Under Wicked Sky: Book 1

by S. G. Seabourne

  Outside, the sun cast a vivid orange glow in the sky. It looked like the sky was on fire, which wasn’t ominous at all.

  As the sky darkened, the griffins quieted. It was time.

  Clutching the tire iron in a white-knuckled grip, I went out first. (I’d lost against Terry in rock paper scissors. But that was fine. This had been my idea.)

  The culvert drained into a break in the trees, which formed a meadow. Across the soggy field, the silhouette of a griffin perched on top of a tall pine. As I watched, it bent its head to pick at something meaty clasped in its talons.

  Bile rose up in my throat, and I swallowed it back down.

  Then I noticed I couldn’t hear any other bird-life around. No harsh scrub jay calls, or the sweet chirp of sparrows. Even the crows weren’t croaking, and usually nothing shut them up.

  Had they turned into monsters, too?

  Something skittered over dried pine needles. I whipped around with the tire iron raised.

  It was only a chipmunk, tail up like a flag. Well, I guess that meant there was still some normal animal life around. And no sign of killer moss. Whatever that was supposed to look like.

  Overhead, the trees grew thickly together, the branches so intertwined I wasn’t able to see the sky. But I didn’t think anything griffin size lurked directly above. Nothing pounced on me.

  Slowly, I turned in place to be sure, searching the nearby brush for movement. Nothing.

  Well, it was now or never. I lowered the tire iron and nodded to the culvert.

  Terry slid out next, followed by Ben, who held onto the tail of Terry’s shirt.

  “We have to cross the road,” Terry whispered.

  We climbed the small hill that formed the ditch. An eerie silence hung over the two-lane highway. Cars lay on their sides, or nose-down in the ditch. Most had broken windows, like something had crawled out. Or in.

  My stomach did a slow roll as I saw a van with dried brownish blood splattered on an open door. We passed the body of a man, wizened thin, curled in the fetal position, and burned to a crisp.

  It looks like a mall mannequin, I thought. His hair isn’t even burned. Just his skin.

  Ben stared, too. I snapped out of it and tugged him quickly to the side of the road.

  “Stay here,” I whispered. My mom’s sedan wasn’t far off, though it had been shoved closer to the shoulder of the road than when we’d left it. The driver side door was caved in, too. That was new.

  Opening the passenger’s side door, I snatched the cell phone and an extra twenty dollar bill my mom kept in the glove box for emergencies.

  Feeling exposed, I darted back to Terry and Ben who lingered on the edge of the road. Ben was pale with fright, but Terry brightened at seeing my cell phone.

  “Good idea. You get a signal out here?”

  I nodded and gestured for the boys to follow me deeper into the brush before risking the light of the cell. It was a basic phone—smartphones didn’t do jack out in the forest. I had to actually flip it open to press the keys.

  I called my mom first, but a computerized voice said all networks were busy. Frowning, I dialed 911. It rang and rang without an answer.

  I felt Ben’s eyes like a hopeful weight on me. I couldn’t look at him as I lowered the phone from my ear. “It’s not working. Maybe I’ll get a better signal when we’re up on the ridge.” Though signal wasn’t the problem.

  I caught Terry’s gaze. He swallowed and pointed up the hill. “Okay. Should be this way.”

  Terry seemed to be right about the griffin’s hunting in the light. Night fell fast under the trees, and the moon wasn’t out yet. The brightest things around were patches of snow.

  The ground grew steadily steeper. It was slow going, and we were forced to make detours around thick underbrush. I mistrusted every deep shadow.

  Soon, I was panting. My bottom half was soaked from the drainage pipe, which made my jeans chafe against the insides of my legs. The griffin bite burned worse with the exercise, too.

  Ben sniffled as we walked. He was crying again, and I didn’t blame him. This time last night, I had been working on my make-up biology homework. I’d been safe and had never seen a dead body.

  Don’t think about that, Clarissa.

  Trudging uphill helped keep me warm, though the rapidly cooling air carved into my lungs. Between the branches overhead, the sky was clear and cold. I shivered and crossed my arms over my chest.

  At last, we came to the crest of the ridge. It was mostly bare of trees, and snow lingered in the shadow of rounded boulders. The moon started to rise. Tonight, it looked huge.

  Terry reached the top first. He did a slow turn in place, his face slack in surprise. “Shit.”

  I looked around. In the distance, I saw dark outlines of more hills. And further on, sharp peaks of mountains. It was colder up here, too. Almost crystalline. “What? Which way do we go?”

  Terry didn’t answer for a long moment. “The lake’s that way.” He pointed dead ahead to a patch of inky darkness. “But I should see the lights from the city. Where’s the airport?”

  “Over there?” I indicated a dim glow nestled between two far mountains.

  “No, that’s too far. I’ve been up here before, cross-country skiing,” Terry said. “On a clear night like this, we might be able to see all the way to Carson City.”

  A chill that had nothing to do with the plunging temperature crawled up my spine. I looked back at the hazy orange glow. “Maybe the griffins knocked out the electricity.”

  “Maybe the griffins ate everybody,” Ben grumbled.

  “Don’t be gross,” I said sharply.

  But for the first time, I wondered how far-reaching this was. What if people had changed into monsters as far away as Reno? Or Sacramento? Large cities would get help, first. I’d learned that lesson enough times when big storms hit.

  Terry had joked about the apocalypse, but I’d always heard California was going to fall into the sea, not... turn into griffins.

  What if this was worldwide? And why hadn’t Terry, Ben, or I been effected?

  It was too much. Too big to take in.

  “Clarissa,” Ben whined, pressing against me. “I’m cold.”

  “I know.” I put an arm around his slim shoulders. He was shivering. I looked to Terry. “So, which way’s your house?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t really... um.” He looked around for a moment, then pointed. “That way.”

  I squinted at him. “How sure are you?” If we went the wrong way in either direction, we could end up lost in the national forest.

  Terry smiled that brilliant smile of his. “I’m sure. Besides, if we get too cold we can all pile under pine needles and wait out the night.”

  The thought of sleeping next to him made my stomach do a funny flip. “If we have to,” I said, knowing that my cheeks were burning. “I think we should just cover as much ground as possible.”

  Especially if he was right and those monsters hunted in the day.

  Terry started down the other side of the ridge, but Ben held back.

  “How much further, though?” Ben whined. “I’m tired.”

  So was I, but I tried to keep upbeat for his sake. “Come on.” Holding my brother’s hand, I started down the rocky slope. “Terry said his house was on the other side, right? It won’t be far.”

  Please let me be right.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  - Dylan -

  I crouched as low as I could inside the Hummer. The SUV had three rows, and I could hear muffled sniffling from the two girls in the seats in front of me. My hands had finally stopped shaking, but my throat was thick and clogged.

  The sky turned a toxic orange in the setting sun, and terrible, high-pitched griffin shrieks bounced from tree-to-tree all around us. There must've been hundreds of voices. Hundreds of people now animals.

  I hadn't heard human voices in at least an hour, and those had been screams.

  I wiped my wet eyes with the heel of my hand. I
had to do something. I was the oldest, so it was up to me to take charge. But I couldn't afford to let my sister or the other girl see me breaking down like this.

  My father was right. I was weak.

  I clenched my fists so hard the nails bit into my skin. Five minutes. I'd give myself another five minutes to freak out, and then I'd man up and figure out what to do next.

  Closing my eyes, I forced my breaths to come out even, instead of stuttered gasps. Breathe in, hold for the count of three. Exhale.

  My pulse slowed and a sensation of inner stillness grew in my heart. It was cool and soothing, like the kiss of fog on an early spring day. When I rubbed my face again, my skin was dry.

  The spicy scent of cedar tickled my nose. When I open my eyes, I found I wasn't in the car at all.

  The ground under me was reddish dirt, pounded flat and swept clean. Now, the air tasted hot on the back of my tongue, the result of the small fire cheerfully burning before me.

  I looked around, curious but not concerned. The walls were made of long strips of dried redwood bark, leaned together in a tee-pee shaped structure, with a triangle gap for the doorway.

  "It's an ummuucha," my uncle said, next to me.

  I glanced over. Uncle had always been a thin man, but now he looked so skinny he was wraith-like. His darkened skin was like leather, lined and aged on his face. In the unreliable firelight, his eyes were like sunken pits.

  "A bark house. I know," I said.

  "My uncle nodded. "It is important, Dylan, to remember the old ways, and to use the old words. They have medicine in them."

  Medicine. Uncle never used the word as it was meant in English. To him, medicine was power.

  I shivered. "My father is dead," I said, remembering.

  "The old world is dead," Uncle corrected. "It's up to you to build the new."

  "The old world?" I repeated, but when I blinked the redwood bark walls had disappeared, and I was stuck again in a stuffy car. I jerked and looked around. "What the hell?" Had I fallen asleep? Dreamed?

  "Dylan, shut up!" Lilly hissed from the seat in front. "Those things will hear you!"

  But the griffin cries had tapered off. It was darker, too. Maybe a half-hour of weak daylight left. I had been... out. Asleep, maybe.

  Or maybe I had been away.

  Cautiously, I sat up and inched to the window. Nothing moved in the trees overhead, but the parking lot still looked like a war zone.

  "Maybe they’ll go to sleep, soon. Like birds," I whispered. "Lilly, I—" I stopped myself before I said, 'I think I spoke to Uncle' because even I knew that sounded bad. "Do you remember what Uncle used to tell us?"

  "What?" My little sister popped up from her seat, scowling. "What about him?"

  "He used to talk about medicine and magic, remember?"

  Lilly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and he thought the government was listening in on him through electric lines."

  And when his hoarding got bad, our father had Uncle committed. That's when our cousin, Terry, had come to live with us.

  Maybe I hadn't been dreaming at all. Some mental illnesses ran in families. Was this how a psychotic break started?

  Lilly's friend, the redheaded girl, sat up as well. Her face was a blotchy mess of tears. In comparison, Lilly seemed perfectly composed. As usual. She hadn't even cried at mom's funeral.

  "If the griffins are going to sleep, we need a plan." Lilly turned to her friend. "Give me the keys, Merlot."

  "N-no!" Merlot's bottom lip trembled as she shrank away. "This is my grandma's car. We can't take it!"

  "She's dead," Lilly said flatly. "She won't care."

  Fresh tears sprung up in the girl's eyes, and I felt a surge of anger. "Knock it off, Lilly."

  "It's true. She's dead, just like Dad!" Her voice broke on the last word, and she turned away from me.

  Some of my irritation faded. Lilly was hurting. She just never learned to show it very well. I also knew from long experience that comforting her would just make her snap at me, so I didn't bother.

  I looked to Merlot. "We should get somewhere safe if we can. Where do you live?"

  "Carson City," she whispered miserably. "My parents have me driven up the mountain for school."

  I nodded. It sounded like Merlot and Lilly attended the same private girl's academy. "Okay, well, our house is on the way, just on the other side of the city. How about we go there first and try to figure this all out?"

  She didn't answer, but her shoulders relaxed a little.

  I looked at my sister. "You have your cell phone with you?"

  "Duh." Lilly dug it out of her pocket. A slim glittery thing. "I tried it while you two were crying. All the numbers I dialed got busy signals. I was on hold with 911 for, like, twenty minutes before I hung up. Even the internet is down." Her scowl deepened. "And I didn't want the keys to drive the stupid car. None of us can drive. I wanted to turn on the radio." She held out her hand to Merlot and snapped her fingers for the keys.

  "I can drive," I protested.

  "You had one lesson, and Dad said you sucked at it." Snatching the keys away from her friend, Lilly scrambled to the front seat and jammed them into the ignition. She flicked quickly through the preprogrammed stations, and then used the scan button to search for new ones. Every frequency was either static or dead silence.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I didn't know why, but maybe in a world gone completely bonkers, it was the simple things that hit hardest. The radio wasn’t working. It had always worked, even after the worst winter storms with snow so deep you couldn’t cut through the drifts with a snowblower. Radio still came through.

  The old world is dead, Uncle had told me.

  I scrambled to the front seat. "Move over, Lilly." It was near full dark now, but none of the street lights had come on. Electricity must be cut. "I'm driving."

  "No way!"

  "I have my permit." And one disastrous lesson, which lasted a whole twenty minutes. I had accidentally tried to turn onto an oncoming lane on a left-hand turn. There hadn't been any other traffic on the road, but my father had grabbed the wheel and ordered me to pull over. And that had been that.

  Lilly didn't budge. "Can you drive, Merlot?"

  "I'm fourteen," Merlot whispered.

  Lilly glared at me, but then muttered, "Fine." We awkwardly moved past one another.

  It took a few moments for me to adjust the seat to my height and figure out the pedals in the dark. The long skinny one was the gas. Okay.

  I turned the key and the engine purred to life. Breathing out, I caught myself just before trying to take off with the parking brake still on. I pressed the gas and the car leapt forward. Panicked, I slammed both feet on the brake, nearly bashing my nose into the steering wheel as the car jolted to a stop.

  "Idiot!" Lilly yelled from the back.

  That's when the griffin landed on the hood.

  It slammed down so hard the entire car shook. In the dim light, the red wing feathers looked brown. Screeching, its needle-sharp talons scrambled to keep balance, and drew long gashes into the metal. One eye stared straight through the windshield at me.

  Merlot and Lilly screamed. I reacted on pure instinct, stomping on the gas. The engine roared and the griffin fell forward against the windshield, cracking a spiderweb into it, then backward and off the hood as I hit the brakes hard.

  But the Hummer still had forward momentum, and before I could do anything, the wheels hit the downed griffin—a huge bump as we rolled over it. And again when the back wheels hit.

  Lilly’s scream turned into a cheer. I slammed the brakes again.

  That was a person, I thought in shock. I clutched the steering wheel as the world blackened at the edges of my vision. A few hours ago, that griffin had been a person. Somebody's mother, or father, or sibling. And I had just run over them.

  "Don't stop! What are you doing?!" Lilly pounded on the headrest of my seat. "Go, go!"

  My body reacted, it seemed, without my consent. I hit th
e gas and lurched forward again.

  As we rolled out of the parking lot, I glanced in the rearview mirror. In the last of the light, I saw three other griffins drop down from the trees above and land on the bloodied body we left behind.

  ****

  The street was worse than the parking lot. Cars littered both sides of the road; crunched up against one another, flipped over, or burned out. Some vehicles were still undamaged, but had stopped at an angle blocking both lanes. I had to roll the Hummer up on the sidewalks to get around them. More than once, I sideswiped a stopped car, but I guess there was no point stopping to leave my insurance information.

  Either the griffins really did sleep at night, or they didn't eat cars, because aside from in the parking lot a few hours ago, we hadn't been attacked.

  Here and there, trees grew out of the street, or between cars. Or out of them. Most of the new trees were species that weren’t native to the area—palms and tropical trees with large blooming flowers—and were old and mature as if they'd been there a hundred years.

  Those, too, had once been people.

  "I don't understand," I said as we passed a tree with a thick bulbous trunk and a spread of high branches. Baobab tree, I thought. I'd seen it on nature shows set in Africa. "The griffins are one thing, but why did some people turn into trees?"

  "Really?" Lilly drawled from the back seat. She refused to sit shotgun, saying that it was statistically safer for when (not if) I got in an accident. She was being stupid. With all the stuff on the road, I could only creep the Hummer along at ten miles an hour, max. "Like turning into big man-eating birds makes sense?"

  "At least griffins are a type of animal," I shot back.

  "Made-up animals. The Egyptians drew them in hieroglyphs. They thought that they guarded tombs." But for once, it didn't sound like Lilly was arguing with me. "Ancient Greece and Persia, too."

  I pumped the brakes and peered through the moonlit gloom to a new clump of stopped cars ahead. I hadn't turned on the headlights. The brake lights already glowed like beacons in a city gone dark. The headlights would attract a lot more attention.