by James Bierce
“Find anything useful?” Curtis asks from behind her.
“Half of a can of cocoa mix, a bag of potato chips…” She checks the bag, relieved to find that it’s still sealed up — then she looks at the bed again. “…and this little girl.”
“Any sign of her parents?”
“No, they must have left after she died. Can you imagine what that would’ve been like?”
Curtis sits down in a small child-sized chair in the corner of the room, looking at the mummified remains on the bed. “What’s really strange is that all of this was happening right down the road from us, and we had absolutely no idea.”
She looks out the window, seeing the dense fog continuing to move into the area — then she looks back at the girl, noticing a ribbon tied in her light blond hair. “No one will ever know what her name was — do you know how incredibly sad that is?”
“There might be something around here that…”
“And the worst part is, nobody would care even if they did know — including us.” she says, cutting him off. She sits down on the floor, afraid to sit on the bed. “What are we gonna do, Curtis?”
“I think we’re gonna have to brave the fog and search the next house, since it’s apparently not lifting today.”
“I don’t mean today, I mean after today.”
From the look on her face, he can tell that her stress level is reaching the breaking point, and that his own face probably doesn’t look much better. “Whatever we do, we have to stay together, no matter what.”
“We can’t stay around here anymore, not until these people are gone.”
“We need food, and medicine, and weapons — we can’t go wandering into the wilderness without supplies.”
Sarah stands up and opens the bag of chips, savoring the salty taste of the slightly stale crisps. “We had all of that, and it still didn’t do us any good.”
Wearing dry clothes that they took from the house, the Lockwoods walk north on the perimeter road, all of them painfully aware that they’re getting close to Westport once again — and that Jake could still be looking for them. Although they can’t see very far through the fog, one advantage is that sound travels extraordinarily well, and twice now they’ve heard somebody toward the highway talking to themselves. Mindful of that, the four of them walk in silence from house to house, looking for something that’s remained relatively untouched. When they come to a newer double-wide mobile, Curtis notices two cars parked in the driveway, and boarded up windows across the front.
“These guys didn’t leave,” he says, his voice low. “Which means they didn’t take anything out of the house.”
“How do we get in?” Matt asks.
After trying the handle on the front door first, they walk around to the back where there’s a tall chain-link fence around the backyard. Curtis taps his hand on it before opening the gate, looking around for a dog that might still be around. They see another line of secured windows along the back wall, and a sliding glass door that’s covered in scraps of wood that are put into place from the inside. There’s also a small animal door beside it, with either an arm or leg bone sticking out of it. Curtis kicks the bones aside, then lies down in front of it and looks inside, seeing mostly complete darkness, and a few more human bones scattered across the kitchen floor.
“There’s no way you can fit in there…” Sarah tells him.
He tries squeezing through in every possible way, but she’s right, there’s no way his shoulders could possibly fit. He stands up and looks the rest of the place over, hoping to find another way in.
“Let’s keep moving,” Sarah says. “I don’t feel comfortable staying in one place for too long.”
“There’s food inside, and bottles of water — I can see them on the counter.”
“What if there’s still people in there?”
“Judging from the bones, I’d say there probably isn’t.”
“I can fit,” Ben says.
Curtis pats him on the shoulder, looking up at the roof. “That’s okay, buddy, I think I can get in through the skylight up there.” Seeing no ladder anywhere in sight, he starts climbing the fence where it attaches to the side of the mobile, his ascent more awkward than he anticipated. “Wait for me out front. Just hide in front of those cars.”
When he gets to the top and sees his wife and sons make their way around the corner, he walks along the roof to the skylight on the other side. Looking through it, he sees a master bedroom below, and a bed directly under him. First checking to see how secure it is to the roof, he stomps his foot onto it a few times, each time harder than the last — but it doesn’t budge. After another series of repeated blows, he finally puts everything he has into it, making more noise than he intended to, but the plastic skylight gradually begins to breakdown and crack. When it gets to the point that he can reach down and remove most of the window, he stands back up and looks over the edge at his family. Behind them, perhaps a hundred feet away, is a group of six people looking back at him, and even more moving slowly through the fog from the north. He motions for Sarah to stay quiet, indicating that there’s something behind her, then he scrambles through the broken window and onto the dusty mattress below.
There’s enough light in the bedroom to see most everything, and besides being dusty it’s actually in decent shape. Opening the door into the living room though, is a completely different story. Through the darkness he can still make out the battered walls and tossed furniture, and in his mad rush to the front door he can feel his feet tripping over bones scattered across the floor. Reaching the front wall, he desperately searches for the handle, but finds what feels like a skull instead. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he manages to spot the doorknob, directly behind the remains of someone that’s leaned up against the door. The moment he unlocks and turns the handle, Sarah and the boys come crashing through.
“Close the door!” Sarah screams, falling onto the carpeted floor behind him.
Curtis slams the door shut just as somebody tries pushing it open. He locks it, then notices a board next to him that he slides down into two crudely made brackets on either side of the doorway — someone’s obvious attempt at a barricade that he hopes will hold up.
Sarah stands up, still shaking, and checks Ben out the best she can in the dark.
“What happened?” Curtis asks her.
“They came running up behind us. One of them grabbed Ben’s jacket, but I don’t see any marks.”
“I’m fine, she didn’t hurt me,” Ben responds.
“Do you see a flashlight anywhere?” Sarah asks.
Curtis and Matt spread out and begin searching the living room, both of them careful not to touch anything. The only light is coming through a small window in the top of the front door, and some from the broken skylight in the next room. The carpeting under their feet is crunchy in places, and when Matt picks up a flashlight that’s sitting in a recliner and turns it on, they find out exactly why. There’s a streak of dried blood soaked into the carpeting that runs from the front entrance all the way to the kitchen, where the stain widens out and covers a large portion of the room. Curtis takes the light from Matt and helps Sarah search Ben’s body for any wounds or scratches, and when they’re satisfied that he wasn’t harmed, he takes the pocketknife out and begins looking around the place more thoroughly.
“You guys stay here, we still don’t know if the house is empty.”
“Curtis, shine the light on the door,” Sarah says.
As soon as the beam hits the doorway, the mood in the room darkens even further. Not only are there scratch marks on the door itself, but the carpet in front of it is torn to shreds, leaving the subfloor beneath it exposed, with fingernails still deeply embedded into the wood. The wall next to the door is damaged as well, with part of the drywall ripped away and the insulation partway pulled out from behind it.
“The door was just locked, wasn’t it?” Sarah asks Curtis.
“Yeah, it opened fine — they mus
t have been sick.” He walks into the next room, leaving his wife and sons still staring at the skeleton crumpled at their feet.
Between the master bedroom and the kitchen is another bedroom, and other than having a door nearly ripped off of it’s hinges, there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary inside — just a typical mixture of video games, baseballs and clothing, all once belonging to an older boy by the looks of everything. Seeing the baseballs and catcher’s mitt on the window sill, Curtis looks around a bit closer for a bat, but doesn’t see one anywhere. On the other side of the kitchen is a laundry room, and yet another exterior door that’s secured with plywood and boards. When he walks back into the kitchen, he finds the baseball bat lying on the floor — or what’s left of it anyway. The end of it is broken off, leaving a sharp splintered edge that’s stained red with blood.
“What the hell happened in here?” Sarah asks, joining him.
“I don’t know, but there’s a lot of food in here.” He shines the light around at the counters, which are completely covered with dry goods and cans of vegetables and meat. “They were obviously planning on staying here for the duration.”
Sarah picks up some boxes of cereal from the stove-top and sets them on the table in the middle of the room, which is already covered with various canned food and bottled water. Bending down with her ear to the stove, she turns a knob and then listens closely to the burner before shutting it off again. “The gas is still on.”
“It must be propane. Let’s hope there’s still plenty left in the tank.”
“Dad, I think they’re at the window now!” Matt yells, terrified by the rattling glass panes.
“I know Matt, but they can’t get in through the plywood. This place is pretty secure.”
Sarah leans in close to him and whispers… “We got in…”
“Most of those things aren’t coordinated enough to open a door, let alone climb a fence.” He opens up a bottle of water and takes a drink, handing the rest of it to Sarah, then walks into the living room and gives the flashlight to Matt. “I want you two to search the place, every box and drawer.”
“What are we searching for?” Ben asks.
“Batteries, weapons, medicine, flashlights, whatever you think might be useful — and bags, something we can take with us.”
“We aren’t staying?”
“No, we need to get away from town, at least for a while.”
“I’ll check the boxes in the kitchen, you guys look everywhere else.” Sarah tells them, as she drags a gallon of bleach from under the sink.
“Disinfecting everything?” Curtis asks.
“As much as I can.” Pouring some of the bleach into a pot, she looks around for something to dilute it, but she doesn’t want to waste their limited supply of bottled water on something they can’t drink. “Check the toilet tanks, see if they have any water in them,” she tells Curtis.
Just as he turns to leave the room, the banging on the front door suddenly stops, leaving the house eerily quiet. They both stay silent, listening carefully as a new sound comes from the backyard — the distinctive rattling of a chain link fence. Curtis looks out through the thin spaces between the boards that cover the sliding door, and sees a man and a woman attempting to climb up onto the roof in the same spot that he did. He watches them for a for a moment, convinced that they’re incapable of making it to the top — and then he hears something overhead, stomping across the length of the roof toward the skylight. He runs toward the open master bedroom door, almost slipping on the trash-covered floor as he passes through the kitchen, then grabs the doorknob and waits, watching the hole in the ceiling as raindrops continue to fall onto the mattress below. As soon as he sees a shadow appear in the opening, he slams the door shut and braces his body against the jam.
“Find something to hold this shut!” he shouts to Sarah.
“Like what?” she responds, her voice panicked.
“Rope, chain, anything…!” he screams, hearing something drop onto the bed inside the room. Watching as his family desperately searches for something useful, he looks at the front door and realizes that it’s their one and only exit out of the house, and for a moment he considers the possibility that they could just make a run for it if necessary — but then Sarah returns from the laundry room with a small spool of yellow rope in her hands. As the people begin slamming their fists against the front entrance again, the sound of someone laughing can be heard through the thin, hollow door between him and the bedroom.
CHAPTER 25
GRAYLAND: DAY 6
Still pretending to be asleep, Christine can feel a strong, damp wind blowing across the hayloft floor, and when she opens her eyes she sees the hint of actual daylight coming from the doors at the end of the barn. The screaming and yelling from next door stopped a while ago, right after the hunters were apparently driven back into seclusion by the sun. They’ve been replaced by the tranquil sound of birds chirping in the trees, and the wind rattling the wooden rafters and roofing over her head. The entire time that she’s been lying here, she’s been asking herself what her father might do if he were in this situation — or what advice he might have for her. All of the scenarios running through her head, however, whether she tries to escape or not, end in the same gruesome way — with Amanda eventually killing her.
She turns her head, just far enough to see the girl holding her hostage — but instead of staring at her like she was earlier, Amanda is standing up, looking at the top of the stairs that lead into main aisle of the barn below. Watching her walk slowly across the floor, Christine sits up when she hears the creaking sound of door hinges downstairs.
“Stay here, and don’t move,” Amanda says firmly, still looking straight ahead.
Christine sits up further, but stays seated as the noises downstairs become even louder. As soon as Amanda disappears around the corner, she considers making a run for it, but it’s impossible to tell exactly where the girl is — it’s almost as if she floats across the floor, making virtually no sound whatsoever. She slowly climbs off of the pile of hay and stands still for a moment, listening to someone talking downstairs. Part of her hopes that it might be Larry and Beth, but she knows they wouldn’t be foolish enough to make a racket like that, and they certainly would’ve checked the entire place out by now to eliminate any danger. Bending down to pick up a loose board on the floor, she sneaks closer to the top of the stairs, then peeks around the corner into the filtered light below. There’s two men standing just inside a pedestrian door beside the main doors, one of them talking nearly non-stop, and the other seemingly ignoring him — then something appears out of nowhere behind the talker, emerging from the shadows so quickly that Christine lets out a gasp. In one fluid motion, Amanda’s knife reaches up behind the man and slices through his throat, dropping him to his knees, and giving the young girl an opportunity to drive the knife deep into his back several times before disappearing once again. The other man just stands there, watching as his companion bleeds out in front of him. He smiles as she steps into the light once more, and as he begins walking toward her, she backs up in the direction of the stairs, then stops suddenly when yet another man cuts her off. Although quite certain that she’s completely hidden from view, Christine carefully backs away from the top of the staircase as a third man appears, all three of them surrounding Amanda.
Once she’s back in the hayloft, she looks around for another way out, one that doesn’t involve jumping straight down to the ground. When she hears a loud commotion downstairs though, and the cries of a girl fighting for her life, she panics and climbs out onto the metal roof of the lean-to on the side of the barn. She carefully walks down one of the panels, which are covered in slick mildew and algae — and right before reaching the bottom, her foot slips out from underneath her and sends her sliding the rest of the way down to the ground. Landing on her butt and twisting her ankle, she struggles to catch her breath for a moment, then tries to stand up in the mud-covered paddock beside the barn �
� a task that would be far easier if she wasn’t being pelted by a wind-driven rain.
As she limps along the path leading toward the bog, she passes right next to the neighboring building where she heard the screams the night before. The door is still open, but she can only see a few feet inside of it — the rest being obscured by darkness. There’s a stream of blood, however, running from inside the building and down into the swamp below it. She can smell the death and decay coming from the building and the bog as she hurries across the bridge, looking back at the open barn doors only briefly before moving out of sight completely — but she doesn’t see either the men or Amanda.
Crouching down, she hides behind some planters next to a trailer in the ‘Gentle Breeze’ park, the pots overflowing with dead or dying flowers and bushes. She takes a moment to catch her breath and look around, but the only movement around is the fog blowing quickly through the air from the beach. Her mind is spinning in circles trying to figure out what to do next, and she can feel herself trembling as the panic finally sets in. Finding Larry and Beth shouldn’t be a problem, or at least that’s what she hopes — but the real problem is staying alive long enough to get to their cabin, especially without any weapons. The only guns that she knows of are the ones in the house on the other side of the park, still inside of the bags that they left on the floor — if they’re still there that is. Knowing that she’ll be exposed once she starts down the sidewalk that winds through the mobile park, she grabs a shovel from out of a nearby shed and then jogs down the path as quickly as she can. With her ankle swelling uncomfortably in her shoe, she finally reaches the house and approaches the front door, a little surprised to see it open, and even more surprised that the curtains on the windows are open as well. The bags are still visible, lying in the exact same spot as they left them — and although one of them appears to be open, she can see at least two pistols on the floor next to it. She climbs the few steps onto the porch, one at a time, then checks to see if the room is empty before entering. Just as she starts to bend down to pick up one of the guns, she hears the floor squeaking in the hallway beside her.