Black Sun by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 62

Ryan and Abby left the house as quietly as they had entered. Night was falling and based on experience, both knew that loud sounds travel furthest at night. Using the house's backyard as a shortcut, they found their way back to Route 90 and, walking north, soon found themselves under the overpass of Duanesburg Road. Soon after was the overpass of Route 88. There would be several of these along the way, but otherwise, it was a straight shot up Route 90. But the highway continued to be lined with cars, trucks and buses—all having become mausoleums of twisted metal and shattered glass. This time, Ryan knew to stay clear of these above ground burial crypts, making a point to walk down the center line when he could. Abby understood as well, having seen death a few times too many. She clung to Ryan’s side, gripping his hand as she tried to avoid looking at the wrecks that had piled up along the highway. Occasionally, the dead became so abundant that the smell of decay left them close to fainting. Ryan’s solution was quick and simple. From his pack, he removed two shirts and, tearing them into wide strips, passed one to Abby. She had already known what he was thinking and wrapped it around her face, covering her nose and mouth—as did Ryan. But the cloth was too thin, and the smell of decomposition still crept through its fibers. It spite of this, it was better than nothing, and they did work to some degree, allowing them to avoid another bout of vomiting.

Continuing their journey, Ryan and Abby noticed the absence of houses. These seemed to be replaced by industrial parks and businesses—places of large scale manufacturing. Stopping occasionally to remove their shoes, they checked their feet for blisters and the beginnings of open sores. This was done at Ryan’s insistence. So far, they were lucky to have evaded such injuries, but they were still a long way from their destination. As they passed under the 159 overpass, Ryan was able to see through the moonless night and marveled over the acres of forest that lay before them. Pointing it out to Abby, she was not able to adjust her vision as quickly, but within only a few minutes the dark woods appeared, bringing her imagination to life. With the mind of an artist, she conjured up image upon image of dark things that, in her mind, crept around rocks and trees, waiting to spring on anything that could be shredded into a meal.

As they walked further, Ryan and Abby found themselves surrounded by the darkness imposed on them by the sprawling woods, made sinister by the moonless night. But the smell of the forest was hypnotic and having left the city behind them, they found themselves thrown into another world, a mix of fear and fantasy. Slowing their pace, they stared out into the ghostly woods, ready to run should something leap out from the trees. Abby had become especially frightened and spoke to Ryan in a whispered voice.

“Could we move a little faster?” she asked. “This is starting to creep me out.”

Ryan was overwhelmed by the dark beauty that had surrounded them, and barely heard Abby as she begged for a hasty exit. Grabbing him by the arm, she jostled him back to the highway, where they stood in wonder of the darkness that enveloped them. But Abby’s imaginative adventure had come to an end, brought to a stop by her fear of the unknown.

“Ryan,” she said. “Can we get going?” He had heard every word, but some of him was still walking through the woods—something he now saw as a place of solitude. “You know,” he began. “This would be a great place to go camping. No one would ever find us, and we could have sex under the stars.”

Abby became slightly aroused at Ryan’s proposition. She had sex in a few odds places, including on the picnic table at the top of Mount Defiance in Ticonderoga but never in the woods. However, the only thing she wanted was to keep going and leave the forest’s ghostly darkness behind.

“Ryan,” she said. “I really want to get going. So can we just go?” Throughout their imaginary adventure, Abby continued her grip on Ryan’s hand and was now pulling him a few steps towards the highway. The fantasies that had filled his mind released their grip and Ryan, having returned to the land of the dead, was able to focus on the need to cover as much distance as possible before the sun rose.

Continuing on Route 90 they quickened their pace hoping, at some point, to encounter a place where they could find shelter and perhaps a bit of food. But as they made their way along the highway, Ryan continued to search the area for anything that might help them in their travels—a store, house, even a warehouse would be enough. But the farther they walked, the fewer places he saw. Their only alternative was to build a shelter in the woods and hide out there until the next night. Anticipating this change of plans, he surmised that the only other things they would need were food, water and warmth. And they would have to be camped a few miles into the woods to avoid being seen. For now, they would keep walking and hope for the best.