The Phoenix Curse (Book 2): After

by D. R. Johnson

  As we drew closer to Nevada, my excitement over seeing Las Vegas grew. I was surprised at how eager I was to see the big city. I assumed it had been hit by the red mist, and was probably riddled with freaks. That meant a safe-haven for Joss and I for as long as we chose to linger.

  On the morning we left Flagstaff, I had high hopes that we might actually make it to our destination by nightfall. I knew we would be pushing it, but the possibility was there.

  Even though things were going well, I could never fully shake my uneasiness. When we ran into a traffic jam in a little town just outside Las Vegas, it didn’t surprise me. We ended up spending the last few hours of daylight pushing vehicles around so we could get the Murano through. I'd seen this before and figured it was a deserted evacuation attempt, but any survivors were long gone.

  Once we made it clear of the jam, we had lost too much time. It wasn't a good idea to keep moving at night, so we settled down in one of the little neighborhoods and planned to finish our trip in the morning.

  Driving around the outskirts of the city, trepidation began to set in. We drove down street after street and didn't see one freak. That normally meant a settlement, but we also didn't see any human activity. Daylight was fading quickly. If I couldn't settle on a house for us soon, we'd end up sleeping in the Murano. I frowned at that thought, knowing Joss and I both were too spoiled for that.

  Finally, as we zigzagged our way into the southern area of the town we found a nice crowd of freaks inhabiting an area. There was a small section of secluded houses in the middle of a golf course that looked promising. Unfortunately, it seemed like every one of them had a deathpool. Not the best of options, but we were running out of time and choices.

  Settling on a nice big two story house, we ran through our routine procedures to clear it out. This one actually had a few freaks inside, but it was the only one we saw without a deathpool, so we made the extra effort to herd them all out.

  Despite the chaos that Joss and I had incited in Sundown during the clearing, I had found simply singing worked well to lead the freaks around. Standing at an open door, I burst into song and quickly gained their attention. They herded in my direction as I backed out onto the overgrown lawn. I wasn't going to win any singing contests, but the freaks didn't care.

  Once all the former residents had joined me on the lawn, I silently circled back to the front of the house to slip in the front door. Joss gave me a lighthearted round of applause and I bowed graciously.

  The night ended with our routine supper and book reading while Joss whittled. The form he was making was really taking shape. I thought it bore a striking resemblance to Becky. I hid my sad smile, not wanting to embarrass him by commenting. It was beautiful that he was able to preserve her memory in such a creative way.

  The evening slipped into night, and we both settled down in our rooms. I lay down, but sleep eluded me. I was unaccustomed to the giddy feeling in my stomach. We would make it to Vegas tomorrow! It was odd to be able to feel excited about something again, but I was glad I didn't have overwhelming feelings of depression pulling me down for once.

  At some point, the anticipation faded enough for me to relax and drift into a deep sleep, but that only lasted for a short time. My dreams were shattered as I awoke just a few hours later to Joss screaming my name.

  Panic slammed into me, and I stumbled to my feet before I was fully awake. I wasted several costly seconds as I shook off my daze. The hilt of my knife was tightly gripped in my hand before I noticed the huge form lumbering toward me. In the darkness, I could see it swing at me and I dodged backwards, feeling the swish of air as it barely missed my temple. My leg caught on the corner of the bed and I flailed backwards into the wall. The whole time, my eyes remained fixed on the attacker.

  It didn't move like a freak. It moved like a human.

  "Ali!" I heard Joss's panicked scream again from the other bedroom. The noise of a scuffle made it to my ears. Finally, I had a moment of clarity and realized what was happening. I knew someone was in Joss's room, attacking him the same as I was being attacked.

  Anger swelled in me at the thought that Joss was in danger, and I found my focus.

  Everything happened in a matter of seconds. This time, as the huge form in front of me raised his hands to strike, I saw the object in his hands. The blow came, but I easily ducked under it. He wasn't as fast as I was. As the object crashed into the wall with a resounding thud, I saw that it was just a baseball bat. A portion of my confidence returned when I knew I wasn't fighting against a knife or sword.

  The lumbering man only took a few seconds to reset for another swing at me, but a few seconds was all I needed. I lunged forward, slamming the Bowie knife down into his thigh and scrambled out of his reach. He howled and quickly retreated. As he stumbled backwards, the bat clattered to the floor, but he took my knife with him. It remained planted in his thigh as he limped out the door.

  Those spare moments allowed me to grab for my gun, but as I dove onto the bed in search of it, I heard it clatter to the floor against the wall, out of my reach.

  "Damn it!" I spat out as I turned for my dagger instead. I needed the revolver, but I couldn't waste another precious second. The pressure to get to Joss as quickly as possible compromised my judgment.

  The wounded man had stumbled down the hallway. He fell into Joss's room just as I ran out my bedroom door. The beam of a flashlight was waving around wildly from inside the room.

  "Joss!" My voice cracked as I screamed, desperate for him to respond to me.

  "There's two of--" He started to respond, but was choked off by a dull thud and a groan of pain followed shortly after.

  Too panicked to think through my actions, urgency pushed me down the hallway to Joss's bedroom. The man I'd stabbed had fallen to the bedroom floor, still retreating further away from me. A second man stood over Joss's crumpled body, and the sight momentarily transfixed me. I was unable to break free from the shock. The bright glare of a flashlight burned into my eyes and broke the trance, just as I caught the movement of a third man already rushing straight for me.

  I knew how to fight freaks, but I didn't know how to fight a man. I didn't know how to incapacitate without killing. The thought struck me numb and I fell back before my attacker, unable to regain the seconds that had been stolen by my shock. He was on me before I knew it.

  His hands were a blur as they reached out to grab me. If he had harbored any intention of killing me, I would have been dead. However, he was unarmed. One hand closed around my throat and the other fisted in my hair. As the long fingers wrapped around my neck and constricted to the point I couldn't breathe, instinct finally pushed through the numbness. My body fought for survival and I punched out with the dagger.

  The feeling of the blade sliding into the flesh of his stomach sickened me. It felt the same physically as if he was a freak, but everything was different in my mind. This was no brain-dead face-eater. He was human, and the wrongness of it assailed my senses.

  He grunted at the impact, and his eyes went wide with surprise. We stumbled backwards down the hallway, out of sight of his companions. I punched out again when his grip didn't weaken and felt his hot blood washing over my fist. The dagger wasn't like my knife. The grip was growing slick with his blood.

  My lungs were demanding air, and I punched out again and again, fighting for my freedom. The attacker went down to his knees, his hand in my hair dragging me down with him, but the other hand let go. I gulped in air as I watched him grasp at his new wounds. It was a futile attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

  As the air expanded in my lungs, I knew I needed to end this fight quickly. I had one more move in mind and, although the dagger was not as long as I was used to, I would make it work. Nothing was going to stop me from getting to Joss.

  I couldn't see what color his eyes were, but they were staring at me in shock. I was horrified by what was happening, but it didn't slow my movement. I punched up with the dagger, driving it through the so
ft flesh of his neck and into his brain.

  His body convulsed awkwardly and he gagged, blowing spittle back into my face. The light dimmed in his wide, panicked eyes as he fell backwards. They had been living eyes, not the dead eyes of the freaks.

  My hair finally loose from his grip, I scrambled away from the body, appalled. My hands shook so badly, the dagger fell to the bloody carpet. The hairs raised on my arms as a cold chill shot through me and all my strength faded away.

  What have I done?

  "You get her down?" A voice rumbled from Joss's room. The call was enough to pull me out of my stupor and I scrambled to my feet, turning back to my room to grab my revolver. It only took a few seconds for me to fish it out from behind the bed, but I couldn’t afford to lose that much time. The lack of response from the dead man had already alerted the others to their new problem.

  "Ben?" I heard the same rough voice call out from the hallway, the beam of light now dancing along the walls. A few seconds later, I cringed as he discovered his comrade's dead body. "Son of a bitch!"

  Hidden from his view within my room, I heard him retreat in the opposite direction, probably heading back towards Joss. I swallowed down the fear and turned in pursuit. Cringing as I stepped around the body, I rounded the corner and saw the man trying to drag Joss to his feet.

  Joss struggled against him, scrambling further into the corner and kicking the reaching hands away. One kick landed hard against the man's wrist and the flashlight was knocked into a rotating arc. The mini strobe-light flew across the room to hit the ground and roll under the bed, leaving us in near darkness.

  The man gave Joss a final kick out of frustration, but Joss curled away quick enough that it only resulted in a glancing blow. His attacker was done with him and already focused on me.

  "You killed Ben, you stupid bitch!" He yelled at me as he threw his arms out wide, almost as if in resignation. I flinched backwards and tightened my grip on my gun in an attempt to still the shaking in my hands. His voice was high pitched and whiney, and I was shocked when I realized he was crying.

  "Don't kill 'em, he said. Don't kill em." He talked to himself as he began walking in a tight circle, his hands going to his head to grip his straggly hair.

  "Just shoot the bitch, man!" That came from the one that I had stabbed. In my haste and panic, I had forgotten about him. He looked defenseless against the gun I held. They both did, but I still faltered. I couldn't pull the trigger.

  "Let him go." My voice trembled. Behind him, I saw Joss start to uncurl, ready to move toward me.

  In one fluid motion, the distraught man spun to face me, one arm wrapping behind his back and he pulled away a dark shape.

  "Did you let Ben go?"

  "He's got a gun!"

  "Shoot the bitch!"

  The thunder from my revolver drowned out the sound of the yelling voices. I staggered backwards, the horror at what I had done already crawling into my stomach. The man's knees buckled and he fell backwards, his legs sprawled weirdly underneath him. I closed my eyes, but the image was already seared into my brain.

  Joss curled back into a ball with his hands wrapped over his head. I ran to him, wanting to pull him to me, but we still weren't alone. I aimed my gun again, but the man that had just been calling for my death made no move. He simply began to whimper.

  "Don't kill me, please don't kill me." He mewled.

  Joss sat up when he realized it was me standing over him. I pulled him up beside me and heard him whispering to himself, and I cringed at his words. "They're human."

  I looked to the dead man crumpled on the floor and the blood pooling under the one I had stabbed. I knew there was no way he would survive that wound without medical attention. That made three. I had just murdered three men. I bit back the sob and hissed through gritted teeth, trying to convince myself as much as Joss. "They're still monsters."

  "Please." The man begged again, his hands up with the palms outward in a position of defeat and surrender. He was openly crying now.

  My gaze fell on my knife that was protruding from his leg. I wasn't leaving here without it and steeled myself for what I was about to do.

  "I'd like my knife back, thank you." I grumbled as I reached down and ripped it free. The man howled in pain and clasped his hands over the wound but made no other move. I turned to Joss. "Get your stuff, we have to leave now."

  He complied immediately, only taking a few seconds to gather his things. My eyes stayed on the prone man the whole time, but it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere.

  Even though Joss had been quick about it, I noticed he wasn't moving as fast as normal, favoring his side as he limped about the room. Anger rose inside me, pushing back the remorse that had already started to flood my mind. They had beaten him, and who knows what else they had planned for us. My guilt abated.

  I kept Joss close to me as I led him back to my bedroom. He gasped when he saw the fallen man in the hallway, but he only paused for a moment and was quickly on my heels once again. I belted on my holster and sheathes before grabbing my packs.

  "Why would anyone want to do this?" He said, shock obviously setting in.

  I glanced at him as I was sliding on my boots. The innocence was draining away from him right before my eyes.

  "Some men are monsters." I said sadly. "Sometimes there is no reason why."

  It took less than two minutes for me to finish up and Joss was already waiting on me. We started out of the house, and I didn't even spare a glance into the room with the whimpering, wounded man. Panic permeated his voice as his cries followed us down the stairs, “You didn’t have to kill them! You stupid bitch! Why did you kill them?”

  I charged down the steps with Joss close on my heels, heedless of our surroundings. Flight was the only thing at the forefront of my mind. A terrible mistake.

  As I stepped from the staircase, I gasped as I was hoisted from the ground and thrown into the wall. I never saw it coming. The world spun in dizzying circles as a fist captured my hair again and my head was slammed into the sheetrock, not once, but two more times before my captor gave me any pause.

  I more sensed than saw the swarm of movement around me, but I couldn’t focus on anything. The voice of the wounded man could still be heard, screaming his accusations. I fleetingly regretted not ending him too. “She killed them! The bitch killed them both!”

  I tasted blood as the fog in my head cleared enough for me to register the sounds of another struggle. Someone else had Joss, but I was unable to help. My own world was spiraling into blackness as something was tightly forced against my neck. Once again, my lungs were burning for air.

  "Don't kill her, Russell." A disembodied voice reverberated around inside my skull. It was cold, emotionless, and sounded so very far away.

  "But the bitch killed Mick and Old Ben!" That growl came from right in front of me. In the protest, the pressure on my neck released, and I gulped down breath after breath. The dark spots began to recede as oxygen filtered back through my system and I opened my eyes. It had been my captor's forearm pressing against my throat, strangling me.

  Still thinking I might have a chance, I tried for my knife, but I was blocked. A calloused hand grabbed my wrist and trapped my arm. I went for my gun with my left hand, but he saw that coming as well. He quickly grabbed my wrist with his other hand and then crisscrossed my arms in front of my body. He pulled one arm up high, forcing me into an awkward angle as he shoved his forearm into my face, trapping my head against the wall.

  I struggled, but it was useless. Whatever strength my immunity gifted me with was already drained. I was caught.

  The man leaned in close against me, his hot, rancid breath washing over me as he spoke. "Maybe I don't kill you now. Maybe I make you pay for what you did to Mick, and then I'll make you pay for what you did to Old Ben."

  His arm was smashing my lips against my teeth so hard it drew blood. I did the only thing I could. I opened my mouth and bit down on his dirty, filthy flesh. Hot blood spewed
into my mouth and I gagged, pulling back as he roared in pain and rage.

  I barely had time to register that I was free before his fist crashed against my temple.

  CHAPTER 3 – JOSS

  I felt helpless as I watched Ali's body crumple to the floor. I tried to jerk away from the iron grip that restrained me. It was impossible.

  The huge man that had grabbed me had already stuffed a dirty rag in my mouth, so I wasn't even able to yell out. Tears of rage and fear coursed down my cheeks, but there was nothing I could do. I felt as hopeless as I did the night Seth never came back.

  Two men were standing over me, another by the back door that was giving orders, and the asshole that had punched Ali still stood over her body. Two men had disappeared up the stairs, and, to top it all off, I could see more movement outside.

  "How the fuck did they get in here past all those red-eyes?" The man that had punched Ali hissed. The tall man had called him Russell. I had never killed a man before. I had never even wanted to kill a man before, but I wanted to kill him.

  The tall man finally moved from the door, pulling out a small flashlight, and I watched him intently as he moved to inspect Ali's body. He pulled her head around roughly to face upward, thumbing open her eyelids. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he then turned to me. I cringed backward away from him, but it was a wasted movement. He grabbed me roughly by the hair and forced me to face him again.

  "Be still, or I'll let Russell kill her." He said flatly. The lack of emotion in his voice was chilling, and I froze.

  As the light beamed into my eyes, he nodded knowingly and stood, releasing the grip he had on my hair. I had seen his eyes in the light too. One was covered by scars that ran the length of his face, but the other was bright emerald green, just like Ali's.

  "They must have been lucky." He said in that same flat tone, staring down at me. He turned away dismissively as he walked to the door. "Get them in the truck. We got what we came for."