by Ike Hamill
Lisa dropped the rope and ran after her. It was probably just her imagination, but she felt Tim’s fingers swipe at the back of her shirt as she tried to get away. Lisa heard the footsteps behind her. This new version of Tim didn’t have any concern over his ankles. He was moving at full speed.
Lisa veered left, where it looked like she could most easily climb the hill, and then realized that Ashley was jumping for the limb of the tree. Part of it had fallen into the road, but there was a reasonably low limb that Ashley grabbed to pull herself up.
“Aunt Lisa! Over here.”
Lisa changed directions.
Behind her, Tim practically roared. He sounded so close that she didn’t dare look—she just kept running.
Ashley had gotten up to the branch and was holding a hand down for Lisa to grab. The girl was crazy to think that Lisa could climb anything. It had been decades since she had even considered climbing up into a tree.
She reached for Ashley’s arm and they locked grips around each other’s wrists. When Ashley pulled, Lisa felt like her arm was going to pop free from her shoulder. She yelled at the pain, but Ashley didn’t let her go.
Then, she did feel Tim’s hand. It closed around the back of her thigh. He lost his grip easily when she kicked. His fingers were strong, but they weren’t strong enough to get a grip on such a big muscle.
Her second kick was what actually made the difference. Lisa kicked back, plowing into Tim’s torso. The extra push gave her enough momentum to grab a branch with her other hand. Between Ashley pulling and Lisa pedaling her feet against the bark, she was actually climbing. A second later, she was swinging one leg up and over and Tim was swiping at the empty air where Lisa had just been.
“You okay?” Ashley asked.
Lisa had to catch her breath before she could answer. “Scraped up, but I’m okay.”
Tim tried to jump for them, but he missed and crashed into the tree.
“Well,” Lisa said, “at least you found a way to change the future, right?”
Ashley didn’t answer. She only looked away.
“How long do you think it will take for him to snap out of it?”
Ashley met her eyes slowly, like she was feeling guilty about what she was going to say.
“I don’t know.”
“If you had to guess?”
“If I had to guess,” Ashley said. “Since none of this seems familiar to me at all, I would guess that this is a break from any future where I survive to remember.”
Lisa shook her head. She didn’t understand.
“What are you saying?”
“Somehow, ever since we came to the observatory, we’ve been living and remembering at the same time.”
“Yeah,” Lisa said. She lifted her foot up to the branch, just in case Tim was able to jump high enough to grab it.
“It was like our future selves had the memories locked in of how they got there, and we were somehow seeing those memories at the same time that we were living them.”
It was a good way to put it. Lisa hadn’t framed the feeling as anything more than déjà vu.
“So, since I don’t remember any of this…” Ashley gestured toward the tree and Tim below. “I’m guessing that there is no future me to remember it. Do you remember it?”
Lisa shook her head.
“Then maybe you won’t be around to remember either.”
“And him?”
Ashley turned up her hands.
“Great. We might as well have gone to the monkey house,” Lisa said.
In the distance, they heard Penny barking again.
Chapter 92: Robby
At the sight of his daughter, anger flashed through Robby. He had finally gotten to the point where he trusted that his kids understood the danger of the place, and they had run off once more to do something stupid. He tucked the anger away—now was not the time.
“What are you doing here?” Robby asked. His kids were standing in the doorway of the loading door, holding it open.
Jim raised a finger, pointing to the back of a truck where Merle was dragging a big piece of equipment. He seemed oblivious to the bloody mountain lion that was slowly stalking him from behind. The thing kept twitching its head and shaking. Drool and bloody foam dripped from its mouth. Robby wondered about the nature of the mountain lion’s craziness as he pulled his knife from his belt and began to move towards Merle.
Robby’s first dog, Gordie, had been one of the last dogs to receive a rabies immunization. Dr. Matthew had explained that the vaccine had expired and, of course, it hadn’t been stored properly.
Robby still remembered Dr. Matthew’s casual shrug as he had administered the shot.
“I’ve always suspected that this vaccine is much more thermotolerant than the packaging suggests. It’s the best we have available, so I guess we’re going to have to risk it,” the doctor had said.
“What are we going to do about the next generation?” Robby had asked.
“I’m guessing nothing.”
The doctor had gone on to explain that he had seen little to indicate that there was much rabies left in the world. “If I had to guess, it might have died out with the vast majority of the animal population. In fact, even the frequency of minor communicable diseases in people has dropped way off.”
Robby hadn’t even thought about it until the doctor mentioned it, but he was right. There had been a couple of scares—even a sniffle was a cause of major concern when there were so few doctors around—but as the years progressed they really hadn’t seen much disease. Robby had described rabies to his children as they grew up so that if they ever encountered a sick animal they would know to stay away. But none of his kids had reported seeing any of the symptoms out in the wild.
How would they treat Merle if he was bitten?
Merle was moving slowly, carrying the load. He spotted Robby and smiled.
“Run, Merle,” Robby said. Following his gaze, Merle finally saw the animal.
Merle began to shuffle as fast as he could. Robby kept his eyes locked on the cat and backed slowly towards the door. His kids were frantically yelling, but he kept his slow pace, afraid to inspire the cat’s instincts. When he drew close, he heard the door starting to close. Robby dove through the gap.
Chapter 93: Brad
“Great,” Romie said. “So we have to worry about brain ants now?”
“Maybe,” Brad said.
“It was just a metaphor,” Eve said.
He glanced around at her. She had her eyes closed and a hand pressed to her forehead. Sandy was rubbing her shoulder. Even Hulk looked concerned. His head was resting on the back of the seat and his big eyes were moving back and forth between Eve and Sandy.
“How are you feeling now?” Brad asked.
She sighed. “I’m okay, I guess. This stuff helps.” She held up the empty packet of gel that she was still holding in her hand. Brad offered her another and she refused. Sandy was pushing the water on her, saying that she looked dehydrated.
Brad turned back around and looked through the windshield for a bit. Romie was driving more conservatively now that there was no chance they would catch up to the others before Donnelly. Leading away from one puddle, they saw tire tracks. At least they were still on the same course as everyone else. They were too far behind to pick up any clear CB transmissions. Brad had a computer that he could have hooked up to the radio network, but he doubted anyone else would be transmitting.
“You’re thinking that they would have recovered,” Romie said.
“Huh? Who?” Brad asked.
“Back at the school. Left alone, maybe Pam would have recovered from the brain ants, assuming she had the same thing.”
“What happened to Pam?” Sandy asked.
Brad gave her a look and shook his head a little. He didn’t want to say in front of Eve—Sandy seemed to get the point.
“I don’t know, Romie. Maybe there’s a point of no return. You want to make a right up here and come into town
from the south.”
“I know. We were just here.”
Tapping the brakes a couple of times to alert Luther, Romie slowed and made the turn. As they passed houses where people lived, it was obvious that something had happened. There were no vehicles outside, and a lot of open garage doors. It appeared like everyone had left in a hurry. Brad turned to see tire tracks across a freshly mowed lawn.
“We should be close enough now,” Brad said, picking up the handset for the radio. He clicked the button and said, “This is Brad. Anyone out there?”
He waited ten seconds before he repeated his question. It felt like everyone in the car was holding their breath, waiting for an answer. In Donnelly, with all the buildings and hills, they were lucky to get ten miles out of the radios, but it should have been enough if anyone was still around.
Before he could call a third time, a breathless voice broke through.
“Hey, Brad, sorry. This is Trish. We checked the post office and police station, but there was no sign. We’re over on Monroe Street, near the park. There are a couple of trucks left behind here, and there are lots of tire tracks. Looks like a whole contingent… Hold on.”
They swung to the left as Romie headed toward Monroe Street. Before Brad could remind her that the lower bridge was out, she remembered and took another turn to get on the correct street.
“We found a note here,” Trish said, her voice breaking up at the end of the transmission. “Looks like everyone was headed for a shelter up north. Doesn’t say where though.”
When she trailed off, Brad interjected. “We’re headed your way, Trish. Stay put. Anyone else who can hear us, meet over on Monroe near the park.”
Romie sped up.
The vehicles that had all left Gladstone in a line were now bunched together, blocking the road. Romie pulled their SUV up into a driveway and Luther pulled just past it. They all got out at the same time.
Luther and the kids piled out of the other vehicle and ran to reunite with Eve, while Romie and Brad headed toward the others.
A knot of people were gathered near the vehicles. Trish raised a hand to wave to Brad.
“Is this everyone?” Brad asked.
“Not yet. We spread out when we hit town and there are still a few stragglers out there. Wesley, and… I don’t know for sure. Dave is going to jump on the radio,” Trish said.
Brad nodded and went to see the note.
It wasn’t in Robby’s hand, and it wasn’t signed. Someone said that it might have been penned by Carrie.
Brad leaned against the back of one of the cars and looked around. He saw some crates and a few scattered potatoes in one of the yards. A patch of tall grass had been beaten down by footprints. It was easy to picture the whole town gathering on this road, loading supplies in trucks, and then taking off.
“What does purple mean up here?” someone yelled.
Brad turned to look.
Walking that direction, Romie put her hand over her eyes to look at the sign that people were pointing at. She turned back to Brad.
He raised his hands. “It doesn’t have a meaning, as far as I know. Is it an X? An arrow?”
“An arrow. Looks recent,” Romie relayed from the people who had gone to look closer.
Before they had come up with the current scheme, people had marked all kinds of things on street signs. Old paint showed black X’s that one group had used to denote impassible streets. Other people tried to write messages on the signs, in order to be more descriptive. What was impassible for a car might be navigated with a big truck. Eventually, a color system had been devised. Red, yellow, and green would describe the condition of the road. When a road would washout, or develop too many potholes, someone would paint over the old marking with a new one.
Brad had never heard of purple arrows.
“That could be for us,” Romie said. “Let’s wait until the stragglers get here and then follow the purple arrows.”
“Before Hulk, I had a dog that almost looked like a wolf,” Sandy said. “She would have been able to tell us where they went.”
The sun was accelerating toward the horizon. Time was running out. In the sky there was no sign of the ribbon, and nobody had reported any strange behavior, but Brad thought it was just a matter of time. The incident with Eve had proven that. She was back with her family now. Hopefully, they were keeping an eye on her in case her brain ants came back.
“It has been too long,” Romie said.
They were waiting for word from the scouts that had gone out. North of Donnelly, where the road split, there was no purple arrow on the sign. Their only recourse was to send out scouts down each of the roads to look for an indication where the residents had gone.
“She could sniff pavement and she could follow tire tracks for miles. That’s how we were able to track down Phil when he went off,” Sandy said.
Brad hadn’t thought about Phil in years. It had been a sad situation. Convinced that he was going to be a burden on his friends and neighbors, Phil had left the community when he had been diagnosed with prostate cancer. Even after they tracked him down, they hadn’t been able to convince him to return to Gladstone.
“I’m going to call,” Romie said.
“Don’t,” Brad said. “They’ll be back.”
The scouts were supposed to be searching for purple arrows and monitoring the radios in case there was a transmission from the missing people of Donnelly. Romie’s call would only confuse the situation.
“There,” Brad said, pointing. He saw the sun reflecting off the windshield of one of the returning scouts in the distance.
The radio crackled and then Trish’s voice came from the speaker.
“Fifteen miles and no sign,” she said.
Brad sighed. “Damn.”
Another voice came through after, but it was too broken to make out what they were saying. They had to wait a couple of minutes before the other scout tried again.
“Take one-fourteen north,” Dave said over the radio. “We found an arrow.”
“Thank heaven,” Romie said, starting up the vehicle.
The sound of engines filled the air and then the lead vehicle began to roll. Romie fell in line as Brad rolled up his window. They traveled in silence for a minute or two, and then Dave’s voice came over the radio again.
“It’s a different color than the others, but we think the arrow was made very recently. The paint didn’t look weathered at all.”
“Oh, great,” Romie said. “We should have known better. That guy is so optimistic that he would have taken anything at all as a sign. This is just as likely to be a dead end.”
Brad barely heard her—he was staring at the radio. Even before Dave had started talking, Brad had sensed that the radio was about to make a sound. It wasn’t an audible cue, but something had made him think that the radio was about to go off. Maybe Dave had clicked his microphone for a fraction of a second and there had been a click that was so subtle that Brad had picked up on it without knowing. He didn’t think that was the case though. He could tell from the display that there was no incoming transmission. There was an icon when the radio latched to a signal. Even though it wasn’t there, Brad got the feeling that the radio was about to come back on.
It took him a moment to remember what Eve had said. By then, it was too late.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the radio, even when the numbers on the display looked like they were starting to shake. The vibration was the only thing he could focus on. Then, the vibration was happening inside his head.
“Ants,” he whispered.
There was a gap between his conscious mind and his thoughts—Brad saw everything in his own head like he was apart from the process. His mind was the portion of himself that constituted Brad. His thoughts were Brad’s thoughts. Between those, the ants were beginning to find their way. The first one left a trail that the others could follow. They left tiny tunnels inside his brain as they wormed their way into a place where their vibration could
control him.
Eve was right—there was no way to stop them. He couldn’t do a single thing but watch them march in.
Then, with a blink and a shake of his head, they were gone.
He reached forward and snapped off the radio.
“What are you doing?” Romie asked.
Brad was afraid to answer. The last time they had suspected him of not being in control, they had tied him up.
“It was making a noise,” he said. “I’ve had trouble with this radio before. There’s an intermittent short inside it. Before it craps out, it always makes that noise.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Romie said.
“Neither did I,” Sandy said from the back seat.
“If you weren’t listening for it, you probably wouldn’t hear it,” Brad said. “This is no time for us to break down because of a faulty radio. We’re in the group now, so there’s no need to risk keeping the radio on.”
“If you say so,” Romie said.
They traveled for a half mile before she opened her mouth again. She was probably going to argue why they should turn the radio back on, but she didn’t get the chance. Ahead of them, brake lights flashed.
“Shit,” Romie whispered.
She started applying the brakes. A moment later, she cursed again. The gauges on the dashboard jumped and then the engine conked out. They were coasting with no power.
“Damn it,” Romie said. Her arms stiffened as she fought to push down the brake pedal. Brad looked up and saw that there were no brake lights on the vehicle in front of them either. Their whole line was coming to a stop.
“I think we’re having a…” Brad started to say. It felt like the wind was knocked from him. His vision swam and his body became numb in an instant. Simultaneously, Brad felt like he was both weightless and falling.
“This is where the ants come from,” he said. His voice was only in his head.
As quickly as the feeling fell on him, it evaporated. Back in his seat, back in control of his body, he looked over and watched Romie gasp and come back to life. She shook her head and reached down to start the vehicle again. They had rolled off the road to the high brush on the shoulder. It was only luck that there hadn’t been a ditch or something to crash into.