Bone And Cinder: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Zapheads Book 1)

by Nicholson, Scott

  “Nobody gives a shit about you, old man,” Herrera said. “You’re not the one I’m looking for.”

  “Please don’t hurt them,” Dr. Lehman said, motioning toward Todd and Emma. “Whatever’s happening, they don’t have anything to do with it.”

  “You better get your ass out of here, old man.”

  “Whatever you want to do, you can do it to me, okay? If you need a hostage, I’ll volunteer. Just let them go.”

  Krider waved his pistol at Dr. Lehman as the professor approached. “You’re getting a chance to walk away from this. You sure you don’t want to take it?”

  Dr. Lehman just stood with his head tilted down, gazing at Emma and Todd, who seemed unaware of the deal taking place.

  Krider grabbed a fistful of Dr. Lehman’s wispy white hair and pulled him to his knees.

  “Mackie!” Krider shouted, swiveling his head to give himself a rotating view of campus. “You and the McAllister bitch are going to die, that’s a given. Don’t make this worse for anyone else here. I know how much you hate spilling innocent blood.”

  Herrera and Krider shared a pain-wracked peal of laughter.

  Okay, then. No other moves to make now.

  Mackie removed his backpack, handed it to Desiree. “There’s...there’s a cat in there. Her name’s Sabbath. Take care of her,” he said.

  Sabbath had mewled frantically and shifted spastically inside the pack while Mackie ran from the burning cottage to Linvale, but she had quieted at the sound of other voices once they were inside Allie’s dorm. Mackie had still felt her moving around in the pack, but if Desiree had noticed the movements, she hadn’t commented on them.

  She was probably too distracted by what was happening outside the window.

  “There’s food for her inside the pack,” Mackie said. “No matter what happens, keep the door locked and don’t leave this room.”

  He stooped over Allie, stroked her damp, tangled hair. He tried to find something familiar in her eyes, but the solar storms had scorched away anything he might’ve recognized. He kissed her forehead anyway, hoping she wouldn’t lunge up and bite off his lower lip.

  Mackie met Kara at the door. “You don’t have to come. You can try to get away.”

  “No. Let’s go.”

  Mackie’s gaze drifted from Allie on her bed to Desiree near the window, holding his backpack. There were Allie’s posters, her framed pictures, her books and music, her guitar, her life. Everything he loved was in this room.

  That’s a laugh. You never loved anything, not even yourself. Maybe drugs, but they took more than they gave.

  The kitchen knife from the cottage was tucked in his jeans. It was a slim chance, since they’d surely search him for weapons.

  What the hell, one more spin of the roulette.

  He walked out the door, with Kara close behind.

  25.

  “Mackie, I’m sorry.” Dr. Lehman looked much older than his sixty years, as if the consequences of his choice had aged him.

  “I told you to stay put.”

  “I couldn’t let—”

  “Shut up,” Krider said. He pushed Dr. Lehman to the ground beside the huddled forms of Todd and Emma. Emma’s eyes were closed but Todd mumbled something Mackie couldn’t translate into human speech.

  “Lift your shirt,” Krider said to Mackie.

  He may as well have left the knife with Desiree.

  Mackie lifted his T-shirt. The knife handle jutted from the waist of his jeans.

  “This pendejo watched too many Die Hard movies,” Herrera said.

  “Toss that,” Krider commanded

  Mackie pulled the knife free from his jeans, considered flinging it at Krider’s face, but tossed it to the ground instead.

  “Now you,” Krider said to Kara.

  Kara lifted her shirt, spun around. She was still wearing the tight, stretchy pants she had on when Mackie first met her. Those pants had no pockets where she could hide potential weapons.

  “Higher,” Herrera ordered with a grin. She pulled up the shirt until it hid her face and her breasts swelled against her white bra. “Not bad. I’m going to enjoy those. But we’re getting this shit done first.”

  Herrera walked over to Mackie, looked him over for a moment, and then swung an anvil fist into his jaw. Mackie’s head snapped to the side and he dropped hard onto his side.

  The pain in his face felt like he had leaned his head a little too far over a subway platform and gotten smacked by a speeding train. His impact with the ground jarred the ribs Herrera had booted earlier at the cottage and sent fresh waves of pain radiating through Mackie’s upper body.

  Herrera launched his booted foot at Mackie in a series of sledgehammer kicks that connected with his face, his chest, his ribs. His skeletal system rattled like a broken xylophone and screamed Jimi Hendrix levels of feedback through his nervous system.

  Dr. Lehman moaned, “No, please, stop.” He moved toward Mackie and Herrera, but Krider clubbed him between the frail shoulders with his 9mm. The professor fell to his hands and knees and clenched his face tightly against the pain, his eyes meeting Mackie’s in sympathy of a shared hurt.

  As Herrera battered Mackie with kicks, McRae ambled onto the commons as if arriving for a leisurely round of Frisbee golf. He stood off to the left, assault rifle in his arms, and watched the beating with the same impassiveness that Krider often wore even when the most horrific shit was unfolding in front of him.

  Bastard. You sold us out.

  After a few moments, Herrera stopped. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

  Mackie would’ve done anything for a handful of pills. Facing this sober...it was too much. Far more than anyone should ask of another human being.

  But Herrera didn’t ask. Herrera demanded.

  Mackie’s mind quickly went into bargaining mode. What could he do to convince Krider to let him have a few Vics or Oxys or Percs before he died?

  If he seemed too desperate, that would be the quickest way to not get the pills...

  God help me, why am I thinking like this? A worthless junkie to the end.

  Herrera smiled down at him. “That...oh, bitch, that was the easy part.”

  And then he stepped past Mackie, palmed the back of Kara’s head and, before she could react, pulled her head down to meet his knee as he sent it rocketing upward into her nose.

  The shattering of cartilage nauseated Mackie. He closed his eyes.

  He couldn’t see this.

  He just could not.

  Kara collapsed in a heap as Herrera tossed her down, just inches from Mackie’s face. Mackie wondered if Herrera would rape her right there in front of everyone, just to display his dominance.

  “Open your eyes, Mackie,” Herrera said.

  Mackie clenched them shut tighter.

  “I know you don’t care what happens to you and maybe not even this bitch, but you don’t open those eyes, I’m gonna make you watch as I take the heads off of every single warm body on this campus. And compared to what I’ll do to your zombie girl, that’ll seem like an act of kindness.”

  Mackie opened his eyes. Tears welled, but he wouldn’t spill them here. He knew how to hold them back, and he would do that no matter what happened now.

  Once they saw tears, they would see him as a thing thoroughly broken.

  For Krider and Herrera, it would be euphoric. Their favorite high.

  Kara looked into his eyes. Her nose was obliterated, gushing thick rivulets of blood, and her eyes were now the only part of her face unpainted by bruises.

  She was scared.

  She would’ve wanted to hide that before, but now she wasn’t even going to try. All her bravado had washed away beneath the reality now barreling down the tracks toward her. Now or later, she was meat for Herrera’s sadistic buffet.

  Herrera held an open palm out to Krider. Krider handed him his 9mm.

  Mackie lifted his head and shouted at McRae. “You...you just gonna let this happen?”

  Herre
ra looked over at McRae, then turned back to Mackie. Even the raw, oozing burns on his face couldn’t hide his look of amusement.

  “What, you think he can save your ass now?” He put a boot between Mackie’s shoulders and pressed him to the ground. “You think he’s going to side with the losers?”

  Mackie wasn’t finished. “You can stop this, McRae. You know this is wrong, man. You know it.” Every word was agony. Each breath reignited flares of pain in his pummeled ribs and chest. “Don’t let this happen.”

  McRae said nothing, but his face shifted slightly. There was something in his expression...an unspoken apology, maybe? Self-justified determination? Guilt?

  Either way, there was no chance of McRae raising a hand against Krider and Herrera.

  It had been Mackie’s last card to play, but the effort was wasted. But he could drag McRae down to hell as he went. “Snitch...cowardly, piece of shit, motherfuh—”

  That caught Herrera’s attention, and he punctuated it with a stomp to Mackie’s ankle. “What did you say?”

  Mackie looked at Krider. “Didn’t even...didn’t even know you had a snitch in your crew...whatever edge you had before, Lucas, it’s gone now...couldn’t even tell McRae was an informant.”

  It was subtle, but a moment of panic flashed across McRae’s face before Krider and Herrera turned to look at him.

  It wouldn’t be enough to give him away. McRae was a pro that knew how to stay cool under scrutiny. After all, that was his job.

  “What’s he talking about, McRae?” Krider asked.

  “He’s coming up with whatever bullshit he can pull out of his ass to buy a few extra breaths. You know that.”

  “It’s what he does,” Mackie said. “He’s a rat, and you couldn’t...neither of you could smell it.”

  “Not a word of truth to any of that,” McRae said. He was doing a remarkable job of keeping his voice steady.

  “No...no, it’s true.” Kara wheezed. Her voice was barely recognizable.

  “What’s that, puta? You tellin’ me it’s true? That my man McRae over there is a snitch?”

  “I...I heard him.”

  Herrera cackled. “Well, if I got your word on it, that’s all the proof I need.” He guffawed again and Krider smiled.

  “I’ve sown the seeds, man,” Mackie called out to McRae. “They’re going to start thinking about everything you’ve ever said to them. And then they’re gonna trust you a little less and less, until they decide they can’t trust you at all. And what do you think’s gonna happen then?”

  Herrera howled. “Oh, you better listen, McRae. Better turn that rifle on me and Krider before we have a chance to do the same to you. That what you’re saying, Mackie?”

  “Yes,” Mackie said. “That’s absolutely what I’m saying. You can’t trust anybody. Right, Krider?” As Krider glanced at Herrera, Mackie repeated, “Anybody.”

  Herrera’s laughter stopped. He snapped another kick into Mackie’s gut.

  It was becoming a habit. He barely felt it, although something gurgled inside him.

  “See, the thing is,” Herrera said. “I remember someone aiming a gun at me while my back was turned. And that wasn’t McRae.” He cocked his foot back again, but this time he launched the kick into Kara.

  “It was this puta here. And, see, what kind of man would I be if I just let that stand? Somebody gets away with that, and then everybody’s trying to get away with that.”

  “Please...please stop this.” It was Dr. Lehman. His hands were clasped in his lap and his head lowered. “No more killing, please.”

  “I was you, I’d stop chiming in, abuelo,” Herrera said. “I’d keep real quiet and draw as little attention to myself as possible. You don’t want to hurry your turn, do you?”

  “He’s got a cat, too.” It was McRae.

  “The hell?” Krider said.

  “Mackie, he’s got a cat. He keeps it in that backpack of his.”

  “Hell you tellin’ us that for?” Herrera said.

  McRae shrugged. “We could eat it. When the food’s low.”

  Krider shook his head, lips pursed in disgust. “The food’s not going to get that low anytime soon.”

  Herrera prodded Mackie with a boot. At least he wasn’t using it as a battering ram this time.

  “Why the hell you picking up stray cats, pendejo? You think this is the Humane Society or something?”

  “You gonna do this or not?” Krider said.

  Herrera shrugged. Mackie closed his eyes and waited. As the round went off, he expected a tunnel of light, a lick of hellfire, a golden stairway, or maybe just a nice, soft curtain of blackness.

  All he heard was Kara’s skull explode.

  26.

  Her eyes were still open, but they were unfocused now. They had been hard before, fierce and bright, and then fearful—now they were as empty as the glass eyes of a ventriloquist’s dummy.

  Mackie screamed. The sound was deep and guttural, pulling the breath from a deeper part of himself than he even knew existed.

  Dr. Lehman remained on his hands and knees, shaking, his breathing shallow. An odd, stuttering sound came from his lips.

  Todd and Emma had fallen completely still. They both slumped over like a pair of marionettes with strings cut. Todd’s face and lips were tinged with blue.

  And then Mackie understood.

  Overdosed.

  Todd and Emma had overdosed, either on their own or with help from Krider and Herrera.

  And then they were used as bait.

  Kara had died—-and soon Mackie. Dr. Lehman too, probably—all to save a pair of OD’ed junkies.

  It was funny. And more than a touch ironic.

  He heard Krider say something about taking care of Mackie, wrapping things up so they put out the fires down at the cottages and sweep the perimeter of any stray Zaps.

  He didn’t see Desiree approaching, only heard her when she called out softly, “Let me help you guys.”

  Herrera turned to her and grinned. “Hey, take a look. The caregiver decided to come out of hiding. Thought you’d be too busy nursing the zombie. What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?”

  “You’re hurt. Those burns will get infected. You need treatment.”

  “Well, that’s real nice of you. But maybe you should turn your attentions a little further south.” Herrera brushed a hand lightly over his crotch.

  What the hell was she doing?

  What the hell were any of these people thinking? Dr. Lehman was supposed to stay in hiding. Desiree was supposed to stay with Allie and Sabbath.

  No one is doing what I told them, and they’re all going to die for it.

  And Allie is in her room, alone, unaware of anything happening around her. She’s the lucky one.

  He had to force himself not to call out when he saw Meredith approaching from the academic building where Lehman’s office was housed. He thought, of all of them, Meredith would be the most prudent, the one who would survive no matter what.

  What is she doing?

  Krider and Herrera faced the opposite direction, so there was little danger of either of them spotting her unless she made noise and gave them a reason to turn toward the row of residence halls and academic buildings to their rear.

  McRae might see her as she moved closer, so Mackie would have to keep McRae’s attention focused elsewhere.

  If they did spot Meredith, she would have no chance. There was no possible way she could take cover before Herrera or McRae opened fire.

  Mackie knew he could keep his face neutral, but could Desiree? And if Lehman spotted her, and he likely would soon, how would he react?

  Too many moving parts in play and just too damn much that could, and most assuredly would, go wrong.

  Even though Meredith and Desiree couldn’t possibly have planned this together, Mackie understood why Meredith waited until now to make her move. Desiree’s appearance was the perfect diversion, something to keep Krider’s and Herrera’s focus. As cunning as Krider was
, he was just self-centered enough to worry first about his wounds.

  But if Desiree hadn’t shown up, would Meredith have made any move to help? Or would she have stayed in Lehman’s office with the others and watched while Krider or Herrera executed Mackie?

  Now that she was closer, Mackie could see the glint of something metallic in her hand.

  A knife? But where would she have gotten that?

  No, wait.

  A letter opener.

  The ideal office supply for inflicting bodily injury.

  He hadn’t been paying attention to the words exchanged between Desiree and Krider and Herrera.

  Desiree had surely spotted Meredith by now, but her face gave nothing away as she held up rolls of gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment and made her sales pitch.

  For a moment, Mackie allowed himself to believe that this might work.

  But first he had to capture and keep McRae’s attention. He lifted himself up, called out, “Coward.”

  McRae locked eyes with him, but kept his face neutral.

  “You’re a coward. You let this happen.”

  No dice.

  “And you’re gonna die before this is over.”

  That got a reaction. “We’re all going to die. Some of us are just going to do it sooner than others.”

  “You were supposed to bring these people down, and now you’re lower than either of them. Look what you became, you cowardly piece of shit.”

  McRae lifted his rifle and aimed it at Mackie. “I can bring you down.”

  Mackie laughed. “You won’t use that. Not without Krider holding your hand and Herrera wiping your ass.”

  “Son of a bitch, you’re gonna find out—”

  “Plenty of people are going to die around here,” Krider said, drawing a glower from Herrera. “But I’ll decide who and when.”

  Mackie could feel his last bit of hope sliding from his grasp. Desiree slipped a hypodermic needle from her pocket, a drop of juice dangling from its silver tip.

  “Medicine?” Krider asked, just as McRae shouted a warning.

  “Zaps! They’re here.”

  “Knock ‘em down,” Herrera, said, tracking the direction of McRae’s rifle barrel. McRae squeezed off three shots, and a figure fell at the edge of the commons. Two more appeared behind it, emerging from the shadows of a lecture hall.