Of Sudden Origin - Part 4 The Crucible

by Harwood, C. Chase

  “It would do to tighten up a bit too,” said Jon, “We don’t want to get too spread out. Strays make easy targets.”

  The single file shrunk up after that and they continued to listen to the sounds of the forest, occasionally getting spooked and unconsciously reaching out to make contact with the person in front.

  They stopped every mile or so to take a breather and sip some water, until three hours later when they reached the firebreak. This zone of low scrub was perhaps 50 meters wide and though it offered the southern forest a reprieve from a fire from the North or visa-versa, the nature of the fire bombing campaign insured that both sides of the border were equally destroyed. Nevertheless, the path itself was relatively free of fallen debris; the low grasses and shrubs had burned but didn’t act as an obstruction. Nikki decided to show the team a different pace of walking, one that had found efficiency with foot travelers over the eons and long success for marathoners; they would run-walk-run.

  “In this scrub we can make an eighteen minute mile by jogging for thirty-seconds followed by walking for sixty then jogging for thirty more and so on. We’ll take a break every mile.”

  Ben said, “Twelve miles or so from here to the Moscow dam.”

  “That’s four to five hours,” added Tran. He looked at Teddy and then Amanda.

  Teddy whispered to his sister. “I’ve seen you run around for ten hours straight when you’re excited about something.” He glanced at his father. “Dad’s already pretty pooped from carrying you for the last mile. You can do this. I know it.”

  Amanda turned to her father. “Daddy, are you tired?”

  “I’m okay, Doll.”

  “I can make it on my own. I’ve got stronger legs than Teddy.” Teddy started to challenge that notion, then realized that he’d won his argument.

  Nikki said, “Okay, Amanda sets the pace with me out front. Mr. Tran, you take the rear with Jon.”

  They hadn’t even made the first mile before Nikki quickly held up a hand to halt them. Twenty yards in front of them was a paved road running north/south. In the middle of the road was a loan Fiend kneeling amongst a small herd of deer. The deer were all dead, their body positions suggesting that they were cooked alive. The Fiend, a skinny looking middle aged male covered in several nasty burns itself, was tearing into the roasted flank of a young buck with the edge of a sharp hunk of rock. A dozen crows stood nearby. One was brave enough to hop forward and stick its beak in at the fresh kill before the Fiend barked at it like a jackal.

  Ben stepped to the front of the group and leveled his shotgun.

  “No,” whispered Nikki, pushing the barrel down, “Fire that thing… Who knows how many are out there.”

  Everyone glanced at the misty woods without taking an eye off the Fiend. The wounded creature looked up and hissed at the sound of Nikki's voice, then feverishly dove back into its meal, pulling off a hunk with its teeth and chewing loudly with a lip smacking open mouth.

  Jon said, “Clearly it’s more interested in that dead deer than us. I say we cut off some meat ourselves and skirt our way around the thing. It looks like it’s in pretty bad shape. Its left leg looks mostly cooked too." Jon realized that he was reducing the infected man to the level of some asexual alien creature. "I bet he can barely walk, much less run.”

  They steered a wide path around the savage looking man. Tran, Nikki and Jon kept their guns trained on it, while Steven, Ben and Christie cut off thigh meat from two of the dead animals. The meat had been baked as though in an oven and came away from the bone with the ease of a rotisserie chicken. The Fiend continued to ignore them as it feasted away. Jog-walk-jog was suddenly energized with more incentive.

  When they had put at least a mile between them and the Fiend, the small band stopped again and ate. Despite the way it had come off the bone, the meat was lean and a bit tough to chew. No one complained. Even the children gorged themselves. None of them had had red meat of any kind in some time.

  With bellies full, they continued on. The firebreak revealed all manner of burned animals that had run to it for refuge. Using the foil blanket for a cache, they collected more meat to provision themselves for later. There were several human remains as well. Everyone prayed or hoped in their own way, that they had been infected people and not the healthy.

  The food gave everyone new strength. The only person having trouble was Rick Decker. His shoulder was back in its socket, but the ligaments were still bruised. For him, each landing on his right foot in particular was an agonizing jolt.

  They stopped at a brook for water. It was coated in ash and floating bits of charcoal and other debris, but by spreading the ashes way from the surface they were able to get to it. Crouching and kneeling over the water, they looked like apes on the veldt, repeatedly looking up, glancing around. They refilled the lifejacket/canteen and decontaminated it with the last of the pilot’s emergency water treatment pills and moved on.

  After five hours, they reached a clearing with a view of the Kennebec River and the northwest side of Moscow. The bulk of the village was obscured by burned forest, but a small hydroelectric dam stood out below. It had a single generator building, which appeared to be still intact on the far side of the river. The river continued to flow through the dam’s sluice and they could hear the sound of the generator working all by its diligent self. High-tension wires led out from it, north and south, and Nikki and Jon found their thoughts racing back to their incarceration and escape from the fools back in Stratton.

  Ben said, “Beyond the tree line over there is the Canada Road. Moscow village is just down to the right, Bingham just south of them. There’s a fair amount of folks that lived in Bingham. No telling about demons, but Lord knows they had their fair share of sinners. Canada Road follows the Kennebec for a fair piece up to The Forks anyway, then away from water. Next town up the way from here is Caratunk. Mother-in-law lives in Caratunk.” As he said this he spit on the ground.

  Aaron not being able to help himself from sticking it to the Jesus lover, said, “Demons and sinners aside, we should check the town for some staples, right?”

  They all looked to Susan who found herself in charge again. “Well, clearly we are not going to walk to Canada with our current food supply as it is. It would be good to find some sort of portable shelter or at least some blankets. Of course a working motor vehicle or two wouldn’t hurt.”

  They could see the road pretty well. It was clogged with burned abandoned cars and trucks. The final push out of the country had turned into the greatest gridlock in history. For most people it was easier to walk.

  Decker said, “No way we’re going to be driving up that road, even if we find a working anything.”

  Nikki spoke up, “May I make a suggestion, Ma’am?”

  “Susan.”

  “Sorry, Susan. The generating plant or whatever it is over there seems like a good place to rest up. We could probably break in and use it for shelter. It’s far enough back from anything to be able to keep an eye out for an ambush. I say we go over there, make ourselves at home. Then Jon and I, and maybe Ben, can scout out the town and see what we see.”

  Susan looked at the others. “Anyone got a problem with that idea?” No one spoke up. “It’s settled then. Lead on Nikki.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Home Sweet Home

  The dam’s transformer building had a large sign on the door explaining the dangers of the high voltage within and was backed up by the sound of a steady hum. There was also a thick brass padlock on a heavy hasp. They couldn’t shoot it off. The noise would be like ringing a dinner bell. They tried a nearby rock first, but the banging made a loud metal echo after each beat and they all winced while looking around like frightened rabbits. The lock was built to discourage just this kind of assault and after several tries the rock just broke apart in Jon’s hands. There was nothing lying around for leverage and so they all stared at the door with defeated frustration.

  Susan said, “Maybe we go with plan B.”
>
  “Which is?” asked Aaron, his voice trembling with accusation.

  “That house over by the road didn’t burn. Maybe there’s food. It’s not near any other houses. It’s certainly shelter.”

  The rain had picked up in intensity and the group looked pretty miserable. Amanda shivered against her father. Teddy made it look like he was trying to warm her from the other side, but really he was just trying to warm himself.

  Nikki said, “Houses are hard to defend. Lots of ways to break in.”

  They took a vote and agreed to check out the house. The dammed up river behind it and the open road in front of it, had allowed its roof to avoid the storm of embers that had laid waste to the few other buildings they could see.

  Nikki, Jon and Ben went first with the rest of the group hanging back a hundred feet or so. The dam was narrow and therefore more easily defended. Should things go south, the plan was to run there and make a stand.

  If one avoided looking at the decimation that surrounded it, the house was charming enough in a weather-stained sort of way. It was a simple two-story affair with the upper level mostly devoted to a steeply sloped galvanized steel roof. It had a separate garage that had burned. There was no evidence of a car inside. There was a much abused lawn tractor parked in the center of the front lawn and a laundry line was fixed between two posts on the side.

  The windows appeared to be intact and the scouts were feeling hopeful until they reached the front. The door stood wide open. Certainly an invitation to any infected taking shelter. Nikki went in first, followed by Jon, then Ben. The men followed Nikki's lead on how to clear a room. Jon was happily surprised that house clearing was second nature to him. It was common sense, really – enter cautiously.

  It was a small house with a simple layout, living room, den, kitchen, dining and lavatory. Judging from the photos of generations of families that lined the central hall, it was a grandparent’s house. A framed crocheted “Home Sweet Home” completed the picture. Jon ducked as a fly made a beeline toward his face and then continued out the door.

  When Nikki took the first step to go upstairs, it gave out a tremendous creek and they all winced, pointing their weapons at the landing above. No mad drooling grandmas came rushing from any doors. They stayed in a line as they moved up, their guns covering the upper banister, the spaces between the spindles offering them a view of all of the doors; two were closed, one was open. They chose the open door first and Nikki stepped back almost immediately with revulsion on her face.

  “Christ, I’ll never get used to that.”

  Jon looked past her and saw the remains of a blood bath on a queen size bed. It was difficult to make out the details of the gruesome scene; primarily dried blood and mixed up bones. Two skulls with part of their faces and most of their grey hair intact, said grandma and grandpa were long digested by now. Even the flies had finished their work, with only a scattered few buzzing about – the bulk of them were piled on the windowsills, dead from starvation.

  A check of the other rooms found nothing more than a second bedroom, sewing room, bath and an attic space of sorts. The Fiends had come and gone. Ben found a note on the dresser of the master bedroom.

  Darling Ones,

  Your Grampy and I have chosen to go with God. We know that in his mercy he will forgive us the sin of taking our own lives. We are too old to run from this holocaust and prefer to remember the world as it was before.

  Know that we love you all so very much and we pray that you will have time left on this earth to enjoy the wonders that it can still offer. May you remain safe and sound. Should that not be possible, know that we will be waiting for you on the other side. May the world know peace once more.

  Love,

  Grammy

  On the floor an empty bottle of sleeping pills and two empty pints of whiskey showed the choice of exit. They closed the bedroom door, giving the couple back their tomb. A check of the kitchen revealed a working refrigerator stocked with mold-covered vegetables and assorted pickled condiments. The cabinets were thinly but evenly stocked with canned foods, rice and dried pasta. There was plenty to eat. Apparently, the healthy who had rushed past this place in their urgency to get out, had given it no thought.

  Ben fetched the rest of the group while Jon and Nikki took lookout, pulling down the window shades and closing the front door. Just for the heck of it, he picked up the telephone to see if there was a dial tone. It was an odd sensation to pick up a phone and hear nothing on the line. The hunk of plastic, which had always represented life at the other end, was just a dead thing now, like the town, like the whole country. It made him sad and he wished that he hadn’t touched it.

  They ate well to the point of bloated bellies and then everyone decided to make camp in the living room. The upstairs and its terrible tale kept them all downstairs anyway. Only the people on watch would use the rooms up there, the view being better. Though there was daylight left, it was decided that it would be prudent, given their exhaustion, that they sleep in the house for one night. There was no knowing where or when they would find shelter like this again. The adults took turns on watch. Two would sit in the windows upstairs that faced up and down the road. It would change every two hours so there would be no chance of someone nodding off.

  The night came and went without incident, and, in the early dawn hours, they all gathered for breakfast. Christy and Tran decided on a contest: who could make the tastiest breakfast treat with the limited ingredients on hand? It was agreed that Christy’s Bisquick muffins with diced cornichon pickles and raisins were surprisingly good. Tran’s rice cakes with ketchup… not so much.

  With the meal complete, they forced themselves back to reality.

  “Obviously a vehicle or two would be very helpful,” said Aaron. “Without the competition from other desperate drivers, we might be able to weave our way around a lot of the mess out there.”

  “I hate to break it to you, buddy,” said Decker, “but did you look at the offerings on the lot? Fireball dominoes seems to have put the transportation option off the table.”

  “Don’t be such a pessimist, Rick. We could still find something, just like we found this house.”

  Susan, choosing to ignore this exchange said, “It couldn’t hurt to have some more clothes.”

  Tran paced the room. “Well, the clothes in this house might fit a few of us, but if we assume that there’s no transportation option, and we’re going to be on the road for several days, we could use some camping gear, back packs to carry food, tents, cook stove.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes, “Since we’re apparently indulging in fantasy, let’s just head on over to Camping World. I’m sure every Maine town has one.”

  Ben said, without irony, “Only store around here is down the road in Bingham. General store, but I’m sure it’s cleaned out. Good chance of meeting demons in a big town like that.”

  Jon smiled at Ben’s parochialism and said, “We hunt for a car or two, hopefully with full tanks of gas. We find that and we’re on our way.”

  “We could ride bikes,” said Teddy.

  Jon smiled, “Not a bad idea, sport. If we can’t find a powered vehicle, we’ll round up some pedals.”

  “He doesn’t like to be called sport,” said Amanda. “It’s condescending.”

  Everyone chuckled at this and Jon apologized. “Sorry, Teddy. It’s still a good idea.”

  Jon and Nikki volunteered again for the scouting mission. They decided that Ben and his shotgun were put to better use protecting the house and the others. Tran would join them instead.

  A search of the house turned up no further guns. Apparently not everyone in Maine packed heat. They did discover that Grampy had been a sword collector. On one wall of the den, a glass display case showed off a wide assortment of blades from different eras. Susan, who dabbled in antiquities, was impressed at the possible value of the objects. Jon was impressed with a Civil War era cavalry saber and strapped its scabbard around hi
s waist. Everyone, including the children, chose to arm themselves. It almost seemed quaint, people walking around with swords, but in reality, given the close combat nature of a Fiend attack, a sword was potentially a damn good weapon.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Scout

  Though he knew it made him look like a walking cliché, Tran felt surprisingly more confident with the Japanese Katana strapped to his back. This blade was shorter than a traditional Samurai sword and he decided it was probably used by some kind of Ninja. With the pilot’s pistol in one hand and the sword in the other, he felt like he could take down any number of Fiends. “Hey Aaron, check it out. I’m Snake Eyes from GI Joe.” His old video-gaming partner looked at him like he’d just stepped off a spaceship.

  His feeling of invincibility lasted about twenty-seconds after he, Nikki and Jon departed from the confines of the house and safety in numbers. Being out in the open again was a stomach churning experience. It was as though the very air itself was watching him.

  It was still raining outside, but the visibility had improved. The rain had grown heavy overnight, so much so that at one point it sounded like the roof might cave in with the weight of it. The benefit being that it had so thoroughly soaked the still smoldering forests that the fog and smoke had completely dissipated. The storm had finally slacked off some in the pre-dawn hours and had switched over to a steady cold shower as the three scouts made their way outside. The ground was spongy and muddy and they had to move onto the road itself in order to walk with ease. The homes left and right were burned to their foundations and the air was filled with the smell of damp charcoal, burned plastic and ozone. As most were heated with propane, many of the houses were literally blown to pieces. Some of the big high-pressure tanks had been installed too close. They had exploded with remarkable power, littering the road with assorted debris.

  The scouts observed no useable vehicles, the abandoned and wrecked ones instead blending in with the old rusted hulks that were already part of the landscape.