The cabin looked quiet. No signs of Stan from a distance. Will was running out of options, and out of time. Tanya needed him back home and Donegan would be expecting an update. If he still didn't see his brother through the window, he might have to flush him out. Shouting for help often worked. So did small, contained fires. And if that didn't do the trick, he'd be forced to kick down the door and figure out the rest later.
Before he reached the cabin, he found blood in the snow.
Will stopped to take a look. The blood had soaked down into the snow, turning it shades of red and pink, and there was a lot of it. It had been there for more than an hour he guessed. A set of bootprints ran along the side of the blood and to the east, into a thicker area of the forest where the rising sun hadn't reached yet.
Was it Stanley's blood? Had he hurt himself, or had someone hurt him?
Had his brother killed someone?
There didn't seem to be much choice, he had to see where the trail led. If someone was out there, in the cold, with the kind of serious injury that caused this much bleeding, time was extremely precious. They could bleed out or freeze to death in minutes.
Will followed the tracks toward the forest. Drops of blood mingled with the footprints, and a few handprints showed in the snow as well, signs of stumbling and falling most likely. They were stained pink.
As he penetrated into the overwhelmingly white forest, he found signs of a struggle which had taken place in the last few hours. The snow had been rolled over, trampled down and stained by blood. One tree had had the snow knocked out of its branches by an impact to its trunk.
At the middle of it all was the bloodied carcass of a deer.
The animal's ribcage was splayed out to the sky, the red and brown innards exposed and fallen free. Bite marks marred the deer's brown fur. It looked like the aftermath of a brutal attack, but Will couldn't imagine what kind if animal would make such a mess and not stick around to finish its meal. Maybe a pack of wolves. Still, it seemed like an awful lot of meat to leave behind.
And then, Will looked up.
A man was staring at him from between two pine trees about a hundred feet away. Even in the dim light of the shaded forest, Will could tell he was horribly disfigured. His posture was all wrong, slouched low to the ground with his head tilted to the side.
"Are you alright," Will asked.
The man let out the roar of a starving animal. Will froze as the man tore out his own hair, pulling it out in chunks and letting it go to blow across the snow. In all of Will's years, all the crazy things he'd witnessed in his life, it ranked right up there at the top.
The surprises weren't done. The disfigured man surged forward and began galloping through the snow on all fours, charging at Will. His pants and boots were that of a hunter, but they were torn to shreds. He wore no shirt. His pale skin was riddled with veins and the same bite marks as the deer carcass. And he moved faster than any man Will had seen.
Will stood his ground. The wind was to his back. He needed to wait until the man was less than fifteen feet away if he was going to get out of this alive.
Sixty feet. The hunter's joints clicked with each move like a twisted marionette. Forty feet. His bleeding eyes burned with hunger. Thirty feet. Twenty feet. Ten.
The hunter leapt, his open mouth like a window into Hell. Will discharged the pepper spray. The stream struck his attacker's face, splashing into his yellow eyes as Will ducked for cover.
With a shriek the hunter landed in the snow a few feet behind Will. He flailed and clawed at his burning eyes and nose as formerly-dried blood ran down his face. Normally at this point, Will would give the target a few minutes to catch their breath and regain themselves before taking them into custody, just as he'd done with Theo and fifty other guys before him.
This time was different. He was shocked to see the hunter blink two sets of eyelids, the second a thin membrane that belonged nowhere near a human body. Within seconds the hunter had regained enough of his vision to pick out Will and growl and snarl at him like a cornered animal.
Will didn't hesitate. He emptied the rest of the pepper spray into the wild man's eyes, ditched the empty canister and ran out of there.
Going back the way he came, Will shot out of the forest like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. The sun had risen, lighting up the snowy landscape. Will ran in the tracks he'd already made so the snow wouldn't slow him too much. It was still rough terrain, though, and it seriously slowed him down.
His truck was far off to the right, the cabin on the left. The truck was a way off. The cabin was much closer. The hunter would be back on his feet in a matter of seconds. Will had to make a choice in the next few seconds.
Someone was standing in the cabin's door. Stanley, his own little brother, was in the doorway- aiming a rifle in his direction.
With a snarl the hunter broke free of the forest. Will took a second to glance back. The bloodied man shielded his bloodshot eyes from the sun. He sniffed at the air, trying to get a bead on Will like a wolf hunting prey. The hunter choked and gagged on the pepper spray he was re-inhaling and forcing further down his nasal passage.
Will was still a good distance from the cabin when the hunter picked up his scent. He ran hard, ran for his life as the sound of a beast galloping through the snow started somewhere behind him. The hunter closed in fast. Even slowed down as he was, he would catch up in no time.
"Shoot it," Will shouted to his brother, "shoot it now!"
But Stan didn't shoot. He was frozen in fear, the rifle trembling slightly in his hands. Will put everything he had into the run. The hunter was only thirty feet back. Twenty. Ten.
"Shut the door," Will shouted as he barreled through the doorway and into the cabin, right into the table. Stan snapped out of his daze just in time to slam the door closed. The hunter crashed into the door hard, shrieking in frustration. He furiously pounded and clawed at the door as Stan locked it.
Stan turned to face Will. "It's here," he said with a haunted look in his eyes.
Will walked right up and punched him in the face. He looked down at his unconscious brother. "Sorry, Ryan," he said.
-12-
Sitting on the small bed, Stanley held the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding. The coppery taste of it stung his throat. He swallowed the blood, trying not to think of the infected people on the videos he'd watched doing something very similar.
Will was at the window. He'd been there for the last twenty minutes. The hunter had gone nuts out there for a while, beating on the door, slamming his body against the side of the cabin, scratching and screaming. Luckily Stan had chosen this place for how well it was built. It was made to stand up to the worst storms Pennsylvania could throw at it, and then some. Eventually the hunter had stopped, probably wandered off and disappeared back into the forest. He was out there somewhere, likely stalking more food. They could only hope the meal he found wasn't human.
Will finally got comfortable enough to move away from the window. He held up the rifle. "You carry now?"
"I found it outside," Stanley said. His voice was nasally from holding his nose shut.
"That's convenient."
"It's a hunting rifle. Obviously his." He nodded to the now silent door.
Stanley's brother laid the rifle on the table. He looked shaken under his stony mask. "How did you appear like that," he asked.
"I saw the rifle laying in the snow." He pointed to the window at the back of the cabin, opposite the door. "When I went out to get it I heard the screams in the forest. I hauled it back inside just in time to see someone coming out of the trees. I never expected it to be you."
"That's not what I mean," Will said.
"Then I don't understand the question."
Will's eye twitched. "I got here last night. Your van was here. You weren't. Then suddenly this morning, you're here."
"Oh," Stanley said. "That." He took the pressure off of his nose, glad to find the bleeding had stopped. He stood up from the bed a
nd went to the center of the room, next to the table. Will snatched the rifle up as if Stanley was going for it. "Relax," Stanley said. He bent down and found the false floor plank.
Stanley pulled the hidden trapdoor open. When it was resting up on its hinge, Will told him to step back and took a cautious step forward to look down into the hidden room. He inspected the insulated wall, the ladder leading down.
"Just as paranoid as ever," Will said.
"It's not paranoia if you're right."
Will looked back up at him. "What, Stan, what exactly are you right about," Will asked, his nostrils flaring. "What's so important that you had to come all the way out here?"
"That thing out there. I know what it is. I know what made it."
"Shut up."
"It's a secret military bioweapon that combines Ebola with a drug called-"
"I said shut up." Will took out his cell phone and dialed the cops for the third time, the first and second time when he was still at the window. The police still didn't respond.
"The infrastructure is failing," Stanley pointed out.
"It's a small town police force, they're lucky if they have two phones." Will tried to make another call, this time to Tanya.
Stanley scoffed. "Are you planning to live your whole life willfully ignorant? Our government has failed us."
The call failed. "Knock it off. You sound like dad when you start with that." He dialed again.
"At least Dad lived with his eyes open. He tried for years to tell people what the suits were capable of, and he died with no one believing him."
Another call failed. "He always had you. But he never said the solution was selling sensitive information to ISIS."
The words felt like a slap to Stanley's face. "Do you actually think I'd be able to do something like that?"
"I have no idea, Stan. I don't know you, and it's not for lack of trying. Every time I tried to keep you involved in my life you didn't show up."
Stanley laughed. "The world is falling apart and you still want to give me a guilt trip about skipping Thanksgiving dinner."
A third call failed. Will put the phone away and got closer to Stanley, lowering his voice to a growl. "First of all, it wasn't just Thanksgiving, it was every goddamn thing I ever invited you to, including the birth of my son. You know, your nephew, who looks up to you despite otherwise being a really bright kid?"
"I know that."
Will took a step back. "And second, stop saying that. Nothing is falling apart."
D.C. was falling apart.
Tanya had laid in bed for hours watching the emergency lights dance across Will's side of the bed. Sirens went off in the distance every hour at first, then every half hour. Soon they became a constant noise- the undertone of the night. At some point she gave up on sleep altogether and sat on the couch, reading updates on the laptop. The news sites all contradicted one another. Some blamed the outbreaks of violence on the Ebola virus. Others claimed the very idea was impossible. The only thing they agreed on was that everyone should stay home.
Social media became a nightmare mix of one person making wild claims about an attack and a hundred more either arguing about it or making an even wilder one.
It had been an ugly night, but it was nothing compared to the morning. Some of the neighbors were loading up their cars. Others sealed up their windows with garbage bags and duct tape. No one seemed to know what to do, and the government- men and women just a few miles away- weren't much help. A few fights broke out between neighbors, some of them men who had been friends for years.
"This is like the best movie I've ever watched," Ryan said from the window.
"Get away from there," Tanya scolded him.
"Why?"
"Because. Someone could see you." Tanya tried Will's phone again. She'd called him more times than she could count, but the calls wouldn't go through. Even text messages were coming back as undeliverable. The phone systems were overloaded worse than New Year's Eve at midnight.
A loud boom shook the house. It sounded like a transformer had blown close-by. The power flickered for a few seconds, but everything stayed on.
"I think I saw sparks over that house," Ryan said excitedly, pointing out the window.
"Hey, what did I say about being at the window?"
Ryan turned to her and clucked his tongue. "No one's going to see me," he said. As he did, Tanya saw something pass behind him out in the street.
"What was that," she asked.
"What?" Ryan turned back to the window. "What did I miss?"
Tanya joined him at the window. "It went too fast to get a good look, but it looked like..." She trailed off, thinking about the things she'd read on the computer. People had mentioned everything from zombies to vampires to unholy demons, which was ridiculous, and more at home in the movies Ryan watched than in real life. Now her son was trying to pry the details of what she's seen from her, but she barely heard him.
She was watching the scene unfold across the street.
Arlene Johnson came stumbling out of her house in her bra and panties. She had what looked like red paint splattered on her face, except Tanya knew it wasn't paint. In her right hand she clutched a fire poker dripping with the same stuff. As she got onto her front lawn, someone appeared at the open door behind her.
It was Victor, her doting husband, except his face was all wrong. The mouth was too big, the tongue too long. His white undershirt was dotted with red spots.
"Don't look," Tanya told Ryan. Her voice sounded like it came from a million miles away.
"I've seen women in bras before, mom," he protested, transfixed on Mrs. Johnson's half-naked body.
"That's not what I mean." Across the street, Arlene turned to face her husband as he lurched onto their porch. In the sunlight, Tanya and Ryan could see now the entire left side of his face was crushed in. He didn't even seem to notice as he continued to move toward his wife, licking his swollen lips.
She screamed for him to stay back and began swinging the fire poker wildly. He still kept moving toward her, though he kept a little distance. He showed only the simplest of self-preservation, but it wasn't enough to stop him from coming at her. Given enough time, he was going to win the stand-off.
Another figure appeared from the right. It was a young girl, galloping across the street toward the Johnsons. She moved inhumanly fast, closing the distance in seconds. Tanya was only barely able to recognize little Mary Lang from next door by the bloodied pajamas she wore.
As Arlene took one more swing at her deranged husband, Mary jumped on her back and bit down on her shoulder. Victor rushed forward and joined her, and the two of them took a screaming Arlene down to the grass, tearing her to shreds.
Ryan slowly drew the curtains, blocking out their view of the horror. "I think it's time for us to hide," he said quietly, finally stepping away from the window.
Tanya had to think for a second. "The basement."
"Basement sounds good."
They moved around the house together, double-checking every door. They moved without making a sound and pulled the curtains slowly as to not draw any attention. Everything about it was utterly surreal. Tanya grabbed two flashlights from under the kitchen sink and they headed down into the basement, closing the door behind them.
Ryan locked it. "Always lock the door," he said.
The basement suddenly felt very different than before, like something between a castle and a coffin. It had to serve as their stronghold, yet there was the very real possibility they could die down there.
Tanya started to think about how long they might have to stay there until things calmed down upstairs. There were a few shelves of food storage next to the washer-dryer, and along the right wall was a small window that sat at ground level. She wedged an old blanket she'd been meaning to sew into the window frame to keep anyone from looking in. It was a weak point, but also an escape route if needed.
She decided to try calling Will again. She fished her phone out of her pocke
t, already knowing the call wouldn't go through, but having to try anyway.
The phone rang in her hand. Her heart leapt and a small cry left her. She picked up the call without checking the screen, knowing the connection might only last a few seconds.
"Will?"
"Tanya. It's Sam."
Senator Harmel. He sounded worried, scared even. He was normally so even-toned and composed, it was bizarre to hear that kind of emotion in his voice. For Tanya it hammered home how bad things truly were.
"Sam, what's going on out there?"
"There's no time to talk. You need to get out of D.C."
Tanya blinked. "What? What do you mean? On the news they said to stay indoors."
"They're evacuating us. The Army is here now. Jan already-"
Sam's voice cut out.
"Sam? Sam?" She checked the screen. The call had been lost.
As she looked over at Ryan, screams echoed through the streets of their crumbling neighborhood.
Senator Harmel put the phone back in his pocket. "Where are you taking us?"
The soldier led him by the arm toward the door. The name on his chest read Dietrich. Two minutes ago, the young man had burst into the campaign headquarters while a second soldier stayed by the door, making sure they had a safe exit. Both men were armed. "Not us. You. Our orders are for you only, sir."
The Senator stopped walking. "I'm not going anywhere without my staff, or their families."
Dietrich looked at the small crowd of six or seven campaign workers staring at him with fear in their eyes. "We have our orders, sir. We have to leave now."
"Absolutely not. I'm not leaving."
A burst of gunfire erupted outside. Everyone flinched and screamed. Out front, the second soldier put down some poor, infected soul.
"My apologies, sir, I was unclear," Dietrich said. "Another car is coming for your staff in three minutes."
Bonnie stepped forward. "It's okay, Senator, we'll take the next car," she reassured him. She looked back to the others. They all agreed.
Extinction Cycle (Kindle Worlds): Extinction [Isolation] Page 8
