It was hard to find settlements in the dark these days. The bugs had become nocturnal, descending like a demonic hoarde on any scrap of light that shone from dusk until dawn the next day, so it was forbidden to light a candle in the evenings. One of those laws that wasn?t hard for anyone to keep because the punishment for breaking it was death and as far as Rachel knew there was no judicial system set up wth the bugs to beg for mercy.
The little ones were coughing again, twins through to the end, even in sickness they had to mimic one another. Rachel rushed to finish boiling water as the sun began its dance back down behind the horizon. She?d need to put out the fire as soon as possible, and she wanted to ensure there was enough hot water for tea to soothe their throats. The long, cold nights didn?t help. They needed a doctor, but they were still a half-days walk from the nearest village. They?d found a rusted out Volkswagen Beetle off the side of the road. The irony did not elude her as they hunkered down to sleep among the springs and tattered seat cushions.
They?d been walking for over a week. Their last village decimated by a single careless man who?d fallen asleep smoking a cigarette. The house fire had attracted thousands of the creatures that prowled the woods and they?d feasted on anyone within a mile radius who?d had the misfortune to be too far from a bunker; the steel, life-saving underground boxes that had proved too strong for the overgrown bug?s mandibles but not strong enough to block out the sounds of them clicking and scraping along the length of it.
But there were only so many rations to go around after the bugs made their way through, and the people often grew feral in their competitions for goods. So Rachel had packed up the kids and what little they could carry without drawing too much attention to themselves and left. She knew if you kept to the roads you?d find something eventually, but the nights were chill and terrifying along the way. Still, better than having your skull dashed in by a hungry man with a shovel.
Bubbles formed around the edges of the pot, signs that the water was finally taking a boil. The sky had turned pink, so Rachel rushed to pull the small pot off the coals and bury them in dirt. She stamped and smooshed everything wth her feet, determined to ensure that no stray spark remained. She wouldn?t risk her chidren?s lives for a moment of carelessness.
Rebecca approached the fire, fingers covered in dirt and clutching a handful of dirty flowers.
?Here mama, I found some marshmallow by the river.?
?That?s a good girl. Did you keep the roots intact?? Rachel asked, taking the plants from her daughter and eyeing their thick, gnarled bottoms tapering into a thin filament. Perfectly preserved. The twins would need every inch of anyone was going to sleep tonight.
?Yes, mama.?
?I see that. Excellent work.?
Rebecca?s face lit up with the compliment. She was growing up beautiful, an unfortunate curse these days. There were no rich men seeking pretty young things to bear them fat children in exchange for a comfortable life, only men with appetites that exceeded their honour. It was a good thing the girl was filthy all the time. If you only glanced you didn?t notice the high cheekbones and smooth skin. There was nothing to be done with those clear, bright eyes, she supposed, except let her live long enough to see things that dulled the glimmer. It wasn?t what she wanted for the girl. Let her eyes shine, and let her mama take care of any man who took notice.
They soaked the roots in the almost-boiling water while darkness gathered around them, the sounds of the twins coughing the only music in the night.
Rachel shivered. She was old enough to remember crickets and nightingales and the lonely cry of distant wolves. Her children knew no such sounds, only the ominous thrum of thousands of thin wings.
The twins slurped down the thin tea and they passed along a collection of roots and greens Rebecca had been gathering all day as they walked. They had run out of food yesterday.
Rachel rummaged through the car without much hope. Most houses and cars along the road had been cleaned out long ago. She found an emergency kit tucked under the passenger seat and ripped into it. Her heart fell when a single emergency flare rolled out across the floor. No bandaids, no polysporin, nothing but a useless flare that would do nothing but bring down a cloud of death upon them.
She sighed and settled into the seat, allowing Sebastian to lay his head in her lap. Simon quickly followed suit and she stroked the dingy curls that clung to their heads while they rocked her with their hacking.
One more day. They just had to walk one more day and then pray that someone took mercy on them.
Her eyes slid closed, but she fought sleep. Sleep always brought the nightmares; scores of bugs pulsing through the air, reaching for her, crawling along her skin, rending it with their fangs. Worse still, watching her children buried beneath the swarm, the sounds they made as they were eaten alive. It wasn?t a leap of imagination. She?d heard other children make the same sounds, abandoned by their terrified parents, too afraid to open the bunker doors with the bugs so close at hand. She?d seen their faces shadowed and twisted by the dancing flames of the village as it burned.
So she closed her eyes but some back corner of her mind shocked her awake every time she began to drift, convinced she could hear the thrum if insect wings drawing nearer. The third time she jarred awake she shook her head, convinced she could still hear the beating, thick and deafening, surrounding them.
The sound didn?t dissipate. She could hear the beating.
She scrabbled up, dumping the twins onto the ground. Sebastian gave a weak cough, but Simon sat up and began to cry, his voice hoarse.
Rebecca was already awake, and she scooped Simon up into her arms, then bent to shake Sebastian awake. He groaned.
?Fever,? she said.
Our eyes met. The swarm would be here soon and there was nowhere to hide. The car doors wouldn?t close and even running it would take more than two hours to reach the village.
?Mama?? Rebecca asked. The girl looked terrified, but her voice was full of faith. She was waiting for instructions.
I tore my eyes away, casting them down in shame. They landed on the emergency flare, abandoned on the floor of the car.
I grabbed it up and turned to the children. ?Simon, you have to run, ok? As far and fast as you can. Rebecca, carry Sebastian. If Simon is too weak, place him on your back. Do not stop until you reach the village.?
Rebecca?s eyes faltered. ?What are you going to do??
I gripped her chin and stared into those beautiful eyes one last time. ?You are strong and you are brilliant. You can do this.?
?Mama??
?Now run,? I shouted as the wing beats grew louder.
Rebecca began to cry but she nodded her head and scooped Sebastian up into her arms.
She grabbed Simon?s hand and pulled him forward onto the road.
I watched them for only a moment before I turned and ran in the opposite direction towards a crumbling stone outcropping I had seen earlier.
I raced forward, feeling the distance between myself and my children growing, straining. I found the place and began to climb. At the top I stood, flare in hand, hesitating. I had gained a lot of altitude and could hear the insects droning below me. Somewhere along that silvery, moonlit road were my children. I yanked off the end cap and struck the flare.
The light was blinding and I shielded my face with the opposite hand. From below I heard a roar of sound and could see the outline of a black cloud reforming, shifting, and racing toward me.
Soon they would be upon me. Those legs, those fangs, those thousands of eyes. It was every horror that kept me awake at night. Except the worst one. There would be no childish screams this night. I would not close the door on my children.
I held the flare high into the night and closed my eyes.
Topic: Beacon - Adult Post-Apocalyptic (Read 735 times)