Hissers II: Death March (17 page)

Sprinting, Olive got back inside and hit the gas. The car lurched forward over her mother’s dead body, throwing Connor up to the roof
and down again. Two hissers bounced off either side of the car, both spinning off in to the street. Just as Connor thought they had gotten away, the street in front of them erupted in a mob of demons. Three hulking monstrosities lumbered along behind them.

“No no no,” Olive said, slamming on the brakes. “Not these.”

It was the spider monsters, and they were running for all they were worth, trampling the humanoid undead in front of them. Connor spun and looked out the back window. There were hissers behind them now as well.

“Go through them,” he said. “Drive fast.”

“We won’t get through the bigger ones.”

“Then back up.”

“It goes down to a cul de sac.”

“What?”

“The street, it dead ends about ten houses down.”

Connor shook his
head in disbelief. “What, there aren’t side streets?”

“Ahead of us, yes. Not behind us.”

“What’s behind the cul de sac?”

“Um…just woods. Wait! And a river. Used to go swimming in it.”

The first of the spider monsters reached the car, its hulking mass of heads and legs going for the bumper. Olive screamed and threw it in reverse, the tries screeching as they flew backwards. Connor felt something hit the trunk and go under the car, and in front of him he saw two hissers mashed in the street, including Olive’s mom’s body, which they’d apparently run over a second time now.

“Go faster!” he yelled.

“I’m trying!”

The car began to fishtail.
Olive fought to keep it under control, ultimately steering toward the curb and scraping the hubcaps in a hail of sparks. In front of them the three spider monsters came on fast, running on legs made of all sorts of body parts. One massive spider leg, comprised of torsos and arms, smashed down into the hood of the car and flipped the back tires up off the road before they caught again and the car lurched backwards. The spider was knocked aside by one of its brethren and together they stumbled into the third, all three of them now enacting some kind of Stooges routine where they all tumbled to the ground. It was just enough time for the car to drive backwards up a driveway in the cul de sac and hit the garage door of a two story ranch ouse, slamming Connor’s head back into the headrest.

“Out. Go,” Olive s
aid, now back in survival mode; she spoke with a renewed sense of clarity.

Connor was out of the car in an instant, reaching back and grabbing one backpack full of supplies. On the other side, Olive was out of the car and loading new bullets into her rifle. She slammed the stock home and fired at the spiders, which were still righting themselves in the street. Then she was rounding the car and grabbing Connor’s shoulder, pulling him around the house and int
o the darkened backyard. The moon peeked out from the clouds just long enough for them to skirt the kiddie pool and toys scattered on the grass.

“This way,”
Olive said, leading them down the sloping yard toward a chain link fence. Beyond the fence Connor could hear the steady gurgle of running water. “It comes down from the mountains and runs out to a lake. There’s a dock back here. People keep rowboats and shit tied up.”

From up at the house came the sounds of massive creatures smashing windows and breakin
g walls. The beasts must be breaking into the house, Connor thought, assuming their prey had gone to ground.

Without a second thought,
Connor threw his backpack over the fence and scaled it, landing hard on the other side. His shin protested, a reminder that his wound still wasn’t one hundred percent. Olive hit the ground next him with an
oof.
There was a sound like an explosion as the spider monsters broke through the back wall of the house and raced for the fence.

“Shit. Run!” Olive said.

Connor followed her through thick trees, down a muddy grade, hearing the rush of the water get louder. He slipped once, his back wrenching, then picked himself up and continued on. He could hear the creatures behind him tearing down the chain link fence.

“I see the dock.” Olive’s voice was full of hope. “Please let there be a motor boat.”

But there wasn’t. When they broke out of the scrub grass and pussy willows, onto the small man-made dock, all they saw were a couple of rowboats. The river was narrow here, maybe fifteen feet across to the other side. The water was black like oil in the night, the moonlight shimmering on its surface like tiny jewels. A current caused it to lap at the sides of the riverbank, though how fast it was actually moving was hard to tell in the darkness.

“Help me get it out,” Olive said, shoving a red, plastic rowboat to the edge of the dock.

Connor helped her push and within seconds it fell in the water and began to drift off. He reached in and caught hold of a mooring rope that someone had tied on it. It threatened to pull him in before he was able to pull the boat back a couple feet. Once it was flush with the dock, Olive leapt in, held the boat steady against the dock post until Connor could climb in.

“Psuh!” Connor shouted, and Olive shoved off the dock just as the spider monsters came cr
ashing out of grass. The boat caught the current and began to drift. The hissers scuttled down the dock and scanned the environment, spotted the rowboat and walked into the water.

They sank out of sight.

“How deep is it?” Connor asked.

Olive shook her head as she grabbed
one of the oars lying in the bottom of the boat. “I don’t know. Deep enough, let’s hope. Deep enough to drown the fucking things.”

“Can’t drown what’s already dead.”

For the next several seconds the boat moved lazily down through the black water. Darkness engulfed them as the backyards of houses gave way to nothing but woods on either side of them. Looming trees curved in overhead like a tunnel, and soon the moonlight was unable penetrate it. Crickets chirped and bugs buzzed and the water gurgled, and after a few more minutes, something else became audible. Something closing in on them.

“I see something,” said Connor. “Over there. See?”

“Oh my God.”

There were three low silhouettes. The tops of the spider monsters were visible
just above the water. They were walking as fast as they could on the muddy bottom of the river, which seemed to be getting shallower with every step. Their bodies were rising slowly out of the water.

Connor picked up the other oar and looked at Olive in the darkness of the woods and winding river. “It’s not deep enough.”

FRIDAY 11:02 PM

The night grew colder and darker. The sounds of the wolves fighting
the undead had long faded out, and no trace of the hissers advancing had arisen. Amanita walked under the cradle of Doug’s arm. It was warmer for her like this, and when she stumbled from the pain of the burns on her legs he caught her. He was big, and soft, and protective, and she needed that right now. Because the majority of her mind was replaying the events at Harold’s. The crazy bastards were something right out of the Salem Witch Trials. Even the damned kids. Who taught kids to murder innocent young girls? Raving psychos, that’s who. It made her shiver with disgust. What had the world come to?

Doug pointed down the road. “I see houses up there. Maybe someone can help.”

Amanita saw the house too, and remembered all the times now she’d been trapped in a house fighting for her life. What had once been a symbol of safety and shelter was now a potential for imprisonment and death. “Maybe they’ve been turned,” she said. “Not for nothing, Doug, but I’m not feeling, like, super trusting right now. We have no weapons, and I think it’s obvious I’m a little young to be fighting adults. Who knows what’s in those houses.”

“You’ve fought har
der than anyone I know, Am. Don’t knock yourself. You’re a regular little scrapper. But I hear you’re point. Okay, hold up here. I’ll check it out.”

Slowly, Doug inched
up the dark front lawn of the closest house. All was black inside and out, as was the norm. He peered in through the front window, put an ear to the side of the house, and then disappeared behind the back. Am stood alone in the street doing her best not to freak out as the trees creaked around her. He came around again a minute later holding a piece of paper. “It’s a note,” he said. “It was taped to the back door. Says they went to Seattle. I’m not sure who it was for, maybe friends or relatives, anyone looking for them in this mess. But it doesn’t matter. The house is empty. Let’s get inside and barricade it, get some sleep.”

Twenty minutes later Amanita was staring at herself in the bat
hroom mirror yet again. Doug lit candles he found in the kitchen and her burnt hair flickered in the flames. “I’m hideous,” she said, and started to cry.

Doug entered with a pair of scissors and stood behind her. His hulking frame blocked out the shower behind them
, which was nothing but a reminder of how dirty they were. “It’s not that bad. Let’s just cut off the burnt parts.”

Amanita shook her head, knuckling tears from her e
yes. “No. That won’t do it. Goddamn those pieces of shit.” She turned around and buried her face in Doug’s chest. He stank of sweat but she found it somewhat comforting. She knew he was fatigued, exhausted, and his smell was a testament of the energy he’d spent while trying to save her.

His arms fell around her and hugged her close. “It’s okay, Am. We’ll get to California soon enough. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get to that psycho’s place sooner.”

She let go of him and picked up the scissors, placed them to her hair and began to cut. The burnt pieces fell into the sink and collected there like ash. “I used to freak out if I couldn’t get my hair right, you know. Like, it was this big deal to impress the other girls at school. I don’t even know why it matters. It’s just hair. But hair and makeup and clothing, it made me feel good somehow. It got me a lot of attention.”

“From the other girls?”

“Girls, boys, more often than not from older men. Men are pervs.” She turned and looked at him. “I’m glad you’re not a perv.”

“I like my women to be women.”

She cut more locks of hair off, tried to make the top all one length. In another minute she turned around and presented her new pixie haircut, cut above her ears, to the top of the nape of her neck, and with bangs that ended well above her eyebrows. She’d mussed it up with some hair product found in the bathroom cabinet to give it a fashionable slant. “Well?” she said, throwing her arms up. “There are some bald spot on top where the fire got too much of it, but overall I think I can live with it. At least no one can grab my hair now.”

Doug smiled.
“Am, you’re going to make a beautiful woman someday.”

She looked in the mirror again. “I kind of like it, actually. It’s a new me, and God knows I could use a new me right about now.”

An hour later they sat around a candelabra in the
kitchen and ate chili from cans found in the pantry. Amanita wore a pink t-shirt she’d dug out of a dresser in an ugly bedroom adorned with bad horse paintings. They’d drawn all the shades and blinds, locked the doors, and assembled a collection of knives and two hammers just in case they needed a quick weapon. Outside, the wind howled through the nearby woods but otherwise all was silent. No helicopters, no gun shots, no cars, and no hissing.

Doug finished his food and leaned back in his chair
, one hand rubbing his full stomach. “I gotta warn you, this here is the magical fruit, so if you smell something ornery, you may want to run far away. I’m too old to be coy these days.”

“Oh my God, gross. Why are boys so in love with their own farts. It’s disgusting.”

Chuckling, Doug stabbed a finger at her. “Now don’t you act like you ain’t got the same insides as every other human. Girls fart too.”

“Yeah but not in front of people. Ew.”

“Pull my finger.”

“What? No!”

“Suit yourself.” Doug made a face as he let one go.

“Jesus, Doug! Ew, that stinks.”

Now laughing hysterically, Doug got up and threw his chili can away. He sat back down, amused by Amanita’s repulsed sneer. “That does stink, don’t it.”

Am
anita waved the noxious smell from her face, then squared him up with a challenging stare. “Oh yeah.” She stood up and let one rip as well.

“I knew it,” Doug s
aid, “I knew y’all farted. Hoo wee, girl, that smells like the rug section at Macys.”

Amanita burst out laughing. “What’s that even mean?”

“Means it stinks like burlap and dust. Gross.”

Now they were both laughing, Amanita with teeth covered in cold chili. “Oh my God I can’t believe I just did that. So much for being a lady.”

“Ah, you’ve got years to worry about being a lady.”

She stopped smiling as new thoughts fell over her. “Do I? I mean, is this shit gonna end?”

“Sure, it’ll end. It’s got too. Ain’t never been a time in history when the Devil has really won, right?”