“This means he has a gun,” Clay realized with a start.
“We should just leave them in peace, Clay—” Ralph began tentatively. “I don’t want to open it.”
“We have to think about survival,” Clay said, sounding brutish. He brought the top of his shirt over his nose and mouth, hoping to block the smell. He yanked at the door and opened their coffin. Putrid air poured out. Up close, he could see horrible details about the children: that the girl had ribbons woven into her hair, bright blue. That the older brother still had long-since-silent ear buds stuffed in his ears.
The father’s face was easier to bear. The man was fatigued, clearly. Probably frazzled to no end during his final days of life, strapping his family into their SUV and trying to hightail it out of town. Clay reached in and grabbed the gun from the man’s hand, then dug through the side compartment and found several more rounds. Clay felt a momentary burst of hope.
“We got some,” he said, still studying the vehicle with morbid curiosity.
“Shit, man,” Jacobs murmured as Clay closed the door. “I’m glad it was you who went in there, not me.”
Clay put the gun in his waistband and pocketed the bullets, blowing hard several times attempting to clear the stench from his nose. The silence around him was dense and thick, imbued with despair. Would they soon be as dead as these innocent people? Should they just shoot one another now and avoid all this?
Were they just as doomed?
Clay shook his head and moved on to the semi. The others followed.
When he popped open the cab door, the first thing he checked was the CB, tapping the button but hearing no static on the other end. The seat was set back, showing the driver had been a long-legged person. A green tree air freshener danced from the edge of the visor above, and a photograph of a young girl, with the words: “HI DADDY” was taped to the dashboard. Clay was grateful he didn’t have to look at another body.
“No power, I guess,” Clay said and returned to the ground. “And no sign of extra supplies up there, either. Unless you want a cassette of Journey’s greatest hits.”
“Hey. They have some good ones,” Ralph protested. “At least we know our absent driver had good taste in music.”
“My guess is he came on some of the crazed in the road,” Jacobs said. “Swerved trying to avoid them. The tires locked up—”
Brandon shook his head. “I don’t really want to think about what happened.”
Alayna appeared, with Daniels following close behind. She pointed her thumb at the back of the trailer, shrugging. “We tried to open it up, but it’s locked. Any sign of the key up there?”
“The key?” Clay was almost giddy. He bounded to the back, drew his gun confidently and blew the lock off. It skittered off the edge and into the canyon, becoming just a small dot before completely disappearing from view.
Clay opened the trailer and gaped at the load. He whooped with triumph. When the others saw inside, they added their voices to his. They’d finally caught a break. Of course, their luck could run out any moment.
“Shit.” Ralph spat on the ground. “I never thought I’d say this, especially not now. But it seems our prayers have been answered, guys.” He smacked Brandon on the back, and he squealed in mock pain.
The others laughed and cheered, raising their arms as if they’d just won a race. They had nothing but the road anymore. And now they would make the road their bitch.
Chapter 7
A high-pitched whine echoed through the canyon, bouncing around the red rock formations, and making the bright, orange sunset come to life in a way that seemed impossible, given the post-apocalyptic nature of the previous few weeks.
Clay had never felt more alive.
The survivors tore down the road, riding six mopeds, leaning into the wind. The mopeds had been in the back of the trailer, apparently on their way to a local dealership. There’d been twelve of them in all—more than enough.
“Have you guys ever ridden one of these?” Brandon had asked, giving them a dose of his teenage arrogance. “Because I have. And they’re rad.”
“I think we all know how to ride, thanks,” Alayna retorted.
“It’s different.” Brandon smiled. “You feel more alive. Just trust me on this one.”
But once they’d pushed their mopeds around the bottleneck and barreled toward Helen, Clay had to admit, he understood Brandon’s feelings. The wind tugged at his hair, made his cheeks red, and chapped his lips. But he screamed out a cowboy-ish yell, with the blood pumping in his veins.
Brandon was next to him in the left-hand lane, dangerously close to the edge of the canyon. But his eyes were wide and full of laughter—he was quite aware how reckless his actions were—and he wouldn’t have changed them for the world.
Alayna passed Clay and pulled ahead, giving him a sassy look, her eyes dancing. She sped forward, taking the lead, while Clay laughed heartily.
Clay spotted a sign that read, Helen—30. That would take them no time at all, they’d probably arrive before dark.
They were going to make it. They were one step closer to finding where Valerie and Maia were—hopefully learning Megan’s whereabouts, as well—and getting a step closer to normality, something that had become more dream-like and distant with every passing hour.
When they exited from the highway into the outskirts of town, Clay slowed and turned his head toward Jacobs. “Pull over!” he yelled, then slowed his bike to a stop and cut his engine. The others joined him, and they all looked over the high road at the city in the valley. Clay thought it was the most beautiful sight he’d seen in a while: so far away from depths of the destruction of civilization.
“Where exactly are we going, anyway?” Ralph asked.
Clay searched the others’ faces, landing finally on Jacobs. His lips were pressed firmly together; his eyes were hard, knowledgeable.
“I don’t know my way around Helen,” Clay said. “Only a vague recollection of where Main Street is,” he prodded Jacobs for answers.
“The candy shop,” Jacobs said pointing at the town. “It’s on Main Street, in fact.”
“When were you here last?” Clay asked.
“Just a few weeks ago. We were archiving files in the lab downstairs. But I have reason to believe the other scientists stayed behind. Like I wanted to, back at our lab.”
“You’re saying that was the reasonable option?” Alayna said incredulously. “We would have died back there.”
“We still don’t know what we’re going to find down there,” Clay said. “Let’s not bicker. Let’s just get in there. See what we can see. If they’re there, great. If they’ve moved on, then so will we.”
In reality, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. But just the thought of seeing some different faces, getting some new information, after so much doubt and nothingness, revved Clay’s soul. And if Jacobs’ scientists were around, he knew that they’d be that much closer to understanding the epidemic, and understanding if they could live through it.
“You lead, Jacobs,” Clay said. “If we see any of the crazed, or any survivors for that matter, don’t stop. It’s too dangerous, and it’s getting dark. We need to get to the lab. Does everyone understand?”
Jacobs revved his engine and pulled out first, leaving Clay to follow. The rest rode single-file behind him. They drove tentatively into Helen, feeling the chill as the day waned. The next hour could change their survival tactics, and thus, the rest of their lives.
Chapter 8
Despite being twice the size in population, Helen was similar to Carterville in almost every way, with the same string of gas stations and fast food joints littering the main drag. Post-epidemic, the town was virtually deserted, much like Carterville, with dusk drawing long shadows across the pavement.
Seeing Helen so desolate sent shivers down Clay’s spine. He kept his eyes on the horizon, ensuring that his crew wasn’t riding headfirst into any of the crazed. He couldn’t look at his surroundings. If he saw so
meone in distress, he didn’t trust himself. It was in his very nature to save them.
As they rode, Alayna inched her scooter next to his, peering at him with questioning eyes. Clay called over the motor, “What is it?”
“Something’s wrong,” she said. Her eyes surveyed the string of empty buildings they passed.
“What do you mean? It’s just been evacuated, I’m sure,” Clay said. “I don’t think that’s cause for alarm.”
“Sure,” Alayna said, then countered, “But Helen is twice the size of Carterville. There’s bound to be someone around. Someone like us—” She swallowed sharply. “I mean, admit it, Clay. We haven’t seen anyone, either alive or dead. Bodies. You know it’s true.”
Clay slowed his moped, allowing Ralph and Brandon to buzz past them. Daniels brought up the rear, his gun strapped across his lap. His eyes darted side to side, looking for threats.
Clay said, “I, for one, am savoring this solitude. We’re on bikes. We can get away from the crazed as soon as we see them. This is about as invincible as we’re going to be, maybe for a very long time. Just enjoy it, Alayna.”
She didn’t respond. Jacobs slowed on Main Street, stopping at a storefront with the name “Curley’s” stenciled on the glass. The name was in red cursive lettering that was strangely ominous, like a candy shop from the 1950s.
The rest pulled up and parked in a line behind Jacob’s bike. In the window, Clay scrutinized their reflections: mangy heads and battered bodies, the setting sun as a backdrop.
“Hey,” Clay exclaimed. “Isn’t the candy store in Carterville called Moe’s?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jacobs replied.
Clay almost laughed. “Let me guess, there’s a candy store called Larry’s around somewhere, too?”
“As a matter of fact, our Larry’s storefront is about a hundred miles from here,” Jacobs agreed. “It’s another lab, just like this one.”
Ralph cackled madly. “Jesus Christ. Moe, Larry, and Curley. You have got to be kidding me,” he roared. “What is this? I hope I wake up soon. This has been the longest dream of my life.”
Alayna didn’t laugh, but her eyes twinkled, she got the joke. Jacobs reached up and scratched his forehead, aware he was out of the loop. Still cackling, Ralph tapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much, kid. You just have some catching up to do, don’t you? But who knows if we’ll ever find a television that works so you can watch it.”
“Watch what?” Jacobs asked.
Clay stopped laughing to stare at Jacobs, incredulous. “You mean, you’ve been working in these labs, and you don’t know?”
“The Moe, Larry, and Curley labs? Yes,” Jacobs said. His eyebrows drew together and he stiffened, resentful.
“Oh, Leland. It’s not that big of a deal,” Ralph said, hopping from his moped in an oddly childlike movement. “Just a bit of silly television from a different time. You were probably too busy in the lab your whole life to have that much fun. All you have to know is this: The Three Stooges were the greatest cultural icons ever. Period.”
Alayna winked at Jacobs. “I think you probably used your life a lot better. Learning. Seeing. Doing. Not wasting it away in front of the boob tube, like us.”
“I thought they were great,” Daniels said.
The others gaped at him, surprised at his joyful smile. They all laughed and began up the steps of the candy store. The moment of relief was welcome, their tension faded a degree. Clay patted Jacobs on the back, telling him, “Thanks for getting us here. You’re a first-rate guide, Leland. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
Jacobs placed his palm firmly against the door and pushed it open. The sales floor was abandoned, shadowy, with containers of candy still on display. Gumballs gleamed in the soft, sunset light, licorice swirls in knots in a massive jar. Brandon reached into a container of gummy bears, pulling out a big handful and munching it. Alayna smacked his hand, shaking her head. “You’re going to get a cavity, and we haven’t met a dentist yet.”
“If I die, I want to go out eating candy,” Brandon insisted. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that, but I’ll keep doing it.” He reached back into the container, grabbing more. “Besides, they’re delicious.” He handed a few to her, placing them delicately in her outstretched palm. She ripped the head off a green bear with her front teeth, closing her eyes and chewing.
“See? I told you,” Brandon said smugly.
“Shhh,” Jacobs said. He turned toward the back of the store. It was nearly identical to the one in Carterville, with a door that led to the downstairs lab. He went toward it tentatively.
“Are they back there?” Daniels whispered.
“I can’t tell,” Jacobs said.
There was a loud bang on the other side of the door. Alayna jumped, nearly choking on her gummies. Jacobs froze. Clay bolted up beside him, ready to fight. He scanned the room. “What was that?”
Another bang echoed through the store.
Candy jars began to crash down from the higher shelves, scattering glass shards across the floor. Everyone leaped back, except for Daniels. He rushed ahead, slipping a pair of sunglasses over his eyes for protection. He drove toward the back door, which was now standing wide open. He didn’t hesitate before disappearing into the darkness.
Moments later, Daniels cried out. A net had dropped over his head, and he flailed wildly, his thick arms protruding through the net, but unable to free himself.
Broomsticks and bats, seemingly of their own volition, began to assault him, knocking him down. Brandon screamed before Alayna dragged him away from the chaos.
Something connected with Daniels’ face, shattering his sunglasses. The blows rained mercilessly, leaving him unable to speak.
“JESUS CHRIST! STOP IT!” Alayna screamed. Clay wasn’t sure if they should turn back and leave Daniels at the mercy of these monsters. He froze with indecision. The seconds ticked on.
Chapter 9
Finally, Clay shook off his hesitation. He drew his gun and sprinted toward Daniels. As he skidded to a stop he felt a bat slam into his forearm, knocking his gun to the floor. He thrust his hand out and caught the bat mid-swing. He strained, pulling the bat upward and away from the assailant and caught a glimpse of the person who held it
He shouted, “WE AREN’T THE MONSTERS! WE’RE HUMAN! STOP THIS!”
It took several moments for the woman to give up the bat. She was black-haired and wide-eyed behind old-fashioned, horn-rimmed glasses. She was standing with another woman, blonde and similarly bug-eyed, still unwilling to give up her broom handle.
“LADIES! PLEASE! WE’RE NOT THE CRAZED! HEY!”
Clay ripped the broom from her hands, and tossed both weapons behind him. The women slowly came out of their hiding places. They blinked at him, confused by his presence.
“Hello?” the black-haired one said. “Jesus. Sorry. We aren’t used to humans. I mean—we’ve only seen each other for . . .” her voice trailed off.
The silence hung between them. Daniels was still tangled in the net, struggling to get free. He grunted angrily.
“Can you guys give me a hand?”
Clay helped extricate him, then helped him back to his feet. Daniels brushed himself off, glaring at the blonde woman. “What do I look like to you?”
“We said we’re sorry,” she whimpered.
“Who are you, anyway?” the black-haired woman asked. “You have quite a group here.”
After a short pause, Jacobs stepped forward. “Marcia,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s me. Leland.”
Marcia’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “What the hell?” she gasped as she pushed between Daniels and Clay, then wrapped her arms tightly around Jacobs’ neck. The other woman followed closely, joining them in an intimate hug: three scientists, united at the laboratory, after destroying the rest of the world.
Clay tried to remind himself to stay calm and not think of it that way. In the end, no matter whose fault it was, they were now part of an ex
clusive group of survivors. He had to stay strong, leader-like. He lifted his chin, and looked toward Alayna. Her eyes reflected similar thoughts and feelings.
“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Marcia whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. “We didn’t think you’d make it. We heard—” she trailed off, unsure how to finish.
“We were worried, is all,” the other woman said. She was prim, less emotional. She righted herself, even as Marcia clung to Jacobs like he was a long-lost brother, or even a lover.
“Well, I did,” Jacobs said. His face twisted slightly. Clay eyed him suspiciously, remembering how they’d found him at the lab all alone. Jacobs made eye contact with Marcia, communicating a thousand different emotions.
“What is it, Leland?” She asked. “Just say what’s on your mind.”
Jacobs swallowed. The weight of what he’d just been through seemed to come back to him “I haven’t been able to come to terms with the fact that you left me there,” he said. “You knew this was all going to happen. We shouldn’t have split up—”
“Listen, guys?” Alayna said, scanning the darkening street through the window. “I appreciate that you have a lot to talk about. But we should move this to the lab. Who knows what’s out there.”
The scientists led everyone into the lab and then sealed the door, locking them in. The reinforced walls made them feel safe, albeit momentarily. Daniels, still anxious from being trapped, stood at the door, his finger tapping the barrel of his gun. Safety was never a given.
Chapter 10
The survivors entered the first anteroom of the whitewashed lab. The two resident scientists, who were introduced as Lane Burke and Marcia Wright, disappeared for a few minutes to get water bottles. They passed them around wordlessly, and watched as the dirt-smudged clan drank thirstily. Marcia caressed Jacobs’ shoulder, rubbing at his tense muscles. It was clear that she was dismayed at how horrendous they all looked.
Detour: Book Two of the Humanity's Edge Trilogy Page 4
