Humanity's Edge- The Complete Trilogy

by Paul B. Kohler

  “There were others,” Clay said. “At least two that we know of. And that’s what led us to Helen. We met up with two other scientists there. They’d been hiding out underground. One of them is with us now. At the hotel with the boy.”

  “And where did the others go?”

  “They headed north, to the other military base. The one my wife is at,” Clay said. “They took another one of the devices that I was telling you about. The ones that can wipe out the crazed with a single shot.”

  “And it really works?” Sam asked, sounding doubtful.

  “It does,” Clay said, nodding. “We used it on the way to the hotel. Wiped out a hundred of them. They just fell to the ground. Dead. No blood. No puss—no fuss. It was clean. And then it was over.”

  “Wow,” Sam breathed.

  Silence stretched between them once again. Sam’s gunmen from the hospital—Clay had learned their names were Damon and Al, remained quiet throughout their journey—but it was Sam and Clay that settled into their own quiet contemplation, processing the information that they’d shared. Clay felt he’d found a new ally, someone with a mentality similar to his own. Even without the nanites pumping through her veins, Sam seemed strong, invulnerable, ready to walk a hundred miles without breaking a sweat.

  “And what about this kid?” Sam said, breaking the silence.

  “This boy. He’s the next step,” Clay said.

  “What’s he got?” she asked.

  “I’m no doctor,” Clay said. “But some kind of flu. He was left to die with it. Guess whoever he was with didn’t have the presence of mind to see if he was going to turn or not.”

  “I can’t say I blame them,” Sam said. “If you started sniffling right now, I’d probably have them shoot you dead,” she said nodding at Damon and Al.

  “Ha.” He kept to himself the information that he had already been exposed to the nanites. As he eased between two cars, he looked at Sam. “As soon as we get him better, he can tell me about my daughter.”

  “And he knows where they went?” Sam asked.

  Without thinking, Clay responded, “I’m not sure. Right before he passed out, he said my daughter’s name. That’s what I’m going on right now. I’m sure once he’s awake—”

  Sam stopped in her tracks. Her gunmen followed suit, their steely eyes fixed on Clay. Clay’s face clouded with confusion. Alayna stared at the ground, seeming to sense that the game was over.

  “You lied to me,” Sam said. “I can’t believe this. You just walked into your own lie.”

  Clay raised his hands, his brain searching for what he’d lied about. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You said he knew where she was,” Sam said in a huff. “You said the kid definitely knew where your daughter was, and that the moment he woke up, you’d know the truth. You said—”

  “I pray that he knows where she is,” Clay said, speaking over her.

  Sam pointed her gun directly at Clay’s face, her voice ragged. “No. You don’t interrupt me, Sheriff Clay,” she said. “In this world, I’m the sheriff. And you’re just a liar.”

  “You’re going to shoot me? Great,” Clay said. “That means a kid back at the hotel will die because of you. That means my daughter will die. Because of you. That’ll be on your shoulders, on your conscience. The meaningless deaths you would cause, Sam.”

  “This world doesn’t hold a lot of meaning, anyway. It seems like I’d be saving you a lot of heartache. That kid could tell you your daughter’s dead the moment he wakes up. Ever think of that?” Sam snarled.

  The words sliced through him like a knife. With her gun pointed at him, he prepared for the worst, wanting to take a bullet like a man—wanting to feel every moment of his death.

  But as they stared each other down, they heard a dramatic, screeching howl reverberate from a nearby alleyway—bouncing from brick to brick. It was time.

  Chapter 46

  Alayna whipped her head toward the sound, pulling her fists to her face. Damon and Al scanned the darkness in the alleyway. Before they could react, six of the monsters bounded from the alley, surrounding them.

  Instinctively, Sam unslung her rifle but it fell from her hands. She lurched back against a vehicle, her eyes glazed with panic. Doc Rodney’s cigarette dangled from his mouth, giving him a lost look.

  The crazed were upon them. Clay screeched to Sam, “GET YOUR RIFLE, YOU IDIOT!”

  Sam stumbled to the ground, feeling for it blindly, keeping her eyes on the advancing monsters. Once her hands found the weapon, she swung it up and started firing at the crazed. But her shots were wild, unable to aim from her position. Clay reached for his own gun, finding just an empty holster. Damon and Al leveled their guns as several of the crazed were pushed back by Sam’s bullets. But the retreat was short lived. The crazed continued clambering at them.

  “Aim for their heads!” Clay yelled, ducking behind a car and pulling Alayna out of the crossfire.

  “All right, all right!” Sam cried, sounding frustrated. She fired at one, then another, splattering brain matter everywhere. Rejuvenated, she stepped forward to aim for another one, much further away.

  “Fuck. Fuck,” Alayna gasped behind him, gripping his bicep tightly.

  Rodney hunched down, near the alleyway. Out of the corner of Clay’s eye, he watched as one of the crazed lurch toward the doctor, ready to pounce on him. He cowered, his palms stretched skyward, braced against death.

  Every cell in Clay’s body screamed. He leaped to his feet and charged between the crazed and the doctor, facing the monster with only his fists. He heard Sam fire her gun at one of the crazed in the distance, leaving just him to help the doctor.

  The monster snarled maniacally. Spit drooled from his mouth through rotting teeth. Bits of human flesh were caught in his teeth. His skin sagged showing its skeletal structure underneath. Clay shivered. Steeling himself, he delivered a heavy blow to the crazed’s head, feeling the skull give slightly. It just inflamed the monster. He leaped at Clay, snarling, and pushed him to the ground. Clay fought like a tiger, using nails and feet to lash out at his attacker.

  As the crazed’s mouth came closer to Clay’s throat, Clay caught the sides of the monster’s mouth, ensuring he couldn’t bite down. As if summoning a deeper strength, Clay howled in unison with the screech of the crazed, creating a strange cacophony in the abandoned town.

  Sam danced around with her gun, trying to get a clear shot at the monster’s skull. But the two were thrashing so wildly, she didn’t dare shoot. Alayna stood beside her, helpless and tense, ready to spring into action.

  The brawl continued. Clay seemed to get stronger as it dragged on. His biceps strained, his nails ripped into the papery skin of the crazed, streams of puss gushed out, splashing over Clay’s clothing. The monster snarled and fought harder. Clay wished he had his gun, but—

  “FUCK YOU!” Clay cried out, feeling that muscle fatigue was inevitable, and mere moments away. He had to make a move, and now.

  Clay yanked the monster’s mouth with both hands, and felt the jaw rip loose from the skull. The crazed howled as Clay tore it off completely, leaving only the rotted top teeth. Blood gushed from the monster’s face onto Clay.

  The monster rose and began to thrash more violently, bobbing his head, attempting to bite. He no longer depicted any form of human kind. Blood continued to pour from his face like a waterfall.

  Clay jumped away, still holding the jaw. He pointed at the crazed. “Shoot! Shoot it now!”.

  Sam did as she was told. The bullet blasted through the crazed’s brain. Immediately, its arms dropped as it stopped thrashing a crater in what was left of his head. A moment later, the crazed’s legs buckled and it fell to the ground.

  In the stillness that followed, Clay realized he was still holding onto the jawbone. He looked at it, eyeing the rotted, green teeth. With his nostrils flared, he realized he hadn’t breathed in several moments. He took a breath and tossed the bloody jawbone to the ground.

  Chapte
r 47

  Silence followed as everyone stared at Clay. He was covered with blood and puss from the crazed, and bleeding from gashes of his own, on his arms and one across his eyebrow. He rubbed his sleeve across his cheeks and forehead, removing at least some of the blight from his beard. His heart still beat rapidly against his ribcage.

  “Jesus, Clay.” Alayna inched forward. “Are you all right?”

  “We need to get moving.” Clay turned back toward the hotel. “If we stay too long, more might come. Remember, they can hear us now. They can hunt.”

  “But Clay. Look at yourself—” Alayna protested.

  Clay ignored her. As he marched forward, the blood began to dry on his arms and legs. He could hear the others in the behind him, whispering.

  “He just ripped the jaw off,” Sam said. “Clean off. Teeth and everything. I mean. I’ve never seen anyone capable of that.”

  “Barehanded,” Damon said, whistling. “What’s that about?”

  “I don’t know quite what we’re dealing with here, but we can’t let him out of our sight now.”

  Alayna kept quiet. For this, Clay was grateful. She was the only one of them who knew about the nanites, about Clay’s increasing strength. But neither of them had expected anything like this.

  The surge of anger and strength had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d been unable to control it. It had been a part of him—eliminating all other emotions and driving him to act. He’d felt inhuman.

  And then the jaw was in his hands. That dripping skeletal bone with rotting teeth digging into his fingers.

  The lack of control scared Clay the most. Was that the nanites winning against his own humanity? Maybe he would slowly but surely become one of them. In the midst of another burst of rage, he could dive over the line between human and crazed, never to be seen again.

  He imagined Sam blasting a bullet through his brain as he tried to gnaw her throat.

  Alayna crept up beside him as they marched. She nudged him with her elbow, whispering, “Are you all right? You didn’t answer me back there. Talk to me, Sheriff. You can’t leave me out on this.”

  Clay responded brightly, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine, Alayna,” he said. “I saw that the crazed was going to take the doctor, and I couldn’t let it happen. I did what I could to help him. I know you would have done the same.”

  Alayna looked doubtful. She didn’t believe him.

  “If we’d only had weapons, none of that would have happened,” Clay said, his voice low. He knew if he struck a chord with Alayna, she’d back off.

  “Tell me about it,” Alayna breathed. “The sooner we can have our guns back, the better. I’m seriously freaking out about it. I feel naked.”

  “You’d think after an attack like that, they would give them back,” Clay whispered back, grateful that Alayna was dropping the issue. He didn’t want to face it himself. “Anyway, we’re just around the corner from the hotel. I think we’ll make it without another fatality.”

  “Those sound like some last words,” Alayna said, giving him a half grin.

  Clay grimaced and cut his eyes back to the front, still reeling from the shock of his mountainous rage. He needed to regain control. He remembered what it had felt like to hold his daughter for the first time, when she’d been an infant. How small she’d been in his arms, how delicate. He’d looked down at her, conscious that his muscles were tense, trying to keep his body entirely still so as not to in any way rock her world.

  He needed that kind of control over his body again. He needed to restrain his strength, to only use it when it was necessary. The entire world was just as delicate as baby Maia had been.

  In any case, he knew he’d proven something to Sam and the others. But he wasn’t entirely sure he’d proven something good.

  Chapter 48

  The hotel was quite the sight to see in full daylight. With the drama of the past twelve-plus hours, Clay had almost forgotten about the score of dead bodies on the hotel’s front steps. The crazed were still piled atop one another, decomposing in the morning sun.

  “Wow,” Sam breathed, impressed, or slightly disturbed.

  They stood behind the mound of corpses, looking up at the hotel entrance. Clay rested his hands on his waist, trying to ignore the dense stench.

  “What happened here?” Sam asked, her voice almost light. “A sign of your handiwork, I take it? Course, I don’t see the jaws separated from the bodies in this pile. A bit of laziness on your part, Clay.”

  Clay rolled his eyes, not giving her a response. But inwardly, he appreciated her attempt at humor. An hour before, she’d been ready to put a bullet through his head. Now, she was cracking jokes. Hopefully this was a sign that not all of humanity was lost.

  At the very least, it meant she wasn’t yet too frightened of him to be sarcastic.

  Damon and Al entered the sea of dead first, clearing a path toward the front door. The others followed, with Sam bringing up the rear, her rifle held tightly in her hands. Clay tried his best not to look at the dead, but not because he was worried that he’d recognize someone from his past, but because he was fearful of seeing more of himself in them.

  They entered the hotel through the shattered glass door, compliments of Alayna’s badassedness.

  “Subtle,” Sam said, joking again. “You didn’t bother to try the door?”

  “It must have been the adrenaline,” Alayna said. “I got caught up in the moment. What’s another glass door at the end of the world?”

  Sam nodded. “Not gonna lie, we’ve done it too. Still, it’s a shame that we’ll never experience the good things in life again. So, why not take what we need?”

  “The grocery stores are hard to explore,” Alayna said. “All that rotting fruit. And the meat. It’s a horrible smell.”

  “We’ve stuck to gas stations, mainly. Although living off of chips and pretzels isn’t going to keep us going much longer,” Sam said.

  “Same,” Clay said.

  “So hungry,” Alayna said, passing the concierge desk, her eyes drifting toward the kitchen.

  “A constant state, isn’t it?” Sam agreed. Her eyes turned to Clay. “So. You want to take us to the kid?”

  Damon stepped closer to Clay, unslinging his rifle as if to say, “Make one false move, motherfucker.”

  “Sure thing,” Clay said, and started for the staircase. “And in just a few minutes, you’ll see that we’ve done nothing but tell you the truth.”

  “You’ve already lied. But it’s your lucky day, I guess,” Sam said from behind him. “I’ve decided forgiveness is the best route in your case. I really like my jaw where it is. Some ex-boyfriends said it was one of my best features.”

  Clay laughed, in spite of everything. With a last burst of energy, he bolted to the top of the steps, landing on the fourth floor hardly out of breath. Waiting for the others to catch up, he closed his eyes for a moment—praying inwardly that Alex was still alive. That he’d been able to rest. That Lane had found a way to keep him tethered to the world for a while longer.

  Please, he thought. This is the last thing I’ll ask for. I promise.

  Who am I talking to? he wondered half-heartedly. Was anyone watching over them? Was there anyone to pray to? He’d never bothered much with church in the time before, opting to sleep in on Sundays instead. But the concept of a higher power had never been something he’d eliminated completely.

  Please, he thought again, as Sam and Alayna landed beside him. Just this once.

  “Down the hall,” Clay said, taking long strides toward the furthest room. They followed behind him like ants in a line, with Sam directly behind Clay. When he reached it, he knocked sharply, and opened the door.

  Immediately, Lane raised her gun, pointing it at the them. Her nostrils were flared, making her look almost demonic, like a bear watching over her cubs. For several seconds, Clay stood at the door with his hands high.

  “Lane. It’s me,” Clay said softly. “Put the gun
down.”

  Lane dropped her aim and flung herself across the room, hugging Clay close. She shuddered. “You were gone so long, I didn’t think you were coming back.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, looking at Alex who was barely breathing. He was still sweating, and he appeared to be talking in his sleep, mumbling incomprehensible words. “We brought some reinforcements. Meet Sam.”

  Sam nodded curtly. “The scientist?”

  “That’s right,” Lane said, extending her hand.

  As she stepped into the room, the stench from before—the soiled sheets, the clothing, reared its ugly head. Perhaps Lane had grown accustomed to it in the hours she’d sat there alone, spinning in her own head. Sam backed into the hallway, pointing at the sick child. “Rodney, I think this is your time to shine,” she said, her voice still holding its sarcastic tone. “I can’t stay in there another second. It smells like death warmed over. And God, am I tired of that smell.”

  Chapter 49

  Rodney dropped his cigarette in the hallway and extinguished it with the toe of his shoe, then approached Alex’s bed. Clay watched him curiously. The man hadn’t said much, making him more mysterious than he probably was. But he worked diligently, looking practiced in his bedside manner, lifting Alex’s wrist slightly and checking his vitals.

  Clay stood by the bed, Alayna next to him. Lane hunched near the door, looking almost ready to fall apart after having the room and Alex to herself for so long. The boy was even more sallow than he’d been, resembling the dead that piled up outside the hotel. His cheeks were so sunken they could hold pools.

  “What’s it look like, Doctor?” Clay asked, addressing Rodney properly.

  The doctor didn’t move. “He’s malnourished, severely dehydrated,” he said. “His pulse is quite weak. When was the last time you saw him conscious?”