One…two…three… I counted eight greyskins in the front yard alone. My hands began to shake again. I dropped my hand from the blinds and snuck back into the living room. I knelt over Lucas carefully and shook him.
He sat up suddenly and wiped his eyes. “What is it?” he whispered.
“The greyskins are here,” I said.
He stared at me for a long moment before the information seemed to register. Then he threw the covers off of him and quietly went to wake his parents. Within a minute we were all in the living room, each of us holding a gun. I held the pistol close to my chest, though I felt that my hands shook too much for me to be very effective.
Lucas and his parents stared through cracks in the blinds as I sat on the couch, trying to calm my nerves.
“Incredible,” I heard Charles whisper. “They barely seem alive at all, but they are moving around.”
“That’s just it,” Hattie said. “They aren’t alive.” She left the window and sat on the couch across from me. “Waverly and I shot them in the chest enough to kill any normal person. These things didn’t even notice that we hit them.”
Charles stared at her with creased eyebrows. “You mean, they can’t die?”
“They can,” she said. “You just have to shoot them in the head. Destroy whatever brain function they might have that keeps them going. Waverly and I finally managed to kill one today.”
Charles nodded thoughtfully and turned back to the window, but this time he let out a gasp.
“Don’t move!” Hattie whispered a little too loudly.
Charles stood like a statue as he found himself face-to-face with a greyskin at the window. The creature stared into the glass, tilting its head from side to side almost as if to study what it was looking at. I could see Charles holding his breath, but he couldn’t hold it forever. With each little breath, the window began to fog.
I don’t know what it was—a twitch, a noise—but the greyskin went ballistic, letting out a loud groan as it smashed its hand through the glass and reached for Charles’ shirt. The greyskin had taken him by surprise and it latched on to him, pulling him forward against the glass. Hattie brought up her gun, but hesitated because she feared she might hit her husband. Charles tried to wrench free and Lucas jumped forward to grab his father, but the greyskin had a good hold on him. It pulled Charles forward until his torso was pressed against the broken glass, the edges cutting into his skin.
“Shoot it!” he yelled, “shoot it!”
I jumped forward, standing next to Charles as I brought the handgun in front of the greyskin and shot it through the forehead. Charles instantly fell back onto Lucas as the creature’s arms and fingers went limp. Blood covered Charles’ chest, stomach and arms.
“We have to get to the truck,” he said as he pulled himself up.
“Charles, you’re bleeding everywhere!” Hattie said.
“It’s nothing too deep,” he said reaching down for his rifle. “And it didn’t bite me, so I can’t be infected.”
A crash at another window jolted us to attention. Hattie lifted her gun and shot the greyskin through the brain, but it was only replaced by more. They were starting to surround the house.
It felt like earlier when I was at my own house: a reserved panic. Hattie had thought that her house had been isolated enough to escape this virus, this sickness that plagued mankind. But this only confirmed that there never had been an escape and to think so was foolish.
The four of us rushed to the front of the house. Hattie looked through the kitchen window at the driveway only to report that there were at least five between us and the truck. A glance down the short hallway showed us that there was no other way out as the greyskins tore into the living room through the windows. Their moaning and hissing reached my ears and their stench violated my nostrils. Lucas held his gun ready and swung the front door open. He stopped for just a moment to take aim at a greyskin that noticed him and shot it in the head. I shot two down, and Hattie shot the other two as Charles fumbled for his keys and got into the front of the truck. Hattie yelled for Lucas and me to hop into the back as she got into the passenger side. The greyskins from behind the house were coming after us, but Charles was already tearing out of the driveway.
Without food, without shelter, and with limited ammunition, we hurried away from another home.
It was afternoon of the next day when we realized that Charles needed more than stitches. He needed a cure for the greyskin virus.
“But I don’t know how it happened,” he said through labored breaths as he sat in the bed of the truck. Sweat poured from his brow and cheeks. His eyes that had been watering were now discharging thick mucous and turning a darker shade. He was changing into one of them.
“Don’t try to talk sweetie,” Hattie said as she squeezed his hand.
“Don’t try to stop me,” he said through clenched teeth.
I looked at Lucas who sat on the edge of the bed, looking down and showing little emotion. He stared with wide eyes and an open mouth as if what he saw before him wasn’t real. I wished that it wasn’t. I wished that all of this was just some horrible nightmare.
“Could the scratches have done it?” Charles asked. He held up his arms and revealed several long, deep cuts running from his elbows to his wrists. “I thought they had to bite you.”
Hattie shook her head as she stroked Charles’ hair.
“You three have to get out of here,” Charles said, dropping his hands. He pushed himself upward so he could sit up straighter. “Somebody give me a gun.”
“What?”
“I’m not about to turn into one of those things, Hattie,” he said. “You’ve seen the news. There’s no cure. If I wait it out I’ll be one of those things by tonight. Give me a gun.”
Hattie’s hands were shaking and Lucas was still staring, but Charles knew what needed to be done, and so did I. I walked to the side of the truck and gave him my handgun. He looked at me through his filmy eyes and nodded, taking the gun from me. He started to scoot out of the bed of the truck, but Hattie tried to keep him back. She wanted him to lie down, to rest. I had never seen Hattie in such despair. She had always seemed so strong. Now she looked broken. Charles shoved her away as he got to his feet out of the truck. He looked at me first.
“You need to drive,” he said. “I don’t know if these two will be in any shape to do it.”
The instruction took me by surprise. I had never legally driven before. I was still two years from getting a license, but I nodded anyway. It was probably safer for me to drive than it was for a crying Hattie, or shocked Lucas.
“Hattie, Lucas, come with me,” he said.
I stepped away from the truck out of respect. The oddest feeling came over me in that moment. For a brief second, I felt jealous of Hattie and Lucas. What they were going through was horrendous, of course, but at least they got to say goodbye to the person they loved. The only goodbye I got from my loved ones was a scream from the other end of the phone and blood seeping through the basement door. But how much worse would it be to see them still alive and having to say goodbye? Perhaps it was easier for me. Maybe if I were in their shoes, I would be jealous of the person that didn’t have to say goodbye to anyone.
I never want to say goodbye to anyone ever again, I thought. I just want this all to be over soon.
Chapter 9 - Remi
It’s early in the afternoon when I get to the Crestwood entrance, a mostly empty bag strapped to my shoulders weighed down by a full water bottle, a bit of food for the journey ahead, and the pistol I stole from Paxton. I don’t know what came over me when I packed it, but when Gabe told me we were going out of the city, I had to take my chances. I knew that Gabe would probably give me my own gun back when we went out, but a little extra protection is never a bad thing. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be frisked when we come back. I am a citizen here and my apartment has already been searched.
I stand next to a silver SUV and shake hands with the two soldie
rs that helped Gabe search my apartment. Beardy, I find out, is actually known as Skip, which I think to be quite a lighthearted name for such a hairy man. His facial hair is dark, long, and thick, kind of like the rest of him. He’s a big man that I won’t mind having around when the greyskins attack. For one, they would surely see him first. But I’m sure he can hold his own against the undead.
Sleeveless is simply called Mendez. He has a shaved head and is, of course, still wearing a sleeveless shirt despite the frigid air that turns our breath into puffs of white smoke. Both of them are loaded with weapons, a rifle slung over their shoulders coupled with long daggers at their sides.
“So you’re the one that’s going out with us?” Skip asks with a big smile. He looks me up and down, but I’m not sure if he’s sizing me up or undressing me with his eyes.
“Got a problem with that?” I ask, giving him my best tough-guy impression. I stand as straight as possible, trying to keep my shoulders wide. My nose tilts upward just a little so I can gain a bit of height but they both have half a foot on me at least. No doubt these guys don’t want a lightweight out there. When greyskins are involved, you want only the most experienced fighters. Lucky for them I’m more experienced than I could ever wish to be.
Skip shakes his head, his beard flapping in the wind. He looks past me as Gabe comes walking up.
“I see you’ve already met the team,” he says as he walks past me and opens the back of the SUV. He’s wearing a dark, cloth jacket that reaches down to his thighs. Slung over his shoulder is a pump shotgun. On one side of his belt is a pistol and on the other side is a knife.
“How long you been here?” Mendez asks me.
“Three months,” I say.
Mendez and Skip look at each other and then at Gabe sharply, but Gabe pays them no mind. He unzips a duffle bag in the back seat and moves it to the rear storage. He sets his shotgun across the back seat and pulls out a rifle, looking straight into my eyes.
My heart jumps when I see that he’s holding my gun in one hand and in the other, my sheathed knife. “This is just for today,” he says, handing them to me slowly. “Once you’ve proven yourself and I can recommend you to be a soldier, then you will be able to keep them on you at all times.”
I can’t help but smile. Somehow I just knew he would give these back to me. “Thank you,” I say, trying not to show my excitement. As the rifle is placed into my left hand, and my knife into my right, I feel as though I’m being reacquainted with old friends. The solid wood stock of the rifle feels perfect in my grip. Grasping the smooth knife handle brings a sense of protection, but also foreboding as I know it will more than likely meet the rotting skull of a greyskin like it has so many times before.
“The gun has been properly cleaned and the knife has been sharpened,” he says with a grin. The dimple on the right side of his cheek shows as he starts to look away and shuffle through more empty-looking bags in the back seat.
The moment is too good to be true, it seems, when a familiar, low voice cuts through the air behind me, turning my insides to ice. “I’m sure it feels nice to have your weapons back, doesn’t it?” Paxton says as he walks up to the group. Skip and Mendez stand a little straighter though Gabe barely notices the town leader. I spin on my heel, my heart beating faster.
Paxton has a tight smile on his face, one that seems forced. His dark hair is interrupted by grey near his temples, and a black beard covers his chin and cheeks. I wish there was something I could do about the tempo of my heart. This isn’t like the throbbing heartbeat I get when Gabe comes near me. When Paxton comes close it feels like fear. Shouldn’t I feel safe when he is near? Although I must admit, the loaded silver gun in my pack does add to my tension. All he would have to do is ask, and my bag would be searched. I would be exposed as the culprit who ransacked a desk, stole minutes from boring meetings, and snatched a gun. I would never be able to explain myself to him or anyone else. But he had stolen from me. In some way, it was like taking back my things. Now, I have my weapons back, plus Paxton’s. I feel no guilt…just nervousness.
Paxton stands in front of us with his hands on his hips. “Gabe, do you have a weapon for me?”
Gabe jerks his head toward Paxton, forgetting the duffle bags in the back seat. “Pardon?”
“A gun,” he says, still smiling. “It would do me some good to get outside of these walls for a few hours,” he turns his eyes to me, “get my hands dirty.”
I look away from him, unable to shake the feeling that he knows or at least suspects me of breaking into Headquarters. Gabe catches my eye before he reaches into the SUV and pulls out a rifle and knife and hands them to Paxton. He accepts them with a smile and looks back at me.
“I suppose we’re getting a new soldier?” he asks. His smiling eyes turn to Gabe and his eyebrows turn upward almost as if to ask, why didn’t you clear it with me first?
Gabe’s eyes turn away quickly as he busies himself with the duffle bags. I’m not even sure he’s doing anything other than avoiding Paxton’s stare. Perhaps he’s even trying to think of a way to persuade Paxton to stay behind.
“We’ll see how she does,” Mendez says.
I squint my eyes at him as Mendez moves around to the other side of the SUV. Paxton stands next to me as Gabe places extra weapons in the storage space.
“How is Crestwood treating you?” Paxton asks me.
I shuffle in my feet for a moment, still standing at Paxton’s side, but refusing to let my eyes meet his. “Everyone has been very kind to me.”
“Good,” he says. “I didn’t know you had any interest in being a soldier.”
I have to look at him. It would be so weird of me to keep looking away like I have been. My eyes pull up to meet his and my pulse pounds. I shut them for a brief second as if my thoughts of the gun in my bag are revealed in my eyes, playing like two tiny movie screens for Paxton to watch. He looks at me as I bite my lower lip and glance at Skip, Mendez, and Gabe getting the SUV ready. How long does it take for a vehicle to be ready to drive?
“Yep,” I say. “I’m like you, I like to get my hands dirty.” I hate the words as they pour out of my mouth like drool as though I’m brain dead. I shake my head once and try again. “I just like to kill greyskins.” It’s a lie. I mean, I would rather kill greyskins than be killed by them, but I never really want to be outside the walls. It’s not like I can just tell him that I want nothing more than to hold a gun so I don’t go insane. I might as well tell him that I was the one that stole his gun. If my blubbering hasn’t told him already, that is.
“Good,” he says again. “We need people like you out there clearing towns and villages, making room for expansion.”
“Expansion?” I ask.
Paxton nods. “Always a possibility. Always something we look forward to. The more we can expand, the more we can help others. The more we can help others, the more this world can heal.”
“You really think the world can come back from all this?” I ask, suddenly feeling a surge of confidence, though I have no good reason for it. Don’t get too comfortable. He surely suspects me, the most recent addition to the citizens of Crestwood.
“We will come back from it,” Paxton says. “It’s only a matter of time. I just want to keep as many people safe and happy until that day finally comes.”
I decide to keep my mouth shut and not tell him what I think—that the entire world was dying and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy to have a place of refuge like Crestwood. It took blood, sweat, and tears to finally get here, but that doesn’t make me an optimist. It has been three grueling years since the outbreak first happened, and it has only gone downhill from there. Most people (myself included) didn’t get much of a warning. Though the greyskins had been growing in number over the course of a week or so, many people saw their world end in a matter of one day. It was all about getting to a safe place at first. I think we that are still alive today are those that quickly realized that safe
did not mean being in the company of large groups of people. Sure, it’s fine now because we understand what we’re up against, but back then…back then we were so ignorant. It was three days before I realized I had to shoot a greyskin in the head before it stopped moving…chomping…scratching.
I knew from the beginning that greyskins were once people, so the more people I was around, the better chance I had at becoming one of them. I hate thinking about those days—and they weren’t even my worst. It’s weird to think that those days aren’t over yet. Sometimes I can’t think of what is worse: the beginning where no one knew what was happening, or when we all realized what was happening—the destruction of the human race. There are always the hopeful ones like Paxton. These people still cling to the idea that someone will come up with a cure to the greyskin disease and that humanity will one day live in peace and harmony. Then there are people like me who just want to figure out a way to live and die, without ever feeling the teeth or nails of the rotting greyskins.
We stand in silence for a few moments before Gabe comes around to the other side of the SUV and hands me the keys. “You’re driving,” he says. I hold the keys in my hands as though he just handed me a report card and I already know that I’ve failed all my classes. My heart sinks into my stomach as I walk dazed toward the front of the vehicle. I don’t argue with him, I don’t say a word. I just get into the front of the SUV and start it up. Gabe sits in the front next to me while Paxton, Skip, and Mendez share the back seat.
“Want me to take your bag?” Gabe asks, noticing the backpack in my lap.
I shake my head no and tuck it under my legs, but safely away from the pedals. Although I trust Gabe, I’m not letting anyone take my bag with Paxton so near me.
The Starborn Ascension: Books 1, 2, and 3 (The Starborn Saga) Page 10