Sunfall (Season 1): Episodes 1-6

by Meyer, Tim

  “I want to help fight them off.”

  “Dana, don't be ridiculous. You couldn't harm a fly.”

  “I could if it was trying to kill me.”

  Becky turned and grabbed her sister's cheek. “No one is going to get killed. I promise.”

  “Lilah killed Peter. I heard she cut his throat open. I heard Noah say there was so much blood he nearly—”

  “Don't think about those things. It's disgusting. Jesus.”

  “Everything all right over here, girls?” an older woman asked. Dana looked up and saw Susan peering down at her. “I think it's best if we are quiet. Don't you?”

  Dana glared at her. Although she seemed nice, something about the woman drove her crazy. She didn't trust her, didn't trust the expressions on her face. It was like she wore a mask to hide the face of a hideous beast. A beast with a long snout and sharp teeth. A wolf, perhaps.

  “Sorry,” Dana told her. “I really have to pee. May I?”

  “Soren wants all the women and children to remain here until it's over. Until we're safe.” She forced a smile. “Can you hold it a little while longer?”

  Dana shook her head. “My bladder might explode.”

  Sighing heavily, Susan surveyed the room. The women, twenty in all, were slouched along the walls. Some had made chairs with stacked cinder blocks. Some slept on the floor, using beach towels from the seasonal department as mattresses. One young woman huddled with her two children in the corner, squeezing them tightly, tears teetering near the edge of her eyes. The kids were too young to understand what was going on. They wanted to play games, run around, get into mischief, but their mother would not let them leave her arms. They argued, and she told them to hush; it was important to remain silent. Susan would deal with them after she took care of Dana's problem.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “Hurry up. And come straight back here. No dilly-dally. Understand?”

  “Thank you, Susan,” Dana said, rising to her feet.

  “I'm going with her,” Becky said.

  “No,” Susan said, raising her palm and gently placing it on Becky's chest. “She goes by herself.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We don't need anyone else running around. Not now.”

  Becky didn't argue. She sat back down on her makeshift seat and eyed her sister, a stare that ordered her not to do anything stupid.

  Dana smirked.

  “You come right back, little missy,” Susan reiterated.

  “Yes, ma'am,” she said, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

  -3-

  “You think the girls are all right?” Chris asked Soren. They stood in the front vestibule watching the trees like they were the ones commencing an attack. “I mean, sucks being cooped up in that greenhouse for hours, you know?”

  For a minute, Soren said nothing. He glared into the darkness expectantly. When nothing emerged, he turned to Chris.

  “If we fail here tonight,” Soren said, “you'll thank me for stuffing them in there.”

  “I was thinking about that,” Chris said. “If we do fail and they reach the greenhouse, won't they be trapped?”

  Soren shook his head. “Susan has everything under control out there. Take my word. No harm will come to the women and children.”

  “Okay,” he said, regretting pushing the subject. “So what is it we do? Wait?”

  “Patience is a virtue.”

  “It's also a major pain in my ass.” Chris stuck a wad of chew in his mouth. “This place in Alaska have a lifetime supply of Skoal?”

  Soren smiled. “They have a room the size of this store dedicated to alcohol and tobacco products.”

  “Sounds like heaven.”

  Soren looked at him dubiously. “What did you say?”

  Chris narrowed his eyes. “A whole store with nothing but liquor and tobacky? I said that sounds like heaven.”

  Nodding, Soren said, “It is. Just like heaven. A paradise beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “Look, I know we haven't had much time to discuss it and all... but the others have been asking about what that place is and exactly how you know about it. It wouldn't hurt to give them a little more information. After all, you are their leader now. And we both know what happened when Sam conveniently forgot to pass along certain details.”

  Soren turned his attention back to the streets. “I'll tell them everything when we're ready. Let's deal with one crisis at a time, shall we?”

  “Word,” Chris said. “Well, I tell you what, El Cappy-tan. I'm heading to the roof to see if I can scope these fuckers out before they cross route 7. I'll call you on the walkie—”

  “No need,” Soren interjected.

  Chris's forehead scrunched. “Why?”

  “Because,” Soren said, looking away from the giant glass wall, “they are already here.”

  -4-

  He plucked the page from the tree and skimmed it. It was an excerpt from an advanced high school physics book and the material sailed over Sam's head. He crumpled the paper in his palm and nodded to his companion.

  “The letter?” Tina asked.

  “V.”

  “C-A-R-V. Carve?”

  “It has to be Carver's Grove.”

  “That's less than a mile from here,” she added. “You think he knew he was heading there?”

  “He's a smart kid,” Sam said. “Probably.”

  “Sure didn't get his smarts from you.”

  “Hey, no argument there.”

  They continued jogging through the forest for another ten minutes, dodging branches and other hazards. A few times Sam brushed against thorny vines that left behind thin red lines on his arms, but he didn't pay them any mind. Focused on finding his son, he followed Tina and her flashlight through the dark forest. Frogs croaked in the distance; insects spoke to each other, groaning from the trees.

  “You think we have to worry about bears?” Sam asked. He struggled to keep pace with her.

  “Bears?” she nearly laughed. “I wouldn't worry about bears. Dogs, however...”

  “Dogs? I like dogs.”

  Tina slowed so he could catch up.

  “Back on the force they used to send us to Apocalypse Camp.”

  “Apocalypse Camp?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

  “That's what they called it. It was a class. They talked about different apocalyptic scenarios, to prepare us in the event something actually happened. How to deal with chaos and disorder. It was for riot control. I don't remember most of it because we all thought it was a goddamn joke. But I do remember them talking about dogs in the wild.”

  “What about them?”

  “When society breaks down and dogs no longer have human interaction, they rely on their primal instincts. Supposedly, they travel in packs and will do anything to survive. Anything. Which includes eating us, if given the opportunity.”

  “Christ. Hadn't thought of that.”

  “Well, let's hope we don't run into any.”

  They pushed on until they found another page tacked to the trunk of a tall oak. Matty had used sap as adhesive. He had also circled a letter on each of the pages. Clues, they figured, that revealed his whereabouts.

  “E,” Sam said, tossing the paper into the fall breeze.

  Twenty minutes later, they reached the end of the forest. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Sam and Tina brushed off the spiderweb sensation that had crawled across their skin. Sam inspected his small wounds and found no concerns. He did worry about the amount of pressure he had put on his ankle; a dull throb pulsed where the arrow had gone through. He toughed it out, but was leery of pushing himself further. He winced as he placed a hand on the tender flesh.

  “You okay?” Tina asked.

  “Fucking ankle,” Sam muttered. “I'll be all right.”

  “You need a break?”

  “No time. We might be too late already.” He didn't want to think about the trap Matty had potentially walked into. “They could have him.”

 
; “You won't do your son any good if you can't walk.”

  “I'm fine. Honest. Just a little sore.”

  “Don't push yourself. It'll only make things worse. If you need a rest, just say so.”

  Sam waved her away and she followed him across the street, toward downtown Carver's Grove where a few stores remained, looking like they had been open for business until the day of The Burn. It had been a while since Sam had been there. It had changed a lot over the years. Antique shops had been replaced by Radio Shacks and cell phone vendors. The cigar shop was now an e-cig supplier. The Mom and Pop toy store featuring all handmade gifts had been converted into a Gamestop.

  They strolled down the sidewalk, toward the center of town. They passed a convenience store, its stock mostly depleted. Sam stopped immediately when he saw what had been taped to the front door. He nearly ripped the sheet of paper in half as he tore it from the glass.

  Staring at the page, gliding over the words and searching for the clues, a single tear leaked from his right eye. He located the first circle; the Z in the word “zillion”. The second circled letter was an O in the word “absolute”. The third: the O in “zero”.

  ZOO.

  “Zoo,” Sam read aloud.

  “The zoo?” Tina asked. “Why would he be headed there?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don't know. But let's find out.”

  -5-

  Shadows formed near the edge of the parking lot. Chris quickly counted twenty. He felt his palms grease with nervous sweat. As he spit a long brown stream of chew onto the floor, his adrenaline kicked in. Turning to Soren, he watched his leader stare at the approaching army. He wasn't smiling. He didn't look scared. He didn't appear to be anything other than calm.

  “Send word to the roof,” he finally said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to stay here and play along.” Soren nodded. “Go. Now.”

  Chris scampered away, leaving Soren to his lonesome. He watched the shapes leave the shadows and step into pools of light provided by the streetlights. He studied them, examining their faces. They were no older than Lilah and her victim, Peter. The oldest wasn't over thirty; he was sure of it. One of them, clearly their leader, led the others displaying the smile of a bloodthirsty maniac, a hungry beast wearing the skin of a twenty-something-year-old man. His followers didn't appear all that different. Soren could tell each one of them had killed before. Saw it in their eyes.

  They stopped twenty feet from the entrance, and the staring contest began.

  It was Malek who broke the silence.

  “It would be most polite to invite us in,” Malek stated.

  For a second, Soren only focused on Malek's eyes.

  “Don't talk to strangers?” Malek asked. “Well, I'm Malek. And these are my brothers. We could be brothers too. If only, you would let us in.” Malek squinted, agitated by Soren's silence. “You must be Sam.”

  A hearty chuckle broke Soren's silence. “Lilah must have proved herself very useful to you,” he shouted through the glass.

  Malek's grin returned. “Yes. She told me all about you and this place.”

  “And our good friend Peter? He, too, provided you with reliable information?”

  “Peter. Yes, Peter. I almost forgot about him. I heard what happened. Very unfortunate. I hope you gave him a proper burial.”

  “As proper as he deserved.”

  “That's good. He provided us with great knowledge. And someone named Maurice. We captured him about a month ago. He was very chatty. But perhaps not as chatty as your son.”

  Soren squinted. “My son?”

  “Matthew. Or Matty, as Lilah calls him.”

  “Oh right. My son.”

  “You don't seem very concerned about his well-being.” Malek shrugged. “Don't you want to know the condition of his health? Aren't you the least bit curious?”

  “Matthew can take care of himself.”

  Malek shook his head. “You're not him, are you? You're not Sam Wright.”

  “No,” Soren said, “I most certainly am not.”

  “Who are you?” Malek asked. “I demand to speak to the man in charge of this establishment.”

  “Sam is no longer with us.” Soren's grin covered his face. “And who I am isn't important. I am the decision maker here. That's the only thing that matters.”

  “You have a smug way about you, stranger. Not too sure I like it.”

  “What you like doesn't concern me. Now... why don't you take your pathetic, puny army and fuck off back to where you came from.”

  “I was hoping we could settle this amicably. Why don't you surrender and call me Master, and in return I won't butcher your people like slaughterhouse cattle?”

  Soren shook his head. “I don't think you are as menacing as you claim to be. In fact, I think you're nothing more than a few misguided teenagers mourning the loss of your parents in the most bizarre way. You've replaced their guidance with savagery, their love with fear.” Chuckling, Soren folded his arms across his protruding chest. “You don't know the first thing about survival, about how this new world works. You are children living in a matured world. You'll be dead by the end of winter. Guaranteed.”

  “You know nothing about us, stranger. And if you do not let us in and surrender, I will show you how very wrong you are.” Malek squeezed these last few words through his teeth. His fingers clenched his aluminum baseball bat, his knuckles whitening. He threw it over his shoulder for intimidation purposes, but the motion struck no fear into his adversary.

  Soren scoffed. “Your weapons are archaic. You know we have guns. Remember what happened at the pizzeria? I wasn't there, but I heard the rumors. What chance do your bats and pipes and letter openers and whatever else you're harboring in the shadows have against our firepower?”

  Malek licked his lips. “If you don't keep your mouth shut, you'll find out.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for? I'm standing right here. Although, I doubt you have the strength to break through this glass barrier.” Soren pointed to the sliding glass walls, laughing. “No, don't believe you can.”

  “I've never met a wall I couldn't break through.”

  “I'll be waiting,” Soren said, backing away and disappearing down the aisle.

  Malek's eye flickered as his blood sloshed through his veins with immeasurable force. His heart stammered inside his chest. He turned, his joints rattling like they had been seized by winter's chill. Several of his followers backed away when they saw his face.

  “Let's tear this motherfucker down,” he said, his voice shaky and full of ire.

  -6-

  Passing under the zoo's gates, Sam gazed beyond the ticket booth. The place looked abandoned; fliers, maps, popcorn, and other concession stand items littered the walkway. Lights burned brightly in the welcome center ahead. Tina nodded, pointing at the building with her gun.

  “You think Matty's in there?” she asked.

  “It's a place to start.” He pointed at her weapon. “Be careful with that thing. Don't forget what Clay did.”

  She ignored him and continued forward. Moments later they found themselves crouching before the entrance, peeking through the frosted-glass doors.

  “See anything?” Sam asked.

  “Nothing.” She checked her clip. “But the lights are on. So someone must be home.”

  “I'll go first.”

  “Don't be ridiculous.”

  She stood and pushed open the door, immediately scanning the area for flesh-hungry maniacs. Whipping her firearm back and forth, she surveyed each corner of the room. The gun never wavered. Sam followed her, also glancing around the room, hoping to see Matty's unharmed face.

  Not a single soul had taken refuge in the welcome center. Sam walked past a snake-skin display, taking little notice of the scientific factoids posted next to it. There were other exhibits: a stuffed bear with his mouth agape in a ferocious roar; a giant board with pictures of the different bird species in the tri-county
area; a small dinosaur section identifying the species that populated Carver's Grove sixty-five million years ago. Sam paid no attention to these displays, and looked to Tina for direction instead.

  Lowering her weapon, she stared him between the eyes. “Wipe that look off your face. It's only one building.”

  “Let's check behind the doors.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe he's tied up in a closet or something.”

  Tina nodded. There were only two doors in the room. She backed away and strolled over to the closest one. Sam turned and placed his hand on the door knob behind him. Tina poked her head into the small closet, glanced around, and found nothing important: a couple of brooms, a mop, some cleaning products, and a long roll-up garden hose. No prisoners and no Matty.

  “What the hell?” she heard Sam ask from the other side of the room.

  She turned, moving her gun into position. “What is it?” she asked, speeding toward him.

  “Look at this.”

  She broke into a jog and stopped beside him to peek her head into the room. What looked like a mad scientist's secret laboratory stood in front of her. Confused, she entered the room. Sam followed her, and they walked around a table fully of glass bowls with tubes running from them. Unknown scarlet liquids sat in the bottoms of the bowls. Used funnels, bottles, empty cans of paint thinner lay strewn across the table. The chemical fumes were overpowering and after a minute in the room Sam had to cover his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Sam asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Tina said, picking up one of the glass beakers and examining the red liquid clinging to its bottom. “Sam, this is a fucking meth lab.”

  Just as the words left her mouth, they heard footsteps in the doorway.

  “What? Who are you?” a man asked. “How'd you get past the gates?”

  Tina spun around quickly, dropping the beaker on the table and drawing her weapon. “Put your hands where I can see them!”

  The bald man's hands reached for the ceiling. “Don't kill me!”

  Tina approached him cautiously. “You alone?” she asked, peeking around him.