The Survivor Chronicles: Book 1, The Upheaval (14 page)

He kept his attention focused forward, John would let him know if they were about to be crushed to death by an enormous wave of water as he leaned even further out the window and made strange gurgling noises and short squeaks. Yep, John was a great barometer on just how much jeopardy they were in. He continuously waved his hand forward, as if that would somehow miraculously move everything out of their way.

The crashing, wrenching roar of the onrushing water pushed Carl faster.

“Ugh! Ugh!” John grunted.

Carl swerved around a large, steaming split in the middle of the highway. They bounced into the median, the truck tires spun as they sought purchase in the spongy grass. Dirt and grass flew, pelting the side and back of the truck with mud. The Toyota, smaller and more maneuverable, pulled ahead of them as it was able to stay on the highway. Carl steered back onto the road as John began to wave more frantically, his grunting increased, and he began to bounce in the seat.

Despite his every intention not to look, Carl felt his eyes irresistibly drawn to the mirror. His mouth dropped, he understood John’s insistent motions as his stomach curdled like spoiled milk. He’d never seen anything like it. Water rolled over water in a ceaseless swell of death and destruction that rushed relentlessly forward. Toward them. He could almost feel it nipping at the truck tires as it was just fifty feet behind them and closing fast.

It seemed as if all the water of the ocean was pursuing them, looking to destroy them. Nothing hindered its pursuit as it simply sucked any obstacles into it and devoured them with ease. Debris rolled within the wave, cresting to the top before being lost within the crush of water again. Cars rose up, spun away, and fell back; there were rooftops, and porches, trees and poles, and worst of all…

“People,” he breathed.

Their bodies appeared within the swirl, before being buried again as new ones surged forth. It was gaining on them, barreling forward with ruthless intent. He knew it wasn’t possible, but he couldn’t shake the thought that the wave was an actual, living thing. That it knew they were there, and it was determined to destroy them. They were nearly two miles from the canal and the water showed no sign of easing.

Plastic bit into the palms of his hands, his fingers twisted around the wheel as he tore his attention away from certain death and back to the mangled road. The Toyota was just ahead of them, the eerie glow of the sun in the back window made it impossible to see inside the vehicle, but he could see the woman’s eyes in the driver’s side mirror.

“Holy shit,” John breathed.

Carl wasn’t about to look at what had elicited words from John again, instead of just mindless sounds. It couldn’t be good.

John flopped back in the seat; he looked about ten years older than he had this morning as he pulled at the side of his face with his right hand. His eyes were haunted as they met Carl’s gaze. “You can slow down now.”

Carl glanced in the mirror again, his body slumped, his hands eased on the wheel. The water didn’t appear to be pursuing them anymore. It had even retreated a little to reveal the layers of dirt, mud, and debris that it had washed ashore. He expected to see the water receding completely, but it didn’t. Instead it seemed to have found a new home, seemed to have decided to claim this land as its own.

Ocean one, land zero. He felt the strange urge to laugh hysterically again, he lit a cigarette instead as he eased on the gas pedal and navigated the highway with a lot more care. The Toyota eased back also, and took the next exit. Losing the woman caused a strange sense of loneliness to fill him as he stared at the empty, forlorn highway. In the distance another vehicle was moving through the wreckage, but it was too far away for him to discern what it was.

John was silent as he continued to pull awkwardly at his face. “I’m glad we were able to get off the Cape.”

“Yeah,” Carl muttered.

The loneliness wouldn’t leave him; it was a growing ache in his chest that the nicotine did little to ease. He felt as if they could well be the last two people on earth, even with the distant movement of the other car. “My parents…”

“I’ll get you to them,” Carl promised. He tossed the cigarette from the window. It bounced off the roof of a black Lexus. The front end was embedded into the back of a pickup truck and blood splattered the windshield. Carl felt a twinge of regret, he hadn’t meant to hit the car, but he’d just bounced a butt off of what would most likely become a person's coffin. He felt like an ass.

“I don’t even know how we’re going to find them.” John started pulling on his face again. “All those people back there, they’re all probably dead. I mean…” he broke off, shaking his head as his fingers made a teepee before his mouth. “I mean… no one could survive that, right?”

Carl swallowed heavily; it was difficult to get his lighter to fire with trembling fingers. “I’m sure some did.”

John shook his head, his gaze traveled to the mirror but there was little to see anymore, they’d moved beyond the scope of the wave and the devastation it had wrought. “Not many,” he muttered. “My home… it’s all I’ve ever known. I… uh, I don’t know… I don’t know.”

“Your parents, John. Where are they?” Carl had to have something to focus on, something to do other than navigate through debris and bodies. So many bodies. Yes, he definitely needed something to do besides think about what was going on around them. So did John, as the kid looked about ready to lose it.

“Bridgewater. My Mom works at the college, my Dad’s a CO at the prison.”

He’d been working with the kid for almost two years, but Carl hadn’t known these details of his life. It was unsettling to realize how little he knew about the person he spent most of his time with. “Your Mom’s a professor?”

“History.”

“Interesting.”

“What about your parents?” John inquired.

“Dead,” Carl said flatly.

“Sorry.”

Carl shrugged, this time he snubbed his cigarette in the ashtray; it was the first time he’d used the thing. He’d been smoking for over twenty years but he’d never liked using the ashtrays in a vehicle. However, there was no way he was throwing another one onto the graveyard that now surrounded them.

“It’s been awhile. Dad died of a heart attack when I was sixteen and Mom succumbed to breast cancer ten years ago,” Carl told him.

“Still sucks.”

Carl refrained from saying that at least he knew where his parents were, and what had become of them. He didn’t want to scare the kid anymore than he already was. “Yeah.”

A small blue Honda crept onto the highway, it came straight up the middle of the grass around the exit ramp. The loneliness eased somewhat, but between the rising steam, the fires burning in the distance, and the darkness of the day, he couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation that enshrouded him. He was glad he’d been at work today, glad he’d been with John; he didn’t know what he would have done if he’d had to face this alone. He’d been alone for a long time, he’d thought that he was used to it, that he enjoyed it; he realized now just how wrong he’d been.

Just past Exit three there were two cars parked in the middle of the highway, people had climbed out of them and were standing beside the vehicles. Carl stopped beside them. Before him, gleaming in the dull daylight was a river that hadn’t been there before.

John was the first out of the truck, he moved forward to stand with the others. Sweat broke out on Carl's brow and trickled down his cheek as he stepped close to the river. Waves of steam rose from the rippling water.

A woman began to cry. “What do we do?” a man inquired.

“Find another way around,” Carl said flatly.

“Maybe we can drive through it. It might not be that deep in the middle.”

Carl expected the river to start boiling any second; there was no way he was going to attempt driving into it. They wouldn’t make it five feet before the tires melted off. “John.” He nodded toward the truck when John’s astounded gaze came gradually toward him. “Let’s go.”

“That truck would definitely make it,” the man pressed.

Five sets of eyes swung toward Carl as he grabbed the handle on the truck door. The sweat had little to do with the heat of the water anymore as he gazed forcefully at John, urging the kid to move faster with his eyes. “No vehicle would make it,” Carl informed the man as he hopped into the truck. “Find another way.”

John jumped into the passenger seat; his brow was furrowed as the man started to approach them. “Lock the door.”

“Huh?” John asked dully.

“Lock. The. Door.” Carl took his own advice as he jammed the lock in place and rolled the window up.

“You could at least try!” The man’s hand slammed down on the hood as Carl started the truck up.

“What the fuck is this guy’s problem?” John demanded.

“Fear,” Carl muttered.

“Hey!” the guy yelled. “I’m talking to you!”

“No one cares,” John retorted. “Back off!”

“Don’t poke the crazies,” Carl warned him.

“I’ll poke him, he’s being an ass.” The man slapped his hand on the hood again, causing a dent to appear in the metal as Carl shifted into reverse. “What is with this guy?”

Carl grabbed John’s arm when he grasped for the handle. “Don’t.”

“We can’t just let him get away with that.”

“I understand you’re young, but let’s not add dumb to it. Think this through: he’s terrified, he thinks this truck is going to make it through that river, and he will take it from us if we give him the chance. We can’t risk losing it.”

John looked about to argue further but he released the handle and sat back. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right.”

Carl eyed the man as he shifted into drive. The man’s eyes were narrowed, his hands fisted as he glowered at the truck. Carl expected him to come after them again, but the guy seemed to decide that being run over by a one ton Chevy was only going to make his already bad day even worse. Though Carl wasn’t eager to fight with the guy, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the truck as a weapon; they were not going to lose it.

He doubled back, driving the wrong way on the highway, but he supposed it didn’t make any difference anymore. Arriving at Exit three he took the ramp and headed north toward Middleboro. He didn’t know what he was going to do if they came across another obstacle and couldn’t go any further with the truck. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of having to walk, and he felt much safer in the vehicle.

John rested his head against the passenger side window. “This is insane,” he mumbled.

“It’s probably only going to get crazier.”

John’s nose scrunched up. “I don’t see how it could.”

Carl aspired to believe that they had survived the worst, and that it was only going to get better from here on out, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself. This was only the beginning of the end, the beginning of the insanity; all he could do was hope that he survived it. Then he hoped that he would still want to have survived when this was all over.

He shuddered as they entered a small town. People stopped to stare as they drove by, they were gathered on the side of the road near a church. The desperation in their eyes terrified him.

CHAPTER 11

Al

Newport, RI.

“Run.”

“What?” Mary Ellen asked as the roaring noise of the train barreled toward them.