The Glowing: 3: The Glowing, #3

One

THE EARTH HEAVED. THE crash of waves attacking the shore was barely audible over the sound of the hunched, advancing, shapes.  A legion of taloned feet marched along the shore, shoulder to mucousy shoulder, stretching from the frigid water’s edge to the cement barricade. Within their line of sight, a pebble, a remnant left by low tide on the rapidly brightening early morning seashore, was their prey. Just out of reach. Her blue hair barely visible, she lay with her head lolling out at the edge of a giant, still-smoking, crater of her own making.

Kam opened her eyes and squinted at the sunrise, which was still quite low in the sky. It hurt not to squint. Looking down her nose, she followed the direction her body dangled. Her feet danced over a precipice and shuddered every few seconds to an unseen, repetitive, thudding. At first, she thought the pounding was emanating from her own bleeding skull. She could feel wetness around her mouth, her nose, and near her ears. But the noise wasn't coming from her head. She turned her body, allowing herself to peek over the brink of the charred pit.

They’re coming.

She quickly slunk back behind the edge of the abyss.

For me.

The Bokai. They'd found her. It was probably what had caused her to short circuit moments earlier. Not only could they apparently track the alien DNA in her blood, but it seemed she, somehow, someway, was starting to react to them. She could vaguely remember walking toward the staircase that led off of the beach when her eyes suddenly clouded over. All she'd seen was blackness. Her body was on fire and he was—

Olin!

Olin had been holding her. Refusing to run. He’d pulled her close and she’d felt his embrace right up until the world around her exploded. Frantically, she surveyed the titanic hole. Below her was nothing but sizzling char. In parts of the smoldering depression, some of the sand had been melted into glass. Aside from that bewildering sight, Kam couldn’t identify anything else. Certainly nothing alive. Nothing human.

Kam forced herself to stand and face the army approaching from down the beach. They were far enough away she couldn't inhale their stench, but close enough for her to barely make out their faint snarls and their mouth-panting on the wind. Though they marched together, in unison, their arms reached chaotically into the air and toward her. Their serpent-like strands of translucent hair blew on a ghostlike breeze blowing from somewhere else, somewhere Kam had never been and would never venture to. Each of them had skin so paper-thin, she could see their extraterrestrial blood flowing, their massive dark hearts pumping, and that sickeningly-familiar purple glow. For a moment, she reflected on how this was the first time she'd been able to just observe, from afar, without needing to immediately run or fight. They were hideous. She felt herself wanting to end them all—to stamp them from existence—and to snuff out the disgusting, yet impossibly brilliant, radiance oozing out of each one. She felt a crackling charge beginning to form in the palms of her hands. She was afraid and unsure if she should stop it or allow it to flow. Just as she considered raising her hands and pointing them in the direction of the advancing beasts, she heard a splashing sound from somewhere behind. She swiveled toward the noise.

Down the beach, she could see a figure dragging another shape from the angry surf. She turned back to the Bokai, who were getting increasingly close, and then forced herself run back toward the two by the water's edge.

Trip! she shouted as she ran. Trip, what— the words caught in her throat. Oh my god, Olin!

Olin was in bad shape. Burn marks covered his clothing and his skin. He was breathing, barely, but unconscious. And his eye...

Quick, Trip shouted at her, pointing at a mess that used to be an eye socket, Put your hand there, right there! We need to stop the bleeding.

Kam tore off a strip from the bottom of her shirt and put it into Trip’s hand. You’re gonna need to do this, she instructed. Can you hold it on and run at the same time?

Trip gaped at her. "What the hell are you talking about, we need to—"

You need to run. Get him out of here. As far as you can. Before leaving, she turned over her shoulder, The campfire, do you think you can find it?

Trip just stared back at her, his mouth silently hanging open as he attempted to make sense of what she was asking him to do. Frustrated, she grabbed both of his shoulders and shook. In doing so, she briefly considered how clean he looked, how he didn’t exhibit even a scratch. She’d only an instant to ponder before havoc took charge again and she was forced to store the thought away for another time.

Trip! I need you. Pay attention. The campfire you saw from the boat. Can you find it?

Silently he nodded.

Good. As fast as you can, head that way.

Again, she turned and began moving from him, not waiting to see if he was able to lift Olin on his own. From a few steps away she heard Trip shout, But what about you? What are you going to do?

She grunted, softly to herself, Let’s find out.

Striding down the beach toward a horde of her freakish, drooling, tormentors, she felt the heat rising in her fingertips. Thus far, the incomprehensible energy thrumming through her had operated on its own and she'd not yet mastered the ability to control whatever it was. But as Kam stalked through the sand, with the Bokai demons snarling and chomping at her from a few hundred paces away, she knew this time, finally, would be different.

Without breaking step, she pointed both of her open palms at the encroaching mass of monster. A thick, molten beam shot forth in a torrent and vaporized the first few rows of the Bokai battalion. Kam screamed at the immense pain coursing through every one of her pores, but her cry was also one of complete, intoxicating, fury. Only one thought was discernible in her brain, amidst the turmoil raging inside.

You killed my friends, my mother—everything I loved—you sadistic assholes!

The army continued to inch forward, even as the power bursting from Kam annihilated them one after another. Far down the beach, they stretched, and though her beam wasn't yet passable, she could only kill so many at once. Eventually, they would overwhelm her. Soon, they would just become—

Too much.

But Olin and Trip were somewhere behind her, struggling to escape. She couldn’t let the beasts get by her.

And then, Kam ran. With all of her remaining energy, she threw herself into the revolting swarm.

I know what I have to do.

Killing each of them, one advancing row at a time, was perhaps possible, but Kam had no idea how long that might take. And she was weakening. The power was new, unrestrained, and untrained. Surely there would be a way of conserving her energy, of making the flow last, but she hadn't yet taught herself how. She felt herself on the edge of collapse, forcing her legs to sprint faster than they should have been able to, directly into the waiting claws and yellowed jaws of her would-be assassins.

I just have to somehow find—

And there it was. A Bokai General. She’d faced one at the peak of Mount Greylock, what felt like so long ago. Kam had watched it drop her father, Gabe, over a cliff’s edge and thought he’d fallen to his death. In anguish, she’d accidentally managed to train all the energy from Gabe’s yellow stone directly at an amulet dangling from the General’s neck. When she struck, those in his brigade had been instantly defeated. Disintegrated.

Poof.

She stopped in her tracks and simultaneously the air around her turned to jelly, gradually oozing to a halt. Everything slowed. She watched her hand reach for the stone around the General's throat and yank it from its chain. His mouth hung open; his bloodshot, crusted eyelids unblinking. He was much smaller than the rest of the Bokai, barely coming up to Kam's chest, so he had to look up to meet her gaze. Kam's hand, a raging inferno of hate for the being standing in front of her, squeezed over the stone.

There was a brilliant flash. Kam tried to shield her face, but was thrown backward in a sudden burst as the world rushed home to meet her. Flat on her stomach, her eyes closed, she listened.

Seagulls.

She could hear them laughing at her above and knew the normal speed of all things must have resumed. She sat up, ignoring the burning sensation searing her palms. The flame was extinguished, but the lasting burn of her otherwise invisible wounds lingered.

By the time she’d turned and looked back down the shore, in the direction the invaders had just been, she’d only caught a couple of remaining specs of disintegrating light. When the last few sparks twinkled themselves out of existence, Kam stood and looked into her still clenched hand.

A bit of purple dust remained. She held it to her lips and blew it into the breeze. Briefly, it danced, long enough for her to wonder if there still was a consciousness left and if it was taunting her, and then it was gone. Alone, Kamryn Coe stood on the deserted margin of Wells Beach, Maine and wondered what the hell she was supposed to do next.

Two

HUDDLING FROM THE TORRENTIAL rain under the leafy limb of a beech tree, Quinn Flowers yawned and reached into his pack for an unopened can of baked beans. There was a loud crack of thunder overhead, but he didn't flinch. It took more than a little bellyaching from Mother Nature to fluster him nowadays. He smashed the can a few times against the sharp edge of a boulder, spray-painted with a heart that said I love D.C., until the molasses-y syrup seeped out.

Some breakfast.

Quinn hadn’t always been this way. Six months ago, the very idea of camping would have been a stretch for him. They’d all been molded, transformed, since the Bokai shattered their way of life, and for the most part he wished things would just go back to the way they were.

For the most part.

He turned and looked at Jordan, still sleeping soundly a few feet away. Their relationship had blossomed, despite the muck they’d waded through and navigated with the whole saving-the-world business. More than once, he'd stopped to consider what would have come of them if everything hadn't been completely upended. The thought that their—whatever it was—might not have had the opportunity to grow otherwise, was terrifying to him. He was certain his old self would have been content to avoid Jordan Alosi until the end of time. Fortunately, his old self was gone.

I’m a new man. The new and improved Quinn Flowers. For all your end-of-mankind needs.

But not everything had worked out like his relationship with the Spanish teacher. His number one job, his only real responsibility in leading the Astronomy Club trip up to the pinnacle of Mount Greylock, had been the safety of those kids. And in that respect—

I’ve failed.

Jordan rolled over. The dreams of Lucy had continued, but Quinn mostly kept that to himself. He'd tried explaining once to her how he felt it meant something, how something terribly wrong had happened to Lucy, but Jordan saw it as a reflection of his deep-seeded guilt. It was true, he did feel entirely to blame for the deaths of Bennett and James, the disappearance of Blair, and now potentially whatever harm had befallen Lucy. But he disagreed that was what the dreams, the nightmares, were all about.

The visions of Lucy were getting longer and increasingly more vivid. She still wasn’t able to speak to him, but seemed more able with each visit (yes, that’s what they were), to mime out, to illustrate in one way or another what she was trying to say. And one of her recent performances struck him the hardest. The previous night, with tears wetting her cheeks, she’d acted out a terrifying scene. With one hand she held something invisible, quickly bringing it smashing down, violently against herself, all while her other hand tried to prevent the blows. And then she silently mouthed a word he could read on her lips very easily.

Dead.

Quinn believed Lucy was trying to tell him what he’d been afraid of all along, what he’d been confident of for a few days. Something, or someone, had attacked Lucy and she’d been unable to save herself.

She shouldn’t have had to! I should have been there!

Jordan sat up straight. Quinny? What—? Are you—?

He squatted down, the can of beans still dripping down over his whitening knuckles, Shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Everything’s okay, I promise.

She eyed him sideways, evidently not believing what he had to say. You sure? What was all that about then?

He sat down beside her and, with his free hand, pushed up the brim of his faded Red Sox cap. It’s nothing, just talking to myself.

Jordan kicked off the flannel blanket covering her and sleepily struggled to her feet. She stared down, adoringly, at the man on the ground. Well, you better stop that. People will stare. She smiled. Besides, what good am I if not for talking to? Amiright? She stuck her hand out and he grabbed it.

Rising, he nodded and found himself face to face with her. I'll work on it, okay? He lifted the crushed, but open, can until it fit nicely between their two noses. Hungry?

She snatched it from him. No.

He shrugged. Well, eat up. We’ll need all our strength today. He paused, looking at her, peering back at him. What? Did you expect me to kiss you or something?

Yeah, she said. That would have been so much better than... She waved the beans at him.

New-and-improved Quinn stepped closer to her. Alright, alright. How’s this—

But before he was able to lean in and smooch her, she beat him to it.

Not bad, she smirked. Not bad at all. But I think you need to work on your approach. I mean, the beans—

"Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll nix the beans next time."

Good, she said. So, what’re we doing? Are we heading out now or what?

Quinn threw his pack over one shoulder. Yeah, it's time. We've dawdled long enough. He pointed somewhere, vaguely down the road in front of them. We're almost there anyway. An hour or two of walking, tops.

He and Jordan packed up their remaining loose items and began the last leg of their trek. The rain, which earlier had been only a drizzle despite the thunderstorm, was picking up. Trudging through the flooded streets, they made their way to the outskirts of the nation's capital. Without any cars to speak of, and with a river flowing directly at them down the yellow median, it was at times difficult to envision they were walking on a highway at all. They'd been sloshing their way ahead for only a short while, still unable to fully glance into the city, when they heard a loud, repetitive, thwump-thump-thumping.

They both froze. What’s that sound? Jordan asked.

Quinn trained his eyes toward the area he knew the Capitol dome should have been. Over there. I think it’s a—

And there it was. Bursting through the thick and descending cloud cover, was a Black Hawk helicopter. It was massive, incredibly loud, and headed straight toward them.   

Heyyyy, over here! Quinn shouted, waving his hands. Hey!

Jordan hesitated. Quinny, are you sure—?

Of course, I’m sure. That’s the U.S. freakin’ Army, baby! He noticed her hands still by her side. This is why we came all this way, right Jordan? Come on, help me out here!

Warily, she raised her hands and began shouting alongside her former co-worker. As the copter began its gradual descent a few hundred yards away, the rain was whipped up around the two. Through the wind and water, neither Quinn Flowers nor Jordan Alosi was able to see the firepower aimed directly at the both of them.

Three

TRIP! KAM SCREAMED as she ran up the cement staircase, its wooden railing mangled and still burning. Trip! Where are you?

There was no response. She searched behind a grove of scrub pine, in the direction she was confident Trip had pointed to the previous night. He couldn’t have made it far, not dragging an unconscious Olin all by himself.

Trip!

Still nothing. She came upon the remnants of a once-cozy, weather-beaten, beach house. On its front door was a sign, naming itself in the fashion familiar to East Coast beach dwellers and seasonal residents. Summer's Breeze. Oddly enough, even though both the sides and back of the small cottage where demolished, the front (with its sign, faded turquoise paint-job and all) stood confidently as if it still were putting on a brave façade for the tourists who would most assuredly not be putting down their summer rental deposits.

She sat down to catch her breath. It had taken all of her remaining energy to lay waste to the Beach Bokai, but somehow she’d still managed to drag herself off of the unsheltered and completely out-in-the-open dunes. Before she was even able to consider how she’d been able to keep herself moving, something crashed through the brush behind her.

Kam! it was Trip. Thank god. Come on, he’s over here.

Olin.

She leapt up, again with a burst of energy coming from somewhere she couldn’t define. Show me.

He led her to a picnic bench, not far behind the crumbling Summer’s Breeze. Olin was lying flat on top of the table, his breathing ragged. Covering one of his eyes was the bloody strip from her shirt.

She ran to him. Olin! He was unresponsive. I’m so, so sorry, she cried. This is my fault, again. They found me. They found us. I—. She lost the words and buried her face in his chest.

Awkwardly, Trip stood behind her. He visibly wanted to speak, but waited.

After a short pause, when her tears had dried up again, she sniffed and turned around. "Are we close? Where’s the firepit, where are the people, Trip? You brought us here and now—"

Yes, I think we’re close. I can smell it. The campfire. I just thought we should wait for you, he paused, I’m sure of it, Kam. We’re close.

She looked him up and down. You’re not hurt. A statement, not a question.

Trip shook his head. "I know, or, actually, no I don’t know. I’m very confused."

Kam took a step toward him. About what, Trip? Huh? You mean you’re confused about why Olin was nearly burnt to a crisp and thrown out to sea, and yet here you stand. Jesus, you look like you didn’t even break a sweat.

Trip shrugged. I wish I could tell you why. Just lucky, I guess.

She didn’t take her eyes off of him. "Right. Lucky. Suddenly she seemed to realize Olin was still lying unconscious on the picnic table. We’ll talk more about this later. Let’s get him wherever it is you are taking us."

Trip hesitated. He was afraid of her and uncertain if she would do to him what she'd just done to those disgusting behemoths on the sand. He carefully moved toward the table. Okay. I'll get this arm, you get the other. Annnd lift.

Together, they carried Olin behind the cottage. There was another little group of small seashore-sized trees and fauna. They limped through and found their campfire. It wasn’t still smoking, but they could smell it. It had been burning not long before. Kam noticed there was water pooling underneath the blackened woodpile.

Someone just put this out. Doused it. Recently, she looked over Olin at Trip. Means they’re close by.

Trip locked eyes with her. Let’s be careful. 

Kam had been about ready to start moving again, but froze at his words. "Be careful? Why be careful? I thought you said you—"

Shuckshick. Slowly turn around, whoever you are.

Kam and Trip haltingly twisted themselves and Olin back, toward the direction of the Summer's Breeze, to face the man pointing a shotgun at them. He wasn't elderly, but older. Bespectacled. He was wearing a blue flannel shirt and a torn tweed jacket. Something about him made Kam think he was a learned man, an academic of some kind. And the tremor in his voice, married with the tired creases at the corners of his eyes, told the story of a warm, wise, person. This all, despite the dangerous weapon, focused on them.

Who are you? he said.

Trip spoke up first. We heard your S.O.S. on the radio. Our radio, ahh, our radio station. In North Adams, Massachusetts. You said there were people, a doctor and—

Stop speaking, the old man said.

Trip nodded.

The man pointed his gun at Olin. "What did that?"

Trip looked toward Kam. She sighed and shook her head. "It’s complicated."

Mhmm, the man said. Look, I get it. Everything is complicated right now— but if you think I’m letting you anywhere near us without first knowing you don’t mean to cause us harm, you are sadly mistaken.

Us, Kam thought. He’s not alone. "Look, we’re just kids. A few minutes ago, we were attacked by more of those things. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I do know we need your help. He needs your help. His name is Olin."

For an eternity, the man stared at the three of them, occasionally chewing at a piece of skin on his lower, chapped, lip. After a time, he put his gun down against the stump of a tree. Okay, he said. Okay. So help me, I hope I’m right about you three. I’m usually good at reading folks, but, ah what the hell. Bring him over here.

He led the group to a hammock swinging between two trees, not far from the firepit. The accommodations are what they are. We make the best. Deal with it. No one had objected, but he’d clearly felt obliged to offer the disclaimer.

"Who’s we? Kam asked. And who are you?"

The man sighed, openly frustrated at the interruption as he examined Olin’s wound from underneath the bandage. His eye, he started. It’s gone.

Gone? she gasped. Are you sure? Maybe we should get him to your doctor.

The man stood up, tall and lean, like an aging, rickety, giraffe in human form. He took off his glasses and wiped at them. You’re lookin’ at him. He turned back toward a giant oak tree and yelled. April! Come on out. It’s okay.

From behind a tree a face, dirtied and scared, looked out at them. Cautiously she stepped out from hiding. Her blonde hair was messy and cut very short. It appeared she'd recently decided to be her own hairdresser, or else someone with incredibly unpracticed hands had given her a trim. She wore a green and orange tie-dye t-shirt and a pair of denim overalls, which undoubtedly belonged to a much larger person. Her pants were rolled at the ankles. On one nostril, she was sporting a shiny blue stud.

My daughter, the man said, April. He paused, suddenly realizing they still hadn't learned his name. And I'm Rupert Jax.

The girl, still hovering from a distance away, spoke up. "That’s Dr. Rupert Jax. Come on, Dad, give yourself at least a bit of credit. You’ve earned it. She looked at him, and then at the other three. She appeared to be around Kam and Olin’s age. And you all are?"

They stumbled to introduce themselves. When all was satisfactory as far as names and why-they-were-heres were concerned, Kam asked, So, it’s just you two?

Yep, Dr. Jax said. Sorry if that is disappointing to you. Not sure why your friend here got it in his head there were more of us.

Kam turned to Trip, considering him out loud. Yeah, I’m not sure either.

Avoiding her glance, Trip looked back towards the sounds of the grumbling sea. His lips were pursed, plainly considering everything that had happened over a day