Cascade Collection

by Phil Maxey

  Zach opened the driver’s door and looked around. “Apart from those E.L.F’s a few miles off, it looks pretty quiet here. We could do with another bus, if Rob can get it started.”

  Bass continued looking at the stores, paying special to the roofs, as he did an American flag fluttered on a bent flagstaff. “Agreed.”

  As Bass and Zach talked, Cal looked out the back window of the Humvee at a mural across the street. It was a historic scene of construction of a road. Men and women in late nineteenth century attire with tools were working hard, but looking happy. He went to look away, when something caught his eye. Dark disc shapes were in the sky above the workers. Cal strained his eyes to see more detail, but not being able to, he opened the door and got out. Zach and Bass’s conversation stopped.

  “Cal, what do you see?” said Zach. Cal ignored the question and walked towards the mural.

  “Fuck.” Zach was about to get out when Fiona beat him to it.

  “I got this.”

  Cal looked up at the sixteen-foot high painting. The dark shapes in the clouds seemed wet and unformed with small drips of glossy black liquid creeping downwards. He got closer and stretched out his hand to touch them. If he could only touch them.

  “Cal?”

  Fiona’s voice jolted through his brain.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I… I don’t know, there’s something about this mural.”

  She put her hand on his arm, pulling it down. “We need to get back in the Humvee.”

  “Yes.”

  He walked back to the car slowly, looking over his shoulder as he did.

  Jacob sat watching.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Wait here, I’ll see if there’s a way through,” said Zach getting out.

  The twisted metal beams and girders of the bridge hung low over the road. Bass and a soldier jumped off the bus and ran up to him. They all looked down at the muddy water of the river below, its flow gently passing from north to south.

  “Looks pretty clear down there, not seeing any dark shapes in the water,” said Bass. Zach nodded.

  Zach ducked under a large rusted beam that stretched from its mooring at the side of the bridge across and then down towards the left side lane. It was one of many.

  He reached up and touched the flakey red, cold surface of the beam. “The Humvee will be fine, and we should be able to push through with the buses but it’s going to be tight.”

  Bass nodded, and they returned to their vehicles.

  “How’s it look?” said Abbey.

  Zach slowly moved the Humvee forward. “We’ll be fine.”

  They moved onto the bridge and it shuddered in response. The first beam approached them and cleared the roof by a few feet. Plotting a winding path across both lanes, they were quickly on the other side.

  Corporal Greggs drove the old bus forward. The kids and everyone else went quiet as the rust metal fingers approached the roof of the vehicle. The first one hit the roof and the sound of crumpling and sheering rang out across the valley as the bus slowly crept forward. Mary told the kids to put their hands over their ears.

  Bass was sitting at the front near Greggs, he clicked on his radio. “How we looking, Zach. Over.”

  “Keep going. Lots of movement from the beams but nothing drastic, they seem to be holding. Over.”

  Towards the end a gap opened up in the forest of beams, and Greggs picked up speed, leaving the bridge, and driving up behind the Humvee.

  Rob then pulled forward in the newly acquired bus. Behind him sat Tyler and a number of their supplies, which they had quickly moved from the other vehicle.

  With his binoculars, Jacob looked at Rob on the bridge and then swept up the river, his focus stopping on a large amount of ripples. Watching intently the ripples dissipated, and then started up again a few yards closer. He then looked back at the bus, which was now halfway across with a number of beams scraping along its side. Switching back to where the ripples were, only calm water resided.

  As Rob drove off the bridge, Jacob pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. At least now there was a lot more space available, and the young woman that was sitting next to him with her child on her lap had vacated to sit side by side with her daughter. He stretched out, picking up his backpack from beneath his feet and placed it to his left. Then looked back out at the hills and rocky outcrops that were passing by. His mind turned to Cal. Abbey had told him and Michael what had happened and that Cal had scratched a strange word into his forehead. Michael took it as Cal losing his mind, but in the early afternoon sun Jacob wondered if there was something else going on. He could tell Abbey wasn’t telling him the whole story, and after seeing Cal become seemingly hypnotized by an old mural, a theory started to take shape in his mind, but he would need more information, more data.

  Sandy orange hills made up of rocky crevices and covered in a smattering of frost covered trees slid past as the convoy made its way eastwards.

  Abbey felt acutely aware of the man with a scarred forehead behind her. What other things did he know relating to her and her previous life? Her mind started to run away with disconnected thoughts that made no sense. She sighed and thought about how far they had come from the New Mexico desert and that they had survived this far. Just as the thought of their survival comforted her, the doubts and questions seeped up from the darkest parts of her mind once more. How could he have known? She was sure she had not mentioned the name Arclight to anyone. Perhaps there was a chance she had mentioned it in her sleep, but it was unlikely. Then there was the crazy dream Cal had mentioned, and the ‘dark figure’ that wanted him to relay the message. ‘Tell the Arclight we accepted,’ relay to whom? Herself? Could it be possible that someone was trying to communicate to her via Cal? She sighed once again, this time sliding her hand over her face to ease the tension. She had begun to make sense of this new world, but now a sense of unreality had started to raise its head again.

  Zach watched the peaks and hills uneasily the closer the road got to them. He also wasn’t sure exactly of their route east accept that he needed to make up ground on Tinley. What he would do when he met up with him again he had no idea, the man was protected by a small army of acolytes. He clicked on his radio and told those in the vehicles behind to stay watchful of the slopes around them as he picked up the pace on the dusty frost covered road.

  After a short while they entered a small town with light colored single story homes. The day was still bright, but the sun was on its downward path to the horizon. Zach took a right, then after driving on for a hundred yards stopped alongside a large single story warehouse, which stretched for two hundred yards along the road. To the front and side of it sat a gravel parking area.

  “Problem? Over.” said Bass through Zach’s radio.

  Zach clicked on his radio. “We have maybe an hour of daylight left. The large building here doesn’t seem to have any windows and I can only see solid doors, which we could defend easily, and a loading bay. Might be good idea to stay here for the night. We can also park easily out front. Over.”

  After a short silence, Bass agreed and they pulled up the vehicles near the loading bay, forming a small wall.

  Zach and the others got out. Everyone looked anxiously at the nearby hills. He then jumped up onto the loading bay and tried the door next to it. It opened first time with a creak and the smell of dust and damp wood escaped into the late afternoon air. He reached into his backpack and pulled out his flashlight, which he held in one hand and his rifle in the other.

  He walked inside, with Bass and two soldiers close behind. Along the walls sat sacks of some unknown material, together with barrels, and farming equipment. He swept his flashlight’s beam over the walls and at the end of the building, which was some fifty yards away, and then relaxed when it was obviously devoid of anything alive.

  “Start moving everyone inside. Check all the exits, if they are not secure, make them so, move some of these sacks or barrels up against them.”


  It wasn’t long before everyone was in the long plain building, and the sun was setting outside. Most were huddled around candles and the rest sat along the walls, eating food handed out by Mary who had taken charge of their supplies.

  Hanna and her daughter Megan sat alone, ten or so feet from the fire. Michael noticed they had not grabbed anything from Mary’s handouts. Getting up he walked over to them, and held out a candy bar.

  Pointing to the glossy loud plastic cover, he carefully annunciated “Choco… late.”

  Hanna pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled. Taking the offering she opened it and gave some to her daughter whose eyes lit up. “Eat it slowly, don’t gulp it down, you’ll choke,” she said in a German accent.

  Michael looked surprised. “Oh, I didn’t think you talked English.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Megan. You’re?”

  “I’m Michael.”

  “Thanks, for this Michael.”

  “Why didn’t you get yourself some? There’s probably more if you want me to…”

  “We don’t want to bother anyone.”

  “Meh, it’s no bother.” Michael walked to Mary and after a short exchange, returned with a bread roll and another candy bar. This time he sat down next to Hanna.

  “Here,” he handed her the food. She quickly put the roll in her backpack and opened the bar.

  “You’re from Germany?” said Michael.

  “Munich. Have you been to Germany?”

  He smiled. “No. I visited Vancouver with parents as a kid, but never anywhere else. Were you on vacation over here when things went bad?”

  “I was studying astrophysics at Berkley when it happened.”

  “You couldn’t get back?”

  “My daughter is an American, I wanted to stay here.”

  Michael could see the line of conversation was making her feel uncomfortable, so changed the subject. “It’s a shame the Portland camp went the way it did, but you’ll like the other camp, it’s like the whole world living in one place.”

  Megan finished her bar and was now covered in chocolate. Hanna looked disappointed at her and said something in German.

  Michael looked around him, and then got up.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Walking across the floor of the building to his backpack, he pulled out some serviettes and a bottle of water. Pouring a small amount on one of the serviettes he returned and handed it to Hanna. She smiled again, and proceeded to wipe the sticky substance from her daughter’s mouth and fingers.

  Hanna went to hand the serviette back. “Sorry, do you want this back?”

  Michael backed off slightly. “You can keep it. I’m just over there,” he pointed. “If there’s anything else, just let me know.”

  Hanna smiled then turned her attention once again to her daughter.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Fiona woke with a start, her eyes opening into such complete darkness, that she wasn’t sure they were open. Her sleep hadn’t been comfortable, with just one blanket separating her and the concrete floor below, but it had taken the edge of her drowsiness. She sat up and tried to see any details around her, but none were apparent. She did hear something though. A scuffling and scratching that came from about thirty-feet away to her left. In her dazed state her first thought was that it was a rat, but then she realized that wasn’t possible. She then felt to her right and her gun was where she left it. Feeling along the cold metal her fingers located the grip, and she picked it up, placing her other hand below the barrel and pointed it in the direction of the sound. Can’t be an E.L.F she thought, as surely they would be all dead by now. Letting go of the barrel, she felt around for her backpack and pulled out her flashlight. Turning it on while pointing it down, she waved it in the direction where she knew Cal was sleeping a few feet to her left. In the lights beam only a blanket lay in a small heap could be seen. His gun and backpack were also there.

  She slowly swept the beam across the space in front of her, and everyone was where they were when her eyes gave into sleep a few hours earlier. The only person who was missing was Cal. It was cold in the room, but much warmer than outside and she suddenly got goose bumps. Putting the gun down across her lap, she rubbed her arms with her hands, then pointed the light towards where the noise was coming from. It wasn’t possible to see to the end of the building from where she was sitting, so she got to her feet, and stepped forward, and pointed her light again. This time she could see further, but the gloom soon smothered the beam, turning details beyond fifteen feet into a monotone haze of shadows.

  “Cal?” she half whispered, half shouted. No response came, just the continuous scraping noise. She lifted her gun to be parallel with her light and walked towards the noise. As she approached the source of the noise, the narrow illumination her flashlight provided, picked up a form moving in the shadows and she immediately kneeled and pointed the gun towards it. Whatever it was, it didn’t react to her making a noise just twenty-feet away.

  “Cal?” this time her words came out with force and she heard rustling from behind her as a few people turned over in their makeshift beds. The thing in front continued its work though, without pause.

  She got to her feet and walked forward, curiosity overcoming her fear. After another ten-feet she could see what was making the noise. Cal was doing something with the wall in front of him, creating some form of image. His hands were covered in oil, which was dripping from a nearby barrel. Furiously his fingers scrapped over the plaster wall, creating lines and form, which to Fiona had no meaning.

  “Cal, what are you doing?”

  Her words seemed to pass through him as he continued his work, slapping the wall with the black ooze and smearing, left and right. For a moment she was mesmerized by his passion for this mad artistic expression, but with a shake of the head, she snapped out of it, and slung her gun over her shoulder, walking forward, and put her hand on his arm. He continued his endeavor for a few seconds then stopped, looking at the wall, emotionless.

  Fiona went to say something, but had a feeling that it would be useless, and that the best thing she could do was just to return him to his bed. Keeping her hand on his arm, she placed the other hand on his shoulder and rotated him around to face her then walked him back to his place on the ground. Without questioning, he lowered and covered himself with his jacket, his eyes closing instantly.

  She sat on her own blanket with her back against the wall, and shone her flashlight’s beam on his face. He seemed peacefully asleep.

  *****

  Slithers of light like orange neon planes of glass carved up the space in the warehouse. Zach blinked a few times and felt behind him for Abbey, who was still sleeping. Carefully extracting himself, he got to his feet and immediately regretted standing so quick as a pain shot through his lower back. He winced then stretched, dulling the pain somewhat. Looking around he could see Mary was already awake with a number of children huddled around her. From where he was he couldn’t tell if they were shivering or laughing, but they seemed happy whichever it was.

  Fiona was also awake a few beds from him. She was sitting up sipping something from a small plastic cup. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, so he walked up to her.

  Before he had a chance to talk, she put her cup down, like she had decided something. “Follow me.”

  Trying not to make her movements too purposeful she got to her feet, smartened up her one blanket, then walked past Zach in the direction of the unused part of the building. He followed her, as they walked past metal shelving units, until coming around the edge of one, there was a large plaster covered wall, covered in an explosion of black streaks and circles.

  “Hmm,” was the only response Zach had. He walked up to it closer. “Strange, it’s still wet. We must have an artist in our midst,” he said the last part with a smile on his face, but it quickly went when he looked at Fiona, whose face was one of stress and emotion.


  “Cal did this, I found him during the night in some kind of daze. He was just manically throwing the oil onto the wall and smearing it around. He seemed to know what he was doing, but I can’t make any sense of it.”

  Just as Zach was about to respond, there was a commotion from back where people were sleeping. A female voice shouting in a foreign language. Fiona and Zach went to turn around, when they realized a young girl of around six was standing behind them smiling. Zach kneeled down to her, but she looked straight past him at the dark chaos on the wall.

  “What’s your name?” said Zach.

  She kept looking at the wall, giggling and pointing, saying the word “Zuhause.”

  The sound of the woman’s voice grew louder and she ran up to the young girl, turning her around and admonishing her in German. Megan’s face quickly changed to one of sadness, and Hanna hugged her in response.

  Hanna looked up at Zach. “I’m sorry she bothered you,” and then went to walk away.

  “I’m Zach, this is Fiona, you are?”

  Hanna stopped. “I am Hanna, this is Megan.”

  Zach waved and smiled. “Nice to meet you Megan,” Megan waved back.

  Hanna gave a troubled smile in return and went to walk away, when her expression changed to one of confusion. “You did that?” she pointed at the mess of black oil on the wall.

  “No, why?”

  She picked up Megan into her arms and walked closer to the painting. “Its just, it looks…” she turned her head to the side, then took a step back. “It looks like the Stella Spire.”

  Zach and Fiona looked at each other and then at Hanna.

  “It’s a region of interstellar gas and dust in the Eagle Nebula. Anyway whoever painted this must be an astronomer,” turning she walked away.

  Zach and Fiona looked back at the dark astronomical stain on the wall.