Strain of Vengeance (Bixby Series Book 3)

by Michelle Bryan

  “Nah, you guys didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep. Figured I may as well take over watch and let one of you guys off the hook early.”

  “How’s Amy?” I ask, ignoring the offer. As much as I’d like to be inside, I’m sure I won’t sleep either.

  “Asleep. Settled in nicely between Cookie and Jess. Cook’s really stepped up with Amy. Didn’t realize she had such a soft side.”

  I grunt. “Yeah, don’t let her attitude with Amy fool you. She’s reserving her censure and letting it grow twofold for the rest of us when we least expect it. Don’t you worry.”

  A couple of laughs follow my remark, but no one denies it. We let the silence fall over us again, calming us with its tranquility.

  “So is Amy infected, too?”

  Gordon’s question comes out of the blue, and I stiffen in shock waiting for Sam’s reaction.

  “Jesus, Gordo.” Mike slaps his palm against his brother’s head again. “Don’t you have any sort of filter, boy?”

  “What?” Gordon leans out of Mike’s reach. “I’m wanna know. I’m only asking what we’re all thinking. If she is, it affects all of us.”

  As awkward as this is, it’s true. We are all thinking the same. The boy’s not wrong. All eyes focus on Sam at the end of the block. He stands and takes a couple of steps away from us, staring into the night. We wait on pins and needles for his answer. He sighs and turns around to face us, rubbing his chin wearily.

  “Fair enough. I’ll tell you guys what I know. No, Amy isn’t infected. I don’t think. I can’t understand how she could be. She’s had no contact with the parasites whatsoever, except for her time in the subway. Same as the others, and they don’t seem to be affected in any way. I talked to Jess about it tonight, after Ames fell asleep. She doesn’t understand Amy’s… condition either. She suggested it may have to do with Amy’s Down syndrome or her chromosome twenty-one. Because of it, her cognitive development is different from ours. Maybe that’s it? Maybe that’s how she can pick up on their messages and thoughts when they’re near? Who the fuck knows? Not like we have any data in past alien infections to draw from. Any answers I give you is all a guessing game right now.”

  “Well, what about you then?” Gordo asks, glancing sideways at his brother like he expects another slap. “Why are you connected? Did they assimilate you like the Borg?”

  “Fuck, Gordo, I don’t know what’s worse. That horrible comparison or the fact that I know what you’re talking about.”

  The laughter at my comment seems to break some of the tension, and Sam’s shoulders sag in relief.

  “Honestly, guys, I don’t know what my connection is. I really don’t. I don’t know why they’re in my head, or why I hear them when they’re near. I don’t know what happened to me while I was in that damn pod. What I do know is that I can’t lie about it anymore. I need to be up front with you on everything. You need to know all the facts, starting with the most important. Neither I nor Amy are a threat to any of you. I feel that deep in my gut and I can say that with all honesty. You lot are my people. My family. No matter what hold you guys think they have on me, it’s nothing compared to my connection to you. If I ever have to choose between us and them again? It’ll be us every time. Taking those two out in the subway proved that.”

  We all nod at him in agreement. I owed him my life, no doubt about it. He sighs again and shoves his hands deep in his jacket pockets, and I know there’s more.

  “But we are connected. Sometimes more than others. These past few nights, ever since I killed those two leeches and it nearly fried my brain, something’s changed.”

  “Changed? How?” I question softly, not sure if I even want to hear the answer.

  Sam hesitates. He looks up at the night sky with its twinkling stars and wispy clouds. He doesn’t speak for so long I think he’s changed his mind on whatever he was about to say. Then he drops his head and stares intently at me. I lift my chin, trying to give him the courage to go on.

  “I’ve been having these dreams. No, not even dreams, really. Images and flashes of a place, over and over. Every time I close my eyes, I’m in this huge building. A stadium, maybe? I really can’t tell because it’s so dark. But its cavernous. There’s only a little light from the moon shining through a hole in the roof, but it’s enough for me to see the rows upon rows of pods. So many.” His voice tapers off, and I know he’s lost in his mind. He’s no longer with us, even though he’s standing right in front of us.

  “They’ve been there a long time. I don’t know how I know; I just do. Ever since the invasion, I think. The worker leeches feed them. They bring back blood, regurgitating it.”

  Chills pass over me at the look of disgust etched on his face. It’s bad enough hearing about the feeding process, let alone seeing it. Did he live it, too? I mean, he had to have been kept alive somehow the whole time he was in the pod. I push the thought out of my head. I don’t want to ask.

  “Everything the leeches do… everything they’ve done so far originates from here. It’s as if, I don’t know, it’s as if this building is the command center.”

  “It’s the hive,” I whisper, and Sam turns to point at me.

  “Yes. Exactly. It’s the hive. The super mind, the supreme ruler, the queen bee, whatever the fuck you want to call it, I think that’s where it is. That’s where it waits, metamorphosing into its final transformation. It sees all. It gives the commands.”

  “So it is like the Borg,” Gordon whispers.

  “Shut the fuck up, Gordo,” Mike mutters, and I couldn’t agree more.

  “No, Gordon’s right. It’s exactly like the Borg in some weird way. It’s connected to every leech it’s spawned. It sees everything they see. It feels everything they feel. It feels their hunger, their pain, their hatred.” He starts pacing, and I catch my lip between my teeth. Not good. Never a good sign when Sam paces. It means he’s about to say something bad. Something we don’t want to hear. He stops and stands directly in front of me. “There’s more.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle more,” Gordo moans, and I agree with the kid.

  “Then tell us.” The hard voice floats over my shoulder, startling me. Luke is awake. Good. He needs to hear this and it’s not something I want to repeat. He catches my eye as he walks by and says, “I heard everything,” in answer to my questioning look. He turns his ire toward Sam. “What else is there to know?”

  Sam actually looks relieved to be getting everything off his chest. “You remember what Amy said when we asked her about the queen leeches? She said they don’t like you guys. It’s true. The hive mind is very aware of all of you, and what you’ve done to its kind.”

  My earlier chill escalates into a full body tremor. “What do you mean it’s aware of us? How the fuck does it even know of us?”

  “And why would it show you this?” Luke steps closer, trying not to let the people under the bridge overhear. “By blowing away those two in the subway, you’ve proven to be an enemy as much as us. Why would it still try to connect to you?”

  Sam shrugs. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s angry. Ever since my seizure, for lack of a better word, I don’t feel the same control in my head. Its presence is still there, but it’s pissed it can’t use me. So instead, it wants me to know it’s angry. It wants to tell me it’s looking for you. I know,” he says, holding up a hand. “It doesn’t make a lick of sense, but it’s the only way I can explain it.”

  Luke crosses his arms over his chest and studies Sam for a moment. “So if this thing is in control and we take it out, will we take out the rest of the colony as well?”

  Sam stands with his hands on his hips and stares back, chin held high. “I don’t know. I really can’t tell you. I’m just telling you what I’m experiencing. What I know. Ever since I blacked out, I can sense this thing more and more, and it seems to be getting worse the more we venture out of the city. I can sense its anger. Its need for vengeance. It wants to retaliate for those we’ve killed. I sense the same thi
ng from it every time I connect with it.” He glances around at all of us, and the ice running through my veins has nothing to do with the frigid wind biting at my neck. “It wants us dead.”

  “Shit,” I mutter, glancing up at Luke in panic. “Gordo saw a leech in the woods earlier. He thought it saw him too, but it didn’t attack. It left him alone.”

  Luke pins the kid with his stare. “Are you positive it saw you?”

  Gordo’s eyes open wide. “I’m not a hundred percent, but…yeah, I’m pretty sure it did.”

  “Christ.” Luke runs a hand over the back of his neck. “If what Sam believes is true; if this thing has its minions looking for us then we’re possibly being followed. And we’re fucking sitting ducks.”

  Chapter Ten

  It’s snowing again. Big, fat, wet flakes that stick to my eyelashes like icicles. I blink the dampness away as I stare up at the gray clouds, hoping to find some patch of blue poking through, but there’s nothing. The overcast sky reflects my mood.

  None of us who heard Sam’s confession last night slept a wink. What he told us wasn’t exactly the right sort of bedtime story to send us off to a peaceful night’s slumber. Being told an alien creature, connected to hundreds of others, wants us dead is not something you can get out of your head that easily.

  There’s no proof it’s true. We really don’t know if there is some super creepy queen morphing in some building somewhere waiting patiently to wipe us out like it has an agenda. We can’t prove it’s true. Problem is we can’t prove it’s not true. Maybe it’s all made up by Sam’s fried brain. Or maybe he really is connected like the fucking Borg. I seriously hope that’s not the case. It terrifies me to think of Sam being turned into some mindless drone being controlled by the Collective. And fuck Gordo for putting that damn analogy into my head. Ever since last night it’s all I can think off. Damn ginger geekazoid.

  All I know is I’ve been looking over my shoulder all morning at the slightest sound. All of us privy to last night’s confession are. Luke isn’t taking any chances. Without going into detail, he has unit four on high alert. They all know something’s up, even if he hasn’t had a chance to fill them in. We were up and on the move before dawn. Like he said, under that bridge we were sitting ducks. Best to move and stay out of sight. All morning he’s had us flanking the group on all sides, weapons ready, and the instructions to fire at anything that moves in the trees surrounding the highway.

  “How much farther?” someone mutters from the pack behind us, and I turn to the whiner to give them a piece of my mind. I mean, really? They’re going to play that game after we saved their asses?

  Maybe it’s the sight of Amy glued to Sam’s side, her big, hopeful eyes watching me for an answer. Maybe it’s seeing the rest of them all huddled together, soaked and miserable and trying to stay on their feet in the mushy snow. Injured and limping and scarred forever by their trauma. Whatever it is, I finally look past my own misery to theirs and bite my tongue to keep the surly words from dropping. I don’t have to say anything, however. Morley falls into step between me and Luke, walking backwards to address the crowd.

  “Relax, my friends. We will get there eventually. I know you all don’t think that right now. You’re wet, exhausted, and don’t want to take another step. All of us hate our current circumstances; trust me. But we are alive. Take comfort in that for many of our people are not here to say the same.”

  His words are met with a few coughs and murmurs of shame. He turns around, allowing them their disgrace without censure, although the wink he shoots me makes me believe his wise words are all just a ploy. A grin lifts the corner of my mouth.

  “Great passive-aggressive speech, dude. You sure you weren’t a shrink in your former life?”

  “Nah, just a dad to three unruly teenagers.” His grin drops away as the realization sets in that he no longer plays that role. I fucking hate that—life sucker punching you in the gut when you least expect it. His quiet pain is quickly covered by another grin. “If these past few years have shown me anything, it’s how to turn someone’s irritation and anger into guilt. It’s a great motivator.” He claps me on the shoulder. “But seriously, though, how much farther?”

  “Shouldn’t be long now before we meet the trucks. We’re about halfway to the farm.” Luke answers for me.

  Morley glances at him, one eyebrow raised. “Are you sure about this farm, big guy? I mean, from the few things I’ve heard about this place and the lady in charge, it sounds more like a cult than a haven. That Dom fellow tells me this Kip has a few screws loose.”

  I huff in irritation. “Please. Everything that comes out of Dom’s mouth is a crock of buttered shit. If he’d been invited to the Last Supper, for Christ’s sake, he’d have convinced himself that Jesus was out to poison him. If anyone has screws loose, it’s him.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s blasphemy. And anyway, he told me you’d say shit about him, too. Good to see you all get along so well.” Morley doesn’t even try to hide his sarcasm. “I’m surprised you’ve all managed to survive this long.”

  Luke shakes his head, trying to hide his laughter. “Don’t let those two idiots fool you.” He ignores my indignant, “Hey,” at being called an idiot. “Our unit really is a well-oiled machine. Those two just like to piss on the cogs and rust them up every now and again.”

  “Weird symbolism, but whatever.” Morley shrugs as he glances around. “Maybe what I should be asking about is what’s really going on with you lot today? The whispering amongst yourselves. You two looking over your shoulders like you expect the devil himself to pop outta the ground. The strange, dark-haired guy over there holding onto the kid like he expects her to be ripped away at any moment. Care to share what’s happening?”

  Luke scratches at his stubble, and his eyes meet mine over Morley’s head. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Just a tad.”

  Luke glances back at the crowd, checking to see if there’s any chance of being overheard. We’re far enough ahead.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, how about you give me the condensed version?”

  “Okay, condensed it is. Sam—strange, dark-haired guy to you—has a history with the leeches. We believe he’s connected to them. And besides the leeches we’ve come to know, there’s a new breed. Hybrids, ones we call queen leeches.”

  “Those bastards we saw in the subway?”

  Luke gives a curt nod. “We believe they’re all controlled by a collective mind, very similar to a beehive, that dictates the leeches’ behavior. Sam, possibly, hears or senses these orders. He knows when the leeches are around. The hybrids, anyway. Sam thinks there’s a main one in control of it all. Apparently, this super mind is aware of us. It knows we’ve hunted and killed its kind. Now, it aims to do the same. He believes the orders have gone out to every leech connected to its hive to hunt us down. That’s why we’re a little off today. The faster we get to those trucks and off the road, the better.”

  Morley utters a low whistle, resting his hand on the axe hanging at his hip, as if assuring himself it’s still there. “Condensed but damn powerful. Just when I thought I heard everything there is to hear about those beasties, you go and tell me something like this? I’m not quite sure I understand or even believe everything, but maybe you should have told me this earlier. We probably would have taken our chances with the city.”

  I feel a twinge of guilt. He’s right. We should have told him everything before he uprooted his people to follow us.

  “There’s nothing but death back in the city now.” Luke doesn’t seem to be feeling the same guilt. “You know that as well as we do. Between the lack of supplies and increasing leeches, you and your people would die. At least the farm will give you a fighting chance.”

  “Jesus don’t mince words or anything,” I drawl, but Morley nods at Luke’s words.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. There’s no going back now. We must move forward. I just hope you’r
e not lying to me about the cult leader. I’m a bit too old and jaded to be finding religion.”

  I snort. “They can preach religion to me all day as long as they feed me more of that bacon.”

  “What?” His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open in disbelief. “Did you just say bacon? As in the real deal, Miss Piggy kind?”

  I laugh harder. “Yeah, dude. They have bacon. Buckets of it.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s move ass.”

  He struts ahead of us up the icy hill, and I watch his back with that silly grin still plastered to my face. “I kinda like him,” I say to Luke.

  A tiny grin lifts the corner of Luke’s mouth. “Me too. He’s an oddball, no doubt. But I kind of like oddballs.” He glances my way.

  I lift a brow, tilting my head. “Awwww, you saying you like me, Whitman?”

  “You admitting you’re an oddball, Emma?”

  “I prefer unique.”

  “How about we go with one of a kind?”

  I pretend to think about it. “Yeah, I can live with that. Just not you calling me Emma.”

  He laughs. That rich baritone I’ve missed so much, and a warm fuzziness grows in my chest, despite the cold turning my extremities to ice. That feeling lasts until I look back over my shoulder and catch sight of Sam struggling to help Amy walk through the slush. My old friend guilt comes to visit once again. I should be back there, helping with her, but Luke needs every abled person to keep watch after Sam’s confession last night. The guilt still overwhelms me, and I shut down the frivolous convo with Luke. No time for flirting or whatever the hell it is we’re doing.

  I ignore Luke’s confused look as I continue on in silence, catching up to Morley as we crest the top of the rise. Below us on the lonesome stretch of highway sits a sight for sore eyes. Three of Kip’s faded green army trucks wait patiently for our arrival, like beacons of light through the dreary, gray day.

  “About fucking time,” I mutter, my lips curving in a tiny smile of relief.