Brian Keene: Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

Stirring, Henry got to his feet and stretched, working out the kinks he’d developed while lying on the wooden platform. In the center of the platform was a large, open pit that led straight down into the silo’s depths. It was slowly filling with water. Henry didn’t know what he’d do once it breached. At that point, he and Moxey would have to swim.

The pit was surrounded by an iron handrail. Henry leaned over the railing and spat. It didn’t take as long for his saliva to splash down as it had the day before.

“Yep,” he muttered. “Still rising.”

The sound of his own voice, echoing inside the silo, disturbed him. Henry didn’t talk much these days.

Moxey meowed in response.

“I know, girl. I know.”

Henry picked up his .17 gauge rifle, uncapped the scope, and decided to see if his luck would be better this time. He was hoping to shoot a bird, or maybe a snake that had been forced from its den by the floodwaters. If they were close enough to the silo, he could grab them before they floated away.

He shuffled over to the small double-doors in the silo’s curved wall, and fumbled with the hasp. It was growing rusty, due to all the moisture in the air. His fingers were numb and wrinkled like prunes. Henry couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt warm or dry.

He managed to get the hasp unlatched, and then slowly opened the doors. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was—there were no more sunrises or sunsets. The moon and stars and sun were just hazy, gray shapes in the sky, hidden behind the dense cloud cover. Still, Henry’s internal alarm clock told him it was evening.

Evenings had always been his favorite time of day. Home from Lewisburg High School, assignments finished, chores completed, he’d sit out on the front porch and stare out at the mountains, wondering what lay beyond them. Renick was Henry’s world. He’d only been out of West Virginia a few times, and then, only to go to Virginia Beach with his family. He’d always wanted to see the rest of the world. Feel it under his feet. Marvel at how different it looked from the place he called home.

Now, it didn’t matter. Henry was pretty sure that all of the world looked the same.

One big ocean.

The breeze ruffled his hair, and Henry shivered, clasping his damp jacket closer. He stared out at what was left of Renick. Everything was gone. The only things that remained above the surface were the grain silo and the steeple on the Presbyterian Church. All of the small town’s other landmarks—the concrete and steel bridge that had spanned the Greenbrier River, the Ponderosa meeting place, the park, the sub shop, the gas station—were submerged. The mountain remained, jutting far above the waters, but even that was slowly eroding.

He wondered how folks in Punkin’ Center were faring. Unlike Renick, which was situated in a valley, Punkin’ Center was located halfway up the mountain. Most of the folks there had been evacuated when the National guard came through, but Henry knew that there was at least one person still alive. Old Mr. Garnett.

Henry had seen him. He wasn’t sure how many days had passed since then. Two weeks, give or take. But he’d seen Mr. Garnett—standing in the road, next to his old pick up truck, staring down at the remains of Renick. Henry had waved at him, tried to get his attention, but the old man hadn’t heard. Or if he had, he’d ignored Henry’s cries.

No, Mr. Garnett wasn’t like that. He was a nice old-timer, unlike that crazy bastard Earl Harper. Smart, too. If anyone knew how to survive what was happening, Mr. Garnett would.

All Henry had to do was cross the water, climb the mountain, and find him. He stared out across the wide expanse, and then cursed. While he was at it, he might as well wish for a trip to Mars, too. That would be a lot easier than getting to dry land.

The bloated carcass of a dead deer floated by. Something had been chewing on it. He searched the sky for a bird to shoot, but the sky was filled with rain.

Henry’s stomach grumbled again. This time, it didn’t hurt so much.

He wondered if that was a bad sign.

CHAPTER 6

In a normal climate, Kevin and Sarah would have seen the U.S. Forest Service Tower long before they reached it. The ranger station loomed over the forest, jutting up through the treetops on Bald Knob’s uppermost peak. With the rain and swirling mist obscuring their vision, they didn’t spot the steel structure until they were almost at its base.

The hike to the top of the mountain had been uneventful. Both were grateful for that. Now out of immediate danger, both were experiencing post-adrenaline exhaustion. They shivered in their wet clothes, and their feet hurt. Cold water had soaked through their shoes, and there were blisters on their wrinkled toes and soles of their feet. They walked with a sense of hopeless caution, praying they wouldn’t encounter more worms, or another crazy like Earl Harper. Luckily, they hadn’t. The only danger had been a small mudslide and a falling tree, but they’d managed to steer clear of both. They did notice that more and more of the vegetation was dying—either from lack of direct sunlight, or drowned roots. Many of the tallest trees could no longer keep their purchase in the waterlogged soil, and had simply toppled over.

A concrete platform stood at the base of the ranger station. The tower itself was embedded deep into the mountain’s bedrock. Nearby, there was a small utility shed, restrooms, some vending machines, and a fenced-in area that held electrical transformers. They performed a quick, cursory check of the restrooms, making sure there were no surprises waiting inside of them—worms or otherwise. Both stood empty. The door to the utility shed was padlocked, as was the gate leading into the electrical equipment.

Kevin leaned against a soda machine, pressing one of the buttons with his palm.

“The power’s out,” Sarah reminded him. “That’s not going to work.”

“I know. Just wishful thinking. Force of habit. I’m really thirsty.”

“Me, too. Let’s figure out how to get up to the top of that thing, and we’ll get settled.”

Kevin smacked his lips. Sarah noticed that they seemed paler than normal.

“No,” he said. “I mean I’m really thirsty. Like, more than normal.”

“You’re probably dehydrated. You have a headache?”

He nodded.

“That’s probably it then,” Sarah said. “Come on. We’ll get you fixed up.”

Swallowing, he nodded again. Sarah watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. It seemed bigger—swollen. Maybe that was just because he’d lost weight over the last few months. They both had.

“How about you?” Kevin asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Kevin snorted. “Earl punched you in the face—beat the shit out of you. And we’ve been on the run ever since. Don’t tell me you’re fine.”

Sarah’s lip twitched. “I’ll manage.”

They began circling the base of the tower, splashing through puddles and keeping a careful eye on the surrounding woods. Water streamed off the steel girders overhead, drenching them even more. Kevin sputtered as a particularly forceful stream splashed him. Sarah giggled as he shook his head back and forth.

“What’s so funny?”

“You look like a dog,” she said. “Shaking yourself like that.”

“I feel like a dog. Like I’ve got fleas or something. I keep itching.”

“Maybe you brushed up against some poison ivy on the way here.”

“I hope not. I don’t think so, though. It’s not bad, like poison ivy is. It’s more of a low-grade itch.”

“Could be another symptom of dehydration.”

“Maybe,” Kevin agreed. “It’s pretty fucking annoying, whatever it is.”