Chapter 3
I
Mormon Tears
THERE WERE NOW ONLY ELEVEN OF THEM STANDING ON THE BEACH, watching as the caravan fell into line and passed through the gap in the mountains and back into the white desert. Even through the dense cloud cover, they could tell that the sun had yet to rise. Every fiber in Adam’s being screamed for him to go with them, but whether on a conscious level or not, he believed in Phoenix. He knew the logistical nightmare they faced. Richard was right. The others had been generous enough to leave them a small stock of canned goods, several gallon jugs of water, and a couple cases of Pepsi, but that was it. The rational part of his mind knew that they were in big trouble, but for Adam, logic had been eliminated from the equation long ago in those Iranian caves. All that remained were the spider web-thin strands of faith and they were already strained to the point of snapping.
Richard’s parting words had been a standing invitation. That was the bottom line, if they failed there on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, then they could always track down their counterparts in the city. It was a wonderful safety net to have. Of course, if Phoenix was right and all of the others were going to die, then there would be nothing waiting for them in Salt Lake City when they arrived. And if that was how things played out, then they were now watching the others drive away for the very last time with death as their final destination.
Adam had tried everything he could imagine to convince them to stay, but in the end, he had failed. Perhaps it was because he lacked the strength of his convictions. He believed in Phoenix’s visions and the undeniably convenient coincidences they had faced on their long journey, but what it all came down to was that he hadn’t been able to make that final leap of faith, and if he were unable to, then how could he expect the others to? The more pressing question, however, the one that festered in his gut like a tapeworm, was would he be able to live with himself if they were all slaughtered, knowing that it had been within his power to stop them?
“You did everything you could,” Phoenix said, resting a hand on Adam’s shoulder.
“Did I?” Adam shrugged out of the boy’s grasp and walked toward the tracks leading away across the salt flats. White rooster tails rose from their wake in the distance as they prepared to vanish from sight.
They had taken all of the vehicles, save one beat-up old Ford pickup and a trio of motorcycles. There were other means of transportation—they had flown in on the backs of winged equines resembling seahorses for God’s sake!—but he couldn’t shake the growing sense of isolation. Worse, it was a self-imposed exile in the middle of nowhere with little food and even fewer prospects for overcoming their situation. Christ…they’d already burned nearly every available scrap of wood for miles! What the hell had he gotten them into?
As soon as the vehicles vanished over the horizon, Adam turned and walked back to where the others had gathered.
“None of you have to stay here, you know,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame any of you for leaving right now to try to catch up with them.”
There was a long moment of silence, the snow gusting around them. It had already begun to accumulate atop the sand in nearly indistinguishable swatches, small drifts forming against the base of the mountain.
“They’re all going to die,” Jill whispered, shivering.
Again silence.
“What do we do now?” Norman asked, looking at Adam.
“I suppose we should probably introduce ourselves first. That seems like the best place to start.” No one stepped forward, so Adam assumed the lead. “My name’s Adam Newman. I’m a general practitioner. Until recently I was serving the final year of my Army obligation at a refugee camp in western Iran.”
He raised his eyebrows to Norman.
“Kyle Norman. I’m a medic in the fifty-first airborne. I was in the Persian Gulf when all hell broke loose.” He attempted a wan smile and brushed the snow from his fatigues. “I guess now I’m just a guy in dirty clothes living in a cave.” He turned to the girl with the short black hair beside him.
“Missy Stringer,” she said in her sweet southern drawl. “My brother Mare and I are from Dover, Tennessee.”
“Like my big sister already said, I’m Mare.” He looked to his left at Jill, who had noticeably paled and appeared to be beginning to withdraw into herself.
“Jill Rayburn,” she said, furrowing her brow as though concentrating. “A couple of days ago I was a freshman at the University of Oregon in Eugene. But I…I started having visions and now…” She sniffled. “Now I can’t make them stop.”
“It’s okay,” April whispered, wrapping her arm around Jill, who leaned into her shoulder. “I’m April Henson. I’m also from Eugene, and I’m only here today because of Jill’s visions. If not for her, I don’t know what might have happened.” She squeezed Darren’s hand and held on tight.
“Darren O’Neal. I came from Oregon with them. I’m a sophomore pre-med…I mean, I was a sophomore at the university.” He shook his head. “I guess I’m going to have to get accustomed to using the past tense, huh?”
“I’m Ray Gorman. I suppose if nothing else I should be thankful to still be with my friends here, but along the way I lost…I lost the most beautiful girl in the world.” Tears streamed from his eyes, but he swiped them away as he tucked his bangs behind his ear. “I know this is where I’m supposed to be because…because I can feel her here with me.”
“I’m Lindsay Lechner,” the blonde with the model looks said, standing visibly more comfortably. “I was on a plane for Vegas when everything happened. Going to try my luck as a showgirl, you know?” She smiled, her eyes clouded by unfulfilled dreams. “Eight years of ballet and tap, another four of classical. Honestly, I don’t know why I decided to stay here with you guys, but the only reason I can come up with off the top of my head is because that guy Richard is such a jerk.”
They all shared a moment of laughter, but it quickly faded.
“I’m Evelyn Hartman from the middle of nowhere, California. I was a graduate student in oceanography at the Scripps’ Institute before my dad had his accident and I had to come back home to help out on the ranch. With his dying words, he sent me on a quest for ‘Mormon Tears,’ which I’d imagine is the same reason we’re all here.”
“My name’s Phoenix,” the pink-eyed boy said, “but that’s about all I know. Until Adam and Norman saved me from the Swarm, the Man had kept me locked in a dark basement my entire life. I don’t really know much other than that.” He shrugged.
“What’s the Swarm?” Mare asked.
“They’re the ones who are coming for us. They are the corrupt, the sinners, the ones whose souls couldn’t ascend to heaven, trapped inside the proverbial body of temptation. They are the snakes that walk on two legs, God’s chosen army of destruction, the dark nature of each and every one of us. When they arrive, they will bring only pain and suffering, promising an end to man’s days on earth.”
“Why would you think that God would want us all to die?” Missy asked.
“I don’t think He does,” Phoenix said, pausing. “I think that’s why we’re here. Maybe we represent some part of humanity that He isn’t ready to completely part with yet.”
“Then why would He send an army against us?” Norman asked. “To me, that kind of makes it sound like He is willing to part with us. Don’t you think?”
“I just don’t know,” Phoenix said, averting his eyes. “All I know is what I see when I close my eyes, and even then it doesn’t make very much sense. It’s like I see pictures of things that haven’t happened yet through other people’s eyes without the benefit of their interpretation. It’s only when these things come to pass that I understand their significance. I think that God’s just giving us clues to see if we’re worthy of survival. If we believe in Him as much as He believes in us. Kind of a last chance. But I know that if we fail when we take our stand, He will have no second thoughts about wiping us out.”
II
Eastbound In
terstate 80
RICHARD SAT IN THE CAB OF GRAY’S TRUCK, PRESSED ALL THE WAY UP against the window, watching his breath form and then dissolve on the glass as the truck passed through alternating stretches of salt flats and pine forest. The snowflakes had nearly doubled in size since they’d reached the highway and were now so thick it was like driving through a moth infestation. It covered the road, but the shoulders were still clearly discernible as they rose and fell with Gray keeping them equidistant to either side. The stalled and abandoned cars were slowly disappearing under the accumulation, crashed into the hillsides or simply dead in the middle of the interstate, but they were still able to navigate with relative ease. As there were more bodies packed in there than the seatbelts could accommodate, he didn’t complain as their progress started to slow with the worsening roads.
Garrett was pressed against him from the left, their legs warring for space beneath the dashboard as he tried to keep from bumping the gearshift, his broad shoulders aching as he compressed them to afford as much room for the others as he could. Carrie sat to his left against her husband, her knees tucked to her chest, heels on the seat, to give Gray access to the stick.
Highway signs passed to the right, their faces crusted with ice, only a couple of words visible here and there. They knew they were heading in the right direction and would eventually end up in Salt Lake City regardless. It was just a matter of time.
Richard looked at the rear view mirror. The youth group bus was about fifty yards back, packed three to a seat with the aisle stuffed with bodies. It had been able to hold nearly all of the refugees by itself, leaving only a handful of stragglers to bring up the rear in their old trucks, hauling the motorcycles they’d bled dry to fuel the other vehicles. They traveled in a straight line, with those behind following in the tracks of the preceding. Without headlights and taillights, he imagined it must be difficult to keep the car ahead in sight through the storm, but that wasn’t his problem at the moment. He was too busy alternately scouring the sides of the road and the horizon for the first sign of a suitable location to stop.
They needed a building large enough to house all ninety-six of them, yet small enough that it could be heated fairly easily. What did that inherently imply? An apartment building maybe? Nothing too tall as they would need to be able to defend the building from the roof. Three stories was about as high as they could comfortably get and still allow for an untrained marksman to hit the street with a shotgun or rifle. It couldn’t be out in the open either. Trying to secure three hundred and sixty degrees would be nearly impossible. They had to find a structure that allowed an unobstructed view of the surrounding area, yet at the same time limited the number of directions from which they could be attacked. That ruled out everything suburban or in the densely populated downtown districts. Too many tall buildings would hide an advancing army until they were already upon them. What did that leave? Their fortress needed to be close to a large grocery store or warehouse with a suitable stock of dry and canned foods. There had to be a hardware store, preferably one of those gigantic mega-stores like Home Depot close by as well. That covered all of their immediate needs but water. They could melt snow and boil it, but that would be awfully time-consuming and labor-intensive. It could be done, no doubt, but not as easily as if they found some place already equipped to store large amounts of water, preferably with some sort of purification system intact. Did such a thing even exist?
“Figured out where we’re headed yet, boss?” Gray asked. With the spotted houses appearing to either side of the road and the increasing number of truck stops, he knew they had to be close now, and Richard hadn’t said a word since they left.
Richard couldn’t afford to come across as anything other than decisive. He couldn’t allow room for anyone to question whether or not he was in charge. Ever. Indecision was a sign of weakness, which engendered dissention. They couldn’t permit factions to arise from their ranks or progress would be seriously impeded. He needed to answer, and it had better be good.
A sign whizzed past on the shoulder, the tail of an airplane poking out from beneath the crust of ice.
“Follow the signs to the airport,” Richard said.
Gray stole his eyes from the road to scrutinize Richard.
“We can’t stay at the airport,” he said. “What would you propose? All of us living in a terminal and sleeping on the floor?
“It would be impossible to secure the perimeter of an airport,” Garrett said. “I don’t even know how many miles of fence—”
“And that’s why we aren’t going to the airport,” Richard said smugly.
“But you just said—”
“I said to follow the signs to the airport. I didn’t ever say we were going to live in it.”
Silence fell upon the cab.
“What can you always find surrounding the airport?” Richard asked. “Without exception.”
“Hangers,” Garrett said.
“That would be no different than living in a cave. Try harder.” Richard needed them to follow his logic so they could recognize the genius of it, but he was growing impatient. Was he the only one among them with any kind of intellect?
“Hotels,” Gray finally said.
Richard smiled and touched the tip of his nose. It was perfect in its simplicity. There would be a single enormous kitchen large enough to stock plenty of food and cook for hundreds of people at any given time. Every major grocery store would have a warehouse not far from the airport, and even if there wasn’t a gigantic hardware store within walking distance, they would be able to find everything they needed in any of the adjacent hotels or machining shops nearby. And since the airport needed to be outside of the city proper, with so many hotels requiring so much water, there would have to be some sort of storage tower to accommodate their needs.
It wouldn’t even surprise him to find a nice Hilton or something already enclosed by gates or walls they could fortify without too much effort.
“I like it,” Gray said, veering off the highway and pumping the brakes to slow. The rear end fishtailed, but he was able to correct it easily and bend around the ramp over the highway and toward the airport. The signs were now clearly visible as they no longer faced into the wind.
Gray still had one major concern, though. Even if they were successful in building this fortress that Richard envisioned and were able to withstand whatever assault was coming, what then?
He watched Richard from the corner of his eye. The man sat there so aloof. He was scheming something, but for the life of him, Gray couldn’t imagine what. All he knew was that he didn’t trust Richard any farther than he could throw him and actually feared what he might do if given too much power. There was something in his mannerisms, but more specifically in his eyes, that made Gray increasingly uncomfortable.
III
Mormon Tears
EVELYN HAD WALKED AWAY FROM THE OTHERS TO CHECK ON HER PLANTS, promising to catch up with them in the cave to help with whatever they needed. She didn’t want to speak prematurely and raise their fragile hopes, but if she were able to get just the kelp she had brought with her to take root, then she would potentially be able to feed all of them. Kelp was an extraordinarily fast-growing species that could overtake entire coastlines if not kept in check. In many tourist traps, it was considered a pest. It was strange to think that their dreams of survival now depended on the proliferation of a weed.
She climbed over the now familiar rocks, perching atop the one closest to the edge of the water. There would be no more wading into the lake, as the temperature already had to have dropped a good thirty degrees since the previous morning. Her breath was ripped from her lips as steam to join with the snowflakes that clogged the air. The stones were slick with a layer of ice, making her balance tenuous, but she was able to get close enough that she could see down into the water. The lake was obviously cooling rapidly as it no longer generated the fog it had during the night, becoming so cold that the waves almost looked sharp. All of the
plants were still there where she had left them, still buried by the roots, but they had taken on a deeper brown color and were starting to wilt.
“They can’t tolerate the cold,” she whispered, shaking her head. But what could she possibly do about it? She could try to uproot them and grow them out of the elements in some sort of container, but they didn’t have anything larger than a single gallon, which by itself could only house a couple of plants. She could always head into town to find some aquariums, but without the full-spectrum lighting, they wouldn’t have a chance, and leaving them out to be exposed to what little light reached the ground brought her right back to the exact same problem. It was a fool’s proposition unless she could figure out some way to raise the temperature of the lake, and shy of opening a fissure in the earth, she couldn’t think of a blasted way to do it.
She refused to give up her life’s dream just yet. There had to be a way to make it work…she was just running out of time to do so.
Rising, both arms out to her sides for balance, she carefully traversed the pile of rocks until she reached the sand and jumped off. The snow was now just deep enough to cover the toes of her shoes, but based on the black clouds to the west, she could tell that they were going to see much more before the storm was through.
Evelyn had only stayed there at the lake because of her project, and now that the kelp was dying, she wondered if she should have left with the others before she began to do the same. There was something undeniably spiritual about this place, though. The expulsion of gasses from her father’s dead body had sent her halfway across the country to find Mormon Tears, and thus far it had proven to be her salvation. They had found it with nothing more than those cryptic words to go on. What were the odds of that? She was fairly confident that she was where she was supposed to be, but what now? It felt as though they were simply passing time…but until what?
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