Free Last Man Standing (Book 2): Cordyceps by Keith Taylor Page B

loud clicks and muffled thumps come through the speaker, as if Pam set the phone down on the floor. After a moment her voice returns, more distant now. "Oh, honey, you've soaked right through your nightgown. It's OK, don't worry about it. Come on, come to momma. There's a good girl... No, honey, that's too hard. No. Stop it, honey. Stop it! Honey, stop ..."
     
    "Pam? Talk to me, Pam. What's happening?"
     
    It sounds like the phone skates across the floor before a loud bang, maybe the sound of it hitting the wall, but the background noise is barely audible over the scream. It's ear splitting, and a long moment passes before Barry manages to cut off the call.
     
    "Oh God, I'm sorry, listeners, I couldn't... I didn't know how to, ah..." Barry falls silent for a moment before continuing. "OK, I'm gonna see if I can figure out how to go mobile. I need to see what's going on in the street. Bear with me a second, I'm just... Look, if you're listening right now I'm begging you not to leave your homes. Just... just lock all your doors and windows and get to the most secure room in your house. Obviously we don't really know what's happening, but if this is airborne we're... just stay indoors and wait for help, OK?"
     
    The sound cuts out for about twenty seconds. Dead air, not even static, then it suddenly returns with a confused jumble of echoing sounds.
     
    "I don't know if I'm still on the air. I think I've got this rig wired up right, but I'm no technician. If you can still hear me I've just left the studio on the twelfth floor, and I'm headed to the windows overlooking Broad Street. I'm, ah... it's pretty dark in here, but I think I can make it across. OK, I'm here in the office of, ah... I think this is the Daystar broadcast studio. Here's the window..."
     
    He falls silent for another moment. "OK, listeners, I'm looking down on Broad Street right now, and I have to tell you I don't see a thing. I'm leaning out the window and I've got a good clear view of City Hall to the west and the statehouse to the east, and it looks to me like the streets are pretty empty. I'm hoping that means... ah, I don't even want to say it, but right now I'm hoping this is just some kind of sick hoax, and if it is I have to say it's in remarkably poor taste. I'd hope my listeners wouldn't— Jesus! "
     
    For a few seconds we hear nothing but Barry's panicked breathing.
     
    " Somebody jumped! " His calm, collected radio voice has gone now. "Somebody jumped, or, or, or was pushed, or something. I just saw a person fall right past my window and down to the street. I can't see where they landed or what happened but... Oh mother of God, there's more of them! Friends, I'm looking over at the Doubletree Hotel just a block to the south of the studio and I'm seeing jumpers from the parking structure." Barry's voice seems to slur a little, like he's had a couple of drinks. "They're... oh God, they're just leaping from the garage levels, four, five floors above the street. Some of them are... Jesus, some of them are getting back up again. They're just... they're getting up from the ground and they're chasing the... oh no, something's..." He sounds completely drunk now. "I can see it on the window. Little, umm... little... I'm having a little trouble here. Can't... can't think of the, umm... the words. It's... little, umm, droplets." For a few moments all we hear is his breathing, them his voice returns a final time. Small. Quiet. Sad.
     
    "Oh no."
     
    He drifts off, and for the length of a dozen heartbeats there's nothing but a rustling sound. The mic against clothing? Then more heavy breathing. Deep. Irregular.
     
    Now a noise that sounds like the inside of a wind tunnel, a rushing roar.
     
    Now a dull thud.
     
    Now nothing. Silence.

 
     
    Samuel Whelan sits slumped over the long rosewood table in the situation room, head in hands, avoiding the sight of the big screen on the wall. Every few seconds a new red dot blooms on the map. Albuquerque.