The sky overhead is grey, but small patches of brilliant blue peek through. Any other time it might seem dreary,but after so long in the fading orange light Izzie fights the urge to shield her eyes.
As one, they break into a jog. Bits of gravel and detritus crunch under their feet, deafening in the unnatural silence surrounding them. Both Logan and Joseph twist constantly to check behind them, but Izzie keeps her eyes trained forward. Thanksgiving Day isn’t a big day for driving around town, so the lack of traffic on the road beyond Rusty’s is to be expected normally. Not even birdsong fills the air, though. There's just a heavy pressure weighing down on them.
They are almost to the parking lot when Joseph calls out that something is keeping pace with them just past the tree line. She glances from the corner of her eye and catches glimpses of a now familiar shape fading in and out of the undergrowth. Instead of stopping to face it, she goes faster. Everything is going smoothly, the path ahead of them open, and except for the shadow stalking them just out of sight there is nothing between them and her little Bondo car waiting ahead. Then they clear the front corner of the building, emerging out of the shadows and into the parking area.
Immediately, Izzie’s eyes are drawn to a set of flashing lights atop a tan-colored police car. She stumbles to a halt, fire extinguisher drooping toward the ground.
“Dad?”
She moves forward, and the world around her loses all color beyond the red and blue lights. The car is parked in front of the main entrance, sitting diagonally and blocking the aisle. There is nobody in the driver seat, but that door is open and there is movement just beyond it.
“Dad,” she cries out, running toward the car. She nearly falls when someone grabs her arm near the elbow and pulls her back.
“No!” Joseph’s voice cuts through her fear, bringing her skidding to a stop mentally as well as physically. “It might not be him, but it’s too dangerous to check! We need to-”
Logan yells, and they both turn to face him. The creature that was following them as they made their way from the side exit has abandoned its cover and closed the gap. Logan swings his shovel after deflecting a swipe and Joseph jumps in, jabbing the pike outward.
“Don't draw blood!” Izzie calls out but the edge of the shovel has already dragged through the tough skin across the creature's snout. She yells at them to move away and squeezes the handle of the fire extinguisher. White foam covers the gash and she aims at the face next, hoping to confuse its heat-sensing organs.
“Run,” she screams before sprinting for her little car, spraying freezing cold foam on two more creatures that have appeared from between cars that would never see their owners again. She has to drop the nozzle in order to pull out her keys and press the button on her fob to unlock the doors, but the creatures closest to them are standing still as though confused, not paying attention to them.
Joseph dives into the passenger seat and slams the door shut, and Izzie hears Logan shutting the door of his truck a second later. She wrenches her own door open and slides in, key already in the ignition and turning before the door shuts.
“Shit! Why did he get in his truck? Wasn’t he saying his battery is probably dead?” Her hand is on her door handle, but she stops when the rumbling engine of the old truck starts up. Logan leans across the front seat and holds up his phone with a charger attached, one that is clearly not plugged into anything.
“That lucky son of a-” Joseph’s words are drowned out by the starting of Izzie’s engine, and the roar of air pouring out of the vents. He jabs at the console to turn the heat off before the gusting air can turn warm. “Did he suspect that he forgot to plug the charger in? What if he was wrong?”
Izzie throws the car into gear and tears out, following Logans truck. The foam has worn off of the creatures Izzie sprayed, and more are pouring from the woods around the lot, summoned by the blood of their kin. Logan runs over the ones in his way, his engine still cold, making the vehicle invisible to their senses. Izzie swerves around them, certain her little vehicle will be hurt worse than anything she hits.
“If he was wrong then his truck would be dead and he would as well,” she says, irritation clear as she grips the wheel. She pulls the driver side seatbelt across her chest with one hand, fumbling with the end, trying to get it latched. Joseph takes it from her and clicks it in place, then secures his own.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“There were more coming from the trees,” he states in a hushed voice. He doesn't elaborate, but Izzie knows what he is saying. They would have seen the things running from the newly opened entrance to the woods. There are more of the creatures than what were trapped inside of Rusty’s with them.
Logan turns out of the parking lot and onto the narrow state highway, heading toward town. She follows it, shifting in her seat to pull her phone from her pocket. “Can you get this on the charger? It was getting low last night, I don't know how much battery it has left.”
The lightning bolt that appears on the screen when the charger connects sends a wave of relief through her body. With everything else that has happened, she wouldn't have been surprised if the phone was dead and unable to be resuscitated. She takes the phone from him and clips it to a stand on the dashboard.
“Call Mom,” she clearly enunciates toward the microphone, and the screen changes to a picture of her mom inside of the outgoing call icon. Her knuckles are white, her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. The phone rings aloud for a minute, then a beep as it transfers to voice mail. “End call. Call Mom’s work phone.”
There are no other cars on the road besides hers and Logan’s. The trees thin as they approach the town proper, and houses are visible at the end of short driveways just off the road. Unconsciously she slows down to stay under the speed limit. The ringing continues, ending with a voicemail prompt with each new number she tries. She commands to have her father’s numbers tried next, hitting the brakes hard when the truck stops suddenly at the traffic light before the town square.
There is no movement on the road leading through the center of town. The few people she can see are far beyond the ability to move. Izzie pulls past Logan and inches her way down the street, carefully maneuvering so she doesn’t hit those that fell while running across the road and never got up again. The diner, the pizza place, even the gift shops are lit up, signs glowing cheerily against the overcast sky. If it wasn’t for the dark red splashed across the store front windows, she can almost believe that everyone decided to open this morning regardless of it being a holiday. Nobody is visible because they are all bent over looking at displays or chowing down on a juicy hamburger. It would make sense, if she was able to ignore the horrors she can see through the plate glass windows. And, if she could ignore the bodies on the sidewalks. More than anything, she wishes she could.
Near the end of the block, a small shape moves out from between two long trucks. A dog, leash trailing behind it, runs out into the road and stops to bark at her approaching car. Izzie slams her brakes so that she doesn’t hit it, but her actions don’t matter. A dark shadowy shape darts out, jaws closing round the little yapping ball of fur. She reaches to her door and presses the lock. A little voice in her brain laughs at her precaution.
Her hand moves to the shifter to put the car in reverse, but she stops when a truck roars past her, striking the creature and sending it up onto the hood before it slides to the side. Logan stops the car for only a moment before pressing the gas once more, but it is not quick enough. Summoned by the blood spattered across his car, both from the parking lot at Rusty’s and from the attack that just occurred, several more shapes run out from between cars parked along the side. The mass of figures hit the side of the truck and Logan jerks the wheel with the impact, hitting a cargo van to the side.
Izzie screams as they jump onto the hood of the truck and throw their bodies against the windshield, shattering it inward.
“There’s too many of them,”Joseph yells, hands gripping the seatbelt pulled taut against his chest. “Go, Izzie, you have to go!”
“What about Logan?” Her foot refuses to lift off of the brake, frozen in place just like her eyes are stuck to the carnage happening in the cab of the truck ahead of them.
“There is nothing we can do! Please, Izzie…” his voice cracks, and the sound is enough to get the car moving again. She pulls around the truck as quickly as she can without hitting any of the things approaching, and speeds up as soon as she is clear.
The urge to break down and cry is too strong, and Izzie clenches the wheel so hard that her hands ache. The pain doesn’t distract her like she hoped. “We couldn’t have saved him,” she says, her voice shaking. “With all that blood on his truck from hitting the monsters, they would have followed him and he would have had to stop at some point, right?”
She can see Joseph nod, but he doesn’t respond.
“Even if the blood cooled off, the engine would have been warming up too.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip. “That’s going to happen to us. As soon as we stop, the hot engine will be just as much a beacon as our body heat.”
“Then we keep moving as much as we can. Don’t stop for stop signs or stop lights.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She glances down at the fuel dial. “I was supposed to get gas on my way home last night. I can’t drive around too much.”
Joseph doesn’t respond. She wishes he would, so that she doesn’t have to be stuck in her head, replaying the attack on the truck. The creatures must be very dense, hardly any fat. That would explain how they could be so heavy. Heavy enough to break the windshield with no room to build momentum by running at it. Maybe they are too dense to float, and if they land in water they would drown. They are obviously suited for cold environments, though, would their rubbery skin keep them warm enough without fat? Or does their blood keep them warm?
The little car turns off Main Street, houses cropping up along the sides of the road. She slows as she approaches her house. No cars are in the driveway. Nobody is home. She drives past, debating whether she should go inside, where the walls might keep her safe.
“My dad has a gun safe,” she says quietly. The car pulls into a driveway and backs out to turn them around. “I don’t know the combination, though. We wouldn’t be safe there, would we.”
She speaks it like a statement, but Joseph answers, “Probably not. But we can hide there if you want.”
They continue on, then turn left onto Main Street again. “You should call your mom. Maybe the monsters are only in town.”
Happy Springs Highschool rises up on her left. She can tell from the road that the front doors are ajar, the glass broken. The empty frames glare out from the building like eyes filled with malevolence. Several cars are parked in spots reserved for staff and visitors, and a tan sheriff’s car is stopped partially on the walkway. It’s Deputy barker’s car, his vehicle number printed clearly above the fender. She wonders if he is hiding somewhere inside. For a moment she considers pulling over so she can call out to see if he is there. But a dark shadow moves just inside the school entrance, too low to be human. So she drives on. She didn’t check the number on the vehicle at Rusty’s during her mad dash to her car. If Deputy Barker went to the highschool, then that means the car at the tractor supply store is her dad’s. She doesn’t want to think about it, so she tells herself he might have gotten away. Denial can be useful in the journey to keep moving forward. For Joseph’s sake, she needs to keep moving.