by RM Brewer
Jimbo walked out of the water, his skin shedding as he moved. Brushing his hand over his forearm, he revealed a skeleton of shimmering muscle the likes of which he'd never seen before. He shook his leg, watching skin fall from his bones into a puddle of gore at his feet. Feeling nothing but limitless joy at seeing his body transform, Jimbo wailed, calling his flock to him. Together, they huddled, shrieked, screamed and spat, solidifying their brotherhood, fortifying their resolve. In his mind, Jimbo said it was time for them to go. He didn't know why, but his mind was telling him to go north, back toward Vegas to the Air Force Base. Although he knew what he was hearing in his head was not his own voice, it was clearer than any thought he'd ever had and he knew he had to obey. The horde -- his family – had begun their migration north. It was time to get ready for war.
* * *
Jodie looked down at the dashboard, where the fuel warning light flashed relentlessly. They were surrounded on all sides by Chuck's followers, trailing a group running ahead.
"I don' think I can control this many," Chuck had said before he'd positioned himself on top of the truck, his arms open, his mind and body completely focused on communicating with the virals.
Since then, they'd been devising a plan to fuel the truck with the gas they'd stowed in the back, but every plan they came up with involved Chuck. Jodie didn't want to break his concentration at this point. He had his hands full, keeping the virals from the human buffet driving into their lair.
"I need to crawl into the back," Fester said. "I'll lean out with the can and Claire can hang onto me while I pour it in." As if right on cue, Jodie drove over another downed viral, sending the SUV lurching and bucking. The edge of the sunroof opening crinkled as Chuck gripped tighter.
"How will you ever hold it still enough?" Jodie asked.
"We have to give it a try," Claire said. "We have no choice. Can you flip the fuel lid?"
Jodie pressed the electronic release. "Is it open?"
"No," Fester said, his head hanging out the back window. "Try it again."
Jodie suddenly remembered what was wrong. She felt her face go slack for a second. "It won't open unless the vehicle is off," she said.
Before she could get Chuck’s attention to let him know what was happening, he jumped from the sunroof, landing in the truck bed. He crawled down, clinging to the side of the vehicle and grabbed a gas can. Jodie heard metal tearing and saw the fuel lid flying across the road. Fester rolled the window down and Chuck handed him the fuel tank plug. Holding the gas can in one hand, Chuck began to pour.
Momentarily feeling that they were saved, Jodie's elation rapidly began to wane as the horde ahead started to lose their concentration and slowed, while the horde behind kept coming. "Uh, Chuck?" Jodie yelled. "We're in trouble, here." Within seconds, the truck was crawling along, the horde converging on it from all sides.
Chuck continued pouring until he had the can tipped vertically. Jodie saw him pull the nozzle from the gas tank and set the can in the truck bed. Fester handed him the cap. After screwing it on, he jumped from the vehicle and ran alongside it. "Keep moving, Jodie. I'll find you later."
Before she could say anything, he was gone. Her heart sank as she watched him run ahead into the heart of the horde. Then, something strange happened. The virals picked up speed, leaving the slower, the old, the very young, and the weak behind, smashed into the pavement, unable to move. The trail of bodies on the roadway grew to grotesque proportions as the virals sprinted past. Approaching a hill, Jodie finally saw Chuck running, the virals keeping pace with him, other new members approaching and joining from all sides.
Keeping up with him was impossible and they fell behind, not because the truck wouldn't move faster, but because the roadway was littered with so many bodies that she had her hands full just finding a path to drive through.
"He's headed for that windmill," Fester said, his voice revealing his excitement.
Fester and Claire poked their heads into the front seat to watch the spectacle. Chuck scaled the windmill in seconds, clinging onto the tower as the enormous blades cut through the air in front of his face.
"What's he doing?" Fester asked.
"It looks like he punched his hand through the metal," Jodie said. “He must be trying to stop it from spinning”
Moments later, the blades began to slow and Chuck turned back toward his followers. He tilted his head back and screamed. Although they were about a half mile away, Jodie, Fester, and Claire clamped their hands down over their ears. Jodie thought the scream was the loudest noise she'd ever heard in her life. It shook the vehicle and, along with it, her body to its core. She had to refocus quickly, though, because she needed to concentrate on the road, which was filled with obstacles. She veered back and forth across the highway in an attempt to avoid a pile of virals, sending Fester and Claire tumbling across the back seat. Finally getting the truck under control, Jodie looked back at a bloodied Claire. "Sorry about that, guys," she said.
"It's okay, Jodie," Claire said, taking a handful of tissues from Fester. "If all I get is a bloody nose from this experience, I think I'll be very happy."
"The virals behind us are all gone," Fester interrupted.
Jodie looked in the mirrors for any sign of movement, but all she could see was the trampled remains of those on the pavement.
"Should we stop and put the other can of gas in?" Fester asked.
Jodie wondered whether they should stop, given the speed at which the virals moved. If there was a straggler left behind, filling the gas tank might be the last thing they did. But, it was clear Chuck had a hold on the his horde now. They all had a common desire to follow him and nothing seemed to be deterring them. In the distance, Chuck waved the horde ahead. The group had grown to epic proportions.
"How many do you think there are?" Claire asked.
Jodie tried to estimate, but the horde moved as one, like a murmuration of starlings, fluid and dynamic, covering the land as far and wide as she could see in the distance. "Tens of thousands . . . maybe over a hundred thousand . . . maybe even more. I don't know."
"Maybe Fester's right," Claire said. "Even though Chuck told us to keep moving, we'll need gas eventually and we might not get this kind of break in the action again."
Jodie nodded. "Fester, can you get ready? We don't want to stop longer than we have to."
"Yeah," he said. “I agree.”
"I'll keep watch while you two fill," Jodie said. "Okay with you?"
"Okay," Claire said.
Most of the roadway looked like a bloodbath and it took a few minutes for Jodie to find an area that was relatively clean before she could stop. "Okay, guys. Move as fast as you can. Watch your step."
The chugging noise of the gas pouring was almost drowned out by the horde ahead, even though they were more than a mile away now. From the vantage point of the SUV, the landscape looked like it was carpeted in the grey-skinned, blood-covered creatures. "How're you doing back there?" Jodie asked.
"Almost done," Claire answered.
Jodie watched the horde moving farther and farther from her, hoping she'd be able to catch up to Chuck. Her thoughts went to Nick and Christy and she said a silent prayer that the virals hadn't found them. They didn't have Chuck, but at least they weren't in Gypsum's clutches, like Mei. Jodie felt anxious to get back to Chuck and find out what he knew about the Gypsum ship.
"All done," Fester said, securing the empty cans in the back of the SUV.
Jodie started the engine and pulled ahead. She heard rustling in the back and turned to see Fester tearing open a case of Three Musketeers bars.
Fester looked up at her. "Debi put three cases of these in the truck before we left. He'll need some when we pick him up. He's probably out of energy by now."
Who wouldn't be, trying to direct a hundred thousand virals? "Good thinking, Fester," Jodie said, picking up speed. Looking up at the windmill tower, she could see Chuck was gone. "Now, we'll just have to find out where he's wandered off
to."
CHAPTER 13
The gurney slammed into the doorframe and Mei wanted to call out in agony, but she kept silent.
"Sorry, Mei," Rita said. "These things are always bigger than they look."
"It's okay," Mei said, even though what she really wanted to do was to scream until she couldn't anymore. For a while, it had seemed like the gas Gypsum used on the alien creatures had an effect on her. She'd felt like she was almost in a dreamlike state, free of pain for a few blissful minutes. Then she became violently ill, vomiting over the side of the gurney, ripping her bandages loose.
Mei thanked her new friends as they cleaned her wound and applied new bandages, covering her in a sea of gauze and tape. Since leaving the medical area, they'd passed numerous dead virals. Lacking any sort of wound or apparent cause of death, Mei could only assume the gas had killed them, but she wondered why it had no effect on anyone else. It sure seemed to be making her sick. Pondering that question for some time, she came to an answer that she didn't like at all. It didn't affect normal humans, only the infected. The only conclusion was that the thing that had wounded her had also filled her with its alien virus. She could feel a shift moving through her body that she couldn't describe. What was starting to disturb her more, though, was the thoughts that were entering into her mind. Strange, unnatural thoughts.
Rita hovered over her, filling her field of vision. "We're going to stop for a few minutes, sweetie," she said. "Dennis found the ship's layout map and we need to figure out where we are so that we know where we're going. There are miles of hallways in this thing."
Mei reached out and took her hand, pulling her close so that no one else could hear. "Rita, make sure no one gets my blood on them. I mean . . . be careful, is all."
Rita's face scrunched into a frown. "You shouldn’t worry. We all wore gloves when we were bandaging you.” Rita looked up for a moment, then bent over and moved closer to Mei. “Is there something else you’re worried about?"
Mei considered whether to tell her what was happening. "Um . . . nothing, really. It's just that I don't know what the Gypsum people did to me . . . what I might have in my blood. Knowing them, they probably shot me up with some contagious disease or something."
Rita laughed. "Well, don't you worry about us. We've got bigger issues right now."
Yes, you do, Mei thought. Unless I turn into one of those things. Then, all of your problems will be over.
Rita looked up. "Dennis is waving us ahead. Ready to move on?"
Mei nodded and closed her eyes. As they rolled along the corridor, she felt an odd sensation that Chuck Wending was in the room with her. How could that be? The last time she'd seen him, he'd just died and they'd thrown him from a train in the Gypsum tunnel. How long ago was that? Months and more months, but Mei couldn't add them in her head because Chuck's presence was too overwhelming to allow her to think about anything except him. She opened her eyes to look for him but saw only the familiar faces of the people she'd saved. In a way, his presence felt comforting, as if he were there to protect her. She closed her eyes again, hearing his voice calling from a distance. "We're coming to get you," he said.
Trying to shove her hallucination from her mind, she shifted on the gurney to see where they were headed, just in time to watch one of the survivors twisting open the hatch door to a hallway that was awash in the flickering lights of the alarm system. "I don't think we should go that way," Mei wanted to say, but her mouth felt dry and the words were garbled. She wanted to reach out to Rita, to warn her of what might be lurking in the shadows, but her jaws involuntarily clenched tight, holding back her voice.
As they lifted her through the hatch door, Mei looked up, seeing the face of one of the men who was carrying her. He looked surprised, then alarmed.
"Rita," he called out. "There's something wrong here."
* * *
Jimbo stood on a flat rock at the top of a deep wash. Below him, his followers trudged relentlessly onward toward Nellis Air Force Base, leaving a trail of bodies hundreds of feet wide. Everywhere he looked, Jimbo could see his flock falling and being ground into the sand by those behind them. At the same time, groups ran across the desert to join his followers, keeping the size of the horde in equilibrium.
Catching the scent of something potent, Jimbo raised his head up, thrusting his nose in the air. He turned as he breathed deeply, trying to get a sense of where the aroma was coming from. After a complete revolution, Jimbo was positive that it was coming from the south, but not very far south. Maybe a couple of miles, at most. He felt a shiver down his spine and didn’t know if he was excited by it or if he feared it. Raw and unfiltered, an angry, powerful scent, it screamed dominance. There was only one thing to do. Jimbo leaned over the edge of the cliff and grabbed onto the flat rock upon which he stood. Tilting his head backward, he let out a howling shriek so loud that the vibrations from it dislodged small rocks and stones from the side slope, showering his followers in a cascade of debris.
Looking back out of the wash, as far as Jimbo could see, his flock flowed across the land. They came to a stumbling, staggering halt as his call echoed across the plain. Jimbo wanted them to listen. He needed to tell them of the threat that would be upon them soon. He tried to instruct them to get ready, to be prepared for an imminent attack. As his thoughts traveled amongst the horde, several of the large males slapped at their chests, screeching in delight at the thought of impending war. The horde howled back, so loudly that their collective roar almost drowned out the jets tearing across the sky.
Jimbo ducked low and fell to the ground, feeling as if he could touch the massive black machine, so close overhead that he found himself awash in its exhaust. The horde scattered and shrieked, jumping and reaching out for the jet in a vain attempt to catch it as it tore by. Standing, he could see the plane joining an entire formation in the distance. What concerned him most was what he saw attached to the bottoms of their wings. Bombs, guns, implements of destruction. Jimbo picked up a rock and waited for the onslaught.
As the group of planes approached, the burst of automatic weapons sounded. Flesh and blood sprayed into the air as a swath of his followers was gunned down where they stood. Jimbo sensed a massive rage filling him, the likes of which he’d never felt before. He threw down the rock he held and picked up a large flat one, two feet across and over four inches thick. Jimbo spun like he’d seen the discus throwers do on television during the Olympics. He could feel his power building to a peak the moment before he flung the rock into the air. As he released the projectile, he bellowed at the top of his lungs, aiming for the intake on one of the jet engines.
The rock missed the engine by several feet, glancing off the nose of the plane and slicing through the cockpit window. The plane veered toward the ground, undulating wildly, heading straight up and then falling backward until it came down as dead weight, exploding on top of the horde. Everywhere Jimbo looked, his followers were on fire, awash with jet fuel, viral torches igniting others as they ran. Enraged by what he saw, Jimbo told his flock to run. They had no time to waste. Ahead, there was nothing but the open desert with nowhere to hide. His flock would need to split up and not run in packs, where they could be picked off in large groups.
The jets circled again and Jimbo’s horde scattered in all directions, hiding behind rocks, burying themselves in sand. Jimbo dashed behind a boulder and braced for the next round of bullets, peeking out to see what was happening. He screamed as the jets rained fire down on his flock, dropping some sort of viscous liquid that ignited on them. One after the other, the jets came, tearing through the sky, dropping their payloads. The horde stumbled, staggered and sprinted in all directions, spreading out over the landscape, trying to avoid the burning goo coating the desert sand like a carpet. Everywhere Jimbo looked, his horde and the desert animals scurried behind rocks, under ledges, and anywhere they could find to hide.
Then, something strange happened. A boulder the size of a small car flew through the sky from a d
istance, barely missing a jet by a few tiny feet. It slammed into the ground, sending up a cloud of dusty sand. Looking at the size of the thing, Jimbo almost couldn’t believe his eyes. As the jets were lining up to make yet another pass, another large flat boulder, probably larger than he could ever hope to lift, flew through the air. It whipped end over end, finally finding purchase, connecting with a wingtip, sending a jet whirling uncontrollably and cascading to the ground. The jet burrowed into the sand with a fiery explosion, the force of which Jimbo felt deep in his gut.
Jimbo looked in the direction from which the rock had come, trying to see what could possibly have enough strength to throw a boulder hundreds of feet. Scanning across the horizon, Jimbo couldn’t see him, but he felt a presence so strong that it seemed as if it were standing next to him. The thing was growing closer and Jimbo watched as a shadow crept across the land before him. The desert was suddenly blanketed by virals, not of his horde, but of one hundreds of times the size of his. Not knowing whether to run or stay, Jimbo froze in place and waited for some sort of sign.
As he hid next to the boulder, the ground began to shake, vibrating beneath him with the impact of thousands upon thousands of virals running across the desert. Dust rose around the massive horde and, for the first time since he’d been infected, Jimbo felt fear.
Leaping out from behind his rock, Jimbo shrieked, calling the stragglers of his horde together, urging them to follow him. It was time to run. The dust cloud loomed and roiled in the distance, growing larger and larger, blotting out the sun. Jimbo took off at a trot, making sure everyone in his horde was in front of him, where he could care for them if they faltered. In the distance ahead, he could see the remainder of his flock running for their survival, a flock Jimbo once thought was gigantic, but paled in comparison to what pursued him from behind. He realized the only chance they had was to run and keep running until they found somewhere to hide.