Mark felt his sanity crumbling. He spun around and lifted Deedee into his arms, then grabbed Trina’s shoulder and heaved her off the wall, pushed her away from the crowd and into the dining room, where Alec had been fighting. He was surrounded by a mass of people—too many to shoot.
Mark pushed Trina, this time toward the big bay windows—the few in the house that were still intact. He picked up a lamp and tossed it at the glass, shattering it into a million shards. Clasping Deedee tightly in his right arm, he ran forward, catching up with Trina and gripping her elbow with his left hand. Without slowing, he sprinted straight for the opening; then he let go of Trina and dove, turning his body at the last second so that his back went first. He hugged the girl tightly to his body, trying his best to protect her as he thumped against the hard-packed dirt of what had once been a flower bed. The fall knocked the wind out of him.
Gasping for air, he looked up into the bright sky and he saw Alec’s head poke out of the house.
“You really have lost your mind,” the man said, but he was already helping Trina climb out the window before he’d finished the short sentence.
He jumped down after Trina landed safely. Then they were both helping Mark to his feet and Trina took Deedee back into her arms. Some of the infected had seen their escape and were following; others were streaming out the front door. Screams and shouts filled the air. People were already fighting each other outside.
“I’ve had enough of this party,” Alec grumbled.
Mark was finally catching his breath, and the four of them started running across the dusty yard, angling toward the street that would lead them back to the Berg. Alec tried to take Deedee from Trina but she refused, kept moving, her face showing the strain of carrying the burden. As for the little girl, her cries had been replaced at some point by silence. There weren’t even any tears on her face.
Mark looked behind him. A man stood on the front porch, blasting away randomly with the Transvice, sending people to their wispy deaths. He finally noticed the group running away down the street and fired off a couple of shots. They came nowhere close, the white bolts smashing into the pavement, sending up poofs of dust. The guy gave up, returned to killing closer quarry.
Mark and his friends kept running. When they passed the house full of small children, Mark thought of Trina and Deedee and the future. He didn’t stop.
Chapter 60
Finally they saw the Berg once again. It rose up in the distance, more beautiful than Mark would’ve ever guessed one of the beat-up old things could look. Though each one of them was heaving like every breath might be their last, they didn’t slow down, and soon the big hunk of scarred metal loomed above their heads.
Mark didn’t know how in the world Trina had done it with Deedee in her arms the entire time. But she’d refused to let anyone else help.
“You … okay?” he asked her between deep breaths.
She collapsed to the ground, spilling the girl next to her as gently as she could. Trina looked up at him, still no recognition in her eyes. “I’m … fine. Thank you for rescuing us.”
Mark knelt next to her, the pain creeping back into his heart now that the craziness of escaping was over. “Trina, do you really not remember me?”
“You seem … familiar. But there’s too much in my head. We just need to get the girl—she’s immune, I know it—we need to get her to people who matter. Before we’re all too insane to try.”
Mark felt something turn in his stomach and leaned back, away from his best friend. The chilling way she’d said those last few words …
He knew that there was something seriously wrong with her. And couldn’t he say the same thing about himself? How long did he have until nothing mattered anymore? A day? Maybe two?
The huge door of the Berg lurched into motion with a thump and a squeal, giving Mark an excuse not to respond. He watched as it lowered to the ground.
Alec spoke loudly over the grinding gears and hydraulics. “Let’s get them on board, get everyone fed. Then we need to figure out what to do with ourselves. We might be like those kooks we just ran away from soon.”
“Not the girl,” Mark said, so quietly he wondered if his friend even heard him.
“What do you mean?” the man replied.
“The scar on her arm. She was hit by a dart months ago. Think about it. Trina’s right. She’s immune somehow. That’s gotta mean something.”
Trina had perked up at the statement, was nodding vigorously. Too vigorously. Mark’s heart sank a little bit more. She just wasn’t quite there.
Alec let out one of his infamous grunts. “Well, unless you wanna swap bodies with her, I reckon it won’t do you a bit of good, now, will it?”
“But maybe it could help others. If they don’t already have a treatment …”
Alec gave him a doubtful look. “Let’s just get on board before some of them crazies catch up to us.”
And blast us with my Transvice, Mark thought grimly. He appreciated Alec’s not giving him a hard time about it.