by S.E. Smith
“I know. Just don’t tell anyone else,” Josie laughed.
Dust noticed that the humor didn’t reach Josie’s eyes. Instead, she was warily watching the approaching motorcycles. After stuffing the sugary treats in his mouth, he quickly swallowed them and grabbed some more. He could feel the sugar coursing through his veins.
“Showtime,” Josie murmured, tossing her empty bag into the gaping hole as the first wave of biker’s pulled to a stop on the other side of the newly made ravine.
“Look boys! Food… and entertainment,” the man in front stated, his lascivious eyes moving appreciatively over Josie’s slender form.
“Well, I guess that answers our question about whether they are good guys or bad guys,” Josie muttered under her breath.
Dust nodded. His stomach clenched. He didn’t like confrontations and avoided them if he could. Unfortunately, he was almost one hundred percent positive that this would be one of those cases where it couldn’t be avoided.
“Hoss, I don’t think they know how to talk,” the man next to the large biker shouted above the roar of the motorcycles.
“Bring the ramp,” Hoss instructed.
“Great! Organized apes,” Josie growled under her breath, taking a step back and planting her feet in a defensive posture.
Dust saw Josie raise her hands in preparation. The knots in his stomach tightened. Something was very wrong. He could feel it. His gut was telling him to get out of there.
“Run, Josie,” Dust ordered, grabbing her arm.
“Why?” Josie started to protest.
“Just run,” Dust insisted, his intuition screaming at him to get out of there.
Pulling her along behind him, he could hear the demonic laughter of the group change to something far more sinister. They had to get to the others and get across the bridge. He only hoped that the gap would be wide enough.
“Dust!” Josie screamed. The horror in her cry chilled his blood.
“I know, Josie,” he said, the wings on his back forming as he grabbed her around the waist and lifted off.
“I thought I burnt them all,” she whispered, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck as she stared over his shoulder. “How can they…? I thought I burnt them all.”
“I thought you did, too, Josie,” Dust replied in a hoarse voice.
They rose in the air, and Dust’s unease solidified into a lump in his stomach when he glanced behind him and saw a beetle slip from the man’s lips and down into his beard. Dust’s eyes followed the bug’s path and noticed the beard was not what it appeared to be—mixed in the long, wiry hair were other bugs. The man wasn’t alive. He was only a shell being used by the insects that had overtaken the town where they’d found Raymond, Martha, and Denise.
From the way the beetle sought the shelter of the shadows in the man’s beard, it appeared they still couldn’t be out in the daylight—at least not in the direct sun for more than a few seconds. That wouldn’t matter if they found someone, or something, that could handle it, though. These bugs had evolved—and now they needed food… and additional hosts.
Three miles ahead of them, Dust could see the yellow bus. Behind them, he could hear the sound of the motorcycles. The deep rumble of the engines and the squeal of tires on asphalt sent a rush of adrenaline through him.
“They are jumping the gap you made,” Josie urgently informed him.
Dust didn’t bother to look over his shoulder. Instead, he focused on the bus ahead of them and tried to figure out what to do. They needed to slow the men down. There was little in the way of flammable fuel for Josie to use along the sides of the road. His eyes widened as an idea came to him. He didn’t know if it would work, but at this point they needed something—anything—to give Raymond and the others time to get across the bridge.
“I have an idea,” Dust grimly said, swooping lower.
“Uh, Dust…. We need to go higher and faster, not…,” Josie replied.
Her grip around his neck tightened as he pulled up and landed. He set her feet down on the ground. He really hoped this worked. Pulling out the bag of miniature marshmallows from his pocket, he handed it to Josie.
“I need you to eat these as fast as you can,” he instructed.
Josie took the bag and started stuffing her mouth. “Am I missing something—like this sudden, great plan of yours?” she mumbled around the marshmallows.
“Can you super-heat the road? I mean as in hot enough that it begins to melt?” he asked.
Josie frowned and looked at the asphalt. “You have noticed that it’s cold out, right? I mean, the snow should be a dead giveaway. It would take a ton of energy to do that,” she warned.
Dust stepped forward and gripped Josie by her forearms. “We need to slow them down, Josie. You don’t have to do a large section, just a strip across the highway and wide enough to cause the tires on the first group of motorcycles to sink down into it. I saw a video where the roads melted in India and Australia and they became fluid and sticky,” he explained.
Josie shook her head. “What good would it do to cause the first group to get stuck? The rest will just come after us then,” she replied in confusion.
“The others will crash into them. I’ll create a distraction,” he said.
Josie shivered and looked back toward the motorcycles. He knew it was a crazy idea, but they had to give the others as much time as possible. She reluctantly nodded and stepped away from him. He watched as she stuffed a handful of marshmallows into her mouth before closing the bag and shoving it in her jacket pocket.
“Let’s do this,” she said, rolling her head on her shoulders and lifting her hands.
Dust watched as Josie’s hands began to glow. He didn’t know how she was able to do what she did without burning her clothes. Earlier, when his clothing had opened to allow his wings to emerge, he expected he would have to mend his shirt and jacket. Instead, as soon as his wings had disappeared the threads of the torn fabric had woven back together. He decided it must be because clothes were necessary for their survival, and their new powers were supposed to help them survive.
Dust looked up. Over the second rise he could see the first wave of motorcycles soar through the air. They only needed a few minutes. Timing would be crucial.
He swept his hands out and focused. The snow rose from the ground, surrounding him and Josie, and began to swirl. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the asphalt turning an incandescent red, as if it were being turned into molten lava.
He waited until the first wave of motorcycles appeared over the next rise. There were four of them.
With a flick of his hands and a thought, he sent a whirling blizzard of ice crystals toward them.
“Time to go,” he said, turning away and wrapping his arm around Josie’s waist.
Josie collapsed against him. She was shivering with fatigue from the amount of energy she had expended to super-heat the asphalt. Sweeping her up into his arms, he bent his knees and pushed up off the ground.
They rose above the road. He looked over his shoulder in surprise when Josie sent several fireballs in the direction of the bikers. A grim smile curved his lips when he heard the horrific screech of crashing metal.
“Fly faster, Dust. I think we’ve pissed them off and I’m almost out of ammo,” Josie muttered in his ear as she lifted up the almost empty bag of marshmallows.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I sent a few fireballs toward the second wave to slow them down a bit. The first wave is out of commission—at least their bikes are. Front tires and the frames are destroyed. Unfortunately, I don’t think we took out any of the bug-infested zombie dudes,” she replied.
A shudder ran through Dust. He’d never thought of the bug guys as zombies, but he guessed, in a way they were a kind of zombie. He didn’t know if the men were still alive inside or not. At the moment, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know because that would make what they might have to do even harder.
“There’s the bus
. I’m going to land on the roof. You go through the emergency hatch on the top,” he said.
“No. We do this together, Dust. It is the only way,” Josie argued with a determined shake of her head.
Of course she was right. He didn’t know why he was afraid. They had worked together and survived together as a team for almost two years. He was just terrified that this time they might fail.
He could have done this on his own if they were just Changed people, but since they were bugs, he needed her to prevent the bug-creatures from crossing the divide after the bridge collapsed. His hope was the divide would be too wide for the beetles to make it across if they collapsed the bridge. It would also slow down the hosts that they were sheltering in. Although the distance between them and the motorcycles had grown slightly, it was not enough for Dust’s peace of mind. It was going to be close.
Ahead of them, the bus sped across the two-lane bridge spanning the wide, deep ravine. He flew to the far end of the bridge where Raymond was pulling the bus to a stop and landed with Josie.
Releasing his grip on Josie’s legs, he lowered her until she was standing next to him. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bag of marshmallows. He watched as she consumed the last bit before tossing the bag in the air and incinerating it with a ball of fire.
“I’m charged and ready to go. You work on making the bridge collapse, and I’ll work on sending fireballs up the butts of those zombie-bugs,” she said with a toss of her head.
He grimaced and shook his head. “You really like giving people unpleasant visual images, don’t you?” he dryly retorted.
Josie grinned and snapped her fingers, lighting tiny flames along the tips. “It’s part of my charm,” she replied with a toss of her head before she turned her attention to the far side of the bridge. “Whatever happens, don’t let them get me alive,” she added, unable to hide the wobble in her voice.
Dust looked at her and saw that she was pale but composed. “I won’t,” he promised.
She nodded, and he could hear her swallow. Their brief reprieve had run out. He counted eight motorcycles. Four must have been destroyed when they sunk into the asphalt. The zombie-bugs had survived and were riding double with the others.
As if in slow motion, he watched three men dismount their bikes. The large man named Hoss stood in the front staring at him with a malevolent expression. Dust watched as Hoss lifted his beefy arm and pointed toward them.
The four men who had been riding double slid off the motorcycles and stood with the others in a line facing Dust and his friends. As one, the men opened their mouths and a swarm of insects erupted from them. He shuddered in horror and he heard Josie’s matching hiss. She recoiled a step before she lifted her arms and sent a series of fireballs at the dark mass flying toward them. Behind the swarm, four of the motorcyclists gunned their bikes. With squealing tires, they followed the swarming black bugs.
Dust dropped to one knee and placed his hands on the bridge. Taking a deep breath, he focused his power. Sweat beaded on his brow when nothing happened. Focusing harder, he narrowed his eyes and imagined the bridge crumbling under his hands.
“Dust, now would be a good time to make something happen,” Josie loudly urged.
“I’m trying,” he replied, flexing his fingers and focusing once more.
Once again, nothing happened. He didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t feel weak. In fact, he felt energized as he looked up. The bugs were almost to the half-way mark on the bridge. If they were going to have any chance of survival, he had to collapse the bridge now.
“Dust, now!” Josie shouted, her voice quavering as she increased the amount of fire she was releasing.
A shudder ran through him when he felt the wings on his back dissolve into a pile of black granules around him. Something was wrong with him. It was as if he were—normal, unchanged.
He turned his head and looked up at Josie. She released a super-heated burst of fire before she swayed. Rising to his feet, he grabbed her around the waist when she started to collapse.
“I can’t do it. Nothing is happening,” he said, looking into her weary eyes. “Run, Josie. Get out of here.”
Josie’s eyes widened. Her lips parted in protest, but Dust knew they were out of time. He turned her around and pushed her toward the bus.
She stumbled a few steps, but he was already refocusing on the men approaching them. Feelings of helpless rage swept through him. He could feel it building and knew—hoped—it meant that he hadn’t lost all of his supernatural powers. Slowly lifting his hands, he focused all of his anger at the flying mass and the motorcycles. With a silent thought, he sent a powerful push outward at the same time as he heard a whirring sound. Turning his head, he looked over his shoulder and watched in disbelief as two Blackhawk Helicopters flew over the bus.
Two things registered at once. The first was he hadn’t lost all of his power. The burst of energy had driven the bugs back into the motorcyclists and they were weaving out of control. The second was the helicopters had released several missiles.
It was the second realization that propelled him into motion. Twisting, he sprinted for the end of the bridge at the same time as a powerful explosion rocked the ground under his feet. He stumbled and had almost righted himself when the second, third, and fourth missiles struck.
The force of the concrete buckling under his feet threw him forward. He looked up when he heard Sammy’s scream. Scrambling on his hands and feet, he felt the bridge giving way under his feet. With a last push, he threw himself toward the end, and desperately reached for a hold when he started to slide backwards.
The end of Sammy’s bow appeared over the edge, and he wrapped his hands around it. He looked up in time to see her body jolt forward with the pull of his weight. Even as his lips parted in warning, Raymond and Randolph wrapped an arm around her waist and each clasped a hand on the bow as well. Dust braced his feet into the remains of the bridge and scrambled up over the edge.
“Thanks,” he said in a hoarse voice when the other two men steadied him.
He opened his arms when Sammy threw herself against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and she held him as if she would never let him go. He held her trembling body against his and looked over at Josie where she sat on the bottom step leading into the bus.
“I didn’t think you’d make it,” Sammy muttered in his ear.
“I… Something’s…,” he started to say.
His voice faded when he heard Josie’s startled cry. Sammy pulled away from him at the same time as Denise and Martha shouted out a warning. Josie rose to her feet and took a step before her legs gave out. Martha and Denise caught her as she collapsed and they lowered her to the ground.
Dust started toward Josie when he felt a thud against his side. Looking down, he saw a red dart protruding from his clothing. He stumbled backwards a step.
“What the…?” his voice wobbled, and he looked up as a group of men in military uniforms rushed toward them with their guns raised.
He wrapped his fingers around the dart and pulled it free. The dart fell from his fingers and bounced once on the ground before lying against the dark gray surface of the road. In a strange, disconnected way, he watched as chaos exploded around them. Martha and Denise raised their hands in surrender. Todd ran to clutch Sammy. Raymond and Randolph seemed torn. They were unsure of which direction they should go to protect their small group.
The sedative coursed through his body, numbing him. He collapsed to the ground as the world tilted. Trying to clear his vision, he blinked as his head rolled to the side. Across from him, he could see the remains of the motorcycles. The two helicopters were now laying down long lines of fire to burn the remains of the zombie-bugs.
A pair of dirty combat boots suddenly blocked his vision. A pair of gloved fingers turn his head. He blinked again in confusion and stared into a pair of dark brown eyes.
“He’s a kid,” the man shouted to someone else.
; “Yeah, well, until we know what he is for sure, contain him. Keep him and the other one separate from each other,” a deep voice replied.
“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Sammy shouted. “Leave them alone! They’re our friends, our family.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to speak—to warn her not to fight. He didn’t want her to get hurt. A shiver ran through him. He blinked several times before giving up and closing his eyes.
“Load them up,” the deep voice ordered.
Dust wanted to groan when he was lifted off the ground. Someone had him by the shoulders while another held his legs. A silent protest swept through his mind when he realized that they were being separated from each other.
Fear and helplessness engulfed him. He didn’t understand what had happened back on the bridge. Was he losing his powers? If he did, how could he protect the others?
In the background, he heard the sound of trucks approaching. The loud, protesting voices of his family, the shouts of men, and the jarring motion of being carried made his throbbing head hurt even more. A soft moan escaped him when the two men carrying him clambered into the back of a truck and lowered him to the truck bed.
He rolled to his side when one of them pushed against his shoulder. He felt hot. He fought against the shivers. He wasn’t sure if he was getting sick—or Changing again. The feel of cold restraints against his wrists made him hope that it was the latter.
Unable to fight the sedative any longer, his mind and body gave in to the drug, and he began to slip into the numbing world of unconsciousness. He could only hope that when he woke, he would feel better. With that one last brief flash of thought, he relaxed as a double thud sounded on the side of the truck, and he heard a yell for the driver to move out.
Chapter Eight
Secret bases:
Cheyenne Mountain Complex: Colorado Springs, Colorado
General Andrew McCullon strode down the corridor deep inside the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. He moved through the complex with the same intense focus he had maintained when the first reports about the impending impact of the comet had been received and the blast doors were sealed.