After The Virus (12 page)

But not Mandy; she stepped forward as the others stumbled back, and laid a perfectly manicured clawlike hand on Snickers' shoulder.

“I’m not interested in your current drama, Rhiannon,” Mandy purred. “The child means nothing; we have a different role for you to play.”

Snickers bit Mandy. Not a how-do-you-do nip, but a full-on, mouth-f-of-blood chomp. She just turned her head and latched onto Mandy’s wrist. Mandy shrieked — a sound no way as impressive as her feral scream had been, but ear-splitting nonetheless — and tried to shake Snickers off.

“That’s icky Snickers; you never know where makeup people have been!” Rhiannon jokingly chided the child all the while holding her close.

The others hesitated. She wasn’t going to hurt Snickers by trying to tear her head away, so she simply punched Mandy in the nose. More blood spurted. Mandy reeled back into the approaching crowd; as crowded as a ten-by-twenty room can get.

She hitched Snickers onto her back and tried to skirt around the wall. There were too many of them. She wasn’t even going to get to the entrance of a sewer let alone into one.

So Snickers was ripped from her.

They were still tethered by the scarf, which their attackers didn’t figure out too quickly; but then they pinned them, side-by-side, on the ground. She thrashed and fought.

“Not her face!”

“Not her face!”

Now where had she heard that before?
Ha. Life was just one big oval running track.

In the end, they all just laid on her. Her ribs shifted and she couldn’t help but moan in pain. She discerned the Doctor’s concerned face in the crowd. He was talking to Grunt.

Snickers, characteristically, didn’t make a sound. Rhiannon could see her trying to make eye contact; she was always big with the eye contact.

She wasn’t going to cry. Fuck, she was so fucking tired of telling herself that!
They’d have to kill her to keep her away from Snickers.
 

Grunt, along with Mandy, who pinched her gushing nose while the Doctor tended her bleeding wrist, loomed over her. Grunt had a big knife. She tried to flex, but they had her spread-eagle on the concrete; one person pinned each limb. The scarf was cutting off the circulation to her hand.

Grunt, threatening the only physical link she had to Snickers, slipped his knife under the silk scarf, but Mandy placed her hand on his back.

“Rhiannon, you let the girl go, willingly, or I’ll have dear Dean cut off her hand. Then we’ll leave her, trapped in the sewers, to bleed out and die.”

Grunt glanced at Mandy like he didn’t like the sound of that; but then, he looked back and she could see he was resolved. She heard muttering among the group, but no one spoke out when Grunt shifted the position of the knife to hover over Snickers’ tiny wrist.

She locked eyes with Snickers and marveled at the trust that emanated from that gaze. “No point in you losing a hand, is there?” she asked. Snickers shook her head.

“Get off my fucking arm,” she swore at the guy on her left arm. He backed off as if she was poison; maybe she was. She reached for the knot on her wrist, but met Snickers' eye before she untied it.

“No one hurts you and lives to talk about it —” Rhiannon vowed.

“That’s enough,” Mandy snapped.

“And if it’s Mandy in my way, she dies first.” She continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, and then undid the knot. Snickers actually smiled. Rhiannon didn’t have time — or, honestly, the need — to second-guess the moral implications and complications of vowing vengeance kills to a child.

They, maybe three or four people, pulled Snickers away into a sewer tunnel. The girl reached for her until she was engulfed in darkness.

Mandy snorted a laugh. “Touching. Let’s hope you can use those acting skills for good and not just profit.”

They hauled her to her feet.

“Mandy,” Rhiannon sneered. “Didn’t recognize the face, but your ass is impossible to mistake. Too bad your new life hasn’t helped with that.”

Mandy’s face mottled under her layer of shellac, and her mouth, fishlike, sucked air. Makeup people were always easy to put in their place.

Rhiannon capped the insult as she smoothed her own always-perfect hair. “Nice boots. Not as fine as the ones I gave you last Christmas, but easier, I see, to clean of innocent blood.”

“Let’s go. It’s going to take hours to fix her face.” Mandy tried to get this last word in by turning to lead the way down a tunnel across from the one they’d carried Snickers through.

This pathetic insult didn’t hit the vanity mark Mandy was hoping for; but it did make her worry what, exactly, they needed of her face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WILL

Once again, he should have known better than to leave things unsaid. It took a few hours before they’d figured out that Buddy and Stupid were missing, and by then, it was too late and too dark to turn back to find them. One Ear was more than happy to direct them to the note that Stupid had left in his pocket, but it was Big, who knew something of Stupid’s mind, who offered clarification.

“He musta figured that you’d never send him on a suicide mission, but redemption won out over caution. I doubt he figures he’s disobeying orders; rather I’d guess he sees it as a secret mission of sorts.”

Secret mission. Damn.

They’d needed to source more vehicles for the trip back, and while getting them fueled, Will had been bent over his little pieces of paper, scratching out strategy, when Stupid had wandered over and asked him questions about Snickers and Rhiannon. He half remembered talking about strawberry plants and yellow crayons. Now Stupid had secret passwords for his secret mission, and wasn’t nearly as dim as he seemed. All Will could do now was pray that Stupid managed to stick to Buddy like glue and that Buddy valued his own life over revenge. He also had to admit that it settled him a bit, knowing that someone on the girls’ side was going to be in the city. If Stupid didn’t die before getting there.

∞

They drove through the night. Near dawn, they caught up with the remainder of Big’s group, who had reached the open plain and stopped to wait. Not needing to track the girls, like Will had on the way out, had made the return trip quicker. He hoped that ease of speed stuck with him when he headed back to the city.

They all called him Tex with deference if they spoke at all, like they knew him; when he didn’t want to eat or sleep, they kept pace.

B.B. was in the back of Big’s pickup, but, afraid that she would try to head back for Rhiannon and Snickers, Will kept close to her on the motorcycle. This was probably unnecessary, as B.B. seemed pretty occupied with keeping the hogtied One Ear, who was also in the pickup, scared shitless. If One Ear even squirmed, B.B. let lose one of her rippling snarls. She took guard duty seriously; the loss of the girls must have been confusing. He tried to not think about that. He dwelled on breaking every barrier between them and him instead. If there wasn’t already a path, he’d make one.

By midday, they’d hit the outskirts of his town — or rather, Textown — as he’d heard the others whisper. Here, their group started expanding.

As singles or small groups, on foot or cycles, new people seemed to be heading toward town. His bigger group just absorbed them as they passed. Each time they gained more people, Big’s grin looked to split his face, and though hazardous to his driving, he never put down the CB radio. Oddly, these newcomers all sought him out; some ran, touched him, and called him Tex, and some just watched as he passed, and then followed. It was always the same: the newcomers would turn to see them barreling up the road behind, and… well, they didn’t exactly smile, but relief flooded their faces. First, it was one, then two, then ten new people. It was Big’s doing, but he — he as in Tex — was to be some sort of nominated figurehead.

They were thirty strong when they reached town, and more new people mixed with Big’s group here; too many to immediately count.

They had claimed houses, but seemed to be waiting outside for their arrival. He saw children and women. One woman was actually pregnant.

B.B. barked in a way he’d never heard, and Will turned in time to see the answering bark from a chocolate lab that seemed to be guarding a boy. And he realized that for all his foraging, stocking, and restoring, the town had just been missing people. It needed a purpose, as he had.

Then he saw the tank.

It was parked in front of the hotel. He stopped his motorcycle to stare. Big pulled the pickup alongside. Will couldn’t help but laugh. The green of the tank stood in sharp contrast to the brightly painted quaint hotel and houses. He had always thought tanks were gray.

“Well, Big,” he mused. “You did mention something about needing guns.”

Big laughed, and added, “And people who know how to use them.”

A man who’d been lounging on one of the tank wheel tracks jumped down when he saw them approach.

“Boomer,” Big introduced. “Boomer, Tex.”

A peculiar hush fell along the street; engines were silenced, and all turned to look at him. Boomer saluted, and only then shook Will’s hand.

B.B. jumped down from the pickup, and despite the presence of the lab, moved to flank him.

“Does the tank have a name?” he feebly joked.

“I call her Delilah.” Boomer nervously twisted his kerchief.

“Good name; hopefully she cuts our Samson down to size,” Will awkwardly praised.

Dale, one of Big’s lieutenants, stepped over to take the motorcycle from him, and he was suddenly very happy to not have its extra weight.

A voluptuous woman forced the crowd on the hotel veranda to part as she hustled toward them; Big stepped to pick her up with a whoop and then offered an introduction: “Luanne has generously agreed to share my bed till she tires of me.” Luanne giggled and swatted at Big’s chest.

Everyone seemed to be waiting on something, and he had a sinking feeling that something was him.

“Luanne, is there enough food and beds?” he asked.

“Hell yeah, Tex. You got this town stocked and then some. We much appreciate the hospitality. More people arrive every hour.”

“I think Big has been sending them our way,” Will stated.

Big nodded. “We’re going to need an army, and these people are ready to fight.”

“Tex, Big says you’re going to stop them who took my sister,” Luanne said. “Yes, I know it was odd that we both were immune, but is it true?”
 

“I’m going to try,” was all he would promise; but, not minding his lack of commitment, she gave him peck on his cheek before she sashayed off.

Big hungrily watched Luanne as she hustled back to the hotel, and Boomer shifted his feet like he wished he could just get back to the tank. Will guessed it was time to take charge, but he wasn’t sure where to start. What he really wanted was to get in the tank and head back to the city.

“Boomer, we got more fire power than just the tank?”

“Sure thing, Tex.” Boomer’s eyes sparkled like he was talking about his children.

“Well,” Will thought out loud, “guess town hall is as good a place as any for an armory.” Boomer hustled off and started directing people.

“Big? I want to be turned around by morning. It’ll probably take us three days, if we can even move that tank through the mountains, to the city.”

Big nodded and kept his mouth shut, even though it looked like he had something he wanted to say. Some of the crowd started to shift closer.

“And Big, this isn’t conscription, so no one comes with us unless they want to, and I wouldn’t mind if we tried to convince some women to stay. I well know a woman can be better than a man in lots of situations, but enough of the world has died already.” He quickly glanced around. People had leaned close to hear his conversation with Big.

He cleared his throat. “It’s the women who will build our future, if we’re to have one.”

“I hear you, Tex. I believe you. We all do.” Big gestured to include the fifty or more people lining the street. A few stepped closer. Will felt that these people needed to know what they were all up against.
 

He spoke with caution. “It’s not just men or women we are fighting… it’s their misdirected beliefs and skewed morals… and the Infected they’ve kept alive, the Infected they’re using to hunt and kill.”

This was news to many of the crowd, but instead of it frightening them, he could actually see determination etch further across their faces. They eyed One Ear, who was still tied, with so much intensity that he squirmed as far away as he could get within the confines of the truck bed.

He knew he’d just been sleepwalking since after the virus, but now he wondered: had he ever really been living true, even before? He also knew he had an obligation to Rhiannon and Snickers, and to himself, to step up. The time for doubt and self-indulgence had passed. He really hoped more people wouldn’t have to die; he’d always considered life precious, but enemies never seemed to play by the same rules.

He pitched his voice low. “It is in times like these that we must live the moral good, that we must strive to do so even amongst evil. But when others confuse our kindness for weakness, when others steal, rape, and murder? We must stand, and we will exact punishment.”

They cheered at that, louder and more fervent than any football crowd for any of his game-winning touchdowns.

And then he knew he was right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

RHIANNON

They didn’t drag her anymore, and she noticed more of them, including the Doctor, watching her. It wasn’t an improvement over the ignoring. Plus, she’d be happier to retain her almost inhuman untouchable status. That was something she was accustomed to, something she could handle.

She lost track of time in the tunnels. They forced food on her twice, but she refused to sleep not knowing where Snickers’ was and when she might see the girl again.

They eventually exited into daylight and crammed into bullet-punctured trucks. She succumbed to exhaustion while they drove and lost a few more hours. She only awoke when the ride turned rocky as they plunged, insanely, into the literal bowels of the city.