McDole grabbed his arm. "A decoy—absolutely not!"
"You don't have any choice!" C.J. wrenched his arm free and suddenly waved both hands high above his head. "Hey, you rotting little fuckers!" he screamed. "See if you can catch someone who'll fight back!" He laughed then, an insulting giggle teetering on hysteria. "Go!" he shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted in the opposite direction. He glanced back to be sure and saw the group finally flee northward and cut between two buildings, then realized Louise was running alongside him. "What are you doing?" he cried. They wrestled in midstreet as he tried to force her to turn back
"Stop it!" she yelled. "We've got to go now!" She sprang ahead, her slender legs pumping frantically over the Wells Street Bridge. He chased after her, shouting angrily.
"It's too late for that, C.J.," she panted. He followed her pointing finger and saw the two vampires burst onto the sidewalk. “And how many more are coming?'
"Oh, no," he hissed as the two nightbeasts turned toward the direction in which McDole's group had fled. He jumped at a sharp crack! when Louise pulled the pistol she'd retrieved upstairs and fired it, knowing she couldn't hit anything from this distance. The vampires' heads whipped toward them.
"What's the matter?" Louise taunted loudly. "Afraid you can only catch the old ones?"
Even from a block away, the teenagers could see their nasty grins as the vampires surged toward them. C.J. clutched Louise 's hand and they began to run in earnest.
7
REVELATION 13:2
And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard.
"Come on, Gabriel, speed it up! The shits are getting away!"
"Not likely." Gabriel's bloodless face gleamed in the growing dusk as he smiled widely. Ron grudgingly slowed his pace to stay with him, the discovery of both Jasper's and Vic's bodies and the danger of outcasts enough to keep him from going after the two humans on his own. Besides, catching them too quickly would spoil the fun.
"Shit!" cried Ron as their prey veered east off Wells Street and disappeared around a corner.
Gabriel did increase his pace then, easily passing the heavier vampire and angling wide around the side of a building, then sliding to a halt and peering east. A block down Congress, he saw the two teenagers slip into a doorway and heard the faint tinkle of breaking glass. By now they must be nearing exhaustion; there was no way a human could keep up that kind of speed. Ron joined him and they quickly checked the shadows for outcasts, then eased along the side of the huge Board of Trade Building until they found a door to a small shop where shattered glass speckled the concrete. Inside, he guessed the humans would head straight up.
"They're really getting desperate!" Gabriel laughed. "That or they think we'll lose them in the building," Ron said.
"Not a chance," Gabriel responded. "Let's go."
The two of them darted into the building like hungry, oversized cats.
8
REVELATION 18:20
For God hath avenged you on her.
REVELATION 15:4
Who shall not fear thee?
By the time she shot up the stairs and tripped over Jasper's body, Anyelet's vision was red with fury. "What's going on here?" she bellowed. "Where are my humans?" She skidded to a stop behind Stephen and reached for him with razored fingernails, then hesitated. Crouched over someone on the floor, he ignored her as he tucked the blanket tenderly around the body. Stephen's loose clothes were dotted with blood, though he didn't seem to be bleeding himself, and instead of the usual moaning and whimpering there was only silence; inside the door of a room a few feet away sat two smelly metal tanks and an abandoned welding helmet. She shoved him angrily. “Who is this?" she demanded. "And what have you done with my humans?" When he didn't answer, Anyelet bent and yanked the blanket away; Vic's peaceful face came to view, his mouth a slack, crimson hole. She tugged harder and the blanket jerked free, splattering her hands pith droplets of the heartblood leaking from the lethal chest wound.
"You tell me where those humans went, damn you!" she twisted her fingers in Stephen's baggy shirt and hauled him to his feet. "TELL ME!" she shrieked as she shook him furiously. "Tell me or die!"
"Th-he-ey ca-ame an-nd got-t th-hem." Stephen's voice wobbled with his body, but he seemed unconcerned at her rage. "They didn't say where they were going." She flung him away before her temper made her strangle him outright; he bounced against the wall and tripped, then sat staring at her and rubbing his shoulder.
"Why didn't you go with them?" she hissed. Her fists were clenched so hard her nails were opening deep gashes in her own palms.
"Because I wanted to stay with you, of course."
She gaped at him for a moment, then whirled as Rita and four more vampires hurtled into the hall, goggling in amazement. "Get the others," she ordered, "and search for the humans. They'll head north to avoid the river and Lower Wacker."
The middle-aged woman Anyelet had raged at the previous evening looked at her apprehensively. "I think we're it, Mistress. Gabriel and Ron are usually here before us—"
"Then the four of you go!" she shouted impatiently. "Move!" They fled down the stairs.
"Stephen, snap out of it." She crouched next to him. "We have a big problem here." He just kept massaging his shoulder and smiling. “All these hungry vampires and no more food," she continued. She touched his arm, then dropped her hand. Why was he still smiling?
"You can use me," he suggested. He offered his wrist. "You can all use me. Not that it makes any difference anyway."
She stood. "You're not making sense." She resisted the urge to slide into his mind; right now he reminded her of Hugh, or Rita after her face had been blown apart, and she would deal with him later. She spun at a tumble of sound and saw Rita and the others shuffling backward up the stairs, scrambling over each other in their haste to get away from something. Werner, the last one, toppled and fell, then did an awkward crawl away from the stairs until the wall stopped him. He cowered against it, shivering and gawking with bulging eyes at the empty staircase. Rita, the scars on her face a livid purple, snarled at the stairwell and huddled a few feet away.
"What—" Anyelet's roar was cut off in mid-syllable.
A white-haired girl stepped from the shadows.
The taste of fear, so unfamiliar, was like acid in Anyelet's mouth. To her shame, she found herself also retreating from the girl, and she forced her feet to stop heir ridiculous backpedal.
"Who are you?" she demanded. The girl locked gazes with her, gray eyes—like Stephen's! Anyelet thought in surprise—blazing as Anyelet yanked her glare away at the stab of physical pain. Anyelet took another involuntary step backward as the girl moved closer, ignoring the other vampires as they hissed and yelped like whipped dogs, then stopped in front of Stephen where he had begun crooning a wordless hymn to Vic's dissolving corpse. Her hand slipped under his chin and raised his head; Stephen's eyelids fluttered, then his clouded eyes cleared and widened.
"Werner!" Anyelet shrilled. She stabbed a finger toward the young woman. He responded immediately, sidling around to the right to come up behind the girl. Her head turned, the movement like a slow-motion bullet, and Werner froze when her eyes tracked him; suddenly he whirled and clapped his hands over his eyes with a cry.
Turning back, the girl bent and dipped the tips of two white fingers into the blood splashed across Vic's shirt, then touched first her own forehead, then Stephen's. Her fingertips left a mark like blood-soaked holy day ashes. “It’s your burden now, Stephen," she said softly. "Time to go.”
Anyelet's face twisted as Stephen nodded, a semblance of sanity returning to his face. How had this twit known his name? The girl glanced around the hall, the only spot of color on her body the small streak of crimson on her forehead. Then she stared at Anyelet again, and Anyelet could have screamed at the swelling of pain those crystalline eyes brought to her head. The girl smiled sweetly, and when she spoke, her whisper was like the damning moan of funeral bells.
"The angel
of death has been born."
9
REVELATION 12:14
And to them were given two wings of a great eagle,
that they might fly.
"This is the end of the line, C.J. C.J.!"
"No!" He sprinted in the opposite direction, then stopped unsteadily at the edge of the small terrace. Below the sidewalk was like a black flood; here and there the light of the moon highlighted the far rooftops. He stretched a blood-flecked hand toward her, then dropped it helplessly. "I'm—oh, God, Louise." His glance skittered over her shoulder to the door, barricaded with only an empty, rusted oil drum. "We should've gone up to the next level—I should have known better—"
"Shush." She pressed her fingers against his mouth. "It wouldn't have made any difference. We knew that when we pulled them away from the Mart, didn't we?" He flinched as something knocked playfully against the other side of the door.
“Hellooooo … Anybody home?"
Louise gripped his arm tightly, pulled the pistol from her jacket pocket and offered it to him.
"You know that won't help!"
"I don't mean for them," she said urgently.
C.J. squeezed his eyes shut, then tugged her farther away from the door. The small section of roof wasn't much; once the beasts beyond the door got tired of playing, it would be only seconds to the end. With each half-lazy thump, C.J.'s heart gave a sledgehammer pound of its own. "I can't do that," he said hoarsely. "Can you?"
She opened her mouth, then shut it. "No," she whispered. The pistol clattered to the tarred surface. Her eyes were terrified sparkles as she looked at him pleadingly.
"I don't want to be like them."
"Me neither." C.J. stepped to the terrace edge and Jeered over. A hundred feet below, the sidewalk was like a tempting, dizzying trampoline.
Louise followed his lead, then shot a frightened glance behind her as the metal can gave a scream of protest when the door began to force it aside. A small moan slipped from her throat. "Suicide?"
"No," he said grimly. Behind them the door rebounded against the wall as their pursuers finally beat it open. From up here, the last of the daylight was a lost purple smudge in the west.
"Salvation." He held out his hand, and she took it and squeezed. His fingers slid forward and they locked wrists.
Silent, they stepped off the edge of the world and flew like eagles.
"Shit, man," Ron said in disgust. He picked up the limp wrist of the girl, then let it drop. He and Gabriel had tried to get at least something from the bodies, succeeding only in getting their clothes and hands sticky with blood. Anything worthwhile was splattered across the concrete. "These guys are nothing but dog meat."
"Yeah." Gabriel grabbed his arm. 'And here come the dogs." A small pack of outcasts was slinking along the sidewalk, growling and snapping, their tongues black and ripping at the smell of blood. Soon they would be scratching and fighting amid the remains like hyenas.
Ron and Gabriel fled into the darkness, leaving the bodies to the scavengers.
10
REVELATION 16:6
For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets… .
"Kill her!" Anyelet hissed. "Do it now!"
No one moved. Anyelet’s face went purple. "You're all imbeciles! Rita!" she barked. Rita's head snapped up, her puckered, twisted face jarred to attention. "You take care of it! The rest of you come with me before the humans get too far—"
White fire encircled her wrist and rocketed up her arm as the girl's hand shot out to stop her. Shrieking, Anyelet tried to twist away from the hand clamped on her as the other vampires gasped and wailed but made no move to help. She felt like she was being electrocuted, her thoughts crisped in her mind before they could finish. At last she managed a sharp backhand that sent the girl reeling into Rita's waiting arms. Something blue flashed and Rita screeched and flung her away.
"She—she burned me!" Rita yowled. "I can't touch her!"
"Then use something, you fool!" Anyelet bellowed. Her remaining soldiers were no more than frozen statues.
"Yes, Rita …" The girl cocked her head, as if trying to hear something. The stench of burning flesh and charred cotton filled the hallway. "Why don't you use your … knife?"
"DO IT!" Anyelet roared, and shoved Rita forward. Rita stumbled, then righted herself and drew the carving knife from her belt, its blade still crusted with Howard's blood. She gnashed her teeth and advanced on Jo as Anyelet and the others closed around the two women like wolves.
Jo smiled serenely and closed her eyes. Then she spread her arms wide in a welcoming embrace, soundless as her lifeblood splattered the dead who gathered.
VIII
March 30
Aftermath
1
REVELATION 22:11
And he that is holy, let him be holy still.
"We have to move," McDole told Ira and Calie. "I know we've only been back a couple of hours and its going to be difficult with all these new people, but tell everyone to be ready by ten o'clock." Beneath his anguished eyes, his cheeks were hollow from lack of sleep. Last night had been difficult beyond words; while Alex's choice of a hiding place had proven wise, the darktime hours had been filled with terror as they dragged painfully by in the wait for dawn. "We'll give them one more hour—"
"That won't be necessary."
McDole spun, nearly tripping over the chair behind him. For a moment he couldn't even speak. "How did you get in here?" he choked out. "How did you even know where to come?"
Stephen smiled calmly at the older man and Calie, who was staring at him openmouthed with Beau cradled in her arms. His face darkened. "C.J. and Louise won't be coming back," he said in a low voice.
Calie sobbed, just once, then lifted her chin. "They … they didn't—"
"No," Stephen answered simply. "They didn't." McDole sat heavily onto the chair and stared at the floor.
"Calie." Dr. Perlman hobbled into the room. "I'm having a hard time—" He stopped at the sight of Stephen. "I thought you'd …"
"Be dead? No, not yet." He gazed at the doctor, his eyes an odd mirror of Jo's. "I came because I … had a feeling you needed help with Renata."
Perlman started to say something, then dismissed it. "Come with me," he said. Yesterday's frantic exercise made him limp heavily as he led Stephen down a long hallway, then up a flight of stairs into a room converted to a makeshift hospital ward. Calie and McDole followed glumly as the doctor showed Stephen to the far end, where the pregnant woman they'd rescued yesterday strained against restraints. "We had to tie her again. I can't even hold a logical conversation with her," Perlman complained. "She won’t listen, she won't talk." Perlman looked haggard. "Listen, I'm a bacteriologist, not a psychiatrist. All I know for sure is I can't keep her sedated; it's bad for both the baby and her."
Stephen stepped to the woman's bed. "Renata," he said gently, "Dr. Perlman wants to discuss the baby with you."
"How do you know everyone's name?" McDole asked in the background.
Calie shot him a puzzled glance. "Wasn't he with you at the Mart yesterday?"
"It's evil!" Renata shouted suddenly. Spittle sprayed from her mouth. "The child is a monster!"
"Not at all," Stephen said soothingly. "Howard is dead, Renata. This isn't his child, it's yours." His fingers stroked the damp hair from her sweat-drenched forehead. "A baby, blameless, at the mercy of someone else." He paused, then leaned close. "Do you remember what it was like to be at someone else's mercy, Renata?" She stiffened. "Think of a child subjected to that kind of hatred." The woman's hands gripped the bedrails until the fingernails showed white; she began to cry.
"Then"—Stephen let his hand drop briefly to the small swell of her stomach—"think of a child raised under opposite circumstances, how a … boy might grow into a fine man if he were cherished and taught to love others in a healthy way." His fingers found the sheet strips around Renata's wrists and began untying them; Perlman shuffled nervously. "Your son, Renata. You might name him �
��" Stephen's gaze flicked to McDole and Calie, then back. "… Clement Judd, after that brave young man who gave his life to help free you and the others." He stopped and studied her. "That is, of course, if you decide you want to keep the boy after all."
Silence, heavy and fearful, settled on the small group as they all stared at Renata. For the first time since her explosive arrival yesterday, her hands were free. Perlman looked ready to leap if she made the slightest movement.
"It's a boy?" Renata asked in a small voice. Her hands folded tentatively around her stomach.
"Yes." Stephen backed away and motioned for the others to follow.
"You're sure—"
Perlman began, but Stephen waved at him to be quiet. On the bed, Renata sat up and looked around; after a second she poured herself a glass of water from the bedside pitcher, then picked up a small hand mirror from the table and frowned at her reflection.
"She'll be okay," Stephen assured Perlman. "She just needed to remember that the villain was Howard, not the child."
"Clement Judd?" Calie raised her eyebrows.
Stephen gave her a distracted glance. “A nice name, don't you think?"
2
REVELATION 22:3
And there shall be no more curse.
Where will I be twenty years from now?
Alex straightened and stretched the muscles in his back.
Will I remember the smell of soil and the way the sun broke through the clouds to shine on the park?
Will I remember Deb?
He picked up his shovel and leaned on it. Grant Park was, of course, deserted, the Art Institute a gray fortress at his back. A fitting place for Deb's grave; she had loved the Institute, and how many people could've claimed they had worked and lived there? Soon the small mound of upturned earth would fade into the surrounding lawn, covered casually by grasses that would probably grow long and wild for centuries to come.
A Haunting of Horrors: A Twenty-Novel eBook Bundle of Horror and the Occult Page 397
