to the guardrail as the traffic passed. Frank and Charlie looked as tired as I felt. The cold air raised gooseflesh on my sweaty skin. The muscles in my legs ached and my feet had blisters on them. When I stumbled, Charlie caught me.
“We should rest again,” he suggested.
I shook my head. “Can’t. Need to get home to Terri.”
“You sound like a broken record, dude. You’re not going to do Terri any good if you end up lying alongside the highway, dying from exhaustion.”
“He’s right,” Frank panted. “I ain’t as young as you guys. I need another break.”
Reluctantly, I allowed Charlie to guide me over to the guardrail. We sat down on it. Another vehicle passed by. The woman behind the wheel looked shell-shocked. She stared straight ahead, her eyes not seeing.
A big guy in a mud-splattered, olive-colored trench coat approached us. He didn’t seem wary or afraid. His head was shaved, but long, wispy sideburns framed his leering face. The right lens in his glasses was cracked in a spider-web pattern. He smelled like booze.
“Hi.” He smiled. “My name’s Carlton. What’s yours?”
I returned his smile, still unsure of his motives.
“I’m Steve. This is Charlie and Frank.”
“Nice to meet you.” His voice was softer than I’d expected, given his size.
“I take it you got stranded, too?”
He ignored my question. “The mall is menstruating.”
“What?”
More cars filed past us.
“The mall, down in Hunt Valley? It’s menstruating. A great ocean floods forth.”
“Uh, you mean…bleeding?”
Carlton nodded vigorously. “Really. It is. Just like in the Bible. ‘And behold, the malls shall menstruate.’ The Book of Meat, chapter twelve; verse two.”
Frank groaned under his breath. Carlton didn’t seem to notice.
“There’s cheese in his head,” our new friend continued. “Fishy-fleshed cheese, just like they said there’d be.”
“That’s nice,” I said, giving Frank and Charlie a nervous glance.
First it was the Soapbox Man, shouting and preaching from the hood of his car. Now this. I wondered just how many people had gone insane in the immediate aftermath of the disappearances.
“Are you folks going home?” Carlton asked, smoothing the wrinkles from his trench coat.
Charlie and Frank remained speechless, and I hesitated. Clearly, the guy was drunk or insane—or both. The last thing I wanted was a crazy person following us home. But before I could distract him, Frank spoke up.
“Yeah, we’re just trying to get home. Gotta be moving on now, actually.”
Carlton glanced down the highway, staring into the darkness. Then he looked back at us and smiled. His eyes seemed to twinkle.
“You can’t go home. The others went home. He called them home. But not us. We’ve been left behind.”
I shivered in the darkness. Beside me, I felt Charlie do the same. Could it be a coincidence that we’d just had this conversation, or was something else at work?
Frank cleared his throat. “It was nice talking to you, Carlton.”
Carlton shuffled away from us, then turned around. “This is level six, if you come through the Labyrinth. Level six. Soon, if we stay here, we’ll all have to wear the mark. If we want to buy anything, we’ll have to wear it. The number is six one six. That’s the number of the Beast. We’ll wear it, and then we’ll get really painful sores, and the seas will turn to blood, just like the mall did.”
None of us responded. What do you say to something like that?
“I’m getting out,” Carlton said. “I know a doorway.”
He walked on, and we watched him go. He stopped farther up the road and talked to a group of migrant workers sitting in the back of a stalled pick-up truck. As we listened to their conversation, it became clear to us that none of the men spoke English, but that was okay, because we weren’t sure that Carlton did either.
Another helicopter hovered overhead, low enough to stir up roadside litter and other debris.
“We should rest again,” he suggested.
I shook my head. “Can’t. Need to get home to Terri.”
“You sound like a broken record, dude. You’re not going to do Terri any good if you end up lying alongside the highway, dying from exhaustion.”
“He’s right,” Frank panted. “I ain’t as young as you guys. I need another break.”
Reluctantly, I allowed Charlie to guide me over to the guardrail. We sat down on it. Another vehicle passed by. The woman behind the wheel looked shell-shocked. She stared straight ahead, her eyes not seeing.
A big guy in a mud-splattered, olive-colored trench coat approached us. He didn’t seem wary or afraid. His head was shaved, but long, wispy sideburns framed his leering face. The right lens in his glasses was cracked in a spider-web pattern. He smelled like booze.
“Hi.” He smiled. “My name’s Carlton. What’s yours?”
I returned his smile, still unsure of his motives.
“I’m Steve. This is Charlie and Frank.”
“Nice to meet you.” His voice was softer than I’d expected, given his size.
“I take it you got stranded, too?”
He ignored my question. “The mall is menstruating.”
“What?”
More cars filed past us.
“The mall, down in Hunt Valley? It’s menstruating. A great ocean floods forth.”
“Uh, you mean…bleeding?”
Carlton nodded vigorously. “Really. It is. Just like in the Bible. ‘And behold, the malls shall menstruate.’ The Book of Meat, chapter twelve; verse two.”
Frank groaned under his breath. Carlton didn’t seem to notice.
“There’s cheese in his head,” our new friend continued. “Fishy-fleshed cheese, just like they said there’d be.”
“That’s nice,” I said, giving Frank and Charlie a nervous glance.
First it was the Soapbox Man, shouting and preaching from the hood of his car. Now this. I wondered just how many people had gone insane in the immediate aftermath of the disappearances.
“Are you folks going home?” Carlton asked, smoothing the wrinkles from his trench coat.
Charlie and Frank remained speechless, and I hesitated. Clearly, the guy was drunk or insane—or both. The last thing I wanted was a crazy person following us home. But before I could distract him, Frank spoke up.
“Yeah, we’re just trying to get home. Gotta be moving on now, actually.”
Carlton glanced down the highway, staring into the darkness. Then he looked back at us and smiled. His eyes seemed to twinkle.
“You can’t go home. The others went home. He called them home. But not us. We’ve been left behind.”
I shivered in the darkness. Beside me, I felt Charlie do the same. Could it be a coincidence that we’d just had this conversation, or was something else at work?
Frank cleared his throat. “It was nice talking to you, Carlton.”
Carlton shuffled away from us, then turned around. “This is level six, if you come through the Labyrinth. Level six. Soon, if we stay here, we’ll all have to wear the mark. If we want to buy anything, we’ll have to wear it. The number is six one six. That’s the number of the Beast. We’ll wear it, and then we’ll get really painful sores, and the seas will turn to blood, just like the mall did.”
None of us responded. What do you say to something like that?
“I’m getting out,” Carlton said. “I know a doorway.”
He walked on, and we watched him go. He stopped farther up the road and talked to a group of migrant workers sitting in the back of a stalled pick-up truck. As we listened to their conversation, it became clear to us that none of the men spoke English, but that was okay, because we weren’t sure that Carlton did either.
Another helicopter hovered overhead, low enough to stir up roadside litter and other debris.
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