We Were Supposed to Watch The Sky

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[[include component:preview text= It weren’t wise not to. (870 words) ]]

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“I was wadin’ through the crystal clear water in the creek down by my cousin Gene’s house; we were tryin’ to catch one of the bright-pink manfrog tadpoles before they migrated underground for the fall. I had just caught a particularly large one when Gene had called out to me to look at the clouds out in the distance.

They were dark as sin, an’ as large as the whole world. They tore across the sky like a panicked herd of cattle. Just looking at them made the air seem sticky. We must’a sat there for ‘bout a minute just staring at ‘em.

Gene’s ma came rippin’ down the trail we took to the creek. I doubted that woman had a single stern bone in her body until she yanked me and Gene out of the water and up the path towards her house.

As I walked up the path I could’a sworn I heard screaming carry on the wind. But she walked us fast so I weren’t sure. What I do recall is the look on her face as she glanced towards the pitch black sky. It were plastered with the purest form of terror.

When we got the to the house she rushed us to the basement. We were told to stay put while she went out to find Gene’s pa, and slammed the basement door behind her. Even then I didn’t understand why she cared so much about that man. I heard her run away before I crept down the creaking ol’ steps with Gene.

It was dull concrete which weren’t like the beautiful cabin above in the slightest. There were a set of two curtains back in the left corner behind which were a bathroom, and six military style cots on the right. I ain’t too sure about what else was down there. I only realized I was still carrying the tadpole when I felt its blood trickling through my clenched fingers.

The power cut as soon as the screams started. I can’t remember where Gene was, but I remember that he was yelling for his ma.

I heard the door open before I could find my bearings in the dark. Gene was silhouetted against the bruise-black sky where the roof had once been. Putrid mossy water fell in sheets. Past the door, the wind was drowned in screams. There must have been hundreds of 'em -- men an’ animals -- cryin’ out in pain.

He almost stepped out into what used to be his house, but I yanked him back before he could. The wind slammed door behind him, plungin’ us back into darkness.

I can’t really remember the next few days. I found a radio, surplus MREs, fresh water, an old Jamie Crider album, some chalk, and a VD box for the first season of The Bellwrights cartoon. There was a channel on the radio opening with the title “Cousin Cecil”. I don’t remember what it said besides that it was about the storm. After a few days the water from the tap turned dark green an’ had a pearlescent sheen like motor oil; I found out most the MREs were stale. Me and Gene didn’t talk much; I mostly just drew on the floor with the chalk. Then the screams stopped.

We left the basement a week after storm started. the first thing I saw was a nine foot tall possum feller lying where the hallway used to be. Just a body though; weren’t alive. Still kept clear of it cause of the stinger. Didn’t occur to me that there weren’t supposed to be no possum fellers for about fifty miles then, so I was more sick than scared. I looked up at the sky after that. It was still grey, but far less violent. I was happy that I could see the morning sun, hidden behind the clouds like a light under a blanket, and feel no rain.

It all smelled like month old summer garbage; it was so awful Gene and me both puked. The house was leveled, and there were puddles of the disgusting filmy water scattered about. Gene stepped in one of the puddles. This was his neck of the woods, so I trusted him when he said we should head northwest to Shanesbrook.

We walked all day before we reached the town. Dead critters littered the landscape all the way there, and the sparse few houses we saw were broke like Gene’s. He had actually started limping by then. When we got there the brick buildings near the center of town were the only ones that were still standin’. Some two hundred people were set up around a big camp by the crossroads.

I remember finding a pay phone by the statue of Jamie Crider and calling my ma. I can’t remember what I said to her. Someone was playing loud Sasquatch rockabilly out of a cheap speaker. I fell asleep in the car on the way home. Gene was really really sick by then.

Gene stayed with us for the next few months before our grandparents took him in. He weren’t the same after the storm though; especially after his reanimation.”

- Neil Monroe on the largest putrefaction storm ever recorded ,322.

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We Were Supposed to Watch The Sky

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