36 Hours (13 page)

Bryon and Les gawked at me. Amanda looked up. Some of the surrounding customers and employees turned their heads. Hannah watched from the corner by the window. Bryon mouthed, “Say what? Leave?”

“I have to go home. I need to know if they’re okay.”

“Go home?” Les muttered. “Austin. That’s, what, three miles away! And probably crawling with-“

“I know. I know. But I can’t just sit here and wait to die. Can’t die on my rear.”

“So you’re walking into hell?”

“Les. I have to go back. If Chad and your mom and brother were at your house, you would go. But they’re not, so you’re content to stay here. My mom doesn’t go into the school for work until ten o’clock. My dad’s boss called and told him to stay home. Problems at the health department. And Ashlie is sick. Dad was awake this morning, so he’s probably locked all the doors and covered the windows. He’s smart like that. They’re all at home. I have to go to them.”

Amanda glared at me like I was a sick disease. “You’re serious?”

I nodded. “Yes.” I was going. And they all knew that. This was no joke. My voice, my face, the severe anxiety grappling at my very nerves was more than enough to convince them of this hideous truth. Then, as if begging to make matters worse, “It will be hard. Les, you’re right. This place is probably crawling.”
I ♥ My Mom
. “And it will be especial y hard. I think they are Anthony Barnhart

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attracted to sounds, and the last thing I want to do is herd a crowd of them—

thousands of them—to my front door. So I can’t take the Jeep. It is too loud. I can’t take anything but my own feet.”

Entire silence. Even the baby stopped crying, surprised at the dead-fall in the room. The baby’s eyes widened.

Amanda mustered, “You’re going to
walk?
”

Yeah. Walk streets overflowing with the dead. Try to run three miles without being cut down by thousands of them. Outrun them. I could run. Oh. I had the path all worked out in my head. Cut through the Clearcreek Plaza, past the old pumpkin farm, through the line of trees, behind all those restaurants next to the A.T.M. machine, around the library, across the field, down the street behind the houses, through North Park, through the Woods, up my street and home. A path I had walked many times in the summer with my cousins from Kentucky.

“Yeah. I’m going to walk.”

“That’s insane,” someone muttered. “Shoot yourself and get it over with.”

Another: “They’ll be on you before you step out.”

I ♥ My Mom
The little girl leaping onto me, tearing me apart with claws and teeth. A silent scream tickled at my throat.

Les read my mind. “And you want someone to
go
with you? Are you out of your mind?”

Silence.

“No one? No one?”

Bryon glowered. “I didn’t come here all the way from Sinclair just to step outside and be killed.”

“And what, then, are you waiting for? To starve here? What happens at dinner? You gonna cut up that frozen microwave dinner, toss it about yourselves like wild animals? Because you won’t go down there! Kenny stayed!

And he’s still there, now with two companions who want to eat you all alive!

All the chicken in the bucket is gone. What? Are you guys going to start eating each
other
? Like
them
?”

No one spoke.

“Well. I’m going.” And I leaned back, closed my eyes, and tried to sleep. Nothing. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t sleep. My eyes opened. No one moved. I started up.

“I wonder,” Amanda said, “if we’ll ever see a winter here again?”

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Winter would come; the seasons continue; and when it comes, will we be dead—or worse? Wil the freshly-lain snow glimmer with hope, prosperity, and happiness, or be maroon with blood and death and a devastated planet? What will be left of the earth? What will be left of us? That time would come, I knew. It would. But would I? Would I last to see it?

“No putting it off,” I said, standing. “I want to get there before dark.”

“You have hours,” Les said quickly.

“Yes. But I don’t know how many snags I will run into.”

“Hopefully none.”

“Hopefully.”

Les let out a hand. “Good luck, man.”

I shook it. “Here.” I unlatched the keys on my belt and gave them to him. “I won’t be needing it. This place won’t hold for long. You know how to drive, even if the driving lessons cost too much. You know where the Jeep is. Just shimmy down there and get in.” He held the keys up to the dim light from the battery-powered lamp. The keys shone and glinted. “Don’t lose them. Life is in those keys.”

Bryon hugged me tight. “Take it easy.”

He had a reckless spirit. “Sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m sure.”

Amanda embraced me. “Don’t do this. But be careful.”

“You know I will.” I turned to Mary. “I’m not too tall; bring the ladder down, will you?”

And it was then that the understanding of what I was doing hit me full-force.
I was walking into the arms of death, under the blow of the reaper’s scythe
. Mary obeyed, and bright light flooded the room. I pressed my feet on the lowest rung, turned my head. To the others: “See you later, much later than sooner I hope.”

“Wait,” a voice rung in the darkness. The cop came forward. “I’ll go with you. It isn’t right for me to stay. And it isn’t helpful. I’m no fool. There isn’t food here, and there is water downstairs, but you have to brave the dead-and-alive to get to it. Let me come. I have a gun.” He patted his belt. “Fully loaded and unused. A 9mm.”

I grinned. Thank you, God. If you’re there. “Yes. Of course.”

Bryon, never to be outdone by a cop, lurched forward. “Count me in. I can’t let you walk alone.”

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“How noble of you,” I sneered, without contempt; praise drooled from my lips.

The cop went up first, Bryon said his byes, and went up. I followed, but retreated.

Les said, “Backing out?”

“No. Don’t forget: you have to brake before you can shift it into drive.”

“I know. Of course.”

“Your mom always says you forgot. And if it gets thick, sometimes people forget stuff.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Okay, then. Don’t forget.” And good-bye. I won’t see you again. Because either I will die or you will.

I pulled up on the ladder and rose towards the brilliant square looking up at the fringe of a storm cell. Then someone tugged on my jeans. I looked down, half-expecting to see Les asking me which key went to the Jeep—it says
Jeep
on it, fool!—but I saw Hannah’s weary eyes. She stared up at me and said, “I can’t be mad. You saved my life. You only did what you had to do. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I saw the pain—the guilt—in your eyes. And I am sorry I forced you to feel that. Please don’t feel it again. I’m sorry.” A tear trickled down her frosted cheek. “Austin… Really. Watch out. They’re all around.”

I didn’t know how to reply. Here was the girl my heart longed to hold, to touch, to kiss. If I bent down and held her, touched her, kissed her, everything sane yelled that she would respond smoothly. My mind flashed—funny how real time is denied and the world can slow to a steady pulse—and I imagined myself jumping down and embracing her; the two of us falling against the wall, kissing, oblivious, forgetful of the world and the nightmares; she would shiver beneath me, and she would cry, and I would wrap my arms around her, and run her silky hair through my fingers, and taste her bitter tears, comforting her as best I could, before I walked off into certain doom. I would feel her body against mine and get lost in time. All my dreams and fantasies, all my longings and throbbing desires could come true. I just had to step down off that ladder. Step down off the ladder and grab the bull by the horns, and inhale her honey scent, the running roses whispering on her breath. Just step off the ladder. But instead I said, “Try to find some lotion to put on the bruises. Ben-Gay or something. And stick close to Les. He has the keys out of here. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just scared, that’s all. I couldn’t stand the thought of you or Les Anthony Barnhart

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or me becoming like them.” I pulled myself out of the hatch, and stood on the roof, immersed in the dimming light of noon as a menacing storm rolled towards Spring Falls, Ohio.

1:00 p.m.

Out of the silence

The Police Station

The chaining of Taylor

The jaws of the storm twisted and turned, somersaulting above our heads, casting wicked shadows over the rooftops and leaving murky fog in the corners and crannies. We looked backwards, over Olde Clearcreek, and I could see the High School, seemingly abandoned. Vehicles littered the parking lot, and smoke and flames gushed from the shattered glass dome of the atrium. The countryside rolled south to Franklin, with stripped spring fields and pockets of dangling trees. We couldn’t see Franklin from here, but our eyes reflected lightning coursing down over the hick town, stabbing through the green clouds and disappearing over the forested mounts. A few quiet homes stood stagnant on the hilltops, all but shadowed from view in the gloom; one had been completely burnt down, and sparse fires lit up its charred foundation. Bryon looked all around, amazed at the silence. Thunder growled. The hatch beneath us swung shut, the latch ringing loudly in our ears. And we were alone.

The cop said, “We’d better get moving before the storm hits. If we make good time, we can be there in twenty minutes.”

“I somehow doubt that,” I said under my breath.

Bryon walked across the roof to where broken tiles slanted downwards, hovering seven feet off the concrete. “You guys coming?” But the cop elected to go first, and jumped down, landing nimbly. He held the 9mm in his hands and surveyed the destroyed parking lot. I used to go on cart checks to the employee parking lot and drive down here to get out a minute faster. I was so lazy back then. Bryon slid over and landed next to him. They muttered something and ducked into the shadows. I ducked down just as a hunched man in a
Spring Falls Hardware
uniform sagged from the building, wheezing against Anthony Barnhart

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the wooden stilts plastered against the face of the store—Spring Falls Construction had been remodeling, re-facing the fronts of Spring Falls Plaza. A sign in the foyer of Homer’s Grocery showed Homer’s Grocery’s plans. Plans never to be completed.

The man stood there for what seemed hours. My lungs burnt. The clouds tumbled overhead, casting sputtering shadows over all of Spring Fal s Plaza, shadows lurking, moving, lurking between the cars and smoking wrecks. Then the figure moved around the side of the building and vanished. I waited until the cop and Bryon egged me on. I dropped down, landing hard on the balls of my feet, pain sprinting up and down my legs. The window of the deli was abandoned. Kenny, George, Louis were in there. The thought made my shoulders cringe.

The cop said, “You know the way.”

“Yeah. Stick to the building. Follow me.” I moved along the brick siding, and passed the drive-thru. An urge overcame me, an urge to use the Jeep—so much faster, maybe I had been wrong, it would be—but, no. I didn’t have the keys. We passed, I knew it was for the better. We reached the end of the building, where the lot ran down to the street. Flames illuminated the path before us. It was so dark, but not black; green clouds made the air thick with tension, and cut off light, throwing us all in a dim gloom. I looked both ways a few times and quickly crossed, keeping low, until I was against the glass panel windows of
Dance with Terri
. The glass was broken, and in the next room I could see patches of pink satin thrown about, some slick with dried blood.

“This way,” I said, sliding along the building.

Suddenly a pain burnt through my back and I fell; Bryon had elbowed me in the small of the back, paralyzing me for a second; I fell down onto the concrete and rolled over; he jumped back and the glass window next to me shattered, raining glass all over my clothes. A ballerina lunged out, snarling and swiping with bloody hands. Bryon grabbed the girl by her frizzy hair, wrenched her hair back, drew a switch-blade, popped it open, and shoved it into the girl’s eye; blood gushed out and she gave a last shriek. He withdrew the blade, and the little girl’s body crumpled to the ground. Her head landed next to mine, a gouged and glazed eye staring at me. I writhed to my feet, completely repulsed. Glass fell from my clothes, tinkering on the concrete. Bryon held the knife in white-knuckled hands. “Sorry. I saw her coming.”

“Thanks.”

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We went around the building, and I was still shaking from the encounter. A deep weariness overcame me, and I just wanted to sleep. The draping, greenleafed branches of the trees hid shadows and murky holes leading up to the farm house. We slid between them, keeping into the grass. The porch was abandoned, broken in some places; the oversized doll house Ashlie used to gawk at had been sheared down to nothing, splintered in several pieces. We stuck to the line of trees until we ran into an intersection. Ahead of us were several businesses and restaurants, the library; and right was a subdivision. I had seen the subdivisions. Peaceful mommies and daddies turned to bloodthirsty monsters; we all looked down the road and saw nothing, all quiet, but knew, we knew, it was all a deception.

The cop muttered into my ear—I jumped—, “Let’s get going. We can’t stop. The storm.”

It hovered right over us. Lightning shot down into the subdivision, and thunder echoed in our ears.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

I ran across the street, and they followed. Our feet padded over the concrete and we passed the A.T.M. machine, several cars, and forlorn buildings. SpringPark Cleaner’s. Subby’s. Ron’s Pizza and Sub’s. Doors hung from hinges; glass windows lay in shards that reflected darkly off the stacking clouds. Tables and chairs in the eateries were overthrown; bodies lay sprawled here and there. Several shirts and pants and some Prom dresses and suits had been blown out of a hole blown in the side of the Cleaner’s, lacerating the waving slope leading down to a gutter, and the street. A strong gale tugged at our clothes as we descended the slope and crossed the street, not looking back and forth. No reason-The cop: “Stop.”