Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

CHAPTER 16

Sarah awoke with a start, groggy and confused. She glanced around the station, not remembering where she was at first. She sat up quickly and the medical book that had been lying open on her chest fell to the floor.

“Oops.”

Yawning, Sarah rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. She reached up to run a hand through her hair and was shocked at first when she didn’t feel any. Then she remembered that she’d cut it off the night before, in fear that it might harbor the white fuzz.

She turned on the radio, but Mark from Boston had gone silent again. Even the static seemed muted. She turned it back off to conserve the batteries. Stumbling around the room, Sarah finally settled in the kitchen area. She made a cup of instant coffee and took a sip. It was cold and bitter, and made her long for the hot chicory coffee Teddy had served her and Kevin just a few days ago. She carried the mug over to the large windows and gazed outside. The rain still fell, obscuring anything not immediately on the mountaintop. Mist swirled around the base of the tower and through the surrounding trees. The sky was a gray sheet—the sun nothing more than a pale, hazy disc. She tried to remember what the sun’s warmth on her skin had felt like, and was surprised to find that she couldn’t.

One thing she didn’t see was the worms. They were noticeably absent this morning. Usually, she could spot them—shadowed forms slithering like ghosts through the fog. But not this morning. She wondered where they’d gone. Maybe somewhere else. Some place where the prey was easier to get to.

After she was feeling more awake and alert, she found a pen and paper and began making a list. Before the rain, Sarah’s friends and family had joked about her obsessive list-making. Before she went to bed each night, she’d jotted down a list of things to do the next day. She’d done it since junior high school. The process made her feel better about things—more in control of her life. She’d kept up the practice during their time in Baltimore, but hadn’t done it since their escape in the helicopter. She figured now would be a good time to start again.

One-by-one, she listed the items she’d need for what she planned on doing today, should it prove necessary. When she was finished, she made herself another cup of instant coffee and then began a thorough search of the ranger station, checking every compartment, nook, and cranny. Her previous explorations had been done while fatigued and scared. This time, she catalogued every useful item, noting locations and quantities. She also searched for the different things she’d just jotted down on her list. These she sat aside—rubber gloves, a dust mask, rubbing alcohol, waterproof matches, a candle, cotton balls, newspaper, scissors, gauze, rubber tubing, an unopened fifth of Bookers whiskey, kerosene, two coffee mugs, and a small hatchet.

In a previously unexplored drawer, she made a surprising find—a five shot Taurus .357 and a box of bullets. While examining the gun, she was overcome with a burst of seemingly random memories. Teddy handing her a Ruger .22, to which she’d replied, “Anything bigger? As for killing, I don’t need a gun.” Standing on the roof of the Marriott in Baltimore, taking Juan’s M-16 away from him and shooting at the mermaid. Breaking the nose of one of the three cultists that had attacked her.

Despite the fact that her mother had died when she was eight years old, or maybe because of it, Sarah knew how to take care of herself. Her girlfriends had always said that she was tough and smart. And she was. She knew that, deep down inside. But she wasn’t feeling so tough right now, and she definitely had doubts as to whether or not she was smart enough to pull this off. Then she thought of Kevin, stepping in front of her to protect her from the Taz, Ducky, and Lashawn meltdown. He’d also saved her from the mermaid, after she succumbed to its song. He’d done these things instinctively, without thought for his own safety. Now, she wanted to do the same for him.

Searching the entire station took a long while, and by the time she was finished, Sarah was exhausted. She rested for a few minutes, turning once again to the first aid book, flipping to the index and searching for entries relating to what she needed. Then she fixed herself something to eat. She wasn’t hungry. Far from it—her stomach cramped, threatening to revolt with each bite. She forced herself to keep it all down. She needed her strength. More importantly, for what she was about to do—if indeed she decided to go through with it—she needed a full stomach to soak up the booze.

When she was finished, Sarah took a deep breath. Then she put all of the gear into a garbage bag. She wrapped a towel around the hatchet so that the blade wouldn’t poke through the plastic. Then she shrugged into her coat and hat, picked up the pistol, loaded it, and walked outside into the storm.

The descent down the slippery metal stairs seemed to take forever. She gripped the rail tightly with one hand, and clutched the pistol and the garbage bag with the other. She considered sticking the gun in her waistband to keep it dry, but decided against it. Better to have it in hand in case she needed it in a hurry. Plus, she didn’t want to risk falling and having the weapon accidentally discharge.

On the way down the stairs, she kept alert for any signs of movement from the surrounding forest, but it was quiet. If the worms were still lurking out there, then they were uncharacteristically still. She wondered again where they’d gone. When she reached the ground, she proceeded with caution, ready to run or shoot at the first sign of an attack—but none was forthcoming. Her pulse pounded. Her ears rang. The rain seemed to fall harder.

Sarah reached the utility shed and after a moment’s hesitation, she knocked on the door.

“Kevin? You awake in there?”

Inside, something moved.

Sarah held her breath and waited for the door to open.