The Dry Rain

by Alex Westhaven

  “Everything okay, Justin?”

  Will turned to see a woman in teal scrubs walking toward the doors, long hair in a pony tail and a heavy-looking bag slung over one shoulder.

  “My wife,” Will said, moving closer. “You have to help her. She’s still breathing - not dead. Please, he won’t let us inside.”

  The woman looked at May, and then at Justin the guard, and back at Will. Her smile was the kind people gave you when they thought you were crazy, but he didn’t care. Getting help for May was the only thing that mattered.

  “We were in a car accident. And the larvae were feeding on something in the road. Something bleeding. I think they’re starting to eat flesh. Please help my wife. I need to warn people, but I can’t until she’s safe.”

  Giving him a slow nod, the nurse held one finger up when Justin would have spoken, and waved Will forward with her other hand.

  “Come with me, Sir. We’ll see what can be done for your wife.”

  He followed her inside and the nurse instructed him to lay May on a gurney in the hall. He set her down gently and the nurse pulled a stethoscope out of her pocket, fitting it in her ears before holding the metal disk against May’s chest. She stood listening for a long moment, and then took the earpieces out, wiped them down with an alcohol wipe from her other pocket, and handed them to Will.

  “Here. I want you to listen. Tell me what you hear.”

  He watched May’s chest rise and fall as he held the metal disk to her chest and listened.

  Chapter 12

  The end of his father’s cigarette glowed red, brightening as a draw on the white stick pulled the oxygen through. It had been a good day, the day his father taught him how oxygen fueled fire. His father had been sober for a a few hours, and they’d gone to the tobacco store where Dad had picked out papers and packets of tobacco and two new lighters, one of which he gave to Micah when they got out to the car.

  “Just in case, kid - you never know when you’re gonna need a light.”

  He’d been six then, and his mother had tried to take the lighter away later that week when she caught his dad showing him how to flick the lever and light a cigarette. The smell of burning flesh was something he’d never forget as he watched his dad grind the cigarette into his mother’s arm. He’d tried to stop it, tried to knock the cigarette out of his dad’s fingers.

  The smell was the least of his worries after that.

  Micah sat up straight in bed and swiped at his arm, trying to knock the cigarette away. But instead of a thin stick, something small and soft fluttered off in the darkness and left his forearm stinging. The room was dark aside from a thin beam of light from a crack at the door, and the air devoid of the cheap tobacco he’d expected when he woke up. A glance to the side showed Bailey huddled deep under the covers beside him, and as he woke more fully, he remembered.

  The streets. The moths. Angie.

  He rubbed his forearm, and the sting that was starting to subside. A sticky wetness clung to his fingers and a faint, coppery smell hit his nose. Careful not to wake Bailey, he slid out of bed and went out into the hall where he could look at his fingers under the light.

  Blood. He was bleeding. There was a light on in the kitchen and he walked down the hall, briefly panicked when he saw only a bloody towel on the counter. Had Angie been bitten too then? Was she okay?

  “Angie?” he called out softly, still loathe to wake Bailey, though he knew he’d need to check her for bites soon. “Are you here?”

  The door on one side of the kitchen that he’d seen her go in and out of a few times the day before was closed, and he went to it, knocking firmly. “Angie? Are you in there? I think the moths are—”

  The door swung open wide and she looked down at him, her expression concern mixed with panic. “Are you okay? Did you get bitten too?”

  He nodded, noticing the tiny red mark on her forearm.

  “It was a moth, I think. It woke me up. Is that what happened to you?”

  She nodded. “Let me get a clean rag, and we’ll get you fixed up. I have some antibiotic ointment too. Follow me.”

  He went through a small bedroom and into the attached bathroom. She gestured for him to sit on the side of the tub.

  “Looks like your prediction is coming true,” she said, wiping off the blood to reveal a pencil-eraser sized bite in his skin. “This one’s bigger than mine too - you must taste better than me.” She grinned, and Micah managed a wan smile. “We’ll have to find some screen mesh tomorrow,” she continued, dabbing a thin layer of ointment on his wound and then wrapping it with a thin strip of what felt like t-shirt fabric. “Seal off the house as tight as we can.”

  “We should tell people too,” he said. “So they can stay safe.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, and we will. But not until after I find that mesh. The stores are going to run out, and I want to be sure you and Baily have a comfortable place to wait out the next wave, okay?”

  “That doesn’t seem fair. Why isn’t there enough for everyone?”

  She cocked her head to the side and thought for a moment before answering him.

  “Because not everyone needs mesh on a normal day, so they only make as much as people will buy. So there just isn’t enough, anywhere. Does that make sense, sort of?”

  He nodded. “I guess. I don’t want anyone to get bit though.”

  “I know, honey. But it’s going to happen, and we can’t stop it. All we can do is protect ourselves and hope for the best.”

  Another moth floated between them, landing on fresh skin just above Micah’s new-bandage.

  “Ow!”

  Chapter 13

  Will opened his eyes to a dim room with cold, white light creeping through slatted blinds not quite closed. A machine whirred over his right ear, and when he reached up to rub his face, thin plastic tubing tugged at a port in his left arm, and rolled under his fingers as they brushed his cheek. He turned his head to the right, noted the red line bouncing up and down in time to the heartbeat he felt against his neck. Another machine blinked yellow and orange, and yet another displayed a set of numbers that changed every time he took a breath.

  It also hurt every time he breathed in, like a shard of glass cutting deep into the left side of his chest. Lifting his right hand and finding a plastic device clipped to his index finger, he felt for the constraint at his ribs and found an elastic bandage wrapped tightly around from waist to mid-chest, mummy-style.

  He tried to shuffle his legs, swing them over the side of the bed, but his left foot hit metal and when he looked down, he saw a box-like frame holding the blankets off his feet. There was something else though, something poking at the thin covers in the vicinity of his right knee, and when he lifted the blankets to look, he gasped. Some sort of brace was wrapped around the joint, with four very long screws sticking out from his skin at right angles.

  Trying to move it even a centimeter nearly made him pass out, and he dropped the blankets, letting his head fall back to the pillows as he tried to absorb the system shock.

  “I’m glad you’re awake! How are you feeling?” The teal-clad nurse from the night before shuffled in, moving fast. She was at his side in a second, one hand on his shoulder, and the other holding an old, metal-backed paper chart. Her brows drew together as she watched him, and she let go of his shoulder to click a wheel on the IV tube.

  “That should make you more comfortable in a few seconds. Is there anything I can get you? Some water?”

  He nodded slowly, relieved when his muscles began to melt. “Water would be nice, thank you. We ran out, you know. The well - it’s dry. Had to shoot poor Bess.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. And I’m so very sorry about your wife, too. You were very brave and strong to get her here. Can you tell me what happened?”

  He took a sip of the water she offered, and then another, until the cold made him cough.

  “We had an accident. There was something - or someone in the road, covered by that damn larvae. I
didn’t see it in time, the trailer detached and the momentum pulled us off the road. I shot Bess, and carried May up to the road - there was a car—” His voice broke, and the thought of May trapped underneath him, and then her body being overwhelmed by the horrible bugs…

  The nurse or doctor or whatever she was squeezed his shoulder, not that it helped. May was gone. Bess was gone. And he was laid up in a hospital while swarms of bugs took over the whole world.

  “The moths,” he said, suddenly remembering. “Are the moths biting yet? People, I mean. Like the larva?”

  She shook her head and gave him the same smile she’d used last night. The one that said she thought he was crazy, but she liked him anyway.

  “Not that I know of. But we’ve moved your wife’s body, just to be safe. And I promise the insects can’t get you in here. Rest now. I'll be back to check on you later.” She squeezed his shoulder one more time, and made sure the water glass was within reach before she left him alone.

  “You’re wrong,” he said to the empty room. “They’re biting. Feeding. They’re going to kill us all.”

  Chapter 14

  Angie went to five stores before finally admitting defeat. There was no mesh, no fabric, nothing she could use to block off the vents and keep the hungry moths out. Store owners said they’d actually sold out weeks ago, to people just trying to repair damaged doors and windows, or stockpile fabric for clothing or bandages. With the factories shut down due to lack of materials, nothing was shipping, so nothing was restocking. She went back home with a few cans of whatever food they had on the shelf and a heavy heart.

  When she opened the door, she stopped just over the threshold, her mind trying to process the scene before her. Her husband’s clothing - every piece, it seemed - was laid out on the floor and every piece of furniture, covering the room. Micah and Bailey sat in the middle of it all, clad in the long pants and long-sleeved shirts she’d found for them before she left, scissors in hand.

  “What are you doing?” She closed the door, locking the deadbolt before setting the bag of cans on the kitchen counter. “Why are you cutting up all those clothes?”

  Micah glanced at the bag on the counter and then back at her.

  “I thought if you couldn’t find anything to cover the vents, we could use these. Fabric would be better anyway, to keep out the worms, right?”

  Angie rubbed the side of her face with one hand, trying to stay calm. To not yell.

  “Fabric will work for awhile, but they’ll eat through it. That’s why mesh would be better - it’s metal. But it’s all gone.” And so was her husband, so it was silly to be so upset about a child’s practical use of his clothing. But she was.

  She started to pick up his clothing, working her way from the outside in, laying each piece over her arm and sometimes getting a whiff of his unique scent.

  “I have other clothes you can cut up for this. Towels and blankets too. These clothes are off-limits. Next time, please ask.” She couldn’t quite keep the frost out of her voice and while Micah nodded, Bailey’s lower lip trembled, her eyes blinking rapidly.

  “Are you going to kick us out?” the little girl asked.

  Managing a smile as she reached the center, Angie bent down to look Bailey in the eye.

  “No, I’m not going to kick you out. Not ever. But these were my husband’s, and he hasn’t been gone long. I can’t quite part with them just yet.”

  Bailey nodded solemnly, though Angie wasn’t certain the girl really understood death. Short, skinny arms wound around her neck and hugged her close. Angie dropped the pile of clothes and returned the comforting gesture.

  Blinking back tears, she forced a smile and pulled back. “Now let’s go find some old blankets to cut up. The guest room has several in the closet - we’ll start there.”

  Bailey nodded and smiled back. She ran off toward the guest room and Angie picked up the pile of clothes again.

  “I’m sorry,” Micah said, his own eyes glassy. “I thought since…well, I didn’t mean to—”

  Angie went to him and put one arm around his shoulders in a half-hug. “It’s okay, really.You didn’t know, and it was a good idea. Now go help your sister, and I’ll be right in. Anything in that closet is fair game.”

  He nodded, still looking uncomfortable but he strode down the hall with purpose. Angie put her husband’s clothes away, taking the time to compose herself before she joined the children.

  “My, you’ve been busy!”

  Micah was cutting up a blanket into rectangles that would fit over the air vent ducts, and Bailey was stacking the cut pieces into neat piles. They already had enough to cover all of the vents in the house, plus extra.

  Looking up from his work, Micah nodded. “I know we have enough, but I figured some extra wouldn’t hurt. How are we going to get them to stay up?”

  Angie thought for a minute. “You know, I think we can do that with a screwdriver. Let me see if there’s one in the dresser - I’ve been using the top drawer for odds n’ ends.”

  She dug around for a minute, and held the screwdriver up high when she found it. “This oughta do the trick. Let me show you.”

  Once the children knew how to take the vent covers off, put the fabric pieces inside and screw the cover back on, Angie just sat back and watched while they did the work, occasionally helping them loosen a screw. When they were done, she sat them down in the kitchen, and they split one of the cans of beans she’d bought.

  The air conditioning came on, and while it wasn’t as cool as normal, she took comfort in knowing they were protected, at least for the time being.

  Chapter 15

  “The fires are getting worse as farmers and rural residents try to burn out the moth larvae that are decimating vegetation across the states. Scientists are warning against this, as fire quickly uses all the available oxygen in the area, and carbon dioxide levels are already at an all-time high due to the loss of plant life across such a large area of the earth. Already in crisis, many people are having problems breathing and smaller animals are dying at an alarming rate. This will continue if we don’t find a way to stop the larvae, but scientists say fire is definitely not the answer.”

  Will muted the TV and reached for the phone beside his hospital bed. It was a long-shot - Daniel hadn’t taken his calls in years - but this was important. Maybe he’d make an exception, given the circumstances.

  “Addison speaking.”

  “Hello, Son. Please don’t hang up. This is important.” He waited for the connection to cut off like it normally did about now.

  “You’re calling from a hospital. What’s wrong? Is it mom?”

  Will hesitated, not sure whether Daniel would keep listening after hearing that particular news. He’d have to combine them. His son could get the word out, and if he knew it was partly why his mother died, that would motivate him.

  “The moths and the larvae are biting. They’re starting to feed on humans. People are dying. They got your mother. She’s gone, and it’s all because of the moths.”

  “What do you mean, Mom’s gone. She’s dead? What happened?”

  Will closed his eyes, and laid his head back on the pillow. His head was fuzzy, and the room was spinning a little…

  “She’s dead. The moths got her. You need to warn people, tell them that the moths and worms - they’re biting. Feeding. You have to get the word out…”

  “Moths don’t bite, Dad, and neither do moth larvae or caterpillars. They can’t. Scientists all say the same thing. It’s impossible.”

  It was hard to stay awake now, but Will fought it. He didn’t know why he was so tired, why he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He could barely hold the phone to his ear.

  “They’re wrong,” he mumbled, focusing hard just to make his lips form the right words. “They’re all wrong. Moths bite. Worms bite. My May is dead. Bessie’s dead. We’re…all…going…to…die…”

  The phone slipped from his grasp and he fumbled, trying to pick it up again, but his
fingers wouldn’t work right. He could hear Daniel talking in the distance, but he couldn’t quite make sense of the words. It sounded like some foreign language, getting farther and farther away.

  There was a light touch on the skin of his arm, and then a sharp pain. Another touch on his neck, and another pain. One more touch - he could have sworn he felt wings, and more pain.

  Far, far away, he heard a siren go off. Bells rang, people yelled, and a freezing blast of air hit his body just as everything went dark.

  Chapter 16

  “Now we need to tell people the moths are dangerous,” Micah said after he finished eating. “How do we tell them?”

  Angie thought about that for a moment. She just needed to figure out how to contact the TV and radio stations - without internet access, which she'd canceled with the cable months ago on a whim. Without the internet, she didn’t really have any way to look up phone numbers or addresses. But the police would, and there was always an officer or two just a few blocks down where the business district started.

  “We’ll tell the police,” Angie said, taking their dishes to the sink. “Tomorrow I’ll walk down and let the officers know. Then they can get the word out to everyone else.”

  Micah shook his head. “You should go tonight. I’ll come with, if you’re scared, but we need to tell everyone so they have time to be safe. The people outside, with no homes - they need to find somewhere to hide too.”

  He didn’t say it, but Angie finally understood. He was worried about the other homeless people, like the ones who’d helped him. Unfortunately, telling the cops or anyone else wasn’t going to help those people. They didn’t have TVs or radios - she didn’t think they did, anyway. Living outside as they did, most of them had probably already been bitten, but maybe it wasn’t too late to warn some of them.

  “You’re worried about your friend - the one who sent you here, right?”