“The Matron…” I said, the word now starting to make sense to me.
George sighed. “Shit.”
Stone and George took us to the panic room. It wasn’t far, thankfully.
Stone knocked an intricate pattern, the knob rattled, and the door cracked open. A person didn’t step out, however. Instead, we were greeted with a double-barrel shotgun.
“It’s me, Nick. Relax,” Stone said. “I’ve brought company too.”
The door opened wider, but the gun stayed in place. Holding it was Nick Rider.
Two electric lanterns lit the small room. Nick looked about twenty years older. What was left of his hair had gone a few shades grayer, and the wrinkles around his mouth and at the corners had grown deeper. Seeing him like that brought on a great sadness inside me, not to mention fresh guilt for ever leaving in the first place. I knew Berretti and Credence were just waiting for the Scavs to go on their run before they began their little ritual, but rational thinking, even in a time like this, didn’t make me feel any better.
Chewy snaked around my legs and barked. His tail moved fast enough to make his entire body wiggle. I dropped to my knees and let him jump into my arms. A series of his slimy kisses followed.
Behind Nick, Mia stepped forward. She was holding Monica, who was all wrapped up in her fruit themed blanket, as quiet as can be. I noticed a spot of blood, which stood out starkly against the yellow of the bananas and the pale green of the watermelons. The momentary joy I felt was smothered by fresh rage again.
“Are you okay?” Ell asked as she hugged Mia and planted a kiss on the baby’s forehead.
Mia nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. No one was okay. Among the others were Sharon Hart, Liz Cobb, Wendy, Dean and Phyllis Maples, their seven-year-old granddaughter Paige, Xavier Sturgeon, Gregory Dorner, Isla Diego, and Marcello Al-Hajri. That was it. Were the others already dead? Or worse?
The sight of them simultaneously warmed me and broke my heart. In a matter of months, hundreds of people were slaughtered. This place was now empty.
Was there any hope for us? Did we stand a chance, these few people—three of whom were a dog, a baby, and a child—against a supernatural force we hardly understood, whose nature always seemed to be changing?
My brain said no, we were screwed, but my heart…my heart said there was a possibility, because as long as I remained breathing, there was no giving up. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m so glad you guys are okay,” Mia said. She parted from Ell and hugged me. She even sneaked a kiss on my cheek, an act I never thought I’d see in a million-billion years.
“So am I,” Nick added.
He shook my hand firmly, and then pulled me in for a hug of his own. I smelled a bit of alcohol on his breath. A quick glance behind showed an opened bottle of gin on a nearby end table. No shame in that. A gulp of gin would’ve gone a long way for me right then.
I also saw the others, silent so far, hide themselves in fear. Marcello was shaking, almost violently, with his arm around Isla’s shoulders; the little girl, Paige, had a thumb in her mouth and her head on her grandmother’s lap; Xavier was staring at the blank wall as if in a catatonic state; and Dorner looked paler than the snow.
“We need to get outta here,” Mia said. “We just need to go. The look in Berretti’s eyes—I’ve seen it before. It’s the same look I saw on the crackheads in Toronto who’d knife you for a dollar. It’s a look of desperation.” She pulled Monica closer to her face. “There’s something wrong with him, and he doesn’t give a shit about murdering people. I won’t let them take my baby. Goddamn it, I won’t!”
Mia’s no swearing rule was officially voided—also understandable.
Wendy cleared her throat. Her hair was a disheveled mess. Her red bangs, sweaty and clumpy, stuck to her forehead. “He’s not been himself ever since he met that woman. They’ve been—I don’t know, they’ve been weird. Now they’ve carried out mass murder.” Her own eyes shined with tears.
“John’s sick,” Sharon said. “We don’t have the tools here to properly diagnose him, but he’s been sick for a while now. We think it’s cancer.” Without warning, she doubled over and sobbed. “God, what is happening?!”
Ell moved closer to Sharon and hugged her. “It’s gonna be okay, Shar. We’ll make it.”
After taking a few deep breaths to get herself under control, Sharon said, “He’s desperate. I heard them talking before all the—the killing. Credence promised him eternal life or some crazy bullcrap like that.”
“Jesus Christ,” Stone said, shaking his head.
“Well, whatever it is they’re doing,” I said, “we can’t let it happen.” I looked into every single person’s eyes. “I’ll die before I let them take this place.”
I knew that was a very real possibility.
“There’s one more tank in the garage. With that and the one you three came here on, we can leave,” Nick said. “We can go. We can go right now, and save ourselves from more bloodshed.”
George shook his head. “You all can take them. I’m fighting. Two more of my Scavs are dead because of that idiot Berretti. Now my friends are in danger. I won’t let him get away with it.”
Nick closed his eyes. “There’s no need to be stupid, George. It’s only a matter of time before they bring those monsters upon us. We need to move while we still have a chance.”
George, however, put his foot down. I could tell by the hard look on his face that there was no convincing him. And you know what? I understood his logic.
The City, it was a place worth fighting for.
I said, “I’m with you, George.”
“So am I,” Ell echoed.
“And me,” Stone said.
“There’s no need—” Nick began before I cut him off.
“Nick, you need to go. You need to take the others and get them somewhere safe, far from here.”
“I’m not leaving you—”
“Please, Nick,” Ell said. “There’s a child and a baby.”
“And you know how to drive the tank,” George added.
Nick looked at the Maples, an old couple verging on ancient, at Mia and Monica, at the others, and then back to us. “All right.”
“We’ll be okay,” George said, grinning at Ell, Stone, and me. “We’re Scavs.”
Nick and the others left us minutes later. Mia was crying harder than I thought possible from her. Seeing this twisted my stomach. She begged us to go with her, but I couldn’t, and because of that I knew Stone and Ell couldn’t either.
“We’ll see you soon,” I promised. I smiled, but she didn’t buy it.
They left the City not long after, and I’m pleased to report they got away without problem, heading for the military bunker we had left just days earlier.
At the hub, the ritual had already begun. I knew this because Ell and I followed Nick and the others to the garage. We were their cover if anything were to go wrong. And once the ritual began, the infected citizens of the City didn’t care about a few flies escaping the trap. All they cared about was keeping the wraiths happy while they brought forth the Matron.
I hoped, at least.
The monsters revealed themselves as I watched the snow swallow up the red taillights of the tank, as the others got farther and farther away from the City. I heard them first, a droning-buzzing sound, the kind you hear after a loud explosion goes off much too close to your ears.
As the wraiths came closer, the air changed. It grew colder—not the temperature, but colder in the same way that death is cold. Then their dark shapes emerged through the haze of white.
I froze for a second, but only for a second, thanks to Ell. She grabbed my gloved hand and dragged me inside as we made our way back to George and Stone.
We went through the threshold of the open door, the wind actually spurring us forward rather than blowing us back. Once inside, we entered the panic room and locked the door.
The droning-buzzing grew louder. It was the type of sound t
hat could drive you insane. I remember how I felt close to insanity at that point, and I remember wishing I had just left altogether. Because the wraiths scared me more than anything.
The fact they could lock onto my deepest fears, bring them to life, and possibly turn me raving mad didn’t scare me so much as they themselves did. They were alien in the deepest sense of the word.
“We got company,” Ell said, cool and calm as ever. I admired her for that.
“Let ‘em come,” Stone replied. He was on his knees. An open emergency roadside kit sat before him. He dug through it, tossing away pliers, gloves, and bright yellow caution signs. “Yes!” He held up a handful of flares. “Something useful. Let’s burn these fuckers to hell.” He gave us all one. I shoved mine into my jacket pocket.
Burning the fuckers to hell was the plan, but that was as far as that plan went. How we would do it, I had no idea. The flares weren’t going to do the trick, that was for sure. We’d need a damn supernova.
“Can you see where they’re going?” George whispered. He cracked the door open. A gust of wind almost knocked him off his feet, and for a big guy like him, that was hard to do.
I peered around him. “Looks like the hub.”
“They know we’re here,” Ell said.
“Bullshit,” Stone barked. “They’re weird, but they’re not all-knowing.” His voice lost some of its confidence near the end of the sentence. I think because he knew Ell was right.
“Do you hear that?” George asked.
For a moment I heard nothing…but then a low thrumming replaced the silence, building in intensity. The ground began to tremble before it shook violently.
I pitched forward and stumbled into the snow. The door flew open and the sky, I saw, was blacker than ever, which I previously thought was impossible.
The reason for this revealed itself shortly after: more wraiths had joined the party. No longer were there hundreds; now there were thousands.
The ritual had officially begun.
6
The Ritual
I froze before I made it two steps outside. Not in fear, but in awe. The hub’s roof had cracked open, and a stream of black shadows stretched upward. The only reason I was able to see them was because they were darker than the sky. Void-black. Staring into it was like staring into an abyss of nothingness…yet a haunting, ethereal glow emanated from them.
“What in the fu—” Stone began.
Ell grabbed my jacket. She clicked off her flashlight just as about fifty of the monsters floated by, paying us no mind. “Don’t move.”
They advanced in single file, like subways controlled by a central computer. Hive-minded. They passed so closely that the cold they brought with them chilled me worse than the arctic temperatures ever could.
George lifted his gun, but Stone, his mouth hanging open, shoved the barrel down.
“No,” he whispered. “They don’t see us.”
Or they did, but they didn’t care about us. We were in the jaws of a sleeping beast. Any wrong movement, any wrong sound, could wake it up, and then we’d become its next meal.
“Seriously? We need to kill these bastards while we can,” George snapped.
“Wait, wait,” Ell said, her hand up. “Just wait.”
I was in no hurry, trust me.
“You and Stone get the other tank. We need an escape plan. We’ll have to move quick once we save the survivors.” Ell’s eyes burned with intensity. “Meet us up there as soon as you can. Can you two handle that?”
Stone nodded. “Hell yes.”
“Good.”
Once in the clear, Ell let go of me and followed the wraiths toward the hub. I looked back at Stone and George and shrugged.
Then I went with her.
The foundation of the hub had cracked. Walls and barricades had fallen. We perched ourselves among the rubble and took in the horror, all of us silent and sick. The terrible noise earlier, followed by the shaking ground, was the reason for this.
The gym floor was split open. A large fissure zigzagged down the middle. The roof had also cracked. Parts of the ceiling had caved in, showcasing the black sky above. And although I couldn’t see the monsters, I felt their presence close by. They weren’t my main focus, however.
My focus was the people still alive. I counted thirty. They were tied and chained together in bunches, beaten and bloody. Most of them looked defeated and lackadaisical, like they were waiting for the Reaper to put them out of their misery.
I counted more among the dead. Tinted Visor, AKA Larry, dragged two bodies across the hardwood. They left a snail-trail of red in their wake. I recognized one, Charles Hu, but not the other because the corpse was mutilated beyond recognition. This was the same tactic that Bob Ballard used on Mikey in Woodhaven: torture and draw out the suffering, so the victim emits more fear, resulting in a tastier meal for the wraiths.
My heart sank toward my knotted stomach. Pity outweighed the fear and anger, but only for a moment. A minute later, Berretti banged through the nearest fire exit on our left with Credence and Ray, AKA Gas Mask. Credence and Berretti held low-burning candles, which gave off enough light to brighten their haggard faces. Seeing the smirk on Berretti’s filled me with rage. If I was by myself and not with Ell, I would’ve easily left our hiding spot and killed the bastard where he stood. But doing so would not only jeopardize Ell’s life, but the lives of those still living. It was too risky. We had to play this by ear.
Credence looked like a completely different woman. She no longer seemed meager and weak; now she stood tall and wore a wide grin. Her being a victim had all been an act.
Ray and Larry parted from them and fanned out among the crowd of survivors as Berretti and Credence, stepping over the other dead bodies, approached the fissure. Berretti snapped his fingers at Ray. “Get on with it, then.”
Ray quickly hustled to a group of three hostages in the far corner. Jason Smith, Bella West, and their teenage son Pete lolled their heads as if drugged. I remembered Pete at Mia’s birthday party teaching the little blonde girl a lesson in static electricity with the balloons and her hair. I remembered how happy the little girl looked, and how happy Pete looked for making her happy. Now he looked like he was half-dead. In a few seconds, he would be dead.
It happened sickeningly fast, but when I play it back in my mind, I see it in slow motion. Ray pulled a blade from his pocket, snagged Pete’s hair, yanked his head back, and then slit his throat. Blood sprayed and drenched his screaming parents.
“Oh my God,” Ell gasped. “Nooooo.”
Then the blade slid across Jason and Bella’s throats. I turned away and heaved, but nothing came up. Ell suddenly swung her gun around and aimed. I could feel the anger coming off her in waves.
“Not yet,” I whispered.
“No! We can’t let them kill anyone else.”
When I turned back, Ray and Larry were dragging the bodies toward the others lined up around the fractured floor. They were positioned in a triangular pattern, which I realized resembled the crude symbol tattooed on the back of Credence’s hand.
“Stone and George will be here soon.” But they had been gone longer than they said they would. Had something happened? Had the wraiths gotten to them?
“Where’s the Scavs?” Berretti snapped at his two helpers. He was practically foaming at the mouth. “Did you get them?”
Credence moved behind Berretti and hugged him around the waist. “Leave them be. It’s too late now. She’s coming. I can feel her, and she’s hungry. She needs more blood.” Surprisingly, Berretti looked uneasy. When Credence shifted in front of him, she saw this, and she placed a hand on his cheek and stroked it. “Have no fear, my love. She will heal you. She will heal us all.”
Berretti’s flesh lay against his skull with not one layer of meat between, and when he smiled, I was reminded of the Grim Reaper. “You heard the lady,” he hollered at Ray and Larry. “More blood!”
They nodded and obediently headed toward another g
roup of tied people. One of them was Nina Hart, the happy nurse who had helped Mia after her labor and who had become one of Ell’s closest friends. She raised her head as the two approached her and the usual sunny demeanor she possessed vanished into a mask of rage.
I kept my hand on Ell’s gun, hoping she wouldn’t try anything and listening intently for the rumble of the tank’s engine. Other than the voices and the constant droning from the fissure, and my own thundering heartbeat, I heard nothing.
Nina straightened in her binds. “Kill me yourself, Berretti, you gutless piece of shit!”
Berretti met her eye. Surprisingly, his face turned hard again. I now wondered if I actually had seen his expression waver moments earlier. I expected Nina’s words to knock some sense into him, but I was wrong. Berretti was as cold-blooded as they came.
All he said in reply was “No,” and then Ray stalked toward Nina. He brandished the same knife that had slit the throats of three others moments before.
But as soon as the steel kissed Nina’s neck, Ell ripped her rifle upward, knocking me off balance. I couldn’t stop her before she pulled the trigger.
Our cover was blown, and our cavalry hadn’t yet arrived.
Despite the stress of the situation and the considerable distance between her and her target, Ell’s aim hit the mark. The bullets ripped Ray’s face off and shredded his torso. He stumbled forward, swerving, tripped over a few of the bodies, and dove into the opened ground.
Credence and Berretti had called for more blood. Well, they had it now.
No longer able to hide, I charged forward, but before I could fire a shot, strong fingers wrangled me around the neck and took me to the bloody floor.
I caught a glimpse of the culprit. It was Lee, a man I had once called a friend. Where he came from I had no idea, but a jagged black mark stretched down his right cheek. He was infected. He was out of his mind.
My gun flew from my hands. It rolled and bounced until it, too, was lost in the abyss.
Whiteout (Book 5): The Feeding Page 12
