Gingerbread Man: A Marlow and Sage Mystery (A Nursery Rhyme Suspense Book 1)

by Lee Strauss

  I decided to make myself useful and went to the kitchen to start lunch for everyone. Truth was, I was getting hungry. I rummaged through the canned goods finding several cans of soup. I opened up four of them, added water and began to heat them on the stove. Good on Professor Garvin for securing that generator.

  I made toast and used the last of the margarine, hoping they’d somehow managed to find more of it on their raids. I had the lab table set with bowls when the crew returned. They didn’t show up with smiles this time. There was something close to panic etched on their faces. I counted heads and a cool liquid dripped down my spine.

  “Where’s Teagan?”

  53

  

  Marlow

  “One minute she was with me,” Nora said in a thick voice. “And the next, she was no where to be found. I called for her, even lifted this stupid mask off my face.” She grabbed it off the top of her head, her hair catching its static and springing out in a red halo. “Risking my own life! But she never responded.”

  “Calm down, babe,” Jake said. He stood in front of her with his palms up. “Where were you?”

  “We took the neighborhood in the northwest end, by Paddy’s creek. I know we aren’t supposed to split up, but we both thought we could cover more ground.” She bit her lip as she stared at the bag of goods she’d retrieved at her feet.

  “We have to go back and find her,” Sage said.

  Blaine had the dosimeter out and he scanned each one. “You guys are hot. You must’ve walked through a radioactive pocket.” He shook his head. “You all need a decon showers ASAP.” He pulled a black bag out of the cupboard and opened it. Jake and Nora were already stripping down.

  “I’m going back out,” Sage said. “I can’t leave Lake out there to die.”

  “We won’t leave her,” Blaine said with a slow, steady voice. “As soon as the numbers are down, you can redress and go out again.”

  Zed pulled off his scrubs. “He’s right Sage. Use your head.”

  “I’m not waiting,” Sage said through tight lips. She stared at Nora. “Where exactly were you, O’Shea, when you last saw her?”

  Nora rattled off the address. Sage reached for the door.

  “Wait,” I said. “I’ll go with you.”

  She considered me. “You risk contamination.”

  “I don’t care.”

  I quickly shucked on a winter jacket and clean scrubs and grabbed another gas mask. Zed handed me a backpack with two water bottles, a couple energy bars and a flashlight inside. Sage handed me a gun.

  “You know how to use one of these?”

  I grimaced. “Not really.”

  “Well, you probably won’t need to use it, but if so, slip the safety off, aim with two hands and pull the trigger.”

  She put hers into her pocket. I did the same with mine. It was heavy. I had to lean left a little to compensate.

  The mask fit tight against my face and my breath made Darth Vader-like noises. I felt slightly claustrophobic. Sage was obviously unaffected by her mask or the weight of her gun. She strode in a near jog and I scrambled up the steps to keep up with her.

  It was midday with a clear fall sky. The air was cool despite the sun. The atmosphere remained smoky and particle-filled. My shadow was still missing.

  You don’t realize how much you depend on shadows to give perspective and direction. North, south, east, west. Near or far. I knew the campus and Detroit City, but this catastrophic mess was enough to throw my inner compass off.

  Sage consulted a handheld GPS.

  “That still works?” I asked.

  “The terrorists have yet to find a way to bomb space stations.” Her voice through the mask made her sound far away, which messed with my senses. At least I could hear her and we could talk.

  Sage wasn’t in a chatty mood. It gave me time to think about Teagan. Was she destined to die in every realm? Was it impossible to save her? It made me wonder if the bombs in this world had prevented a rapist from taking her here, and so the universe had found another way.

  “Sage…uh, Farrell?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Before the bombs, what was going on at campus?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Were there any crimes?”

  “Other than cheating and plagiarism?”

  “Yeah, like serious crimes. Like rapes and killings?”

  That slowed Sage down. She flashed me a murderous look and pulled out her gun. “If you even think …”

  “Not me! God, Sage! Farrell, whatever, what the hell.”

  She lowered her weapon. “Are you talking about your world?”

  “Mine and the next one.”

  “Doesn’t sound like paradise there either. Don’t tell Tucker. He’d be so disappointed.”

  “Okay, I won’t. Thing is, Teagan …”

  I paused, second-guessing if I should tell. What was the point anyway.

  “Teagan what?” she prodded.

  “Nothing.”

  Sage stopped and looked me in the eye. We breathed Darth Vader noises at each other. “Tell me.”

  This version of Sage intimidated me. I squared my shoulders. “In my world, Teagan Lake is raped and murdered.”

  I could see the color drain from Sage’s face through her mask. “In the green world, she’s missing, but her body hasn’t been found. You and I believe she’s still alive. We’re trying to find her.”

  “You and me?” she said. “We’re friends?”

  “In the green world we are.”

  She resumed walking. “Why do you call it the green world?”

  “The sky there is greener than it is in my world. It gives everything an emerald shimmer.”

  “What color is your world?”

  “Well, the sky is blue, but there’s no shimmer. We do have shadows, though.”

  “We had shadows before the atmosphere filled with a smoky, radioactive haze.” Sage inspected her GPS. “This way,” she said, and we turned a corner.

  “Are we good friends?” she asked without looking at me. “Because here, we’re not. I mean the other version of you. I only met Henry the day of the bombs.”

  “We’ve only known each other for a couple days. I feel like we became friends quickly, though. Maybe because we both really want to save Teagan.”

  “I can see why I would want to save Teagan. She’s my best friend. But what drove you? Were you friends?” Her eyebrow arched to the top of her mask. “More than friends?”

  “We met online. I felt like I knew her. I cared for her enough that I didn’t want to see her die twice.”

  A silence fell between us. I didn’t understand this Sage. At all.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “Life in this world didn’t just start getting hard for me three weeks ago. I know I’m bristly.”

  “You do remind me a little of a porcupine.”

  That actually made her eyes smile. For about a tenth of a second.

  We turned another corner and Sage stopped. “This is the area.”

  The suburb reminded me of wartime pictures I’d seen on the Internet. Rows of empty homes with walls and windows blown out, glass shards and broken red bricks scattered about, chimneys knocked over and shutters askew. I followed Sage into the first house on the right. A small twisted bicycle lay in the ditch. Sage turned on her flashlight, and the beam coasted across a dust-laden living room, everything just as it was before the occupants fled.

  “Teagan!” Sage called out.

  We searched the second floor and the basement. Except for a family of mice, the place was empty. The next three houses were variations of the same.

  “This is taking too long,” Sage said. “Let’s split up. Go door to door, call her name.” She reached into her backpack and produced a whistle. “Lake has one, so listen for this. If you find her, blow as hard as you can. I’ll do the same. Meet me at this address in one hour if you don’t find her. We’ll have to regroup.”

  I took the wh
istle wondering how I’d manage to use it with my mask on. Not possible. I’d have to risk radiation to use it. Fine.

  Sage was already at the front door of the next house. When it wouldn’t open, she disappeared around the back.

  I took a deep breath and started in the opposite direction. To say the place was eerie was an understatement. A bombed-out ghost town. Just me and my noisy breath.

  Some houses were burned-out shells, while others remained surprisingly intact. People who fled at the news of the Chicago bombing fared better than those who waited until after the Detroit fires.

  The front doors were usually locked, and in those cases I searched for an open or broken window that Teagan may have gained entrance by.

  I searched the next house as quickly as possible, calling Teagan’s name as I went. I thought I heard something in one of the bedrooms. Heavy breathing? Was Teagan here? Hurt?

  “Teagan?”

  I heard the breathy sound again, but it wasn’t the sound of someone breathing. It was hissing. I jumped back and screamed. A snake slithered across the floor. I fell against the dresser, knocking a lamp onto the floor. It landed with a crash. The reptile disappeared under the bed.

  Sweat broke out on my brow under the mask, and my own short breaths roared like crashing waves in my ears. I scrambled out of the room, down the dark hall and out the open front door.

  Bent over at the waist, I rested my hands on my knees. It was just a snake. Probably a harmless pet or just a creature looking for its next house mouse meal.

  Shake it off, man.

  I admired Sage’s courage. I agreed that we would cover more ground if we separated, but I missed her company. Safety in numbers, and all that. Good thing I couldn’t see my own shadow or I’d likely jump at that too.

  A howl in the distance. I stopped short. Great. Mutant wildlife. What else could go wrong?

  Even though we were on a mission to find Teagan, Sage had grabbed two empty canvas bags before we left in case we stumbled across something valuable. Mine hung over my shoulder with six boxes of mac and cheese and a tub of unopened margarine that I’d found in the last house. Unlike butter, margarine was an edible oil product and I wouldn’t be surprised if its properties were sufficient to stand up against radiation fallout.

  I turned onto Riddle Street. Another row of brick and wood single story homes with in-ground cement basements. Trees leaned like naked fairies, their leaves on the ground and escaping in the nearly freezing breeze.

  I reached for the next handle, turned it and blinked when it eased open. Teagan could be inside. “Teagan?”

  The floorboards beneath me creaked. My ears perked up at the sound of high-pitched squeaking and what sounded like sand being thrown on the linoleum. The mask on my face made for unclear peripheral vision. Something brushed against my leg.

  I yelled and did a jig. A row of rats scurried around me, disappearing behind the worn couch in the living room. I grabbed at my heart. I hated rodents. Almost as much as I hated snakes. Apparently, underground creatures had the best chance of surviving apocalyptic events.

  Nervous sweat broke out on my brow. I breathed deeply, urging myself to carry on. The air smelled off. More off than usual. The mask filtered poisonous fumes, but it couldn’t block the rancid stench that grew in intensity as I walked down the hall.

  Bad smell. Bad body smell. Bad dead body smell.

  Oh, God, please let it not be Teagan.

  The bedroom door was open a crack. I pushed on it. My heart thundered in my ears. Sweat dripped off my eyelashes and I blinked to clear my vision. The door creaked as it swung wider. A body lay on the bed.

  54

  

  Marlow

  Wiry white hair spread over the pillow and along the temples of a wrinkly old man. His nose and cheeks were missing. Damn rats! I backed up and bent over my knees. I couldn’t vomit. I didn’t want to remove my mask. Breathe, Marlow! In. Out.

  I raced outside. The only thing I wanted to do was rip off my mask. I felt claustrophobic, like I’d been stuffed into a man-sized test tube. I tugged on my hair until it hurt, bringing myself to my senses.

  It was just a dead body. That was all. The poor guy probably had a heart attack in bed. He’d lived a long life and left the stage before he had to deal with the horrors that now lay outside his door. He was luckier than most.

  I had to stay focused on Teagan. She was out here somewhere. Alone. I had to get my shite together and find her. I inhaled deeply and shouted, “Teagan!”

  A noise came from the house next door. Knocking? I cocked my head and strained to hear. Yes, knocking. The house looked stable, with no missing windows or loose bricks. I ran to the front door. Locked. Circling around back I could see that the front of the house concealed the damage at the back. A covered porch had collapsed and debris was strewn across the yard. I approached carefully, noting that the wooden steps were brittle with age and weather.

  “Teagan!”

  Again the knocking, but it sounded like it came from behind me. A soft tap, tap, tap.

  “Teagan!”

  “Help.” The call was faint but distinct. I spun around and saw a broken wooden crate on the ground. I hurried toward it. It looked like a cover to a cellar or a bunker. I grabbed the broken pieces and pulled, ignoring the sharp slivers that stabbed through my gloves and bit my fingers.

  The area below was dark. I reached for my flashlight and worked a grid with the beam of light. Teagan lay at the bottom of the stairs. Blood dripped on one side of her face and her arm was bent in an unnatural angle.

  She stared up at me through her mask, eyes wide with fear. “Who are you?”

  “It’s Marlow. I’m with Sage. I’m here to help.”

  Teagan winced. “I fell down the stairs and hit my head. I must’ve passed out. I twisted my ankle, and God, does my arm hurt.”

  The cement staircase lacked a railing. I eased down not wanting to be a second casualty.

  “You’re okay,” I said when I reached her. “I’ll get you out.”

  “My bag,” she said, pointing. It had landed out of reach of her outstretched arm. “I need water.”

  I pulled her bag closer, dug inside and handed her the water.

  “Can you help lift my mask?”

  I nodded and held it up while she drank. I placed it back when she was finished. Capped her bottle and returned it to her bag. I then removed a bottle from my bag and followed suit. I eyed the steep stairwell, imagining myself carrying Teagan out. I should’ve spent more time at the gym. Correction: I should’ve gone to the gym.

  “I thought the cover was just a scrap piece of wood. I should’ve known better than to walk across it,” Teagan said.

  I flashed my light to better take in our surroundings. Looked like an old bunker. A radio sat on a dusty desk. Canned food stuffs lined a shelf. An old dog-eared pin-up calendar featuring a voluptuous blond wearing a pointy brassiere, hung from a nail in the wall. February 1952.

  I scoured the place looking for something I could use as a brace for Teagan’s arm. A broom leaned up against the wall. I lifted a knee to break the handle over my leg. I underestimated the strength of it. Pain exploded in my thigh and I jumped around as curse words flew from my lips. Teagan watched me with great apprehension. I came to my senses and looked for tools. Surely a bunker would be equipped with a toolbox. I found one under the desk. The snap flicked open easily and I found a hammer. I thought maybe I could pound the middle of the handle until it weakened, but then I spotted the handsaw underneath.

  I lay the broomstick on the desk and sawed until I was halfway through. I used my other leg this time to complete the break. There was a length of rope I cut into two pieces with a less-than-sharp hunting knife. I was a sweaty mess after the exertion.

  “Okay,” I said with my Darth Vader voice. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but it’s probably going to hurt.”

  Teagan nodded with eyes glazed over by fear and pain. She gripped my scrubs as she screamed blo
ody murder, then collapsed in a heap. I thought she might’ve passed out with the pain.

  “Teagan?”

  Her eye’s flickered open. “I’m all right.”

  I worked as quickly as possible, tightening the piece of broom stick to her forearm with the rope, and fashioned a piece to loop around her neck as a sling. It occurred to me that I should take a moment to blow the whistle, to alert Sage, but I didn’t think she would be able to hear us from down here.

  Besides, we had bigger problems. Dusk came early to Michigan this time of year. The hungry nocturnal beasts were awakening. I heard a low growl from the top of the stairs. Two red eyes peered down at us, a feral face marked with patches of missing fur. It growled again, baring two rows of sharp, pointy teeth.

  It looked hungry. It looked diseased. It looked desperate.

  We were in trouble.

  55

  

  Marlow

  “Marlow! My gun!”

  Teagan’s yell snapped me out of my frozen stance and I remembered the weight in my right pocket. I reached for the gun and aimed it at the creature—a dog or coyote, a wolf—it was hard to tell in the near darkness. It crouched down and I could see the silhouette of its neck, its stiff fur standing on end. It was going to pounce.

  I gripped the gun with both hands, which were shaking so much it would be a miracle if I shot anything at all. I pulled the trigger, but it didn’t budge. I’d forgotten the safety.

  The creature growled again.

  “Marlow!”

  Safety off. Aim with two hands. Pull the trigger. I wasn’t prepared for the kickback, and I stepped backward, tripping on what was left of the broom, and landed hard on my ass. I heard a yelp and then a howl.