Julia maneuvers the carrier, aiming it back toward the coast and goes full throttle.
Right before she does, though, he catches a glimpse of something on the monitor. From camera nine. Large, glowing red eyes and an open mouth full of jagged, pointy teeth.
Then they’re moving. He’s not even sure how many knots, though speeding through the water so fast, the coast is directly in front of them in a matter of seconds. Like the Atlantic Ocean is reputed to be, the waters are unruly. They rock the carrier to the point of tipping.
Julia eases back the throttle, then cuts the engines sending them to drift.
But…
Ash tenses. “We’re going in too fast. Reverse.”
“We’re fine.”
So she says, but the carrier is approaching the coast second by second without slowing much, he’s not so sure. If they hit the beach at this speed…
His hands grip the armrests of the seat. He draws in a breath, readying himself for impact.
Then, just when he’s sure shit is about to get real, the carrier slows to a near crawl and they scrape onto the beach a few feet.
He glances at her and she smiles. “Told ya.” She unbuckles and slaps him on the arm. “And you’re supposed to be my fearless leader. Ha!”
She hurries out of the wheelhouse, leaving him to blink at all the sand and rock of America’s east coast.
He doesn’t move for a while. He thinks about the thing that hit them not far from the coast. A giant thing with large, glowing red eyes and so many teeth. He thinks about Ky…
It’s not until Julia shouts for him when he finally moves.
She’s standing near the SUV. A Land Rover.
“Uh, maybe we should turn this thing around so we can get that thing out?”
Julia sighs. “At the time I was trying to save our lives. But yeah. Just hold on to something and I’ll turn us around.” She rushes out of the cargo hold and he leans against the SUV, desperately wanting a cigarette.
He hasn’t truly craved one in a couple years. But now…
No. He promised Ky he wouldn’t ever smoke again and he’s not about to break that promise now.
Ky’s dead, a lurid voice says in his head. You can go back to being you again.
How long has it been since he’s heard that ugly voice? A year or so after he quit? A voice so unlike his own it scares him a little.
Ash shakes his head to clear both the voice and the craving to have a smoke. It works to dislodge the voice, though not the craving.
He pops a tab of gum into his mouth and chews. A habit he’s taken on since he quit, which usually helps.
Not today, though. He still craves the harsh smoke of a cigarette.
The trick is putting it totally out of your mind, he knows. Think about something else or do something else. Anything but light up. Anything but—
The carrier shifts and groans as Julia turns the thing around so they can get the SUV out.
Sand scrapes the bottom. Ash grabs onto the Land Rover, then the carrier jolts to a stop. The engines slow, buzzing to a halt. He walks to the hatch, presses the release button. Air hisses as the seals let go. The hatch splits open to a beach that’s more rocks than sand. Tepid air washes over him. Somewhere nearby, seagulls cry. He presses the ramp button. A buzz sounds and the ramp extends to the beach.
“We’re not at the right location,” Julia says behind him. “Coordinates changed somehow.”
He faces her, frowning. “That’s not possible.”
She shrugs. “Maybe it is. Might’ve had a glitch during updates.”
Ash shakes his head, glances away. “So, where are we?”
“Appalachian Coast. Three hundred miles north of our destination, Lyle’s Port.”
“I’m not going back out in the water with that…whatever the shit that thing is waiting for us.”
Julia snorts. “Same.”
“We drive, then. We’ll stow a few gas cans, just in case there’s no stations on the way.”
She nods. “Let’s do this then.”
THREE
“You couldn’t have found a better road?” Ash chokes down the chunks gathering in his throat. The SUV dips and rocks and leaps, churning his stoMach.
“Look,” Julia says. “It was either this one or the one with all the vagrants.”
He shudders at the thought. Vagrants are the remnants of a past humanity. Although, they’re not quite human.
Rumors shiver through the nation about cannibals. Not only cannibals, but cannibals that become something…different. People change into large wolf-like creatures. They ravage and feast and kill anyone nearby. Even if the person isn’t a threat. Vagrants remind him of an old story his grandma used to tell. One he barely remembers, though will never forget.
Something about a poor beggar that transforms into something grotesque and kills a lot of people. Something of legend. And although he can’t remember what his grandma called the thing, he remembers envisioning a massive wolf-like beast.
Vagrants are said to turn into such beasts. Although he has never seen it in the news or in person. All they’re said to be are ruthless cannibals. People who will rip a baby from a mother’s arms and eat it in front of her.
“Good call,” he says finally, fighting to keep down the vomit as it burns in his throat.
“If you’re gonna puke, at least do so out the window, dude.”
He closes his eyes, nods.
Motion sickness isn’t usually something that gets to him. But then again, he’s been through some crazy shit the past twenty-four hours. Hasn’t slept much at all. All this combined has created a noxious stew. Even the slightest jostle messes with his equilibrium. Well, at least after they drove out of the carrier. So many jostles going on.
He stares ahead, mainly because looking out the side window and seeing the passing foliage and how it shifts, will force him to vomit.
He swallows, and his throat makes a dry click.
“Need to stop and put some gas in,” Julia says. “You gonna make it?”
He nods, not trusting himself to speak, let alone open his mouth right now. She brakes, parks the SUV and turns it off.
“I’ll be right back,” she says. “Just try to relax.” She hands him a bottle of water from the back. “Drink this if you can. A little bit at a time, don’t down it.”
Again, he nods. She climbs out of the SUV and shuts the door, leaving him alone in the vehicle for now. Without all the motion, his stoMach eases a bit. He manages a few, slow, deep breaths and takes a sip of lukewarm water. The water trickles down his throat and he begins to feel better. He lets it settle a moment as Julia opens the rear hatch and drags out one of the gas cans. Then he drinks a little more. A gulp, rather than a sip this time.
He’s about to move onto two gulps of water when Julia shouts, “Ash! The gun!”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Ash glances at the sidemirror just as something large and on all fours darts out the green fauna.
On the backseat, near their sparse collection of bottled water and the tub of ancient bones, rests an assault rifle. Not the latest and greatest model, but it’s come in handy to deter various creatures, either mutations or of natural origin. He grabs the rifle and opens the door to Julia screaming.
Shit.
Ash stumbles out of the SUV, turns the safety off, and runs to the rear of the vehicle in time to see the beast leap on top of Julia. She stabs at it with her knife, blood splashes the ground, spatters onto her, but little damage is happening. It pins her arms down with slender, black claws. Its lizard-like head lowers, mouthful of teeth opening.
He lifts the assault rifle, aims at the green, scaly head and pulls the trigger.
A shrill yelp explodes out of the creature. Blood mists the air, parts of its head blow out in chunky strings. It slumps, and Julia shoves it aside where it plops onto its side, twitching. A pool of blood spreads around its reptilian head.
Julia sits, breathing in gaps for a few seconds. A long
scratch wells blood along the right side of her face, but otherwise she appears unharmed. Just shaken. Ash doesn’t blame her. That thing…
“Took ya long enough,” she manages as she stands.
“Was kind of trying not to puke, but you’re welcome.”
She waves a hand at him and kneels next to the dead creature. “What the hell is it?”
“Looks like a mutation.” He sighs, glances around. “We better put gas in this thing and get to Lyle’s Port.”
Julia doesn’t move as she inspects the creature.
This close, the smell of the thing is almost worse than its looks. Reminds him of the musky stink a garter snake leaves behind. And, although its head and claws are very reptilian, the rest of its body is covered in short, black fur, muscular like a panther.
“Like on land,” Julia whispers, “So in the sea.”
Ash frowns. “What?”
She stands and faces him. “Something my grandpa used to say. ‘Like on land, so in the sea’, which means there are mutations on land and in the oceans. Like what hit us before reaching the coast.”
“I get it,” Ash says. “We should keep moving, though.” He turns around, searching the area, the woods, then looks at her. “There might be more of these things out here.”
“Probably.” She drags the gas can to the driver’s side of the SUV.
Ash opens the flap and unscrews the cap and helps her lift the eight gallon can and insert the nozzle. Before long, gas glugs into the tank. Finished, they stow the empty can next to the four others and gets back into the vehicle.
“Let’s hope we come across a station before we run out of gas completely,” Julia says and keys the ignition.
And so, the jostling returns, though this time, it doesn’t affect Ash much. He sips his water and waits.
After about one hundred and fifty miles in, and with one gas can left, Ash takes over driving while Julia snoozes in her seat. He yawns, weariness really digging in.
If there’s a town up ahead, maybe they’ll need to stop for a night to sleep. Recharge.
Until then, however, all that stretches before him is the crumbling road and trees.
FOUR
Almost three hundred miles gone, and they finally roll into a small town.
“Blaxley,” he mutters, pulling into a tiny gas station that might as well be a relic like the bones in the tub. He gives Julia a gentle shake. “Hey, I’m going to fill up. Hungry?”
Julia jerks awake, sucks in a breath and blinks at him. She wipes a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth and chin and squints out the windshield. “Looks like a lovely establishment, don’t it?”
He chuckles, because it does not. The station is more like a tin shanty than a building at all. The pumps are old, plastic faded and cracked. An elderly, opaque potato chip bag tumbles across the tarmac and catches on a rusty chain-link fence where it flutters in the mild breeze.
It’s dusk, sky the color of healing wounds. And in the gloom the shack station shines bright with light from within.
“They look like they’re open,” Ash says, opening the door.
“Take the gun with you,” Julia says, yawns.
“I’ll be alright.”
“Okay, well, if you get kidnapped by cannibal hillbillies, I’m totally leaving you here.”
Ash raises a dark eyebrow. “Well, that’s reassuring.” He gets out, shuts the door and walks across the small tarmac to the tin shed, shack, shanty, whatever.
There’s a window, but it’s so slathered in grime he can’t see inside. The door is a crooked rectangle of wood with a stainless-steel latch. White light seeps through the varying gaps around the door.
Ash knocks. The door rattles on its hinges. The tin siding creaks.
But no one answers.
He knocks again.
Nothing.
Faint, crackly music plays a tune he hasn’t heard before.
He huffs out a breath, cheeks puffing, and opens the door.
He’s greeted with a wall of smoke that smells vaguely of something green, bordering mildew. He knows exactly what it is and smiles. Brings back memories of his buddies he used to hang out with as a teenager. He never touched the stuff, but they were all about it.
It always happened in Colin’s mom’s basement. They’d all sit on the couch, sometimes playing a video game, sometimes watching anthropology documentaries. He’d be drinking beer while they all got stoned out of their minds. And really, he hadn’t minded. They were a great group of guys. Good friends. And those memories will last forever.
During these times, he also fell in love with anthropology and later prehistoric anthropology. The latter became his passion. To piece together dinosaurs and figure out not only what they looked like, but how they lived and what they ate and origins…a few years out of college he became the most sought after prehistoric anthropologist and paleontologist. With a mix of archeology, paleontology, and anthropology, he’s discovered over fifty new species of dinosaurs in the ten years he’s been doing this.
The profession brought him world renown, but it also cost him his beloved daughter Ky.
The man who kidnapped her and eventually killed her…the man was a competitor who lost to Ash more than once. It wasn’t Ky the man, Gerard, was after, but she was the closest he could get to Ash. The cowardly bastard shot himself before the police broke down his door.
There are times Ash wishes he could kill the son of a bitch again for what he did.
The wall of smoke clears, and he stands in the doorway watching an elderly woman waltzing by herself in front of a warped counter. The rest of the shack is bare, save for a buzzing cooler to the right where what appears to be bottled water is stored. Although, it could be moonshine for all he knows.
This old woman, her hair dangles in silvery strings, which sways as she turns and bobs and turns. Scrawny arms out, as though she’s holding onto an invisible partner. She’s smiling, her lips cracked, and oozing blood mixed with pus. A dark, hairy mole mars the center of her forehead. Her eyes are closed and she’s smiling, blissing out to the wobbly music coming from the room beyond this one. She’s wearing what appears to be a tattered, stained nightgown.
He’s about to back away and leave when she blinks. She stops waltzing, arms lowering to her sides and faces him. Her eyes are the color of cornflowers caught in doughy sockets.
She glances over his shoulder, then around the room as though she has no idea where she is right now.
“Hi,” Ash says. “I was wondering if your pumps work?”
She starts, eyes wide and stares at him. She stares at him for a very long time.
Then, “Yes. You pay per gallon.”
Ash nods. “I know.”
She squints at him. “Do I know you?”
He chuckles, “Not likely. Okay, I’ll go fill up and come back and pay you.”
“You pay now!”
Ash lifts his eyebrows. “Oh. Okay. Um…how much?”
“Ten!”
“Ten dollars?”
The old woman grins, a long, slender finger going toward her hawk-ish nose. She slips the finger, second knuckle deep, and begins rooting around in there. She pulls out a green glob of snot, inspects it carefully, then sticks her finger in her mouth and sucks it clean.
“Um…” Ash isn’t exactly sure what to do here. He’s never had to deal with someone this out of it. “So, I’ll fill up and pay you ten dollars.”
She yanks the finger out of her mouth with a loud smock sound and nods. “Yes, yes. Go, go.”
He doesn’t think twice and hurries back to the SUV and pumps. Julia is leaning against her side, assault rifle cradled in her arms. “Take it they have gas?”
“We’ll see,” he says. “The lady is pretty…out of it.”
Julia sniffs. “I smell weed. You smell weed?”
He cocks a thumb over his shoulder. “Lady of the Station is a stoner. Among other things. Plus side, we get to fill up and only pay her ten bucks.”
/>
Julia sighs. “Must be nice being crazy.”
Ash shrugs. “Bet it has its perks.” He opens the flap, unscrews the cap and inserts the nozzle. Then he lifts the lever the nozzle had been resting on. The pump clanks. Groans. Then it hums to life.
He squeezes the trigger on the nozzle and gas flows into the tank. It clicks off at a little over thirty gallons.
He replaces the nozzle, brings out a ten-dollar bill and walks back to the shack, shed, station, whatever. But the elderly woman is no longer in the store. The wobbly music still plays, but the woman has vanished, perhaps to the next room.
Instead of looking or calling for her, he places the ten-dollar bill on the counter and walks out.
Julia is already in the SUV. He opens the door, hops in and closes the door.
“Well, that was fast,” Julia spouts.
“She was in the other room. I just left the money and walked out.”
“You probably could’ve kept your money. She wouldn’t have ever known. If she’s as stoned as you think.”
Ash keys the ignition. “She’s more than stoned, I’m pretty sure.”
To this, Julia says nothing.
He pulls out of the odd gas station and continues south. They only have about twenty miles until Lyle’s Port.
At least he hopes so.
About five minutes into the drive, Julia falls asleep again.
He sighs and focuses on the broken, dark road ahead.
FIVE
Lyle’s Port is just as large and sprawling as he remembers.
A town, not quite a city, is lit up to the point of obliterating most shadows. It’s a port town. Where fishermen, or what’s left of fishermen these days, deposit their catch. Where deep sea explorers come to rest. Where imports and exports happen.
It’s a business town.
It’s also a drunk town.
Still, it’s where he’s supposed to meet with his employer. The safest place to meet his employer, in other words. Lyle’s Port has a reputation for not only being the drunkest in the east coast, but also the most protected by biological threats, even mutations. Their gates guarded by highly trained men and women. The streets are routinely patrolled by police who both take care of the crime in town and kill anything that manages to sneak in. The police, they’re more like an army.
The Guillotine Page 2