Strange Medicine

by Jim Stein

  Rick’s shotgun ended the charge of striped beetle-spiders and gave him time to think. These people were counting on Manny’s team to get them out. Handguns and rifles did nothing but enrage the tick, which stomped in a circle, scattering sand and a fine spray—

  The rifle-wielding woman screamed and fell backward off her ATV. Smoke billowed off the vehicle as it careened into deeper sand. The woman clawed at her heavy jacket, tearing away the smoking garment. Blisters rose on her hands and along her left arm where the tick’s acid ate through the riding gear.

  Out to his right, the whine of her abandoned vehicle abruptly cut off as a giant black form rose high and slapped down on the ATV. Plastic crunched and metal screeched as the giant centipede slammed down twice more on the hapless vehicle, then turned toward their group.

  “Time’s up!” Manny yelled. “Be ready to move. Rick, get Deloris up behind you. She needs medical attention ASAP. Take point when the path is clear.”

  The knife in his hand would do little against the creature. Splintered wood planks showed from beneath the brown carapace, remnants of a shed the monster had toppled as it rose to block their path. Its stomping pounded the tiny building into kindling. Perfect.

  Manny slipped in close, willing himself to go unnoticed. Stealth was a gift inherited through his mother’s side. The eyes of his party slipped away, as did those of the creature. Though it resembled a half-bloated tick—and he didn’t like thinking about what kind of host such a massive thing would latch onto—its face lacked the single proboscis. Eyes set wide and back nearly on its shell framed a pair of furry fangs with shining black tips, more like what might be found on a wolf spider.

  He reached out with the knife and sent power into the broken wood. He didn’t have to hum a tune, sing a rock ballad, or whatever other silliness Ed and his contingent of Brights did to coax forth a bit of elemental magic. The one power his father had given him—the only one he could have given his only son—flowed with a single thought, burn!

  Arid days prepared the wood, but he didn’t expect the whoosh of flames that roared from under the monster. Manny fell back from the stench and sizzling. The thing thrashed like a beached whale as its own acid flared and billowed greasy smoke.

  “Get back!” If the tick exploded… “Get those kids moving!”

  He turned at a crash. The tick whumped off to the side of the burning shed. It raised itself on flaming legs and slammed down again and again—thumping sideways to deeper sand and into the path of the centipede. Sand spouted up to cover its vibrating back as it shimmied and sank into the ground.

  They picked their way through the residual flames and hurried on under covering fire from the vehicle bringing up the rear. No more giants rose to block the path, and it was a relief to finally feel his tires bite into open pavement. Their team driver loaded the civilians onto the waiting bus. Wind and sand swirled in stinging circles as if sensing the escape of prey. They wheeled away as the swelling dune crested and an avalanche smashed through the houses they passed. But the bus proved faster than the desert, and they left the questing sand behind.

  They pulled up to the station to find Mr. Conti and Meg running through checklists with Ed and…another toddler? The kid didn’t quite reach Ed’s waist and had curly dark hair sweeping out in wild directions. Unlike the children on the bus with their prim outfits, this one wore what looked like a sack tied at his waist with rope.

  “Red Team’s back. Deloris needs medical attention.” Manfred pushed through the doors.

  “What happened?” Mr. Conti turned with the others.

  “Acid burns from a giant bug. No time to explain, where’s the nurse?”

  “Irene is down at the evacuation site,” Ed fumbled in a plastic crate under the nearest desk. “We’ve got a first aid kit.”

  “Not enough. Burns all down here and here.” He ran an open hand from his neck to wrist indicating the extent of damage. “It was a big bug.”

  “She’ll be in shock. Let me take a look; it’ll be faster.” The little boy’s voice was an incongruent tenor.

  The small figure stepped from behind the desk and understanding dawned—a sprite.

  “Over there with Rick, the skinny black guy.” He pointed to the nearest ATV. “Deloris got sprayed with mist from a tick the size of a barn. Ate right through her leathers.”

  “Can you help her, Dwain?” Ed asked.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem, but let me see how bad.”

  The sprite scrambled through the glass doors as Rick lowered the woman to the pavement. Manny wasn’t entirely certain they had time for this. He swung back to find the others had returned to their discussion, though Meg cast worried glances out at Deloris.

  “She’s in good hands,” Ed assured her. “Manny, get the rest down to the bridge. We move out at two. They can get cleaned up and find their assigned rides. I assume everyone else came through okay?”

  Ed pushed papers across the desk to the other two, hardly phased by the burned woman and perfectly content to let the sprite attend her. He stabbed a finger down to highlight some bit of information, drawing his boss’s attention to the rightmost column of a spreadsheet.

  The boy had matured. A few short months ago, he would have gone absolutely ape shit over a woman getting hurt. Now he seemed—if not callous, then—content to delegate. But the boy wasn’t paying attention.

  “One of the all-terrain-vehicles got scorched out from under Deloris, but the team and civilians all made it out. We can’t wait until this afternoon.”

  “Great,” Ed gave a casual thumbs up and stacked more pages onto his pile. “Just a few more hours. Reggie Boyd has his trailer lined up with the convoy. Get your ATVs stowed for travel, then—”

  “Stop and listen!” Manny slammed both hands flat, wanting to crush the stupid reports into the polished wood. “We’re out of time. The desert’s expanding.”

  Meg and Mr. Conti jumped, but Ed stepped close, keeping his voice low.

  “We know, but we’re sticking to the plan we all agreed to. Listen,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I know you like to run the show, but this is a team effort with a lot of moving parts. Don’t go back to being like…that. Just let the wheels turn.”

  “This isn’t about me,” Manny hissed. “You’re working off old information. There’s a—”

  “Ed!” Meg pointed out past where the sprite worked.

  A brown wall rose above the buildings at the end of the street, a swirling storm front seventy feet tall judging by how it swallowed a five-story office building without slowing.

  “Sandstorm!” Mr. Conti almost got it right.

  The wall slammed into the tallest building on the street, an old courthouse with a thirty-foot cupola atop its slanting roof. Glass and metal exploded from the structure as the wave of sand tore off the clock tower. This was a solid wall of sand, the dune rising in one last attempt to capture them.

  “Move, move, move!” Now Ed got it.

  ***

  The wall of sand came on fast as we grabbed boxes and piled out of the studio. I glared at Manny. Why hadn’t he just said the fricking dunes had followed them back?

  “Let’s get her on the bus,” I jammed my box of reports and supplies into the road manager’s hands and strode toward Dwain.

  Deloris’ face was slack, which was good considering the agony she’d been in when they arrived. The sprite gave a curt nod, but rather than wait for my help, he scooped the woman up beneath knees and shoulders and carried her to the bus.

  “Stay with her.” Pete snatched my keys. “Ralph and I will meet you there.”

  Manny shoved the box back at me and got his riders saddled up while the rest of us piled on the bus. Our driver, an older woman with a steel-gray bun and weather-hardened face didn’t need any encouragement. She slammed the doors and drove like a maniac.

  As we bumped along, I glanced around at the other passengers, recognizing a few. Sweat and sadness sat heavy on their faces, as well as a stony dete
rmination that occasionally gave way to furtive glances at the road behind.

  “Mister, where’d my house go?” Black curls bobbed over the seatback that obscured Dwain—no, it was a little boy with a similar mop of hair, standing between his parents.

  “Same place as mine went, I guess.” The mother gave me a weary smile and coaxed her son back onto the seat.

  Now that we were moving, the desert didn’t seem as threatening. It still flowed along swallowing the business district, but the horror of it all diminished as we put distance between it and our group.

  The mental respite was short lived. Dust rose out to the left and right of the narrow street as we raced toward the waterfront. The sand along our sides wasn’t deep, but it was closer—much closer.

  “You see it too?” Mr. Conti asked from the seat in front of me.

  “We’ve still got maneuvering room, but Manny’s right. We have to move everyone now.”

  I rummaged in the box for the communication candle. A thought and tight rhythm lit the wooden wick and filled my nose with lavender.

  “Anna, get everyone moving across the bridge. This is an emergency. The sands are coming. Get them all out, now!”

  The echoing from my words told me they made it through. The ghosting quality flared as Anna lit up.

  “Ed? Where do you want us to go?”

  “Across the bridge,” I thought. “The desert will come crashing down in maybe fifteen minutes. Just get them moving. We’ll gather at the old police station beyond the Jersey tollbooths. We’ve got the last group on an old school bus and are heading straight for the bridge. We’ll meet you on the other side. Don’t let anyone drag their feet.”

  “I’m on it, Ed. See you on the other side.”

  I grounded the Fire spell and told Mr. Conti what I’d done. He nodded and turned to speak with the driver. The curls of smoke drifting up from the wick reminded me of how tenuous and insubstantial my life had become. Without my parents, my house, even my home town, I felt adrift. All the work we’d done since returning was for nothing, we’d still lost.

  “Achoo!”

  The little boy’s sneeze pierced my eardrum and blew the smoke stream forward. He had his chin propped on the seatback and gave me a shy grin. I smiled back and tousled his hair. No, it hadn’t been for nothing.

  7. When Worlds Collide

  O

  UR CRACKLING fire staved off the night chill. Anna and I fed dead branches into the cement fire ring. Quinn and Manny sat opposite us and were engrossed in quiet conversation. Pete refused to sit. Maybe it was a farmer thing. His family was used to going a hundred miles an hour.

  “Is it supposed to be this cold in October?” Anna asked.

  “No, still fallout from that.” I jerked my head across the river.

  Cold desert wind whipped out of the darkness to raise ghostly froth on the Delaware River. A constant groan sounded from across the water like the last exhalation of some massive beast as tons of sand settled into the river.

  “Sleeping would be hard enough without the constant droning.” Anna shivered and pulled her bright pink jacket tighter.

  By the time we’d threaded through long abandoned construction sites and crossed the bridge, sand spilled over the bank back on the Pennsylvania side. Hours later it was still coming, steadily burying the waterfront industrial complexes, but also dumping into the slow-moving river.

  Getting things organized and refugees distributed to more comfortable buses took an astoundingly long time. With the river as a buffer, camping for the night seemed safe despite the water on the far side roiling like murky cocoa.

  “Lucky this station has so many rooms.” Quinn leaned back and stretched, and her sweater pulled tight across her front. “Some sort of training complex.”

  “Won’t be this lucky in the future.” I fought to keep my eyes on her face.

  “Wilmington will have something. And if you were wondering, Deloris is doing much better. She won’t have any problem riding tomorrow. Dwain’s a miracle worker.”

  “That’s a relief.” Damn it, I should have checked on her. “Wilmington’s only forty miles downriver, but it’s going to be slow going. Mr. Conti says the road hasn’t been maintained but the bridge is sound. No way to cross to the north.”

  “Need to get there before dark and set up a real camp,” Manny added. “Those built in toilets are filling up fast. The buses are getting ripe.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Pete swung away from his examination of the dark water, looking as annoyed as I’d ever seen my friend. “How fast can we get back up to the north side of New Philly and who’s going?”

  His question hit me like a slap. Walks with Max used to give me time to work out problems, but being surrounded by people twenty-four-seven had me buzzing. Instead of quibbling over logistics and toilets, I needed to plan how to rescue our families and the hundreds of others still trapped by the desert.

  “Okay.” I tried to organize my thoughts. “We have to get this group down to the next bridge and settled for a few days. The north side of New Philly needs to be evacuated. And we have to find a new home.”

  “Don’t forget the people who’ve disappeared,” Quinn walked around the fire and sat on my left.

  “We need a good list.” Pete cast a glance at the whitecap-strewn water. “Most of my family was at ground zero. If we’d known what was coming after the soybean field turned into a beach… Well, Mom would kill me if I didn’t do my best to account for everyone.”

  I cleared my throat, feeling like Dad weighing in on a prickly topic. If Koko was right, my Earth magic was at the heart of the problem. With some evil force twisting my spells to bring this “Old World” into existence, it made sense the desert rose out on the farm.

  “Pete, we’ll find them.” What else could I say?

  My single biggest use of Earth magic had been to remove a boulder squatting right in the middle of the Eastons’ new soybean field. I’d spent days chipping away with Earth spells to sink it and flow the minerals out flat. By the end of the week, I’d transformed the obstruction into a fair-sized parking lot. Pete was thrilled to have an area to dry produce and park gear. I’d been proud to have made a lasting contribution to my friend’s family, but had instead left them with seeds of destruction.

  “You won’t find them all in town.” Manny broke into the awkward silence in his usual uncaring way. “The deputy proved the sand doesn’t lay just in this dimension. If it did, he would have crossed in minutes instead of days.”

  We pounded out a detailed plan as the evening wore on. Piper joined us and of course took notes. The cold-hardy Jersey mosquitos had only drained perhaps half of our blood by the time everyone nodded in grudging agreement. If the last few months taught me anything it was that compromise never came easy.

  We selected the Stubborn Six, a name Anna coined for the half dozen volunteers who would leave the main group at Wilmington and wind their way back to Philly. I knew Pete would insist on going. His entire family stood in harm’s way, and he could recognize terrain near the farmstead. Pina offered Dwain’s help, so the sprite was a no-brainer.

  My biggest point of contention came down to Anna. Though inexperienced, her ability with Spirit and Fire ran strong. She was bent on going back to town with the team, but I wanted her to stay put and relay messages with the two others who could firespeak. Dozens of Brights had followed the A-Chords’ tour, but only a handful continued on to New Philly. Plus, there just wasn’t room for everyone. Counting Vance’s beat-up machine, we only had four ATVs.

  The empty buses would get as close to New Philly as they could, and the six would continue on the all-terrain vehicles. Manny insisted he had a talent for telling when drifting sands turned from simply annoying to dangerously disorienting. Someday he and I were going to have a heart-to-heart, and I would get some straight answers about the man.

  In the end, we settled on yours truly, Pete, Manny, Dwain, Quinn, and Deputy Vance—to coordinate with the police.
Quinn stayed behind, and we watched the fire die out together.

  “This is so messed up,” I said. “Where the hell are we going to put all these people?”

  “It’ll work out.” Quinn slid close and took my hand, which calmed my spiraling thoughts.

  “Wilmington’s a ghost town, so maybe New York or Baltimore. And there’s supposed to be an enclave outside of Harrisburg.”

  “There ya go. Once we get clear of whatever’s screwing up the radios, one of the local governments will take us in.”

  Her hand warmed mine as I leaned in. It had been a long time since we’d kissed. Our relationship turned cold before the tour began. We’d come through so much and gotten—if not close—friendlier on the road home. Since getting back there just hadn’t been time to worry about relationships, yet something changed. For the better I guess because Quinn’s full lips touched mine, parted, and my world narrowed to a pinpoint of bliss.

  I could have stayed there all night, drinking in the woman who’d snared me. I wanted her, to meld together in our own private concert of exploration. My hands had a mind of their own as did hers. Wonderful, caressing—

  Something grated nearby, but I simply nuzzled closer, inhaling Quinn’s scent.

  *cough* “Ahem…”

  Quinn pulled back with a gasp, leaving a hole in my soul and cool air replacing the heat rising between us. Why—

  “I do apologize for intruding.” Mr. Conti smiled from across the glowing embers. “Edan, I have a thought.”

  My wits returned like a snail dragging a brick. When the boss used my full name my mind always jumped to the conclusion it was Koko speaking. “No problem, Mr. C.”

  “We need a concert, something happy.”

  “It’s getting kind of late.” I looked around the dark courtyard between buildings.

  “Perhaps tomorrow when we stop?”

  “Good medicine,” Dwain said from across the fire. “Music will heal your people’s souls.”