Remains (After The Purge: Vendetta, Book 3)

by Sam Sisavath

  Drip-drip-drip.

  The cuts, thank God, weren’t large or deep enough to kill her. But that, she assumed, was the point. Like sharks in the ocean, the ghouls could smell blood. That was, if the large fire gathering steam as it crackled underneath the dark night sky behind her wasn’t already enough to attract their attention. That was the reason for all of this, the answer she had been desperate to know while imprisoned earlier.

  She was being used as bait.

  But not just her…

  Ana glanced over at Randall. They’d strapped him onto his own pole next to hers, the ropes wrapped around his body literally the only thing holding him upright. His chin rested against his chest, his disheveled and wet (Why is his hair wet? I’m freezing out here.) hair draped over his forehead. She couldn’t see his eyes, and she could just barely detect his chest moving underneath his shirt. Maybe. It was difficult to be 100% sure with the fire behind his back, causing shadows to grow in front of him.

  Don’t be dead, Randall. Don’t be dead.

  She hadn’t gotten a good look at him as they were dragged across the town and roped into place. Ana had been too busy trying to get a solid grasp of what was going on, where they were being taken, and, more importantly, why. She found that last part out very quickly when night fell and the smell in the air changed. Her skin tingled, and she saw the first one stepping out from between two of the smaller buildings in front of her.

  I’m bait. Me and Randall. That’s why they attacked us. That’s why they didn’t bother talking to us or do anything with us during the day. Because this was the plan all along.

  To use us as bait…

  The church was about fifty yards behind her, far enough that she wasn’t in fear of being swallowed up by its flames but close enough that she could feel the heat seeping through her clothes. There was no way for her to avoid what was about to happen. Oh sure, she could close her eyes and attempt to block out all her senses, then wait for the inevitable. But that wasn’t how Ana was raised or how she’d lived her life before, during, or since The Purge. She didn’t give up when the world went to shit, and she wasn’t going to just surrender now.

  That suddenly defiant thought made her renew her fight against the rope—a blend of polyester and nylon fabric—but it was as useless now as it’d been when she started an hour earlier. It was too tight and bit into her arms even through her long sleeves. When she’d seen Ball Cap bring it out, she thought it looked like something a cowboy would use to round up cattle. Ana guessed that wasn’t too far from the truth.

  Dark black eyes were watching her struggle, and Ana thought again, Where did they all come from? Where have they been hiding all this time?

  They moved under the cover of darkness, from between buildings and patches of thick shadows. The air grew denser with each new figure, moonlight gleaming off their hairless domed heads and dirty black skin. It should have been difficult to make them out against the blackness of night, but it wasn’t. The light from the fire behind her danced off their solid obsidian eyes.

  She snapped a quick glance over at Randall again. Blood dripped from his own wounds cut along his forearms, mirroring her own. Poor Randall. He hadn’t woken when they dragged him across the town and hadn’t opened his eyes when they tied him in place. They’d manhandled him, and a part of Ana thought the slayer was playing dead, that he was already conscious but was just waiting for the chance to surprise and overwhelm their captors.

  But no. Randall just wasn’t…here.

  You’re lucky, Randall. You’re so lucky you don’t have to see this.

  Ana turned back to face the creatures. The closest one was only twenty yards away and moving cautiously toward her. Too cautiously. It had a stump for a right arm, but there was nothing wrong with its legs—as thin and frail as they were. Did it know this was some kind of trap set up by Ball Cap and his allies? She’d never seen nightcrawlers act so hesitant when there was prey available. Not when they had all their limbs.

  She thought about the last time she’d come face-to-face with a ghoul. That was in Mayfield. Or, precisely, a basement under the town. The asshat Gabriel had put her down there and tied her to a chair before tossing a ghoul in with her. He’d done it as an experiment, to see how long it would take the creature to get to her. Fortunately, that ghoul was incapable of moving fast.

  This one moving toward her, and its peers, had no such trouble.

  And yet, here they were, biding their time. They sniffed the air—sniffed her—but they were showing amazing discipline. That should have relieved her, but the oddity of it just produced more paranoia.

  What were they doing? What were they waiting for?

  Drip-drip-drip as blood fell to the ground, forming small puddles near her feet. She’d moved her legs slightly to keep her boots from getting splashed. That was the only real control she had over her body right now. God only knew the rest of her was exactly where her captors wanted them.

  Out here, exposed—bait.

  Drip-drip-drip.

  Drip-drip-drip…

  And yet, Stumpy Ghoul squinted (Did ghouls squint? Could they?) tentatively back at her, before almost grudgingly taking one step forward, then another. Its hollowed, dark eyes shifted left and right, its one fully intact left arm hanging limply at its side like a useless appendage. Why was it moving so slowly? What did it see or smell or hear that she couldn’t, that kept it so hesitant?

  It wasn’t just this one nightcrawler, either. The others were the same, even as more of them stepped out of the shadows and began forming an almost jagged circle around her and Randall. There might have been more behind her that she couldn’t see, but she chose not to think about that. It was bad enough knowing what was in front of her; she didn’t need to imagine what was back there—

  The first gunshot startled Ana, but it was worst for Stumpy Ghoul. The creature’s head snapped back just before it flopped to the ground. She had no idea where the shot had come from, just that it had originated from somewhere behind her.

  Silver bullet. Someone just shot it with a silver bullet.

  That was the only reason Stumpy Ghoul hadn’t picked itself right back up.

  The others knew it, too, and they stopped their forward momentum to look at the crumpled ghoul.

  Okay, now turn and run away, you fuckers.

  They did turn and run—except instead of fleeing they ran toward her, and Ana thought, Oh, hell.

  Pop-pop-pop!

  A continuous stream of gunfire this time, also coming from behind her. Rounds struck ghouls in their tracks and dropped one, two—five of the creatures. Another nightcrawler was between strides and toppled comically forward on its face while both bow-legged feet were still in the air. It landed in a pile, bones clacking.

  There was more than one shooter, she was sure of it, because nightcrawlers were dying to the left and right of her. Two more, making a beeline for her and Randall, when they too slammed into the hard earth. She swore she’d felt the zip! of a bullet passing her right ear that time. Despite that close encounter, she was happy for the results.

  Pop-pop-pop!

  Pop-pop-pop!

  Ghouls were falling all around her, but that seemed to only encourage more of them to come out of the shadows.

  Jesus Christ. Where are they all coming from?

  They raced out of the darkness, the deformed edges of their faces glowing orange against the church fire burning behind Ana. But instead of charging at her and Randall, they were streaming off in different directions. Away from them.

  There was a burst of elation as Ana realized the nightcrawlers were going after the shooters, as if she and Randall didn’t even exist anymore. But that quickly gave way to uncertainty. They were fine now, but what happened if the creatures managed to get to Ball Cap and his buddies? The answer was easy: They’d return to her and Randall. And they would have all night, with no one to stop them.

  A shiver ran up and down her spine at the thought.

  Pop-pop
-pop!

  Pop-pop-pop!

  She swore the shooting had picked up even as the number of ghouls seemed to multiply. They were appearing in packs of twos and threes now, and again she thought, Where are they coming from? How are there still so many of them out here?

  She knew all about the occasional ghouls hiding in the woods, using the thick crowns to stay out of the light. There were stories about ghouls hiding underground, digging shallow graves to stave off the sunlight. Then there were the tales about the ones roaming the cities, using all those abandoned buildings and apartments as nests. Not just undead nightmares, but the human monster variety, too.

  The clanking echoes of feet pounding on corrugated steel drew her eyes to more of the creatures. They were racing across rooftops now. Was that where the shooters were? It made sense for Ball Cap and his friends to lay in wait high up, so they could see the entire town—

  Someone screamed, and Ana twisted her body, trying to look behind her. It was an impossible task, and all she got was another eyeful of Randall’s slacked form fastened against his pole.

  But the scream. It’d sounded like a woman. Or a girl.

  Chris? Was it Chris? It could have been anyone.

  God, don’t let that be Chris…

  Or maybe it was little Betsy, the curious girl from earlier, who had gone missing after Ana and Shelby’s attempted escape.

  The ghouls were completely disinterested in her and Randall now. The ones on the ground, that she could see in the flickering light of the church fire, were going around them. The ones moving among the shadows were appearing and disappearing in and out and above the buildings that surrounded her.

  Had she misjudged the creatures? Maybe they weren’t as dumb as she had always believed. Instead of throwing number after number to reach her and Randall, exposing themselves to the light and gunfire, they were now targeting Ball Cap and his friends, who hid among the houses and in the darkness. Was it possible that everything she thought she knew about ghouls was wrong?

  Ana was still trying to grapple with that possibility when she felt it—a sudden change in the air. It had grown cold. Colder than it had been seconds ago—

  No, not cold. Warm. It was warm now.

  But how was that possible?

  She looked away from the shadows, and forward.

  What is that?

  Something pulsed in the darkness. It had appeared out of the thick canvas of nothing in front of her, like the embers of a dying campfire. Except this one was growing with every breath she managed to draw in and every puff of white cloud that left her lips.

  It took a second—maybe less than that; maybe just half a heartbeat—for her to realize what she was seeing.

  An eye. She was staring at a blue eye.

  Pop-pop-pop! as the shooting around her escalated. Someone screamed—then someone else joined them.

  Somewhere, not too far away, a shotgun fired.

  Then another…

  But Ana didn’t avert her eyes from what was in front of her. She couldn’t, because the glowing blue orb was looking back at her.

  Right back at her.

  There was no mistaking it. It had seen her and had locked on. She swore it was glowing, throbbing against a calm ocean of black tar. Too mesmerizing for her to look away, to pretend she didn’t know it was.

  Ana forgot to breathe as she waited for the other blue eye to appear, to join its cohort. What was taking it so long?

  Except there continued to be only one in the darkness, drawing her in with its suffocating brightness.

  It was a blue-eyed ghoul.

  A one-eyed, blue-eyed ghoul…

  Sixteen

  “The one I’m looking for’s got one eye. The right one. Have you seen it or heard someone seeing something like that around here?”

  She was looking across the dark night at an eye. The right one. She knew that because of the shape of the head. It was thin and long, unnaturally stretched, with a jaw that almost seemed to extend lower than (humanly) possible.

  “You’re looking for one of them? No one looks for the blue eyes.”

  She’d said those words to Wash the first night they met, when he had asked her about a one-eyed, blue-eyed ghoul. The very idea of such a thing was ludicrous. A one-eyed, blue-eyed ghoul? Was there even such a thing?

  Apparently, yes, because Wash was looking for one. It was the reason he was down here in Texas. That had led to her following him south and straight into this mess.

  “It’s down there, isn’t it?” she remembered asking him. “One Eye. The blue-eyed ghoul you’re looking for. It’s in Texas. How were you going to find it? Like you said, Texas is a big place. It could be anywhere. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the blue eyes are good at hiding.”

  Texas was a big place (Everything’s bigger in Texas, right?), but it wasn’t big enough, because here she was, staring at death itself.

  Ana didn’t remember the last time she breathed in the cold air that was tinged with the smell of dead ghouls and gunpowder. All she could concentrate on was the dark, silhouetted figure in front of her, looking back at her.

  Does it know me? God, please don’t let it know me.

  She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping to will it away.

  Go away, you fucker. Go away!

  She couldn’t ignore the pop-pop-pop of gunfire, occasionally broken by the boom! of a shotgun blast. What was once just shooting from behind her had now spread out to all along her left and right. The fighting was coming from everywhere all at once. If this was Ball Cap and his friends’ plan, Ana had a feeling it had gone astray.

  Someone was screaming. The same person as last time, or someone else? Female or male this time? She couldn’t tell. She was too busy chanting, over and over in her head:

  Go away! Go away!

  Rain, rain, go away, come back another—

  Warm air pressed against her face, heavy and thick like molasses.

  Oh…

  She opened her eyes.

  …God.

  It was so close that if she moved her head even just a fraction forward, she would have bumped up against the tip of its chin, because it stood taller than her. Much, much taller. It practically hovered like a father before a prostrated child.

  But she wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman, and this…

  …and this…

  “I’m not going to ask you to go after One Eye with me,” Wash had said. “You won’t want to, anyway. It’s dangerous beyond belief. I’ve already made peace with it.”

  She’d understood what he meant even before she asked the question anyway:

  “Made peace with what?”

  “That it’s going to be a one-way trip down south for me,” Wash had answered.

  Because no one went after blue-eyed ghouls. She’d heard stories of slayers who had confronted a couple and gotten out alive, but they’d always taken the challenge on as a group. Or, at the very least, in pairs. Wash didn’t have a partner, and neither did she, now.

  Neither did she, now…

  It moved even closer (Is that possible?), and Ana stopped hearing the gunfire in the background entirely. She stopped feeling the cold air (or was it warm now?) flowing between buildings and swirling around her. There was just this creature in front of her, invading her space, the unnatural hot and cold emanating from its hairless flesh, encompassing all and making her a part of it.

  Oh God oh God oh God.

  Her eyes were glued to its skeletal face, its throbbing right eye refusing to let her go. She wanted badly to shrink away, but the rope fastening her to the heavy wooden pole wouldn’t let her do even that. All she could manage was to turn her head slightly, then watch out of the corner of one eye as the creature…sniffed her?

  It was so close that she didn’t think there was any space left between them. But that couldn’t have been true, because then their flesh would be touching, and they weren’t doing that yet.

  God, please don’t touch me.

&n
bsp; Please, please, please…

  The monster pulled back slightly, just far enough (Not far enough. Not far enough!) to grin. Or smirk. Or did something with its thin lips (Those are strings—bloody strings—not lips…) that might have resembled a smile in one of those funny carnival mirrors.

  “I can smell him on you,” it said. Hissed. Its voice reached out to her ears with an almost dreamlike quality, as if it wasn’t really talking out loud but was somewhere inside her head, its words meant for the two of them only.

  Him? Who was it talking about? Who was him? Who was…

  Oh.

  “The one I’m looking for’s got one eye. The right one. Have you seen it or heard someone seeing something like that around here?”

  Yes, Wash. I’ve seen it now. I’m staring at it right now. Right fucking at it.

  Slowly, very slowly, the gunfire came back to her senses, but they continued to ebb and flow in the background. She was too busy concentrating on the thing hovering over her, its razor lips forming that ghastly expression it probably thought was a smile but wasn’t. Not really.

  “He’s here,” it hissed. “He’s close. Closer than he’s supposed to be.”

  Wash. It’s talking about Wash again.

  “I’ll go see him when I’m done here,” the creature said, its voice caressing her face, heating and chilling the skin over her turned right cheek.

  How is this possible? How is it both hot and cold?

  It lifted one of its hands, bony fingers radiating a nauseating stench as they closed in on her face. She tried to turn her head, but it wasn’t going to work. The only escape was to break free from her bonds. It hadn’t been possible before, and it wouldn’t be now, no matter how desperately she wanted it to be.

  It traced her forehead with its forefinger, smooth flesh (Warm. Or cold? I can’t tell!) rubbing against hers, creating an odd sensation that she couldn’t decide was horrific or tantalizing or…