She slid the window up a few more inches, then climbed into the house. A soft carpet greeted her, and she almost closed the window, but decided to leave it open. She listened for movement, but the house was even quieter than the outside world.
The door to the bedroom she was in was shut, and she opened it slowly to keep it from creaking. The hallway floor was made of wood, and she walked as close to the wall as she could so the floorboards would give less. She crept down the stairs and looked into the living room. Still no fire, no candles, no flashlights. Where was Burke?
Bailey stood in the doorway for a long time. The darkness played tricks on her eyes, so she closed them. Her ears proved more faithful: She could hear Burke breathing. It was coming from behind a door down a hall on the ground floor.
She went into the kitchen first, quietly slid a drawer open, and found it full of spoons and ladles. She left it open and opened the next, and inside she found an assortment of knives. Bailey took one, then crept back into the hallway and stopped outside the door.
As hard as she listened, Bailey couldn’t tell if Burke was asleep or awake, only that he was breathing. With her free hand she took the doorknob and turned it slowly, more slowly, barely turned it at all, and then the door swung inward, silently.
The room was black, but she could see a shape on the bed. It rose and fell with Burke’s breaths. Bailey tiptoed across the room and stood over him. Her grip on the knife tightened, but it stayed clutched near her chest. Something ran down her cheek; she wasn’t sure if it was snow dripping from her hair, or a tear.
Make it right.
But was this right? It was revenge and it would keep Burke from killing anyone else, but which was the point and which was just gravy?
“If you’re going to kill me, kill me,” Burke said, and Bailey flinched. “Otherwise, get out so I can sleep.”
“You killed them,” Bailey said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Cliff and Alyssandra. The couple at the door. You had them killed.”
“I’ve had a lot of people killed. But only if I thought I had to.”
“Bullshit!” Bailey said, then waited to see if anyone was coming. “They didn’t do anything to you.”
“They hid you from me, obviously.”
“It’s me you wanted, not them.”
Burke sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s not easy, you know. Taking care of this many people. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like. Just to be sure.”
“I think you believed that,” Bailey said. “Once. Not now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If Gary were in charge, he never would’ve made that call. You could’ve passed on and you never would’ve seen any one of us again, especially me. And you know that. You killed them because you wanted to. You were either angry or scared or frustrated, but in the end you wanted to.”
Burke laughed. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
Bailey plunged the knife into his throat. He made a noise that might’ve been another laugh, or an attempt to scream, but came out as a raspy grumble either way. After a few seconds of pouring blood, he made no sound at all.
Bailey let go of the knife and fell backward, crying. She put both hands against her mouth to muffle herself, then took her gun from her pants and placed it at the bottom of her chin.
The tears stopped, but the thoughts continued. An hour passed before she convinced herself she wasn’t like Burke; she hadn’t enjoyed it. She let the gun fall from her chin, then turned her thoughts away. What a mess she’d made; now Burke’s men would hunt her to the end of the world, one way or the other.
Unless they never knew.
Bailey went to a nearby desk, where a candle sat, unlit. She lit it, set it on top of a stack of papers, then pushed them as close to the blanket covering the bedroom window as she could. After a few seconds the blanket went up in flames, and the papers followed, and the desk started to catch. Bailey took the candle and pressed it to the bed sheets, which started to go up as well. She had to reach over the flames to put the candle back, and nearly knocked it over. It didn’t fall, and so what if it had? It wasn’t exactly the FBI who would find this place in the morning.
She climbed the stairs, went out through the window, closed it behind her, and climbed down. She pushed the lawnmower back to its original place, then swept her footprints out of the snow as she walked into the woods. When she was several yards out, she walked along the creek until she found her bag. Bailey wrapped herself in the blankets and waited for morning.
They didn’t notice until the sun came up, and by then the fire was long gone. It was Gary who roused everyone, but from this distance, Bailey only caught a shout here and there.
Despite the cold biting at her through the blankets, Bailey was sweating. If they continued on their way, they’d likely be gone forever. But if they turned back, they were looking for her, and they would never, ever stop.
After the initial panic, Gary gathered everyone around the sled, where they remained for a while. Eventually they started up the road, making new tracks in the snow. Someone broke off from the rest of the group and headed for the trees. Bailey’s heart pounded, and she put the binoculars to her eyes. It was Gary, and he stopped at the edge of the creek and looked around to make sure he was alone. He took something from inside his coat, and it shined in the light of the morning sun: A medium-sized kitchen knife. Gary tossed it into the creek, looked around a few times, then turned back and joined the others. Bailey watched until they crested a hill, and soon the last of them disappeared behind it, leaving only their tracks in the snow.
40
At a Town Meeting
Everyone was murmuring, a few people talking very loudly. At least one was complaining that his family wasn’t safe. Layne hoisted himself onto the washing machine, and everyone started shouting and asking questions.
“Quiet down!” Garrett said. Only one or two people matched his height; Keely could see him from the back of the laundromat. Most of the citizens of New L.A. obeyed.
“There’s been some kind of accident,” Layne said.
“Doesn’t sound like no accident,” someone replied. “Sounds like attempted murder.”
Nods and shouts of agreement. The complainer from before spoke up. “I was told my family would be safe here. Just what kind of town is this? One where killers walk the streets?”
“We’re doing everything we can to find whoever’s responsible,” Vince said.
“Oh, how comforting. You’re doing everything you can. Standing in a laundry. Hard work, isn’t it?”
“Watch it,” Lacie said. “These things take time.”
“We’ll find whoever did this,” Layne said. “But we need your help. The girl we found gave us a name before she passed out. We won’t know much more until she wakes up, but she said ‘Randolph’. Anyone know a Randolph?”
The crowd was silent for the first time. Layne sighed.
“Until we find this guy, everybody stick with someone you know and trust,” Garrett said. “Don’t go off alone. If you see any suspicious behavior, you come get me or Layne or Robert.”
“Because you three are the only ones trustworthy? Maybe it was one of you who tried to kill that girl!”
Garrett raised his voice, something Keely had only heard him do a few times. “If you think you’re safer outside these walls, you are welcome to leave.” The man had no reply, so Garrett quieted down. “You’re upset. I understand, man. I know what it’s like to be afraid. But I promise nothing’s going to happen, as long as everybody follows these rules. We’ll get everything taken care of. Until then, we’ve got a city to run.”
“We’re way behind on scavenging for the day,” Layne said. “We’re going to need more food to get us through the next few days. We’ve still got barricades to finish, and the housing units are all full, so we’ll need to clear out another building and set up more cots.”
“We’re out of cots,” Dom said. “Shit, d
idn’t I tell you?”
“It’s all right, we’ll make due,” Layne said. The meeting returned to the usual talk, and most people left the laundromat. Keely was one of the last out.
She found Ralph behind the motel chopping wood, most of which came from when they tore down the hallway that once connected the motel with the radio station. Strike after strike, he cut the wood unevenly, angrily, and finally Keely put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to her.
“They don’t believe me. It’s that Randy guy. It makes sense, right? Randy, Randolph. And they had a fight, and then nobody saw her until Robert found her.”
“It’s a serious accusation,” Keely said. “But you can bet Garrett’s watching that guy like a hawk.”
“Yeah.” Ralph leaned his axe next to the door. “I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let them run off like that. Jane might die.”
“Jane’s going to be fine. This isn’t your fault.”
“I don’t want someone to blame,” Ralph said. “I want this to not have happened.”
“But it did happen. All you can do now is be there for her when she wakes up.”
Ralph stared at his hands; they were red and starting to blister. He sighed. “Yeah. Thanks, Keely.”
“It’s what we do,” Keely said, and went back inside.
****
“Randy. Over here. Randy.”
“I heard you the first time,” Randolph said. “I was ignoring you. They’re watching me, Samuel, it’s not safe for us to talk.”
“They have to assume you talk to someone sometime,” Samuel replied. “Randol—Randy, what do we do? I’m in the dark, here. Beulah’s keeping Maddock asleep like you asked, but it’s not easy. Give him too much and he’ll die, and that’s the last thing we need.”
“How are the bombs?”
“I finished them, but I wish you had been there. Or Maddock. I’m not cut out for this stuff, Randy.”
“Well we can’t afford to let Maddock wake up, and I can’t go anywhere near the workshop. We just have to hold out until tonight, then Adam will get here, we set them off, and we’re on our way.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple, Samuel. We’re almost done. We’ve lasted here for weeks, we can hold out a few more hours. Adam and the greater humans are counting on us. Now don’t talk to me again unless it’s important, okay? Just put the bombs where I showed you, and then wait for tonight.”
“All right,” Samuel said.
“You sound unsure.”
“It’s just—”
“Don’t even, don’t you even go there, Samuel. Not now. We’re so close.”
“I’m not about to turn against the Cause,” Samuel said. “It’s just… I can’t help but be afraid. For Beulah.”
“Death isn’t something to fear. It’s our reward, remember? You and Beulah are both going to receive a beautiful death, for God and the Cause.”
“For God and the Cause,” Samuel said, but he sounded like he wanted nothing to do with either.
****
Adam kneeled on the dirty tile. Blood had been spilled on it, but by now it was brown and flaking away, barely there. Whatever had happened was a long time ago.
He folded his hands together and spoke out loud, but kept quiet so his voice wouldn’t leave the room.
“Dear God… I guess it’s been a while since I prayed to You, really prayed. I’ve been following Your direction, doing what You wanted… right? This is all right, isn’t it?”
The room didn’t answer. Adam could hear the other lesser humans talking in the lobby of the little post office. They were all so close to death, but he didn’t see it in their eyes, didn’t hear it in their voices. He could smell it in the air, but did they even notice?
“All I ever wanted was to do Your will.” A tear slid down his cheek. “Why is it so hard to know if I’m doing the right thing? Why did You stop talking to us, why won’t you just come down here and talk to me?”
Silence for seconds, minutes, years. It was endless. Adam wiped his eyes and stood up.
“If I’m wrong… stop me. Please.” He reached into the desk he’d claimed and took the gun from it. He emptied it of one bullet, left the other five in place, spun the chamber, then clicked it shut. Adam put the barrel in his mouth, tasted the gunpowder and the cold, sour metal. He held his breath, waited, told his hand to pull the trigger, felt his temples pulsing, his vision dimming. He let the breath go and took the gun from his mouth.
“If it goes off or not, that’s not even You, is it? Just a gun we made. We disgusting, violent, deadly things. Lesser humans. Tonight I bring more violence and death than anyone has seen in years, but it’s only to end it all for good.”
Someone knocked on the door. It was time to head out.
“I’ll be right there,” Adam said. He tucked the gun into his pants and headed for the door, but stopped, took the gun out, and aimed it at the window. Adam pulled the trigger, and the gun clicked.
****
Randolph had a pair of walkies, and he had given one to Samuel. He knew if either of them needed it, it meant things had gone wrong, but the little black box had been silent all night. It was almost time.
He sat on his cot, twirling the knife and cursing his luck. How could things have gone so wrong? He should be slitting the Great Evil One’s throat right now, but he had to assume someone would be watching the door to this building, possibly even his room. Samuel would be placing the bombs around now, and Beulah would be waiting to open the front gate. At least there was that; nobody suspected Beulah of anything.
But what if Maddock woke up and started asking about Jane? That would complicate things. Perhaps he should sneak down the hall, slit Maddock’s throat instead.
Randolph was staring at a window. It had been boarded up, and that was his answer. He crept across the floor to keep his shoes from clacking on the tile, then slowly pried the boards from the window, one by one. He slipped out into the darkness, looked around. No one was watching.
Randolph made his way through dark streets, skirting anyone he saw from far away, and crept up on the motel next to the radio station, where the Great Evil One had sat for so long, spewing his hatred. No more. Never again would he let loose his words.
How could he get in? Most of the windows led to bedrooms, but he had no idea which one would be the right one. The front door was probably guarded. The back? Worth a shot; if anyone asked, he could always pretend he’d gotten turned around somewhere. Or just kill them quietly.
Randolph tried the knob, and the door was unlocked. Better yet, there was no guard; most likely whoever was usually posted here was instead outside Randolph’s room, blissfully unaware he’d left it behind.
He tiptoed so he wouldn’t be heard. The carpet made it easier. Which room did the Great Evil One sleep in? He’d tried to catch a glimpse once, and found little more than an old man asking him if he was lost.
Randolph would have to check the rooms one by one. Suddenly this seemed like a bad idea. Perhaps he should just wait for Adam to get here, wait for the explosions and the greater humans—
No. What if the Great Evil One ran away like a coward and somehow escaped the attack? He would only rise again, and how many greater humans would suffer because of him?
I will not harm nor allow harm to come to a greater human. God, let the first door I check be his.
Randolph tried the knob, but it clicked. Locked, of course. He sighed, but then straightened. It was an answer to his prayer: The Great Evil One was always babbling about how anyone could come to him for anything. Perhaps his door would be unlocked?
Randolph tried the next door and it clicked, but the next one popped open. His heart danced in his ribcage. He peered into the room, tried to see whose it was. Randolph crept toward the bed, let his eyes adjust to the darkness to see whose face was lying there, sleeping—
It was him. Ah, but Randolph had left the door open; he’d need to shut it to drown out the soun
d. Slower than mountains grow, he crept back, shut the door, and went back to the bed. His eyes were adjusted enough: The pale darkness here was his throat. Randolph raised the knife, and the door shot open.
“Layne, she woke up!”
The Great Evil One sat up so quickly it knocked the knife out of Randolph’s hand. Randolph ran and dove, scrambling between the big black man’s legs before he could realize what had happened. He tore down the hallway, shoved past the short bald girl before she could finish asking where her partner was, and headed for the back door.
****
“Katie? Has anyone seen—”
Randy shoved past Keely as he scrambled down the hall.
“Stop him!” Garrett screamed. Keely caught her balance and rushed after Randolph. He turned a corner headed for the back door. Keely forced her legs to work faster. Katie went outside sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, what if he had gotten to her? He was within arms’ reach. Keely grabbed for his shirt, but missed. She lost her balance and fell forward, she was moving so quickly that she rolled when she hit the carpet. Keely got back up and ran, but now he was outside, only he was stopping.
Keely heard Katie through the open door. “What’s going on?”
“Katie, watch out!”
Randolph reached beside the door, grabbed something, and swung. Keely saw the moonlight gleam off the axe’s handle. Her fists clenched so hard the skin split, and she screamed when she heard Katie scream.
Randolph slammed the door, but Keely tore it open. He was getting away down the alley, but Keely turned the other way. Katie was lying on the ground clutching the axe still stuck in her stomach. Blood was pouring from it onto the grass, and Katie groaned and cried in pain.
“Katie—”
Katie shook her head. “Stop him, stop—”
Garrett and Layne tore out of the building, looked at the two women, then took off the other way. Keely grasped at Katie’s waving hands. “I’m not leaving you. You need to breathe, baby, okay? Just breathe.”
Zombiemandias (Book 2): In the Year of Our Death Page 24