“Well, Quentin. Why didn’t you say it was about Sharon?” The school secretary looked up at the IBM clock on the wall. “It will be the beginning of first period. What does she have first period?”
“I thought PE,” Quentin said. His voice was normal again. He hadn’t raised his voice since his wife died. It was as if he were afraid that if he got angry he wouldn’t be able to stop. “She came to school, but I guess she didn’t go to swim practice this morning,” he said, embarrassed.
“Kenny, get me Sharon Collier’s schedule, will you dear,” Genie said.
One of the students got up from a desk and went to a computer terminal and punched up his daughter’s schedule. The lights flickered and went off. The office changed from a well-lit glow to a dull room full of gray figures in an instant.
“Computer’s down,” the kid said. “We’ll have to wait for juice.”
“No, we won’t.” Genie went back to the wall and Quentin watched the woman pull out a paper file. “We were doing this way before we had one of those,” she nodded toward the computer. “I never liked those things, anyway. She’s in Biology this period, Quentin. Mrs. Richard’s class on the second floor. Room 156,” Genie said.
“Sheriff, could I speak to you for a moment?” The principal, Mat Marks, had come out of his office and was standing in his office doorway. They were the same age. Marks had been a poor kid when they were students at the high school together. Marks had worked his way up the ladder, even married one of Nevada City’s rich girls.
Quentin nodded hello.
“Quentin, I’ll call up to Sharon’s room and have her sent down so you can speak to her,” Genie said.
“Thanks, Genie,” Quentin said.
Since the intercom system was down, Genie sent a kid up to get his daughter.
Mat Marks, wearing a little American flag pin on his suit jacket’s lapel, closed the office door behind him. The office had a view of the big expanse of grass between the new gym and the school’s original old red-brick building.
“You’re coming to the wedding?” Marks said.
Quentin had to think. Then he remembered that Mat’s kid brother was getting married. “Sure, of course. Sharon showed me the invitation. She opens all the mail now, since—yeah, we’re going to be there. Me and the girls,” Quentin said.
“Good. Quentin, there’s something screwy going on. Over half the student body is missing today. And at least that many teachers. It’s never happened before. I thought you should know. I mean, maybe there’s some kind of bug. A real serious one, for that many people to be gone. E. coli, maybe?”
“That’s not exactly my department, Mat.”
“And that’s not all. Families have been calling up the school and asking us to check and make sure their kids are here. You aren’t the first. A lot of students went missing yesterday, too. Their parents say they never went home. Did you get any calls at the sheriff’s office?”
“I was just on my way in. I wouldn’t get missing persons calls on the radio. I was in Sacramento for two days. Just got back yesterday. Only emergencies come through on this.” Quentin tapped the Motorola radio hooked to his black-leather belt.
The door opened. Both men turned around. Quentin was expecting to see his youngest daughter standing in the doorway.
“Sheriff, Sharon’s not in class,” Genie said.
Quentin looked at the secretary. He felt his hand tighten where he had it on his gun belt.
“She was marked as absent in homeroom,” the secretary said. “But I wouldn’t worry, Quentin. A lot of kids are sick today.” The lights flickered on and went off again as she was speaking.
* * *
“No sir, I don’t understand it either,” the lieutenant said. “But it’s the God’s honest truth, sir.”
Lieutenant Bell was standing in the colonel’s office at the base. The medic had worked on him again, insisting they take Bell to a civilian hospital in Nevada City. The colonel seemed to dismiss the seriousness of Bell’s injuries; he’d sent the corpsman out of the office.
“Lieutenant, you just said that a gang of ”—the colonel turned and looked at the duty officer standing next to him—“civilians attached you and Sergeant Whitney. And that they dragged the sergeant away into the woods and killed him. Do I understand you correctly, Lieutenant?”
“Yes sir, you do. That is exactly what happened, sir. They broke his back first, sir.”
“You say you fired your weapon at the civilians?”
“Yes sir, I did. But some of them didn’t—sir, some of the attackers were not affected by the fire, sir. It seems you have to shoot them just right. Head shots seemed to work, sir.”
“You’re fucking crazy, Lieutenant. Now I want you to tell me what really happened out there. You’re facing a court-martial, boy.”
“I did tell you, sir. Just now.”
“Tell me again, asshole.”
* * *
“What the fuck was that?” Bell said. “Sounds like a wolf or a dog.” The lieutenant looked at Whitney.
The sergeant turned toward the screaming sound. He looked down the creek. They both watched a kid at the lead of the pack run down the creek bank, fifty yards in front of them. The kid jumped into the water and came toward them, riding the current.
“It’s just a kid.” The sergeant turned around and faced Bell.
“Boy, what the heck are you doing out here?” the lieutenant yelled, watching the boy. Another one of the things jumped down from the bank and followed the boy into the icy water. A woman, about thirty, wearing dark-colored leotards, no shoes or coat on. “Ma’am?” Bell yelled.
Bell watched the two strange people float down the creek toward them. The boy turned and looked back toward the dozen or so things gathered about seventy yards up the creek who were pointing at the two pilots.
The boy in the water began to howl. It was loud, the same sound they’d heard moments before. The woman coming at them was being pushed by the current, behind the kid. She was stopped by a huge rock. She hit the boulder with her face, bounced off, and kept coming, swept along by the fast-moving creek. Bell watched her crash into the boulder and thought she would be hurt, but she just kept coming. Halfway to them, the woman began to howl, seemingly answering the kid’s howl.
Bell looked at Whitney. The sergeant was trying to say something but Bell couldn’t hear him. The howling stopped.
He’s only a kid, the Lieutenant thought. He lifted his hand off his wound and raised his weapon. Another woman was running at them along the bank, older than the first, long gray hair, in some kind of supermarket-clerk-like apron. Bell watched her mouth open. It was big, looked distorted, un-human. She was baring her teeth like a dog might.
The kid was getting closer. His face distorted as if the muscles had gotten bigger, somehow exaggerated from normal human features. The kid stopped himself in the current and swung toward their side of the creek. He stood up and looked at them. He was wearing a red mackinaw and jeans and had brown hair.
“Hey, kid, what’s going on?” Bell said.
The kid looked at him and started to stumble through the water toward him.