The forest ranger station only had one clock, and it was broken and as useless as their phones. There was no way for them to truly mark the passage of time. Even day and night was becoming muddled as time wore on. There was no moon or sun to go by. Both were blotted out by the cloud cover now. Still, there was light—a murky, gray haze that allowed for visibility. Sarah supposed that would have to pass for daylight.
Neither of their sleeping or eating routines approximated any semblance of normalcy anymore. They slept when they were tired and ate when they were hungry. Gone was the pretense of three square meals a day or catching a solid seven or eight hours of sleep. The only schedule they were adamant about was making sure that one of them was awake at all times to keep an eye on Earl and his friends.
When Henry had first arrived, Sarah had been grateful. He was someone new, someone alive, a fellow survivor. A fellow human being. They had talked non-stop the first few days. Henry had told her all about his parents and friends and Moxey, and about what it was like to grow up in West Virginia. Sarah had been delighted to learn that the boy had known Teddy and Carl, but was crushed by his news of what he’d seen at Teddy’s former home. She’d told him about her former life, her family and her ex-girlfriends, and what she missed about them. They’d also shared survivor’s stories. Henry related his experiences at the top of the grain silo, and Sarah commiserated with tales from the top of the Marriott in Baltimore. But after the first week, their conversation dwindled. Now, they struggled to find topics to discuss. It wasn’t like they could turn to pop culture or the news anymore. There were no current events, other than the rain. And talking of news from the past served only to deepen their mutual depression.
Occasionally, they still got broadcasts from Sylva, the guy with the pirate radio station in Boston. But his signal grew weaker and his messages had become heartbreakingly insane. The man was obviously infected with the white fuzz. Still, his was a human voice, and those were in short supply.
The situation had impacted their hygiene, as well. Sarah tried to keep her clothes clean, but there was only so much she could do when there was no water to wash them with. She didn’t dare use the rainwater. There was no telling what it would do to the fabric—or to herself. She brushed her teeth every day, regardless of whether she’d eaten or not. In an effort to further conserve their drinking water, she didn’t rinse, and the toothpaste often left her tongue feeling gritty and dry. She still used deodorant, although sparingly. She secretly wished Henry would, too. The teenager reeked of underarms—a musty, dank smell not at all dissimilar to that of the worms.
Sarah thought about the worms a lot. She wondered what had become of them. They hadn’t seen one in quite some time, and the sudden disappearance of the creatures left her unsettled, although she didn’t know why. It reminded her of rats deserting a sinking ship. Was the mountain going down soon? Was that why the worms had vanished? And where had they gone to, if not here? From everything she knew about them, Sarah seriously doubted that the worms could swim. She was ruminating over it again when Henry spoke.
“We could build a boat.”
“Hmmm?”
“I reckon we could build a boat and float on out of here. Just like I did in Renick. There’s got to be other folks who are still alive.”
“And run into one of those shark men you mentioned? No thanks. Besides, where are we going to find the lumber to build a boat?”
Henry shrugged. “I don’t know. The tree, or maybe that shed out yonder.”
“The trees, the shed, and everything else outside is covered with the white fuzz now, Henry. It’s even growing on the tower. If we go out any farther than the top of the stairs, we risk becoming infected. We’re better off staying put.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“What prompted this?”
“I’m just bored, I guess. Just trying to make conversation. You don’t say much these days.”
Sulking, he turned back to the observation window. Sarah was about to apologize to him when Henry suddenly gasped.
“Oh, shit…”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Earl and them others are gone!”
Sarah jumped to her feet. “That means they’re going to try for another assault. Come on.”
CHAPTER 68
Henry put his ear to the door and listened.
“Anything?” Sarah asked.
The boy shook his head.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Get back.”
Henry removed the barricade and Sarah rushed out into the rain. She clutched a hefty axe that she’d retrieved from the utility shed before Kevin’s death. Henry hurried out behind her, carrying a large pickaxe. They hovered on the top landing, peering down into the gloom below, where seven shadowy figures were laboriously making their way up the wet and slippery metal stairs. Five of the figures were roughly-human shaped, each possessing two arms, two legs and a head. Another of the creatures had once been either a dog or a coyote—or possibly a wolf, though Sarah wasn’t sure if West Virginia had wolves or not. The seventh’s original form was unrecognizable. Whatever it had once been, it was now nothing more than a shambling mound of pallid fungus. As they watched from above, the thing burst apart on the second landing, turning to liquid and spilling back down the stairs. Its companions, including the thing that had once been Earl Harper, ignored its demise.
“There’s a gasoline can in the far corner, over next to the radio,” Sarah said. “Grab it, and that box of wooden matches. I’ve got an idea.”
Henry frowned. “You’re not thinking of going down there, are you?”
Far below, the creatures moaned and gurgled, attracted by their voices.
“Just do it, Henry. Please? And hurry.”
Nodding, he ducked back inside.
“Yeah,” Sarah called, “we’ve been through that already, Earl. You sound like a broken record!”
“Soft… SOFT!”
Beginning at the fourth landing, Sarah and Henry had erected a series of crude but so-far effective barricades and booby-traps, using materials they’d recovered from the utility shed and the ranger station. When the monsters reached that level, they were confronted with a maze of lumber, fencing rolls, and other debris. Sarah and Henry had been mindful to avoid using anything that Kevin might have touched while inside the shed, but that didn’t seem to matter now. Most of the blockade had white fuzz growing on it. Much of the fungus had appeared in only the last few days. Already, Sarah noticed, several lengths of two-by-four were missing. She assumed that they’d already liquefied. How long before the same thing happened to the rest of the barricade? How long before it happened to the ranger station, as well?
Henry returned with the gasoline can. Sarah took it from him and unscrewed the cap. The liquid sloshed inside and the pungent fumes made her wince. She walked to the railing and lifted the can over the side.
“Hey, Earl!”
Below, six mold-covered faces peered up at her, toothless mouths agape.
“Heads up.” Sarah laughed as she poured the gasoline. The liquid seemed to fall faster than the rain, splashing on the creatures. Immediately, they recoiled, shrieking in either pain or fright. Sarah couldn’t be sure of which, nor did she care. “Quick, Henry. Give me the matches.”
He handed them over and Sarah fumbled one from the box and tried to light it. When she had no luck, she ducked into the open doorway and tried with a second one. A third and fourth also refused to light.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit…”
“It don’t matter none,” Henry called, looking over the rail. “They’re running away. And parts of them are coming off. Look!”
Sarah moved to the railing and watched the attackers retreat. Sure enough, their hides had turned black
