Hissers (9 page)

He spotted the flight attendant scrabbling over a police car, completely covered in blood, his clothes torn like a caveman, jumping off the hood and sprinting down the street into the heart of the surrounding neighborhood.

The edge of the same neighborhood where he and Nicole lived.

“Shit. We need to go.
Now.
” He looked back once and prayed for his friends’ safety, then turned and ran back up the hill toward the supermarket, Nicole by his side.

Saturday, 8:58pm

The streetlights were off and the power was out in every house along the street. Inside some windows people could be seen lighting candles and checking flashlight batteries but they were few and far between; everyone had rushed down to the crash. Only two cars passed as Amanita and Seth emerged from the backyard of an unknown house. They had pushed through tall hedges, scrambled over one four-foot fence and were now three streets beyond the crash. The clouds overhead were still orange with the reflection of the fire, the towering flames still bright. The chorus of screams from the crash site continued to ride the night air.

Amanita pressed herself against the side of the house’s garage, looking out at the dark, lifeless road running perpendicular before them. “What street is this?”

“No idea. Maybe Madison? Recognize any of the houses?”

“No. But it’s either Madison or Monroe. My house isn’t far away, maybe six more blocks. We can go left two blocks and catch Maple. That runs all the way down to my street.” Another scream echoed from behind them, on the street they’d just crossed. She turned and looked at him, her unspoken request plain as day on her face.

“What, you want me to go with you?”

“It’s called chivalry.”

“It’s called I-don’t-care. I live that way.” He pointed to the right.

“So you’re gonna let me run home alone in bare feet while everyone is eating each other?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the plan.”

“You know, you’re not just a geek, you’re a dick.”

“Oh, as if you’ve ever been nice to me. Like I owe you anything.”

“Nice to you? I don’t even talk to you! How can I be mean when I don’t talk to you?”

“You don’t talk to me because you think I’m a geek.”

“Well, you are a geek. And a jerky one at that. Try putting down your stupid video games for a minute and joining the rest of us who have social lives. You’re really not gonna come with me?”

Seth patted his cargo jean pockets, fished his hands around in each one and then swore. “My PSP is gone.”

Amanita threw her hands in the air. “Oh my God, are you serious? What the hell are we gonna do now? We have no PSP. We’re totally fucked.” She paused. “What the hell is a PSP?”

“My video game console.”

“Seth, forget the fucking video games. I’m running down to Maple in two seconds. If you’re not with me then I hope you die.”

Tentatively, Amanita stuck her head out and scanned the street, saw it was still empty and eased down the driveway, past the car, and began to jog into the adjacent house’s lawn. Seth banged his head lightly against the side of the garage, listening to the incessant screams coming from everywhere, whispered, “Screw it,” and followed her.

He caught up with her and ignored her middle-finger welcome. “Whatever, I’m a jerk. I’m here aren’t I? Stick to the fronts of the houses. If we have to, we can duck in bushes.”

Her slight nod was the only confirmation she wasn’t going to slug him.

They moved quietly across the lawn and onto the lawn of the next house, and then the next one after that. They made it all the way to the house at the intersection of Maple without incident, stopped behind a weeping willow tree on the property. Sirens and screams were still audible here. “Okay,” Seth said, “we jet across the street to that parked car, then up the lawn and stay close to these houses until we get to yours.”

“Way ahead of you.”

“Wait. Before we go, take back what you said.”

“What? About you being a geek?”

“No, about hoping I die.”

Amanita put her head in her hands. “It was a joke.”

“Wasn’t funny. I want an apolo—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m sorry. Will you shut up before some face-eating asshole jumps out and kicks your ass?”

“Apology accepted.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“You know, you swear a lot.”

“Yeah, well I’m sorry but a plane just crashed on my friend’s house and now people are biting each other to death and I’m a little messed up. I’m gonna swear a little bit, okay? You know for all the insults you claim I sling at you, you sure as shit have a lot to say about me.”

Seth thought about that for a second. “Alright. Sorry.”

“Good. Now let’s just do this, I want to get home.”

“Okay then, Lara Croft, on three. One…two…”

Someone hissed.

Seth felt a shiver race through him. The hiss came again, close by. Directly to their left.

Standing on the adjacent lawn, the one they’d just run across, was a man in his pajamas. He was covered in dark stains, his hair wild, his eyes yellow orbs, sniffing the air like a wolf. The front of his pajama top was torn open and a wound like a red saucer was oozing fluids over his right pectoral. He stepped toward the willow tree.

Seth and Amanita huddled together, rotating around the tree trunk as the hissing man drew closer. He stopped short, turned and ambled onto the street, moving jerkily as if he’d been given new legs, chuffing with his mouth open the whole time.

Both Seth and Amanita fought back the urge to scream as the clouds parted and illuminated the man with moonlight.

The man had three arms.

The one sticking out of his back was wearing the black and yellow fire retardant sleeve of a firefighter. As the man moved off down the road, stopping to sniff the air every few feet, the arm swung back and forth, grasping.

Saturday 9:01

The gouge on Connor’s leg was starting to swell so badly he thought he might have to take his shoe off. Dried blood was caked up along the edges of the torn skin, but fresh blood still continued to dribble out. He did his best to ignore the pain that shot up his leg as he and Nicole rounded a parked car and emerged onto his own street. He paused for a second, then pointed down the road. “Okay, we’re here. So far no one’s noticed us. I think I should get you home first and then—”

“No way. Look at you, you’re leg is about to fall off. We’ll get to your place and I’ll call my Mom to come get me.”

The mention of the phone got Connor thinking about how he was going to tell his parents about what they saw at the crash site—people biting and killing one another. Mutilated people who
should
be dead racing around like cannibalistic savages. They needed to call the cops and report it but it sounded so outlandish he was afraid they’d laugh at him.

As if challenging him, a scream erupted into the air from somewhere nearby. It was cut off with a choke.

“Seriously, we have to go.” Nicole began jogging toward Connor’s house. “I don’t want to be out here any longer. Please, Connor. Please!”

She was right. It was dangerous out in the streets. There was no telling where those crazy people were. Together they ran down the middle of the street, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything strange. They made it to the end of the street without incident and started up Connor’s driveway.

He lived in a gray two-story house with brown trim. A collection of Green Mountain Boxwood bushes grew up against the front of the house. A Toyota Camry and Mazda 323 were parked side by side in the driveway. Typical family fare. He never noticed how bland it all looked until now, standing next to Nicole. He almost felt embarrassed.

Something else caught his eye. “The lights are off.”

“They’re off everywhere. The plane must have really done a job on everything, knocked down more than a few telephone poles. No power.”

“Then wait, if you’re cell isn’t working either, how will you call your mom?”

Nicole stared back at him, at a loss for words. Immediately he felt bad for ruining her hopes of calling her parents.

“No problem, I’ll have my Dad give you a ride. C’mon.”

Nice save, he thought.

He opened the front door, knocking as he swung it in. “Hello. Mom? Dad?”

No answer.

“Maybe they’re upstairs?”

“Maybe.” Connor closed the door behind them and headed to the kitchen. Behind him he heard Nicole bump into the rocking chair near the bookshelf.

“Sorry,” she said. “Can’t see anything.”

“No, my bad. Should have warned you. I stub my toe on that damn thing all the time, even when the lights are on.” Strike two, he thought. Jeez, he kept messing up with her.

He tried the light switch in the kitchen just to be sure. It was dead. From the dining room he saw an orange glow. “Mom?”

“In here,” came his mother’s voice. “Lighting a candle. The power is out.”

Connor rushed into the room and hugged her, fighting back the urge to cry.

“Connor, sweetie, you’re gonna break my ribs.”

“Sorry.” He let go of her just and turned to find Nicole standing against the wall. “This is Nicole.”

His mother placed the lit candle next to the other six already lit on the dining room table and blew out the match. “Hi, Nicole.”

“Hi, Mrs. Prudhome. I think you should look at Connor’s le—”

“You’re Nicole Fitzgerald, right? I met your mother at a PTA meeting a few years ago. Very sweet.”

“Thanks. She’s okay. Connor needs—”

“Hang on a sec. Let me throw this out.” Mrs. Prudhome made her way back into the kitchen and disposed of the match. “So, what is going on out there? We heard a huge explosion of some kind and then a lot of sirens. All the power went out and I can’t get anyone on the phone. I’m telling you the whole house shook! Your dad is looking for a flashlight and a radio, as if he can find anything in that disaster zone he calls a garage. I’ve got food in the fridge that’s gonna go bad if it doesn’t come back on soon.”

Connor followed her into the kitchen with Nicole in tow. “Mom, a plane crashed near the Sunoco station. People are—”

Mrs. Prudhome spun around so fast it looked like she was dancing. “
What?
A plane crash! Oh my God, is anybody hurt?”

“You could say that. Mom, something weird is going on. We saw people—”

His mother struck another match and gasped. “Connor! Jesus Christ what happened to you? Mark! Mark!”

Connor’s father came racing into the kitchen. He was screwing the top onto an old flashlight. “What? What?” He pressed in the flashlight’s rubber button and shot a weak beam of light across the dark kitchen. When he saw Nicole and Connor covered in soot and dirt and blood, his jaw dropped. “Connor! What they hell did you do to your leg?”

Mrs. Prudhome went to Connor and bent down in front of him, delicately examined her son’s shin. “What in the name of God were you two doing?”

Connor shook his head. The sudden barrage of meaningless questions was driving him nuts. “Mom, you’re not listening. A plane crashed and—”

“That was a plane crash?” his father asked. “That loud bang we heard that knocked the power out?”

“Yes, a plane crashed and a lot of people are dead—”

His mother was on the verge of hysterics. “Did you get hit? Were you near it when it happened? Jesus, Mark he needs to go to the emergency room. This is really bad. I think I can almost see bone. Oh my God, where’s the gauze?”

“Mom, chill out, there’s no way they’re seeing me at the emergency room. You have no idea how many people are hurt right now. The bodies alone…”

“It’s a lot of people dead, Mrs. Prudhome.” Nicole was crying now. Connor’s dad put his arm on her shoulder to comfort her. Nicole looked a little awkward so Connor got up and stood next to her. She didn’t look any more comfortable.

Mrs. Prudhome checked the cordless phone again. “It’s still dead. Mark, we need to get him to a doctor.”

Connor’s father took out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Okay, get your coat. We’ll drive over and see what kind of resistance they give us. And we’ll drop…um…”

“Nicole,” Connor said.

“…Nicole off at home. Where do you live, Nicole?”

“I’m a couple of streets over. On Poplar.”

“This is Jenny Fitzgerald’s daughter,” Mrs. Prudhome explained, taking her purse off the kitchen counter, “from the PTA fundraiser?”

Mark Prudhome said he remembered but it was obvious he didn’t. Lucky for him this was no time to for his wife to argue about white lies. He finally closed his phone and clipped it back on his belt. “I can’t even get an operator. It just makes a beeping noise.”

“I have no service either.” Nicole took her cell phone from her purse and tapped the screen to light it up.

Connor said, “I’d try, but I’m not allowed to have a phone.”