by Phil Maxey
“Shit,” said Esther, spotting movement at the end of the road to their left.
Sanchez launched himself forward, running in a direct line to the pickup, while the others split off behind him, most running for the cabin of the semi. The background noise increased in tandem to their boots hitting the ground.
“They’re coming!” shouted Jess as she ran around the other side of the pickup and pulled open the door. The truck in front’s engine was already revving, and with the trailer it jolted forward then pulled away.
She didn’t need the buzzing at the back of her skull to tell her what her eyes could already pick up in the distance. Things were charging towards them. A fence was demolished as something brown, larger than the pickup they were in with four legs and a beak like head, barged through it while something else, this thing more human looking but with a mass of tentacles for a torso ran onto the road fifty or so feet directly ahead.
“Fuck!” shouted Sanchez.
Jess had been too taken by what was about to come crashing down on them that she hadn’t given a thought to the fact that they hadn’t moved. She looked at him. “What is it?”
He turned the key again, but no response came from under the hood. His expletives were now in Spanish. He looked at her, desperation in his eyes. “The battery is dead.”
Static came from her radio then Landon’s voice. “Why are you not behind us!”
Both in the pickup looked forward. Their view of the semi-truck eclipsed by the things thundering towards them.
She held the radio to her mouth. “Go! We got this! Over.”
“We can come back! Over.”
“No. Go!”
Sanchez fumbled for the door handle. “We have to go back inside!”
Jess’s head flicked to her right and the run down looking homes bordering the streets. “We’ll make a run for it!” She pushed her door open, ignoring the shocked expression from the man next to her. He rattled off a sentence in Spanish as she jumped out then looked back inside. “We can do this!”
His head shake became a nod. “Yes, yes!” And he grabbed his pack then jumped from his seat, slamming the door closed and ran after the crazy woman who was sprinting across the yard of a house faster than he could keep up. “Wait!” he shouted after her as she ran down the side, pushing open a wooden, head-high gate and kept going, he doing the same. The heavy grunts of the things came from all directions, as if they were lost within a stampede.
Jess vaulted over a small fence as the alarm of the pickup back outside the school briefly called out then was cut short as the vehicle was torn into. She looked left then right along an alleyway which ran behind the homes. Just as she switched her view to the left again, a two-legged thing appeared at the end of the dusty, weed-infested concrete path. Its angular skull was draped in bluish-brown skin with bulging bloodshot eyes. It lowered its head and staggered towards them.
“Come on!” said Sanchez, pulling on her arm, knocking her mind from its trance at what was moving their way. They ran into the backyard of another single-story house, across the sandy-dirt and past plastic discarded children’s toys then down the narrow space between wall and fence, spilling out into the gloom of an open-fronted garage. It was partially filled by a small silver-white caravan, facing the front of a red pickup. Sanchez ran forward, pulling open the truck’s driver’s door then shook his head. “No keys.”
“Can you get it started, anyway?”
He ducked below the steering column. “Maybe!”
Something clattered into the toys in the space behind the house, drawing Jess’s attention. As more Spanish expletives came from the pickup, she walked forward slowly, back into the darkness of the garage and the flimsy door they moved through…
She could hear it. The thing’s labored breathing, stuttering from malformed lungs. It was just yards away in the backyard. She backed up, past the side of—
The door and part of the wooden partition at the back of the garage exploded in a shower of splintered fragments. Instinctively, without thought to how crazy it would be, she reached down beneath the edge of the caravan, grabbed part of the chassis and heaved backwards. As she fell back on her rear, it slid sidewards, slamming up against the brick wall of the house and a frustrated roar bellowed out from the creature so close to its prey.
She looked up at the large eyes of Sanchez, standing outside the rumbling engine of the pickup. “Let’s go!” she shouted, scrambling to her feet as the caravan rocked and shuddered with the sound of metal being ripped. Not bothering to try to get to the other side, she jumped up and fell onto the bed at the back as Sanchez dove into the driver’s seat and without closing the door, pressed down on the gas, while steering right. He quickly pulled the door closed and they surged forward.
As Jess pushed herself up, looking at the streets they were passing, Sanchez glanced at her in the rear mirror. “You’re a lot stronger than you look…” he said under his breath.
CHAPTER EIGHT
9: 55 a.m. South Denver. Biochron headquarters.
Sam felt the pressure of the liquid before she opened her eyes and tried to scream. Her hands and feet thrashed against the viscous green substance she was submerged within, her throat repeatedly trying to make sounds, but the breathing apparatus inside her mouth and strapped to her face blocked all attempts to do so.
Hollow sounds came to her, echos beyond the depths she was within and as she stretched her arms, arching her back to try to gain some motion, her hand snapped back, restrained by something she couldn’t see but could only feel from the pain it imparted to her wrists. The same was true of her feet, only able to move a few inches in any direction.
Thing… I’m a thing in a bottle…
Her heart raced. A thunder booming within her ears but as panic threatened to overwhelm her a thought pierced her mind with such clarity that she instantly started to calm.
Not dead…
After her non-escape, she was sure there would be no more living. No more being aware of her existence and lack of freedom. But as she floated in the human size test-tube, she was very much aware of being alive and of having being captured again.
Not dead…
The two-words replayed again and again until other thoughts forced their way into her consciousness.
I’m… lab… he’s… parts… parts! He has…
She looked down at her body, and to her relief it looked… complete… no scars… no sign of anything having been removed. Although, from her current situation, she was obviously still on the menu.
Not dead… Joan… dead…
A wave of melancholy swept across her and she let herself dangle within the liquid, remembering the woman who she hated right up to the point where Joan pulled the straps from her legs and arms. The former marine had become a monster for hire… but she never lost her sense of right and—
A boom reverberated through the capsule’s contents. She struggled against the restraints trying to locate its source as it repeated, then leaned forward and—
A face, not fully human was just inches from her own. The panic was returning as she tried to move away. Get away from the demon that was smiling at her through the glass, but the chains held her firm so instead she closed her eyes.
*****
10: 07 a.m. Bowlands.
As they drove up a country lane, Jess looked out over beige fields at the wings and fuselages that reflected the morning sun. Planes, two-seater and larger sat on the expanse of flat concrete with large bland buildings behind.
“At least there’s some already on the runway,” she said, trying to seem confident, but knew this whole endeavor was a longshot at best.
“Yup,” said Sanchez.
They moved onto the two-lane highway. A white van, its rear doors open, its contents looted sat in a muddy ditch to their left. The sky above was big and bright though, with wispy white clouds drifting on the light wind. If she ignored the buzzing in her brain she could almost believe the world was normal,
that not too far to the west her family were arguing over what film they were going to watch together. She wanted to tell herself the past could be recreated, but it would be a lie. The world had become a fossil of what it used to be. Monsters or no monsters, the future would always be about survival and nothing else. The bigger picture though, was something she had no time for right now.
I’ll find you Sam…
She almost spoke the words aloud as they drove back onto a narrow road, this one leading to the small airport’s parking lot.
“There’s lots of cars…” said Jess, not knowing if that was good or bad. She glanced at her driver who was frowning. “That’s a problem? I don’t think there are any of the creatures here.”
“Means, lots of people flew out of here, leaving their vehicles behind.”
“What about the one’s on the runway?”
He turned and bumped up over a curb, angling the pickup at an alley between the modern red-brick terminal and a fire station. “They might have been left for a reason.”
The natural warning sensation that was already giving Jess a headache was easing. “I think the things are giving up chasing us. For now, anyway.” There was no response from the man next to her, not that she was surprised by that. He seemed to be the kind of person who had his own secrets and understood others needed to keep theirs.
The pickup moved out past the exit from the terminal and onto the concrete of the runway. Instantly she could see why the larger plane had been left behind as it was slumped to one side. The other though appeared to still be in one piece and Sanchez pulled up alongside it. He immediately pushed his door open, jumped out then moved to the side of the four-seater plane, pulling open the cockpit door. “Well, we can’t say we haven’t been lucky on this day.” He climbed in and pulled the keys from the dashboard, then placed them into the ignition and gave them a half turn.
Outside, Jess scoured the flat landscape, looking for the slightest of movements amongst the small groups of spindly trees and buildings a few miles away. Clicking came from inside the plane, drawing her attention back. “Is it working?”
He jumped down from the pilot’s seat. “Yup, but fuel tank is empty.” He ran around near the propeller blades and looked at the larger plane with the broken landing gear. “We need to siphon fuel from this plane to ours.” He then looked back to the nearest of the large hangers. “Should be able to find what we need in there.”
Jess sighed in frustration. She felt as if every second not moving towards her destination was another second of her daughter’s life slipping away. They needed to be airborne soon, or she was going to drive the old pickup all the way to Denver herself, hordes of things, be damned.
They were soon pulling up outside the large, closed hanger bay door. Both got out and ran down the side, soon finding what they needed. An innocuous door marked ‘staff’ was already half open, with a brown smear across its exterior. He went to move inside, but stopped, looking back to Jess. “You er… sense anything?” She shook her head and they moved into the gloom of a hallway, adorned with posters advertising a flying school, some torn and others also covered in brown smears. As they progressed towards two more doors, the smell of death grew strong.
Sanchez nodded towards the closed office to their right. “Coming from in there. But this is not where we need to go.” He turned towards the final door at the end. “There.” They quickly moved to the entrance to the hanger and opened it. A small passenger plane sat in the center of the huge space surrounded by scaffolding, and various wheeled machinery. Sanchez jogged forward. “Look for tubing. As long as you can find!”
Jess looked to her left and at the crates and boxes piled up along the white metal walls, then ran to the first and pulled it open to reveal engines parts. She moved onto the next not hearing the door with the stench of death opening or the footsteps moving along the hallway. What she did hear was the gun being cocked and spun around, immediately raising her hands.
A man with a graying beard, maybe late sixties in a grime-covered jumpsuit was pointing a handgun directly at her. He had brought the stench of rot with him from the room. “You come here to steal, girl?”
“No! No… just looking for some… tubing…”
A clank came from the other side of the plane, making the man swing his gun in that direction. “Who’s over there!” No reply came. He aimed the gun back at her but this time his expression had changed to a toothy smile. “So you’re alone?”
Anger was rising inside her. “No… my husband is waiting for me outside. Like I said I just—” He took a few steps towards her, she doing the same in the opposite direction then bumped up against one of the sealed boxes.
“Ain’t no need to be scared, young lady. I ain’t meaning you any harm. Just thought you were here to steal. Look, I’m lowering my gun. You and me can be friends. Yeah. Good friends.”
Jess’s stomach turned but at least the weapon was no longer pointing at—
The old man spun around. “What the—” The bullet from the pistol ricocheted off the roof but before he could point it at the man running at him, Sanchez barreled into him, both landing on the floor, tumbling, struggling to gain control of the weapon.
No time for this…
Jess ran forward and with one arm movement came down hard on the back of the man’s head. He immediately slumped, letting go of Sanchez who swiped the gun for himself then got to his feet, looking suspiciously at his savior.
“I had it under control!” he said.
“Sure.” She kneeled and felt the old man’s neck being relieved on finding a pulse, then looked up. “Did you find what we need?”
“Yeah…”
CHAPTER NINE
10: 45 a.m. Highway 63. Powell’s Diner.
Rufus wiped some sweat from his brow, then again from his hands on his apron. He looked down at the old grease marks and sighed. Last time he had it on he was taking orders from customers with Grace doing the cooking. He steadied himself then pushed open the door from the kitchen and walked into the main dining area. Roughly twenty-seven people of various ages, including some he had gotten to know a little, looked at him in anticipation.
He held his hands up. “First pizza is almost ready, others should be done in about fifteen minutes! Anyone want more drinks?”
“Good, I’m starving,” grumbled an elderly man near the entrance.
Vance, seated with his family looked at Rufus from about three tables away. “You got the pepperoni, right? It’s got to have meat. None of this fancy European all vegetable crap.”
Rufus smiled. “Two pepperoni, two chicken, two fancy European ones with extra olives.” He looked around the other faces. “Remember, we can only spare two pieces each.” There were grumbles and head shakes, but no one voiced dissent. He nodded and headed back into the hallway which led to the kitchen, already hearing the arguing as he pushed open the swing door.
“No, no,” said Agatha seated on a counter, Toby standing by her side, both observing a large piece of flat dough. “The sauce goes first, before the vegetables!” The boy frowned while picking up the jar with the red-orange substance inside.
Rufus looked at Brad and Arlo, both also wearing aprons, the latter letting out a breath from his flushed cheeks. “How’s it going?”
“Few hiccups,” said Brad. “But first one is about…” He bent down, opening the oven, and with a large pink oven glove pulled the tray out, holding it up for everyone to see. “Done!”
“I want that some!” shouted Agatha as Toby sniffed the air.
Rufus walked to the pizza as Brad put the tray on the stainless steel counter, the older man scanning the result. He nodded. “Not bad… more cheese on the next one. We got a lot to use up.”
Back in the eating area, Meg, seated opposite Josh and Helen looked at the new arrivals. She had spoken to one or two, heard stories similar to her own of barely getting out of cities alive and losing loved ones. Most had figured out they had some kind of natural immunity to
whatever had befallen everyone else, but beyond that, no one had any clear idea of how the world had come to an end. She looked at Josh who was reading a book he had found in Rufus’s living room. He hadn’t spoken a word since his emergence from the very same room, but at least he seemed less angry. She looked at the young girl and pulled a face. Helen giggled.
“Those pizzas smell good, don’t they!” said Meg. Helen nodded. Meg looked back to Josh who was looking at something behind her, over the top of his book. She turned slightly, trying to understand what was drawing his attention. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said, starting to read again.
The door to the kitchen burst open with a smiling Brad holding a tray of five plates, precariously balanced, each one with two slices of pizza. A cheer went up from the hungry diners, followed by some clapping and he started to deliver the food to the closest tables.
Rufus came out after him, equally armed with food. “There’s more coming, folks. Will be with you in ten minutes!” He placed a few plates down on tables, then with the final two made it to Meg’s. He looked at those seated. “So who gets the pizza?”
Meg nodded to the two kids. “Them first.”
Helen bounced up and down on her seat. “I can’t wait!”
Meg scoffed as Rufus put the plates down, the youngsters picking up the cheese, chicken and onion covered bread, and taking hefty mouthfuls from their slices.
“Mmm ggooodd!” said the young girl, but Josh’s face was frozen mid-chew. His hands shaking, his eyes large. He was looking as he was before, past Meg’s right shoulder.
She turned around. The old man, who wore a tanned jacket was just sitting and staring straight ahead. She looked back at Josh. “What is it?”
“We should go…”
“Why? Because of the old man?”