“Maybe he’s right,” Mike muttered. “I doubt Myrtle has the imagination to realize why we’re there – heck, even I still have trouble believing it. But more importantly, there’s no way we can spend the night out on the road. It’s too dangerous.” Pausing, he tossed Mr. Rothstein a vexed look. “By the way, your thesis was wrong, really wrong – the infected aren’t sluggish during the day.” They’d come running at Myrtle’s screams, breaking locks and smashing their heads on the RV like ripe watermelons. Day or night, these infected were a twenty-four hour menace.
Mr. Rothstein pursed his lips thoughtfully. “But they are sluggish … at least, until you attract their attention.”
“And you don’t think playing the freaking piano attracts their attention?”
“Indeed it should. And yet they completely ignored me, shambling among themselves. Was it because I was playing behind closed doors?”
“The piano notes were muffled.” The discussion seemed to have piqued Trey’s interest. “They weren’t conspicuous, unlike Myrtle’s screams … a-and mine.”
The boy’s acknowledgment of what had occurred just minutes ago was an encouraging sign, and Mr. Rothstein brightened at his protégé’s development.
“My thesis hasn’t changed, Mike – they’re far easier to escape from during the day than at night. Ah! I believe we’ve arrived at the car wash. I’d better make sure Myrtle parks the RV in a secluded area.” And he dashed off, leaving Mike and Trey to stare awkwardly at each other.
“Feel like talking?” Mike asked, offering the olive branch first since he was the adult of the two.
With a nod, the boy pulled off his large glasses, slowly cleaning the lenses with the thin fabric of his shirt. When he placed them back on, he had arranged his features into their usual blank expression.
“I didn’t kill nor murder my mother,” he said baldly.
“I believe you.” Brutally killing a woman by sticking a pair of metal scissors deep into her eye socket seemed to indicate a crime of passion, perhaps sudden provocation. Of course, criminal law or psychology wasn’t Mike’s area of study; but there was no way a twelve-year-old kid could do such a thing, unless he was a budding serial killer.
“My parents were having an argument when the infection was beginning to take hold of the city. Mother wished to leave; she told Father that her new boyfriend was far more capable of taking care of her and me.” Trey paused, frowning. “I’d never seen him so incensed before, not even when she would stay out the entire night, sometimes for days.”
“What happened next?”
“He chased her into the bedroom, and this soon devolved into a physical fight. I didn’t even hear a single scream from Mother. Father came out, his hands red with glistening blood, and cried out, ‘I’m so sorry, Trey.’ Before I could inquire as to his meaning, he fled out of the apartment, leaving me all alone. When I went to check on Mother, she was already … dead.
“So I ran after Father, begging him to stay with me, but the foyer was filled with flesh and blood and desperate residents scrambling to get away from the infected. I called out to Father, who was swinging a police baton at them, but he was outnumbered. Afraid to witness his final seconds, I-I ran back into the apartment like the coward I am.”
“Trey –”
The boy whipped his head up, revealing mild irritation behind the glasses. “Don’t judge my parents, Michael. They were good people. Mother was vivacious and beautiful; she just couldn’t stand living in poverty, which is perfectly understandable. As for Father, he desired only the best for me and worked three jobs to ensure I was properly fed and had all the books and lessons required for academic and musical success. He placed me above his own needs. Always.”
The RV slowed, and then rumbled to a stop altogether.
“I gotta say, you’re a brave twelve-year-old. Your parents would be proud.”
“Ten months shy of thirteen,” Trey reminded him, unsmiling.
Mike held out his arms. “Want to end this with a brotherly hug?”
The boy looked unimpressed. “I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did, Michael.” And he strode past Mike without sparing him a glance.
Under normal circumstances, Mike would have pulled him into a playful headlock and ruffled the boy’s hair until he gave in. However, Trey was anything but normal, and Mike had done something pretty unforgivable, even by his standards. He should count his blessings that Trey was talking to him at least.
“My friends,” Mr. Rothstein shouted from the passenger seat. “Let’s have our breakfast. Hurry before Myrtle takes a double portion!”
His joke was unappreciated, judging by her scathing response. Shaking his head, Mike closed the door behind him and stepped outside the RV to scan their new surroundings.
Chapter 15
Ashley was having the time of her life.
“Quiet down,” Casey grumbled as her delirious friend whooped and shimmied in her seat like some ditzy character from a B-grade teen movie. “You’re not going to a frat party, Ashley.”
“Just let me enjoy this!” she laughed, sticking her head out the window. “Who knows when I’ll get to feel the wind on my face again.”
They’d been lucky so far – except for a few infected roaming on the edge of the woods, they hadn’t seen any carnage to speak of. This picturesque ride would soon change once they entered the highways; it was a grim reminder to keep their vigilance at all times.
“I forgot to ask you earlier,” Ashley shouted into the wind, “but how did Roy return to his senses? I mean, how is that even possible?” She settled back into her seat and manually rolled up the window pane, shutting out all outside interference.
The truck suddenly felt too stifling and intimate.
Cain chuckled in amusement. “According to my twin, she’s the modern-day Messiah of the apocalypse. Want to be saved from the perils of this epidemic? Then be sure to partake of her vaccinated blood.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Ashley said rudely, then smiled at Casey with anticipation. “Tell me how it happened.”
“Well …” Casey trailed off with a nervous laugh. “Everything happened so fast that it’s kind of hard to explain. Roy bit my shoulder and drew blood. Next thing we knew, he was on the ground asking for water.” She paused, carefully wording her thoughts on the matter. “I do think I received some type of vaccine that protects me from the infection affecting so many others. But I’m still trying to figure out how it works. Can my blood be a possible solution for the infected? Or was Roy just a one-off case? It’s hard to tell.”
Ashley’s mouth slackened, her eyes at half mast. “So basically … what he said.”
“Maybe, except for his ‘modern-day Messiah’ and ‘partaking of the blood’ shtick.”
Their truck passed a disemboweled infected that was feeding on a carcass. Her right arm was missing, ribbons of decaying flesh dangling from her shoulder.
“Bet your blood wouldn’t be much help to her,” Ashley noted, gagging at the sight. “It might put an end to her pitiful existence, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Besides his infected state, Roy was relatively healthy, right? No deep bites, no torn-off limbs, just the stab wound you gave him. So when he returned to his senses, he was weak and disoriented but of stable condition. But that one we passed by” – Ashley flicked a thumb over her shoulder – “would have no chance of survival even if she came back to her senses. She’s missing an arm and her entire stomach. The only thing that probably keeps her moving is her infected brain.”
On rare occasions, Ashley showed some decent powers of observation. Like now.
Cain fidgeted in the driver’s seat, glancing at the girls through the rear view mirror. “If your blood does contain these qualities – which I highly doubt because it’s too absurd – then the infected won’t be the only danger we’ll face.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “It won’t just be Vlogman and his cronies; a lot of people will be after you.”
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“But they already know someone who got the vaccination,” Casey argued. “It’s not like they’d need me.”
“According to them. It’s possible they heard about it from a different source, then went online to put out feelers for potential candidates who had a similar experience. Hell, we might even be walking into a trap.”
“Then it’s a good thing you threw that stinky hoodie on,” Ashley said to her friend. “If they saw the bite mark on your shoulder, they’d definitely know you’re one of the few left in the city who’s unaffected by the infection. Which brings me to my next point.” She leaned in, tilting her head in bewilderment. “Seriously, where did you get the vaccine from? How come I didn’t get it?”
Annoyed, Casey pushed her away. “I volunteered for the clinical trials at Deen & Blatt, remember? I told you all this before.”
“But did you go there knowing what it was?”
“Knowing what? That I would get a vaccine innocently labeled a ‘vitamin shot’ because some mad radical was about to pour an infective agent into our drinking water?” She snorted. “What am I, Nostradamus?”
Ashley crossed her arms, pouting childishly as she stared out the window. “It’s not fair. I want to be vaccinated, too,” she muttered. The minute she voiced that thought, a calculating expression settled over her face, and she slowly swiveled around to stare at her friend.
“What now?” Casey said, agitated.
“You’re the vaccine,” Ashley breathed. “If your blood can bring an infected back to his senses, then who’s to say it won’t work for normal people like us?”
Cain suddenly braked the truck, sending the tires screeching down the asphalt. “Both of you, that’s enough,” he ordered, glaring at them over his shoulder as he reached across to grip the passenger seat headrest. “This discussion ends here. You,” he barked, shooting daggers at his ex, “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, understand? Wake up and smell the coffee – your safety and needs don’t come first, especially at the expense of others. Get over yourself. And honestly, if it comes down to saving either you or my sister, I’d save my sister in a heartbeat.”
“Cain!” Casey squeezed his arm in warning. “Don’t be –”
“Shut up,” he said, shrugging his twin off. “You’re no better, you know that? Do either of you have any idea what we might be getting ourselves into? We don’t have time to sit here and fantasize about risky what-ifs when there’s an actual threat waiting for us as we speak. So stay focused.”
Chastised, both girls remained silent in the face of his wrath.
Cain continued on. “Now, when we arrive at Cedar Ridge Trail, I want Ashley to stay inside the truck. Make sure to sit in the driver’s seat and keep the engine running. Casey and I will go down the trail and meet Vlogman.” He gave his twin a meaningful glance. “When he asks about our vaccinated ‘friend’ – and he will, since that’s the reason we’re meeting – we’ll tell him our friend didn’t come with us for safety reasons.”
“They won’t be pleased about that,” Casey chimed in.
“Probably,” he said, settling back into his seat. Once he steered the truck back onto the road, he added quietly, “But they can never know it’s you; at least, not yet. Not until we know they can be fully trusted.”
And with that adamant statement, his instructions ended on a pensive note.
For the rest of the journey, silence enveloped them like a suffocating fog, each lost in deep thought. Casey tried to ignore the surreptitious stares being thrown her way. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Ashley was thinking; she might as well be waving a banner emblazoned with the words, I want this immunity, too! Feeling uneasy, Casey pulled up the hoodie and yanked on the drawstrings, tightening them around her face. The tips of her blonde bangs poked her eyelids, and she impatiently brushed them to one side.
“We’re here,” Cain said some time later, breaking the heavy silence and startling Casey awake. Having passed out like a light, she had no recollection of even resting her eyes along the way.
Blinking groggily, she sat up. “It’s gone darker,” she croaked in dismay. “Is there going to be a rainstorm?”
The overcast sky was a strong indicator of bad weather to come. As if to emphasize its looming presence, a faint, ominous rumble sounded in the distance.
Great. Another problem on top of everything else they had.
She stole a glance at Ashley, whose pale skin resembled the sickening hue of a cadaver laid out on a cold autopsy table. Had her friend finally witnessed with her own eyes the piles of mutilated corpses strewn across the highways, the empty vehicles abandoned on the roads, the increased numbers of infected feeding on the leftovers of yesterday’s victims? Did she now comprehend the complete chaos that raged beyond the boundaries of her lake house?
Ashley clutched at her stomach, grimacing. “I … I think I’ve got the runs,” she moaned.
The twins let out obscenities that could rival a busload of hardened criminals baying for blood.
“Well, I had to take laxatives this morning,” Ashley said, pale and indignant. “I’ve been constipated for a while, and –”
“Just go,” Casey interrupted, tossing her friend a thick pack of wet wipes. “We’ll wait.” She gave her twin a questioning look. “There’s time, right?”
“Ten minutes,” he gritted out, his sun-bleached hair and brows practically turning white against his reddening skin. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. Not even a peep. It was as if he’d been rendered speechless by the absolute stupidity of their situation.
Unable to help herself, Casey fell against the seat and laughed until tears slid down her flushed cheeks. Pausing to take a deep breath, she soon fell into helpless giggles again when Ashley hid behind a tree and squatted, briefly flashing her moon-like derrière in the process.
“It’s not funny,” Cain finally choked out.
“Oh, but it is,” she said, lifting the hem of the black sweater to wipe her eyes. “And you know what? We needed this. The mood this entire ride has been unbelievably tense.” Taking a calming breath, she scooted forward in her seat. “Anyway, let’s get back to the matter at hand. Are you sure it’s wise to leave Ashley in the truck? I mean, have you seen how she drives?”
It was a rhetorical question since both twins were painfully aware of Ashley’s so-called driving skills. Many times during senior year of high school and throughout college, she had rear-ended her car into her neighbors’ luxury foreign vehicles to the ire of her fed-up parents.
Cain drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, nervous and agitated. “We don’t have a choice,” he replied. “Like I said earlier, we could be walking into a trap. If it ends up being a fight-or-flight situation, she’ll only get in the way.” His mouth suddenly quirked up at the corners. “Besides, if Vlogman and his cronies start chasing us, maybe she’ll help out by rear-ending their asses. Give them a few nicely placed bruises.”
“A bruised backside will be the least of their problems,” Casey said, shaking her head. “Anyway, here she comes. Let’s head out.”
* * *
There were three of them in total.
Casey kept her head down and carefully eyed the men from under her hoodie, holding back a shiver threatening to overtake her body. A few minutes ago, the stormy-gray skies had started sprinkling light, feathery raindrops. Now, it was more of a pitter-pattering downpour.
Good thing the clusters of leaves overhead kept most of the rain out.
She stared at the delicate-looking man standing between two beefier companions. There was something wildly attractive about his soft, pillow lips and black hair plastered over his forehead. Emaciated model was the first thought that came to mind, but he was several inches too short for runway work.
“Vlogman?” Cain called out, his voice clear and strong.
The modelesque man smiled, revealing a set of slightly uneven teeth. “Well, well, what do we have here? Two innocent blondies i
n the middle of the woods.” His smile slipped off as suddenly as it had appeared. “Which one has the immunity?”
“Our vaccinated friend isn’t here.” Cain took a purposeful step forward. “We contacted you so we could share what we know, but it sounds like you’ve got other things in mind.”
“Search them,” Vlogman ordered his cronies, ignoring Cain’s statement. “Strip them to their underwear and check thoroughly for bite marks.”
Casey grabbed her twin’s arm, squeezing hard. The second they saw the bite mark on her shoulder, they were going to know without a doubt who had the immunity.
In response, Cain slowly pulled out a pair of long garden shears from his backpack. The ends of both blades had gone rusty from overuse.
“Looks like we’re at an impasse,” he said mildly, studying his shears with great interest. “But I can promise you this – lay a grubby finger on my sister, and one of you will definitely know what it feels like to be emasculated without anesthesia.” For added effect, he snipped at the air with his rusty shears.
His threat, as ludicrous as it sounded, seemed to have given them pause. As the cronies glanced back at Vlogman, waiting for new instructions, Vlogman smiled prettily and reached for something in his back pocket.
Casey prayed it wasn’t a handgun.
Chapter 16
After devouring a delicious belated meal consisting of canned chicken pieces wrapped up in pita bread and filled with a thick, creamy sauce, Mike headed into the car wash to hose down the RV, giving extra attention to the tires. What looked like a stretched eyeball remained stuck behind one of the front tires, and he quickly aimed the nozzle straight into the narrow space, muttering imprecations of horror and disgust. The eyeball dropped to the ground with a moist splat! and quickly disappeared down a nearby storm drain.
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