“Ugh,” Riley groaned into her towel. “What the hell are these things?”
“I’m not sure, exactly,” I said. “There were some out by Mrs. Proud’s place, but the pods I saw were much smaller.”
“Pods?” Riley asked, her words still muffled by her hand.
“I just sort of started calling them that in my head,” I shrugged. “They kind of look like cocoons, though, don’t they?”
“Eww,” Riley groused.
“Whatever they are, these things are nasty.” Falisha kicked at one of the pods with the toe of her shoe as she passed by. Aside from the rank smell that came off of it, the pod barely responded to the contact. It was as if the thing were glued to the pavement.
“Ohmigod, Gross!” Riley pressed her towel closer to her face. “Don’t touch those things, Falisha. They could be dangerous.”
“Man up, Tinkerbelle,” Falisha said, rolling her eyes.
“Bite me, Buffy,” Riley snapped back.
“Knock it off, you two,” I said in my best mom-voice.
Being caught in the crossfire of this teen-girl pissing contest was so not helping my headache. I rubbed my pulsing temples and glared at them both. The heat and unwavering smell of smoke were already taking a toll on my patience and their bickering was about to send me over the edge.
It had cooled significantly since the sun had finally gone down, but it still felt more like a July afternoon than the middle of the night in April. Mother Nature had obviously lost her mind, and at the moment, mine was threatening to follow. The initial thrill we had all experienced when we finally walked through the doors into the night sky had quickly dissipated, giving way to the heavy burden of our new reality. I had done my best to prepare them for what they would see, but there were no words that could do it justice.
Our world had become unrecognizable. The entire landscape had changed and even in the dark, it was obvious that things would never be the same. Many of the quaint little houses we had passed on our way to school the day before had already collapsed in on themselves. Their blackened remains smoldered, gagging clouds of thick gray smoke up into the night sky. A few scattered structures had managed to evade the flames so far, but even those looked cold and unwelcoming— dead even.
There were no porch lights, welcoming visitors in for coffee on a crisp spring night. Gone were the blinking televisions that glowed behind the big picture windows. Open garage doors gaped into the darkness, the stark shadows starving for the too-loud laughter of buddies bonding over the engine of a car. The heat had decimated the rooftops of those few houses still standing. Shingles curled away, drifting to the ground as roofing tar dripped from beneath their slanted surfaces. There were no signs of life, only emptiness, silence and smoke.
Vehicles littered the streets, most of them smeared with the same black sludge I had seen in the cars near the school. Fires smoldered all around us as flames lazily devoured what was left of some of the houses and trees. We walked down the middle of the road weaving amid an obstacle course of blackness and abandoned vehicles. No one spoke.
Before Icarus, life had ambled on in a haze of constant noise and non-stop movement, so the quiet stillness was more than a little unsettling. Like most people, I had grown accustomed to the incessant clamor of it all and felt naked without the ambient noise and the company of distraction.
Micah and Jake walked ahead of us pulling the wheelbarrow, with Zander brooding in it, behind them. They trudged forward in complete silence, weaving carefully around the blackened lumps on the ground. Even Zander, who had been quite vocal in his resistance to being pulled like an invalid, had grown silent. His legs dangled over the end of my makeshift cart, his back resting against his pack. He flexed and stretched his sore hand while palming the tiny sword in his other, and anxiously scanned our surroundings.
“We hit the Tates’ first, right?” I asked, trying to shift everyone’s focus away from the devastation around us.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Riley said, pulling the map out of her pocket. “Our house first, then Jake’s, then Micah’s.”
“Then Zander’s,” I smiled over at him.
The corner of his mouth shot up when his name crossed my lips, but his free hand was gripped tightly around the hilt of the letter opener. His knuckles were white, the tendons in his forearm snapping back and forth beneath his skin like a vibrating guitar string.
“Turn left at the stop sign at the top of the hill guys,” Riley said.
“Yeah,” grunted Micah, tightening his grip on the wheelbarrow.
He and Jake had insisted on being the ones to pull Zander’s cart. I was not sure if they were protecting their own male pride or Zander’s, but I didn’t fight any of them on it. Once we reached the top of High School Hill the road leveled off and the pods seemed to thin out. The smoother terrain was a welcome reprieve, especially for the guys. After a couple more blocks, we turned left onto Tenth Avenue and headed towards our first stop.
“Hey guys,” I said. “Hold up a sec.”
I figured they would be grateful for an excuse to give their arms (and their pride) a break, but Micah and Jake nearly dumped Zander onto the ground in their haste to drop their burden.
“God,” Micah said, shaking out his arms, as Riley rushed to his side.
I walked past them, gazing down the street.
“Why are we stopping?” Riley asked as she rubbed at Micah’s shoulders.
“Yeah, what’s up, Sarge?” Falisha asked, stopping next to me. Riley shot her an annoyed look but didn’t say anything.
“We should cross here,” I said, pointing to the sidewalk caddy-corner from where we stood.
“But our house is on this side of the street,” Riley said, looking baffled.
“Yeah, I realize that Ry, but I would rather not play jump rope with that downed power line in the front yard,” I said. “Besides, the front door is sort of blocked by that flaming car.”
“Flaming what?” Riley sounded confused.
“I just think it will be safer if we stay on the opposite side of the street,” I said. “Then, all we have to do is head down to the end of the block and circle back down the alley. We can hop the fence by the neighbor’s garden and come in through the back yard. We never lock the sliding glass doors out back, so we should be able to get in, no problem.”
I turned back around expecting agreement but was met by gaping stares and flashlight beams. Even Zander looked incredulous, as he leaned over trying to see past me.
“How the hell—” Micah sputtered, his eyes narrowing at me.
“What?” I put my hands on my hips. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Liv,” Riley said, “there is no way you could see all that from here.”
“Come on, you guys, it’s not that dark,” I said looking up at the sky. The light of the moon had washed everything in a pale blue glow.
“Uhhh, yeah…it kind of is,” Falisha said, jutting out a hip. “Seriously, I can barely see my hand in front of my face right now. If it wasn’t for the damn fires everywhere and this here tiny flashlight, I would have face-planted like a hundred times already.”
“Yeah, not to mention the fact that our house is like a half a mile away,” Riley added, taking a step closer to Micah.
“It’s not—” I looked up at the street sign and the words stopped short in my mouth.
We were, in fact, at least eight blocks from the Tates’ house. Jake’s brows knitted together like he was doing advanced calculus in his head and I raked my hand through my hair, baffled. My head began to pound again and I instinctively reached for the small wound at the back of my skull. Something Zander had said earlier was bouncing around in there, trying to connect the dots.
Like every agonizing jolt makes you stronger, more powerful.
“Guys, we are wasting time,” Zander said, successfully refocusing the attention on himself. “We have a lot of ground to cover before sunrise. We should get moving.”
“Right, y
eah,” said Micah, shaking himself. “Let’s go.”
Jake nodded and reached down to grab his side of the pull cart. Once we had crossed the street, he turned and gave me a brief but meaningful glance. He had questions and so did I, but Zander started coughing and we quickly moved on. Zander’s attack continued for a few more seconds, but even as he hacked and struggled, he kept his eyes trained on our surroundings.
The houses were closer together in this part of town so the fires were spreading quickly. Nearly every dwelling we passed was alight in various stages of flame; some were nothing but a pile of ash, while others had just begun to burn. Aside from the thick, black smoke billowing up into the night sky, I sensed no movement besides our own.
We covered our faces with our towels, the dampened fabric to helping filter out some of the smoke, and pressed on. Despite the draining heat and awkward silence, we managed to cover the last few blocks in a matter of minutes. Once we made it around the neighbor’s big van, the Tates’ house was in full view.
“Oh, God—” Riley’s hand shot to her mouth, the towel falling away from it.
I rushed to my best friend’s side as she gaped in horror at the blackened remains of Mr. Tate’s baby-blue Honda. The small sedan had taken out one of the wooden poles near the street, ripped through the front yard, and collided with the support beam at the corner of the front stoop. The front half Charles Tate’s car was buried beneath the rubble of the collapsed porch structure, smoldering in the middle of what had once been his wife’s prized rose bushes. A power line stretched from a pole near the corner of the yard, to the ashen ground between the front walk and the driveway. It cracked and sizzled, as it burned amid the ruins.
“Liv,” Riley’s chocolate brown eyes pleaded with me. “Mr. Tate.”
“I’m sure he got out,” I said, but the lie tasted bitter in my mouth.
Jake tugged lightly on my sleeve and jerked his head over his shoulder. Zander was slumped over the side of the wheelbarrow, barely holding himself up as Micah struggled to keep it from tipping over. He coughed violently before vomiting an oily looking substance onto the concrete below. His skin was starting to look gray and sallow again. I wished we could have let him rest more before we took off, but he had insisted we go as planned. To make matters worse, I had a feeling his pain meds were starting to wear off.
“I’m sorry, but we need to move,” I said, gently dragging a sobbing Riley behind me. “This way. We need to get him away from this smoke.”
As soon as the guys had Zander up and rolling again, we doubled our pace. When we reached the end of the block, I crossed to our side of the road and we made our way down the alley that ran behind the house. I tuned everything else out and focused on the sound of the gravel crunching under my boots. I kept my eyes down as we made our way closer to the back edge of the property. Houses and trees burned on either side of us. The scent of death and destruction tainted every breath, but I kept on, dragging the group behind me at a fast clip. We stopped behind the neighbor’s garage and the guys carefully set Zander down.
“Stay here, okay,” I said squeezing Riley’s hand as I passed her into Micah’s waiting arms.
“No! Liv, the fire—” she stammered, pushing him away to grasp for my hand.
“It’s okay. I’ll be right back.” I crossed my heart. “I promise.”
Before she, or anyone else, could protest, I took off around the corner of the garage and disappeared into the shadows at a dead run. When I reached the gate in the chain-link fence, I slammed into it with all my might, barely slowing down. The metal clanked against itself and bounced closed behind me as I tore across the neighbor’s yard to the fence separating the two properties.
I moved swiftly and easily. Pivoting past a small fire near the garbage bins, I ducked beneath a low branch and leapt over a pile of what I hoped was smoldering debris laying in the yard. I danced around each and every obstacle with near-choreographed precision, and didn’t stop until my feet landed softly on the other side of the chest high fence.
“Whoa,” I said, pausing for just a moment to look back at the course I had just miraculously wormed my way through.
Before I could question it further, I spun on my heel and sprinted over to the sliding doors at the back of the house. On the way, I scooped up a gardening trowel that lay on the ground and leapt up onto the back patio. In one swift motion, I used the trowel to slide open the door and dove across to the other side of the doorframe. Bright amber flames shot out through the opening, engulfing the space I had occupied just moments ago. A relentless torrent of thick, black smoke surged out after it, soaring into the night sky like a swarm of locusts. After nice deep breath of fresh air, the fire retreated back into the house to continue its feast.
As soon as it did, I tightened the towel around my face, crouched down and crept through the open door. Out of habit, I suppose, I kicked it shut behind me. Cut off from its escape route, the smoke began to cling in angry clouds, thickening against the ceiling of the burning kitchen. I should have left it open, but it was too late to turn back.
I rushed across the tile floor, keeping my head as low as possible. Stepping over a burning stool, I ducked beneath the singed remains of the swinging doors and out into the main entryway of the house. Fire trickled up the walls, like an orange waterfall flowing backwards, sending bits of flaming paint and wallpaper, fluttering to the floor around me. Like me, the flames were seeking higher ground and I needed to hurry if I was going to beat them.
I tightened the towel around my face again and took a deep breath. My lungs screamed in protest, but I fought the urge reject the toxic air as I dove forward into the unknown. Flashbacks of grade school fire-prevention assemblies flashed through my mind as I staggered towards the stairs. The fire fighters always said the same thing— stay low to the ground, cover your mouth and nose, and never, ever go into a burning building.
Two out of three ain’t bad.
Mrs. Tate’s prized oak railing was still miraculously intact and I ran one hand along its smooth surface as I army-crawled to the top of the staircase. When I crested the top step, I slithered along the floor, keeping my hand against floor molding that ran the length of the hallway. I followed it past the bathroom, towards where Riley and I slept.
Unable to see through the wall of darkness, I found my way to Riley’s room by touch alone. The heat was all consuming. My eyes watered uncontrollably, though I had no idea where my body had found the moisture and it did little to soothe the burning beneath my lids. My throat felt raw and tight, each breath like swallowing sand. I hacked and gagged as the smoke tried to force its way into my lungs.
It tasted of burnt plastic and chemicals and my tongue began to swell in protest. The paint above the trim was peeling away at my touch, curling as if it, too, was trying to escape the flames. I held the towel closer to my mouth and crawled on knees and elbows down the hallway.
I pulled myself up onto the balls of my feet, lunging head-first through Riley’s open door. I caught myself on the footboard of her bed, my left eye narrowly missing the sharp prong on a studded belt that hung there. I coughed and sputtered against the poisonous black cloud and followed the edge of the mattress to the old base drum Riley used as a nightstand. I sifted frantically through the tumbling stack of books, hair ties, and make-up until I found what I was looking for. I shoved it deep into my pocket and ducked back out into the smoke-filled hallway.
The cloud of poison had grown thicker now, forcing me back down to onto the floor. My backpack flopped from side to side, banging into my ribs as I skittered across the rough wood floors. From my vantage point, I could easily see beneath the door to my room, to the orange glow that awaited me on the other side. I shifted around so I was lying against my pack on the hard floor, the soles of my boots resting against my door. I held my breath, cranked my feet back, and thrust them as hard as I could into the door. On the third kick, it swung open and I rolled to the side as the knob slammed hard against the wall inside my
room.
“Gah!”
A wave of heat and flames burst through the door and into the hallway. As soon as the backdraft subsided, I scrambled across the floor into my room, which was almost completely engulfed in flames. It was so hot, I could barely think as the smoke strangled and pressed me into the floor. The walls and ceiling bubbled under the bright orange tendrils. Pieces of plaster crashed down around me, as the texture disintegrated above me. The end of my bed was a wall of fire and the flames crept their way across my room.
I inched forward on my hands and knees, to my bedside table, and swiped blindly at the items on its surface. The lamp clattered across the table, one of the table’s legs gave out, and the entire thing crashed to the floor. The lamp shattered, sending shards of pink porcelain and broken glass hurtling towards my face. The rest of my bedside items scattered across the floor in all directions.
I slapped aimlessly at the floor around me, unable to see through the blackness closing in. I barely flinched when the rosy lamp shrapnel embedded itself in my hand, but nearly I lost it when my hand finally landed on that stupid stuffed lion. I grabbed my courage by the tail, stuffed him up the front of my shirt, and made my way out of the scorched remains of the princess bedroom, gagging as my lungs burned in my chest. I crawled along the old wood floor, board by board and by the time I reached the top of the stairs, they were fully consumed by flames. I nearly lost my balance and fell over.
“Shit,” I choked out, grabbing onto the railing for support.
The flames licked at my heels and without thinking, I threw my leg over the solid oak railing and pushed off. I held on for dear life as I sailed down the thick banister and landed with a thud at the bottom of the staircase. Nothing was recognizable anymore through the trenches of smoke, but I instinctively headed back the way I had come. The swinging door crashed to the ground behind me, sending shards of flaming wood my direction. I rolled to the side to avoid them and slammed my already sore shoulder into the corner of the breakfast bar.
“Ahh,” I groaned as I inched my way along the tile floor.
Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) Page 20