Blood Trilogy (Book 2): Draw Blood (19 page)

“What’s important right now is protecting ourselves,” Michael says. “Once we’re reasonably sure we can hold off a wave of those bodies, then we need to talk about how we can solve this thing. We have this new information from Kayla, and we need to look at that some more.” Next to Rachel, Kayla smiles shyly, looking down. “But for now, I want to know where we stand with the blood. We might differ on why our blood type matters in all this, but the fact remains that it does.”

Michael pauses, looking around. Everyone is quiet, listening to him.

“Zoe said something last night that really made an impact on me,” he goes on, and Zoe blinks, watching him. “Remember, you said that we have the answer to this inside us. We are the weapons. We all are. We are the solution. There’s a lot more of that to explore, too. But for right now, we need to focus on the ‘weapon’ part. Those bodies out there have a way to hurt us, yes, but inside every one of us is something that can kill them.” He turns to Joel. “Am I right in assuming we have no other weapons? Guns?”

“Well, obviously I have access to them, but the weapons I
did
have were in the cruiser.”

“And most of the firearms we had at the hospital are still there,” Kevin adds. “I have a shotgun in the cab of my truck, but no more shells.”

“I don’t think we’re getting outside anytime soon, so I think it’s reasonable to say that we need to make the most of this weapon we do have. Our blood. Hell, maybe we’re wasting time right now when we
should
be stockpiling
blood
.”

Michael glances down to find Rachel staring up at him with a half-smile. Perhaps even an expression of pride. He hasn’t seen an expression like that on her face in years.

“We did manage to bring in a box of tranquilizer guns and a crapload of reusable darts,” Kevin says, glancing over at Zoe, who speaks up.

“Yeah, we got to the wildlife office before here, and we gathered up everything we could find, which was—how many?” She twists toward Chloe.

“I don’t know the number, but a fucking lot of them,” her sister says. “We grabbed everything we could. And we still have the Super Soakers.”

“Wait, you grabbed a fucking lot of what?” Scott asks.

“Tranq darts,” Zoe clarifies. “We got a shit ton of them, and we got six rifles. Those darts are reusable. I’m not exactly sure how to use them, but I don’t think they’ll be too hard to figure it out. They’re 5cc darts. I’m pretty sure we grabbed everything we need—stabilizers, pressurizing syringes, everything.”

For the benefit of the college team, Joel says, “I told Ron about the effect blood has on these things, even on their skin, but it’s really injection that turns them back. The Super Soakers are great for annoying the shit out of them, especially if you get it in their eyes, but you really have to get the blood inside them. That’s what extinguishes that light. Problem is, we can’t get too close to ’em. So … tranq darts. Worth a try, anyway.”

Liam says, “You guys were busy over at the hospital.” The young man has a nervous energy to him that looks like sickness but could just be anxiety.

“Sure helped that we had a bunch of O-neg plasma bags in the next room,” Joel says.

“We need to figure out how much blood we need in each dart,” Rachel says. “I mean, is a drop enough to change them back, or do we need to inject a large amount?”

“Exactly!” Kevin says. “
This
is the conversation we need to be having.”

Scott rolls his eyes.

“So how much blood do we have, anyway?” Michael asks the room.

Bonnie says, “I managed to take twelve units, which was basically all we had left, but when we were attacked in the truck, we used a lot of them. We only have a few left.”

“How many is a few?” Scott says.

Bonnie looks disconsolate. “Three?”

“Well, like I said, let’s not forget that our bodies are filled with the stuff,” Michael says.

“And I did grab some equipment for drawing blood,” Bonnie says. “As long as we can find a way to sterilize it. I didn’t grab any alcohol from the hospital, but I’m hoping there’s some around here. I
did
grab a lot of liquid Heparin—that’s an anticoagulant. It doesn’t work long-term—things will still get gummy after a while—but as long as we keep everything refrigerated, the blood should be pretty effective for—”

It’s at that moment that another thundering roar rips the sky and vibrates the entire library. In the middle of her sentence, Bonnie goes to one knee, her hands going to her ears. Several people cry out. Cringing under the onslaught, Michael sees Rachel protectively covering Kayla’s ears and squeezing her eyes shut. The room itself seems to cower under the weight of the sound, the walls shrinking beneath it, books shivering atop tables and falling to the floor.

The roar lasts approximately fifteen seconds but seems longer. It seems to go on forever, until the survivors simply give in, helpless to the advance of the possessed bodies outside. But it finally ends on a sharp note, and only in awful retrospect can Michael process it: It wasn’t quite as long as the aural assault that preceded the recent aggression from the bodies, but it was a major event. The quiet that descends in its wake feels malevolent.

All of the survivors are gasping and glancing around warily.

“Oh no!” says Bonnie, the first to form a coherent thought. “What are they doing now?”

Chrissy and the twins immediately rush to the windows by the doors, peering out, searching for activity. Liam and Brian hustle up behind them. Michael is there too, fearing the worst. Joel and Ron are at his side, angling for a view.

“Look there,” says Rick, to the left of the door. He’s pointing.

At a coniferous tree directly across Peterson, in the lawn of a nicely restored Dutch colonial home, a body is attached to the bark.

“That’s one of the two we’ve had our eye on,” says Rick, to the left of the door. “It hasn’t really moved at all, just the usual chewing—”

“—but it’s moving now,” Michael finishes.

“Yes.”

Bonnie starts emitting a series of moans.

Although the body is roughly fifty yards distant, its movements are visible: Formerly attached organically, almost seamlessly, to the pine, the body—that of a young, shirtless man with longish hair—has paused in its splintery mastication. Even from here, the survivors can see blood, bright at the thing’s mouth, flowing in slow rivulets down into its eyes and stiffened hair. The mouth has stopped chewing, but the jaw is still working as the face detaches from the trunk with sticky effort. Then the upturned face seems to consider something—an almost human expression, except for the sealed-shut eyes and the streaming sap and mulch.

“What’s it doing?” Kayla whispers.

“I—I think—” Rachel starts, “I think it’s … is it thinking? Considering?”

“Or just following orders,” Joel says.

“God,” Ron says quietly, “I almost feel sorry for it—”

“I do, for sure,” Rachel says.

Behind them, Scott lets loose with a derisive noise. “Yeah, they’re just pitiful, aren’t they? Poor things.”

Mai laughs briefly behind them, but all of Michael’s attention is focused on the body at the tree. It’s shaking its head with seeming frustration, as if trying to fling pulpy mucus from its eyes. It’s rising a little from its cramped, bent-backward pose, extending its limbs just slightly. Something has been communicated, Michael is sure of it. Or is it merely reacting to the thundering sound from the heavens?

“That one over there is doing the same thing,” Kayla says.

She’s gesturing southeast, but Bonnie says, “Where?”

All heads turn.

Michael can’t spot it for a moment, but then there it is, partially obscured by the front end of a Subaru station wagon.

“Good eyes, kid,” Joel says.

“I didn’t even see that one before,” Rick says.

Michael can’t determine the age or sex of this body; it’s too far away. But he thinks it’s a small one. Its head has also clearly pulled away from the bark of its tree, almost as if dazed. Michael darts his glance between the two bodies, and he comes to the realization that the movements these things are making are nearly mirror images of one another.

He voices this to the room, and as he does, the bodies begin moving slowly, almost cautiously, away from the trees.

Several survivors draw in breath sharply.

Joel says, “If those things are gearing up for attack again, we need to be arming up.”

There’s a general sense of frantic movement in the lobby, away from the windows, but then—

“Wait, wait!” Rachel yells.

The bodies have become more mobile, finding their balance on their bent limbs. But the body across the street is moving
away
from the library, southeast toward the other body. And that body is also beginning to amble south down Peterson.

“Where are they going?” Kayla whispers.

“I don’t know,” Rachel breathes.

The lobby is frozen in a state of nervous uncertainty. Michael is suddenly aware of the knife’s edge on which they’re teetering: At the whim of these bizarre things that used to be human beings—or at the whim of whatever controls them—this glass-walled library could at any moment be facing an assault by things that can melt glass with something inside them … something that the bodies are using quite consciously as weapons. Despite the relative thickness of the glass, Michael is not at all sure that they’re safe in here. If thousands of these things were to coordinate and throw themselves at the windows … well, then that would spell the end for this motley band of survivors. Michael doesn’t care
how
well stocked they might be with O-negative blood.

“Okay,” Joel says, his voice full of edgy wariness, “we got lucky there, but Jesus, we gotta get moving.”

“Michael’s right, we need to start taking blood from everyone,” Ron says, stepping up. “Start loading those tranq darts with blood and anticoagulant, have them ready.”

“Before we do that, though, we need to test it,” Kevin says. “Right? Like how much do we need to put into each dart canister? Will just a drop work? If it does, then we don’t have to be sucking whole pints out of people and making them all woozy and shit, just as those goddamn things are attacking.”

“All right, I agree with all this,” Scott says, “but our potential test subjects just went south. Literally.”

“He’s right,” Michael says. “What are we gonna test it on?”

After a moment of indecision, “Okay,” Joel says, “regardless, we need to start with something on hand. Let’s use the blood we have first, and then test it if the opportunity comes up. So come on, come on, let’s get moving, we can’t afford to rest yet.”

And now everyone is moving again.

“Everyone strong enough, I want blocking windows,” Joel says. “Get those bookcases moving, but obviously be careful not to crash them
through
the windows. Pair up and take off.”

With that, nearly all the men in the lobby take off in all the directions of the compass, pairing off with one another. Michael is about to grab Scott and find an opportunity when Kevin stops him.

“Give me a hand with the tranq guns?”

“Sure.”

The guards at the door have switched with the twins, Chloe and Zoe, and as Mai and Liam hurry off toward the north side of the library, the two girls collapse onto the haphazardly placed benches, as if they’re about to fall unconscious. Michael notices an elaborate tattoo on Zoe’s lower back as she leans forward—another remnant of another life.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, ladies,” Kevin says. “I need you to watch for those things—if you see one come close, we need to test this stuff.”

“Yes boss,” Chloe mutters, sitting back up.

“And I need help with the blood,” Bonnie says to Rachel and Kayla. “Let’s get it in order.”

The trio of women, three generations, branch off toward the main checkout desk, where the blood-soaked cardboard box sits, along with the six tranq rifles that Kevin and the girls managed to grab from the wildlife office.

As the small group hurries over, Joel stops Chrissy.

“Hey, can you go through this whole place and gather whatever food you can find? We can defend ourselves till we’re blue in the face, but if we don’t have food and water, it’s all for naught.”

Chrissy’s eyes are so exhausted that they seem cadaverous. “Sure.”

Joel grabs her shoulders. “Keep it together, okay? You’re doing great.”

She just stares at Joel.

Michael remembers what Chrissy said moments ago about the Rapture. It was the first time he saw her clear-eyed and passionate about something. He spares a quick thought about how her worldview is affecting her mindset in the face of this disaster. Because right now, in the wake of that particular discussion fizzling out, her expression has returned to hopelessness. Michael realizes he’s in the midst of an all-too-real sociological and psychological experiment.

“Every door is unlocked in this place, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Joel says to her. “Bring everything you find right here, okay?”

Throughout the lobby, there’s a feeling of running-on-empty desperation. Chrissy trudges away blearily, and the rest of them drag their feet and swallow dryly, on the verge of dehydration, he’s sure, and starting to feel the effects of prolonged hunger. From all corners of the library come the sounds of large things scraping across carpet and tile, some grunting, and very little conversation. Something is going to have to give—soon.

Joel is actually about to partner with Scott to help with the bookcases when Michael takes hold of his arm.

“You know these folks are running on fumes, Joel. If they’re going to be any good to us at all, they’ll need not only food but also sleep.”

“As soon as we get a minute to catch our breath, we’ll start arranging shifts.”

“And they’ll need … something to hope for.”

Joel looks at him. “I don’t know what that could be. Maybe above my pay grade.”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t survival enough?”

“It is in my book,” Kevin says, looming next to them. “Come on, dude. Let’s figure this out. These tranq darts could be the answer to everything.”

He leads Michael to the tranq rifles, and together they lay out the components of the arsenal. The slim, lightweight rifles themselves have a straightforward loading mechanism; it’s the darts that take some figuring out. There are several needle types, and two varieties of syringes. One is clearly meant for delivering the payload into the canister, which is a long projectile that ends with a bright blue, feathery stabilizer; there are two ends to the canister: a liquid chamber for loading and an air chamber to be pressurized. The other syringe is the pressurizing syringe that, once the dart hits the target, will plunge the blood into the flesh.

The darts are uniformly 5cc capacity, and the two men can only guess what kind of pressurization they’ll require in practice—just as they can only guess how much blood each dart will need to have the desired effect.

“I want to test this bad boy immediately,” Kevin says.

“We only have six rifles,” Michael says. “Even if these things work, how much good are they going to do us against—” He lowers his voice. “—against an army of those bodies?”

“You never know,” Kevin shrugs. “They could make all the difference.”

“Fair enough.”

At that moment, Chrissy calls weakly from the room adjacent to the one where Michael and Rachel found Kayla. “There’s a Deep Rock water cooler here, and two extra bottles!”

Joel’s voice comes from somewhere a few rooms away. “Excellent, keep it up!”

Michael takes a sighing moment to sit on a bench next to the checkout counter, and his eyes fall on his daughter, who is working industriously with the blood units, under Bonnie’s tutelage. But what catches his eye is the way Rachel is guiding Kayla’s actions. Rachel reminds Michael so profoundly of Cassie at that moment that he mouths a
wow
—the same set jaw, the same patience, the same light touch, even under stress.

“Body!” Chloe cries from the doorway. “We got a body!”

Kevin grabs a tranq rifle from the counter—it’s not loaded with anything yet—and he and Michael race through the lobby, maneuvering around large tables covered with books, and peer out the windows.

“There!” Chloe says.

A naked, bloodied body is practically galloping across the library lawn, directly south and past them. It’s gone, out of sight, before the men even have a chance to lock on to its features.

“Look at how it moves!” Rachel says, a weight of appalled resignation in her voice. “How is it even—?”

“They’ve grown accustomed to their new bodies,” Joel breathes.

And then there’s commotion and shouting from the south end of the library as the survivors there watch the same galloping body pass.

“Aw shit, man,” Kevin says. “Where the hell are they going?”

“Let’s assume they’re up to no good,” Rachel says.

“Sounds like a safe assumption,” Kayla says in her small voice.

“And we’ll assume they’re doing it close by.”

“Let’s get a few of these things ready, in case another opportunity comes up,” Kevin says.

“Another one!” Chloe says, pointing.

This body is much farther away, not unlike a dark red insect in the distance, east on Oak, but scurrying between houses—again in a southerly direction.

Bonnie surges forward. “Okay, we have two units of O-neg blood left.” She lets that sink in. “
Two units
. We had at least thirty units when all this started. We’ve been filling those squirt guns with it, and that’s worked a little bit, but I’m really hoping those tranquilizer guns will work better, because we need to be a lot more effective. More efficient. I’m just afraid we wasted
so much
.”

“What about drawing blood from our bodies?” Michael asks. “You said you had the equipment.”

“I have the equipment, but I don’t have a sterile environment—no gloves, bandages, and like I said, not even any alcohol.”

“And if anyone gets an infection from a blood draw,” Kevin says, “well, that person is essentially a goner.”

“Theoretically, we could go back to the hospital to treat someone, if it came to that, but …” She shakes her head doubtfully. “… I don’t think we should count on that being a viable option.”