Bedbugs (37 page)

I gotta stay focused and—and positive.

Next time, I’ll try to cook the meals more slowly. I don’t want to waste what little we’ve got here. There’s only three more of those dinners. As long as we stay warm and have something to eat, I figure we can stay alive and it’s just a matter of time before they find us, isn’t it?

Well, isn’t it?

CLICK

“I
t’s been almost twenty-four hours since the private plane carrying rock star Alex VanLowe disappeared somewhere between Quebec and Portland. Fans of the missing singer are maintaining a candlelight vigil here outside the Portland Civic Center where he was supposed to perform tonight.

“There’s been little word from the Aviation Administration as to how search and rescue operations are going, but with each passing hour, as these candles burn in the blustery gusts of winter, hope, too, seems to be fading.

“We’re going to switch back to the studio where David Gurney, lead guitarist for
Phobia
, is standing by for an interview.

“This is NewsCenter 13’s Doug Moody, reporting to you live from in front of the Civic Center in downtown Portland.

“Back to you, Elizabeth.”

CLICK

    
E
leven o’clock. Second night. Almost Friday the nineteenth. I guess I should have collected more firewood. This stuff’s really dry and is burning up faster than I expected. I suppose I could use a branch for a torch and go off into the woods and look for some more, but I . . . I don’t know.

As soon as it gets dark, the forest starts to seem really I don’t know . . . really weird, man. I don’t want to say it, but it’s kinda scary, like maybe it’s haunted out here.

The wind’s died down, and it doesn’t seem as cold, but still, far off in the distance, I can hear this—I don’t know what it is. It’s like this howling. I suppose there are wolves or coyotes or wild dogs or something out here. Must be.

Shit, I hope they want to avoid me just as much as I want to avoid them.

Jodie’s no better off than she was. All day, she just sat there in the back of the wreckage, staring off into space. I don’t think she even knows where she is or what’s happened. I moved all the bodies outside. Four of them. Mike, Denny, Jeff, and Johnny. I figured it’d be better if we didn’t have to look at them. Especially when we’re trying to sleep. Jodie still hasn’t eaten anything. I can’t even get her to drink water from the snow I’ve melted. I just don’t see how she’s going to make it if she doesn’t eat and drink.

I tried my hand at cooking again and got a half-decent meal this time. It’s kind of funny, I guess, to think if this had been room service, I would have thrown the tray on the floor and ripped the bellhop who’d brought it a new asshole. I didn’t cook one for Jodie this time. I figured, if she isn’t going to eat anything, I might as well save what’s left for me later.

Earlier today, I inspected the damage to the plane. A tree sheared the left wing clean off when we were coming down. I think I remember feeling the plane kind of spin around just before we hit. After we were on the ground, the plane skidded a few hundred feet under the trees. I can’t see very far in any direction. There’s just pine trees all around me. So I don’t think anybody’s gonna be able to see us from up in the air. Not too easily, anyway.

Just after the sun set, I shot off two of the flares, but other than the stars, I haven’t seen or heard a goddamned thing. An awful lot of stars up there, though. I’ve never seen so many. It kinda makes you realize how insignificant we all are, really.

God, it’s so lonely and quiet out here. I’m gonna lose my mind if I have to stay here much longer. So alone. It’s hard to imagine there’s anyone alive anywhere on earth. It’s like being crash-landed on another planet.

Well, I guess I should try to get some sleep. I’m gonna need all my strength in the morning.

CLICK

T
he flickering firelight stung the wolf’s light-sensitive eyes as he crawled slowly forward toward the wreckage. His chest dragged in the snow, leaving a deep furrow. The scent of dead meat was heavy in the night air, in spite of the cold wind that was blowing down from the north.

Prey was always hard to find this time of year when the snowfall was as heavy as it had been this winter. A cold, deep hunger growled in the creature’s belly. It had been three nights since he had last eaten, ever since the last Turning, when the moon was full. The smell of human flesh—even the rancid stench of the four dead humans that had been lined up outside the plane—was irresistible and drew the creature forward.

A low whimper escaped the wolf’s throat when he reached the bodies and stood up to paw and sniff at the frozen corpses.

The creature was no scavenger.

He was a proud predator used to the speed and exhilaration of the hunt. He didn’t eat
carrion!

But this was no ordinary carrion.

This was flesh!

Human
flesh!

The creature licked at the hot saliva dripping from his jaws as he took hold of one of the dead man’s legs and pulled back, hoping to drag the carcass off into the woods where he would—finally—be able to indulge his burning desire to taste human flesh.

But the wolf had dragged the body no more than ten feet when a commanding female voice spoke inside his head.

How dare you violate the Decree?

The creature whined pitifully as he released the man’s leg, letting it drop stiffly to the ground. The stinging taste of anticipation turned sour in the wolf’s mouth as he turned and looked at the she-wolf, standing at the edge of the forest. Reflecting the dying firelight, her eyes glowed a terrible, vibrant green.

But this one is already dead. The Decree was made to stop the killing of humans, not the eating of them. What harm is there in eating what is already dead?

In answer, the she-wolf snarled.

You bring shame to our Tribe. Already your breath reeks of the stench of rotting meat. Have you no pride? Perhaps you wish to change Tribes and become a Red Talon.

The wolf shifted his gaze back to the human corpse, licked his chops, then, lowering his head, looked back at the she-wolf.

Come now
, said the she-wolf. The moon is past full.
Come and hunt with the Pack.

With that, she turned and ran off into the night-stained forest.

The young male wolf had no choice. His desire to taste human flesh became a hard, sour burning in the pit of his stomach, but he knew that he couldn’t defy her. Not tonight, anyway, so he turned and followed her and the rest of the Pack into the forest.

They hunted all that night but found nothing, not even a squirrel or raccoon. As gray shafts of morning light streaked the eastern sky, they made their way back to their Den.

As they slept, their bellies growled and churned with tight knots of hunger; but for the male wolf who, if only for a moment, had held the frozen flesh of a human in its mouth, the pain was deeper and much worse.

CLICK

S
ix-thirty in the morning. Second day, so I’m guessing it’s Friday, January nineteenth. Yeah, it’s gotta be that. Funny, though, how time seems to stretch out and not make much sense out here.

As if something like time really matters!

Our way of keeping track of time probably doesn’t mean a goddamned thing out here. I can feel that there’s a sense of a natural rhythm, a way things move here in the forest that has absolutely nothing to do with us humans and our machines.

Anyway, I have to record what happened last night before I forget it or convince myself I was only dreaming.

It was late. I guess I must’ve drifted off to sleep, but I’m not really sure. I don’t feel all that rested. Anyway, the sounds of something moving around outside the plane woke me up. I could hear whatever it was pawing around, the snow crunching under its weight. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t dare go out and take a look around. Maybe if I had a gun, I would’ve gone outside, but I stayed inside the plane more than half-expecting whatever it was to charge in and attack me.

As soon as the sun was up, I went outside and saw what had happened.

Something
—a very large and powerful
something
, judging by the tracks in the snow—had dug up Jeff’s body and tried to drag it off into the woods. It was probably one of those wolves or coyotes I heard the first night. Jeff’s pant legs were all ripped up, and I could see some pretty deep teeth marks on his legs. It was weird how there wasn’t any blood, though, and it. . . .

No. I can’t think like that!

I’ve got to handle this.

The first thing I have to do is something to stop whatever’s out here from getting at the bodies.

These are my friends, for Christ’s sake! I can’t let them just . . . just. . . .

CLICK

“A
uthorities at the Civil Air Patrol and the State Forestry Services told News Center Six today that they are expanding their search for rock star Alex VanLowe’s missing jet to include large portions of western Maine and the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

“Plummeting temperatures and another blizzard that is moving into the area tomorrow are narrowing hopes that any of the passengers could have survived the crash.

“At the Portland Civic Center, a few dozen die-hard fans are still maintaining an around-the-clock candlelight vigil in hopes of hearing news that their rock idol is alive and safe. And while it may be too early to give up all hope, time does seem to be running out.

“In other news today. In Lewiston, the trial was begun for Marilyn Larabee, the woman who’s been accused of keeping her baby daughter locked up in a. . . .”

CLICK

T
hree-forty-five in the afternoon. Same day. The nineteenth, yeah, the nineteenth.

I’m exhausted after spending most of the day piling snow up over the . . . the bodies of my dead friends.

The best thing I could find for a shovel was one of the lunch trays that I broke off the back of one of the chairs in the plane. I piled the snow up as high as I could and then smoothed it all over, flattening it as much as I could. I don’t think whatever was out here last night will know anything’s under there.

I hope not, anyway.

Food’s my only real problem now.

There’s nothing left of those crappy TV dinners. I finished the last one earlier today, and already my stomach is feeling hollow. There’s not much to those meals in the first place.

I try not to think too much about what I’m gonna do next, but I have no idea what.

I can’t just wait here and starve to death!

Then—
Jesus!
I start thinking about that soccer team that crashed in the Andes or something, and in order to survive, some of them ate the flesh of the ones that had died in the crash.

Is that what I’m going to be driven to?

God, just the idea of it makes me nauseous!

I could
never
do that!

I’d rather
die!

I’m not a fucking cannibal!

The only change in Jodie is for the worse. She might just as well be dead, too, as far as I can see. She just sits there, staring up at the ceiling and groaning as she rocks back and forth. If I had the balls to do it, I’d kill her myself just to put her out of her goddamned misery.

Yeah, that’s it.

And then I’d
eat
her.

Christ, I can’t believe I just said that!

Sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing about it, but it is kind of funny how I—I just pictured me as sort of like a character in one of those cartoons—you know, the ones where there’s a stranded miner or something who’s looking across a bare table at his partner and seeing him as a stuffed, steaming turkey on a platter.

But no!

Not Jodie!

Hell, she’s too skinny, anyway. Wouldn’t be good eating. Too bony. God, I can’t believe I’m talking like this. I must really be losing it.

It’s got to be exhaustion, that’s all.

Exhaustion and hunger.

How long has it been, now?

Two or three days?

I’m not even sure. But—Christ—what does it matter? It feels like weeks!

You’d think I could last a little longer than this, wouldn’t you?

But the cold!

It’s
so
fucking cold!

No matter how much firewood I collect or how high I build the fire, I just can’t get warm enough. The fire’s blazing away now. Just listen to it crackle. And then, when I think how I wasted most of the day, and all that energy covering up those bodies with snow when I could have been collecting more firewood. Maybe enough to make a big enough blaze so someone would see it.