Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

CHAPTER 72

There was no sound to accompany the explosion, but Henry assumed that was what must have happened. How else to explain the blinding flash of light outside the ranger station’s observation windows? One moment, there had been only gray, dreary bleakness. The next, everything was illuminated in starkly vivid shades of orange and red.

Blinded by the flash, Henry staggered backward, flailing for something to hold on to as the tower swayed yet again. The gun, almost forgotten, nearly slipped from his hand. He grasped at it, sucking in breath and hoping the weapon wouldn’t accidentally discharge. The irony was not lost on him. Only seconds before, he’d been planning to kill Sarah and then himself, thus fulfilling their mutual suicide pact. Now, seconds later, everything had changed.

I’ve seen the light, Henry thought. Boy, have I!

Spots floated in his field of vision. Blinking, he readjusted both his balance and his grip on the handgun. Then he made his way to the window.

“What’s happening?” Sarah asked.

Henry’s reply was cut short by another burst of light. Unlike the first time, this flash was accompanied by a strange sound. Henry cocked his head, listening. After a moment, he realized the sound was that of Earl and the others screaming. He looked out on the scene below, and was shocked to see two men—at least, he thought they were men—making their way toward the tower. The two figures walked single file. Both were covered head to toe with some kind of bizarre makeshift body armor consisting of hardhats, welder’s facemasks, dust respirators, boots, the type of pants and coats worn by firefighters, and lots of duct tape. The one in the rear carried a rifle, but Henry barely noticed this. His attention was focused on the weapon the first figure wielded—a homemade flamethrower. The man swept it back and forth in front of him, clearing a path for him and his partner to walk that was devoid of any white fuzz. As Henry watched, a horde of fungus-infested creatures swarmed toward them.

“Look out!” He pounded his fist against the glass.

Behind him, Sarah groaned, rising to her feet.

Henry doubted his warning had been heard, let alone heeded, but it didn’t really matter. The man with the flamethrower met the attackers head on. Fire spewed from the nozzle, engulfing the creatures and once again lighting up the horizon. Several of the fungal zombies were incinerated on the spot. Others fled, burning as they ran.

The pounding on the door recommenced, but it had taken on a different, more urgent tone.

“Soft…” Earl called. His voice sounded almost plaintive.

“Hear that?” Sarah grinned, running to the door. “The fucker is scared!”

“Don’t open it,” Henry said.

“I’m not. I just want to listen.”

Henry looked outside again. The two figures were out of sight, which meant that they were most likely on the stairs. That would certainly explain Earl’s reaction. He glanced toward the horizon. The ship he’d seen earlier, the one he’d thought was a derelict, was still there amidst the other debris, but now he noticed something else. Parked on their shore and tied to the top of a mostly-submerged oak tree was a small rowboat. When he turned back to Sarah, she had her ear to the door.

“Get away from there!”

“I told you what Earl did to my friends and me. Whatever has him spooked, I want to hear him get what’s coming.”

“Mr. Garnett and Mr. Seaton were my friends, too,” Henry reminded her. “As for what’s outside, it’s two fellas. One of them has a flamethrower.”

“The Army?”

“I don’t reckon so. They’re wearing some kind of—”

He was cut off by a scream from right outside the door, followed by the pounding of boots on the metal stairs. Earl shrieked again—a terrible, high-pitched squeal that faded away into a sizzling sound. Sarah backed away from the door. She and Henry exchanged a frightened glance. He put his finger to his lips and motioned for her to come to him.

“We should hide,” he whispered.

“Where?”

Before he could answer, there was another knock at the door. Unlike Earl’s, this knocking was quick and self-assured. Five raps, a pause, and then two more.

“Shave and a hair cut?” Henry frowned.

The melody was repeated, and before Henry could stop her, Sarah—still in the grip of whatever emotional breakdown she’d suffered—ran to the door and flung it open.

“Shit!”

Henry brought the handgun up, pointing it at the two figures as they stormed into the room. Both of the new arrivals had their weapons ready, as well.

“Are either of you infected?” It was the figure with the flamethrower who spoke. A man’s voice, muffled slightly through the welding shield and respirator. “Are there any more of those things here?”

Slowly, Henry shook his head.

“How about you drop that pistol, kid?” This time, the voice belonged to the one with the rifle. Henry was surprised to learn she was female.

“Are you here to kill us?” Sarah asked. Her expression was enraptured.

“No,” the man said. “My name’s Novak. This is Gail. We’re survivors, just like you are.”