by Timothy Boyd
The sky grew brighter with every passing minute, a thin aura of pink-orange beginning to fill the void on the horizon. Deb coughed and vomited but continued by my side. One step at a time, we pushed and pushed.
Finally, Deb collapsed against the side of an abandoned mini-van, doubled over and breathing deeply. “Bear. That’s it. You go on and save Mary.”
“Deb,” I began.
“Bear, I really can’t.”
“Deb…”
She sighed and braced herself, likely waiting for the slew of reasons I would rattle off in an attempt to convince her to carry on.
But I only needed to say one thing: “We made it.”
At my words, her eyes widened, and she glanced around at her surroundings for the first time. We were in the center of downtown Franklin, surrounded by tall office buildings, hotels, and banks. “Sweet Jesus!” she exclaimed incredulously.
I smiled. “Police Headquarters is only a few blocks away.”
She grinned and exhaled, relief flooding her face and giving her a renewed drive to push on just a little bit farther.
We turned the corner ahead and saw it: three blocks down the road, on the other side of the bridge that crossed the river, the ten-story police headquarters building loomed into the air, it’s glass walls and metal frame looking more inviting than it ever had before.
Up on its roof rested a green Mi-17 military helicopter.
We picked up our pace, rejuvenated by the sight of rescue. Closer and closer we came to the building. We made it to the bridge, crossing the fifty-foot-wide river, approaching the entrance doors to the station on the other side. And then I froze.
Through the glass walls of the building, I saw that the lobby was crawling with emotionless people, thousands of spiders scurrying over the inside of the glass. They were waiting. Waiting for survivors told to come here for rescue.
I wondered if any actual humans remained up on the roof, waiting to take off. Regardless, that chopper was the best plan to get out of this city, and if I had to fly it myself, I would do that.
“Bear,” Deb grabbed my arm. “They saw us.”
Sure enough, the station’s front doors opened and hundreds upon hundreds of people poured out, moseying, spreading to show their great numbers. “Nick Barren,” they all said, slightly out of sync, sending disorienting waves through my ear canals. More people filled the street from the alleyways beside the buildings. From all around, dozens more that I hadn’t even seen slinked out onto the road, filling every escape route on all sides, creeping out of the shadows like… spiders.
Armies of arachnids surrounded their feet, some of them crawling up the length of their bodies and back down again, like Man and Spider had become one. Strange moaning noises quietly emanated amongst the crowd, like they desperately yearned for something they had not yet received.
Me.
Suddenly, the alien sea parted, and a woman stepped forward. Disfiguring scars covered her singed body as patches of hair dangled from her scorched scalp. She stared at me coolly, one of her eyes significantly larger than the other due to eyelids that had been burned away. After a moment, I recognized her as their leader – the one at the bar who had warned me not to torch the place.
She came to rest at the head of the mob, and all became quiet.
My palms grew sweaty, and I flexed the fingers of my weapon hand, waiting with anticipation to grab it from the back of my waistband. Mary remained in my arms, unconscious, her breathing shallow, completely unaware that the end was near.
Finally, the torched woman spoke. “I do not understand humans,” she began, the complete lack of emotion or subtext in her voice unsettling. “Emotions cloud your judgment. Stop you from logically considering the big picture. Your feelings make you weak. Make you vulnerable. Make you… stupid.”
Deb and I slowly stepped backward, unsure of what to do.
“I was told that we needed you, Nick Barren. That you were a remarkable man. But that was a long time ago, wasn’t it, Nick Barren?”
I felt my heartbeat begin to race, and nervous trembles took over my body, making my muscles weak.
“You gave up. You became self-destructive,” she continued, her words slow and calculated. “Instead of fleeing town today, you ran to your ex-wife, who had already moved on without you.”
Exhaustion flooded over me as tears threatened to escape my eyes, perhaps because the grotesque woman spoke words of truth.
“After that, you still did not flee. You went to save the old woman that facilitated your downfall into alcoholism. The woman who cares for nothing more than the money you pay for your drinks.”
Deb stepped forward, pointing a weak but angry finger at the burned leader. “That’s a damn lie!”
But the alien ignored her, her gaze never leaving me. “And now, you would risk everything in a foolish attempt to save that same old woman – whose crossover to our community is inevitable – and a frail child you do not even know.”
I glanced down at Deb with great sadness in my heart, knowing that the alien was right. Soon, Deb would be gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“It is this human emotion of love that will be the end of your civilization. It is what makes us stronger than you. It is why in a few short days, we will spread, and your world will belong to us. We are doing you a favor, Nick Barren. We are ending the weakness of humanity.”
I was done listening to this lady spout her nonsense. I slowly reached behind me and grabbed my weapon, saying, “Love isn’t the only emotion humans are capable of. We have another one that’s just as strong, and you’re underestimating it.”
The woman smirked slightly, the first hint of feelings I’d seen from these guys. “And that would be what?”
My grip tensed around my gun as I raised it toward her. “Anger.”
Before I could pull the trigger, a hand grabbed me from behind, spinning me around, catching me off guard. With wide eyes, I stared at an Asian man, his hair pulled back in a braided ponytail, arms covered with sleeves of tattoos denoting a great battle between heaven and hell.
It was Yoshi.
Deb gasped and covered her mouth, her hands trembling.
“Hello, Nick Barren,” he said, staring at me. I watched in horror as a few black specks scurried past the white of his eyes, and then spiders poured from his ears and nose, circling around his unmoving face before fleeing back into his mouth again.
I felt a wave of guilt rise within me, knowing that I could have prevented this fate from taking place. “I shouldn’t have let this happen to you.” I slowly raised the gun and aimed it at Yoshi’s forehead.
“Bear,” Deb interrupted. “We got problems.”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the army of aliens was slowly creeping toward us, waiting for the moment to surround us and strike. I steeled my jaw and exhaled, ready to do what needed to be done. “It’s your call, Deb.”
She looked at the nasty wound on her arm and then back up at me, her eyes moist but certain of her decision. “There’s plenty of fight in you for the both of us.”
Our eyes met, and I nodded. Turning to Yoshi, I said sincerely, “I’m sorry, man.” And I pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed through the silent sky, reverberating from the surrounding office buildings, startling the aliens into halting their advance.
We ran.
Behind us, I heard the alien woman bellow, “Nick Barren must be ours!” And they gave chase.
As fast as we could, we fled down the street past the headquarters building, past the alley full of creatures, past the first building next to the station, past the next alleyway. Every crevice was full of people that wanted to inhabit our bodies, and I didn’t have enough bullets for them all.
I glanced back and saw the population of Franklin chasing after us, a swarm of spiders in tow, leaving me wishing I had another Molotov cocktail to lob into them (not that it had worked terribly well the first time). We dodged quickly around abandon
ed cars, leapt over bicycles, swept past unused parking meters. Eventually, Mary stirred awake from the jostling. “What’s happening?”
“It’s ok, Honey,” I said in an attempt to keep her calm.
“Here, Bear!” Deb called out.
She pointed at the glass storefront display of a five-story department store. Quickly, I fired a few rounds into it, shattering the windows and allowing us entry. Mary clutched her arms around my neck and trembled as we fled through the dark aisles, knocking over clothing racks and mannequins to block the path behind us.
“Back there!” Deb saw the door marked “stairs” and hobbled to it. I could barely breathe. I needed to rest but knew I could not. We barreled through the door and quickly climbed the stairs, not really knowing where to go or what to do. Up and up we went, gasping desperately for oxygen to fill our lungs.
Mary sobbed in fear now, hearing the people pour into the stairwell’s first floor below. “They’re coming!” she screamed.
Finally, when I didn’t think I could go any farther, there were no more stairs. We blasted out the door and onto the roof of the retail building. Yellow caution tape, orange cones, and long two-by-fours filled the construction area on the roof where renovations were currently taking place.
The police headquarters towered in front of us, only two buildings away. I ran to the edge and looked over to find every inch of the alley below swarming with people reaching up at us, needing what we had to offer. The building directly across was the same height, but the gap between them was at least eight feet wide.
My mind raced with options, knowing that the mobs from the street were on their way up the stairwell to the roof. Jumping would be risky, especially while holding an injured girl. And I wasn’t sure Deb would be able to make it, much less in her current condition.
I looked around frantically, seeing nothing but construction materials and tools. The nauseating utterances of my name from the alley below filtered up to the roof, making me feel more like I was dinner than someone who they wanted to be part of their community.
“Bear!” Deb yelled, panicked, looking over the edge at the throng of madness below. “What do we do?!”
The first sliver of golden sunlight rose from its nighttime slumber and peeked out its groggy head from under the covers of the horizon.
We were out of time, and we were trapped.
Barren
VIII
Sunrise.
The dawning of a new day.
The promise of rescue taunted us from the roof of Police Headquarters two buildings away. I listened intently, blocking out the moans of yearning from the mob below, the screaming old woman behind me, and the dying little girl in my arms. I listened for the sounds of helicopter blades beginning to spin, hoping that real humans were protected on that roof and on their way to safety, and yet at the same time, I hoped that they were running behind schedule just long enough for the three of us to get on board.
“Bear!” Deb hollered at me.
I looked at Mary, who was pale and clammy, her eyes filled with terror, looking up at me. Her mouth moved frantically, but my ears heard no sound. My heart pounded fiercely in my head, drowning out the chaos around me. In the alley below us, hundreds of people reached up, begging to tear into our bodies and let their masters inside. My chest heaved with ragged breaths, the weight of my past draped over my already-weak shoulders. The burden was immense, and I had so little energy left with which to carry it.
Again, Deb cried out to me from behind. “They’ll be here any second!” she panicked, pointing at the stairwell door.
With my mind racing, I had nearly forgotten that creatures were flooding into the department store’s front door and dashing up the stairwell toward us. Softly, I placed Mary down, leaning her against the raised brick that lined the entirety of the rooftop.
My eyes rested on the long two-by-fours buried within the construction materials lying about. I picked up one to examine it; it was about ten feet long, maybe twelve.
I ran over to the roof’s edge, placing the thin wood across the gap between buildings. It just barely fit! I dashed back to the lumber pile and retrieved one more board, making a small bridge to cross the chasm.
“Is this safe?” Deb wondered.
“No,” I admitted as I picked up the little girl from the ground, stepping up onto the edge and carefully placing my weight on the wooden walkway.
“Oh, my god! Be careful, Bear!” came Deb’s motherly warning from behind me.
I ignored her, seeing no other way to move toward our goal. I shuffled slowly across the long boards, feeling them bend under my weight. I clutched tightly to Mary as her arms firmly locked around my neck.
“Don’t look down, Sweetie,” I said to her quietly, my hand against her back for support. “Just close your eyes.”
Halfway across now, I dared not glance at the howling mob five stories below. With every step forward, the wood bowed and bounced slightly, quiet crackles resounding as it began to weaken.
Deb made no sound from the roof behind me, so I imagined her standing still, eyes wide, hands clasped over her mouth, feeling as though one small breath would be enough to snap the precarious bridge leading us to safety.
A few more steps. Slowly. Surely. Shuffling. I felt the board under my feet suddenly hold solid and knew that I had reached the end where it was resting on the adjacent building. I glanced down and lowered myself to the roof, exhaling deeply.
“Oh, my god!” I heard Deb exclaim with relief from across the way.
I placed Mary on the ground again so I could help Deb across. When I stepped back, I noticed the little girl was crying, so I knelt next to her and wiped streams of moisture from her face. “Hey,” I did my best to sound soothing. “We’re going to be fine.”
“I don’t want to die,” she whimpered up at me.
“I won’t let that happen.”
“I feel funny. Dizzy.”
I felt my eyes moisten, but I clenched my jaw, determined to remain strong for her. The truth was that she didn’t look well. And unless there was a medical team that came along with that chopper, I didn’t think there would be much hope for her.
I stood and held my arms out toward Deb. “Come on, Mama,” I said, coaxing her up onto the rickety makeshift bridge.
“I don’t know if I can, Bear,” she yelled to me, shaking her head back and forth, looking down at the five-story drop.
“You can. You have to. Just don’t look down.”
“Well, I already done looked down!” she snapped angrily, her southern accent thick, as it always was when she grew agitated.
“Just…” I didn’t know what to say to get her to come along. We didn’t have time for this hesitation. “Get on the damn bridge!”
“Don’t rush me!” she glared. “I’m a dyin’ woman, and I don’t like heights!”
She pulled herself up onto the brick lip of the rooftop and slowly stepped out onto the wooden boards. She held her head high to reduce the urge to look down, but I still saw her eyes dart toward the alley every few seconds. Gently she stepped, the wood bending under her weight, continuing to crack in protest as it had for me.
“Ooooh, god,” she mumbled to herself.
“You’re doing great, Mama! Halfway there!”
“Only halfway?!”
I watched the lumber curve and heard it creak, and I silently prayed to whatever god would listen that we would make it to the helicopter atop the headquarters building.
The rooftop door to the department store building burst open, and waves of people crashed onto the rooftop, looking around frantically for their escapees.
“Mama! Hurry!”
Deb gasped and shuffled much quicker, glancing back over her shoulder. “Oh, shit!” Faster she stepped, and farther the wood warped, crackling fiercely now.
Suddenly, with a resounding snap-crack, one of the wooden boards splintered in half, falling toward the alley below. Deb’s arms flailed wildly as she attempted t
o keep her balance on the one remaining piece of wood under her feet.
She slipped.
Deb shrieked as the two-by-four wobbled under her, and she fell forward toward the building.
“No!” I yelled, reaching out, barely grasping her arms within my hands. She smacked against the side of the brick building with a thud as the excitement from the mob below built in intensity, hoping they were about to receive their next victim.
She dangled, legs flailing, screaming incoherently, her life in my hands. “Deb, stop struggling!”
“Oh, shit! Bear! Holy shit!” she panicked, many more expletives pouring from her mouth.
My hands grew sweatier with every passing second. “Deb, stop moving!”
Finally, she calmed a bit, looking up at me. “Pull me up, Bear! Pull me up!”
I gritted my teeth and began pulling upward as hard as I could. I was in an awkward position and couldn’t get much leverage. My arm muscles were exhausted from having carried Mary for miles. But I lifted, waiting for the moment that my muscles would snap in half from the strain, like a rubber band stretched too far.
A group of human husks from across the roof stepped up on the single two-by-four and began crossing toward us. They advanced with such inhuman ease, their balance never faltering. I was forced to release my grip on Deb with one of my hands, and I forcefully pushed the piece of wood off the edge of the roof. The group tumbled to the alley below, colliding with the sea of monsters.
I reached my free hand down once more. “Take my other hand, Mama.” She clumsily reached into the air, trying desperately to take hold of my offering, but both of our hands were slick with sweat.
“Bear, over there!” she called out, looking at the other end of the building.
The mob from the roof had begun laying out their own bridge of lumber, far from my grasp so I could not send them down to their deaths again.
I panicked. With one hand grasping a hold of Deb, I lifted as hard as I could, my other hand reaching into the back of my jeans and retrieving my gun. I gritted my teeth, my arm in terrible pain, my shoulder soon to pop from its socket.