“I told you to leave me,” he argued. “I’m done. Just help me with this one last cigarette. My hands are useless now.”
“We have to go!”
“I doubt that,” he said. “The alien ship is moving, takin’ that rift with it. They probably won’t even see us when she does go. They could be miles away by then.”
As Mr. Wilson lazily put most of his weight on me and draped his arms over my shoulders, I looked up. The ship really was moving, and it was moving fast, already miles away. Best of all, the crackling, dark power of the rift was moving with it, but I felt a sense of urgency again when I saw shadows, possibly a few dark shapes emerging. “Brian, we have to go. It’s not good to be out here in the open like this, easy prey. Let’s go.”
Half-stumbling, half-running, we made our way to a vehicle in the distance, but it was only the front end of one, in a pile of wreckage. Frustrated, I threw Brian down, ignoring his whimpering, his low cries of pain. Seconds later, I found a damaged car, its sides crumpled and its windshield cracked, but the keys were in it, and we had no time to be picky. I was thrilled when the engine of the old Dodge turned over. I quickly backed it closer to Brian and threw him in on the torn sheets. I glanced down and saw that we had half a tank of gas.
We headed south, away from the carnage, away from the heartbreak of my old life, away from my wife, my kids, and my hometown. All I ever knew and held dear were gone. As we sped away, I could only think of them, as well as a kind, old, gray-haired lady, sitting in the bloody grass, her life slowly trickling out, her husband blown to pieces around her by her own hand.
I knew that my time was short, that eventually, the dead or the aliens would get me, but there was an added level of misery in not knowing why. Maybe Brian’s theories are true. Maybe they really do want to wipe out all life here and somehow use their science and us to obtain an afterlife. As I pondered that, I realized it did not matter to me anymore. I had lost everything and everyone, and the only thing that mattered was the anger burning inside me. It ate at me, devouring my pain, the tiredness, the fatigue.
Nonetheless, if there was any way to strike back at the aliens, the man who could figure it out was slumped over in the seat beside me, all torn up, with his hands smashed and his glasses askew. He appeared to be unconscious again, with no care about where he was going or what was happening around him. For all I knew, he thought it was all just an exercise for his mind, a hallucination, that none of it was really happening, and in that moment, I envied him.
As we bounded over the highways, I slowed at each vehicle, hoping we could upgrade, but I had little luck. Most were broken beyond repair or were entirely out of gas. When our gas gauge finally fell to the E, I headed into a small town just off the highway. I had seen a few dead along the way, but that was hours earlier, and I was sure they couldn’t move as fast as we could, so I felt confident that we could safely fuel up somewhere.
I did not even know for sure what state we were in, as I’d stopped paying attention to the road signs. I figured we were still in Ohio, close to the Kentucky border. The place we pulled into was a one-traffic light village. Like everywhere else, the power was off, and there were no pedestrians milling about. On the main street, there was a park on one side and a row of buildings and businesses on the other.
Brian’s eyes flicked open, but he just stared out the window and said nothing. The hellish stress had taken its toll, and neither of us felt like engaging in any conversation.
I edged into town, moving slowly, and no one, living or dead, seemed to notice. The doors were all ajar, the windows smashed, and a pillar of smoke wafted up over the tree line, but I assumed it was some inferno miles away. Here and there were black messes on the streets, places where I hoped the dead met their end.
“This truck’s just about done,” I said. “We either need to find shelter or another vehicle. You think you could do any of the driving?” I asked with a yawn.
He gave me no answer.
“If not, we need to hole up someplace with more than one exit, in case we are set upon tonight. I’ve got to rest before I drive any farther,” I explained, pulling into a parking spot. I killed the engine, and it chugged a few times until it stopped. Even though it was cool out, I rolled the windows down. Outside, there was only silence, not even the sounds of insects or birds.
I drank a full bottle of water and made Brian drink one too. We were unarmed but hungry, so we headed to a nearby diner, a small building with perhaps ten tables. Silently, we moved to the large window and peered inside. It was probably once a cheerful gathering place for the locals, but now, the tables near the counter were knocked down, and I saw a body or two lying on the checkered floor, so we decided to go elsewhere.
Our next stop was a dollar store, easily double the size of the diner. Its doors were ripped off the hinges, so we quickly entered. There were no bodies there, and the aisles were stocked with the normal cheap things people bought in such establishments: candy, detergent, school supplies, and inexpensive clothing. We stuck together, moving slowly through the store, filling a shopping basket with necessities, but Brian was unable to help, as his hands were cracked and blue and beyond use.
“Look,” I said, pointing at some stairs that led up to the office that overlooked the sales floor. “Stay here.”
Brian nodded but still said nothing.
I crept up the stairs, darting my eyes around, and I found the office unlocked. Inside, there was a desk, with a computer and phone on top of it, and there was an employee schedule on the wall. I noticed another door that led to the rooftop, and the windows gave a clear view of the entire store. “Perfect,” I said, then hurried back down to fetch Brian and our goods.
Once Brian was situated safely in the office, I went outside and looked around until I found a working car with keys in it. It was an added bonus that the thing had a full tank of gas, and it was a small car that would likely get good mileage. I parked it behind the dollar store and hurried back inside, glad that we had found transportation and a place to stay for the night. If anything came, we would see or hear them long before they got to us, and it would be easy enough to sneak out onto the roof and use the ladders I put there to descend to the car.
We dined on potato chips, peanuts, potted meat, and trail mix, and we washed it down with pop. I stacked sheets and thin blankets together to form a makeshift bed. It felt good to be inside, protected, as if we’d regained some of our humanity and vitality. Sleep found me almost instantly, my fatigue far more powerful than my grieving thoughts about what happened to Isabella, Dennis, and my wife and children.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up. I dressed in clean, dark clothes from the store and went up to the roof. I scanned the skies but saw nothing, and there was nothing moving below either.
Back inside, the air reeked of cigarettes, and while I had no idea how he managed to light one with his crippled hand, at least I knew my sleepover buddy was awake. “Brian, how are you?” I asked quietly. “Think you can make it a few more days?” I knew he’d been off his medication for a while, and I wondered if he was still seeing and hearing things.
He sighed, then coughed a bit, with a disconcerting wheeze. “Yeah, with your help. We have to stop at a gas station tomorrow and load up on the cigs. I found a lighter downstairs, but they don’t sell packs here, and I’m runnin’ short. Also, I could use some coffee. Maybe I can rig something up,” he replied.
Wonderful, I thought. The world is collapsing around us, and everyone I’ve ever cared about is dead, and he’s worried about smokes and coffee.
I settled down for the rest of the night, but I couldn’t fall asleep so easily again. As I listened to Brian’s heavy breathing, I saw the faces of my wife in the darkness, my Sue and Andrew and Jenny. I imagined every one of my co-workers, as well as Dennis and Isabella, only to realize they were nothing both memories now, all dead. Sadness engulfed me, and tears flowed down my cheeks, soaking the pile of sweatshirts I’d formed into a
pillow. I had not done much with my life, but I always thought my family was happy and content. We paid our bills on time and enjoyed each other as much as we could. I was a simple man, certainly no hero, no great leader, but it was a life I loved, and now I was angry that it had been snatched away from me and my loved ones.
Somehow, the aliens in those shiny ships pulled our dead back with their superior science, ruined everything just so they could study and replicate it for themselves. Everyone I’d ever said goodbye to over the years was gone, only to be brought back in the cruelest way, from my grandparents to my aunts and uncles. The aliens stole heaven from them, took away their death rights. I had never been a devout man, and I’d seldom darkened the door of any church, but I did wonder where I would go when I died. Will I just pass on and then be sucked back here for my data to put into some rod file to be studied by the aliens? It was all beyond me.
We had driven hundreds of miles, and we had seen no signs of conflict or military intervention, not one shell hole or nuclear blast, no first responders or ambulances or fire trucks or police cruisers, no indication that any humans had tried to fight them. How can we? We were deprived of all we relied on: electricity, communication, and knowledge, attacked by the hordes of dead streaming out of the rifts. We could not fight it.
Still, I was sure there had to be other survivors like us, scattered throughout the world, either very lucky or in places so remote that the aliens hadn’t found them let. I did not know if they had to draw back all our dead to finish their study or if they were going about it systematically for some other reason. I knew nothing except that I had to head south and find an island or some secluded area cut off from the rest of the mainland so the dead could not get to us. Certainly we could live on what was left behind: A superstore would support the two of us for a long time before the food in it spoiled. The canned goods would last for years, the dry foods not quite as long, but it was a plan, and it was all I had to hold on to.
Underneath my thoughts and the daily scramble to feed, clothe, and move, a feeling grew. Anger bubbled within me, a brewing storm of hatred, swirling in the depths of me. I didn’t let it rise; I couldn’t, or it would easily take over. I knew it was powerful, and I thought I might need it at some later point in time. I thought that maybe my vengeance would be best fueled by rage, if I ever had the opportunity to use it.
I turned and looked at Brian and found him snoring again. I knew he was the key. He knew why the aliens were coming; “They came for our dead,” he wisely surmised. He explained to me on that very first day that they were collecting the souls of our deceased. He had tried to take some of that intelligence for himself, through that rod, and he had paid a high price for it. Perhaps he can figure out a way to fight back, even if it’s not against the entire fleet or even one of those seamless silver ships. If we could just take out one more alien, I’d be willing to take that chance. If we can find a way, I’ll let that anger boil over, and damn, if I won’t take great delight in killing one of those space bastards before the energy from the saucer vaporizes me. Even just one would be enough, enough to let me sleep.
When the sun came up, I greeted it on the rooftop. I thought I heard noises during the night, but it turned out to nothing, just tin sheeting banging against a wall in the morning wind. I scanned the skies on all sides of us but saw no ships. It was like a Hollywood set before a shoot, just buildings and vegetation, with no movement or noise whatsoever. But this epic War of the Worlds isn’t going to have a happy ending, I feared.
I woke Brian up, and we scavenged through more buildings. I loaded the subcompact car with all we collected: two shotguns and ample ammo from a gun shop, cartons of cigarettes and pop from a gas station, and canned and boxed, well-preserved food from a mini-mart. I also filled the back seat with water jugs, cleaned Brian up the best I could and helped him into some fresh clothes, then turned the key and headed south.
As we drove, I realized that Brian was faring worse than I thought. His body was not healing, and I wished Isabella was still with us, so she could tend to him. Within a short time, his fresh clothing was already soiled, soaked with blood, and his bandaged hands were red, sore, and swollen. Still, he smiled as he puffed a cigarette with one of those destroyed hands and held a tin cup of hot coffee in the other. He didn’t seem to mind anything as the wind blew in from the window and through his sand-colored hair. Things were fine in his world; he had his creature comforts and finally, with the drugs out of his body, he could think.
We were no longer being chased and had time. I maneuvered around the stopped cars and trucks overturned on the freeway. I was getting pretty good at stunt driving, but it was still an eerie sensation to be surrounded by such nothingness. I tried to play a few stolen CDs now and then, but the music sounded hollow, and I was always worried I might attract unwanted attention, so the jam sessions never lasted long.
“So,” I started, “do you think the aliens are gone now? I haven’t seen anything in a while. Maybe they’ve got all the info they need. Hell, maybe they were destroyed by the evolved humans they brought back. That was quite a war back there,” I said, hoping to get him talking.
“I don’t know,” Brian replied, turning my way and flashing his toothy grin, his blue eyes flashing, relishing that someone needed his wisdom. “They probably turned off the rifts so they don’t draw any more of those advanced humans, at least till they find a way to overcome ‘em. I figure they continued with it as far as they could, but if they can get data on the evolved humans, who knows how far they could progress? Instead of our dead, they’ll now want to know how we evolve, what we turn into over eons and such. Can you imagine, with their science, them evolving five or ten steps from what they are now after they die? What the hell might they turn into? I can easily see ‘em controlling the whole damn Milky Way within a century or less, molding it into whatever they want. Then they’ll spread out beyond our galaxy. It would be fantastic to see ‘em run the permutations. I’d give anything to be in the room with them while they figure it all out. They gotta be super excited about the prospect of their future now,” he said, actually sounding gleeful, as if Dennis’s accusations were right. He cupped his coffee between his legs and reached for another cigarette. “Yeah, that’d be somethin’,” he said, as if he was proud of the destroyers of Earth and human life as we knew it.
“There has to be a way to fight back,” I pushed, in spite of his fandom, “to take out at least another one if we see them on the ground.”
“I doubt it.”
“We have to try, Brian. We owe it to all the people they’ve killed. They’ve slain our entire race, taken our dead and brought back billions, ripping people out of life and death. It isn’t fair. What gives them the right? Somehow…” I trialed off, my measly mind unable to conjure up a solution.
“Yeah, well, I been thinkin’ about that,” Brian finally retorted. He had a great deal of trouble lighting a fresh cigarette with his hands, which were now blunt, bandaged instruments. He tossed the bent smoke out the window and reached for another, well aware that we had over fifty cartons in the trunk and access to many more if we stopped at another gas station, a limitless supply of everything. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it actually. It’s all got to do with those rifts.”
“Huh? Do you mean…?” I sat forward, looked around, and pulled the car over on the highway, eager to hear what else he had to say.
I turned off the engine, and we both got out and stretched, then urinated into the tree line. Above us, small clouds failed to shields us from the torturing sun. I was sure we were in Georgia somewhere, and we were getting closer to the equator, so the days were warmer and a bit longer. I gave Brian a bottle of water, but I had to open it for him, since his hands were useless for much of anything beyond holding light objects. The closer I stood to him, the worse he smelled, with the stink of death and rotting meat. In the car, it was part of the reason I kept the windows open all the time, but standing next to him under the trees, the s
trong odor pelted my nostrils. I knew some sort of fungus was growing in his hands, some bacteria or something awful. I coated them with antibiotic cream when I bandaged them, but every time I saw them, they seemed more swollen and red and hot, and more and more greenish-yellow pus oozed from them every time.
“Look…” he said, then guzzled some water. Half of it ran down his face, wetting his shirt. “We need to find one of those rifts, somehow contact the far-evolved humans, maybe even go through it. This world here is toast. We might be able to survive here for a while, if the dead are gone and the aliens have found somethin’ better to do, but we’ll have to keep moving, and resources will eventually rot or run out. If we go into one of them rifts though…” He paused for effect and seemed delighted when I leaned in close to hear the rest. “See, they’re pullin’ our dead from several times and places, right?” he continued. “They’re bringing back humans at various stages of evolvement. Imagine dyin’ and movin’ on to some other planet or plane, whatever you want to call it. Each time you die, you go to a new one, but you also evolve, gaining wisdom and power, so you can be something new the next time. Somehow, the aliens screwed up, and their rifts started pulling people from all those different planes. I guess they didn’t know about the many lives we have.”
I paused. “Go through a rift? What the hell are we supposed to do once we get there? Convince some nonhuman thing to come back here and fight? I’m not even sure they are two-way things,” I said, realizing that it sounded like a really bad plan from a real madman.
Brian smiled, sat back down in the car, and leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes for another nap. “Not we. You,” he muttered.
“Wait…what?” I said, leaning in.
“I’m done, sonny boy. Gangrene’s eatin’ me up. It took everything outta me just to go out there and take a piss. My hands are dead, and I can no longer feel them. It’ll have to be you, Peter.”
They came for our dead Page 10