Ashes, Ashes (30 page)

S
he turned to see Simmons, Dr. Lessing, Mrs. Reynolds, and one other Sweeper who wore his faceguard down and held his Taser in front of him like a sword. Dr. Lessing was sweating and pale. Mrs. Reynolds grabbed her arm. The doctor roughly shook it loose. Lucy stopped, feeling more exhausted than she ever had before. Her hand could barely hold her knife. The generator hummed and then roared into life. Lucy remembered how she’d thought the light on the roof resembled the gigantic eye of a beast. Now she felt as if she’d been swallowed alive.

Del raised her slingshot. Aidan wrapped an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. They backed up as the doctor and Sweepers advanced.

Lucy snuck a look behind her. A shadowy hallway stretched back. More boxes were piled five feet high—rows and rows of them. They were marked with the names of ready-to-eat food, vegetables, precooked meat, and dog chow. There was no outlet that she could see.

“Don’t let them force us into a dead end,” she said. They spread out in a thin line across the corridor. She noticed that the air was fresher. The scent of dog mingled with something she realized was the smell of rain. Del ordered the two kids to get back as far as they could.

“There’s got to be some kind of outside access around here,” she said. “How else did they get all these crates in here?” She reached into an open box and pulled out a can of dog food. She tossed it to Aidan, who caught it with his free hand. “Weighty,” he said, hefting it.

Sammy helped himself to a couple.

“Just grab the girl, Ross,” Dr. Lessing shouted suddenly. “I don’t care if the others get hurt.”

The Sweeper came toward them at a run. He aimed himself at Lucy. Aidan pelted the can at him, but Ross ducked.

Sammy threw both of his at the same time. One hit the man with a sharp
crack
, fracturing the plastic visor. Mrs. Reynolds shouted out a warning. Attempting to avoid the man’s weapon, Lucy threw herself backward so hard she hit the stack of boxes, knocking the topmost one to the ground. The column teetered and came crashing down, splitting the cardboard and spilling tin cans everywhere. Aidan tripped and fell. The Sweeper came on, his Taser dangerously close. He flung his arm out, and the black box skimmed the sleeve of Lucy’s leather jacket. She felt a jolt, which seemed to stop her heart for a second, and then her legs turned to water. Her head smashed against the ground, and she felt a trickle of blood edge into her collar. Aidan swept his leg around, felling the Sweeper. He stomped on the man’s wrist with his thick-soled boot. There was a
crunch
as the bone broke, and the black box flew from his fingers. Aidan pounced on it quickly.

“Sammy,” he said, keeping his eyes on the Sweeper who was curled up, cradling his injured arm. “Help Lucy up, will you?” He stepped toward Simmons. The black box sent out its flickering prongs. Simmons held his hands open in front of him and shook his head. He took a few paces backward.

“Just let me check on Ross, okay?” he said. Aidan nodded. Simmons prodded Ross’s wrist. “Broken in about three places,” he muttered. He helped the Sweeper to his feet and propped him against the wall.

Lucy’s legs still felt like limp noodles. Her heart was pounding, and her head buzzed. It was difficult to fill her lungs with air. She freed herself from Sammy’s tight grip. “Where’s Dr. Lessing?” she yelled, looking for the white lab coat. The woman was nowhere to be seen. The dogs had started up a crescendo of whining. Then she heard the sound of electronic bolts shooting open. The barking broke out and quickly became a cacophony. A single howl rose. The sound made the hairs on Lucy’s arm rise, and she felt cold despite her leather jacket. Mrs. Reynolds’s face blanched.

“She’s letting the dogs out,” she said. “They’ll go mad when they scent you. The trainer left a few days ago. If they find you before Dr. Lessing does, they’ll tear you apart.”

Simmons stepped forward. He spoke hurriedly. “Down that hallway. Green-painted steel door about ten feet on. You can bust the lock. It leads to a dog run with an eight-foot chain-link fence.”

“We’ll hold them off as long as we can,” Mrs. Reynolds said. She looked at Lucy. “Be careful out there. The plague is mutating. It may return. That much is true.”

Simmons set his shoulder against a column of boxes and shoved. The heavy boxes came cascading down, partially blocking the narrow corridor. He moved to the next row and heaved. Some split open. Cans rolled underfoot. Slowly the pile grew and wedged against the opposite wall. Mrs. Reynolds joined him, tugging down crates, and heaping them higher until the lower half of the passage was impenetrable.

Lucy hesitated. The others were already at the door. Sammy was hammering against the lock with a dented tin can.

Mrs. Reynolds met her eyes. “Just run. Run, Lucy!” she said, staggering under the weight of another box. The scars were livid against her flushed skin. Behind the nurse and the growing pile of boxes, she caught sight of Dr. Lessing. She was completely surrounded by furry bodies. The dogs swarmed over one another as they hunted for a scent. Lucy hesitated.

“I took my folder, the notebooks,” she said. “They belong to me and no one else. But I left the blood.” She turned away, but not before she saw surprise in the nurse’s eyes.

Lucy ran to join Aidan. His arm was pressed tight against his ribs again. She saw the pain in the lines of his forehead. Although her skull was still buzzing, she felt surprisingly clearheaded. Sammy threw the can away in disgust. The thin metal was crumpled. Some kind of red sauce leaked out, staining his robes. He pushed his hood back. His blackened forehead was dripping sweat. Aidan set his shoulder against the door and heaved. The lock was battered, but still it held. From behind them, they heard the baying of the dogs.

“They blocked most of the way, but there’s still space for the dogs to get through,” Lucy said.

She remembered how the animals had propelled themselves halfway up the tree trunk, maddened by her scent. She pushed Sammy out of the way and slid her knife blade between the lock and the door and slammed it down hard, the impact jarring the old wound on her palm. The lock tore open with an awful squeal, and her knife snapped again. Straight across. An inch from the hilt.

Lucy subdued a stab of grief, shoved it back into her pocket, and thrust the door open. Cool air flooded over her. The dog run was long and concrete, with shallow channels running down each side. It had rained recently, and the cement glistened. Through the links of the fence she could see the shore, and beyond, the stormy surface of Lake Harlem.

“Almost there,” she yelled, turning back to grab Aidan’s hand.

Two dogs crashed through the barricade of boxes and cans into the hallway. Lucy caught a glimpse of their yellow eyes, the gums pulled back in hideous grimaces. A rottweiler and a pit bull. They leapt, arrowing in at her from two sides. She threw up a defensive arm, and then Aidan pushed her away, yelling. She hit the ground and rolled against the wall, smacking it hard with her head. She shook her head to clear it, scarcely aware of the pain, and dug frantically for her knife before remembering it was useless. Screaming in anger, she threw it at the rottweiler attacking Aidan. The hilt struck it across the skull, but the dog didn’t pause. Del stood in front of the door to the outside, shielding the terrified children with her body. Her slingshot was loaded. She raised it, looking for a clear shot, but everything was happening too fast. Aidan was thrown backward by the weight of the dog. He grappled with it, pushing against its muscular chest and throwing his head around wildly in an attempt to avoid its razor-sharp teeth. He hooked his fingers in the dog’s collar and twisted the leather strap, trying to strangle it. The dog’s tongue protruded and strands of saliva glistened as the jaws snapped inches from his face.

Sammy hurled himself forward, trying to reach his brother. The pit bull jumped him, seeking the flesh beneath the robes. It clamped down with its jaws and whipped its head from side to side. The heavy black robes tore as Sammy kicked out at the dog. His boot connected with the dog’s midriff. Another wild kick, this blow landing on its snout. The dog yelped and released its jaws, falling heavily to the ground. Del took her shot, sending a stone into the meaty part of the dog’s thigh. The dog howled and scrabbled at the floor, trying to reach the wound in its leg. Sammy kicked it again in the ribs and ran, panting, to Aidan, who was weakening. He grabbed the rottweiler’s collar from behind and yanked it into the air. Scrambling to his feet, Aidan thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled out the Taser, and pressed it against the dog’s side. The dog yelped and collapsed, shaking convulsively on the floor. Its pink tongue lolled from its mouth, and then it was still. Aidan limped over to the whining pit bull and Tasered it, too.

He stood looking at the dogs, his face pale and sick, and then he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground.

Lucy crawled over to him. His left arm hung loosely. She put out her hand, afraid that she might accidentally hurt him, and settled for stroking him on the cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Painkillers wore off,” he said scowling. “I’m pretty sure now that I’ve pulled a muscle.”

“Come on.” She helped him stand. They hobbled out the door into the dog run where the others stood waiting.

“Might have brought the Taser out a little sooner,” Sammy told his brother.

“Couldn’t reach it. You may have noticed the hundred pounds of dog sitting on my chest?”

“Always with the excuses,” Sammy said, pulling his shredded robe awkwardly over his head. His forearm was imprinted with four deep tooth marks gushing blood.

Del cursed. “Can you still use it?” She sounded angry.

Sammy looked disappointed. “Yeah, it hurts bad, but—”

“You can climb?” Del asked.

“Of course,” he said, watching blood drip onto the floor. “I didn’t mean to get mauled by a dog, you know.”

Del pressed her lips together. “I know,” she said in a softer tone. Stowing the slingshot in her back pocket, she ripped a length of cloth from the discarded robes and tied it tightly around his arm. He gasped.

Giving him a look, she gathered the children to her and faced the fence.

“You go first,” she told Sammy. “I’ll lift the kids up to you.”

He pulled himself up, swung over, and jumped down. Once he was on the ground, he held his arms up for the first of the two children. As soon as they were safely on the other side, Del went up, then Lucy, and lastly Aidan, who favored his left arm and climbed one-handed. He had just reached the top when the fox terrier burst through the door, barking madly. Its toothbrush tail stuck straight up, and the fur on its back stood up in a ridge. It ran back and forth along the fence seeking a way out, and then began throwing itself repeatedly at the chain link as if it were made of rubber.

“Let’s go before the poor thing kills itself,” Aidan said from the top of the fence.

Lucy turned away.

And then a second dog hit the fence barely a foot below the top. Another rottweiler, even larger than the first. It catapulted itself upward, thick black claws pushing the chain link outward as it tried to find purchase and muscle its way over. Aidan jumped, making no attempt to land gracefully. He staggered and then regained his balance, pulling Lucy back from where she stood almost mesmerized by the animal’s single-mindedness. The dog fixed its hot gaze on her and, growling terribly, made another impossible leap into the air, landing almost on top of the fence before falling heavily back to the concrete.

Aidan hurried her a safe distance away. “It’ll be over that in a minute.”

The dog was panting heavily, but still it paced and jumped and whined. Lucy’s presence was driving it crazy.

“It’s not going to stop hunting us,” Lucy said. She looked at the exhausted children huddled together in Del’s arms and at Sammy trying to smile. “It wants me.” She shrugged her arms out of her backpack, carrying it by the strap, and walked toward the fence. The rottweiler’s lips inched back from its incisors. Its ears flattened against the bony skull, and an awful snarling rumbled from the barrel chest. Muscles bunched in its back legs as it gathered itself to leap again.

“It can’t have you,” Aidan said, trying to haul her away. “Get away from the fence, Lucy!” She shook herself loose, jarring his arm. He winced with pain.

“It’s okay.”

Keeping her eyes on the dog, she opened her backpack and dug around in it, locating the tinderbox.

The dog kept up its continuous growl. “You want my blood?” Lucy shouted, pulling out the vial. She raised it above her head and threw it over the fence. The glass smashed against the concrete. Thick red blood spattered against the wall.

They ran. It wasn’t until they reached the parking lot that they paused, looking back at the dark hulk of the building. Lights blazed on the top floors. In an upper window behind heavy curtains, they could see human figures hurrying back and forth. Lucy might have imagined it, but she thought she could hear a single, shrieking note that seemed to go on and on.

“Think they’ll follow us?” Aidan asked.

Lucy shook her head, thinking of Mrs. Reynolds. “No. They have what they need.”

The sky opened and rain began to fall, a hard-driving shower that soaked them immediately but was as warm as a spring shower. Lucy looked up into the lightening sky and let the rain push her hair off her face. If more dogs did come, the rain would wash away most of their scent. The fog had dissipated and the air smelled fresh and clean. The dull pain in her head subsided to a thump. Sammy carried a kid on his back; Del had linked hands with the other one. Lucy heard her voice, low and soothing, as she urged them to move. It was weird to hear such kindness from the girl.

The empty parking lot glittered like an ice rink. They ran through the rain, slowing down again once they came to the bridge. Lucy looked back at the tower. The red light was dark.

Aidan slipped his arm around her waist. She leaned into him, careful of his wounded ribs and arm.

“Which way?” he said.

She looked ahead. Del and Sammy and the children were walking slowly. They’d reached the bridge. With the sleepy kids and the exhaustion that she was sure everyone was feeling, it would take them hours to get home. She scanned the horizon. The long bridge curved above the wind-whipped waves of Lake Harlem. Beyond that lay the Wilds, as familiar to her as the lines on her palm. Lucy could close her eyes and in her mind navigate over the flats, the grove, past the salt marsh and the blighted pines, the remains of her camp and the Great Hill. And then onward up the shifting terrain of the gorges and the escarpment and the suspension bridges swinging wildly with the slightest breath of wind. They’d have to carry the children, or haul them up the granite cliff face somehow. Aidan and Sammy were injured. Her own body hurt so much, everywhere, that it was almost funny.