Trail of Blood

by Michael McBride

  “So you think that by pushing me away, by trying to make me hate you, that you’re saving me from a greater pain down the road? Are you telling me you’re going to die? Well, I’ve got news for you. We’re all going to die. Maybe sooner than later, but it’s a fact of life. Wouldn’t you rather be happy in whatever amount of time remains?”

  “My happiness is nothing if it only brings you sorrow.”

  “Are you happy now?”

  He paused. “No.”

  “Your unhappiness is bringing me the sorrow you’re trying to spare me from. You know that?”

  Phoenix was silent.

  “Don’t push me away when all I want is to be with you for however long it lasts.”

  This time her hand found his, the union of flesh sending a sensation of warmth through him. He could feel her breath on his face, the heat of her body close to his.

  “Tell me the truth,” she whispered. “Not what your head tells you, but what’s in your heart. Tell me ‘no’ and I’ll make this easy for you. I’ll give you as much distance as you want. You’ll be completely absolved of your fear of hurting me. All I want is the truth. Just answer this one simple question.

  “Do you love me?”

  “More than life itself,” he whispered.

  Their lips met in the darkness, the tears on their cheeks blending where they touched. After a magical moment, their mouths parted, but only by inches as their foreheads leaned against one another’s.

  “You can’t get rid of me, no matter how hard you try,” she whispered.

  “That’s never what I wanted.”

  He could feel the radiance of her smile.

  “What’s my gift?” she asked.

  “Yours is the most special gift I can possibly give, the only thing I have of any value,” he said. “I gave you my heart.”

  IV

  “JESUS,” ADAM GASPED, CROUCHING AS CLOSE TO ONE OF THE EQUINE CORPSES as he could stomach. As the tide had begun to recede, it had left the bloated mound of festering flesh three feet inland from the rolling surf, surrounded by all sorts of dead fish and fowl. From afar, the bodies had still looked intact, but upon closer inspection, they were anything but. The fish had been stripped of their scales, and huge meaty chunks had been stolen away. The mutated ducks still had all of their feathers, though their eyes were conspicuously absent of the orbs. Massive holes had been gouged between their skeletal legs anterior to the tail feathers, everything formerly within now missing, as though they’d been hollowed out in order to be stuffed like Thanksgiving turkeys. The seahorses were infinitely worse. Perhaps it was because they were larger and took longer to consume, or maybe the meat was more succulent, but their carcasses were still infested with the creatures that had felled them. At close range, Adam could see the little black holes in the tough hide, deep and circular, as though made by a drill. Blood no longer flowed from the wounds, but the pale flagellates wriggled out of one and burrowed into another, flexible knitting needles guided by unseen hands.

  Adam recoiled from the stench. Last night’s dinner fought to be free, but he choked it back and covered the lower portion of his face with his shirt. He leaned as close as he could without having to touch it, his eyes finding the horse’s, its fluted snout buried in the sand. A large, leech-looking thing squirmed out from under the eyelid and across the eyeball. Sputtering something unintelligible, he stumbled away and fell to his rear. He rolled over and sucked at the relatively fresh air, finally pulling his shirt down.

  He felt as though he were covered with those insects, like things were squirming all over his skin.

  “Douse it,” he finally said, looking at Mare, who stood back with the others, holding a reserve tank of gasoline in either hand. They had siphoned what they could from the semi without draining the tank too much, as it was plainly apparent that unless they wanted to leave on foot, the old truck was now their sole means of exodus.

  “This isn’t natural,” Mare said, starting slowly toward the shoreline. “Nothing should be able to kill so many animals so quickly.”

  “The mosquitoes did,” Ray said. His sense of smell was becoming far more acute in compensation for his loss of sight, forcing him to stand all the way back in the mouth of the cave. “But I don’t believe those were natural either, were they?”

  “It’s a message,” Phoenix said, emerging from the tunnel into the cave holding Missy’s hand. Her eyes were still somewhat puffy from crying, but she’d managed to wipe away the last of her tears.

  “I’ve got to admit,” Mare said, uncapping the twin canisters, “it’s got my attention.”

  “What’s the message?” Evelyn asked, finally finding her voice. The entire landscape before her was shocking, terrifying on a truly fundamental level. A Hieronymus Bosch seascape of hell. She knew exactly what the message was. It was written all over each of their faces. She just needed someone else to vocalize it as the implications scared her to death.

  “It’s time to leave,” Jake said. It seemed like all he was capable of saying. He stood apart from the others, arms wrapped around his chest as though he were cold, even with the sun now beginning to shine upon the beach, rising from the lake ahead.

  Mare sloshed the gas onto the mess of bodies, drawing thin lines between them. There was no way they would have enough fuel to burn every last one. Not even close. The corpses dotted the shore as far to the north as he could see. To the south, they crashed over and over against the rocks, pounding the jagged stones and being ripped away before hammering them again. Gray flesh floated on the waves. It was more about the ceremony of their incineration than the actual elimination of their physical forms. At least there wouldn’t be a rotting mat of corpses in front of their home to fill the cavern with such a delightful aroma. Even the toxic stench of chemical fumes was a vast improvement.

  Adam walked to the edge of the fire pit that warmed the kelp. He had thrown the lid back and thrust one of the wooden poles into the dying coals. Pulling it out, he held up the glowing end, small flames rising from the embers, and headed back up the beach to the dead horse. He touched the torch to its haunches and watched the blue flames race across its body. The insects burrowing inside screeched for what seemed like forever before rising out of the burning meat, their little fiery bodies wriggling only so far before shriveling and turning black. Their screams died as the fire raced away to either side, eager to consume the massive amounts of dead creatures. Thick black smoke already hovered over the beach.

  Mare tossed the empty containers back toward the cave and sidled up to Adam, who stared through the rising flames toward the distant horizon. Flocks of scavenger birds swirled overhead, an avian tornado, several of the brightly hued birds crying out before folding their wings to their sides and plummeting to the beach, apparently having gorged themselves on more than just their fill of death, but those wicked leeches as well.

  The western shore of the Great Salt Lake, Mormon Tears, their home, no longer felt as comfortable and inviting. Even when they were preparing for the Swarm to attack, it had still felt like this was where they were supposed to be. Now it was tainted, its sanctuary violated. It wasn’t just the awful scent of the decomposing animals, slowly changing to the smell of barbecuing spoiled meat, or even the presence of so much death around them. They were magnets too close to a matching pole, the opposite force repelling them away.

  “I’m not ready for this,” Adam said, unable to mask the tremor in his voice. He needed to be strong, for all of them, but he felt like a lost child.

  “Neither am I,” Mare said, searching his mind for a quip to pry a smile out of Adam, but he was at a loss for words. “Neither am I.”

  Evelyn approached Adam and stood at his side, taking him by the hand and leaning her head on his shoulder.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  He sighed and shook his head, unable to tear his gaze from the rising sun.

  “We start packing,” he said.

  Mare had to look away. Now it wa
s official. Jill was still sitting in the mouth of the cave, staring off into space as she had been since he had first found her at the edge of the carnage. Ray sat down beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder, titling his face to the sun.

  Ray inhaled the smoke and coughed it back out. He knew it was impossible, but he was certain he smelled pine sap and burning trees for the second time in a short span.

  Mare walked over and sat on the other side of Jill with his back against the stone wall.

  “Do you see smoke way off in the distance?” Ray asked.

  “The entire beach is on fire,” Mare said, taking a moment to enjoy the last bit of rest he would have for quite a while.

  “I mean way off on the horizon.”

  “No,” Mare said, closing his eyes so as not to see the burning bodies, but they were still right there at the forefront of his mind, waiting for him in the darkness.

  “You will,” Ray said, the scent of forest fire slipping away. “Soon enough… You will.”

  V

  EVELYN HAD MIGRATED TO THE SOUTH, AWAY FROM EVERYONE ELSE, BALANCING on a rock above her bed of kelp. The mess of aquatic animals that had washed ashore still burned, the skin and feathers now charcoal, the flames dwindling as they devoured the last of the flesh. Smoke drifted in her direction, the smell of roasting meat that by all means should have set her to salivating instead made her sick to her stomach. Or perhaps that was due to the vile stench of the corpses tangled in the overgrowth of kelp, a briny foam of dissociated flesh floating atop the water, turning the formerly blue lake gray. She could barely see the broad, olive-colored leaves through what now looked like slush. The snout of one of the enormous flying seahorses poked out of the lake like a snorkel, a lone hoof breaking the waves. It took all of her effort to look away from the hollow eye socket that appeared to be winking at her through the wavering plants.

  Back to her left, the fire pit that had warmed the plants no longer issued smoke, the coals now exhausted. Out in the breakwaters, the four vents gave up the last of their heat.

  The plants would live. Somehow she was sure of it, but she wasn’t about to harvest any more of the kelp from water so obviously diseased. No amount of rinsing or boiling could cleanse them of the stain of death. Maybe it was only psychological, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to bring any of it close to her mouth without seeing that equine eye winking at her, without smelling the burning meat or the underlying current of rotting black flesh beneath. At least they had harvested recently. There were easily several hundred leaves dried and wrapped back in the cavern, but how long could that possibly last? It didn’t matter now. The time had come to make their journey to the east, as they had all known and feared that it would. They would have to abandon everything they had worked so hard to create, the only place where any of them had felt even remotely safe for as long as they could remember.

  Why did they really have to leave anyway? She didn’t see the logic in striking out to meet death halfway. Couldn’t they just stay where they were and let the Reaper come to them? It was contradictory to her very nature. How could giving up the home field advantage possibly benefit them? Here they could rebuild the fortifications that had served them so well when the Swarm had attacked. They could live in that cavern forever, the way she saw it. Heading out into the unknown with nothing more than they could carry was suicide. And who even knew what they were up against? How many traps had been set in their path? She was tired of trusting visions, tired of blindly believing in the power they all ascribed to their dreams. Maybe it would be easier to believe if she were the one having the visions. Why couldn’t she be given a sign?

  Evelyn chuckled. A beach littered with corpses was probably as good a sign as she could hope for.

  What it all boiled down to was fear. She was terrified. Scared of leaving, scared of staying. Scared of a supposedly powerful adversary they couldn’t even pin a name or a face on. Phoenix had appeared so confident since the moment he had arrived at Mormon Tears, as though he could see into the future and somehow knew that everything was going to be fine. But now…now he appeared as frightened as any of them. Often more so. Now she prayed that he couldn’t see the future, for if his disposition, the ever-present tremble in his eyes, was any indication, they were all going to die.

  A chill rippled up her spine and into her arms, which she wrapped around her chest, rubbing her shoulders to chase away the sensation.

  Looking upon her kelp, the culmination of her professional aspirations, the proof of her theory that the oceans could be saved by aquatic farming, she had to wonder if this would be the last time she saw the plants. She had invested so much of herself into them that to forsake them would be to leave a portion of herself behind.

  Crouching, she reached out and touched a single leaf that stood from the water, a gesture that on some subconscious level was her way of saying goodbye. As soon as her fingertips grazed the kelp, the veins within the leaf began to glow a faint green, infused with life. She gasped and staggered backwards, driving her left leg down into the water and the sand beneath. The glow faded immediately, but she was sure that she had seen the leaf stiffen almost electrically. And had it…grown?

  “We need to get going,” Adam said from behind her, startling her. She barely caught herself before falling all the way into the lake.

  She whirled and looked at him, her face stark white, eyes wide.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, climbing out of the water and finding her balance on another rock. “I just…I don’t know.”

  “Come here,” Adam said, offering his hand. He helped her cross a pair of wet rocks and down onto the beach, all the while unable to look away from her shocking green eyes. Bringing her to him, he wrapped his arms around her. She was trembling, or maybe merely shivering. “Talk to me, Evelyn.”

  “Do we really have to leave?” she whispered into his ear.

  “I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

  “We can stay here.”

  “There’s something out there that we have no choice but to face. Can’t you feel it…pulling you?”

  “Let it come to us then. We survived one attack. We can survive another.”

  He pulled back so that he could see her face. Her eyes glistened with tears, despite her best efforts to hold them at bay.

  “I’m scared too,” he whispered. “The prospect of striking out into who knows what terrifies me.”

  “Then stay here. With me. Just the two of us, if that’s how it has to be. Let the others go do what they need to.”

  “They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “What can the two of us do? How could we possibly make a difference?”

  “We need to stand together…or fall together, if that’s our lot.” He offered a weak smile. “That’s all we can do.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to make sure that nothing does.”

  She was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions and kissed him. If nothing else, Adam would stay by her side. Through whatever may come, he would stay with her.

  “I love you,” she whispered, their mouths only just parted.

  “I love you, too. And I will protect you with my life if I have to.”

  Together they turned to the north and held hands, slowly walking back toward the cave, preparing to take their first steps into the unknown.

  VI

  The Ruins of Denver, Colorado

  EVERYTHING THAT COULD BURN HAD NOW ALREADY DONE SO. ASHES FILLED the air like the blizzard had not so long ago, choking the sky to the point that the sun was only a vague haze above. The ground appeared to move, a gray carpet at the will of the rising wind. Only charred bricks and warped girders remained, mounded where buildings had once stood. The courtyard in front of his obscene tower was a mockery of its former self. The stagnant water in the fountain had been vaporized, the statuary atop its descending waterfall lyin
g in rubble in the collected ash. Nothing remained of the intricately maintained shrubbery or the stretches of flowers planted so that something was always in bloom. The iron benches had collapsed in upon themselves, the wooden planks burnt to cinder. Streetlamps designed to look like the old gas lanterns from the eighteenth century were strewn across the plaza where they had fallen, the glass fused to the concrete. Even the asphalt of the streets surrounding the square had been turned to gravel, the boiling tar draining down into the clogged sewers.

  Where once his view would have been blocked by office buildings and lofts, he now would be able to see clear to the western slope of the Rocky Mountains when the lingering smoke and ash finally settled. Those structures had crumbled into ruin, monuments of scorched brick and cinderblock to their once mighty existence. One such massive pile of rubble had drawn him from his chamber of bones, where he had been watching the progress of his minions through his mind’s eye. This particular heap of devastation had summoned him. All of the other buildings had fallen in the opposite directions, leaving it as the focal point of the world around it.

  Death’s first thought had been to chuckle at the irony, but he knew there was far more to it than that. It was a message; of that there was no doubt. He had been plotting against the Lord for so long now that the element of danger had worn off, and he had begun to fancy himself untouchable. His apocalyptic duty was complete, yet still he remained, plotting not just the elimination of mankind, but the birth of a new world cast in his image. The deeper he became embroiled in implementing his plan and the longer he went without being struck down from above, the greater his confidence became. Maybe God couldn’t smite him, or maybe He just wouldn’t, but this message had been sent to let him know that his work hadn’t gone unnoticed.