Giggling, Kevin turned off the flashlight once more and tried to get comfortable. The mattress poked him. He poked it back. Rain drummed against the shed’s roof, steady and rhythmic. The sound wasn’t unpleasant. He closed his eyes…
…and then he was thirsty again.
“Goddamn it. What the fuck?”
It occurred to him that despite the amount of water he’d drank in the last hour, he didn’t have to piss. That was odd. Usually, when he drank anything, especially beer or water, it ran right through him. When he was a kid, his father had joked on long car trips about how Kevin needed to stop every ten miles or so.
He fumbled in the darkness, not bothering with the flashlight again, found a fourth bottle, and chugged it. The liquid did little to alleviate his thirst, but he forced himself not to drink another. Instead, he lay there and tried to fall asleep. His thoughts turned to Sarah. He wondered what she was doing up there in the tower, and hoped that she was okay.
Outside, something bumped into the shed hard enough to make the walls rumble. Kevin held his breath. He heard the distinct slithering sound of a heavy body crawling through the mud. He waited, not daring to breathe or move. In the past, some of the worms had displayed the ability to track prey through some kind of sensory ability. Kevin still wasn’t sure if it was smell or sight—he’d seen evidence of both despite the fact that the creatures’ had no eyes or nose. He considered grabbing one of the axes from the wall, but was afraid that the worm would hear his movement.
Eventually, he heard the creature crawl away into the night. Exhausted, feverish, and in pain, Kevin lay there, listening for it to return, until the sound of the rain lulled him to sleep.
While he slept, something that wasn’t blood seeped through the pores of the gauze bandage on his arm and began to grow, sending out small exploratory tendrils.
CHAPTER 15
Henry returned to the grain silo and removed his boots and clothes to avoid the risk of infection. He dropped them into the foul water and then clambered inside the silo. He stood shivering in the doorway. Water dripped from his body and pooled on the floor. He shook himself, spraying droplets through the air.
Moxey was sprawled on her makeshift bed of burlap bags, lying on her back with her paws in the air. Her mouth was slightly open, showing teeth and receding gums. Her ribs were visible beneath her fur. She looked stiff, and at first, Henry was positive that she’d died during his absence. Then her ears twitched. Henry sighed, watching her. Eyes still closed, Moxey shook her paws and twitched her tail. Henry wondered what she was dreaming about. Probably food.
Grunting with exertion, he struggled to pull the raft inside. When it was secure, he walked across the floor to the moldering cardboard box full of wet newspapers and magazines. They smelled musty. He dumped them out and then, carrying the box with him, knelt down next to Moxey. She opened her eyes as he gently scratched her chin.
“How you doing, girl?”
She responded with a weak meow.
“I know. I know. We’re getting out of here tomorrow. We can’t stay here anymore.”
Moxey licked his fingers with her rough tongue.
“But first, I need to borrow some of these sacks.”
He picked her up and she whined in protest. Henry lined the bottom of the cardboard box with a few burlap bags and placed Moxey inside it. She turned in a circle, looking at it doubtfully, her claws flexing and prodding. His mother used to call that ‘making bread.’ After a moment, Moxey lay down and curled up. Henry smiled when she closed her eyes and began to purr.
Using his pocketknife, Henry fashioned a crude kilt and shirt out of the rest of the burlap bags. The shirt was easy. He simply cut holes for his head and arms. The kilt was a little more difficult. He used strips of burlaps as a belt to cinch it around his waist. When he was finished, he got dressed. They sacks were warm from the cat’s leftover body heat, but that warmth soon vanished. The rough material grew itchy and irritated his skin.
He strode to the center of the platform. The wooden floorboards were cold under his bare feet. Henry peered over the side, and confirmed that the water was still rising. Within days, the silo would flood.
He lay down next to Moxey and draped one hand over the lip of the box. He scratched her ears and closed his eyes.
“Yep,” he promised before falling asleep. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll head for Mr. Garnett’s house. I ain’t gonna let you starve, or get infected with whatever Mr. Burke had, or drown. I promise. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
His stomach growled as he snored.
* * *
Sarah slept soundly, the first aid book open across her chest. At one point in the night, a particularly loud burst of thunder woke her up, but Sarah forced herself to go back to sleep. She needed to rest—needed to conserve her strength for what she planned on doing tomorrow, if it was necessary.
She thought that it probably would be.
* * *
Kevin slept, and dreamed that he and Lori were sitting naked in a huge porcelain bathtub full of warm water. It was the most luxuriant feeling he’d ever experienced. He examined his fingers. They looked like wrinkled, white prunes.
Lori caressed his shoulders. “You’re so soft.”
“Soft is good,” he agreed. “Everything should be soft.”
He leaned forward to kiss her, and she turned into water and flowed all over him.
Even as he shuddered in the throes of a powerful orgasm, Kevin did not wake.
* * *
The rain continued to fall.
CHAPTER 16
Sarah awoke with a start, groggy and confused. She glanced around the station, not remembering where she was at first. She sat up quickly and the medical book that had been lying open on her chest fell to the floor.
“Oops.”
Yawning, Sarah rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. She reached up to run a hand through her hair and was shocked at first when she didn’t feel any. Then she remembered that she’d cut it off the night before, in fear that it might harbor the white fuzz.
She turned on the radio, but Mark from Boston had gone silent again. Even the static seemed muted. She turned it back off to conserve the batteries. Stumbling around the room, Sarah finally settled in the kitchen area. She made a cup of instant coffee and took a sip. It was cold and bitter, and made her long for the hot chicory coffee Teddy had served her and Kevin just a few days ago. She carried the mug over to the large windows and gazed outside. The rain still fell, obscuring anything not immediately on the mountaintop. Mist swirled around the base of the tower and through the surrounding trees. The sky was a gray sheet—the sun nothing more than a pale, hazy disc. She tried to remember what the sun’s warmth on her skin had felt like, and was surprised to find that she
