by Kirk Withrow
Directly over the road, hanging by the neck from the center of the sign, was the nearly mummified corpse of a man—swaying like a cadaverous piñata at a birthday celebration for the damned that had been cancelled indefinitely. Dressed in a dirty, white, short-sleeved shirt and tie, his stringy, white gossamer hair fluttered in the breeze like a windsock. His eyes had been plucked from his head, likely by the very raven that sat protectively atop his shoulder. The handwritten sign around his neck read:
“Behold, the day of the Lord comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land a desolation and to destroy its sinners from it.”
—Isaiah 13:9
Reams pulled to a stop, gaping at the disconcerting scene in stunned silence. He closed his eyes momentarily before driving forward, swerving to the left of the man’s lifeless body. At nearly seven feet wide, the big truck was too wide to maneuver around the suspended corpse. As a result, the driver side mirror collided with the pair of dangling legs, knocking one of its shoes off, and sending the body careening away.
Rebounding from the impact, the lifeless, sock-covered foot swung like a pendulum toward the truck, crashing into the window directly next to Kate’s face. Startled, she let out a shrill, involuntary shriek as she jerked away from the window. In doing so, she landed on Ethan, who sat with his eyes closed, lolling in and out of a light stupor.
“Holy shit! What is it? What the hell’s happening?” Ethan demanded, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Quickly realizing that there was no immediate threat, Ethan tried to marshal Kate’s emotions. “Slow down, take it easy. There’s nothing to worry about,” Ethan said.
Reams cringed when he glanced in the truck’s rearview mirror and saw the man’s suspended remains, twirling and swaying in sync with the displaced raven, as if the two were dancing a waltz at a formal ball. The raven moved forward as the body swung away until gravity interceded to reverse the roles. Throughout the obscene burlesque, the sign flapped lazily in the breeze as though it wanted no part of any of it. It seemed to mock them for even trying to resist the plague, and Reams considered the validity of the sign’s message. I wonder if he’s right? We’ve certainly got plenty of desolation and cruel wrath. But surely even a vengeful God wouldn’t unleash a plague like this?
Aside from the run-in with the pendular prophet, the trip was rather uneventful after the incident at the hotel. While stalled vehicles and other debris periodically blocked their path, none caused any significant delays. Driving in shifts, they stopped as infrequently as possible to relieve themselves and refuel the truck from the gas cans strapped to the roof. Whenever they stopped, the first one out always scrambled up to the roof rack, where he or she dutifully scanned the surrounding area for any sign of danger. On the rare occasions when any of them found sleep, they did so within the safety—and discomfort—of the H2. Despite the cramped confines of its interior, none of them were eager to venture too far from the truck and risk another close call like that experienced at the hotel.
With the only radio stations still broadcasting playing looped recordings of the State’s emergency broadcast system and the sole CD in the truck being a country Christmas anthology, the four survivors found very little with which to pass the time. What little conversation they engaged in nearly always triggered a deluge of painful memories of times before the plague. The dour atmosphere that inevitably filled the cab proved far more painful than the boredom they were trying to chase away.
Reams half-jokingly proposed an off-color variation of a game he and his brother played on long car rides as a kid. When they would go on trips, they would see who could count the most cows before they reached their final destination. Not having seen a single cow since the start of their expedition, Reams said, “Let’s see who can count the most revs. The winner gets an all-expense-paid trip to Disney World.” Any interest in the perverse game died off quickly when they encountered a prodigious group of over one hundred revs. Like a plague of locusts, the horde blotted out the horizon as they streamed over a low rise, pouring into the shallow gulley below.
The Hummer idled one hundred yards away. Ethan, who was behind the wheel, asked, “You see them up ahead? What should we do?”
From the back seat, John said, “I think we should see where they’re heading. I’d say there are over one hundred in that group, and until now, we’ve barely seen ten total in the last few days. I’ll check the map to see if there is a large enough town nearby to account for a group that size. Either way, I think it’s safest to sit tight and see what they do. Agreed?”
There were indifferent nods all around.
“I guess the other question is: why are they on the move? As far as I know those things don’t just decide to go out for a leisurely Sunday stroll,” Reams said.
“It’s Sunday?” asked Kate. Her question was answered with three pairs of incredulous eyes. “Sorry, I was just wondering what day of the week it is,” she added.
After pulling off to the side of the road, Ethan crawled into a prone position on the roof rack. Through his binoculars, he observed the shambling movement of the infected mass. At first he saw the hideous conglomeration as a single entity, creeping forward with the colubrine movements of a colossal basilisk. As he watched longer, however, he began to see the individual ataxic subunits that comprised the larger monster—each rev like one of the serpent’s vertebrae. In much the same way that a single drop of water posed no real threat, Ethan knew that a single rev was of little consequence. On the other hand, if enough drops of water—or revs—combined, they could form a tidal wave capable of massive destruction. Instinctively, he held his breath as he followed the meandering, serpentine line.
Ethan’s gaze settled on a lone figure staggering approximately twenty feet ahead of the horde, walking with the distinct chorea he had come to associate with LNV infection. Although it was difficult to ascertain all of the details at this distance, Ethan noticed additional signs of infection.
The man was shirtless and the bones of his left forearm were clearly visible where the flesh and muscle were missing. His gaunt face was filthy, streaked with all manner of blood and grime. Nestled in the squalid mask, the man’s eyes blazed with a brightness that was completely incongruous with the rest of him.
Additionally, Ethan swore the man kept shooting furtive glances over his shoulder at the approaching horde. It’s almost like he’s keeping tabs on the revs behind him, as though he’s leading them.
Astonished by the sight, Ethan called for John to come up and have a look. “You need to see this. I’m not sure what the hell it is. It’s like some sort of half-rev mutant or something,” Ethan said as he handed John the binoculars. “Check out the guy just ahead of the pack.”
John did as Ethan asked, but did not immediately see what was causing him such alarm.
“Keep watching him,” Ethan said.
Soon John noticed hints of purposeful movement as well; mostly head movements and carefully planned foot placements. When the man turned and stared directly at John, he thought he saw both fear and vitality in his eyes.
“He’s not infected! At least not like the others!” John exclaimed. His gaze locked on the man leading the group, like some infernal pied piper of the damned.
The man stepped up his pace, widening the gap between him and the pursuing revs. When there was approximately fifty feet of separation, the man did the most bizarre thing they had seen thus far—he stopped.
Stepping out of the trajectory of the oncoming horde, the strange man went completely still. To John, it looked as though he was simply accepting his fate at the hands of the monster snaking toward him. He watched in amazement as the cortège of revs filed past the motionless man without paying him the slightest attention. Despite being within arm’s reach of the revs shuffling past, the man inexplicably became invisible while still remaining in plain view. Once the last of the horde moved beyond him a safe distance, the man crept back onto the road cautiously before ambling back in the direction from
which he came.
“What the hell is going on? The revs just walked right past him as though he wasn’t even there, like Ezzard, except that guy looks like one of them,” John said incredulously. His entire worldview, already redefined by the plague, came under fire in that instant. A thousand questions swam through his head, each vying for answers that did not exist. How can he possess traits of both the infected and uninfected? It’s almost like the infection started to take hold and then stopped, leaving some human abilities intact. How did he go unnoticed by the infected swarm? Where did he come from, what was he doing, and where was he going now?
Handing the binoculars back to Ethan, John said, “We have to follow him and see where he is heading. We need answers.”
The two men scrambled down from the H2’s roof. They tailed the gnarled man as he loped along the road, taking care to stay back far enough to remain out of sight. Ethan drove while John kept the binoculars trained on the man, noting that he intermittently glanced over his shoulder as he walked.
“Stop!” John exclaimed, his eyes still pressed against the glass of the binoculars. “I think he sees us.”
The man had done an about-face and now stood unsteadily in the middle of the road as he scanned the surroundings. Instinctively, John surveyed the area as well, looking for any sign of what had triggered the strange man’s alarm. All of a sudden, with a degree of speed not typically seen in the infected, the man slipped off the side of the road and disappeared from view.
“Shit! He’s on the move. I lost him,” John said. Still seeing no sign of imminent danger, he considered whether the action was proactive rather than reactive. That possibility further added to the confusion the man had introduced into John’s current understanding of the world. What the hell was this guy?
“What should we do now? I saw where he stepped off the road. We could drive a little closer, but then we’d have to go on foot,” John said.
“I don’t like it. What if it’s a trap? I mean, we don’t know who or what this guy is. Maybe he’s the next generation: rev 2.0. It’s too risky,” Reams said from the backseat.
“You’re right,” John said. “We know shit all about this guy, which is why we have to follow him. Think about it. A big part of why we are alive today is because of what we learned about these things. If the rules have changed, we damn well need to know it if we are going to maximize our chances of surviving. What was that Sun Tzu shit you told us about knowing your enemy, Ethan?”
Ethan nodded in agreement with John’s logic, but Reams remained skeptical. “I see your point, but there’s got to be another way. It just seems too risky, traipsing off into the woods after some mystery rev on his way to who the hell knows what,” Reams said. “Maybe he’s going to some A-list rev-only party. Ever think about that?” John’s mind flashed back to a dream in which he found himself at a black tie affair, surrounded by elite sophisticates that turned out to be bloodthirsty revs. By the time he realized what was happening, he found himself inexplicably incorporated into a grotesque human hors d’oeuvre, eagerly sought after by the revs closing in from all sides.
From the seat next to him, Kate spoke up. None of them noticed her studying the map as they discussed the situation. “We’re here, near mile marker sixty. There’s not much off the interstate in the direction you saw the man go, aside from a country club a mile or so away. Do you think he may be headed there?”
Reams was scarcely able to conceal his disbelief at the notion that a rev was making choices at all, let alone that it was choosing to go to a country club. “Sure. I could stand to bang out a quick nine! Let’s hit the links!” guffawed the big man. “Surely you guys can’t be serious! If that thing is heading for the country club, it’s only because there’s food there. REVS DON’T GOLF! They don’t think—they just react.”
John was unsure if Reams truly believed that there was no way a rev could retain some degree of mental capacity, or if he merely needed to believe that in order to accept the madness. The idea of thinking revs was more horrifying than anything he could imagine. Truthfully, John was not even sure what he believed anymore.
Ignoring Reams’ sarcastic comments about her suggestion, Kate said, “Reams, I’m pretty sure revs shouldn’t exist at all, nor should they be able to do much of what I’ve seen them do in the last month—but they do. Now I don’t know who or what these two saw either, but I agree we need to find out. That said, if we are going to follow this guy, I think we should split up.”
Reams threw his head back in frustration before saying, “Here we go again! Haven’t you guys seen a single horror movie ever? That’s what always happens right before somebody gets their face eaten off!”
“Let me guess,” John said, “it’s usually the black guy that gets it first.”
Thrusting his hand out in John’s direction as if to acknowledge the truth in his words, Reams said, “Thank you!”
With a broad, toothy smile that looked strangely sincere despite the chasmal defect above, Ethan said, “Don’t worry, big guy, it’s not so bad.”
Reams immediately felt embarrassed by his poor choice of words. “Shit, Ethan. I’m sorry. I didn’t think…” Reams said, at a loss for words.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ethan said with a slight chuckle. Even as he spoke, he and John were already getting out of the truck, having decided that they would tail the strange man while Reams and Kate guarded the truck.
17
October 24, 2015
Lowndes County, AL
Kate informed them that the Shady Oaks Country Club was located about a mile and a half north of the interstate according to the map. Ethan estimated they could cover that distance in an hour or so while still maintaining some degree of stealth. Add one to two hours for scouting the area as well as another hour for the return hike, and they estimated the whole trip would take roughly four hours barring any obstacles.
Kate and Reams planned to stay with the truck, which they parked amidst a group of abandoned vehicles along the interstate. Aside from the fact that none of the doors were left open, the truck blended in fairly well thanks to the grime it had accumulated during their travels.
John and Ethan moved around to the truck’s undersized bed to don their gear. Although they only expected to be gone for a few hours, they knew that nothing ever went as planned and loaded out accordingly. Each man was armed with a rifle, a sidearm, and a melee weapon. They also carried food and water, as well as assorted survival gear. Ethan felt the preparations were a good idea, as they were unsure of what they would find on their hike through the woods. They both checked to ensure their respective load was quiet and carried well.
After applying camouflage paint, Ethan bid Reams and Kate farewell, and slipped into the forest.
John gave them a terse nod before turning to follow Ethan into the wilderness. He felt his pulse quicken when he did not see Ethan, who blended seamlessly with his surroundings after dropping into a low crouch just beyond the forest edge. His concealment was so good, in fact, that John did not see him until he signaled to indicate his location.
The air remained cool despite the midday sun, as the two men moved silently through the sparse autumn underbrush beneath the woodland canopy. Much as it had been since the start of the plague, the world was eerily quiet. John had become accustomed to the lack of noise caused by people and the modern way of life, but he found the conspicuous lack of natural sounds unsettling. An unpleasant sense of déjà vu overcame him as he recalled a similar sonic void outside of Al Forrester’s house. Then, as now, the sounds of animals typically so abundant were absent.
The strange half-rev moved carelessly, making no attempt to conceal his tracks. Ethan picked up on his trail with ease. After following him for nearly an hour, Ethan raised his fist and dropped to one knee.
John noiselessly moved into position next to him. His eyes followed Ethan’s outstretched finger, and he saw what had caught his attention. The ground before them was littered with empty container
s of camping fuel, automotive starter fluid, and all manner of junk food packaging. John stared in confusion at the large stone covered with dozens of crushed batteries in the middle of the trash. What the hell is going on here?
While some of the items did not look out of place at the typical derelict post-apocalyptic campsite, John could not fathom what the batteries and starter fluid had been used for. Maybe they were components for some sort of explosive or Molotov cocktail. Maybe they were just used to start a fire. As they surveyed the scene, the low sound of voices could be heard in the distance. Gazing around, John half expected to see the specter of the campsite’s former occupant weaving through the trees. Instead, he saw nothing.
Listening intently, Ethan got a directional fix on the faint, lilting voices that sounded like off-key singing. The two men stalked silently through the rubbish, Ethan in the lead. As he was clearing the minefield of refuse, John stepped on a patch of dead leaves, still wet with morning dew.
Ker-clunk!
The noise of the previously concealed, empty metal container denting in and popping out resonated through the quiet forest. Both men dropped down instantly, motionless as they waited for any response to the noise. After a couple of minutes with no apparent repercussion, they padded toward the growing sound of voices ahead.
A brighter area in the forest ahead signaled a break in the woodland canopy. Wordlessly, Ethan relayed this to John, who acknowledged. When they reached the tree line at the edge of the clearing, they saw that it opened up onto one of the golf course’s derelict greens. The yellow flag hung limply on the pin that was rapidly being overtaken by the untended Bermuda grass. Beyond the similarly overgrown fairway that stretched into the distance, they saw the outlines of several small buildings of the former country club.