{"id":452,"date":"2009-08-07T08:07:11","date_gmt":"2009-08-07T13:07:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.greatsociety.org\/?p=452"},"modified":"2018-10-30T21:41:10","modified_gmt":"2018-10-31T01:41:10","slug":"judgment-day-part-8","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/?p=452","title":{"rendered":"Judgment Day: Part 8"},"content":{"rendered":"

Miss a chapter? You can navigate easier right here<\/a>.
\n<\/p>\n

The Long Night<\/em><\/p>\n

Fog and mist clouded around the low lights along the figure-8 bus lanes outside of the Wheaton Metro station. The city lights were alive, the sky huge. They all stood and stared, black smoke curling out around them into the evening rain. To their right, across the bus lanes and a small plaza, the entrance to the station belched an angry cloud of black smoke. For all the damage, the world was impossibly quiet, with the exception of a car horn blaring relentlessly in the distance. They strained to hear sirens, helicopters, shouted warnings from rescue workers. They weren\u2019t there, and the usual sounds of the city had vanished with them. Even with the blaring horn, the silence held a powerful quality. A force in itself.<\/p>\n

A steady rain come down and Molly stepped into it, tilting her head to the sky and sucking in breath. Daryl and the others followed her and they stood around in a tight group, each hoping for those sirens, the traffic of evening rush hour, the voice of authority. Each hoping for the normal world to come and sweep them up and separate them. But there was nothing. The smoke pouring out of the station entrance swirled into the chilled and rainy evening, the buses in the lanes sat idle, the traffic along Viers Mill Road was lined up, unmoving, headlights blazing into the rain-swept evening. It was as if they had stepped into a photograph, or a frame of a movie. The rain was falling, the cars were idling, and that horn miles away wailed on and on. Daryl walked to the edge of the bus lane, looking out at the traffic on Viers Mill, the headlights from the cars haloed in the rain. To his ears, used to a constant assault of noise, this was almost too much to bear. He felt an uncontrollable urge to shout out. Hello! Anybody! Hello! The words were right there, boiling in his mind and in his chest, but then he thought of the lipless smile of the creatures in the subway, their eyes startlingly white against their burnt faces as they glared murderously through smoke and debris.<\/p>\n

Daryl looked back at the other survivors, all of them staring in horror; incapable of wrapping their minds around this new world. It was the end of civilization, a world without a heartbeat, without the hum of traffic and the constant motion of life. The buzz of a fluorescent bulb beside the door was captivating when heard, without background noise, for the first time. All eyes turned and watched the light for a moment, then a streetlight clicked to orange. They looked at the metal junction box standing sentry at the intersection as it clicked again and the light turned to red. It was a solid sound, something Daryl couldn\u2019t remember ever hearing in the past. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but it wasn\u2019t coming easily. His lungs felt heavy and burned, the stench of charred flesh and plastic thick against the back of his throat.<\/p>\n

Slowly, all the other sounds rushed in. It wasn\u2019t a silent world. The rain chattered against the ground, the buses and cars idled expectantly where they sat, a dog barked in the distance three times.<\/p>\n

Daryl met the gazes of his fellow survivors and wondered why they were staring back at him. He just wanted to cry. Just break down, fall to his knees and start screaming and pounding at the asphalt. He wanted to run away, wake from this dream, find someone in a uniform and force them to help. The world had died between Metro stops. From life to nightmare in the space of minutes. He couldn\u2019t help these people. He didn\u2019t know how to help himself. A voice deep in his mind whispered one word, over and over: Death. It\u2019s happened. The world is dead. He couldn\u2019t do anything now but give in. The breathless fear turned into a rage, building up behind his eyes and pulsing against his forehead. Don\u2019t look at me, he wanted to shout to his fellow survivors. I\u2019m as lost as you are.<\/p>\n

Finally, he looked up towards the parking garage across the six lanes of Viers Mill. A deep sense of foreboding continued to pound through him, his heartbeat clear in his ears, feeling like it had moved to the center of his skull. He could inhale. All he got anyway was acid burn and a panic wheeze. They all needed to get to cover, hunker down and wait out the evening. Maybe help would come, maybe not, but the morning would bring sunlight and a sense of safety that a rainy March evening couldn\u2019t offer. He stepped forward and grabbed Molly\u2019s arm. \u201cWe have to find shelter. We can\u2019t be out here.\u201d<\/p>\n

He led her towards the road, stepping down into the bus lane. The other survivors followed closely. They crossed in front of a parked Metrobus, the engine idling and the display rolling off the name of a destination that the bus would never see again. The windows were dark, but the headlights pierced the night. When Daryl crossed in front of those lights, it felt like a tripwire. He turned as soon as he heard the sound of boots hitting the concrete. In this new world of silence, everything was startling. The sound of the boots solidly hitting the ground stopped them all in their tracks.<\/p>\n

A man stood at the open doors of the bus. In denim jeans and flannel work shirt, he looked hard and honest. The man stood there for a moment, looking almost as surprised as Daryl and the others, then he grinned and walked purposely towards them.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello!\u201d one of the woman said, a smile spreading on her face as she raised her hand. Then she froze. Daryl\u2019s eyes widened. He pushed Molly back and the hazy world closed around him once again. The new survivor was a big man, sporting a good spare tire, with hair receding from his forehead. Everything looked ordinary until Daryl saw the blood on his hands, the calm and powerful stride, the malevolent eyes. It took a few moments to fully comprehend that this man was the same as the hideously burnt creatures down below. Everything about him was inhuman, though in such subtle ways that it was hidden easily in the confusion of the night.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my God,\u201d Daryl muttered. He felt Molly\u2019s eyes on him as she drew closer against his side.<\/p>\n

With two giant steps, the man covered the distance between himself and the woman. He clutched her by the throat, lifted her effortlessly into the air and threw her to the ground with bone-shattering force. She hit the wet pavement and stayed down. Daryl lurched backward, stunned, and Molly let out a strangled scream. The man turned, cocked his head slightly, and his expression became quizzical. He looked at Daryl and nodded. \u201cYour friend below sends her regards.\u201d<\/p>\n

Daryl felt as if he had stepped into a whirlwind. A great distance opened up in his mind and he shook his head, worked his jaw, unable to think or speak.<\/p>\n

With a shout, the mousy brunette ran towards the man from the bus. The creature turned slightly and threw a casual punch that sent the woman flying backwards. Her body tilted as it sailed through the air, seeming to move in slow motion. The grotesque movement of her head brought Daryl back to his senses. He watched the woman land hard on the pavement, neck twisted and face shattered. Her eyes gazing blindly in his direction. The boy stood alone, blank faced. He watched the creature numbly.<\/p>\n

Molly was shouting something, but Daryl felt as if he were sinking into deep mud. He turned his attention back to the creature, which was now moving towards the child and grinning wickedly. The damn thing was enjoying this. The wounded man stumbled forward and Daryl shook his head. \u201cI don\u2019t know their names.\u201d he said, his voice hollow.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? What?\u201d Molly, panicked, plucked at his sleeve as she spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are their names?\u201d He looked at the child. Little man. Crying and screaming.<\/p>\n

The wounded man, doubled against his broken ribs, tried to raise his fist, to stand upright. It was useless. The creature knocked him to the ground as if swatting a fly.<\/p>\n

It was too quiet. Molly crying, shouting angrily. The child screaming. The sound of the wounded man\u2019s skull shattering, his body slumping to the ground. All these horrible and very real sounds coming through without the background drone of life, without the comfort blanket of traffic and conversation and construction work and the hum of the city. Reality. Life outside the confines of the commute, the daily grind. Here on the newly quiet Earth was violence and murder. Monsters and madness.<\/p>\n

The creature turned his cold gaze on the child. Despite the crippling horror, Daryl was in motion. He headed towards the child at a dead run and seemed to wake up, with shocking clarity, in mid-stride. The creature picked the young boy up and swung him around, looking triumphantly at Daryl. Daryl slid to a stop as the creature threw the boy into the windshield of the big Metrobus. The glass spider-webbed, the shock of the impact ringing in Daryl\u2019s ears, and the boy\u2019s shattered body slid down the front of the bus to fall beneath the harsh glare of the headlights. A thick smear of blood dripped over one of the lights and cast shadows across the face of the creature. No time for decisions, Daryl lunged forward and caught the creature as it was turning. They both went to the ground.<\/p>\n

There was no anger, no confusion. Daryl moved as if he were caught in a current, following a pure moment of thought, and everything slowed down to accommodate him. As the world stopped, a million thoughts became one. Daryl had his cell phone in his hand, though he didn\u2019t remember pulling it out. He thought about how silly it was to walk through that tunnel and stand out here in the rain without making a call. But then who would he call? Would it even work? His mind played through mistakes he\u2019d made in the last five minutes, the pure rage and terror of the moment become distant as life went into review. He seemed to be somewhere above himself, watching as an ancient killer\u2019s impulse took control. The shared consciousness of the species. He brought down the phone, wrapped in his fist, against the creature\u2019s head, the stub of the antenna driving into the damn thing\u2019s eye. The creature grunted, the first human sound he had heard from these creatures, and a grey-green ooze poured out through its ruined eye. Daryl forced the phone in deeper, letting the antenna lead the way to the brain. A version of himself continued to watch from a distance, amazed at the force and brutality that drove a cellphone into somebody\u2019s eye socket. It was both comical and horrifying, so he wasn\u2019t sure if he was laughing or screaming as his other hand clutched the creature\u2019s throat, pressing down against the soft spot at the base of the neck until he felt a liquid snap, then he pulled the phone out of the creature\u2019s eye and began battering its skull with both hands until the weird ooze sprayed out into the rain.<\/p>\n

The damned thing still clawed at him, hissing and spitting. One eye socket ruined, the other eye fixed on Daryl with murderous anger, it seemed to feel no pain. Daryl\u2019s hand was covered in the slime as he threw the phone aside and squeezed his hands against the creature\u2019s throat. He squeezed until he felt things shifting, the ooze sliding up between his fingers, a splintered bone driving through the skin. He squeezed like he was trying to pop the creature\u2019s head off, and that seemed to have an effect. The thing stopped clawing, it stopped trying to attack, and it desperately plucked at the encircling hands. Then, everything sped up to normal time. With a mindless scream, Daryl grabbed a fistful of hair and lifted the thing\u2019s head. He looked into the remaining eye, knowing that the thing was in contact with all the others. Of course it was. Just like the bitch on the train said. Maybe she was looking up at the tunnel\u2019s roof right now, watching this through one filmy eye. Daryl spit into the thing\u2019s eye and slammed its head down against the pavement. Again and again he lifted the head and slammed it down, until the hair pulled out of the scalp and a pool of viscous ooze spread out beneath the shattered skull. The eye wasn\u2019t seeing anything anymore, glazed and rolled up into the thing\u2019s skull, it stared at death. Daryl realized he hadn\u2019t been breathing when Molly stepped forward, sobbing and shaking, and clutched his shoulder. She pulled him up and away from the creature, then began to stumble backwards until he reached out and steadied her. They stood like that for a long time, Daryl sucking in rain and air like a man nearly drowned as he stared down at what he had done, the presence of Molly\u2019s gaze hot against his wet skin. Then he looked around. The blonde was face down on the ground, the wounded man\u2019s head was bent at a sick angle, the brunette was still staring with her dead eyes, and the headlights of the bus were covered in gore from the boy. Tears welled up and he shut his eyes against them, trying to clutch at that focus that he had had just a few moments ago, but it proved elusive. He tasted salt on the rain and realized that he was crying.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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