Sunfall: Episode 1

  “Heard that, too. Also heard it was bullshit.”

  The man shrugged, laughing haughtily. “Hey, ya never know.”

  Sam nodded, then began making his way through the crowd. Brushing the shoulders of several sweaty people, he found himself apologizing every few seconds. Finally, he stood at the front of the concourse. A young girl with the Sandcastle logo on her tank-top stopped him from going any further.

  “Sorry, buddy,” she said, placing her palm on his chest. “Can't let you in.” She had auburn hair and braces, despite being Becky's age.

  “Is someone hurt?” Sam asked.

  She shook her head. “Don't know anything yet.”

  “Please. I've had medical training. Maybe I can help?”

  She glanced at him suspiciously, smelling his bullshit from miles away. “You an EMT? A doctor?”

  “No... not really.”

  “Well, then there's probably nothing you can do. Besides, the paramedics are already on the way.”

  Reluctantly, Sam nodded.

  He glanced over at the wave pool, where a smaller crowd of people had formed. Some of them were kneeling, attending to the hurt party. Sam examined their faces, which ranged from shocked to downright disgusted. Whatever happened, it was nasty.

  Just when Sam was ready to give up and head back to the Jeep, another loud outburst broke out, this time near the lazy river. It was from a grown man, crying as he abandoned his inflatable donut and jumped out of the cool water. Sam looked on with the others. Some of them gasped when they saw what was causing the man to scream. Some screamed themselves. Some placed their hands over their mouths, unable to utter a single sound.

  At first, Sam was unsure of what he was seeing. The man's flesh was boiled red, blackening in patches on his arms and legs. He screamed until his voice gave out. Once he reached the concrete near the concession stand, he dropped to his knees, holding his abdomen. Employees immediately rushed to his rescue, but backed away once they got close. A woman and her son at a nearby table did the same, leaving their lunch behind as they fled.

  “Why aren't they helping that guy?” someone in the crowd asked.

  Sam wondered the same thing.

  The girl with auburn hair assured the crowd that there were lifeguards on duty, and that they were trained to handle any and all situations that may arise. He thought about rushing past the teenager, running over to the man clearly needing medical attention, and seeing if there was anything he could do. There was nothing she could've done to stop him. He pushed forward when more cries came from the other end of the water park, closer to where Sam was standing, near the kiddie pool. Everyone snapped their heads in the direction of the frantic noise. A few onlookers slowly backed away, revealing a woman standing alone in the shallow water.

  “Oh my God!” she yelled. “Oh my God! Someone help me!”

  She dropped to her knees, splashing water on her arms and face. Sam couldn't tell if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he swore he saw smoke rising from her flesh. A second later, flames began dancing on her arms, and Sam's heart skipped.

  The crowd behind him collectively scattered.

  Oh, God...

  The woman's face distorted as her flesh leaked down her cheeks. Surrounded in flames, her skin turned the color of recently spilled blood before caramelizing into tough, black blots. In the matter of minutes, her charred corpse collapsed into the water, steam wafting from her cooling bones.

  People panicked. A woman standing next to Sam barfed into her hand. A few others looked away in disgust. He glanced toward the man who had jumped out of the lazy river. His body had ignited, becoming completely engulfed in flames.

  Screams surrounded him. Something crashed into his shoulder. He turned to see a man wildly thrashing his arms as if he were at a heavy metal concert. Flames incinerated the flesh on his arms and legs. Quickly, he became a giant fireball, running in no particular direction. His screams died as the fire swallowed his skin.

  People started running frantically, colliding into one another, knocking each other to the ground. Some were trampled immediately, and no one stopped to help them. Screams multiplied with each passing second. Sam watched a man burst into flames, his eyes exploding from their sockets, popping like over-stuffed pimples.

  Auburn-Hair grabbed Sam by the back of his shirt, dragging him into the ticket booth, where a few others hid.

  “What the fuck is happening?” a young woman asked. She had her nose pierced along with a few visible, colorless tattoos.

  “Terrorism,” uttered the burly tattooed man next to her. “Has to be. Chemical warfare. No other explanation for this shit.”

  “I don't feel different,” Sam said. He watched a woman pushing a stroller explode into flames, like the feathers of a phoenix.

  “What do you mean?” the man asked.

  “How come we're not on fire?”

  The four of them looked around. Everyone outside of the booth was engulfed in flames, or already reduced to ash.

  “I... I don't know.”

  Sam stuck his hand outside of the booth, where shade and sunlight drew a fine line. He felt a hand collapse on his shoulder.

  “Don't do that, man,” Auburn-Hair said.

  He ignored her. His fingers neared the barrier. As soon as his hand left the safety of the shadow, he felt it. Something beneath his flesh swam. Burned. Like he had stuck his fingers inside a roaring fireplace. He retracted them immediately.

  “Does it hurt?” the tattooed chick asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, rubbing his sweaty fingers together. “Like you wouldn't believe.”

  “What the hell is going on out there, man?” the biker-looking dude asked.

  “It must be the sun,” Sam said.

  “The sun?”

  “What else could it be?”

  “Bullshit. The sun can't cause people to catch fire.”

  “Yes it can,” Auburn-Hair said. “I saw a History Channel special about it. It's called a solar flare or something.”

  The burly biker laughed. “A solar flare would wipe the whole fucking planet out, kid. Nuh-huh. This is terrorism.”

  “It doesn't make a difference what it is,” Sam said. “We can't hide in here forever.”

  “Damn right,” the biker said. “I'm making a run for it.”

  “Gerry, no,” the tattooed chick said. “You'll end up like everyone else.”

  People fled from the water park, into the parking lot. Most of them never reached their cars.

  “Fuck that! Running is our best option, babe.”

  Gerry's girlfriend didn't argue any longer. She put her hand on his shoulder, her eyes pleading. Gerry shook his head, brushing her hand away.

  “I can make it,” Gerry said.

  She shook her head. “No, you won't.”

  “Goddammit, Jenny. Are you coming with me or not?”

  Jenny started crying. Behind her, a man started climbing into the ticket booth through an open window. Half of his face had burned away, his scalp raw and oozing puss. The man hollered, begging for help. Jenny screamed when she caught a glimpse of the disfigured man. The tender skin on his chest was bleeding badly. The glasses on his face had been melted to the skin around his eyes. His lips twitched and clear fluids poured from the small opening that was once his mouth. An agonizing groan escaped his lips as he fell onto the booth's floor. The man's skin seemed to liquefy on contact. Flesh-colored splatter caked the laminated tile.

  “I'm getting the fuck outta here!” Gerry screamed, watching the dying man crawl around in his own slop. Steam rose from his decaying body. The man looked like chewed food moments before the swallow.

  Before Jenny could protest, Gerry hightailed it from the booth. He got halfway into the parking lot before he started screaming. Swatting his arms in the air like he was being attacked by a horde of hungry mosquitoes, he dropped to his knees. Within seconds, flames baked his flesh, forcing the man to sizzle o
n the blacktop like an egg. He withered to ash right before Jenny's tear-drenched eyes. Mindlessly, she took off after him. Sam grabbed her wrist, dragging her back under the safety of the ticket booth's shadow.

  “Don't. It's too late,” Sam said.

  “We have to get out of here,” Auburn-Hair said.

  “Agreed. But if we step one foot out there, we're dead.” Chaos ensued around them. People ran, screaming frantically, while their flesh sizzled and bubbled before their very eyes.

  Sam looked to the parking lot, wondering if the kids were safe. He couldn't make out his Jeep in the sea of vehicles.

  “What do we do?” Auburn-Hair asked.

  He looked around, surveying the madness. People fell to their knees, remaining there until the flames torched them completely. The woman who had been pushing her baby was now a blackened clump of flesh and bone. The fire that consumed her continued to rage. The stroller had fallen on its side. A wad of burnt gristle lay inside, resembling no baby Sam had ever seen. Next to the stroller, lay half a dozen beach towels.

  Sam pointed ahead with his chin. “Maybe we can throw those over us. Maybe they'll protect us.”

  “Maybe they won't,” Jenny whispered, her eyes fixed on Gerry's ashy remains.

  “What other choice do we have?”

  “We could stay here until it's over.” Jenny faced him. “Wait it out.”

  “Wait it out?” Sam asked. “Look, this isn't a passing shower. Without water, we won't last a few days in this heat.”

  “Maybe it will only be a few hours,” Jenny said, still trying to convince herself.

  “Maybe it's forever,” Auburn-Hair suggested.

  “Look, I have three kids waiting for me in my Jeep. I don't even know...” He stopped, a lump rising in his throat. “I don't even know if they're okay.”

  Jenny said nothing. Auburn-Hair's lips trembled.

  “I'm going with you,” Auburn-Hair said.

  Sam nodded. “Last chance,” he told Jenny.

  The tattooed woman started crying, sinking to her knees.

  I'll take that as a no, Sam thought. Even he began doubting whether or not his plan was going to work.

  -6-

  Sam reached for the towels, his hands leaving the shadowy zone of safety, trespassing into the forbidden light. The peculiar sensation of someone lighting a match beneath his skin traveled down his fingers and up his arm. He wasted no time. Quickly, he lunged into the sunlight. Pain entered him. Invisible flames licked his skin. Sam grabbed the towels, retreating into the shadows hastily. He rolled around the ground, trying to vanquish the imaginary fire.

  “You okay?” Auburn-Hair asked.

  Jenny continued crying, her head tucked between her knees.

  Sam ceased his rolling fit. He sat up, examining himself, making sure his flesh was unmarked. “Yes,” he said, inspecting himself thoroughly. “God, that felt weird. Like I was going to explode or something.”

  “Well, thank Christ you didn't.” Auburn-Hair's eyes darted back and forth. “You think this is going to work?”

  “It better.” He stood up, grabbing the towels. He handed one to Auburn-Hair. Glancing at Jenny, he tossed her the third. “In case you change your mind.”

  He draped the Batman towel over his head, making sure his arms were completely covered. He watched Auburn-Hair wrap herself in the plain red towel. She reminded him of Little Red Riding Hood.

  “In case I don't make it...” He jiggled his keys in front of him. “My Jeep is parked near the end of the lot. In the shade. Please... if you can. Make sure my kids are safe.” He shook his head. “What am I talking about? You probably have your own family to take care of.”

  “No,” she said. “It's alright. I'll do it.”

  Sam smiled. “Name is Sam by the way. Sam Wright.”

  “Amanda Simmons.”

  “Nice to meet you, Amanda.” He sighed. “Ready?”

  “Not really.”

  “Me neither. Let's go.”

  Sam turned toward the light. He stepped forward, the threshold of sunlight growing near. His heart pounded with each foot forward. Please, God. If you're up there...

  “We're going to run,” he said. “Follow me. And keep up.”

  “Okay—”

  “Now!”

  Sam sprinted into the parking lot, dodging the small ashy mounds of the dead. Few people remained living. Some were huddled beneath a gazebo. Some had been trapped under their vehicles. They yelled at Sam as he rushed past them. They told him to turn back, that something was “happening.”

  His feet pounded against the blacktop, his eyes alert, searching for the Jeep. Hearing Amanda's sandals clacking behind him motivated him to run faster. In the near distance, he spotted the Jeep. It was exactly where he had left it, in the shadow of a tall hotel. As the Jeep became more distinct, he saw Becky sitting in the driver's seat, her hands tightly gripped around the steering wheel.

  “It's the green Jeep!” he shouted to Amanda.

  Amanda didn't respond. He glanced over his shoulder, catching the red-head trip and tumble to the pavement. The blacktop tore her arms and legs up badly, but nothing compared to what came next. The towel separated from her body. She began to scream as her flesh sizzled. Within seconds, lesions opened up on her arms, legs, and face. Her screams started dying when her body exploded into a ball of flickering flames. Sam watched her frail figure disappear inside the fire.

  His calves started burning. He glanced down, realizing the Batman towel wasn't meant for adults. A small portion of his legs were exposed. Wanting to voyage back to Amanda in some heroic attempt to save her, he realized it was far too late. The girl was long gone. He turned away from her, her last cries for help tugging at his chest. He gazed at the Jeep, making eye contact with his eldest daughter. She was in tears, waving him on frantically. Ignoring the phantom flames that nipped at his ankles, Sam sped ahead.

  Becky hopped into the back after opening the door for him. Sam jumped inside, quickly throwing his towel over the window, blocking out the sunlight. Once he was satisfied that the sun couldn't hurt them, he turned to the kids. The three of them were huddled in the backseat, crying, fear encrusting their faces.

  “Everyone okay?” Sam asked.

  “W-what happened o-out there?” Becky asked. “We saw people... on fire.”

  Sam didn't know how to properly explain it. “Are you okay?” he repeated.

  The kids nodded subtly.

  “Good. We're getting out of here. Stay low, and whatever you do, don't let—”

  Something crashed against the window. Dana screamed, tears streaming down her face. Sam nearly hopped out of the driver's seat, his ass lifting a good inch off the leather. Quickly, he turned to see Jenny. Sponge-Bob protected her head. She sobbed uncontrollably. Mouthing the words, “Help me,” she tapped the glass. “I can feel it inside me,” she whimpered.

  “Go to the passenger's side!” Sam shouted.

  She scurried to the other side of the Jeep unscathed. Slamming the door behind her, she hunched into a ball, draping the towel over her, covering every inch of skin.

  “You're okay now,” Sam said, rubbing her shoulder. He turned, looking into the backseat. “We all are,” he said, although he hardly knew if that were true.

  -7-

  GAMMOUTH, NEW JERSEY/ 11:06 AM

  Beatrice Allen was mowing the front lawn—something her out-of-work husband was supposed to do—when she noticed something strange out the corner of her eye. Little Henry Townsend from across the street was running around his front lawn, slapping himself wildly, as if he had disturbed a wasps' nest. He started crying, rubbing his face vigorously. Beatrice killed the mower, cupped her hands around her mouth, and asked poor Henry if he was okay.

  The kid shrieked. Beatrice sprinted across the front lawn, into the street. She got to the Townsend's property when she noticed something horribly wrong with Henry's face. He was sweating, only it wasn't persp
iration running down his cheeks; it was dribbles of flesh, oozing off his body, dripping to the grassy surface below. Rushing to the boy's aid, Beatrice let out a terrified utterance of her own.

  Before she reached him, Henry combusted spontaneously. Hellfire swallowed the kid whom Beatrice was actually quite fond of, in a motherly sort of way.

  As the kid stood on his front lawn like a burning monk, Beatrice felt her neck become unusually hot. Sweat poured down her back, into the crack of her ass. It was heated. Scalding. Before she ignited, Beatrice screeched like a hungry gull.

  -8-

  LONDON, ENGLAND/ 4:48 AM

  Martin Brower hopped off the bus just as he did every weekday morning around five. Today was different. Or at least he hoped it would be.

  Rushing to the center of town, he couldn't control his excitement. He glanced down at his watch. Only three minutes late, not terrible. He quickened his pace. Maybe she won't cut off my ball-bag, after all.

  He turned a corner, spotting the magnificent fountain where they had held their first kiss. Tucking the flowers beneath his arm, he scanned the area for Anne, expecting to see her leaning against the rail, arms tucked beneath her tiny breasts, her foot twitching with anticipation. Instead, only a few pigeons fluttered around the area. Couples sat at tiny tables, enjoying tea and an early breakfast (or really late dinner), laughing amongst themselves. Soothing music quietly played from inside a coffee shop.

  Once he reached the fountain, he glanced around anxiously. No sign of Anne. Weird, she's not one to be late. He reached inside his pocket and grabbed the small jewelry box. He opened it, setting his eyes on the sparkling rock inside. It's perfect. Just like Anne. He smiled while playing out the day's events in his mind. Things were going to go off without a hitch, so his gut told him.

  On the other side of the fountain, someone screamed. Martin glanced through the water and saw a group of people rush toward a fallen woman. Anne? he wondered, pocketing the ring. He scurried around the fountain, keeping his eye on the gathering crowd. Not Anne. Please not be Anne. He was relieved when he saw the woman had different color hair than his future wife.

  Martin watched with morbid fascination as the woman convulsed. She was screaming, clawing at her neck and face. I wonder who her dealer is, Martin thought, internally chuckling. The woman grew more violent as time passed, eventually attacking the people who had come to her aid.