Hissers II: Death March Read online

  “Got you, miss.”

  She smiled. “Wise ass.”

  Tuesday, 9:11 AM

  Another field in another town, another military quarantine area filled with canvas tents and wandering displaced people. Trucks by the dozen were rolling in with survivors. They stumbled out bruised and tired, some crying, others wearing the now common million-yard stare of disbelief. Men in MARPATS carrying M-16s did their best to corral them, but they were clearly distracted, their attention drawn outside the compound, across the flat no man’s land that just a few days ago had been a barren clearing. They looked up every few seconds to scan the tree line where the flat earth met the dense woods. Everyone was in shock.

  Amanita sat on a picnic bench next to her mother and father, eating stale crackers and sipping water from a paper cup. Despite autumn looming, the heat was still obnoxious and so she fanned herself with her hand, all the while cussing. “This is bullshit.”

  “Amanita, watch your language.” Her mother reached out to stroke her hair.

  “Like manners even matter now.” She let her mother push hear bangs out of her eyes. It almost made her cry. Her mother hadn’t paid this much attention to her in years. It was what she’d wanted to feel for so long, what she’d secretly yearned for behind her mask of obstinate independence. She didn’t really know how to deal with the emotion, and so tears began to well up but she fought them back. Why, she didn’t really know.

  Somehow all the death and mayhem had brought their family closer together. Deep down she still resented them for their years of neglect, and she wanted to yell at them, but she’d done too much yelling and crying the last couple weeks to muster the strength. Besides, it felt good to have her mother caress her. It felt like home should feel, even if they were sitting on a picnic bench in a make-shift community of gray tents and green trucks.

  Her dad lit up a cigarette and stared silently at the scene of misery surrounding them. The military had made sure to acquire certain amenities when they’d gotten far enough from Castor. Toothpaste, deodorant, shaving supplies, tampons, shampoos, batteries, aspirin, coffee, and other little things that drove the masses crazy should they disappear. Cigarettes were a big one.

  The smoke drifted lazily in front of Amanita. She longed for a drag, but decided against it. Despite her last year of purchasing smokes at the 7-Eleven, or asking grown men to buy them for her at the liquor store, she’d never really been that into the taste, rather just the attitude it afforded her. Truth is it often upset her stomach and since there was no need for the bad girl routine anymore, what was the point. She no longer cared about getting that kind of attention from anyone. Besides, running from those monsters had been a wakeup call for her health. Bottom line: cigarettes were a huge detriment, not to mention they stank and she didn’t have any perfume with her.

  “Manners still matter,” her mother finally said. “No sense in humanity losing its grip on love and respect. We need each other more now than ever.”

  Amanita huffed. “Hippie bullshit, Mom. If there was respect left in the world our home wouldn’t have been blown up. My friends would be alive.”

  “She’s got a point,” her father added.

  “You’re not helping,” he mother replied.

  “I’m going to get something better to eat,” Amanita said, “these crackers taste like ass.” With that she left the picnic table, wandered through the throng of people crying and asking the Marines when the hissers would be killed. One lady demanded that the government owed her a new house. Another man was yelling at the sky about how he’d get retribution on the military for his daughter’s death. A small boy of about six or seven cried miserably in the arms of a woman that was not his mother. At least she didn’t look like his mother, nor did she know his name. “It’ll be okay, little one,” she said repeatedly. But no one, not even Amanita, needed to tell that little boy it would not be alright. Not ever.

  She passed by the screaming man. Two Marines were watching him intently, sizing him up, deciding whether they should restrain him now or wait for him to actually attack. “I’ll kill you bastards for taking her!” he wailed.

  Good luck, Amanita thought. She remembered General Winston Davis lying in the field, begging Connor to kill him. She remembered how the man couldn’t care less about what his precious military had created. He’d offered no solution, just a willingness to check out and avoid the mess. Such a coward. She remembered leaving him there to rot, and hearing his screams as the undead came and claimed him. Still, she felt no remorse. She felt little of anything anymore, except fear for Connor. Where was he? Was he even alive? She couldn’t bear the the thought that he might have been attacked and killed, or worse, turned into one of those things. She missed him, more than she missed Seth and Nicole. Because at least she knew Seth and Nicole were not coming back. They were dead. But Connor, he was still out there, alone, on his mission to take what may or may not be pertinent data to someone not wearing green and carrying a gun.

  “Excuse me, miss, you can’t be in here.”

  She looked up and saw a young enlisted Marine staring her down. His gun was pointed at the ground, but it was still frightening the way his finger was outstretched along the trigger guard, poised to shoot. These guys had itchy trigger fingers of late. The last few nights she’d listened to distant gunfire as she lay in bed, trying not to think about all this death. Trying not to see Seth’s body torn to shreds before her eyes. How she’d wandered into one of the command tents now was beyond her. Daydreaming and walking: two things that did not work well together during the apocalypse.

  The young Marine looked her up and down, lingered on her chest, then her face, sizing up her age perhaps, a reaction from these young soldiers she was used to by now. Boys and men alike typically looked at her like an object, and at one time it was a device she could bend to her will, but this time she didn’t like it. She no longer wore revealing clothes like she had back in

  Castor. Since finding her parents and transitioning to life inside barbed wire, she preferred to go unnoticed, while away the boredom in the shadows. Jeans and a long sleeved shirt offered by the military was her garb. “Take your eyes off my tits,” she said.

  The young man started. “I wasn’t—”

  “Yes, you were. I saw you. I always see you guys looking at me like that. It’s fucking gross and perverted. I’m not even old enough to drive.”

  “Trust me, miss, I wasn’t—”

  She waved him off dismissively. “Whatever. I was looking for a candy bar. Wrong tent is all.”

  “I wasn’t staring at you like that. I just—”

  “What?”

  “I recognized you is all. You were one of them kids made it out of Castor, huh? The ones that came out of the woods?”

  “We came from Victorville. We already said this.”

  “Sure you did. I know. But hey, between you and me, I just wanted to say what you did was brave.”

  She almost smiled at this, but instead rolled her eyes. “Wasn’t me. Gotta go.”

  Of course it had been her. She and Connor had made it through the military’s cordon into their original encampment outside the boundary of Castor, but had lied about their entry point since the word was anyone coming from inside the town was to be shot on site. The military wasn’t risking the virus getting out.

  Which, of course, had been for naught, because that first encampment had fallen to the hissers, and now the gunfire at night spoke of the virus spreading beyond anyone’s control.

  She turned back to the young officer, asked, “How come you guys haven’t bombed everywhere else, like you did to my home?”

  “I’m not allowed to discuss tactics.”

  “Just tell me. Are you guys going to nuke the whole country or something?”

  The Marine hesitated, looked around for a moment, back over his shoulder to the inside of the tent where his superiors spoke rapidly on radios and SATphones, then back at her. “I truly don’t know. They don’t tell us anyt
hing except our immediate orders. But from what I hear, this situation has gotten a bit out of control, and they’re not risking any more mass bombings for fear of a civilian uprising. Can’t be fighting two wars at once on our home soil.”

  “Great. So you guys just leveled our homes and then decided it was a bad idea. Way to go.”

  “It wasn’t me, miss. Those decisions are way above my pay grade. I just monitor satellite links….when they’re working.”

  “And what if I wanted to leave? Just walk out beyond the fence?”

  “Again, I’m sorry but I have my orders. Nobody leaves the compound. You can’t leave.”

  “Why? We’re not infected. Obviously.”

  “But you were there. No telling what you…”

  “What I might have in my blood? In my brain? Like what, space slugs? Please.”

  “Until we get the okay to let you go all of you are to remain with us. Sorry, it’s orders. I know it must suck, but trust me, you’re not prisoners. We’re trying to help.”

  “I doubt it.”

  She walked off toward the food tent, hungry for a Kit Kat or Snickers, still wondering about Connor, praying he was safe, angry at herself for not joining him. But when he’d leapt out of the truck, she’d known she needed to be with her parents. And she’d needed to run interference for him anyway. Two Marines had tried to stop him, but she’d thrown herself in front of them as he ran away. By the time they’d gotten her subdued, the spider monsters were appearing in the distance, and so they’d written him off and shouted for the trucks to get going. Her parents had asked her what was wrong with her head. She’d ignored them. All that mattered was that Connor got to San Diego.

  But she still hated that she hadn’t joined him.

  She found the food tent and riffled through a box of candies, settled on a Payday. It was hot and soft and she tried to find the fat content on the ingredients label but gave up. That’s when the alarm rang out all through the camp.

  “Shit,” she muttered, feeling her gut go tight, knowing what this must mean. “They’re here.”

  And now she heard the familiar susurration of doom blowing on the breeze.

  Ssssss Sssss Ssssss

  Hissers. Closing in.

  Tuesday, 9:19 AM

  They were fifteen miles away from where he’d been picked up, but Connor was still on edge. The interior of Olive’s trailer was cool and dark, owing to it being parked under a copse of trees. A wall of pallets had been set up as a perimeter but they were more for camouflage than actual protection. The furniture inside was small, designed for tight living quarters. A card table, a leather recliner, a TV on a small stand. Connor moved toward a metal pole running floor-to-ceiling in the middle of what passed for the living room. He ran his hand up and down it. “What’s this for? Support?”

  Olive emerged from the bedroom, threw a shirt and jeans at him. “Here, put these on. They’ll probably fit okay. Belonged to an ex of mine a long time ago. I kept them to do house work in.” She pushed past him and made her way through the kitchen and out the rear door. When she was gone he took off his damp clothes and put the new ones on, transferred his only belonging—the flash drive—to the pockets. She was right, they fit pretty well. Except that the jeans were too long so he rolled them up. He looked down at the shirt and read what was written there: Iron Maiden. He’d heard of them, but had never listened to their music. It was before his time. The picture of the monster on the front reminded him of the hissers, which seemed fitting for the situation.

  Olive came back in with two hot dogs and cheese from the small grill she’d fired up twenty minute ago. The food smelled amazing and he began to salivate like a dog.

  “Here.” She handed him one of the dogs wrapped in a cheese slice. “Ain’t got any buns but it’s better than nuts and berries.”

  “Thank you,” he said, taking the food and wolfing it down. It was good to have processed food again. The smell and taste reminded him of Seth, of their summer treks to the 7-Eleven for hotdogs and Redbulls. Once again he thought of his best friend, how he’d never see him again. Never play video games or ride bikes together. Never begin high school and play on the soccer team. He felt the tears in his eyes and turned away from Olive, pretended to wipe his mouth with the shirt but instead dried his eyes.

  When he was done he turned back to the pole. “Is this a support beam?” he asked again.

  Olive let out a short laugh. “Yeah, support for my wallet.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  She sized him up. “Fourteen, huh? Yeah okay. It’s for pole dancing, kid. Bartending was getting slow, and truth be told I could make more money doing this.”

  “You mean you’re a stripper?”

  “I guess you could say that. I prefer the term entrepreneur.”

  “So, like, you have guys in here to watch you get naked?” It would explain why the trailer was so secluded, he realized.

  “Hell no. And I ought to slap you for insulting my intelligence. What do I look like, a victim-in-waiting? No, I use that computer there. At least I did when there was an Internet. Charged guys twenty bucks for five minutes of a live show. See the little camera on top? They sent the money to my Paypal account and logged in to see a show.”

  The feel of the pole suddenly took on a new sensation for Connor. He could envision Olive sliding up and down it completely nude, rubbing herself in weird ways like he had seen girls do in videos on the Internet. He looked back at her, involuntarily looked her up and down. She was very attractive, skinny, with long brunette hair now tied in a ponytail, large eyes, small nose, and a figure that was worthy of getting paid for.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” she said, “I ain’t giving you no show.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to look—”

  “For one, you’re too young and for two, you don’t have any money. That’s a joke, that second one. Relax, you look like you’re turning to stone. I’m just teasing you, Connor. But don’t think for one second I’m some kind of whore. It was just a supplemental income kind of a gig, you know. I’m not proud of it. But hell, I don’t regret it. I bought that truck out there with the money. You okay? You look scared?”

  Connor had never had any sort of interaction with a woman who wasn’t afraid to show her body to people. It was too…adult. And though he very badly wanted to see her naked—to see any girl naked for that matter—he knew this was beyond his comprehension.

  He stepped back from the pole and looked at her TV. There was a Nintendo Wii sitting next to it. “Do you have Mario World?” he asked.

  “No, I only have what came with it—some sports thingie—and exercise games. Don’t matter though, the power’s dead here, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.” He sat back in the recliner and forced his eyes to avoid her. He still couldn’t help but think of her naked and hanging upside down on the pole now. To get his mind off it he started thinking of his favorite kills in Halo. Sticky grenade kills and warthog kills and melee kills.

  “Where are you headed?” she asked, finishing up her hot dog.

  “San Diego. I need to bring something to someone.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “This.” He took the flash drive from his pocket.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean it’s a drive, you know, like, for a computer. But I don’t know what’s on it. It was in the plane that crashed, along with a bunch of other information about those creatures. We think it’s some kind of data, maybe a formula, for what made everybody turn into them. Nicole says we can probably use it to find a cure.”

  “Oh yeah,” Olive said, as if a child were telling her about a favorite toy or TV show she didn’t really care about. “And who’s ‘we’? Who’s Nicole?”

  “Nicole was my friend. She’s dead now. But she died getting this disk to me, and I promised I’d bring it to her dad’s work in San Diego. He works for some kind of science place. Like a…what do you call it…genetics lab or something.”


  “No shit? Well that sounds exciting. And you have no idea what’s on it?”

  “No. And I’m dumb. I got it wet about a dozen times. It probably doesn’t work.”

  Olive pushed passed him into the bedroom, came back out carrying a laptop. “It’s your lucky day, sport. I kept this shutdown in case the electricity ever came back on. It’s got about a quarter charge left on it. Let’s see if we can’t figure out what’s on this disk.”

  It took a minute to fire up the computer, and when it was booted up, she jammed the drive into one of the USB ports and accessed the computer’s drive files.

  “Something’s here,” she said, “but it’s not working properly. It keeps flashing off and on, disconnecting itself. Looks like the drive is messed up. Wonder if there’s a way to fix it.”

  Connor watched as the document files flashed off and on the screen. He was elated to see that the drive even registered at all, but his heart sank knowing that the files might not ever work again. And even if they got them open somehow, who’s to say they weren’t corrupted from the water damage.

  “Ah, got one,” Olive said.

  Connor’s eyes went wide. “What is it?”

  “Looks like a bunch of numbers and letters. I’m no genius but it looks like chemistry equations. Lots of weird math and some letters in a grid. Why didn’t you give this to the military at the encampment you were at? This is probably really fucking important.”

  “That’s why we didn’t give it to them, because they made it. And then they killed my friends and family because of it.”

  “What do you mean? How do you know the military made these creatures?”

  “Because I talked to the General guy who was in charge. He asked me to kill him but I wouldn’t. But he told me they made it. He told me there was no cure.”

  “Connor, this here is important stuff. If this can stop what’s happening you’ve got to give it to them. Hell, I’ll take it to them.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand before she could take the drive from the laptop. “No! You don’t get it. This was part of more of research that was destroyed in the crash. We saw a lot of it, and I don’t think the military actually knows the whole formula. So if we bring it to them we just give them the means to do this again. But Nicole said her dad’s job could look at it and fix it. Maybe.”