Ashes, Ashes aa-1

by Jo Treggiari

  In an instant, Simmons tackled the doctor, pinning her arms behind her body, and dragged her away from Sammy. She struggled, then abruptly went limp. He held her wrists in his broad hands.

  Lucy forced herself to move toward her friends. The marble floor stretched ahead of her. Her attention was fixed on the drops of blood, some of which had fallen onto the polished stone of the stairs. She wondered if it was Sammy’s or Del’s. How badly were they hurt? Dr. Lessing was sprawled, half sitting, on the floor, with Mrs. Reynolds and Simmons bent over her. She seemed really out of it. And the Sweepers. What were they waiting for? she wondered.

  Suddenly Aidan gripped her arm so hard it hurt, and she heard a pop pop pop, and they were plunged into darkness.

  “Del shot the lights out with her slingshot,” Aidan whispered. He was so close, his breath tickled her ear. “Get up against the wall. She’s going to lay down covering fire.” Before Lucy had time to ask what that was, something hard whizzed past, inches from her face. She couldn’t see it, but she felt the movement of air, and she heard a yelp of pain from someone behind her.

  Lucy remembered the small, neat holes Del had made in the rabbits. The speed with which she’d killed four of them. The girl was lethal. She squinted, but the dark was absolute. They could feel their way along the wall, but in what direction?

  Aidan pressed her against the wall, shielding her with his body. He whistled, a low warbling sound that was barely audible over the yells of pain and the sharp sounds of impact as stone after stone hit helmet, walls, and, most often it seemed, human flesh. Simmons bellowed orders, but from what Lucy could tell, no one was listening. Someone ran by. She felt clothing brush against her arm.

  A second later, Aidan’s signal was answered by another whistle. This one more like a trill. “Keep left,” Aidan murmured. “Move!”

  Lucy could barely see, but Aidan was pushing her into a run toward a deeper darkness, away from the ruckus. She thought they were heading for the short hallway she’d glimpsed before. She stumbled on, and just ahead she could hear Del and Sammy and the kids. One of the little ones was weeping. Small, feeble cries, like he didn’t have the strength to bawl. She ran into a solid body and stifled a gasp. Felt the drape of a cloak—Sammy—and heard the sound of him fumbling with a doorknob.

  “Locked,” he said.

  Del’s low voice came from farther up the hallway. “This one, too.”

  They moved as quickly as they could through the darkness. Lucy shuffled her feet, expecting irrationally to fall into a hole at any moment.

  And then, a little way past where the corridor made an acute turn, there was a recessed light, and she could see again. She looked back in the direction of the foyer. “They’ll be on us in a heartbeat,” Aidan said.

  “Mrs. Reynolds said the outer doors would all be locked,” she said. “Or they’ll be rooms with no exit.”

  “There’s a door to the basement somewhere here,” Del said. “I remember it from before. Here.” She threw it open and groped for the light switch. A bare bulb was set in the sloped ceiling. Old wooden stairs led steeply down, releasing the eye-watering smell of must and mold.

  “We’re going down there?” Lucy said. She couldn’t help thinking of all those old slasher flicks. What was the foremost rule? Don’t go into the cellar….

  “No choice, right?” Del said.

  Lucy reluctantly agreed.

  “There’s always a way out of a basement,” Sammy said. “A window or a coal chute or storm doors—something most people don’t think about it.” He started going down the narrow steps.

  Lucy put out her hand and grabbed hold of his cloak. She looked at the scared kids clinging to Del’s fingers and put her lips to his ear so they couldn’t hear her. “Aren’t the dogs down there?”

  She could hear whining, excited yaps. The barks echoed wildly.

  “Yeah, I guess—but like Del said, no choice.”

  Still Lucy hesitated. They didn’t know what to expect. It could be a dead end, and they had no way of protecting themselves except for her knife, Aidan’s hammer, and Del’s slingshot. Aidan pushed urgently against her back. “Hate to tell you, but the Sweepers are coming.”

  And now she heard hoarse shouts and the scuffling of boots on the hard floors.

  She hurried onto the stairs, grabbing a wooden railing, which bent under her weight. Behind her, Aidan pulled the door closed.

  “Lock?” Del asked.

  “Bolt, but one good kick will break it,” he said.

  On the first step down, Lucy slipped. The railing pulled away from the wall with a screech of nails. Del’s hand shot out and gripped her elbow, saving her from a nasty spill. As soon as Lucy had regained her footing, the girl released her arm.

  “Thanks,” Lucy said.

  “Don’t mention it.” She held one kid firmly by the wrist. Lucy thought it was the girl, but she couldn’t be sure. The other one stumbled ahead with his arms outstretched. Both of them wore baggy gray pajamas and slippers. Both badly needed their hair washed. So much for the hot baths Dr. Lessing mentioned, she thought.

  The stairs were steep but short. They found themselves in a large, concrete-floored space. Thick drifts of dust lay on the floor, tracked over by countless footprints. Steel-encased wiring stretched out in a lattice across the low ceilings, as did rusty pipes as thick as Lucy’s arm. She could hear the trickle of water pumped down from the cistern. Pink insulation puffed out of crumbling plaster board like masses of cotton candy. Stacks of soggy boxes lined the water-stained walls. It smelled of damp and mushrooms, and overwhelmingly of animals: mouse droppings, but also the close, thick smell of many dogs kept inside, the tang of urine and dander and fur.

  Numerous corridors led off in different directions, each poorly lit and dusty. Lucy tried to orient herself, but she’d lost her sense of direction. She thought she could pinpoint where the dogs were kenneled, even though the echoing barks confused her.

  “Any idea what’s down here?” Sammy asked Del. He’d lifted the little girl onto his back. She clung to him, her hair straggling in her face. Her eyelids drooped.

  Del shook her head. “Besides canned goods and bulk food items? The dogs. A bunch of old boxes. Stuff left over from before the plague, I guess.”

  Aidan, who had been hanging back near the stairs listening for the Sweepers, looked excited. “If they were getting big deliveries of food, then there’s probably a loading dock or something down here. We should head in that direction.”

  Del shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s as big as a football field. I wandered down here for a couple of hours before Dr. Lessing—” She broke off, her cheeks reddening. Before Dr. Lessing convinced you to rat me out, Lucy thought, and then was a little ashamed of herself. They’d still be fighting a losing battle if it weren’t for Del.

  She cleared her throat. She hated to say it, but it seemed only rational. “If they trucked in mass amounts of dog food, then they probably stockpiled it near the dog kennels. We can follow the sound of their barks.” She turned slowly, tracking the sound. They were subdued now, but in her mind she could see the dogs. She remembered the rottweiler leaping at her legs as she struggled to climb the tree, the thick froth of spit at the corners of its jaws. Three narrow halls stretched in front of her. They were lit with dim bulbs.

  “Look down on the ground,” Aidan said. A jumbled trail of muddy footsteps led down the central one. “The middle way gets used a lot.” He squeezed Lucy’s hand. She moved into the hollow of his arm. A series of sharp thuds jolted them apart. Someone was trying to kick in the cellar door.

  Exchanging panicked glances, the group crept down the narrow hall, moving as quickly as possible. Del soothed the kids with soft murmurs. The air was very still and dank. The acrid odor of urine and sawdust grew stronger, and the yelps of the dogs increased in volume.

  They hurried toward the sound. Sammy ran ahead. His cloaked shadow leapt across the walls. The kid was attached to his back li
ke a monkey.

  They’d come a few hundred yards down the passageway, and still Lucy could heard the sound of wood splintering behind them and the buzz of voices. How many were there? Three or four? All of them?

  Another volley of barks, louder and more excited.

  They can smell us, Lucy thought with a thrill of fear. And then her mouth suddenly turned dry. They can smell me.

  “Nearly there,” Aidan said.

  The corridor twisted and then opened up. Wire cages lined one long wall. Dogs of every shape and size pressed against the mesh. Some threw their bodies against the doors or clawed frantically, hard enough to rip at their paws. The yelping was deafening.

  “Can you see a door out?” Lucy yelled. She was transfixed by a large dog that was staring at her. She flicked her eyes away, trying not to challenge the animal. Its black lips lifted away from sharp white teeth and the dog began to howl. At once the rest of the dogs lifted up their snouts and began to howl, too.

  Aidan pulled at her arm and she realized she’d been standing still. “Come on,” he said.

  She tore her eyes away from the dog and moved across the room as quickly as she could, keeping her gaze on the ground under her feet and ignoring the rumble of growls, the clanging of dogs pushing against their metal doors to get to her.

  The space narrowed into two corridors. Sammy hurried down one and almost immediately doubled back. “Locked door,” he said. They all ran down the other way. The passage was lined with stacks of cardboard boxes. The dogs had quieted again, except for a few excited yips. Lucy heard the dull thud of running feet against the concrete.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE BASEMENT

  She turned to see Simmons, Dr. Lessing, Mrs. Reynolds, and one other Sweeper who wore his faceguard down and held his Taser in front of him like a sword. Dr. Lessing was sweating and pale. Mrs. Reynolds grabbed her arm. The doctor roughly shook it loose. Lucy stopped, feeling more exhausted than she ever had before. Her hand could barely hold her knife. The generator hummed and then roared into life. Lucy remembered how she’d thought the light on the roof resembled the gigantic eye of a beast. Now she felt as if she’d been swallowed alive.

  Del raised her slingshot. Aidan wrapped an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. They backed up as the doctor and Sweepers advanced.

  Lucy snuck a look behind her. A shadowy hallway stretched back. More boxes were piled five feet high—rows and rows of them. They were marked with the names of ready-to-eat food, vegetables, precooked meat, and dog chow. There was no outlet that she could see.

  “Don’t let them force us into a dead end,” she said. They spread out in a thin line across the corridor. She noticed that the air was fresher. The scent of dog mingled with something she realized was the smell of rain. Del ordered the two kids to get back as far as they could.

  “There’s got to be some kind of outside access around here,” she said. “How else did they get all these crates in here?” She reached into an open box and pulled out a can of dog food. She tossed it to Aidan, who caught it with his free hand. “Weighty,” he said, hefting it.

  Sammy helped himself to a couple.

  “Just grab the girl, Ross,” Dr. Lessing shouted suddenly. “I don’t care if the others get hurt.”

  The Sweeper came toward them at a run. He aimed himself at Lucy. Aidan pelted the can at him, but Ross ducked.

  Sammy threw both of his at the same time. One hit the man with a sharp crack, fracturing the plastic visor. Mrs. Reynolds shouted out a warning. Attempting to avoid the man’s weapon, Lucy threw herself backward so hard she hit the stack of boxes, knocking the topmost one to the ground. The column teetered and came crashing down, splitting the cardboard and spilling tin cans everywhere. Aidan tripped and fell. The Sweeper came on, his Taser dangerously close. He flung his arm out, and the black box skimmed the sleeve of Lucy’s leather jacket. She felt a jolt, which seemed to stop her heart for a second, and then her legs turned to water. Her head smashed against the ground, and she felt a trickle of blood edge into her collar. Aidan swept his leg around, felling the Sweeper. He stomped on the man’s wrist with his thick-soled boot. There was a crunch as the bone broke, and the black box flew from his fingers. Aidan pounced on it quickly.

  “Sammy,” he said, keeping his eyes on the Sweeper who was curled up, cradling his injured arm. “Help Lucy up, will you?” He stepped toward Simmons. The black box sent out its flickering prongs. Simmons held his hands open in front of him and shook his head. He took a few paces backward.

  “Just let me check on Ross, okay?” he said. Aidan nodded. Simmons prodded Ross’s wrist. “Broken in about three places,” he muttered. He helped the Sweeper to his feet and propped him against the wall.

  Lucy’s legs still felt like limp noodles. Her heart was pounding, and her head buzzed. It was difficult to fill her lungs with air. She freed herself from Sammy’s tight grip. “Where’s Dr. Lessing?” she yelled, looking for the white lab coat. The woman was nowhere to be seen. The dogs had started up a crescendo of whining. Then she heard the sound of electronic bolts shooting open. The barking broke out and quickly became a cacophony. A single howl rose. The sound made the hairs on Lucy’s arm rise, and she felt cold despite her leather jacket. Mrs. Reynolds’s face blanched.

  “She’s letting the dogs out,” she said. “They’ll go mad when they scent you. The trainer left a few days ago. If they find you before Dr. Lessing does, they’ll tear you apart.”

  Simmons stepped forward. He spoke hurriedly. “Down that hallway. Green-painted steel door about ten feet on. You can bust the lock. It leads to a dog run with an eight-foot chain-link fence.”

  “We’ll hold them off as long as we can,” Mrs. Reynolds said. She looked at Lucy. “Be careful out there. The plague is mutating. It may return. That much is true.”

  Simmons set his shoulder against a column of boxes and shoved. The heavy boxes came cascading down, partially blocking the narrow corridor. He moved to the next row and heaved. Some split open. Cans rolled underfoot. Slowly the pile grew and wedged against the opposite wall. Mrs. Reynolds joined him, tugging down crates, and heaping them higher until the lower half of the passage was impenetrable.

  Lucy hesitated. The others were already at the door. Sammy was hammering against the lock with a dented tin can.

  Mrs. Reynolds met her eyes. “Just run. Run, Lucy!” she said, staggering under the weight of another box. The scars were livid against her flushed skin. Behind the nurse and the growing pile of boxes, she caught sight of Dr. Lessing. She was completely surrounded by furry bodies. The dogs swarmed over one another as they hunted for a scent. Lucy hesitated.

  “I took my folder, the notebooks,” she said. “They belong to me and no one else. But I left the blood.” She turned away, but not before she saw surprise in the nurse’s eyes.

  Lucy ran to join Aidan. His arm was pressed tight against his ribs again. She saw the pain in the lines of his forehead. Although her skull was still buzzing, she felt surprisingly clearheaded. Sammy threw the can away in disgust. The thin metal was crumpled. Some kind of red sauce leaked out, staining his robes. He pushed his hood back. His blackened forehead was dripping sweat. Aidan set his shoulder against the door and heaved. The lock was battered, but still it held. From behind them, they heard the baying of the dogs.

  “They blocked most of the way, but there’s still space for the dogs to get through,” Lucy said.

  She remembered how the animals had propelled themselves halfway up the tree trunk, maddened by her scent. She pushed Sammy out of the way and slid her knife blade between the lock and the door and slammed it down hard, the impact jarring the old wound on her palm. The lock tore open with an awful squeal, and her knife snapped again. Straight across. An inch from the hilt.

  Lucy subdued a stab of grief, shoved it back into her pocket, and thrust the door open. Cool air flooded over her. The dog run was long and concrete, with shallow channels running down each side. It had rained recently, and the ce
ment glistened. Through the links of the fence she could see the shore, and beyond, the stormy surface of Lake Harlem.

  “Almost there,” she yelled, turning back to grab Aidan’s hand.

  Two dogs crashed through the barricade of boxes and cans into the hallway. Lucy caught a glimpse of their yellow eyes, the gums pulled back in hideous grimaces. A rottweiler and a pit bull. They leapt, arrowing in at her from two sides. She threw up a defensive arm, and then Aidan pushed her away, yelling. She hit the ground and rolled against the wall, smacking it hard with her head. She shook her head to clear it, scarcely aware of the pain, and dug frantically for her knife before remembering it was useless. Screaming in anger, she threw it at the rottweiler attacking Aidan. The hilt struck it across the skull, but the dog didn’t pause. Del stood in front of the door to the outside, shielding the terrified children with her body. Her slingshot was loaded. She raised it, looking for a clear shot, but everything was happening too fast. Aidan was thrown backward by the weight of the dog. He grappled with it, pushing against its muscular chest and throwing his head around wildly in an attempt to avoid its razor-sharp teeth. He hooked his fingers in the dog’s collar and twisted the leather strap, trying to strangle it. The dog’s tongue protruded and strands of saliva glistened as the jaws snapped inches from his face.

  Sammy hurled himself forward, trying to reach his brother. The pit bull jumped him, seeking the flesh beneath the robes. It clamped down with its jaws and whipped its head from side to side. The heavy black robes tore as Sammy kicked out at the dog. His boot connected with the dog’s midriff. Another wild kick, this blow landing on its snout. The dog yelped and released its jaws, falling heavily to the ground. Del took her shot, sending a stone into the meaty part of the dog’s thigh. The dog howled and scrabbled at the floor, trying to reach the wound in its leg. Sammy kicked it again in the ribs and ran, panting, to Aidan, who was weakening. He grabbed the rottweiler’s collar from behind and yanked it into the air. Scrambling to his feet, Aidan thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled out the Taser, and pressed it against the dog’s side. The dog yelped and collapsed, shaking convulsively on the floor. Its pink tongue lolled from its mouth, and then it was still. Aidan limped over to the whining pit bull and Tasered it, too.