End Program by James Axler

Author:James Axler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2014-04-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

The rain came, black like tar. It hammered against the roofs of the parked automobiles, stranded amid the jungle of wild plants that had overwhelmed the highway.

Ryan and Krysty shared a Chevy with three of the farmers, while Mildred, Ricky and Jak distributed themselves in the other cars, hiding from the lethal torrent with the survivors of the farm massacre.

The rains lasted through the day and half the night, their drumbeat against the metal roofs of the cars like a mutie orchestra tuning up for chaos. With nothing else to do, Ryan, the companions and the surviving farmers grabbed what sleep they could in the automobiles.

* * *

CATNAPPING IN a grounded SUV, Jak was awoken by a wail. He opened his eyes, sensing the change in atmosphere. In the front seat, a woman was crying, dragging a bundle of clothes toward her, trying the vehicle’s door handle in the dark.

“Don’t,” Jak told her, reaching ahead to stop her from opening the side door. It was then that he saw the rain slick on his jacket’s sleeve, felt its coolness there. The SUV had a sunroof and even in the darkness Jak could see the crack running through it—just a small, angled line, but enough to let in a slow trickle of water as the rains continued. The tinted plastic of the roof was bowing inward, struggling under the weight of that relentless rain.

Around the car, the other sleepers—a hardy-looking farmhand and a woman with prematurely graying hair—were waking up to the commotion. The farmhand jumped in his seat when he saw the water pooling on his shoulder.

“My Jessica,” the woman in the front seat cried, clutching the bundle of clothes to her chest. She was wet with rain, Jak saw, face and chest glistening with water in the faint moonlight that seeped through the roof panel past the clouds, and so was the bundle of rags she held. He remembered now—the bundle contained a child, a baby not more than a week old.

“Dry here,” Jak said. “Climb through.”

The crying woman shifted in her seat, tried to turn around. “I can’t. Oh, heavens—” She reached for the door handle again, about to open it.

Jak could see she was starting to panic so he reached through for the baby. “Pass me,” he said calmly, keeping the urgency out of his voice.

Above them, the sunroof buckled, more water pouring in through the crack and around its seal. It came in thin streams, like barely open faucets, bringing the smell of sulfur into the vehicle.

“Oh shit,” the man in the front seat said as the foul-smelling water splashed against his face. “Oh shit, oh shit!”

“Baby,” Jak ordered, prioritizing the child. “Quick.”

The woman reached around and, with a little effort, managed to pass the bundle of rags between the seats to Jak’s waiting hands. The bundle was wet, and the dampness stung Jak as he grasped it.

Then the roof finally gave, dropping a cascade of black water into the SUV. The farmhand and the woman shrieked as it struck the front seats, drenching them with the toxic brew.

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