Call her name. The demand gripped me, squeezing the words into my throat. My fingers skimmed the rough brick. I held on, watching until she slapped the cover closed and leaned forward. There was a hole in the side of the building. I glanced at the tin sheeting. A hole she covered. This was more than rifling through the lab in the middle of the night. This was hiding things away from the others...away from her friends.
Chuck was a germaphobe, and Damon couldn’t get two feet outside the damn door. They’d never come out here, never find what she hid in the side of a vet clinic. Her shoulders curled and shuddered as she stared at the closed notebook. The sting of anger faded, and what replaced it was softer, leaving an ache behind.
She swiped her cheeks, and then dropped her hands. Even from here I could see the bright crimson smears across her skin. They weren’t just sick…the thought filled me. This was a lot more than jaundiced skin and blood-shot eyes. I was betting Kenya knew that…I glanced at the hole in the wall as she curled the notebook and slipped it inside.
I eased backwards, stepping out of sight before I turned and made my way back to where she’d left me. Wayward strands ruffled my cheek. I curled my hair around the back of my ear and stared at the building. I wanted to know what was in that notebook. What it was that was so important.
And what it was that woke her in the middle of the night.
The echo of hooves filled the air, growing stronger the more I listened.
Pestilence was here…amongst the living, infecting, killing once more. “I’m coming all right,” I whispered, and stared at what was left of my world. “I’m coming to hunt you down.”
9
“Everything okay?”
Kenya flinched with the words. The smile was slow, tentative, twitching the corners of her mouth. She patted her jacket pocket and stared at the ground. “Yeah, fine. Just had some things I had to grab inside…stuff for Damon.”
An ache raced, tearing like lightning across my chest. And in that second, I realized two things with blinding clarity.
One; Kenya was the worst liar on the face of the earth…even worse than Mom, and that was saying something.
And two; that secretly her world was falling apart—and she knew it.
It was more than the sneaking around at night, more than the lies. This woman leaked desperation. She’d honed the edge of need like a razor, one that would cut both ways.
Her shoulders curled. She leaned toward me, as though she needed to touch, needed to hold—or be held. I sucked in the dry air as the thought took hold. She was scared of something, or someone—and right now she didn’t know who to trust. Not even with me.
She glanced at the road, to where the asphalt just fell away over the rise. “They’ll be expecting me.”
My fingers twitched around the grip as we made for the rise. Lost Boys…The Mighty. They were all the same, weren’t they? Barbarians trying to rule what was left of this desolate world. Scraps, that’s all they fought for, scraps of something that had once been beautiful…and now…now it was nothing more than a ruin.
“Stick close to me,” she growled, her breath harsh now. “They won’t touch you if you’re with me.”
And here was me trusting once more. It was becoming a goddamn habit, one I couldn’t wait to shed.
I tightened my hold, the steel warm against my palm. Kenya worked the lid of a steel canteen and lifted the rim to her lips and then passed it to me. I took a swallow, lifting the bottle high and stared at the brightening sky. A sickening yellow was replacing the darkening gray. The water was cold, and perfect, carrying through the dust I’d sucked in. I swallowed, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and handed the canister to her once more.
“Not far,” she called over her shoulder, and nodded toward a towering building.
I took in the hulking steel goliath. It’d been some kind of office building…once. Remnants of that life still lingered in the smashed desks and chairs piled outside on the ground. But it was changed now, like all things in this new world—it was guarded.
A corrugated fence ran from the side to the front gates. Barking of dogs followed, lots and lots of hounds, they yipped, and snarled, some lunged against the gate, charging the metal, testing the chains.
I glanced at the sides of the fence, looking for cracks…was this where Pitt had escaped from? The thought sent a shudder. Not here, please, not here. Not kept like a beast. Not made to fight the other dogs for food, for love…for there was none here. No love, no laughter. There was only a pack.
The deep cut across her shoulder filled my mind. It could’ve been made by the edges of a metal fence, could have been made by a knife, or a razor—and the cruel edge of a human’s hate.
The sides of the building were blown out. Metal sheeting ripped like strips of paper from the sides, leaving the belly open to the weather…I could see them standing at the edge of never, staring out into this world. A head snapped up, sight strained on us as we crested the rise. A sharp call came from a watcher, and seconds later a flurry of movement filled the space.
Hard boots smacked the concrete, as in the distance the calls of warning became a war cry. I shouldn’t be here…shouldn’t be with these people, I should be at home, in the safety and in the quiet. I should be protecting myself against people like them, like…her. People who lie, who keep the truth hidden—who use.
The building seemed to rise out of the valley. I could see inside now, all the faces, old and young, that stood at the edge of never and watched us come closer.
“That’s close enough!”
It was a call of warning. A command that stopped us dead in the middle of the barren road. Kenya raised her hands, palms out, submissive, and slid the straps of her pack from her shoulders. She eased the bag to the ground, then turned and stood once more. “I’m expected!”
“You are, but not her!”
He came from what was a parking garage, rifle raised, muzzle pointed at me.
“Your gun,” Kenya growled, “draw the weapon out and put it on the ground.”
It was the only weapon I had. The only thing I could depend on. I gave a shake of my head, the soft flesh of my palm smashing into the patterned grip. “No.”
Her eyes widened as she wrenched her head toward me. I could almost draw a map by the veins in her eyes, and the road would lead me to Hell. I maintained my stance, watching the determined bastard creep closer. He was young, not much older than me, short and stocky, with bulging muscles. Sweat gleamed on his skin…in another lifetime I would’ve snuck a second glance…I would’ve felt the faint flush of attraction. But not now, now I just felt the rising tide of fear.
He motioned the muzzle toward the sidewalk. “Gun on the ground, now.”
My heart thundered, my palms grew slick with sweat.
“You wanted to come,” Kenya snarled. “You knew the drill.”
Don’t give in. Don’t trust. The warnings were ingrained. My finger slipped from the trigger to rest against the slide as I dragged the weapon free. “I get it back, right?”
He stilled, brows narrowed, one quick glance over his shoulder to the first floor, and he turned to me. “When you leave…if you leave.”