White Space

“Plenty? Aw, man, you crazy?” Chad moaned. He’d clapped both hands to his head. “Thirteen measly shots or thirteen hundred, there are too many of them, man.”

“He’s not talking about enough bullets for them,” Eric said.

There was a moment’s trembling silence, which the birds’ shrills filled, as the Dodge’s engine muttered a basso counterpoint. “Oh no,” Chad finally said, shaking his head. “Bode, you are out of your mind. If you think I’m gonna eat a bullet …”

“Better than them eating you,” Bode said.

“We’re not there just yet,” Eric said.

But we will be soon. Rima felt Casey’s hand find hers. “Do you know what’s happening?” he asked.

She shook her head. But God, she thought this might be her fault. She knew Tania; she knew about Father Preston, the church. And for a while, that world was so real, as if she had pulled something together out of her mind, or memory, or both, knitting a world as surely as those creatures could remake and mend their flesh.

Then stop this. She closed her eyes. Please, Fog, or whatever you are … please stop or show me how. Even if I have to stay. Please. She pushed out the thought as hard as she could, wondering if there really was anything to hear it. Let the others go. I don’t want Casey to die.

“Hey, hey.” She opened her eyes to find Casey staring, her hand clutching his in a death grip. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let go.”

“Casey.” She swallowed. “I think …”

“Guys?” Eric broke in. “Look.”

About fifty yards away and all around them, the creatures were at a dead stop, gathered in a silent, milling throng at the edge of that advancing flood of coal-colored goo. Rima could see Tania pacing back and forth, looking for a way across, as the black tide lapped and gurgled around her ankles. Several of the man-things were actually backing away, and most were stumbling as the snow continued to fracture.

“Man, you know,” Chad said, “if it’s not hurting them, maybe be better to take our chances.”

“I wouldn’t base anything on what happens to them,” Eric said. “I blew holes in that girl and she—”

All of a sudden, Tania let out a bawling screech so loud it cut through and over the birds’ cries. Rima heard herself gasp as Tania gave a sudden, violent lurch, as if she’d been grabbed around the ankles. Her hands flew up as she dropped, straight down, the dark liquid instantly closing over her head.

“Jesus,” Bode said. “Like quicksand.”

“No, it’s too fast,” Casey said. Outside, more and more of the creatures had wheeled around to try and run, but what was left of the snow was breaking apart under their feet, the surface crumbling and collapsing. Silent before, the creatures now brayed in rusty barks. Black sludge steamrolled over the snow in a remorseless juggernaut, slopping over and slurping up the white. The crazed, ravening birds were so low now, they swarmed directly overhead, thick as blowflies over dead meat. “They’re not sinking,” Casey said. “It’s like they’re being pulled back.”

“Or down,” Eric said. “Like something’s grabbing—” He broke off as a violent shudder vibrated through the truck. “Oh boy. Bode, Bode.”

Chad’s eyes bugged. “What the hell?”

“Oh God,” Rima said, and then screamed as the vehicle suddenly jolted downward, canting at a crazy angle. “It’s happening to us.”

“We’re sinking!” Chad braced himself against the dash. “Jesus, it’s got us, we’re sinking, we’re sinking!”

“Can you get us moving, Bode?” Rima said. The boy shook his head, and, as the truck rose, Rima’s stomach swooped, then tried cramming behind her teeth as they plummeted on the other side of a swell. “Then what do we do?”

“I know what I’m doing!” Chad popped his door. “Bode, we got to go, we got to go, we got to go go go!”

“No, Chad!” Bode and Eric screamed at the same time. “Chad, stop!” Bode shouted. “You can’t go out there!”

“Well, I’m not dying in here!” Chad shouted, and then he was flinging himself out of the truck.

“Get him!” Rima shrilled, even as Chad tumbled out. She tried springing over the backseat, but Casey grabbed her waist and held her back. “Casey, no, we have to get him! Bode, don’t let it touch him, don’t let it—”

But Chad was out. The moment his feet hit the churning black, Chad … didn’t sink. The surface actually stilled, as if it were holding itself steady in order to make sense of this strange new taste. Maybe I was wrong. Still hunched up against the Dodge’s ceiling, with Casey’s hands battened onto her waist, Rima stared as Chad cautiously straightened. Maybe it will let him go. Maybe it senses that we’re different.