“It’s all right,” she said. “Don’t squeeze so hard.”
Her voice sounded disembodied in the darkness. He forced himself to relax his left hand.
“Sorry.”
A grinding sound started and light began to filter down from above. Then sand began to fall on his head. He ducked his head down to stop it from falling in his eyes. Soon, bright sunlight light up the elevator shaft but the shower of sand stopped him from appreciating the view.
They emerged onto the desert floor. Peter shook his head, brushed sand from his shoulders. Lucy didn’t seem to notice. She opened the throttle and the engine roared. He barely had time to grab her waist again before they started off.
The wind made short work of the sand. He hunched against her, protecting his face from the wind and sand. A glance back showed him blank desert, not a sign of where they’d emerged. For a brief moment he wondered if she’d be able to find the way back before sundown. Of course she would; obviously she’d done this before.
The village turned out to be a small town long abandoned. As they reached the main street, he saw makeshift stalls and tables. People dressed in layers with cloth wrapped around their heads and faces shuffled around. They barely reacted as Lucy and Peter drove up.
She stopped the bike and he climbed off. A few of the people glanced at him and moved farther away. Lucy swung her leg off the bike and headed for the ragged row of stalls.
“What about the bike?” Peter said. “Won’t someone take it?”
An amused smile twisted her lips. “And go where? They’d have to get past the traps anyway.”
Before he could ask about that, she turned away, opening her satchel as she approached the first stall.
A man hunched over the table. Deep crevices lined his dark face. Light blue eyes squinted from beneath a tangle of rags wrapped around his head. Heavily lined hands with yellowed nails scraped at the surface of the table.
Lucy pulled out a tangle of wires from her satchel. Without a word, the man began to sort through them, his hands moving faster than Peter imagined. Within a few minutes, he’d sorted and wrapped the wires into separate bundles.
“How much?” Lucy said.
The man scratched his cheek. “Five.”
“It’s worth at least ten.”
“Five.”
Lucy frowned. She pulled out a few pieces of metal and tossed them onto the table.
The man scooped them forward, fingers moving over the metal as if he could tell its origin by feel.
“Now ten.”
Lucy sighed. “Okay.”
The man handed her several tokens then swept the wire and metal into a box under the table.
Lucy turned away, heading for the other stalls. Peter followed.
“Is that money?” he said.
“Their form of money. Every village is different.”
“How many of these places are there?”
“Less than there used to be.”
“How do they survive?” he said.
Lucy shrugged. “Probably hide underground at night or barricade themselves in a building. With enough fortification they could probably withstand an attack for a while.”
“For this long?”
“Vampires aren’t that smart. They’re cunning but not intelligent. Move often enough and they forget about you.”
Peter thought about the attack on his van, the one he couldn’t remember clearly. “Maybe they’re getting smarter.”
Lucy shook her head. “Impossible. The mutations in the virus damage the cerebral cortex. The higher function you see is just an echo, a trick. They mimic speech but they aren’t intelligent.”
She stopped at a table covered with a few boxes of wizened vegetables.
“They may not be smart but they’re demons.”
Lucy glanced up at the woman behind the table. “Pardon?”
“Vampires. That’s what you’re talking about, ain’t it? They’re getting more evil.”
Peter came to stand behind Lucy. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not enough to kill, now they steal.”
“Steal?” Peter said. “Steal what?”
A man stepped forward from another table. His lined hand descended on the woman’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Ellen.”
She shrugged the hand off and glared over her shoulder at him. Despite his bulk, he backed away. She turned back to Lucy and Peter.
“Took my boy,” she said. Grief choked the word off. Her lips twisted.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said.
“Took him,” she spat out. “Not killed him.”
“What do you mean took?” Lucy said.
“Took. Took him. Came into our camp and grabbed him up. He was only eleven. They took Sarah’s daughter too. She was seven.” She pointed at another table down the road. A figure draped in robes sat hunched side a table, ignoring anyone who came near.
Lucy frowned. “Are you sure they didn’t kill them?”
“I heard him crying for me. It didn’t stop ‘til they were out of sight. We couldn’t catch them. There was too many of them. They blitzed us and when our backs were turned, they grabbed my boy and Sarah’s girl.”
Peter felt all the muscles in his back tense. It sounded so much like the attack on his squad: the blitz attack on the main group to hide the attack on him in the van. Was it possible that the vampires could be developing higher intelligence? Were they no longer mere animals? Why would they be taking children instead of killing and feeding outright? His brain refused to answer the question. The possibilities were too horrifying.
“You must be mistaken,” Lucy said. “I’m sure the vampires probably killed them.”
The woman shook her head. “I saw it. They dragged him away. I know what killing looks like and this wasn’t it.” She gestured at the vegetables. “Do you want ‘em or not?”
Lucy bartered for a bag and handed over three tokens. Peter followed as she wandered among the tables, picking out small fruit and arguing over prices. He realized he should be paying attention, learning how this aspect of their lives worked but he couldn’t stop thinking about the vampire raids. Why were they taking children?
Soon he noticed how their shadows were growing longer on the ground. Time was slipping away. He touched Lucy’s arm to get her attention. She was deep into conversation with one of the other vendors and shrugged his hand off. Around them, people began to move away, vendors started packing up. Shadows seemed to be getting longer by the minute. Shortly that forty-five minute ride would mean arriving back at the lab after dark.
“Lucy,” he said.
She waved him away, not even looking back at him. Surely she had to realize the danger. Maybe the vampires couldn’t infect them again but they could certainly be killed. He grabbed her arm.
“Lucy…”
She jerked away, glaring at him. “Not now,” she snapped. A quick shake of her head made him realize she knew what time it was, she was delaying on purpose.
Why?
Around him the speed of activity increased. People who had been lounging in the heat sprang to their feet, packing boxes, folding tables, and taking down tents. They moved with speed and economy, no wasted movement. Peter stayed out of the way, keeping an eye on Lucy as she continued to talk with the vender. Soon the area was almost clear. The only evidence of the market were scuffs in the dirt and Lucy’s bike listing to one side.
The sun sank past the top of the highest building. Shadows extended like claws on the ground. Even with his immunity, Peter itched to get inside, to get to safety. Habits of a lifetime. Still, he waited for Lucy. She had some plan in mind. At least he hoped she had some plan in mind.
“Well, we should get moving, Jacob.” She clapped a hand on the vendor’s shoulder. “See you again.”
The vendor nodded then glanced around the empty street. “How far you have to go? It’s late.”
“Oh my god, it is!” Lucy widened her eyes in innocence. “I didn’t realize it.
”
The vendor shook his head. “You can’t head off now. They’ll get you.” He gestured to Peter. “You’ll stay with us.”
Lucy ducked her head. “Thank you, Jacob. Can we stash our bike inside?”
He pointed across to a small shed. “Stick it in there then come to main building. Be quick. I can’t hold the door for you for long.”
He turned away and began a quick shuffle across the street. His movements blurred the marks of the market even more.
Lucy sprang to the bike and began pushing it toward the shed. Peter hurried to help her.
“Why are we staying?” Peter said.
“I want to know what’s going on?” she said. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
“They won’t say any more in the daytime. They might say more tonight.” They reached the shed and Lucy opened the door. They pushed it inside. As they left, she wrapped a length of chain around the door handle. Already the shadows along the ground were longer, reaching outward like clutching hands. Every minute extended their reach.
“Maybe they’re getting smarter after all,” Peter said.
“Or they’re stashing food,” she said. “Doesn’t mean they’re more intelligent.”
But as they scrambled into the main building, he saw the worried expression on her face. It only confirmed the anxiety he felt in her mind. A reflection of his own concern. If the vampires were learning, what would they do now?
Darkness already had hold inside the building. Lucy switched on a pin light and led him forward. Dirt and grime coated everything. Irregular shapes loamed in the light, destroyed and decaying furniture. They moved to a stairwell and followed it down.
People huddled inside a huge room with thick, steel door. As they entered, the man standing by the doorway counted again then nodded. Several men pulled on the door until it swung shut, sealing them all inside. A dim floater light hung near the ceiling, illuminating the thin faces. Behind them were walls of tiny drawers.
“A bank vault,” Lucy said.
“How many places like this?” he said.
“A few,” one of the men said. “We move around. Don’t like them to get our scent.”
“Enough chatter,” another voice said. “Time for sleep.”
Around them, people settled onto the floor, lying on scraps of fabric. Lucy unwound her turban, spilling her hair over her shoulders. She lay the material down on the ground. Peter followed her lead, unwinding the fabric from his hair, feeling his blond hair tickle his face. Lucy reached up and brushed it off his cheek. Her hand settled on his neck and pulled him down. He lay beside her and wrapped his arms around her. He noticed a few people closest to them nodding.
Soon he heard deep breathing all around. Even Lucy sank into sleep. Peter listened, thinking he could hear the wind outside, feel it brushing the dust along the desert floor. He closed his eyes. He could almost feel the moonlight on his skin. In the darkness outside, he knew he would be able to see. He felt the presence of others around him, moving in the darkness. He sensed their blood hunger, felt the urge to kill itch in their veins. Something inside him stirred to join them. It would be so easy to get up and open the vault. From the way it had closed, he realized the hydraulics still worked. It wouldn’t take much effort to open the door. Open the door. Then he could join them. Open the door. Then he could be free. Open the door…
Peter snapped open his eyes. He was standing in front of the door, his hands reaching. He pulled them back, curling them against his chest. He could still almost feel the thoughts in his mind, urging him on. Did they knew he was here or where they just broadcasting, hoping to penetrate someone vulnerable?
He crawled back to where Lucy lay sleeping. He picked up the strand of fabric he’d used on his hair and tied one end on his leg and the other to Lucy’s hand. If he moved again in the night, she would wake up. It would have to be enough.
He sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, knees tucked under his chin. He would have to stay awake. He couldn’t trust himself.
It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER NINE
No matter his condition Rick always got above ground as quickly as possible upon waking up in the morning. The underground apartments were perfectly safe but he needed to see the sun. It was part of being a squad member. Sunlight meant safety.
This morning gave the sunlight the power of molten lava pouring into his brain but still he stood above ground, feeling the sun on his face. He closed his eyes as the only concession to the pain. The throbbing of his head echoed the tension in his stomach.
First the Council had turned against the squads and now it appeared the USC was pulling away its support as well. Every bar he and Josh had visited last night played out the same story, the same rumors. Big changes were coming and the squads would be on the losing end. Finally at the last place they heard what Rick had been waiting all night to hear: several squad leaders were meeting to discuss the situation and their options. That meeting was taking place today.
Rick took a deep breath in and let it out. His head still throbbed. He wasn’t as young as he used to be. Time was he could drink like that and then head off for a hunt first thing. Now all he wanted to do was sleep.
However sleep had to wait. With that meeting coming up, he had to be sharp. He opened his eyes and took one last look at the sun, then headed to his room.
His unmade bed reflected his troubled sleep. The air still had the stale smell of being closed in. He moved to the small window and opened it to get some fresh air. It hardly seemed to matter. Under the dome there was no breeze and all the air was recycled. He’d never get the freshness of the outside desert here.
He indulged and splashed some water on his face. The shock cleared the last of the fuzziness from his brain. He dry-swallowed a couple of anti-hangover pills. He didn’t normally use them but he needed to be sharp. One last run of the comb through his hair and he was as ready as he’d ever be.
If they shut down the squads would he lose the room privilege, he wondered as he left. Certainly there were many who thought squad members didn’t deserve such luxuries. Would he be able to adapt to living underground?
It wasn’t the room he would miss, it would be the desert. Getting the chance to venture outside the dome, even to have to hunt the vampires, made coming back bearable. He needed the open spaces. How would he be able to give that up? How long before the vampires got bold enough to attack the dome directly?
He headed for the southeast elevator. As usual, just before entering, he gave one final nod to the desert outside. The squad salute, as Sami called it. What would she think of this meeting? He hadn’t had time to talk to her about it, didn’t want to burden her with it. She carried enough. With Peter and Raj gone, she’d been looking after all of them.
In the old days, bringing the news to the family and picking new members would have been the only order of the day. Now he had to deal with politics. When had it changed? How had it become more important to be seen with the right people than to kill the vampires?
They didn’t get out there, he realized. Everyone under the dome lived their safe lives while he and the other squads risked theirs on a regular basis. Vampire attacks near the dome had been virtually eliminated for over five years.
Out of sight, out of mind, he thought. Just because it’s a city they don’t think Bevelin could happen here. But all it would take would be one vampire to get in. One vampire could do a hell of a lot of havoc before they killed it and every person it attacked would have to be dealt with. He didn’t think people in the dome would be able to cope with that reality.
The elevator deposited him on the twentieth floor below. One of the industrial floors, he recalled. As he walked the hall he could feel the throb of generators behind the nondescript steel doors. Although silent the vibrations made his head ache. He hurried along, listening to his footsteps echo down the grey corridor. No color here, no consideration to human needs, strictly a functional area.
Even the bland desert had more life than this hall.
He counted off the doors then knocked on the fifth door on the right. Three taps, pause, three taps, pause, two taps. The door hissed open. Rick entered.
He was the last to arrive. People mulled about the small room. There were only half enough chairs, he noticed, as if the organizers didn’t realize how many would show up.
Ted Whethers from the Scourge of Heaven came up and grasped his hand.
“Welcome, Rick, sorry to hear about your loss. This isn’t the kind of welcome home you deserve.”
“This isn’t the kind of welcome home any of us deserve,” Rick said. “You’ve got a lot of people here.”
“Almost all the squads are represented,” Ted said. “I’m glad you could come. We need to stand together to stop this.”
Rick finished scanning the crowd, noting the familiar faces, and turned to Ted. “How did it come to this, Ted? What the hell is going on?”
Ted shrugged and shook his head. “What can I say? Denial, they’ve forgotten how bad it can get, fear, politics. A combination of all of them. Who knows?”
“Blindness.” Stacy Darnell from Allah’s Justice appeared at Rick’s elbow. She held a cup in her hand. “People don’t want to see the truth. There’s refreshments in the corner if you want something.”
“Thanks,” Rick said. He moved through the crowd, saying hello to some, nodding to others. In the corner he found a bottle of whiskey and a canteen of coffee. He chose the coffee.
“Can I have your attention?” A voice from behind him called out. Rick turned as the rumble of conversation around him dwindled.
James Chen of Allah’s Justice stood at the front of the room. Tall and lanky, he towered over the people before him. His black hair buzzed on both sides of his head accentuated the scar that curled down his cheek to his neck. He wore a faded leather jacket over an orange tunic.
“Sorry for the lack of seats. Please sit if you can.”
A few moments passed as people shuffled into the chairs. Rick stayed at the back of the room and sipped coffee. The bitterness cut through his headache. Not as good as Sister Theresa’s anti-hangover powder but better than nothing.
The Night Killers Page 9
