Flood Plains Mark Wheaton (inspirational books for students .TXT) 📖

when the poltergeist slammed into the truck with such force that it almost knocked the whole thing on its side.

“Motherfucker!” Big Time shouted as the truck crunched back down.

He grabbed the key, turned it all the way right, and held it. The engine coughed like an old tractor after a long winter, but Big Time held the key in place. He knew he was in danger of flooding it, but he was going to make this work.

“Come on!”

On cue, the engine roared triumphantly to life, black smoke pouring out of its stack.

“Yes!”

Big Time gave it some gas, and the engine revved but didn’t stall. Mission motherfuckin’ accomplished. He dropped the parking brake, hit the accelerator, and slowly drove the truck up the ramp and out of the flooded loading dock.

Chapter 19

Alan climbed up onto the chunk of floating house he’d commandeered first and, with Mia’s help, pulled Sineada up.

“We have to hurry!” Sineada said.

Alan nodded. Behind them, what appeared to be a sheet of viscous tar drooled over Sineada’s roof. He hadn’t encountered any on the ride from the bridge to Sineada’s house and had found that odd. Now, he was facing a tremendous mass of it coming straight at his family and wondered if it had concentrated itself there, knowing how easy it would be to tackle Alan later.

“Come on, Mia!”

“Daddy, I can’t!”

Sineada and Alan could both see that, after a morning full of courage, Mia had finally reached her breaking point. She was crying and crying even as oily tendrils descended into the water from the nearby house.

Alan leaped off the raft and got behind his daughter.

“I’m going to count to three and then you’re going to jump and I’m going to lift you into the boat, okay?”

“Okay…”

“One…two…”

Before he got to three, Alan felt the tentacles grabbing at his legs. Even in the cold water, the burning sensation that came on as soon as they were through his shoes and socks and pants was tremendous.

“Three!”

Alan bent his knees and lifted Mia up onto the roof. As soon as she was safe, Alan allowed himself to scream.

Sineada moved Mia aside and grabbed for Alan.

“Take my hands!”

Alan did, fighting his way to the roof. The more he came out of the water, the lighter he felt. His left foot was gone, the tar now crawling up towards his knee. His right leg was already dissolved midway up his thigh. As if with acid, flesh had been stripped from bone and bone then dissolved into thin air.

As soon as he was on the raft, Alan rolled over and over in agony.

“Gnnnh…”

“Just hold still,” Sineada said, tearing at her clothes to tie off his wounds.

The black liquid rose up alongside the raft like a wave frozen seconds before it was to crest. It held itself over the trio, a spider waiting to capsize the makeshift boat and consume those who had just fought so hard to get aboard.

We didn’t do anything to you. Leave us be. This is my father and my great-grandmother. We were just like you. We will be like you in the not-so-distant future. Please.

It took Sineada a moment to realize that it was Mia speaking inside her head. The little girl’s head was bent down as if in prayer, her eyes closed.

Please…please. Please.

The black tar wasn’t moving. It wasn’t receding, but for once, it wasn’t attacking, either. The pain in Alan’s legs was almost too much to bear, but he was blocking it out. The realization that his daughter was talking directly to this plague even superseded the knowledge that he would never run again.

Please…

Just like that, the wall of sludge splashed back into the water as if tossed from a window. Even more so, the black liquid that had continued boring holes in Alan’s leg now exited his body like tears. Blood trailed after it, but there was not a spot of black left behind.

The receding tendrils looked like witch hair gliding away just below the surface as if attached to some great monster.

As soon as it was out of sight, Sineada resumed tearing strips from her clothes. Alan was shivering, obviously going into shock.

“I’m going to tie off your legs.”

The finality of this filled Alan with panic.

“No, please,” he begged in his weakened state, raising a hand to push her away.

“If there was any other way, I’d try it.”

She looped one strip of cloth under Alan’s left leg, a few inches above where it had been severed. She pulled it tight as tears sprang into Alan’s eyes, the pain overwhelming. The problem was, she couldn’t pull it tight enough.

“Mia. I need you.”

The little girl came over and took the end of the cloth.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he struggled to say. “Just get it over with. It’s going to be okay.”

But he could tell that she knew something he didn’t, something that was repeating itself behind her eyes: No, it’s not…

•  •  •

The trio of survivors on the roof of Building Four hurried to the spot closest to the pedestrian skyway as Big Time brought the rig around from the loading dock. Big Time’s flight had done little to draw away the attention of the sludge creeping towards the skylight and compressors. The farther it got from water, however, the more sluggish it was, as if feeling the effects of dividing its energy.

Getting onto the roof of the skyway wasn’t easy, as the architect had given the skyways rounded edges, making it look futuristic. It also meant that, when Scott jumped down onto it, he had to immediately plant his feet, as there was nothing to grab if he slipped.

“Shit!” Scott cried as he leaped, only to land perfectly square.

He hesitated for a moment, checked his stance, and knew he was stable.

“Okay, Muhammad.”

Muhammad was hardly an athlete and even a little overweight. Though it was only six feet down to the skyway, he still carefully lowered himself off the roof feet-first. Unfortunately, his arms weren’t even strong enough to hold him for