“Come on!” the young woman challenged them, just as she began to sway.
And collapsed to the ground.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Snowy had been anxious, whining and pacing, but now the German shepherd was going absolutely wild.
“What’s wrong with her?” Langridge asked, fearing the worst, afraid that something might have happened to override the dog’s deafness, which had acted as an obstacle to the alien forces.
“Don’t have a clue,” Cody said, trying to calm the white shepherd down. “Hey! Hey, Snowy girl, it’s all right!”
Langridge watched Cody and Rich in the rearview, trying to get Snowy to calm down, but the dog wasn’t paying any attention to them. She had started to whine and bark pathetically, moving from one side of the backseat to the other with zero concern that she was walking over Cody and Rich.
Dr. Sayid leaned over the front passenger seat for a closer look, and Langridge knew what he was doing. He was trying to look at the dog’s right eye.
“Anything?” Langridge asked, one hand on the steering wheel as she continued down the street toward their destination while the other went down to the gun at her hip.
Just in case.
“No, she’s fine,” Sayid said. “Agitated as hell, but fine.”
“I think I know why!” Rich then said, and pointed through the rain-spattered windshield.
Langridge didn’t see it at first, paying more attention to the corpses and cars that clogged the street, but then she saw it. Saw the sign.
ELYSIUM HOSPITAL FOR BRAIN INJURY TREATMENT.
“I think she knows that Sidney is close by,” Rich said, preparing himself as the wild shepherd bounded over to his side of the backseat, attempting to look out the window. “I think she might be able to smell her or something.”
Langridge thought that there might be something to that statement as she drove the Humvee closer to the hospital driveway. The dog was even wilder than she had been before, barking far more aggressively and even digging at the doors.
“Snowy, stop!” Cody commanded the animal, trying everything to make her listen, but nothing worked.
Langridge brought the vehicle to a stop, looking out through the wind- and rain-swept windows before turning in her seat to witness the dog’s furious behavior.
“Let her go,” Langridge said.
Cody looked stunned. “I’m not sure that would be . . .”
“Look at her,” she said. “Let her go and we’ll find Sidney . . . it’s as simple as that.”
Snowy was furious, clawing at the door on Cody’s side, her whining reaching an ear-piercing level.
“Sidney is going to kill me for doing this,” he said as he grabbed the door handle and opened it, just a crack.
“Tell her I was going to shoot you if you didn’t,” Langridge said as Snowy forced the door open wider and jumped out into the storm.
They watched her stand there, nose pressed firmly to the wet street as she went around the Humvee to the driveway of the hospital before suddenly turning around and bounding away.
“Where the hell is she going?” Langridge asked, watching through the temporary clear spots made by the wipers’ passing.
Snowy bounded across the street toward a glass-and-wood structure that appeared to be still under construction.
“I think we know where she went,” Langridge said, opening the car door into the pouring rain. The others followed cautiously, looking this way and that for signs of threat. Things seemed to be calm for the moment.
“Move!” Langridge yelled, her gun out as she motioned them over to where Snowy stood motionless in front of the wooden door into the station.
Sayid pulled on the door; it was locked from the other side.
“This seems . . . off,” Rich said, looking around. “Where are all the animals?”
Langridge was working on the door, getting her fingers between the pieces of wood and yanking with all her might. “Maybe they’re busy someplace else,” she said, actually managing to break away a piece of the door big enough that she could get her hand through.
Snowy watched her intensely, waiting for the door to open so that she could go inside.
“Hang on to her,” Langridge said, fiddling with the makeshift lock on the opposite side of the door. “Don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other side.”
Cody leaned down, wrapping his arms around the dog’s thick white neck.
Langridge fiddled a bit more, managing to unwind the piece of cord that had been put around the door to seal it, allowing it to swing open.
There were bulbs burning and the sound of a generator purring somewhere off in the distance.
They quickly went inside, looking around for signs of their friend while Rich used the piece of bungee cord to secure the door closed. Langridge spotted a heavy metal supply locker and headed toward it as Cody held tightly to Snowy’s neck.
“Might be something we can use in here,” she said, tugging on the padlock that held the metal doors closed.
Sayid found a plaster-covered hammer hidden behind the locker and brought it over, smashing at the padlock until it broke away, clattering to the rubber-tile floor. Langridge moved right in, opening the two metal doors to see what was inside.
“Excellent,” she said, finding a wide array of tools, as well as some rags and two plastic containers of gasoline.
And then she saw the box.
“Boom,” she said, leaning in and coming out with two examples of what the box contained.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rich asked, coming to stand with Sayid.
“Just what I said,” Langridge said, holding up the two pieces of dynamite. “Boom.”
She shoved the two sticks into an old plastic shopping bag that she found inside the cabinet and helped herself to some of the cabinet’s other contents, including wire and a detonator. “If we’re going to look for Sidney, I suggest—”
Someone screamed far off in the distance, somewhere down the stairs and in the new station.
They all stopped.
But it was Cody who screamed next as Snowy actually bit him, escaping his clutches with a bark and growl and racing down the steps.
“She bit me!” the young man exclaimed, bringing his hand to his mouth.
“Break the skin?” Langridge asked.
Cody shook his head.
“Good,” Langridge said, moving toward the stairs. “Help yourself to something that can be used as a weapon,” she said, starting down the steps. “Might be more than Sidney lurking around down there.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Sidney awoke in her bed with a start, staring up at the ceiling, a feeling of dread making her heart hammer.
Throwing back the covers, she climbed from bed, nearly stepping on a sleeping Snowy, who looked up at her dreamily and wagged her tail.
“There’s my girl,” Sidney said, leaning forward to scratch behind the dog’s pointed ears.
The uneasiness that she’d experienced when she’d first awakened was fading quickly, but the fact that she didn’t know what it was all about still bothered her.
Had it been a reaction to a dream she’d had? Or maybe some sort of premonition?
The rich smell of brewing coffee took her from her ponderings, and she padded toward her door.
“C’mon, girl,” she said, gesturing for Snowy to follow. “I’ll get you some breakfast.”
The dog rose happily, following her through the door and out into the hall, where the smell of coffee was even stronger, and something else that made her mouth water.
Bacon.
It had been ages since they’d had it, not since her father had his . . .
* * *
Her father was at the stove, using a fork to flip the bacon in the large frying pan.
“Hey, girly-girl,” he said cheerily, tossing a smile over his shoulder. “Coffee’s fresh and hot,” he announced above the sound of sizzling meat. “Help yourself. Bacon sh
ould be done in a bit.”
She stood watching the man that she loved with all her heart and soul, and felt that something wasn’t right.
That something was very wrong.
Not quite being able to put her finger on it, she chalked it up to getting ready to leave for college soon and just how much she would miss the man when she was gone.
Yeah, that’s it. What else could it be?
She poured herself a mug of coffee, and then went about getting Snowy her breakfast—all the while that something continued to nag at her, like an itch that she couldn’t quite reach.
After putting Snowy’s water bowl down on the place mat, and then her food bowl beside it, Sidney took her mug and moved toward the kitchen table. And that was when she noticed it.
The curtains across the sliding doors that led outside to the deck were closed.
“Why are the curtains closed?” she asked, making her way toward them.
“Kinda lousy out today . . . gray, ugly,” her father said as he placed strips of the greasy bacon onto a plate lined with pieces of paper towel. “Hey,” he then said, turning from the stove. “Before I forget, you got mail from your college.”
He pointed to it on the kitchen table with the fork.
Sidney immediately felt that rush of excitement that she got when she thought of leaving Benediction and the new life she had ahead of her off the island.
“Wonder what it is?” she asked, forgetting the curtains as she went to investigate.
“Maybe it’s a scholarship,” Dad said, half turning as he cooked. She noticed the cigarette hanging from his mouth, and it caused a strange reaction that she couldn’t quite place.
There was something very wrong about it.
An image forced its way into her mind that caused her to blink wildly. She saw her father lying in a hospital bed, and she knew he was close to death.
“You all right, kid?” he asked from the stove.
She pushed away the disturbing vision and looked at her father.
He was standing there, cigarette sticking from the corner of his mouth, a full plate of bacon in one hand.
“Yeah,” she said, feeling the tug of the closed curtains again behind her. “I’m good.”
“Can’t wait to see what your college has to say,” he said to her, coming over to place the plate of bacon down on the table. “Bet it’s something amazing.”
“That would be great,” Sidney said, turning back to the curtains. “We need some light in here.”
Snowy started to bark crazily, and Sidney looked over to see that one of Snowy’s favorite tennis balls had become trapped beneath the wrought-iron planter, and she couldn’t get it out.
Sidney walked toward the dog, and her predicament, when she stopped.
No, she thought, going back to, and reaching for, the curtains.
She pulled the first curtain aside and let loose a scream. There was a monster at the door.
The thing’s body was pressed against the glass of the sliding doors, multiple eyes peering into the kitchen and slime-covered tentacles leaving dripping smears across the glass as it attempted to pull the doors apart.
As the nightmare tried to get in.
Sidney spun around to say something to her father, to tell him to get the phone and to call the police.
But he was right there, mere inches from her face, startling her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were stopped short, trapped somewhere in her mouth by the hands that had suddenly wrapped about her throat.
By her father’s hands, wrapped around her throat.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Delilah went back to help the younger woman.
She couldn’t help it; it was part of her nature, to help people whenever she possibly could.
Even at her own expense.
How often had she gone hungry at snack time during elementary school when a friend didn’t have anything to eat? How often had she helped others pay their rent, barely having enough to cover the expenses of her own apartment?
It was just her nature and why she found herself running to where the blond-haired woman had fallen, as the rats and bugs and dogs and cats and people who looked like something out of her worst nightmare came crawling toward them.
At first she tried to shake her awake, to rouse her from her stupor, but the younger woman appeared to be out cold.
Not good, Delilah thought. Not good at all.
She bent down, putting her hands beneath the woman’s arms and got her into an upright, sitting position. From there she managed to throw one of the young woman’s arms over her shoulder and practically dragged her from the scene.
The jellyfish didn’t appear in the least bit happy, swelling to twice its previous size. There actually seemed to be electricity, or something like it, crackling from the tips of these thick, hairlike spines that covered the entirety of its gross shape.
Delilah didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary to see what it all meant, and she half carried, half dragged the younger woman away as quickly as she was able.
Which wasn’t that fast at all.
She heard the sounds of obvious pursuit behind her but didn’t want to turn around—didn’t want to see which particular nightmare was bearing down on her.
To look would slow her down, and she was going to do everything she could to get away.
She wished the younger woman would wake up . . . and then the two of them could start to run and maybe . . .
A clawed hand fell down hard upon her shoulder, black nails digging deep into her flesh as she was spun around.
The thing looked like a rat, its face long, one eye dark and beady, one covered in a shroud of silver, its teeth long, jagged, and eager to bite.
There were others coming to join it, to help it restrain her and the mysterious young woman. Delilah let her drop from her arms as gently as possible so that she could fight; she wasn’t about to be taken by these things again. She lashed out, fists flying, legs kicking, but she knew she wouldn’t last too long.
She knew that they would soon have her and the younger woman, and the fate of Mason—to be sealed inside a cocoon—likely awaited them.
Delilah fought like she’d never fought before, remembering all the brawls that she’d had in school and when she used to hang out on the streets before she actually started to think, and imagined a future for herself and her son.
A future that up until earlier this day had looked very, very promising.
But now . . .
They were coming for her in droves.
Something white moved in the twilight of the subway tunnel. It was moving very fast toward them. Delilah watched as it got closer and felt that terrible twinge of fear kick into high gear.
Even surrounded by jellyfish-like monsters, swarms of rats and bugs and people turned into bizarre, animal-like creatures . . .
The sight of a large dog still scared the hell out of her.
She didn’t know what to think as the white-furred animal—it reminded her of some sort of animal ghost or something—ran furiously across the rocks and dirt toward them.
Is this how I’m to die? Delilah wondered. Would this be the thing that jumped upon her and ripped her throat out?
She knew that she wouldn’t be able to outrun it and planted her feet as it came closer . . . and closer. . . .
Delilah braced herself for the impact that was sure to come.
The sound of struggle and savagery filled the tunnel, and her eyes snapped open to see the most amazing of sights. The big white dog was attacking the animal people, jaws biting and snapping savagely, moving from one to another, the damage its sharp teeth doing substantial.
She didn’t understand it, but seeing another opportunity, reached down to help the younger woman up from the ground in yet another attempt to escape the tunnel.
Sensing movement, the white dog looked directly at her—its eyes an icy blue that froze her in place.
T
he dog came at her and she screamed. Delilah fell backward to the floor of the tunnel, arms raised to defend herself, but it barely paid her any mind, going to the unconscious young woman instead. The dog sniffed her furiously, crying and whining pitifully as it pawed at her and licked her face.
It didn’t take a genius to see that the two were somehow connected.
The dog looked at Delilah again, the depth of feeling that she saw in those blue eyes unlike anything she’d ever seen in an animal’s eyes before.
There was movement in front of them, and she and the dog both turned.
More of the animal people were coming, the ground thick with bugs.
The white dog took its position just in front of the still-unconscious young woman—its master—and lowered its head, the flesh pulling back from its yellowed, razor-sharp teeth.
And Delilah listened as it growled in defiance at the approaching horde.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
A silence that seemed to last for weeks passed between them.
Doc Martin tried to fit the strangeness—the outrageousness—of what she was learning into the basic design of the life she’d always known.
It didn’t want to fit.
“So that’s why you’re here?” she asked with a certain grimness, watching the horrible things squatting around the cell tower pulsating with sickening life. “To tell us that we’ve already lost and should just quit without a fight.”
Interpreter looked at her. It was getting harder and harder for her to see the sad young man that she’d come to know and like.
“Your kind . . . is different.” He glanced at the throbbing instruments that were somehow part of their conquest and then back to Doc Martin before he said the oddest thing. “They have noticed.”
“We’re different all right; we’re fighters—thinkers,” she told him. “We may get knocked down a whole bunch of times, but some of us are always going to get up again.” She smiled at her own words, believing every single one of them.
“One that has been . . . changed.”
“We’ve all been changed by this shit,” Doc Martin retorted bitterly.
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