The Breeders Series: The Complete Box Set

by Katie French

  Nolan’s heart continued pounding until it blotted out all else. This was crazy. He should say so. Take Samuel’s gun and throw it away. They could go on and pretend nothing had happened. One death today was enough.

  Instead what he said was, “What’s your plan?”

  Samuel smiled, his shaggy eyebrows creeping up. “That’s right!” He slapped Nolan on the arm, turned and yanked open the door. “Follow me.”

  It was a death mission. A plan and simple suicide. Nolan watched his supervisor stride out of the closet, gun in hand, and knew that this was the last day the old man would draw breath. Then he turned and strode out after him.

  When they made it to the Plan B room, Nolan’s rib cage shook with each beat of his heart. The halls were deathly silent and empty. Nolan looked down at the black and white tiles as Samuel fumbled with his key card and thought, There’s a smudge on that square. I should go get the mop and…

  No. For better or worse, Nolan would never again scrub the floors again. That much he knew for sure.

  “Samuel, what are we—

  “Shh!” Samuel whipped around. His eye was the frenzied gaze of a man on a mission. Beside him the card reader beeped and Samuel pushed the door open. “Inside,” he said, slinking into the blackness.

  Nolan followed on weak legs. The door clicked behind him and, for a moment, the two men stood in the dark. Nolan heard Samuel fumble for the switch and click it on.

  The girls lay in neat rows, human incubators, ripening in the dark. A vision of a farm crept up into Nolan’s mind. That’s how the doctors see them, he thought. Like crops. And if a stalk of corn isn’t producing you cut it down and throw it in the thresher. But they’re people. Some of them little girls.

  They walked to Angel’s bed, their boots clomping too loudly on the tile. But, then why should they fear? No one suspected that an old man and his new apprentice were going to do something completely crazy.

  When he saw her, Nolan drew in a sharp breath. She looked drained, a pale corpse sucked of blood. The blue veins that had wound up her arm now crept up her neck and down her legs. Hollows had formed at her collar bones and cheeks. Nolan reached a trembling finger out and touched her, expecting her skin to feel like his dah’s—cold and lifeless. But when his finger brushed skin, there was still warmth.

  “She looks … dead.” He turned to Samuel for answers.

  The old man began unhooking cables and tubes. “If we aren’t fast, she will be. Help me.” With trembling fingers, Samuel began to punch numbers into the monitor beside the bed.

  Nolan watched, feeling helpless. “What do I do?”

  Samuel’s finger paused above the key pad. “Unhook her. Then get her out of bed.”

  Nolan did his best, detaching sticky pads on her chest, unwinding tubing from her nose. There was other tubing that disappeared up under the hem of her hospital gown that Nolan couldn’t bring himself to investigate. Luckily Samuel spared him by doing it himself. Soon the girl was detached. She lay there, pale and barely breathing.

  “What now?” Nolan whispered. What in the world would they do with her?

  “Pick ’er up,” Samuel said, digging in his coveralls’ pocket and pulling out a set of keys. “Got us a truck.”

  Nolan stared at the keys dangling from Samuel’s calloused fingers. He must’ve been planning this for some time. Maybe this wasn’t a death mission after all.

  Above, an alarm screamed. Nolan flinched.

  “Goddamn it!” The old man’s eye lit with panic. “Get her” —he pointed to the girl— “and run!”

  Nolan hefted the girl into his arms. She was as light as his dah and he had no trouble carrying her. Yet, panic was blaring in his brain in time with the alarm. Why were they doing this if they all were bound to die? He looked down into Angel’s face. Was she even in there?

  Her lips pursed once as if to say, Run, you idiot.

  He did what she bid him.

  They ran to a door at the back of the room. The old man produced a metal key, slipped it in the lock and popped the door open. Another equally dark space awaited on the other side. Banishing fear, Nolan ran into the dark.

  They came out into a long service hallway. It smelled like dust and mildew. Samuel locked the door behind them.

  “Guards won’t know this route. Only us shit cleaners know.” Samuel patted the wall, a frenzied glee in his eye. “They always did underestimate me.”

  Nolan didn’t like how crazy Samuel sounded, nor the way his hands trembled, but what choice did he have?

  “Which way?” he asked. The girl was growing heavier by the minute and he thought he heard the pounding of boots. He didn’t want to know what a bullet felt like entering his back. “Which way?!”

  Samuel took off running, a limp hitching his step. They tore down the dark hallway to another door which Samuel unlocked and opened. This time, when Nolan tore through a door, he knew they were closer to escape. This dark room smelled like motor oil and fresh air. Once his eyes adjusted, a garage came into view, with several bay doors and hulking forms resting on cement pads. Vans and trucks, he realized. And the little trickle of light came from the outside. Freedom.

  Maybe they wouldn’t die after all.

  Pounding made Nolan jump. Behind him, the steel door throbbed as someone on the other side beat it. “Open up!” a male voice said. “By order of the law!”

  “Screw your law and your mothers!” Samuel shouted. He grabbed Nolan’s arm and pulled him down the steps. “Truck’s this way! Move!”

  Nolan ran. His arms ached under the weight of the girl, but he pulled her tight and pushed through the pain. Samuel opened the passenger door on the first truck and waved Nolan forward. “In here!”

  Nolan slid the girl onto the bench seat. Samuel ran over to the wall and began punching numbers into a key pad beside the bay door. Behind them, the wall shook with a steady pounding. The guards were ramming the door. It’d only be a matter of seconds.

  Nolan ran back to Samuel. Behind them, the door moaned as a hinge gave way. The guards were moments from killing them.

  Samuel tossed him the keys. “Start the truck!”

  Nolan slipped in the driver’s side and turned the ignition. The truck roared like a beast waiting to be unleashed. He’d forgotten that these were the top of the line vehicles and not the barely-held-together trucks he was used to. He revved the engine and it purred loudly. “Let’s go!”

  Samuel punched the last key and the bay door curled up into the ceiling. On the other side, daylight waited. Nolan’s heart jumped at the sight of it. The girl moaned on the seat beside him. Then the guards burst through the door.

  Nolan watched it all in the rear-view mirror. The steel door jangled open, one hinge splitting, the casing coming apart in a spray of wood and plaster. Guards in riot gear queued up behind the door, aiming high-powered, scoped monsters that would blow his chest and head to bloody chunks. He turned resigned eyes to Samuel. One last look at his friend before he’d be sent to his maker in a rain of bullets.

  Samuel’s face held no defeat. The old man’s frenzy had taken over his whole body. Wild eyed, hair flying, his supervisor tore towards the guards and their big black guns. A battle cry flowed out of his lips as he raised his handgun.

  “Drive, lad!” was what he yelled as he opened fire on the Breeder’s guards. “Drive, goddamn you!”

  Nolan waited a beat, his heart pounding. When the first bullet struck Samuel in the chest, Nolan gasped. Then he pressed his foot to the floor and followed his friend’s last wishes.

  Nolan cried silent tears as he barreled out of the parking lot and blew through the gate. He cried quietly as he tore through town, his foot pressed on the accelerator. He was still crying several hours later when he ran through the first tank of gas and pulled over on the side of the road to refuel from the cans in the back.

  It was dusk. He’d been driving for four, maybe five hours. His neck was stiff and his arms buzzed with fatigue. He lifted his head and surv
eyed the terrain. A desert landscape covered the world for as far as he could see—cactus and rocks and harsh sand. The buttes burned russet red as the sun sunk low. Despite the desert’s unforgiving beauty, Nolan felt like lying beside the road and waiting to die. He’d lost everything—his dah, his friend, his home. Beside him lay a girl that looked close to death. And the Breeders were hunting him, so where in the hell was he supposed to go? He looked up in the sky, tears streaming down his face.

  “God, why? I’ve always done what you bid me. You say you won’t give us more than we can bear, but this is pretty much more than I can.” He buried his face in his hands. “What good is all this? We’re just going to die in the goddamn truck.”

  He punched the dash. Then he hit it again and again. His knuckles split against the hard plastic, but he didn’t care. What good was saving the girl? He should’ve just lain beside his dead father and let the dogs come for him.

  The glove compartment jangled with the next hit. The little door dropped open like a jaw, spilling papers onto the floor. Inside was an envelope with his name on it.

  He reached for the letter with quaking fingers. Seeing Samuel’s chicken-scratch brought warmth into his chest for the first time in hours. He began reading.

  My boy,

  I’m sorry I couldn’t tag along on this exciting journey! One of us will have to stay behind to deal with the trouble we dug up and I’ve already elected myself. No tears for me, son. The devil’s spine had already cored out the best of Samuel Hormsly. So I’m setting you up, along with the girl, to get the freedom I never had. I’ll be grinning big on you from somewhere. Don’t you worry about that.

  I’ll stock the truck with enough food and water to get you clear of the Breeders’ long reach. Use the syringe to wake the girl. Then drive south, lad. There’s a rumor of a free civilization in White Sands. You’ll know it when you see it. All I ask is one thing. When you think of me, think of the brave man who set this plan in motion, not the old fool sucking on spine. I’d happily give what little is left of my life just to have you think of me that way.

  I love you, Nolan. Take care of the girl and let her take care of you.

  Samuel

  A fresh wave of pain surfaced in his chest as he pressed the letter to his nose and inhaled. Faintly, he could smell Samuel lingering there. The old man had planned this whole thing. Had planned to give up his life. An image of Samuel charging at the guards floated up in his mind. Brave. Redeemed. He’d do as Samuel asked and remember him as a hero. When the girl awoke, he’d tell her of her savior. Samuel, the man with the plan.

  That is, if the girl awoke. She lay beside him on the bench seat in the fetal position. Her hair hung over the right half of her face like a golden waterfall. Nolan reached over and slid the hair aside. Her beauty made his heart flutter. Where was this syringe Samuel was talking about?

  He found it in the glove compartment—a syringe filled with blue-tinged liquid. Nolan lifted it and stared at the contents. Where should he put it? What if he did it wrong? Her thigh, as white and smooth as a lake of cream, lay beside him on the bench seat. He swallowed hard, gripped her leg and slowly inserted the syringe. When he pushed the plunger and released the blue liquid into her body, his heart was pounding.

  “Wake up,” he whispered. The blue veins still twined up her limbs, but color had returned to her cheeks. He only hoped whatever they had been doing to her in the hospital was reversible. He couldn’t stand to lose anyone else in his life. Never again. “Wake up.”

  She stirred and her mouth twitched. Then her hand clenched into a fist. Eye lids fluttered.

  Her body jerked. Her arms flew out. She began seizing, sharp flailing gestures, her mouth contorting, her muscles clenching. Nolan watched the violent contractions of her muscles with terror in his heart.

  She stopped moving. Nolan waited, panicked. When she didn’t move, he jumped to his knees and hovered over her.

  “No, no, no!” He placed two fingers to the vein on her neck. Nothing. “No, God! No!” Fumbling in his mind with what to do, Nolan remembered an image from long ago—his dah breathing into the mouth of a boy they’d found buried under garbage. Nolan’s pulse slammed into his ears as he leaned down and pressed his mouth over hers.

  Her lips were smooth, her breath sweet, but his panic didn’t allow him to enjoy a single moment. He exhaled air into her mouth and felt her chest rise. He waited a beat and did it again. Then he sat up and looked at her.

  When she didn’t move, he positioned his palms, one over the other, on her heart and locked his elbows.

  Her eyes began to flutter.

  “Oh, God,” he whispered, pulling his hands back, shoving them into his hair. He held his breath and watched her lids for movement. When they opened, he saw her eyes were hazel. The same color as his dah’s.

  The girl’s gaze floated to his face. As she zeroed in, her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open in…what? Fear? Surprise?

  “I-I-I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing what he was apologizing for. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Her chest heaved beneath her hospital gown as she studied him. “You,” she said with trembling pink lips. Nolan nodded, unable to speak. A smile crept onto her perfect face. “I dreamed of you.”

  END OF PART ONE

  Plan B, Part 2

  A Breeders Story

  Nolan

  When Nolan came upon Angel, she was peeing, a stream of urine meandering between her feet as she stared at a venomous snake.

  “Nolan,” she bellowed. She stood, the urine still trickling down her leg. “A snake!”

  “Angel, don’t move,” he whispered

  If he came forward, would the snake strike? He watched, afraid and unsure.

  Turning away from him, Angel locked eyes with the snake. “Come at me, you slimy devil. Let’s see what you got.”

  “Angel,” he whispered. Darn it, he’d used the wrong name again. “Kindy.”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “You think I’m scared of you?” she said, staring the snake down. “I’ve gone toe to toe with nastier creatures. They’re called men.”

  The snake watched her, its tongue flicking in and out.

  Nolan held his breath and began to pray.

  She reached down, picked up a pebble, and threw it.

  “Kindy,” he shouted.

  The snake lifted its head from the coil it was in, pushing a hiss between two curved fangs.

  Christman Jesus, it was going to bite her. Without thinking, Nolan charged across the hot sand. He watched as the snake darted forward, fangs out. It snapped toward him angrily, and he braced for the bite. For one never-ending moment, he saw each individual black and red scale of its head, the white curve of its fang, and blackness of its tongue.

  He held his hands out, ready to block or take the bite.

  Sam had died for this impulsive girl. For the child she grew in her belly.

  He would not let it end like this.

  But he felt no bite. When he opened his eyes, the snake had retreated to the ground. Its strike had stopped inches from Nolan’s shins. It stared at him.

  It was a warning shot. A message—Leave me alone or you’ll get it next time.

  It slithered sideways, hissing, the fangs flared around the forked tongue. He watched the snake disappear into the dust.

  Behind him, Angel said nothing.

  Dizzy with relief, he whirled to find the girl slumped into the sand. Her weak legs had given out.

  Angel—No, dammit, Kindy—looked like she was about to vomit.

  He dropped to his knees beside her. “You okay?”

  She shrugged weakly. “Should’ve let it bite me. Death from dehydration’s gonna be slow.”

  Her smile was sarcastic, but oh Heaven, she was beautiful—the type of beauty who stole the breath from a man’s lungs. She was otherworldly. Her golden hair fell in waves, cascading to her shoulders. Large eyes, the color of a clear blue sky, sparkled. Her rosy cheeks and red li
ps made a man lose himself. Just glancing at her face made Nolan feel lost. He must’ve looked too long because she narrowed her eyes and turned away.

  She was sitting with her arms around her belly. Her panties were twisted at her ankles, her feet still in the drying puddle of piss. “Don’t look at me. Just… wait for me over the ridge. Please.”

  He obliged. Once on his feet, he turned, kicking at rocks and keeping one eye out for the evil snake.

  He thought about his old parish then. Evil snakes had been a constant theme in the stories of the Christman Jesus at Church of the Sunset Redeemed. He and his dad had gone every Sunday until Dah took sick. The coughing had been too much for the padre to bear, and they’d been sent away.

  Nolan put his hands behind his head and allowed himself a minute to miss his dah. To miss Sam. Sometimes he thought he might die from a sadness as heavy as heaps of dirt piling on his chest. He loved those men as much as he ever had anything, but now both were in the ground. The last time he’d seen Sam, the old man had been blurred by bullets as Nolan drove out of the Breeders’ garage with the unconscious Kindy.

  Now, he was alone and lost. At sixteen, he’d never been on his own. And never, ever with a girl. A pregnant girl.

  “I need to get back to the truck,” she said. He turned to her, and she held out a hand. “I’m sweating like a pig in shit.”

  Boy, she could swear. When she opened her mouth, the Angel he’d imagined fell away. The girl he and Sam had saved, who Sam had given his life for, had only been awake for forty hours. But that was more than enough time to learn she was not exactly the girl Nolan had envisioned. Her name was Kindy, not Angel, though he kept forgetting that. She was foul-mouthed, spunky, and not happy he’d rescued her.