Fractured (23 page)

He combed his fingers through his hair, trying to sort through his muddled thoughts. He’d found some ibuprofen in a vending machine in the bathroom, which he had given to Scott in the hopes of reducing his fever. It didn’t seem to be working and that had been about an hour ago.

Why the fuck couldn’t he be successful in at least getting the antibiotics? While he could have left Scott to see if he could find it himself, he couldn’t guarantee he’d find his way back, and that thought scared him. There was no way he was going to leave his little brother in the state he was in.

At least the ibuprofen seemed to have taken the edge off the broken arm and Scott had stopped talking about children haunting them. He breathed in short, ragged bursts, like he was trying to breathe through a whistle. His chest rose and fell, but it seemed like there wasn’t any life left inside the sack of skin and bones. He was fading, and there was nothing Seth could do about it.

Seth hated to admit it: he was frightened. All his life, he had lived in a rational world, and what was happening...it didn’t make sense. He couldn’t help
anyone
. Their world had gone to shit.

“I’m sorry, Scott,” Seth whispered. His eyes itched with tears that threatened to fall. “I’m so sorry.”

Scott didn’t respond. His mouth moved nonsensically, his eyelids closed while his eyes moved rapidly underneath them. He shook uncontrollably from the fever, and the sweat on his brow kept getting worse and worse.

Seth gave him a halfhearted pat and got to his feet. Whenever he was stressed, he tended to pace. Right now, he had nothing to do but pace.

He raked his fingers through his hair again, wondering what was happening to Bash. She was the only other person he cared about now. He had no idea if she was even alive.

How the hell were they going to get out?

“Save yourself.”
Darius’ voice filled his memories, echoing in the deepest parts of Seth’s brain. “
Before it’s too late
.
”

“I’m trying!” Seth groused out loud. His hands clenched into fists at his side. “I’m trying really fucking hard to get us out of here...” He wavered. “IT’S FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE!”

“...kids...here...”

Seth stopped pacing, looking back at Scott. His heart in his throat and his palms sweaty, he sat down next to Scott and shook him.

“WHY DO YOU KEEP BRINGING UP KIDS?”
he roared.

Scott’s eyes fluttered open, but his eyes rolled back as his head lolled side to side. He wasn’t going to answer. He just kept muttering. “...kids...kids...”

“WHY?!” Seth cried.

He didn’t notice the little hands reaching from the darkness. He didn’t notice that the dim light in the bathroom passed through them as they made their way towards him. He did notice when they touched his arm. He noticed when they started tugging on his sleeve.

He jumped back, saw who was staring back at him. He blanched, not believing what he was seeing in front of him.

“...kids...”

Somewhere, through the ventilation system, someone—Rodney maybe—was humming a lullaby.

“Wha...
how
?” Seth whispered. He backpedaled, away from Scott, up against the wall. It was no use; getting further away from them only seemed to solidify them more. They looked at him with their blank faces.

Staring back at him were the ghostly projections of four children, the youngest of which appeared to be about three. The oldest was a girl dressed in a traditional hijab, while the three boys were in various shorts and tees. They were all barefoot, grayish wisps of energy swirling about their bodies.

What’s more, they were all dead.

Seth knew, because the last time he had seen them, they were dying on the side of the road fifty miles outside of Baghdad. They had been run over by a Humvee, and there had been no help for them.

He had been a year younger, during his second tour of Afghanistan. Darius had been with him as well, and they had gone out with Sergeant Morgan doing recon under orders. It had been nighttime, just after nine o’clock on one of the hottest fucking days ever. He and Darius had welcomed the chance to get out and finish the day, even if it was with a hard ass bastard like Sergeant Morgan.

It was dark. Seth had been driving the Humvee. He couldn’t have avoided the kids when they ran across the street, there wasn’t enough time. He had swerved, but had been going so fast, and they had stopped in the middle of the road, their scared faces looking up at him with fear. He’d never forget the sound of their bodies hitting the car, being crushed under the wheels.

He had pulled over, stuck his head outside the window, and seen the four broken bodies on the side of the road. He had cursed, thinking about how bad this was going to be for PR with the US’s presence in the area, and all of the bad press about the soldiers hurting civilians. Sergeant Morgan had insisted they go on. Darius had wanted to go back. To do the right thing. And what did Seth ultimately end up doing?

Running away.

He didn’t want to be forever known as the guy that ran over four innocent children. He didn’t want his reputation smeared. He hadn’t known if there was any chance of saving them, nor had they known who they were or what they were doing out at that late hour in the middle of nowhere.

He had made Darius promise to never tell anyone. That if anyone came around asking questions, they would have no idea what happened. Seth hadn’t told anyone, not even Bash. Sergeant Morgan could have cared less about the kids, and probably forgot about them as soon as they drove off, but Darius and Seth were scarred for life.

The next day, the two of them had checked the reports and papers to see what had become of the four kids. There hadn’t been anything about them. There wasn’t anything the next day. Or the next. Or ever. It was like those kids hadn’t existed, like they didn’t have families who were missing them.

They were forgotten by the world.

Meanwhile, he never forgot the blood and their bodies by the side of the road. The memory had haunted him since that night, as the children themselves were doing now.

The hum of the lullaby repeated, louder this time.

“Please...” Seth whispered. He held a hand up as if to block himself from them. “Please...”

They watched him with their wide-eyed thousand yard stare. Their lips started moving with a ghostly version of Pashto issuing from their dead mouths.

Seth jumped when Scott’s voice chimed in, this time stronger and much more forceful. Seth hadn’t heard him speak like that since before all of this had happened. It took him a second to realize that he was translating what the kids were saying in Abyzou’s voice.

“
Why did you leave us? We’re still bleeding, still dying...
”

“No!” Seth cried, his voice strangled. He reached out helplessly to his little brother. Had Scott died while he had been distracted by the ghosts? He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, and now, his little brother was just another puppet for Abyzou. “No, Scott!”

“Life is hard, Seth,”
Scott droned. The eyes of the ghost children stayed on Seth, watching him crumble under their stare.
“You took the lives of four children. What does that make you?”

A murderer,
Seth wanted to say. Instead, even now, he was in denial. It was negligence, true. He couldn’t convince his conscience of that. “Sorry,” was all he could muster. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,”
Scott said. He gave a ghastly smile while his eyes remained rolled in the back of his head. The grin was that of a jackal, both mocking and terrifying at the same time.
“But it’s what draws you to Abyzou.”

“Wh-what?” Seth stammered.

“Abyzou takes the lives of infants...you took the lives of children. You two are the perfect match.”

“No,” Seth answered. He clutched his hands to his head, rocking himself back and forth. He shut his eyes against the onslaught of images, of his possible future. “No, it was an accident! It was an accident, I swear!”

“
She’s been waiting a long time for you, Seth.
” Scott’s face swam before his.
“It’s destiny,”
they all whispered, the demon’s voice speaking directly through them now.
“There was no future for us, but there’s a future for you and her.”
Scott’s hand landed on top of his, as a lover would. No, no, it was Abyzou’s hand now.

“No,” Seth whispered. “No, Bash and I are together,” he said, even though he had no idea where she was or if she was still alive.

Scott’s face twisted into an angry snarl, made even more grotesque by his bloodshot eyes and sickly green face. The kids started giggling. Whether it was Pashto or English, the meaning was still the same: they were mocking him.

They spoke as one unit again, five voices all saying the same thing.
“Bathsheba, that bitch. She’ll be dealt with soon enough.”
Seth felt the momentary rush of relief from that statement. It meant she was still alive. There was still a chance. Then the demon repeated that phrase, as a promise.
“I’ve always dealt with her.”

“Don’t,” Seth whispered. Scott may have been dead, but he fervently wished for Bash to be spared. She was the bright spot in his life. If she was gone, then there was no reason left for him to live.

Scott laughed in his face, spittle hitting Seth in the eye.

Seth took a few steadying breaths, his heart racing at what had just happened. Scott was gone, leaving a shell for the demon to do with as she pleased. He completely believed in Abyzou now, no question about it. What mattered next was getting out of there, and not having all this effort be a terrible waste.

“I’m so sorry, Scott,” he whispered. He shakily got to his feet, grabbing the metal lid from the trashcan.

Scott’s face fell, recognition striking across his glassy red eyes. Even with his pallid facade, the sixteen-year-old looked back at him with a face full of fright and hurt. “Seth?” he whispered, his voice back to normal.

It’s not him,
Seth reminded himself.
That’s not your brother.

“Seth,” Scott told him, his voice wavering. Tears filled his eyes. “Seth, what are you doing?”

“Giving you peace.”

There was no other way to describe what he was about to do. He wasn’t going to kill his younger brother—he was already dead. He closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath.
You’ve killed four children,
he told himself.
You can get rid of the demon that’s controlling your little brother’s corpse. Give him peace.

The children started screaming even before Seth moved. He took the heavy trashcan lid and used it as a blunt weapon against Scott’s head. It exploded like a melon, spraying pieces of skull and brain matter against the floor. The rest of his body still twitched, but Seth knew that he wouldn’t ever get up from that spot again.

He made eye contact with the children across the room. They were all crying, screaming at him to stop. He refused to stop. Not until he and Bash were out of this hellhole. Not until they were safe.

Even if that meant facing the ghosts of little children.

He moved past them, their screeches increasing in volume. It suddenly didn’t matter what was beyond the bathroom door. He was devoid of any emotion at that point. He didn’t care what happened to anyone but Bash.

He threw open the door to the bathroom, out to the hallway. Out there was the rest of the hotel. And beyond its wall was a way out.

He hoped.

C
HAPTER FIFTEEN

The one good thing about being blind was that Bash could tell when she herself was being loud. There was no doubt in her mind that the things chasing her could still hear her, but it at least made her feel vigilant to move about cautiously. At least if there was something frightening ahead, she wouldn’t have to see it as a terrifying nightmare. So far, nothing had bothered her.

She felt numb inside. After Maria died, Bash truly believed she was stuck in Hell. She had cried for what felt like an hour, before getting to her feet and leaving the relative safety of the janitor’s closet. She had her stake with her, just in case there was trouble.

Bash’s arm throbbed. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to last much longer with it doubly injured, but she had to keep going.

Maria’s thick, foul-smelling blood had already congealed and dried on her hands, mementos of Bash’s last memories of the young woman. She tried to think of other things, because if she kept thinking about Maria, she’d fall into despair and be unable to move. Instead, she focused all her energy on finding Seth and Scott. And a way out.

She was breathing heavily, but she didn’t want to stop. Dogged determination drove her to keep going. Hope kept her from giving up.

“Abyzou,” she whispered. “Lily...what are you up to?”

The hallway didn’t answer back. She hadn’t expected one, although she wouldn’t have been surprised if it had, either. Stranger things had happened.