by Alexa Dare
To the device he created to transmute electricity into pure magnetic energy.
Except this time, the power source would be that of the children of the elements, with the result to be the storm’s end and the chance to salvage the world they’d help to destroy.
Bolstered by ideas and a solid plan to get them out, Brody yanked open the control room door. As if the knob gut punched him, he bent over and huffed out a lungful. Mouth agape, Brody shook his head in disbelief.
Just inside the small room, a large metal stew pot lay on its side. The upside-down lid rested near the lip of the kettle. Not a single mutated, giant black widow spider in sight.
Chapter 30
First nothing, then rotten whiffs, and then a dead woman stared with white-cataract filmed eyes at Nora from the chair. Blue-gray skin sagged on the body’s bones. Sprouts of frizzed hair, tinted auburn, topped a face torn and ruined, with a flap of her lower mouth hanging and the side of her yellow, brown-stained teeth exposed.
That thing…
Only a moment before, had been Nora.
A flavor, like green apples, shot tart, then pain speared under the left side of her ribcage and numbed her arm. Nora, now in Olivia’s body, dropped to her knees. She shoved the chair.
The desk seat toppled and sent her rotten, useless former self to thump onto the floor.
Someone banged on the door. “Yates, the troops are ready for their feeding.”
“Something’s wrong.” Like a rusty hinge, the words croaked from her throat. White-hot hurt, like lava, spread. Her heart skipped a beat, and pain fisted in her chest.
Heart murmur. Prolapse…
Skipped beats.
“Yates’ bimbo has a weak heart. There’s true irony for you.” Her lungs chugged air too thick and molten for her to breathe.
Like music to her ears, two other hearts pumped, both young and full of fear, at the other end of the room.
Nora hitched limb-by-limb upright.
She stumbled to the closest chair, past the—her old—body. If only she might have an easy, decomp-free breath so she could enjoy being alive again.
“Stupid of me to trust Yates’ judgment.” Nora shoved from chair to chair to where Peyton and Hannah stood, both angling from foot to foot, ready to fight.
On a chair back, the beds of Nora’s nails tinged blue.
The girls bolted toward the door.
“Better not, the zombies will get you.” Nora staggered their way. Nora called out, “Tell the librarian, that no matter what, no harm is to come to my son.”
“Is that you, Nora?” the librarian’s muffled voice asked through the door. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’ve entered my vessel.” Nora smiled within her new flexible pliant face.
Far behind, from her leftover corpse, decomp of what she had been rose.
“Yates must be pleased,” the woman, from outside, said.
Was Yates, along with Doc, etcetera, inside her being?
If they were, they kept their mouths shut.
Peyton crouched near the gunmen’s bodies and grasped the barrel of the rifle trapped beneath the dead men.
Growling, the two dead troops raised their heads.
The one with a death grip on the trapped rifle grabbed Peyton’s wrist.
The girl yelped.
As if the zombie’s head were a football, Hannah ran forward and kicked.
The guard’s head whipped back in a spray of teeth and deep red blood. His clawing hands grabbed at his offset lower jaw.
Freed, Peyton backed until she bumped against the door.
“It’s time for a feeding,” the older zombie woman said.
The two guards chomped their mouths as if chewing air and heaved to their feet.
Yates, so far, did not rise.
“There are plenty of food sources within the theater area.” Nora, pain knifing in her chest, called to mind the juicy leg of lamb.
“The children?” asked the fellow smart zombie.
“Leave my son, the other gifted kids, and your own chosen vessel unharmed. As for the others—”
“Tasty morsels.” The librarian chuckled.
“You leave them alone.” Hannah, her young face, so tight with anger, stood, at the door, beside Peyton. “You’re a cold-hearted witch, no matter what you look like.”
The guards, once again, froze in place. Their efforts quivered through their frames, but they remained in place like zombie icicles.
“I doubted myself, you know. I was drawn to Peyton’s strength. She should have been my choice. I’ve a use for you.”
“Stay away from me.” Peyton ran back into the heart of the room to Nora’s dead body. She anchored her foot on the zombie body’s shoulder and grabbed the stiff arm and twisted and pulled.
“Nora Hicks, you make me so mad. She waved the tubed envelope. “I’ll never give this to you.” Anger twisted Hannah’s face into an ugly mask. She dipped by Nora and ran to help her friend. “This should help.”
A white coating of frost covered the—Nora’s former—body.
Frozen, the shoulder snapped and popped. With a squelch and rip, the arm tore free.
Nora, at the ruin of her former shell, flinched.
Peyton stomped the fingerless hand, until the bones crunched away in streaks of gray flesh to leave a jagged bone at the wrist.
Together, the girls rolled the limb under their shoe soles to peel away the dead flesh until only a pointed arrow-length piece of bone remained.
“My, you are fighters.” Nora’s left hand would not grip. Instead, the Olivia arm hung useless at her side. “My choice was ill made. This faulty vessel is not at all suitable for my needs.”
“You choose bad, you lose bad.” Peyton backed away, then made her way to back to crouch in front of the door. “You helped do this to Hannah and her friends, to make them the way they are, didn’t you? Even your own son.”
“We didn’t know what was being done to us. They lied.” Nora said, “Used us.”
“You let them make your own child do bad things.” Hannah asked, “What kind of a mother are you?”
“A desperate one.”
Hannah tore the other arm from the body, rip and pop, and made another bone shard spear. “To get your hands on Vincent, you’ll have to go through us. You tell them to leave the kids alone. Now.”
In a wide circle around Nora, the girl dashed past.
“I intend to have my way, one way or another.” Nora wheezed in a breath. Out from behind a chair, she lurched toward them. “You saw me kill them with my mind, didn’t you? I have no need to touch you to slow you down or to end you. I’ll take my envelope from you now.”
The thumps of the teenage girls’ hearts called to her.
Not just as a lure to deliver death, but as possible gateways for Nora to live on and on and on.
Chapter 31
“Son, another surge is upon us. I’m going to heal Miss Irene, but, in the meantime, I want you to know, I’m honored to know the man you’ve become and appreciate all you’ve done for these kids.”
The protein bar’s too-sweet berry taste melted to yuck in the back of Brody’s throat. As if a giant hand squeezed his chest, Brody struggled to breathe in the bottle-lit, cold gloom of the auditorium.
After a quick race down the steps, he went to one knee in front of his uncle’s seat. On his next breath, his words rushed out and he laid truth on the table,” he said, “Cantrell died because of me.”
“Your brother was troubled. The treatments they did on you two with the magnets…” Merv blinked watery eyes and popped a thick swallow. “His mind evolved to such a level his thinking was no longer right.”
“His price.” Brody’s eyes darted toward the control room. “After this surge, I doubt I’ll be able to figure my way out of a cardboard box, so we need to get our plan in motion quick.” He breathed in the homey comfort of his uncle’s spiced cologne. “You have to hang in there. We’ll fix this.”
<
br /> “There’s no fixing this. I’m a healer, I should know. With what little time, I’ve got left—”
Irene tugged at his sleeve and shook her head.
“We gotta face what’s happening head on, because something is out of sorts. We both know I won’t survive the aftermath of too many more power surges.” He held up his arms and grasped the flapping loose skin. “Always wanted to be thin and fit, but not like this.” He chuckled and cupped Irene’s cheek. “We could have had us some real good times, couldn’t we, dear lady?
Irene, her red hair radiant in the bottle light glow, frowned and tears flowed from eyes so sad that Brody had to look away.
Such a love—
No way would Brody ever find such a treasure. He’d have his designs, the kids, and an untold number of gadgets to build. He’d immerse himself in those and be completely satisfied.
A good simple life any man might be proud to accept.
“God knows, I loved your bother, he was a good boy, but with the treatments, then the scars of war...” Merv hung his head. Silent sobs rocked his broad shoulders. Beard quivering, he pulled himself upright. Cheeks damped by tears, the man who raised Brody and Cantrell, stared straight into Brody’s eyes. “You turned out to be a better man than Cantrell ever was, and if he were here and right in the head, he’d be danged proud of you. I sure as heck am.”
Eyes burning as if jabbed with hot embers and his chest aching as if his ribs collapsed inward, Brody gripped Merv’s trembling hand.
“He’d say you did what you had to do to keep those children safe. He’d harbor no ill will and tell you to hang on to your persistence, Steady Brody, and make the Thackett heritage proud.”
“Please, like you said, you’re a healer.” Brody’s voice rasped low. “There has to be a way.”
Merv waved him away. “Back to work.”
Brody choked out, “But we’ll get you more food. Beef, pork…”
“Something’s broke inside me. Won’t matter how much or what I eat. You and me both know that.”
Irene tugged again at Merv’s sleeve.
He shook his head and shot her a sheepish grin.
“The storm my device created... The high EMF fluctuations doesn’t give your metabolism a chance to level out.” Brody sat back on his heel. “This is my fault too.”
“This whole chaos rigmarole is the fault of folks who thought to control nature. This falls on Yates and Nora and that awful project.” Uncle Merv sighed. ““Do what you need to do to save these folks, son. If nothing else, I’ve always believed in your brother and you.”
Brody nodded. “Copper. We need copper wire.”
Within minutes, wire was strung from the control room and down the steps.
Merv, leaning to one side as if sitting straight were too much for his spine to bear, tugged a bare wire.
Wrapped in plastic and metal odors, Irene fed the wire to him, then the two of them wound the bare wiring around and around the outside of the metal pot that formerly housed the spider in neat little rows.
“We’ll harness the children of the elements’ energy.” Brody stood at the end of the row and slid the length of wire to Irene. “Then you’ll eat a big steak and baked potato and apple pie and will feel as right as rain.”
“Brody…”
“You’re going to get better.” Brody hovered over his uncle. “You’ll get well and make sure we survive the rest of this mess.”
“Son, that’s not going to happen.” Merv closed his eyes. “Tonya, dear, come take up the wire slack for a bit.”
Tonya jogged down the steps and took the pot from Uncle Merv’s lap and sat at his opposite side.
Merv turned in the seat and cupped his hands around Irene’s throat. “You’ll heal and be well in no time.”
Tears slipping from her green eyes, Irene met his gaze.
“Brody, you’ll need tools as well as food for the kids. Our protein bar supply’s about depleted, thank goodness.” A shudder wiggled the length of Merv’s beard. “You’ll find chemical supplement heaters, sometimes even built into the rations’ packaging, to make warm meals. Eggs, Toast, even some strawberry jam.” He patted his no longer ample belly. “We can work this plan of yours, but with the right tools do the job...”
Brody smiled a sickly, weak grin.
“There’s a toolbox near the bomb shelter. Halfway down the hall. Metal door in the middle of the floor marks the spot.” Merv’s voice sounded weaker by the moment. “Looks like you may need more wiring too. I suspect Junior can help you find whatever you need since he’d be searching for earth metals.” With a wobbly inhale, he boomed, “Go on. Git. You’ve got a job to do.”
Brody stumbled upright and to the stairs. “I’ll do right by you, I promise.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Merv’s eyelids fluttered closed. His gentle hands upon Irene’s neck glowed a faint, pulsing thrum of orange as his healing powers kicked in.
“Junior,” Brody said from around the lump in his throat. “I need for you to zero in on the location of the biggest stash of wiring in the building.”
“Are we going on a supply run?” Junior jerked a long piece of wiring poking out from under the control board.
“Not we. Me. You tell me where to go—”
“Can you locate copper with your mind, by letting the metal draw you?”
“No, not one of my many talents.” Brody shrugged.
“Are you able to fry a zombie with a single look?” Abe stood on spider watch, at the ready and wielding a music stand.
“I’ve put you guys in too many risky situations already.”
“Me and the wind, and Tonya and the rest of us, will keep the stinky old zombies busy so you’uns can get out.” Darcy Lynn wiggled her hands.
A swoosh of wind, somehow fresh in the staleness and leftover dead reek, shifted the chairs stacked against one set of double doors.
Tonya tromped up the last of the steps. “We draw them all to the right-hand doors, and you can sneak out the left. Your powers come and go, so you don’t have much time, do you?”
“With enough wiring, if we can funnel our energy, and the storm’s own energy, to use against the storm itself, we—”
“No thinking. Time for doing,” Junior said. “Let’s go.”
“Come on, kids. Let’s help out.” Tonya jogged a few steps, stopped, and looked back. “Good luck, guys.”
The children, under spunky Tonya’s direction, from around the chair stack, slapped the doors and yelled, “Come get us. We’re here. Yum-yum-yum.”
Jeremiah flapped his bent arms, crouching into a duck walk. “Quack, quack. Here’s a snack.”
“Tastes like chicken,” Tonya called out.
Brody’s shoulders reached up on a failed attempt to cover his ears.
Overhead, swishes of wind swirled, as if Darcy Lynn readied the breeze to blast the zombies and send them tumbling like wormy cordwood down the hallway.
From the ceiling, did Brody hear a creak?
Brody fisted the shoulder of Abe’s t-shirt. “Wait. Listen.”
After a moment, Abe shrugged and pulled Brody forward to the now unblocked left set of doors.
Chased by chorused taunts and roaring growls yards behind, Junior, followed by Abe, then Brody, slipped into the hall.
One last, lingering glance, back through the crack in the door opening, toward the stage area…
Merv, slumping in his front row seat, not slowing up or glancing back, wrapped wire around the stainless-steel pot as if his life depended on his efforts.
God help them, his did… As did theirs and the kids.
Dropping into a fast-stepping crouch, Brody slinked with Abe and Junior away from decomp foulness.
Once in the stairwell, Abe lit the way with fire hovering over the tips of his fingers, which he presented with a showman’s flair, and in minutes they sneaked down to the lower level bomb shelter.
“Your uncle gives good directions,” Abe whispered in the hallway
near the broken door.
“He doesn’t look so good though.” Junior sighed.
“Quiet.” Abe scowled in the glow of the mini-fireball.
“We’re gonna help Uncle Merv, just like we’re going to help all of us. We’ll get through all this chaos and—” Jolted by a mega thought, Brody stood at his full height as if at attention. “So freaking simple. How could I not have seen it before?”
“We need to find the copper wire, right?”
“Right.” Brody grinned. “I get it now. Don’t you see?”
“What?” Junior one-eye squinted.
“There is no answer to the theory of chaos.”
“Oookkaaay.” Abe narrowed his eyes at the flaming ball.
“Like I said, Brody, you think way too much.” Junior curled his feet on concrete. “Lots of copper directly below.”
“Life is filled with mistakes and mishaps,” Brody said. “Accidents and trauma are part of everybody’s life. Chaos isn’t just part of life. Chaos is life. When my brother wrote Chaos Wins in mud and his own blood, he was saying Life Wins.”
“Life wins because I get a sense as to where the most wiring is.” Junior aimed his pointer finger down the hall.
Brody kissed the kid on the crown of his none-too-clean head. “You guys are amazing.”
“Big batch down below, at the base of the building.” Junior scrubbed his hair with his stained fingers. “Best I can do without touching the ground directly.”
“We’ve got a hatchet and a hacksaw.” Abe pulled some tools from the discarded toolbox.
“We’ll come back by the storage room and get the food on our way back up.”
“Anything’s got to be better than those bars. Even fried mystery meat.” Junior removed a water bottle from under his t-shirt and shook it with quick sloshes. “Can life win down in the crawlspace ?”
“Sure. Sorry guys. I just got what Cantrell was trying to tell me, in the message he shared, when he, you know, died. He wasn’t trying to threaten or warn us. He was telling me we should keep on trying. Man, this is going to work, I know it is.”
One level lower, at the end of the hall, after moving an ammonia-soaked mop, bucket, broom, and cleaning supplies, they tackled what looked like a hinged manhole cover.
