Instinct (42 page)

“I’m not leaving until I finish my research,” Robby said.

Hampton didn’t answer. He turned the page.

CHAPTER 31: FIELD

P
ETE
HAD
HIS
TENT
and bedroll stacked up on his lap. The night slipped by as a series of dark shapes. Whenever the SUV bounced over an obstacle, Pete got the worst of it. He seat was in the back row. When Pete had piled in, he’d seen the short black and white hairs everywhere on the seat. The upholstery smelled like an old sock.

“Where are we going?” a woman asked.

The driver turned his head to answer. Pete couldn’t see him. All the lights of the vehicle were disabled. The driver was using some kind of night vision to navigate.
 

“The athletic field of the high school. We cleared it out,” the Beardo said.

Pete imagined him up there with his bug-eyed night vision mask. It was unsettling. It reminded Pete of that guy who had chased them in Vermont.

“I thought it was dangerous there,” the woman said.

“We cleared it out,” the Beardo repeated.

They made a series of sharp turns, slowing down for the last couple. The brakes whined as the SUV stopped.
 

“Follow the path. Stay between the red and green lights at all times,” the Beardo said. Pete didn’t see where the man went. After the driver’s door shut, everyone began moving. Pete had to wait for the people in front of him. When they finally opened their doors, the overhead light came on, nearly blinding him.

Everyone spilled out to the parking lot. They were next to a tall brick wall. Pete only read half of the sign on the wall before the light went out again. It read, “…lley High School.”

A man’s voice came out of the dark.

“No lights beyond this point until you reach the athletic field. Once you do, please only use lights inside the tent,” the man said. “Follow these lights to get to the field.”

Pete had no idea what the man was talking about until the people in front of him began to move. Once their bodies were out of the way, he saw the lighted path on the ground. They were dim little pinpricks of lights—green on the left, red on the right. They formed a path about three or four feet apart. There was just enough starlight for Pete to make out vague shapes looming on the sides. Pete assumed they were buildings as he walked forward on the concrete path.
 

The lights led him up a few steps. From the echoes, Pete guessed they were passing between two buildings. The bobbing dark shapes ahead of him were pulling away. Pete sped up to catch them.

The world of darkness opened up around him and the ground underfoot transitioned from concrete to trampled grass. Pete heard murmuring from up ahead.
 

As he got closer, he realize it was man repeating, “Stay away from the orange lights. Stay away from the orange lights.”

The ground underfoot changed again. It was softer and spongier. The lights on either side of his path changed from red and green to white. Pete saw a couple of paths ahead.

When he reached the first intersection, a voice spoke to him. Pete saw only the man’s feet, in the glow of the path lights.
 

“Straight ahead,” the voice said.

Pete obeyed.

He sensed an object looming in front of him and then caught a flash of light as he heard fabric rumpling. Pete held his possessions in one hand and reached out with the other. His hand hit the canvas side of a big tent. He found the opening and pushed his way through. It was dark and humid inside. He took another step and realized that there was a second flap. As he began to lift it, he saw the light from inside.
 

It looked like the big tent his cousin had used for her wedding reception, but it was all black. They had lanterns hanging from the big posts. The roof of the tent was at least eight feet up at the lowest part, and Pete guessed that the thing was at least thirty yards long. At the far end, some tents were set up inside the tent. They were the little, two-person kind, like the one that Pete carried.
 

A Beardo with a clipboard approached as Pete stood there, taking it all in.

“You alone?” the Beardo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Give your tent to Bridgeport,” he said, pointing to a Beardo on the right, “and you can set up over there. Go as far down as possible, and all the way to the left.”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“Through that side. Close the interior flaps before opening the exterior. Stay between the white lights. Don’t go near the orange lights.”

“Thanks,” Pete said.

He dropped his tent off with the other Beardo and began to walk down the center. Now that he had light, he saw that he was walking across the lines of a football field. It was artificial turf, and it felt like walking on rubber. He crossed the twenty-five yard line before he took a left. Some people hadn’t followed orders, and they’d set up closer to the center aisle. That made sense to Pete—it would be easier to make your way to the exit if you didn’t have to step around a sea of sleeping bags. The lights were more dim on this side. The lanterns gave off an amber glow. Some people were already asleep. Their bags were only used to soften the turf—people didn’t need the warmth. The air inside the big tent was hot and humid. Pete wondered how long the oxygen in there would last.
 

He picked a nice spot between two sleeping bags that were unrolled, but empty. Pete rolled out his mat and his bag. With his area claimed, he walked back to the aisle and began to head for the side flap. There wasn’t much conversation going on inside the tent. Pete heard a couple whispers. People seemed to be extra courteous of their sleeping neighbors. The smaller tents, set up at back, looked like little bubbles of color. They were lit from the inside and Pete saw shifting shadows inside some.

When Pete tried to lift the flap, a hand on the other side held it down.

“Wait,” someone said.

It lifted a second later and a man came in. Pete recognized him from the farm, but didn’t know his name. He nodded at the man, but the man didn’t notice. He was scanning the tent, perhaps looking for the little area he had claimed.

Pete ducked under the flap. He folded it back and found himself in the dark again. He felt his way for the outer flap. It was a relief to push back out into the night. He took a deep breath of the cool air and saw the landing strip of white lights. They led him a few yards and then veered right into a slant route. The smell guided him the last few yards. He found another double-flap tent there. This one was much smaller. Inside, there was just enough room for a dozen Port-A-Potties and a short line. When one door banged open, the person at the head of the line marched forward and the door slammed shut again. The oppressive atmosphere inside the sleeping tent was like vacation compared to the aggressive stink of the latrine tent. Pete shifted uncomfortably and hoped the smell wouldn’t permeate his clothes.

A small woman in front of him looked up when Pete joined the back of the line.

“This is a pretty complicated set up,” Pete said. “How long do you think they were working on it?”

She pressed her finger to her lips. “We’re supposed to be quiet,” she said.

Pete looked around. “Oh,” he whispered back. “Nobody told me.”

Another door banged and the next person went in.

When Pete left the latrine, the air outside felt twice as good on his face. He stopped and turned his head up to the sky. The stars were out in full force. They made a much more inviting glow than the white lights of the prescribed path on the football field. Pete stepped to the side as someone brushed by him on their way to take care of their emergency in the latrine tent. He smiled in the dark, knowing they would have to wait their turn in line.

Pete stepped off the path. He moved away from the latrine tent to get away from the seeping smell, and busy people. He saw the white lines on the artificial turf, so he knew he wouldn’t get too far away from his new home.

He walked farther and thought he saw a spark of flame. A little closer and he recognized a line of orange lights.
 

“Stay away,” he whispered to himself. He got closer anyway. These lights were different than the path lights. The path lights were only really visible if you were walking down the path. They had little blinders on the sides that hid them from side view. These orange lights could be seen from all angles. He sensed a dark shape beyond the lights. When he blocked out the orange lights with his arm, he could see it better. It was a fence and it looked to be covered in cloth. He knelt down to see the fence against the starlight. He saw the top bar and some chain link. Just under that, the cloth began.

He wondered how long the Beardos had been setting this place up.

He wondered if the fence were meant to keep something out, or to keep the people in.

Something clicked and shook in the night. It sounded almost like a rattlesnake. Pete turned his head to try to pinpoint the direction the sound was coming from.

“You lost?” a man’s voice asked.

Pete turned. He saw their shapes against the night sky. On their helmets, they had tiny orange lights that looked almost like the lights near the fence.
 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Pete said. “I’m supposed to stay away from the orange lights.” He put a little chuckle at the end of his statement, to let them know that he was good natured.

The man’s voice was flat when he responded. “Follow us.”

They backed up, so Pete could see their lights and follow them. Before long, he caught sight of the white lights marking the path.
 

“It’s okay,” Pete said. “I see the lights now.”

He sensed them keeping pace behind him. They stayed with him until he opened the flap of the sleeping tent. Pete went back inside to the stale humidity.

CHAPTER 32: VALLEY

“M
AYBE
WE
SHOULD
WAKE
him up,” Lisa said. She rolled down her window and added her flashlight to the headlights of the vehicle. She panned around the river of green that covered the road.

“It’s just plants. No need to wake him up. He’s exhausted,” Romie said. She dropped the transmission back into drive and took her foot off the brake. She had just begun to accelerate when Brad’s voice scared the hell out of her.

“NO!” he yelled. His mouth was practically in her ear.

When she stomped the brakes, he flopped forward and landed on the center console.

“What?” she asked.

Lisa was helping Brad up. Romie reached under him to push the shift lever into reverse. She backed away from the plants.

“Those are the vines,” Brad said. His voice was hoarse from the yell. He coughed to clear his throat. “They’re dangerous.” He pushed himself back upright.

“You could have fooled me,” Romie said. “They look like goddamn plants to me. How do we get around them?”

Lisa put up her hands. “How should I know?”

“You’re supposed to be navigating.”

“With what?”

Before Romie could answer, a loud TOCK rang through the night. Lisa jumped in her seat at the sound. Brad fell forward again. This time it was intentional. He stabbed the button on the dash, turning on the radio. All that came out was static, but he turned up the dial anyway. The next TOCK they heard was partially muted by the white noise.

“Go back,” Brad yelled. “Away from the plants.”

They went almost half a mile before they didn’t hear another TOCK and Brad declared it was safe to stop.

“Now what?” Romie asked.

“It’s happening again,” Brad said. “We’re right back at the center. This is the same thing that happened at my house.”

“Great,” Romie said.

“What do we do now?” Lisa asked.
 

Brad flopped back against the rear seat. “Prepare for the snow. It’s coming.”

Romie turned the radio down to a gentle hiss. “I hate to say it, but Robby was right. We need more information. There has to be some way to stop this thing from coming again.”