by Katie French
He pulls on the shelf as hard as he can. “Getting you and that kid the hell out of here.”
I grab the shelf’s metal frame. Instead of pushing back, we start to slide it sideways, using our feet against the wall as leverage. The shelf groans as it slides. More boxes tumble down, smashing around us.
But the shelf moves.
“Goddamn it. Move, you bastard!” Doc strains until veins pop out on his forehead and neck.
The shelf slides another few inches. Doc stops pushing, runs to the door, turns the handle, and whoops as it creaks open, barely clearing the pile of trash we just shoved out of its way. “Come on,” he says as he takes my hand.
We walk up the stairs by feel. Each gasp of air burns, sending spasms through our bodies. I cling to Doc, who leads with one hand on the railing. My flashlight reveals another closed door at the top of the stairs. Doc grabs for the handle, but he yanks his hand away.
“Hot,” he says, coughing.
We look at the handle and then back at the basement.
Quickly, I take out the water jug and dump half on Doc’s head and body. I dump the other half on myself. I thought I’d save it for an emergency, but this fits the bill. The liquid feels good, but it won’t protect us for long. If there’s a full-on blaze on the other side of this door, we’re dead.
Using my wet sleeve, I turn the knob.
Heat and flame roar on the other side of the door. The whole place is alight. Half the ceiling is burning, and the other half seems to have caved in showing a smoke-filled sky. Fire is everywhere.
“Go back!” Doc says, pulling me down.
I yank him upward. “There’s no going back!”
We run into the blaze, hands over our faces, arms linked. I skirt us away from a pillar of fire only to run into a room that broils with heat. In the center, half the roof lies on the floor in a huge pyre. I can’t find an exit. There’s no air. I’m dizzy. We’re choking. Where to go? We don’t have time. I run down a hallway, pulling Doc.
Streaking past piles of burning trash and flaming beams, I see a wall of fire. As I’m watching, the wall falls inward, crashing to the ground and spraying smoke and ash. Doc pulls away, shielding his face. He tries to drag me back, but I stop, trying to tell if I really see what I think I see.
Where the wall once stood is an opening to the parking lot. Where the wall once stood is fresh air.
I yank on Doc hard. His grip is weak, and his fingers have grown lifeless in my hands.
I tug his hand again. His body sags forward and crumbles to the ground.
“Doc!”
Above me, the ceiling creaks. This place is going to collapse. I grab Doc under the armpits and pull like mad, over trash and debris, going as fast as I can. The ceiling groans again. Beams pop as they splinter from the sagging weight of the roof. Everything above me begins to buckle.
No! We will not die here!
I drag Doc the last few feet, over the remains of the wall, and out. Just as I get him to the sidewalk, the building collapses. The puff of smoke rolls up like a thundercloud. I curl over Doc as grit and ash pelt my back.
Using my last strength, I drag Doc into the weed-filled parking lot. I stomp out a bit of fire that creeps up his pant leg, then lay him down, get out our pack, and use the last drops of water to wet his mouth and eyes. He doesn’t wake up, but he’s breathing. Coughing and retching, I lie beside him. Sucking clean lungfuls of air, I cough until my ribs creak.
“We’re alive,” I whisper in my smoky voice. “Somehow, we’re still alive.”
And then the world grows dim.
I wake to something touching me. Mama is caressing my face. Bounty needs milking. I’ll take Ethan out with m—
As I lurch out of the dream, my eyes shoot open. The fire. The building. Doc.
The sky is full of stars and a sliver of moon. Across the parking lot, the strip mall is a smoking pile of ash and bare joists standing up like the skeleton of some giant creature. Several small fires still burn, throwing red light into the sky, but most of the blaze has burned itself out. Beside me, Doc sleeps. The smell of smoke is still heavy in the air, but a breeze has carried a lot of it away, thank God. Still, I cough until I fear my throat will bleed. What I wouldn’t give for some water.
I look for my pack with the empty water jug, but it isn’t where I left it. When I sit up and look around, I spot her.
The little girl. The little… creature from the basement sits six feet away. She’s rummaging in my pack with her back to me. As I watch, she pulls out the package of military-grade food, puts it to her nose, and sniffs it.
Jesus. She’s here. She’s right here, and she doesn’t know I’m awake. I could grab her. I could take her back to the compound and exchange her for Auntie.
Wait. Where’s the big one?
My eyes sweep the dark parking lot. I find a car husk, a dumpster, and a weedy tree line, but no monster. Would this little one come alone? Did the smell of food draw it out? Slowly, I pat my pockets, feeling for the gun or the Taser, but all I feel is the hard metal lump of the flashlight. We stashed the weapons in the pack when we were trying to dig out of the basement. The pack that she’s currently holding.
With my chest tightening, I try to think as I keep my eyes on her. If I charge, she’ll scamper off like she did before, find some small crevice or alleyway, and disappear. But I can’t let her get away again. And I can’t let her make off with our pack. It has the weapons, the satellite phone, everything. I look at Doc. He’s got nothing that will help. Doing a sweep of my surroundings, I find a hunk of broken concrete about the size and shape of a softball. I grab it and begin inching toward the creature. It’s not like I want to brain her, but they did almost kill us. Twice.
I inch forward. The urge to cough is so strong it makes it hard to breathe, but, somehow, I manage to stifle it. As I creep up, the creature pulls out the satellite phone and begins to pry at it with slender, dirty fingers.
Good. Stay occupied, little one.
I’m four feet away. Three. I can smell her—the tang of sweat and feces layered in with the scent of smoke. On the right side of her head, some of her hair is singed away. She’s only two-and-a-half feet tall, naked and covered in grime, weighing maybe twenty pounds. Her spine runs like boney knobs down her bare back. Her ribs show through the skin.
When I’m an arm’s length away, I raise the hunk of concrete. What’s my plan? Brain this tiny creature that looks like an underfed toddler? I lower the rock. Maybe I can grab her.
She whips toward me.
Huge, round eyes lock on my face. Her lips pull back in a snarl, the look of a startled dog, one that would be backing away with its hackles up. Only, she doesn’t back away.
I drop the rock and raise my empty hands, a symbol of friendship, of peace, or at least that’s what I hope it looks like. She cringes, pulling my pack to her naked chest like it might shield her from me, this big predator.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She looks at my face, at my open hands. Her lips relax slowly until her face isn’t vicious or defensive. The look says curiosity. She’s interested in me.
I nod at the pack. “That’s mine.”
Her huge eyes flick down to the pack and back to my face. Does she understand what I’m saying?
I reach out tentatively, gesturing for the pack. “Here, let me show you.”
She pulls it away from me, taking two steps back—a kid who doesn’t want to share her toy. I almost smile.
“I won’t take it away, I just want to…” How do I explain? I mime holding a sandwich and taking a bite. “Hungry? I have food in there. Can I?”
She looks at the pack and then at me. Reaching down, she pulls out the silver package marked “MRE,” the military food packet. She sets it on the ground and slides it over.
“Yeah,” I say. “Food.” I tear open the package with my teeth. It smells like sugar, apples, and a strange chemical additive. When I hand th
e open pack to her, she snatches it and then presses the opening to her nose. It isn’t there long before the package is in her mouth, and she’s sucking on it like she’s never eaten in her life. It must be hard out here. How do they eat? No wonder I can count every rib.
In the dark, she sits beside me, wolfing down the food and licking the inside of the package. Watching her is somehow comforting. She’s just a tiny bit of thing, with her small, angular nose and pink lips. She’d be beautiful with all the filth washed off. And to be honest, I like having her near me. I like that I gave her food and made her day a little bit better. It makes me miss Ethan terribly.
Dropping the empty package, she peers at me with her orb-like eyes. She looks at my pack and then at me.
“You want more?” I ask, pulling the pack to me so I can peer in it.
“Mo,” she says.
I stop, letting the pack lay unexplored. “Did you just… Did you just speak?”
She peers at me and then the bag, her message clear—food.
“More?” I ask, slipping my hand in, finding the other meal packet and bringing it out.
She looks at the packet hungrily and scoots closer, until she’s almost touching me. “Mo.”
Jesus, they can talk. I tear open the packet and hand it to her, watching her eat. Maybe she’s more like us than we thought. And if she’s like us, then maybe all her kind are. I think about the decaying body in the back of the car. We came into their home with weapons. No wonder they attacked. If we could somehow communicate with them, tell them we mean no harm—
The crack of a twig freezes me cold. Beside me, the little one stiffens. She sniffs the air as I scan the moonlit parking lot. I see nothing but cracked, weed-choked concrete and burned cars.
Beside me, the girl is a statue. The package lies forgotten on the ground. She crouches, knuckles on the pavement, her eyes trained on the dumpster about twenty feet away.
“What is it?” Inside the bag, my hand finds the Taser.
The creature sniffs the air.
A dark shape sprints out at us. The larger of the two creatures. She runs upright, powerful thighs flashing.
I jump to my feet and lift the Taser.
“Doc!”
He doesn’t move.
“Doc!”
She runs, growling and gnashing her teeth.
God, she’s going to tear me to pieces.
When she gets six feet away, she crouches low, circling us. Her hands are clawed, and her posture aggressive. I hold the Taser out. This is my chance to take her back to the compound. My finger slips over the trigger.
In four strides, the child bounds over and clambers up the beast, climbing on her back.
How did it take me so long to figure it out?
They’re mother and daughter.
My heart pounding, I lower the Taser. “I mean you no harm.”
She watches me, her eyebrows folding down in a very human expression. She doesn’t know what to make of me. The little one peers over her shoulder. “Maybe we can help each other,” I say.
She cocks her head. Her eyes flick to the ground. Something stirs behind me. I start to turn.
When the gun goes off, it’s the last thing I’m expecting.
Chapter 27
Riley
I watch the red hole open up on the creature’s chest between her sternum and breast. I watch her stumble back, eyes wide, and fall. The little one on her back jumps off and lands in a crouch on the weed-filled pavement. She looks up at me as if to say, Why?
Stunned, I turn and see Doc on his back, holding the gun. His face is flush with anger.
“Get behind me!” he yells, sitting up.
My eyes trail to the open backpack beside him. He must’ve woken up, found the gun, and shot it while half-awake.
I hold my hands up, putting myself between him and them. “No.” I’m barely able to choke out words. “They… aren’t our enemies.”
Doc looks up at me, confused, and then leans to glance around me. “There goes the little one!”
I whirl around, seeing the little girl scamper around the dumpster and disappear into the dark.
“No! Come back!” I start to run, but I turn around. “Save this one!” I say to Doc, pointing at the gasping creature on the ground. “Stop her bleeding or… something. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Then I run.
Doc calls, “Riley, wait!”
I don’t stop. That little girl will starve out here alone. I have to find her. I have to get her back.
Past the dumpster, the landscape becomes littered with hiding spaces, making this hunt look impossible. Dark shrubs rise up to my right, tangled, gnarly, and just big enough to hide a small girl. To my left and twenty feet down the main road that leads to the burned strip mall, a minivan is tipped on its side. All the windows, tires, and doors are gone, but the interior is dark. Across the street, dozens of dark alleys, abandoned buildings, stripped cars, and shrubs offer all kinds of nooks to hunker in. If I don’t find her soon, I never will.
“It’s me!” I call, pawing through the shrubs. They’re thorny and tear at my palms as I push the branches away. “I’ll help you! We can get your mother medicine.”
I stop and listen, but there’s nothing but the wind dragging trash down the street. On a sagging wire above, a huge crow watches me with cold, black eyes.
Her mother is probably bleeding out on the pavement right now. If we could get her back to the compound, she might live. But that would mean abandoning the girl.
“Come out!” I shout, feeling desperate. “If I leave you here, you’ll die!”
A giant boom smashes through the silence. Around me, buildings rattle. Roosting birds thrust themselves into the air, cawing loudly. The ground shakes. I look around, trying to determine where the blast came from.
I spot a fire escape ladder clinging to a two-story building that looks mostly intact. Someone has pulled the metal ladder to the ground, making it very easy to clamber up. Hand over hand I go, until I reach the top and roll myself over the roof ledge. From this height, huge, gray smoke clouds pour into the sky. Something blew up. And judging from the direction and distance, it looks like it was the Corra’s compound.
“Auntie,” I say, barely breathing. I turn to the ladder. As I am about to climb down, something runs at me.
I stand ready to fight, but then I see it’s toddler sized and naked. The girl. “Hey, I was trying to find you.”
She lunges at me and climbs up my body like a baby monkey. Like she did her mother’s. Then she clings, shaking like a leaf in a rainstorm.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I murmur as I run my hands down her bare back. But it isn’t. Nothing is okay. Her mother has been shot, and my auntie may have just been blown to smithereens.
Locking all emotion away, I focus on getting the girl back to Doc. I climb down with her still clinging to my back. She holds on easily, her hands locked around my throat and feet wrapped around my chest. When I run back, I barely feel her. But when Doc and her unconscious mother come into sight, she hisses and begins tugging on me.
“He’s not a bad guy,” I say, reaching behind me to try to calm her. “He’s trying to help.”
My words do nothing. She climbs under my shirt, clinging to the binding around my breasts, and shivers.
Doc looks up from the body splayed out on the cracked pavement. His hands and chest are bloody. He’s stripped off his shirt and is using it to try to stop the flow from her chest wound. The amount of blood on the pavement makes me think he isn’t having much luck.
“What’s that?” He points with his free hand.
“The little one,” I say. “She’s afraid of you. Try not to do anything startling.”
He gives me a look that says, How am I supposed to do that? Then he nods down at the body. “The wound is bad, Ri. I missed her heart, but she’s lost a lot of blood. I can’t even see…” He gestures with his free hand around the dark parking lot. “I… I don’t know wh
at I can do here.”
I look at the body and up at the cloud of smoke in the distance that’s nearly tripled in size since I spotted it on the roof. “Take her to the car. I think someone just attacked the compound. Did you hear the explosion?”
“Yeah. The compound? Who would…” He trails off. “No.”
“Auntie’s in there. I’m not leaving her. But we could be driving into an ambush.”
His expression is blank when he nods. “With a half-dead monster and her young.”
“Yeah.” Careful not to jostle the little one, I lean down and start filling the backpack. “You’ll have to wear the pack. I’ve got my own.”
He leans around and peers at the shivering mass under my shirt. “How’d you get her to do that?”
I hand him the full pack. “I don’t know.” I grab the mother under the arms, my hands immediately sticky in her blood. “Lift her legs. We need to move.”
It takes us twice as long to get back to the car as it did to get out here. When we find it, the smell from the dead body in the back is so rancid, we can barely stand to be in there. Doc and I drag the bloating, hardening body out of the backseat and lay it beside the mother, who’s breathing shallowly. Still alive, but for how long? The little one in my shirt makes strange crooning sounds. I try to comfort her as best I can while helping Doc move the living creature into the back where the dead one once was.
Doc looks down at the body on the concrete beside the solar car. “What do we do with her?”
I shake my head. This has already taken too long. We’ve begun to hear more explosions. Whether they are follow-up tremors from whatever is going on in the compound or more attacks, we can’t tell. What I do know is if Auntie was still alive after the first explosion, her chances of staying that way are going down each minute.
“We’ll have to leave the body here. And come back for it maybe.” Shifting the little one around to my stomach, I sit in the passenger seat. “You drive,” I tell Doc. “I can’t fit behind the wheel with her.”
Doc sets the backpack carefully in the backseat beside the unconscious monster. I wrap my hands around the bundle shaking inside my shirt and stare straight ahead. When we pull away, I try not to look back at the creature, the one we killed, the one we left to be torn apart by dogs and picked at by crows. I try not to look, but I do.