by Rod Little
“Did I scare you?” Sam asked.
“No. I could hear you on the stairs from a mile away.”
“No one's upstairs.”
“Yeah. This is freaky. Not like a video of dogs playing the piano. That's a different kind of freaky. This is more like: the body is buried in the backyard freaky.”
Sam pointed to the basement stairs. “Go down yet?”
“I was waiting for you.”
The basement stairs sounded even worse than the steps leading upstairs. Under the weight of the two trespassers, each stair groaned as if about to give way. They stopped one step from the bottom and looked around. Weak light shone in from two small window wells; it cast delicate rays filled with dust particles all the way to the concrete floor.
Their attention was drawn to a strange mass packed into the far corner. It looked like a giant butterfly cocoon, roughly the size of a dog. Shane aimed his flashlight in its direction. The motionless cocoon shimmered between black, dark green and blue, depending on how the light hit it: shiny, silky, and creepy.
Sam stepped forward and nudged it with his foot, but there was no reaction.
“Weird, man. Looks like the neighbor's dog.”
“Yeah, but I don't wanna meet the spider mom who's saving it for later. Let's get outta here. I want to go check out campus.”
“Weird,” Sam repeated.
Sam's intrepid spirit was waning; he just wanted to solve this mystery and get back to normal. He backed away, turned and climbed two steps at a time.
“I want to shower before we go.”
While Sam showered upstairs, Shane used the downstairs bathroom. He screamed the moment he stepped under the water. It was ice cold. There was no electricity or hot water left.
Sam dressed and came back downstairs to find Shane eating cereal and putting on a new shirt. He was talking to himself, complaining about the cold water.
“Oh sorry about that,” Sam said. “I heated mine up, you know...”
“Yeah. You couldn't do that for me?”
“Actually... I don't know how to do that for someone else. Unless... I'm in there– “
“No no. Never mind. I shower solo.”
“Good to know.”
Sam picked up the phone receiver. Grandma still had an old-fashioned wall-mounted phone, the beige ceramic kind usually only found in the suburbs of the seventies. He heard a dial tone and dialed 9-1-1. It rang; still no one answered.
“Nothing? Cops on holiday too?” His brother talked while scooping handfuls of cereal into his mouth.
“Or too busy. Uh, is that the cockroach cereal?”
“I'm hungry.” Shane grabbed another handful. “Let's go!”
“Hey, look... a cat,” Sam motioned out the window. A gray cat stared back at them through the neighbor's kitchen window. It was the first live mammal they had seen since leaving the woods “You see. We're not entirely alone.”
“You think the Willards are home?”
They crossed the lawn and knocked on the neighbor's front door. When no one answered, Shane tried the door handle. It rattled in the frame, but was locked. He pounded harder and called out Mr. Willard by name. Nothing but wind and birds replied.
“Should we at least see if the cat's okay?” Sam asked.
“You mean break in? No way. Let's go. We need to find someone who can help us.”
Chapter 2
The drive to the University of Pittsburgh campus rolled out the same as the trip from the mountains. They had the streets to themselves with no one else to share the route. No people, no animals, no moving cars. A few more derelict vehicles littered the streets, some partly blocking access ways. They drove through an empty downtown block. Nothing but ghosts now stood at the bus stops. Pigeons scattered as the jeep drove up Fifth Avenue.
“Isn't this a one-way street?” Sam asked. “In the other direction?”
Shane ignored him and kept driving. The traffic lights were all dark, no longer fed by any power.
A chill raced up Sam's spine. It was one of those moments when you realize your life has now changed. The moment the doctor comes in with your test results, and you can see the disappointment in his eyes. The moment you hear your parents have died. The point in time when you discover body parts in your neighbor's back yard. These are the moments that turn our lives in a new direction. For better or worse, the train is derailing.
The suburbs had been deserted, and now the city appeared to have been forsaken, too. Only the pigeons and crows remained, scavenging for the last bits of food left behind by humans. Sam guessed that cockroaches and rats must also be around somewhere.
“Well, the pigeons survived the apocalypse,” Shane noted with a degree of satisfaction. “Good for them.”
“You think it's the apocalypse?”
“Not to be too dramatic, Sammy, but... it's not looking good. If everyone evacuated because of a flu, we're right in the hot zone. It means we've got it. But it's probably something else.”
“So what is it? Invasion?”
“Well, I doubt it's the Russians. Despite the hype, they couldn't wipe out a city. They couldn't find sand in a desert with two shovels and a map.” That was their dad talking. Shane agreed with Dad on everything, back when Dad was alive.
“It happened while we were camping. Something happened here, Shane. All while we were up there in the mountains.”
“There's not much sign of gunfire. Or blood. So they didn't fight anyone. At least not here.”
“That man at the lake, he saw something here... something that made him kill himself.” Sam paused and lowered his voice, looking out over the empty streets. “What did you see ol' man?”
An empty shopping cart rolled across the street, pushed by the wind. It rested a moment, then rolled back, as if some phantom shopper was trying to decide where to go. It was likely not the only ghost haunting the street today. They waited for it to roll out of the way, on the ebb of its constant journey back and forth, and then quickly drove around it.
They passed a store window that had been shattered, and a mannequin lay headless and lopsided, half in the store, half out. Broken glass littered the sidewalk. A crow picked at something inside the display box. It might have been a body part, or maybe just a dead mouse; Sam hoped for the latter.
Shane stopped the jeep and rifled through their gear. He pulled out his longbow and a quiver of lead-tipped arrows, then leaned them against the front gearshift next to his leg.
Sam looked surprised. “Really?”
“Just in case. And yours?”
“No. I'm good.”
They parked abruptly in front of the Litchfield Towers dorm, halfway across two parking spots, and made their way into the lobby. Shane carried his bow, but Sam (always the optimist, and – some would say – foolishly upbeat) remained unarmed. The front glass door was ajar and badly cracked with a piece missing. When they pulled it all the way open, the rest of the glass fell from its frame. The crash of splintered glass echoed through an otherwise hushed campus. Pieces cascaded across the floor and bounced all the way to the other side of the lobby.
They stopped to see if anyone, or anything, would respond to the ruckus. They waited for the last clatter to land, but when no reaction came, they continued inside.
Shane's dorm offered no surprises. Like the rest of the city, it was vacant, lonely and hollow. The only difference was blood and glass in the lobby leading up to the elevators, which no longer worked. The blood, at least, offered a sign of life. The boys worked their way up the long winding stairs to their dorm room on the fifth floor. Only a few floors would be occupied during the summer session, but fall classes were to start in two weeks, so the building should be teeming with students carrying boxes, moving in.
“Hey, anybody!” Shane shouted in the stairwell. He rapped on the banister, but no one replied.
In Shane's room, he started gathering some of his things into a backpack. He stuffed an extra shirt, socks, and underwear into the bag.
>
“Get some things together, just the necessities.”
“Where are we going?” Sam asked.
“To find people. To find answers. We kind of need to find out what's happening, don't you think? What if our friends are just a few miles away?”
“Like they evacuated?”
“Maybe to Chicago. Maybe all the way south to New Orleans. I don't know, Sammy. But we need to find out.”
“What should I take?”
“Whatever you can't live without. I get the bad feeling we're not coming back.”
Another chill ran down Sammy's spine. This was the second moment of realization. Their lives had splintered again; the derailed train wasn't getting back on the tracks.
In that instant, a gunshot broke the silence. It echoed from somewhere outside on the street. A second shot cracked the campus wide open. The boys ran to the window and peered out from an uncomfortable angle. They were careful not to show their faces, to avoid being a target for a sniper.
A shadow flew overhead and blocked the sun for a second, then passed out of view. They couldn't see what it was – a plane maybe, but without the roar of engines. Someone fired a gun again, but they still couldn't see who or where.
Shane stuck his head out the window and looked up, but the glare of the sun blinded him. It was impossible to tell exactly what had caused the shadow, but he did see something in the sky. A dark blue object disappeared into the one single cloud.
He turned back to his brother. “Spaceships from Mars, Sammy.”
“Stop kidding. What was it?”
“I have no idea. But there aren't many clouds up there, so it's gotta show itself again soon. You can't fly in a cloud forever.”
This time they both stuck their heads out and looked up. More clouds were moving in, and a storm loomed not far away. Shane scanned the ground to see if the gunman might show himself. Or herself.
A quick glare of metal shone from the lobby of the University Inn, less than two blocks over. That's where the gunman must be. The boys backed away from view, waited and watched. Unsure what to do next, they froze in place, the victims of hesitation. It had an iron grip on them.
The gun fired again. They chanced a peak through the open window just in time to see a black creature running up the street toward the Inn. It looked like some kind of monitor lizard, about three feet in length. Although closely resembling a Komodo dragon, it had the speed and agility of a large dog, with longer legs than a normal lizard. The creature maneuvered fast. Its shiny black skin shimmered with a rainbow of colors in the sun, and its long white teeth stood out when it opened its jaws: the fangs of a killer. The creature ran toward the sound of the gunshot.
A teenage boy stepped out of the Inn, a pistol in his right hand. He had just killed a similar creature, its body now lying motionless in front of the hotel. The boy knelt and began examining the dead animal's hideous form, when he noticed the second creature screaming toward him, fast and agile. It made a horrible hissing sound. Shane readied his bow, unsure if he could help at this distance, but willing to try. Fortunately, there was no need. The boy raised his gun with both hands and fired a single shot at the animal's head. It dropped to the ground just a few feet from him.
The boy stood up and looked around. He muttered something inaudible at this distance and rubbed his head; then went back inside the hotel. The street fell quiet again. It was the unsettling silence of an empty tunnel after a truck has barreled through. The entire scene carried an unreal, hypnotic effect.
Sam was first to break them from their stupor.
“We have to go talk to him. He knows something about … all this.”
Shane agreed. “He knows more than we do, that much is a safe bet.”
“He looks like just a student, though.”
“Yeah. Get your bow.”
They returned to the jeep where Sam strapped on his bow, and Shane loaded a pistol they'd always kept in the glove compartment. At this point it was unclear who they might be fighting: the boy or more new creatures. They took precautions and loaded everything that passed for a weapon in their possession.
The jeep drifted toward the University Inn at a slow 10 mph. The hotel wasn't far, but it seemed to take forever to get there. It was vital not to surprise the gunman, but equally important not to stir up any new animals lurking in the streets. They didn't want to get eaten or shot before getting answers. Sam's eyes darted back and forth, checking for any signs of more creatures, while Shane kept his focus on the hotel door.
They parked in front of the Inn and got out of the jeep, their hands held up, and no weapons drawn.
“Hello,” Shane said clearly, but not too loud. “We need your help. We... We're not armed.”
“Well...” Sam pointed to their bows, and the gun.
“I mean, we won't shoot. We need help.”
The gunman threw open the hotel door. “Stop making so much damn noise. Get in here. Now!”
His rifle was raised to his shoulder and pointed at their heads. He didn't waver, and followed their every move with its barrel. They took slow steps into the building, arms raised, and he closed the door behind them. Once inside, he started to question them.
“Where did you come from?”
“I'm Sam. This is my brother Shane. We're students–”
“I didn't ask who you are. Where have you been?”
“In the mountains. Hunting. We just got back.”
The boy studied them a full minute, not moving. He wore an army camouflage jacket and matching fatigues, and had incredibly long brown hair – nearly to his chest. He resembled a sixties Vietnam War draft dodger. Finally, he relaxed the gun against his side, so it pointed to the ceiling. He pointed a finger at Shane.
“I know you. I saw you at school.”
“Really? Sorry, I don't remember...” Shane lowered his arms.
“I'm Jason Briggs. We had Econ 101 together. But I almost never went.” He sat down at a table and began reloading his gun. His fingers worked fast; this was not his first time.
“Oh yeah. I remember you now.” Shane remembered the kid was usually late, absent, or high. “So, where the hell is everyone else?”
Jason finished loading the gun and pulled his long straight hair back behind his shoulder. “No clue.”
“So where have you been?”
“I was drunk,” Jason said in a matter-of-fact tone. “After Cheryl Russet's party, I was wasted. I barely made it back to my room. I woke up the next day and didn't even open the shades. I ate cold pizza and went back to sleep. A couple days might have slipped by. And then... I went outside and found everyone gone.”
“And those lizards?” Sam asked. “Someone flush an alligator down the sewer or something? And it had babies... or what?”
“They're new. They started popping up today, from outta nowhere. I killed one out back while getting food from the place next door – this afternoon. And then those two just now. Ain't got no idea what they are, or where they come from.”
“You think that... they ate everyone?” Sam asked.
Jason shrugged. “Could be. I mean, something got rid of everyone, and I ain't seen no sign of a body, blood, or guts anywhere. So if these things are what's eating people, then... they clean their plates. They don't leave anything behind.”
There was a pause. The brothers took a moment to drink that in. They don't leave anything behind.
“Awesome.” Shane said sarcastically. When he said that, it usually meant: we're screwed.
“But they seem easy to kill,” Jason offered as consolation. “One bullet to the head will do it.”
“But they're fast,” Shane pointed out. As an experienced hunter, he knew fast game. These things would be hard to hit from a distance. Still, if only a few roamed the city, defending themselves wouldn't be very hard, especially with three people now on their team, watching each others' backs.
“We should stick together,” he said. “More eyes, more weapons.”
Jas
on nodded. “Fine with me. I've been talking to myself for a week. About to go crazy.”
“You've been here a week?” Sam asked, his eyes widening in amazement. “It's been empty like this for that long? So all this went down more than a week ago?”
“I think so. Seven or eight days, at least.” Jason stared into space, suddenly preoccupied with counting the days backward.
Something occurred to Sam. “Back at our house, there was a cocoon of some kind in the basement. Maybe these lizards... or whatever, maybe they created it. Maybe they cocooned all the people.”
“I didn't check any basement,” Jason said. “It's creepy enough up here. I've been staying on higher floors for safety and to keep an eye on the street.”
“Does this place have a basement?”
Sam looked around for a door. The hotel lobby was sparsely furnished with cheap chairs and a couch covered in plastic. A metal card table stood in the middle of the room; that's where Jason now finished reloading and checking his rifle. A poster hung on the wall for a concert by a Pink Floyd cover band, called Pink Bricks, with a subheading: “Pink Side of the Moon, a charity event for world hunger.”
“Yeah, they have a storage cellar,” Jason said. “Stairs are in the back. Why?”
“We should check it out.” Shane drew his revolver.
Jason shrugged and hoisted his rifle to his shoulder.
The three boys tiptoed down the first few stairs with their weapons drawn and ready. The steps were dusty, and the air smelled dirty; this cellar hadn't been aired out in months. Shane took up the point with a pistol in one hand, a flashlight in the other, and a good mixture of curiosity and fear in his head. The flashlight's narrow beam pushed against the darkness, which reluctantly parted only a few feet ahead. They moved lower, listening, peering into the gloom. The boys descended to the bottom step, all the way down to the musty cellar's concrete floor. What they saw surprised them.
And what they realized horrified them.
Chapter 3
A low muffled bang broke above their heads. The boys recognized the sound of the front doors slamming shut. They waited and listened as a chair scooted across the floor. Another noise, muted footsteps; they strained to hear who or what might be in the lobby. They hadn't thought to lock the front door! If one of those creatures had managed to get inside...