Fallen: Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 1 (Caustic)

by Brian Spangler

  “We going?” he asked. His expression turned curious as the car bucked up again.

  “You might just want to hold onto this,” Emily told him, motioning toward his thumb. “Keep your thumb safe, no more biting it.”

  “Uh-huh,” he answered, and wrapped his hand in his blanket, protecting it. “Hurts when I do that. We going to see Daddy?” Justin’s question caught her by surprise, and a sudden sadness touched her. Would they see their father again? The feeling was new. Fresh. But it was there, and like the fog, she supposed it might be there forever. She pulled up her cell phone, checking for new text messages.

  “Daddy might be at work by now.” It was all that she could think to tell him. “I’ll send him a text and tell him you said you love him.” Justin smiled, but she could see he was becoming frightened.

  “No good,” her mother said as the car settled back to an idle. “We’re not going anywhere.” Her mother’s face had become flushed and her forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat.

  Emily felt panic rise in her throat. “What are we going to do?” Her mother looked around the car, searching the floor, and then the back seat. Justin reached out, taking hold of his mother’s hand.

  “My boy doing okay?” she asked. Justin’s face lit up, but then turned to a scowl.

  “Bit my thumb,” he answered, and quickly received a kiss to make it all better. His smile was back in a flash.

  “The plastic bags,” her mother declared. “I packed all the plastic trash bags I could find.”

  Confusion. Why would her mother pack trash bags?

  “Really, Mom?” Emily snapped, and immediately regretted her tone. But her mother only raised her brow. Warning. “Why trash bags? What for?”

  Her mother leaned against the headrest and said nothing. Emily sensed her mother’s reluctance to answer. It was her turn to raise her brow, asking.

  “Once we get to the shopping mall, we have to get out of the car. And before we do that, we’re going to cover ourselves in plastic.” Emily recalled Ms. Quigly’s drowning voice and the sound of her body collapsing against their front door. She held her breath until the images passed. She began to shake her head, understanding what her mother was going to do.

  “Emily… Hon, I need your help!” Her mother reached across the center console, pulling up her hands. She locked their fingers together. The touch was warm, and Emily felt her eyes grow moist. Her mother was going to go outside. She was going to leave them and try to fix the car. “Emily, baby. We have to keep moving.” The tears came then, and Emily turned her head, hiding them from Justin.

  “You can’t go outside. We’ll try the car again, drive in reverse if we have to.”

  “Emily, we can’t do that. Look at me,” she said. Emily wiped a tear from her face and turned back. “I need you to do what I ask. Can you go in the back and get the trash bags?”

  Emily said nothing, and instead did as her mother asked. She climbed over the seats, digging out the roll of plastic trash bags. When the cool vinyl was firmly in her hand, she started unrolling it, covering her mother in a polyethylene suit.

  “Will the plastic protect you, outside?”

  “Let’s hope,” she answered, pulling a bag over her arm. “Eyes. I need eyes.”

  “What eyes?”

  “Eyes! Holes in the plastic so that I can see what I’m doing.” Worry had shortened her mother’s patience, and she snatched the plastic roll from Emily. But while her mother dug a finger into the black plastic sheet, she looked over at Emily, and then to Justin. She frowned, mouthing words that Emily didn’t understand.

  “I’m ready,” her mother finally said. She motioned to Emily with her hand, encouraging her to come closer. She spoke quietly. “I won’t put this on my head until I’m ready to open the door. I don’t want to scare your brother. But it’ll be fast.” Emily nodded and moved back to her seat. She’d expected a count, or a wave of a hand, or even a goodbye, but before she could object, her mother wrapped herself in the black plastic and opened the car door.

  Justin was the first to cough, choking on the gray mist wandering in. A whispery vapor cradled the door’s opening, but like at their garage, most of it stayed outside. She could smell the stench, taste the saltiness, but the poisonous fog mostly rolled past the opening. Within moments, pieces of her mother disappeared into the thick gray fold. She turned once, batting at the sting on her arms, but then waved and vanished. With the door shut, the car became eerily quiet. All around them, the curtain of fog rolled by, paying no mind to who was inside.

  A thump came, startling Emily. She saw Justin’s tiny body jump, too. Another thump came, and Emily saw a hand on the windshield of the car. But she only glimpsed it for a second before it was gone. Her mother was feeling her way toward the front tire. But why wouldn’t she just call out? Emily perched her fingers over her lips, tasting the remains of salt in her mouth.

  “Mom can’t talk outside,” she mumbled. “She’d let the poison in if she did.” She waited for another tap.

  “Where’s Mommy going?” Justin asked. Emily raised a hand, like her father often did, motioning to Justin to keep quiet. “I wanna go outside, too.”

  Emily sucked in a breath when she heard the sound of a buckle releasing. There was no mistaking the metal and plastic clanking from her brother’s car seat. And by the time she’d stretched her body toward the back, Justin’s tiny hands were already perched on the door’s handle, already clutching it, already pulling…

  The collar of her brother’s jacket was just inches from Emily’s fingers when an explosion of crunching metal filled her ears. Her arm whipped against the headrest, nearly snapping, telling her to scream. But she could do nothing while the rest of her body flew backward. She crashed into the windshield, breaking the rearview mirror with the back of her head. A flash of lightning filled her vision, and she sensed that they were spinning. Breathing was no longer an option. Her chest felt crushed by some unseen pressure. Everything around her dimmed, until the inside of the car was gone.

  3

  Emily blinked her eyes, dazed, seeing only cloudy apparitions. Blood wet her chin from a cut on her lip—a metallic taste replacing the chemical burn in the back of her throat. Her head throbbed, echoing her heartbeat, louder than she thought was possible. When she tried to move, her stomach rolled and threatened to spill. She gulped, resisting the urge to vomit. Pain awoke in her arm next, making her remember what had happened. They must have been hit. Another car?

  “Justin!” she called out, finding her brother’s car seat was empty. Her voice sounded muffled and tinny against the ring in her ears. “Justin, buddy?” She fell forward onto the floor and screamed. Burning pain pulsed through her side in sharp waves. The pain was bad, but she could breathe past it.

  She blinked away a mix of sweat and blood in her eyes, maneuvered her head and shoulders up onto the seat and saw that she’d cracked the windshield. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Her heart raced, pounding; she could feel it clearly right down to her fingers and toes. Gradually the sounds returned. An endless car horn whittled its way past the ringing in her ears. It was from another car, must have gotten jammed in the crash.

  Emily pressed her hand against the floor, finding their car’s engine was still running. But her relief was cut short when a horrific thought occurred to her. She turned back to the windshield just in time to see the blank eyes of a black plastic bag skitter over the car, carried away by the fog. Dread filled her. She reached up a weak fist, rapped it on the dashboard, waited.

  “Mom!” she called out over the other car’s horn. “Mom, can you hear me? Knock on the side of the car!”

  “Mommy.” It was Justin’s whimper, from somewhere in the back. Thank God. Biting down on her lip, Emily crawled over the seat. She found him on the floor, bundled up like a tight knot. He’d never opened the car door. Surely if he had, he’d be dead. The car accident had saved his life.

  His eyes were large like saucers, watery and abundant
with fright as he took in the chaos around them. He held his thumb in his mouth, but his lips pouted and shook when he reached out to hold his big sister. The sight made a lump form in her throat, and she choked back a sob as she wrapped her arms around his small body. For a moment, brother and sister just clung to each other, a tiny pocket of warmth in this cold new world. When she pulled back, his face was blurred, and she had to blink away the emotion.

  “Need you to help me, okay?” she asked, and saw him flinch as a spatter of blood hit his face. She spat and wiped the blood from her mouth. “Can you help me?”

  A hot ache had begun to consume her side, pulsating from a rib that she thought might be bruised, or worse, broken. She guided Justin back to his car seat, taking care to check him for injuries. Pushing hair back from his somber face, she’d found only a small cut, a bump rising and already turning a painful black and blue. Being small has its advantages, she thought, and then buckled him back into his car seat.

  “Here,” she said, pulling his thumb up for him to grab. “You hold on to this for me.” Her plan to make him laugh didn’t work, and he dropped his hands back down.

  “Where’s Mommy?” he asked. His eyes were large, glancing around, searching. “Your phone?”

  Emily had forgotten about her phone, and reached around to find it. Her heart lifted when she saw two messages waiting for her. But they were older, many minutes older, and she wondered if she’d been knocked out. She grabbed the back of her head, finding the spot where it had hit the rearview mirror. Like her brother, she had her own lump, and cringed when she pressed on the bruise.

  “How long were you sitting on the floor?” she asked, but Justin only shrugged at the question. She held up her phone, letting the light from the display brighten his face.

  “It’s Dad!”

  “What’s he say?” Justin’s spirits were instantly brightened.

  “The first message says that he couldn’t”—Emily stopped, her mouth went dry and her chest tightened—“he couldn’t get to work. He had to turn around.” Looking at the gray poison covering their car, she understood that what she’d awoken to that day might be forever.

  “What else?” Justin asked, not understanding the magnitude of the first message. Emily swiped her thumb across the second message.

  “He says that he’s on his way to the mall!”

  “What else?”

  “Just those two,” she told him. “No more messages. None for a while, now.”

  “Tell Daddy we see him at the mall,” Justin clapped, showing her a toothy grin, and then stopped and leaned forward, staring past her. “But Mommy. Gotta get Mommy, too.” Justin pointed a nubby finger toward the front.

  Emily turned—and her heart leapt into her throat. Standing outside the car door was the ghost of a woman, her body eaten away by the poisonous fog. Blood streaked down the woman’s face, taking with it clumps of skin and hair. Her mouth lay agape, her jaw horribly broken. The sight was too much, and Emily had to turn away from it. She shuddered, trembling, tried to make herself look, but kept her eyes down. A pang of shame bit her for not being stronger. Lifting her chin, she caught her mother’s stare. There was horror and despair in those sunken eyes, but there was also something familiar. Something parental. Protecting. Emily cried out to her, reaching for the front seat.

  “Mommy!” Justin cried. “What happened to Mommy?”

  “Justin, keep your eyes closed! Don’t you look up!”

  “But, Mommy! Why does she look like that?”

  “Cover them up, Justin.”

  “I’m covering them… I’m not gonna look.”

  “Good boy.”

  Before Emily could reach her mother, she watched her fall, heard the sound of her body scraping against the car.

  “Justin, keep your eyes covered!” Emily yelled, her heart breaking when her brother began to cry. She made her way back to the front. The woozy feeling that had threatened earlier had been replaced by the horror of what had happened to her mother. She must’ve been hit by the other car, and now the fog was eating her. Emily tried to open the car door, but it wouldn’t move. She pushed, straining, until stars filled her eyes. Her mother was lying against the door, holding it back.

  “Mom!” Emily screamed, banging on the window. “Momma, you have to move away from the door!” Two bangs rang out, confusing her.

  “What?” she asked. “What? Mom, let me open the door.” Her voice was broken by a heavy sob.

  Another bang on the door, followed by a scraping sound against the metal. Emily pressed her head against the window. The glass was cold, and a foreboding sense filled her. It was the same feeling she’d had when Ms. Quigly had called to them from outside their home.

  “But Mom!” she cried. “Please… please let me open the door.” Her mother hammered again, objecting. Justin whimpered, then called out to her. Tears dropped from Emily’s chin, and her warm breath fogged the glass.

  “Please, Momma,” she sobbed.

  When the car’s engine began to sputter, instinct took over. Emily pressed her foot on the gas pedal, revving the engine. She watched one of the orange needles shoot around the dial. More knocks came. The first was solitary, leaving Emily to think for a moment that her mother had died. Then two more joined the first, and Emily saw the bloody glove of her mother’s hand appear in the window. The hand moved across the glass, up and over, again and again, before falling out of sight. Emily leaned away from the door, trying to make out what her mother had written on the glass. Alone, at the top, was a heart, outlined in crimson red that glowed bright against the gray fog. And beneath the heart, she read aloud one word. “GO!”

  “Momma, no!” she cried, but the sputter of the car’s engine threatened again. “I love you, Momma.” Emily pressed the gas pedal, forcing the engine to keep idling. She waited for a response, but there was nothing.

  “You gonna get Mom?” Justin pleaded. Emily could only shake her head as she tried pushing the car’s shifter into drive. Her hand shook, and she fumbled with the button. She heaved in a wet breath, choking on sobs that wouldn’t be denied. She pushed again and shifted the car into drive. Although she’d only had a few driving lessons, she managed to move the car around until the GPS’s triangle showed they were pointed toward the mall. Whatever it was that had hung up the front wheel before, it was now gone. As the triangle followed the blue path, the constant blaring of the other car’s horn grew more distant.

  When the GPS told her it was time to turn, she rolled the wheel. The car felt wobbly, pitching up and jerking around, but the tires were full, the windows unbroken. Their car had fared better than the other, somehow surviving the crash. She listened to the horn’s death wail, thinking they’d probably hear it all the way to the mall.

  “What about Mom?” Justin repeated, but she ignored him. The mall was all that she could think about now.

  4

  “Two more turns,” Emily said, tracing her finger along the GPS’s blue path. The point on the map where they’d crashed was already well behind them, far enough to silence the other car’s horn. They’d driven on, slow and steady. And by now, Emily thought, her mother was probably dead. Justin had stayed quiet, and she wondered if he could be too young to mourn. She wasn’t, though. More than once she thought she’d have to pull over and cry away the pain, put it to rest for another mile. But she stayed on course. They were almost there.

  She’d only looked through the windshield once or twice, quickly learning to rely on the GPS’s smaller screen. Emily reached up and touched one of the cracks. The glass was wet. The fog was coming in, condensing on the inside. She quickly snuffed out the burn forming on her fingertips, then pressed on the gas pedal. She picked up the roll of plastic bags and hung it over her shoulder for her brother.

  “Justin?” she called out, but heard nothing.

  Movement.

  “Come on, Justin!”

  A groan.

  “Costumes, we’re going to make costumes.”

&n
bsp; Another groan. And then silence. What’s he doing?

  “Justin? Come on now, wake up. We’re almost there. Time to see Dad.”

  Too quiet. A lump formed in her throat.

  Emily moved the rearview mirror back into place. Justin’s reflection came into view, his image fractured by cracks and missing pieces of glass. But she could see him, and gasped. Her brother’s face had gone deathly pale and his lips had turned almost white. A maternal feeling sprang to life, and Emily slammed on the brakes, jerking their bodies forward.

  “Wake up, Justin! I need you to wake up, now!”

  Justin stirred, lifting his tiny hand to where she’d seen the cut atop his head.

  “You bumped your head,” she told him, and then opened a bottle of water. “You have to stay awake. You hear me? We’re almost there.” Emily poured the cold water onto his head, waking him. To her relief, he cried out, shouting at her and waving, shooing her away. His eyes opened wide and they looked clear. She poured another splash onto his head. Justin’s hands flew in a fury of swipes, his little mouth gasping as though he’d been thrown into a pool.

  “What you doing?”

  “Time to play costumes,” she told him, and handed him some plastic bags. “We’re going to see Dad in a minute.” Justin took hold of a plastic bag, then pointed at her.

  “Blood, Emily,” he said, wiping at his own mouth. “Bleeding.” Emily quickly covered her mouth where she’d split her lip. He didn’t need to see any more than he had. She rubbed her side too, ribs aching and causing her to wince. She’d hide that too.

  “I know, buddy. I’ll be okay.” Her voice wavered, filled with uncertainty. “Another turn and we’ll be at the mall. Understand?” Justin nodded, and she watched some of the color return to his face.