Sparrow Rock

by Nate Kenyon

  I went back to the top of the steps leading to the tunnel. “This room’s clear,” I said, and a moment later Tessa appeared, followed by Sue and then Dan, who closed the door with a soft click. Once shut, it was cleverly disguised with paneling and flush with the rest of the wall. I never would have noticed it if I hadn’t known it was there.

  They put their sacks down and all of us stood in the center of the room, the lantern’s light allowing us to see everything clearly. It was an entirely mundane mudroom, some garden tools hanging from a rack on one wall, more shelves and covered cabinets full of paper towels, leaf bags, some canned goods and other supplies.

  The Geiger counter’s ticking went up a notch, then settled again.

  “That’s the garage,” Sue said, pointing to the door on the right. “The other one leads into the kitchen.”

  “Check for the car first,” Dan said. He was standing a bit straighter than before and looked a little less pale. Maybe the ibuprofen was working. “That’s our way out of here.”

  I nodded, kept the gun up with the flashlight as Sue opened the door, and then I stepped through. The garage had more than enough room for three cars, but there was only one inside now. The black Cherokee sat in the middle bay, dark and silent. It looked clean and in top shape. I smelled oil and tire rubber on top of the deeper stench that still lingered.

  There were no windows in the garage either. I let the light play around and saw nothing out of the ordinary: more tools, a snowblower and riding mower, lawn chemicals, a bicycle. All three doors were closed. They didn’t appear to be cracked or damaged in any way.

  A perfectly normal garage in a perfectly normal house, everything neat and in its place, like a million homes in a thousand different cities and towns. While outside, Rome burns.

  “The keys,” I said, turning back to Sue. “Where are they?”

  “He’d have them on him,” she said. “Or they’d be on his dresser upstairs.”

  I didn’t mention the obvious; where was Grandpa Myers now? I’m sure we were all thinking the same thing. “Okay,” I said. “Am I right in assuming your grandfather would have a backup generator for this place, just like the shelter?”

  She nodded. “It’s all hardwired.”

  “The switch will probably be around here someplace,” I said. “What about his guns?”

  “In the study, in a locked cabinet.”

  “Good. I say we get some lights going, get fully armed, then sweep the house, room by room. Gather what we can and bring it to the Jeep. Let’s be ready to move—”

  We all heard it at the same time; a muffled thud and crash, like dishes falling to the floor, coming from somewhere beyond the mudroom. I put my finger to my lips as Sue switched off the lantern and I pointed the flashlight down, to keep its beam from being seen under the door.

  My heart was pounding again. The darkness closed in on us as I made my way across the mudroom to the door that led to the rest of the house.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I swung the door open onto a vast, echoing space, sweeping the light over a family room with vaulted ceilings, hardwood floors and a line of square, blank windows looking out into the night. The windows all appeared to be intact, thank God—made of safety glass, maybe. The family room was open to a large kitchen on our right, a six-foot-long granite-topped island with five bar stools separating the two spaces.

  A woman was standing behind the kitchen island.

  She held what looked like a piece of shattered china, obviously shocked to see us, her jaw hanging open. I pinned her with the light, brought the gun up and centered it on her chest. The trigger was halfway down before I took a breath, blood thundering in my ears. I had become capable of shooting someone in the blink of an eye. As hard as it would have been to believe just a few short weeks ago, now it hardly surprised me at all.

  “Don’t move,” I said. I swallowed, my throat clicking in the silence. I suddenly felt so dry I could barely speak.

  The woman put the piece of dinner plate down on the counter, then raised her hands in the air, squinting at me. “This your house?” she said. “Sorry about the dishes. I just needed something to eat. Come a long way and I’m hungry.”

  “How’d you get in here?”

  “Front door.” She motioned vaguely over her shoulder. “Mind if I put my hands down now?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet,” I said.

  “Okay, fine, fine. How about lowering that light a bit? It’s in my eyes, and I’ve been operating in the dark long enough for it to hurt.”

  “That’s the point.” But I dropped the flashlight beam away from her face a bit, and she sighed. She wore a knitted gray cap and several layers of grimy clothing, a type of army jacket over long gray pants that looked a size or two too large. She was probably in her fifties, just leaving middle age, not old enough to be frail. She had a kind face, lightly freckled, crow’s-feet around the eyes, and her dark blonde hair was cut short under her cap and starting to gray at the temples.

  She looked enough like my mother to make my stomach churn. For just a moment there, I’d thought…

  I heard a shuffling and a click as Sue switched the lantern back on behind me, and the room was bathed in a soft, cool light. I lowered the flashlight beam to the ground, but kept the gun up and pointed at her.

  “Karin Claus,” she said. “But most people call me Grease Pot.” She tried to smile, but when I didn’t react, the smile died away. Her gaze went from my face to the others behind me, and back again. “What’s with the suits? You guys going on a moonwalk or something?”

  Nobody answered her, and we all stood in awkward silence for a minute. I had no idea what to do next. The woman was jumpy, clearly on edge, her hands trembling, fidgeting on her feet, but that could have been from being caught in a stranger’s house with a gun in her face more than anything else. Still, I didn’t like the situation at all. I should have been feeling euphoria over finding another person alive after all this time, but instead I felt danger thrumming around my head.

  “I’m going to put my hands down now,” the woman said. “Can’t keep ‘em up there forever. Car accident a few years back gives me bad pains, and with the walking I’ve been doing I feel like someone shoved a hot iron up my shorts.” She smiled again, lowering her arms very slowly until they rested on the counter. “Bikram Yoga helps, just so you know.” She squinted at me again. “Why, you’re just kids. Where are your parents?”

  “Gone,” I said. “Is the house safe?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she said. “Why, don’t you live here? I just got here an hour ago myself. Nice place.”

  “We were holed up downstairs,” I said. “You haven’t looked around?”

  “Not much, just poked through the first floor a bit. Too hungry to care. I made it this far, I figure I’m damn lucky. If something’s going to kill me, it’ll come whether I like it or not.”

  “Must be more than luck, Karin.”

  She nodded. “Told you, it’s Grease Pot to my friends. I’m a trail rat, that’s where I got my nickname. Been hiking ever since I was young, I know how to survive out there. Through-hiked the Pacific Trail ten years back. I can live on bark, not that there’s any left, but you know what I mean. Right now you move at night, when things are quiet, hole up during the day.”

  I felt Tessa’s hand on my back. “I think she’s okay,” she whispered against my ear. “You can put the gun down.”

  I lowered the barrel slowly and held the gun at my side. I trusted Tessa’s instincts, but I was still not entirely convinced.

  The others came forward to stand next to me. “Where’d you come from?” Sue asked. She’d turned off the Geiger counter and set it down near the door, and now she held nothing but the lantern and the kitchen knife she’d taken from the shelter.

  “South.” Karin shrugged. “Lived in Colorado for years, came east a few months back to hike the Appalachian. First time I ever hiked alone. My husband Andrew, he thought he was too old to m
ake it, his knees were bad, so I flew to Georgia myself. Got all the way to Maine before…well, you know.” She glanced toward the family room and the windows that looked out over the water. “I was in my tent when the bombs hit. I could hear it, see the sky change. I didn’t know what had happened for sure though, not until I got down from the trail and saw…”

  “Saw what?” I said.

  She looked from face to face, as if searching for something. Her mouth moved in a chewing motion and then stopped. “Everyone was dead.”

  Everyone was dead. I nodded, feeling ridiculous acknowledging such a thing, like it were a commonly understood fact. As if, just by nodding, I’d made it true. And yet, we’d expected that, hadn’t we? It shouldn’t have felt like such a shock.

  “You didn’t see anyone alive at all,” Sue said, her voice flat and quiet.

  “Oh, here and there,” Karin said. “I mean, one or two since I’ve been on the move, but they were either crazy, or…real sick.” She scratched the back of her neck. “When the ash started to fall I found an abandoned cellar and holed up for a bit. There was some bottled water there and cans of food, enough to keep me alive. When it ran out I started hiking the roads. Nobody much left. Saw one man outside of Camden, he lasted a whole day before he went. That was the longest.”

  “But you’re okay,” Dan said. He’d been quiet until now, and I could tell by the tone of his voice he didn’t quite buy Karin Claus’s story. “Why is that?”

  “Lucky, I guess, like I said. I come from hardy stock.” She smiled again quickly, flashing slightly yellowed teeth. Nervous energy was coming off her in waves. “Grew up in the woods of Minnesota, my folks lived off the land, they taught me to be tough. Spare the rod, spoil the child, you know? I learned how to survive.”

  “You see anything else unusual?” I said. “Anything not quite…human?”

  Karin stared at me. “You mean the bugs,” she said. “Sure I did. They’re smart little bastards. Bugs never liked me much though. I was always the one who never got bit on the trail, while others were eaten alive. Sour blood, I guess.”

  “Is that right,” Dan said. “Why don’t you take off your clothes.”

  Karin took a step back. “What’d you say?”

  “Take your clothes off,” Dan said again. “I want to see your skin.”

  “Dan,” Sue said. “I don’t think that’s necessary, is it? She’s harmless.”

  “We need to be sure.”

  “Not gonna do that,” Karin said, her gaze jumping back and forth between us. I saw her face change as she began to digest what Dan had said, the indignity in it. Shock turning to outrage; or was it something else? She’d started twisting her hands together, picking at herself. “Not fair to ask me that. What kind of kids are you, anyway? Take advantage of an old woman just looking to get by.”

  I glanced at Dan. Sue had her hand on his good arm, but he wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t take his eyes off Karin Claus.

  His hand crept to his throat and scratched. I noticed a small red spot on the side of his neck, just above the hazmat suit’s collar, and a chill ran down the length of my body.

  “I survived a lot more than you,” Karin was saying, her voice rising. “I’ll survive long after you’re gone. I’ve seen more than you can imagine, done things I didn’t want to do, but I did them. But I won’t do this. How dare you ask me?”

  “I think my friend just wants to make sure you’re not infected,” I said. I wanted to calm her down, calm everyone down. “You understand? Just trying to be safe.” I kept the gun down, but my finger remained on the trigger. I didn’t like the way this was going at all, the way Dan looked, the feeling in the room of mounting tension, events getting away from us. For all we’d been through, and for all we’d changed, we were still just teenagers, and confronting an adult like this felt like blasphemy. What would we do, now that she’d refused? Force her to strip at gunpoint?

  Dan took a single step forward. He held the mop handle out like a weapon. “I can hear you,” he said. “Inside my head.”

  Oh, shit. I raised the gun, not exactly sure what to do with it. “What do you mean,” I said. My voice shook and I was powerless to stop it.

  Dan glanced at me. “They’re inside her. I can hear the voices.” He took another step, and Karin Claus shrank back away from him, her long shadow cast by the lantern on the move, her entire body beginning to tremble.

  “Not fair,” she said again. “I didn’t ask for this, don’t want it.”

  For a moment Dan’s body blocked my line of sight, and I caught a flash of something off to the side. I turned to the family room, sweeping the flashlight beam across hulking, oversize furniture, a buttoned leather couch and loveseat and two chairs, end tables and lamps and a dark rug. Whatever I thought I’d seen was gone; maybe more shadows dancing in the soft light.

  When I turned back Dan had taken another step and Karin was standing rigid behind the counter, her body vibrating like a tuning fork struck against a hard surface.

  Only a few feet separated them now. She opened her mouth very wide, gagged like a choking bird trying to force a bone out of its gullet.

  “Sorry,” she croaked. “Sorry. It…made me. I didn’t want to…”

  A tear trickled down her cheek before her eyes went dead.

  Moments later, they came for us.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The sound was next, that earsplitting screech torn from her throat like a piece of machinery coming apart. I remembered the same noise Jay had made in the shelter’s kitchen. I remembered the way he grew frantic just before the end, and the sound of his hand slapping Sue’s face, and with that came the memory of his smell, a rank body odor that was more inhuman than it rightly should have been. I smelled it again, only worse.

  This time, the sound Karin made was answered by three more.

  It seemed to surround us, echoing from all sides. At first I thought it came from my friends, but that wasn’t right. It snaked its way into my skull, whispering things I could not understand. It was a horrible sound, alien and wrong, and yet I was drawn to it in a way I could not explain. I sensed myself drifting through a self-induced fog, the world tilting under my feet.

  I hear the voices too…Sometimes they soothe me. Sometimes they try to give me advice. And sometimes they don’t make any sense at all.

  Sue’s scream snapped me out of my trance. Dan swung the wooden handle at Karin Claus’s head as the black cloud began to swirl from her mouth, and I heard the crack of the wood hitting bone and a spray of blood splattering the wooden cabinets, and then I sensed movement again to my left.

  I whirled as a woman with a swollen, bloodied face came at me with her arms up, fingers hooked into claws.

  “Momma!” Sue shouted, lunging past me, the jiggling of the lantern in her hands turning everything into a strobe-lit freak show.

  I raised the gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting the woman in the chest and driving her over the back of the couch.

  “What did you do!” Sue put the lantern on the floor and turned to me, chest heaving and frantic, spittle on her lips. “What did you just do?”

  “She was coming after us,” I said. “They set us up—it was an ambush, she—she was infected.”

  “No.” Sue shook her head, staring at me, a mixture of horror, rage and anguish in her eyes. “Oh my God. No.” She moaned deep in her throat, raised her fist as if to attack me herself, as behind her I watched her mother stand up, climbing back over the couch, blood still pumping in a thick spray from the front of her shirt where her heart would be.

  Her mother’s face betrayed nothing, no emotion, no pain or fear. A machine that had been programmed to kill.

  I remembered my own mother taking me out to the backyard when my father had gone from the house, tacking up a hand-drawn paper sign and showing me how to load and stand with my feet firmly planted, how to exhale before squeezing the trigger gently until the pop. I never knew where she learned to shoot, had
never asked, but I knew why she taught me. Knowing how to handle a gun was supposed to make me feel safer, but it had done just the opposite; it had made the possibility of needing to use it more real.

  I pushed Sue roughly to the ground as her mother’s mouth opened wide, spilling its black contents toward us, and I raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet caught the top of her skull and took a part of it off, exposing a wet gray furrow of brain, and still she kept coming. I fired again, hitting her in the stomach, aware of what I’d done to Sue, taking not just what remained of her boyfriend from her, but now her mother too, a one-man executioner.

  I heard Dan grunt from somewhere but dared not look away as Sue’s mother stopped less than five feet from me, shaking as if she were having a seizure. The black cloud kept pouring from her mouth, and I shouted about our masks, put on your masks, before clamping my own to my face with trembling fingers, yanking the straps into place over my head.

  Sue was on her knees a few feet away when her mother began to shake more violently and the hives opened up across her skin like delicate, blooming flowers, the insects swarming to the surface and then quickly across her flesh, consuming her as they had with Jay. But I did not have time to watch the end, or even make sure Sue had put on her mask, because Dan was shouting frantically now to me for help.

  I spun to find Karin Claus had vanished, probably reduced to bones somewhere behind the kitchen island now that she had spilled her seed, the insects that had eaten her escaping into the cracks in the walls. But Dan and Tessa had been joined by two others, and they were closing in quickly.

  Tessa had put on her mask, but Dan had not. He was bleeding from his right ear. He kept swinging the handle around, trying to keep them at bay, but he was nearly useless with only one good arm.