Note: We had prompt night on Tuesday at Write On. The prompt
was the word: Fall. You could take any way you want. This is stark little tale
is what came from my head.
Beyond the city, the land rolled like the humps on a camel’s
back, and still Ethan ran. His sneakers smacked off the pavement in a frenetic
rhythm that would have provided an excellent backbone to a heavy metal song.
The sweat collected on the small of his back, his armpits, across his brow. His
lungs and throat burned; his chest ached from the hammering of his heart; his
eyes blurred, from sweat, from tears, he could no longer tell. His body wasn’t
trained for this, and it was revolting, but his head wouldn’t let him stop.
Still, he ran with big heaving breaths up hills that he’d
never thought twice about when he and Kenny and Misty had went joyriding in the
country in Kenny’s father’s Ford Mustang on sleepy summer afternoons. On foot,
the hills were like mountains, and the downward stretches passed before he
could feel the relief. A breeze might have helped, or it might have just
provided a reminder with the stench of the city behind.
The city had fallen, and if Ethan stopped running, so would
he.
***
Six miles out, the two-lane road came to a tee, the pavement
splitting to the north and south, but Ethan didn’t turn. He stumbled over a
rickety fence line and continued across the remains of a picked field of corn.
The shorn-off stalks stabbed at his calves, tripping him altogether from time
to time. The ground wasn’t yet cold, but it was hard and dry, the kind of dry
the earth gets after reaping, as if man had plucked all the moisture from the
soil along with the corn and soybeans and wheat.
Something rumbled behind him. It was a hum, almost as if the
world’s largest refrigerator had kicked to life. He didn’t dare look back,
looking back meant seeing, meant knowing, meant believing. He’d almost seen it
in the city, just a flash from the corner of his eyes. If he had stopped, just
for one better look, it would have got it him. Looking meant never looking
away.
The hum grew louder, but not closer. It felt like a mock to
Ethan, as his tired and dirty body begged for a rest.
“Just one look, what would that hurt?” The hum translated
itself in Ethan’s brain. “You never know, you might just like what you see.”
Ethan hopped over a knee-high yellow stalk, came down on the
uneven ground, turning his ankle, but that didn’t stop him. His run was more of
a hobble now, a stabbing pain pierced his right foot with every step, but he
kept going.
***
He made it to a small village by nightfall, nothing more
than a pack of houses at an intersection, a village hall, and a service
station. No lights. No mother’s walking children in strollers at sunset. No TV
or computer screens glowing.
He had to stop.
The service station door was open, but inside the aisles
were picked nearly clean save for a few jars of this and a couple packs of
that. Behind the counter, a body was on the floor, head twisted away from
Ethan, palms up, chest caved in. It had been here, this village had fell.
He inventoried the aisles. Two bags of pretzels, one jar of
peanut butter, a roll of some sort of sour candy, and two half bottles of
water. He collected it all, took it to the back of the store where he came to
the unisex bathroom door.
Pressing his ear against it, he listened.
***
She screamed when he opened the door, swinging a broom
handle that connected with his left shoulder, he dropped the water bottles
before pushing her back into the darkness of the bathroom.
“Shut up.” Ethan whispered.
Only heavy breathing answered. The room was pitch black.
There were rumors that it didn’t follow people into dark rooms.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
She stayed quiet, maybe hoping if she didn’t answer, he’d
leave her alone.
“I’m Ethan. I’m seventeen. I’m from the city.”
“Did the city fall?” A small child’s voice asked.
“Yes.”
There were sniffles in the dark. Ethan thought he might be
crying, too. His body hurt too much to know for sure.
“I’m Lila,” she said minutes later. “I’m eight.”
“Hi, Lila.”
“How did you get away from the city?” she asked.
“I ran.”
***
They dipped the pretzels into the peanut butter until one
bag was gone, and then shared one of the half bottles of water. Lila had sneaked
to the service station from a farm just outside of the village. She didn’t know
how long ago. Maybe two days. Her parents and brother had fell.
“I closed my eyes when I heard the hum and hid under my bed.
It couldn’t find me with my eyes closed,” Lila said.
“Really?”
“Yeppers. My cousin Rollie told me that worked, and it did.”
“Have you kept your eyes closed in here?”
“Most of the time, but that’s because I was scared of the
dark at first. Now, nothing scares me.”
Ethan smiled.
“I’m sure IT scares you.”
“Un uh, nothing scares me anymore.”
They slept back-to-back that night, and when Ethan woke the
next morning, she was gone.
When he opened the door, it was there, and he fell.
