Once the green-eyed figures were out of sight, Gutierrez began to slow. It became more an more necessary to take it slow and steady the closer they got to the city. Cars became more frequent, all of them abandoned. Some were wrecked and showed signs of violence: bloody windshields, human body parts, gore on the road around them. Other cars looked as if they’d come to an abrupt halt and the drivers had just left them to roll on ward until they hit a guardrail or another car.

The gore became more frequent as well.

At first it was just a little blood, maybe an arm.

By the time they turned onto interstate 84 that ran alongside the Columbia River, Wil guessed he had seen evidence of at least a hundred brutally killed people, if not more. He’d gone his entire life without seeing any actual remains. Even his parents’ funeral had been closed casket.

The forest had become less dense, and mostly made of oaks and spruces and fewer pines. Vast pillars of smoke rose up in the distance, thick billowing fingers that clawed at the hanging sky.

“That’ll be Portland,” Matsuda said.

“Christ,” Gutierrez said. The highway widened into four lanes now, giving them more room to maneuver, but traffic was once again becoming an obstacle.

“Where’s your family?” O’Donnell asked.

“Few blocks east from Grant Park,” Gutierrez said.

“What about your girlfriend?” O’Donnell asked as he craned his head around to look at Wil.

“Washington and 9th,” he replied. Matsuda sucked a breath through his teeth. “I know, it sucks, okay? She said as much over the phone. It was a mess. But I have to.”

“We don’t,” Gutierrez said and Wil scowled. She caught his eye in the rearview mirror and raised her eyebrows at him. “Put yourself in my shoes, man. Let’s say you got your girlfriend: she’s safe, you’re safe, now you just gotta get the hell outta Dodge. But then I want to go to the heart of the damn city, across any one of the bridges that might not even be passable if current traffic is any suggestion, and into what you’ve been told is a nightmare. Does that sound good to you?”

Wil looked down.

“Yeah, me neither. Now, instead of one young woman who I’m assuming is about your age?” Gutierrez continued, “Yeah, replace her with two old people, a couple folks around my age, and a teenager.”

“We’ll need a bigger car,” O’Donnell said.

“One of my brothers has an SUV. Goes off-roading with it sometimes,” Gutierrez said.

“Still, maybe a couple cars.”

“If we want supplies for that many people, it’ll be essential,” Matsuda said.

“My point is, not the best situation for going into the middle of downtown,” Gutierrez said.

“I understand,” Wil said. “But I can’t just leave her.”

“I’m not saying you should, only that I’m not going with you,” Gutierrez said.

“Rosa, geez,” O’Donnell said.

“What? I don’t see you volunteering,” she replied.

“Because I can’t leave you the same way he can’t leave his uh…partner,” O’Donnell said. Gutierrez snorted and laughed.

“You suck at sweet talk, man.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s fine,” Wil snapped. “I’m not gonna have other people die for me. I’ll just…I was gonna go alone in the first place. I’m lucky to have gotten this far. If you guys are moving on, and your family has better cars, can I just use this one?”

“Yeah, don’t see why not,” Gutierrez said. “For what it’s worth, it’s not personal. I don’t want you to die, and you’re welcome to come with us…”

“But I can’t,” Wil finished. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Matsuda said. Wil raised his eyebrows at the old man. He didn’t miss O’Donnell and Gutierrez looking back either. “If you hadn’t ran off with the bear, we’d probably all be dead. Besides, part of me wants to see how bad it is.”

“You’re crazy, old guy,” Gutierrez said.

“Just curious,” Matsuda replied.

“You know what that did to the cat, don’t you?” O’Donnell asked.

“I do. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back,” Matsuda said.

“Never heard the second part before,” Gutierrez said.

“Thank you,” Wil said. “Thank you so much.”

“Mm,” Matsuda smirked and nodded. “You two fine rangers do me a favor though: get your family and then get out of here. Head for the Air National Guard Outpost we talked about. It’s on the map, not far from the Lewis and Clark National Park. Do you know where that is?”

“Just because we’re rangers doesn’t mean we know every single park in the state,” O’Donnell said, “but yes we know it.”

“Good. Get there. If we’re alive, we’ll meet you. I might know some people who owe me favors. If they ask you any questions, ask for a Colonel Eddings, and tell him old Matty says he’s calling in his chips.”

“Sure,” O’Donnell said. “Thank you.”

“Mm. We’re not there yet. Thank me when we get our people and we’re still alive,” he said. Wil looked out the window as they slowed more. He winced as Gutierrez ran over a dead body and it thumped under the car. The highway had widened even more as they were now within a few miles of Portland, but the cars on the road had increased to match.

“I’m getting off the highway here,” Gutierrez said. “I don’ trust that it won’t get worse. Better to take the back streets. It’s a couple miles to my parents’ place from here.”

“Do what you gotta do,” O’Donnell said. Gutierrez pulled off at the nearest exit ramp, having to avoid a few crashed cars that had gone up it, the wrong way.

“Oh god,” O’Donnell said as they left the highway. They were in an older neighborhood lined with towering oak trees and quaint two-story houses. The houses all bore signs of violence: broken windows, splintered doors, walls torn down. There were dead bodies out front, streaks of rust red across emerald lawns.

As Gutierrez drove past, one or two of the bodies began to stir.

An old man with his stomach torn open to reveal black guts picked himself up. His skin was gray, his eyes black, his skin slowly squirming with the veins beneath. He shuffled after them in an awkward, hitching gait. A young boy no older than ten emerged from a dark doorway, the skin around his neck loose, the neck itself bent at an odd angle. He was slow as well, his mouth, obviously dislocated, hung open and black fluid slopped out of it and splattered to the ground.

“Holy shit,” Wil breathed.

“They’re everywhere,” O’Donnell said. As Wil looked, he saw the ranger was right: all of the bodies they saw had the tell-tale gray, ashy look to them, and now that he knew what to look for, he saw them twitching to life (or undeath, maybe) as the car drove past them.

All of the creatures were on the slow side, and usually they were at the end of the next block or turning a corner before they even got to their feet.

But if they came across something like the Sandoval-thing, the bear, the buck, or even just the ones that ran…

Wil gripped his axe.

Please god let Naomi be okay, he thought. She was in a sturdy old brick building, several floors above street level, behind a metal door with no less than three locks. All she would’ve had to do was stay quiet. She could still be okay.

Please, god, Wil begged.

They drove at a steady but cautious pace: more than enough to keep ahead of the black-eyed shamblers, but slow enough to not crash into any of the abandoned cars or other debris in the road.

“How much further?” O’Donnell asked.

“Few blocks,” Gutierrez said, her tone clipped, voice tense. “Just turn left here and…”

What happened after turning right, Gutierrez didn’t say, and nobody asked her. She slammed on the brakes with a faint squeak of the tires and a firm lurch.

The thing blocking the road looked like some kind of water tower that had fallen on its side: a fat bulbous top on top of long, slender supports. Wil thought it was painted black at first, but then saw it was actually a dark emerald that shimmered, like the shell of a beetle. The top of the bulbous shape had a ring of glowing green orbs around it, each one the size of a watermelon. The light from the orbs was dim, and darkening fast. The hole thing was massive, taller than the oaks, maybe as tall as an actual water tower.

Wil couldn’t see all of it. A sizable crowd of people had gathered in front of the thing, hunched over it. Their arms were busy with something, maybe trying to lift the strange tower up or…

“Oh shit,” Wil said.

The tower wasn’t a tower. It was whatever had been in Ralph’s yard. Its many legs ended in sharp points that bristled with tiny spines. The bulbous top had a definite insectile quality, though it was difficult to make out details in the dim light and from a distance. But Wil could see that whatever it was, had been alive at one point, and had to be at least four or five stories tall.

The people in front of the massive arachnid creature weren’t just people either. Their skin was gray, and some of their bodies bulged with muscle and their skin writhed with maleficent purpose beneath. Worse, as some of them stood they revealed themselves to be far taller and lankier than any normal human, and their skin had torn to expose raw muscle and bone beneath. Black thorns sprouted from their bodies, and long ropey tongues lashed from their destroyed mouths.

“Oh god. Oh, god,” O’Donnell said.

How long has it been? Five minutes? Wil thought. It had really only been a second or two, just long enough for the realization to set in.

At least thirty of those black-eyed things had turned and spotted their car. Half of them were the fast muscular type, and perhaps as many as eight were of the same type as Sandoval.

“Ranger, get us out of here,” Matsuda whispered. “Full reverse, now.”

“Y-yeah,” Gutierrez said and threw the car into reverse.

One of the tall creatures roared, a nightmarish and agonized scream of fury. Wil actually felt a few drops of piss leak out of him at the sound. He slumped forward as Gutierrez slammed on the gas and they sped backward.

“Keep your heads down!” she said. Wil had a glimpse of the mob of black-eyed things charging them, mouths open and dark and hungry,and then he ducked behind the front seat and tried not to continue wetting himself. He was thrown to one side by inertia as the car spun, then thrown back as Gutierrez sped forward.

“Behind!” O’Donnell said.

“I know!” Gutierrez shouted.

Something thumped hard against Wil’s door and he glanced up.

An ashen face, distorted by how wide the mouth stretched, beyond dislocation, appeared in the window. One of those things had grabbed onto Wil’s side of the car. He screamed, looked down, fumbling with his holster, then a hand grabbed his hair from behind and he thought it was another one, somehow in the car with him, before Matsuda shouted.

“Down!” the old man said and shoved him forward as he aimed his pistol behind Wil’s head. There was a road and a splash of brains and black goop against the window and the creature fell away.

Another thud from above them, and long, inhuman hands broke Wil’s window and reached for him.

“Big one on the roof!” O’Donnell said and took Gutierrez’s shotgun, pointed it up, and fired. The roar of the shotgun was deafening in the enclosed car, and the buckshot punched a fist-sized hole in the roof. There was a roar and black sludge dribbled through the hole and down towards O’Donnell.

“Shit!” the ranger said and tried to squirm away from it. His back hit the window, and Wil shouted a warning as one of those inhuman hands shattered the glass behind O’Donnell.

“Roger!” Gutierrez screamed.

A bony spike emerged from the center of the hand and pierced O’Donnell’s throat. Red blood splattered onto Gutierrez, gushed over the dashboard, soaked the front of O’Donnell’s uniform.

“No!” Gutierrez wailed. She wasn’t even looking at the road anymore, too distracted by the brutal end of her lover.

O’Donnell stared, wide-eyed at Gutierrez, and then he was yanked with horrifying ease out the window. There was a howling roar, and then he, and the thing on the roof, were gone.

“Ahead! Watch out!” Matsuda shouted.

Too late.

The Ford crashed over a curb, into and over a fir hydrant, and a thick oak on the other side. The car managed to break the hydrant off its bolts, and the hydrant tore the bottom out of the passenger side of the car where O’Donnell had been seconds before. Water sprayed up into the cab of the car, blinding and soaking all of them in moments.

“Out! Out and ready!” Matsuda shouted above the roar of the water.

“Roger! Roger, god dammit!” Gutierrez screamed.

“Hey! Rosa! Come on!” Wil said as he reached for the shotgun that O’Donnell had dropped on his way out.

On his way out, Wil thought, Like going to the store. Just with this crazy bone spike shoved in his neck.

The urge to laugh again started to rise, and Wil bit his lip so hard it bled.

Hey, at least with all this water, nobody will know you had a few drops get past the flood gates, Wil thought and snorted and coughed out water as he fumbled his way out of the car.

None of this was funny.

So why? Why was his brain trying to make him laugh now, of all times?

Survival instinct, maybe? A distraction? He thought.

It didn’t matter. Wil scrambled to his feet in the puddle around the car, axe in one hand, shotgun in the other. Matsuda had his assault rifle up, and Wil saw him switch it to full auto.

The car door slammed as Gutierrez emerged with O’Donnell’s rifle. She was shaking, either from the cold water, fear, fury, all of it, Wil could only guess.

The thing that had taken O’Donnell hunched a couple blocks away, crouched on a street corner and driving its tongues into the ranger’s skull. It removed them and O’Donnell fell to the street with a thud. The big thing turned from O’Donnell to stare at Wil and the others with the black pits of its eyes. The mob of other creatures rounded the corner, a howling, gibbering, snarling pack of nightmares.

O’Donnell rose, and joined them.

“No,” Gutierrez said, her voice thick, breaking. “No, baby.”

“He’s dead,” Matsuda said.

Gutierrez sobbed, then raised the hunting rifle to her face, aimed, and fired. There was a single, sharp crack, and O’Donnell’s head burst. A black spray of tainted brains and dark sludge popped out behind him, and the ranger fell.

“Now he is,” Gutierrez said then chambered another round in the rifle. “I’ll see you soon, Roger.”

The creature that had killed O’Donnell looked at the fallen ranger, then howled at Gutierrez, as if offended she had ruined its work.

“C’mon you ugly fucker,” she said.

“Can’t get any worse,” Matsuda sighed.

Movement behind them caught Wil’s eye.

Movement and green light.

A lot of green light.

“If we weren’t about to die I might just have to kill you, old man,” Wil said, though it felt like somebody else was saying it. Wil wanted to scream and put the shotgun in his mouth, not make little quips at Matsuda.

Thirty or forty of the green-eyed people stood another couple of blocks away, opposite the black-eyed mob.

“Hell,” Matsuda said as he saw the two groups, and both began to head for the three survivors.

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like,” Wil said, and prepared himself for the end.