The Glowing: 2: The Glowing, #2

By Tom Rimer

The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout…

 

Six months have passed since The Bokai swarmed the Earth. Kamryn Coe, Quinn Flowers, and their friends are just trying to make it through. When Lucy has a dream that an old friend may still be alive, Kam runs headlong into danger on a rescue mission.

 

…down came the rain and washed the spider out…

 

With the group divided and dangers lurking around every corner, do they have any hope of surviving? Will Kam discover her truth? Or will she meet a sticky end?

 

BEWARE THE SPIDER

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
• Release date: Jun 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393447726

Tom Rimer

Tom Rimer lives in Massachusetts with his wife and two children. He is the author of The Glowing (an epic sci-fi/horror trilogy) and Malevolent Nevers. His short story “Clown” was published in 2015 as part of the horror anthology, 13 Tales to Give You Night Terrors. He is also co-host of the YouTube series, Found Footage Fridays. Right now, he’s probably lost in an old bookshop. You can find him on Twitter, musing about what he finds funny and talking about all bookish things @RimerTom. www.tomrimerauthor.com photo credit: Laura Gustafson

Book preview

Chapter One

It was hard not to stare. Without electricity, and therefore almost no light pollution to speak of, the black sky above what once was a small, sleepy, college in the Berkshires was littered with stars. So many stars. Considering how little was left of what once was, the view from the roof of the campus building and the absence of terrestrial interference was not an uncommon one for the survivors. Neither was the inclination to keep one's eyes pointed toward the skies. It was from those inky expanses that not too long before had sprung on the world the truest devastation, leaving intact only a small fraction of the human population. It happened once and the tick-tock-tocking until it all started again had already begun.

Kamryn Coe was stretched out on her back, her ponytail fanned out above her head on the pavement like a faded blue halo, underneath all of the blackness. The constellation Orion lingered high above her, poised and waiting. Mimicking the warrior's stance from her position on the roof-deck, Kam pulled back an invisible bow and aimed it into the night, at a target she still couldn't quite identify. The evening was invigorating and she inhaled it. For the past six months, this had become her accepted routine. She rarely slept and when her mind convinced her to start picturing the faces of those she'd lost, she only wanted to look to where those same visages might be looking back down at her. Even this was an anxiety-producing experience, though. A passing observer might see what appeared to be a girl casually lying with her hands propped sleepily behind her head, however Kam felt every muscle in her body twitch with each starry twinkle, alongside each night-time cloud passing a bit too slowly in front of the glow of the moon, with every gust that rustled crinkling leaves across the empty, lonely, North Adams quad. She was ready to jump, to fight, whenever the time again arrived. It was only a matter of when.

And Quinn doesn’t understand why I can’t sleep.

Quinn Flowers. In another lifetime, he was her science teacher. Now, he was something else entirely. With a serious shortage of adults, he had become, she supposed, a parental sort of influence. That though didn’t truly encapsulate who he was now or who any of them were. She’d dropped calling him Mr. Flowers a while back because none of those sorts of formalities mattered any longer. He was Quinn. Their slightly neurotic, still corduroy-wearing, accidental leader. And he was worried about Kam. He peppered her daily with questions about how much she’d been sleeping (not at all) and how she was feeling (not at all) and her answers, biting at his attempts at parenting, only made him worry more.

Stop trying to be my mom.

The thought leaked out of her brain faster than it should have; the seal on that bottle had been gradually deteriorating and would likely completely crumble away before long. Given the months she'd spent away from everything, Kam felt she should have more control over this sort of invasive mind-blurting by now. But what was she supposed to do? To think? Her mom, the memory of her mom, was always there. On the finish to every sentence, in every nutrient she was failing to ingest, in the sadness of Quinn’s eyes whenever he avoided looking her directly in her own. He was trying, but he would never be her mother.

Or my... father.

Her father. Maybe the type of role Quinn would have been better suited for, but that was, in a lot of ways, even more complicated. After a lifetime of yearning for more information about him, she finally met the truth. In Gabe Simon, she came face to face with it. It was ugly, preposterous, and exponentially more confusing than anything else, but at least it had been an answer. And then, before she'd had any time to process that answer, it had been taken away. Again. He was dead. Both of her parents were dead, and Kam was left with a man who desperately wanted to parent her, but would never be able to. No one would. She felt scarred into adulthood and that nurturing of any kind wouldn't be very different from someone trying to foster an orphaned wolverine, an image regularly conjured from her mind. It made her laugh but there was truth there. No matter the amount of nurturing, those claws and teeth would remain. Bared.

A door opened and thwacked shut somewhere below her. Footsteps scuffled and muffled what were already suppressed voices as two sets of sneakers slowly walked out onto the pavement. Weeks before, Kam had gotten to know all of the new names of folks who shared the abandoned campus center and few surrounding buildings which still stood. But even if she hadn't, she would have instantly recognized the two laughs she heard sitting on a bench just underneath the overhanging ledge of the roof she laid upon. Her first thought was to move somewhere else and not to pry, but then she heard her name on the wind.

Haven’t they learned by now I’m always up here?

She crept to the edge and peeked down as Quinn Flowers sat beside his former colleague, Jordan Alosi. They were staring up at the same sky Kam had been lost in, examining the same lonely stars. They sat close, she observed, but not too close.

Thank god.

She couldn’t catch every one of their words, but she got the gist.

How is she? she thought she heard Jordan ask.

Quinn’s head, just barely visible in the midnight dark, shook side to side.

Not good, but...should she be? I mean, really? Should any of us be?

Jordan flicked a pebble from her index finger out into the dark and Kam lost what she said next on a sudden gust of Berkshire valley wind. She could see both of them put there heads together and exchange a few more comments back and forth. Even in the dim light, she noted how exhausted they both looked. It had been the longest six months in any of their lives.

Suddenly, Quinn shrugged, whispered something into his chest Kam couldn’t hear, and allowed his head to sag for a moment. Clearing his throat, he spoke more loudly. We’re doing the best that we can.

Kam pondered who the declaration was meant for just as Jordan sneaked a peek over her shoulder in Kam’s direction. Quickly she ducked out of sight, cursing.

Dammit. Now I’m going to need to go talk to them. Maybe they didn’t see me.

She waited, listening for what she knew would come next.

Hi, Kam.

Chapter Two

Moments earlier, Quinn Flowers stood in front of the smudged bathroom mirror and stared at the tired scarecrow grinning back at him. He was practicing his I'm all good smile for Jordan, who was waiting for him outside in the hall. Letting the smile fall away, he held the back of his hands over his eyes for a minute to temporarily cancel out the abrasive light that washed out the sterile, basement bathroom of the campus center. There was a periodic dripping sounding coming from somewhere Quinn couldn't see. It made him feel lonely. Like he was stuck in some underground cave knee-deep in dank water, and no matter how much he screamed for a way out, all he got back in return was that godawful drip, drip, drip. A numbing desolation and heartache from that subterranean hollow seeped into his bones and there was nothing he could do to stop it; nothing he could ever do anymore, day in, day out. Sighing deeply, he turned back toward the door, flattened out the invisible (to everyone but him) creases of his now completely worn chocolate brown corduroys and walked out into the hall. Directly into Jordan.

Woah, he whispered harshly, grabbing her at the elbows and halting her steps backward. I’m sorry, I... I’m just tired.

It’s okay, Quinny, she said, handing him an old, scuffed, water bottle. You’re doing just fine.

Quinn laughed and took a long sip. Am I? Sometimes...

You are, she said, effectively ending the debate.

I’m just gonna nod now so she thinks I’m agreeing with her and so we can move on.

Quinn nodded.

He screwed the cap of the bottle on tight. They having any luck?

They being the small group of survivors they'd found holed up in the once college campus. Calling them a group was being far too generous. Two college radio DJs and an elderly theater professor do not a group make. Kam had been so insistent this was where they were supposed to go, that this was where Gabe had gone, back then. Back in some other life, in some other lost time. All the way back.

Gabe.

Even now, after having so much time to process what had occurred, after witnessing an invasion of marauding, alien hordes, Quinn could not wrap his brain around the idea Gabe was her father. The preposterous suggestion time travel was possible and that he had...

Never mind. I’ve done this already. I’ve had this debate. I’m not doing this again. Not tonight. I’m just too damn tired.

He caught Jordan looking at him like she knew he was having an internal conversation. She half-smirked at him, eyebrows slightly raised. She was just quietly waiting for him to wrap it up.

God, she's beautiful. He thought but didn't say it. He never said it; he never allowed himself to say it. He still wasn't able to come close to suggesting those sorts of things to her. Even with all of their newfound time to spend fraternizing, they weren't yet truly together.

Just friends. He thought. No surprise, but Quinn wasn't entirely sure of where he stood with Jordan. It wasn't like it was the perfect atmosphere for goddamn romance anyway. Surrounded by a group of former students mourning the losses of everything and everyone they once knew, 24/7, they weren't exactly presented daily with a recipe for anything more than just friends.

She smiled all the way, You ready for that walk now?

He nodded again, Yes. Please. I need to talk to you about Kam.

She grunted, unsurprised, and they pushed open the door and stepped out into the nighttime April air. In most parts of New England, April was the start of spring. In the Berkshires, in the valley where North Adams was snuggled, giant snowbanks still weren't even fully melted. It might have been spring but nothing was springing. Not for another full month or two yet.

They walked toward a lonely bench which, in another lifetime, used to be underneath a working street lamp. On this night there was no artificial light, just the small amount of illumination provided by the moon and those brilliant stars. Quinn had specifically wanted to talk to Jordan about Kam, who seemed to be struggling much more than any of the others. Granted, she learned Gabe was her father and witnessed his death all in the same short period. But, it was far more than just that. It was more than just one single, if not insignificant, loss. They'd all experienced similar pain, on some level. Kamryn Coe had changed to an even deeper degree, since it all happened. Quinn was still trying to come to terms with exactly what that even meant.

For a few steps, Quinn and Jordan walked close to one another, but not close-close. Their extremities were always within reach of one another’s, always orbiting in the vicinity, dancing their hand-dance, but never completely connecting. Kind of like the both of them.

They sat at the first bench they came across.

How is she? Jordan asked, not waiting for Quinn.

He shook his head because he didn't know the answer. Not good, but... should she be? I mean, really? Should any of us be?

At some point since coming outside, Jordan had picked up a small stone off of the ground. She’d been rolling it between two of her fingers and when Quinn glanced down at it, with one eyebrow lifted, she flicked it away. I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I’ve never done this before, Quinn. Making this up as I go. Aren’t you?

He faced her, but since eye contact was ever-fleeting from him, only momentarily. Wait, what are we making up?

Caring for a bunch of kids, Quinn. And don’t tell me we’ve done this before, this isn’t AP Chem, or Intro to Spanish.

From somewhere up above, somewhere behind them, Quinn heard the small shuffle of a sneaker. Only one person ever hung out up there at this time of night. He lowered his chin to his chest and, tilting his head in Jordan’s direction whispered, I think we have some company. He nodded in the direction of the campus center roof.

Projecting his voice, to make certain their company would hear it, he said, We’re doing the best that we can.

Jordan snuck a quick peek behind them. Who-? she asked, just before Quinn loudly called out to the darkness behind them, Hi, Kam.

Chapter Three

She mustered an awkward wave and before Quinn could ask what she was doing out so late she preemptively offered, Just needed some air. Heading to bed now. Night.

She thought she could hear both of them say goodnight in response, but chose not to linger.  She wanted to avoid any of the typical interrogation techniques Quinn was so fond of employing whenever he discovered her out, about, and without. She zipped her jacket up but left her hood down. It was cold, can't-move-your-nose-chilly, and she liked it that way. Especially now. The unexpected breath of winter stinging her cheeks made her feel alert, awake, alive. All things she, more than ever before, genuinely wanted to feel.

As Kam passed the entryway of the college’s old mail room, she heard, ever-so-faintly, the ca-chunk of a push bar on a door being released. She stopped moving and breathing. Looking back at the mail room, she immediately noticed the door slightly ajar.

That’s... unusual.

In another life, she probably would have kept walking, at a brisk pace no doubt, but she certainly wouldn't have lingered or dared investigate any further. But this wasn't another life. This was the new-normal for Kam. Always on the edge, always waiting for the next shadow to be the one to finally burst snarling toward her and the next breaking twig to be the one that would truly snap her. In this life, Kam had to be completely certain. She zipped her hoodie tightly to her chin: the only body armor readily available, and steeled herself for whatever might come next.

Carefully, she crept toward the mail room and pried the heavy door open. At first, she could see nothing but the blackness of what she could only assume was once a bustling hub of college life. Having seen the space in the daylight hours, Kam knew in the dimness before her was a long hallway, littered on either side by thousands of tiny locked boxes. Each box had a dial, a series of numbers, and a combination she would never be lucky enough to know. At the opposite end was the mail room counter. She closed her eyes, counted to thirty, and when she re-opened them she could see again.

Night vision. Kickass.

The moonlight leaking in through a couple of skylights didn’t hurt either. The room was empty. There was no space for one of those creatures to be hiding. She was alone. For a few more moments she just stared and when she realized how long she’d been holding her breath, took in a few gulps of the musty air.

Nothing. Good enough for me.

Satisfied, she turned, walked back outside, and made sure the door was pulled tightly shut behind her. It ca-chunked again and Kam felt like she had done her duty. If she’d simply ignored the sound, she’d have spent the entirety of her night worrying. Now she could...

Breathe.

Just beyond the mail room was a hill Kam had walked many times in the past months. It led directly to the dorm they had all designated as their home base. She was halfway up what felt to her like the steepest, loneliest hill in the world on nights like that one, when she noticed a figure standing, waiting for her up at the top. He was tall, majestic even, she thought. Like a tree. An awkward, frustratingly-beautiful, oblivious, tree.

Olin.

She’d been avoiding him, just like she’d been avoiding Quinn and everyone else. He was blocking her way though, this time. Unless she ungracefully turned and ran from him, there’d be no avoiding a conversation.

Not an accident, I’m sure.

She let herself walk to the top before acknowledging him.

Hey, was all she said.

Hey, yourself, he said.

She pulled her hood up. What are you doing out here, Olin?

He shrugged and proceeded to plop himself on the edge of the sidewalk. Blowing air between his lips he motioned for her to join him. She looked at him and felt the corner of her mouth attempt the beginnings of a smile. It was fleeting, she immediately wiped it away, but it had been there. She thought about how big a deal his simple gesture, asking her to sit next to him, would have made her week, no, my year, not too long ago. The fact that now, she probably would have preferred to have just gone to bed rather than converse with Olin North made her realize for the hundredth time in the last week how much her life had changed and how sad she truly was. After what felt like an interminable period of time, she eased herself on to the ground beside him and waited.

Forearms on her knees, she looked forward. When he didn’t say anything she spoke up. Were you looking for me or something?

Looking out into the same night she was, Olin shrugged. No, not exactly. Lucy’s... I just needed some air.

Kam sighed. She knew what that meant. How’s she doing?

Olin just shook his head.

For the first time that evening, Kam turned to face him. She’s not any better?

Olin returned her stare. "No, Kam. She's not. She has