by Timothy Boyd
I aimed the firearm at the group crossing the new bridge and released shot after shot into each of their bodies, sending them soaring down to their friends below. I lifted with one arm, fired with the other. I didn’t have the strength to get Deb up onto the roof without my other hand, but their numbers were massive, and they continued across the planks endlessly.
I pulled the trigger again and again, but there was no stopping them. In a matter of seconds, they would be across their walkway, quick to turn us into emotionless worshippers of a twisted arachnid deity. I began to cry, because I had failed; I couldn’t save Deb and Mary. Another shot into the mob. Another tug on Deb. Another body into the alley, my vision blurring from tears.
“Bear!” Deb called to me.
I kept firing, picking them off one by one as they replaced themselves with even more, as if I were attempting to decapitate a twisted spider hydra.
“Bear!” she screamed again, more forcefully.
I stopped firing for just a moment and looked down at the woman. She gazed up at me with sadness in her eyes and a bittersweet smile across her lips. “You’re one of the good ones, Bear.”
My brow furrowed in confusion.
Her grin broadened, and a tear escaped the corner of her eye as she regarded me with love. Overcome by a sense of calm, she said to me, “Save the girl.”
And she let go of my hand.
I watched as the woman who had saved me fell gracefully, her eyes locked on mine, her smile remaining. In those three torturous seconds of her flight, everything that ever needed to be said between us was made known by our eyes. I looked away as the throng below engulfed her body.
I caught a lump of air in my throat before it could escape, loathe to allow my emotions release, but this loss was the final brick that brought the whole house crumbling to the ground. Now, nothing remained of my former life. I fell forward onto the brick ledge of the rooftop as great heaving sobs wracked through my body.
“Bear?! What happened?” Mary mumbled weakly, but I ignored her.
My strength gave out, and I collapsed to the ground next to the wounded girl, bellowing my anguished cries into the air. I tugged clumsily on the front of my clothing, feeling the need to do something physical with my hands to expend this overabundance of grief. The shoulder seams of the shirt stretched and began to snap, but I stopped when I heard Mary’s cry of terror pierce the morning air.
Through blurred vision, I saw them jump down onto the rooftop from their bridge and head toward us. My emotional damn exploded, spilling forth a deluge of burning, unstoppable fury. I leapt to my feet and ran to the other end of the building, charging like a raging bull targeting its tormenter. I blasted into the first guy I encountered, sending him over the edge. As more streamed down from the walkway, I annihilated them with my bare hands, elbowing and punching and kicking, snapping necks and breaking cartilage.
My wrath consumed me as I tore through the predators, now the unfortunate prey at the receiving end of my anger. I’d warned their leader in the street below, and now I yearned for the chance to tear her torched head from her shoulders.
I sent another guy over the ledge as I approached their bridge, sabotaging it with a spiteful shove, and it collapsed into the alley, buying us only a minute more before they would rebuild it, or worse – find a way up from within the building below.
I didn’t know how many bullets remained in my gun. I estimated around ten, so I needed to make them count. I jogged back to little Mary, lifting her into my arms and crossing the rooftop toward the towering police station next door.
“Where’s Mama?” she whimpered.
As she rested her head on my shoulder, I said quietly to her, “She decided to stay behind.”
She attempted to cry, but her body had no energy left. She had lost so much blood, and she was severely dehydrated. With her body so entwined with my own, I felt the heat from her raging fever. Save the girl, Mama had said. No pressure.
I approached the next rooftop ledge, now facing the ten-story police headquarters building. The sun inched higher into the sky from beneath the horizon. There was a metal fire escape stairwell attached to the side of HQ, but still, with the gap between buildings, I would need to build another bridge. And there was no lumber on this rooftop.
I glanced into the alley below, again filled to capacity with walking corpses. The ladder down at the second floor that led from the escape stairs to the pavement was raised, stopping them from climbing toward us. If I could just find a way to make it over, I would have a clear stretch up the escape stairs to the helipad on the roof.
I glanced around frantically but saw nothing useful with which to cross. And then I heard it:
The escalating, rhythmic whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of a helicopter’s blades revving up.
“No!” I screamed, panic taking hold within me.
Rescue was so close to our grasp, and we were about to miss it.
“Nick Barren, you have nowhere to run!” came dozens of synched voices from behind.
I quickly spun to see that a large group had successfully crossed the chasm and made it to my roof. The helicopter’s engine grew in intensity, its blades circling faster and faster. Now, there was nothing to lose.
“Hold on to me, Mary! Hold on as tight as you can, and don’t let go!”
I ran as hard as my legs would carry us, my arms clutched around the girl, my gun in my hand. When I approached the edge, I leapt toward the escape stairwell, hoping that Mary would be able to hold on if I needed to grasp something. Through the air we flew as I braced for a painful impact. We began to descend, falling below the fifth story escape, but landing sloppily on the floor below, scraping the hell out of my free hand that I had used as a brace.
The rickety metal stairwell groaned in protest at the collision, and I heard a loud metal clank below as the ladder on the second floor released and lowered to the ground. I watched in horror as the torrent of creatures began pouring up the fire escape, only two floors below and rapidly closing the distance.
As I regained my footing, I limped frantically up the stairs, having mildly injured my ankle in the foolish leap. Up I scrambled, Mary dying in my arms, the mob giving chase.
Floor five.
Now six.
Seven – almost there!
I tripped and fell forward at the top of the eighth floor, bracing the fall with my free hand. I quickly jumped back to my feet, the creatures only one floor behind. I glanced below and saw a monsoon of black spiders scurrying up the side of the headquarters building, an ebb and flow of horror racing to reach the shore of the rooftop, hoping to take hold and drag me out with the tides of madness, drowning me in the sea of death.
I was at the ninth floor now, with only one more flight until freedom. A hand grasped my ankle suddenly, and I nearly fell again. By the time I glanced back to see the charred alien leader grasping my foot, her teeth were already clamping down onto my leg, and excruciating pain swept through my calf.
Bang, bang!
I fired two shots into her head, ending her horrid existence.
Bang!
Another shot into the guy behind her.
Bang-bang-bang!
I angrily crippled the people closest on the stairwell, making them fall limply, temporarily blocking the path of the others. I saw the horde of spiders rushing in waves up the side of the building, like a giant body of turbulent black water. They were all after us, and they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted. In a grotesque show of gravity-defying acrobatics, the arachnid mass began to morph itself into another giant beast like the one that had terrorized us in the forest outside of Gravediggers.
I didn’t allow myself the time to rationalize everything that had just taken place and what it meant for my immediate future. Ignoring the searing nerves in the bloody leg wound, I charged up the final flight of steps, climbing up onto the police headquarters rooftop.
At the far end was the helipad, the Mi-17 military chopper’s blades spinni
ng forcefully. I saw the wheels of the landing gear rise up as the helicopter began to liftoff.
“No, wait!” I screamed, hobbling painfully toward our fleeing safety net. I knew they could not hear me. I could barely hear myself over the din of the windy torrent from the blades. “Please wait! I have a sick girl! Wait!”
I pushed myself to go harder and faster, knowing that it would likely be the death of me. As I ran, I fired my gun into the air, hoping to attract their attention.
Through the window, I saw a man clothed in Army attire take notice of me. His eyes grew wide as he saw me charging toward the chopper, a bleeding girl in my arms. He tapped the pilot in front of him and pointed out the window toward us. In a flash, the vehicle proceeded to lower once more. But as the wheels touched back down to the helipad, I saw the pilot’s eyes grow in horror.
Behind me, a massive spider leg reached up from the side of the building and pulled its thirty-foot heft up onto the rooftop, hundreds of thousands of tiny spiders skittering gleefully over one another to form the gargantuan arachnid beast that now towered over me. Bathed in the horrific shadow of evil, I saw the rooftop door slam open, and a river of husks rushed toward me. One look at the pilot’s face, and I knew:
He was going to leave us.
“Please!” I begged, my lip quivering. “Please wait!”
Suddenly, the deafening roar of an F-15 Eagle fighter jet soared overhead, and I caught a glimpse of four missiles strapped to its undercarriage. The “neutralization” package.
But the jet didn’t launch its payload; instead, it made a wide berth and circled back around toward HQ, firing bursts from its automatic weapons into the giant spider amalgamation, forcing it to stumble backward. The fighter pilot was trying to give the helicopter more time!
As rescue grew nearer, I could see the soldier seated behind the chopper pilot grow agitated, and I assumed he was arguing with him about waiting for us.
The helicopter began to rise into the air once more.
“No!” I bellowed. “Stop!”
I kept running, willing to jump over the edge of the roof if it meant I might reach out and grab the wheel of the helicopter and take Mary to safety.
The Army man behind the pilot grew angry now, and he flung the side door open, waving his arm frantically for me to move faster. Inside, I spotted about ten other civilians and a few more military members looking on in terror at the mob closing in on them.
“Please save the girl!” I begged of them, my eyes wet with exhaustion.
The chopper gained height, and I was only a few feet away. The soldier in the open doorway reached his hands out as far as he dared, trying desperately to help when the pilot would not. Using every last ounce of remaining strength in my arm muscles, I lifted Mary into the sky, running toward our fleeing rescuers.
And suddenly, she was flying.
She was no longer in my grasp, and I watched as the soldier pulled the little girl into the helicopter. I saw the tears cascading down her face as she looked at me, reaching one weak hand in my direction, mouthing one word over and over again through her weak sobs: “Bear… Bear… Bear…”
Two of the other soldiers quickly opened a first aid kit and started addressing her grievous wounds. As the chopper pulled farther away from my reach, I saw the soldier look at me with such apologetic sorrow, and then he pulled the door shut once more.
I felt intense relief, the immense weight finally lifted from my exhausted shoulders. I did it. I saved the girl. And that was good enough for me.
As the whirlwind of safety glided effortlessly away from me, the wind calmed to a dull breeze that chilled the copious sweat beads on my skin. In my chest, my heart contracted furiously, fighting to push life through my veins, trying foolishly to keep pace with my exertions. I inhaled as deeply as I was able, but my body needed more oxygen than I allowed, so the inevitable exhale forced itself from my lips prematurely.
The ever-rising sun crested farther up the eastern horizon as I experienced a dawning of my own:
I am alone.
I stood on the edge of the roof, staring into the waters of the rushing river ten stories below. From behind, I heard them coming for me, but I didn’t look back. I clutched the grip of my handgun more tightly, ensuring my clammy palm didn’t lose its traction. I didn’t dare holster it in the back of my pants; the scalding muzzle would have seared the skin on my tailbone. How many bullets were left in it? I couldn’t remember. It had all happened too quickly to keep track.
God, I wanted a drink. It had been too long since the delicious burn of whiskey had singed my throat and lit my stomach afire.
I felt the sticky warmth of blood rolling down my muscled leg and into my shoe, and the flayed skin around the wound tingled. I’d been bitten, but was that fact alone the nail in my coffin? I had no idea. I’d been quick to remove the threat, and I couldn’t recall seeing any spiders crawl from her mouth and enter my wound. I’d be sure to save one bullet though, just in case.
Soon – in an hour, a day, a week – I would probably be dead.
Without turning to look back, I knew that they were upon me. I could feel the shadow of the monstrous beast loom over me, its thick legs pounding on the roof with each threatening step. I could hear their manic, disturbed mumbling, yearning for what I had to offer.
And then everything fell silent.
I stood on the ledge, staring out at the beautiful city, illuminated by dawn’s warm, morning light. I knew that the mob was within reach, waiting for me to turn around so they could look me in the eye as they tore me apart. I would not give them the satisfaction.
The F-15 Eagle soared overhead once more, and this time, I heard its four missiles release and head toward their targets.
“Nick Barren,” the aliens called out. “We finally have you. It is finished.”
A slight grin crept up the corners of my lips, and I said, “It’s finished when I say it’s finished.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath…
And I jumped.
To the north, the first missile hit its target – Angelwood – and a giant napalm cloud exploded into the sky.
As gravity wrapped me in its comforting cocoon, I allowed myself to become suffocated by the wind current. Time seemed to freeze as the faces of everyone I ever loved floated to the surface of my mind, all of them calling my name: Nicholas, Nick, Nicky, Barren, Bear… I waited patiently for the end of Nick Barren.
The second missile hit its target in the distance, the inferno quickly rushing toward downtown Franklin.
I was in Gravediggers, slowly sniffing a shot glass of cheap whiskey, relishing in its pungent aroma. I saw Deb standing behind the bar, lighting up the room with her laugh and snapping her bar towel at me playfully.
The third missile collided with another suburb in the distance.
Sarah stood before me in her flowing summer dress, holding a small bouquet of flowers. She smoothed out a crease in the lapel of my tuxedo jacket as we stood together at the altar of latticework, the setting sun casting a warm glow across the grassy field.
The final missile crashed into downtown, the wall of fire surging closer.
As my beautiful memories filled me with hope, I impacted with the river water.
Searing chills engulfed my body as the collision reverberated in my bones. My breath was taken away, and I felt myself being pulled forcefully downstream, the current strong and angry as the raging, orange, fire cloud stormed across the surface of the water above me.
I didn’t know which way was up, my limbs flailing through thick water, trying to bring balance to my body. My lungs had already been taxed, and now they burned, needing oxygen. As drowning panic set in, a vision appeared floating in the water before me. A transparent figure. A young girl.
Annie.
My beautiful Annie floated in front of my vision, smiling. Peace and warmth rushed over me, and if I had been somewhere dry, tears would have poured from my eyes.
Her voice, soothing and comforting,
echoed around me, “I’m proud of you, Daddy.” And then she was gone.
Just when I had decided to relax and succumb to the inevitable, my head splashed above the surface of the water, and I gasped great gulps of air. The sunlight assaulted my eyes and warmed my face. Something about the rushing water felt liberating to me, like I had been cleansed. Perhaps I’d finally earned redemption for the past.
I continued to allow the current to push me toward the rising sun and past the city’s edge, farther away from the flaming ruins behind me. I smiled as the warm rays dried my face, and I took a deep, soothing breath, floating calmly on my back with my limbs outstretched. I couldn’t fight it anymore, so I allowed exhaustion to embrace me.
And my eyes fluttered closed.
The End.
The Dead of Winter
The Dead of Winter
I
A tiny speck of dirt swirled through the sky above the evening clouds, relishing in the briskness of the breeze that carried it. It danced to and fro, guided by the whistle of the wind, and as it soared through the sky’s vaporous mass, it became enveloped with moisture. Chilled and cocooned, the dirt speck reveled in the safety of the tiny droplet that harbored it.
And then something spectacular happened.
The damp globe began to change, slowly at first but then much more rapidly. What once was moist became crystalline as miniscule frozen needles grew from within the droplet into a stunning hexagonal pattern that refracted light gloriously. The speck was truly beautiful and unique for the first time in its existence, and as its mass grew, the wind’s song was no longer able to keep it afloat. It calmly fluttered down from the clouds toward the ground far below.
A snowflake.
Little Jessica gazed toward the crystal-flecked winter sky from the comfort of her warm bedroom, forearms laid flat on the windowsill, her chin resting on her hands. Still yet a child, she nearly had to stand on the tips of her toes in order to catch the winter wonderment, but in her mind, the discomfort was worth it.