There was so much he wanted to say, but he knew he had to keep things to himself. Everything hinged on this. His daughter’s life was at stake. He decided not to react to Alayna, as it only fueled her anger. There was nothing stopping Sam or her goons from murdering them in cold blood. Bleeding out on the streets of Dearing wasn’t exactly one of Clay’s preferences.
They walked in silence. Awkward glances from untrusting eyes in all directions. After many years as sheriff of Carterville, Clay had learned how to deal with just about every type of personality; he had to in order to get information from those that refused to give it . . . initially. As the minutes ticked by, he racked his brain, trying to come up with a way to get information out of Sam—a woman that was clearly resistant. After several minutes though, Sam broke the silence herself.
“So. It all began for you back in Carterville?”
“Yes,” he said. How much should he tell her? He didn’t know. Revealing that the outbreak had actually begun in Carterville, before spreading out to other parts of the world, seemed a bit much. “Some of us who stayed behind after the initial groups left Carterville made it to Helen a few weeks later.”
There was so much he left out of that. The energy field. The lab. Leland. The military operation. The ones they’d left behind, dead.
“I see,” Sam said. “And in Helen? What did you find there?”
“More of the same. We stayed there for a few days. Discussed what had gone down there in Helen with a few of the remaining survivors. They explained the evac process: who went north and who went south. Val, my wife, had been sent to Earlton. Since my daughter had shown signs of the illness, I knew she’d come this way.”
“That’s a Sophie’s choice if I ever heard one,” Sam said. “Choosing between your wife and your daughter.”
“My wife’s not ill,” Clay said, his heart thumping. “I know she can take care of herself.”
Even as he said it, he didn’t truly believe it. Valerie’s face flashed through his mind, becoming younger in his memory with each passing day. Now, he remembered her as a twenty-something, pregnant with Maia, anticipating the day that their family would start. Painting walls. Choosing decorations. Crying over drapes that had come in the mail in the wrong color.
Sam seemed uninterested. She proceeded to her next questions, stamping through Clay’s uneasiness. “And the ones with the disease? How have you found them?”
“We had to learn to fight them,” Clay said. “But since those first weeks, they seem to be adapting. Getting stronger. Recognizing our sounds, rather than just hunting us on sight alone. If we didn’t have weapons . . .”
“We’d be dead,” Alayna said, illustrating the point.
Sam didn’t appear to notice. “What was it you said about your daughter being sent south? Because she was ill?”
Clay didn’t answer immediately. He could feel his blood begin to boil at the mere thought of the atrocities committed by Wallace. “Ahh. The work of an insane—and I don’t use that term loosely—Colonel Wallace. After he evac’ed Carterville, he wasn’t happy. He continued on to flaunt his egotism in Helen, where I’m told that he rounded up some of the crazed and shipped them south. In big trucks,” Clay said. “I don’t know exactly where they went, though.”
Sam didn’t break stride, but she caught her breath, revealing that she was startled.
“So that Colonel’s the piece of shit who sent them to me.”
Clay spun to look at her, visibly shocked. “You know about the trucks?”
“I do,” Sam said. “I was on duty one night. A dozen or so containers came into my shipping yard. Hordes of these monsters—it seemed like thousands of them, of people who were no longer people, you know—came pouring out of the containers. It was a complete horror show. Blood everywhere. All my men down there . . .”
“So, you fought them firsthand early on, then,” Clay said.
“No. I was in the observation tower. I had to watch it all, like some kind of film. If I hadn’t been up there, I’d be dead right now. Everyone else . . .”
“We’ve all lost a lot of people,” Clay said, not sure that was any consolation.
Sam glossed over her moment of emotion. “Well, thankfully, they cleared out pretty quickly. Went on to ravage one town or the next, who knows. I was able to hide until I could calm down enough to think of what to do. Course, that feels like a forever ago, now. If I could only . . .”
Clay and Alayna didn’t speak for a long time. They watched Rodney roll another cigarette, looking vaguely European. Clay remembered that his doctor had handed out anti-smoking pamphlets every time he’d gone in for a checkup, which never seemed frequent enough at the time. When had this doctor decided that enough was enough—that being dead sooner rather than later was preferable?
Maybe he had nothing left to live for. But what was with Sam? Was she living for the pure power? She seemed high on it, wielding a gun as if it were as natural to her as wearing a wristwatch. Imagining her quivering at the top of an observation tower, watching as her friends were mauled helped him understand who she could have been in the before. But how had she gotten to this after?
Chapter 45
“And the rest of you, how did you all come to . . . survive together?”
Sam seemed to weigh the price of telling the truth, of telling too much, much like Clay had earlier. “After I left the yard, I wasn’t sure where to go. I didn’t want to run into those same monsters on the road. It was pretty early in the morning. Nobody was awake, meaning they were safe in their beds. Behind locked doors. I drove as fast as I could back to my house, packed up some things, then called the people I knew—as many as I could. Told them to get to high ground. Told them to get ready. Rodney, he was my best friend’s husband. Claire. But Claire—she was . . .”
“Taken?” Clay finished.
“Killed,” Rodney said, spitting his words through a cloud of smoke. “Told you to stop dwelling on it, Sam. Gotta fuckin’ move on.”
Sam didn’t speak. It was clear she was embarrassed, but she ignored Rodney.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’re all still alive, at least for now.”
“Right. That’s the important thing.” He felt himself closer to Sam—realizing she was as human as he was, just trying to protect the ones depending on her. “Carterville was where it all started,” he said.
Alayna inhaled sharply, shocked at Clay’s statement.
Sam eyed him. “What do you mean?”
“It was a lab experiment. A Department of Defense project, using nanite technology to make human soldiers stronger, faster. But one of the scientists was a bit too clumsy with the experiments and released nanites into the town. God, it was a nightmare. Nobody knew what was going on. And it spread rapidly. We had to get the people out of there. What I didn’t know at the time was that the mayor was actually aware of the entire project. She knew she was endangering the people of Carterville by allowing this lab.”
“Shit,” Sam replied. She continued her steady pace, but her shoulders loosened. “That must have been horrible. You were literally on the front line from day one. What happened to the project? I mean the research lab. Were you able to shut it down?”
“There were others,” Clay said. “At least two that we know of. And that’s what led us to Helen. We met up with two other scientists there. They’d been hiding out underground. One of them is with us now. At the hotel with the boy.”
“And where did the others go?”
“They headed north, to the other military base. The one my wife is at,” Clay said. “They took another one of the devices that I was telling you about. The ones that can wipe out the crazed with a single shot.”
“And it really works?” Sam asked, sounding doubtful.
“It does,” Clay said, nodding. “We used it on the way to the hotel. Wiped out a hundred of them. They just fell to the ground. Dead. No blood. No puss—no fuss. It was clean. And then it was over.”
“W
ow,” Sam breathed.
Silence stretched between them once again. Sam’s gunmen from the hospital—Clay had learned their names were Damon and Al, remained quiet throughout their journey—but it was Sam and Clay that settled into their own quiet contemplation, processing the information that they’d shared. Clay felt he’d found a new ally, someone with a mentality similar to his own. Even without the nanites pumping through her veins, Sam seemed strong, invulnerable, ready to walk a hundred miles without breaking a sweat.
“And what about this kid?” Sam said, breaking the silence.
“This boy. He’s the next step,” Clay said.
“What’s he got?” she asked.
“I’m no doctor,” Clay said. “But some kind of flu. He was left to die with it. Guess whoever he was with didn’t have the presence of mind to see if he was going to turn or not.”
“I can’t say I blame them,” Sam said. “If you started sniffling right now, I’d probably have them shoot you dead,” she said nodding at Damon and Al.
“Ha.” He kept to himself the information that he had already been exposed to the nanites. As he eased between two cars, he looked at Sam. “As soon as we get him better, he can tell me about my daughter.”
“And he knows where they went?” Sam asked.
Without thinking, Clay responded, “I’m not sure. Right before he passed out, he said my daughter’s name. That’s what I’m going on right now. I’m sure once he’s awake—”
Sam stopped in her tracks. Her gunmen followed suit, their steely eyes fixed on Clay. Clay’s face clouded with confusion. Alayna stared at the ground, seeming to sense that the game was over.
“You lied to me,” Sam said. “I can’t believe this. You just walked into your own lie.”
Clay raised his hands, his brain searching for what he’d lied about. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You said he knew where she was,” Sam said in a huff. “You said the kid definitely knew where your daughter was, and that the moment he woke up, you’d know the truth. You said—”
“I pray that he knows where she is,” Clay said, speaking over her.
Sam pointed her gun directly at Clay’s face, her voice ragged. “No. You don’t interrupt me, Sheriff Clay,” she said. “In this world, I’m the sheriff. And you’re just a liar.”
“You’re going to shoot me? Great,” Clay said. “That means a kid back at the hotel will die because of you. That means my daughter will die. Because of you. That’ll be on your shoulders, on your conscience. The meaningless deaths you would cause, Sam.”
“This world doesn’t hold a lot of meaning, anyway. It seems like I’d be saving you a lot of heartache. That kid could tell you your daughter’s dead the moment he wakes up. Ever think of that?” Sam snarled.
The words sliced through him like a knife. With her gun pointed at him, he prepared for the worst, wanting to take a bullet like a man—wanting to feel every moment of his death.
But as they stared each other down, they heard a dramatic, screeching howl reverberate from a nearby alleyway—bouncing from brick to brick. It was time.
Chapter 46
Alayna whipped her head toward the sound, pulling her fists to her face. Damon and Al scanned the darkness in the alleyway. Before they could react, six of the monsters bounded from the alley, surrounding them.
Instinctively, Sam unslung her rifle but it fell from her hands. She lurched back against a vehicle, her eyes glazed with panic. Doc Rodney’s cigarette dangled from his mouth, giving him a lost look.
The crazed were upon them. Clay screeched to Sam, “GET YOUR RIFLE, YOU IDIOT!”
Sam stumbled to the ground, feeling for it blindly, keeping her eyes on the advancing monsters. Once her hands found the weapon, she swung it up and started firing at the crazed. But her shots were wild, unable to aim from her position. Clay reached for his own gun, finding just an empty holster. Damon and Al leveled their guns as several of the crazed were pushed back by Sam’s bullets. But the retreat was short lived. The crazed continued clambering at them.
“Aim for their heads!” Clay yelled, ducking behind a car and pulling Alayna out of the crossfire.
“All right, all right!” Sam cried, sounding frustrated. She fired at one, then another, splattering brain matter everywhere. Rejuvenated, she stepped forward to aim for another one, much further away.
“Fuck. Fuck,” Alayna gasped behind him, gripping Clay’s his bicep tightly.
Rodney hunched down, near the alleyway. Out of the corner of Clay’s eye, he watched as one of the crazed lurch toward the doctor, ready to pounce on him. He cowered, his palms stretched skyward, braced against death.
Every cell in Clay’s body screamed. He leaped to his feet and charged between the crazed and the doctor, facing the monster with only his fists. He heard Sam fire her gun at one of the crazed in the distance, leaving just him to help the doctor.
The monster snarled maniacally. Spit drooled from his mouth through rotting teeth. Bits of human flesh were caught in his teeth. His skin sagged showing its skeletal structure underneath. Clay shivered. Steeling himself, he delivered a heavy blow to the crazed’s head, feeling the skull give slightly. It just inflamed the monster. He leaped at Clay, snarling, and pushed him to the ground. Clay fought like a tiger, using nails and feet to lash out at his attacker.
As the crazed’s mouth came closer to Clay’s throat, Clay caught the sides of the monster’s mouth, ensuring he couldn’t bite down. As if summoning a deeper strength, Clay howled in unison with the screech of the crazed, creating a strange cacophony in the abandoned town.
Sam danced around with her gun, trying to get a clear shot at the monster’s skull. But the two were thrashing so wildly, she didn’t dare shoot. Alayna stood beside her, helpless and tense, ready to spring into action.
The brawl continued. Clay seemed to get stronger as it dragged on. His biceps strained, his nails ripped into the papery skin of the crazed, streams of puss gushed out, splashing over Clay’s clothing. The monster snarled and fought harder. Clay wished he had his gun, but—
“FUCK YOU!” Clay cried out, feeling that muscle fatigue was inevitable, and mere moments away. He had to make a move, and now.
Clay yanked the monster’s mouth with both hands, and felt the jaw rip loose from the skull. The crazed howled as Clay tore it off completely, leaving only the rotted top teeth. Blood gushed from the monster’s face onto Clay.
The monster rose and began to thrash more violently, bobbing his head, attempting to bite. He no longer depicted any form of human kind. Blood continued to pour from his face like a waterfall.
Clay jumped away, still holding the jaw. He pointed at the crazed. “Shoot! Shoot it now!”.
Sam did as she was told. The bullet blasted through the crazed’s brain. Immediately, its arms dropped as it stopped thrashing a crater in what was left of his head. A moment later, the crazed’s legs buckled and it fell to the ground.
In the stillness that followed, Clay realized he was still holding onto the jawbone. He looked at it, eyeing the rotted, green teeth. With his nostrils flared, he realized he hadn’t breathed in several moments. He took a breath and tossed the bloody jawbone to the ground.
Chapter 47
Silence followed as everyone stared at Clay. He was covered with blood and puss from the crazed, and bleeding from gashes of his own, on his arms and one across his eyebrow. He rubbed his sleeve across his cheeks and forehead, removing at least some of the blight from his beard. His heart still beat rapidly against his ribcage.
“Jesus, Clay.” Alayna inched forward. “Are you all right?”
“We need to get moving.” Clay turned back toward the hotel. “If we stay too long, more might come. Remember, they can hear us now. They can hunt.”
“But Clay. Look at yourself—” Alayna protested.
Clay ignored her. As he marched forward, the blood began to dry on his arms and legs. He could hear the others in the behind him, whispering.
“
He just ripped the jaw off,” Sam said. “Clean off. Teeth and everything. I mean. I’ve never seen anyone capable of that.”
“Barehanded,” Damon said, whistling. “What’s that about?”
“I don’t know quite what we’re dealing with here, but we can’t let him out of our sight now.”
Alayna kept quiet. For this, Clay was grateful. She was the only one of them who knew about the nanites, about Clay’s increasing strength. But neither of them had expected anything like this.
The surge of anger and strength had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d been unable to control it. It had been a part of him—eliminating all other emotions and driving him to act. He’d felt inhuman.
And then the jaw was in his hands. That dripping skeletal bone with rotting teeth digging into his fingers.
The lack of control scared Clay the most. Was that the nanites winning against his own humanity? Maybe he would slowly but surely become one of them. In the midst of another burst of rage, he could dive over the line between human and crazed, never to be seen again.
He imagined Sam blasting a bullet through his brain as he tried to gnaw her throat.
Alayna crept up beside him as they marched. She nudged him with her elbow, whispering, “Are you all right? You didn’t answer me back there. Talk to me, Sheriff. You can’t leave me out on this.”
Clay responded brightly, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine, Alayna,” he said. “I saw that the crazed was going to take the doctor, and I couldn’t let it happen. I did what I could to help him. I know you would have done the same.”
Alayna looked doubtful. She didn’t believe him.
“If we’d only had weapons, none of that would have happened,” Clay said, his voice low. He knew if he struck a chord with Alayna, she’d back off.
“Tell me about it,” Alayna breathed. “The sooner we can have our guns back, the better. I’m seriously freaking out about it. I feel naked.”
Detour: Book Two of the Humanity's Edge Trilogy Page 16
