I really hoped she wasn’t going to cry. I tried to shrug it off. “Hitting your car was the only thing I could think of to knock the lights out.”
Her hand grasped onto my arm. “You saved my life,” she repeated. “But... We can still leave. Me, you, and Jane. We can go to Carson City... be like a family together, just the three of us.”
I coughed in surprise, twisting out of her grip. Was she saying...? “Merlot, I... uh...”
“That boat’s not going to work! Did you see how small it is? And Lilly already hates Jane. She’ll think of some way to push her overboard. You know it’s true!”
She was making too much noise. I shushed her and gestured for her to follow me under the the trees. Once we were under cover, I said, “I won’t let that happen. Running away isn’t the right thing to do.”
Now she really was crying. “I just want to go home! I want to know my mom and dad are safe. Why won't you guys let me go?"
I hated to be the one to do this. But it was the real reason I didn't want anyone else coming with me. Terry would probably try to bully and guilt Merlot. Lilly would be a disaster, Ben too young, and Clarissa... had kind of a griffin-y temper when she was pushed.”
"I'm sorry,” I told the sniffling girl. “I really am. All of us are going through it, too. But Merlot, your parents are gone, they wouldn't want you to go back for them. Carson City is probably as bad, or worse, than Tahoe."
“You don't know that for sure."
"Yes, I do." I pointed back to the Jeep and Hummer, which were so trashed they were undrivable. “Look what they did just because they saw brake lights and were hungry. Look what they’re capable of.”
“I didn’t think about the brake lights, okay? We can be careful!”
"Carson City is the high desert. There’s not going to be much water around. And it’s close to Reno, which means there will be even more griffins. All of them will be hungry. Think of Jane. Do you want her growing up like that? Always thirsty? Always afraid?"
“I don't know! I don't know!” She covered her eyes with a free hand and wept. I let her, feeling awkward, but she needed to get this out before she did something else really stupid.
“Let me have the baby for a minute,” I offered.
Baby Jane had been mercifully quiet—probably too scared or traumatized to make much noise. She gave a little helpless wail and reached back to Merlot when I walked away to give her space.
“Shh,” I said and patted her back. “Let’s go look at the cars, alright? See if there’s anything we can grab from them.”
It was more than a mile back to the subdivision. We could walk it, but that meant we were out of cars at the house.
I walked around to the stopped cars, which had somehow spun out and hit head-to-head. One had a still opened door.
Then, I noticed the large orange construction barriers on the other side of the road. They were common in Lake Tahoe. The freezing winter and snowplows tore up the asphalt, so there was always road construction going on. The orange barriers were set up in a line that went around another curve in the road ahead.
Curious, I hitched Jane up in my arms and walked to see.
Around the bend, on a wide shoulder of the road, sat heavy-duty construction equipment. A bulldozer, a huge plow, and a machine meant to lay asphalt.
“Merlot!” I called. The headache wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. Hope was a great painkiller.
“What’s wrong, now?” she asked, jogging up.
“Nothing. Hold Jane for me!” I pushed the baby back into her arms and ran to the bulldozer. It was the only machine that mattered. The door opened, but the keys weren’t in sight. “Do you know how to start this?”
“Uh, no? Why would I want to? It’ll be slow. Let’s just get a car.”
I jumped down, excited. “We can use this to make a huge fire-break!”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my god. We won’t have to use that stupid boat at all.” She turned, looking around, then pointed to a construction trailer set up fifty feet away, the name of the company painted across the side. “I bet there will be keys there. But won’t the griffins attack once we start the engine? It’s not going to be quiet."
I laughed and hugged her, squishing poor Jane between us. “We’ll knock out the lights. They don’t seem to care about noise in the dark. Just light. This’ll work, Merlot!”
She grinned, her cheeks darkening with a blush. “Have you ever driven a bulldozer?"
Letting go, I headed for the trailer. “I’d never driven at all before last week. How hard could it be?”
****
I wish I could've somehow recorded the look on everyone’s face as I rolled up to the house in a big bulldozer. Merlot and I had knocked out all of the lights using rocks, but they would have heard us coming up the driveway long before we reach the top.
The griffins hadn't attacked. No lights. Nothing for them to see. That was good to know in the future. We might have been safe using the chainsaws after all. With the bulldozer, there was no need.
Lilly was jumping around in excitement, showing her age for once. I couldn't hear what she said over the bulldozer’s engine, but she punched Terry excitedly in the shoulder.
My gaze fell to Clarissa. The pride and hope on her face made me feel warm all over and dampened some of the headache.
I cut the engine, and Merlot opened the door. She and Baby Jane rode along with me in the cab.
"Look what we found !" Merlot called.
Terry ran up to us. "Where the hell did you get that?"
"It's road construction equipment,” I said. “No one was exactly using it.”
"Well? What are we waiting for?" Lilly said. "We still have a couple hours of darkness. We can get started on the fire break right now."
Terry scowled at her, then seemed to give up. "Show me how to drive it," he said to me.
"Terry," Clarissa chided.
But secretly, I was relieved. "No, it's good. I... got a headache." That sounded so lame, but after sitting next to a rumbling loud engine for a mile the pain had grown worse. All I wanted to do was lay down in a dark room and sleep. "It's not hard to drive. There is a brake and gas pedal just like a car, and these levers raise and lower the... uh, shovel thingy."
“Move over, Merlot,” Lilly said.
“I’m going to put Jane down for a nap. I think she needs a change of diaper, too,” Merlot said.
No one moved to stop her. Apparently, we weren’t going to give her problems about running away. Good.
She looked relieved and scuttled back into the house so fast, it was clearly a retreat.
I ceded the controls to Terry, and jumped down from the bulldozer. My knees almost buckled when I hit the ground. Clarissa helped me stand.
“What really happened?” she asked quietly.
She was the only one I could tell the whole truth. But now wasn’t the time. Not with Terry and Lilly so close, and a lot of work to do. Plus, I wasn’t so sure what had exactly happened, myself. At the time, it really felt like I had somehow... willed the griffins not to notice us. Now that a couple hours had passed, I think it was more likely they just couldn’t see me in the dark.
“Later,” I told her.
Terry started the bulldozer. I backed away and headed gratefully to the house.
****
The day after next, we watched from the attic as the wildfire swept by. It consumed all the hills and the steep forest ridges around us and jumped from tree to tree. Racing through houses like kindling. The air was choked with smoke.
I had never seen destruction like it before. None of us had.
Yes, I’d my doubts about the boat, but I was glad we had stocked it with bug out supplies just in case.
But the fire didn’t jump the breakline we had made between the road and the subdivision, or the smaller one, just in case, around our house.
Our neighborhood was an island of unburnt land.
We were safe.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
- Clarissa -
9 Days Later
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one followed me.
For the last few nights, we’d been raiding neighbor’s houses for food and supplies. The unfamiliar hallway ahead of me was dim. Furniture hidden in the deep shadows was hard to pick out with my night sight. I’d barked my toes and knees more than once. Stepping carefully, I trailed one hand along the wall for balance.
Even if the house had working electricity, I wouldn't use it. I didn't carry a flashlight for the same reason.
Rule number one since the world went crazy: Don't turn on a light after dark.
My fingers brushed the edge of a picture frame, and a shaft of moonlight fell across the picture. The photo inside was of a family, sitting together in a formal pose. The mail I found in the mailbox out front said that this house belong to the Norris's. I wished there was a way I could thank them for all their stuff. Maybe the afterlife, if there was one.
I found a small, half-bath at the end of the hallway. Stepping inside, I shut the door and locked it. Then I turned to look out the small window.
The stars were visible tonight. At night, the smoke rising from the still smoldering city was not visible. I could smell it in the mornings when the air hung low, though. The fire still burned, though it was getting further away every day. Today, the column of smoke had looked a little thicker; Dark gray and angry at the base, which faded to a sullen gray...
I was stalling.
Sighing, I reached into the pocket of my hoodie and pulled out a small can of chopped pineapple. It was maybe half a cup worth, and had been easy to hide while Merlot and I searched the Norris's kitchen.
The can had a pop-top lid, which I pulled open. I looked down blankly at the cubes of yellow, and a sickly sweet smell hit my nose.
I have a total sweet tooth, remember? Dr. Brandt would get on my case every time I had my teeth cleaned.
I pulled out a cube and popped it in my mouth. The first cloying, tangy taste almost made me gag. Face screwed up, I chewed quickly and swallowed.
Then I made myself eat another and another. The fourth, I had to force down. The muscles in my throat wanted to bring it back up.
I braced myself over the sink and breathed. A grossly sticky smell rose from the can and made my stomach roil.
No, screw this. That's enough. I opened the window and tossed the can with the last of the pineapple as far as I could into the trees. Hopefully no one would find it. Or if they did, they’d think it was just a bit of trash dragged into the forest by a raccoon. I’d found a couple of old, faded cans of cat food out in the middle of the forest that way.
Cat food.
My stomach growled, and the thought of opening up a can of Fancy Feast momentarily washed out the rising nausea. Cat food would be mushy, but probably salty, with meaty chunks and a little bit of that gravy stuff that always seemed to collect on the top.
"God," I whispered, hands clutching either side of the sink. I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin looked pale even in the dim bathroom, but the girl staring back at me was human. No beak. Reaching up the back of my shirt, I ran my index finger through the downy line of feathers just below my shoulder blade. They didn't feel like they were spreading. "What's wrong with me?"
But I knew. I knew. And about ten minutes later, my stomach burbled. Nausea rose up into my throat until I coughed and gagged into the toilet bowl. I brought up every bit of the four pineapple cubes I'd managed to choke down.
I wished more than ever that Mom was with me now. She always knew what to do when I got sick. Chicken soup, or 7-Up and watching bad TV under a blanket on the couch.
My stomach was empty and my eyes were wet with tears. With a deep breath, I stood, wiped my face with my sleeve, and tried the toilet handle. There was enough water in the tank for a single flesh.
It looked like I was on the paleo diet from now on.
****
To cover the time I’d taken, I searched the bathroom for anything useful.
I went downstairs only when my tears were dry and my face was free of splotches.
Dylan met me on the second floor as he came out of one of the bedrooms. He smiled at me, then did a quick double-take.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm awesome," I lied, and lifted a trash bag full of supplies. "I found some more toilet paper rolls, and a ton of heartburn medication. You?"
Dylan hesitated, as if he knew I was lying about being okay. But I knew he had a few secrets of his own. He still kept quiet about what really happened with Merlot and the bulldozer the other day.
Not that I was upset with him, or thought we’d had a moment of trust in the basement. Whatever.
He lifted his backpack. "Got a couple books on hiking trails and gardening. The kid’s bedroom had a laptop."
"Does it work?"
He shook his head. "Dead, just like mine and Lilly's."
It wasn't the lack of electricity. We’d first noticed the problem with electronics starting with Lilly's smart phone. It flickered and died the day after the turning. The same thing happened with her and Dylan's laptops. The screens stayed black even when plugged directly into the generator.
"Add that to Lilly's list." I found a smile from somewhere. "Merlot will be happy. She can stick on another star."
Dylan winced.
Four days ago, Lilly dragged out a whiteboard from the attic and started compiling every weird thing that had happened so far into a list. She said she would have preferred an Excel spreadsheet, but that's when she found out the computers were down.
Lilly insisted, and I privately agreed, there was a reason for all this madness. She said once she got it all down the connection would become clear.
So Lilly spent an evening arranging her list into bullet points: The adults turning into griffins, and some plants (with little sub bullets of what kinds of trees we could identify). Then, she added facts about griffin behavior — their cannibalism, hunting during the day, screeching as the sun rose and set, and how they were attracted to light and movement, but not sound.
As soon as Lilly's careful list was complete, the only thing that was clear was that there was no pattern at all. Or at least, no connection anyone could see. It had been a huge waste of time.
Merlot, feeling the growing frustration in the house, dug out little golden foil star stickers from her backpack. She then decorated each bullet point with star ratings according to weirdness factor. The trees got a full five stars.
Once Lilly discovered her whiteboard covered with stickers, she became enraged and called Merlot names. Merlot yelled back, and it took Dylan to break them up before there was a fight. Since then, the two girls weren't speaking to one another.
Stressed-out kids, grief, and middle school drama all combined under one household. I was glad to separate the two tonight. Lilly was left behind at the house with Ben and Baby Jane. Officially, she was on “babysitting duty”, though I suspected Ben would be the one actually taking care of the baby.
“Let’s see if anyone found anything good,” Dylan suggested.
Together, we went down to the main floor. Merlot was busy removing cans out of a large pantry. Meanwhile, Terry had spread his loot all over the dining room table. The last two houses were a bust, but here he found the Norris's gun safe, which hadn't been properly locked. Two rifles were laid out along with three pistols and boxes of ammo.
"What's that?" I pointed to an orange plastic-looking pistol with a wide muzzle.
Terry gave a half smile. "Flare gun."
Funny how his smile made the burning, acidic feeling in my stomach go away. None of us had had a shower in over a week, but Terry pulled off the scruffy look well. His dark hair was on the right side of shaggy, and thanks to his Native American heritage, he didn't have a five o'clock shadow to shave.
"Oh great, just what we need," I joked. "Bright lights."
"Well, I'm keeping it. What if the military shows up?" He hefted the flare gun in
his hand and pointed it up at the vaulted ceiling. "We'll need a way to signal them."
"You shouldn't point that in the house," Dylan muttered. He turned his back and walked to Merlot, missing Terry's eye-roll.
Catching my eye, Terry mimed pointing the gun at his younger cousin and shooting.
"Not funny," I mouthed. Actually, it made me really uncomfortable. I was glad when Terry grinned and set the gun aside.
I looked to Merlot. "Is that everything?"
"I think so."
"Any seeds?" I asked. "I didn't find any in the garage."
Merlot held up a green packet. "Salted sunflower seeds. For eating, not for planting. Sorry."
I kept hoping to stumble across things we could use to start a garden. But maybe there was no point in trying if I couldn't digest anything I managed to grow, anyway.
****
We packed everything we'd scavenged into the back of a blue Toyota pickup truck we'd found at a different house last night. The cans and other foodstuff was easily thrown into trash bags and carried. Microwave dinners, melted and starting to smell from being thawed out, were left behind. Let the griffins have them.
Dylan drove a sedan that had been parked in the Norris’s driveway. The keys had been helpfully left on a hook to the side of the front door.
Terry and I took the pickup.
The quarter-full moon cast a dim light over everything. I drove slowly, with Dylan following behind. No one was stupid enough to turn on the headlights, and Terry had knocked out the interior and brake lights. No need to attract griffins.
The trees and road were coated with a fine dusting of ash, courtesy of the forest fire. In the half-light of the moon, the world looked bright and fresh.
Terry must have noticed my gaze because he said, "The fallen ash from the fire looks a lot like snow. I could almost imagine this was Christmas time, you know?"
Under Wicked Sky: Book 1 Page 9