older I get—I would have liked to have a son.”
“You still can. You’re not that old.”
Before Frank could reply, a deer ran across the highway and leaped over the guardrail. We stumbled to a halt, and Charlie gave a surprised little yelp. The doe dashed away across the field, her white tail flashing in the moonlight, before disappearing into a line of trees.
“My heart’s racing,” Charlie gasped. “Fucking thing scared the shit out of me.”
A thought occurred to me. “I wonder if any animals have vanished, too.”
Frank and Charlie stared at me as if I were as crazy as Carlton and the Soapbox Man.
“Whatever it is that’s happened,” I said, “why should it just be limited to us humans? Doesn’t make sense.”
“We saw that dog a few minutes ago,” Frank reminded me. “And there’s been plenty of dead animals alongside the road.”
“Not road kill. I’m serious. Maybe some of the animals have disappeared. Maybe there’s empty kennels and cages at the zoo right now.”
Charlie shrugged. “It’s something to consider, I guess.”
We’d walked another two miles before we heard the voices. As we pressed on through the darkness, they grew louder. There was a large group of people ahead, judging by the sound. We rounded a curve and saw taillights in the distance. Traffic had stopped again, and I wondered what was causing the backup this time. As we got closer, we saw that at least a hundred people stood in the road. Then we smelled something burning: an acrid stench that made my eyes water.
Volvo’s car lay on its roof in the middle of the highway, stretched across the median strip and one northbound lane. It was on fire. Smoke poured from the interior, and we heard a high-pitched whining sound. It took me a moment to realize what it was.
Screaming. From inside the car.
Volvo screaming.
A hand flailed from the driver’s-side window. The bubbling flesh sloughed off as it waved desperately, but I recognized the expensive Rolex around the charred wrist. The wind picked up, and I smelled roasting meat.
“Jesus . . .” Coughing, I turned away. He may have been a yuppie asshole, but he hadn’t deserved this.
A trucker with a small fire extinguisher sprayed foam all over the blackened frame, but it was too late.
Charlie bent over and puked on his shoes. As much as he’d thrown up today, I was amazed that he had anything left inside him. Then I ran to the side of the road and did the same.
Three more cars had been involved in the accident. One was smashed into the guardrail, blocking the other northbound lane. The second was on its side in the southbound lane. The third was spread out all over the highway. Shattered glass and pieces of steel and fiberglass littered the pavement. The smell of gasoline mixed with the stench of burned flesh.
Frank muttered something, but it was lost beneath the noise of the crowd.
“What’d you say?” I asked.
“There’s one more person who ain’t going home tonight.”
I checked my watch—9:30 p.m. sharp. On a normal night, Terri and I would have finished dinner, talked about our days, and would now be climbing into bed together. We’d be reading books, or watching television, or making love. An hour from now, we’d go to sleep.
On a normal night.
Which this wasn’t.
I needed to get home to her. Needed to feel her in my arms, to smell her hair and breathe in her scent and tell her that I loved her. It was very important that I tell her. I said it several times a day, but after years of marriage I didn’t really think about it anymore—didn’t consider the truth behind the words. Saying “I love you” had become a habit. I needed to let her know that it did still mean something to me, and that I did still love her. I loved her so much it hurt. Something swelled up inside my chest.
“Come on,” I said. “We’re halfway home.”
“Wait,” Charlie called, pointing back the way we’d come. “Look at that.”
Red lights flashed
Natasha Solomons
Poul Anderson
Joseph Turkot
Eric Chevillard
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child
Summer Newman
Maisey Yates
Mark Urban
Josh Greenfield
Bentley Little