“One thing at a time, I reckon,” Henry muttered.
“…need an X-ray generator… university, pharmaceutical company, or government lab that’s not underwater. I’ve heard that the Havenbrook facility in Pennsylvania is still functioning… try for that. I’ll also need power to run… for the math and structure viewing. If Havenbrook doesn’t have electricity, I can always rig up some gas generators… with a baby on the way… I’m doing everything possible to ensure my family’s protect… but I’m itchy and my skin feels funny… the cat has been hissing at me…”
“He’s got it,” Henry whispered, feeling his heart sink. “This poor guy has it, too.”
Sarah began to sing louder, punctuating the chorus with sobs and laughter. Henry felt like doing the same.
CHAPTER 71
Henry switched off the radio and stood there, shoulders slumped, head down, arms hanging limp. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally. His ears felt hot and were filled with a droning buzz. He swayed back and forth, unsure if the tower was shaking again or if he was just about to pass out. The heat spread to his cheeks and forehead. His vision began to blur.
“No,” he mumbled. “Ain’t got time to pass out. Earl and them others will be back. Got to barricade the door again.”
He turned unsteadily. Sarah remained sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. She’d stopped singing, but her shoulders still shook with laughter. Her cheeks glistened with tears. More streamed from her red-rimmed eyes.
“Do it, Henry,” she moaned. “Let’s just get it over with.”
Ignoring her, Henry made his way to the door. It was more difficult than he’d expected. His legs were wobbly, and he kept bumping into things. His mind kept returning to what Steven Kazmirski, the man on the radio, had said. Here was a guy who had a cure, who had a means for saving the world, or at the very least, stopping the White Fuzz. But he’d never be able to do it. Henry hadn’t understood all the scientific jargon the man had spouted, but even if he did make it all the way from Boston to that Havenbrook Research Center, he was still infected. He’d be dead before he ever finished the cure.
They all would be, Henry realized. Even if the man on the radio had been able to stop the fungus, he couldn’t stop the rain. The weather was merciless and unchanging. The rain would not stop. It would still be there long after they were dead. Henry stopped halfway to the door and glanced out the tower’s large window. Where once had been a tree-lined horizon, there was now an ocean. Debris floated atop the churning surface—halves of buildings and uprooted trees, cars and trucks, corpses, and even an apparently unmoored ship. The ranger station stood at the very top of the mountain, anchored deep into the rocks, yet black water now lapped at the cliffs just a few hundred yards beneath the tower’s base. In another week, maybe two, it would reach them. But did they even have that long? The steel was weakening, turning to liquid, and those mold monsters were determined to get in.
“Oh, Ma,” Henry whispered. “I miss you and Pa and Moxey. I can see the end of the world from here.”
He stared down at the waves. Two weeks at most, unless the tower collapsed beneath their feet or Earl and the other creatures got inside before then. As if on cue, Henry heard a familiar shuffling gait on the stairs outside. Then a muffled voice rasped.
“Soft…”
“Shit! Here they come.”
“Do it, Henry.”
“Do what?” he snapped, hurrying by Sarah. As he did, he realized that her voice had changed again. She sounded sane once more. He glanced at her. Sarah’s expression was calm.
“Get the pistol. The one the forest rangers left behind.”
“That won’t do anything against Earl.”
“Not for them. Kill me. I don’t deserve to live. Not after what I did to Kevin. Not after everything that’s happened? What’s the point? To end up like Earl? Or worse? Kill me, okay? I don’t want to die like that. Please? And if you’re smart, you’ll kill yourself, too.”
Fists hammered at the door, slowly at first, but growing more insistent. The door rattled in its frame. Henry glanced at the door and then back to Sarah.
“Do it, Henry. Please? I’m so tired. I’m just so fucking tired…”
The pounding grew louder and more violent. Tendrils of fungus slipped through the crack at the bottom of the door, wriggling across the floor like tentative feelers.
Swallowing, Henry picked up the .357 and stood looking down at Sarah.
“Is it loaded?” she asked. “It holds five bullets. I don’t remember if I loaded it after… the last time I used it.”
He checked it and then nodded. “It’s fine.”
“Good.”
“You sure about this?”
“I am. Just don’t miss. Okay?”
Henry tried to speak but found that he couldn’t. His tongue felt dry and swollen. Sarah closed her eyes and lowered her head. She folded her hands in her lap, waiting. Henry put the gun to her head…
…and that was when the world outside exploded.
CHAPTER 72
There was no sound to accompany the explosion, but Henry assumed that was what must have happened. How else to explain the blinding flash of light outside the ranger station’s observation windows? One moment, there had been only gray, dreary bleakness. The next, everything was illuminated in starkly vivid shades of orange and red.
Blinded by the flash, Henry staggered backward, flailing for something to hold on to as the tower swayed yet again. The gun, almost forgotten, nearly slipped from his hand. He grasped at it, sucking in breath and hoping the weapon wouldn’t accidentally discharge. The irony was not lost on him. Only seconds before, he’d been planning to kill Sarah and then himself, thus fulfilling their mutual suicide pact. Now, seconds later, everything had changed.
I’ve seen the light, Henry thought. Boy, have I!
Spots floated in his field of vision. Blinking, he readjusted both his balance and his grip on the handgun. Then he made his way to the window.
“What’s happening?” Sarah asked.
Henry’s reply was cut short by another burst of light. Unlike the first time, this flash was accompanied by a strange sound. Henry cocked his head, listening. After a moment, he realized the sound was that of Earl and the others screaming. He looked out on the scene below, and was shocked to see two men—at least, he thought they were men—making their way toward the tower. The two figures walked single file. Both were covered head to toe with some kind of bizarre makeshift body armor consisting of hardhats, welder’s facemasks, dust respirators, boots, the type of pants and coats worn by firefighters, and lots of duct tape. The one in the rear carried a rifle, but Henry barely noticed this. His attention was focused on the weapon the first figure wielded—a homemade flamethrower. The man swept it back and forth in front of him, clearing a path for him and his partner to walk that was devoid of any white fuzz. As Henry watched, a horde of fungus-infested creatures swarmed toward them.
“Look out!” He pounded his fist against the glass.
Behind him, Sarah groaned, rising to her feet.
Henry doubted his warning had been heard, let alone heeded, but it didn’t really matter. The man with the flamethrower met the attackers head on. Fire spewed from the nozzle, engulfing the creatures and once again
