“I mean, it just seems silly to head out to someplace we might not get to, when we could just be safe here. And goodness knows, I like all of you,” Agnes said, slapping her hands lightly on her thighs. “We could build something here, for God’s sake. Something we could be proud of.”
Clay sipped his coffee, closing his eyes. He felt the others’ agreement. Still, Sherman and Quintin didn’t speak.
“I understand that mentality. I really do,” Clay began, wondering how he should verbalize such a selfish feeling. “But I have to make it to Earlton. I have to find my wife. Valerie.”
He could see the way words affected Alayna. Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the ground. But in the silence that followed, it was Alayna who agreed with him.
“Actually, I want to get to Earlton, as well,” she said, addressing the crowd. “My … girlfriend could be up there. Megan. I wouldn’t mind making sure she’s all right. Not that I have my hopes up. But …”
Maia spoke up from her seat beside Alex. “We have to find mom. Wherever you go, Dad, I go,” she said.
“I think we should head to Earlton, yeah,” Alex agreed, sounding more assured than he had in the weeks since they’d found him. His voice was even more masculine, rather than the child-like squeaking when they first found him near death.
Others nodded their heads. Lane muttered something about finding Marcia and Leland—her people. Agnes made peace with it, returning to the coffee machine to brew another pot. Sherman and Quintin remained in their own booth, neither voicing an opinion. The road with Sam had been a far different trail, he supposed. But they were outsiders in a world where all of them—each and every one—were outsiders, outliers. They had to band together. He couldn’t cast doubt on them just for not being sociable.
“All right, guys,” Clay said gruffly. “We’ll settle into Helen for a day or two. Gather supplies where we can. Then we’ll head up to Earlton.”
Over the tops of the heads, his eyes connected with Lane’s. With a distinct nod of her head, she turned from the diner, tugging Alayna along as they headed toward the lab, Lane steering Alayna with her hand in the small of her back. Alayna looked meek, fatigued, with her chin tucked down. Clay wanted to run after them—to be there when Alayna found out her true fate. But he stayed where he was, sipping his coffee. Trying not to feel.
Chapter 32
The next morning, Clay and Alayna sat across from one another at the diner, digging into biscuits and gravy with a side of silence, each lost in thought. Several of the others were still slumbering at the hotel across the street; Sherman and Quintin had taken it upon themselves to scavenge for supplies. Clay had discovered Sherman lacing up his boots around four-thirty that morning, muttering to himself. “We have to get a move on,” Sherman had told Clay, his eyes dark. “I don’t trust this place. Not without a perimeter. Not without a plan.”
The diner door jangled in an almost overly friendly way, forcing Clay’s eyes up. Sherman and Quintin came in.
“Guys,” Clay said, standing to greet them. Their allegiance to him was generating still more strength in him. “How did you make out today?”
“Filled the tank,” Sherman said. “And found about twenty gallons of gas cans at various houses, which we strapped to the back of the bus.”
“That should get us the rest of the way there,” Clay said optimistically. “What about supplies? Food?”
“All packed in the back of the bus,” Sherman said. “We’re good for a while, and we’ll have stuff to tide us over when we get to Earlton … if the worst has happened.”
The worst? Clay felt the truth of these words. That they had no possible way of communicating with Earlton before they arrived. They could be heading toward a ghost town.
“I guess we have to hope for the best,” Clay said, feeling his throat constrict.
Lane bolted through the door, holding a large file of papers. Her eyes were on Alayna, who seemed to scrunch into a ball. “If you’re looking for supplies,” she said, speaking directly to Sherman and Quintin, “There’s loads more in the lab. We barely touched it when we were locked down there. Now, if you could get the hell out of here? I have some information for Alayna, here. And I prefer confidentiality.”
Without even a glimmer of curiosity, Sherman and Quintin removed themselves from the diner, pressing the door closed so that it didn’t jangle. Lane sat next to Clay, across from the deflated Alayna and straightened the papers on the table in front of her. She had an air of professionalism, as if she’d often sat down with patients, preparing to tell them their fate.
As if on cue, Alayna began to cry. She wiped at her eyes then laid her hand on her stomach, feeling at the heaviness growing within.
“Just tell me,” Alayna said. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Lane reached forward and caught Alayna’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Alayna, it’s going to be okay,” she murmured. “I promise you that.”
Alayna sniffed. “So, I don’t have the nanites?”
Lane’s shoulders sagged. “No, you do have them, Alayna. I’m sorry to say. But they’re the same variety that’s pulsing through Clay right now. And look at him. He’s a portrait of fitness.”
Alayna snickered, clearly unsure if she should feel frightened or relieved. “Interesting assessment of our sheriff,” she offered.
“Alayna, you’re going to be fine. We all will, as long as we keep away from all those assholes out there trying to eat us,” Lane replied.
“So, what now?” Alayna asked. “I mean, I’m pregnant, and I have the nanites. But the baby’s going to be fine? The nanites won’t affect the pregnancy? I mean, I’ve never even been pregnant before. I don’t know what’s normal, in any capacity.”
At this, Lane hesitated. “The truth is, we don’t really know how the nanite technology will affect the baby. As you know, the nanites are incredibly new to the human ecosystem, and we have absolutely no tests or even reports on the effects on fetuses or pregnant women. That was never a part of the plan.”
Alayna’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, what are you telling me? What should I do?”
“That’s all I can tell you,” Lane said. It was clear she wouldn’t tell Alayna anything else. Lane cleared her throat. “I better get to packing up the lab. I’m not going so far without my instruments this time around. No way.”
Lane rose from the booth, giving them both a firm nod. When the diner door closed behind her, Clay turned his eyes back to Alayna, ignoring the half a biscuit getting cold next to her.
“She hardly told me anything at all,” Alayna said. “I already knew I’m pregnant. And now I know I’m definitely infected. But she hasn’t told me how to handle it. How to live, to protect this baby …”
“You just have to do what you’ve been doing,” Clay said, putting both of his hands over hers. He felt certainty as he spoke. As if he could convince her that she could defeat an entire pack of the crazed single-handedly if she had to. “Getting sleep. Eating well. Caring for our baby. I’m sure Lane will monitor you, even if only for the strange scientific experiment of it all.”
Alayna chuckled at the truth of this. “Even if it all falls apart, Clay. I’m glad it’s yours,” she confessed.
Alayna stood from the booth, and left, leaving Clay alone, staring into the dregs of his coffee.
Chapter 33
When it was time to get back on the road, Alayna volunteered to drive. Her eyes were resolute, her thoughts collected. She said to Clay, “I just need to get my mind off it somehow. Driving helps. It always has.”
Sherman sat beside her, radiating a kind of quiet confidence, while Clay sat one row back. To his right, Maia and Alex were talking quietly together. Clay assessed them without speaking. He hadn’t witnessed his daughter socializing in months, and the thought that she needed anyone else gave him a strange feeling. The spoke in the colloquialisms of young teenagers, hoping to take on the world. Even at the end of it.
�
��I mean, you know what he was like. That guy, Mark? Back at the hotel?” Alex asked Maia about people Clay would never hope to know. “He was always so shy and distant, right? But then when my dad told him to tie me up, you’ll never guess what he did. He didn’t even hesitate. He was like an obedient dog, the ropes were so tight they dug into my skin. Look, you can still see the rope burns.”
Maia’s face blanched. “Jesus,” she whispered. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”
“Weird, how we’ll probably never see those people again,” Alex said. “Like, I’ll never see my dad again. The idiot raised me, you know?” Alex’s eyes turned toward Clay; Clay pretended he wasn’t listening. “You’re lucky, with the dad you got. Came all the way to save you. He went at me for weeks, trying to figure out where you were. I thought he was gonna kill me.”
“Him? His bark is worse than his bite,” Maia laughed.
“Maybe to you,” Alex said, sounding almost accusatory now. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We’re all safe now.”
“And we’re going to find my mom.” Maia sounded confident. “And you know you can stay with us, probably. When we get there …”
Alex appeared bewildered by that. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Before he could speak, Alayna yelled, “Hey, Clay. Look, gas station, off to the right!”
Clay bounced up and peered through the bus’s windshield.
“Are we stopping?” she asked.
Feeling anxious, Clay nodded. Alayna curved down the exit ramp to the station below. As they slowed, Clay heard Alayna mutter something to Sherman and jerk her chin. A single moped sat ghost-like, leaning near one of the pump islands.
“What the hell?” Clay gasped. He sprang toward the door, opening it as Alayna braked. He barreled toward the moped. When he reached it, his heart sank. He knew this moped. Remembered it from when they’d split off from their old friends.
“Oh my god,” Alayna said from behind him. “I can’t. I can’t even.” She bent forward, almost retching.
Clay slid his hand down her back, trying to comfort her. But his heart was heavy, wondering who might have died. Why else would they leave a moped behind?
“Daddy? What’s wrong?”
Maia’s voice brought him back to the present. He waved at the crew, trying to hide the fear in his eyes. “Maia, honey. Alex. Please, stay on the bus until we figure out if the coast is clear, all right?”
Maia obeyed. Alex followed suit. They pressed their noses against the window, curious.
Sherman and Quintin joined Clay and Alayna. “It’s fully gassed,” Sherman said, tapping the tank. “Must have just gassed up.”
“But no supplies with it.” Alayna shook her head. “God, this doesn’t look good, Clay. I don’t like it at all.”
“I know. But we can’t … we don’t know what might have happened. We can’t go there. Not now. Lots of things happen on the road.” He scanned the perimeter of the station, where the pavement met the trees beyond. Clearing his throat, he said, “Let’s just get the gas and get on our way, all right? It’s all we can do. It’s all we can ever do—move forward.”
Chapter 34
“Ridgeway. Never heard of it,” Clay said from the driver’s seat. From the highway, they’d spotted the small village—only a half-mile across, maybe—with a stark green energy field sizzling around it. The roadway seemed to dive all the way through the tiny village; the small town nothing more than a speed bump on their path to Earlton. “Get Lane up here. Stat,” he told Sherman.
Lane joined Clay and said, “You can see all the way through that town,” and leaned closer to the window. “I wonder why the hell they would keep something …”
“Something like what?” Clay asked.
“You remember. The reason Carterville had an energy field was to protect the device. But Carterville’s a decent-sized place. This little village—what is it? Ridgefield?”
“Ridgeway,” a now awake Alayna corrected her. She blinked sleepy eyes, trying to take stock of their surroundings.
“Right. Whatever. It’s far too small to hide anything important,” Lane said, folding her arms across her chest.
“And there’s no candy store slash lab in Ridgeway?” Clay asked apprehensively. If their only person connected to the world of energy fields didn’t know why there was one in Ridgeway, it was probably something they should refrain from investigating.
“Not that I know of. And trust me, they gave us a run-down of the other labs, just in case,” Lane said, flipping her dark hair behind her shoulder. “I think it’s best we go around it.”
“That’ll put us almost a day off schedule,” Quintin said. “This is the most direct way to Earlton off the interstate. We don’t want to run out of gas again, do we? Put us in a bad situation, somewhere on the road—some ten hours away from our destination?”
“If you want to take that risk.” Lane shrugged.
“I kind of agree with Lane,” Alayna said. “Even if we do get through the force field—which, mind you, is something that almost killed us before—there’s no way to know who’s on the other side. I mean, it could be filled with them, you know? And how will we get back out? Too many variables.”
Quintin leaned toward Alayna, a snarl on his face. “And you’re saying we can’t handle more of those fucking crazed, after all we’ve been through?”
Alayna didn’t reply. Clay recognized the sizzling tension, an inevitable side effect of the road. Characters, butting heads. He couldn’t imagine adding another hour to their trip, let alone ten or more. And on top of that, the bus hadn’t been maintained very well. It was beginning to grunt and belch fumes, chugging when Clay pressed the gas pedal too hard.
“Going around might kill the bus,” Clay said.
“The trip through the force field definitely would,” Alayna replied.
The bright green energy field flickered and dimmed. Clay’s adrenaline surged. He pressed the gas pedal with a bit too much pressure, and the bus chugged in protest. The energy field came back up. But within another second, it shut down altogether.
“I guess the town has made up our minds for us,” Clay said, his grip on the wheel tightening. “We go forward.”
Chapter 35
Clay slammed his foot on the brake when the bus was just a few feet away from where the energy field had been. He’d had a sudden image of Ralph, devastated after his wife had splattered across the energy field outside of Carterville when it turned on.
“Keep going!” Sherman all but ordered.
But Clay cut the engine, directing his finger toward the door. “We’re going to walk across the barrier,” Clay said, not looking at Sherman. He refused to explain himself. He felt Alayna’s eyes on him and she whispered a single word, “Ralph.” Clay knew then that she felt the weight of the memories just as much as he did.
“All right, everyone,” Clay said to the crew behind him. He noticed Walt’s head lolling against Hank’s shoulder: he was in and out of consciousness. “We’re going to walk just a short distance. Hank, can you help Walt across? When you’re safe on the other side, I’ll hop on the bus, and drive it over. Then we’ll drive to the other side of town.”
Maia blinked up at him, her jaw set. Alex, beside her, looked less brave—his eyes glittered with fear. But Clay was sure. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again. That was a part of surviving.
The ragged-looking crew straggled across the boundary. Sherman and Quintin weren’t armed, looking vaguely naked without weapons. Alayna’s hands remained on her midriff, but her step was cautious.
When everyone had crossed the invisible threshold, Clay started the bus over the line—holding his breath until he was on the other side.
“All right, folks. Looks like we’ve made it. Now, let’s get back on, and get through the town,” Clay said. “Not too much longer now.”
“Look!” Alex shrieked, pointing a skeletal finger.
The others turned to see ten or eleven of the crazed charging at
them.
This pack of crazed was off somehow. Their legs were literally worn down, apparently from friction. Their teeth were cut out of the tops of their mouths, a horror Clay had seen before. Clay leaped in front of the team, herding them back to the bus.
“We should have stayed on the bus! Goddammit! Clay—”
“Not now, Alayna!” Clay exclaimed. “Jesus. We don’t have time for this!”
Then they were surrounded by the crazed. The monsters formed a ring seven or eight feet out from the team. Oddly, the crazed didn’t seem to be in a hurry. They’d lured Clay’s people into a trap, and they seemed to be savoring it. Their puss-covered tongues lolled over their chins and their eyes rolling wildly. Maia clung tightly to Clay’s arm.
Clay reached for his holster and pulled the only weapon he was carrying. His revolver only held six bullets. “I gotta make these count—” he grunted.
Maia let go of him, huddling close to Alayna. Agnes’ face was stony. Sherman and Quintin were grim, preparing to fight hand and foot for survival. Clay imagined they could tear a few of the crazed in two.
Clay shot at a crazed between them and the bus, punching a hole in the monster’s forehead. The crazed dropped, leaving a gap in the circle. Another crazed filled it immediately. With no better option, Clay shot that one, and then the next, hoping that the gap in the circle would remain long enough to let someone through to the bus.
Sherman leaped across the buffer and put his fist through a crazed’s head. The crazed flew back, taking three others to the ground with him. But within seconds, the monsters were back up and were flying toward Sherman with more ferocity. Clay shot down another one. But that was four of his bullets—and he sensed the impending doom.
Before he could think, before he could really recognize what was happening, the gunfire started outside of the kill box they were trapped in. On cue, crazed heads exploded—splattering blood and brains everywhere. Maia screamed, closing her eyes tightly. The carnage continued, crazed dropping around them. The horrible groaning, moaning, and howling of them tapered off.
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