He checked his messages. He had tried to contact M. Zero the last time he signed on, hoping to see if the hacker community was working on anything, but there was no response waiting for him. The same with GhostBot.
Marco hadn't responded, either. That one hurt much worse than the others. Marco had been a brother when his own brother wasn't there for him. He stared at his empty inbox, hoping something would pop up.
"You alright," Will asked. "You don't look too good."
"I think it's starting to sink in."
"What is?"
"I don't know. All of it. How much has been lost."
"We haven't lost everything."
"I know, but...I've been looking for signs of life, and I can't find anything."
"Then keep looking."
He knew what was bothering Will. It was the same thing that had sent them on this impossible journey. If the roles were reversed, Stanley didn't know if he would make the same decision. He stopped thinking about it and signed into a usenet group he hadn't been to in a long time.
To his surprise, it had been updated very recently. There was a flood of information available, from lists of destroyed cities to names of known dead.
"I found something," he said, going through as much data as he could and relaying it all to Will. Will just drove and listened, taking in everything.
Stanley's eyes went to a line that read Estimated Infection Rate. The number it listed made his jaw drop. "Holy shit," he whispered.
"What is it?"
"They estimate half the population has been infected."
"Half of the United States? Is that even possible?"
"Not the U.S.," Stanley said, looking up from the screen. "Half the world."
They drove in silence. Stanley checked the time on his screen. It was 7:15 in the morning. Who knew what new horrors the day would bring?
The tall man Max had kicked out for fighting still hadn't returned from his mission to the armory. While Ryan was off with some other people from the group, Tanya kept a close eye on Max. He was building something down on the court. Or rather, the people he was bossing around were building something. It looked like a chair with a lot of extra bits.
After they had chained the doors and set up security checkpoints at the main entrances, the group had busied themselves converting the venue into a livable space. They blocked out storage areas, set up food stations and assigned offices to become sleeping quarters. Max was setting up the beginnings of a small community, and positioning himself at the center of it in the process. Tanya scoffed as she realized what he was building down on the court.
It was a throne.
"What an asshole," she whispered. Leaving the court behind, and heading to the office area, Tanya found Ryan talking to a guy a little older than himself about swords. She called him away from the conversation and took him to the side where no one could hear them. "Who's that," she asked.
"His name's Henry. He has some pretty good ideas about defending ourselves. I told him he should bring it up to Max at the gathering tomorrow."
"Gathering?"
"Yeah. It's like a meeting."
"Never mind. It's time to go."
"Okay. Did Max send us on a supply run?"
She saw what was happening. Ryan was starting to drink Max's Kool-Aid. If she didn't act soon, he would become a full convert to the Church of Max. "No. We're getting away from him," she said.
"But he can protect us."
"Your father can protect us. This guy is trouble."
Ryan frowned. "He's not a bad guy."
"Baby, you'll come to understand it's not just good guys and bad guys. Bad people occasionally do good things, and good people, they aren't perfect."
There was a long silence. Then Ryan said, "You really think dad's coming?"
"I know he is. I left something at Donegan's, he'll know what it means."
Ryan nodded. "Then we should leave tonight, after everyone's asleep. The entrances will have guards at them, but there's a couple doors at the other side that no one's really watching."
Tanya smiled. "Are they chained up?"
"Yeah."
"Then we need to figure out how to get a key." She started thinking how she could sneak it off one of the entrance guards or convince them to hand it over. When she looked back at Ryan, he was grinning at her. "You took one?"
He patted his pocket.
"I thought you said Max could protect us."
"Well, yeah, but I'm not stupid. I wasn't getting stuck here without a way out."
She mussed his hair up. "You're definitely your father's son."
Later, Tanya snuck off to one of the storage areas and pocketed some food for the coming trip. It was at least two miles from the Armory to the Botanical Garden. In the absolute best of circumstances, that was a forty-five minute walk, and it was safe to say they weren't under the best of circumstances.
As she stuffed a candy bar into her pocket, she saw something move in the shadows on the other side of the hallway. She stopped. Visions of infected tearing through the halls filled her mind. She could only see the back of someone's head. As her eyes adjusted, she recognized CiCi's face. Max had her pressed up against the wall. It looked like Max was eating her face.
Then Tanya realized what was going on. They were making out, away from the eyes of the group. Tanya snuck away, heading back to her quarters with pockets full of food.
"No favorites, huh," she said to herself.
-22-
April 26th, 2015
DAY 9
Ryan and his mother had tried all night to sneak out of their quarters. At every turn someone was in the way, either on patrol or just passing by. After having to fake a bathroom trip for the second time, they'd decided to call it off and wait for the next day.
Doing so had forced them to attend the group's first gathering. In a way, Ryan was glad he had, because it made him realize how right his mom had been about Max. The gathering had started off as a simple meeting to talk about what they would be doing over the next few days as well as the foreseeable future, but from there it changed and got darker. Led by Max, standing in front of his newly-made throne, it grew in intensity. Max fed on the energy the crowd fed him. It didn't take long for his speech to become peppered by shouts and chants from the crowd, and in Max's eyes, Ryan could see that he liked it.
Max on his own was probably alright. But Max with a little power- that was scary.
The weirdest part was when he told them were going to start smiling more. It sounded harmless at first, like he was trying to lift their spirits, but the more he kept going on about it, the more it sounded weirdly cult-like. "Wear a smile," he shouted, "let that be your shield against the horrors. And if you can't manage a smile, paint it on!"
When it was done, and the cheers and handshakes had subsided, Ryan was surprised to see Max heading right for him and his mom.
"How did you like it," Max asked with a grin.
"Very inspiring," his mom lied.
"Good. I'm happy to hear that. It's the first of many. By the way, I have something for you." Max called to someone off to the side. They rushed over and handed him a gun. Ryan was taken aback, until he realized it was Donegan's revolver. "I want you to have it back," he said. "As a sign of faith."
Ryan's mom took it and stuffed it in her waistband. "What about the shotgun?"
"That we need. But don't worry, there'll be more. A lot more."
"Isn't there a whole armory full of guns?"
"The asshole National Guard took everything when they left," Max said.
"Well, thank you for returning it."
"Don't mention it. And don't forget to smile," he said as he walked off.
"I won't," mom replied. When Max was gone, she looked at Ryan and rolled her eyes.
They went back to their quarters and settled in for a second night. When the lights went out again, they laid down in their makeshift beds and pretended to sleep. After an hour of not hearing anything, they go
t their things together and snuck out.
This time they reached the door. Using the key Ryan had lifted, they unlocked the padlock and, quietly as they could, pulled the chain off the door.
With a glance back for good measure, seeing no witnesses, they disappeared out the door.
Marco was getting comfortable in his blacksmith's shop. It had become a nice place to live, furnished and decorated by things he'd scavenged from other buildings. He was getting good at building fires in the fireplace, and he'd even started practicing with the blacksmith's tools. It wouldn't be long before he became the official blacksmith of the estate. If only he could find some books on Smithing, he could figure out what he was doing a lot quicker.
A knock caught him by surprise. He jumped up, grabbed one of the metal pokers and went to the door. "Who is it," he asked.
"It's Maribel."
He undid the makeshift deadbolt and opened the old door. "Hey," he said, trying not to smile too much at the sight of her. "What's up?"
"Is everything okay," she asked, glancing behind him.
"Yeah, why?" He remembered the poker in his hand. "Oh. Sorry. Just being careful." He laid the metal tool up against the wall and invited her in. After a moment of hesitation she crossed the threshold, looking around at the shop as she went.
"I like what you did with it. It feels more like..."
"A home?"
"Kinda."
"That's what I was aiming for."
She smiled. There was an awkward moment. Maribel started walking around the shop, interested in all the little things she found on the work table. Marco realized he should say something before it got too weird. He scratched his beard. "So, do you need help with something?"
"I just wanted some company. I hope that's okay. You seem nice, like I can talk to you about things."
Marco's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, of course. What did you want to talk about?"
She returned her gaze to all the little tools and objects on the table, picking them up, turning them over. "Do you have someone," she asked.
"You mean, like a girlfriend?"
She smiled shyly. "Anyone. Someone you care about."
"Not many. I had a few friends. Well, one, mostly. He left town before everything happened. I was pissed at him for a while, but the truth is I'd be dead if it wasn't for him."
One of the older men Maribel was always with starting calling out to her. "That's my uncle," she said, moving toward the door. "I have to go."
"Maybe we can talk again sometime."
She smiled back at him. "Sure. I'd like that." Maribel left, leaving Marco alone with the fading smell of her sweet perfume. The visit had been brief, but it had lit up his mood immeasurably.
And yet, something seemed off. He couldn't help but think she'd seemed strange, distracted. There was also something different about the work table. Something added. Something missing. What was it? What was wrong?
Then he realized what it was.
The boat keys were gone.
The outside of the Armory was dark without any exterior lights. It was creepy, especially with dead bodies strewn about, but it made sneaking away from the group that much easier. Plus there were still the infected to worry about. The less they could see, the less that could see them.
Ryan and his mom crossed the Armory's lawn. The tour bus was still parked off to the far right. They passed the full-sized Army helicopter the Armory had on display. It bore a red cross painted on its side and sat on a concrete platform.
"That's not very nice," someone called out. Ryan spun to see CiCi stepping out from behind the helicopter. She had her machine gun at her side, plus two others with her, including Henry. Both men held crowbars. "Max showed you a lot of hospitality, and right now you're pissing all over it."
Ryan snorted.
"Is something funny?"
"No. No, I know we shouldn't have done that."
CiCi frowned. "Lucky for you, Max Boone is a nice guy. He's giving you a choice. The first- and the one I suggest you take- is to give us back the food and the key you stole, go with us inside, and become a real part of the group we're building."
Ryan's mom stepped forward. "The other?"
"Let's just say our lawn will get two, brand new decorations."
To Ryan's surprise, his mom pulled the revolver from her waistband. "I bet there's a third option," she said.
CiCi laughed. "Bitch, either you're bad at bluffing, or you're too dumb to check if a gun is loaded when someone hands it to you."
Her face dropped at the realization that she was carrying an empty gun. She looked over at Ryan. "It's okay," she said, "she won't shoot us. It would make too much noise."
"She might. Wait, you're not thinking about..."
She nodded.
"But if they catch us."
His mom leaned in and said, "Now."
Ryan broke into a run, pounding the grass as fast as his feet would take him. His mother was right behind him every step of the way.
He tensed, waiting for the spray of gunshots, but none came. That didn't mean they were in the clear. CiCi and the others chased after them as they weaved through the barricades and crossed the street.
No doubt the group was surprised by how fast their prey were. Judging by how quickly they fell behind, none of them were a thirteen-year-old boy in prime physical shape, nor were they a woman who started every morning by running three miles, rain or shine.
They ran west on Capital Street, coming to an area that had been hit in the bombings. The street was marred by fire, the surrounding buildings reduced to piles of ash and rock. The three following them had fallen back quite a bit, still around the corner, but it wouldn't stay that way forever. It wasn't like they could run the entire two miles to the Botanic Garden.
Especially with infected up ahead. A handful of them were in the street, coming out of wherever they'd been hiding to see what the shouting was about.
"Over there," Ryan said, pointing to the remnants of a high school. It had been badly damaged by fire. A yellow bus jutted up from a hole in the street out front. A tattered flag flew on its lawn.
"We can find something better," his mom said.
He knew what she was thinking. She didn't want to see the bodies that might be inside, especially if they were Ryan's age. He told her they didn't have time to keep looking. She didn't say anything, but she agreed.
They ran through the gaping hole that used to be the front entrance, up a long set of stairs and into what was left of the high school. Ahead was an auditorium that had completely caved in, leaving nothing but piles of rubble and seats in a layer of insulation and dust.
Going around, they navigated loose wires as they made their way further into twisted hallways choked with broken metal and wood. Sections of the ceiling had fallen down. Pools of blood stained the brick floor, but no bodies were to be seen. Whether that was a good thing or not, Ryan didn't know.
As they made their way around to the classrooms they heard the footsteps and heavy breathing of CiCi, Henry and the other guy following them into the school. The area Ryan and his mother came to had been badly hit by fire. Luckily much of the building's brick structure had held up, but everything from the floor to the walls was ashen and hollow as a cold fireplace.
"C'mon, Ryan," Henry called out from somewhere far behind them. "You can still be a part of the group. You and your mom. Why don't you come back so we can talk?"
An answer came, not from Ryan, but from the infected that had followed them in. High-pitched shrieks echoed through the demolished hallways.
Ryan's mother hurried him silently into one of the classrooms. There was no door to close since it had burnt down right out of its frame. The center of the room was piled high with ash. Here and there, the metal legs of school desks that were left behind poked up. At the far side a partial ceiling collapse had turned the corner of the room into a tangle of wood and pipes.
"Cover yourself," his mom said, plunging her hands into the ash
and throwing it on herself. He understood immediately what she was doing. He did the same, both of them rubbing the ash on their arms and legs and coating their faces in smoky soot. On his fifth or sixth time clawing up two fistfuls of ash, Ryan found something solid in his hand. He looked into his open hand at the shiny object sticking up from the ash.
It was a wedding ring.
Ryan took a step back. Some of the ashes, the same he had all over him, on his face, filling his nose, they weren't from the room burning- they were from the people who had died in it. He wanted to throw up. To scream. To cry. But he couldn't do any of it. Not now. Not as the panicked breathing and the slap of hurried footsteps got closer.
"Hide," his mom mouthed silently. They crept to the other side of the room, hunched down and crawled into the collapse. If they were going to survive the next few minutes, they had to become part of the destruction- just two more dead pieces in a tangle of dead pieces.
BRAP. BRAP-BRAP. Gunfire filled the hallway. Henry cried out in pain, cut off by the dull sounds of a crowbar striking something soft. More gunfire. More screams. Ryan made himself small, willing himself not to choke and cough on the ash his face was practically buried in. His mother pressed herself on top of him, pushing him down into the debris and shielding him as much as she could.
Someone entered the room. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut to keep the whites of his eyeballs from giving them away. From the way the person walked and breathed, he knew it was CiCi. She sounded desperate. The two men with her were dead, probably being fed on at that very moment. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but make a stand.
A screech came from the door. Ryan afforded himself a peek, seeing at least five of the creatures huddled in the doorway. It had been a day or so since he'd seen one. How quickly he'd forgotten how disgusting they were. How uncomfortable their puckered mouths and broken teeth made him.
Extinction Cycle (Kindle Worlds): Extinction [Isolation] Page 16