In Escanaba, Michigan, over twenty people had been killed, and dozens more injured, when an apparent riot erupted during a rock concert.
Stranger still, some form of mass hysteria seemed to be springing up at random across the country, and according to some reports, throughout the world. The reports didn’t make a whole lot of sense, and it was apparent that some of the newscasters were skeptical as they read them. Stories were told of the dead coming back to life—in morgues and at funerals and in the back of ambulances and on the battlefield.
“Sounds like those movies you always watch,”
Chip laughed. “Where the corpses run around and eat people?”
“Yeah,” Terry replied, shivering. “Weird, huh?”
Headlights pierced the early morning gloom, and a moment later, his sister’s van pulled up, followed by his mother’s car.
Terry took a deep breath. Goosebumps dotted his arms, and he wondered why. He chalked it up to the dampness in the air.
Chip led him across the deck. “Come on. Brave face. It’s only one weekend.”
They climbed onto the dock and slowly walked towards the parking lot. Nobody got out of the vehicles. As they got closer, Terry grew alarmed. There was a jagged, splintered hole in the car’s windshield, and the van’s front grille was crumpled. A splash of red covered the white hood. Terry broke into a run. “Oh God! There’s been an accident!”
He could see his sister’s silhouette behind the rain-streaked van windshield, but couldn’t tell if she was hurt or not. As he dashed around to the driver’s-side door, Chip opened the sliding door on the side.
Terry’s father rolled out on top of him, and sank his teeth into Chip’s ear.
Chantal burst from the vehicle, slamming the door into Terry’s legs. He collapsed to the ground, skinning his palms on the wet asphalt. Chantal giggled. Somewhere out of sight, his parents’ car doors creaked open.
“Sorry we’re late, Terry,” Chantal croaked. “There was a major fender bender in Duluth, and then we stopped for a bite.”
His sister was a grisly sight. Her nose was a swollen, broken bulb, and a portion of her scalp had peeled back, revealing the pink meat between it and her skull. She reached for him, and Terry gaped in horror. His sister’s hand was broken at the wrist, and twisted into a deformed claw.
“Chantal,” he gasped. “You’re hurt!”
Chip shrieked.
“Wow,” Chantel snickered, “I haven’t seen Dad this active in awhile.”
Terry stared in horror at Chip’s ear dangling from his father’s clenched teeth.
His mother, stepfather, and sister advanced on him. His mother’s right arm was missing from the elbow down, and his stepfather’s face was split in two.Terry cast one last, shocked glance at Chip. His father had his face buried in Chip’s neck, burrowing into the flesh.
Then Terry fled. Eighteen years of comfort and bliss were forgotten, overridden by blind panic. Chip’s agonizing final screams echoed in his ears. Terry jumped onboard the boat, started the engine, and sped away across the water.
Back at the house, the radio and television talked about the chaos spreading across the world—worsening by the hour. Later that day, Chip and the others arrived on the island, dripping wet from their walk along the bottom of the lake.
And then they had a family reunion.
AS ABOVE
(Sisters, Part One)
The Rising
Day Three
Belleville, Illinois
Shannon Wuller’s father loaded her younger brother, Dashiell into the car seat. The three-year-old kicked and fussed.
Shannon frowned, and her father noticed.
“You’re in charge until your grandparents get here.” He gave her a hug. “Take care of your sister.”
Well, of course she was in charge. She was the oldest. Shannon was ten and Allison was six. That wasn’t the point. Her father was fibbing, and Shannon knew it.
“It’s getting dark out,” she said. “How long will you be gone?”
“Not long.”
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing, honey,” her father fibbed again, quickly glancing away. “Your Mom worked a double shift at the hospital, and she says she has to stay a little longer. But I think she should come home now, so I’m going to pick her up. Dashiell can help me convince her.”
He smiled, but Shannon heard the fear in his voice. Her father was scared.
And that terrified her.
“I called your grandparents. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Allison piped up. “Can we go play in the secret clubhouse after they get here?”
“No!”
Both girls jumped at the exclamation.
“Sorry,” their father apologized. “I didn’t mean to yell. Daddy’s just tired.”
“Why can’t we go to the woods?” Allison asked.
“We’ll be back before dinner.”
“I don’t want either of you to go outside, okay?”
He offered no further explanation. “And don’t open the door for anybody other than your grandparents. You promise?”
Shannon and Allison nodded in unison. “We promise.”
“Good.” Their father gave Allison a hug and a kiss, and then turned to Shannon.
She hugged him, and before he could pull away, she whispered in his ear, low, so that Allison wouldn’t hear. “Dad, something bad is happening, isn’t it.”
Her father was quiet, and Shannon didn’t think he’d answer. When he did, she had to strain to hear him.
“Yes, sweetie. Something’s happened. Stay inside and don’t answer the door. And don’t turn on the television. It’s better for your sister not to watch.”
Shannon hadn’t planned on TV anyway. There was nothing on but news. Even the Disney Channel and Cartoon Network were showing news reports—
something about dead people.
Her father kissed her head, and walked to the car. “Now back inside. And lock the door.”
“I love you, Dad,” Shannon said.
“Me too,” Allison echoed.
“I love you, too.” Their father climbed into the car, backed down the driveway, and waved goodbye.
He didn’t return.
Their grandparents never showed up, either. She was worried about them all, her parents and little brother, her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. None of them came to the house. But others did. Strangers.
Though they were sisters, Shannon and Allison were best friends. They played games and watched a DVD. Shannon told herself it was to keep Allison’s mind off of things, but deep down inside, she knew it was to keep her own self from thinking about the situation as well.
The Wuller family’s two-story, French country home sat in a subdivision on a big lot, and was spread far apart from the other homes. Shannon and Allison shared an upstairs bedroom. The house had a half basement and a crawl space. The back yard held a pool, Jacuzzi, and outdoor fireplace, and beyond it was a grape vineyard.
“I’m thirsty.” Allison got a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Get me one, too,” Shannon said.
Allison handed her a cold bottle.
Shannon wiped the condensation on her pants.
“I hope Grandma and Grandpa get here soon.”
Her sister didn’t respond. Instead, she stared out the window into the backyard. Shannon’s eyes followed her gaze.