by Ellis, Tara
The sun was already beginning its long march up the sky and Chloe was surprised they had slept so late. It probably wasn’t even eight yet, but they’d been getting up at the crack of dawn. She imagined everyone else was also feeling both the physical and emotional exhaustion from the day before.
“How could we have known they’d do something so stupid?” Hicks was saying to Bishop.
Chloe looked at the boys’ tent, positioned farthest from the makeshift camp and fire. Walking over to it, she lifted the flap and confirmed that it was empty. They’d taken everything of theirs as well as some of the supplies, based on what Ripley was saying.
“How could they be so selfish? They took more than half the water, and all of the jerky.” She was tossing empty boxes aside that had been stacked in the back of the Jeep.
Bishop was tearing his tent down with angry gestures. “I should have expected something like this from Jason. He made it clear he wanted to follow the road and we know his background.” He looked at Ripley. “I’m just surprised Trevor went along with him.”
Chloe felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe if she’d been nicer to him, Trevor wouldn’t have been so quick to follow the other boys. “Is it really like a hundred miles of road before you get anywhere?” she asked Bishop.
Hicks answered for him. “Yes. And if they’re counting on flagging someone down, I think they’re in denial about what our situation is. The water they have won’t last, and—” he crossed over to where the map was still weighted down on the hood of the jeep with rocks. “If they stay on the right road, there isn’t even a stream for over fifty miles.”
“They’re in trouble,” Ripley stated.
Hicks moved to the five-gallon jug of bottled water they’d pulled out the night before and began filling the water bladder from his backpack. “I’ll go after them. I should be able to catch up to them. They only have a few hours’ head start.”
“It’s at least five hours.”
Chloe turned to see Trevor walking up the logging road, looking very sheepish.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, sitting down hard on the ground next to his tent. “I tried to talk them out of it but then they made fun of me, and…I shouldn’t have gone.”
“It’s okay,” Ripley went and knelt down in front of him. “We’re glad you came back, Trevor.”
Trevor glanced at Chloe and she offered him a crooked smile. “Yeah, who would I pick on without you around?”
“Trevor,” Bishop said sternly, “you need to tell us where they went.”
“Well, Jason’s an idiot. There’s a fork a few miles down the road and he was going to go the wrong way, but I remembered it from the map. He finally listened to me, then he wouldn’t let up. Kept calling me names, so I decided to come back.”
“Come here,” Hicks ordered Trevor. “Show me on the map.”
“Maybe we should all go,” Ripley suggested. “I don’t like us splitting up.”
Bishop finished packing his tent and then stared intensely at Ripley. “I don’t either, except it’s our only choice. With the water we have here, it’ll be just enough to get the five of us to Mercy. Hicks will have to find the boys and then take them back down that other road. It’s about a two-day hike from there to the next supply point.” He turned his attention to Hicks, who was already listening to the conversation and nodding in agreement. “From there, you should have enough water to get you and the boys to that bed and breakfast just after the turn-off. You know which one I’m talking about?”
“Yeah,” Hicks confirmed. “And even if they can’t help us, there’s a stream that runs past there. We’ll be fine,” he added. “You should make it to Mercy a few days before we hike out, so maybe you can send someone to pick us up.”
“Maybe,” Bishop agreed, but he didn’t sound hopeful.
Fifteen minutes later, Hicks was walking down the road at a brisk pace and the rest of them were struggling into their packs. Chloe gritted her teeth against the burning in her thighs as well as the fear that fluttered in her chest.
“Let’s go,” Bishop ordered, leading the way into the woods. According to the map, if they headed south, they should intercept the trail that would ultimately take them near Mercy.
Trevor was the first to follow, then Chloe and Crissy, with Ripley bringing up the rear. They’d gone a short distance when Chloe nearly stepped on a dead hawk and was reminded of the bizarre spectacle from the night before. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen or heard any birds since waking up. Pausing, she tilted her head and frowned.
“What?” Ripley asked brusquely, clearly on edge.
“It’s too quiet.” Chloe gestured around at the thick woods. “Where are all the birds?”
Bishop had stopped and walked back to where they were. “Yeah, I noticed, but we don’t have time to guess about something we’ll never figure out. And put your hats on,” he barked. “The sun is intense this high up.” He turned back without his normal small talk.
“He’s right,” Crissy said as they began moving again. “I managed all last month without burning, then yesterday did me in.”
Chloe looked at her friend and saw that she wasn’t exaggerating. She had racoon eyes, or lighter spots around her eyes from where her sunglasses offered extra protection. It wasn’t a bad burn, though it was visible. Chloe hadn’t even thought about her own skin. She was a quarter Lakota, just enough to claim the Sioux tribe of South Dakota, where her grandfather was from, and to ensure she didn’t burn easily. Holding her arms out in front of her, she confirmed they weren’t red, but when she touched her face, it felt raw. Her nose was especially sensitive. Her unease growing, Chloe unclipped her ballcap from one of the many crampons on her pack, and jammed the hat onto her head.
An hour later, they were still moving blindly through the larch and spruce trees. “Bishop, are you leading us to the edge of nowhere?” Crissy complained.
“It’s here.”
Chloe sprinted to where he stood, surprising herself with the spurt of energy. Sure enough, the younger trees that Bishop claimed were planted some thirty years before, after a clear cut, bordered another trail. It twisted away from them and along yet another ridgeline surrounded by the more ancient whitebark and lodgepole pines.
Bishop smiled back at them. “Now we follow this over the pass up there,” he explained, pointing at what looked like a distant mountain range. “On the other side, in the valley below it is the town of Mercy.”
They all fell in line on the narrow trail and Chloe was glad for the hat. The sun was directly above them and they were painfully exposed. Looking up to try and gauge the time based on its location, she batted at a pine needle that narrowly missed her eye. Another one landed on her cheek and third on her lip. Looking away, Chloe brushed her face off and spit one out of her mouth. That’s when she noticed it was literally snowing pine needles.
It was early in the year for them to be shedding and she’d never seen this many come off the trees in Washington. Looking more closely at the nearest lodgepole pine, Chloe saw that the uppermost branches of the tree were mostly brown. Turning her focus back to the trail ahead of her, she saw that several of the visible pines sported the same unusual appearance. She’d talk to Bishop about it later, but it only added to the anxiety already churning in her stomach.
Trevor moved up beside her. “Where are your parents?” he asked. “I mean, mine are in Kansas. Do you think they’re okay?”
Chloe’s nostrils flared and she took a moment to check herself. This was where she would normally deflect her fear into anger and lash out at someone…anyone, to help dull the edge. Instead, she turned to face Trevor and reminded herself that he was only fourteen and just as scared as she was. “I live in Washington,” she said surprised at how calm she sounded. “As far as I know, they were going back home. I’m sure your parents are okay, Trevor. We’ll get to Mercy and you can call them. Four days from now, we’ll be sitting at home texting about the expression on Hicks’s face when he realized
he couldn’t take any more selfies to send to his girlfriend.”
Trevor laughed and nodded in agreement, but Chloe suspected what she was saying was a lie and that somehow made it all worse. Pushing past him, she stumbled down the trail behind Bishop before anyone could see her face.
Chloe hadn’t thought much about her parents, but now she was overcome by a sense of dread. She pictured her bedroom, the silly pictures on the walls, the purple throw rug with glitter in it, and the way her mom always told her to make her bed. Her dad would be looking for his keys like he did every workday morning, a piece of burnt toast stuck in his mouth. She’d give anything to have it all back.
“Hey,” Crissy grabbed at her arm. “You okay?”
Chloe took a breath. She was being overly dramatic. There wasn’t any reason to think she wouldn’t see her parents again. They’d find their way out of the mountains and everything would be okay.
Right?
Chapter 17
RUSSELL
Wyoming State Mental Hospital, Wyoming
Russell Boyd had been planning his escape since he’d arrived at the unit for the criminally insane, three months earlier. He’d begun to implement that plan over the last week. It was easy enough to get put into solitary confinement. Rodney didn’t need that ear anyway. It’s not like anyone was going to talk to him.
Russell grinned in the darkness. He found it highly amusing how easy it was to manipulate people, especially those who’d convinced themselves they were on a mission for the greater good.
For instance: he was not insane. In fact, he was quite sound of mind and more rational than anyone else he’d ever met. However, after one misstep in a small county he was passing through, he’d found himself in a situation that called for drastic measures. There was no escaping the gruesome evidence of the murder he’d committed, but he was familiar with the Wyoming state laws and convinced the psychiatrist he was a paranoid schizophrenic. It wasn’t hard to play the part as he’d studied the symptoms for years, knowing he might be forced into the role eventually. He’d simply explained how the voice ordered him to exorcise the demon from the woman’s heart. Russell’s grin widened.
“Hey, Russell. I’ve got some water for you.” Tim Ridgeway’s dark form hovered near the small opening in the door. It was a barred window with a cover on the outside that could be opened and used for room checks, communication, and passing food.
Russell rose fluidly from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor and gently took the bottle, making sure his fingers brushed Tim’s. The physical contact was an important way of reminding the guard of Russell’s humanity. “Thank you, Tim. Any news? How is your family?” His voice was soft and persuasive, like a pastor in a confessional.
The only sliver of an outside window in Russell’s room was located at the top of the twelve-foot ceiling and made of thick, frosted glass, so the amount of light it let in was minimal. Since the power had gone out the day before, it afforded him the ability to make out vague shapes. The outline of Tim’s pale face moved in front of the opening.
“No news. Obviously, the power is still out, but it’s more than that. Nothing works, man. I mean nothing. I haven’t been able to get ahold of my family. No way to do it.”
Russell made a pained sound and bent over so he was at eye-level with Tim. He knew he was handsome and always made an effort to make eye contact whenever possible. His piercing green eyes were full of dismay and he pushed a lock of thick blonde hair out of the way in an innocent, disarming gesture. “I’m sorry to hear that. Why don’t you leave? Just walk home.” He knew Tim wouldn’t.
Tim stood and Russell could hear him begin his pacing. Like clockwork. “It’s not that easy. Cars don’t even work and it would take me days to get home. There are fires and talk about looting and no one knows what’s happening. And we can’t just leave you guys locked up in here.”
Russell tilted his head in recognition of the key phrase being uttered and waited a moment before answering. “No, you can’t. Because that would be a death sentence, wouldn’t it?” Moving back to the center of the room, Russell crossed his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps to remind himself of his strength. He spent hours every day doing resistance exercise and yoga. He wasn’t a large man, but the lithe movements conveyed the control he had over both mind and body.
When the power went out, Russell didn’t think of it as fate or luck or divine intervention, simply an opportunity. A way to move up his schedule. Tim stopped his pacing and Russell could picture the younger man running a hand through his prematurely thinning hair. “How much water is left, Tim?” He whispered, an edge to his voice this time.
“What?” Tim’s voice rose an octave. He was incredibly transparent.
“Water, Tim. If nothing works, then I imagine there’s no running water. My toilet stopped flushing this morning.” Russell wrinkled his nose at the smell that had begun to permeate the building in the past few hours. “How much bottled water is left? That will be the first thing to kill us.”
“Ah, we’ve got some. Enough to last a couple more days. I’m sure we’ll have things back up and running by then.”
“What if it isn’t?” Russell pressed. “And I haven’t heard Aaron or Mark around since last night.”
Russell had already surmised that the other guards left and Tim was only one of a handful of staff remaining. He heard them talking the night before and if things were as serious as it sounded, the state mental hospital wasn’t going to be high on the list for aid. At least, not until all of their resources were long used up. That was okay with Russell. He would be gone by then.
“They, uh, went home.” Tim muttered, clearly upset. “I’m sure help will be coming soon.”
“‘Help will be coming’?” Russell repeated. He moved soundlessly so that Tim jumped when his face appeared in the opening. “I thought you said things will be fixed soon. What happens when the water runs out, Tim? Are you going to go home, too?”
Tim’s pacing continued in earnest.
The whites of Russell’s eyes flashed in the semi-darkness as he followed the man’s movement. “Are you going to leave us here to rot?” Russell was careful not to sound accusatory but despairing.
“Don’t leave us!” A man blubbered almost incoherently. The only other “resident” in the wing was Eddie Powers. He was located three rooms away at the end of the hall. One day in the dark and he’d become delusional. Of course, Russell had helped him out a little.
Most people didn’t like the dark and saw things in it that weren’t really there. He, on the other hand, didn’t mind. The way it wrapped around him, removing all of the noise and confusion. It stripped it all away and made everyone equal. All of them, sharing the darkness. Embracing it because they didn’t have a choice. They could be whoever they wanted in the void. Do whatever they wanted, because no one could see them.
Russell had always liked to roam around at night, ever since he was twelve. That was the first time he’d killed. He might have been caught in a small town in Wyoming at age forty-two, but he’d been killing for three decades. Standing there in the darkened room of the powerless building in the middle of a world suddenly plunged into the shadows…he felt at peace.
While the rest of them went crazy, he’d maintain his composure and survive, like he always had. All he had to do was convince Tim it was the right thing to do.
The other residents of the institute, numbering around a hundred, were housed mostly in the main facility. Less than a dozen were in the wing for the criminally insane and it wouldn’t take much staffing loss to create a scenario where escape was possible.
Russell originally orchestrated the solitary confinement because of its location on campus and lack of redundancies. It was an old building and the simple safeties in place gave the staff a false sense of security that Russell easily saw around. Of course, now it really didn’t matter. His plans changed with what he came to think of as the flashpoint. The point in time when it all began.
His rebirth.
Chapter 18
PATTY
Mercy, Montana
Patty sat staring around the large oak table at the Mercy city council members. It had taken all day to find them and even longer to get four of the five of them there. Mike Henderson was MIA and it was suspected he’d gone to visit his daughter in Missoula before the flash struck, since his truck was gone. Patty sighed. There were so many unknowns, but that was why she’d brought them all together.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Gary asked bluntly. He was waving his copy of the City of Mercy Disaster Response Plan in the air for emphasis. He then pushed at the sheets of handwritten documents on the table in front of him, scattering them. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”
Patty clamped her jaw so tightly that a sharp pain shot through her temple. She’d spent hours that afternoon carefully drawing up the lists for each of them. They all had assignments and it was critical they were on board with the plan if it was going to work. “Overreacting?” Her voice was dangerously low. Her gaze flitted from Gary to Paul, his closest friend and usual cohort on the council. “Paul, why don’t you tell Gary here why you didn’t come into town last night?”
“Patty…” Gary cautioned.
“No!” Patty spat, turning back to Gary with eyes so wild that he flinched away from her. “You’ll listen to what Paul has to say.”
Paul fidgeted with a corner of one of the papers in his stack, curling the edge. “Nell died.” His voice was so low that it was hard to hear, but Patty already knew what he was going to say about his wife. “Figure her pacemaker shorted out or something. She just…dropped, right after the flash of light, when everything else stopped working.” His voice caught on the last words and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Gary cleared his throat and stared back at Patty. “I know what happened.”
Patty slapped her hands down on the table, dispersing her papers and causing everyone to jump. “You mean to tell me, Gary, that you know what happened to Nell and the others, and you still have the gall to sit there and tell me that I’m overreacting?”