"Goddamn, it's like sitting in a room with crazed trivia nuts!"
Once again, they quickened the pace. Greg knew this was the last hall before they reached the basement door. They heard doors opening behind them as P-21 searched.
"Open the pod bay doors, HAL."
"I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!"
"Surely you can't be serious."
"I am serious... and don't call me Shirley."
"For God's sake, make it stop," Brandon said. "It's like being trapped in a blooper reel."
Greg finally touched the cold metal door and turned the knob. Cool, refreshing air washed over them as they closed it behind them and quickly made their way through the overgrown brush behind Slater House. It had stopped raining and the clouds had broken up enough to let the light of the moon shine through. The grass and trees were painted in a striking blue-white light. The air was crisp and smelled of wet leaves.
"They're getting away!"
"I see dead people."
"Sometimes, dead is better."
As they left the rambling lunatics behind, Greg realized he was beginning to understand them.
They're getting away! It doesn't matter, they're dead anyway. They'll be just like us soon.
They made their way through the brush and found another hole in the fence on the opposite side. They were too far away to hear what the monsters were saying, but it didn't stop any of them from shouting ridiculous one-liners into empty rooms.
Greg was glad Heath wasn't alive to fight those things alone but wondered if that would stop them from digesting him and stealing his memories. He and Brandon climbed a small hill on the other side of the fence and left Slater House behind. They weren't being followed. Not yet, anyway.
"Come with me if you want to live," Greg said before breaking into forced laughter.
"Hasta la vista, baby," Brandon said with one middle finger in the air.
"Are they becoming us, or are we becoming them?" Greg said.
Brandon was too scared of the answer to reply.
Chapter 10
They made surprisingly good time even with Brandon's injury. They had no weapon, no food or water, and no clear idea what was the best way to stay hidden from the enemy. Ditchburn was quieter than a cemetery. There were no gunshots, no cries for help, no heroic last stand histrionics. If there was anyone left in town, they were hiding. Greg hoped someone was left. It hurt too much to think that the entire town had been wiped out.
"Can we sit for a minute?" Brandon asked. "My ankle is killing me."
Greg let go of his friend and helped him sit on the curb outside the Ditchburn Post Office.
"We can't stop for long," Greg said. "If that big one is still downtown, there's no telling where it went or when it'll show up."
"This Heath guy," Brandon said. "Did he have answers, or is he just another murderer?"
"Is that all you're worried about?" Greg said. "Don't we have bigger problems right now?"
"Yeah, we probably do, but I still want to know what's going on."
"What's there to know?" Greg sighed, sat next to Brandon on the curb, and stared into the sky. All the familiar constellations were where they belonged, but still, he felt like Earth had become an alien planet floating in the void. "They're becoming us," he said. "They're learning our behavior, learning our speech. They're not just here to kill us, they're here to replace us."
"I shouldn't have asked," Brandon said, shifting his leg uncomfortably. "So why are they talking in movie quotes? It's going to be pretty easy to tell them apart."
"They're using our memories to build their own concept of who we are. I guess they haven't perfected it yet. Heath said it's only going to get worse... they're eventually going to be indistinguishable from humans."
"This isn't how I thought I'd be spending my weekend," Brandon said. "How do we know when we get to another town it won't be the same?"
"We don't. I guess we don't have any choice but to find out. We can't stay here. We're running out of places to hide."
"The woods aren't much further," Brandon said. "Unless those things are patrolling the borders, I think we can do this."
"What about your leg? How are you going to climb in the dark? Maybe there's another way."
"No," Brandon said adamantly. "We're sticking to the plan even if I have to crawl the entire way."
"Did you ever see Invasion of the Body Snatchers?" Greg asked.
"What? No, is it a TV show?"
"It's an old movie my Dad used to watch when I was a kid. He loved that cheesy science fiction stuff. The movie is so eerily similar, it's hard to wrap my head around it."
"So monsters took over the human race?"
"Almost like this... almost perfectly like this. The aliens fled a dying world and began taking over the human race, replacing people with identical versions of themselves."
"So how did it end?"
"I don't know. I thought it was boring and stupid and never sat through the entire thing. Maybe I should have. Maybe whoever wrote it knew something we don't."
"Someone needs to bomb Wildflower. Erase the place from the fucking map."
"What good will it do? Don't you think there are other facilities? They're worldwide. They could be just as bad... or worse."
"Would now be a good time to tell you that I'm scared shitless?" Brandon said.
"I'm terrified, but giving up isn't an option."
"If all they want is to become us, then what's up with that thing downtown? You can't hide a forty-foot blob."
"Maybe it's a cleanup crew," Greg said. "Getting everything and everyone that's left."
"I hate the way you think."
"I'm not very fond of it either."
Without asking, Greg grabbed Brandon by the arm and helped him to his feet. He felt too exposed. Just because he couldn't see any of them didn't mean they weren't lurking behind closed doors, practicing their ABCs and learning Godsmack lyrics. He laughed and covered his mouth. Just when he didn't think this could get worse, he imagined a race of people that only sang Godsmack songs twenty-four hours a day. Brandon looked at him curiously but didn't ask what was so funny. Greg didn't think Brandon would find the humor in it, anyway.
They were only a few blocks from Thorpe's Woods when Greg stopped and grabbed Brandon by his shirt. Brandon toppled over and fell into some hedges, cursing loudly.
"Dick! Why the hell..."
"Quiet! Look."
Greg pointed down the street at a car idling softly in the middle of the road. The driver's door was open, but he couldn't see if anyone was behind the wheel. He held his breath and watched for over a minute before coming to the conclusion that the vehicle had been abandoned in the mad scramble to get out of town. What had happened to its owner?
"That's our ticket out of here," Greg said.
"Are you out of your mind? They'd hear us before we got off the block."
"Maybe, but they can't outrun a car."
"Do you even know how to drive?"
"I have my permit," Greg muttered. "Do you have a better idea?"
"Yes! The same idea we've had all night. We get to the woods and stay out of sight, not draw attention to ourselves by being the only car on the road."
"Do you know how much time it would save? I know you think you'll be fine, but what happens if we're a mile into the woods and you can't walk anymore? We're just going to sit there and hope someone finds us?"
"I'd rather starve to death than become one of those things."
"Then we might as well have saved ourselves the trouble and stayed in your garage. I thought the point of this was to survive, not find easier ways to die."
"Jesus Christ," Brandon shouted. "Fine, do what you want, but don't look at me when your plan blows up in your face."
"I'm just trying to save us..."
"Is that it?" Brandon asked. "You just want to save us? I'm starting to think you want to be some kind of hero. 'Look at me, look what I did. I saved a cripple and now I'll tell
the press my harrowing story... get a book deal, sell the movie rights.' Are you trying to save us, or are you trying to save yourself?"
"Now you're talking out of your ass," Greg said. "Is that what you really think of me? That I'm only doing this for fame and fortune? Look around! Who the fuck is left to hear my story? Do you see any press? Any movie producers? My pants smell like piss, I'm scared to death, and my best friend thinks I'm on a mission to get rich off this."
"Look..."
"No, you look," Greg interrupted. "If all I cared about was saving myself, I would have left you behind the second you got hurt. I could've just told everyone 'I tried my best, but Brandon died anyway. Oops! I'm sorry! Hold the camera so you get me in my best light.'"
"That's not what I meant."
"What else could you have possibly meant? It was pretty clear to me, you fucking drama queen. If that's all our friendship means after all these years, then just tell me. I'll go on by myself and you can lie in the street feeling sorry for yourself."
"My entire family is dead..."
"And so is mine, so don't think you're fucking special. Everyone has lost someone tonight. It doesn't give you a reason to act like an ass. Death is the rule, not the exception."
"Please, stop yelling."
Greg stopped, realizing he was doing just that. His voice boomed down the empty street, loud enough for anyone or anything to hear him. "Dammit. We have to go. Either you're with me or you're not."
Brandon looked at the idling car down the street and then up at Greg. He nodded and struggled to his feet.
"I'm sorry," he said, barely loud enough to be heard.
"Save it," Greg replied. "Sorry won't help us either."
Greg walked away without offering Brandon a helping hand. He scanned the shadows and the dark windows of the surrounding houses, thankful there was no one to hear their argument. If any of the replicas had been nearby, they surely would've made themselves known. Greg approached the car, squinting in the bright glare of its taillights. The dome light showed the car was empty.
"It's clear," Greg said over his shoulder. Brandon was still twenty feet away, limping on his swollen ankle.
Greg leaned inside and quickly checked the glove compartment and console in hopes of finding some kind of weapon. After all that happened, he found it difficult separating the Ditchburn of yesterday from the one of today. Not everyone carried a loaded gun in their car. There was no sign of a struggle... it was as if someone had left the car running, intending on coming right back, but never quite making it. Actually, that's probably exactly what happened.
Greg slipped behind the wheel and quietly pulled the door closed. He saw Brandon in the rearview mirror, dragging his bum leg behind him and glistening with sweat. It took everything not to go out and help him, but Greg was still hurting from Brandon's accusations. It was going to take a little longer for that wound to stop bleeding. Brandon got in, closed the door, and pushed his seat back as far as it would go, leaving space for him to stretch out his injured leg.
Greg reached down to shift the car into drive when he heard a muffled thud behind them. He looked in his mirror, then out the window, but saw nothing.
"You heard that, right?" he said.
Brandon nodded.
A few seconds later, it happened again, this time more insistent and followed by a scared, female voice.
"Is somebody there? Hello?"
"What the hell?" Greg said.
"I'm back here," the voice said. "In the trunk."
"You've got to be kidding," Brandon moaned.
"Please, let me out," the voice said. "I've been in here forever. It's getting hard to breathe."
"There's a woman... in the fucking trunk," Greg said. "This night is full of firsts."
He found the button for the trunk release but hesitated pressing it. He had no idea who was back there, or what. One of those things could have set a trap.
I doubt it hopped into the trunk and waited there for hours in the hopes that someone would find it and release it.
It sounded ridiculous, but Greg wasn't sure what P-21 would do to achieve its mission.
"I'm going to get out," Greg said. "Wait until I tell you and then pop the trunk."
"Hello? Can't you hear me? I'm in the trunk. The TRUNK!"
"I fucking hear you," Greg said. "Chill out."
"He hears me. He hears me! Thank God. LET ME OUT!"
"Not if you keeping screaming," Greg warned. "Get yourself under control and I'll let you out."
"Okay. Okay. I'm under control. Now, please let me the hell out of here."
"What's your name? What are you doing in there?"
"Having a fucking picnic, what do you think I'm doing?"
"If you're not going to listen to me, I'm leaving you in there." Greg waited until the woman went silent before asking his question again. "What is your name, and what are you doing in there?"
"Eve," she said. "My name is Eve and I would appreciate if you'd let me out."
"How'd you get in there in the first place? Is this your car?"
"No, it's my stepfather's, okay? Are you done with the questions, because I really have to pee and I'd rather not do it in here."
"I'm going to open the trunk," Greg said, "but if you make a move or do anything stupid, I'm throwing you right back in. You hear me?"
"I hear you."
"Go ahead, Brandon," he yelled. He stepped back as the trunk lid swung up and a girl not much older than him jumped out and bolted to the side of the street where she squatted behind a parked van. Greg heard her urinating and he quickly turned around, embarrassed.
"Is everything okay," Brandon called from inside the car.
"Yeah, it's fine I think. She's... peeing."
Greg cracked a smile as he heard Brandon giggling in the front seat.
Eve walked around the van, still buttoning her pants. When Greg saw her face, he was convinced she wasn't one of them. Everything was in the right place.
"Now can you explain why you were hiding in a locked trunk in the middle of the road?" Greg asked.
"Because my stepfather is a moron," she said cheerily.
"He locked you in the trunk?"
"He told me it would be safer if I kept out of sight. Then he started the car... then he screamed. Like, a lot. I can't imagine anyone screaming like that without a good reason."
"You know what's happening, don't you?"
"Of course I know," she scoffed. "I saw Margie, that's my neighbor, get eaten right in front of the house. Right over there. What was left of her dripped into the storm drain. Pretty nasty stuff."
"You seem pretty calm under the circumstances."
"Do you want me to scream and run around and say 'woe is me?' It was only a matter of time before someone started a biological war, I just didn't know I'd have front row seats."
"Is that what you think is happening?" Greg asked. "Biological warfare?"
"Well, what else could it be?" Eve asked. She ran a hand through her brown curls and waited for a better answer.
Brandon opened the car door and stepped out, holding onto the frame for support. "Are you two going to stand in the street all night, or can we get the hell out of here?"
"Oh, look. Another one," she said. "I'm Eve."
"And I'm thrilled," Brandon said, "but this isn't the time for a friendly chat."
"Rude," Eve said.
"She doesn't know what's happening," Greg said. "She's been in the trunk since the beginning."
"Really?" he asked. "You missed all the fun."
"You boys aren't making any sense," Eve said. "Oh, hey, the power is out."
Greg sighed and wished they'd found another car, one without Eve in the back.
"Get in," Greg said. "We're getting out of town."
"How do I know you two aren't serial killers? I'm not just going to blindly follow you. Besides, it's my fucking car."
"No, it's your stepfather's car, and he's fucking dead, just like everyone else in t
own. You can either stay here, or you can come along."
"Not everyone is dead," Eve said. "I heard the gunshots. The military has to be on top of this."
"I don't have time to explain," Greg said as Brandon slipped into the car and closed the door. "We're leaving and we're taking the car, and if you want to know what's really going on, come with us."
Eve sucked her teeth and played with her hair, stepping from one foot to the other as she thought it over. She looked from one side to the other as if listening to voices arguing in her brain.
"Fine," she said, "but I'm driving."
Greg walked in front of her and opened the rear door.
"Okay, but do it from the back seat."
***
Greg let the car roll quietly down the street, never allowing the speedometer to go over ten miles an hour. He'd turned the headlights off to make them more difficult to see. Brandon told Eve most of the tale with Greg filling in some of the details he missed. They left out the parts about killing Belter and shooting the Wildflower soldier. It was difficult for any of them to trust each other without adding all the grimy details. For once, Eve was speechless.
"And that's how we found you," Greg said. "With any luck, we can get to Parkland and tell someone what's happening here. Get the real military involved... tell anyone willing to listen."
No one spoke for a full minute, letting the words sink in. Even for Brandon and Greg, it was tough hearing the play-by-play. If they survived, they'd carry tonight with them for the rest of their lives.
"So the blobs are aliens... and they turn into people?" Eve said. "Is that what you're telling me?"
"That about sums it up," Brandon replied.
"Wildflower found a tree with these things in it, let them loose, and now they're taking over the human race?"
"More or less," Greg said.
"Huh. That's certainly more interesting than a bio-war. I guess my stepfather finally did something right by locking me in the trunk."
"Why are you not losing your mind right now?" Brandon said.
"I've already done that once, it wasn't much fun." She held her hands up to expose her wrists and show two, long scars.
"You tried to kill yourself," Greg said. It wasn't a question; he'd recognize those scars anywhere.
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