Washington police found several bodies that had been dismembered, and left lying in pieces near the junction of I-90 and I-5. Authorities said the flesh on most of the separate parts appeared to have bite marks and large portions had apparently been consumed. During the investigation, officers shot and killed a man running down the middle of I-90, who they say approached them, coughing and feverish, and telling wild tales of monsters chasing people down and eating them. Officers said he became combative when they tried to detain him, and refused orders to surrender. A police spokesman said that shots were fired when officers felt their own lives in danger.
Similar reports erupted from Charlotte, one of the epicenters of the disease in the United States. Police say that gun battles flared up in dozens of neighborhoods overnight as residents fought home invasions from diseased intruders. A radio station in the city disputed at least some of those claims, airing statements from witnesses who insisted the attempted break-ins came from, and this is a direct quote, ’creatures right out of your nightmares.’ Officials are playing down such reports, indicating they feel the high fever associated with the infection to be generating not only aggressive feelings, but also hallucinations in those most acutely affected.
This is Charles Ritchfield, reporting.
The radio faded back to the local correspondent with barely a hitch.
This morning, FEMA released a statement telling residents to stay home. Spokesperson Diane Freeman told ABC news that hospitals were already overwhelmed and many were unable to accept new Fever patients. She suggested instead that residents call 911 and let local emergency services respond as they were able. She warned that for many, there would be no medical service available and said residents should take all necessary precautions to secure their home and property during this time of trouble for the nation.
The White House released a statement this afternoon calling on citizens to heed the travel ban and avoid putting additional pressure on authorities. The statement carried the president’s hopes that the disease would pass swiftly and his prayers for those afflicted. Also noted in the press release were plans to set up a nationwide system to deliver food and other supplies to cities and states. The statement indicated that procedures will be promulgated to state and local officials in the coming days.
In local news, the first regional case of the Fever may have come from Nags Head today. EMT’s responded to a call from one Glenda Hawkins, a sixty-four-year-old woman located just north of the National Seashore boundary. Authorities say that Mrs. Hawkins had called in reporting shortness of breath, a persistent cough, and a rising fever. Emergency Services Director, Alan Woods, said that the most troubling aspect of Mrs. Hawkins case came from the question of how she was infected, saying that the woman insisted she had not been out of the county in months. Although she has not been officially diagnosed, her symptoms correspond to those noted with other fever victims. Woods said that other reports of the Fever springing up in isolated areas where none of the victims had previously traveled or been exposed to anyone who had, raised the specter of the disease having one or more animal hosts.
And now on to other news.
Elsie reached over and turned the radio off, leaving the room locked in a stunned silence. I looked around. Every face bore signs of shock.
The tall blonde, whose name still escaped me, put her hand to her mouth.
“Oh my God! They’re eating each other.”
Denise, Joshua’s perennial ponytail girlfriend, shot her an irritated look.
“They? This isn’t a question of us and them. Everyone here could be in the same shape soon. Did you hear what the radio said? ‘One or more animal hosts’--that means we can’t avoid it, even out here. It’s not like we have to be around sick people to get sick. No one knows which animal either.”
She glanced at Devon.
“Feel like drinking a little untreated water now?”
His bony features turned pale.
“If we’re not getting off this island, then we have a lot of work to do,” she continued. “We need a place where we can isolate the sick, not only to keep the disease away from the rest of us, but to keep them away from the rest of us. We need a clean water supply. We need a sustainable food source. We need some kind of organization, and we need it soon.”
Joshua scratched at his growing beard.
“I still don’t think they’ll leave us out here,” he said slowly.
She glared at him.
“Then who is going to come get us, the government? The police? Santa Claus? They have a lot more to worry about than a handful of people stuck out on a deserted island.”
The girl turned on me. “What do you think, Mr. Hill?”
I looked at Elsie.
She smiled smugly.
“Yes, Hill William, what do you think?”
Frustration swelled inside. Not half an hour before, she had been pushing me to take a leading role. Now, she was trying to box me into it. I looked around at the individual faces. As young as they were, none lacked intelligence. I started to point out that fact and tell them they didn’t need my input to figure out what they should do. Somewhere in the mind walk of formulating the thought, the memory of the first time I’d gone sailing with my father surfaced. I hadn’t been stupid either. What I had lacked was knowledge.
Dad had left me to steer while he went below to straighten out the gear and food. The task had seemed simple enough. Raise the sail, catch the wind, and drive. After ten minutes of making virtually no headway, I’d grown frustrated and called for him to come tell me what I was doing wrong.
He had stepped into the cockpit, looked up at the sails, looked back at the tiller and grinned. “You got her in irons.”
My father loved such moments. While the boat inched along as much sideways as forward and barely moving in either direction, he had launched into a long-winded explanation of sail dynamics and the physics of wind.
He grin widened when he saw the confused look on my face.
“It’s simple, William. The wind is pushing her one way. The tiller is driving her back the other way. It’s like hitting the gas in a car with the parking brake engaged. Let off the tiller some and let her gain some headway.”
“But if I do that, we’ll go north, or at least north-east,” I had protested. “We need to go east.”
“Well, in figuring out how to get her going east, you’ll learn to sail,” he had said simply.
The memory faded. I looked up. Every eye in the building stared at me.
I gritted my teeth and nodded at Denise.
“I think you’re right,” I said, and then turned to Elsie. “And I think that was a dirty, underhanded move.”
She grinned. The rest looked confused.
I didn’t feel like explaining. Instead, I rose and stretched. The day had been long, and in many ways, taxing.
“I’m going to bed. Tomorrow morning, I’ll go down to get Zach. I’ll try and raise the Coast Guard, but I’m betting they’ll tell me to bury him here. Tyler will come with me,” I let the sentence trail off and waited for him to nod agreement.
When he did, I looked across the table at the others. “Keith, Devon, you guys look around and see if you can find something we can use to dig a grave. There’s a cemetery over near the house closest to the dock. Pick out a spot and start digging.”
Joshua leaned back in his chair, his face thoughtful. Denise sat near him. Anger still played across her features, along with what might have been a sense of justification.
“You two come with me. I have a jug of bleach on Angel. You can use it to purify the water in the cistern. If I remember right, the ratio for clear water is about a teaspoon per gallon. Elsie can help. She can probably tell you by looking at the tank how many gallons are in it. Just work out the math. “
Kelly sat at the end of the table.
“I’d like to come with you and Tyler in the morning.”
I had no idea how Tyler would react when he saw Zachary’s
body. Having his sister along might prove to the best decision of the evening.
“That’ll be fine. I’ll come get you both when it’s time.”
I pointed to the two remaining girls, the blonde and Jessie, the one who had taken up with Elsie and Daniel so easily at the campfire meeting.
“You two, check out the rest of the houses. The Park Service probably has some equipment stored around here for maintenance. See if you can find anything like that. Take note of anything that might be useful. This place is a museum. We might be desecrating it to put things back into use, but the items on display are the same ones that helped people live here for 200 years.”
I fought back a yawn and ran a hand through my hair.
“Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll take a couple of you to help ferry supplies from the boat to the station. We need to know what we have and how much.”
I ran a hand across my face. It felt stubbly and dirty. I wanted to go to bed. Instead I ticked items off on the fingers of one hand.
“The rest of you can go through the stuff you brought. Let’s lay it all out and take stock. Call your families too. Keep them in the loop. With the disease, the travel ban, and all the weird shit going down, they’re bound to be worried sick.”
Joshua looked up. “We haven’t had a working cell phone in two days.”
“Ours are dead too,” Kelly agreed.
“Elsie has one.” I said.
She grimaced. “It’s on the boat.”
I sighed. “I can charge your phones off Angel’s batteries if you have a charger. If not, I have one in the boat. Use it if you can. Either way, Elsie has a working phone. I have one. There’s no reason everyone here can’t call home tomorrow. As for me, I’m going to find a place to bed down for the night. We have a big day tomorrow.”
Voices broke out behind me. I left them to hash out the days events, and headed out onto the porch. The truth was, I had no place to bed down or bedding for that matter. Nor did I want to sprawl out with them in the big room. The duffel bag I’d packed so hastily that morning lay near the door. I sorted through the odds and ends and pulled out a jacket.
After a miserable day, the night felt warmer and somehow comforting. Rain fell soft and steady with the runoff trickling down the gutters in a quiet little sigh. Across the dunes, the surf still pounded the beach, the waves roaring in, and then hissing when they retreated. The wind had died away to a gentle whisper. What little light existed, spilled out of the windows, and sliced through darkness so deep and profound it felt as if someone had walked through the heavens and bent down to pinch out the stars one by one. Beyond the edge of the porch, I could see nothing, not even the dunes I knew lay less than fifty yards away.
I could hear them through the door, talking, arguing, and their voices rising and falling. I didn’t want to go back inside. Whatever else the night held, it possessed two things the station lacked, silence and solitude. The urge to sleep on the porch hit me so strongly that I reached down and put my hand against the deck. Although the porch was covered, most of it had been soaked by strong winds driving the rain in at a slant. It took a while, but I finally found a dry spot near the very back where the porch ran up under the windows.
Instantly, I knew that would be my bed for the night. I also knew I’d be going back to Angel. Both bunks had sleeping bags spread out across them. Dad had also stored a couple of emergency blankets in one of the forward lockers. I remembered seeing the sleeping bags while talking to the woman from Silver Lake.
In her rush to get out, Elsie evidently hadn’t planned on spending the night. She and Daniel would need bedding as much as I did. The buggy still had enough charge to run the half mile, pick up the gear, and carry me back to the station. The thought triggered another idea. I’d need to grab the windmill while I was there. I had no idea how long it would take to recharge the batteries on the dune buggy, nor if the blades would even turn with the breeze so light. Even so, the buggy was our only form of transportation. Any power generated overnight would be welcome come daylight.
The thought of climbing aboard with Zachary lying in the cockpit had me hesitant even with the decision made. I’d never been skittish or one who believed in ghosts. But the image of his eyes, vacant and staring, and his mouth stretched wide in a silent scream wouldn’t leave my mind. I had no idea whether the expressions were natural for that type of death or not. I just knew, deep down, that the picture ingrained in my memory gave me the willies.
Years before, I’d watched a diabetic friend give himself a shot in the stomach. He had grinned when I winced, and then dared me to do it myself.
“It’s easy,” he had said, “just pinch up a roll of fat and stick it in.”
I’d been at the right age, at that point in life when eating my own excrement would have been easier and less humiliating than backing down from a dare. I’d done it, but not before sitting there for a couple of minutes, sweating, moving the needle close to my skin before pulling it back, knowing it would sting like a bee when I shoved it in, knowing I was going to, but trying to work up the nerve to actually do it.
I felt the same way looking at the buggy.
“What the hell is wrong with you, William?” I asked out loud. “You’re forty-two years old, too old to be scared of the dark.”
The door opened. Daniel stepped out amid a shower of golden light. He pulled the door closed behind him. Darkness sliced back across the porch.
He stood silently, facing me even though I couldn’t make out his features.
“Jesus,” I whispered, too low for him to hear. “This is all I need.”
“Hello, Daniel.” I said louder after gathering my breath.
“Hello, Mr. William. You shouldn’t go to the boat.”
Chills ran up my spine.
“What makes you think I’m going to Angel?”
I could barely make him out in the dim light from the window behind me. He stood unnaturally straight, and still.
He shrugged and thought for a moment.
“If you go back, you will shoot him.”
I rose from the floor of the porch.
“Who?”
“The man who died today,” he said quietly.
“You say some of the strangest things, Daniel.” I told him. “Why would I shoot him? He’s dead. I’m not going back for him. I’m going because our sleeping bags are there, because we need them tonight.”
Daniel sighed.
“He is waiting, Mr. William.”
I stood there, staring at his outline. The door opened again. This time Elsie emerged. She reached out and pulled the boy toward her.
“Go back inside, Daniel. It’s chilly out here. I don’t want you catching cold.”
She waited until he turned and walked back through the door. Then she moved toward me.
“You leave him alone. You hear me? There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s as good a boy as you’ll find.”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with him,” I protested. “But damn, that grandson of yours is creepy.”
She stepped closer. Light from the window flared across her face. Her eyes glinted with anger. “You just remember what I told you. Leave him alone.”
Something snapped inside.
“And you remember this,” I said leaning closer. “I didn’t bring him out here or invite him out. He came on his own. You don’t want him around me, then do your job as his grandmother and keep tabs on him.”
I moved past her and headed for the dune buggy. “Call that blasted judge first thing tomorrow. I don’t give a damn about travel bans. I want you both off my back.”
“Where are you going?” she called after me.
I climbed into the buggy and backed it down the ramp. Shoving the gear shifter into forward, I looked back toward the porch. Her figure stood framed in the light from the window.
“To get you a sleeping bag.”
Chapter VIII - Bad Things
The little buggy had no lights. I drove partly by memor
y, partly by feeling my way along through darkness so dense and black that even the white sand marking the path appeared as a thin, barely discernible line. Kelly and I had made the trip earlier in just a few minutes. It took almost half an hour on the return. Even then, the quiet lap of water against the shore told me I’d reached the bay before I ever saw Angel’s outline.
She had drifted sideways during the storm and lay with her starboard side grounded against the shore. An outgoing tide would leave her sitting high and dry, which happened to be fine with me. Any other time, I might have backed her out a bit, turned her around and dropped an anchor off the bow to keep her pointed toward the water. A stern line secured to something on the island would not only keep her straightened out and let her take any waves on her bow, but essentially lock the boat in place.
Any other night wouldn’t have a body sitting eighteen inches away from the pilot’s seat. I knew nothing about the man I’d fished out of the water. I didn’t need to. The thought of climbing in next to a cold, wet cadaver made my skin crawl. If Angel sat beached the next morning, the chore of removing the body would be easier. The shape of her bottom would leave the boat canted to one side. Within hours the water would be back and she’d be floating. I had no intention of clambering around the boat in the middle of the night, groping for lines and bumping into a dead man at every turn.
The same design that made the boat a poor choice for the open ocean, left her perfectly at home in shallow waters. Aside from simply being stuck, grounding in coastal waters would leave a bigger sailboat heeled over on its side when the tide ran out. Unable to stand on the deep keels that kept them alive in the ocean, they often ended up laid out horizontal until the incoming tide swept over and swamped them. Angel might lean a little, but she would sit just as easily on the bottom as she sat on the water.
With the storms gone, the night lay calm and still, with nothing but the tick of rain drops filtering through the trees and the muted splash of water against fiberglass to break the silence. I sat in the dune buggy for a long time, listening to every sound sliding through the darkness. Twice, the lonely cry of a shore bird echoed across the sound. Here and there, a fish jumped out on the water. The swamp hissed and sighed. Mosquitoes fluttered along my arms and face, and whined noisily in my ears. Nothing sounded strange, or even the least bit unnerving.
The Island - Part 2 (Fallen Earth) Page 6