Elixir (Red Plague #1) (Red Plague Trilogy) (7 page)

“Jack,” I snapped in my crankiest twin sister voice. “Stop it. You’re scaring me.”

He leaned his face nearer to mine. Little Jack had stained baby teeth in front, and irises a lovely shade of rose. He inhaled deeply, and for a split second I thought he was going to answer me. But he curled his lips over grotesque chompers and, like an irritable Chihuahua, snapped at my nose. I flinched at the last second and saved my face from a major blemish. As in a missing nose or a scarred lip.

Curling my knees up, I kicked him hard in the shoulder. He stumbled back a few steps, readjusted his grip on his tractors, and came at me again with nothing but rage and hunger in his red eyes. Any humanity the child had once possessed was unequivocally missing. Destroyed.
Gone
.

I should have stayed home.

“Kill him!” Hunny screeched, stomping her shoes on the counter. “Kill him, Maya!”

Chapter Six

I raised my sword, and Jack threw his whole weight against the table beneath my feet. My right knee tweaked, I fell, and my sword clattered away. The little kid swung his toy tractors like saw blades and caught me on both arms as I tried to block.

I saw blood.
My
blood.

If I didn’t get it together I would end up in the mini monster’s nest.

The front door banged open, startling Jack, who turned his attention on the newcomers. Two young men filled the front doorway like an answer to a prayer I hadn’t even known I was praying.

A ginger-haired teen stood beside a scruffy, gun-toting blond in a green tee with the words “U.S. Army” stamped across his chest in bold black print. Both had blood on them, but the redhead had three times as much as his buddy. They stared at me, bleeding and gasping on the floor, and were distracted just long enough for little Jack to attack. He swung his tractors at the red-haired boy who kicked Jack in the center of the chest, sending him scuttling back.

Undaunted, Jack steadied himself, growled low in his throat, and sprinted for the men.

The gun went off with a
bang
. Despite only standing five feet from Jack, Army Guy missed the Red entirely. But the sound and smell of gunpowder in the air triggered a whole new panic inside me. So much I couldn’t move for a second, couldn’t think, couldn’t run, couldn’t even blink. I watched grayish white smoke curl from the barrel of the weapon, thinking there was no worse sound in the world than the sharp, unsympathetic report of a gun.

My heart sped up as the breath froze in my lungs.

Duck. Hide.
Run
.

I just stared at the handgun as it fired again. And missed again. Finally unable to witness the kill, I ducked my head and slid off the table.

A final shot, a small body dropped, and then silence.

Tears pooled and spilled over both cheeks, which was so stupid. I didn’t even know the kid. And two minutes ago he’d been trying to kill me, and I’d considered stabbing him through the chest. But it didn’t matter. I cried salty alligator tears, my throat closing up and nearly choking me. Embarrassed by the overreaction, I collected my sword and rushed out the side door, still sobbing.

Maybe it was cruel to cut and run but I had survived this long by staying away from people. Most human beings were dangerous. And firearms were my breaking point.

I got as far as the highway overpass before the guy with the gun, followed closely by Hunny, caught up.

“Maya!” Hunny locked her arms around me and almost knocked me flat.

I didn’t have any more patience for her clinging, and I was shaking in my skin. My self-control was long gone.

“Get off me!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, probably attracting every Red for five miles, but my thoughts were scattered leaves after a windstorm. Good God,
he’d fired a gun
.

Mason had fired a single shot at point blank range and killed Mom. I didn’t have to witness her murder to loathe guns and the misery they caused.

Hunny refused to let me go. If anything, she tightened her grip, as if she were a wrestler instead of a scared little girl.

The light-haired guy in the green U.S. Army tee approached with his weapon holstered and his hands out like I was a crazy person and needed to be calmed down. I hated him immediately. And yet he was another answer to another prayer.

“Don’t leave,” he called. “Maybe we can help each other.”

On further inspection these two males were surviving well. They weren’t sparkling, but they were decently clean under the fresh blood splatter, which meant they had enough water to bathe. They were doing better than me. I didn’t have enough clean fluid to drink.

I’d taken four sponge baths since moving into the panic room behind the kitchen. And those had been at the beginning. I hadn’t had enough water to wash with in days.

But the loaded weapon hanging from the guy’s belt taunted me. “I don’t need any help,” I retorted.

“Everybody needs help.”

I was doing just fine on my own. Except for the lack of water. And my sprained knee. And the zombie stalking me. But the last thing I needed was this gun nut interfering in my personal life.

“Let go of me, Hunny,” I said, calmer, almost robotic. I’d found another survivor. Time to cut my losses and move on. “He’s going to take care of you now.”

Army Guy rocked back on his heels. “Wait. What?”

Hunny glanced up and, as our eyes met, we had an understanding. I knew what she was searching for. I wasn’t her ideal protector. But this guy could be. She unlocked her hands and threw herself around his waist.

I exhaled audibly. It was a huge relief to be free of Hunny and all that responsibility. No more distractions or detours. I was officially alone, exactly the way I preferred it. I was better off on my own. It was simpler. Safer.

With a last wave good-bye, I hobbled away.

“Hold on.” The guy pursued me, dragging Hunny. “You can’t walk off. It’s dangerous out there.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time.” Not that it was any of his business.

“I’m Pollard.” He flattened one palm against his chest and then extended it for me to shake. “Pollard Datsik. What’s your name?”

He had long, blood-flecked fingers. I recalled my dad’s rules—don’t shake hands, don’t touch your face, wash constantly.

I didn’t accept his offer. Instead, with my chin up I limped toward the on-ramp to the I–40.

“You’re hurt.” Pollard trailed me, and Hunny shuffled her feet to keep up, her arms still looped above his hips. “How are you going to protect yourself? All that noise we made will bring out the zombies. You’ll be an easy target.”

“I’m fine.” I stared meaningfully at the loaded weapon on his hip and the blood splatter on his clothing. “I don’t need any help.”

Joining up with Pollard, the red-haired teen, and whomever else they had in their group would only delay my trip to Dad’s lab. Or scrap it altogether.

“Maya,” Hunny chimed in, “they saved us from that killer kid. They’re cool.”

“Fine, they’re awesome. But it doesn’t matter. I have my own plan.”

“You’re bleeding,” Pollard said. “We have bandages.”

I’d almost forgotten about my first zombie fight. Nothing hurt. Yet. But he was right. My sneakers were stained with blood and both my hands were red. I needed first-aid or I might contract an infection at a time I couldn’t afford to have a weakened immune system.

“Come with us,” he urged. “It’s safer in groups.”

He was wrong about that. “What do you care?” I asked.

He threw up his hands in defeat. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive. Have it your way.”

As he stalked off, I felt a tickle of panic in my stomach. They had water, a safe place to sleep, and first-aid. I hated to admit it, but I needed them. I couldn’t continue in my current state, not alone.

Grumbling, I hopped a step in his direction and that’s when I heard them. Zombies in the trees behind the adjacent gas station. A lot of them.

And I was easy prey. “On second thought,” I said, gesturing to the approaching pack. “We better get out of here. Trouble’s coming.”

Pollard recognized the impending danger and hissed, “Russell. Zombies on the move. We’re leaving.”

Russell came to the door of the restaurant and leaned out. “We haven’t collected anything good yet.”

There was no other choice and he knew it. “If we don’t leave right now we’re all going to die. There’s not enough ammunition to kill a group that size.” Without asking permission, Pollard put an arm around my waist to help me limp faster.

His handgun brushed my ribs, and my pulse p-p-pumped in
tempo presto
. I didn’t want to see a gun, let alone hug one.

I believed, like any rational person, that the Reds were ill human beings. Sick, but still people. I didn’t go around killing people, let alone kids. It upset me to think of little Jack’s body lying inside the restaurant when I knew for a fact a cure existed.

I jabbed my elbow into Pollard’s ribs. “Get off me.”

He made an
oomph
sound, but tightened his grip, effectively locking my offending arm to my side.

“Shut up, and let me help you,” he growled back. “Now, is it just the two of you? Or are there more girls I’ve gotta save?”

Hunny had no issues trusting strangers whatsoever. “We’re totally alone. We don’t even have a car.” Her eyes lit up. “Do you have a car?”

“Better.” Pollard pointed. “I have a dirt bike.”

On the sidewalk were parked two Kawasakis with large orange gas cans attached like saddlebags. “We drive up here sometimes looking for fuel.”

My heart leapt. “You have a generator?” Did they have real, live electricity?

“We siphon the gas for our bikes. Why?” He narrowed his eyes. “You have something you want to plug in?”

“No.” I wasn’t ready to share my private business. I couldn’t trust them not to take my iPad away. I couldn’t even imagine losing my songs. Not to mention photos, videos, text messages…

Pollard released me in order to kick-start one of the dirt bikes. Once he got it running, he glanced up and something over my shoulder caught his attention. “What about him? He’s not with you?”

Hunny and I turned at the same time. Ben stood on the other side of the highway. A silent statue between two crumbling concrete barriers.

I stuttered over an appropriate response, but Hunny spoke up with zero difficulties. “He’s a Red.”

Pollard pulled his weapon, and I bounded forward, slamming the barrel to the side. It fired a bullet into the asphalt only a handful of feet from my right sneaker. But I’d reacted without thinking. I saw a gun and only knew it had to be gotten rid of.

The sound of the gunshot rattled my teeth and liquefied my insides. The lights flickered, but that wasn’t right. The sun didn’t flicker. And then my vision hazed over as if I was going to cry.

“Are you nuts?” Pollard’s face reddened in anger. And maybe a little fear. “Don’t ever get in front of my weapon! I almost killed you.”

Bile rose, and I bent over a blue two-door to puke. But all I’d had to eat was a couple cookies.

“He’s been following us all day,” I panted between dry heaves. “He didn’t hurt us even when he had the chance.”

“A nonviolent Red?” Pollard scoffed. “Are you one of those weirdos who won’t kill zombies?”

I didn’t like the way he said it, but yes maybe I was. I’d never killed anyone or anything. If that made me a freak, well, so be it.

Hunny waved her arms wildly in the direction of the gas station next door. “Guys!”

Pollard holstered his firearm as Russell emerged from the dining room.

“We need to move. Now.” Pollard met my gaze with his shockingly pretty blue eyes. “You’re riding with me.”

I glanced from the approaching pack of Reds to Pollard and his mega gun and then back again.

“Why do you have blood on your clothes?” It was an important point. If he didn’t give me a believable answer I was out of there.

A shadow flittered across his face. “We were south of here in an auto lube place. We didn’t know there were zombies inside until it was too late.” His voice cracked. “Russell lost his little sister.”

Damn
. Swallowing thickly, I avoided his attempts to help and climbed on the back of the Kawasaki.

“The dirt bikes can’t carry much more weight.” He gestured at my overstuffed backpack. “Dump any non-essentials.”

I was afraid if I opened my pack Pollard would get nosy. My personal belongings were none of his business.

“It’s all essential.”

I sent a last look at Ben where he stood across the lanes of abandoned vehicles, expecting it to be the last time I’d ever see him. It bothered me, losing sight of him. He was a Red zombie. If locked in a room with me, he would tear me to pieces and lick his fingers afterwards.

But he’d saved my life.

I raised my right hand in a silent good-bye. He didn’t wave back, but his gaze followed me as Pollard revved the engine, and we took off, zigzagging north on the I–40.

Chapter Seven

Pollard’s compound was big and garish and the opposite of my comfortable home in the suburbs.

He and Russell and whoever else was in their group had taken over a super-sized truck stop on the edge of the I–40, the kind with a gas station, car wash, convenience store and a restaurant. A full stop shop.

Knowing Reds couldn’t climb, not more than a few steps, Pollard and his crew had pushed various abandoned vehicles into a makeshift wall around the perimeter. And in case that wasn’t enough of a deterrent they’d covered all the doors and windows with a hodge-podge of plywood, sheet metal and broken furniture. It was a piecemeal prison. Except it hadn’t been barricaded to keep criminals in, but to keep zombies out.

I didn’t like it, but my arms and legs had begun to sting during the ten-minute ride, and now all four limbs ached. I needed first aid, and then I’d vanish into the surrounding pines before these two zombie killers even knew I was gone.

Pollard drove me on his dirt bike—Russell and Hunny directly behind on the second bike—up to the entrance. Cold, gray duct tape covered the inside of the front door. Icky. Were they hiding something in there? Or just hiding?