Red Plague Boxed Set

by Anna Abner

  Stein jogged toward us. “None of you move an inch,” he warned, passing us and banging on Malcolm’s closed door.

  “This better be good,” Malcolm said, eyeballing us as if we were behind the invasion of his privacy.

  “You stuck that little girl in inventory with me yesterday,” Stein said, slightly out of breath.

  He had? I’d left her with Juliet assuming an eight-year-old would be exempt from daily chores.

  “Now my money clip’s missing,” Stein continued. “I looked everywhere. I tore the place apart.” He sent Pollard a vicious look over his shoulder. “The only explanation is, she stole it.”

  “What do you think she stole?” I asked as my stomach soured. If he’d accused Hunny of forging signatures I’d say he was crazy, but stealing? Yeah, that was right up her alley.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Pollard spoke up. “You dropped it somewhere. You can’t accuse a little girl of stealing just because you lost your stuff.”

  “No,” Stein ground out, turning on Pollard. “It’s not crazy. I showed it to her. She really liked it. Then I put it on the table, she leaves for the day, and it’s gone.” He turned back toward Malcolm. “Now does it sound crazy?”

  Malcolm stepped out of his room looking every bit the military officer. “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs with Juliet,” Pollard said.

  “Juliet,” Malcolm bellowed, loud enough to rattle the windows.

  She came to the landing above us, as well as half a dozen other curious people.

  “Bring the girl down here. Double time,” he ordered.

  Looking uncertain and a little scared, Juliet took Hunny by the hand and they descended the stairs.

  “You,” Malcolm said to Hunny, “are accused of stealing a money clip. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pollard stepped between Malcolm and Hunny. “That’s enough,” he said. “She didn’t do it.”

  Hunny edged behind me, and I wrapped her in my arms.

  Ignoring my presence, Malcolm said to Hunny, “Turn out your pockets.” While Stein stood, arms folded, a satisfied smirk on his face.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice rising. “This isn’t right. You can’t force her—”

  Hoyt jogged over and yanked Hunny out of my arms.

  “Now,” Malcolm said.

  Hunny looked to me, and I nodded. There was no other choice.

  She pulled the pockets of her shorts inside out. They were empty. But Hunny was smarter than that. If she had stolen something, it would be well hidden.

  “Lift up your shirt,” Malcolm ordered.

  “Hold on,” Pollard exclaimed. “You’re taking this too far. She’s a little girl. You can’t make her get undressed for you.”

  “One thing I can’t stand is a thief. After everything we’ve done to build this community.” He sent me an annoyed glance. “Fine.” Malcolm turned on Juliet. “Pat her down.”

  “Sorry,” Juliet said to Hunny, and then quickly felt for contraband. “Nothing.”

  Malcolm pointed at Hoyt and then Stein. “Search their quarters,” he ordered. “And Juliet’s, too.”

  “No.” Pollard lurched forward, but Malcolm shoved him back.

  “Do you really want to fight me on this?” he shouted. “After we just talked about this?”

  Grumbling, Pollard brushed away Malcolm’s hand and backed off. But he stayed a step in front of Hunny, Simone, and me.

  I watched in horror as Hoyt and Stein ripped through our belongings. We didn’t have much, but my iPad and song diary were hidden under the dresser. My guitar was in there. Stuff I didn’t want those two jerks pawing through.

  I wanted to make a run for it so badly, but we were trapped.

  I scrutinized the fence. Maybe it wasn’t impenetrable, after all. At the very least, it was climbable.

  But it was never unguarded. And Malcolm, despite his speech, would never let us leave until he wanted us gone.

  Stein threw my pillow, the down one I’d won for beating him and Hoyt in the footrace, over the railing. It hit the pavement and burst open. White feathers floated over black asphalt.

  Hoyt leaned over the railing. “Nothing, Boss.”

  “In either room?” Malcolm called back.

  “They’re both clean.”

  Malcolm growled in frustration. “If I find out you did this,” he warned Hunny, “you’ll be punished. Do you understand?”

  I gestured for Hunny to come to me, and she did. “Leave her alone,” I told Malcolm.

  He paused. “Wait,” he said. “Take off your shoes.”

  I knew by the way Hunny stiffened in my arms that we were in trouble.

  “Give it up already, will you?” I complained.

  “Enough’s enough,” Pollard added.

  Malcolm hunched in front of us and removed Hunny’s shoes. In the right one he found a jeweled money clip pinching together what looked like a couple hundred dollars in twenties.

  “That’s it,” Malcolm burst out, grabbing Hunny by the upper arm. By the expression on her face I could tell it hurt. “I’ve lost my patience with you.”

  “Let her go,” Pollard shouted, trying to wrestle Hunny free, but Malcolm was stronger and he was marching fast for the quarantine barracks.

  Stein appeared, finished tossing our room, and grabbed Pollard, slamming him face first into the wall. “Chill out,” he roared.

  The world shrank to the size of a tiny island. All I saw was our group and all I heard was the hollow in and out of my own breathing.

  I abandoned Pollard to chase after Hunny.

  “Let her go,” I pleaded. “She’s only a little girl.”

  From the roof came a skin-crawling scream. “Incoming!” And everyone froze, our minor conflict forgotten.

  Malcolm stopped so fast I ran into his back, the camouflage outerwear rough against my skin. “How many?” he shouted.

  Incoming what? Reds?

  “Five,” came the answer from the guard on the roof behind us. “No. Wait. There’s more in the trees.”

  A whole pack.

  “But the fence will keep them out,” I said to no one in particular. “Right?”

  Malcolm released Hunny with enough force to send the girl to the ground. I jumped to help her up and then her arms were so tight around me I couldn’t breathe for a sec.

  “They can’t climb,” Malcolm said, already signaling people to gather up. “But they can tear down the fence. Now, grab a gun and get to the roof. We’ll finish this later.”

  “Don’t kill them,” I argued, thinking of Ben. “We have the cure.”

  “A cure?” he turned on me, a furious scowl on his lined and weathered face. “What you brought me is a serial killer. Get out of my way.”

  “Wait.” Pollard grabbed Malcolm’s sleeve, spinning him. “Reds are attracted to light and sound. Get everybody into a room, quiet down, and they’ll walk right by us.”

  “Are you insane?” Malcolm countered. “You want us to hunker down like frightened children? No.” A look of firm resolve crossed his face. “This is our home. We will defend it to our last breath. And you should, too.”

  Pollard swept Hunny off her feet and held her against his chest. “You two okay?” he asked, but he was staring at me.

  “I hate them,” I admitted in a rush.

  “Yeah.” He jostled Hunny as we hurried for the stairs. “I thought we talked about this. We don’t steal from each other.”

  “But Stein’s mean,” Hunny argued, clinging tight. “He’s not like us.”

  “Did he hurt you?” I asked. We jogged the last few yards to our open door.

  “No.”

  The guard on the roof lowered his ladder and men scrambled up to join him, firearms in hand.

  From there I finally spotted the pack. They were about one hundred yards out from camp, running out of the trees, at least ten of them. Gunshots sounded, and I halted in my tracks.

  “What’s wrong?�
� Pollard asked, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder, but then thinking better of it and pulling away.

  “I can’t be around so many guns,” I admitted. I had learned some tolerance, but not enough to listen to an endless barrage of gunfire.

  “Take Hunny,” he said, setting her on her feet. “Go into our room and shut the door. I’ll find you when it’s all over.”

  I clasped Hunny’s hand.

  “I want to stay with Pollard,” she whined.

  “It’s too dangerous,” he said. “Stay with Maya. She’ll keep you safe.”

  Hunny gave me an apprehensive look.

  Pollard quickly found his handgun and box of ammo and climbed toward the roof.

  I ducked into our room with Hunny, shut the door, and curled up on the floor in front of the dresser. Gunshots popped like corn in oil.

  I closed my eyes and imagined the Reds’ bodies being torn apart by bullets. The same way Ben’s body had been wounded days earlier. The way my mom’s had been.

  Bang, twist, blood spray.

  I heard a rattling and realized it was my knees vibrating the wooden dresser drawers.

  “Are you having another panic attack?” Hunny asked, joining me on the cool, tile floor.

  Maybe. “It’s my mom,” I explained, keeping my head in my hands. Somehow not being able to see the little girl made it easier to admit it.

  “Your brother shot your mom?” she clarified.

  I looked up. “How did you know that?”

  “I was listening when I hid in the bathroom.”

  Oh, right. Our little stowaway. “I was at school like a good girl. My brother wasn’t. He ditched and stole a gun from his friend’s dad.” I covered my face again. “She was folding laundry on the living room sofa. And,” I sucked in a shaky breath, “he shot her.”

  Hunny hugged me. “That sucks.”

  I snorted. “Yeah.” Dad had shielded me from a lot of the news reports, but I imagined Mason surprised Mom while she did laundry before getting ready for her eleven o’clock art history class at Meredith College. He must have marched in, aimed the gun, and fired before Mom realized his plan.

  He’d threatened to do it. In his blue bedroom, his hands snapping angrily through the signs. “I wish she was dead. I wish I could kill her.”

  And I had never said a word to anyone.

  “Don’t worry,” Hunny said, giving my back a rough pat.

  Right. Nothing to worry about. Ben was locked up having who-knew-what experiments performed on him, Malcolm had it out for an eight-year-old girl, and guns were going off all around me. No sweat.

  Something in the air shifted. Maybe it was the slowing down of shots or the men’s voices or the sound of angry Reds getting closer, but something was wrong.

  “Let me up,” I said to Hunny.

  A man shouted orders that sounded like gibberish, and then someone ran full speed past our room, boots pounding on the landing. I opened the door only wide enough to squeeze my face through.

  “Stay inside,” Malcolm shouted at me. “They breached the fence.”

  I squeezed out even further. Yep, there were four Reds still standing, and at least five others lying on the ground either dead or wounded. But these final four looked angry and ready to take it out on the uninfected.

  They’d mangled the chain link, twisting and beating it so badly they could walk right over it and barely stumble a step.

  The gunshots slowed to a few, careful pops. They must have been almost out of whatever ammunition they had. Every shot counted.

  One bullet hit the lead Red in the calf. And then the shots stopped altogether as men rearranged themselves, some staying on the roof, most scurrying down to take on the invaders in hand-to-hand combat. Malcolm led the way.

  If those four Reds made it past Malcolm and his men, we were next. We might be able to stay upstairs for a while, but not forever. I looked across the parking lot at Ben’s door. I really needed to see him.

  “Flank them!” Malcolm picked up a long-handled shovel from Rodriguez’s garden and attacked the wounded Red. “Use whatever you can find! Don’t let them leave this—”

  The Red to Malcolm’s right wasn’t intimidated by the shovel. She leapt on him like a rhesus monkey and clamped her jaws onto his throat.

  “Watch out!” Pollard nearly ran into me on way his downstairs. “They got through the fence.”

  I leaned over the railing as the lady tore Malcolm’s throat out with her teeth. His men swarmed, but Smart wasn’t among them, and no one seemed to know what to do. They weren’t medical professionals.

  “Stay in the room,” I barked at Hunny. “I’m going down there to help. Lock yourself in.”

  I rushed downstairs and skidded over asphalt, dropping to my knees on the pavement beside Malcolm. He squirmed, bright red blood pulsing from his throat and bubbling between his lips. I clapped both hands over the most serious wound. His blood, hot and slick, pumped against my palm, an erratic rhythm not at all in sync with the spasms in his legs.

  “Just relax,” I said, smiling reassuringly, though there was no hope for him. From that distance I saw what I hadn’t been able to upstairs. The Red had severed his carotid artery and there was no easy way to fix it, certainly not in the middle of a parking lot with no medical equipment and no electricity. “Try to breathe,” I added.

  But it was over quickly. He ceased writhing, and then his blood quieted against my palm until I couldn’t feel any pulse at all.

  I looked up and saw that the four Reds had gotten within feet of my position and I hadn’t even noticed. They’d been beaten to death by Malcolm’s men with garden equipment or the butt of a rifle or whatever tool had been handy.

  Pollard approached, blood splatter on his jeans and a scratch on his cheek. He gave me a sad, half-hearted smile.

  “We need to get the fence back up,” he said. “There might be more.” He left with several other men, but they just stood at the perimeter and stared at the downed chain link. Slowly, I cleaned my hands as best I could and then trudged upstairs.

  I found Hunny, Simone, and Juliet all huddled in our room.

  “I hate it here,” Hunny whined, flopping onto Simone’s bottom bunk. “I wish we had never left the truck stop.”

  “I’m with you.” I pulled the curtain aside and peered across the parking lot at Ben’s closed door. “This was a mistake.”

  Pollard returned about an hour later, shaky and spotted with blood. He guzzled water, spilling some down the front of his shirt.

  “What’s going on out there?” I asked.

  “Not much,” he stated, pulling off his stained shirt and wiping his face with it. “People are confused.”

  Bam, bam, bam. Someone was at our door.

  “Hey.” Hoyt poked his head in without waiting for an invitation. I glanced uneasily at the flecks of fresh gore on his shirt and forearms. “We’re having a camp meeting in the rec room in five minutes.” He slammed our door shut and knocked on the next door over.

  I stared at the brownish blood drying on both of my hands. If one random pack could break through the fence so easily…

  “I don’t feel safe here anymore,” I said. “I want to get Ben and leave.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pollard sighed heavily, and I knew the responsibility of taking care of all of us weighed on him. “Just because Malcolm’s gone doesn’t mean the others will let us take Ben out of here. Let’s go see what the vibe is in the meeting before we decide anything.”

  He may have needed more time to formulate a plan, but I was done going along with Malcolm’s rules and regulations. Ben wasn’t a favorite toy they could hide from me. He was a human being and my friend. I wasn’t taking anymore of their crap.

  The rec room was noisy with conversation when we walked in, but was it my imagination that the men hushed when we entered the room? So, we were still outsiders. It occurred to me we might be receiving our walking papers.

  As everyone settled into chairs and
onto couches, we sat at a circular table, scooting our chairs around to face Hoyt at the far side of the room. He clapped a couple times, cleared his throat, and everyone shut up.

  “Okay,” he started, making nervous little gestures with his still-bloodied hands. “I wanted to bring you all in here to talk. Malcolm’s dead.” The information did not seem to surprise anyone.

  I scanned the room for familiar faces. I counted Juliet and all the camp’s men minus three.

  “Where’s Smart?” I whispered at Pollard.

  He shrugged.

  “I’m taking over the leadership role in camp,” Hoyt continued. “And I’ve got a lot of new ideas. First, and most important, is we gotta build a better fence. I think everyone agrees with me on this one.” Several heads bobbed.

  “As soon as we’re done in here,” he continued, “we’re gonna leave one lookout and drive over to the gym and tear that place to pieces. Metal. Machines. Bricks. I don’t care what, anything we can drag back. I want this new wall to be really high and really wide. I’m talking twenty feet high if we can do it. And surrounded by obstacles. Cars, trucks, twisted metal. And a mote isn’t out of the question.”

  The longer he talked, the more animated he became, his voice rising. “Why can’t we get a bunch of shovels and go out there and build a pit all the way around this place? Skin eaters fall in and can’t climb out. I mean, it seems so obvious.” More heads nodded.

  I had my doubts about Hoyt’s leadership style. I appreciated his enthusiasm, but I wasn’t sure if he could get things done. Not the way Malcolm had. What he was proposing would take ten men a lot of time to finish. And while he and his men were cruising the base scavenging for scrap metal, they’d be leaving the camp vulnerable to attack.

  “While I’m thinking of new ideas, I’m tired of the chore system,” Hoyt said. Several people applauded in agreement.

  I glanced at Pollard, and he subtly shook his head in shared amusement. Hoyt had to be kidding. Why was he so excited to dump a successful system? I didn’t like Malcolm, but his community ran smoothly. Beds to sleep in. Three meals a day. Clean clothes once a week.