked her head out from behind the corner of the house and nodded at Wil and Matsuda. The street was a mess and Wil almost gagged at the sight. Blood was absolutely everywhere. The water from the fire hydrant had long since stopped, but not before turning much of the street on lawns nearby into a large bloody pond. Bodies and pieces of bodies were scattered and splattered over pretty much everything, including some of the homes down the street, far from where the fight had happened. Half a head peered down at Wil from a rain gutter across the road, its eyes white and unseeing. Their Ford was still there, propped up at an angle by the broken fire hydrant beneath it. Rosa hurried to it while Matsuda swept his gaze and his rifle up and down the road, and Wil stayed between the two, pistol in one hand, axe in the other. The only sign of movement on the street came from the faint rippling on the bloody pond. Otherwise it was empty of anything but the signs of the fight that had taken place. ¡°I¡¯m going for the trunk. Wil, with me,¡± Rosa said and Wil followed. They had to slosh through the impromptu pond to get to the car, and Rosa pointed him at the trunk while she went for the driver¡¯s side to pop it open. Wil tried to keep his sloshing to a minimum, all too aware of the sound it was making in the opaque pink waters. Something roared in the distance, perhaps a few blocks ahead of them, toward the highway. ¡°Quickly,¡± Matsuda said. Wil had just reached the trunk and tapped it softly to let Rosa know he was ready. She sloshed for the driver¡¯s door and swung it open, then leaned in. And something from beneath the bloody water seized her and she was yanked back. Rosa gasped and seized the steering wheel as ashen, muscular hands appeared from beneath the water, clawing at her legs. A soaking wet head briefly emerged and sank its teeth into Rosa¡¯s ankle. She had dropped the hunting rifle inside the car and fumbled for her pistol in its holster. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot it!¡± Matsuda hissed. ¡°Wil! Axe!¡± Wil had already taken several stumbling steps forward, placed his pistol on the trunk of the car and raised his axe. He hesitated for a second, terrified he would hack into Rosa¡¯s leg, but then saw the horror in her eyes, and figured anything would be better than having the black-eyed freak gnawing on her any longer. He swung, and buried the blade of the axe in the wet skull of the thing. It stiffened, gurgled, and fell still. Rosa kicked it away with a quiet curse, and Wil saw that the thing had had everything below its lower back torn off during the fight. It floated for a moment, then sank below the water again. ¡°It bit you!¡± Wil said. ¡°It was one of the strong ones.¡± ¡°It got my boot,¡± Rosa whispered back and raised her pant-leg to show the rough, black leather surface of her ranger¡¯s boot. Wil heard Matsuda¡¯s sigh from several feet away and added his own to it. Rosa popped the trunk and then she and Wil grabbed two of the backpacks each, and two of the bags from the gas station. It wasn¡¯t everything, but it was all they could carry in one trip back to Matsuda. ¡°I¡¯ll carry most it,¡± Wil said. ¡°I¡¯m not much good for shooting, and you two need your hands free.¡± ¡°Just try not to lag behind,¡± Rosa said. ¡°We¡¯re gonna swing up to the next street, see if there¡¯s any sign of my brother or cars.¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna make a fair amount of noise hauling all this,¡± Wil said. ¡°I mean, I¡¯ll try not to but I don¡¯t have much option.¡± ¡°We should head back the way we came first,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°If we encounter anything, we risk losing the supplies again.¡± Rosa bit her lip and frowned, then nodded. ¡°Fine. Raul might have come back, but if not, I¡¯m coming back out.¡± ¡°Fair enough, but there is one more thing I want to do if you¡¯d indulge me,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°What do you want to do?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Borrow your axe. Chop off that thing¡¯s head, examine it,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Jesus,¡± Rosa said and shook her head. ¡°Fine, no noise. You got thirty seconds.¡± ¡°Wil: axe,¡± Matusda said and Wil handed it over. Matsuda set the bags and his assault rifle down, then used the axe to pull the bisected creature toward him. He hauled it onto the nearest spot of dry lawn, then gave it two quick, hard whacks on the neck. The head fell off, rolled, and Matsuda grabbed it by the hair. ¡°Ew, gross,¡± Wil said and made a face. He combined the contents of one of the gas station bags and offered the newly empty to the old man, who nodded his thanks and put the head inside. ¡°Whadda you wanna do with that, huh?¡± Rosa asked as they began sneaking back the direct route they had come. ¡°I told you: examine it. We know these things only stop once the head is damaged, but not why. If they¡¯re dead, hitting them in the brain shouldn¡¯t make a difference. So why? We¡¯re all in the dark. Knowledge is a far better weapon than any gun.¡± ¡°Whatever,¡± Rosa said, and led the way back they had come, leaving the sight of the nightmare battle and O¡¯Donnell¡¯s death behind. 25: Autopsy They made it back to the Gutierrez family home again without incident. Raul still hadn¡¯t returned. ¡°It¡¯s okay, he¡¯ll be back soon,¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said. Nobody else said anything for several moments. ¡°What¡¯s in the bag?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°Something informative,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°May I borrow you upstairs bathroom, Mr. And Mrs. Gutierrez?¡± ¡°Uh, of course? The water doesn¡¯t work though,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s fine. Do you have any gloves I could borrow?¡± ¡°They¡¯re in the cupboard with the cleaning supplies. Same bathroom.¡± ¡°Excellent. Wil, could you come with me? Maybe give the family some time alone?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t Rosa going to go out again?¡± Wil asked. ¡°No!¡± Mrs. Gutierrez said and grabbed her eldest daughter. ¡°She will wait here for now. Enough going out.¡± ¡°Mama¡­¡± Rosa said and her mother shook her head. ¡°They need some time to talk things over,¡± Matsuda said and tugged on Wil¡¯s arm. ¡°Come on. I need assistance.¡± ¡°Uh, okay,¡± Wil said and followed the old man as he carried the bag with the head in it. They didn¡¯t talk while they were in the house, tip-toed up the stairs, and Matsuda closed and locked the bathroom door behind them. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Family. They need time to talk it out. Also I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen with this head and I may need you to either help me contain whatever comes out, or put me down. Are you ready for that?¡± ¡°Am I ready to kill you? No!¡± Wil said. ¡°I doubt it¡¯ll come to that, Matsuda said. ¡°But just in case.¡± ¡°Is this really necessary?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Yes. Any opportunity we have to learn,¡± Matsuda said and withdrew the hatchet that was attached to his belt. He also took out a pair of thick rubber gloves from beneath the sink, then turned toward the shower and cut down a colorful floral plastic shower curtain with the hatched. He cut it into strips and made himself a makeshift mouth guard with one thin piece and an apron with a larger piece. ¡°Contamination,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Get behind me.¡± ¡°Fine, let¡¯s do this,¡± Wil said as he moved behind Matsuda. The bathroom was small enough that he had to stand in the shower, and held the remains of the shower curtain in front of his body with one hand while the other rested on his pistol. Matsuda put the head in the sink, then gently began to wedge his hatchet in the wound Wil had made and pry it open wider, as if he were opening a stubborn walnut shell. ¡°That¡¯s disgusting,¡± Wil said at the wet crunching noises which emerged from the sink. ¡°Oh god the smell.¡± ¡°Crack the window open please,¡± Matsuda said and Will hurried to do so. The chilly October air was a literal breath of fresh air, but the stink of rot, something like shit, and a darker, deeper aroma that made his temples tighten. He heard Matsuda cough and the old man turned his head away towards the window to take a deep breath. ¡°You gonna make it?¡± Wil asked and Matsuda nodded. His eyes were watering but he waved a hand at Wil. ¡°I¡¯m okay. It¡¯s just¡­very aromatic.¡± ¡°Do you see anything in there?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Just give me a moment, and get behind me again,¡± the old man said before he returned to the sink. There was more cracking and squishing, and Wil saw a large chunk of skull with scalp and hair attached roll to one side of the sink. For several moments there was nothing as Matsuda continued to work at the skull, then he paused and said, ¡°Hm.¡± ¡°What?¡± Wil asked.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Come see,¡± Matsuda said. Wil stepped around Matsuda¡¯s side and looked down into the sink. The old man had effectively removed the top half of the thing¡¯s skull, fully exposing the brain from the ears up. Except it wasn¡¯t just a human brain. Something that looked like a small, black manta ray was spread across the top, smaller than both of Wil¡¯s hands put side-by-side. Thin, spindly legs extended from underneath the ray-like thing and pierced the sides of the brain. This was accompanied by thick, vein like protrusions that snaked over the surface of the brain, and drawn tight, as if it were choking the gray matter. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± ¡°The source of a lot of problems, would be my guess,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°That thing got transferred through a bite?¡± Wil asked. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not huge, but it¡¯s still way too big to get injected into somebody¡¯s head through a bite.¡± ¡°True, but this was one of the medium ones. The big ones like what Sandoval turned into, it shoves those barbed tongues into Birkin¡¯s skull. Birkin just bit Mr. Stewart and he was slow, uncoordinated. If we¡¯re going off the idea that each successive, hm, generation gets weaker, this would line up with that. The big ones do some kind of cranial injection, put¡­whatever this is inside, and then if they bite somebody, they make a smaller, slower one¡­somehow. This is all just theory, I¡¯d need more samples but¡­it fits with what we¡¯ve seen so far. I just want to remove this thing first, see the underside.¡± ¡°Ugh, god,¡± Wil said and stepped back behind Matsuda once again and tried to peer over his shoulder. The old man used his hatchet to get under the side of the black ray and peeled it up. Something like a sucker with hundreds of tiny, needle teeth was on the underside, and dozens of those thick black veins branched out from the ray¡¯s wing-like sides. The largest veins went down the back along the spinal cord, and two went to the eye sockets. ¡°Well, we know how they see and how they attach,¡± Matsuda said and then started to pull the ray fully away from the brain. It¡¯s thin, spiny legs curled inward like a dead spider¡¯s and there was an unpleasant popping and sucking sound as the black veins stretched and tore away from the brain. ¡°This is rougher than I¡¯d like,¡± Matsuda said, ¡°but it¡¯ll have to do for now. We¡¯ve learned the basics. This thing, whatever it is, takes control of the brain, the spinal cord, and runs it like a car, more or less.¡± ¡°How does it make them strong, though?¡± Wil asked. Matsuda sighed. ¡°No idea. I would think, possibly, that it would force chemicals from the brain through the body using this vein system. Maybe, but again, a mere guess. Obviously it sees through its connection to the eyes which would explain why they turn black. I''m not a scientist but I''m familiar with the basics of anatomy and, well, the black veins going into the backs of the eyes are a pretty substantial giveaway." "Yeah, no shit," Wil said. "So what now? Do we tell Rosa about this?" "She should know, though it won''t make too much difference. The strategy remains the same: go for the head. Your axe nearly bisected this...whatever it is. And that buck you fought, you decapitated it as well? "Yeah but it kind of sewed itself back onto the body," Wil replied. "When Rosa shotgunned it, it was down for good." "So even if it has its connection severed from the rest of the body, it can repair itself to some degree. All or nothing. And this is just for these medium ones here. The big ones and the slow ones could be completely different. Remember Sandoval didn''t even have any visible outward injuries. He just got some of the black substance on his face and died." "We should come up with a name for these things," Wil said. "All we have so far is black-eyed thing, green-eyed thing, big one, medium one, slow one. It''d be good to be able to explain to each other what they are if we see one in a way that was faster." "That''s where you''re concern is?" Matsuda asked. "Naming them?" "Well, naming something is part of making it not so unknowable. Maybe less scary. Although they are still...absolutely terrifying. But yeah, naming stuff is important. Is it easier to say big orange cat or tiger?" "Mm. True enough, and it would make communication with other survivors easier as well," Matsuda said. "Assuming there are enough and we can start spreading information again. I really don''t want to have to carry this thing around to show to others." "I could draw it," Wil suggested and Matsuda raised his eyebrows. "I''ve been a technical artist for years. As in, technical drawings, not technically and artist. I mean I am technically and artist but that...look, I''m very good at drawing. Dissection manuals are actually a pretty regular thing at my office. Well, they were. I could replicate this thing, to scale, with a paper and pencil." "How long would that take?" Matsuda asked. "Uh, for a really good drawing, no computer or anything, at least a couple hours," Wil said and shrugged. "More time would be better. A basic one would take less time, though." "We''ll talk with the Gutierrez family and see what their plan is. If possible, I''d like you to do more than one, let them take one with them," Matsuda said. Wil sighed. "I''m not against the idea in practice, but I''m worried about my girlfriend. I''m not gonna be able to focus on a technical drawing while I''m thinking about what could be happening to her." Matsuda grunted and nodded. "Fair. But we''re not going anywhere without some sort of transportation. While I try to find that, can you do something basic and then try to make copies?" Wil nodded. "Uh, sure. I can get the big ideas in there: size, shape, basic anatomical layout." "Good. the more we can get people looking at this sort of thing, the better. Somebody might know something." "Hopefully. I don''t think these things are gonna be very chatty about much," Wil pointed out. "Hrm. True enough. We¡¯ll just have to kill more.¡± ¡°Well, if we¡¯re going into the city, you¡¯ll probably get your chance.¡± Matsuda smirked and laughed. ¡°Me? No, no. Us.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Wil said and stared at the alien creature in the sink. ¡°Us.¡± 26: Third Wheel When Wil and Matsuda returned to the basement, they found the Gutierrez family standing in one corner while Qadira occupied another. Wil got the impression that Qadira was just being polite, rather than excluded from the family gathering. She sat on a paint bucket and flipped through a magazine and only glanced up for a moment when Wil and Matsuda crept down the stairs. ¡°You boys were up there a while,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Got some kinda winter/summer romance going on?¡± ¡°Autopsy,¡± Matsuda said and Qadira raised her eyebrows. ¡°Excuse me?¡± she asked. ¡°Autopsy,¡± Matsuda repeated then turned away and tapped Rosa on the shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± she asked as she turned to look at them. ¡°I¡¯m assuming Raul didn¡¯t come back yet?¡± Wil asked. ¡°No, not yet,¡± Rosa sighed and bit her lip. ¡°We won¡¯t be staying much longer,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°But before we go, we¡¯d like to borrow some pencils and paper, if your family has them.¡± ¡°Yeah, no problem. Why?¡± Rosa asked. Matsuda explained what they had found upstairs and Wil¡¯s aptitude for art. Rosa nodded. ¡°Not a bad idea. I think we got some old notebooks and stuff somewhere down here. I¡¯ll get them and then¡­¡± ¡°And then we¡¯re going to head out once I sketch that thing,¡± Wil said. ¡°You¡¯re set on heading out of the city in a car, yes?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Seems like the best way,¡± Rosa replied. ¡°What with so many of us, and my parents and Hector being old or a bit on the out-of-shape side.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± Hector said. ¡°You¡¯re fat, bro,¡± Rosa said and smirked at him. ¡°That¡¯s Mama¡¯s fault,¡± he said and she slapped his arm. ¡°Do you have bikes? Just two will do,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Bikes? As in bicycles?¡± Wil asked. ¡°You wanna ride bikes into the city?¡± Rosa asked. Qadira snorted and laughed behind them as she flipped through her magazine. ¡°I suspect the roads will only get more crowded the closer we get to downtown. A car would be next to useless. And even if there was room, we¡¯d wind up going slow anyway due to the weather and the scattered debris. And a car makes noise, and I¡¯m relatively certain thats one way those things track us. Bikes are faster than going on foot, they¡¯re practically silent, and we can pick them up easily enough,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°If we survive, we can find a car on our way out of the city for going longer distances, but for now, bikes would be best.¡± ¡°Yeah but if one of those black-eyed things sees you¡­¡± Rosa said. ¡°They can already catch up to cars,¡± Matsuda said. Wil didn¡¯t say anything, but O¡¯Donnell had been speared while inside a car. The old man was mostly right: for the short distance they were going, being silent and mobile was the best choice. ¡°Anything we do is gonna be dangerous,¡± Wil said. ¡°This is probably a suicide mission anyway, but it doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t do our best to stay under the radar.¡± ¡°Well, I still say it¡¯s nuts, but whatever. There should be a few bikes in the garage but¡­¡± Rosa trailed off. ¡°Mm. The rock,¡± Matsuda replied. ¡°You can show me where they are, at least. If it¡¯s too close to the rock, I look elsewhere. If not, then problem solved.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°All right, just gimme a sec,¡± Rosa said. She rummaged through a couple boxes nearby and took out a worn notebook and some pencils. ¡°These do?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Wil said as he accepted them. ¡°I¡¯ll need about twenty minutes.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see to the bikes and supplies while you do that,¡± Matsuda said, then left with Rosa for the garage while Wil went back upstairs to the bathroom and the thing in the sink. A bathroom wasn¡¯t the best place for sketching: there was no wide, flat surface for Wil to set the notebook on, and no space to sit down aside from the toilet. He had to make due by standing over the sink, notebook over his left forearm, while he sketched the thing in the sink. He recognized the texture of its black skin as similar to what had come out of the buck¡¯s skull. It had a leathery appearance to it, and a sheen like thick mucus or snot across its surface that was starting to turn opaque as it dried in the open air. The bathroom still stank worse than a legion of outhouses in high-summer, but it wasn¡¯t as bad as before. Wil had taken enough art classes where the professor had only given them a scant few seconds to look at something, then draw it from memory. He had grown accustomed to hurried sketches over the years, both from college and his job. Granted, at his job he¡¯d had the benefit of a computer and advanced illustration software, but this was still oddly comforting, in its familiarity. He was just back at his old, mind-numbing nine-to-five, and any minute, Ralph would poke into his cubicle, reveal the latest sweaty psychologically illuminating pattern beneath his arms, and ask him something random. When the bathroom door opened and somebody did poke their head in, Wil almost screamed. He did fumble with the pencil and notebook, nearly pitching both into the sink with the dead black brain-sucker within, but caught them before they fell. ¡°Jesus!¡± Wil said and stared at Qadira as she entered. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± she said and her dark eyes went wide as she stared into the sink. ¡°Is that what¡¯s inside people?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t¡­you can¡¯t just barge in on people in the bathroom!¡± Wil hissed, realizing how absurd it sounded as soon as he¡¯d said it. ¡°Please. The last thing anybody would be doing up here is using the busted toilet. We¡¯ve all been making do with a bucket we chuck out the back door,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d actually be risking my life to take a piss. So you¡¯re drawing that thing, huh?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Wil said. ¡°And yes, it¡¯s what takes people over. At least some of the black-eyed ones.¡± ¡°Besides the giant roach-thing I haven¡¯t seen anything besides the people with black eyes. There¡¯s more?¡± ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Wil said and explained about the variations of the black-eyed things, the green-eyed things, and the distortions. ¡°It¡¯s like hell on earth,¡± Qadira said as she stared at the thing in the sink. ¡°You almost done?¡± ¡°I was,¡± Wil said, leaving off the bit he wanted to add about being interrupted. ¡°You really set on going into the city?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s where¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°Your girlfriend. I got it,¡± she said, then sighed. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because the family downstairs are digging their heels in, say they aren¡¯t gonna leave until that Raul guy comes back. But he was only gonna go a few blocks, poke around, then come back.¡± ¡°Yeah, and?¡± ¡°And he¡¯s probably dead,¡± Qadira said. Wil frowned but didn¡¯t say anything, Instead he returned his focus to the thing in the sink and resumed sketching. ¡°He probably got eaten or turned into one of these things or sucks up into a distortion like that bear you described.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Wil said. ¡°So maybe waiting around here is a bad idea. Maybe my luck is gonna run out while I¡¯m squatting in a basement with only a single wooden door and some painted-over windows between me and the freakshow stalking the streets.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your point?¡± ¡°Look, I think going into the city is dumb as hell, but if all you¡¯re gonna do is poke your head over the bridge and then get outta here, it¡¯s better than staying put waiting for a dead man.¡± ¡°You made it sound like going into the city was a death sentence,¡± Wil said. ¡°Yeah well, so is staying here. If I¡¯m gonna die, I¡¯d rather die on the move,¡± Qadira replied. ¡°You just want to tag along with a couple of strangers you hardly know?¡± ¡°Well my other options are sit here with my thumb up my ass or try going it alone. So, yeah. Strangers it is. For now. Plus that old man really seems like he knows his shit.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t argue there,¡± Wil said. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t try and get in my way or get us killed, I don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°So magnanimous,¡± Qadira said and fluttered her eyelashes at Wil, who scoffed and continued drawing. Qadira watched him in silence for a few minutes until there was a gentle tapping at the door and Matsuda poked his head in. ¡°Almost done,¡± Wil said. ¡°Good. I found us two bikes,¡± Matsuda said, then glanced at Qadira. ¡°Though there are six total.¡± ¡°Some good news, finally,¡± Wil said. ¡°Mm. There¡¯s something else too: that rock that fell into the garage, you should come see it.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it incredibly dangerous?¡± Wil asked. Matsuda shook his head. ¡°No, not anymore. I¡¯ll show you,¡± he said, and with that cryptic message, crept downstairs. 27: Straight Talk
Wil hadn¡¯t bothered to pay much attention to the garage when he, Matsuda, and Rosa had passed it while going to retrieve their belongings. He¡¯d known it had one of those rocks in it that had turned Ranger Sandoval into that thing, and that was enough for him to keep clear. But he trusted Matsuda enough to go take a peek. He still wasn¡¯t going into the garage first, however. He didn¡¯t trust Matsuda that much. The old man opened the door that lead into the garage from the house and clicked his flashlight on. The main garage door had become unhinged and broken off during the impact, and the ceiling had a sizable hole in it. The truck itself was tilted forward, its front tires burst open from the sudden pressure on the front end, and the hood and engine were crushed into a near shapeless mass of partially melted metal and scrap. Wil first glanced past Matsuda¡¯s shoulder at the open garage, and saw that the street was still vacant, then turned his gaze to where the old man¡¯s flashlight pointed. The strong white beam was centered on a small crater in the floor of the garage, in which a roughly spherical rock bigger than Wil¡¯s torso sat, cracked in two. The outer surface of the rock was pockmarked with countless dimples and miniature craters, like a scale model of an asteroid. It was shale gray, and something like mucus had dried in shining streaks down the sides. It could have been a boring old boulder on the side of the road. The inside was another matter. The inside was organic. It was lined with a wet, glistening weave of fibrous muscle, but colored dark gray with black veins running through it. Unlike the creatures that stalked the streets, these veins were still, and the ¡°musculature¡± of the rock did not stir. It wasn¡¯t just dark muscles and veins, however: holes about the size of a child¡¯s fist were clustered together in groups of five or ten throughout the interior of the rock. No, not holes, more like¡­pockets, Wil thought. The fleshy pockets sagged, as if whatever had been in them had been the only thing holding them up. They looked oddly familiar to Wil, and then it struck him. ¡°They look like¡­empty seed pods,¡± Wil said. ¡°Mm. And there,¡± Matsuda said and moved his flashlight. He pointed a few inches in front of where the rock had split open and some of that black slime had dried. There were a number of ovular, opaque gray shapes that could only be thought of as eggs. Each was a little bigger than a chicken egg, and all of them were split open. They looked as if they were made of very, transparent leather. They had pebbling across their surfaces, and the faint outline of where veins might have been. Matsuda moved his flashlight further away, towards the garage¡¯s ruined entry and exit to the street. A number of tiny dots, made from the dried black sludge, formed a pathway from the eggs to the street. ¡°Footprints,¡± Wil said. ¡°So it¡¯s not just some slime or goop or a mess of worms that got Ranger Sandoval. It was whatever hatched. This thing isn¡¯t an asteroid, it¡¯s like a¡­¡± ¡°Like a seed pod,¡± Matsuda replied. ¡°As you said. The Gutierrez family is absurdly lucky these things went for the street and not the house.¡± ¡°They can¡¯t be that big, though,¡± Wil said. ¡°The one I was drawing was bigger than both of my hands put together. These things would have to be half that size, maybe smaller, to fit in those eggs.¡± ¡°Whatever these things are, they¡¯re entirely alien. The ones that came from these eggs could look wildly different from the one upstairs. They could grow at a phenomenal rate, they could compress themselves, they could do anything for all we know,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°I¡¯ll add it to the list,¡± Wil said. ¡°Rock seed-pods release bad shit. Did you find us some bikes?¡± ¡°Yes, we¡¯ll have our selection from a few.¡± ¡°Good because we picked up a third,¡± Wil said.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°The young lady?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Yeah. Turns out she¡¯d rather be mobile than here waiting for Raul.¡± ¡°Smart. This place is too open. Speaking of which, we need to be moving. We do not want to be caught out when it starts to get dark.¡± ¡°Speaking of, the fog¡¯s lifted a bit more, but it¡¯s still really dark out there for being the afternoon.¡± ¡°Mm. I¡¯ve noticed. More bad news.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go get Qadira and tell Rosa we¡¯re taking off,¡± Wil said. ¡°I¡¯ve said my good-byes. I¡¯ll organize our supplies since we have a third while you¡¯re downstairs. There¡¯s another backpack somewhere around here Ranger Gutierrez said we could have if we needed it. Don¡¯t take too long down there.¡± ¡°Will do,¡± Wil said and left Matsuda to pack. He found Qadira waiting next to the bottom of the basement stairs as she tucked a knife into one of her boots. Rosa glanced up as he descended and he offered her an awkward smile. ¡°We¡¯re getting ready to go,¡± Wil said. ¡°We¡¯re staying,¡± Rosa said and Wil nodded. ¡°Qadira told me. It¡¯s why she¡¯s leaving too. I know you don¡¯t want to go into the city, and if I¡¯m being honest, I don¡¯t either. But I think Qadira¡¯s right: you¡¯re all way too exposed in this place. Even another house that had a working front door would be better. ¡°I know, believe me, I do. Mama and Papa are worried that if Raul comes back and doesn¡¯t find anybody, then he¡¯ll just run off somewhere. I¡¯ve offered to stay behind while they move into a house a few doors down that still looks locked up pretty tight. They¡¯re still a bit reluctant to leave. They¡¯ve lived here for forty years. And Mama thinks the military will be here any second now.¡± ¡°Rosa, you know¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, I know. If the military was gonna be here, they would¡¯ve been already. We heard jets yesterday, so maybe that was them already. Either way, it means the problem¡¯s big enough that there isn¡¯t going to be a cavalry,¡± Rosa said and crossed her arms over her chest. ¡°Mama is stubborn.¡± ¡°I¡¯m ready when you are,¡± Qadira said behind Wil. He gave her a curt nod before turning back to Rosa. ¡°Look, I just wanted to thank you. You saved my ass, and I just hope everything works out. And I¡¯m sorry about O¡¯Donnell.¡± ¡°You saved mine too. And I have a feeling that people dying is gonna become a much bigger part of living now,¡± Rosa said. ¡°You mind if I ask you something?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± ¡°Were you going to kill yourself before you found out the world was ending?¡± Wil blinked. He¡¯d never directly told anybody about his ideation or possible intentions besides Dr. Carroll. He figured that Naomi knew, at least on some level, but he¡¯d never really said anything overt to her and she¡¯d likely been too scared to ask him. Wil had gotten so used to lying about how he felt, what he was thinking of doing that a new lie should have been easily summoned. But it wasn¡¯t. He found his usual mechanisms of joking about or deflecting any serious questions about his mental health suddenly malfunctioning under the ranger¡¯s direct question and steady gaze. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s why I went up there,¡± he said quietly enough so only she could hear. There was no strong emotion in his voice, he was just stating a simple fact. They sky is cloudy, water is wet, he went to Oak Rest to hang himself. Rosa didn¡¯t react much either, only nodded and let out a breath. ¡°I would¡¯ve had to have cleaned you up, you know. Taken you down from the rafter, called your family, whoever,¡± she said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have been the first camper I¡¯ve had to do that for.¡± ¡°I see. I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t sorry. Just don¡¯t be stupid. I¡¯ve had to make that call three times and they¡¯ve been some of the worst moments of my life. No matter what you think, there is always somebody who is going to miss you. Guaranteed. And if nothing else, it¡¯s fucking selfish to put somebody else through cleaning up a suicide. It isn¡¯t a pleasant process.¡± ¡°No, I suppose not,¡± Wil said. ¡°Life is cheap right now,¡± Rosa continued, ¡°who knows how many people have died in the last day. If you¡¯d have gone through with it yesterday, me and Matsuda would be dead. I¡¯d never have seen my family again. Just¡­shit, man, we need all the people we can get right now. Don¡¯t go looking for death. It¡¯s already looking for all of us.¡± Wil sighed and nodded. Rosa gripped his hand tight, shook it, and patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Go find your girlfriend. Maybe try and meet us at the Air National Guard Outpost after,¡± she said. ¡°We will. Thank you, Rosa.¡± ¡°Good luck, Wil.¡± ¡°Finally,¡± Qadira said as Wil gave a final wave to the rest of the Gutierrez family, thanked them, and walked up the stairs. ¡°I was thinking I might as well settle in with the family there after all.¡± ¡°You know for somebody who sounded terrified of Portland a while ago, you sound pretty eager to leave now,¡± Wil said. Matsuda was waiting by the door to the garage, one pack on his pack, another two in his hands. Wil took one while Qadira took the other. ¡°Once I¡¯ve made up my mind, I like to follow through,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Well try to be patient,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°We¡¯re not just going to pedal as hard as we can for the city. That¡¯d be a good way to get killed. Just follow me, keep your weapons handy, and your eyes open.¡± ¡°Aye aye, cap¡¯n,¡± Qadira said as the three of them mounted the bicycles the Gutierrez family had given them. ¡°And try to stay as quiet as possible,¡± Matsuda added, then pedaled silently away at a leisurely pace. Qadira followed, with Wil in the rear, and the three left Rosa and the rest of her family behind. 28: A Bridge Too Far Matsuda lead, Qadira stayed in the middle, and Wil brought up the rear. They pealed at an easy pace along the sidewalk where they were afforded some cover from the overhanging tree branches. If Matsuda saw something, he would raise his hand and they would swerve off the sidewalk, onto the nearest lawn, hop off their bikes, and dart for cover behind a house. They only had to do this a few times over the next several blocks. The fog hadn¡¯t gotten any worse, but it hadn¡¯t gotten better, either, and their visibility was cut to just a block or two ahead at most. Each time they stopped to hide, Wil saw a shape ahead of them in the fog. All of them were big, and all of them were inhuman. One of them, he was sure, was one of those water tower-shaped spider things. It was over six stories tall, and only visible as a dark gray hazy shape in the distance. The green light of its many eyes glowed through the fog and made it appear as if the bulbous top of the many-legged being were surrounded by a sickly halo. It made some kind of chittering sound mixed with a metallic drone that gave Wil a headache and he had to plug his ears. It was difficult to tell at this distance, but other, smaller gray shapes attended the huge creature as it stalked the streets. Wil guessed they were other people, dozens, perhaps, all following in the wake of the otherworldly thing. ¡°What the hell are those thing?¡± Wil whispered to Matsuda as they stared at it. They crouched behind a garage and a pair of garbage cans with Qadira even father back. ¡°Nothing good, but they¡¯re definitely a bigger problem when there¡¯s more of them,¡± Matsuda said. They watched in silence until the arachnid-creature and its small horde had fully passed, then got on their bikes when the coast was clear. They had decided to try for Broadway Bridge, since it was relatively close, and if it was impassable, they would move down to Steel Bridge, then on to Burnside Bridge, and so on down the river. The other two times they had to stop, something passed in front of them again, and then something on he street beside them. They never saw the thing on the next street. Their only warning was a tree suddenly cracking in two and falling over behind a house, and then all three of them ran for the nearest hiding spot: the porch of a house with a closed door. Something huge thumped behind the house they crouched under, and let out a baying howl. A series of heavy thumps echoed through the foggy streets, thankfully receding and getting farther away. The last thing they saw, a block from Broadway Bridge, only flashed by in front of them for an instant. They had steered their bikes off the sidewalk and hidden under a nearby porch when they noticed one of the slow zombies (they couldn¡¯t tell if it had black eye or green at this distance) shuffling across an intersection. Wil was debating whether or not they could just ride past it when the thing appeared. It was the size of a Cessna, with wings to match the small airplane model. It descended from the sky, gave a leathery flap of four butterfly-like wings, grabbed the shuffling zombie off the road, and soared away with it. Wil only had an impression of an avian body, elegant and sleek, and huge talons. Qadira was right. There was definitely more out there than just the things with green and black eyes. ¡°We need to rethink our approach,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Yeah no shit,¡± Qadira whispered. ¡°Like maybe no approach.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not leaving Naomi,¡± Wil said. ¡°I hate to break it to you, man, but I don¡¯t think anybody¡¯s gonna be alive in Portland proper.¡± ¡°Then head back on your own. Rosa should still be with her family. Or you and Matsuda can go too, but I¡¯m still moving in,¡± Wil said. Qadira shook her head and muttered a curse. ¡°No, I¡¯m still going in,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Jesus, why?¡± Qadira demanded. ¡°This guy I get but why you?¡± Matsuda shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve lived a long life. Sounds like somebody needs help. And if we survive, it would be good to know the lay of the land, report it to the Air National Guard if we make it there.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Crazy bastards,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Fine. It¡¯s still better than sitting around. Whatever it was that broke the tree a few blocks back could¡¯ve just as easily stomped a house. But I¡¯m not rushing out onto an exposed bridge where anything could pick me off.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll need to see what the bridge is like before we formulate any plan,¡± Matusda said. ¡°But we¡¯re staying under trees for as long as possible.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Wil said and they pedaled on. ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª Broadway Bridge was gone. In its place was a stumpy bit of asphalt and brownish red iron support beams that stretched a few yards out over the Willamette River before crumbling into nothing. A few cars were balanced precipitously on the edge of the ruined bridge, one of which see-sawed with metallic squeaks as a gust of wind passed by. Wil and the others had stopped a couple hundred feet short of the bridge itself, under one of the last trees that provided cover from anything flying overhead. ¡°Well¡­the next one it is then. Though if this is a common trend we may want to consider finding a boat,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°No way. Absolutely not. I¡¯m never getting in the water again,¡± Wil said. He gave a quick explanation of whatever the huge creature in the lake had been back at Oak Rest and Matsuda grunted. ¡°Of course there¡¯s monsters in the water. Stupid of me not to think of it. If things are coming out of the sky, why wouldn¡¯t they be coming out of the water?¡± ¡°So we try the next bridge,¡± Qadira said. ¡°And we should hurry that way,¡± Wil said and nodded to the North. A shambling group of humanoid figures was a couple blocks away, and getting closer. They pedaled away without another word. Steel Bridge was in tact when they reached it, but they heard sounds coming from the center of the bridge and saw a shifting mass of bodies and another of those water-tower spider-things blocking the way. Nobody had to say anything. There was no way they were getting across the bridge without going through the mob of creatures at its center. Burnside Bridge was next and Wil wanted to dismiss it at first. It was much more narrow than the previous two, and was crowded with cars. Many of the cars burned, or at least sent up thick plumes of black smoke. They¡¯d be slowed to a walking pace and forced to carry their bikes across a crowded bridge with no overhead cover. The Broadway and Steel bridges weren¡¯t exactly covered but they had some metal support structures stretching over them that offered some protection from the sky. Burnside was just a straight, narrow, open road across the river. ¡°This¡¯ll do,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°What?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure¡­¡± Wil added. ¡°Nothing too big on a bridge this small. Anything human-sized is gonna have to go through a lot of obstacles to get at us. The smoke offers better cover than those metal beams on the last two bridges, and if we are caught in the open, easy enough to duck under or between two of the closely packed cars.¡± ¡°Shit,¡± Wil said. ¡°We¡¯ll have to carry our bikes.¡± ¡°They¡¯re light. That¡¯s why I picked them,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°And those cars are obstacles for us too. We won¡¯t be able to run,¡± Qadira said. ¡°We¡¯re three people. If a mod shows up, it¡¯s gonna have more trouble getting over themselves and the cars than we will. C¡¯mon,¡± Matsuda said, and rode his bike up to the traffic jam, then dismounted, hoisted it up, and began negotiating his way between the stalled vehicles. Wil sighed and followed. He had to put the long-handled axe through his belt to hold onto his bike better, but it was manageable. Qadira followed, having a little trouble due to her smaller size, but managed to keep up. Most of the fires appeared to be coming from the interiors or tires of cars that had exploded already, and Matsuda tended to lead them closer to these and the obscuring black clouds they produced. Only a few of the cars were burned out metal husks, and the rest looked like they only had some superficial damage. Many of the cars were empty, but the burning ones were occupied by skeletons, and many more of the cars had bloody, pale corpses inside of them. ¡°One of those seed rocks ahead,¡± Matsuda said over his shoulder. ¡°The bad kind.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Wil said as he peeked up and saw a gray, ovoid object that had smashed a car into the side of the bridge and cracked the concrete behind and around it. It was much the same as the one inside the Gutierrez¡¯s garage: the interior made of gray, fleshy muscle, empty pockets indicating where something had been, and black sludge dried on the ground around it. It appeared empty, but Matsuda veered away from it. Wil had his eyes locked on the open seed-pod, or whatever it was, so he only heard the flapping above. He didn¡¯t think. He threw himself onto the ground and tried to squeeze under a car as he dropped his bike. His pack prevented him from getting fully beneath the car, and he felt a gust of wind rush over him as something flew mere feet overhead. Wil¡¯s bike soared up into the air, clutched in the talon of something bigger than any of the cars or trucks on the bridge. It let out a screech somewhere between nails on sheet metal and a child screaming, and tossed the bike into the river below. Wil had a brief glimpse of pale flesh, pebbled or scaled like a lizard, and fours wings. The wings had organic patterns on them, but the creature had faded into the gray fog over the Willamette before he could make sense of them. ¡°Holy shit!¡± Wil hissed. Qadira cowered under a car behind him, only the bright, wide whites of her eyes visible in the shadows. ¡°Stay put,¡± Matsuda whispered. He was under a truck in front of Wil. ¡°No movement.¡± Wil only moved enough to shrug off his pack and fully slide under the car, then froze. There was nothing but the sound of the wind, and distant noises of things howling or crashing through the city. A car alarm went off somewhere farther away, then abruptly shut off. Then, above them, a flap of wings. Another, receding into the distance, then another again, coming back. It was circling the bridge, hunting them. 29: Bird Brained
Wil held out some hope that the flying creature might give up and continue on. However, after its fourth and fifth pass, it became obvious that whatever the creature was, it was tenacious. It emitted several shrieks like air-raid sirens and women screaming as it passed overhead, clearly frustrated it couldn¡¯t find the prey it had so narrowly missed. ¡°It¡¯s gonna attract every zombie in the city if it keeps howling like that,¡± Wil hissed after it soared overhead again. Matsuda grumbled and adjust his rifle from underneath the truck ahead. Qadira was silent but Wil could actually see her shaking beneath her car. Wil was about to suggest to Matsuda that he and Qadira try to make a run for it while he distracted it, when the flapping from above changed. It had been an occasional, double flap of wings as it propelled itself over the bridge. But now, it became a more rapid sound as its wings beat the air directly overhead. A van a few cars behind Qadira squealed and crunched as an immense weight landed on top of it and pushed it into the the bridge. Its tires flattened under the weight and the underside of the van was crushed against the hard road of the bridge as the creature settled itself on the vehicle¡¯s roof. Wil couldn¡¯t see it from his vantage point, just the underside of the van slamming down into the asphalt. But he could hear it perfectly. It made a kind of metallic cooing noise, punctuated by sharp clicks and clacks of something bony. Wil thought of a parrot snapping its beak shut, except to make a sound that loud, the parrot would need to be the size of a small airplane. The van creaked and protested as the creature shifted its weight, then rose up a few inches as it took off. A sedan next to the van squealed and was pressed down into the road. It had shifted perches. Qadira glanced behind her, then up at Wil as her face contorted with fear. If the creature shifted perches again, it would crushed Qadira into paste. No distortion nearby, all I¡¯ve got is a pistol and an axe, if I stay under her it¡¯ll crush me too, Wil thought. He was probably going to die if he did anything, but he was probably going to die if he did nothing. If it was a toss-up either way, he¡¯d rather die trying to save somebody. Wil grabbed his pistol and rolled out from under the car just as he heard another flap of wings, likely from the creature starting to hop to another car. It paused as soon as Will stood up, and he looked eyes with the thing. It was roughly the size of a very small plane. Its body was entirely pale and white, with thin blue veins visible beneath the surface of its pebbled skin It had the basic body of an over-sized bird, but the head of something else. Something like a mosquito and a swordfish. It had two huge, tumorous bulges on the sides of its skull, each one pocketed with dozens of tiny, glossy black orbs that Wil realized must have been its eyes. It had a snout that stretched out for a couple of yards at least, with vicious barbs on the underside of it that ended in a wicked point. Two long, narrow holes sat on the top of the protruding spike, near the thing¡¯s face. The sharp clicking noise had come from this elongated sword-beak opening and snapping shut.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The creature locked its dozens of tiny black eyes on Wil and cocked its head to the side in a gesture that was definitely avian, then spread its four wings wide enough to eclipse the narrow bridge. The wings weren¡¯t feathered, just more skin, but they were split along their edges, creating overlapping flaps of thing membranes. ¡°Uh, shit,¡± Wil said and raised his pistol. The mosquito-bird let out a shriek that made Wil wince as it jumped forward, pointed beak aimed at his skull. Matsuda opened fire behind him, and Wil saw three red holes appear in the creature¡¯s tumorous left eye bulge. Blood, red and thick, gushed out and the thing squealed in agony as it flung itself to one side, its charge ruined by the sudden attack. Its beak missed Wil¡¯s face by inches as it crashed into the guardrail on the side of the bridge and drove it into the street. The hard black asphalt cracked under the beak, and its huge talons scraped across the roof the car Qadira hid under as the creature fell forward. Matsuda adjusted his aim for the thing¡¯s head but it swept a wing across and slapped the old man. The gun flew out of his hands as he was thrown back into the side of a truck hard enough to shatter the window. Wil emptied his pistol in a panic in the general direction of the bird-thing¡¯s head and chest. More blood, more holes, more inhuman screams, but it didn¡¯t go down. It flailed in the street, spewing blood across its pale skin, but it only became more aggressive. It snapped at Wil and thrust its beak at him. The beak grazed his side as he dodged it, missing impalement by inches, but getting a vicious gash just below his ribs. ¡°Freak!¡± somebody said in a guttural voice and piece of black iron pierced through the back of the bird-thing¡¯s wing. Wil recognized the iron as the tip of a crowbar, and the voice as Qadira¡¯s distorted with terror. She yanked the crowbar down and tore through the thin, membrane of the wing, and blood gouted from the torn halves and the creature screamed. Wil reached down for his axe as the creature shifted its attention to Qadira, and brought it down where its beak met its face. There was a crack like a thick tree branch splintering as the axe-blade cleaved into the beak. The creature was now in a blind, violent panic, and it flapped its enormous wings and scrabbled at the ground with its talons. ¡°Get down!¡± Matsuda said and Wil ducked, yanking his axe out as he went down. There were three more quick shots and the creature fell with a thud. Three more holes had appeared, these in its skull. It twitched and jerked as it spilled its blood and brains onto the road, but it was done. ¡°Christ,¡± Wil breathed and backed away. ¡°Uhn,¡± Matsuda grunted and leaned back against the truck. Wil got to his feet and hurried to the old man. ¡°Are you okay? It hit you pretty good.¡± ¡°Nothing broken except the window. Hurts like hell though,¡± Matsuda said and winced as he placed his hands on his hips, then arched his back. There was a series of pops and cracks and he grunted again. ¡°And you? You okay?¡± Wil asked and looked at Qadira. She had blood all over her face and jacket, but Wil couldn¡¯t tell if it was hers or the bird¡¯s. ¡°No I¡¯m not okay!¡± Qadira hissed. ¡°I almost died!¡± ¡°I mean are you hurt?¡± Wil asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Qadira said and looked herself over. ¡°Then we need to move. Those gunshots will have echoed across most of the city, let anything with ears know where we are, and our escape routes are limited to two directions on the bridge. Unless you wanna jump and swim,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Swimming is out forever,¡± Wil said. ¡°But that bird-thing threw my bike in the damn Willamette.¡± ¡°No use for the rest of the bridge anyway, c¡¯mon,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Never wanna go on another bridge for the rest of my life,¡± Qadira added as she picked up her bike and hurried after Wil and Matsuda. 30: Market Memory The three made it across the bridge without incident, though Wil caught a glimpse of movement far behind from the way they had just come. Something had heard the inhuman cries of the bird-thing and the many gunshots and had come to investigate. Wil didn¡¯t want to see what it was, because nothing human would go towards those sounds. They left Burnside Bridge and arrived on Burnside Street. The remains of the Bancorp Tower poked out of the fog like a burned and broken finger far ahead of them. The skeletal remains of its insides still propped it up, but it was full of holes and craters that released thick clouds of black smoke into the gray sky. The shorter buildings hadn¡¯t fared much better, and everything Wil could see showed some level of damage. The least of it was broken windows, while a few buildings looked to have been razed straight to the ground and were no more the piles of rubble. The road was a mess of ruined cars, many of them on their backs or sides, all of them dented or crashed in some way. Many of the cars had become tombs for their drivers and passengers, with bodies slumped in seats, only held up by belts so Wil could see their pale, dead faces. More bodies littered the road and sidewalks, all of them maimed in some way. Guts and viscera were in such abundance across the street that it was more difficult to find somewhere that wasn¡¯t coated in gore. ¡°Of the main road, come on,¡± Matsuda said and made a hard right off the bridge as it sloped down. Matsuda continued down and around back toward the Willamette until he had gotten under bridge completely. The area along the banks of the Willamette had been a pristine public park, with the Saturday market to the South of Burnside and the Japanese-American Historical plaza to the north. Waterfront Park Trail stretched along the western bank of the Willamette in both directions, and would normally have been busy with cyclists and joggers and people running with their dogs. The area just south of the Burnside Bridge opened into a wide plaza full of trees and benches that encouraged tired walkers to sit and enjoy the view of the Willamette. Beyond that it separated into a broad concrete path and a street that were separated by a wide grassy area dotted with more trees. Wil and Naomi had had a picnic there once, ages ago. Now it was strewn with more bodies. Not as many as the surface street, but there was still no shortage of brutally dismembered people to see. Wil gulped as he saw several thick trails of blood leading into the river and pressed his back against one of the bridge¡¯s many supports. The guard rail along the Willamette had been torn open in multiple places, or removed entirely in others. All of the bars were bent away from the river, indicating that something had burst through them from the dark water beyond. ¡°Where are we going?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Washington and 9th,¡± Wil said. ¡°It¡¯s not a bad walk, uh, under normal conditions.¡± ¡°Thank god things are normal then, right?¡± Qadira asked with a note of hysteria. ¡°Best way would be to head for Morrison Bridge, south,¡± Wil said and pointed. ¡°Maybe we stay down here? Looks less crowded than up there.¡± ¡°Mm. Longer sight lines too,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°We walk on the grassy part in the middle, stay under trees, keep away from the water. If we have to retreat, we head inland, toward some of those buildings. Plenty of broken windows to dive through if we have to make a quick getaway.¡± ¡°Speaking of, we should get the hell away from this bridge,¡± Wil said. It was distant, but Wil heard the distinct feral snarling of what sounded like the black-eyed zombies approaching from the east side of the bridge. ¡°What about this guy not having a bike?¡± Qadira asked and nodded at Wil. ¡°It¡¯s a bike path. We¡¯ll find one sooner or later. In the meantime, Wil, you might need to jog a bit until we can get away from all this commotion,¡± Matsuda said and nodded up at the bridge. ¡°I got no problem with that,¡± Wil said and took off at an easy jog, his bag bouncing against his back. Wil spared a glance to a grassy spot not far from the wide plaza. It was near a tree, not much different than any other, but Will knew the spot well. He and Naomi had a picnic there every year since they¡¯d met.
Portland, Oregon Four years ago The Saturday market had been busier than usual. It was full of tourists or families from the suburbs who had come out to see whatever festival or gathering it was that had sprung up in the form of hundreds of tiny tents and stalls and food trucks. It was a nice day for it too: sunny, warm, but with a breeze coming off the coast that provided plenty of relief. Wil had just wanted to come down and buy some of the bread that the local bakeries prepared, along with a few things to put on said baked goods. He could¡¯ve gone to any market for the latter, but he would have been happy to kill somebody in front of their own mother for a loaf of the ciabatta that was just the perfect texture of crunchy and chewy.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Though if the crowd got any worse he might just need to start mowing people down anyway to get back to his car. He¡¯d gotten turned around in the maze of stalls and tents set up outside the Saturday market, and had run into dead ends twice, blocked by the back ends of food trucks, and been forced to retrace his steps and weave through the crowd. A woman carrying a baby in one arm while her other child gripped the other one almost slammed into him, and Wil was forced to almost jump back or risk body slamming the baby. He bumped hard into somebody behind him, felt his elbow dig right into the area below their armpit, and was greeted by a feminine yelp of pain and surprise. He turned, one arm clutching a brown bag full of heavenly loaves, an apology on his lips, when a young woman met him with a glare. ¡°Asshole!¡± she snapped. Wil¡¯s first thought when he saw Naomi for the first time was that she had a very cute nose. It wasn¡¯t small, but it was very rounded and arched just so and had a very faint smattering of freckles marching across the bridge like tiny fairy footprints. Her hair was long, light brown, and tied back in a simple pony tail that left her neck and shoulders bared. Her eyes matched her hair, and were alight with irritation. Wil¡¯s second thought when he saw Naomi for the first time was that she was being very rude for what was clearly an accident. ¡°Shithead,¡± Wil snapped back before he could stop his mouth. Naomi drew her head back as if he had spit at her and her eyes widened. Wil bit his lip and took a breath. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, ¡°I didn¡¯t mean that. I¡¯m sorry for bumping into you. A lady almost knocked me down and I didn¡¯t see you.¡± ¡°No, no I was rude. It¡¯s been a madhouse around here all morning,¡± Naomi said. ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll live, just been jostled a few too many times.¡± ¡°Same. If one of these damn tourists smooshes up against my bread I¡¯m gonna bite them.¡± ¡°Hey, is that the stuff from Leo¡¯s Loaves? The guy with the big mustache?¡± Naomi asked and smiled. She had dimples when she smiled. ¡°Yeah. Not a tourist, I take it?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Nah, been here a while. Anyway, I¡¯ll let you evacuate your bread.¡± ¡°That sounds like a euphemism for something terrible,¡± Wil said. Naomi looked surprised again, but pleasantly so this time. She laughed, and it was almost musical. ¡°I guess it does,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°Anyway, good luck out there, and sorry again,¡± Wil said and gave her a little wave before turning back into the crowd. He was too focused on the crowd to think much about the pretty gal who had called him an asshole until he got back to his car. He paused with his hand on the door, wondering if he should go back, ask her out, try to get her number, the whole bit. She had clearly been agitated by the crowd already. She didn¡¯t need some random guy hitting her up after elbowing her and calling her a shithead. Wil sighed and opened the trunk of his car and put his purchases inside and slammed it shut. ¡°Oh hey,¡± a familiar voice said and Wil looked up. It was her, again. She had a plastic bag in one hand and car keys in another. ¡°Hey,¡± Wil replied. ¡°My car¡¯s just here,¡± she said and pointed. ¡°The chocolate guy I was gonna see had sold everything already.¡± ¡°Too bad.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± There was a pause between them, and then they both tried to speak at once, stopped, and another pause. ¡°I wanted to apologize again for elbowing you,¡± Wil said and decided to go for it. ¡°Maybe get you a coffee? Decent place up the street. They got chocolate too, I think.¡± ¡°Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing,¡± she replied. Wil¡¯s eyebrows rose up and he smiled. ¡°A condition though.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Gotta tell me your name first. I can¡¯t just keep calling you Asshole.¡± ¡°Fair, but then you have to tell me yours, or I¡¯ll have to keep calling you Shithead.¡± ¡°Deal.¡± ¡°Wil.¡± ¡°Naomi.¡± He shook her hand after she had but her groceries in her car, and the two of them had walked away from the Saturday Market and along the Willamette to the cafe.
Portland, Oregon Now The cafe had a lower torso in front of its entrance. Both legs had been broken, compound fractures where the bone was shoved out through the skin in vicious white barbs. Several feet of intestines fell out of the exposed waist, and part of what might have been a liver. They and the vast puddle of blood around them had dried into a dark, sticky mess. Flies of various sizes crawled over the legs and the guts, sticking their tiny sucker mouths all over them and rubbing their legs together in a gesture of pure avarice and gruesome delight. The cafe was dark. The table Wil and Naomi had sat at had been shattered to splinters, and the body of one of the black-eyed zombies lay across it. Something had cleaved it in half on the diagonal, from the left side of the skull all the way down to the right hip. That cafe had been their first date. Wil had figured he¡¯d have been lucky to get an hour of the pretty woman¡¯s time, but they had stayed until the sky turned dark and the owner was giving them the stink-eye. They¡¯d had their first-year anniversary roughly on the grass where they¡¯d bumped into each other, still within sight of the cafe. The memory seemed alien by comparison to the current reality. They sky had been blue, people had been everywhere, and the air had been full of happy chatter and the smells of food. Now the sky was gray, the only people were dead, and the air was full of the scent of decay, and the distant sounds of inhuman predators. ¡°Hey buddy, you gonna make it?¡± Qadira asked and Wil blinked as he looked up from the ruined cafe. ¡°Something in there?¡± ¡°No, Wil said, ¡°Not anymore. Morrison Bridge isn¡¯t far.¡± ¡°Found you another bike,¡± Matsuda said and nodded at a fallen bicycle. A pair of hands still gripped the handlebars. Whoever the hands had belonged to was nowhere to be seen, as the limbs ended just above the wrists. Wil grimaced as he peeled the disembodied hands off the bike and tossed them away. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said to whoever the hands had been a part of. ¡°C¡¯mon. Don¡¯t wanna give anything the chance to catch up to us,¡± Matsuda said and pedaled away. Qadira followed and Wil spared a moment to glance back at the cafe and the spot on the grass. ¡°You better be okay, Shithead,¡± Wil muttered to himself as he pedaled away. 31: Into the City
Their ride along the Willamette was quick, and blessedly uneventful, save for a few terrifying seconds. They were moment away from reaching Morrison Bridge and Washington Street when all three of them heard a large sloshing sound. Qadira let out a short shriek that she cut off by covering her mouth with one hand. A gray, slick shape larger than a bus broke the dark surface of the Willamette. It had a series of fins along its side that each flapped as they cut through the water, and then it submerged again with a splash. ¡°Staying out of the water was a good call,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Maybe think about staying away from the coast?¡± Wil whispered. ¡°Right next to the beach? Yeah, not such a slick idea anymore. But the Air National Guard base should still be okay,¡± Matsuda said and pedaled on. Morrison Bridge had been destroyed in much the same way as Broadway: the middle had been smashed or crushed wrenched away from either end, leaving two stubby, broken bones of iron and asphalt to jut out over the Willamette River, a few cars perched on their edges. ¡°What do you think did it?¡± Wil asked as they reached the base of the bridge. ¡°I heard it yesterday,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Explosions or something. It was around the time there were a bunch of jets and helicopters going by.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Matsuda said and then turned his bike toward the city. He rode across Pacific Highway and into a parking lot beyond and the remains of Morrison Bridge sloped down into Washington Street. He stopped in the middle of the parking lot and waved at Wil and Qadira. ¡°My knowledge of the city is limited. I only came in rarely. Wil, you¡¯re up front, and I¡¯ll take the rear,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Okay. It¡¯s not much farther,¡± he said. ¡°And if we get there, and we see your lady ain¡¯t there, we can get out of here for good, right?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°She¡¯ll be there,¡± Wil said and frowned at her. ¡°And if she¡¯s not?¡± ¡°She will¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°Wil, it might be worth considering that she isn¡¯t,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Not that she¡¯s dead, just that something made her leave. Maybe her family, or a close friend convinced her to go. If that is the case, we should have an exit strategy.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Wil said. ¡°But first we have to get there.¡± ¡°First we have to get there,¡± Matsuda confirmed, and then the mid-afternoon quiet was shattered by something roaring in the distance. It was a huge sound that covered the city, inhuman in both its vocalization and the depth of raw fury it contained. ¡°First we gotta not run into whatever-the-hell that was,¡± Qadira said. Wil took the lead and pedaled past the Morrison Bridge exit ramp and into downtown Portland. It was just as bad and soaked in blood and viscera as the street off Burnside Bridge had been, and worse, there were still zombies present. Will immediately noticed several dozen shuffling black-eyed figures up and down the sidewalks and between cars. They hadn¡¯t noticed Wil or the others yet, and seemed content to limp awkwardly around. A few of them clutched pieces of people in their gray fingers and gnawed on them. Wil watched one of the undead creatures sink its teeth into the meat of a severed forearm and pull a mouthful of red muscle and sinew away. ¡°Hell,¡± Wil whispered. It certainly looked like it. There were more tall buildings along Washington than there had been on Burnside, but they only showcased more destruction. A helicopter stuck out of the side of a tall white building, having crashed into it and blown out the upper floors and replaced them with smoke. Deep impacts marked the stone and concrete sides of other buildings, as if something had dug thick fingers into the structure itself and crawled across it. And along the street, mixed with the gore from the countless victims, there was something else: something like reddish-purple vines snaked across the road. They crawled up the side of several shops and boutiques in a spreading web of greasy botanical tangles. Bulbous pods bigger than watermelons sprouted from the thickest vines, usually where several of them met at a nexus. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen those before,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Best to keep our distance,¡± Matsuda replied and Wil silently agreed. ¡°It¡¯s only five blocks up from here,¡± Will said. ¡°We can do it.¡± Wil pedaled forward, and several of the black-eyed zombies looked up as he approached. Wil thanks his luck that they were the slow kind. They stretched their arms toward him and let out low growls and liquid gasps as they lunged toward him. It was easy enough to outmaneuver and outdistance them on the bike: a quick juke around a car, a swerve on the sidewalk, and then a couple quick pumps on the pedals and he was past them. True, there were more ahead, but thanks to the relative silence of the bike, they never saw him coming. Their black-eyed kin¡¯s moans and croaks were too quiet to reach very far along the street either, and Will once again thanked whatever luck or god might be looking out for him, and gave a silent prayer that they had spared some time for Naomi as well. They passed 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th Avenue like this within minutes, and Wil found himself wanting to go faster, to be more reckless as they approached 9th Avenue. Naomi was so close, and every second counted. ¡°Wil!¡± Qadira hissed behind him. ¡°Wil!¡± Matsuda added. Something hit the back of his head and Wil almost tumbled off his bike. He managed to skid to a stop and look behind him. Somebody had thrown a bottle of water at him, and it rolled on the sidewalk next to him. Qadira was nowhere to be seen, but Matsuda had his head sticking out from a corner on 5th Avenue and pointed up. Wil looked up the length of Washington Street and saw nothing but more shambling zombies. Then he glanced up and froze. To the left of Washington Street, just before 6th Avenue, was a tall white building with decorative window arches and a green awning over its main doors that identified it as the Hotel Monaco. A creature as long as a limousine clung to the side of the building. It resembled a cross between a cockroach and a lobster, with a slick brown carapace and a narrow, angular head. It possessed squirming mandibles that waved in the air, and six narrow, armored legs covered in barbs of bone. The shell on its back split and lifted to reveal a mucus-covered back made of fist-sized transparent bulbs. Embryonic forms squirmed blindly within the bulbs, hundreds of them, each curled up and white, almost like shrimp. The narrow head of the huge creature swung towards Wil, but it lacked eyes. Instead its waving mandibles extended and beckoned the air closer to it, as if savoring its tastes. Several delicate antennae sprouted from its head and twitched in different directions. Wil backed away, slow and steady, until Matsuda guided him back around the corner of 5th Avenue. ¡°What the fuck,¡± Wil breathed. ¡°You need to slow down,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°You¡¯re no good to your girlfriend if you¡¯re dead.¡± The sound of creaking metal echoed along Washington Street and Will and the others froze. Glass broke not far ahead of them, and a tire popped as something settled its weight onto it. ¡°It¡¯s coming,¡± Matsuda said and Qadira groaned. ¡°Hey!¡± a voice hissed above them. Wil looked up and saw a pale hand waving out a window. It was followed by an equally pale face of an old woman with short, curly gray hair and thick glasses. She pointed down the street and continued, ¡°Green door, go!¡± Wil looked away from Washington Street and back down the length of 5th Avenue. A number of the doors had been for shops and were made of glass. They¡¯d all been broken or unhinged from their respective buildings entirely. However between one building and the next was a metallic green access door with an ¡°Employees Only¡± sign on it. Wil left his bike against the side of the building and hurried after Qadira, who was already at the green door. She tried to wrench it open, yanking on the door knob and grunting with panic. ¡°It¡¯s locked!¡± she said as Matsuda and Wil ran up next to her. Matsuda unslung his rifle and aimed it at the corner they had just come from. Another car crunched from around the corner, closer. Qadira patted her hand on the door in a desperate but quiet knock. ¡°C¡¯mon, c¡¯mon!¡± Wil heard muffled voices behind the door, barely audible, but he caught the tone: it was an argument. Wil approached the door and whispered as loud as he dared. ¡°We¡¯re about to die! Let us in!¡± he hissed. He glanced toward the corner of 5th and Washington and gulped as a pair of delicate antennae poked into view and another car squeaked and crunched as the huge insectile creature stood on it. The voices behind the door rose in intensity, but Wil wasn¡¯t paying attention to what they were saying. If that thing rounded the corner, they were dead. It was at least twice the size of the bear, and its shell looked at least as thick as the metal on the cars. ¡°If you don¡¯t let us in now I¡¯ll make sure this thing knows you¡¯re all in there before I go down,¡± Matsuda said. Silence from the other side of the door. Click. Qadira flung the door open and all but threw herself inside. Wil followed and Matsuda came last, swinging the door shut as silently as he could and locking it behind them. Wil took a deep breath as he looked around Qadira and saw a small crowd of people at the foot of a flight of stairs. The old woman from the window was there, as well as a middle-aged man with red hair and a sizable paunch. A dark-haired woman stood beside a slightly behind the man, and a teenage boy with long black hair stood next to her. Two more people stood at the top of the stairs: a young man with thick glasses and a beard, and another woman about the same age, with a tattoo of a fish swimming up her neck. The old woman with curly gray hair smiled at them and said, ¡°Welcome. Why don¡¯t you come inside and tell us why you¡¯re stupid enough to be out on the streets?¡± 32: Survivors The old woman led Wil, Qadira, and Matsuda up the stairs and to a room that had either once been or was in the process of becoming some kind of upscale pool-hall. Plaster dust, plastic tarps, tool boxes, cans of paint, and exposed wiring were the most obvious signs of renovation. The tarps had been thrown over several pool tables that had been shoved into a far corner along with dining tables, chairs, and stools. A long oak bar with a broken mirror behind it dominated the back wall, and it was flanked by two tall cabinets that were bare save for a few bottles of liquor. A metal door to the side of the bar had a dark ¡°EXIT¡± sign above it, and a sign that designated it as the fire escape. The room itself was a long, empty space only broken up by square columns of concrete that had been half painted a dusky maroon. It was dark but for the light coming from a few candles set inside soda cans that had been cut in half. The windows all had industrial-style metal shutters over them and blocked any light from outside getting in. Each shutter had a long chain that glinted in the candle light and turned them into interlocking links of gold that seemed to glow in the consuming darkness of the hall. The other people from the foot of the stairs followed them all into the expansive room and fanned out. The red-haired man with the paunch went straight to the bar and stayed there, though he didn¡¯t seem interested in the liquor. The dark-haired woman and the teenager followed him. The teenager only glanced at them, but the man and the woman kept their gazes locked on Wil and Matsuda. The young man with the beard and the woman with the fish tattoo moved away from them as well, never taking their eyes off them. Not on us, Wil thought, on our guns. ¡°Thank you,¡± Wil said to the old woman and then to the rest of the room. Even though he kept his voice low, it echoed in the empty space of the hall and bounced back to him in a ghostly reverberation. ¡°I don¡¯t know what we would¡¯ve done if you hadn¡¯t let us in.¡± ¡°Probably died,¡± Red Hair said from behind the bar. ¡°Same as you, Gregg,¡± the old woman replied. ¡°That¡¯s why I called you and your family in, same as Jenn and Steve, same as these folks.¡± The old woman nodded at the young couple standing nearby. ¡°We didn¡¯t have guns,¡± Gregg said and stayed behind the bar. ¡°Yes, because some people with guns are the real concern right now,¡± the old woman said and shook her head. She extended her hand to Wil. ¡°I¡¯m Laura Weathers. The ginger behind the bar is Gregg, with his wife Kelly and their son Tyson. Steve and Jenn are the hipsters over there.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± Steve said and raised a hand. Jenn only smiled. Kelly pulled her son close to her, an action that most teens would have resisted, but Tyson accepted with limp indifference. ¡°I¡¯m Wil, and this is Qadira, and Mr. Matsuda,¡± Wil said. Qadira gave a little wave and Matsuda shook Laura¡¯s hand and smiled at everyone else.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Pleased to meet some others, given the circumstances,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°And to reassure you, we have no interest in using our guns on people. Just whatever is running amok outside, and only if we have to.¡± ¡°What are you all doing in here?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°Not dying,¡± Jenn said. ¡°Waiting for help,¡± Gregg said. ¡°Keeping or heads down until we can figure out something better,¡± Laura added. ¡°Mm,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Why the heck were you folks on the street? If you were trying to get killed you might as well just use your guns. Faster and less painful than the things out there will give you,¡± Laura said. ¡°We¡¯re looking for somebody,¡± Wil said. ¡°My girlfriend. She¡¯s just a few blocks up from here, on 9th Avenue.¡± ¡°Might as well be on the moon,¡± Gregg said. ¡°He¡¯s a bit blunt but he¡¯s not wrong. Where you coming from?¡± Laura asked. ¡°Oak Rest,¡± Wil said. Laura raised her eyebrows and she scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re kidding,¡± she said. ¡°Wil and I came from Oak Rest, Ms. Qadira joined us from just over the Willamette,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°It¡¯s true. They showed up with some ranger lady,¡± Qadira said. ¡°How the hell did you get so far?¡± Steve asked. He looked as though Wil had just told him he could fly or turn straw into gold. ¡°What was it like out there? We¡¯ve been talking about getting out of the city since it happened,¡± Jenn whispered. ¡°Is the military out there?¡± Kelly asked. ¡°Why haven¡¯t they come yet?¡± Wil and Matsuda explained their experiences at Oak Rest and coming into the city. When Wil mentioned the dream they had all shared in the gas station, he and Matsuda both got a lot of funny looks from everybody, including Qadira. ¡°You all had the same dream?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°Yes? Did you all¡­not?¡± Wil asked. ¡°Nope,¡± Laura said. ¡°Never in my life. Sounds kinda made up,¡± Gregg added. ¡°I can assure you it wasn¡¯t,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Regardless, it¡¯s not safe out in the woods, and I¡¯d be shocked if the military shows up.¡± ¡°Why? It¡¯s their job!¡± Kelly said, her voice rising a bit with panic. Her son touched her shoulder and she took a breath as she squeezed his hand. ¡°Because I¡¯d be surprised if there is a military anymore,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°And even if there is, it¡¯s likely so fragmented that any real organization is going to be next to impossible.¡± ¡°Heard some jets yesterday. Guns and explosions. Didn¡¯t dare look outside, though,¡± Laura said. ¡°We saw them,¡± Steve said. ¡°When everything was really bad. There was a squadron of five or six, I don¡¯t know. They flew in, fired their missiles at something I couldn¡¯t see. Some kinda flying things came at them out of the sky and then something else shot them down. It lasted maybe five minutes, tops.¡± ¡°Same thing happened to news helicopters and anything else in the air. I saw a passenger jet from the airport get cut in half, people falling out of both ends, the engines blowing up and¡­god,¡± Jenn said and shuddered as she held herself. Steve put an arm around her and she leaned into him as she stared into the distance. ¡°It¡¯s quieted down a lot since it all started,¡± Laura said. ¡°Not exactly peaceful, but compared to yesterday, it¡¯s practically serene.¡± Wil thought of everything they had seen since they got into the city: the horde of black and green-eyed zombies, the water-tower arachnids, the ruined homes, the bodies in the streets, the giant leathery bird on the bridge, the insectile brood-mother that they had barely escaped. Thinking of that as anything approaching ¡°serene,¡± made his stomach burn and twist. ¡°What happened here?¡± Wil asked. Gregg snorted and let out a bark of a laugh. ¡°What didn¡¯t happen?¡± he asked. ¡°The whole city went to hell in about thirty minutes,¡± Laura said. ¡°And then it got even worse.¡± 33: Portland Goes to Hell Portland, Oregon Yesterday 4:50 AM Laura It was quiet on the Earth¡¯s last morning as Laura and everyone else had known it. The quiet itself wasn¡¯t unusual. Laura was always up and out for her morning constitutional before the sun. Her doctor said she needed to stretch her legs, encourage circulation, get her knees moving before they got any stiffer. Ever since her husband had suffered a stroke the year before, she¡¯d become more and more sedentary, finding less and less reason to go out and do anything. But her runs had become an enjoyable, as well as necessary part of her daily routine. They were quiet without being lonely, relaxing without feeling like she was slipping into her grave. Too often she felt other people her age were just trying to get comfortable for their caskets. Her neighborhood was always quiet at this time: the rows of houses dark, just barely touched by the gray-blue light of the coming day, perhaps a pat of buttery sunlight visible just over their rooftops in the spring in summer. In fall, it was all gray, though. The October morning bit at her with the first hints of winter¡¯s fangs, and Laura was thinking she would start needing to bundle up on her walks. Something cracked in the distance. Laura turned and glanced to her side, towards the Willamette River where she had heard it. It sounded like a weak clap of thunder, or maybe a power box having an outage. Nothing followed and she put it out of her mind, and continued along down the sidewalk, arms pumping up and down in exaggerated motions in time with her steps. It was another five minutes before she heard a similar cracking noise, this one closer, maybe just the next street over. Laura paused again and tried to peer between the houses on her right. The neighborhood was old enough to have plenty of fully grown oak trees, and she couldn¡¯t see much. Something rustled in the branches behind the houss, but she dismissed it as a flock of birds or one of the neighborhood cats. Crack! Crack! Another two sharp sounds ahead of her, just around the corner. Laura stopped. The neighborhood was always quiet at this time but it wasn¡¯t just quiet anymore. It was as if the city were holding its breath. Laura had never been given to superstition. She never even really bothered to go to church outside of social events. But something in her gut was screaming at her to move, to get out of sight, to run her little white sneakers back to her home and hide under the bed. She backed away from the street corner ahead and hurried onto the nearest lawn, then behind the corner of a two-story home with ivy growing along its side. She stayed there for several moments, her breathing rapid despite her leisurely pace. Nothing. Just the stillness of an early morning. ¡°Going senile,¡± she said and blushed. If anybody saw her now, a paranoid old woman jumping at shadows and hiding behind a house that wasn¡¯t hers, she¡¯d never get over it. She put her hand on the wall of ivy to catch her breath before she returned to her walk when something moved into view at the end of the street. It was the size of a horse, and was mostly legs and mouth. Two legs covered in scales, but huge and muscular like a rabbit¡¯s, and tipped with vicious black claws, thumped on the pavement. The legs were attached to a small torso that tapered down into a long, thick tail that lashed behind it. Its front end made Laura think of a carnivorous toucan: a huge beak, hooked at the end, and two beady black eyes just behind it. Laura thought she was having a stroke, if her husband had seen crazy monsters before he had twisted up like a dying spider and his brain had turned to mush. Except the creature was too real. It had weight to it, it cast a hazy shadow, and every scale on its body shifted with every twitch of its alien musculature. It stepped onto a lawn and the grass bent and squished under its splayed avian toes. It swung its head to the side and knocked a mail box over with a swish of its massive beak. The creature let out a croaking hiss and stepped further onto the lawn. It raised its beak and Laura heard it inhale from down the street. ¡°Who the hell is smashing up my yard?¡± an irritated, masculine voice asked. The creature cocked its head to the side, locked it gaze on the front door of the house the voice had come from, then rushed up the front steps. It used its beak as a battering ram and smashed through the door with ease. There was a guttural cry, then screams of agony and more croaking hisses. Laura put a pale hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she watched the lashing tail vanish into the house. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! More sounds from all around her, except the way she had come. Laura didn¡¯t stay to see what it meant. She had seen enough. She fled.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
5:05 AM Gregg It was the screaming that woke Gregg. At first he thought it might be Kelly, perhaps wailing over some stupid thing again: a roach in the kitchen, a stubbed toe, burned oatmeal. Something. He loved her (most of the time) but she had the fortitude of a neurotic chihuahua. ¡°What in¡ª¡ª¡± Gregg said as he rose and then saw his wife rubbing her eyes next to him. ¡°Gregg?¡± she asked, her voice thick with sleep. ¡°Did you hear that?¡± ¡°Yeah. Outside, I guess. Unless Tyson screams like a girl now, or he¡¯s watching a horror movie at max volume,¡± Gregg said and swung himself out of bed. It was becoming more of a hurdle to get out of bed the bigger his gut got. He kept telling himself he¡¯d get up earlier and do some exercise, but sleep always won out. A knock at the door made Kelly jump and Gregg rolled his eyes at her. ¡°Dad? Mom?¡± Tyson asked from out in the hall. ¡°Yeah, bud,¡± Gregg said and Tyson opened the door. His face was a white mask hanging into darkness of the doorway. ¡°Did you scream, Mom?¡± Tyson asked. ¡°No, baby. We heard it too, though,¡± Kelly said. Another sound from outside, a rattling buzz, the distant drone of cicadas, maybe, but more metallic.Glass shattered somewhere in the distance, then another scream, masculine this time. ¡°What the hell is going on out there?¡± Gregg asked and threw the curtains away from the window beside the bed. His bedroom was on the second floor of the house and faced the backyard. The fence that separated his yard from the neighbors behind them, the Thompsons, was short enough to allow him to see into their backyard as well, and a little bit of the street beyond. The trees shook beyond the Thompsons¡¯ house, and something that looked like a black water tower poked above their leafy tops. It had several glowing green orbs around its middle, and the metallic buzzing noise followed it as it moved down the street. ¡°What the hell?¡± Gregg asked before movement from the yard caught his eye. Frank Thompson, his wife Gretta, and their two children emerged from the back door. They were all in their pajamas, but none looked sleepy or disoriented. Their faces were blank masks of neutrality, which was especially odd on the children. They walked single file in lock-step off the back porch and marched with the efficiency and timing of clockwork soldiers. And their eyes glowed a bright, unearthly green. They followed after the mobile blackish water tower thing and the buzzing metal noise. There was more movement from the street, below the trees. Gregg couldn¡¯t see much more besides legs and feet, but he saw all of them marching in time, in perfect synchronization, all of the following that unnatural metallic drone. ¡°Gregg?¡± Kelly asked. ¡°Something¡¯s going on,¡± Gregg replied. ¡°I don¡¯t know what, but it¡¯s weird. I¡¯m gonna call the cops.¡± ¡°What is it, Dad?¡± Tyson asked as Gregg picked up his phone. ¡°I just said I didn¡¯t know,¡± Gregg snapped and dialed 911. It rang. It kept ringing. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± Gregg asked after a full minute of waiting. ¡°What?¡± Kelly asked, her voice rising with tension. ¡°God damn 911 isn¡¯t answering,¡± Gregg said. ¡°Try just the police station?¡± Tyson asked. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Go get dressed,¡± Gregg said and looked up the number for the nearest precinct. ¡°In case we gotta get out of here.¡± ¡°Do you think it¡¯s something serious?¡± Kelly asked. ¡°Kelly, how many times do I have to say I don¡¯t know? Go put on some fucking clothes and make sure the doors are all locked. Don¡¯t go outside for nothing,¡± Gregg snapped and listened to the line ring. Kelly scurried away to her closet and began to get ready while he waited. He was about to give up when there was a click and a breathy, ¡°Portland, PD. Hold,¡± before another click and then hold music. ¡°What the hell?¡± Gregg asked. He didn¡¯t have long to wait before the line clicked again. ¡°Portland, PD,¡± the same voice said. ¡°Yeah, I just called 911 and nobody was picking up!¡± Gregg said. ¡°People were screaming outside my house and, something just moved through the trees, and my neighbors were behaving weird¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°We know, sir,¡± the officer on the line said. ¡°We¡¯ve been getting calls for an hour. Just stay inside, barricade your doors. Watch your phone or the news for announcements. Stay inside.¡± Click. ¡°Hello? Hey. Hey!¡± Gregg shouted into his phone. ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°What is it? What¡¯s going on?¡± Kelly asked as she emerged in a rumpled blouse and a pair of jeans. ¡°Something big enough to occupy the whole Portland PD, apparently,¡± Gregg said. ¡°Dad! Mom!¡± Tyson yelled from downstairs. Gregg hurried out of his room and leaned over the banister above the living room. Tyson stood in the middle of the room below, staring outside the front window at the street beyond. ¡°What is it?¡± Gregg demanded. ¡°Some people are coming up the street,¡± Tyson said. ¡°They¡¯re kinda walking funny.¡± Gregg though of the Thompsons, of their mechanical, in-sync movements, and of their glowing green eyes. ¡°Do they have green eyes?¡± Gregg asked. ¡°Uh, yeah, actually,¡± Tyson said. ¡°They¡¯re going into the neighbors¡¯ place.¡± Gregg heard glass breaking from outside, wood splintering. ¡°Whoa,¡± Tyson said. ¡°Get to the car!¡± Gregg said. It sounded like the green-eyed people were breaking into the neighbors¡¯ homes. They didn¡¯t have time to barricade every door and window. They had to move. ¡°Gregg?¡± Kelly asked behind him. She held a pair of his jeans and a shirt, and her eyes were wide with confusion and concern. He seized her by the upper arm and she flinched away from him. For a moment he was irritated. He hadn¡¯t hurt her in over a decade, hadn¡¯t had a drink in just as long, and she was still like this. But he didn¡¯t have time to be mad, or angry with her. There was a high-pitched scream from next door, and more of that buzzing noise. ¡°Go!¡± Gregg shouted and yanked her down the stairs as his son rushed to the garage. Gregg caught a glimpse of green-eyed figures approaching the front window of the living room as he rounded the corner behind the stairs and grabbed the keys off the hook by the garage door. Tyson had already propped the door open and thrown himself into their SUV and was buckling in. Glass shattered just as Gregg hauled Kelly into the garage. He all but leapt into the driver¡¯s seat and waved her in. She was sniffling and crying as she got in the passenger side. Gregg hit the button on the garage door opener as he started the engine. ¡°C¡¯mon, c¡¯mon,¡± he said as the garage door lifted up. The door to the house thumped once, then opened and a clustered group of green-eyed strangers surged into the garage, hands reaching for the SUV. Gregg locked the doors and threw the car into reverse and sped backwards. Kelly screamed as the roof of the car scraped the bottom of the garage door and bent it outward. The SUV screeched as it hurtled into the street, and Gregg sped away. He caught sight of more green-eyed people pouring out of houses behind them, all of them in-sync, and that strange noise droning louder. There was something else behind them, something that looked like walking telephone poles, but it was still too dark to tell. Gregg decided he didn¡¯t know and didn¡¯t want to, and sped away from his home and the invaders within. 34: The Greatest Weapon
Portland, Oregon Yesterday 5:30 AM Steve The Jumpin¡¯ Bean cafe wasn¡¯t due to open for another thirty minutes, but Steve suspected it would be a busy morning. Foot traffic outside the store had been crazy for at least the last fifteen minutes. Usually it was just a few people out for a jog along the quiet Portland streets before they filled up with traffic. There had been a lot of cars out too, well ahead of the normal traffic and rush-hour, most of them speeding. Steve had just shaken his head when several cars had blown by the cafe fast enough to rattle the windows. The joggers seemed especially amped up as well, all of them sprinting past the cafe almost too fast for Steve to see. ¡°Sweetie?¡± Something going on today?¡± Steve called over his shoulder. Jenn poked her head out from the small backroom that served as their bakery. Her face already smudged with errant traces of flour. ¡°Like what?¡± she asked. ¡°Like anything. Lots of people out there,¡± Steve said and then saw two more people flee past the cafe. He was about to tell his wife that the joggers seemed especially hyped about something, but then saw that the people running were both in their pajamas. ¡°What the hell?¡± ¡°Something up?¡± Jenn asked from the backroom. There was a thump as somebody threw themselves at the window of the cafe. Steve shouted as they smeared the window with blood, the thick red fluid spilling from a number of small wounds across their arms and hands. ¡°Jesus!¡± Steve said. The man on the other side of the glass, a 40-something dressed in a torn and bloody suit, thumped his head against the window. ¡°Oh my god!¡± Jenn said as she emerged from the backroom. ¡°Call 911!¡± Steve said as he approached the door of the cafe to unlock it and let the man in. He had his hand on the knob when somebody else lunged at the man and tackled him to the ground. Steve and Jenn both screamed and backed away behind the counter. A woman, just over five feet tall but bulging with muscle, crouched over the man the way a lion would an antelope. Her muscles tore her clothes and her skin was a twitching mass of thick veins. She let out bestial roar and buried her face in the man¡¯s neck. He screamed as blood shot out of the newly torn hole along the front of his throat. Red neck muscles and sinew were exposed, but only for a minute. His blood jetted onto the window and closed a red curtain on the gruesome display. ¡°What the hell? What the hell?¡± Jenn said. Her voice trembled and wavered liked a warped record. Steve continued to stumble backward, unable to look away from the scene outside. Beyond the thick, syrupy splatter of blood on the glass, the street became more chaotic by the second. A car slammed into a building across the street, and sent its unbuckled driver through the window and into the stone facade. The driver¡¯s neck snapped and Steve retched as he saw their brains scatter out of their head like pie filling. More cars careened past, more people sprinted through the street until the trickle became a mob and the sound of feet hitting the pavement drowned out the roar of cars. Many of the people in the street displayed over-sized muscles and veins, and all of them had eyes blacker than tar. ¡°Back entrance!¡± Steven shouted and spun. The woman who had torn the neck out the business man rose up from behind the wide smear of blood and stared at Steve and his wife with eyes that leaker darkness. She reared her fists back and cracked the window. ¡°Go! Go!¡± Jenn ran through the backroom to the fire exit. Steve slammed the door shut and tipped a shelf full of baking ingredients in front of the door, and followed his wife. He grabbed a heavy rolling pin on his way, and was relieved to see that Jenn had grabbed a mop to defend herself with. ¡°Hurry!¡± she said and waved him through the fire exit. He slammed it behind him as as the sound of breaking glass filled the front of the store. He and Jenn had emerged in a narrow alley, fire escapes above them, the street on either side. Both ends of the alley were a rush of humanity and cars. For the first time, Steve heard the distant sounds of sirens, and the echoing booms of what could only be explosions. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± he asked. ¡°We¡¯ve gotta get out of here!¡± Jenn said. ¡°Our apartment is¡ª¡ª¡± Ten blocks through that,¡± Jenn said and pointed. A group of unnaturally coordinated people with green eyes swarmed over another group of people trying to climb over a pair of wrecked cars and proceeded to maim them with disturbing efficiency. They snapped necks like professional assassins, and a few of them managed to punch through the skulls of the people unlucky enough to be caught. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Steve said. ¡°There that bar being renovated near here, one block over. The owner comes by for coffee sometimes, gripes about the construction taking forever,¡± Jenn said. ¡°So?¡± ¡°So it has metal shutters on the window, and it¡¯s off street level,¡± Jen said. ¡°We get there quick as we can and wait for the National Guard to show up and solve whatever the hell this is.¡± ¡°Fine!¡± Steve said. He didn¡¯t have any better ideas. He was tempted to just duck back into the backroom of the cafe, but that mad woman was already banging through the door. It was only wood, and it sounded as if she was already breaking her way through it. Jenn hurried down the alleyway, mop clutched in front of her, and Steve ran behind her. When they came to the end (opposite the side where the green-eyed people had slaughtered at least a dozen pedestrians), Jenn peeked around one corner while Steve checked the other. The far end of the street was a mass of tangled vehicles belching smoke into the air. Flames within the cars licked at the silhouettes of charred bodies. Steve barely noticed them. Instead he stared at something like a spider crossed with a water tower. Its ¡°head,¡± for lack of a better word, was crowned by a series of large glowing orbs that twitched like eyes. As soon as Steve saw it, one of the eyes focused on him. His head was filled with an intense, metallic droning as if his skull had become home to robotic wasps. It wasn¡¯t a sound in his ears to much as in his brain itself, the focus intensifying more and more until he thought his head would explode¡ª¡ªA case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. And it stopped. He gasped and looked up to see three inhuman creatures leaping at the spider-tower. The creatures barely looked human, as their bodies were stretched out and torn, their eyes huge and black, and everywhere black thorns sprouted from beneath their skin and muscles. They lashed at the spider-tower with vicious talons and gaping maws and barbed tongues. A mob of green-eyed people all screamed as one as the spider-tower wavered and tipped over. The green-eyed people wailed mindlessly, but then surged toward the creatures, attacking them like an army of ants felling spiders. A mob of people with black eyes charged in and the two groups began literally tearing each other apart. And none of them were looking toward Steve and Jenn. ¡°C¡¯mon, c¡¯mon!¡± Steve said and ran across the street with his wife. She kept her head down and hurried alongside until they were across and behind a delivery truck. ¡°What are those things?¡± Jenn panted. Steve could only shake his head. There was an explosion above them, and Steve muffled a scream as a passenger airliner was cut in two just overhead. Black specks, passengers, tumbled out of the bisected aircraft like so much pepper out of a shaker. There was no sign of what had destroyed the plane. Jenn wailed beside him as they both looked past it and the hundreds of people falling to their dooms and the blue sky beyond. The moon was just visible, pale and blue, and missing a huge chunk out of its side. Debris floated lazily away from the moon, a slow motion surrealistic horror show of something impossible. Steve¡¯s brain couldn¡¯t take it. It was all too much. It felt like hours, but it hadn¡¯t even been ten minutes. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and the world had just gone utterly batshit. Something yanked at him and he screamed in panic, only to see Jenn pulling him away from the street, down another alley. He couldn¡¯t think, he could barely walk. He followed his wife away from the insanity that the world had become.
Portland, Oregon Now ¡°¡­then Jenn pulled me the rest of the way to here. It took us a while to go up the block without being seen. Helicopters crashed nearby, and some giant skinless dog thing almost ate Jenn. One of those spider-tower creatures killed it, impaled it with one of its legs, and moved on after a horde of those black-eyed people. We only survived because all the monsters were more interested in each other than us. ¡°The door here was open when we arrived. I assume because the owner was here early like he usually is, came out to see what was going on, and either ran away or got¡­swept up in everything,¡± Steve said. ¡°I crashed our car halfway up the block, ran down here and banged on the door,¡± Gregg said. ¡°And I wasn¡¯t far behind. Saw the street ahead was blocked off, so I pulled over and tried every door I could until I came to this one. Gregg¡¯s wife was peeking out through the bottom of one of the shutters and let me in. Thank god for that,¡± Laura said. ¡°And this was all yesterday morning?¡± Wil asked. ¡°I came in a little before eight,¡± Laura said. ¡°After that we hunkered down, kept the shutters closed, didn¡¯t make a peep. It sounded like hell out there for about four or five hours. Thought I¡¯d go crazy listening to it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s never really gotten quiet,¡± Tyson said. The teenager had been silent through the different stories and Wil had almost forgotten he existed. ¡°There¡¯s always something: a roar, an explosion, somebody screaming.¡± ¡°I know we¡¯re not the only ones holed up, but we¡¯ve stayed safe this long. Maybe it¡¯ll be okay until help comes,¡± Kelly said. ¡°Help ain¡¯t coming,¡± Gregg said. ¡°It¡¯s still the same out there, just quieter.¡± ¡°It might,¡± Kelly said. ¡°We didn¡¯t see any signs of help,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°The help probably needs some help,¡± Qadira said and snorted. ¡°We only got here because those things were fighting each other too. We wouldn¡¯t even have made it to you if we hadn¡¯t gotten in the middle of a brawl between the black-eyed zombies and the green-eyed things,¡± Wil said. ¡°So maybe they¡¯ll take each other out?¡± Tyson asked. ¡°Seems like a long shot. And there¡¯s still other things to worry about out there,¡± Matsuda said. He recounted the presence of the distortions in the woods and the outskirts of the city, as well as whatever had been swimming in the Willamette. ¡°There was something else too. I saw it right before that bug thing showed up. It looked like some kind of weird vines were growing over the road and a bunch of the buildings nearby. I didn¡¯t get a look at it, but it definitely wasn¡¯t normal,¡± Wil said. ¡°Yeah. I saw that too,¡± Qadira said. ¡°Christ,¡± Gregg muttered. Kelly held her son close to her and cried silently. ¡°Well it¡¯s quieted down from yesterday,¡± Laura said. ¡°And you all made it this far. Moving around isn¡¯t impossible. And while the wilderness isn¡¯t as safe as I was hoping, it¡¯s a far sight better than being stuck in the city.¡± ¡°Going out there is suicide,¡± Steve said. ¡°We barely made it a single block. Hell, they almost died right around the corner. They would have if we hadn¡¯t let them in!¡± ¡°You got any food in here? Water?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Some snacks behind the counter,¡± Tyson said. ¡°Nothing to drink but booze. There was a big bottle of water here yesterday but we drank through that this morning,¡± Laura said. ¡°Then you got a couple days, maybe four, tops,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Hold on just a second. You have food and water. I can see it in your packs!¡± Gregg said. ¡°We¡¯ll leave you some,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Some?¡± Gregg said. Kelly put a dainty hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off. ¡°If you¡¯re going back out there you should give all of it away. You won¡¯t need it. You¡¯ll be dead before you need any!¡± ¡°As Laura pointed out, we¡¯ve made it this far,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Why are you in such a rush to go back out? This guy wants to find his girlfriend, but what is she to you? Why do you give a shit, huh?¡± Gregg demanded and stepped closer. ¡°Because I want to find out what happens on my way out of the city. Whatever caused all this, whatever is happening, we¡¯ll never survive it if we don¡¯t understand it. Right now everything is chaos. The greatest weapon in any war is always information. We have almost none right now. But just today I¡¯ve learned enough to have made the trip worth it,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Like what?¡± Steve asked. ¡°That these creatures aren¡¯t united. They fight and kill each other as much as they do us. The black and green-eyed ones seem to hold a particular animosity for each other as well. The random creatures we¡¯ve seen, without black or green eyes, don¡¯t appear to be anything more than beasts. Fearsome and lethal, true, but of only base animal intelligence,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°The green-eyed things are stronger when there¡¯s more of them,¡± Wil said. ¡°And when they¡¯re near those spider-towers, they get even moreso. I think¡­I think I saw them using some kinda telekinesis when they were fighting near Gutierrez¡¯s house.¡± ¡°Tele-what?¡± Gregg asked. ¡°Mind powers,¡± Steve said. Gregg snorted and shook his head. ¡°Gimme a break,¡± he said. ¡°Is it any stranger than anything else that¡¯s happened since yesterday morning?¡± Laura asked. Gregg didn¡¯t answer. ¡°These shutters open?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°Yeah. I had them open just a crack to keep watch when I saw you all,¡± Laura said. ¡°Then we¡¯ll drop some food and water, take a peek, and if it¡¯s clear, we go,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°What¡¯s the rush? Can¡¯t we take a few minutes?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°You can stay as long as you like. But one minute is as good as the next out there. We should keep moving as long as the immediate area is clear and we¡¯ve got the energy. Staying here is¡­¡± Matsuda trailed off as he studied the people huddling in the dark. ¡°Well, it might work for some.¡± ¡°Fuck you,¡± Gregg said. Matsuda didn¡¯t respond. Wil started to say something when there was a thud from outside. Something bumped heavily against the side of the building, on the left side of the wall with the shuttered windows. Then another thud, and another, and another, the sounds making their way across the outer wall. Footsteps, Wil thought. The thuds were heavy but not very forceful, just the measured steps of something huge and heavy walking along the side of the building. One of the windows cracked on the other side of the shutter, and the shutter itself wobbled in its frame and bent inward. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Steve whispered. ¡°It followed you here!¡± Gregg hissed. ¡°You dumb shits! It followed you right to us!¡± Wil thought of the huge bug creature, how it had been lurking up the side of the building and crawled its way down. The metal shutter bent in more with a metallic creak and a pop. Matsuda drew his rifle. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Wil said and licked his lips as he took out his pistol, and readied himself for another nightmare for what felt like the millionth time since yesterday morning. 35: Out of the Frying Pan There were roughly five seconds that stretched into hours where Wil hoped, prayed, bargained, and begged that the steel shutter on the window would hold. He thought maybe the whatever-it-was outside was just scuttling its way across like it had been on the hotel. It had giant monster-bug business to attend to and it was going from A-to-B to get it done, nothing more. No need to stop at some random building and search for survivors. The shutter creaked and bent in further. Wil¡¯s breath stopped in his throat, refused to inch up his windpipe another inch for fear of giving the creature outside something to home in on. His hands trembled as he gripped his gun, and he had to force them steady with conscious effort to keep the barrel from waving all over. He at least had the foresight to keep his fingers off the trigger: he didn¡¯t dare trust himself not to accidentally fire a shot in panic and¡­ And the shutter creaked again. And bent. And a shutter snapped in and silver-gray daylight sliced into the room with the finality of a dagger. The hours of seconds condensed very quickly then, making up for lost time. The whole shutter was smashed in by a seven-foot-long foreleg that glistened the same color as polished redwood. It was sleek on the front, but barbed on the back and at the tip of a dainty foot that reminded Wil of stiletto heels. The metal shutter crashed against the back wall and clipped Steve on the side as it flew past. He fell to the ground with a shout of pain and surprise and Jenn screamed. The rest of the creature¡¯s leg entered, well over twelve feet in length as it unfolded, and then it poked its head in. It was, as Wil feared, the limosine-sized roach-lobster from before. It¡¯s blind, angular head jabbed into the empty bar, and the wavering tendrils that composed its mouth widened to reveal a circulating hole of a mouth ringed with barbed suckers. It screeched and began to squeeze itself through the wide, broken window, but was having trouble getting its body to fit. Wil didn¡¯t waste the opportunity. He put his finger on the trigger and squeezed. The bang inside the confined space of the bar was loud, and made Wil¡¯s ears ring. There was a spark of light across the roach-lobster¡¯s head as Wil¡¯s shot ricocheted off its carapace. It screeched again as Matsuda shot it once with his rifle. Its carapace cracked and there was some bubbling yellow goo that welled up out of its head, but little else. The shots only fueled its scurrying effort to get inside. Its long antennae waved about as it lashed its blind head from side-to-side and forced its upper body and another two legs inside. Wil had only now become aware of Kelly and Qadira both screaming. They, and Tyson, had moved into the back corner, making themselves as small as possible. Qadira was at the metal door to the side of the bar, the fire exit, desperately fighting with a handle that was stuck somehow. The roach-lobster was crawling in through the window, its long legs stretching into the room, between them and the entrance down the stairs. ¡°Fucking freak!¡± Gregg said and threw a heavy paint can at the roach-lobster. It struck the creature on the side and bounced off uselessly. Wil holstered his gun. It was useless and he was afraid he would shoot somebody. Matsuda fired again, aiming for the creature¡¯s open mouth. His first shot missed, but the second hit, and it screamed in obvious agony as thick gobs of that yellow fluid gushed out. It learned quickly though, and lowered its head as one of its legs lashed out toward Matsuda. It still wasn¡¯t in far enough to reach him, but its legs were long enough that it wouldn¡¯t be an issue in another few moments. ¡°Move!¡± Qadira screamed, and orange light blossomed behind Wil. She had taken a rag from the counter and a bottle of liquor from the shelf, and made herself a Molotov with a lighter she pulled out of her pocket. The rag at the top of the bottle flickered with the comforting fire, and then Qadira threw it, a leisurely arcing comet that lit the bar as it soared across the empty space.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The bottle shattered with discordant music across the back of the creature as it forced more than half its body inside. The small glow of the flaming rag blossomed into a bonfire of liquid light as the alcohol ignited. For a moment, the fire appeared to have no affect on the creature: its armor was as strong against flame as it was against bullets. Then the burning liquor splashed and slid beneath the seam of the shell, and onto the glistening bulbs and their squirming embryonic cargo. The roach-lobster¡¯s thrashing turned from angry to panicked. It was a seizure of pain and fury that caused it to snap one of its own legs off: it embedded the sharp point of its foot deep into the hardwood floor, then lashed its body to the side and snapped the armored limb off at the knee. Yellow fluid gouted out in a foul, bubbling spray that hissed as it hit the floor in larger chunks. ¡°Yeah, fucker!¡± Gregg yelled and already had another Molotov ready. Qadira lit it and Gregg hurled it at its back. The makeshift weapon struck just as the seam along its shell was opening and the glass and liquid fire flooded across its vulnerable cargo. Wil backed away against the wall, only stopping to help pull Steve away along with Jenn. He took his eyes off the roach-lobster to check on the young man and his wife when he heard Qadira scream again, followed by a splat. ¡°Damn!¡± Matsuda said. A glob a gelatin the size of a cabbage had struck Gregg in the face. At the center of the quivering glob as a shape: it resembled a shrimp, all white flesh curled into an organic comma, except it had a number of tiny black barbs near its top. Like teeth. Gregg¡¯s scream was muffled but intense as the pale creature inside the gelatinous bulb of goo gnawed at his face with inhuman voracity. The transparent gelatin turned opaque, vibrant red at once, and blood gushed out from the sides of the gelatin bulb and down the front of Gregg¡¯s shirt. He fell to his knees and began writhing in agony as the embryonic form devoured him from skin-to-skull. Wil swung his axe like a golfclub, only briefly stopping to worry about hitting Gregg with it before he thought that honestly, if he had to choose between getting his face devoured by an alien grub or getting an axe to the head, he¡¯d take the axe. Gregg didn¡¯t have to take the axe, and Wil swung true. His axe bit through the gelatin with ease and connected with the meat of the grub within, cutting through it even as the blade pulled it away from Gregg¡¯s face and sent it smashing into the wall with the sound of a rotten tomato hitting concrete. Its pale yellow guts burst out of it in a visceral explosion and it fell to the floor with a lifeless plop. Splat! Splat! Splat! The roach-lobster had gotten one half of its shell raised up enough and was flexing unseen muscles in its back to launch the squirming young it carried across the bar, away from the fire that was burning its young and itself. Gregg twitched on the floor, a halo of blood around his head. Wil had a brief glimpse of his skull. Not his face. His skull. His face was in that grub¡¯s stomach, and its stomach was on the floor. Gregg was now naked, bloody bone from the middle of his forehead to his upper lip. The grub had gnawed his upper gums and teeth away, his nose, his eyes, and all the skin in-between. Gregg¡¯s mouth hung open, blood gargling in it as he attempted to scream, made even more difficult by his lack of a tongue. ¡°Nooooooo!¡± Kelly wailed. ¡°Look out!¡± Matsuda said as he fired a single shot at one of the gelatin bulbs that had landed near Jenn. She flinched and screamed as Matsuda blasted the grub as it lunged out of its casing toward her. The other two had hit the far wall, one near the ceiling and the other near the fire escape. The roach-lobster was still squirming into the building as fast as it could and firing off more of its ravenous young in any direction, anything to get them away from the fire that consumed it. ¡°Fuckers!¡± Qadira said. She was sobbing, but it didn¡¯t affect her aim any. She based the grub near the fire escape with her crowbar. Tyson had put himself between the grubs and his mother, holding her back as she tried to lunge toward her dying husband. Steve finally got to his feet and made another Molotov. ¡°No!¡± Don¡¯t throw any¡ª¡ª¡± Matsuda started to say but Steve had already thrown it. The hit from the shutter to his side must have messed with his aim, because the Molotov went wide and only hit the floor in front of the creature. Granted, it slowed its advance and caused it to back away, but it also further blocked them from the exit. ¡°Stop!¡± Matsuda snapped and took out his hatchet. He whacked a grub that was skittering toward his foot, then backed away toward the bar. Splat! Splat! Splat! Splat! More of the ravenous fetal abominations. At least a couple dozen now, some still in their gelatin bulbs oozing down the walls, others scuttling across the floor or dropping from the ceiling. The roach-lobster itself had finally managed to fully enter the bar and screeched in triumph and pain and fury as it and its young burned. There was no doubt that it would fry. The question was whether or not Wil and the others would too. 36: Into the Fire
One of the gelatin bulbs landed at Wil¡¯s feet and he crushed it under his shoe. The roach-lobster was squealing, thumping against the pillars of the bar as it tried to lunge toward its attackers. Its back was now fully aflame, its children turning into black, crispy curls, and what motions it could make were stumbling and jerky as it twitched with pain. But the bar was filling with foul smoke and there were at least a dozen of those embryonic monsters. While the mother roach was fading, Wil knew that getting within reach of its long barbed legs would be a death sentence. This was to say nothing of the fire itself, which continued to spread by the second. ¡°Watch out!¡± Qadira shouted as Wil backed away. Something burned his calf and for a second he thought the fire had spread behind him somehow, but then saw one of the white-fleshed embryos stuck onto the back of his leg. Acidic pain burned from the meaty center of his calf as it chewed through his jeans and began eating away at his skin and muscle. ¡°Fuck!¡± Wil said and seized the creature with one hand and tore it away with a scream. A bleeding piece of his flesh hung from its tiny, black fangs, and Wil gagged at the feel of the creature as it writhed in his hand. It was fat, warm, and squishy, like a wet piece of leather filled with hot cottage cheese. He threw it against the exposed brick wall and it splattered apart with a wet gushing sound. Blood ran down the back of Wil¡¯s leg as he limped further toward the back wall. The smoke made it hard to see where the little embryos might be, but he heard somebody else cry out in pain and then something else splatted to his right. He had a glimpse of Kelly rushing forward to her now-dead husband. One of the roach-lobster¡¯s arms shot out of the flame and smoke beyond and impaled Kelly through her chest with a wet crunch of her sternum. She didn¡¯t have time to scream, to do anything but gargle once and then be yanked off her feet and pulled into the fire beyond. Tyson wailed from somewhere in the back corner. Wil slid behind the bar, just behind Qadira. Matsuda, Steve, and Jenn were back there already. He could just make out the shape of Laura by the fire exit, holding Tyson back. Several of the embryos lay splattered behind the bar as well, and a few more were crawling toward them. Wil axed two of them when they got close and Matsuda used his hatchet on a third. ¡°The fire exit is our best shot,¡± Matsuda said. He flinched at a crash behind him. The roach-lobster had smashed through one of the pillars supporting the bar and the whole room shook. Wil glanced up as a crack appeared in the ceiling with a shower of dust. ¡°Shit,¡± he said. ¡°Someone help me with him!¡± Laura said as she continued to try and hole Tyson back. ¡°Let me go! Mom! Mom!¡± the teenager said. Wil jumped up, the cried out as an embryo drop onto his shoulder from above. He immediately tore it off and hurled it into the fire, but it still managed to rip his shirt and the top layers of his skin off. He ignored the pain and rushed toward Laura and Tyson, then clocked the young man square in the jaw. Tyson collapsed in Laura¡¯s arms, and she grunted as she held onto him. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°C¡¯mon!¡± Wil said as he grabbed Tyson¡¯s feet and started to haul him back behind the bar with the others. The lobster roach screeched as it pulled itself forward on one leg. The others had either been injured or burned already, and the creature was clearly on its metaphorical last leg and well as its literal one. But it was now close enough to swipe at all of them and its antennae stretched forward and waved in the air in search of any movement. ¡°Hatchet!¡± Wil shouted to Matsuda and the old man tossed the weapon handle first to him. Wil dropped Tyson¡¯s feet, grabbed the hatchet with one hand, then seized the end of the antennae with the other when it came close. The roach-lobster fell to its shoulder, reared its deadly limb back, and then Wil swung the hatchet. The antennae was no thicker than Wil¡¯s thumb, and Matsuda¡¯s hatched cleaved through the sensitive feeler as though it were nothing but a twig. More of the creature¡¯s foul yellow, bubbling blood gushed out and hissed onto the floor, and it reared back in shock and pain and let out its most intense shriek yet. It lashed out, but only served to smash out another window. ¡°I got an idea!¡± Wil said to Matsuda as he pointed at Laura and Tyson. ¡°Help her!¡± Matsuda did a hunched run over to Tyson¡¯s feet and hoisted them up while Wil threw an empty glass at the roach-lobster. It crashed near it and it swung its blind, burning face toward him. ¡°Hey!¡± Wil shouted as loud as he could and stood in front of the jammed metal fire escape. He threw another glass at it and it broke against its shoulder. Its remaining antennae waved toward him and he grabbed at it, then planted his feet as he prepared himself. ¡°C¡¯mon!¡± he shouted. The roach-lobster pulled its remaining leg back and Wil took a breath. There was a flash of movement and Wil threw himself to the side. The roach-lobster¡¯s leg slammed into the metal door with the sound of a car crash. The impact was enough to shatter its foot in a spray of cracked carapace and yellow blood. The door broke inward, off its hinges, and fell out onto a concrete stairwell with a bang. Wil fell to the floor as he felt a sharp pain in his side: the barbs on the roach¡¯s legs had slit him open just below the armpit, deep enough to expose muscle and send a sheet of blood seeping down past his waist. Qadira stepped forward past Wil, his axe in her hands, and swung it down in a vicious overhead arc. The axe didn¡¯t so much cut through the monster¡¯s leg as bash through its already weakened surface. A spray of acidic yellow blood sprayed from the amputated limb and Qadira cried out as it hit her on the forearm and hissed. ¡°Run!¡± Matsuda said as he hoisted Tyson onto his back. Laura had taken his backpack, and she followed after Matsuda out the fire escape. Wil got shakily to his feet and limped after them after he grabbed Qadira by her uninjured arm and pulled her through. Steve hobbled out after them with help from Jenn. Matsuda led them down the stairs. ¡°My arm, my arm, shit,¡± Qadira said as she cradled it. Wil glanced down and saw the yellow blood had devoured the long sleeve of her jacket and given her something like a moderate second-degree burn. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay. We got¡­first aid¡­and¡­¡± Wil said and took a breath. He felt dizzy, and the stairwell spun. ¡°Jesus, you¡¯re bleeding everywhere,¡± Qadira said as she looked at him. ¡°He¡¯s falling!¡± somebody said behind Wil. He felt the stairs tip upward, wondered how that was possible, and then a sharp bonk on his head made the stairwell go dark. 37: Scotch & Separate Ways Lake Oswego, Oregon A year and a half ago Wil had been at a Fourth of July party with Naomi, invited along as her plus-one. The party was at a friend of the family¡¯s house, somebody close to Mr. and Mrs. Van Buren, Naomi¡¯s parents. It was a huge place, cozied right up next to Oswego Lake. It had its own private dock with a pair of jet-skis and a small yacht to match. It probably cost more than Wil would earn in twenty lifetimes even if he could make his own way with his own art. It was all a very new and uncomfortable experience. Wil had spent most of the party sticking to Naomi, feeling that if he ever left her side, he would immediately be declared an outsider, a vagrant, an intruder, and thrown out by security. A backyard cook-out with its own security detail was also a new and uncomfortable experience. Prior to this, Wil¡¯s idea of a fancy Fourth of July involved everybody getting their own steak, and maybe some craft beers. This place had its own catering staff: people in black slacks and vests and bow-ties wielding gleaming silver trays and wearing smiles that reminded Wil of department store mannequins. You saw the food before you saw the people, and that was how it should be. ¡°Oh! There¡¯s my old neighbor! You wanna come say hi?¡± Naomi asked him. She appeared oblivious to Wil¡¯s discomfort, though to be fair, he was doing his utmost to hide it. He¡¯d lost track of the number of successful, happy, close-knit people he had met so far. ¡°Actually I¡¯m gonna go fill up my drink,¡± he said and rattled his empty glass. He was not so foolish as to become drunk, but his heart was beating a little too fast for his liking, and if he shook somebody¡¯s hand right now, they¡¯d likely need a napkin after from how sweaty his palms were. Just enough booze to sit on the anxiety would do. Naomi leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. ¡°Hey Asshole. Love you,¡± she said. ¡°Love you too, Shithead,¡± Wil replied, a bit too loud. He drew a couple disapproving glances from well-dressed party-goers. He blushed and hurried away to the bar. The bar was a horse-shoe shaped table draped with a pristine white cloth set up at the edge of the rolling emerald yard, near the private dock and the placid waters of Oswego Lake. It was attended by another neutral-faced caterer who stood behind rows of bottles of alcohol like a bored general at the back of his faceless troops. ¡°Jack and Coke, please,¡± Wil said and set his glass down. The caterer took the glass and instead of refilling it, gave Wil a new, clean one before he could protest. He¡¯d spent time as a dish-washer in college, and silently apologized to whoever was having to clean and re-clean single-use crystal glasses behind-the-scenes. Wil took his drink with a quiet thanks, then turned to find Naomi. Before he had finished scanning the crowd, a tall man with short black hair turned white on the sides and with a thick, dark mustache approached the bar. ¡°Suntory Yamazaki, neat,¡± the man said as if he were asking for a glass of water and not a glass of Scotch from a bottle that cost almost $6,000. The caterer poured it and handed the glass to the man Wil knew as Mr. Van Buren, Naomi¡¯s father. ¡°Uh, hello, sir,¡± Wil said. ¡°Wil,¡± Mr. Van Buren replied. ¡°Enjoying yourself?¡± ¡°Yeah, everybody¡¯s been really great and it¡¯s great to meet all of Naomi¡¯s friends and it¡¯s¡­great¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°I suspect you don¡¯t get out to these sort of parties much,¡± Mr. Van Buren said. ¡°Well, I get out to the occasional fancy gathering. The last one I went to actually had name-brand soda,¡± Wil said and laughed. Mr. Van Buren did not. Wil cleared and his throat and took a drink as Mr. Van Buren idly swirled his glass of liquor that cost more than what Wil earned in a day. Maybe a few days. ¡°Naomi talks a lot about you,¡± Mr. Van Buren said. ¡°Hopefully good things.¡± ¡°All good things. She loves you.¡± ¡°I love her too.¡± ¡°I know. That¡¯s why I¡¯d like you to leave,¡± Mr. Van Buren said. ¡°What? The party?¡± Wil asked. He wasn¡¯t sure he understood. ¡°No, my daughter.¡± Wil blinked at the older man. ¡°What?¡± he asked. ¡°You have no career. You have aspirations but lack the ability to fulfill them. Naomi hasn¡¯t said anything directly, but you have some form of mental handicap, from what I¡¯ve gathered. Is any of this wrong?¡± Mr. Van Buren asked. He did nothing to lower or raise his voice. He spoke in the same flat, direct manner as somebody else discussing sports teams or weekend plans.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°I¡ªwhat the hell?¡± Wil stammered. ¡°You want me to leave Naomi because I¡ª¡± ¡°Because we both know she¡¯d be better off,¡± Mr. Van Buren finished. ¡°And no, I¡¯m not going to do something cliche like offer you money. She loves you. I¡¯ve seen my daughter with boyfriends before. This is different. I think she might want to marry you. And then what? She supports you? You and any children? While you whittle away your life, probably hindering her out of her concern for you?¡± ¡°I¡ª¡± Wil started to say. ¡°You love her,¡± Mr. Van Buren said, ¡°and because you do, you want her to succeed, to be happy, to be the best she can be. How could she ever be any of those things if she has you holding her back?¡± Wil stood there, in front of the bar, Jack-and-Coke in-hand, his mouth limply open as Mr. Van Buren spoke to him. The weight on his back magnified, threatened to crush him right there on the emerald lawn. ¡°I don¡¯t hate you, Wil,¡± Mr. Van Buren said. ¡°I can see why Naomi likes you. I like you myself, a bit. But I love my daughter, and want what¡¯s best for her. And if you love her, you will too.¡± Mr. Van Buren patted Wil on the shoulder, gave him a thin-lipped smile, and walked away. Wil dumped his drink out on the lawn, put his empty glass on the white surface of the bar, and ordered a Suntory Yamazki. Double.
Portland, Oregon Now Something burned in Wil¡¯s leg and he woke with a groan that turned into a scream. ¡°Easy! Easy there,¡± somebody said. Matsuda. ¡°Ah, shit,¡± Wil said. ¡°What happened? Ah! My leg!¡± He looked down and saw his pant leg had been ripped off from just below his mid-thigh. Below that his pale leg was a splotchy mess of blood and bandages. More blood was on the floor of the stairwell he was in, along with Qadira, Laura, Tyson, Steve, and Jenn. All of them were smudged with soot and streaked with blood. With the exception of Tyson and Matsuda, all of them had the same wide-eyed, frightened look to their faces that were all turned up the stairs, towards the burning bar and the monster inside. Tyson had the empty look of a shell-shock victim while Matsuda was focused on him and getting the bandages secured around his leg. Wil reached up as he felt some tightness around his skull and felt more bandages there, along with some sticky, wet hair. When he pulled his fingers away, he saw they were wet with blood. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. ¡°You fell down the stairs. The stairway is filling with smoke and one of those grub things came down a few seconds ago. Steve killed it,¡± Matsuda said and nodded at the young man with the beard. He was favoring the leg that hadn¡¯t been struck up in the bar, one hand on the other. ¡°We gotta get out of here!¡± Qadira hissed. ¡°Even if all of those freaky things are dead, the smoke is coming.¡± ¡°Well not that Wil¡¯s up, we can be on our way,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Not with two people with injured legs,¡± Laura said. ¡°Well, we could, but we won¡¯t be going very far or fast.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need to go far. Naomi¡¯s place is a couple blocks away,¡± Wil said and struggled to his feet. His head spun and tightened and he grit his teeth as he felt his brain compressing between the walls of his skull. ¡°You¡¯re still on about that?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°The city is still fucked. I thought it might have cleared out a little by now, and it¡¯s not as bad as yesterday but it¡¯s still a damn deathtrap! We should head back to the Willamette bike trail and follow it up and out of the city!¡± ¡°Fuck you,¡± Wil grunted and leaned back against the wall. He still, somehow, had his axe with him and used it as a cane, the metal head clanking against the concrete floor. ¡°Go if you want. Nobody forced you to come.¡± Matsuda sighed and turned to Qadira and the others. ¡°She¡¯s right. Following the Willamette out of the city is probably the safest route. It¡¯s not really a road, so there wasn¡¯t any traffic blocking the way out. If you an get a car, you can drive. Just stay away from the riverbanks. Something¡¯s in the water. If you can¡¯t find a car, there should be enough bikes, and Steve can ride tandem with somebody if he can¡¯t pedal.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t run right now but I should be able to keep up on a bike,¡± he said. ¡°Qadira: lead them back to the river, the exact route we took back since it should still be clear. Do you know where the Astoria Airport is?¡± Matsuda asked. ¡°I do,¡± Jenn said. ¡°It¡¯s about a two hour drive from here.¡± ¡°And a ten minute drive from Camp Rilea and the National Guard,¡± Matsuda added. ¡°If you follow the Willamette north you¡¯ll make it there. If the river ever forks, you take the Western or left fork, got it?¡± ¡°Left fork,¡± Qadira said. ¡°The 26 goes there too,¡± Jenn said, ¡°but it goes through forests, and it¡¯ll probably be clogged with cars.¡± ¡°Better off sticking to the river, but remember, away from the shore,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°What¡¯re you going to do?¡± Qadira asked. ¡°Go with with Wil,¡± the old man replied. Wil had been collecting his thoughts and trying to get his equilibrium back but shook his head. ¡°No. Screw that. You go with them,¡± he said. ¡°They need you more than I do.¡± ¡°Wil¡ª¡± Matsuda started to say. ¡°No. Listen! There are five people here: Three women, an injured man, and a kid. I¡¯m one idiot doing something selfish. I don¡¯t know what your deal is, but you¡¯re the only one here with the skills or training or whatever to get them out alive. You¡¯ve been in the city, you¡¯ve seen what there is to see. Another two blocks isn¡¯t going to help you. Get them to the base.¡± Matsuda looked at Wil, his eyebrows meeting together over the bridge of his nose and mirroring the disapproving flat line of his mouth. ¡°Mm. You¡¯re sure?¡± he asked. ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll make it those two blocks.¡± ¡°Maybe, but if you¡¯re with them, you¡¯ll all make it out of the city.¡± Matsuda nodded with a sigh. He took Wil¡¯s hand and shook it as he approached the metal fire exit door that stood nearby at the foot of the stairs. ¡°Good luck, Wil. Be careful. I hope you and your girlfriend can meet us later,¡± Matsuda said. ¡°Me too,¡± Wil said. ¡°I think you¡¯re fucking crazy, but try not to die, okay?¡± Qadira said and gave him a perfunctory pat on the arm. Matsuda cracked the door open and peered outside into dark gray light of later afternoon. He gave them a thumbs up and then crept out the door, rifle at the ready. Qadira followed, and Jen helped her husband out. ¡°Come on, Tyson,¡± Laura said gently to the young man. Tyson followed her robotically, neither offering resistance or acting on his own, content to be led away. Wil was surprised the boy was even moving, having watched his parents die brutal deaths in the span of minutes. Wil wanted to say something, but what do you say to somebody who watched their father have his face devoured by an alien grub? They passed, Laura giving him a brief nod, and then they were out. And for the first time since he¡¯d run into Gutierrez back at Oak Rest, Wil was alone.