Altered

by Marnee Blake

  “Help!” Her yell came out a pathetic squeak. “Oh, God, help.” The summer heat had sucked the air from Glory, and she gasped and panted, suffocating.

  But there was no one around. Their tiny town was barely populated, but this was ridiculous.

  “Someone…” she whispered. Then she tilted her head back and screamed, “Help!”

  The sound of breaking glass broke the silence, as loud as machine-gun blasts. She covered her ears, falling to her knees. On both sides of the street, every visible window had blown out. The huge pane of glass that used to boast the insignia of Mr. Schumacher’s hardware store had been reduced to jagged pieces.

  What the…

  A soft click sounded from the Keilmans’ bed-and-breakfast. She froze.

  “I want you to turn toward me, slowly, with your hands where I can see them.” The unfamiliar voice held enough grit for her to know he meant business.

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. Seriously? Someone was going to rob her now?

  “Is this a stickup?” Laughter bubbled from her, and she swallowed it. Why laugh at a time like this? Better than crying, she supposed.

  “Get up.”

  She stood, her heartbeat speeding, and wiped her dusty hands on her black uniform pants. God, she hadn’t even changed. Of course not. There’d been no chance. She got sick as soon as she had dinner last night, and then she’d found Gran…

  And that sheet stunt.

  Blue shook her head. Things only moved by themselves on the Syfy Channel. She must have covered Gran herself. There was no other option.

  Turning, she lifted her hands and faced him.

  He wasn’t what she expected. She’d expected a stained-T-shirt-wearing, unshaven slob with a beer belly. A drifter looking to capitalize on someone’s low moment.

  Like hers.

  What she got was a tall man in excellent shape—if his muscled arms and trim waist were any indication—probably only a year or two older than she was. Twenty-one, twenty-two? Dressed in camo pants and sporting the look of a soldier, he was fit and bronzed. And good-looking. Very good-looking.

  What was a soldier like this doing in Glory, the morning after Gran and the Murphys had been killed by the plague?

  “It was you.” She stepped toward him, her hands up.

  “Don’t move.” His gun hand didn’t waver.

  She stopped, but she didn’t shut up. She glared at him. “It has to be you. Glory never gets visitors, and suddenly you’re here, obviously a soldier, with a gun, and Gran and the Murphys are dead.”

  “Listen, sweetheart”—he smiled the sort of smile that said she was crazy—“I spent the last hour tripping over dead bodies. Being alive makes you suspicious to me.”

  “No, you listen, G.I. Joe. I live here.” Her hands curled into fists, and she stepped the last two feet toward him. She stood close enough to see that his eyes were steely gray. “You’re the suspicious one. My grandmother was killed last night. I think you know what happened.”

  “Whoa, whoa. I don’t know anything about your grandmother. What I do know is that I stopped in this piece of paradise late last night and checked in to that bed-and-breakfast.” He motioned to the side with his gun, indicating the Keilmans’ little lodging. “I took a shower, got sick like I’d been on the worst bender of my life, and woke to complete carnage.”

  “My God.” Blue covered her mouth. She glanced at the Keilmans’ B&B, its crisp white shutters and its cheery yellow porch. “Not the Keilmans, too.” Was she the only one left?

  “If you mean the little chatty woman who runs the B&B and her silent husband, yes. I found them a little bit ago, when I could move again.” His tone had softened, as had his eyes. He dropped his gun but didn’t put it away. “I’m sorry. I’d imagine you knew them.”

  “Yes.” In a town the size of Glory? Everyone knew everyone.

  “And a family. Over there.” He nudged his head behind her, toward a farmhouse in the distance. “I found a couple, early forties, and two children. All the same.”

  The Barnetts, too? “No, wait. They have a son, too. A year older than me. Jack.”

  He shook his head. “Wasn’t there. Just the four of them.”

  She studied him before allowing her gaze to scan the quiet street. What the hell happened last night? She rubbed her temple, trying to sort it out. They’d all been sick, that was clear enough. Had they been poisoned? Who would poison them? More important, why poison them? Glory was small, barely warranting a dot on the map. They weren’t worth killing. And why had she and this soldier lived when everyone else…didn’t?

  Too many questions and no good answers. None of the questions or answers would bring Gran back to her, anyway.

  But where was Jack? He came home for the summer a couple weeks ago to help out on his family’s farm. Maybe he’d spent the night in Raton. He had friends there. She hoped that was the case. Being the only survivor—at least, the only one she knew—left her empty, completely ungrounded.

  She narrowed her eyes again on the soldier. The gun now rested at his side, and he ran his hand over his head. He looked as tired and worn as she felt. Maybe he was being straight with her. Maybe he was a victim of circumstance. But she still didn’t trust him. “Who are you?”

  “Seth Campbell. Specialist, United States Army. You?”

  “Blue.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So what now?”

  “Blue?”

  She sighed at the familiar confusion. Curse her parents for this weird name. “Yeah. Blue, short for Blueberry. My mom…a bit of a free spirit.”

  “Ah. Got it.” He glanced around at the street covered in broken glass. It looked like there had been a tornado. “How did you do that thing with the windows?”

  Do what to the windows? “What are you talking about?”

  But he didn’t get a chance to answer.

  A helicopter rose out of the west, over the Sangre de Cristo range. It covered the ground low, much lower than the few medical helicopters that serviced the area and much faster than the even fewer news-reporting aircrafts that visited them.

  Maybe it was the National Guard, responding to their emergency. She lifted her arm to flag them down.

  Seth grabbed her elbow and half pulled, half dragged her toward the Keilmans’ porch. She lurched up the step behind him. He tucked them behind the double rocking chair, crouching low. When she didn’t squat, too, he yanked her down beside him.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed, tugging her arm out of his grasp.

  “That’s a military helicopter,” he whispered back. He didn’t add the “duh,” but she got it.

  “Yeah, I know. Probably the National Guard, right? This is an emergency.” Why were they whispering? The helicopter couldn’t hear them. Then again, maybe it had something to do with their close proximity, with the feel of his hip touching hers.

  The helicopter swept the town, swinging low and hovering, kicking up dust as it flew over the sparse gathering of buildings in her town. She could see men hanging out, their hands shielding their eyes despite dark sunglasses, assault rifles hanging at their hips. The weapons made Blue fold closer to Seth as they hid there, on the porch.

  Why did they have their guns out? They wouldn’t need weapons to respond to an emergency, would they?

  The men scanned the area, still searching for something and obviously ready to use force if necessary. Then the helicopter turned and continued east. She listened as it slowed, as if to land.

  Finally, Seth turned, eyes narrowing on her. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that a military chopper shows up here after everyone dies?”

  And suddenly, it didn’t seem coincidental at all. Whoever killed her town was here to see how it worked out. Nausea that had nothing to do with the flu tugged at her stomach.

  Seth cursed under his breath. She scowled at him. Something wasn’t right here.

  “What is going on?” she asked. He shook his head. “No. You’re going to answer me. What do you know?
You’re in the military, and there’s a military helicopter circling over us. But you didn’t want them to see us. So what’s going on?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’ll try to keep up.”

  He sighed, standing up from their hidey-hole. She stood, too, and put some space between them for good measure. He glared down the street, after the helicopter. “Those aren’t army men. My guess is they’re Goldstone.”

  “Goldstone? Like the security firm, the one with all the government contracts?” Blue didn’t catch the news much these days, thanks to working ridiculous hours and sleeping even stranger ones. But she’d have to live under a rock to not know the name. Soldiers for hire in the Middle East, willing to do what the government couldn’t do legally. Whispers of civilian murders and unethical torture.

  Mercenaries.

  “That’s the one.”

  “What are they doing here?” She fired the words at the helicopter. The last thing they needed was more death.

  “I don’t know.”

  Blue studied him. He had the kind of face that kept secrets well. “I don’t believe you.” She stood up and hustled off the porch.

  He caught up with her easily. “Hey, where are you going?”

  “I’m getting out of here. Can’t you hear? They’re landing.” If he thought she’d stand around, waiting for a bunch of mercenaries, he was nuts. And if she was honest with herself, she wanted to get away from him, too. He made her uncomfortable. The gun, the closed face, the fact that he was an outsider…the fact that he was good-looking. It was all too much.

  He grasped her arm. The move was unexpected, and she lost her balance. Her momentum spun her, and she found herself pressed against his warm chest. He held her loosely, and her breath caught.

  “They’ll be waiting for you,” he gritted.

  Gazing up into the serious look on his handsome face, she knew he was right. That helicopter was looking for something, and it was probably them. She had no desire to be found. She pulled out of his arms, needing to put some space between them. “What do you propose, then? We can’t wait here for them to come and get us.”

  “No. I’d prefer to be left alone.”

  She nodded. “Agree.”

  He inhaled slowly. “I think we should stick together.”

  The way he said “together” made a shiver skate down her spine. “Why?” Being alone wasn’t an attractive option, but she didn’t know this guy.

  “So I can murder you.” He rolled his eyes. “Christ. Are you always this suspicious?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re alive, and everyone else is dead. We should stay together is all, until we figure out what happened.”

  She gritted her teeth. She hated how logical he sounded. “Fine.”

  “Don’t sound so psyched.” He offered a lazy grin before he was all business again. “Are there any other ways out of town? I came in on 25, but they’ll be watching that.”

  She thought. “There’s a road. It’s barely a road…” She shook her head. The road that passed Kitty’s house was more like a trail, a roundabout way to get out of town. The kids used it for quadding, mostly. It was steep and in bad shape. “It’s not an easy drive.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go.”

  Of course something like that wouldn’t deter someone like him. She sighed. “All right, Rambo. My car’s that way.” She nodded down the street to her Cavalier.

  “That’s your car?” He wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something bad.

  She looked at her car again. Okay, so fine. Even she had to admit it looked pretty shabby, with its blue paint pockmarked with rust. But his disgust irritated her. “That’s it.”

  “Right. Come on.” He grabbed her arm again. He started toward the Keilmans’ again, rounding the corner of the building. “My bike is around back.”

  “Wait. Bike? Like motorcycle?”

  He nodded, still towing her along.

  Her heart picked up, like the rev of a Harley’s engine. No way. No motorcycles. She’d fallen off a dirt bike a couple of years ago and broken her collarbone. Even now, years later, the thought of riding without car walls made her palms slick. “I don’t think so, pal. Unless you want me to ride on the handlebars of a ten-speed, I don’t do bikes. Ever. Besides, you don’t know the road. If we’re going anywhere, we go in my car. And I drive.” Blue yanked her arm out of his grip. “And please stop pushing me around. Your excessive testosterone is showing.”

  He dropped his hand. “Right. Sorry.”

  She paused, taken aback. With his short-trimmed hair and tanned, lined face, she hadn’t pegged him as the easy apology sort. More the chest-thumping, crush-a-beer-can-on-his-head type. The miscalculation softened her. “It’s okay.”

  “No bikes, though?”

  “No. An accident…” She tilted her chin up. She didn’t have to explain herself to him.

  He searched her face, like he was reading her mind. Then he nodded. “So we take your car. But I drive.” He started running toward the car. Surprised, she picked up her pace to keep up.

  “Fine.” She fished the keys out of her pocket and pressed them into his palm, not letting them go immediately. “But take it easy on her. She’s vintage.”

  He snorted.

  As they reached the car, Seth kept glancing behind them, toward the east where the helicopter had landed. They slipped into the Cavalier’s front seat. Hurrying, Blue gathered the trash on the floor of the passenger seat and tossed it in the back—two empty Big Gulps, five Babybel casings, and a dirty pair of socks—so she had somewhere to put her feet.

  Seth chuckled, and the sound did something strange to her stomach. But he didn’t comment as he started the car. She scowled at him. “Don’t judge.”

  He grinned, the sight of his straight, white smile irritating her. He shifted the old car into drive, and they peeled out, heading west toward the mountains.

  She stared in the rearview mirror until the buildings in Glory got too small to see.

  “Did you check the whole town?” she asked him, looking straight ahead. “You know. For…survivors?” She tried to sound casual. Failed.

  In her peripheral, his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I found eight bodies. Eight.”

  “Eight?” So many. And if they looked anything like Gran and the Murphys, she knew exactly what he wasn’t saying.

  “Yes.” He swerved to miss an exceptionally large pothole before jerking the car back on the path, spitting gravel and dust behind them. “The bed-and-breakfast. The hardware store. And the farm. Eight.”

  “And I saw Gran and the Murphys. Three.” Three. It was a small number. It didn’t sound big enough to hold all the pain she felt.

  “You were close to your grandmother.” It was an observation, not a question.

  “Yes. She raised me.” Except that was too simple. Gran hadn’t only raised her. She’d been her everything.

  “I’m sorry.” His words were soft. “I lost a good friend, a couple years ago. It was horrifying. I can’t imagine losing someone I’d loved my entire life.”

  Blue hazarded a glance at him. His eyes remained on the road, necessary to navigate the trail’s massive ruts and ditches, not even looking at her. He hadn’t shared his story to see how she’d react.

  He’d shared so she would know that he understood.

  That sympathy squeezed past her strong facade. In this car, with his understanding, everything pressed in on her. The aching loss, the bone-numbing pain. Her fingers trembled. To stop the movement, she pressed them in her thighs until it hurt. She had lost someone she’d loved for her entire life. She didn’t have many people she loved, and now one of them—the most important—was gone.

  She gazed out the window again, blinking hard, forcing the tears to stop. When she was confident her voice wouldn’t shake, she finally said, “She was amazing. She didn’t deserve this. I don’t know what happened, but she didn’t deserve this.”

  “No. She didn’t.�
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  He maneuvered the car through a curve, decelerating a bit. That’s when she noticed his speed. “Christ. What’s wrong with you? How fast are we going?”

  “Right now, about forty-five. We were going faster a second ago, but the speedometer seems to be broken. What year is this thing, anyway?” He took another turn, bouncing her car through another series of potholes.

  “It’s a 1993. I don’t have a car payment,” she defended. Seth snorted, and she scowled at him. “And you’re going to kill us.”

  “We’ll be fine. The car, maybe not.”

  She opened her mouth to school him when he nodded up the road. “Hey. Up ahead. Does that road go anywhere?”

  He pointed at the Laughtons’ driveway.

  Kitty.

  “Yes.” She patted his arm to get his attention. His forearm was firm, solid. She pulled her hand back. “We need to stop. That’s the Laughtons’ driveway.”

  “Not a great time for a visit.” Even as he said it, the car slowed, and they barely made the curve.

  Her fingers dug into the door armrest. They were lucky her Cavalier didn’t lose a tire, making a turn like that. “We need to see if they were affected by this flu. Don’t you want to know how far the killing spread?”

  When he didn’t readily agree, she added, “Besides, this is my friend Kitty’s house. I need to see her. Before we go.” They both knew she meant she wanted to see if she was still alive. “It’ll only take a minute.”

  He didn’t argue, and she was thankful.

  They hit another turn at breakneck speed, and she bit her lip, pressing her pink Chucks into the floor and gripping the seat. “Hey, maybe you have some sort of death wish, but I don’t. How about we slow down a little?”

  “I don’t have a death wish,” he grumbled. “I just like speed.” But he eased his foot off the gas anyway.

  She grinned, the first one of the day. It felt good.

  “Right,” she said and stabbed at the radio. Death Cab for Cutie erupted from it like a phoenix from the ashes, stopping their conversation.

  They finished the harrowing drive up the mountain in silence.

  Chapter Three