by Joseph Lallo
The harbinger of the reversion, the looming cloud, blotted out the sky. It devoured the tops of the trees and crept ever eastward in the march toward the end. Swirls of grey and slate slurry moved through the silent, roiling mass. Any light Samuel could remember from his arrival in this place had become a distant memory. The standing human remains continued to sway back and forth, as if caught in a slight breeze.
Mara held her chin low on her chest and fidgeted with her hands. Samuel saw her fingernails and winced. Ragged lines of red ran down her cuticles, raw from her own teeth and saliva. Her once-luxurious, black hair, which radiated the ambient light of the coffee shop, lay in greasy, clumped masses, flakes of dandruff speckled like maggots on rotting meat. Samuel could not see her eyes, and he thought it was probably better this way. He didn’t think he could handle the sorrow contained in them. Every so often, Mara would sigh and shake her head, never raising it.
“We’re running out of time.” Major spoke, the most he had in days, if days could still be measured here.
“They’ve got us pinned down. You saw what happened when Kole tried getting through.”
Kole looked up at the mention of his name and shrugged his shoulders.
“What’s the cloud do?” Mara asked, head tilted upward but face covered in stringy hair.
“It’s an eater of worlds. It leaves nothing behind.”
“Will the creatures kill us? Can they kill us?” Samuel asked.
“Death by zombie, eh?” Major asked with a chuckle. “Like running out to a cop and waving a gun in his face. This is the land of suicide.”
“What about the wolves?” Samuel asked.
Major sat upright and raised his eyebrows. “What about them?”
“Are they gone? Did the cloud get to them already?”
Major shrugged.
“If we could get them here, it might be enough to distract the creatures outside,” Samuel said.
“For what?” Kole asked. “Distract them so we can go where? Do you see the fucking storm brewing out there? I might opt for having my brains eaten instead of what that evil cloud might bring.”
Mara dug her forehead into the heel of her palms.
“I’m not ready to lie down and die,” Samuel said.
“Yeah, well maybe you should be,” Kole said.
“Is there any rope in this cabin?” Samuel asked.
Major held both palms out. “Haven’t you had enough of swinging from the noose?”
“Listen,” Samuel said. “I’m climbing to the roof and then, with rope and the low-hanging branches, I’m getting out in front of the horde.”
“They’re as far as the eye can see,” Kole said, referring to the undead swarming the land.
“But they’re slow. If I can get out in front, there might be a chance.”
“Better than sitting here,” Mara said.
Major pushed a chair aside and opened a cabinet near the table, lifting out a bucket. Tied to the handle was a coiled rope.
“The hemp looks rotted and shaky. But it’s all yours if you want it,” Major said.
Samuel stood and grabbed it. He untied the knot from the handle and pulled a three-foot section taut. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Major. The old man smiled and looked at Kole. Kole shook his head and went back to circling his finger around a knot in the floorboard. Mara stood.
“Looks like they’re a few yards away from the front door. If you get out there quickly, you might be able to shimmy up the corner post and hop onto the roof of the cabin before they close in.”
“Any other suggestions?” Samuel asked, trying to keep the glimmer of hope from overtaking reality.
“Yeah, send the bitch first,” Kole said.
Samuel ignored him. He set the rope down on the floor and began to pull it through his hands, a foot or two at a time. He noticed several places where the fibers felt weak or had begun to unravel, but not enough for him to consider cutting it and using a shorter piece. Samuel guessed he had about twenty feet of rope he could depend on and another ten that could snap under pressure.
“Please get us out of here,” Mara whispered.
Samuel nodded.
Mara rose up on her toes and placed a kiss on Samuel’s lips. He felt the push of her warm breath on his mouth and the excitement of having a woman so close. But when her lips contacted his, his mind reeled. Conflicting emotions and deep sorrow raced through his body.
“Time is short,” Major said, breaking the spell. “Take this knife. It ain’t much, but…”
Samuel looked at Mara and did not speak. She sat back down on the chair and crossed her legs. Major stepped between her and Samuel.
“Consider going east. If you can get out in front of the horde, that’s great, but it’s the cloud you’re really racing.”
Major shoved his hand out to Samuel, and the two men shook. Kole waved them off without moving from the floor.
“Get high and do it fast. The longer you stay on the ground, the easier it will be for them to pin you down,” Major said.
“I’ll do my best,” Samuel said, searching for a more convincing line and not finding it.
Major walked toward the door, followed by Samuel. Mara remained, as did Kole, who didn’t bother looking up. The old man placed one hand on the knob and the other on the back of the door. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After springing them open, he turned to face Samuel.
“Ready?” he asked.
Samuel nodded.
Major turned the squeaky knob with one hand and yanked the plank door open. The front line of the horde turned their empty faces from the ground to the cabin. Mouths hung open in silent screams as the dirt shuffled beneath their feet. Samuel stood, fixed to the cabin floor as the creatures moved toward him. He froze, his mouth turning dry and his heart accelerating in his chest.
“And out you go,” Kole said from behind him.
Samuel felt two hands strike his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling to the ground in front of the cabin. He spun around in time to see Kole’s wicked grin disappearing behind the door.
***
The first thing Samuel did was reach down to secure the knife on his hip. He lifted his head and saw feet moving toward him, sending up clouds of brown dust. Most of them were bare, and many had bones poking through thin skin.
Samuel pushed off the ground and onto his backside. He watched dozens of the horde meander in his direction, arms at their sides and heads cocked in one direction. Their black orbs remained open with an empty stare, as if they felt his presence.
Samuel glanced back at the window of the cabin to see shifting, pale faces behind the greasy film coating the panes. He looked to the right, where a support post held the roof. Samuel stood and gripped the top of the post with both hands. He used his upper body to pull himself toward the roof, his legs locked around the pole to prevent a slide back down. He heaved his body onto the mossy, wooden-shake roof and rolled onto his back before pulling his legs up, too. The formless, silent cloud tumbled in the space where the sky used to be. It looked down on Samuel, and he thought he detected motion from left to right, the cloud heading toward the east to conclude its consummation of this place. Swirls of deep grey extended out and contracted like oil in water. Before he could lose himself in the shapeless horror of it, he felt the cabin shudder.
Samuel leaned over the edge and gazed out upon a sea of creatures shambling toward the cabin ten feet below. He watched countless heads with tufts of tangled hair pushing forward like a crowd at a rock concert. They nudged and leaned on each other but never stopped moving forward. He noticed they didn’t try to open the door or break the window. They had no concern for those inside, the ones the reversion would swallow whole. Instead, they gathered under the support pole, pursuing him, the one who left the sanctity of their final resting place, attempting to escape the inevitable.
Samuel looked down and watched as hands reached into the air like the
filaments of a jellyfish, slim, random movements in an ocean of certain decay. The horde either could not or did not want to climb. Samuel considered the roof his temporary haven and sat down to think. He unfurled the rope and took one end in his hands. He wrapped it around his waist and tied the best knot he could before standing and assessing the trees. A tall oak stood about twenty feet from the edge of the roof, far out of his reach. However, one of its major branches sagged low, angling five feet from the cabin. He spun in a circle to verify this was the only tree close enough to attempt what he knew had to be done.
Samuel tied the loose end of the rope into a bulge of knots. If he could toss it over the branch and have it swing back like a pendulum, he might be able to grab it and pull himself on to the low-hanging branch like an adventure-seeker gripping a zip-line. He moved as close to the edge as possible, prompting the horde to flow to that side of the cabin. Most kept their heads down like obedient cattle, but several began raising their bony arms, reaching for him.
He cocked his arm back and let the rope fly. It smacked off the bottom of the trunk, nowhere near the branch, and swung low over the heads of the creatures on the ground. They could not react fast enough to grab it, but their shuffling became more rapid, as though they sensed what he was trying to do. He reared back again. This time, the knotted end cleared the branch, but he missed it when it came swinging back underneath. Samuel yanked at the rope and pulled it back for a third try. Again, he lobbed the rope clear of the branch, and caught it. Samuel pulled the rope taut, tied both ends together, and leapt from the roof with both hands on the rope.
At first, he swung back and forth, his feet kicking in air in a vain attempt to slow his momentum. He closed his eyes and imagined the old, frayed hemp snapping and dropping him ten feet to the ground amidst the undead. Samuel shook his head and cleared his vision. He waited as gravity slowed his swing until the rope rested perpendicular to the ground, suspending him above the horde.
Gravity and physics, my safety net, he thought, thankful the reversion hadn’t violated universal laws.
Samuel used his hands to pull himself up the rope five feet until he was within reach of the branch. It stuck out from the tree trunk like a bony, crooked finger and Samuel was not sure it would hold his weight. He felt the burn in his biceps and chest. Samuel never thought the pull-up bar in his basement was good for much more than a bump on the head when walking underneath it. Now he was thankful for those early morning workouts that concluded with fifty reps. He clawed the bark until he had enough room to swing his left leg over the branch. Within seconds, he straddled it, looking down at the horde.
Like a logger, Samuel quickly removed the slack from the rope and shuffled forward fifteen feet until he reached the main trunk of the old tree. He pulled himself up and stood with his feet together, plenty of room to turn and push his back against the trunk. He took a deep breath and let a smile creep across his face. It wasn’t much, but he had made it out of the cabin to a place the horde couldn’t reach.
***
“Because.”
“Because? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“No. It’s the least I can come up with. I don’t owe you or the old man any explanation,” Kole said.
Mara tucked her hands underneath her arms to accentuate the way they crossed her chest.
“You’re a real asshole,” she said.
“That’s the best you can come up with?” he asked, mocking her.
Major stared out the window while Mara and Kole faced off. He shook his head and mumbled to himself when he no longer heard Samuel’s feet above.
“He’s off the roof, and the creatures are moving toward that tree.”
Mara and Kole stooped to have a better view, jostling like brother and sister.
“Do you think he’s going to make it?” Mara asked.
“Make it where?” Kole asked. “Before you get your panties all wet, consider where we are. I don’t see him—or us for that matter—outrunning that fucking cloud, do you?”
“It might be possible to survive it.”
Kole looked at Major after he spoke and shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
Major sat back and looked into Kole’s eyes. He could see the darkness eating the man from the inside out.
“Like surviving a tornado or a flood. Even though the disaster lays waste to the land, people survive it. Somehow, people always survive it.”
Kole reared back, his fists balled and blood rushing to his face. “I’m done with you. I’m done with your cryptic bullshit. If there is more about this place, us, those fucking creatures, anything—if there is more, I want to hear it now, or I’ll split your fucking head open with my bare fists.”
Mara stepped in front of Kole, her face inches from Major’s. “Tell us.”
“There are ways to slip out of a reversion. I’ve done it before,” Major said.
***
Samuel scanned the horizon, above the cabin and as far as he could see in the empty gloom brought by the cloud. He looked toward what he thought was the east, hoping to find a glimmer of ambient light struggling to break through the darkness, but he saw nothing. The shapes of nearby trees stood out in relief against the cloud, the leafless branches scratching at the sky with bony fingers. He could see over the Barren and cabins. He thought of Mara. He saw her at the table, sipping a mug of coffee and enjoying the outlook of optimistic youth. He felt a twinge in his chest and pushed his emotions aside.
The horde had reconfigured. Half of the closest creatures swayed beneath his tree, no longer looking up or reaching into the sky for him. The other half inside the Barren circled the cabin, standing silent guard and waiting to pounce on Major, Kole or Mara if they came out.
He thought about those three.
I really don’t know who they are. I can speak with them in dreams. Maybe I’m not concerned about getting them out. Maybe I’ll swing through these trees like Tarzan and make them a distant memory.
As much as he tried, he could not convince himself to abandon them in the cabin.
They are my responsibility now. I’ve got to go back.
Samuel shook the thoughts from his head and focused on the immediate task. He shimmied around the trunk until he was able to climb onto another branch on the opposite side of the tree. This one grew out toward another twenty yards away. He looked down at the huddle of creatures and then inched out, locking his feet behind him, toes down on the surface of the branch while he used his knees to squeeze it between his thighs. Samuel put his chest on the rough bark, shuffling forward. He had made it halfway across when he looked down.
The branch angled upward toward the sky at a sharp angle. The creatures had reassembled, following his motion. They shambled along, twenty feet below. Samuel closed his eyes and kept moving until the branch brought him to the main trunk of the next tree. He sat up and hugged the trunk and swung his legs around until he was standing upright in a new tree. Samuel slapped the trunk and let out a victory holler, the only sound in the barren landscape. He stood and surveyed the situation again. Although the darkness and the cloud fought over the locality like two mutts over a hunk of meat, he had gained a different perspective. The Barren stretched out a bit behind him, facing west. Samuel thought he could see a faint, blurry area between the edge of the advancing cloud and the black sky. The strip glimmered as if hanging above a bonfire. He watched the shapes break and meld, and wondered what would happen if the cloud swallowed the entire sky, as he thought it would. Beyond the Barren, and as far east as he could see, Samuel spotted another rise, probably a mountain. The peak extended into the blackness as if surrounded by clouds. He strained to see a fine line meandering down the tree line and into the valley at the base of the mountain. Whatever it was, Samuel believed it was proof something other than the horde created a path beyond the Barren. He committed as much of the landscape to memory as he could before sitting on the branch and resting. He looked down at
the swaying heads of grey flesh and bone beneath him.
They attract each other like powerful magnets, he thought. Too many to fight. There has to be another way.
Before his mind had time to contemplate the thought, a swift motion caught his eye. The cabin door was flung open.
***
“You think if he gets out in front of those monsters that he’s going to repel the cloud, stop the reversion, and come back to save you? How fucking romantic,” Kole said.
“We should leave the cabin now while they’re distracted by Samuel,” Major said. “We’re not in a position to wait things out. Time is not in our favor.”
“What is, chief? Every time we face a rotten situation, you lay some bullshit on us, something you’ve been holding back. Well, I’ve had enough.” Kole stepped behind Mara and put his back to the door. “Nobody is leaving this cabin unless I open the door.”
Mara stepped forward and slammed her balled fists into Kole’s chest. He stood motionless. Mara winced as her hands lost the battle.
“What’s it going to take, son?”
“I’m not your son, first of all. And for me to open this door is going to require some answers. Like right now.”
“To what questions?” Major asked.
“Don’t be fucking cute with me. You know what I’m talking about. I want to know how you’ve slipped reversions.”
Major sighed and brushed his hand at Mara as if signaling that her attempts were futile. “Fine.”
Kole nodded at Major and crossed his arms on his chest. He did not step away from the door.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.”
Mara felt a perplexed look creep onto her face. Kole shook his head at her, signaling not to interrupt the old man.
“And you ain’t the first folks I found here. This is the third or fourth locality I’ve entered with a slip. Based on what’s outside, I’d say it’s the most depressing of the lot.”
“You’ve slipped.” Kole said.
He waited, expecting Major to explain why they hadn’t done so yet.
Major nodded.