The Hole

by Meikle, William

  The quiet seeped into him, and he even began to relax—only to almost jump out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He let out a small yelp when he turned to see someone behind him.

  “It’s only me,” Doc said. “I found you a flashlight.”

  Sarah surprised him by reaching out and taking the flashlight from Doc, immediately spraying the beam around the backyard. It lit up a row of garbage bins, a stack of empty beer barrels and a rusted, wheel-less pickup, raised up on bricks. There was no sign of any movement. Sarah seemed happy with that, switched off the flashlight, and once again lowered her head to Fred’s chest.

  “You’ve got a new friend,” Doc said.

  Fred smiled.

  “It would seem so,” he said. “And I intend to do right by her. You can tell Big Bill I said that.”

  It was Doc’s turn to smile back.

  “You’ve surprised him enough for one night, I think.”

  All three of them stood together for a while, looking out into the darkness.

  “So, fess up, Doc,” Fred said as he ground out his smoke on the doorjamb and flicked the butt out into the night. “What do you know?”

  She took a while to reply.

  “I don’t really know anything. I have suspicions though…”

  “Isn’t it time you shared them?”

  She looked tired, and maybe even a little afraid.

  “I’m not sure that sharing will do anyone any good. But I suppose you have a right to know.”

  She told him about the demons they’d encountered at Hopman’s Hollow, and the protoplasm that was left behind.

  “It wasn’t anything I recognized. There’s nothing in my training or reading that leads me to believe that such a thing is even possible.”

  Fred was thinking again about the glass spinning like a top above the Ouija board as Doc continued.

  “It may be that we’re here at the birth of a completely new species.”

  Fred remembered something from an earlier conversation with Charlie.

  “Toxic chemicals can cause mutations, can’t they? If I’m remembering my schooling right?”

  Doc nodded. “In some cases.”

  He told her Charlie’s story, about what he’d seen and what they’d dumped in the mines. Doc went pale.

  “That’s something the CDC needs to know. And fast.”

  “I might be misrepresenting Charlie,” Fred said. “And you know how he is…it might be just another story but…”

  Janet nodded.

  “It’s a big enough but for us to take heed of it. I’ll go and talk to him.”

  She gave his shoulder a squeeze in gratitude, and left.

  Almost as soon as Doc had gone, Sarah switched on the flashlight again and made another sweep of the backyard. She stopped at the rusting hulk of the pickup and moved the beam quickly along the length of the vehicle and back again. The dancing shadows gave it the impression of movement.

  “Did you see something?” Fred whispered.

  “Just the bears,” she sobbed, switched off the light and buried her face in his chest.

  * * *

  They stayed that way for a while. Fred had another smoke, and Sarah’s breathing calmed—so much so that he thought she must have fallen back into sleep. He was surprised when the flashlight came back on. This time she had it trained straightaway on the rusted pickup truck.

  “There’s something there,” she whispered. “In the passenger seat.”

  Her hand shook so much that the beam of light bobbed alarmingly over the vehicle, once again giving the semblance of movement. Fred reached to take the flashlight from her hand. And at the same instant the shadows inside the truck moved. Legs swung out of the passenger side, and as the beam moved, it showed the rest of the body climbing out of the vehicle.

  An old man wearing gray overalls coated in dust and grime stepped out the truck. He carried a pickaxe and wore a hard hat with a broken lamp at the front. Fred grabbed at the edge of the door, ready to slam it shut.

  But the figure showed no sign of moving towards them. Fred waved the light on it. Where the beam hit it, the body seemed to waver, almost melt before hardening back into some kind of solidity.

  Damn thing is hardly there at all.

  Sarah had her face buried in his chest again, and he felt the tension grip her.

  “Stay back,” Fred shouted.

  “Fred is dead,” the miner replied, the phrase echoing in the backyard until it seemed to come from a chorus of voices. “Fred is dead.”

  Two seconds later Fred and Sarah were in the kitchen having slammed the door shut. They stood there, breathing heavily, just staring at each other until Fred’s heart stopped thudding in his ears and his breathing slowed to something approaching normal.

  He listened for a long time, but there was no further sound from outside.

  14

  Janet was still arguing with the sheriff when the sun came up.

  “I’m telling you,” she said. “The CDC needs to hear this. If what Charlie says is true, then the mines must be the source of what is going on here.”

  “And I’m telling you,” Bill replied. “I’m not letting anyone else run around out there. Ellen Simmons ain’t come back, and I doubt we’ll see her anytime soon. Or will you argue with me on that score too?”

  They stood in the doorway of The Roadside. The parking lot lights still blazed, but as the sky lightened so too did their impact lessen. That had Janet worried, but there was no sign of any further attacks. She was about to remonstrate with Bill when a car alarm sounded somewhere to their left, followed by the telltale buzz in her ears and at her jaw.

  The hum had returned.

  “Get everybody ready,” the sheriff said, wiping a drop of blood from his nostril onto his sleeve. “We might have to move out fast.”

  A tree fell over a hundred yards away along the road, then another slightly closer. The car alarm cut off abruptly and a puff of smoke and dust rose in the air from that direction. The hum dissipated, the vibration faded, and everything went suddenly quiet again. Janet and Bill stared out at the view for more than a minute, expecting further collapses, but it appeared that it was over again, for now. Bill leaned forward. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe fresh blood away from her top lip.

  I hadn’t even noticed I was bleeding.

  “That was too close,” Janet said.

  The sheriff looked along the road to the left, then back at Janet.

  “That’s something we can agree on. I was of a mind to sit it out and wait for the CDC to find us. But now I’m thinking we can’t afford the time. I say we head back to the Western Road and take our chances again at the barricade.”

  Janet watched the smoke plume dissipate. If the collapse had been a hundred yards closer, there was more than a good chance that the bar, and all of the people in it, would already be gone.

  “I think you’re right,” she replied. “I’d feel better to be on the move; at least it would feel like we were doing something, rather than just waiting to be swallowed up. And at least in daylight we’ve got more chance of avoiding the collapses.”

  Bill nodded, and ran a hand across her cheek.

  “Chin up,” he said. “It’s time to tell the troops the bad news.”

  They went back inside the bar. Janet called Fred and the girl through from the kitchen. Both of them looked pale and tired, but they said nothing as they joined the others, many of whom were now struggling up out of sleep.

  When everyone was awake, the sheriff called for quiet.

  “We plan on heading out,” he said. “We need to get you folks to safety, and we’re hoping the CDC will be more amenable now that they’ve had a chance to monitor the situation and get the lay of the land. I’m guessing somebody apart from the infantry we met last night will be in charge by now and they might at least listen to reason. But I ain’t no dictator, and I don’t want to lead you where you don’t wan
t to go, so I’ll do what you all want.”

  Janet spoke up.

  “I’m with the sheriff. Some of you need treatment I can’t give you here. And there’s a new hole formed just down the road. It’s not safe to stay.”

  That statement brought a chorus of raised voices, but Janet was relieved to hear little dissent with the view that they should leave the bar.

  “A show of hands then,” the sheriff said. “Who wants to try our luck at the Western Road?”

  There were only two dissenters, neither of whom was willing to stay behind on their own. Janet started to get them all moving when the sheriff called for silence again.

  “Listen. I hear something.”

  Janet heard it too, a distant rumble that vibrated through the floor to be felt underfoot.

  “It’s back,” someone shouted. “It heard us plotting.”

  They almost had a panic on their hands.

  “Shut up and listen,” Bill shouted, but they weren’t in the mood to pay him any heed.

  “We’re going to get all ate up,” someone shouted. People screamed, while others made a dash for the door. The sheriff took out his pistol and fired a shot into the ceiling. That got their attention quickly enough. The whole bar went quiet.

  “I said, listen,” Bill shouted.

  The rumble resolved itself into the sound of heavy engines, getting closer fast.

  “It’s Ellen,” somebody shouted. “The old bitch actually did it. We’re saved.”

  The sheriff went back to the main door and looked out. Janet peered over his shoulder. A small convoy of military vehicles drove into the parking lot. Several of the trucks were mounted with heavy artillery.

  If this is getting saved, I’m not sure I want any part of it.

  It was a moot point anyway. There was no need to go looking for the CDC. The CDC had come to them.

  * * *

  The lead vehicle came to a halt and two men in HAZMAT suits got out, carrying a woman slumped between them. Fresh blood showed through a bandage round the person’s head, and she didn’t have to look up for Janet to recognize Ellen Simmons.

  Janet tried to push past the sheriff, intent on going to the woman’s aid, but Bill stood in her way and refused to budge. He pointed at the two men.

  “They’re carrying rifles across their backs. I ain’t about to let you get yourself shot.”

  “Ellen needs help and…”

  “And she’ll be here in ten seconds. She can wait that long, until we see the lay of the land,” he said. “Leave the talking to me.”

  The two suited men brought the injured woman right up to the door of the bar before they stopped.

  “She’ll be staying with you until we get the field camp set up,” the one on the left said. “And I’ll be taking your weapon, Sheriff.”

  “Like hell you will,” Bill said. He reached for the pistol. Before he could finish the movement the two men in front of him had dropped Ellen Simmons to the ground and had weapons of their own in their hands. They had unslung and aimed the rifles so quickly that Janet had scarcely had time to register it.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Sheriff,” the one who had spoken previously said. “I’m not in the habit of killing civilians, and I’ve had about enough of it for one day.”

  Janet put a hand on Bill’s arm.

  “Do what they say. They’ve got a protocol, Bill. They’re just following orders.”

  “That’s what the Nazis said,” the sheriff replied. He made a show of slowly taking his gun from the holster using only his fingertips, and dropped it at his feet.

  Ellen Simmons tried to rise, stumbled, and fell. Bill crouched and caught her just before her head hit the ground. He helped her to her feet. She leaned against him. Her eyes rolled up to show only white, and she let out a pitiful moan.

  “What did you do to her?” Bill said, anger clear in his voice.

  “She’ll live,” the man in the HAZMAT suit said. He didn’t seem to care either way. “And that’s more than can be said for the three she had with her. She tried to drive through the barricade. She’s lucky I don’t just shoot her here and now and be done with it.”

  “And who are you?” Bill asked.

  “General Frinton,” the man said. “I’m the man in charge.”

  Janet doubted that very much, but held her tongue.

  The other man bent and retrieved Bill’s pistol, stowing it away in a deep pocket in his suit. Bill kept his attention focused on the general. The two men stared at each other for long seconds, and Janet felt tension build. Bill clenched and unclenched his fists. She saw the need to fight grow in him. She put a hand on his arm, he turned to look at her, and suddenly the tension dissipated as he managed a smile. He turned back to the general.

  “So what happens now?” Bill asked.

  “You sit tight. We’re setting up a field camp and we’ll get round to everybody in due course.”

  “But the holes…”

  “We can have choppers here in seconds if need be.”

  That might not be quick enough.

  “And what about the apparitions, the protoplasm?”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” the man replied. Janet heard the skepticism in his voice. “For now, we’ve got a…”

  “…protocol,” Bill answered sarcastically. “I know.”

  “Stay inside until we call for you,” the general said, turning away. “My men have orders to shoot anyone who tries to leave. I think you know by now that they’ll have no qualms about doing so?”

  Bill didn’t reply at first, and when he spoke, it was slowly and deliberately.

  “You’re not going to kill any more of my people. I won’t let you.”

  The general looked at first like he might reply angrily, then got control of himself.

  “Just behave yourselves for a few hours more. This will all be over soon,” he said.

  The two men backed away towards their vehicles.

  “Did things just get better, or worse?” Janet asked.

  Bill didn’t reply. He led them back into the bar and closed the door.

  * * *

  Ellen Simmons stood slumped against the wall, hands up to fend off the people crowded around her, all throwing questions, none waiting for an answer. Her face was white, her eyes red and wet. She’d been crying, and looked ready to start in again at any moment.

  “Give us space,” Janet shouted. “She needs my help.”

  Still nobody moved, not until Bill waded in and started shouting. Seconds later the space was clear. She led the woman to a corner table in the bar and Bill kept the rest away. The head wound was the first priority. Janet carefully unwound the sodden bandages. The scalp wound underneath looked nasty, but it had already coagulated, and after she cleaned it up, looked to have little chance of further bleeding if Ellen could be kept still for long enough.

  “What happened, Ellen?” she asked.

  The other woman didn’t answer. Her hands shook, and her lip trembled. She tried to speak, but nothing came out except a strangled moan.

  “Charlie,” Janet shouted. “We could do with some hard liquor over here.”

  Charlie took her at her word and arrived a minute later with two large measures of whiskey.

  “It’s a mite early in the morning,” he said. “But my mother always said, a little of what you fancy does you the power of good.”

  Ellen Simmons looked up and almost managed a smile.

  “I knew your mother,” she said. “She whipped my ass for sassing her when I was no more than a slip of a girl. We could do with more like her with us here today.”

  She took the whiskey and knocked it back in one smooth gulp. Then she burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry, Janet. I really am. I got those others killed. It was all my fault.”

  That was the only coherent sentence she uttered in the next five minutes. She drank most of Janet’s whiskey too, and then lapsed into heaving sobs as Janet applied a fresh bandage to the head w
ound. She didn’t look up when Janet patted her on the shoulder and left her to her grief. Several people started to move towards the older woman, as if intent on asking further questions.

  “Leave her be,” Janet said, possibly more sharply than she’d intended to. “She needs to rest.”

  To her surprise every one of them went back to their tables, leaving Ellen Simmons sobbing in the corner. After pausing to make sure they stayed where they’d retreated to, Janet joined the sheriff by the window. He didn’t take his gaze off the activity outside.

  “What are they doing?” she asked.

  He didn’t turn.

  “What they said they would. Setting up a field camp. They’ve got all kinds of scientific kit, and the big trailer looks like a field lab to me. Ain’t seen a single one without a HAZMAT suit on—or one without a weapon. Whatever they think is happening, they think it’s still happening.”

  I’m pretty sure I agree with them on that one.

  Once again she saw the anger in the sheriff, the need for action.

  It’s eating him up, being locked in here.

  “They know what they’re doing, Bill,” she said softly.

  “Killing my town, that’s what they’re doing,” Bill replied. She moved to stand by his side, and finally saw why he hadn’t turned. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  She reached up to brush them away but he gently stopped her.

  “Don’t,” he said, quietly so only she would hear. “Don’t let them know,”

  She nodded, and put her hand down.

  “I feel useless,” Bill said. “Stuck in here while the town goes to hell outside. What kind of sheriff does that make me?”