Grayland

by James Bierce

  “They’re getting stronger, Larry — and faster.”

  “All the more reason to get away from everything.”

  He looks out the window again, then slumps down in his chair after seeing a man standing on the bottom step of the porch, facing away from the trailer. Afraid to even breathe, they watch as the man slowly turns around and looks straight into the window, his face obscured with some sort of dark paint or dirt as he gets closer to the window and peers inside. When he places his hands onto the glass in order to see better, they can both see the deep scars and blood stains on his forearms, and the markings on his bare chest that look like fingernail scratches — all of which look filthy and unwashed. After looking around inside, his eyes never focusing on either Larry or Beth, he backs off and walks down the steps again, then disappears from view completely.

  “What the hell was on his face?” Beth whispers.

  “The hell if I know… He didn’t look sick, did he?”

  “He was awfully skinny for a healthy person.”

  Larry looks more closely at the others as they pass by, but most of them are too far away to see any detail in their appearance. Then another man comes to within twenty feet or so, and from the side Larry can make out the same strange substance on his face, and the same lack of clothing on his upper body.

  “We need to wait until morning, and then get the hell out of here.”

  “What if they’re still here in the morning?”

  “Then I guess we’ll shoot our way out and hope for the best. I don’t see any weapons on any of them.”

  “And after that? I’m fine with no longterm plans for now, but we need an immediate plan.”

  “We’ll go back to the cabin.”

  “Somehow I don’t think they’ll welcome us with open arms when they find out that Amanda is still on the loose.”

  “Then we’ll find someplace else, somewhere safe. Besides, Amanda might be halfway back to the cabin already.”

  Beth glances out the window again, and sees four people standing in the driveway, all of them looking directly at her.

  “Larry…”

  As the words leave her mouth, she hears the sound of a door opening in the back of the trailer — and then the sound of creaking floorboards can be heard as the smell of fresh air enters the room from down the hallway.

  “Beth, wake up Christine.”

  “I’m already awake,” Christine answers quietly from the other side of the room. “Larry, I can see someone at the other end of the hallway…”

  CHAPTER 18

  COHASSETT BEACH: DAY 5

  Curtis has never been a violent person — to people, animals, or even the bullies who tormented him throughout his later years in school. In fact, it was one of the traits that Sarah found so attractive in the beginning, asking him out despite the protests of her more popular circle of friends. His gut instinct has always been to either talk things out, or ignore them altogether and hope that things just work their way out. Most of the time they did — until a few months ago anyway. Since meeting Amanda Williams, and the other residents of Westport, his views on violence have changed dramatically, so much so that his new perspective has become a bit worrisome. Never in a million years did he ever think that murder would be his first and only inclination when seeing a young girl — and yet that’s exactly what happened when he spotted her walking down his driveway. Although he still doesn’t regret trying to kill her, part of him is troubled that the thought occurred to him at all.

  As he sits in the middle of the room, staring up at the old, cracked cedar planks on the ceiling of the cabin, he tries to ignore the anger and frustration building inside of him. Somewhere outside of these walls is a man he’s never even met, who for whatever reason has decided to terrorize his family and destroy every possession they own — and instead of being able to do something about it, he’s forced to sit quietly, tied to an uncomfortable wooden chair, pretending to be calm and reassuring while a fire spreads across the cabin roof and down the walls only a few feet away.

  While Matt sits against the headboard, scared to move for fear of what Jake might do, Ben is moving slowly toward the edge of the bed near Curtis. He can see the anxiety building in his son’s eyes as his feet finally hit the floor, and then he disappears behind him as he tries to loosen the ropes.

  “Ben, we have to stay on the bed!” Matt cries out.

  “Is that what he told you?” Curtis asks, struggling to free himself from the ropes as Ben tries helplessly to loosen them.

  “He said he would kill all of us if we didn’t stay put…”

  “Matt, he’s going to kill us anyway if we don’t get out of here — if that fire doesn’t kill us first.”

  Still reluctant, Matt looks out the window and sees the orange glow of flames growing brighter, and then realizes that he can feel the heat coming through the single-pane of glass that’s halfway across the room from him.

  “Dad, what about the propane tank?”

  Curtis glares at him in disbelief, biting his tongue so that he doesn’t scare Ben.

  Knowing that the old, rusty propane tank sits right next to the window beside the back door, and that the fire is sending burning embers down from the rooftop past the same window, Matt finally works up the courage to climb from the bed. Reaching behind the nightstand, he grabs a small hunting knife and then sits at Curtis’ feet, trying to cut through the ropes that bind his legs.

  “Careful, don’t cut me…”

  Curtis can hear the roar of the fire outside getting worse as each minute passes, and he sees the faint hint of smoke starting to drift through the crude wooden planks in the ceiling.

  “Boys, I don’t think we have much time — are you getting anywhere?”

  “This one knot is really big, I’m trying to cut it,” Matt says.

  “Okay, open the other door, then drag me outside. You can finish cutting it out there.”

  Curtis spins himself around so that his back is facing the rear door while the boys open the door, and then they each grab the back of the chair and start pulling it across the old spruce floorboards, until at last they feel the cold, wet droplets of water falling on them from the clouds above. As they pull the chair into the mud and water outside, Matt looks over in horror as he sees the fire burning the siding behind the propane tank. The entire roof is engulfed, and he can hear the cracking and splintering of wood from inside the cabin as the structure begins to collapse. Unfortunately, the rain is nothing more than a light drizzle at the moment, and is obviously having little to no effect on the flames.

  They continue to drag Curtis until they nearly collapse, and end up stopping behind some bushes in the backyard.

  “See if you can find something in the shed to cut me loose, we need to get back further,” Curtis tells them. He begins looking around the rest of the property for any signs of movement, aware once again that Jake could still be somewhere close.

  It takes a few minutes for the boys to free his hands, a job made even more difficult by the rain and darkness — but once he’s completely free, they begin circling around the property, behind the woodshed and toward the driveway.

  “What’s that noise?” Ben asks, as they stop next to the shed and look around the property.

  “”You mean the roaring sound?” Curtis replies.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think it’s the wind to the south, it’s probably gonna be here in a few minutes. There must be another storm moving in.”

  They start walking again, crouching down as they make their way into the trees — then Curtis stops and motions for the boys to stay quiet.

  “Somebody is walking up the driveway…” Curtis whispers.

  At first, all he can hear over the wind is the faint sound of footsteps in the mud, and then a dark figure comes into view, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out who it is. Jake is holding what looks like Curtis’ pistol in one hand, and a rifle in another, whistling as he walks down the drive. He stops when th
e cabin comes into view, and Curtis can hear him laughing as the roof finally caves in and collapses completely. He’s standing only about thirty feet away when he holsters the pistol and takes out a flashlight instead, aiming it at the ground in front of him. As he walks further down the driveway, shining his light back and forth across the muddy gravel, Curtis realizes that they crossed that part of the driveway only a few minutes before, and their footprints are undoubtedly still visible in the mud.

  “Come on, we need to get out of here, quietly…” he whispers to Matt and Ben.

  Trying to keep their feet on solid ground, the three of them wind their way through the trees that lead to the highway, praying that they don’t come face to face with somebody from town. When they finally reach the downhill slope of land next to the road, Curtis looks back and sees Jake squatting down, looking closely at something on the ground.

  He found the footprints.

  Standing up again, he shines the light toward the forest where they just came from. After a few seconds, he begins moving the light around in the same general direction, forcing Curtis to drop to the ground with the boys to avoid being seen. As Jake starts to move in their direction, Curtis sees a bright flash of light, and then hears, and feels, a loud explosion that causes the ground under them to rumble. When he looks up, he sees a fireball rising into the sky, illuminating the trees surrounding the cabin, and filling the entire area in a fiery glow that extends all the way to the highway. He raises his head a little higher, and sees Jake staring back at him, his rifle aimed a little to his left. Curtis looks over and sees Ben standing up, and just as he pulls the boy back down to the ground, he hears a gunshot go off, and a bullet ripping through the brush right next to them.

  “Everyone stay down!”

  He listens closely, expecting to hear another shot, or maybe the sound of Jake getting closer to them. Instead, all he hears is the steady drops of rain around them, and the flames that are now starting to finally settle down. Almost as quickly as it appeared, the intense glow of light fades away, replaced with the cold darkness of night once again.

  “Matt, do you still have that knife?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give it to me.”

  Feeling the knife in his hand, he unfolds it and looks at the small blade, which looks pathetic knowing what he’s up against.

  Then he hears something — footsteps.

  He grips the knife tightly in his hand, bracing for a fight — but then he realizes that the footsteps aren’t coming from the same direction as Jake, they’re coming from the driveway near the road. Staying as low to the ground as possible, he slowly begins to back up, crawling across the damp ground and away from the driveway, motioning for his sons to do the same.

  “Wait…” whispers Matt.

  Curtis stops, looking back at the boy. “What is it?”

  “Look at the road…”

  Curtis turns his head around and looks at the highway, which is filled with a dozen or more moving shadows, all of them moving toward the burning cabin — most of them heading straight up the driveway, but a few are taking a shortcut through the woods, in their direction.

  “Whatever happens, just stay quiet and low — understand?”

  The boys both nod their heads, hiding their faces behind the brush. Curtis does the same, but keeps both of them in his field of vision. It doesn’t take long before he can hear the cracks and rustling of breaking branches and leaves behind them, and as the mindless local residents pass by only a body length away, he holds his breath as he hears the sound of breathing and groans coming from at least three people close to them. One of them, an older man that’s covered in filth and wearing ripped up clothing, stops on the other side of Ben, then glances around quickly and sniffs the air — but he never bothers to look down. As he starts to move again, dragging his feet through the short brush and debris, he suddenly changes direction and walks right into Ben, falling to the ground right in front of Curtis. The man stays still for a moment, with his legs still draped over Ben — and then he begins reaching out in front of him, placing his hand on Matt’s shoulder as he struggles to get back to his feet again. Curtis glances back toward the cabin, seeing no sign of Jake, but a crowd of townsfolk gathering in the same general area — and then he very slowly and deliberately grabs the back of the man’s head and holds it firmly into the dirt, while the other hand drives the small hunting knife into the back of the man’s head. Hearing more noise coming from behind him, he looks up and sees two more men walking by only twenty feet away or so away, but they seem far more interested in what’s happening in front of them. After a few moments of holding the man down to control his convulsions, Curtis finally pulls the knife out and releases him, making sure that his movements have settled down to only light twitches that won’t attract too much attention. The stench of human waste and infected tissue is permeating the air, and Curtis motions for the boys to follow him back down the hill and into the damp, clean air that’s coming in from the beach.

  “Where are we going?” Ben asks.

  “We’re going to find your mom, before Jake does,” Curtis replies, relieved to see the road clear once again.

  As the three finally reach the pavement, they hear several quick gunshots coming from the hill above the cabin. Then another burst several seconds later.

  “Do you think they killed him?” Ben asks, climbing onto the asphalt highway.

  Curtis, seeing the blood on the knife from the dim moonlight overhead, wipes the blade off on his pants as he begins walking north. “No, I think he’s just picking them off. Come on, it won’t take him long to catch up.”

  “What if he runs out of bullets?”

  “He won’t, he’s been at this for too long.” Curtis looks behind them, wondering whatever happened to Larry and Beth, and what they’ll think when they finally reach what’s left of the cabin — if they ever do. Hearing yet another gunshot, this time closer than before, he forces himself to walk through the pain in his injured legs and into the darkness ahead. The moonlight, what little there was, has quickly disappeared, enveloping the three of them into the obscurity of night. Even the side of the road fades from sight, leaving them blind to what’s only an arm length away.

  “Dad, I can’t see anything.”

  “I know, but try to keep your eyes and ears open, there’s bound to be more of those things out here.”

  Feeling a few drops of rainwater hit his face, Curtis can hear the wind suddenly picking up in the trees overhead. As the wind becomes even stronger, Curtis isn’t surprised when a downpour of heavy rain begins falling, quickly drenching their light clothes and leaving the roadway slippery and their footsteps loud. After a brief flash of light shows up in the pavement ahead of them, Curtis assumes for a moment that it must be lightning, but when it happens again he grabs the boys and pulls them off to the side of the road and behind a thicket of blackberry vines — unsure of whether it provides enough protection or not.

  “What is it?” Matt whispers.

  “Shh, stay quiet.”

  When he sees the light again, he realizes that it’s coming from a good distance down the road. A single flashlight beam, searching the roadway through the dense blanket of fog and rain, is moving steadily toward them. Then suddenly, it disappears, leaving everything black again.

  “Did he stop?” asks Matt.

  “No, he’s still moving. I can hear him in the mud puddles.” Curtis stands up, seeing the faint glow of firelight still emanating from the cabin on the hill above them. Then he turns around and holds onto the hands of his sons, and begins walking west toward the beach.

  “Where are we going?” Ben asks him quietly, his small voice shivering in the cold.

  “We can’t stay on the highway, and there’s an old road through the dunes that runs right next to the campground. I doubt Jake knows anything about it.”

  “What if we run into somebody?”

  “Then we keep moving. Most of them don’t seem to move very fas
t.”

  “And what if mom is already on her way back?”

  That thought had already crossed Curtis’ mind, but he really didn’t know how to respond. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll stay out of his way.” Hoping that his empty words of encouragement lifts their spirits, the three of them continue to trudge through the wet, sticky sand of the roadway, hearing the massive waves of the ocean crash against the dunes not far from where they’re walking. As they climb over a fallen pine tree, it’s aromatic scent still thick in the air, he spots a glint of light shining off of a post up ahead. Recognizing it as the chain link fence that surrounds three sides of the campground, he begins running through the tall grass and brush between the road and the property. He remembers the controversy when they installed the fence several years back, when residents in the area complained that it might interfere with the designated tsunami evacuation route from the beach — but the owners placed it here in an attempt to stop homeless groups from occupying the empty cabins during the slow winter months. As they get closer, Curtis can hear the rattle of metal wire, and unsteady sound of staggered footsteps in the wet grass on the other side of the fence. They’re soon face to face with a few dozen people, all of them trying to make their way through the wire in a pathetic attempt to escape.

  “Is that where mom went?” Matt asks.

  Curtis tries to look around the rest of the grounds, but he can’t really see much of anything. “Come on, there must be another way in…”

  CHAPTER 19

  COHASSETT BEACH: DAY 5

  Behind her, Sarah can hear someone’s hands scraping against the cheap hollow door, and the deep, rattling groans of the people still trying to force their way into the room. Somehow, miraculously, her desperate barricade of furniture and bedding seems to be holding — helped by the one remaining hinge that’s still attached to solid wood. The room had been nearly pitch black only a few minutes ago, with a hard downpour of rain coming down on the roof — but standing in front of the window she can see the pale blue light from the moon making its way once again through the clouds and onto the cabins that are scattered around the grounds.