Outage 5: The Change (6 page)

Emerging from a neighborhood of lifeless houses, they lingered in a dense patch of trees overlooking a long, sloping expanse of white landscape. At the bottom was a large area that looked like a road. Tom held up a protective arm, stopping Maria and Emily. Looking around, he recognized the area.

"The sand and gravel company," he muttered.

Several tall, smooth tubes pierced the sky in the distance. Around them were a variety of cranes and metal towers, surrounded by metal chutes and tall buildings. The towers were branded with a familiar logo. Abraham had worked there. At least, that's what he'd told Tom. A wave of sadness crept over Tom as he remembered his fallen friend.
 

"The good news is I know exactly where we are," Tom said. "The bad news is that we took a wrong turn. We have to backtrack. There's nothing else out this way."

"I used to drive past this place every week," Maria said. "Emily had dance class in Canterbury." The look on Maria's face was one of nostalgia, rather than pain or fear.
 

"I remember the towers," Emily confirmed, pointing. "We always passed them. Right, Mommy?"

Tom paused, letting his companions reminisce for a moment. He found himself wondering if things would ever go back to normal. Routine activities such as a child's dance class seemed like things of the past, rather than things that might happen again.
 

"Brian—Emily's father—used to go to every performance," Maria added. "Even though it was out of his element, he made sure not to miss them." She swiped tears from her eyes, looking down at Emily.

"It'll be okay, Mommy," she said.

"I know," Maria said, fighting to compose herself. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm supposed to be the strong one, and here you are comforting me." She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the head. "I love you, Emily."

"I love you too, Mommy."

"Please tell me you know where we're going, Tom."

"I—"

An engine growled in the distance. Tom jolted. Maria and Emily jumped. They stared down the snow-covered road, watching an industrial truck drive closer. It was a half-mile away.

"Maybe it's help," Tom whispered hopefully.

He tried to contain his optimism, even though the truck was the best thing he'd seen all day.

The truck growled and spat exhaust as it crept up the road. Tom couldn't see the details, but he recognized it as a hauler. On a typical business day, the truck carried sand and gravel to the company down the road. Now it was a beacon of hope in a dead landscape.
 

Tom studied the vehicle, keeping Maria and Emily behind him. Between the hill and the trees, they had a safe vantage point to view the driver. Some part of him wanted to rush down the hill and signal the person, but his memory of the men they'd encountered earlier stopped him.
 

Who knew who was driving?

He resolved to get a look at the person first. Then he'd figure out what to do. If he missed the truck, he could always run after it. Looking at Maria and Emily, he knew he couldn't put them in danger recklessly.

"Stay here," he hissed.

The noise of the engine grew louder, cutting through the silent, frigid scenery. The tires flung snow. The truck approached within a few hundred yards, the oranges and blacks contrasting sharply with the landscape. For a moment, Tom considered that the occupant might be returning to his workplace, oblivious to the carnage. But that didn't make sense. There was no way someone could've driven through town and not noticed the bloodshed. The chaos was as much a part of Plainfield as the buildings, or the dead occupants.
 

The more likely scenario was that the driver was getting to safety. Perhaps the gravel company, far removed from town, had become a place of refuge. Convinced of his new theory, Tom inched from the trees, wondering if he could dart down the hill and catch the driver's attention in time.
 

What he saw next stopped him.
 

Maria and Emily gasped in terror.
 

The bed of the truck was filled with bodies, jostling with the bumps in the road. All of them were naked and bloodied. A shimmer of fear ran up Tom's legs. The driver—a rotund man with a flannel jacket—stared straight ahead, as if he was hauling a load of dirt instead of a pile of human beings. His casual demeanor was as fear-inducing as the haul he was carrying.

"Oh, my God…." Maria gasped, pulling Emily against her to shield her from the sight.
 

But the little girl had already seen it. She cried quietly into Maria's jacket, shaking.

"Stay still, he doesn't see us…" Tom said.

He prayed as he said the words. They were far enough away that he shouldn't have to worry, and yet he couldn't shake the vision of the man turning his head, noticing them in the trees at the top of the hill. The truck belched as it drove down the road, releasing a plume of exhaust, and suddenly the bodies were out of view, as if they'd been some horrible dream that Tom had concocted, rather than the truth.

"It must be one of them," he said suddenly, hit with a wave of understanding. "They're cleaning up after themselves. They're taking away their dead to bury them."

He recalled the beasts outside the machine shop and the beasts at the Knights of Columbus. Both had pulled the bodies of their dead brethren away. Maybe it was the beasts from the hospital.

Tom's new theory made him nauseous. What better time to clean up than in between hellish nights, passing the time until the moon returned? The man had probably been living among the townsfolk, harboring his secret for a while.

In a way, his secret was no worse than Tom's.

"Are you all right, Tom?" Maria asked, her touch on his arm keeping him sane.

"I'll be fine," he said.
 

He looked over at Maria and Emily, who watched him with concerned expressions as the growl of the truck engine faded, leaving only tire tracks in its wake. Composing himself, Tom turned in the other direction, his impulse to save Maria and Emily stronger than ever.

"Let's get out of here," he said, leading them away.

"Are you sure you're all right, Tom?" Maria asked, struggling to catch up.

Since they'd seen the truck, he'd been pushing harder and faster, inadvertently leaving his companions behind. Maria's breath heaved with exertion as she pushed her crutch in and out of the snow. Emily's short legs knifed through the white powder.
 

"We've seen worse things," he said, "but watching that truck reminded me of the scope of this."

"I had to look away," Maria said. "As soon as I realized what it was, I protected Emily…" She glanced at her daughter's pale face, trying to convince herself her daughter had been spared the sight of the carnage.

"The idea of these creatures living among us, working, paying bills, planning…" Tom shook his head. "It's as sickening as the rest of this."

"Thank God you found us," Maria said. "I don't know who else I'd trust, Tom."

Guilt churned Tom's insides. He forced those thoughts from his mind as he retraced their tracks.
 

He glanced up at the sky. The gray, impenetrable hue reached as far as the eye could see. The deadline of night loomed. It felt like they'd been traveling for days, though he knew that couldn't be the case.

After retracing their steps through several neighborhoods, a street sign triggered Tom's memory.
 

"Wait a minute," he said suddenly, pointing to it.

"Do you recognize it?" Maria asked.

"Crescent Street," he said out loud. "I remember that one."

He had a vision of himself, riding on the back of the fire truck. That journey had been a lot clearer than his walk in the snow. He'd watched the sign flit by on the left. To the right was an intersecting street. The image gave him a much-needed burst of hope.

"This way," Tom said confidently.
 

He led Maria and Emily away, forging new boot prints as they changed direction.
 

Kelsey clutched Silas and Katherine and stared at the ceiling of the bunker, trying to envision what was going on outside. The enclosed, underground room might as well have been a prison cell. She felt isolated and trapped: the same way she'd felt above ground. Although it was daytime, she knew night would be coming soon, and with it the threat of the beasts.
 

Would she hear them scratching at the door? Would they find their way in? The rifle at her feet would do nothing against a swarm of beasts, silver bullets or not.

Across the small room, Officer Flannery and Mike Tancredi made frantic calls on the radio, trying to get in contact with anyone who might be alive. The radio was hopelessly silent. She fought the feeling that they were the only ones left.

Two nights of losses had compounded that fear.
 

On top of that was her guilt.

Ever since they'd closed the door to the bunker, Kelsey had an awful pit in her stomach. She'd lied about Tom. She'd told Mike and Officer Flannery that he'd gone to find a family member. She thought back to when she'd told the lie, shortly after watching Tom leave.

When he hadn't reappeared, Officer Flannery had gone out searching, but the gusting wind and the threat of the beasts had driven him back to the bunker.
 

She regretted telling the lie.

But what could she have said? That Tom was one of the creatures, and that he was headed to some uncertain place to change? They might've tracked him down. They might've killed him. She'd seen desperate people do desperate things.

As guilty as she was for lying, she couldn't expose Tom's truth. She had faith that Tom would get as far away as possible from the bunker. She told herself he wouldn't be a threat.

She hoped she wasn't wrong.
 

She looked around the bunker. The room was stocked with food, drink, and ammunition—enough to sustain them for a while, even though they only needed another night. Mike seemed to have thought of everything. Unfortunately, the weapons in the bunker were secured with normal dangers in mind. Only the few guns they'd brought in had silver bullets.
 

Hopefully they'd never need them.

Kelsey watched Silas and Katherine. She could only imagine what horrors were replaying in their heads.
 

"Do you want to play some cards?" It was the third time she'd asked.
 

The children shook their heads.
 

Persisting, she asked, "How about Go Fish? Come on, guys."

Katherine and Silas finally agreed. Silas pierced her with his blue eyes.
 

"How do you play?" he asked.

"I'll show you," Kelsey said, maintaining her smile. "It's pretty easy."

"I don't think I've played before." Katherine furrowed her brow as she thought about it.

"It'll be fun."

Kelsey picked up the deck of cards and began shuffling them. Silas and Katherine watched her. They reminded her of her niece and nephew, who were about their ages. She hadn't seen them in months. Thankfully, they lived in Atlanta, far away from the horrible events that were transpiring.

"Can I try shuffling?" Katherine asked, holding out her hands.

"Sure!"
 

Kelsey handed the cards to Katherine, watching her split the deck. As nervous as the little girl was, the cards distracted her. Hopefully, the game would distract Kelsey, as well.
 

Try as she might, her thoughts were still on the man she'd left behind in the snow.
 

She hoped to God that Tom was alive.
 

The neighborhoods looked more and more familiar as Tom, Maria, and Emily traveled through them. Tom recognized several landmarks—a house with a purple star over the front porch, a red station wagon crushed into a telephone pole. They stuck to the roads, following the fire truck's path. His memory from the drive was clearer than his hazy recollection of his walk last night.

He thanked God for that.
 

Although Maria's leg was still bothering her, she hobbled along at a steady pace. Emily traveled without complaint. Tom marveled at how resilient they were. Despite everything they'd been through, they seemed as determined as he was to reach safety.

What would he tell them when he reached the bunker? Could he escape without revealing his lie? He'd have to make sure they were safe before leaving. That meant the others would have to open the door.
 

For all he knew, the people in the bunker already knew what he was.
 

He might be shot.

Looking up at the sky, he bit his lip and thought of Lorena and Jeremy. If he could speak to them, he knew they'd support his decision.

Sooner or later, we'll be reunited
, he thought.
One way or the other.

Comforted by that knowledge, he carried on through the snow, helping Maria and Emily when they encountered a patch of deeper snow, or when they faltered. His companions had provided him with a destination, a distraction. He couldn't imagine surviving the remainder of the storm alone, reflecting on the things he'd done, and the things he might do in the future.