He was so surprised he nearly lost his footing. Jesus—had his wild thoughts been correct after all? Had he spent the winter burrowed into that huge building when he could have been with other people? Excitement flooded his bloodstream and his legs worked harder; she'd have to pull a miracle to get away now.
Thirty feet ahead she slewed around the corner onto Wabash and Nicholson sprinted after her, his faster momentum carrying him into the turn on a wider angle. He faltered, confused, when he realized the sidewalk was empty.
"Hey."
Nicholson whirled at the feminine voice coming from one of the Wabash Avenue entrances. He smiled and stepped forward, then jerked backward as he saw a dull splash of silver and realized the machete he still clutched was useless against the pistol aimed at his chest. Her tone was filled with acid.
"Freeze, you son of a bitch, or I'll blow you all the way to the lake."
9
REVELATION 13:11
And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth.
~ * ~
We need transportation.
At midmorning Louise and Beau were still in Rogers Park, and she finally realized foot travel downtown would take all day and leave little time to find a place for the night. She checked her watch. No more mistakes—the sun would set at about six and she intended to be safely cloistered by then, even if only temporarily. Holding Beau in the crook of her arm, she shifted her backpack and looked around. There were plenty of parked cars and people occasionally hid keys under the mats; or Western Avenue, with its stretch of auto dealerships, was fourteen blocks to her right. In a couple of hours she and Beau could be cruising in a Thunderbird, or maybe a Park Avenue.
She discarded the idea quickly. Closer to downtown it would likely become a game of motorized checkers as she tried to negotiate dozens of abandoned autos. They might end up on a bridge leading into the Loop and find it so thoroughly blocked that she'd have to dump the car and hunt for a new one, look for keys, worry about fuel—forget it.
A bicycle? Louise stopped thoughtfully in front of a small shop advertising Schwinns and eyed the dusty window display. She could get one with a basket so Beau wouldn't have to ride inside her jacket during the twelve-or thirteen-mile trip. When she tried the knob, the door pushed open without resistance. The shop was in an ornate, turn-of-the-century building, and as she stepped inside Louise realized uneasily that it was deep and dark. The daylight struggling through the twisted display of detached wheels, handlebars, and bikes extended only about twenty feet and was weakened further by the grime-encrusted window; the shadows beyond deepened steadily to black, and she'd learned to avoid lightless places even during the daytime. Louise prudently decided to make her selection from the stock closer to the window.
Nothing she saw had a basket, but Louise put Beau on the floor so she could inspect a gold Schwinn twelve-speed with a jumble of gears and derailleurs at the back chain. Hefting it, she found it heavier than expected—she wasn't much of a cyclist but she knew that two hours on this along bumpy streets and she'd be worn out. Unsure of his surroundings, Beau trembled and rubbed against her ankles for security; she used the toe of her shoe to push him gently aside as she set the Schwinn back in place. Next to it was a metallic blue one with the name Nishiki stenciled on the crossbar, a bike she guessed weighed only fourteen or fifteen pounds—not bad.
Beau tangled around her ankles again as she swung the frame up and down a few times, and Louise opened her mouth to scold him when she realized she could feel him shaking all the way up to her thigh. She glanced down in surprise and saw the dog staring toward the back of the store.
Beau growled softly. In the stillness the sound was stunningly loud.
Equally shocking was the quick, whispering noise of shifting from the pitch-black rear of the store.
Her head snapped up as an alarm shrieked in her brain. The Nishiki still suspended from her hands, Louise stood paralyzed as the sound, a gentle slithering, came again. Like something crawling. Her elbows unlocked and Louise soundlessly lowered the bike, then bent and snatched up the dog without taking her eyes from the rear of the room. Blood pounded furiously in her temples, each fear-drenched pulse catapulting through her body in time with the tension running through Beau. He growled again.
"Shhhh!" she hissed. Her gaze flicked back to the ancient wooden door. Its spring had pulled it shut behind them and now she recalled hearing the click of the latch as it had closed. It was stupid not to have propped it; now she'd have to press the old-fashioned thumb plate and pull open the door. If something sprang at them in the meantime—
There was a muffled thump as something fell to the floor.
No more time to fuck around, Louise thought clearly. Get the hell out of here NOW!
She bolted, hands fumbling between a frantically squirming Beau and the door handle. For a sickening instant it stuck and Louise thought they were trapped, picturing with sudden, brutal clarity a hideously decayed beast leaping onto her back and tearing at her throat as she beat at the door glass. Then she heard a rattle as the antique mechanism lifted and she yanked on the door so hard it slammed against the inside wall; she leapt through before its rebound and sprawled on the sidewalk, twisting sideways to avoid crushing Beau. Clutching the dog, she scrambled backward on her butt as the door crashed shut.
Her heart lurched and she heard herself moan as something inside pummeled the door, shattering its old window. A hand, clawed and shriveled, swiped from the jagged opening that had been the beveled glass pane, but the deep recesses of the doorway couldn’t block the sun's rays and the creature screeched as light crossed its fingers and the tips split and sizzled. By the time Louise had sucked in her breath for a scream, the monster had gone, retreating to its hiding place at the rear of the building.
Gasping, Louise pulled herself up and hugged Beau furiously. As he licked her face and wagged his stubby little tail, she staggered along Clark Street, putting distance between her and that gaping doorway while her heartbeat calmed and her breathing slowed to a soft wheeze. A few blocks away she collapsed onto a bus stop bench; farther north, the bicycle shops sign swung mockingly in the slight breeze.
She was jolted almost senseless. Unearthing a bloodsucker was always a chance in a dark building housing a back room and this building's age and mustiness had masked the usual stench, but it had always been safe as long as the totally dark areas were avoided. It was incomprehensible that the creature's hunger was so great it would sleepwalk and risk the sunlight in an attempt to attack. If it had been cloudy, would the loathsome thing have followed her right onto the sidewalk? No, of course not—the sun would have destroyed it.
Wouldn't it?
Her legs were still pudding but she finally forced herself to stand. Perhaps she was too eager to get all the way downtown today. This morning had already drained her, and riding a bike for miles would exhaust her and still leave the task of finding a safe place to spend the night. It might be better to work toward the Loop gradually; at a couple of miles each day they could walk there in a week—
Vespa—The Scooter of Steel!
Her eyes widened as the silver lettering on the display window they were passing abruptly registered. Turning back to the glass, Louise could see a well-lit showroom filled with brightly colored motor scooters, and she ruffled Beau's ears and grinned. "Bingo!“ she told him. "I should've thought of this months ago! Why walk when we can ride?" His tongue lolled and he yipped at Louise's voice; already he seemed to have recovered from the cycle-shop incident.
The door was firmly locked and she eyed the huge windows doubtfully. Breaking one would be stupid—a scooter wouldn't roll three feet before getting a flat. A larger exit would probably be through the service area at the unlit rear, but she didn't want to chance it. So she'd have to try and jimmy the glass door—if it wasn't a deadbolt. Louise found a crowbar in the open garage of a gas station a block away; as she bent to retrieve it, Beau stiffened in her arms and her eyes stopped on a small, fil
thy door in the far corner—the washroom. Closed tightly; she could easily guess its occupant. She darted from the garage before there could be a repeat of this morning.
Back at the dealership, the lock held stubbornly and she realized that it was either smash the glass or scrap the notion of taking a scooter. The thought of giving up after all this effort pissed her off and instead she dug Beau's leash from the backpack and tied him back at the bench, then returned and beat furiously at the door with the crowbar until it shattered. Inside, she rummaged through the desks and turned up a box of ignition keys, each labeled in the dealer's code. Still, the sun wasn't at its peak, so she had plenty of time to find a key for one of these things, roll it out, and learn how to drive it. Louise scanned the rows and chose a scooter that was bright yellow.
She'd never been particularly patient, and Louise was gritting her teeth by the time she finally found the right key. The little yellow machine didn't have a fuel gauge, but unscrewing the gas tank cap showed her it was full. Getting more meant siphoning but she wasn't looking for extended transportation, just a way to get downtown. She used a desk blotter like a shovel to clear the broken glass before rolling the Vespa outside. Although the seat was cushioned and fit her rump comfortably, it was heavier than anticipated and Louise realized that this was not at all the glorified bicycle she'd believed. It was a machine, with a suspension system and brakes, and it was fast, provided the battery was still charged enough to turn over the engine. If she could get it running and head back to Lake Shore Drive, they might be downtown in half an hour.
Everything was marked: front and rear brakes, headlight, an accelerator much like a snowmobile's, with which she had at least some experience. She took a nervous breath, twisted the accelerator a few times, turned the ignition key to ON and pulled the starter cord.
Eighteen tries later she was ready to give up when a loud whine spliced the air on her last yank. The noise bounced off the buildings then subsided to a jarring buzz that made her head ring, and she resisted the urge to clap her hands to her ears, afraid the motor would die if she let up on the gas. She grinned as she saw Beau wriggling excitedly next to the bench. When Louise was sure the Vespa‘s idle was steady, she untied Beau and let him sniff the scooter and sneeze a few times. She would have to zip him inside her heavy jacket; he weighed only six pounds and she hoped her warmth would be enough to keep him from getting a chill. The first blocks were choppy; while she got used to the Vespa, Beau cowered inside her coat as everything around him moved at an almost-forgotten speed, but by the time they putted up Hollywood Avenue to its eight-lane spread into Lake Shore Drive, the ride was smooth and holding at about twenty miles an hour. They were finally on their way.
The cool air became cold as it whipped the hair away from Louise's eyes and plastered it against her skull. She could feel Beau burrowing deeper for warmth, and although her face and hands quickly lost heat, her jacketed torso stayed comfortable. Already the scooter was closing the distance on the huge buildings that had seemed so far away.
"Yeah!" she yelled, her pulse hammering with excitement. The wind snatched her voice and tossed it away. "We're rolling now!" The buildings at their right grew larger with each passing block, the flats and apartment buildings giving way to the encroaching condominium complexes and skyscrapers.
And the Vespa carried them toward the heart of the city.
10
REVELATION 2:13
I know . . . where thou dwellest
even in those days.
~ * ~
"Place is turning into a regular city, ain't it?" C.J. grinned crookedly at Buddy McDole as they stood again at the window overlooking Michigan Avenue. "Must be the warm weather bringing 'em out, like the birds." C.J. had been outside earlier, and for the first time this year he'd heard the sparrows twittering wildly, as though today was the last day such racket was possible—which could always be true. Each morning that he didn't wake up dead—literally—surprised him. Now this woman rode boldly along Michigan Avenue on a sick-sounding motor scooter. C.J. studied her, puzzled; either she had only one huge tit or there was something stuffed into the front of her jacket.
McDole, as usual, kept his thoughts to himself as he watched the scooter's exhaust send puffs of white into the air, something the older man hadn't seen in quite a while. Another survivor, he thought, warm weather bringing them out, like the boy had said. He guessed spring would reveal a lot of people they hadn't discovered, and more of the ones they had—like that fellow this morning. While he'd known the man stayed at Northwestern, C.J. had sent Tala, a whip-thin eleven-year-old who ran like a gazelle, to follow in case the guy changed his habits; thirty minutes later she'd returned and reported the man had taken his prisoner into the hospital through a rear entrance.
McDole was impressed and worried at the same time. Although folks often went out alone, they never hunted in groups of less than three because of the danger of getting mesmerized, yet this guy had found and captured a vampire alone. But why bring it back instead of kill it? McDole hadn't seen any weapons; it was purely amazing that someone would go vampire hunting with no protection. Maybe the man had survived so far by blind luck; if that was the case, he was in for a monumental surprise at nightfall.
He turned his attention back to the woman below. There was no way to follow without being seen or heard. A lone woman who had survived the winter and the vampires was special, all right. Their group was mostly tough outdoorsmen and a sprinkling of once-white collars with more than average common sense. Two of the seven women in the group were over fifty, elderly in this new and dangerous age. With the exception of Tala, the others were older than C.J.'s seventeen and had no interest in him. The lithe quickness of the woman on the scooter hinted she was quite young and no doubt C.J.'d picked up on that.
But right now it was past mid-afternoon and he had other things to worry about. One of the women, Evelyn, was pregnant, and coming close to her time. McDole could think of no good reason for a healthy-looking man to hide in a hospital unless he was a doctor, and it was time they found out.
"I want you to go out," McDole said.
The teen brightened and his eyes flicked toward the receding scooter. “After her?"
"To Northwestern. Take Calie with you." C.J. raised his eyebrows and McDole nodded. "Find the guy we saw this morning, find out if he's really a doctor and what he's doing with that vampire. Go with Calie's instincts as far as telling him about us."
"But what about that woman?"
"A doctor's more important right now. If she's made it this far on her own, she'll last one more night. You can look for her tomorrow."
"Shit. She'll be long gone by then." The boy folded his arms sullenly, then shrugged, his brief rebellion already faded. "Never catch her now, anyway. I'll go find Calie.”
~ * ~
The hair along his forearms prickled and McDole knew Calie was there before she spoke in his ear. “Hi, boss." Her breath smelled like Juicy Fruit.
He frowned at her greeting, but her grin never wavered and he finally smiled. Calie was odd, all right; he tended to think of her as a girl, but in reality she was over thirty and endowed with a strange sixth sense that could judge a person's trustworthiness inside of five minutes. Beneath short brown hair, her friendly, pixie-like face was the smiling equivalent of a professional poker player's, and she brushed her teeth more than anybody McDole had ever known—probably to counteract the constant chewing gum. The woman had the sweet, innocent eyes of a teenage receptionist, and it had been Calie, not him, who had formed the first tentative alliances that had developed into this small underground, offering comfort and drawing the shell-shocked and sometimes-unpredictable survivors like C.J. together one by one, searching out their hiding places in the early months with an instinct no night creature would ever possess. Her implacable calm and inexhaustible strength had buoyed them all through some of the darkest, most unimaginable times . . .
Yet she insisted on calling him boss.
C.J. waited by the stairwell door with a crossbow under his arm as Calie pulled on a heavy denim jacket. "What are we doing?" she asked.
"We've been watching a man living at Northwestern," McDole told her. "I figure he might be a doctor, something we really need with Evelyn's baby about to drop. I want you guys to get in there and talk to him, see what he's all about."
"No problem," she said. She glanced at C.J. as she zipped up and her eyes narrowed. "What else?"
"He took a vampire back to the hospital with him this morning," said McDole. "We want to know why."
"A vampire?" Calie said wonderingly. "That’s different."
"He may not realize what he's getting into. He might need help tonight—if he can be trusted."
"I'll find out," she said. Before McDole could reply, their footsteps echoed down the stairway. Calie's sixth sense would locate the man easily, but what if he didn't trust them? He might refuse their help, or even run.
McDole went back to the window and peered out. A few wispy clouds floated in from the west, but farther out he could see a heavier accumulation. The cloud cover would cause an early dusk and slip their friend at Northwestern into unexpected danger.
~ * ~
"This is where he goes in." C.J. indicated a locked metal door in an alley behind the hospital. "If we break it down, it'll leave him open to an attack tonight."
Calie looked around calmly. "We'll find another way, then. It's a big building; there's bound to be a side door that we can nail shut again."
AfterAge Page 4
