The Remaining

by Travis Thrasher

  “Turn on the power,” he tells Tommy. “I need some light. I can’t find the bag. She’s got so much junk back here.”

  Tommy puts the key in the ignition and the sound of static on the radio rips through the van, freaking him out a bit. Dan is able to turn on the light to see what he’s doing. While he does that, Tommy tries to find anything on the radio. He searches and soon hears the distant, tinny voice of a man who sounds like an old preacher talking.

  “There was no terrorist attack, no viral outbreak—there are millions of dead, all around us. All the children are dead. There is no doubt in my mind this was the Rapture—”

  “Turn it off,” Dan shouts at him.

  Sounds good to me. Tommy douses the car in silence once again.

  Dan is still bent over, looking through everything at the back of the minivan. For a moment, Tommy can’t get the old-timer’s voice out of his head. He’s curious what the guy is going to keep talking about, so he turns the radio back on but keeps the volume low.

  “You need to understand that there is only one way to God—only one way to eternal life. You listen to me! Stop what you’re doing, get down on your knees, and pray this prayer with me—and believe it.”

  “Yes,” Dan shouts out.

  Dan is holding up a bag—it must be the amoxicillin. Tommy nods and gives him a thumbs-up but still listens to the man on the radio. He’s curious. He wants to hear what this nut-job says to do.

  Blame it on the Rapture. How convenient.

  “You first need to confess that you’re a sinner, and that—”

  Tommy’s head slams into the steering wheel as something pounds the front of the minivan. He can hear Dan yelling as his friend is launched into the back of a seat. Holding his forehead, Tommy looks at Dan. He can see the expression on his friend’s face.

  It’s the same look he must have.

  They’re here.

  Whatever they might be.

  Aliens or devils or terrorists or some kind of monster he doesn’t know about.

  Whatever they might be, calling this the Rapture and praying isn’t going to do anything.

  Getting out of here is what we need to do.

  Dan kneels on the floor of the van and reaches up quickly to turn off the light. Not that it’s going to help.

  “Did you see anything?” he asks Tommy.

  Tommy moves to the back of the minivan, looking out the window toward the street and the other sleeping vehicles. There’s nothing out there—no movement, no shape, nothing. He looks out the side window. He hears a low hum outside from something but sees nothing.

  He wipes the sweat from his forehead. His temple still hurts from bashing into the steering wheel. Then he looks out the windshield.

  “It hit the front of the van,” Tommy says in a hushed voice.

  Any minute something might jump out at them. Anything.

  A cold hand grabbing his thigh.

  A warm, moist palm sliding against his cheek.

  Teeth ripping into his shoulder.

  Enough, Tommy.

  Dan is beside him now and he’s looking through the windshield too. They both watch and wait.

  The window fogs up.

  How’s that happening?

  It feels like—any second now—whatever is out there . . .

  Get on your knees now or you’re gonna die you’re gonna get what you deserve you’re gonna suffer you miserable sinner.

  They can’t see out the front window anymore. Dan moves forward, trying to see what’s outside.

  A piercing boom, and glass rains all over them as the windows explode and the minivan shakes.

  Tommy curses when something—some thing some monster some kind of something—lands on the roof, blowing out the side and back windows.

  Then they see it: the imprint in the roof just above their heads. It looks sort of like a . . . talon. Belonging to a massive bird.

  But of course that’s crazy, right, just like the end of the world being crazy and Skylar’s parents dying right in front of me and Lauren dying and everybody dying or leaving this city.

  The van begins to rock back and forth. Harder and harder. Tommy grabs the door handle as the shaking continues.

  Then he sees something like a tentacle on the outside, moving and wiggling and shaking right outside the window lined with broken shards of glass.

  It’s a tail.

  Everything happens in violent fast motion while somehow being on slow-mo at the same time. Dan is next to him, hunkering down and trying to keep from being stabbed or stuck or struck by whatever that thing might be.

  The voice on the radio seems to get louder now, the preacher yelling out his message of hope.

  The van continues to shake.

  We’re going to die right now. That thing is going to swallow us whole.

  The preacher doesn’t seem scared one bit, however.

  “Back to hell with you, demon!” the man on the radio shouts out.

  The van suddenly stops shaking.

  The violent thrashing is over.

  Tommy looks at Dan, who is right next to him. He wants to say something but can’t. He doesn’t know what to say and is afraid it might bring that thing back if he makes a single sound.

  All Tommy wants to do is get out of this van.

  He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to regain enough strength and courage to get out of here and run back into the church. When he opens them again, he sees the shell-shocked survivor from earlier—the window breaker with the shopping cart. The man appears enraged as he stands in front of the minivan, looking on top of the roof.

  The thing must still be there.

  “You’re no match for God!” the man cries out. “The power of Christ compels you!”

  Tommy doesn’t know what to do. He just sits and watches the man.

  Suddenly there’s a quick rattling, and then the imprint on the roof disappears.

  “It’s gone,” Tommy says in a voice of exasperated relief.

  They both look at each other and know what needs to happen.

  The back doors open and they climb out.

  “Run,” Dan shouts as he holds the bag full of medicine.

  Tommy is almost out of the van when he hears the scream. It sounds like someone choking on something while howling at the top of his lungs. He can’t help but turn back and see the man who was just hollering out in the night air being slammed against the front window.

  No!

  The van shakes again and the radio goes silent. Tommy is out now and looks back one more time.

  The stranger on the street is now being lifted up and over the van.

  This is crazy this is crazy.

  He’s seen enough and so have his legs and his body. Now he’s sprinting and trying to avoid the cars and trying to stay close to Dan and hoping that the winged beast with the massive talons doesn’t swoop in and claw him up.

  As the screams behind them continue, Tommy and Dan race back to the church. The car alarms begin to all go off now. They’re being hounded and harassed and chased.

  The church is just up ahead.

  They’re almost there.

  Almost there.

  Almost . . .

  34

  THE BIG QUESTION

  The sand still between my toes.

  The sea and the surf a stone’s throw from the balcony.

  The sun fading fast. Too fast.

  Mom tries to explain but her words still sound hollow.

  “I thought we were doing the right thing. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Yes, Allie—it does matter. It matters more than you realize.”

  “I’m just not interested. It only brings more confusion than hope.”

  “Your father doesn’t want to have anything to do with God, but I’ve come to rely on him. It’s the only thing I can rely on these days.”

  The orange glow that hovers over us will be gone soon. So wi
ll Mom. So will these talks about God and faith. So will the bothersome pricks in my side.

  I don’t need them anymore.

  There was a time, but it’s gone. It’s passed.

  Allison remembers the conversation with her mother and how she was convinced that her time with God and her parents’ faith—no, actually her mother’s faith—was done. How it was a thing in her past. But lately, that past has come to mind more and more. That’s why she came here in the first place. To be reminded of it. To find hope inside it. To seek some kind of answer in the pews of this church.

  Yet as each moment passes, all she finds is that same empty feeling that seems to follow her wherever she goes.

  She doesn’t want to live with this feeling anymore. And she definitely doesn’t want to die with it.

  Allison wanders down a hallway into an open area that has a stairwell and another doorway leading to the outside. She spots Jack looking out one of the windows into the dark night.

  “See anything?” she asks simply to start a conversation.

  She knows he hasn’t seen anything since there’s nothing to see.

  “There’s nobody on the streets. No passing cars. Nothing.”

  Jack has been restless ever since Tommy and Dan left a while ago.

  “They’ll be back soon,” Allison says, trying to encourage.

  “They’ve been gone a long time.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  Jack turns and looks at her. So far they still haven’t really talked since they were interrupted earlier. They’ve circled around the things that really need to be spoken about, but the right moment just hasn’t come. Allison has been with Skylar most of the time since then.

  “I better get back to the main entrance,” he says. “In case they arrive.”

  “Jack . . .”

  She wonders if he’s ever going to finish their earlier conversation. She knows where he was heading and what he sounded like he was going to ask.

  They stare at one another for a moment, so much said between them in a simple look.

  Everything seems different now. Everything.

  Maybe it doesn’t matter anyway. Married or not. The end is here and they probably only have days left, hours maybe.

  Then maybe it matters even more.

  “I’m nervous,” he says. “I should’ve gone with them.”

  “It wouldn’t help if all three of you weren’t here.”

  He sighs and nods.

  “I thought—when I was here by myself and then everything started to happen—all I could think was how much I wished I was back at the hotel.”

  “You’re lucky you weren’t there,” Jack says, his voice so somber and weak. “All the dead bodies everywhere. Everybody losing their mind. It was chaos.”

  “It’s chaos everywhere.”

  “Yeah. It just seems worse when you’re surrounded. By the living and the dead.”

  She thinks of that conversation with her mother a year ago, the one where she told Allison about her newfound faith and how helpful it had been. Allison wants to share this with Jack. She’s wanted to share things like this with him for a while.

  “Come on—let’s go and see if they’re back,” Jack tells her.

  He puts an arm around her and it’s comforting. This light, casual touch. Something she took for granted before all of this happened.

  I won’t take it for granted again. Ever.

  But sometimes you wait to appreciate something only to find it permanently gone.

  Relief comes in the form of screaming and knocking at the door.

  Dan and Tommy have made it.

  There’s a rush and a whirlwind to get the two guys back inside, with Jack pulling away the tables and chairs put there for security and Pastor Shay unbolting the door. Dan and Tommy are pale and sweaty and look terrified as they spill through the door. Allison doesn’t see the bag Dan is holding at first, and for a moment she’s disheartened. But then Dan, still sucking in air and bent over, holds out the bag for Rachel. The nurse takes it after giving him a hug in greeting.

  The two young men share a look of triumph even though it’s short-lived. Dan follows the nurse back to the room where Skylar is. Allison stays with Jack and Tommy and the others. They wait to hear what happened.

  “Something is out there,” Tommy tells them, sounding like he’s getting ready to tell a ghost story.

  If only it could be so harmless.

  “What is it?” Jack asks.

  “I have no idea,” Tommy says, still breathing heavily and wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his dress shirt. “Some kind of monster. Something awful.”

  Tommy’s never been one to exaggerate. Joke around, sure, but not talk with terror lacing his tone.

  “It attacked us. It blew out the windows of the minivan.”

  “But what was it?” Jack asks.

  “I just saw its tail or maybe one of its . . . claws or something.”

  Jack looks disbelieving.

  Tommy shakes his head, tired and obviously not interested in trying to debate what he saw.

  “Are you okay?” Allison asks him.

  Tommy gives her an odd look and just nods. Then he walks back into the sanctuary. Jack looks serious and begins to stack the chairs and tables on top of one another to barricade the front doors again.

  Allison stands in the foyer, feeling cold and empty and helpless.

  But the boys are still alive, a voice reminds her. They came back.

  Hope is not gone.

  Hope is still out there.

  That’s exactly what her mother told her once.

  So what does she think now?

  The big question. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. If tomorrow does indeed come.

  35

  THE TICKING CLOCK

  A new group of strangers arrives in the church, and one of them carries scenes from the maelstrom outside. A man was able to save some videos he found online before the connection broke. Now a group surrounds the piano while the man’s tablet stands upon it and shows the video.

  They play it again because it’s too unreal to take in the first time. It doesn’t look natural.

  Tommy is in the middle of the group of strangers, watching. At first he was trying to figure out how they got an Internet connection when he’s been trying ever since getting here. But his phone is dead now anyway, so it doesn’t matter. The tablet’s owner says these videos were downloaded from YouTube just hours ago.

  The first video reveals a stretch of beach. To Tommy it looks like the Atlantic. Then he realizes the person who posted this video is from California, so it has to be the West Coast. The shaky video shows the ocean, or where the ocean used to be, with its dried-up shore lined with dead sea life. Thousands of dead fish and sharks and dolphins cover the sand. The ocean seems to be receding and drying up.

  Death is everywhere.

  Not just in this video, but in this world.

  Someone says the obvious. “It’s happening everywhere.”

  Tommy doesn’t want to believe it. He thinks about this video and then realizes the importance of the video he’s taken.

  I need to figure out a way to show it, too. To get it online. To help let people know . . .

  But he can’t finish the rest of that thought.

  Help them know what, Tommy? That the world is over? That they might as well wave the white flag and put a gun in their mouth and blow off their head?

  A Radiohead song comes to mind. He wishes he could have his iPod and just crank it up and let everything else fade away. But it doesn’t work like that. Not here and now.

  Separating like ripples on a black shore.

  The separation has finally come and those ripples are everywhere. The shores are all black as the night. Tommy wonders what tomorrow will bring, if the sun will rise and if they will see some kind of daylight.

  If we make it to tomorrow.

  “There’s more,” the man says to them like someone announcing that the vol
cano has erupted and the lava is only seconds away.

  A cell phone video plays. It’s a peewee basketball game with the young boys and girls running up and down the court, barely knowing which way to go. The person filming obviously has to be a proud parent zooming in on his boy.

  Then it’s blurry and there’s rumbling and screaming.

  “Oh no! No!” the adult voice screams.

  The video zooms out and focuses back on the court. All the kids are now littering the court, dead and scattered like garbage. The screams magnify as more parents freak out.

  All the kids—every one is dead. Taken. Tossed about.

  Then the video shows the stands, where a few adults lie dead as well.

  Another video shows a park with corpses strewn throughout it. A mother lies dead behind a toddler swing, her newborn still swaying slightly in it, eyes white and gone.

  And there’s more.

  A police video where a man’s being cuffed until the cop collapses behind him.

  A traffic-jam video that resembles the mess Tommy and Dan were just in.

  There’s even a scene at a small diner where several patrons suddenly drop dead and a waitress crumples to the floor. Then it shows a cook resting on a searing grill, the man’s hands and face and chest all grilling along with the burgers he was just cooking.

  This is madness.

  The group of strangers continue to talk but Tommy slips away. He’s seen enough. The videos are reminders.

  Time is short. I might be gone tomorrow. Or tonight.

  He needs to do something and do it fast. So he heads somewhere private. Goodness knows this church is big enough to find a room that’s not occupied.

  So many rooms to house the dead. Wonder if it held this many living folks when they were around to come in through the doors.

  The sound of his feet on the carpet seems too loud. The echoes of his steps seem too empty. Tommy’s mind keeps going back to the desolate seashore with all the dead fish everywhere.

  So Jesus fed the five thousand but what about here what about now?

  Anger rips inside of him. He sees a cross every ten feet he walks, it seems. It’s ridiculous. God is not here. He’s not in this building and he’s surely not outside. He’s not watching. If he’s up there, he’s shut the door and locked it.