Flood Plains by Mark Wheaton (best reads txt) 📗

it under water, maybe a good quarter-mile in every direction. What in the name of hell on earth is that thing?”

Big Time was about to reply when two more of the black tendrils went racing past the dump truck to join the main mass. Realizing how the creature worked now, he wondered just how far afield those strings must’ve been. A hundred miles north? Maybe the same distance west or east? How far had this plague of death spread? He tried to follow them as they became part of the main body, but they simply disappeared. The effect their return had on the black columns, however, was evident as they rose a few more feet, bolstered by the new edition. The tops of the worms were only about eight floors down from the first group of people.

“What do we do?” asked Zakiyah.

“I don’t know,” said Big Time. “This is well out of my purview.”

“But all those people,” exclaimed Tony, unable to turn away. “They’re all going to die. I know how they’re feeling right now. That was me not too long ago. We’ve got to do something.”

“Like what?” Big Time asked blankly, staring at the tower.

“They keep climbing higher, thinking they can get out of its way,” Scott said. “But the rate that thing’s climbing, they’re about to run out of stories. Now, if we go up there and tell them there’s a way out, I’m not saying they’ll believe us, but I am saying that we’d be right.”

“You’re going to tell us your brilliant plan or make us beg?” Big Time asked.

“When they started putting up Brammeier Tower, the only thing I remember was that it was going to be a big hassle for Vicki because it was supposed to share its parking garage with One Shell Plaza across the street where she worked,” Scott explained. “So far, that thing is just on the outside of Brammeier. I’d be willing to bet it needs every square inch of itself to make the climb. If we can get into the parking garage of the Shell building, I’ll bet it won’t even notice we’re there. Then, we drive over to the south side of the garage that’s directly under Brammeier Tower, climb up thirty goddamn flights of steps, tell everybody that there’s a way out, and run like hell. Whoever makes it to the garage and out the other side survives. Anyone too slow, well, they’ve sacrificed themselves to the sludge beast so the others can live.”

Big Time shook his head immediately.

“You’re crazy. There’s no way that would work. That thing has been able to be a thousand places at once. We wouldn’t get two floors.”

“The building’s not flooded. It’s using all its energy to ascend, and we’d be locked in a stairwell in the heart of the structure. We’d tunnel up right through it.”

“And when we get to the top?”

“We do what we’ve been doing since we left Deltech. Burn the fucker.”

Scott pointed up at the four rising columns of sludge worm.

“It’s exposed. We set it on fire, we might just roast the thing before it’s able to get back to the water. Also, with much oil, who’s to say it won’t keep boiling in its own juices even if it does hit the street? We could kill it.”

Big Time processed this for a second. Even if the things did catch fire, he envisioned them flailing wildly at the building as they tumbled down, collapsing the tower in the process. Still, it might buy them just enough time.

“This might be our only chance,” Scott added. “Who knows when it’s going to expose itself like this again.”

“How you planning to light this super-fire of yours?”

“That place is under construction, right? Gotta be about three or four dozen different things we can use as accelerant in there.”

Big Time glanced to the others. They looked convinced. The fire wouldn’t have to last more than a couple of minutes, right? It was the mother of all Hail Marys, but maybe, just maybe…

Chapter 27

The closer Mia got to downtown, the worse her headache became. She’d come to a good understanding of why, too. If the sludge was gathering together as one, the concentration of dead souls was getting higher by the second. This meant their voices, their very presence, was beginning to produce a feeling of sensory overload in Mia.

What kept pulling her in that direction, however, was the echo of her mother. Different from the dead spirit—she could tell that Zakiyah was still very much alive. Mia had no idea how she’d gotten down to Houston but worried that her mother was risking her life looking for her. If she was down near where the collective was massing, she was probably in grave danger.

As the raft entered downtown, the water calmed despite the downpour that began as the eye passed to the north. The current had picked up over Buffalo Bayou, threatening to drag them under. They’d made it to a bridge, which acted like a breakwater and managed the crossing.

For Alan, it was a difficult return. He was reliving his escape from only a few hours before. In every direction, he saw dozens being slaughtered all over again. Those hanging in mid-air, those being dragged under, those being torn apart directly in front of him. It sent chills through his body.

Why was he bringing his daughter here?

They heard it first. What sounded like a chain reaction of car crashes echoed above the clamor of wind and rain. There was broken glass and the impact of metal on metal, followed by a hollow boom. Then the sequence of sounds repeated itself.

“Dear Lord,” Sineada gasped. “Will you look at that.”

Five blocks down, they saw the gigantic creature slowly making its way up the unfinished Brammeier Tower. They could see two of the worms as well, the other pair coming in and out of sight on the other side of the building. It throbbed and undulated as it rose, each tendril as