Ken didn’t go back to scouts much after that. But he remembered the look in the wolf’s eyes when it jumped. That mad, lost look.
And that was what he was seeing in Aaron. Pain and a need to do the irrational that was so deep-seated it became sublime.
The cowboy rammed himself into the wall. Again and again. Then began rubbing the left side of his body against the wall, writhing against it like he was trying out for a job as the world’s worst exotic dancer.
And still screaming.
“He’s changing,” said Christopher, shrinking away from Aaron.
Then Aaron charged at Ken.
63
Ken was still on the floor, still half-pinned by Buck’s larger form. He couldn’t move couldn’t move couldn’t move.
And even if he had been able to move… where would he have gone?
They were all stuck. Trapped.
Aaron rushed across the elevator. It was large, perhaps a freight elevator. Something used to haul up large furniture or machinery. Things the building management wouldn’t want the tenants to see on a regular basis.
Thank goodness, at least we’ll die discretely.
Not a huge consolation. Ken had a second to remember Aaron wading into a stairwell full of zombies – and somehow emerging with only a few broken fingers – before the cowboy’s deadly hands reached for him.
He shouted. Tried to scramble away.
“Ken!” screamed Maggie.
“Don’t!” yelled Dorcas.
Aaron ignored them both. Smoke seemed to be pouring from his body, transforming him into a monster.
Buck lurched. “Leave them alone,” said the man. His voice cracked. But he tried to get between Aaron and Ken. Or maybe between Aaron and Hope, who was suddenly silent.
Either way, Aaron smashed a fist into Buck’s chin, sending the big man rolling into the elevator doors, crashing into Maggie’s legs. He lay there and coughed and spat blood.
Aaron grabbed Ken.
Ken tried to get his hands up. He had fought before. He had taken martial arts his entire life. He should be able to do something. Anything.
He made a fist.
Aaron slapped his balled-up hand away.
Punched his throat.
And suddenly, Ken couldn’t breathe.
64
This is how you die. The world doesn’t explode. The monsters don’t kill you. It’s a crazy cowboy karate-chopping your throat.
The thoughts bounced around in Ken’s head like BBs in a blender. He felt like he was overheating. Could practically hear himself overheating.
But that was wrong, wasn’t it?
Shouldn’t he be going numb?
Shouldn’t he be dying… faster?
He realized Aaron was shaking him. Yelling. Not screaming, not shrieking. Yelling. Words.
“Stop trying to hit me, ya crazy kid!”
And Ken realized that he was still pummeling at Aaron with his good hand, still had his bad hand wrapped as much as possible around Hope, pinning her to him. She was silent, head down on his chest like she was looking forward to hearing the last beats of his heart.
Aaron batted Ken’s hand away again, and his face screwed up in a scowl. “Quit it or I’ll crack you in the throat again.”
That penetrated the fog that had invaded Ken’s brain. He also realized he was breathing. Not dead at all. Somehow alive, somehow still breathing.
His throat hurt like hell.
“Why’d you….” His voice sounded like a combination of rusty nails and chunks of dirt. He hacked. Tried again. “Why’d you hit me.”
“’Cause you weren’t gonna move and I didn’t have time to chat.”
Aaron looked up. Then down.
Ken followed his gaze. Gulped. “Thank you,” he said. His voice came out as a murmur, and this time it had nothing to do with his bruised vocal cords. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” Aaron looked again at the hole where the acid had eaten through the ceiling, and the matching hole in the floor where Ken’s head had been a moment before. “Don’t imagine you’d have liked that.”
“I thought….” Ken coughed. The sound was louder than he expected. He realized it was silent in the cab. “I thought you were changing.”
“Why would you think that?” Aaron seemed torn between amusement and offense.
“You went all crazy.”
Aaron showed him his left arm. A long line of black, charred flesh ran from his shoulder to his elbow. “Some of that goo hit me. Just a drop, and it did this.” He shuddered. “Never felt anything like that. And I been through some things.”
The elevator pitched again, falling a few inches.
“We can’t stay here,” Dorcas whispered.
“How do we get out?” said Christopher. The two of them were in the far corner, nearly holding one another as though they had taken refuge in each other’s arms when Aaron had gone crazy.
“The doors won’t open. They’re stuck,” said Buck, rolling over and clutching his nose. Blood streamed from his fingers and spattered the floor.
Ken realized something in that instant.