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Potawatomi Woods, Wheeling, IL
Four months after The Rise
Lara found a decent sized backpack in the bottom drawer of the cottage’s armoire. She also found a pair of pants, two shirts, and a .38 revolver. She took everything unabashedly and stuffed the contents into Annie’s arms. Lara moved off with a disgruntled grunt.
“Ready?” Captain Blake asked the cottage.
“Just about,” Martin said. He opened Annie’s pack, placed the contents inside, and strapped the bag around her shoulders. “You okay?”
She nodded, but was shaking.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s move out.
They headed southeast through the woods. By the time Annie finally looked back, the cottage was nothing but a distant speck, a fading memory she would never return to again. Four corpses had been left inside. Maybe the wolves would get them, maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, things were different now. Nobody rested in peace.
“You’re quiet,” Martin said.
She shrugged. “This all feels like a bad dream.”
“That feeling never goes away,” he said. And judging by the weariness in his eyes, she assumed he was right.
“If I’m one of those things—a Variant—then why wouldn’t I just kill all of you?” She asked the question with such simplicity Martin nearly lost his breath. It was so frank, yet so warranted.
“I’m not sure.”
“Clearly.”
Martin drew a long, methodical breath. “The simplest way I can put it is: Variants come in all shapes and sizes. They vary in personality, behavior, mood, everything. Some can be aggressive, while others are sneaky…like hunters. No two Variants are exactly alike.”
“Do you think I’m a ‘hunter?’” she asked.
“Frankly, Miss Walker, we have no idea what you are. It’s quite possible that you’re like us. But until we can get some place where I can administer The Test…”
(The Test)
“…we’re all going to have to live in the dark a little while longer.”
Annie stuffed her hands in her pockets and slumped her shoulders. “So how did you all come about?”
“Well…” he sighed, “…That’s a long story.”
“It’s a good thing we’ve both got time.”
Martin smiled. “I happened upon Captain Blake, Enrique, and Lara some time in Wisconsin. Got them out of a pickle.”
“How do you mean?”
“Their plane crashed,” he said, glancing up at his three companions. “I just happened to be there.”
"Just you?" she asked.
He looked at her solemnly. "Yeah..." he said. "At that point I was the only one left."
Annie didn’t know what to say, but she spoke anyway, clumsily, “Well, that wasn’t too long of a story.” He sighed and wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Come on,” he told her. “We should catch up with the others.” He quickened his pace and walked on ahead.
They continued on their way, reaching Park Ridge by midday. The neighborhood was the poster child of suburbia. A never-ending sea of ramblers lined the abandoned blocks. Windows were broken in and some houses were now only broken trusses and old ash, casualties of some horrific fire and blast.
The morning was hot and the air was thick. Fatigue was setting in even though they hadn’t walked more than ten miles.
“Can we take a break?” Annie asked.
“Sure, princess!” Lara quipped.
“Break would be good,” said Martin.
They stopped near a small, green house. Modest, but nice. Paint peeled from its siding and a dozen or so shingles were scattered on the front lawn. The roof was a skeleton of itself. The white picket fence in the back had lost nearly half its planks, making it look like scattered matchsticks standing on end.
“What’s happened here?” Annie asked scanning the neighborhood’s broken homes. It was a suburban graveyard, shells of what used to be.
He handed her a bottle of water. “A few weeks back, the President ordered airstrikes. He said it was so they could ‘contain the problem.’”
“Created a god damn panic, that’s what it did!” Captain Blake shouted. “President’s why we’re in this damn mess!”
“Oh, get off it old man,” Enrique muttered.
“Air strikes! What kind of a god damn fool thinks that’ll solve anything? Killed some of the only survivors we had left!”
“They just killed everyone?” Annie asked.
“A couple days after the strike they said that civilian casualties were at a minimum,” Martin said taking a sip of water. “Though there’s really no way of knowing. We lost radio contact eighteen hours later. Ever since…nothing but static.”
“Thirty-eight stations of pure white noise,” Captain Blake said. He took out his pipe and stuffed it with tobacco. There wasn’t a droplet of sweat on him, and while the others gasped for air, he inhaled a smooth stream of smoke as though it were fresh oxygen.
“You haven’t gotten in touch with anybody?” she asked.
The others shook their heads. It was a miserable reminder to their current predicament. They hung their heads and drank silently for the next several minutes.
“Everyone finish up. If we keep our pace we can be to the United Center by sundown,” said Martin, tightening the cap on his water.
“If we don’t, we’re as good as dead!” added Captain Blake, a bit more cheerful than the others would have liked.
They were all busy securing their packs and finishing their waters that Annie was the only one to spot the fast approaching Variant. She originally thought she’d seen one of the matchstick fence posts move. But that was impossible. Another pocket of movement between the two posts. She got to her feet, her eyes never breaking from the posts.
“Christ, sweetie, whatcho lookin’ at?” Captain Blake asked as she pushed past him.
Annie offered no recognition she had heard him. She stepped toward the posts, her eyes stern and transfixed.
“Um…Doc…” Captain Blake said.
Martin looked up and saw a hypnotized Annie floating toward the broken fence.
“Annie?” Martin called to her.
But the world was drowned out.
“Annie, we need to stay together!” Martin shouted, louder this time.
A plank suddenly exploded off the fence as a Variant erupted through its opening. The Variant, seven feet tall with pulsating muscles, charged at Annie. Its mouth was foaming and its eyes bulged with encompassed rage.
Annie tried to move out of the way but the Variant shoulder checked her across the sternum. She toppled over, an intense ripple of pressure crossing across her ribs.
The Variant reached down to grab her but suddenly went still as the sound of a gunshot vibrated through the air. A bullet hole blasted through the Variant’s torso and blood spattered across Annie’s chest and neck.
The Variant turned to face its assailant. Lara stood there, poised and pleased, her .357 wafting smoke.
“You fu—“ Lara started, but the Variant lashed out at her. His beefy arm caught her throat and she flew backward as if yanked by a string.
The Variant lowered its head and charged. Lara brought her hands to her face, refusing to witness the horror that was about to reign down on her. The Variant let out a wail, a thunderous howl that undulated through the empty streets. The others fumbled with their weapons. The Variant reached for Lara’s arm when a single gunshot cracked through the madness. It was just one shot at first, followed by five consecutive bursts.
The Variant wavered, its legs unsteady and fleeting. The others watched as blood seeped through its weathered grey shirt, the small bullet holes looking like indentations in a soda can. The Variant turned, its massive chest heaving, a glazed look in its eye. It stumbled backward and then fell over. When it fell, the ground shook and Captain Blake could have sworn the wooden fence rattled from its vibration. The Variant was dead.
The others turned around to see the last whiffs of smoke curling out of Annie’s .38. Though they were shaking, the gun was still clasped in her hands. She dropped the gun and her shoulders sunk.
Martin was the first to go to her and take her in his arms. He hugged her and she began to cry. It was a quiet, whimpering cry.
When he pulled away she wiped the tracks from her cheeks and steadied her quivering lip.
“You okay?” Martin asked.
She nodded fervently. She was okay. A combination of shock, adrenaline, and relief surged through her heart and she felt nothing but exhilaration. The Variant was dead, and the others were safe. That was all that mattered. And that was all that would matter from there on out.
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