When I was about twelve, Hurricane Doreen tore through most of what used to be New Jersey. The shore was decimated, houses destroyed, cars floating away during the floods. I remember we were without power for over a week, and when the televisions and computers finally came back on, we were confronted with how truly devastating the damage was. It was one of the first real hurricanes to tear through the area where I grew up and, until the Turning, it was the worst disaster I’d ever seen.
That’s what old Madison looks like now.
Whole side streets are gone. There’s rubble and lumber and scraps of fabric strewn everywhere. I try to ignore the first pile of bones I find, knowing they’ll only be more to come.
Broken toys, smashed glass, and destroyed electronics still litter the empty streets we attempt to walk across, each step an adventure. Potholes aren’t just a few inches deep; whole patches of the asphalt are gone, ripped up, scattered on the sidewalks. After the first time I stupidly miss my step and my leg disappears up to mid-calf, I pay closer attention to the ground as I walk.
What can I say? It’s much better than staring at the hell my old neighborhood’s turned into.
Fires ran unchecked shortly after the Turning. We had about one week before the television was reduced to static and, in that time, the reporters who hadn’t Turned into lurkers were tellingeveryone to attack the monsters with flames. I don’t know who figured it out—I mean, I killed my first lurker with a steak knife when they were still vulnerable—but it wasn’t long before the world was full of black smoke and orange flames and the acrid stench of brimstone filling the air.
The further we move away from the Grave, the more that smell lingers, clinging to the shells of burnt houses and blackened trees. And that’s not all. There’s an air of abandonment down the main street we’re currently walking on. There are no survivors left living on Montrose Street. Any houses that made it through the fires and the lurkers’ assaults stand empty and forlorn, all black windows and scorched lawns.
This is the first time I’ve gone this far from the Grave. I’d kind of hoped we could raid some of the nearer houses, maybe gather some supplies that might come in handy later.
No dice.
Maverick refuses. At first, I think it’s back to the whole “don’t know my ass from my elbows” appearance… until my nose finally gets used to the burnt stink and picks up the sickly sweet odor of death and decay that permeates the air around us.
My stomach goes queasy, and all I can think is: lurkers.
Like Grove Avenue, Montrose is another thoroughfare that branches off of Ridgemond before cutting through this part of Madison. About an hour into our trek, we have to navigate around a four car pile-up that must have been sitting frozen mid-accident since it happened ages ago. I’m just picking my way around the mangled remains of a Honda when it finally hits me.
The second it does, I turn around, expecting to find one of the hungry monsters standing there. It doesn’t matter that it’s the middle of the day and the sun is high. It’s purely instinctive.
But there’s nothing there. Just Maverick off to my right, watching me curiously. From the set of his jaw and the way it’sobvious he’s breathing through parted lips, I guess he caught the rotten scent long before I had.
“Lurkers,” he says, confirming my suspicions. “They lurk in the cellars, the attics, under beds, closets… wherever it’s dark. They’ve infested this neighborhood already. Who knows how many are in each house, just waiting for the chance to get out and eat us.”
I reach behind me, feeling for the front zipper of my backpack. “Shouldn’t we be grabbing a match then?”
“No need,” Maverick answers, checking his compass again and placing it back in his pocket. “They can’t survive in the light. They won’t leave their hiding places until the sun goes down.”
Glancing up at the sky, I ask, “And when is that? How much longer?”
“Not long enough.”
Great.
PART TWO
FIRE
Protect and serve.
It’s been more than a decade since I made my promise to the people of Danbury.
But Danbury is gone.
My brothers are gone.
Lindsay… she’s gone, too, and I’ll never forget how I couldn’t protect the one person who meant everything to me.
Because I survived. And as long as I do, I will protect and serve and kick some lurker ass.
And maybe then… finally… I’ll be free.
- James “Maverick” Brooks
