by Ellis, Tara
“Kenny,” Jenny moaned as she fell to her knees on the front porch. He’d come back to her, she knew he would. If anyone could survive this, it was her Kenny. He was a cop in Manhattan and although the roads were deadlocked and a literal gauntlet of death according to her father, nothing would keep him away from her and their unborn child.
Jenny placed a hand on her swollen belly and leaned her forehead against the wooden railing, staring out at the dark upper-class neighborhood. It was around three in the morning, but the night sky was filled with an eerie glow of red and purple. Rather than illuminating the landscape, it somehow managed to only cast more shadows and make things move that weren’t really there. Creatures born from the grotesque womb of whatever this evil vanquisher was.
Something with more substance stirred haltingly along the sidewalk, stepping around a downed garbage can next to a body. A brief flash of hope quickly subsided when Jenny acknowledged he was much too small to be Kenny. Instead, she had the decency to make a small gasping sound at the realization that the body on the sidewalk was their neighbor, Mrs. Caswell. She’d known the woman since she was four years old and had come to think of her as her grandma.
Jenny watched with a detached curiosity as the unknown man tripped first on Mrs. Caswell’s outstretched foot, fell onto her back, and then scrambled forward, pulling himself along by using her stiffened arm for leverage.
There was nothing to be done for the older woman. No way to show her the respect she deserved. Jenny certainly couldn’t. She’d been unable to save her own parents. It was a scene playing out all around them as everyone she’d ever known or loved died a slow, horrific, and painful death.
They began to get sick within an hour of the light’s appearance. The first day, dozens of the close-knit neighbors rallied around each other, offering shelter to those burned out, and food and water to anyone in need. But then, as the symptoms progressed from nausea and headaches to vomiting, diarrhea, and then hemorrhaging, it became every man for himself.
Her father tried to get to a nearby hospital to find help, and had returned hours later with a blank expression. He never did tell Jenny or her mother what he’d seen before he died. It only took him a day to succumb to it, and her younger brother Adam had held out until the second night.
Jenny choked on a sob at the fresh memory, surprised she still had the ability to cry. The effort caused an explosion of pain in her head and she grabbed at her hair with both hands, her mouth open in a silent scream. As the knife slowly withdrew from her brain, Jenny struggled to slow her breathing and then lowered her hands, only to discover she was still gripping huge clumps of blonde hair.
A hysterical spurt of laughter welled up and she slapped a hand over her mouth to unsuccessfully silence it. The result was a macabre wail that didn’t even sound human.
“He…hello?” a timid voice croaked from the base of the steps.
Jenny froze, long strands of hair stuck to her bloody lips. She’d been vomiting blood for hours now and the front of her sundress was caked with it and other unmentionable substances.
“Please. I just want some water.”
He sounded like a teenager. Jenny peaked around the railing and saw the boy was lying on the bottom step.
“They’re all dead,” he gurgled. “Everyone is dead.” His voice caught and he reached out a hand, weakly grasping at the air. “I don’t want to die alone.”
Jenny tried to stand but her legs buckled and she fell onto her hands and knees. Crawling forward, she reached the short flight of stairs and slid backwards down to where the boy was crumpled, sobbing. With one hand on her stomach, Jenny set the other on his head. “What’s your name?”
“Ben.” Ben turned his head toward her, so that Jenny’s hand was on his cheek. His lips were covered in blisters and blood pooled in his eyes. He couldn’t be more than fifteen.
There was nothing Jenny could say to ease his pain or fear. She didn’t know what happened. No one did. Only that something made them sick at the same time that all of the power and tech was destroyed. Her dad guessed a nuclear attack but it didn’t matter what it was because in another day there wouldn’t be anyone left alive to care.
Closing her eyes, Jenny thought of Kenny…his smile, his touch, the way he held her whenever she wasn’t strong enough to handle something on her own. She’d see him soon. Her eyes snapped open then and she looked up at the red sky with its bizarre display, and then down at the shadows it cast on Mrs. Caswell’s body.
Jenny gently brushed the hair from Ben’s face and thought of her parents, sleeping one last time in the home they’d created and raised her in. “Adam,” she whispered, confusing her brother for the young man dying next to her. Her head swam and the darkness around her was replaced with an open meadow. A large willow tree was in the distance and she and Adam were racing to it. Her uncle’s property. They used to go visit every summer around this time.
The warmth of the sun abruptly faded and the scent of honeysuckle was replaced with rotting flesh. Jenny blinked slowly and remembered that Adam was already dead…they were all dead. Something had made sure of it.
“It’s okay,” she cooed, focusing again on the deformed face under her hand. “You aren’t alone.”
Chapter 22
ETHAN
South of Idaho Falls, Idaho
“Hell’s Half Acre,” Ethan read the sign aloud. They were riding along Interstate 15, about halfway between the small town of Blackfoot and Idaho Falls. The lush farmlands had suddenly given way to what looked like an ancient lava field. Ethan continued reading: “Molten rock. Pushed upward for thirty to fifty miles through fissures in the Earth. Has cooled into the hard lava found here.”
Tom rubbed at his face. “Interesting. Never really gave it much thought the other times we’ve driven through here.”
Ethan tugged at the ballcap on his head, thankful for the shade it provided. Although whatever had caused the initial sunburns seemed to have passed, it was still a hot summer day with temperatures in the nineties. It was a good thing the Hansons had plenty of water for their horses or they’d really be hurting by now.
“How’s the headache?” his dad asked, narrowing his eyes at him.
Ethan had been trying not to think about it and was slightly irritated by the reminder. “Still there, but the Advil Mrs. Hanson gave me helped.”
“Nausea?”
Ethan shrugged. “A little. I don’t think I’m going to puke or anything.”
Tom smiled. “Good. Be sure to tell me if it gets worse and you can have some of the anti-nausea medicine Marnie gave us. If we can stop it before it starts, we’ll be less likely to get dehydrated.”
“I know, Dad,” Ethan answered with some agitation. He’d already told him the same thing twice before. He knew his dad was just worried about him, but he didn’t need to be babied.
“Let’s keep moving,” Tom ordered and pointed at the mountains in the distance. “I’d love to make it past Idaho Falls and into some mountains by tonight.”
Ethan felt a small thrill. “Isn’t that getting pretty close to Montana?”
Tom grimaced. “Yeah, if we were driving. On horseback it’ll be two more days from Idaho Falls into Montana, and probably another week before we get close to Mercy.”
Ethan’s excitement faded. Ten days. And that was if they didn’t have to stop for anything. There weren’t many people out walking on the highway and most of them were in the same situation. So far, other than the first night, none of them had been a threat. But according to the conversation his dad and Mr. Hanson had late the night before, that would change once the resources in the cities ran out.
Ethan spurred Tango forward. “The mountains sound like a great idea.”
Tom shifted in the saddle Mr. Hanson insisted he take, and looked at Ethan as he rode past him. “Don’t push him too hard in this heat. The map shows that small lake Ed told me about is ten miles from here.”
Ethan waved in acknowledgement and slowed t
o a trot. In addition to the saddle, medicine, and maps, the Hansons also gave them fishing poles, a tent, sleeping bags, and enough beef jerky and protein bars to last a week. Ethan also had a nice hunting knife tucked into his back pocket. The trilobite was resting safely in the front pocket of his shirt.
Heat shimmered off the blacktop and caused a mirage of water across the road, emphasizing how hot it was. Ethan wasn’t surprised when Tango dropped into a walk after only a few minutes. They were avoiding the pavement by sticking to the soft shoulder along the edge of the road but it was becoming narrower as it dropped away to form a ravine. Ethan stared out over the alien landscape, the ancient lava field a stark contrast to the surrounding farmland and rolling hills on the horizon.
Looking back to the road, Ethan squinted into the sun. A truck sat in the middle of the freeway not far ahead, one of the countless abandoned vehicles they’d seen. So far today, the only ones occupied were by passengers that would never leave them. He didn’t see any sign of movement, then when he looked away, he spotted something else partway down the rocky slope to his left. As they got closer, he suddenly pulled up on the reins, causing Tango to rear slightly before settling down.
“Hey!” Tom shouted. “Not the best place to spook your horse—” He stopped when he noticed the corpse.
Ethan had seen plenty of bodies in the past couple of days between the plane crash and car wrecks, but he was unprepared for the turkey vultures feasting on the bloated body in the sun. Entrails made an odd mosaic of fleshy colors around the cadaver, and as one of the large birds took flight, it revealed white shards of rib poking out of the torn shirt.
“Ugh,” Ethan grunted, unable to look away.
Tom moved closer and to Ethan’s surprise, got off his horse. “It looks like he was trying to climb up to the road.” The ravine was steep, but still manageable for someone who wasn’t already injured. “There’s something down there,” Tom added, looking back at Ethan. “I think it’s a bus.”
Ethan dismounted and carefully avoided the body while scrambling down the hillside with his dad. Sure enough, at the bottom of the twenty-foot ravine, a tan-colored bus with the words “Idaho State Penitentiary” painted on it lay on its side.
“Hello?” Tom called.
Ethan was almost relieved when no one answered. It wasn’t like they could help them and he didn’t think there was anything on a prison bus that they could use.
“The guards would probably have guns,” Tom said as he moved toward the open door. “Stay here.”
Ethan hadn’t thought of that. If things got as ugly as his dad thought they would, having more firepower wouldn’t be a bad thing. While the Hansons had had a lot of useful stuff, guns weren’t one of them.
Ignoring his father’s command, he crept up to the entrance after his dad disappeared inside. Several minutes went by and all he could hear was his dad’s heavy footfalls on the aluminum siding of the overturned bus. Growing impatient, Ethan stuck his head in, and immediately regretted it. The smell of death was overpowering. Gagging, he moved back to the edge and instead cupped a hand around his mouth and called out. “Find anything?”
Tom’s head popped up through the opening, causing Ethan to jump and fall backwards from the bus. “Geeze, Dad,” he complained, wiping the dirt from his behind.
“I told you to wait.” Tom’s face was pale as he scrambled out of the bus and he looked back through the door with more than a hint of fear. “Six bodies, including one guard and the driver.”
“Any guns?”
Tom shook his head. “The guard has a holster, but no weapon.” He looked around the barren landscape and then up at their waiting horses. “There’s nothing here we can use. Let’s go. Now.”
Ethan was more than happy to comply, and moved around the front of the bus to what looked like an easier route back to the road. But as he reached out to push off the bumper, he saw a foot sticking out from some scrub bushes. “Dad…”
Together, the two of them peered around the nose of the vehicle and saw a man in a brown uniform. It was impossible to tell how old he was, because part of his face was missing.
“He’s been shot,” Tom said, taking hold of Ethan’s arm and pulling him back.
Although Ethan knew the accident had happened over two days ago and that the man had likely been dead for just as long, it didn’t dampen the urgency he felt to flee.
As they turned and scrambled up the dirt-covered, hardened lava, Ethan glanced back at the bus. At least one person had made it out alive and was already in a kill-or-be-killed mindset long before the flash had ever hit.
Chapter 23
PATTY
City Center, Mercy, Montana
Patty moved up to the podium and cleared her throat. It was a gesture she’d performed numerous times in the past, but today was different. So very…different. She pushed the microphone off to the side. “It’s a good thing I never really needed one.”
There were a couple of nervous laughs in response, though most of the people congregating on the lawn stared at her silently, waiting. The courtyard of Mercy’s city hall was often used for banquets and celebrations and was large enough to accommodate several hundred residents. For the first time that Patty could remember, it was overflowing, yet the mood wasn’t festive.
“Thank you for coming.” Patty cleared her throat again. She glanced at the large portable whiteboard she’d had Caleb wheel out for her. He was seated off to the side of it, along with the council members and other key city leaders. The small stage they were all on had been dragged out of storage and set up the week before in preparation for the annual Fourth of July celebration. There wouldn’t be a typical party this year.
“Six hundred and fifty-eight.” Patty gestured to the number written in bold, green marker on the board. She walked over and drew a circle around it for emphasis. “Six hundred and fifty-eight. That’s how many of us are here in Mercy, and the surrounding county.”
Above the numbers, across the top, she wrote water, shelter, food. She re-capped the pen and turned back to the people who were looking to her as their leader. “I don’t know if we’re ever going to fully grasp or come to terms with what happened two days ago.” There were murmurs of agreement and a couple of sobs. “Sheriff Waters and his deputies did their best to inform everyone about what we’ve learned as they checked in on you, but here it is in a nutshell. There was some sort of immense burst of radiation from space, maybe from a nearby exploding star. It instantly destroyed part of the world and delivered enough poison to kill anyone that was close to it.” The mumbling grew in intensity until it was hard to hear Patty’s voice.
“Friends!” Ned rose slowly from his seat on the stage, raising his arms in the air. “Please, listen!” Though shaky, the previous mayor’s voice still carried a lot of weight. “It’s terrifying, but we can’t ignore the truth. Mayor Patty has helped us put together a plan and it will take all of us working together to make it work.”
“The electromagnetic pulse generated when this wave of energy hit the atmosphere destroyed anything electronic,” Patty continued when the crowd settled. “It’s believed this was a world-wide event so we can’t rely on outside help, at least not anytime soon.”
“My family needs water!” a man shouted near the front. Several others added their own pleas.
“You’ll get it!” Patty pointed to the words again on the whiteboard. “This is why you are all here. We have plenty of potable water, we just need to determine who needs it and how to get it to you.” She motioned for Paul to join her.
“I’ll be at one of the tables in the back,” Paul shouted while pointing to several folding tables erected at the far end of the courtyard. “Come see me if you need water, can help carry water, or have water. I’ll have a sign-up sheet for volunteers to help me with distribution. The new spring well at the edge of town has plenty of ready-to-drink water, we just need a way to move it.”
“My old horse wagon I fixed up for the parade can hau
l water!” a woman called out, waving a hand.
“Perfect.” Paul smiled. “Come see me later, Carla.”
Encouraged, Patty turned back to the board. “I know several people lost their homes to fires or else have damage. We’ve opened the school as a shelter.” Pointing at Betty, the school teacher rose. “Ms. Young will also be at a table. See her if you need shelter or want to help set it up. We need cots and blankets.”
“Sandy Miller?” Patty called, squinting at the crowd.
“Here, Patty.” The middle-aged woman moved to the front, both her substantial height and presence easily parting the sea of people. She was a well-respected rancher in the community, which was why Patty had chosen her.
“Sandy will be in charge of organizing Mercy’s food, but it’s a huge undertaking and will require a lot of teamwork.” Patty nodded at her friend.
“I’ll be at a table,” Sandy’s voice boomed. “I’m looking to talk to anyone with a working farm, gardens, or the ability to hunt or fish.”
“Someone broke into my barn and stole a bunch of stuff last night!” A man shoved his way through to the front. “It’s not like we can call 911. What are you going to do? ’Cause I plan on defending myself from now on.” Cheers of agreement erupted and there was a palpable change in the atmosphere.
Sheriff Waters leaped to his feet from his spot next to Caleb and stepped to the center of the stage. “Enough!” A hush fell over the people of Mercy. “Allen, you know as well as I do that it was likely someone desperate for the bottled water they took, not a hardened criminal. We’re all neighbors here.” He eyed Allen specifically. “If we can meet our basic needs and remember that we need each other to get through this, we’ll be okay. Allen, if you’re so keen on being the law, why don’t you come up here?”
Allen looked skeptically at the sheriff. “Huh?”
“Come here.” Sheriff Waters pointed to the spot next to him.