by Platt, Sean
“They didn’t even act on the information for a while. So I kept my mouth shut, figuring he’d avoided capture. I thought we’d gotten lucky. But I guess now that they decided they’d take a different angle in bringing him down — murdering your mother and setting him up for the crime.”
Ana closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears inside. Liam was responsible for everything that had happened to her family. She wanted to scream, hit him, puke, something.
But instead, she listened as he continued his story.
“After they locked your dad up, I thought it was over. But no, they came back. They wanted more. But after what they did, I wasn’t willing. I ran roadblocks, working both sides while trying to keep everyone safe. I did my best. But it wasn’t good enough. City Watch terminated our baby, but by then Chelle was in her third trimester, less than two months from delivery. It ruined her. Maybe they did something else too, I don’t know, but when she came home, Chelle wasn’t the same. She left me that day and never came back.”
Ana stared at him, trying to reconcile her anger against his situation. He had done what he had to do to protect his family, never knowing he’d be responsible for the destruction of hers.
Liam wiped the back of his hand under his right eye. “Can we keep walking? I’m freezing my dick off standing here.”
“Of course,” Ana said.
Liam continued, “After that, City Watch made me their bitch. Even though Chelle was no longer in custody, they threatened to arrest her and stack the charges, make her an accessory to my Underground involvement. Publicly humiliate her and put her in The Games. I had to go back, giving them just enough to satisfy but not enough to blow The Underground apart. There’s thousands of people we’ve helped escape City 6. Thousands whose lives depend on The Underground and the hidden village.”
Liam stopped mid-step, rubbing his hands across his folded arms. “So I kept giving them bits and bits…until you were arrested. That was too much. I couldn’t allow you to pay for my sins, not after what happened to your dad. So I got myself thrown into The Games to protect you. To help you get to the end. And then I’ll get myself killed, let you live, so you can go to City 7 and be with Jonah.”
Ana stared at him, torn between guilt, anger, and gratitude until she was no longer sure what she felt about Liam. She only knew that she couldn’t continue to hate him. He did what he did and had his reasons. Now he was trying to make things right.
Even her father could appreciate that.
Liam suddenly gasped, startled as the trio of orbs above them descended all at once, swirling around them with a speed and pattern Ana hadn’t seen before. Liam’s arm made a fence of protection around her.
“What’s happening?” Ana didn’t mean to whimper, even though she did.
Are they going to attack? Has Liam just said too much, and now we’re both going to be killed?
The three orbs hovered in place, and then, in an instant, all fell to the ground at once, their screens and lights going dark.
“What the hell?” Liam said, inching toward the closest one on the ground. “They’re dead!”
Suddenly another orb appeared, a black one, racing from the woods and flying right at them.
“Is that a hunter orb?” Ana asked, seeing the weapon beneath its screen before she finished asking the question.
“Down!” Liam said, falling on top of her.
Ana braced for the impact of an energy blast, certain that they, or at least Liam, was about to be evaporated into ashes in an instant.
But no blast came.
Instead, she heard a humming sound, and then a voice that said, “Follow me!”
They looked up to see the orb’s monitor showing a familiar face on its screen — Duncan!
Liam was running before Ana realized what was happening, grabbing her hand and pulling her behind him as he chased the orb into the forest. Behind them, they heard one of the “dead” orbs coming back to life.
“Oh shit!” Liam said, turning back as a blue beam of heat fired over their heads and smashed into a large tree ahead of them, evaporating it in an instant.
“Fuck!” Liam screamed, then ducked, running in a zigzag, following the black orb deeper into the trees.
“You OK?” he called back to Ana, who was racing as fast as she could to keep pace, her hand still somehow in his.
“Barely,” she said as Liam’s fingers circled tighter around her wrist.
Another blast, this time closer, hit the ground behind them, sending up a chunk of earth.
“Duncan!” Liam screamed, then dropped to the ground, pulling Ana down with him. He shoved her head into the snow and peeked past her. Ana looked up and followed his gaze and saw the orb they’d been following make a 180, spin through the air, then throw crackling blue light through the forest.
There was a deafening explosion, surprisingly loud considering the size of the orbs. Then Duncan’s orb hovered back to a few feet above them. “It’s OK,” he reassured from the monitor. “Hang tight, we’re almost there.”
To punctuate the promise, the ground started moving about a hundred yards ahead. They felt the rumble before they saw the spot — a large, circular metal plate, camouflaged beneath the snow, spinning as it surfaced.
“Let’s get going. We’re getting you two out of here,” Duncan called from the platform’s middle. “And we don’t have very long.”
CHAPTER 30 — Jonah Lovecraft
Jonah hid behind the tree, panting, trying to decide if he should take a peek back.
He might’ve outrun Egan, but probably not. Even if he had, the crazy fuck wasn’t likely to give up so easily. Something was wrong with the asshole, keeping his daughter and the others locked away, prisoners from society. Jonah could understand why he was hiding from City 6, but why hide from the Village? Those people helped one another and would certainly have considered him a hero. They could live normal lives.
But no, Egan had created a little enclave with nothing but himself, his wife (if they were actually married), a dwarf, and three 10-year-old soldiers.
How long does he hope to go on like this?
He wondered if Egan was being overly paranoid or had just gone fucking nuts.
Whatever the case, Jonah needed to put as much distance between himself and them as he could, and as quickly as possible. But first, he had to lose Egan.
Or kill the man.
His back against the bark, Jonah peered around the tree, watching Egan as he ran off in the opposite direction. That would’ve been good if he weren’t screaming like an idiot. He may as well have tied a string of raw meat to his neck, saying, “Here, zombies, come and get me!”
“Jonah!” Egan’s voice raged through The Barrens.
Shut. Up! You’re gonna attract the zombies, you idiot!
“Come back here and face your crimes, you coward!”
Jonah’s heart pounded as Egan’s voice thundered. He dared another glance, casting his eyes 80 yards away or so, spying a path, winding up the ridge and away from the underground station. If he could get there, he could lose Egan and then double back the long way and catch the train tracks, and find his way to Ana, assuming she was still alive or he could find her in The Games.
Stop it; you WILL find her. One thing at a time, though.
His headache pounded seemingly in rhythm with his racing heart.
“Jonah!” Egan screamed again, moving mercifully farther away.
After another minute, Egan moved far enough that Jonah figured it was safe to race toward the path. He lowered himself to a launching position, ready to bolt, but stopped short when he saw one of the boys who had saved him from the shack — the one who had watched over Calla when she fed him for the first time — storming through the woods, rifle in his hand, kicking up snow as Calla followed with a matching rifle.
Shit.
Jonah wondered if Calla’s treachery had been discovered. Did she regret her decision to help him? Would she try atoning for her lapse in judgmen
t by shooting him if given the chance? Or, like a half hour before, was Calla his only hope?
He had few options. Save for a pipe, Jonah was defenseless, and he couldn’t count on anyone’s help. He had minutes, if not seconds, to make a choice, then turn that decision to action. His enemies were armed, with their circle closing quickly around him. Inertia equaled death.
“Jonah!” Egan’s scream was loud enough to knock trees down. Not just louder, closer. He was doubling back.
Shit. Shit.
The two kids were coming up through the woods behind Jonah, close enough that he didn’t dare sneak another peek around the tree. He pressed his body as much into the tree as he could and kept quiet as possible.
He looked up to the path again. He might be able to make it if he ran, but he would surely make noise. Staying safe meant sitting tight and waiting for the group to either pass or move in a different direction.
Every step drew Egan closer to Jonah’s hiding place in one direction, and the kids closer from the other. In seconds, all three would arc in a circle around Jonah. He’d been reasonably lucky since leaving City 6, but fortune wasn’t fat enough for him to believe he could possibly escape detection from all three.
“Jonah!” Egan called, from what sounded like the other side of the tree.
Jonah gulped, wondering how loud the swallow sounded outside his ears.
“Face your crimes, Jonah!”
“Coward!” the boy called, his voice and bootlicking message both aimed at Egan. Jonah wondered how many things Egan had said to fill the children with hate for their “enemy.” The sad thing was, Egan wouldn’t have even had to tell a single lie.
“Jonah! I know you’re near.” Egan’s voice dropped to a hum, as if to prove proximity. “Come out now and make it easier on yourself.”
Yeah, right.
Jonah nudged his back harder against the bark as he heard one, or maybe even both kids, rush toward him, sending him deeper into panic. He’d rather die than murder children.
Run!
Run now, and damn it all.
If you don’t run now, you’re dead.
Jonah ignored his instincts as bark bit into his flesh, knowing that running would earn a bullet in his back. He had to wait, bide his time, and hope they’d pass. Even small, it was a possibility, and if there was one thing Jonah had learned while playing The Games — the one thing that kept him alive above all else — fortune rewarded the patient. Outwitting his opponents often meant outwaiting them, staying hidden even when it made the most sense to run.
When fear forced your hand, you were most likely making the wrong move. It was the simple secret to his survival that Kirkman never mentioned.
The footsteps drew closer.
Calla appeared in front of Jonah, 40 feet to his right, gun in hands, creeping through the snow and staring forward.
His stomach turned, tumbled, and went still. His entire body was half concealed by a shrub’s worth of brush between him and Calla. If she didn’t look, she might miss him entirely.
Jonah waited to see if the boy would follow but saw nothing, and he was too afraid to crane his neck for another look. It was possible that the boy was on the other side at a safe distance, but if Calla saw Jonah and made any sound, no matter how small, the boy was probably close enough to bring Jonah’s death to certainty.
Egan’s voice grew even more heated, now hot enough to melt snow. “Jonah! I will find you. And I’m going to fucking kill you when I do!”
Calla inched closer, 20 feet away, heading toward Egan, rifle held in front.
Don’t turn your head, don’t look. Keep walking.
Calla turned.
Their eyes met.
Jonah’s breath was buried in his throat as his mouth dropped open.
He slowly shook his head, eyes wide and begging like a dog.
Please, no, please.
Calla blinked twice, then kept moving, silent.
Thank you, thank you!
A sudden gunshot split the calm, followed by a series of shrieks.
Zombies!
Calla spun around, looking briefly at Jonah, then past him toward the sounds.
She raised her rifle, took aim, and fired.
The boy’s scream tore through the air, shrieking as though he’d fallen right into hell and into an orgy of demons ripping his flesh. Calla screamed, racing toward Egan.
Jonah thought he heard Egan scream, but between muffled cries from the dying boy and Calla’s shrieks, rising above the moaning, groaning, and slurping of zombies, he couldn’t be sure.
Jonah strained to hear as the zombies grew louder, both before and after the gunshots. He turned to Calla, who fired another several shots, then vanished from his sight as she hurled herself into battle. The boy made a few final gurgles, slipping into certain death.
Four shots tore through the forest, Jonah figured a couple from Calla and a pair from her dad.
Go. They’re distracted.
NOW!
Egan screamed, “Oh God, no!”
Before Jonah could launch himself toward the path, his curiosity got the better of him, and he risked a glimpse and saw Calla and her father standing near the dead boy. The six zombies who weren’t feasting on the child turned their attention on the living.
Egan and Calla fired into the approaching monsters but were missing more than hitting. The zombies kept coming at them.
Jonah curled his fingers around his pipe, wondering how many zombies he’d be able to beat to death and whether his efforts would do any good. Would he be able to help Calla and her father, or would he just be risking his life to add a minute to their collective death?
He turned to the path, bristling through instincts that screamed for him to run.
Go find Ana! It’s now or never!
What are you doing, dumb ass? Go, go, GO!
No.
You can’t let them die! You can’t let Calla die.
She saved you — twice!
Jonah was frozen, his brain in a war with his guts until Calla’s scream grabbed his attention. He peered back and saw Calla backing away from a zombie, its arms out as it chased her. They were coming straight toward Jonah’s hiding spot.
“Help!” she screamed.
Egan was occupied, wrestling with five zombies that had cornered him, helpless to save his daughter. Either out of ammunition or unable to reload, he swung his rifle madly at the herd, holding them back as they huddled around him.
Calla’s footsteps and cries grew louder as she raced toward the tree where Jonah waited, clutching the pipe in his hands.
Calla shot past Jonah’s tree, a zombie in close pursuit.
FUCK!
Jonah waited for the zombie to pass, then leaped from his hiding spot and swung the pipe with a Watchman’s trained precision into the back of its skull. The zombie fell, its broken gourd opening on the ground and spilling a bucket of blood. Another zombie appeared from behind, so silent that Jonah didn’t know it was there until it was, and ran right past him, chasing after the girl.
Fuck!
The zombie was inches away from Calla, reaching out.
Jonah screamed, “Hey!”
It stopped, almost confused, turning around, its white eyes narrowed on Jonah. Its lips parted, showing Jonah two rows of broken, blackened teeth, chomping into the meat of a dangling, rotted tongue and shredded flesh where its lips had once been.
The zombie groaned something indecipherable, then lurched forward, its clawed and charred fingernails opening and closing, moaning as if already tasting the savory meal waiting inside Jonah’s warm flesh.
Jonah lifted the pipe, then left it hovering while waiting for the zombie’s next move. The zombie was swerving erratically, slow at first, then deceptively fast, as if purposely disguising its abilities to better surprise its prey. Jonah had seen a few of the undead do this during The Darwins and had been fortunate enough, so far, to anticipate their patterns of attack.
The zombie lurched
forward as Jonah stepped back, keeping an ear on the action some 30 yards behind as Egan continued to battle a quad of zombies. Fortunately, none of Egan’s undead had yet taken notice of Jonah or Calla, wherever she’d run off to.
The creature grunted, swiping as he tried to grab Jonah. Jonah stepped back again and swung his pipe, slamming the monster hard in its forearm. The zombie shook off the pain and continued to charge.
Jonah kept stepping back, baiting the zombie, drawing it toward him and farther from where he’d last seen Calla. The creature charged, and Jonah thrust his body sideways and fell to the ground at the last second, just as the zombie ambled past, lost its balance, then stumbled hard and fell into the snow.
Jonah acted immediately, jumping on top of the zombie and bringing the pipe down repeatedly into the back of its skull. It died twitching, its dark blood flooding the snow in a wide lake of crimson.
Footsteps behind Jonah were thunder rolling into The Barrens. He spun to face his attackers, the pipe tight in his hand. He swung hard but fell back as he stopped himself mid-thrust, realizing it was Calla behind him. His muscles cramped with a sudden electric spasm, sending Jonah to the snow.
Calla’s eyes widened at his fall, then she nodded a silent thank you, turned to her father, and ran toward him without another word.
“Wait!” Jonah cried, wondering what in the hell the girl was doing.
“Wha — ?” Calla said. “He needs help!”
“You don’t have a weapon!”
She looked at his pipe and said, “Gimme.”
Jonah shook his head, pulled the pipe back, then met her eyes. The girl was determined, would surrender anything to help her father. Jonah sighed, growled, then stuffed his best judgment into the deepest parts of his body and ran toward Egan.
There were still four zombies surrounding her father. Egan hadn’t managed to kill a single one since Jonah last looked, though he had managed to stay alive.
Jonah brought the first one down just seconds after jumping into the fray, bringing the metal pipe hard into the side of the first zombie’s face, hard enough to tear through its brain. It shrieked as though the skin was ripped from its body, then fell to its knees as Jonah’s second swing landed hard in its neck. It wailed again, then tried standing as Jonah beat its head, smashing repeatedly, shocked that the zombie kept rising even though he’d seen the same thing on City screens hundreds of times.
