by Sam Sisavath
They had spread out the portable fans along the floors and on the reception desk to cover as much of the room as possible. The heat was still suffocating, even with the windows and front door open. They drank every half hour just to keep dehydration at bay.
Elise and Vera had settled into some chairs in front of a fan and were drawing stick figures on the wall with markers as their long hair blew around them like confetti. They looked like they had gotten through the shoot-out just fine, which both worried and amazed him. Then again, maybe being shot at by a bunch of men was nothing compared to what they had seen and lived through in the last eight months. This, he thought, almost amused, probably didn’t rate very high in terms of nightmare potential.
“You were pretty fast out there,” he said to Blaine.
Lara had re-stitched Blaine’s side and left thigh. Blaine told them he had busted both sets of stitches about halfway across the street while the sniper was shooting at him.
“It felt like I was running in quicksand,” Blaine said.
Will leaned the AR-15 against the lobby desk and tossed the pouch of ammo on the floor. “Danny’s coming back with the other shooter.”
“He actually caught that asshole?” Blaine asked.
“It’s a dirt bike. You’re not going to outrun a Ford Ranger with 200 cc’s.”
“So he’s still alive,” Blaine said. It wasn’t a question.
“For now,” Will nodded.
Lara came out of a hallway in the back. She was wiping her hands with a white rag. Or it used to be white; it was now slightly pink from Blaine’s blood. “Danny?” she asked.
“He’s on his way back with a prisoner.”
“Was it them? The ones that took Sandra?”
“It was them,” Blaine said. He stood up and instantly grimaced with pain. “We should keep going, press them while we still can.”
“We don’t know if they’ve even left the city,” Will said. “They could still be out there. There are about a dozen residential subdivisions they could be hiding in at this very moment. It wouldn’t make sense for them to just leave their friends behind.”
“Maybe they’re not that tight…”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Will said.
*
Danny’s prisoner looked like he had seen better days. Any day, in fact, was probably better than today. Danny had the guy trussed up like a hog in the back of the Ford Ranger, the man’s wrists and legs bound by unbreakable zip ties. He was bleeding from a nasty gash in his right cheek, and one eye was covered by a massive bruise. He had a dark complexion, and Will guessed Mexican-American.
“Jesus, Danny,” Will said, when he saw the guy lying in the back of the Ranger.
“That wasn’t me,” Danny said. “He sort of flew off the bike.”
“How did he do that?”
“I tapped him lightly in the back with the Ranger. Lightly. It’s not my fault he couldn’t fly.”
The guy was alive and alert, though he had the look of a wounded animal, dark eyes darting left and right, from face to face, as if he expected to eat a bullet any second. Maybe he wasn’t very far off, Will thought, as they dragged the guy up from the truck bed and lifted him down to the parking lot to stand on his own two feet.
“He had a radio on him,” Danny said. “Unfortunately, it didn’t survive his flight.”
“The one on the Wallbys rooftop had one, too,” Will said. “Rifle?”
“Rest in pieces.”
“Jesus, Danny, remind me never to send you to fetch anything that I don’t want smashed to smithereens.”
“Quit yer naggin’.”
Blaine came out of the courthouse behind them. He had put on a new shirt and was still wincing with every step, but Will knew there was no way in hell he was going to be able to talk the guy out of this, so he didn’t even bother.
“Seen him before?” Will asked Blaine, turning the prisoner slightly so Blaine could see his face.
Blaine shook his head. “Maybe, I don’t know. I only saw Folger up close. The rest were a blur during the firefight.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Danny said. “This guy can’t wait to tell us everything he knows.” Danny pulled the prisoner closer to him and smiled. “Right?”
*
Not that it took very much to get the man talking.
They sat the prisoner, whose name was Miguel, on the lowered gate of the blue Ranger and handed him a bottle of water after they cut off the zip ties. He was in no shape to fight back, not that he had much fight left in him. Miguel had acquiesced to his situation, both in spirit and body. The man just wanted it to be over.
“Where are your friends?” Will asked.
“Hiding,” Miguel said. “Probably, I don’t know. They were supposed to help Hiller and me, but they never showed. They kept promising they would over the radio, but they never came. Then you guys killed Hiller, and I bailed.”
“How did you know we killed Hiller?”
“He didn’t answer his radio and he stopped shooting. I figured he was dead. I told Folger the same thing on the radio.”
“Folger is the boss?”
“Hardly.” Miguel took another sip of water. “He wants to be the boss, but no one respects him.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Six. Well, there used to be six. You killed Hiller. So there’s three of them now. Plus me, but I guess you don’t count me anymore.”
“I guess not. Name them.”
“There’s Folger, Del, and Manley.”
“Six minus two is four, genius,” Danny said. “Or didn’t they teach you to count in bad guy school?”
“There was four,” Miguel said. “Betts got killed last night.”
“What happened?”
“We had some prisoners, but they escaped. Tricked Betts somehow, then stabbed the shit out of him in the back of the neck with a key, if you can believe it. He was dead when we found him.”
Will looked over at Blaine, who had perked up. “The woman who was with me,” Blaine said. “You caught her.”
“Yeah,” Miguel said, but he wisely shied away from looking Blaine in the eyes. “She escaped with the others.”
“How many others?” Will asked.
“Two. Some kids we found in town when we first got here. There was a third kid, but he had turned, so we locked the basement door where he was hiding so he couldn’t get out.”
“How old are we talking about? These kids?” Danny asked.
“Teenagers,” Miguel said. “I don’t know how old. Sixteen or seventeen maybe.” He drained the bottle of water and tossed it away, watched it bounce around the parking lot for a moment. “Got any more of that?”
“Man’s going to drink us dry,” Danny said, and handed Miguel another warm bottle.
Miguel opened the bottle and drank down half of it one gulp.
“The radio,” Will said. “What frequency are they monitoring?”
Miguel told them.
Danny unclipped his radio from his vest and turned the frequency dial, then put the radio down on the open tail gate. They listened for a moment, but there was only static.
Miguel seemed to have expected that. He smirked. “Assholes. I knew they would leave me.”
“You’re saying they’re gone?” Will asked.
“I figured. Or they’d be here by now, wouldn’t they?”
“Maybe,” Will said, unconvinced.
“Not BFFs, I take it,” Danny said.
“Not in this lifetime,” Miguel said, almost spitting the words out. “I only fell in with them because there was no one else. I mean, after everything happened, strength in numbers, you know? And Folger had all these guns. Who the hell knows where he got them. He was an asshole and everything, but he seemed to know some stuff that got us through the early days.”
“How long ago did Sandra and these kids escape?” Blaine asked.
“Like I said, last night.”
“Did you find the
m?”
“No. They must have been hiding. There are thousands of houses in this place. It’s impossible to search every one of them. Plus you never know where those bloodsuckers could be hiding. They’re fucking everywhere.”
“What’s with the big rig?” Danny asked.
“What?” Miguel said, as if he hadn’t heard the question right.
“The big rig,” Danny repeated. “Blaine says you guys had a big rig with you. It’s gotta guzzle diesel like crazy, so why bother with one? For storing supplies?”
“That’s partially it, but mostly it’s to keep the monsters out.”
“How?” Will asked.
“What, how does it keep the monsters out?” Miguel asked. “Have you seen those semitrailers? You can’t tear into those things. They’re like a moving safe.”
Will and Danny exchanged a look. “Why didn’t we think of that?”
“We didn’t see a semitrailer when we got here,” Will said.
“Folger moved it,” Miguel said. “After last night, I guess he was afraid the kids would come back and try to steal it or something. Stupid, right? They’re not coming back. Why the fuck would they? But Folger is paranoid like that.”
“How did you know we were coming? You had that ambush set up pretty fast.”
“I was on the water tower, looking for those kids. You know, to get a better lay of the land. Sound travels nowadays. I heard you coming from the highway. Called Folger on the radio and he came up with the bright idea to set up an ambush.”
“What happened to Folger?”
“That dick. He took off with Del and Manley before you showed up, told me and Hiller they were going to circle around and attack you from behind. That was his master plan, anyway. I don’t know what happened. Every time I radioed him, he always said he was circling around, that we should keep you occupied. Then you fucking killed Hiller and I guess they chickened out and split. Who the hell knows. He wouldn’t answer the radio after I told them Hiller was probably dead.” Miguel shrugged, and his shoulders seemed to droop lower than before, if that was even possible. “So, you going to shoot me now or what?”
Miguel looked at Will, then at Danny, and finally, for the first time, at Blaine.
“I’m not going to beg for my life,” Miguel said. “Hell, I survived eight months when the rest of the world died. I think I got a pretty sweet deal.” He managed a grin. “So go ahead. Get it over with. Just make sure I’m not the last one. That’s why I’m telling you all of this, you know. So you can get Folger and Del and Manley, too, the cowardly fucks.”
“You sure they left town?” Will asked.
“Wouldn’t surprise me if they all split and went their own ways. Manley, in particular. He never really liked Folger and Del. Plus, he’s the only one who can drive the big rig. If I was him, I’d take off with it. Get to keep all the supplies inside, too.”
“All right, I guess we’re done,” Will said, and looked over at Blaine. “It’s up to you. You decide what we should do with him.”
Blaine only had eyes for Miguel. “Sandra. When you caught her last night. Did you…do anything to her?”
Miguel looked back at the big man, with an expression that Will thought was sadness, and something that almost approached (but not quite) regret. “I didn’t. But I wanted to. I’ll be straight with you. Man to man. I wanted to, but Del caught her, so he got her first. We were supposed to get her later last night, but like I said, she escaped with the kids first.”
“Okay,” Blaine said.
“Take him into the woods,” Will said.
CHAPTER 9
JOSH
He woke up with Gaby’s elbow in his ribs, and when that didn’t work, she began pushing him back and forth until he opened his eyes and yawned. Gaby looked beautiful with the sunlight over her face, but then again, she always looked beautiful.
At the moment she also looked a little afraid. “I hear a car coming,” she said in a hushed voice.
Josh sat up and listened.
He could hear a sound, but it was still too far away and he couldn’t be sure if it was a car or something else. He scrambled up from some stained bedsheets. Josh moved toward the wall and stood under the small window and listened.
Gaby was right, it was a car, and it was getting closer. “I have to go upstairs,” he said. “To make sure.”
Gaby looked horrified at the thought. “Josh, we don’t know what’s up there. Anything could have come into the house last night while we were asleep down here.”
“I’ll be okay.” He found that he could fake confidence if he tried hard enough, even if every ounce of him just wanted to stay down here in the basement with Gaby.
He picked up Matt’s revolver, resting on top of the backpack where he had laid it last night. For some reason, the gun felt much heavier this morning, but maybe that was just his imagination. He stared up at the basement door and felt his heart beating loudly against his chest. It was stupid, he knew. Only an idiot would go out there. There could be bloodsuckers in the kitchen, for God’s sake, that had slipped in sometime during the night and were now lying in wait for him.
He should stay down here. With Gaby. That was the smart thing.
And he was smart, wasn’t he? Of course he was.
“Josh, don’t go,” Gaby said behind him.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, and before she could respond, he hurried up the stairs because if he didn’t, if he let her argue, he knew he would change his mind. Josh didn’t overestimate himself. Being brave wasn’t something that came easily to him, especially when Gaby was there begging him to do the opposite.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and pressed his ear against the door. He listened, waiting a full thirty seconds, and didn’t open the door until he was satisfied he didn’t hear anything on the other side. No footsteps, no sounds of any kind at all. Of course, they could be playing possum, waiting for him. That was possible, too.
This is so stupid.
He unlocked the door, then quickly opened it and slipped out into the kitchen. He turned and closed the basement door behind him, then turned back around again, the revolver out front, holding his breath.
He was relieved to find a brightly lit kitchen, already filled with morning sun flooding through the windows above the sink as well as other windows in the living room. Everything was where it should be. He hoped.
He glanced down at his watch: 8:17 a.m.
Josh moved toward the front door, entering the foyer. More lights in the room made him breathe a little easier. He knew the bloodsuckers didn’t hide in dark corners in brightly lit rooms. They hid in rooms that were dark, like that back room in the store, where Matt was bitten. The creatures weren’t stupid. Far from it. They sure as hell had proven that eight months ago.
He hurried toward the window and looked out. He could hear the car getting closer. Soon, he saw the nose of a GMC turning the corner and cruising up the street in his direction. Josh lowered himself to the floor, with just his eyes peering out from behind the windowsill. The curtains fluttered above him, and he realized with slight anxiety that the window had been open all night.
How had he missed that? He was thankful nothing had come in during the night. God, he hoped nothing had come in during the night…
As the truck passed by on the street, Josh saw Manley behind the steering wheel, scanning the area with those cold, reptilian eyes of his. His heart began racing at the possibility of being caught by Manley. Of all their captors, the man scared him the most. There was just something so wrong about that guy.
When Manley and the GMC finally passed the house and turned right onto another street, Josh let out a big sigh and sat down on the floor to compose himself.
After a moment, he got up and headed back into the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator and almost fainted at the overwhelming stench of rotten food. He held his breath and searched through the slabs of cheese and meat teeming with maggots. At least some life was thriving at the end
of the world.
Josh grabbed a two-liter bottle of Coke and four warm bottles of water. He closed the refrigerator and finally let himself gasp for air again.
Next, he raided the cabinets and closets, looking for food. He opened one of the drawers and saw glossy silver packages of Kung Fu noodles stacked high.
Jackpot, mofos!
*
Gaby looked glad to see him coming back through the basement door, but she was even more glad see the bags of Kung Fu noodles in his arms. “Oh my God, I’m so hungry,” she said, and quickly pulled open one of the bags and broke off a big piece of noodle and stuffed it into her mouth.
“How is it?” he asked.
“Food,” she said between a mouthful of noodles.
He laughed and handed her a bottle of water. “Try not to choke on it.”
“Trying,” she grinned back.
Sandra gratefully took another bag of noodles from him. “Wow, Kung Fu noodles. I haven’t had these since college.”
“Where did you go to school?” he asked.
“Baylor. That was a lifetime ago.” She wandered back to her corner, where she opened the bag and pulled out a big piece of noodle and bit into it, looking utterly satisfied.
Josh sat down next to Gaby and opened a bag. The noodles were a bit stale and didn’t make that crackling sound he was used to. But they tasted okay, and that was what mattered. He happily ate his entire bag and chased them down with some warm Coke.
They sat in the basement and ate in silence. The only sounds were their chewing and drinking.
Josh found himself oddly content. Sure, his parents were probably dead, and his friends were probably all dead, too. But he had Gaby sitting here next to him, so close that every time she went to pinch noodles from her bag of Kung Fu, her shoulder rubbed up against him. She had washed and scratched away as much of Betts’s blood as she could, but there were still specks of red clinging to her fingers. She seemed to not notice, though.
After a while, Gaby said, “Do you remember Peter Brolin?”
