The Rising

by Eli Constant

  “Do they do something to trespassers…if you consider this your land now?” Sherry’s voice this time.

  “This has always been our land,” Matoskah responded, his face seemingly carved out of brown, golden-veined granite. “And it will always be our land.” Sherry shrunk away from him, tightening her crossed arms around herself. Matoskah walked over to Marty, whispering a goodbye, or so I assumed, and then he exited the RV without waiting on the two others.

  “Pay no attention to Matoskah. Losing his son has changed him greatly.” Ahote bowed his head slightly. “Safe travels.”

  “And thanks for the coffee!” Chepi quipped before following his big brother out into the now-bright day.

  “Ahote?” it was AJ who spoke. I watched the Native American turn and look at her “I saw lights in the hills outside of town, what was it?”

  The Green Beret looked her and smiled. “That would be the caverns. Sacred to us and were no White man will ever go again little sister.” With that he turned and stepped into the darkness.

  ***

  SHERRY

  I watched as the three men mounted their horses and rode away from us. It amazed me that they had not even tied the horses, yet the beautiful, silky-coated beasts had stayed, waiting on the return of their riders. I shut the door when they were out of sight. Juan and AJ were seated in the driver’s and passenger’s seats again, looking over the map and getting ready to drive once more.

  Before leaving, Matoskah had come back to the RV and handed me a necklace. I’d nearly flinched away from him, so discordant was his personality when not brightened by being near Marty. “For the kid,” he’d simply said. It was a thick cord of handmade silver with a turquoise pendant shaped like a bird. I turned the stone over in my hands, finding some writing there: for Ahanu, my son.

  It was beautiful.

  Moving towards the bunk bed, grabbing a children’s book as I passed the place on the floor where I’d piled up all the books we’d found in the RV, I went to Marty. Amazingly, his face was less pale, his forehead cooler.

  “I don’t feel like reading,” Marty said, seeing the book in my hand.

  “Okay,” I responded, moving my other hand into view and letting him see the necklace I held. “Matoskah left this for you.”

  Marty’s eyelids parted a bit more, his mouth falling slightly open. “Oh, wow. I told him I loved birds… well, birds and dinosaurs.”

  I turned it over and then placed it in his open palm, so that he could see the inscription.

  “It was his son’s?” he questioned, in astonishment. I nodded. “Wow,” he breathed and then leaned into my body. I wrapped my arms around him and that’s how we stayed the rest of the journey to Roswell.

  ***

 

  Even though there were still hours of sunlight left, Juan and AJ were exhausted and they opted to stop on the edge of Roswell and sleep. Ahote had said Roswell was part of their lands, that it should be safe and zombie free, but it was always better to be cautious. Sherry and Marty were dozing, their bodies glued together in a somewhat forced-looking embrace.

  When they awoke they were greeted by another patrol just outside their door. Four men this time, on brown and ivory horses with feathers braided in their manes like show horses. The neighing was what stirred AJ and she gently pushed Juan’s shoulder. When he opened his eyes, she pointed to the windshield. “Company again and we’re all out of coffee.”

  The latter part of the statement wasn’t true.

  “I’ll go out first,” Juan mumbled, rubbing his eyes. AJ followed close behind. Sherry and Marty had woken also and stood to see what was going on. “Stay here, I’ll be right outside.” Juan’s eyes were for Sherry only. She nodded. The argument they had over soup and Gatorade had long since dissipated, but things were still different than they were, with the idea of what would never be floating between them constantly.

  When Juan stepped outside, the morning air a bit chilly and the sky looking like a firework of sunrise color, a man hopped deftly off his horse, landing almost soundlessly on the pavement. “You are the ones which spoke with Lazy Bear last night.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Yes. I’m Juan.”

  “I’m Noshi.” Unlike Ahote, Noshi did not introduce his companions. “It is good that we found you.”

  Juan looked the man up and down, noting that he was quite a bit larger than Ahote had been, with the same dark skin tone and hair plaited in a long braid. He was older than Ahote also, the wrinkles from the desert sun evident.

  “Ahote said to stop you and tell you that something bad may be happening in Albuquerque. We lost track of one of our patrol there.”

  “How do you get your information so fast? We just saw Ahote last night, how did he tell you to find us?” Juan was trying to work out in his head how they were communicating, how they’d found them so quickly.

  Noshi stared at Juan, an expression of near-amusement balanced with incredulity. “We’re savages,” he said sarcastically, “but savages with radios.” He did not smile when Juan went red-cheeked and sputtered out something that might have been an apology, if it had been intelligible. “Each one of the patrol stations we’ve set up has its own hand crank powered transmitter and receiver. We stay in touch with each other to make sure nothing catches the nation off guard.”

  “Yeah, I kinda feel like a clown right now,” Juan said, this time able to be understood. “I didn’t mean…”

  Noshi waved a dismissive hand. “It is fine. Just because the world has altered, I should not expect those outside the Nation to shift their perceptions. Ahote asked us to warn you. You have been warned. Get through Roswell as fast as you can. We ran into some problems in there last night. It will take some days to clean up the mess.”

  “Demons?” Juan questioned, his blood going cold thinking how they’d stopped right at the edge of the town to sleep.

  “Yes,” was all Noshi said and, without another word, he mounted his horse, let out a thrilling sound not unlike a bird, and kicked his horse. In a few minutes, Noshi and his patrol were disappearing into the heat waves of the desert.

  After hearing what the patrol had told Juan, AJ and Sherry agreed to heed the advice of the patrol and moved through Roswell. They didn’t stop until they made it to a place called Clines Corners. There wasn’t much too it but a truck stop/gift store combo, a chain mall that had seen better days, and a US post office. Everything looked caught in time, antiquated, like at some point, modernization had abandoned it. But, in a way, that made it feel quaint and unusual, a real oasis in a world too industrialized. An oasis in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Albuquerque.

  Juan was driving when they rolled into Clines Corner and he slowed the RV, eventually coming to park adjacent to a short, blunt water tower that was mostly white save for a red banner sporting the town’s name.

  Something felt odd to him, but it wasn’t enough to send him rolling down the road, not when there were two trucks in plain sight that could provide them with a fill-up. Because they already needed fuel, or were getting down enough to need it soon. He didn’t want to drive past two sources of diesel if he could help it.

  “Fuel?” AJ asked, shifting in her seat so she sat on the edge and could easily look out the windshield and two side windows to find any lurking danger.

  Juan indicated the two eighteen wheelers. “Seems smart to stop, especially since we know these areas have been mostly cleared of the monsters.”

  “Mostly cleared,” AJ responded, “But they said some had come back to Roswell. I don’t know if we should.”

  They both stared at the outside, waited, watched.

  “We need to take it when we can, AJ.” Juan shifted into drive and moved the RV deftly, being careful of the trailer it pulled, until it was lined up with the closest truck. Then he got up from the driver’s side after turning off the engine.

  “I’ll come out with you,” AJ said; she’d stayed quiet why he repositioned t
he motor home.

  “No, you stay with Marty,” Sherry, who hadn’t spoken to either of them since they’d moved swiftly through Roswell, interjected. “I can help Juan get gas. You protect Marty. He’ll be safer with you alone than with me alone.”

  AJ looked at the other woman a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

  Juan and Sherry, after going into the mechanic’s trailer and finding an actual long black garden hose, moved their way between the two vehicles. Juan twisted off the metal, chained gas caps of the truck and RV and then threaded an end of the hose into the truck’s tank. He sucked on the other end, long and hard. It took four times before he pulled the tip out quickly and spat fuel on the ground. Quickly, he pushed the other end of the hose into the RV’s tank.

  “You know, someday fuel will be useless. It’ll take time, but it’ll deteriorate, won’t be usable.”

  “How long does that take?” Sherry.

  “I don’t know. Time, sometime…maybe enough time for all this shit to right itself and the world get better.” Juan quieted, and then spoke again. “I’ve never told you how sorry I was about what happened, that I wasn’t able to stop them. If AJ hadn’t shown up…fuck, I still have nightmares.”

  Sherry looked uncomfortable, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I blamed you, Juan. I know it wasn’t right, but I did. I’m sorry for that. I’m just a mess inside. Hot then cold. Cold then hot. I don’t even know who I am now.”

  “You’re Sherry,” Juan said simply. “I’m Juan. We’re friends. Or we were once.”

  “We’re still friends, Juan.”

  They stood silently, waiting until the hose had sucked all it could from the truck. To Sherry, it seemed to take an eternity to finish.

  When the hose was pulled out from the truck, Juan held it up in the air to shake out in last drips. He rolled the hose loosely and dropped it to the ground gently. “Let’s go move the RV again, next to the other truck.”

  “Okay,” Sherry replied, that single letter full of weight. Sherry moved first, threading her body between the several-foot gap between the vehicles. Juan watched her as she moved, appreciated how she looked as he often had during her kickboxing class with him. He still cared about her, still found her attractive, but nothing was going to happen for them now. It was obvious, and seemingly unchangeable.

  Sherry was nearly to the edge of the gap, about to walk out into the open day and leave the shade of the two tall vehicles. Juan was still somewhat lost in thought, a dangerous thing to be at the end of everything sane and safe. Both of them jumped at the sharp sound of hands slapping against glass. Juan turned, tilting his face upwards to find AJ framed by the bathroom window. Her palms were against the glass, her face looked terrified.

  When she saw that Juan was looking at her, she frantically began moving her hands, trying to curve her fingers under the bottom of the bathroom window and then all around. She was trying to open it, but it wasn’t that kind of window. It didn’t slide upwards. It only unclipped and pushed outward by an inch or less. She slapped the glass again, frustrated, scared.

  That wasn’t like AJ, Sherry and Juan knew that. Juan turned away from her, finding Sherry, who stood confused and staring at him. He spun around and saw no danger that way. And then he looked up. He looked up and found the water tower. He followed the line of it, past the lettering, and he found it: the child-sized monster atop the ladder who stood on tiptoe, both hands on the rails.

  Sherry turned, seeing the change in Juan’s expression and saw the Z kid also.

  “Oh, my God,” she sighed, the sound like a caged bird who’s whistled so long for help that her voice has faded. “Oh no.”

  “Run, Sherry,” Juan raced to her, closing the distance between them. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “Run!”

  She did, after he pushed her. She began running as fast as she could, pumping her legs and feeling her thighs rub together, making the sweat pants she wore swish. She ran, tumbling around the back of the RV and falling to the ground in her panic. Juan reached for her, pulled her to her feet. Both of their heads turned at the same time to look at the water tower.

  The bite-sized demon was gone. Gone from the top of the tower.

  No, he was on the ground bolting towards Sherry and Juan. He wore a blue and white striped shirt with a little American flag on the lapel pocket. His shorts were torn in so many places that they barely existed at all. He was so fast, so fast. He came at the duo who were still too far from the RV door to fall into the bosom of safety in time.

  He was a nightmare with sun-peeling skin and eyes gone white. Pale moonlight buried in a craggy river of unmoving, thick blood.

  “It’s too fast!” Sherry screamed. “It’s too fast!”

  Juan grabbed her hand and pulled Sherry with him. He knew, knew that it was futile. They hadn’t brought a weapon. Why hadn’t they brought a weapon? So stupid…so stupid…Ahote had said this place was safe, but it wasn’t. The word of a stranger and a life given.

  Sherry stumbled again, Juan’s hand the only thing keeping her upright. Juan wished he hadn’t left the hose on the ground. That at least could have been used as some sort of weapon. A lasso maybe to wrap around the diminutive body?

  Not that you can tie up a nightmare and stay its course. Nightmares will come, no matter how you wish for pleasant dreams.

  “Hurry, Sherry,” Juan yelled as Sherry stumbled a third time. A third time. He didn’t have time to look at her, didn’t have time to see what was making her so clumsy. No time. Yet, he moved, he moved and yanked and positioned himself behind Sherry so that the nightmare was coming at him and he was the one in its direct path.

  “No!” Sherry screamed, realizing what Juan had done. “No!”

  Another voice joined the din now. AJ had found her way out of the RV, gun in hand. “The door’s open. Run!”

  Juan was moving backward, the Z kid only feet away. He pushed Sherry once more without looking at her, his hand connecting with what felt like her chest. He tried to push again, but Sherry’s body was gone. That meant she was safe. It had to mean she was safe. Juan moved, glad for his training as it allowed him to travel backwards deftly. But then the Z kid jumped, that frog-like bounce into the air that could sail them far and fast.

  And then AJ screamed. “Sherry, no!”

  Sherry raced around Juan, this time pushing him out of the way, and settled herself into the shadow of the monster sailing towards her. She stood in the shade of a nightmare and faced a thing that would kill her, could kill her.

  Did kill her.

  The once-a-boy in tattered shorts landed on Sherry’s body. She stumbled, working so hard to make sure she didn’t fall backwards towards Juan. She felt herself tilting, tilting forward towards the ground with the Z kid on top of her. And she knew there would be no clean shot for AJ to take with her gun.

  Juan watched what was happening in horror, watched Sherry, the girl he once thought he might like as something other than a friend, other than a student, support the weight of the monster. He watched her not allow her body to fall backwards; he watched her fight to fall away from him, away from AJ. He took a step forward to help Sherry, to get the thing off of her, but a hand clamped around his shoulder.

  “There’s not a clean shot, Juan. If you go hand-to-hand, we’ll lose you both.” AJ’s voice was full of grief. Her hand was a vice.

  “I’ve got to help her.” Juan’s words also held grief, longing, and hate for what was happening.

  And then Sherry was screaming. Screaming and screaming and screaming, so loud and brutal and piercing that it worked to rip through the sky and shoot out into the cosmos.

  “Dammit!” Juan yelled, stumbling as he was willed backwards by AJ’s hand pulling him.

  “Juan, come on. You have to come on.” AJ pulled harder.

  When the RV door was shut, locked, AJ raced to the driver’s seat, knowing Juan was too in shock to drive. She didn’t even hand him the gun because she doubted he’d be
able to use it even if it was necessary. She cranked the engine, slamming the gear into drive, and she shot the RV forward, feeling the trailer jerk and bump behind the RV. She drove so fast, so erratically, and hit a bump in the road so violently, that the mechanic’s trailer jumped into the air several inches. AJ heard a screeching, metallic sound and she knew what had happened- the trailer hitch had hopped off its perch. “Fuck,” she muttered, feeling how poorly the RV was handling now that the trailer wasn’t attached properly.

  Juan stumbled to the window to the right of the door, he found Sherry’s body lying on the pavement, the boy still on top of her. As he watched, the Z kid reared back, blood and flesh dripping from his mouth…and Sherry’s head supported in his hands.

  That was a blessing at least. Without a head, Juan thought it can’t be possible that she’ll become one of those things. She has to be spared that…at least that.

  Marty was sobbing, curled up in the bunk bed. Juan wanted to go to him, wanted to console him, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle anything save for his own sadness.

  ***

  AJ drove, listening to the grief like a great ocean rising and falling behind her. They were so close now, thirty or forty miles at most, and that proximity only made AJ more nervous. She worried about getting to her headquarters. It was near the airport off of Yale, but to get there they’d have to drive through some of the densest parts of the city. They already knew, thanks to Ahote, that things were still unsettled in Albuquerque. They also knew that it might be more than unsettled, what with the patrol gone missing. But, then again, Ahote had also made it seem like we’d be safe on our way there.

  No. He said that there was always a possibility of danger. He never promised safety. Never. AJ hit her hands on the steering wheel, her sadness always translated to anger, red hot and scalding. AJ glanced to the west, at the mountains there. Maybe there is where the people she knew might have gone, might have had a chance to survive out in the wild. But if they hadn’t, if they’d stayed in the middle of Albuquerque…AJ didn’t want to think about it. She wanted her friends, her fellow agents, to be alive and kicking. She needed them to be or this whole trip was a waste.