by Matt Ritter
They came to the end of 5th Avenue to the entrance of the school. The play yard and blacktop were bright in the midday sun. Will was running as he came around the entrance where the gym joined the other buildings. He ran along the covered walkways, stood silently listening to himself breathing, then started to open classroom doors. He pulled open the gym doors, and there were cots everywhere and tables with papers. It was as if the children had just gotten up from their seats.
A deep dread crept into his mind as Will ran to the cafeteria. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a square fenced in area on the schoolyard lawn. He slammed the cafeteria door open and there was nothing but the hollow echo off the back wall. He ran back out onto the sidewalk in front of the gym where he met Zach.
“Nobody’s here. It doesn’t make sense. Children don’t get collected.”
Zach looked around, breathing heavily, and didn’t reply.
“These children, they were all too young to be collected. Maybe they've been moved to the fields for harvesting,” Will said, scanning the horizon.
They ran across the schoolyard blacktop and peered out into the fields in the distance. A sea of green and brown stretched to the east in front of them. They could see as far as the Gabilans, and no moving figures disrupted the horizon.
“Where could they be?” Will asked.
His eyes followed the rows of the great fields back from the distant horizon to an area just in front of where he and Zach stood. There, off the edge of the yard, where the school ended and agricultural fields began, he saw black soil heaped into a line of small mounds. The fresh clods of dirt were still wet from the previous night’s rain. A wave of fear came over Will as he thought back to the scene they had seen at the school in Greenfield.
“What is this? No, no, no,” Will said as he ran off the blacktop down onto the soil where the mounds were.
He fell onto his knees beside one of the piles and pulled the dirt away from the top onto his lap. He clawed frantically at the loose soil until with one hard pull, he scraped along something more solid and freed the bluish white hand of a child. As he uncovered the pale dirty hand, he felt a shock run through his system, like some piece of machinery just seized up in his chest, the gears grinding to a halt. All the muscles in his body seemed to contract simultaneously, and he kept crying, “No, no, no, no.”
In horror, Will pushed back away from the grave. He looked at the other mounds, at the small dirty hand, and to Helen’s doll that laid face-down on the dirt next to him.
CHAPTER TWNETY-FOUR
Ben Harrison approached the lab bench where his assistant sat with his back to him, studying something intently in a microscope. Ben didn’t want to startle him, so he coughed quietly.
“What was it you wanted me to see?” Ben asked.
“I still can’t believe it. You need to look at this.” He rose from the stool to make room for Ben, took a slide down from the shelf above the microscope, and mounted it on the stage.
Ben slid his glasses up onto his forehead, peered through the lenses, and focused the microscope. Inside the droplet of rainwater, millions of the same artificial bacteria Ben had studied his whole career vibrated and budded, forming new cells. Tiny stinking bubbles grew and formed a haze around each cell. “They’re expanding. Looks like the same increased rate we’ve been seeing.”
“Yes, but now watch this.” He leaned over and put a drop of pink fluid on the edge of the microscope slide. The fluid quickly wicked in between the slide and coverslip.
Ben looked up, blinked, then bent his head over the scope again. Each bacterial cell in the microscope’s field of view slowed in its movements, grow fuzzy, then peel apart.
“What?” he finally asked. “Unbelievable.”
He was silent, and his mouth hung open as he focused on the slide.
“Show me another one,” Ben said.
The assistant handed another slide to Ben, who mounted in on the scope. They repeated the procedure with the same result.
“There’s no alcohol in that?”
“No, just blood and water.”
“Does it happen every time?” Ben asked.
“I’ve checked it twelve times,” he said, pointing to the mess of slides on the bench beside him.
He looked down at the vial of pink fluid. “Is it the same for all of the children?”
“I’m about to find out.”
Helen Taft sat cross-legged on the couch in the white-walled room inside the Valley Administration building. Ben Harrison knocked gently on the door and pulled it open. She looked up at him with interest, then looked past him to see if anyone else was coming through the door. Her disappointment was obvious.
“Hello, Helen, I’m Ben.”
She looked up at him but didn’t answer. A small boy with bed-head straw hair rocked on the chair next to the couch.
“Hello, Jimmy, how are you?” Ben asked.
“Fine,” the boy responded, blankly staring at the wall on the opposite side of the room.
“Are you two hungry?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” they both said in unison.
“Alright, come on, let’s go down the hallway and get breakfast.”
Neither of the children moved, then Ben extended his hand out to each of them and waited, doing his best to be non-threatening. Jimmy studied him, then came off the chair and stood next to him, looking at Helen. She reluctantly took Ben’s hand, using it to pull herself off the couch, and they all turned to the door.
“Sir, I can’t let you leave with the children,” said the teenage UP soldier at the door as Ben opened it.
“We’re just headed to the cafeteria down the hallway.”
“Sorry, sir. My orders are to make sure the children stay here until Colonel Adams arrives.”
“Do you know who I am?” Ben asked.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier said, becoming uncomfortable. “The Valley Science Minister.”
“I don’t care what your orders are, these children are hungry. You can guard them while we go to the cafeteria, or you can stay here.”
The boy’s eyes darted down the hallway and back to Ben, who stared at him unwaveringly.
“I’ll follow you and the children, sir.”
“Alright, then,” Ben said, leading the children out of the room. “Come on, Helen, Jimmy. What do you want to eat?”
“What can we have?” Jimmy asked.
“We’ll see. It’s a big cafeteria.”
In the cafeteria, with the soldier standing behind their table, Jimmy ate pancakes with his hands, while Helen picked at her oatmeal with a spoon, taking small bites.
“Helen, do you know why you’re here?”
She stopped eating and looked up at him. “Because we’re not dead, like all the other children.” Her eyes became glassy with tears.
Ben was taken aback by her honesty and clarity. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Are my parents here?” Helen asked Ben. “They were collected about two weeks ago.”
“Our parents are here?” asked the boy, looking up from his pancakes, suddenly interested in their conversation.
“They aren’t here, but we’re looking for them and hopefully they’ll be coming soon.”
Ben watched them eat, then said, “I’d like to ask you some questions about what happened at your school in Gonzales. Would that be alright?”
Helen looked down at her oatmeal, then briefly made eye contact with Ben. She nodded.
“What did you feel when it started to rain?”
“I was scared, but I felt nothing.”
“Did you know you’d be fine?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” Ben asked, surprised. “How did you know?
“I just knew. I wasn’t ever afraid of it. I’d never been out in it like I was that night, but it never bothered me. I just knew.”
“How about you, Jimmy? Did you know the rain wouldn’t hurt you?”
“When is my mommy coming?”
“So
on, Jimmy,” Ben said. The boy looked up at him with sad, distant eyes, trying to read the face of this unfamiliar adult. Ben’s heart ached for the boy, and he reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “How are your pancakes?”
“They’re okay,” Jimmy said with a blank stare.
“Helen,” Ben said, turning to her. “After breakfast, we’re going to run some tests. Is that alright with you?”
“What kind of tests?”
“Nothing that will hurt, just asking you some questions, listening to your heart. Have you ever been to a doctor before?” Ben asked.
Helen thought. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Well, it won’t hurt,” Ben said.
“Alright.” Helen took a bite of oatmeal while Ben waited patiently.
“Can you smell the rain before it comes?” he asked.
“Can’t you?”
“I can. What does it smell like to you?”
“It smells like someone is cooking, but something stinky.”
“Did the smell change when you were out in the rain?” Ben asked.
“No. It got worse and worse. Really stinky.”
“Then what?”
“Then, that’s all. Nothing. It went away when the rain stopped.”
Ben eyed Helen as she went back to her oatmeal. She was the oldest person who could survive the rain whom he’d ever had a chance to talk to. He had so many questions but didn’t want to overwhelm her.
“Are you a scientist?” Helen asked after finishing her bite.
“I am.”
“I’ve heard about scientists at the school. Like Einstein.”
“Yes, like Einstein.” Ben smiled.
“Why does the rain hurt people?” Helen asked.
“There are small invisible organisms in the clouds called bacteria. The bacteria make chemicals that make people sick.”
“How did they get there?”
“A long time ago some people were trying to make the weather better in the Valley, so they made the bacteria and put them in the clouds, hoping they would make it rain more.”
“Did it work?”
“It did. It started to rain a lot more. The Valley was hot and dry for a long time, so the rain was a blessing at first. We could produce everything all the people in the Valley needed. The Valley used to be part of a larger country, long before you and I were born, but after the rains came it made no sense for the Valley to stay a part of that country anymore.”
“But why was rain a good thing if it made people sick?”
“It didn’t make people sick at first. Something happened in the clouds. The bacteria mutated and made poisons. And it rained more and more often.”
“My teacher could tell every afternoon when the rains would come. She would always make sure everyone was in on time. She was good at it.”
“Sounds like a good skill.”
“Ms. McElroy was the best,” Helen said, looking around as if Mary McElroy was going to be sitting somewhere in the cafeteria. “Do you know where she is?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll find out,” Ben said. “Did you ever see either of your parents out in the rain?”
“No. They were always careful to keep us out of it. Mom hates the smell.”
“Does the rainwater taste different to you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you taste it when you were out in it?” Ben asked.
“I guess so. It was raining so hard, some of it got into my mouth. It didn’t bother me or taste like anything.”
Ben looked at Jimmy, who was staring across the cafeteria, then back at Helen, who watched him closely.
“Are your eyes stinging?”
“No.”
“Did they sting in the rain?”
“What’s going on here?” a loud voice asked from the other side of the room.
Ben saw a stout redheaded officer coming quickly through the door of the cafeteria. He was angry. The soldier guarding their table turned toward the officer.
“The children were hungry,” the soldier stuttered.
“You were told to keep these children in the room.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
The officer looked past the soldier, glaring sharply at Ben. Ben rose from his seat next to the children and stepped toward the officer. He could see Helen gripping the table in fear.
Ben held out his hand to the officer. “I’m Ben Harrison. Valley Science Minister.”
“I know who you are,” the officer said coldly, not extending his hand to Ben. “We’re under orders to keep these children in the room until we hear otherwise by Colonel Adams.”
Helen and Jimmy had risen from the table and were cowering behind Ben.
“The children needed to be fed.”
Although the soldier was much heavier than Ben, he was still shorter. Ben looked down on him, growing angry.
“What’s your name?” Ben asked.
“I’m Captain Wilson.”
“Who’s your commanding officer?” Ben asked with clear irritation in his voice.
Captain Wilson looked up at him with contempt. “I report directly to the Colonel Adams and the Valley Manager. Now let’s get these children back to the room.”
“I’ll take them back when they’re done eating,” Ben said, holding his ground in front of Wilson.
Captain Wilson stared up at Ben, then looked down at the children hiding behind him. He shook his head slightly, then a slight smile came over his face. “Alright, then. Five minutes. Have them back in the room.”
He turned away from Ben to the wide-eyed soldier. “You come with me,” he said, then stormed out of the cafeteria.
After the soldiers had gone, Ben turned around to the children. “It’s alright. They’re just trying to make sure you’re safe.”
Helen was shaking her head, looking terrified. “He was the one,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” Ben asked.
“At the school. He was the one who locked us out in the rain.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Will sat on the ground with black soil mounded on his lap, tears falling down his grimy beard. He stared for a long time feeling broken and numb. He knew he’d have to exhume each one until he found her, and the thought of pulling her cold body out of a mound of soil was unbearable. He was barely conscious of the world around him, staring down at Helen’s doll.
“Willie,” someone yelled from the school.
Will and Zach turned to see Mary McElroy running in their direction.
“Mary,” Will yelled back, rising to meet her.
Will held his arms open and embraced her. She was crying, her lip swollen and cracked, and both eyes were black. Will held her against his chest for a long time. Eventually, he let her go and asked, “What happened here? Are you okay?”
“Soldiers came. A few days ago.” She began to cry again. “Oh, Willie, they forced them all out into the rain.”
“Why?”
Mary grabbed Will by the shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. Her jaw was tense and rigid. She was fighting to hold herself together. She tried to speak slowly and clearly. “She’s alive. Helen is alive.”
At the mention of his daughter’s name, Will’s vision narrowed, then blurred with more tears. His lip began to shake, and although he wanted to ask more questions, he couldn’t. He had to wait for the knot in his throat to loosen.
“What do you mean, she’s alive?”
“She’s alive.” Mary’s eyes were wild. “She survived the night in the rain. Her and Jimmy, the Buchanan’s little boy.”
“Where is she now?” Will asked, gripping Mary firmly by both shoulders.
“They took them from me. I tried to stay with them, but they’re gone. They wouldn’t let me go with them.” Mary sobbed and mumbled something unintelligible.
“How long ago, Mary? How long ago did the soldiers leave with Helen?” Will asked, unintentionally shaking her.
“They left t
his morning. They left me here with three soldiers. They stayed all day to dig the graves.” Mary quickly glanced past Will at the fresh mounds on the edge of the yard. “There’s nothing I could do. I’m so sorry, Will. I tried to protect them.”
Will held Mary again. “Are the soldiers still here?”
“I don’t know. I fell asleep for a while and haven’t seen anyone since I woke up.”
Zach took a step away from them and began to nervously scan the school.
“Are there any other children alive? Is there anyone in town?”
“No, not that I know of. They’re all gone. All my children—” Mary started to cry and shake again.
Pressed against Will’s chest, she said in a muffled voice, “The whole town. Everyone was taken. Willie, what’s happening?”
“I’m not sure, but we have to go right now. We aren’t safe here.”
While he held Mary, Will watched the clouds accumulating in the downvalley sky.
“Mary, this is my friend Zach,” Will said, letting her go.
Mary turned her head and seemed to see Zach for the first time. They nodded to each other.
Mary looked past Zach at the churning of murky condensation in the sky beyond. “It’ll rain soon.”
“How long?” Will asked, looking up.
Mary wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and studied the sky. “We have about fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe less.”
“Come on then. We need to make it back to my house.” Will turned back from looking at the sky and asked Mary, “Do you need anything from the school before we go? We may not be coming back.”
Mary looked around at the schoolyard, the gym in the distance, then at the mounds of disturbed soil. She went to the grave nearest them, kneeled, and mounded soil up over the exposed child’s hand. She gently patted the soil down over the covered hand and turned to Will and Zach.
“I have nothing here anymore.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
As they ran through the streets of his hometown, through the overgrown mid-road gardens of Fifth Avenue, onto the old railroad track, and along the back of the neighborhoods, Will was struck by the vacancy of it all. Helen was no longer there. Neither was Hannah. No friends nor family remained. A town with no people was no longer a town at all. As he ran, Will understood that he would soon say goodbye to Gonzales forever.