The Colony

by Kathleen Groger

  “I will.” I didn’t want to, but I was lighter than Adam, and I wanted him to hold the one end.

  We stretched the ladder out as long as it would go and dropped it across the gap. The ladder just spanned the distance with only a foot on each side to spare. Crap. The other side wouldn’t be sturdy without someone holding it.

  “Ready?” Adam squatted and clutched the ladder’s ends in his hands.

  No. I blew out a breath and tightened the single strap on my bag. Maybe Megan was right and we should stay on this side. Thoughts of the bridge incident in the mountain made my hands slick. I wiped them on my jeans. “Let’s do this.”

  I crouched and slid past Adam’s chest as he let go of one side. I tried not to think about my butt being in front of his face or how my backpack could slip and knock me off balance. I tried not to think about how far down the chasm went. I tried and failed.

  My cheeks flamed at the thought of him staring at my butt. Again. My back muscles twitched and the bag slipped an inch. The scent of dirt and metal drifted around the ladder. The chasm dropped at least three stories into the dank earth.

  Right hand and knee forward. Then the left. Right again. I focused on the movements of my body and not the slight sway of the ladder. The ladder was the only thing separating me from certain death.

  Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

  I looked down.

  The sight threw off my balance and my knee slipped to the side a fraction too far. I clutched the sides of the ladder with all my strength as my body slammed forward and my chest crashed into the supports. I struggled to recover my position.

  “Val, are you okay?” Megan’s voice screeched.

  I didn’t move.

  “Val?”

  “I’m all right. Gimme a sec—” I moved slowly and deliberately until I was back on all fours. I licked my lips and continued my crawl across the abyss of darkness. When I was about six feet away from the edge, the ladder shifted again.

  “Hold on. I have it!” Adam yelled. I pictured him straining to keep the ladder in place. This time I was thankful he’d been stung and had a little extra strength.

  He steadied the ladder. “Go ahead.”

  A few more rungs and then I was the rest of the way across. Once on solid ground, I took off my bag and flopped onto my back, staring at the darkening sky. My chest rose and fell in rapid succession. I needed to calm down. I’d done it. I’d made it.

  “Sorry. It slipped.” Adam said.

  “It’s okay.” I stood and gripped the edge of the ladder, holding it tight. “Megan, come on.”

  Megan looked like a cat, crossing the gap with perfect balance. Within a few minutes, she was safe next to me.

  “Nice.”

  Megan blew out a breath of air. “Thanks. Those eight years of gymnastics finally paid off.”

  Adam’s progress across the ladder was slow and deliberate. Eight feet to go. Six feet. He was almost there when the other end shifted and slipped from the edge of the ground.

  “Son of—”

  “Adam, Hurry up.” Megan dropped to her knees and helped me keep the ladder steady.

  His hands reached my end. The ladder swayed to the right and he lost his grip.

  I clamped my hands down on his wrists.

  “Oh my God.” Megan fought to keep her hold on the shifting metal.

  “Hang on.” I tightened my grip, but my boots scooted forward. I couldn’t hold him. “Megan, forget the ladder. Grab my ankles.”

  She released the makeshift bridge. It completed its final sway and then dropped away. Adam slammed against the dirt edge of the ravine.

  “Shit.” He struggled to pull himself up.

  Megan yanked on my ankles. I kept slipping forward. We were losing. I called on any extra strength the sting had given me and pulled. Hard. Fast.

  “Come on. Come on.” I wasn’t sure if I said the words aloud or chanted them in my head.

  Adam tightened his grip and almost ripped my shoulders from their sockets.

  At an agonizingly slow rate, Adam inched closer. Sweat moistened every crevice of my body, but there was no way I was letting him go. One final yank and his chest reached solid ground. He scurried past the edge and collapsed on the dirt. Megan and I released our grips and doubled over, gasping for breath.

  “Thanks.” Adam panted. “It looked easier in my mind.”

  “No problem.”

  “That blew.” Megan stood and offered me her hand. I took it, picked up my bag, and we both helped Adam to his feet.

  “Hopefully, the chasm spans across the world and cuts us off from the Raspers.” And the Bug in my bag is the only one on this side.

  “That’d be awesome, but I doubt it.” Megan’s voice sounded dark and depressed.

  Adam looked at the sky. “It’s going to be night soon. I think we should start looking for a place to hide.”

  “Preferably one with food.” Megan ran her hand across her stomach.

  The only sound we heard during the next hour of walking on the cracked asphalt was the birds, twittering an off-tune song. The country road turned into four lanes littered with cars. They all had keys, but no gas. Just our dumb luck.

  Megan pointed. “What’s that?”

  A group of vehicles decked out in camouflage sat in a precise line on the road and screamed military convoy. A flipped-over tour bus rested half-on, half-off the pavement.

  Adam stopped walking.

  I drew the Glock. “What is it?”

  He didn’t answer me and his face clouded over with an expression I couldn’t read.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  He didn’t respond.

  I glanced at Megan. She shrugged her shoulders and pulled her gun from her waist pouch.

  “Adam?” she whispered.

  He started walking again. I pointed for Megan to take his left side and I came up on his right. I had no idea what he was doing. I didn’t hear anything, and no smells beside nature’s normal perfume reached my nose. Whatever he saw or sensed, it couldn’t be good.

  We reached the line of military vehicles. Army vehicles carried extra gas, didn’t they? I zeroed in on the Humvee in the middle of the pack. Adam kept walking toward the bus. I tilted my head and Megan followed him.

  A rumbling noise tore through the bird song. “What’s that?” I tightened my grip on the gun.

  “Vehicles.” Megan whispered.

  “Shit. We need to hide.” I ran, grabbed her arm, and moved toward the bus. “Adam, come on. We can duck in here.” I let go of Megan and pulled Adam by the hand.

  A few of the bus’s windows were broken, but most were still in place. I pried at the door and managed to jimmy it open. The roar of the engines grew louder and louder.

  “Faster. Get in.” Megan pushed on my back.

  I dropped into the sideways bus and hit the driver’s seat, climbed over it and out of the way. Adam and Megan scrambled in and walked over the glass windows, working their way over the seats. I moved back to the door and pushed the close lever. It wouldn’t budge.

  The engines got closer and closer. We had to get the door shut.

  “Help me pull it back.” Adam and I managed to tug it closed. We crawled over the fabric seats and peeked out the half-shattered windshield. A cloud of dirt rolled down the road. Oh, God. We aimed our guns out the busted window.

  “What do you think it is?” Megan said, just loud enough for us to hear.

  “Ssh.” Adam tilted his head. “It’s got to be a lot of cars. Maybe they’re here to rescue us.”

  “Not with our luck,” I mumbled, and wiped my upper lip on my sleeve.

  “Get ready. Here they come.” Adam’s back stiffened and he leaned closer to the window.

  The engine noise grew to a deafening level. Then the trucks drove past. Twelve black courier-type trucks. Twelve trucks driven by twelve yellow-skinned Raspers.

  22

  “Did you see—”

  “I think—” I stopped whisper
ing when the Bug made a hushed version of its song. I wasn’t sure if the Bug was being quiet or if the backpack muffled it. Either way, the Raspers might hear.

  Megan pushed over a stack of pillows and blankets from the next seat. “Cover it.”

  I buried the bag at the bottom of the pile, but I could still hear it.

  “Shit.” Adam gave the pile a quick glance, his gaze full of anger and worry.

  The last truck in the convoy stopped. The Rasper left the engine idling and climbed from the driver’s seat.

  Megan gasped. Her hand flew to cover her mouth.

  The Rasper had a rifle in his hand. Not only did they have vehicles, they had weapons too. The rest of the vehicles screeched to a stop and the Raspers got out. Twelve total. The armed Raspers walked like trained soldiers and formed a semi-circle on the bus’s side.

  We were toast.

  The closest Rasper made a few head bobbing motions that made me think he was sniffing the air. Smelling for the Bug. For us. Crap.

  The Raspers all turned together, like a choreographed dance move, and sniffed.

  My heart thumped and I swore I could hear Adam’s and Megan’s pounding. I rubbed the smooth trigger of the Glock. I longed to pull it, but we were outnumbered. Outgunned.

  The Raspers looked right at the bus. This was it. They had caught our scent or heard the Bug. Maybe I should have killed it when Megan wanted me to. One of the Raspers took a step closer.

  I shifted to the right an inch to keep him in my gun sight. “Leave. Leave. Leave.” I meant to say the words in my head, but I whispered them instead. Stupid.

  The Rasper that stepped forward suddenly moved back into the formation. All the Raspers turned in unison and looked right, then left. Seconds passed with no movement, then they all got back into their trucks and drove away.

  No way. I let out a breath of air that sounded five times louder than it was.

  “That was close.” Megan put her gun on her thigh.

  The Bug gave a long, loud squeal.

  Then it went silent, the thudding in my chest the only thing I heard. Rivulets of sweat rolled down my back and into the waistband of my jeans. I pulled my shirt away from my skin and a chill replaced the sweat. A chill that had nothing to do with the rising temperature in the bus.

  I uncovered my bag and pulled out the jar.

  “Give that to me. I’m going to shoot it. They heard it. We almost died because of the damned thing.” Megan tapped the muzzle of her gun on her jeans.

  “No.”

  “Val’s right. We can’t shoot it. No extra noise.” Adam slumped down in the sideways seat. “We should just stay here tonight.”

  Megan looked on the verge of tears. “What if they come back? More of them will be out when it’s dark.”

  “I say we stay.” Adam lifted one of his fingers. “First, it’s almost night and we have no idea where the next shelter will be.” He lifted another. “Second, I don’t think they’ll be back. At least, not tonight.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” Megan’s voice shrilled.

  We needed to calm her down or the Raspers might hear. “If they knew we were here, they would have attacked. I think Adam’s right. We’re safe tonight. I vote we stay here.”

  “Fine.” Megan grabbed a blanket and pillow from the one seat and curled into another seat toward the back of the bus. “Sorry. I’m just so scared.”

  I crawled into the seat next to her. “Me too. Me too.”

  Adam dropped a blanket and pillow on me, and sat on Megan’s other side.

  I clicked on my flashlight. “You were awfully quiet before the trucks came.”

  He didn’t look at me. “They were attacked.”

  “Who was? What do you mean?”

  “The bus was transporting families of important people to a safe place. They were escorted by the military.” Adam said in the voice he used when he told me about his mother. “And they were attacked and killed by a band of Raspers. Maybe even the ones we just saw.”

  “How can you know that?” Megan frowned and her eyebrows almost touched each other.

  “Because it’s the exact same scene as the one I ran away from before I found Val.”

  The air rushed from my lungs and my entire body broke out in goose bumps. He hadn’t told me he was part of a military convoy. Who was he?

  “Why were you part of an armed military escort?” I whispered.

  “Because of my dad’s job as a scientist for Pearan Chemicals. They were funded by the government. About a month before they announced they’d found the oil, my dad started getting weird. I asked him what was going on and he told me, ‘There’s something wrong. They won’t listen. All they care about is making money.’ He put in long hours and one night mumbled something about the data being crazy. How it was too thick. More like tar than oil. Within hours of the Great Discovery announcement, he called my mom and told her he had been right. They had lost the oil platform in the middle of the Gulf. He then had my mom and me pack a bag with food and supplies. He put us on a bus for families of ‘important’ people. We were supposed to…” He trailed off and seemed to get lost in his memories.

  Anger spiraled around in my stomach churning up the burning acid. “How do the Raspers and Bugs fit in? Aliens and oil? It makes no sense.” I stomped my foot like a child, so tired of this whole thing.

  “I don’t know how or where the Raspers and Bugs came from—”

  “Do you think these convoys were specifically targeted by the Raspers?” Megan turned to Adam.

  He just stared at the seats rubbing his wrist, so I answered her. “I don’t know. It seemed they went for anybody they could get. I don’t think they targeted anyone in particular.”

  Except me. They targeted me. Heaviness pushed down on my chest with the weight of an elephant.

  “There’s something else.” Adam said, his gaze now fixed on the dark window.

  “What?” I barely said the word.

  “They marked me.”

  “Who marked you? The Raspers? How?” I balled my fist. What was he talking about? Had they put a tracking device on him somehow? Maybe that was how they kept finding us.

  “No. Not the Raspers. The military.”

  I had no idea if that was better or worse.

  “What?” Megan yelled.

  “Not so loud.” I shot her a look and she narrowed her eyes in return. The jar was quiet in my bag, but we didn’t need her yelling and the Raspers returning.

  “My wrist. They inserted something in my wrist before we left. They did it to everyone who got on the bus. It hurt for days. Now there’s barely a mark.”

  “Do you think that’s why you didn’t react to the Rasper sting?” Megan pulled the blanket up to her chin even though it had to be eighty degrees in the bus.

  “No, I mean, everyone else died. My mom turned into a Rasper, for God’s sake.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “I don’t have anything implanted in my wrist.” I touched my rules. They were barely there now.

  “I think it was something for when we reached the safe place.” Adam’s voice sounded distant.

  Scenes from old movies ran through my head. “I bet they did it to be able to identify those who could enter the safe center. If you don’t have the tag or whatever it is, you can’t get in.”

  “To get inside Site R, we might need your wrist.” Megan said.

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t leave kids outside fighting for their lives while they were safe inside.” At least I didn’t think they would. That would be—cruel.

  Megan shivered despite the heat. “Creepy ass shit. Can you feel whatever it is?”

  Adam ran his hand across his wrist. “No. That part freaks me out. I mean is it an ID tag or a vaccine that obviously didn’t work?”

  Something he said pulled at me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

  “Would you have trusted me if I told you my dad might have been partially r
esponsible for what happened?”

  I picked at my ripped and dirty nails. “Good point. The thing in your wrist? Want me to try to cut it out?”

  He turned with a look of horror across his face. “No, thanks, even though you did a great job bandaging my bullet wound.”

  “You were shot? Who shot you?” Megan’s eyes grew wide and round.

  Adam made a noise that was a cross between a snort and a laugh. “Val.”

  Megan’s mouth dropped open. “No way, really?”

  Adam nodded and I shrugged.

  “You’ll have to tell me the story later. Why do you think you two weren’t affected by the sting?”

  We were affected. “I don’t know.”

  “You know, my dad acted funny and was super excited when you guys showed up.” Megan said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember I said he was really interested in you two being left-handed?”

  “Think that’s the link? That we’re both lefties?” I tried not to laugh. The thought had wedged itself in my head back at the home improvement store. “The hand we write with can’t be what kept us from turning into Raspers.”

  Megan shrugged. “What else do you have in common?”

  “We like the same music,” Adam said.

  “We’re both sixteen.”

  “Age. Music. Left-handedness. Probably isn’t music and I’m the same age—”

  “Hang on.” I scrambled back to my bag and dragged it over.

  “What?”

  “Gimme a sec—” I pulled out a sweatshirt, set the jar aside, and dug out the paper from the bag. It was still damp, but—maybe. I held it to the flashlight’s beam. The picture of the professor—turned Rasper—who had stalked me. He held a glass in his left hand. “Adam, was your mom right or left-handed?”

  “Left. Why?”

  “He was left-handed too.” I tossed the paper at Megan. Adam leaned over the seat and squinted at the picture.

  “I can’t look at him.” Megan crumbled the paper into a ball and tossed it at the back door of the bus.

  “Were any other Raspers lefties?”

  I tried to remember. I hadn’t paid any attention. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t remember.”