Biohazard

6

We didn’t go in the first night. We camped outside at a little roadside park. It was getting late and I don’t think anybody wanted to charge in there in the dark, especially without knowing what it was we were charging into. We built a fire and we ate and we sat around. Nobody said much.

It was a nice night.

The fog had lifted and the stars were bright. It could have been a sky ten years ago or anytime before Doomsday. The only telltale giveaway was an occasional flickering purple-blue corona at the horizon. Other than that it was perfect.

I was thinking about Price and all the things he’d told me, how they all fit in with what I knew and what my dreams told me. I was sorry Price was dead. He hadn’t wanted to go out in the fog, but we had made the decision for him. Was that a portent of death? Probably not. Just a very wise man recognizing a fool idea when he saw one.

I squeezed my eyes shut and all I could see were the faces of dead friends. Then that faded and I saw the cities to the east-lifeless, wind-blown, heaps of smoldering bones. Nothing but death to the east of the Mississippi now and nothing but death creeping slowly west. Iowa was dead now. So was Minnesota, Missouri, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and East Texas. Dead. Kansas was going to its grave and so were the Dakotas. Nebraska would fall next and I knew it.

The Medusa was getting closer, moving faster and faster.

I started to sweat and shake because like The Shape, I could feel it out there chewing westward town by town. I had some kind of vague psychic uplink with it and I could feel it getting closer, seeking me out on a hot wind of pestilence.

“You okay, Nash?” Mickey said. “You look funny.”

“He always looks funny,” Texas said.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said.

Nobody believed it and neither did I.

I studied my posse each in turn.

Good old Carl, always at my side. Just like Mickey said, my loyal watchdog. Texas Slim, perpetually amused by all around him. Mickey, eyes burning hot and salacious, always ready to please. Janie, her love grown cold, nursing secrets and resentments. And Morse, just crazy as crazy got, fooling with his camera. I think I was attached to them in one way or another and that’s why I wanted them gone.

But I knew they wouldn’t leave.

Because something was out there and they wanted to see it, too.