What doesnt kill you, p.23
What Doesn't Kill You, page 23
And here Val holds her breath. Please, Emma, if there’s anything left of you in there, convince them it’s a good deal. Convince them to abandon their relentless violence.
The Emma-Queen drops Mel and Danny into the snow.
We will not come back.
Val exhales in relief.
So long as you come to us.
35
Reunion
Mel is the first to see the shadowy figures outside Carpenter Feed. Danny runs with her through the snow. Their throats are sore from breathing in the cold air. Their muscles are sore from head to toe. Their eyes hurt from the stinging smoke inside the church.
And still they run. Dawn has appeared on the eastern horizon, lighting up the edge of the blizzard as it makes its way toward Lake Michigan. Danny can see Tiff. He can make out the forms of Davey John, crouched over.
Tiff catches the kids in an embrace. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” she says.
“I can,” John says with a cough. Davey is holding onto the back of his sweatshirt to keep from falling over. Ash paints his swollen face black. His donated sweatshirt is ripped in a dozen places. Most of John’s beard is gone, too. It’s just patches now. And his winter cap is burned in one spot.
“Easy,” John coughs. “I think I broke a rib.”
“You got no eyebrows, man,” Davey says.
“I’ll live,” John says. “Might need some Tylenol or other non-prescription-strength painkiller for a bit.”
Danny and Mel walk with them. Mel grabs Danny’s cold hand, stuffing it in the pocket of her sweatshirt. He feels a burst of warmth flush his cold cheeks. Is this what love will feel like for the rest of his life?
Tiff laughs. “We should get you somewhere out of the cold.”
“The motel,” John says.
“It might not be safe,” Davey says.
“Nowhere is safe.” John coughs, “until we’re finished with our rehab.”
“We can’t do it without Father George,” Tiff says.
“Got no choice,” John says. He stops to cough. He recovers, then smiles at them. “And I like our odds.”
36
Endings
First comes the plow down Old Highway 55. Then come the emergency vehicles. It’s dawn and the three columns of black smoke—one from the automotive shop, one from the feed silo, one from the church—have drawn a line of emergency vehicles. Val is tired but she knows she can’t spare any time to rest her eyes. She has to drive all the way to Yellowstone.
The semi’s tires handle the plowed road with ease. It nearly drives itself, but Val keeps both hands on the steering wheel. Tony Wagner’s semi. Double clutch. Easy-peasy for the once-quiet Weird Girl who overheard a decade of Tony Wagner’s conversations with Pat Allen inside the general store.
In Val’s mind, she keeps playing through the Devil’s bargain she made with the voices in her head.
So long as you come to us.
Now, the Emma creature is in the back of the cab, silent and brooding. Black bees are everywhere in the cab, crawling over the seats, relishing the heat, avoiding only Val and the windshield. Is there anything left of Emma? Can she think? Hear? Understand what she’s become? Val can’t hear her voice.
Twice, she pulls over. The moment she thinks of abandoning the vehicle or crashing it into a set of gas station pumps, the colony begins screaming so loud inside Val’s head that her nose begins to bleed.
There is no escape from this. Only borrowed time.
When she finally reaches Yellowstone, she stops the semi outside the park. “We can’t take the semi inside,” she explains, her breath steaming the window. She holds up her smartphone, which has less than five percent battery life. “The police know I’m missing. When they investigate Tony Wagner’s disappearance, they’ll realize his semi is missing. Do you understand?”
The colony does not. But Emma does. Val opens the back door. Emma slides out. A black bee that had been exploring the exterior of her hive-head quickly crawls back inside to avoid exposure. The hive-head is practically humming, thousands of drones shivering together to keep warm.
“What happens now?” she asks.
You leave.
“For how long?”
The Queen’s hive-head turns ever so slightly. One hand goes to the white overcoat, buttoning it up against the cold breeze. An artifact of Emma, perhaps.
Time has no meaning to us.
“What if I kill myself before you can reclaim me?”
We will be watching.
Val shivers at the thought. “I’m going to live my life, then. A long, long time. I’m not coming back until I’m old and gray.”
As you wish.
Val watches the Emma-Queen walk into the forest. She watches for a long time, until her cheeks are numb from the cold and the creature is nothing more than an object among shadows.
Her hand goes to her belly. She still has a big decision to make. But it’s her decision.
Acknowledgments
I don't really have a long list of people I want to acknowledge for this book, primarily because I wrote this in a pretty dark and lonely place. But I will say this: Timber Ghost Press is awesome, and I love all the amazing horror friends I've made on social media. That goes for other authors, reviewers, bloggers, and just horror fans in general. It's a really cool community that you should join.
About the Author
Ken Brosky is an active member of the Horror Writers Association. He writes monthly for Cemetery Dance Online, and occasionally publishes short stories. When he's not writing, he's teaching about writing. Sometimes, when he has free time, he will read a scary story.
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Ken Brosky, What Doesn't Kill You
