Page 45 of Them

L.B.’s promise of safe highway travel had proved true, but crossing the Potomac River would be the real test. If the Scorpions had settled anywhere nearby, it would be right in those muddy waters.

A road sign read by Bic-light told him that the Pentagon was to the right, and Arlington Cemetery to the left. If there was anything remaining of the former, it might make for an interesting expedition, offer a sliver of context to this opaque apocalypse, but his flame and the crescent moon were too dim to make out much more beyond the asphalt, and the river was too close to risk the flashlight. He made plans to return on another night, under a brighter sky, but for now, he had an appointment to keep.

The man soon came to an arched bridge that spanned the Potomac. Finely chiseled lions stood guard on either side of the roadway, each placing a curved paw atop a globe. The guardians mourned in stoic silence, waiting for their caretakers to return and drive the rust away.

The man extinguished his flame and bent to a cautious crouch as he approached the riverbank, ducking in between the dueling southbound lanes. If there were nests in the Potomac, he wasn’t sure how the city or the suburbs could be safe. It probably wouldn’t matter, though. Already survived two close encounters. Three and I’m out.

He poked his head above the bridge railing. Gently extended it like a slow-motion human jack-in-the-box. There were no stalks in sight. No blue glow. No bedtime cries. No carnage. The water level was low, the current sluggish, the river in dire need of rainfa—

Wait! There—ripples! Flashes moving across the water, beneath the surface, their presence revealed only by the thin lunar light. They were fast, direct, moving toward the sandy riverbank at the base of the bridge. He craned his neck but saw nothing protruding from the surface. Can they swim? Like gigantic armored fish? The man heard echoes of the Jaws theme pulse in his memory. He found it amusing how, even amid his dread, the relics clung so tightly.

The man squinted at the ripples, searching for big blue eyes to pop with the shotgun. But there was no visible glow anywhere. Could the creatures control their eyes? Dim or hide their own bioluminescence? The submerged beast moved with such power that the water appeared to surrender to its approach, parting in its wake so that it could go about its dirty business, so that it ma—

What leapt from the water was but a massive fish, at least six feet long, lean and coated with oily scales. It possessed the head of a snake, and between its rows of razor teeth was a bullfrog the size of a softball. The frog erupted in a geyser of dark blood, and then it and the snakehead were gone.

The man lifted his eyes toward the city and let the firearm fall to his side. He crossed the bridge.

Canyons of steel rose all around him as the massive, unlit frames of office buildings seeped out from the darkness. Right in front of him was a towering brick building with twin columns of shattered windows and twisted metal snaking skyward, as if something had climbed it like a jungle gym.

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no monster.

The sooty gray titans loomed over him, their immense height only distinguishable against the dark purple clouds blooming in the sky. There were no trees, no greenery, and with nothing to feed them, the insects and birds had fled Metropolis. It was graveyard quiet. The breeze tried to speak, but the rows of thick concrete muffled its voice like a gritty gag. The only cars left were the ones parked curbside or lined up to get out of the city, waiting for their inevitable, impossible reignition.

There was very little litter. The man supposed it had all been washed or blown away by now. No one left to restock it. He peered into the storm drain in front of a small restaurant boasting authentic Ethiopian cuisine. A rotten, soggy mess of garbage sat at the bottom. Only the bottles and beer cans were visible amid the detritus.

As if on cue, it began to rain.

The man was not surprised. It had been warm and muggy and largely rainless over the past few weeks. One night of precipitation had done little to dispel the accumulating humidity. The cloying moisture had to fall eventually.

He walked at a normal pace, the raindrops cool on his cheeks and ears. Soothing upon his dry skin. For the first time since he’d lost it, the man was glad he wasn’t wearing the hat. The rain soaked his curly tangle down to its roots. He felt clean. Awake. Alive.

He poked a finger inside his lip and plucked out the wad of stale dip, then cast it into the swelling gutter. The rain washed away his individual sin, as it had the collective’s. The little things, at least. The infrastructure would take longer. He wondered how much decomposition he would live to see.

He shifted the shotgun to his left hand as he ran the fingers of his right through wet knots of hair, navigating the clotted brambles and freeing them from one another. He never had taken the time to give himself that haircut.

The rain began to fall harder, the breeze picked up, and the encroaching rumbles of thunder told him that it would soon get even worse. He tucked the scattershot beneath his jacket and ducked below a nearby awning. The man began to towel off the weapon with his undershirt, the same one he’d taken from a shelf in Lululemon. It made for a good rag. He groped behind his waist for the pistol and dried it off as well.

The storm had become a force. The city was no longer quiet. The roofs and roads thrummed with the watery echo of ten thousand drums, and a brisk wind howled through the concrete canyons. Thunder crept closer. Shards of lighting smashing through the sky.

“Kkkkkrrrrraaaaaaa!” distant Scorpions cried, those woken by the storm rejoicing in its arrival. “Kkkkkkkkkkrrrrrrrraaaaaa!” the sleepy voices sang. “KkkkkkkkkkrrrrrKrarKkkkkkkrrrraaaaa…”

The man’s head twitched. It wasn’t unusual for the armored creatures to celebrate heavy rainfall, even in the middle of the night. Probably wouldn’t inspire them to leave their nested waters, but they would certainly be more alert.

The reverbs of the Nightwalker’s pained cries lingered in the back of his mind. The rain was washing away his scent. Good. Hurricane Eyes wasn’t coming for him anymore. Hurricane Eyes was dead. Nothing was coming…

“KkkkkkrrrrrrKRAARKKkkkkkrrraaaaaa…”

Wishful fuckin’ thinking. It sounded louder. Closer. Not the Nightwalker, but still a Scorpion to be sure.

The man glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost five o’clock. There was still time, but not much. His heart pounded against his rib cage, goose bumps festering on his arms, the anxiety infesting his flesh. One of them must’ve seen his flame before he crossed the bridge. Should’ve laid low.

“KkkkrrrraaaaaKRRAARRKKKkkkrrrraaa…”

Even closer now. Moving fast. Sweat dripped from his pits. Three strikes and I’m out.

He scanned his surroundings. None of the nearby storefronts or apartment lobbies looked in decent-enough shape to withstand an assault, and any number of them might lead to a locked door. Locks were rarely a problem in the sprawl—he usually bypassed them by breaking a window—but even if he did get into an apartment, what was stopping them from finding him? If they had caught his trail, they would be relentless. It didn’t matter if it was the Nightwalker’s ghost or another youngling out to prove itself or a whole hunting party. They would come for him. They always did.

The streets in this part of the city were mostly empty, flat ground. He could try to make a run for it, but a metal spider with three legs would easily outpace him in a footrace. He’d had a head start that time at the waterfall and probably would have died were it not for the overhanging creek shelf. In the cornfield, he would’ve been killed by basically any other Scorpion; only a young, naive juvenile like the one who’d stalked him could’ve been defeated so easily. And he’d escaped the adults’ fury purely by selfish chance. By the unwitting sacrifice of a human parent and child to whom he could never properly thank or repay or apologize.