The crystalline blackness broke apart as I took his hand and shook. His palms were dry and dusty. “I’m Marcus.”
“That’s better, bro. People call me Muscles.”
I looked at him dubiously. He seemed all of seventeen, and there was barely an ounce of meat on him.
Still shaking my hand, he grinned. “Yeah, they being ironic or somefink.”
I extricated my fingers from his grip.
“I saw you with Melissa this morning,” he said. He let out a whistle. “She one fine girly girl. You gettin’ anywhere with her?”
“It’s not like that.”
Muscles’s smile turned lecherous. “It always like that, bro.” He leaned in closer. His breath smelled stale. “Always.”
“Not in this case, I promise.”
“Really?”
He seemed genuinely confused, and for a fraction of a second, I doubted my own sincerity. “I promise. She’s all yours.”
His confusion vanished, replaced by a sneer that looked forced. “She’s not my type, bro.”
His body language told me otherwise, but I shrugged anyway. “Fair enough.”
I was about to make my excuses and continue on around the wall when Muscles cursed under his breath. “Look out, here comes Captain Ahab.”
I frowned.
“What? You think I ain’t read the classics?” Muscles pulled the book out of his pocket again and waved it in my face. It was Sense and Sensibility. “Jane Austen, bro.”
The surprise must have shown on my face because Muscles snorted. He hurried over to the gate and leaned against it. Turning the pages with an exaggerated flourish, he began to read.
“Marcus, good to see you’ve recovered.”
It was Captain Harwood. Santos and Novak walked a few feet behind him. All three of them were carrying automatic rifles. Santos had two grenades clipped to her belt and a broad machete strapped to her back.
Harwood stopped just in front of me. “Parker got you pulling your weight yet?”
“Not yet, no.”
“In that case, why don’t you come out on a hunt with us?”
“Hunt?”
“To keep the zombie population under control. They don’t just blow their own heads off.”
“Hunting’s… not really my sort of thing.”
“You handled yourself well enough back at the bus.”
I thought of the zombie I’d killed and the feeling of my knife slipping into his skull. Memories of the scalpels in their leather case rose unbidden, bringing a sick, empty feeling with them. I swallowed.
“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s not something I’d choose to do.”
Harwood tilted his head. “Give it some thought, for the future. There’s a change coming.”
“A change?”
He leaned in closer. “Things can’t keep on the way they are. You want to be careful you pick the right side.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
The captain smiled slightly, just enough to make me uneasy. “You do that.”
“Come on, Johnson!” shouted Harwood. “Let us out!”
Muscles tucked the book away and hurried to open the gate.
While Muscles fumbled with the padlock, Captain Harwood called up to the man on the platform with the binoculars. “Any sightings?”
“Four of them out by the main road, three more by the lake. Other than that, we’re clear.”
“Okay, we’ll take the lake first. Call us if you spot any more.”
“Yes, sir.”
Muscles had barely gotten the gate open before the group was pushing their way through. As soon as they were gone, he slid it shut again, put the bar and chain back into place, and returned to his station to read. He didn’t seem interested in talking to me anymore, so I left him to his Austen and continued my journey around the wall.
I made it all the way back to my house without finding Melissa’s other exit. Maybe I’d misunderstood her. The walk had taken me about an hour, all told, and in that time, the temperature had dropped precipitously. I shivered and considered heading over to get a jacket from the clothing store. I even took a few steps toward the square, but I turned and walked toward number 634 instead.
At the door to my new home, I looked back at the wall. It seemed solid enough. There were no obvious weaknesses, and if there were, I suspected Captain Harwood would make sure they were dealt with. Nor were there any signs that a swarm had broken in and forced the previous inhabitants out. Something had made them leave, though.
A woman appeared in the doorway of the house opposite. She smiled and waved at me. A man appeared behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her on the cheek.
Maybe Parker was right. Maybe this was a new beginning. And maybe there was a place for me here.
Then the screaming started.
Chapter 34
Heroics
“Help us!”
The shouts came from behind one of the nearby houses. I ran along the street, peering between the buildings. I caught a blur of movement behind a bungalow.
Someone screamed.
The man I’d seen hugging the woman came running into the street. I called to him to follow me and set off toward the bungalow.
I rounded the corner of the building, and the scream came again. A man lay on the floor, a dirt-covered, half-burned zombie crouched over him. The man’s legs twitched as the zombie raised his head, tearing the flesh from the man’s throat. Blood spurted from the wound.
A woman stood nearby, hands pressed against her mouth in horror. The zombie let out a dry, rasping groan, and the woman screamed again.
Instinctively, I reached for my knife. I wasn’t carrying one. The zombie twisted toward me and let out another moan. He chewed on the man’s flesh, and flakes of burned muscle crumbled from his cheek. One of his eyes was missing, leaving behind a ragged, pus-filled hole. He seemed to consider coming after me but lowered his head toward the man instead.
With an anguished cry, the woman threw herself at the zombie. She grabbed him and pushed, forcing him off the fallen man. She was smaller than the zombie, but her grief gave her strength beyond her size.
She landed on top of the zombie. He entwined his fingers in her hair. She punched at him and managed to catch him in the jaw. The blow knocked his head sideways and bought her some time, but it wasn’t enough to free her from his grip. She tried to yank her head free, and a clump of hair tore loose.
A piece of wood lay on the ground nearby. I grabbed it and smashed it across the side of the zombie’s head. The wood was rotten, and the end shattered on impact, but it was enough to distract him. I hit him again. More blackened chunks of wood broke away, but the core held. He turned toward me. I drove the tip of the wood into his mouth. There was a crack as his jaw was forced open.
The woman pulled herself free of the zombie’s grip and rolled away. He started to rise, his fingers reaching out toward me. I threw my weight onto the piece of wood and jammed it down through the zombie’s throat. The blow drove him back and pinned him against the ground. He bucked and writhed, his cracked and burned flesh flaking from his body as he struggled to free himself. I leaned over him, driving the stake deeper and deeper until it broke through the back of his head, and he fell still.
I stood over the zombie, my hands still gripping the wood as the shadow writhed within me, reveling in the thrill of the kill. Satisfaction flooded my body, setting my senses alight. I could hear voices, feel movement behind me. The sensations were distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the body at my feet. I looked down on it like a god admiring his handiwork.
Someone touched my shoulder. I started. People swarmed around me. The air was filled with angry voices, fearful voices. I wasn’t alone.
The shadow receded, leaving behind the hollow ache of loss.
Within minutes, a crowd of eight or nine people had gathered around the corpses. The woman was called Natalie. She’d come away unscathed, but she was inconsola
ble. The man from the house opposite put his arm around her shoulders and gently led her away, her sobs echoing off the buildings. Someone else got a couple of blankets from somewhere and covered the bodies.
Several people had seen me kill the zombie. They tried to herald me as a hero. I waved them off, muttered something about needing some space, and almost ran back into my home.
As soon as I was inside, I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it. I stood for twelve, maybe even sixteen minutes, the afterglow of the kill still flowing through my system. Eventually, when the shadow had finally begun to recede, I walked slowly upstairs and lay down. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, but my nerves were jangling.
Where had the zombie come from? And were there more? He’d been covered in dust and clumps of brown earth as though he’d recently dragged himself out of the ground. Maybe he’d been buried nearby, but I hadn’t seen a church on my exploration of the town.
And why had I gotten involved? I hadn’t even considered not going to investigate the screams.
I lay there, utterly still and utterly confused, until I lost track of time.
Someone knocked on the front door. I didn’t move.
“Marcus! It’s me, Melissa.”
At Melissa’s voice, I felt an unexpected flicker of guilt like a schoolkid caught with their fingers in a cookie jar. Why was I hiding from her? I hadn’t done anything wrong.
She called again, and I made my way down the stairs. When I opened the door, she had a concerned look on her face. It vanished as soon as she saw me, replaced by a broad grin.
“Ah, the hero is in residence after all.”
I grimaced at the word hero. “I didn’t really do very much.”
In response, she just raised her eyebrows. I looked away.
“Well, either way, there’s a town meeting tonight, and Parker asked me to make sure you’re there.”
Revulsion flickered through me at the thought of the entire town focusing on me.
Melissa must have seen my expression because she said, “Don’t worry, it’s not about you. The town’s shaken up. Parker wants to calm them down. She thinks it would help if you were there.”
I gave her an uncertain look and started to disagree, but she put her hand on my arm. I tensed but didn’t pull away.
“Look, I know you’re used to living on your own, and being the center of attention is your idea of hell. I get it, I really do.” She paused to look me in the eye. “Despite appearances to the contrary, I’m the same.” She smiled slightly. “But it would really help a lot. Harwood is looking for an excuse to get rid of Parker, and that would be a bad thing. Really bad.”
I didn’t doubt Melissa’s sincerity, but I wasn’t sure I agreed with her. Maybe Sanctuary’s inhabitants had become too relaxed. The attack might actually have been a good thing.
Melissa gave my arm a squeeze, and this time, I did pull away.
“Please, for me,” she said.
I was going to decline and tell her I was feeling ill or something. Before I could, I found myself nodding.
She grinned. “Great, I’ll pay you back one day, promise. I have to go now, though. I have to get word out about the meeting. We need everyone there.”
Before I could stop her, she leaned up and kissed my cheek. “Thank you.”
She whirled around, called to someone on the other side of the street, and was gone.
Chapter 35
The Hard Questions
As far as I could tell, almost the entire town had come to the hall to hear what Parker had to say about the zombie. Even so, the room felt empty. Half a dozen mismatched chairs were set out at the front, and the rest of the twenty or so people stood in small clumps behind them. I stood by the wall, far enough away to discourage anyone from talking to me.
Captain Harwood stood in the back with Santos and Novak. Harwood had already been in the hall when I’d arrived. He’d nodded to me as I came in, and even I could tell from his body language that he was pleased with this latest development.
Muscles hovered nearby. He was a ball of nervous energy. He shifted and twitched, almost hopping from one foot to the other. He kept sneaking sideways glances at Harwood as though he was trying to work up the courage to talk to him. For his part, Harwood ignored the young man.
People were talking quietly to each other in nervous whispers, suffusing the room with tension. One or two of the people looked pale, terrified. A few more looked angry. The rest just seemed worried. There was no sign of the woman who’d been attacked.
A makeshift wooden stage stood at the front of the room. There was no microphone and just one chair, a barstool with a glass of water sitting on it. Melissa stood behind the stage, near a door. When she noticed me, she smiled and mouthed “thank you.”
A man appeared in the doorway behind Melissa and whispered something to her. A few seconds later, Parker arrived and made her way onto the stage. Melissa followed her, taking up position a few feet off to the left and behind her. I wondered if she was supposed to be acting as a bodyguard.
The room fell silent as people noticed Parker’s presence, and the tension ratcheted up a couple of notches.
Parker took a sip from the glass of water and then looked briefly around the room. Her face was set, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming. I want to start by offering my sympathies to Natalie at this difficult time. Jonathan was a valued member of the community, and he’ll be missed.”
Parker paused while a murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Someone near the front let out a soft sob. The man next to her slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“I’d also like to take a moment to thank our most recent addition and the man who risked his own life to protect us all—Marcus Black.”
Parker gestured toward me and clapped. The rest of the room joined in, filling the room with noise. Everyone turned to look, their faces seeming to crowd in around me. I suddenly regretted standing in such an exposed position and felt a rush of dizziness. I closed my eyes.
Images of the zombie’s blackened face flashed through my mind. I pulled away and pressed myself against the wall. Inside, the shadow was feeding on the attention. Unexpected, unwanted thoughts flicked through my mind. Perhaps they would understand, or at least accept who I truly was? There might be a way I could live openly with these people. I could protect them while getting what the shadow needed. A shiver of excitement ran down my spine.
I opened my eyes again, smiled, and hesitantly raised a hand, trying to quiet the room. After what felt like an hour, the noise died down, and everyone looked back toward Parker.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, obviously this tragedy is a setback. The important thing is to remember that Sanctuary is our home now. We have an opportunity here. An opportunity to start—”
“What are you going to do about the zombies?” said a man a few feet ahead of me.
Someone else called out. “Where did the zombie come from?”
Tensions quickly rose as more questions filled the air. I caught Harwood smiling as Parker lifted her hands, trying to placate the crowd and regain control.
“Those are all important questions,” Parker said, “and we’re going to address them.”
“Typical politician,” muttered someone near to me.
Parker hadn’t heard him, but I could see her struggling to find the right words to say. “Please, if you could just give me a chan—”
“We gave you a chance in Hope!” said a thin-faced man. The man’s comment spawned another wave of discontent. He glanced toward Santos, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Parker frowned, but when she opened her mouth to reply, Captain Harwood cut her off. His voice was loud and piercing, his timing perfect. “Maybe I should answer some of these questions, Allison?”
More murmurs, this time of support.
Parker hesitated then held out a hand. “Please, Captain Harwood.”
The crowd parted as Harwood moved to the front of the room. The thin-faced man and a couple of the older men were already nodding. Santos and Novak didn’t follow Parker, but they moved—spacing themselves around the outside of the room. Parker reluctantly stepped aside to let Harwood onto the platform.
“The first question we need to answer is, where did the zombie come from? The obvious answer is he found a way through the wall, but my team and I inspect the perimeter every day during the patrols. The wall is secure. The only way into Sanctuary is through the gate.”
Harwood paused while his audience caught up with the implications of the statement. A few people exchanged nervous glances.
“Are you suggesting someone let the zombie in?” Parker said.
“That’s certainly one possible explanation.”
Noise bubbled up to fill the room again.
Harwood waited until it was about to overflow before he spoke again. “But… I don’t think they did. The other possibility, the far more likely one, is that the zombie was already here.”
Harwood waited again while the crowd whispered to each other.
“It was badly burned. Maybe one of the town’s previous inhabitants had tried to kill it but hadn’t finished the job. Maybe they couldn’t. Either way, it was probably caught beneath one of the houses or in a crawl space. It managed to drag itself free and, unfortunately, happened across Natalie and Jonathan.”
“Does that mean there could be more?” said the thin-faced man.
Harwood took a deep breath, nodding. “Yes, I’m afraid it does.” This time, he didn’t give the tension time to build. “But tomorrow, we’ll do another sweep of the town. We’ll look for hiding spaces and weed out any more of the creatures. We’ll kill any we find.”
He scanned the room, working his audience. “We’ll need access to all the houses, and from now on, you must stay alert for signs or sounds that one of those things might be trapped somewhere.”
Serial Killer Z: Volume One Page 44
