The River South- Excerpt from the Kara Mason Story

I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I’ve never been good at running uphill. I look back over my shoulder to see if the creature is still following us. It’s on its knees, mud smeared across a bloody and distorted face. Its gnarled maw hangs open too wide and I can see teeth through the nearly transparent flesh. I hold my breath, waiting to see if it will get back up again. My lungs scream for air to fuel my body’s upward plight.

I suck in air at the same time as I collide with Hank’s pack, forcing me to look where I’m going. The creature lets out a horrible shriek, falling back into the saturated earth. A jagged bone bursts through the tatters of cloth that cover the thing’s arm. It doesn’t even notice…

Hank offers me a disapproving glare before returning his attention to Dad. I shift so that I’m standing between him and Bruce, still breathless.

“I don’t think it’s making it up again,” Dad says, of the wailing horror thrashing in the puddle.

“This one maybe,” Hank snarls under his breath. His cheeks are flushed red and salt crusts the sides of his face, back by his ears. We’ve been running since dawn.

“We’re going to get around whatever this is,” Dad reassures, pulling out his paper map and studying it.

“The satellite map is more accurate, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Not necessarily. How old are those pictures, do you think?” He asks, licking dry lips while his finger traces the path we’ve taken so far.

I’ve never thought about how old the satellite images are. I always assumed they were live, or something close to live, at least. I open my mouth to ask Dad what he means, but he speaks before I can get the question out.

“We’ve got to get to the road just south of the river here.” He points to a line drawn in grey ink that crosses over the faded spirals of red ink that mark the elevation. I match it to the satellite map that I know.

“That’s the road to the Institute,” I say.

“Not for us. That’s our rendezvous location,” He says, folding the map and returning it to his jacket pocket.

“What about…” Hank rolls his eyes back in the direction of the near-dead that is only just staggering to a half stand.

It’s by far the most deteriorated one we’ve seen today— the sixth. It’s also the first one to chase us, so we’re lucky for its condition. I should feel lucky for its condition. I only feel sad. Every single one of them looks like the person they were before this happened to them. As though they went to sleep one way, and woke up this way, completely unprepared.

“We’re going to get around it,” Dad insists.

“And the others?” We’ve been running all day. Every time we outrun one there’s another one waiting. Dad keeps saying it’s wrong. Bruce says there must be a secret population they’re coming from. I think they’re from a transport vehicle that didn’t make it. Every time we see a new one, I expect it to be the scared woman or the gaunt man we saw leaving the city.

Dad furrows his brow. He looks as tired as I feel, but his jaw still has that knot that it gets when he’s really certain about something. “We’re six for six, right?”

“A perfect record.” Hank smiles.

“What if there’s another fast one, like yesterday?” Bruce asks. He’s still pale. Haunted.

The near-dead’s haunt. I imagine the words in tiny script on this area of Dad’s paper map. It brings a smile to my lips, but it disappears quickly when I remember that they’re hunting us.

“I’ll take care of it,” He promises.

We move quickly away from the screaming puddle. The sounds it’s making will probably draw others toward it, so the farther away we get, the safer we are. Probably. Dad asked us all to carry our weapons. He leads the way and Bruce follows behind as if they could protect us in a sandwich of vigilance. My stomach rumbles as we press on, following the contours of the earth toward the river. I imagine a pale red line under my feet. I try to follow it across the ground as far as I can see. It’s flatter now that we’re close to the river. I can hear the sound of the rushing water before I can see it— mostly because I don’t want to lose my red line.

I’m staring hard at the horizon, following the line that I know will have to turn out of sight, when a person appears. Long hair envelopes the figure like an aura as it moves, seeming to be in a hurry to get somewhere. It looks very human.

“Dad,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

“I see it,” He says, stopping our progression. It’s walking straight for us.

“Is it a near-dead or… a person?” Bruce asks.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here,” Dad says.

“If it’s a person maybe it’s a coyote?” Hank suggests.

I watch the figure approach, growing as it leaves the horizon and enters the midground. “I don’t think it’s a person. It can see us just as well as we can see it. A person would wave, or hide or do something else human,” I say, watching it walk in an almost human way.

“Kara’s right. Let’s go,” Dad urges, turning Hank. Gravel crunches and grinds under his feet as the forces Hank’s about-face.

“Back to the muddy one?” Hank asks, clearly unhappy with the prospect.

Dad looks around. His eyes settle on the river and the knot reappears on his jaw. The thing gets closer. It’s running now, and I can see the strange imbalance of thoughtless motion.

“Dad?” I ask, adrenalin urging me to run.

“Into the river. Now. Go,” He says, putting one arm on Hank and the other on me.

I move easily under his persistent force. In three steps I’m running. It feels right to run.

“The river is too fast.” Bruce calls to Dad from behind us.

“We can ride the river out of the area. We need to get away from this outbreak,” He says, continuing to urge us forward.

“It’s too dangerous. What if someone gets caught up in something? There could be trees washed into it— or rocks. We could drown!” Bruce argues.

The river looms large and surprisingly still ahead of us. I imagine the gnarled branches and jagged rocks underneath the blackish green surface.

Dad stops at the edge of the bank. I look behind us to see the thing still running, closer now than before. “This water is deep. If we stay together and stay toward the center, we should be fine.”

“Should be? Is that enough?” Bruce watches the water that almost looks still. A leaf resting on the surface drifts lazily downstream.

“It’s not safe here. I can’t get us out of here without killing one of them. We can’t leave a trail of dead to mark our path for someone to follow.” He pulls a bright yellow mass out of his pack and tucks it under his arm.

Bruce draws his lips into a thin line. He nods. “It will be fine.” He relents. He looks even more pale than he did before.

Dad leads the way, plunging in with a deliberate stride until he’s knee-deep. He puts his hand out for Hank. I link arms with Hank and Bruce, easing into the river. The water is icy cold— runoff from the snowy mountains and recent rainfall, making it hard to breathe. Dad wades further out until I can tell that he’s treading water. With his head barely bobbing above the surface he doesn’t look as certain as he did on the bank. I gasp as I sink further in, kicking to keep myself afloat, terrified of how difficult it is to keep my head up.

When we’re nearly to the center of the river dad pulls a black cord on the yellow mass. With a roar that seems to bounce across the water’s surface the yellow explodes into an air-filled float. Fighting to stay above the water, I look back toward the shore to see the creature wail in response to the noise and understand why Dad didn’t open it until we were in the water. Bruce helps me grip the float. Dad’s already kicking to propel us downstream.

“Will it get in the river to try and catch us?” Hank asks.

“If it does, it will drown.” Bruce says.

My teeth are already chattering from the cold.

“Kick, Kara. We’ll move faster and you’ll warm up,” Dad urges.

I follow instructions, watching our entry point disappear as we make progress. “How long are we going to do this?” I ask.

“I don’t know. A while. As long as it’s safe,” Dad says.

We’re moving faster now, but the river is still wide. My stomach flips as I remember the trees underfoot.

“We can’t do it for that long. It’s too cold.” Bruce points out.

“We’ll build a fire. A big one.”

“I want two soups tonight,” Hank says.

“Me too,” I say.

“Me three,” Says Bruce.

“That’s fine. But that means I get three soups.” Dad smiles. His laugh comes out broken before his face gets serious again as he stairs at the river ahead. I tell myself that it’s broken from the cold.