This Deep Panic Read online

  He stared longingly down hill. It would be so easy to go back right now. No one expected him to find Henry, anyway. At least he would have tried, which was more than anyone in Index could say, down there safe by their fires. The fear twisting in his gut worked hard to convince him to go downhill, to justify retreat.

  Instead, he shouldered his pack, turned his back on the forlorn eyeball, and headed uphill.

  After all, Henry had blue eyes. Not hazel.

  15

  They went to bed early, sleeping bags and pads spread out across the floor of the cabin. Anya offered to share her bed with Lucy, since the girl wouldn’t have been comfortable on the floor with her bruised ribs. Plus, she seemed more vulnerable than the others, more lonely and afraid. Bird, the traitor, chose to snuggle with Lucy. In the single-room cabin there was no privacy, and she slept fitfully, overwhelmed by the presence of others.

  She woke once during the night to hear the soft, muted sounds of people shifting, someone snoring, the low whimper of someone having a nightmare. And then she heard the creak of the bar on the door being moved. Someone lifted the kerosene lantern she’d left burning low and shadows shifted as someone moved toward the door. Two people whispered together.

  An outhouse trip, most likely.

  She waited several minutes until she heard the door open and shut again and the bar come safely back down. And then she finally drifted back into a dreamless sleep for the first time in two nights. Not that she felt those around her would save her from monsters, but there was something about no longer being alone to face those monsters that lessened fear.

  In the morning, Zack was gone.

  ~Day 4~

  1

  The early dawn was cool but at least the rain had stopped and the clouds slowly disintegrated as if filtered by old trees and older crags. Some time in the wee hours of the night before, Ramon and Ben found a place to not only pull over. After leaving Sultan it had taken them hours to make their way east on Highway 2. They’d gone as far as an area known as the High Bridge, but there they’d been forced to stop because that high bridge spanning the Skykomish river was no more. And the Skykomish, a large whitewater river, wasn’t one they could simply drive through. Ben had chosen to take a small two-track forest service road off into the woods, looking for someplace to camp where they wouldn’t be visible. After seeing how people had acted in Monroe, Ramon didn’t argue.

  Even making their way up the old logging road had taken hours. Every few feet Ramon, Artair, and Ben had to hook up the winch and cables to move downed trees out of their path. Or they’d have to inch along using the huge slab of a bumper to push a boulder out of their way. At one point Ramon had walked backwards in front of the truck, using hand motions to direct Ben and keep all four tires on the track instead of sliding down a washout. The others had walked behind during that maneuver so if the truck had gone it would have meant only losing Ben.

  Only.

  When they finally stopped it wasn’t because of finding a prime location as much as soul-deep shock, delayed reaction, and exhaustion. But at least they were far enough from the highway that they felt safe.

  They’d worked until it was too dark to see, organizing the over-stuffed camper. Now, though there was no room to sleep in it, they were at least able to find what they needed. Both girls, shivering, had crawled into the camper and changed into warmer clothes than their stained and torn school uniforms. When they were done, everything was packed tightly in the camper except for Ramon’s Glock. When no one was looking, he’d slipped the gun under the front seat of the truck, securing it with a strip of duct tape.

  Once it was full dark, Ramon stretched a couple tarps between trees, hanging them with rope. Exhausted emotionally and physically, his nieces burrowed into sleeping bags under the tarps and were asleep almost instantly. He sat in the dark, listening to the patter of rain on the tarp, and wondered what they were to do, where they could go. At some point Ben took over the watch and Ramon, chilled and bone-deep weary, crawled into a sleeping bag and eventually fell asleep.

  Now, with the twilight of dawn, Ramon had a small fire going and over it, a pot with oatmeal just coming to a simmer. Movement stirred one of the sleeping bags and Marie sat up and rubbed her eyes. When she saw him, she unzipped the bag and brought it with her to the fire, wrapping it around her shoulders.

  There were smudged shadows under her eyes and she slowly looked from side to side, scanning the forest that surrounded them.

  “We’re safe here,” he said. “We’ll hear anyone who comes this way.”

  Marie didn’t acknowledge his words.

  “Oatmeal will be ready soon. There’s brown sugar and cinnamon. How is your head?”

  Marie twisted around to look behind her. Ramon saw how her fingers, gripping the sleeping bag, trembled. He had to fight the urge to also look behind him. He wanted to reassure his niece that it was daylight, that they were going to be okay, that they were better off than most, that life would eventually get back to normal.

  But the words were as thick in his throat as the oatmeal in the pot.

  Ramon moved closer to Marie and put his arm around her, drawing her near. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and he saw the redness around the stitches. From healing or infection, only time and antibiotics would tell. Her dark eyes continued searching.

  And deep in his soul, Ramon heard his instinct whisper, as if some primordial genetic code just woke up.

  “What do you see?” he asked quietly.

  “Shadows.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. Ramon patted Marie. “Well, remember what the doctor said about your head injury.”

  “There’s at least six. I see them out of the corner of my eye.” Marie acted as if Ramon had said nothing. “They fade away if you look at them directly. They’re not people.”

  “Of course they’re not.” Ramon patted her again. “That bump on the head just scrambled your brains for a while.”

  “No. They’re moving around us, they start to come in closer and then pull back. I don’t know how they can tell where we are because they don’t have eyes or noses or mouths. They’re just shapes. Like smoke. But…”

  “But?”

  “They want us.”

  “I doubt a shadow can do much damage,” Ramon said. Especially, he thought, ones that are the result of a head injury.

  And then he remembered. That brief glimpse of a shadow, maybe a person, going into the house after he pulled the girls out. He shook his head. He wasn’t going to let Marie’s hallucinations get into his brain, too.

  “Look Marie, you have to trust the doctor. He knew what he was talking about. There’s nothing here that shouldn’t be. And on top of your injury, the earthquake changed everything. That kind of shock messes with you.”

  Marie glanced upward and met his eyes, but only briefly before going back to scanning the woods.

  “They’re not the only ones here,” she said. “But you don’t have to believe me. I’ll see if I can keep us safe.”

  “No, baby. That’s my job. I’ll keep you safe. You just rest and get better.”

  Cool wind whispered around them, passed over, fluttered the fire and made goose bumps rise on Ramon’s arms.

  Marie pulled the sleeping bag up over her head. “I don’t want to see anymore. It almost touched you.”

  Another sleeping bag moved and Artair emerged. He rolled the bag up carefully before joining them at the fire, rubbing a hand over his face. Marie pulled her bag down slowly, keeping her eyes focused on the fire. Artair touched her shoulder lightly as he sat down on the ground.

  “How’s the head?” he asked.

  “She’s still seeing things,” Ramon said. “Wish I’d thought to ask the doctor how long that’s supposed to last.”

  Artair drew in breath as if starting to speak, but then seemed to change his mind. He picked up a stick and poked at the fire.

  Ramon stirred the bubbling oatmeal. “Hungry?” he asked the two teens.
r />   At their nods he spooned oatmeal into plastic bowls. By the time they started to eat, the others were stirring. Ben heaved June up off the ground, and June in turn helped Alegria to her feet. As Ben packed and stowed sleeping bags, June pulled out a battered stainless steel coffee pot and started coffee over the fire. Then she filled a pot with bottled water and placed it on a rock near the fire.

  “When this is hot we’ll have hot chocolate for the girls and warm water for washing up. Just because the world has collapsed doesn’t mean we shouldn’t brush our teeth and wash our hands.”

  Artair, cupping his bowl in one hand, looked at Ben with hope in his eyes as the old man unfolded a camp chair for June.

  “What’s the plan?” the boy asked. “How do we get across the river?”

  “Don’t think we can,” Ben said gently. “That river is too much even for the Crusher. Someone might be able to get across on foot using the debris from the High Bridge, but that’s going to be dangerous. Plus, we can’t leave all our supplies and we can’t carry them.”

  “Think we could get back to Monroe?” Ramon asked, thinking about his brother and sister-in-law.

  “Doubt it,” Ben said. “Sultan’s going to be flooded. Monroe might even be. Mayhap once those waters go down. But now? Nope.”

  Artair put the bowl down on the ground next to him. “I appreciate all your help. More than I can say. But maybe here’s where we separate.”

  “What do you mean?” June asked.

  “I have to get home. My brother...we got in a fight. I took off. I don’t know if he’s alive or not.” Artair swiped at tears and turned his head as if they wouldn’t see. “If he is, he’s going to be worried sick about me. I can get across the river on foot. If not on the bridge, then I can hike upriver until I find a way to cross. Upriver gets me closer to Index anyway.”

  “You can’t go alone,” Marie said. “You can’t see what’s out there.”

  Artair’s hands fisted on his knees. “It doesn’t matter. I have to get home. I was so stupid. Taking off like I did. I hated it in that nowhere town with nothing to do, getting nagged by my brother all the time. Now I just want to get back there. How messed up is that?”

  “Bad times make you realize the importance of family,” June said. “There may be a way to get you home.”

  Everyone stared at the woman, her gray hair flyaway from a night sleeping on the ground, her swollen ankles overflowing the tops of her tennis shoes, her rear end overflowing the edges of the straining canvas chair.

  “Check that water, Father, see if it’s hot.” June pointed.

  Ben did as she asked. “Not yet. What are you thinking, Mother?”

  “Our Forest Service maps. Logging roads.” June folded her arms over her shelf of belly. “We have all those Green Trail maps in the glove box. There’s got to be logging roads that will get us into backcountry. Think about it. This area used to be nothing but mining and logging. Both needed roads.”

  “But they’re probably overgrown or washed away, or destroyed by the quake,” Ramon said.

  Ben, surprisingly, grinned. “But there will still be ones in use. By the forest service, hikers, hunters. Good idea, Mother.”

  Ramon watched the old man go to the truck then return with a roll of well-thumbed maps. He glanced at his nieces, who watched him. He knew it was time for a decision.

  “Okay girls. Family time.”

  Alegria came over to sit on the ground in front of Ramon and Marie. “Spell it out, Tío.”

  Ramon thought a moment. “Three choices. One, we keep going east with these people. It means supplies and not being on our own, and maybe help. Maybe places not as hard hit. But it takes us farther from home.”

  “Two?” Alegria asked.

  “We stay here. Make camp more permanent. Hang out until water’s down in Sultan, until things are in more control. This place is somewhat concealed. We have access to water from the stream and the river. But we’ll be here a while.”

  “And three?” Marie asked.

  “We start working our way back to Monroe. I left a note for your parents that we were headed for the hospital. If they survived they’ll look for us there. It will be dangerous. Not sure we can get through the floodwaters in Sultan. But if we can, we might be able to find Tómas and Therese.”

  The sisters looked at each other. Alegria looked down, fingering her sling. After a moment she drew in breath and raised her dark eyes to Ramon.

  “Tío. I vote for going back. To find mom.”

  Ramon nodded. “Marie? You’re not saying much.”

  Marie looked at her younger sister and without warning, tears overflowed. “I vote for staying with Ben and June and Artair. For logging roads. We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. And we can’t go back. There are too many.”

  June gently wiped Marie’s tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. “Too many what, honey?”

  “Shadows,” she whispered.

  June looked confused and met Ramon’s eyes. He shook his head and June said nothing more. He wondered how long the symptoms of the head injury would last. Fear and worry for Marie gnawed at him. What would he do if she didn’t start getting better?

  “We’d like you to stay with us,” Ben said, with hands folded over the maps. “But we understand that you need to decide what’s best for your girls.”

  Marie broke into sobs. “We can’t go back.”

  Ramon put his arm around the crying girl and drew her in close. “Hush baby. These things you’re seeing. They’re simply not real. Nothing will stop us from going back.”

  Marie pushed Ramon’s hand away. “No. You’re wrong.”

  Alegria stared at her sister and then gasped on a sob. She came to them, huddled close, tears streaming. Ramon clutched both girls, swallowed past the hard lump in his throat, and started to speak, to tell them again about head injuries, about the real world.

  But Artair spoke first. “I think you got to decide something else.”

  “What?” Ramon asked, irritated by the interruption.

  “You need to decide if everything Marie’s seeing is from her head injury, or if something else’s going on the rest of us can’t see. Me? I think the doctor was wrong. I don’t think what’s happening has anything to do with the head injury.” Artair glanced at Marie before focusing back on Ramon. “I believe her. She saw the raven.”

  Ramon remembered the tendrils of chill air that passed him earlier. And Marie’s words that something had just touched him. Early morning breeze and a head injury? Or some freak shadow coming too close?

  The logical side of him knew it was the head injury. That his brother and sister-in-law might very well be alive, maybe injured, out there looking for them. That an old woman hadn’t had a raven on her shoulder only Marie saw. That shadow people without eyes or noses or mouths didn’t move among the trees.

  But then he thought about that deep buried instinct inside that stirred and woke. About his neck hairs standing up as if his body knew something his brain didn’t.

  He drew in a deep breath, studied Marie’s face, and then looked around the group. “Okay. Not sure I believe in any of this. But I trust her.”

  “Mom,” Alegria managed to say before folding over, sobs shaking her body. “I want to go home.”

  Ben blew out a heavy sigh. “I believe Marie, too. Against all my common sense. Last night…well, mayhap there’s things around here we don’t want to get too close to.”

  Ramon pulled Alegria up to his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around her as she cried against him. “We still have a choice to make.”

  “We have to stay together,” Marie said, sniffling.

  June opened packets of hot chocolate mix and poured them into splatter ware camping mugs. She stirred and handed them to Marie and Alegria. “Drink this girls. Something warm and sweet won’t make your sadness go away but it will help you feel better.”

  Marie held her tin mug close in both hands. “We can’t stay here. They’re coming.”


  “And we can’t go back,” Artair said.

  “Then logging roads it is.” Ben unfolded the maps. “Let’s finish up this breakfast before it gets cold, and then plot out our routes.”

  “And Marie,” Artair said, reaching over to touch her arm lightly. “You need to tell us when you see things. We need to know what’s around us.”

  Marie didn’t answer, but she slipped out from under Ramon’s arm and rolled up her sleeping bag.

  And while she worked, her eyes scanned the woods around them.

  2

  Marie wondered what made shadows a threat. The way they circled? The way they paused, as if watching? Evaluating? Or the way they breathed?

  They seemed to deeply suck in air when they got close to her family and the others. She could see the air, or something, moving like wisps of breath on a cold morning. The shadows drew close with a sound like wind, and then the fine tendrils, those wisps, would float out from her. From her uncle. From Artair. From each of them. And be pulled to the shadows.

  As if something was being sucked out of their souls.

  And each time a wisp left her, she felt colder. The chill deeper.

  And the shadows grew. Like they were some kind of spirit vampires.

  Her uncle wanted to protect his family. She wanted to feel safe next to him. But how could he protect them from shadows?

  3

  Ramon shut the camper door and snicked the padlock closed. He pocketed his key, turning back to the campsite. Artair kicked dirt over the fire, smothering it. June stowed the maps back in the glove box. Ben opened the driver’s door on the old truck and a moment later the engine turned over, caught, and rumbled. Marie stood at the truck, waiting and watching. And Alegria…

  Ramon’s heart stuttered. He couldn’t see his niece. “Where’s Alegria?”