The Colony

by Kathleen Groger

Adam tossed the water bottle back and forth between his hands as if it was a football. “Where are we going?”

  I crushed my bottle. “Where?” I was so tired. My temples throbbed and I rubbed them to ease the pain. “Away from here.”

  “Obviously, but what’s your plan? I mean, when you left me this morning, where were you going? The next town or someplace distant, like New York?” He slipped on the leather jacket.

  “Why does it matter? There isn’t anything anywhere.” I threw the crumpled bottle at the green car.

  “How do you know?” He raised the tone of his voice. “I told you. We’re not the only survivors. There are others like us out there. We need to try to find them.” He paced back and forth, gesturing with his hands. “Maybe then we can get answers to why so many people died, why the others want to kill us, and what the hell those metal things are that are chasing us.”

  With the amount of waving he’d just displayed—not to mention lifting me up—his arm was healing faster than I expected. And he was determined to believe others survived.

  “Where are they then?” I got in his face. “Why haven’t I seen anyone?” I all but spit the words at him. Anger boiled in my veins. I couldn’t explain why I was so mad.

  He stared at me, his green eyes intense. In a calm, flat voice he said, “You’ve seen me.”

  I backed off, walked to the wall, and slid down until I sat on the cold concrete floor. Rain pounded on the windows, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry. I’ve been on my own for so long. How do you know for sure? I mean really know there are others?”

  Adam grabbed a nearby bucket, flipped it over, and sat on it. “The government was sending people to safe havens.”

  I sprang to my feet. “What—where—how do you know?”

  He stared at the floor. “Because I was supposed to be going to one. But that was before…”

  He raised his head. His eyes seemed too shiny. But after I blinked, his eyes were clear.

  I walked the few steps separating us and touched his shoulder. Heat radiated through my palm. I knelt next to him. “What?”

  Silence hung in the air until he finally spoke. “My dad worked for Pearan Chemicals. Right after they found the oil, he told my mom and me to pack a bag with food and supplies. He put us on the safety vehicle heading north from Houston. I think the final destination was a safe house up north, but we only made it to just south of Tulsa.” He paused and stared out the window.

  The silence dragged on and I wanted to fill it, but I refused to be the one to break it. Yet the look on his face tugged at my heart. He continued to gaze outside. What was he seeing in his mind? I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “What happened?” It came out as a whisper.

  Adam ran his hands through his hair, and it left his waves wilder. Untamed. “We ran out of gas. When the vehicle stopped, everyone got off. The area we were in already looked like a ghost town. Some buildings were destroyed. Empty cars sat in the streets. I walked away from the group to see if any of the buildings had food, while everyone else stood around talking trying to come up with a plan when a… Rasper…” He glanced at me. “That’s what you call them, right?”

  I nodded. Maybe trapped alone in a basement hadn’t been so bad.

  “A Rasper came up to them and everyone thought it was cool because he was dressed like a cop. He seemed normal, seemed to be there to help. Seconds later, more Raspers surrounded the group. Everyone screamed and dropped to the ground in what looked like seizures. Mom yelled at me to run…”

  He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “She collapsed to the ground, legs twitching. I tried to help her…” He squared his shoulders and jumped up. “I don’t know what the Raspers are, but I want them dead. They killed my mom. Most likely my dad, too.”

  His story paralleled mine in a number of ways, and I had acted like a nasty witch. Visions of my dad slapping the Glock in my palm played on a continuous loop in my head. I blinked back tears.

  “Where were you going before you found me?” I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “My dad said if anything happened to the first safe haven, I should go to Pennsylvania. He said there’s an underground bunker there. Site R. Ever heard of it?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Is it like Area 51?”

  “No. No aliens. It’s supposed to be a shelter or something. Dad said the government would move there in an emergency. It might be a safe place for us.” He ran his hands across his face and through his hair.

  “You think a safe place exists some—”

  “Ssh.” Adam raced to the garage door, pulled out the gun, swung his left hand up faster than a rocket, and took aim at the front of the building.

  Stunned for a split second by his speed, I regained my focus and yanked out my Glock, following his aim. “What is it?”

  “We’re not alone.”

  4

  Adam crouched below the garage door windows. I crawled forward and flanked the other side. I couldn’t hear anything but the rain pellets dancing on the roof.

  I counted the minutes off in my head. The waiting dragged on and on. After three more counts of sixty, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “What is it? I don’t hear anything.” I tried to speak in a hushed whisper, but it sounded more like I was using a bullhorn.

  Adam gave me a will-you-keep-it-down look, then whispered, “You don’t hear it?”

  “No. What?”

  “Metal scraping the asphalt.”

  Bugs. They had caught up with us. Probably had us surrounded. The garage floor seemed to disappear. I swore I spiraled down ten feet, but my body remained rooted in place. I touched the cool metal of the door to center myself. I wasn’t going to die hiding from the enemy. No more hiding.

  “I need to see what’s out there. We need to know how many we’re up against.” I counted to three, then stood, squishing myself into the corner. I glanced out the windows. Didn’t see any Bugs. I rose onto my tiptoes to check the ground.

  “Well?” Adam’s voice held a note of anxiety.

  “Nothing. Do you still hear—”

  A clanking of metal stopped me cold. But it didn’t sound like the Bugs rubbing their legs together. It was different.

  “I hear it.” I leaned forward until my forehead pressed against the damp glass. Black fur slammed against the other side. My heartbeat shot to warp speed and I screamed, then fell back on my ass.

  Cracks splintered across the glass, like ice breaking.

  “What the hell was that?” Adam aimed the gun at the window. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” I scrambled to my feet.

  Then the barking started. Dogs. It was just dogs.

  “How many are there?”

  I went back to the corner of the cracked window. “There’s a pack of at least ten. A Pit Bull, maybe a Rottweiler, a couple black ones. They might be Labs. I don’t know. Nothing that looks cute and cuddly.”

  I stared out the window. “They must smell us.” The dogs weaved back and forth in front of the windows, their bones protruding under their tight, wet fur.

  “They look hungry.”

  “Uh huh. The Pit Bull must have broken free. There’s part of a chain attached to his collar.”

  As if he knew we were talking about him, the dog cocked his head to the side and bared his teeth. The fur on his back rose as he ran, and slammed into the door. The chain clanged against the pavement. The other dogs barked in a hideous chorus.

  “They’ll draw Raspers to us. We have to get out of here or shut them up.” I tried to keep my voice even, but it sounded little-girlish.

  “We could shoot them.” He said it more calmly than I expected.

  My chest burned. I loved dogs. And even though these were starving savages, they had once been someone’s pet. Like Barney, my beagle. I missed running my hands over his silky, floppy ears. It was my fault he was gone. I hadn’t held him tight enough when the earthquakes started…
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br />   We backed away from the windows.

  “What about the back door?”

  “Let’s go.” Adam grabbed the bike and pushed it while I opened the door. The rain had reduced to a foggy mist.

  “There’s an eight-foot high chain link fence out here. We won’t be able to get the bike over it.”

  One of the black dogs slammed into the cracked front window.

  “There has to be a gate to get the cars in and out.”

  “I doubt any of those cars have moved in years. And even if we can find the gate and open it, the dogs will hear us.” I had to yell over the barking.

  Adam slammed the door shut, blocking some of the canine choir.

  “Now what?” I glanced back at the wall of windows. The dogs still circled. The Pit Bull launched himself at the glass. His chain clanked off the window. More cracks zigzagged across the glass.

  “We get gas for the bike. Then we get the hell out of here before we become dog food.”

  “Or the Raspers show up.”

  “That too.”

  “But we found the only gas station without gas. Think we can get some out of the cars out back?”

  “No.” Adam eyed the suspended car. “But I think we can get some from this one.”

  “How?” Had he lost his mind?

  He picked up the bucket he’d used for a seat and set it on the floor below the car’s gas tank. He snatched a crowbar, a hammer, and a screwdriver from the tools hanging on the wall. “Can you grab one of the plastic chairs?”

  Another dog crashed against the glass.

  I handed him the orange one. He stood on it and stretched his left hand up, gauging the distance.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” I couldn’t keep the squeak out of my voice. “Won’t it explode?”

  “No. There’s no spark. At least I don’t think it will. If we don’t get some gas, we’re going to die. Then again, if it explodes, we die. How would you rather go? Explosion, ripped apart by starving dogs, or Raspers?”

  “God, none of them. I want to live.”

  “Well, this is the only way I see us having a chance.”

  I blew out a long breath. It was logical. Another dog pounded against the strained glass. “Okay. Hurry up.”

  Adam positioned the screwdriver into the car’s metal. “Here goes nothing.”

  Then he hit it. Again, and again, and again.

  He pulled out the screwdriver and inserted the crowbar, then yanked down. A waterfall of gas whooshed into the bucket, but it didn’t mask the constant dog howl.

  “You did it.” Guess it hadn’t been such a crazy plan after all.

  He climbed off the chair, searched the tool counter, and came back brandishing a black plastic funnel. He glanced at the dog pawing the glass. “We’ve got to go. Can you roll the bike over?”

  Adam had me hold the funnel in the bike’s gas tank while he poured the gas. It wasn’t a ton, but it was better than nothing. I tossed the funnel into the empty bucket.

  “Let’s grab the rest of the snacks from the vending machine. We can distract the dogs with the Twinkies.”

  I loaded my arms with junk food.

  One of the black dogs slammed into the shattered glass. A small hole opened.

  “They’re breaking it.” I shoved a bag of popcorn out the hole. The dogs jumped on it. Growls replaced the barking.

  Adam straddled the bike. “Hurry. We’ll toss the food and get the hell out of here.”

  “What if that doesn’t work?”

  “Then it’s back to the original plan. We shoot them.”

  Ah, hell. I hoped it worked. My heart seized thinking about committing dog murder. “All right. Let’s do this.” I cracked the front door open and launched some of the food at the dogs. They tore at it in a frenzy of fur and fangs.

  “Now!”

  Adam gunned the throttle. I tossed the rest of the food at the dogs, ran, and climbed on behind him.

  The Pit Bull raised its head and growled low enough to break my skin out in goose bumps.

  “Go! Go! Go!”

  We rode for what seemed like forever, but was probably only an hour or two. Plenty of time for me to figure out why death was snapping at my heels. I’d broken one of my rules and was now running on luck. Luck that might not hold.

  I finally braved the wind, lifted my head from Adam’s back, and checked out our surroundings. We cruised down a two-lane road flanked by woods and an occasional piece of farmland. A charred church loomed to our left and a cemetery filled the ground beside the church. Some of the gravestones remained upright, while others were broken or ripped from the ground.

  Gravestones. The sight of the gray headstones pierced my heart. At least the people buried here had funerals. Mom and Dad had nothing. No service. No marker. No plaque. I was the only thing left to prove they had even existed.

  My eyes burned. I should have searched for them. Should have left the basement. Should have… I inhaled and blinked back the moisture. I had begged Dad not to go, but his boss had ordered him to work. He’d promised to come back. I hadn’t told them goodbye. That I loved them. Tears slid down my cheeks, despite my refusal to cry.

  I tapped on Adam’s back. He stopped the bike. “Are you okay?”

  I knuckle-rubbed the corners of my eyes. “Yeah. Fine. I just need a break.”

  “Okay. We can check out the house up on the hill.” He pointed to the structure next to the church.

  We rode up the gravel driveway and stopped the bike next to a two-story red brick house. It probably had been the preacher’s—pastor’s—whoever’s. Overgrown grass covered the lawn and a fallen tree blanketed the driveway, which split and curved toward both sides of the house.

  Adam tilted his chin at a three-sided girder antennae towering over the trees. “What’s that for?”

  “No clue. Maybe a TV on steroids?” I hopped off the dirt bike and handed Adam his bag. The loss of his body heat made me shiver. I massaged my backside. “Man. My butt’s numb.”

  A slow smile spread across Adam’s lips. “Yeah. Happens to everyone. Helps if you rub it like you’re doing.”

  A flush of heat shot through my body, all the way to my toes. At least he didn’t offer to rub it for me. “I’m going to check the back.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep guard here.”

  I pulled out my gun and walked around the house, pushing a jungle of weeds out of the way as I went. I almost needed a machete to hack my way through the growth.

  The back yard grew wild and more overgrown than the front. Nothing tamped down. No person, large animal, or Rasper had been anywhere near this place. A pool, complete with green algae and dead leaves, filled a portion of the yard. Huge trees dominated the far side of the house, blocking my view of the other side of the driveway.

  I fought my way back to the front where Adam waited. “Looks good.”

  He pushed the bike toward the steps.

  Saying a prayer, I turned the handle. The door swung open without even a creak. No rancid smells hit me.

  We went into the old, but well-kept house. Adam pushed the bike inside and parked it in the hallway. A staircase rose to the left and the foyer opened to a green-colored living room decorated with floral print couches. Crosses and other religious artifacts decorated the walls. Down the hallway, I got a glimpse of a yellow-countered 1970’s-style kitchen. The stale air gave every indication the place was empty. I wanted to push aside the heavy cream-colored drapes and open the windows to let in fresh air, but the price of freshness wasn’t something I could afford.

  I turned back, one foot poised on the bottom step. “I’m going to check out the upstairs.”

  “Does this place seem creepy to you?” He looked around.

  “Creepy, how?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just feels weird. Like someone’s watching us.”

  “God, I hope it’s not more dogs.”

  “We got lucky back there. I didn’t want to have to shoot those dogs. No, this f
eels different, but I don’t know. I’m not sure…”

  Listening to my own instincts had saved my butt a couple of times these last four months. But could I listen to his too? “You think someone’s in the house?”

  He shrugged. “No. Forget it.”

  I stepped off the stairs. “No, I’m not going to forget it and you shouldn’t either. More times than not, your gut’s right. Follow me upstairs, but come up backward so you can see if someone sneaks up on us. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  We worked our way up the stairs and checked the four rooms. No one anywhere, just empty bedrooms filled with antiques and more religious pieces. I didn’t know what Adam was picking up on, but the house gave me vibes of abandonment. The fact that I was listening to his instincts violated Rule Number One. I pushed the thought aside. I’d tossed Rule Number One away when I jumped on the bike with him the first time.

  “Still feel it?” I leaned over the banister. Empty.

  “Not as much as when we first walked in. But yeah, it’s still there. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Adam led the way back down. “Come on, you need to rest.”

  I did need to rest, but I couldn’t doze off while he was all weirded out and there was still more house to search. “Can you check the basement? If it’s clear, I’ll take a short nap.”

  “Sure.” He opened the door next to the kitchen and glanced back at me, his face still red from the wind. “You coming?”

  “No, I’ll stay here and be a look out.” No way was I voluntarily going in a basement again.

  Adam nodded and disappeared down the steps. I shoved my right hand under my left arm and tapped the gun into the air, counting the seconds.

  He thundered up the stairs carrying a case of bottled water. “This is all I found.”

  “Nice find. We needed more.”

  We entered the kitchen and he dropped the water on the lace-covered table. “Where’s that door go?” Adam walked to a wooden door tucked in a nook of the kitchen, opened it, and went inside. “Holy shit.”

  I had no idea if it was a good holy shit or a bad holy shit. His voice held a note of excitement, but, just in case, I tightened my grip on the Glock. “What?” I followed him into the room and my breath caught.