“Someone’s in there, watching me.”
Her brows narrowed, the pack forgotten as she skirted the counter and crossed the room. “There’s only Kris, but he’d be asleep in the lab on the other side.” She peered through the window and across the other side. “No lights on. I doubt you could even get to the door with the amount of stuff we’ve piled into that room.”
It was all in my head, just a figment of an overactive imagination. It shone in her gaze as she turned to me. Was it me? Was it this goddamn place, or the secrets they kept? I sucked in a breath and shoved my arms into the jacket.
“You okay now?” Concern seeped into her words.
“Yeah,” I glanced over my shoulder to the door. “It must’ve been nothing. I’m good.”
I was getting used to lying, used to the way this cold place felt as I lifted my gaze to the rows of vials against her pack. “What are they?”
She followed my gaze, and then turned. “Boosters, we give them when we take blood. It’s filled with vitamins, low dose macrolides which work like antibiotics. But it’s the blood we need, for Kris…for the cure.”
I lost sight of her as she stepped around the cupboard to the other side of the counter. She loaded the rest of the ampules into the pack, making sure they didn’t rattle, or smash.
“So, you just take their blood out there?”
She gave a nod. “That way they know we’re holding up our end of the bargain. We take their blood, and give them a boost—and they wait. No one’s gotten sick yet, not truly sick, not since the last wave.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Twelve months, but it was weaker, taking those who were already sick.”
Twelve months? The dark underground tunnel of the train station filled my mind. Don’t forget the babies. “And he’s really making a cure?”
Her hand stilled, there was a deadly calm in her voice. “I know he is. I see how hard he works, how much he pushes himself. That’s why he doesn’t like us to go inside the lab anymore. It’s his space, his personal space. Best to just stay away. He wasn’t like this, you know, wasn’t so…” cruel.
The word lingered between us before she set to work, pressing a towel onto the rows of ampules and tying the top of the pack. I slipped my gun into my waistband and for a second I felt something missing…Pitt, and the book. My hands were empty, chest void.
“We better get going, while the sun’s not harsh.”
I followed her, with one hand resting against my hip, and the other shoving open the door. Watch her back. Damon’s warning filled my head as we left the lab behind and made for the side entrance to the hospital. A quietness settled between us, one filled by the thud of our boots, and the heaviness of our thoughts. Kenya punched the release lock on the hospital doors and heaved the sliding door open, waiting for me to step through before she closed it once more.
I lifted my gaze to the bruised, panicked-looking sky. Smoke gray clouds would lighten as the sun rose. I scanned the horizon as we left the safety of the hospital behind. Storm clouds were gathering, tiny flashes of lightening cleaved the air before they were gone once more. A storm was brewing. I could feel it, it swelled inside me, filling my nose with the bitter tang of ozone, filling my veins with need.
Kenya stepped out to lead the way, and my thoughts returned to the preacher. I scanned the road behind us, and the buildings to the side, hand hovering near the grip on my gun. Maybe he knew more than he spoke about? Maybe he knew just how to find these horsemen? Maybe he’d give me exactly what I needed to hunt them down?
My stride lengthened as we hugged the buildings. They came for me in a dream…they wanted…my breath caught as shadows reared—I didn’t know what they wanted...to kill me? To capture me, take me dead or alive? Could they feel God’s power inside me, driving me to meet them head on?
Come…the word echoed, sending shivers along my spine. I stared at the growing light, finding movement in the shadows. Maybe Kenya was right? Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, finding enemies where there were none.
She turned right, heading down unfamiliar streets. I glanced high, scanning windows as we walked. Kenya moved fast, keeping to the cleared paths as we headed west, and then north, until we came to a building. It was small and squat, hemmed in by giants of shattered glass. The small smashed sign at the front hung at an angle, but I gathered enough to know it was a vet clinic.
She slowed her steps, and glanced at me over her shoulder. “The Lost Boys are just over that rise. But I need to do something, it’ll only take me a second. But I need you to stay here. Can you do that…just stay right here?”
The way she said it made my stomach clench. I scanned the building while my mind raced. “Yeah, sure.”
The ghost of a smile crested her lips before it was gone. She nodded, relief was one slow exhale. “Good…that’s real good. Just stay right here, I won’t be a second.”
She stepped away, heading for the corner of the clinic. One quick glance at me and she was gone, slipping out of sight. My boots skimmed patches of asphalt and grass as I turned, taking in this part of the city.
The faint nicker of a horse caught the breeze, and the sound carried, slamming into me. I spun, finding the cruel glare of the sun that bounced off the glass. The sound came again, only this time the deep, tormenting echo was louder.
Hooves clipped hard asphalt. I knew that sound, knew it in my dreams…and my nightmares. I’d know it anywhere. My heart sped, squeezing tighter with a new rhythm. Trembling fingers skimmed the grip of my gun and clenched around the harsh pattern. “Who’s there?”
I took a step toward the corner of the building…and then another. Was it Kenya playing damn tricks? “Not funny, Kenya.”
Silence followed. Silence with its whispers inside my head.
Come, Harlow. We’ve been waiting.
I shot forward, lunging toward the corner of the building, and raced along the side. The echo was gone, swept away by the rush of my steps and the pounding of my heart as I came around the side to the back of the clinic.
Kenya was crouched near an opening, furiously scribbling into a notebook. She didn’t see me, and didn’t hear me. Her sole focus was the pen in her hand and the words pouring from her fingers. She shook her head, curls of her hair danced as she scribbled and scratched out a word before trying again.