Out near the white science domes marines were firing into the trees. Others were yelling and screaming. A klaxon suddenly sounded and the crowds gathering into the trucks began to scream as well.
“Connor, hurry,” Amanita said, reaching down for him from the back of the truck. Her parents were gripping her shoulders, afraid to let her go.
He turned to look at the fighting across the small field. Hissers were pouring out of the woods. Some of them loping like long distance runners with sprained ankles, others at a full on dash. Bullets ripped into their chest but did not slow them down. One or two caught a bullet in the head and fell, but they jerked so much it was hard to hit their brains.
And then there were the spiders, even bigger and faster than before. No longer just bulbous beasts with a handful of arms and legs, they were now massive monstrosities with hundreds of limbs and too many heads to count. The missiles had no doubt blown the hissers into tiny bits which were picked up by surviving creatures. They scurried forth like tanks and swallowed the young marines under their abdomens, tearing them to bits.
Even as Connor watched, a young man was lifted skyward by one of the hissing spiders. Some ten heads bit chunks out of the boy before dropping him again. And in a second that boy was up, hissing and ravenous for blood.
They bombed the town and still couldn’t stop it, Connor thought. It’s too fast and too willing to survive. If there was any hope, it was possible he carried it in his pocket.
“Connor, get up here!” Amanita struck him in the shoulder, grabbed his shirt and pulled him up.
Finally he obeyed, got his foot on the truck’s bumper and jumped up into the back.
The truck started moving, across the flattened, dead corn stalks and out toward a long winding road that would take them through Victorville into whatever future lay ahead.
As they rode, Amanita put her arm around him and hugged him close. He returned the sentiment and held her tight. Together they watched out the back of the truck as the farm fields filled with running undead, tackling and leaping on marines. Bodies stumbled under gunshots, mists of red puffing in the air as the bullets ripped through veins and arteries.
For the briefest moment Connor thought he saw General Ryan firing his pistol as four creatures slammed into him from behind and tore into his flesh.
The trucks turned onto the winding road and made their way out of sight of the farm. Connor watched as massive spider monsters demolished the two white domes. Farther behind the carnage, Castor’s smoke signals continued to blacken the sky.
Then the truck was speeding down a country road, nothing but woods on either side. The smoky skies turned blue once again, and a deer leapt gracefully behind some trees.
“What do you think will happen?” Amanita squeezed him harder.
Connor looked into her eyes and saw a grown woman trapped in a teenager’s body. He felt the same way. He glanced at her parents and noted the way they also hugged each other. Yeah, they’ll be alright, he thought.
He didn’t know what would happen to the world from here on out. Needless to say it would never be the same. Maybe Ryan’s men would stave off the attack and finish off the rest of the monsters. Maybe the military would end up burning Victorville and any of the areas surrounding Castor. Maybe they would never contain this new threat that robbed people of the right to rest, that stole away nature’s design.
He had grandparents in Connecticut, but he had not seen them in a few years despite the calls on his birthday and holidays. He had an aunt and uncle in Florida, and two cousins who were both years older than he was. He didn’t know them that well. He had second and third cousins as far away as Portugal, but he didn’t know how to get in touch with any of them—the phone numbers had been in his house, which was now just cinders.
He rubbed the flash drive in his pocket one last time. It had gotten wet and might not even work, but perhaps even a wet drive could be salvaged. It was worth a shot. No, it was worth everything, and he sure as hell was going to give it his all.
He remembered the name of Nicole’s father’s biotech company in San Diego: Aminodyne.
It was a long way away from Castor, but if he could survive this, he could survive anything.
At some point the truck would have to stop or slow down; wherever they were headed, there had to be red lights, there had to be sharp turns. There would be a window of opportunity.
He would jump out of the back of the truck and run. On his bad leg and with no idea where he was, he would run and find his way to Nicole’s father.
The two marines sitting in the back of the truck, keeping a watchful eye on these fine Castor folk, might get up to give chase, but he doubted it. There was too much fear and exhaustion written in their faces. Besides, Am would stop them even if she didn’t understand why he was running, he knew she would.
She was still waiting for an answer.
“I think things will get a lot worse before they get better.”
The truck continued on. The sun shot pink bands of light through the summer treetops and gave the birds a reason to sing.
Eventually, the truck slowed, and Connor stood up.
Hissers Page 26