I mull Luke’s words over in my skull, along with the hundreds of other worries bouncing around in there, and all of it competing with the remnants of last night’s head bashing. I press against my eyelids with my thumb and ring finger, trying to dull the ache. At least there’s no concussion to deal with. Good thing I have a hard head.
A question that’s been gnawing at me all morning fights its way out of the mass confusion known as my mind, and to the forefront.
“Why don’t they eat the leeches?”
Luke’s irritation seems to grow at my question. “What?”
“The ravagers. They eat human flesh. Why don’t they eat the leeches? The host bodies? God knows they’re a lot more abundant than we are. Why don’t they add the leeches to their menu? They could feast like kings.”
“First of all, that is such a Gordo question. I think you’ve been hanging out with the kid way too much. And secondly, how the hell do I know? I don’t even pretend to understand the reasoning behind those crazy bastard’s stance on anything.”
Badger falls back in line with us, making no attempt to cover up his eavesdropping. “I think I may have an answer to that.”
“Please, feel free to join the conversation.”
He ignores my smartass comment and keeps talking. “I’ve been thinking about what Gunner said when he captured us back at his camp. He said the alien parasite didn’t enslave them but freed them. It allowed them to escape their wretched lives and become people to be feared. It gave them status. If anything, I’d say the ravagers revere the leeches.”
I glance over at Badger, one brow arched. “That’s just messed up.”
“Well, I didn’t say it made sense. I don’t think any of those ravagers are playing with a full deck. There’s a few aces and jacks missing from the pack, for sure.”
“I think Badger may be right.”
My eyes flick back to Luke. “Great. As if they weren’t crazy enough before. Now, believing they worship those damn, overgrown worms makes it that much worse.”
“Don’t matter to me. Whether they worship an alien organism or a golden ram, they better hope their gods are merciful by the time I’m done with them,” Sam mutters, and I nod at him in total agreement.
We walk the rest of the way in complete silence, each lost in our own morbid thoughts, the crumbling ruins all blending together. Just as the sun finally rises to enhance the dreariness of our surroundings, Tina stops at one of the building husks. Its door-less entry is overgrown with weeds and ivy and the lettering above the door long since faded away. She waits for us to join her before disappearing inside.
The inside has fared no better than the outside. We cross the room, avoiding the overturned benches and shards of glass littering the concrete floor. The place must’ve been a 1950’s style diner at one time, based on the faded five-cent Coca Cola and root beer float posters curling off the walls. Faded orange vinyl seats line one wall while a matching Formica countertop flanks the other. An old-fashioned soda fountain is set into the counter, and Gordo pulls the handle as he walks by, pretending to work it.
“Root beer floats. Get your root beer floats here, guys and gals,” he belts out in an old-timey, trans-Atlantic accent that reminds me of the B-rated Hollywood movies Mom loved to watch. I laugh out loud as he pumps the handle a little too hard, and it breaks off in his hand, leaving him staring after it in disappointment. He shrugs and tosses the useless handle aside. Like the rest of the world, its heyday is long over.
“Knock it off, kid,” Luke reprimands, following Tina through the rectangular room to the glassless windows at the back that overlook the next street over.
“That’s the entrance to the subway over there.” She points with a crusty nail to an odd shaped, squat building with a sweeping glass atrium farther down the street. The glass had broken and collapsed over the years, leaving nothing but mounds of sharp ruins sparkling in the morning sun. My laughter fades away as a cold wind tickles the back of my neck, and I shiver at the sight of the subway entrance. The weird comment Gordo made on our mission to blow up the factory of hibernating pods, comes back to haunt me.
People believed that a sudden cold sensation causing one to shiver was caused by walking over a place where your grave was eventually going to be.
He was always sprouting nonsense like that, and I know better than to let it affect me, but the knot of worry tightens in my gut. What if for once in his life the kid is actually right?
“The ravagers and our people are down below there? You’re sure?”
Tina nods at Luke’s question, her face solemn.
“How far in are they?”
“Yesterday they were camped in the northside concourse. They were using a derailed car as a holding tank for the prisoners with guards around it. I didn’t get too close.”
“How many ravagers did you see?”
The girl shakes her dirty hair. “Not that many guarding the boxcar, but that don’t mean there ain’t a lot just cause they’re not in plain sight. When they took my people there were dozens of ‘em. There’s an open platform on the other side of that car that I couldn’t see and half a dozen offshoots from the main line that I know of. Could be any number of them hiding in there. I just got in and out really quick.”
“Great,” Dom groans. “We gotta go underground into total darkness and go up against an unknown number of flesh eaters who’ve already had time to get the layout of the land and set up perimeters. Easy, peasy, right?”
Everyone ignores Dom’s grumbling, not wanting to admit he’s right.
“Is there another way in? Maybe we can attack from ahead of them and cut them off?”
Sam’s idea has merit, and I look to Luke for the answer.
“Tina saw them yesterday. Hours ago. We don’t even know if they’re still there. They could have already moved on. Plus, we don’t even know what way they’re going. Like she said, there’s dozens of arteries. They could be moving them to another part of the city or outside the city; we can’t be sure. What if we try to cut them off and pick the wrong route, and we miss them entirely? No, our best bet is to catch up with them and wait for the opportune moment to
take out the ravagers and get our people back.”
“With what plan?” I mutter to myself, but Luke overhears.
He narrows his eyes and growls. “I’m working on it. Okay?”
I don’t get to answer. A sharp snap sounds outside the diner and echoes through the room. We whirl as one, pulling our weapons. A head is quickly yanked back from view and disappears around the mound of debris sitting outside the entryway. Luke crosses the room in long strides, the rest of us on his heels. He motions with two fingers on both hands, ordering us to circle around the wall of wreckage. Badger and I go left, Sam and Robyn go right.
Gun tight in my grip, we hurry around the debris just as pounding footsteps register, only they aren’t running away from us. I catch a glint of movement out of the corner of my eye seconds before I get walloped in the face by something big and bulky. The blow sends me stumbling sideways on the uneven ground, twisting an ankle and falling to my knees. My attacker lunges at Badger next, and Badger raises his weapon, only to have the crazy dude grab the barrel of it with both hands and try to yank it out of his grasp.
“Fuck!” Badger struggles with the man for control of the gun. I quickly pick myself up and grip the barrel of my own rifle. Swinging it like a bat, I connect with the man’s legs, the contact reverberating up my arms and into my shoulders. His feet fly out from under him, and he lands on his back with an audible grunt. Sam and Robyn arrive in time to take control as Sam plants his foot on the guy’s chest and digs the tip of his rifle into the man’s bushy beard.
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” he growls.
The man’s hands lift palms up in a gesture of surrender. “Do I look like I’m moving, dick?”
I push myself to my feet and test my weight on my ankle. No shooting pain so I figure it’s fine. I hobble my way to S
am, checking for a weapon. Other than the backpack he’d sideswiped me with, the dude has nothing I can see. I wedge my way between Sam and Robyn, staring down at the guy.
He doesn’t look like a ravager. His long salt and pepper beard contrasts with his shaved head and cross tattoo along the side of his neck. His shoddy, gray jumpsuit looks like Tina’s, and it fizzles a connection in my brain. They’re dressed in the same rags.
“Do you know the girl with us?”
“You mean the girl you’re holding hostage?” he snarls. I push Sam’s gun away from his chin and hold out a hand. He stares at it in suspicion before grasping it, and I help pull him to his feet.
“Does she look like a hostage?” I ask. “She led us here to help get her people back and ours. Your people as well I’m assuming.”
His look of suspicion doesn’t waver. Luke and the others are in sight now, and I wave them over. The girl hangs back at first, but after she gets a better look at the dude’s face, her eyes widen along with her mouth.
“Uncle More!”
She runs to him, and his earlier antagonism drops away as he cracks a smile.
“I didn’t think anyone else was left. I’m so happy to see you.” Tears squeeze out the corners of her eyes and trickle down her face, leaving a trail in the dirt on her cheeks.
He hugs her tight. “Now, girl, you know I’m too crotchety to be taken down by those uncivilized abominations. Are you okay? Have these people hurt you in any way?”
I roll my eyes. “I told you we’re here to help her. Why would we hurt her?”
The guy releases Tina, returning his attention to me, the distrust back in place. “Forgive me if I’m not exactly the trusting type anymore. These days no one helps anyone unless there’s something in it for them. Question is, what do you people want?”
Luke steps forward, and the guy eyeballs him up and down, but to his credit he doesn’t flinch at the giant towering over him. Balls of steel, I’ll give him that.
“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. My name is Luke Whitman. My crew and I are chasing down the bastards that attacked our home and took our people. Tina here tells me they’ve done the same to you and yours. We aim to get them back, that’s all, and we think your niece can help us.”
He holds the girl protectively under one arm as he studies Luke. Suspicion swirls with hopefulness on his face. He looks down at the girl.
“Do they speak the truth? They aren’t forcing you against your will to be here?”
Tina shrugs. “They seem legit. I went to the warehouse again… I know,” she interjects, holding up her hands as the man scowls in displeasure. “I know you told me not to go back because the people who left those supplies would be back, but I was hoping I could find a gun or something that could help me save everyone. You were right, like usual. These are the people, and yeah, they caught me. But I believe them. Their enemy is our enemy right now, and they have weapons and more bodies than we do. They’re our only hope in getting our family back, Uncle More. I’m willing to trust them for that fact alone.”
The man ponders her comments before sticking out a hand to Luke. “Looks like my decision has already been made. My name is Morley Greening.”
Luke shakes the offered hand. “Morley,” he acknowledges. “Have you seen any movement from the subway entrance?”
“Someone arrived earlier, maybe an hour before you. A scout maybe? Since he got back, I’ve seen increased movement over there. Like they’re expecting company. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were stupid enough to get yourselves spotted?”
Luke sighs and runs a hand over his chin. “Most likely. Which means they’ll be waiting for us.”
“Fuck,” Dom spits in disgust. “So much for plan A.”
“I didn’t realize we even had a plan A,” I mutter, only to have Luke’s disapproval settle on me once again. I change the subject, distracting his ire. “Maybe Sam’s right, and we scout ahead and cut them off?”
Luke shakes his shaggy head. “Again, we don’t know which way they’re headed. From what I remember of those subways, there are at least three or four main arteries they can take from here. Provided any of them are still accessible. They could emerge at any point along the line. We could lose days on their trail or lose track of them all together.”
“Well, we can’t sneak up on them from here, so does anyone have a better plan?”
The dude, Morley, eyeballs me. Finally, he says, “Do you know where they’re camped right now?”
The girl nods in excitement at her Uncle’s question. “Yeah, I followed ‘em down there when they first got here. They’re in the conclave by the north bound platform, if they haven’t moved.”
The man runs his fingers over his long beard, concentration puckering his brow. Does he know the subways? As if Tina can see the question on the tip of my tongue, she gives me the answer.
“Uncle More worked for the city before all this shit went down. He’s worked on the rails before, too. Plus, we’ve spent a lot of time down there over the past few years. It’s the quickest way for getting around the city and avoiding ravagers and… you people at the same time.”
“You people?” Gordo questions.
She crosses her arms and stares at him belligerently. “Yeah, you people. As in people who think they’re better than the rest of us and keep us locked out of their guarded compounds. We hear what you say about us. What do you call us? City crazies, isn’t it? Among other things.”
Gordon flushes a bright red at the girl’s accusation, but I don’t share in the kid’s embarrassment.
“We don’t have time for finger pointing right now,” I say. “Morley, man, if you know another way in, now’s the time to speak.”
“This is Royal station, right? From what I remember, Lower Royal still sits beneath there. It’s connected to the Royal subway station via a locked door leading off the pedestrian underpass beneath the subway tracks. If it’s still passable, then it’s a viable way in.”
Luke looks at Morley in disbelief. “Lower Royal? I thought the stories of the city’s abandoned underground tunnels were an old wives’ tale?”
Morley barks in laughter. “Not at all. They very much exist. When they first built this station, an underground streetcar stop was ‘roughed-in.’ It’s not a true subway station as you would picture it since they abandoned that idea and changed the route of the tracks, but it’s there. Instead of a deep trench where the tracks would be, the track-bed is not much lower than the platform, just more of a warehouse really. We used it to transport cargo, many moons ago.”
Gordo’s eyes light up, and a grin splits his freckled face, “Dude speaks the truth. The lower subway does exist. Rumor has it back in the day, a Nightmare on Elm Street movie even had a scene filmed there. The place is extremely dark and spooky.”
“Dark and spooky,” I groan. “My two favorite words.”
Morley keeps on talking. “Most people don’t know about it or even know it’s there. I’m assuming the flesh eaters don’t either. We don’t go in at the guarded ends. We go in through Lower Royal and come up from underneath, right in the middle of them. Take ‘em by surprise.”
“So instead of fighting our way in, we fight our way out? Sounds the same to me either way,” Dom interjects again. “Only worse, really, since we’re gonna trap ourselves in there with the ravagers on either side.”
Robyn sighs. “As much as I hate to agree with the douche canoe, he’s right. Once in, how do we get out?”
Luke crosses his arms, holding onto his biceps with his massive hands. His gaze moves around, stopping on every one of us. “The same way we get in, quietly. We get in without them noticing, take care of the guards and bring our people out the same way. If we can pull this off without alerting them, we won’t have to lift a finger to fight.”
Sam asks what we’re all thinking. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Whitman. So much can go wrong. One wrong move and we’re seen…”
“I may
have a solution to that as well,” Morley pipes up, and I study him through new eyes. This city crazy dude is real full of surprises.
“Hand me my backpack over there.”
My eyes narrow. “Why? You gonna hit me with it again?”
“Not unless you give me reason to,” he answers with a grin. “Trust me. I carry some very handy items.”
Gordon picks up the military style bag and hands it to Morley. He opens the over-stuffed bag and starts pulling out a bunch of random shit. Sweet Jesus. It’s like one of those circus cars where clowns just keep crawling out. There’s so much stuff in it. Gordo cries out in pleasure as a silver chain and whistle falls to the ground.
“Sweet. Can I have this?” He picks it up and stares at Morley with huge, puppy dog eyes. Morley frowns at first like his answers going to be a resounding no, but like the rest of us he can’t resist the stupid innocence.
“Sure. Why not, kid.”
Gordo looks pleased as punch as he hangs it around his neck. I roll my eyes at his child-like wonder, moving my attention back to the city dude’s bag of magic tricks. Along with the tiny pile on the ground, he adds bottles of liquid stuffed with rags and a few aluminum wrapped objects. The things have small, ball shaped bottoms and a foil tail sticking out of the top.
“Any of you have lighters?”
A few heads nod. Our Zippos are just as much a part of us as our weapons.
“Good.”
Luke arches a brow and points to the silver objects. “The Molotov cocktails I get, but what the hell are those?”
“One of the things that have kept us safe from the flesh eaters and leeches alike. Smoke bombs.”
Smoke bombs?
Tina grins at her uncle. “I should have known you’d be prepared. Those are the best. Ping pong balls filled with plastic. They burn like a sonofabitch and fill any place up with toxic smoke, so ravagers and leeches can’t see us or get our scent.”
Strain of Vengeance (Bixby Series Book 3) Page 3
