Flood Plains by Mark Wheaton (best ereader under 100 .TXT) 📕

But slowly, Big Time shook his head.

“Your life after this might be short or might be long,” he began. “Whatever the case, if you walk away, you’ll be coming back to this moment for the rest of it filled with regret. Yeah, Katrina was fucked. Not going to disagree with you on that one. But we made it. I don’t know how much I believed in God, but we were saved and Providence—maybe God, maybe not—put us here. Not Memphis, not Dallas, not Chicago. I’ve worried ever since why we survived and others didn’t. Maybe this is the answer to that question.”

Zakiyah listened to this, but then looked down.

“How am I the bad guy because I want my daughter to live?” she finally whispered.

“You’re not,” Big Time answered. “Because that’s not what this is about at all. From the looks of things, we’re beyond the ‘finding somewhere we can hide’ option. We don’t do this, whole world dies. Doesn’t mean it’s an easy decision, but we’re all dead anyway. That’s the mindset you have to have. But, we just might give Lazarus a run for his money if we pull this off.”

Zakiyah wasn’t convinced. Mia walked over and put her arms around her mother, who hugged back. Finally, she nodded.

“All right. Let’s do this.”

•  •  •

The group climbed the ladder up the side of pipe, Big Time and Mia in the lead, Zakiyah and Tony pulling up the rear. When he reached the hatch, Big Time gingerly gripped the wrench, not knowing what he’d see below.

“We’re cloaked,” Mia said.

“I thought that was the case before. You could’ve let me know.”

Mia said nothing. Big Time cranked the wrench back, and the watertight hatch unsealed. He spun the wheel the rest of the way, held his breath, and then opened it up, fully expecting to be knocked off the pipe by the poltergeist force as he did so.

When nothing happened, he exhaled.

The light was even dimmer in the pipe now. Big Time pulled Scott’s lighter out of his pocket, made sure it still had fuel, then began climbing down the ladder on the inside of the pipe.

“See anything?” Tony asked once Big Time was halfway down.

“Nothing,” his father replied.

As Big Time descended, it came home to him how tired he was. The endless rushes of adrenaline had left him weary, and his muscles ached. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and he was just able to see the sludge worm at the base of the ladder. It was about three feet wide and as thick around as a telephone pole. It seemed to be inflating and deflating, like a lung but wasn’t moving backward or forward.

It was as if it had gone to sleep.

“What do you see?” called Zakiyah.

“It’s not reacting to me, so I guess we’re good. But it’s also not moving. I haven’t seen it do this. They’re always moving towards something or moving away from it.”

He climbed off the ladder and saw a tuft of Sineada’s skirt pressed against the side of pipe. It was completely soaked through with blood and bits of sinew, all that was left of the old woman. Big Time felt overwhelming sorrow and had to look away.

He moved towards the stationary sludge worm and flicked on Scott’s lighter. It was the first time he’d gotten that good of a look at its surface. From a distance, it looked as shiny as a polished rock. Up close, it resembled any of the tar balls he’d seen on beaches most of his life. It wasn’t so much black as brown. And it was ugly.

That’s when he realized that it was anything but stationary. No, in fact it was under a tremendous amount of tension, straining to retract. It was like a fox whose paw had been caught in a trap and was trying to get free, except there was no visible reason as to why the tip of the sludge worm was nailed in place.

“What’s it doing?” Mia asked, walking up next to him.

“I don’t know,” Big Time demurred. “Part of me thinks your great-grandmother was stronger than you gave her credit for.”

Mia knelt in front of the worm, focusing on the area where it was held fast. She held her hand out over it, but nothing happened.

“Your grandmother thought I was just being polite when I offered, but I’m serious. If you don’t want to do this alone, I’ll go with you.”

Mia nodded as if knowing Big Time was going to say this but then shook her head.

“You’re the one who has to burn it once we’ve led it all the way down the pipe,” Mia explained. “If you don’t, all those people will be just as trapped as the ones who started it. Then it’ll happen all over again. This way, they’re free.”

“I’ll make sure it happens,” Big Time replied, still amazed he was speaking to an eleven-year-old girl.

“Stand back.”

Big Time rose and took a dozen steps back. He could barely see Mia, so swallowed up by the darkness was she. She sat down about a foot in front of the tip of the sludge worm and closed her eyes.

Abuela? It’s me. Can you hear me?

A voice came back immediately, hitting Mia so hard she almost toppled back.

It’s too strong! Mia, we didn’t know. It’s too strong, you can’t. Save yourself. Run away! I can’t reach it!

Abuela, it’s all right. I know you’re scared, I know you’re turned around, but it isn’t as you think it is. It’s working, what you’re doing. You’ve stopped it. You just need my help.

You’re wrong! Please…

But Mia didn’t listen. She dropped the veil, reached out, and placed her hands on the sludge worm. Her flesh began dissolving immediately.

•  •  •

The furthest tendril of the collective was 230 miles to the north in the town of Corsicana, 50 miles south of Dallas. Though the most recent census put the population as just past 25,000, the off-the-highway hamlet had