The pickup’s engine kicked over after about the two dozenth try. Alex had driven back to his farmhouse and, risking exposure to the rain, carried Eva inside, trying to shield her as best he could. The implant had been removed and he’d cleaned the wound and applied a bandage. Surprisingly, it hadn’t bled all that much. He put her upstairs in his bed. And then he just left her there. He didn’t want to. In fact, he’d sat behind the wheel of the truck, glancing up at the second-floor bedroom window where she lay, wondering if he should leave. What if one of the others found her? Like Isaac. Or that nut, Mitchell?
But the journal beckoned him to make haste and Alex believed he could feel the urgency. Not just like a hunch, but an actual sensation, as if the atmosphere itself had changed, become heavier…oppressive. Pregnant with doom.
And so, he reluctantly shifted the truck into Drive. As the ashen sky continued to dump steady rain, the vehicle rumbled down a dirt path between opposing crop fields, heading back to the farthest reaches of his farm, beyond where he buried the other Alex. In the rearview mirror, the farmhouse – and Eva – fell away.
*********
“You destroyed one,” said Isaac, flatly. His voice and expressionless face were devoid of belief.
“Yes,” replied Mo. “At the hospital.”
“Bullshit,” added Mitchell.
Pulling a sheet snug to Lacy’s chin, Mo was relieved to see she appeared, with the assistance of a sedative, to be sleeping soundly. “If you really want to know, drive out to the hospital grounds. It’s not there anymore. Some of the foundation exists, but that’s all.”
“It’s true.” Grant had removed his glasses and was wiping them with a cloth. “I rode past there on my way here. There’s nothing left. Even the makeshift trauma units in the parking lot, the scattered automobiles…everything reduced to dust.”
Wes, who had been brought to the Med Hut by Charles, was raising a cup of water to take some aspirin for a headache. “What about your wife and daughter?” he asked Grant. He figured he already knew the answer to his question but wasn’t sure how to approach the sensitive subject.
Grant nodded. “Gone.”
“The orb,” Mo interjected, “absorbed the building, the debris, the blast. It wanted the released energy.”
Isaac said nothing. He just stared at Mo.
Frowning, Charles joined in. “Like it needed it.”
Mo nodded. “Wanted…needed…both.”
“And then what?” questioned Grant.
Mo turned to him. “Then the orb vanished. After maybe a minute, something fell from the sky.” The room fell silent and Mo eyed everyone. “A part of it.”
Isaac frowned. “A part of what?”
“The organism,” said Mo.
More silence. Mo couldn’t tell if it was awe or simply disbelief. Wasn’t anyone aware of the thing towering above them, even now? Had none of them gotten a fleeting glance, when maybe its persuasive influence blipped, allowing the observant among them to see the truth? To notice something wasn’t right?
Isaac looked at Grant, then back to Mo. “What organism are you talking about?”
Wes jumped to his feet. “I’ve seen it!”
*********
All eyes fell on Wes. Mitchell sighed. “Oh Christ, here we go.”
“When I was in the hangar,” said Wes. “It was like I was…” He hesitated, as though what he was about to say would come off as crazy. His mouth felt dry, a chalky lump of indecision caught in his throat.
“Go ahead,” pushed Mo.
“Well…like I was sent to another place. Like suddenly, the hangar was a different hangar.”
Isaac looked at the ground, visibly perturbed. “Wes,”
Mitchell’s eyes narrowed with anger. “What the hell are you talking about!”
“Let me finish!” Wes could hardly believe he had scolded Isaac, and especially Mitchell. But he had. Better make it count, he thought. “The hangar was suddenly newer, no peeling paint, no rust. Then, it changed again. The hangar became old, missing parts of the roof and walls. Outside, everything seemed dead. And in the sky, maybe a couple of miles high, was…this gigantic growth.”
*********
“The organism,” Mo said.
He knows, Mitchell…
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Soon, they’ll all know…
Mitchell’s grip tightened on the rifle, his knuckles whitening. His eyes darted around the room searching for the source of the voice, trying to dispel the notion that it was inside his head, refusing to believe that some otherworldly thing was speaking to him. He would just overcome it. That’s all. Will it away. “Sounds like you dozed off and were dreaming, asshole,” he blurted.
“Fuck you!” countered Wes. “I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t hallucinating. I was there. In those places. If you hadn’t left the hangar, you might’ve experienced it, too.”
Grant, nodding, said, “I believe you, Wes. I saw something at my home during the supply run.” He took a deep breath. “I saw my daughter – she was just a shadow at first, something I thought I’d imagined. But then, it happened again and this time she was as clear as if she was in front of me.” He looked down at his interlaced fingers in apparent grief. “She wasn’t right there, though. She was in some other place…another plane of existence.” He raised his head and eyed everyone with clear conviction. “But she saw me.”
“What!” blurted Wes.
Grant continued. “And even stranger…I saw myself in that other plane. Another me.”
“So, you saw your yourself and your dead daughter?” replied Mitchell, sarcastically. “Has everyone lost their fucking minds, here?”
Mo spoke. “Why’d you leave the hangar, Mitchell?”
Now, all eyes focused on Mitchell and his face went red. Rage bubbled in his gut. “Go to hell! Who the hell are you anyway!”
“I’ve already told you. I’m Lacy’s husband.”
Sweat beading on his forehead, now. “Yeah, but where’d you come from? You just appear out of nowhere? And then we’re all supposed to believe this nonsense you’re talking about?”
“Nonsense, Mitchell?” Mo stared, his eyes challenging Mitchell. He seemed to possess a secret knowledge. “You haven’t seen anything?”
“No,” Mitchell lied.
“Haven’t…heard anything?”
You have, haven’t you, Mitchell?
Shaking his head, Mitchell took a step toward the door. “Heard anything? What are you talking about?”
He knows, too, Mitchell…
A trail of sweat broke loose from his forehead and spilled down the side of this face. The palms of his hands were moist and slick.
Soon, they’ll all know…
And then what?
What happens to us?
Mo pressed him. “Any voices? Out there in the fields somewhere?”
“You feeling okay?” Charles asked. “You don’t look like you are.”
“I’m fine,” Mitchell grumbled through gritted teeth. “Quit acting like you’re a doctor. You were a fucking ambulance driver.”
Charles shrugged. “Easy, jerkoff. Just asking.”
Mitchell began to tremble. What if they saw? They might quarantine him.
And then what?
What happens to us?
Attempting to conceal the trembling, he clenched the weapon even harder. The rage…building. Another line of perspiration released and flowed along his cheek. He could feel it above his lip, at the nape of his neck, running down his back.
Maybe if he could just fire the goddamned rifle. Sink a round into one of these shit-heels…that would make everything better. For the time being. Maybe shoot all of them. That would really be something.
Not them, Mitchell…
Garrett…
Let us in…
His eyes crazed, moving in spasmic flashes, Mitchell studied everyone in the room, even Isaac. Could they hear his thoughts? No, not his thoughts…its thoughts. Did they hear the conversation? Did they hear its plan?
“Mitchell?” Isaac was speaking to him. “What’s the matter with you?” He got up and confronted Mitchell. But Mitchell knew it was an act. Isaac had to convince the others that he was on their side. Without speaking, a silent communication ensued between them. A message, or an instruction. No, an understanding. Go, it said. Go and do what you must.
Garrett…
Let us in…
Give us Community…
Mitchell swiftly stepped to the door, opened it and left the Med Hut. Outside, the gray clouds had begun to recede. He could see the deep, amber sun hanging low in the afternoon sky, the gray storm having been swept to the east. Only a light drizzle, now. It burnt his skin. He didn’t seem to notice.