“Yeah, I’m good, Chief,” Raven replied. He pulled off his hat. “My hair hasn’t fallen out yet, and my insides aren’t melting as far as I can tell.”
Nathan grabbed the Geiger counter from the top step and then closed the door behind them.
“You sure?” Colton asked. “Any nausea or diarrhea?”
Nathan turned the device on and stepped up to Raven, the probe held high. Static hissed from the machine.
“Careful where you put that thing, Major,” Raven protested.
“Just hold still and shut up,” Nathan said. He held the device against Raven’s arm and watched the needle move. It stopped at the border of the danger zone.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Nathan said, exhaling a hot breath against his visor. “The rads are higher than before, but not too bad.”
Raven’s smile widened. “See, I told you. It’s a miracle. The fallout dumped mostly to the south and southwest. The storm that hit us cleaned whatever fallout was up there before it hit us.”
Nathan lowered the Geiger counter and scrutinized Raven. “How do you know that?”
Raven reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie that he handed to Nathan. Then he pulled another walkie-talkie and tossed it to Colton.
“Found a radio at Bill’s place. I was listening to a broadcast about the storm. I also found those walkie-talkies in a Faraday cage under the bed.”
“They work?” Colton asked.
Raven smirked like a kid that had just finished his chores. He pulled off his baseball cap and wiped his wet forehead clean with a sleeve. “I got to be honest, Chief. Your officers did a really shitty job searching that place. I also found a clue that you guys missed.”
“That’s because we haven’t had time to search his place or follow proper protocol, Hell, we just barely had time to recover Bill’s body or—”
“Did that broadcast say anything else about the southern part of the state?” Nathan interjected.
Raven avoided Nathan’s gaze, then looked up and said, “Southern part of the state was hit hard with fallout, Major. I’m sorry. I know your nephew is down there.”
“I have to go. Colton, are you still going to loan me a vehicle?” Nathan said.
Colton turned toward him. “You’ll die. You know that. Just stay here a few more days until the radiation lessens to the South.”
“Chief, you made me a promise.”
“It’s suicide, and all due respect, but we both know your nephew is probably...”
Raven held up a hand. “Guys, sorry to interrupt, but there’s something else you should know.”
“What?” Nathan and Colton said at the same time, pivoting toward Raven.
Raven smiled again and pulled out a cigarette from his vest. He jammed it between his lips, lit it, and took a long drag. Nathan was really starting to dislike the guy. He seemed to be enjoying the attention as they waited for him to deliver the rest of his briefing.
“I’ve been waiting for a smoke all morning.”
“That’s your news?” Colton asked.
“Oh right, sorry,” Raven said. “After you guys left me on that mountain to fend for myself in the storm—thanks for that, by the way—I found that blue F-150 we’ve been looking for.”
“That’s the clue?” Colton asked.
Raven took another drag and nodded. He exhaled several puffs of smoke and watched them climb into the sky, avoiding Colton’s gaze. The small mannerism told Nathan that Raven wasn’t being completely honest, but Raven was Colton’s problem now. Nathan was heading out to find Ty as soon as he could get a ride.
First the planes fell out of the sky. Then all the lights went out.
Brown Feather didn’t mind; Water Cannibals hunted better in the dark.
People lost their minds, abandoning their cars in the middle of the road and walking into town, as if someone there would save them. These people were no better than sheep, and their shepherd was a fool who couldn’t control his own flock. There would be riots soon. Chaos in the streets, neighbors fighting each other to the death over a loaf of bread.
“Your time will come soon,” said his demon brother.
Brown Feather replied with a smile. “I know, Turtle. Our hunt will come to an end soon with our prize.”
He loved watching these people fight amongst themselves. It was as though the world had given him a gift. He didn’t give a shit about cell phones and supermarkets. He knew how to live off the land. All he needed was his knife, his woman, and the other demons to keep him company.
The rest of the world could go to hell for all he cared.
But tonight the world had given Brown Feather another gift. She was tall and slim, with hair the color of a crow’s wing that fell to her shoulders in a black wave. He’d spotted her earlier that evening, outside the town hall. At first, he had mistaken her for his woman. The bronzed skin and dark hair were the same as hers, but this girl was younger and more supple.
He was on foot tonight, moving like a shark through a shoal of fish as the crowd dispersed. His truck was safely hidden where the looters wouldn’t find it.
She wasn’t alone. That was more challenging, but he liked it when his prey played hard to get. Walking slowly with the herd, she made her way across the park, her sneakers leaving distinctive diamond-patterned prints in the soft, wet earth. He could have tracked her by those prints alone, or the scent of her sugary perfume.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was already his.
The girl stopped to tie her shoe, waving the others on, insisting that she’d catch up. She wouldn’t. He watched her prop a foot up on the park bench, her lean muscles tensing as she bent over to knot the laces.
It was time. He moved swiftly, silently. Approaching from the side rather than behind so he didn’t startle his prey, he held his hands spread wide and said, “Can you help me?”
She looked up, her eyes curious but not yet frightened. They were the eyes of a doe, soft brown and sensitive. “Uh, sure. What’s wrong?”
He let out a good-humored chuckle. “Seems like everything’s wrong. But right now, I can’t find my dog. My little girl loves that mutt.”
“I love dogs, what’s yours look like?” she asked as she finished tying her shoe. Her hair had fallen over her eyes, and she swept it back with a copper-brown hand.
He thought fast, the lie running smoothly from his mouth. “Chocolate lab. Her name is Candy. I’m Brown Feather, by the way.”
“I’m Mollie,” she said, smiling and eager to help. “Let’s find your dog.”
It took only a moment to draw her away from the crowd, into the soft darkness of the wooded park. She didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. One step from light to dark, one step from life to death. He clamped a massive hand over her mouth, his palm easily covering the lower half of her face. She struggled like a fish on a hook.
“Hold still,” Brown Feather said, pressing the tip of a small knife into her side. “I won’t hurt you if you hold still.”
She went limp, and he almost laughed. What a stupid girl. It almost wasn’t worth killing her.
Once they were far enough from the crowds to risk moving his hand, he gagged the girl and bound her hands with zip ties. She must have realized then what her fate would be. Tears streamed down her face as she dug her heels into the turf, but in the end, he brought her to the river’s edge. In the old stories, the demons lived beneath the surface of lakes and rivers, coming out only at night to stalk and burn their prey. If he followed in their footsteps tonight and proved that he was one of them, he would finally be ready to unleash the horror of the Water Cannibals on these pathetic sheep.
“You can’t do this here,” said his demon brother. “We can’t risk being seen yet. It’s too early for the world to know what we’re doing.”
Turtle was right. The other demon was always right.
The girl’s eyes widened, and Brown Feather smirked with excitement. He knocked her unconscious with a butt
of his large head. For the next hour he carried her over his shoulder through the woods until they reached his lair where he set her on the ground. Next he looped a length of thick nylon rope over a tree branch and then tied one end into a simple but effective noose that slipped easily over the girl’s head. A small fire was soon burning merrily below her feet. She writhed and kicked as she regained consciousness, but all her efforts did nothing more than tighten the noose.
Soon—too soon—she died. He watched the fire for a while longer, staring deep into the heart of the flames as if it might reveal secrets to him.
Once the flesh had been charred, he would cut her down and feast. That was the Water Cannibals’ way, so that’s what he had to do too. Squaring his broad shoulders, he strode forward and examined the body. Where should he start? The air was rich with the scent of barbecue as he contemplated his options.
He had tracked, killed, and eaten just about everything, from squirrel to elk, but this was new to him. The legends weren’t clear on which parts were the best to eat. The flash of a diamond on the ring finger of her left hand caught his eye.
Okay, Brown Feather thought. I’ll start there.
Sandra peeled off her gloves and tossed them in a trashcan overflowing with medical supplies. It was morning of the third day after the attack, and only one of the cleaning staff had showed up earlier that morning. He was doing his best to keep up, but it wasn’t enough.
She grabbed another pair of gloves and strode to the ER. Inside, Doctor Newton was hovering over Rick Nelson. Rosy spots of blood had formed on the bandages covering the four burr holes Newton had drilled in Nelson’s skull. Sandra could still hear the crunching sound as the hand drill broke through the bone.
“Check his vitals,” Newton said without looking up at her. “Then check the drainage.”
Sandra stepped up to the bed and gently took Rick’s wrist. She took his heart rate by placing her index and middle finger over the radial artery. Then she counted for fifteen seconds and multiplied by four.
“Heart rate is ninety-two,” she announced. That wasn’t good. Next, she took his blood pressure with a manual cuff and a stethoscope. It had dropped since she had taken it last.
“Blood pressure is now ninety-six over fifty.”
“Shit,” Newton replied. “His breathing is getting worse, too. We might have to get out the BVM.”
Sandra opened Rick’s eyelids and shone a flashlight at his pupils. She raked the light back and forth, but there was little movement.
“He still isn’t responding,” Sandra said. “His pupils are equal in size, but not reactive to light.”
“We need to do everything possible to keep him calm and pain-free or we’re going to be looking at a higher probability of brain herniation,” Newton said. He doused his hands in rubbing alcohol, which was the best they could do for sterilization without hot water. “How are those burr holes?”
Sandra examined the four small holes in Rick’s skull. Three of them were left open for pressure relief, but the fourth had a tube draining a mixture of blood and clear fluid into a sterile bag.
“Looks good,” Sandra said. “Relatively speaking.”
She checked them a second time just to make sure. The drip was slow, which was hopefully a good sign. Drilling was an archaic method that Newton had never performed before. Sandra wasn’t sure what was normal.
“The drain doesn’t look like it’s putting out much cerebral spinal fluid,” she said.
“Let me take a look,” Newton said, bending down next to her. She moved out of the way, giving her a full view of Rick’s buzzed skull. A bloody dent marked the top of his head where he’d been struck with a brick. Judging from the placement wound, he never saw the attack coming.
Standing, Newton shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “I’m not sure what else we can do for him. Check on Teddy, please.”
Sandra sucked in a long, deep breath. She needed an entire day of sleep, maybe two, to catch up. But there was no time for that. She tried to put the officer’s fate out of her mind for now, but Sandra couldn’t help thinking of Nelson’s wife, Maggie, and their infant daughter. She’d been Maggie’s nurse, and she remembered how delighted the young officer had been to be a father for the first time.
She approached Teddy’s bed, where a nurse named Jen was pumping the bag that allowed him to breathe.
“I thought he was trying to open his eyes, but it might have just been involuntary movement,” she said when Sandra asked for an update.
Sandra threw her gloves in a trashcan and put on another pair. “Thanks, Jen. I’ll take over now.”
“Take an extra ten minutes,” Jen said. “You look exhausted. When was the last time you ate something? Go get a drink of water at least.”
Sandra hesitated until she heard Allie’s voice from the lobby.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Sandra said.
Jen continued pumping precious air into the little boy’s lungs. Teddy’s parents were sitting in the lobby, as they had been ever since their son was admitted. They had been watching after Allie, who sat on the floor in front of them playing with a puzzle.
Outside the window, a police officer was pacing with his shotgun. Creek lay on the pavement, protecting the hospital while his handler got better inside. He wagged his tail when he saw Sandra, and she waved at the dog before turning back to Teddy’s parents.
“Mr. and Mrs. Brown, thank you so much for watching my daughter,” she said.
“Momma!” Allie cried, delighted. She came running over.
“How is Teddy?” Marie Brown asked.
“He’s doing okay,” Sandra said. “Your son is a very strong boy.”
“When will they have the power back on?” Michael Brown asked.
“I…I’m not sure,” Sandra lied. She avoided their gazes by kneeling in front of Allie. “How are you, sweetie?”
“I want to go home. When is Uncle Raven coming back?”
“Soon, baby.” Sandra hugged Allie and then stood. She drew in a breath before turning to face the Browns.
“What have the doctors told you?” she asked.
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “They said that there’s no further sign of the bacterial infection, but that’s it.”
Sandra picked her next words carefully. “There is no sign of the Necrotizing Fasciitis infection, but Teddy needs a constant regimen of intravenously fed antibiotics.”
Allie looked up at Sandra, tilting her head slightly as if she was trying to understand. She put a hand on Allie’s shoulder and pulled her close.
Michael did the same to Marie.
“My baby,” Marie whimpered. “My poor baby.”
Sandra gave Allie a final squeeze and said, “You’ll have to excuse me, but I need to go see my brother.”
Marie nodded and returned to her seat with Michael.
“You stay with these nice people, sweetie,” Sandra said.
“But I want to see Uncle Raven.”
“He’s resting, baby, but you can see him soon.”
Sandra left the lobby and cut through the ER to get to Raven’s room. He was sharing it with an older man who had been caught outside during the storm for much longer than Raven. The man seemed to be doing okay, but only time would tell.
She pulled her mask over her face and knocked on the door. Once inside, she nodded to the first patient and then slipped between the curtains to her brother’s bed.
He was sitting up, a mischievous grin on his face. Seeing him smiling made her heart nearly burst with joy—until she saw him quickly pull his sheet up to his chest to hide something.
“Sam Spears! What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m a model patient, Sis. Ask that good-looking nurse with the tattoos on her—”
She held out a hand palm-up. “Hand it over, Raven.”
“I don’t have anything to hand over!”
She pulled the sheet back and grabbed the can of beer that he was attempt
ing to hide.
“Where the hell did you get this?” she asked.
“Cut me some slack! I nearly died.”
“Yes, you could have died, and you have been exposed to radiation, which means you need to rest and take in fluids.”
“Beer is a fluid. Can’t I drink just a little?”
She poured the remainder of the can down the drain and then perched in the chair beside his bed. “I still can’t believe you walked all the way into town in the middle of the storm. What were you thinking?”
At her words, his face turned grave. All trace of humor had vanished.
“Raven, what is it?”
“Remember the Water Cannibal story?”
Sandra smiled behind her mask. “I remember you used to crap your pants over it.”
“I think someone’s trying to bring it to life,” Raven said coldly.
“What? What do you mean?”
“The man who killed Melissa and Bill Catcher seems to know the story, like they’re trying to act it out. I found a picture near the tree they found Bill Catcher hanging from. And both victims were burned.”
“Picture?” Sandra asked. “Like a photograph?”
“No. Someone drew the scene on a piece of paper. They were just stick figures, but it was definitely a scene from the Water Cannibal story.”
“Have you told Chief Colton?”
Raven shook his head. “He won’t understand.”
“You can’t keep this from him. It makes you look guilty,” Sandra said. “You don’t need him to be any more suspicious of you. Besides, whoever is doing this is a sick person, but they aren’t carrying out some story our parents told us when we were kids. That’s just crazy.”
A knock on the door echoed through the room, startling Sandra. She pulled her mask up and stood as Colton and Jake stepped into the room. Nathan waited in the hallway behind them. She smiled at the pilot, and he returned it with interest.
“Ma’am,” Colton said, taking off his hat. “We need to speak to your brother.”
“This can’t be good,” Raven said.
Trackers (Book 1) Page 20