Instinct (30 page)

The deer turned and looked off at some sound none of them heard. It chewed a couple of times. Instead of returning its browsing, she crossed the road in front of them. To Brad, it looked like she was placing her hooves delicately, trying to stay quiet. As far as he knew, that was how they always walked.

Halfway across the road, the deer paused again. It faced away from their vehicle, looking into the night. Something spooked her. The deer ran off into the woods.

“Nice to know that things might get back to normal some day,” Lisa said.

“What makes you say that? One deer can’t exactly repopulate anything,” Pete said.

“There could be more,” Lisa said.

Romie began to roll the car slowly forward. She looked back and forth, checking the sides of the road.

“Deer move in herds,” Pete said. “Especially the females. If that one was alone, that suggests to me that she’s the only one around here.”

Romie brought the car back up to a reasonable speed. The cool night air took away some of the stale smell. Brad leaned his face out the window to take a deeper breath.

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” Lisa said.

“What is that sound?” Romie asked. She began to slow the vehicle. Her idle question was all the warning they got. Their feet pounded like distant thunder as they sprang over the little hill at the side of the road. The deer poured out of the forest, streaking across the road in front and behind the car. Brad shrank back from his window as a deer charged straight for him. At the last second, the buck jumped and Brad saw the animal’s feet pass within inches of the car.

“Holy shit,” Pete said. He fumbled for the gun on the dashboard and then dropped it as he thrust it out his window. It hit the pavement as the deer scattered into the woods on the other side of the road. The interior lights came on as Pete opened his door and scooped up the gun. He threw it back in the glove compartment.

“Get out of here,” Lisa said.
 

Robby was nodding in agreement.
 

“Yeah, no shit,” Romie muttered. She put the car in gear and revved the engine. They started fast and then everything went out. The headlights, the engine, and even the gauges on the dashboard went out. Brad heard the rumble of the retreating herd and the low crackle of the tires still rolling on the pavement. Romie grunted as she tried the ignition. It didn’t make a sound. “Shit, shit, shit,” Romie whispered.

“Push it!” Robby said. His voice had an urgency that Brad hadn’t heard in a while.

Brad threw open his door while they were still rolling.
 

“Put it in neutral,” Pete said. He opened his own door.
 

Brad took the left side and Pete took the right. They seemed to be on the same page. The car was on a flat stretch of road, but ahead the road went down a gentle slope. With a push, they could get some momentum that would take them a decent distance.

“She’s not going to be able to steer,” Brad said. “You know, without power steering.”

“She can handle it,” Pete said. “She has more upper body strength than most people.”

Brad was putting all his effort into pushing on the back of the vehicle, but it was barely moving. He began to wonder if maybe they were on a slight uphill. One of the doors opened and closed and Robby came around to take a position between the two men. With three of them, they finally began to gather speed.

“Oh shit,” Pete said.

Brad didn’t ask what he was referring to, he just followed Pete’s eyes. It was a dark night, but the mist behind them almost gave off a glow of its own. It was rolling out of the woods and beginning to lap over the edge of the road behind them.
 

“What the fuck is that mist? We haven’t seen any goddamn mist,” Pete said.

“I have,” Robby said.
 

“Great,” Pete said.

They were beginning to gather speed. Brad almost fell over when he turned to see the progress of the mist. Behind them, where the deer had crossed the road, the mist had almost reached the centerline of the asphalt.
 

“Get in, Robby,” Pete said. “We’re starting to move.”

Brad craned his neck to see over the top of the vehicle. The downhill section was just ahead. The car was starting to feel lighter.
 

“You ready?” Pete asked.

“You go,” Brad said. “I can catch up.” He saw that Robby had climbed in and was holding open the door for him.
 

Brad had to bear down to against the weight of the vehicle when Pete ran ahead. He heard Pete’s door close and glanced back at the mist one more time. It was across the road and was defying physics to roll up into the forest on the other side. Even more frightening, fingers of mist were now rolling in Brad’s direction, following the progress of the car. He gave one last burst of effort and felt the car beginning to pull away as it gathered speed down the hill.
 

Brad tripped as he ran. He stumbled and looked down to see the mist rolling up on his feet. Somehow he kept his balance and quickened his pace. He caught the open door and used it to pull himself forward. He flopped into his seat and pulled the door shut. The stale smell almost seemed welcoming now. Brad turned in his seat and joined Robby and Lisa as they looked out the back window. The hill was accelerating the car away from the mist. When they pulled far enough away, it seemed to give up its chase. They saw it up on the hill, glowing in the dark, until Romie guided the car around a slight turn.
 

BONG! BONG! BONG!

The car’s electronics came back to life. Romie’s hands moved fast. The ignition was already on, so she put it in gear and popped the clutch. The car jerked and then the engine roared back to life. Romie shifted quickly and they sped away.

Within a few seconds, she was jamming on the brakes again.
 

“What now,” Pete said, with a sigh.

Brad spun back around to face forward again. At the bottom of the little hill, a short bridge spanned across the stream. These bridges had been a common sight for them in Vermont. The roads Romie preferred followed little streams, and often crossed back and forth from side to side.
 

This one had a sentinel. A column of dancing flame burned orange and red as it patrolled back and forth across the bridge. It looked to be as tall as a person, and at least a couple of feet in diameter. With the car still running, Romie jerked back the parking brake.

“I guess we’re on foot again,” she said.

“No,” Pete said. He was out of the car before anyone replied. At the back of the car, Pete popped open the trunk.
 

Brad jumped out and came around the back. Pete was pulling things from the trunk—some rags, and a red plastic gas can.

“What are you doing?” Brad asked.

“The liquid things hate running water. Maybe the fire things hate fire. I’m sick of being sidetracked,” Pete said.

“You have to keep it together, Pete. Stay calm. We just have to stay calm and we can get through this.”

“I’m sick of it,” Pete said. He slammed the trunk shut and filled his hands with his supplies. Romie shut off the lights and Pete walked down the hill in the dark.

“Pete, come on.” Brad chased after him. The man wouldn’t listen. “Pete!”

Brad stopped about twenty yards from the end of the bridge. Pete got much closer. The column of flame was at the far end of the bridge. It turned and started back in their direction. Brad looked nervously back up the hill. He saw the car and imagined the faces of Romie, Lisa, and Robby, waiting for him to save Pete from his own anger. Brad didn’t know what to do. Farther up the hill, he didn’t see any sign of the mist, but he didn’t doubt that it might still be coming for them.

“Come on, man,” Brad said. “We’ll go through the woods. We’ll find another trail or something. This stream is shallow enough to cross on foot if we have to.”

Pete had the cap off the tank and he was soaking gas into one of the rags. Brad didn’t see any way for this to turn out well. Even if Pete didn’t get killed by the column of fire, he was likely to burn himself to death with the gasoline.

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Pete handed Brad a lighter. Before Brad knew what was happening, Pete was off with the gas can. Pete ran towards the bridge. About halfway between Brad and the bridge, Pete started dumping a line of gasoline. Meanwhile, the column of flame was marching in his direction. It didn’t speed up or change course. It still seemed to be locked into its own patrol.
 

Brad bent and picked up one of the rags. Pete had tied a knot in the end and soaked the knot with gas. Brad held the rag by the dry tail, and held the lighter in his other hand.

Pete laid a trail of gas. The column of fire was almost to their side. Pete and the fire were on a collision course. Just before he reached the bridge, Pete veered to the side. He sloshed gas towards the column of fire and Brad cringed. He expected the marching column to ignite the gasoline. He expected fire to race back to Pete and explode the can in the man’s hands. The gas Pete sloshed might as well have been water. Pete circled the column, and splashed gas everywhere. Even when it hit the column of fire, it didn’t ignite.

Brad looked down at the rag in his hand. He could smell the fumes. He looked back up at the column and wondered what it was actually made of, if not fire.

Pete was finishing the can. He tossed the red can right in the path of the column.

“Do it,” Pete yelled. He jumped over the railing of the bridge where the ground sloped away.
 

Brad realized it was time to act. His numb fingers fumbled with the lighter. He only got the lighter halfway to the rag before the fire leapt out and the rag burst into flames. Fire licked up at Brad’s hand. The hair on the back of his hand went up with a flash. Brad nearly dropped the tail of the rag. He swung it in a circle and launched it at the trail of gas. The rag rolled towards the trail, but its flight had put out the flame.
 

Brad took half a step forward before he remembered the other rag. He had one more chance to get it right. A burst of flames sent a wave of heat towards him. The rag had remained lit after all. Fire shot down the trail and then lit up a big circle around the column of flame. Brad saw Pete’s face peek up over the side of the bridge and then flinch back down as the flames lit up the night.

When the gas fire hit it, the column of flame flashed and flared. The column turned from orange and red to a deep blue and it moved towards the break in the circle. Pete’s trail of gas didn’t encompass the column perfectly, and it was moving towards the gap.
 

The column reached the gas can and this time it did have an effect on the gasoline. The fumes inside the can heated and the exploded. Brad thought he heard the thing screech when the can exploded, but it might have been air escaping the plastic can. Fire shot every direction. The orange flames of the gas were mixed with the hot blue fire of the column. As little clumps of fire shot every direction, Brad had a terrible premonition. He imagined all the little bursts of blue flame moving independently. He imagined a nightmare of little sentient flames chasing them through the night.
 

His fear was short lived. As the little blue flames hit the ground, they turned orange with the gas fire and then burned out. The last bit of blue flame burned on a chunk of the gas can before it flared and turned into harmless orange flame. The gas flames looked different than the sentient column.

Pete was hunched low as he ran up the side of the road and then joined Brad.

“You okay?” Pete asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Brad said. He watch the gas burn out, waiting to make sure that no columns came back.

“Your hand was on fire for a second,” Pete said.
 

The car rolled up behind them. Romie’s window rolled down.

“Is it safe?”

“I guess,” Pete said.
 

“Good,” she said. “We have company.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. Brad looked up the hill. It took a second for his eyes to adjust after the fire, but then he saw it. The mist was beginning to roll down the hill. “Robby says if it gets any closer it will shut off the car again.”

Brad and Pete nodded and then headed to opposite doors.

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“I understand why you’re choosing roads that follow streams, but I don’t know how you’re picking the overall route,” Pete said. He traced his finger along his map and flapped the paper for the hundredth time. Brad leaned his head against his window and rolled his eyes. Romie and Pete had been having this discussion for an hour.

“I can’t explain it,” Romie said.

“The sun will be up soon,” Pete said. “We should be looking for a place to sleep.”

“We just have to go a little farther,” Romie said.

“Do you remember when I used to get so mad at Robby? Remember how I said it was so maddening that he could be so confident without any empirical evidence?”

“You never got mad at Robby,” Romie said.

“Oh, right,
that was you
,” Pete said, triumphantly. He rattled his map again.

“Could you two stop?” Lisa asked.

They both started to argue again when Robby finally spoke. He had been quiet the whole time, so when he talked, everyone’s ear turned to him.

“It’s like the pyramids,” he said. “Or Stonehenge.”

“What?” Pete asked. He turned to Robby.
 

Romie kept her eyes forward, on the road, but Brad could see the annoyance in her shoulders. She hated it when Robby said cryptic things.

“There are areas which hold power. Some people believe that they hold power because of the objects that are there, like the pyramids, or sculptures, or other manmade things. But what if those things are built there because the area itself holds power?”

“That’s some really new age bull,” Pete said. He snapped a fold into his map. Brad knew he would just
 
unfold it again in a few seconds.