Behind him, she noticed more shapes, faceless beings,their arms held before them, as if they all wanted her.
"Help me," she said again. But Courtney didn'thear her, or maybe he didn't care. He was closer now. And Clara could make outthe wounds upon his face, scratches and bites. Maggots crawled from within andfell to the ground. His skinless feet ground them to a paste as he dragged hisheels over them.
Panic began to build in her chest. She turned around, andbegan to fiddle with all of the levers and buttons on the motorcycle. Theremust have been hundreds of them. She looked at the life gauge, and with eachsecond, she could see the needle drop a little lower, dipping towards the wordat the bottom where it said, "Dead."
She stomped her foot down on a pedal on the side of thebike, the way she had seen men do it in movies, but nothing happened. Shescreamed in frustration, but even that came out wrong, sounding more like thegargle of a choking woman. Then she felt the touch, the touch of Courtney'shand upon the nape of her neck. His cold clammy hand slid through her hair andover the side of her face.
She spun around to look at him, and his face was gone. Inplace of eyes and nose was just one giant mouth. Teeth bristled in the Courtneything's maw as it moved in for a bite. It could take her head clean off. Shescreamed as the teeth dug into the sides of her neck.
****
She awoke to the clatter of raindrops on the SUV's roof.She felt tears cooling on her cheeks, and she huddled with her body facing theside of the SUV. Behind her, she could hear the slow and steady breathing ofJoan. At least she hadn't woken her. The nightmare fled from her mind, leavingbehind only the lasting image of Courtney with his entire face replaced by ahuge mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.
What time was it? Then she wondered why she even wonderedwhat time it was. There was another of man's inventions about to go extinct.The minute was nothing anymore. Hours, days, weeks, months... who would keeptrack of these things? Certainly not her or the survivors around her. Claradidn't know what day of the week it was anymore. She hadn't heard anyone askabout it for days now.
Clara jumped as Joan lashed out at her with her fists. Shemust be having a nightmare, too, Clara thought. She grabbed her fists tostop them from doing any damage and yelled, "Joan!" until she stoppedflailing about. "It's just a nightmare, Joan."
Joan sat up sideways, her hands went to her face. Claraknew exactly how it felt. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
Joan just shook her head. Clara understood. Talking aboutnightmares never helped. It just solidified the fears in the mind, making itmore likely to reappear in the future. No, the best option was to forget themcompletely, move on, and hope that they never came back. Clara lay down oncemore, wondering why she couldn't have a good dream about Courtney. She wantedone desperately, just a normal dream. Maybe they could be sitting on the couchwatching TV, Courtney making snide comments about all of the talentlesscelebrities on the screen, just the way he used to do.
That's all she wanted, a slice of normalcy... well, itwasn't all she wanted. As she lay there, she started thinking of all of thethings she wanted to distract herself from the nightmare that still clung tothe edges of her consciousness. Behind her, Joan had fallen asleep again, herbreathing gaining a deep regularity that was comforting to Clara.
The first thing she wanted was a pile of blankets in ahouse with a roaring fire. Clara shivered as the chill of the night crept inthrough the busted out windows of the SUV. The second thing she would wantwould be a hot shower, preferably with a lifetime supply of shampoo and showergel. She could scrub for weeks, but it probably still wouldn't be enough timeto excavate all the grit and grime that had sunk into her skin, hair andfingernails. Then she wanted a hot meal... not something from a can, but ahome-cooked meal, with fresh bread. Hell, at this point, she would settle forjust the smell of fresh-baked bread.
A pair of gunshots rang out in the night, the sound mutedby the wall of water that fell from the sky. Clara's stomach rumbled, and shegave up on getting anymore sleep. She crawled over the back seat of the SUV.She unlocked the door, and then looked out the window. It was pitch black inmost places, but underneath a tarp she spotted a small campfire burning in theclearing.
Clara took a deep breath, stepped out into the rain, andgently closed the door behind her so as not to wake Joan.
The rain began to slacken as she approached, but shestill had to catch her breath as the cold drops hit her skin. Sergeant Tejadasat huddled next to the fire, the light from the flames dancing on his wideangular face. The other soldiers were all sleeping or on guard duty. TheSergeant stared into the fire, lost in its glowing embers. Clara took a seatnext to the fire, and almost laughed as the Sergeant tossed a textbook on theflames.
He must have seen the burgeoning mirth on her face, as hesaid, "Ain't no use for calculus now. School's out for the summer."
"You think it will ever start up again?" sheasked.
She knew the answer. She knew it would be years untilactual schools would start back up again. She knew that there was a chance thatthe human race was a grounded fish lying on the beach gasping it last air. Butshe waited for his answer anyway.
After a calculated moment of thought, he said, "Ihope so. I hope we can make a difference. I hope that one day things willreturn to normal. It probably won't be in my lifetime, but there's alwayshope."
"Is that why you and your men are out here? Becauseof hope?"
He looked at
