This Deep Panic

by Lisa Stowe

  “The raven on her shoulder,” she said.

  The hair on the back of Ramon’s neck stood straight up. He carefully buckled Marie back in. She leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Alegria reached out and took hold of her sister’s hand.

  Ben shook his head as he maneuvered the truck onto pavement. The side street was relatively clear and he increased speed. But the evacuation chaos continued out on the highway. Ramon didn’t think a lot of the people would make it out in time. For that matter, he wasn’t sure they were going to.

  “Why is the thought of a pet raven so creepy?” Artair asked.

  “Because none of us saw it,” Ramon said.

  5

  Casey knelt next to an older couple sitting on the curb in front of the general store. They sat, eyes wide in shock, shivering and clutching each other.

  “Okay,” Casey said. “Did you sleep last night? Have you eaten anything since the quake?”

  She saw their relief, their hope that someone in a uniform would make all this go away. Would fix everything. Would keep them safe. That hope bloomed in every pair of eyes she looked into. And she had to be the one to kill that hope. Each time it felt like one big aching hole where her heart should be.

  “Not much sleep,” the older woman said. “But we shared a granola bar from Louis.”

  Louis. Casey had to think for a second before she remembered that Louis was the guy in his seventies who kept insisting they find some way to contact the Department of Emergency Management. It hadn’t sunk in yet that they were on their own. But then, maybe it had, if Louis was handing out granola bars.

  “That’s good,” she said. “So why are you sitting out here?”

  “We wanted coffee,” the old man said. “Just some coffee. We thought Betty would have a pot on like she used to. She has a camp stove going. But she won’t share.”

  Casey saw tears in the old man’s eyes and patted his shoulder. “Everyone is panicked right now. We’re still in the rescue stage. Once that’s under control we’ll figure out what resources we have that can be shared. But right now everyone is terrified and the only thing making them feel in control is hanging on to what they have. Do you understand?

  “But we just wanted a cup of coffee,” the woman said. “We’d have even shared one.”

  “I understand. Is your house still standing?” Casey asked. “You’d be better under shelter than out here in the cold.”

  “I’m not sure. We live on Alley Oop. But we stayed by the fires last night.”

  Normally, when Casey heard the name the town council had given an alley that ran between Index Avenue and Avenue A, she had to smile. She loved the idea of a place small enough that they allowed humor into their city business. But now, she thought of the huge old fir trees that lined the Oop. Many had crashed to the ground in the quake.

  “We have crews checking places now. If your place is still standing, you need to shelter in place. Can you do that? Make it back home?”

  “Think so,” the elderly man said. “But can we just sit a spell longer?”

  Casey stood, her back aching. “Of course. Just not too long. It’s too cold.”

  At their nods, she left them, moving out into the middle of the street. Index was still a nightmare, just like the day before when the quake first hit. Last night had been almost as bad as people huddled around fires, afraid to go into buildings, even if those buildings had been their homes before the quake.

  And then during the night the museum caught on fire. She and Max, and Samuel, the lone firefighter, had managed to get a pump into the river and a hose to the museum, but by then it had been fully engulfed. The air still smelled of smoke, and wisps still rose from charred wood. So much history lost. But at least no lives.

  Today was shaping up to be almost as bad. More bodies. More trapped people she and Max had no way of reaching. But Albert, the mayor, knew how to run a backhoe and he and the town’s maintenance guy were using the heavy equipment to try and gain access to those who were trapped. And Albert had started a running log of names. Those who survived. Those who died. Injuries. The list was at the fire department and the last time Casey had looked, those who had survived outnumbered those who hadn’t. She’d take whatever good news she could.

  Like the fact that the rain had eased up some. And at least her hands no longer shook and the adrenaline-fueled queasiness had eased. But fear and helplessness were still there, trapped like a fluttering bird under her heart.

  Water sloshed around her boots and bubbled up from the buckled pavement. Someone had managed to shut off the water main, but not completely. Water still fountained up from underground. At least it wasn’t a gusher. Albert had said something about the broken main draining the town’s water tank, but she figured the lack of potable water was the least of their worries. There was always the rain and the river.

  She’d add it to the growing list of jobs. They would need a crew to find buckets and start hauling water to a fire. Find pots to boil the water in. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to force exhaustion away.

  Up and down Avenue A, small clusters of people worked, the result of the work she, Max, Samuel, and Albert had done to organize work crews. Someone had put up a canopy behind the town hall and bodies were laid out there under tarps. The part of the fire department still standing was working as a makeshift clinic. People were going building to building checking for propane leaks, shutting off tanks as they found them. Homes were being assessed and those unsafe for shelter were marked with red paint. Red for ‘stay out’. Houses painted with big black ‘X’ marks meant they had been searched and there were bodies to recover. Green paint meant a place was good for shelter. Very slowly, a system was shaping up. Control was being gained in tiny increments.

  Casey heaved out a heavy sigh. As exhausted as she was, she felt a seed of pride in all they had accomplished.

  Max came around the back of the town hall. He looked haggard, his pale blue eyes rimmed almost as red as the stubble on his cheeks. Casey walked down the broken pavement and when she reached him, he handed her a granola bar then opened another, taking a big bite.

  “You ran into Louis, I see,” she said, opening her bar. Her stomach growled.

  “And Curtis.”

  “Who?”

  “The scientist from the Hole. He was worked up about some wild animal with red eyes they saw last night.”

  “Maggie’s dog?” Casey had a moment of unreality flush through her and she had to draw in a deep breath to center herself. Had it only been yesterday that they’d been laughing about Maggie and her dog issues?

  “Most likely,” Max said. “That Curtis, he’s on a mission. He’s hiking to the top of the Wall to see if he can fix the cell towers.”

  “A fool’s errand.”

  Max shrugged.

  “Isn’t that the same guy who called in a friend missing a couple days ago?”

  Max thought a moment. “Yeah. Curtis said something about that. Henry, that old guy who walks like he’s climbing uphill.”

  Casey started to reply but a piercing shriek cut her off. She whipped around, her hand going to the butt of her gun from pure reflex. Up and down the street people screamed and ran but she didn’t know why.

  Max grabbed her around the waist and jerked her backwards, lifting her off her feet as he stumbled back.

  Pavement heaved and buckled around the broken water main. This wasn’t an aftershock. Something moved, a dark shape pushing up from under the asphalt.

  “What the hell?” Max dropped her on her feet, staring toward the general store.

  Chunks of concrete buckled in a line almost twenty feet long.

  “The water main is going to blow!” Casey shouted.

  A deep roar came from the crack, louder even than the screams around them. The ground vibrated under Casey’s boots as Max tugged her further back. The shattering pavement seemed to follow them.

  “Run.” Casey’s voice came out in a sh
aky whisper. And then, louder, hauling on Max’s arm. “Run! If it blows that asphalt is going to rain like shrapnel!”

  She sprinted across Avenue A and Max followed.

  “We need to get farther away,” she said breathlessly.

  “No shit.”

  Samuel stood in the bay door of the fire department. Max and Casey joined him, swinging round to stare back at the buckling pavement.

  “What is it? God, Max, what is it?” Samuel’s eyes were wide, but he held his arm across the doorway as if to protect the injured inside.

  “Building water pressure,” he said, pushing on Samuel’s chest. “Get back under cover. The main’s going to blow.”

  Casey froze. The two old people still sat on the curb, eyes and mouths wide open in terror. She’d run for her own safety and left them behind. Just left them without a thought.

  She grabbed Max’s wrist, fingers so tight she felt bones grind. “Oh, god.”

  “What?” Max asked.

  “That couple!” she screamed over the growing roar of water and buckling street.

  She leaped forward but Max grabbed her and jerked her back. He stared over her head at the water main, his face drained of color.

  Something was coming up through the crack. Lifting concrete and dirt and rocks that slid down its sides and slammed into the ground.

  It wasn’t water.

  She went limp in his arms as she, too, stared in horror.

  A giant humped shape shrugged off asphalt as it lifted. At one end a flattened head shoved its way upward. A massive forked tongue cut through pavement like paper. The head swung side-to-side, opening more ground, slicing through it, sending boulder-size pieces flying.

  As the crack widened the hump took shape like a long spine, twisted and coiled on itself like a tall tree warped by fire. Twenty feet away another head broke through, also with a forked tongue whipping through rock and asphalt. At first Max thought there were two creatures but as the long body surfaced he realized it was one, with a head at each end.

  One head dipped and twisted, shedding pavement, then swiveled in their direction. The eyes were large dead ovals and as Max looked into them, icy dread froze his blood.

  He flipped the safety off on his gun with a hand that shook, and stepped toward the nightmare. Casey’s gun was also out and aimed. It wavered, but then she braced her feet and her hands became rock-steady.

  The thing was almost fully out of the ground now, and as the creature roared the air filled with a stench like rotting earth.

  The thing, fully out now, swung toward the general store. Both heads curved round to face the elderly couple. Mouths agape in terror, they pounded frantically on the door. On the other side of the door’s glass window, Betty stood, eyes squeezed shut as if that would make the thing not real.

  She didn’t open the door.

  “Run!” Casey screamed.

  The creature surged upward.

  Max fired. Walked forward, finger on the trigger. Fired again. Casey was right at his side, shooting her Glock. Someone came up on her other side, and she glanced over to see Albert, the mayor, jack a shell into a shotgun and raise it.

  The thing pulled the old woman away from the door and gripped her with tongues from both heads. With the slightest flick it tore her in half as if she were nothing but tissue. Blood and intestines flew, splattering the ground. The old man screamed when both heads turned to him. The mouths opened and the roar was the wildest of winds. The old man was lifted by the roaring wind, spinning and twisting. And then the jaws of one head closed over him, swallowing him. It’s throat bulged as the thing gulped the man down.

  Casey backhanded tears away, struggling to do her job, to function. “We’re not going to be able to kill it.” She ejected a clip and slammed another into place.

  “We’re not even hurting it.” Max couldn’t see their bullets making any holes. He saw impact, but nothing more than if he was shooting an old BB gun. The shotgun had no impact either.

  “Time to retreat?” Casey asked.

  Max grabbed Albert’s arm. “Time to retreat.”

  They ran back toward the fire department. The thing was now at the side of the general store, headed for the park and the railroad tracks. It moved in an odd ‘s’ shape with first one head taking the lead and then the other.

  “The trucks,” Casey said breathlessly.

  Max veered away toward their two whales, parked next to the fire department. He climbed in and started up the engine, and then after a second, flipped the lights and sirens. Maybe the thing would follow the sound. Maybe he could lead it away somehow. But then his stomach sank.

  There was no place to lead it. The bridges were gone. The town was sandwiched between the river and the Wall. The back road out was full of downed trees.

  Casey had also flipped lights and sirens. He heard her tires squeal as she hit the gas and headed for the railroad crossing, the rear end of the truck fishtailing. Max floored the gas pedal, cursing the truck’s slowness. But within seconds he was on Casey’s tail.

  Utility poles partially blocked the crossing but the thing slid up and over them. Casey spun the steering wheel, jerking the truck to the left. Gas pedal to the floor, heart pounding, she sideswiped a utility pole and hit the tracks with a bone-shuddering impact that lifted her up off the seat and slammed her back down.

  On the other side of the tracks she jerked the wheel left toward Crescent Street. But she was going too fast and the truck spun out of control, its too-light rear sliding like she was on ice. She spun the wheel but couldn’t get control back. The truck slalomed into the remains of a small white house. Casey was thrown against the steering wheel and then back against the seat. Her Kevlar vest took the brunt of the impact but the air was still forced out of her lungs.

  The thing was down the railroad berm now and going up and over huge fallen cedar trees like they were kindling. One head faced back and its eyes stared straight into hers. She felt the terror crawl into her stomach and lodge there, a solid weight that froze her and pinned her in place. And then in her mind she heard her auntie’s voice. She shook her head, struggling to refocus.

  She clutched the wheel and tried to drag in a breath as Max’s truck flew by her. He pulled to the right of the thing and she saw his window down, gun out and aimed.

  He shot at the rear head from only a few feet away. She saw bullets strike. She saw holes, tiny and ludicrous against the massive contorted hide. The bullets didn’t penetrate even far enough to draw blood. If the thing had blood.

  Max’s door flew open.

  “No Max, no,” she gasped, fumbling with her door handle. But she still couldn’t get a full breath and lights began to sparkle at the edge of her vision.

  No way in hell was she going to faint when Max needed her. She slammed her fist against the door, got it open, and clambered out.

  An old Ford Aerostar van was canted against a laurel hedge. The thing shoved past the van, pushing it down the riprap embankment where it hit the whitewater river and was gone, joining trees and other debris from the quake.

  The thing seemed to pause and then a long ripple moved the length of its body almost like it shifted shape. As Max came up behind it, palming another clip into his gun and raising his hands to fire, the thing slid down into the river as if following the van.

  Max ran to the top of the riprap, standing on boulders meant to hold floodwater at bay, and stared as the thing surfaced and then sank below the rapids.

  Casey’s heart leapt as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. But even as she spun to her left she recognized Albert. He passed her, heading toward Max, and she jogged after him.

  “Mass hallucination,” Albert said, breathing fast and shallow.

  “No.” Casey briefly pressed the fingers of one hand against her eyes. “I know what that was.” Her old aunties would nod wisely if they heard her. And it would have been the first time she acknowledged their wisdom.

  “You’ve seen that before?” Dis
belief filled Max’s voice. He holstered his gun and then put fingers under her chin to lift her eyes to his. “Did you hit your head?”

  Casey pulled away from the warmth of his hand. “Seen one? No. But I know it. That was a Sisiutl.”

  “What the hell is a Sisiutl?” Albert asked.

  “Legend,” she said. “You know where my family is from, Max?”

  Max shrugged. “You have relatives in Canada, right?”

  “Vancouver Island.” Casey’s voice shook. “There, if you know who to talk to, Sisiutl is an old, old legend. Something I thought they made up to scare kids, you know?”

  “Like a Coastal Indian boogeyman?” Albert asked.

  “Kind of.” Casey’s hands shook and she cupped her elbows tightly. “It’s a soul-searcher. In the stories I was told, it seeks people who can’t control fear. It moves in water, even rain. And you never, never, want both heads to look at you at the same time.”

  “Because then it eats you,” Max said.

  “You will spin for eternity, no longer rooted to the earth.” Casey’s voice grew quieter and took on the cadence of a storyteller. “You will only know terror and your voice will forever be the screaming of wind.”

  “Unless, you know, it eats you,” Max said.

  Casey shook her head and then swiped tears from her cheeks. “In the old legends, if you face your fear and acknowledge it, accept it, Sisiutl will see Truth and supposedly then bless you with magic and leave. Some versions of the legend tell of it having three heads and being a god of warrior invincibility. After seeing that thing? I believe the version my aunties told me.”

  They were silent a moment staring at each other. And then Max started back toward the trucks. Casey and Albert followed him.

  “I don’t believe in myths or legends,” he said. “I didn’t believe in Godzilla when I was a kid, and I don’t believe in Sisiutls.”

  When Casey opened her mouth to speak, Max held a hand up.

  “Or at least I didn’t.” He met Casey’s eyes. “Now I do. What do we do about it?”