“Why did they put him out there?” he asked as he joined her. “What did he do?”
“Do?” Eve replied, leaving her mouth in the form of an O.
“Yeah. Why?”
“He disobeyed,” she said casually, as if it happened every day. “We don’t disobey. No. Can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” he asked.
She glanced away then raised her arm to point. The clouds had parted and the moon cast a pale glow on the field, lighting up the few rocks that remained.
“Raptors,” she said. “They’re coming.”
-17-
TRAPPED
JESSE SPRINTED THROUGH the lobby and down a progressively darkening corridor. It led to a set of stairs that descended into the basement of the building where one of his shelters was located. The raccoon-faced girl was following closely. His main shelter was on the fourth floor, but to get there they would need to climb a rope up an elevator shaft. Not an easy task for him. And for the girl? He wasn’t sure she could make it and didn’t want to chance it. There was another way to get there, but that would require them to cross the street to use it, the same street that was filled with increasing shadows and gathering raptors. His backup shelter in the basement had solid, cinderblock walls that protected the room, but it had been some time since he had last used it. With a nagging dread, he couldn’t remember if he had locked the door to the room or not. He usually did to keep the hiding spot protected from scavengers that frequently swept through the city. The key to the room was clipped to a large group of others and buried somewhere in his knapsack. It would take time to dig out the correct one. Worse, once inside the room, they would be trapped until the raptors gave up or thinned out enough to get past them. Often, that could take a few days. But he was committed to getting there and had a couple of surprises set up that would slow down any pursuit. The first one being pieces of chain-link fence he’d rigged at the entrance to the basement stairwell. It was not enough to stop the raptors, but it would slow them down for a little while.
Reaching the first barrier, he pulled the links apart in the middle where they overlapped. He held the gap open for the girl. And, once they had both climbed through, he folded the links together and hastily tied them off with a piece of wire. Then they ran for the stairs leading down into the basement complex. Heating and cooling pipes ran above the cement stairs along with thick bundles of cabling. At the bottom, utility and file storage rooms lined the walls to either side, spaced every fifteen feet apart. The room he wanted was near the back, deep in the bowels of the building. There were two paths. One was straight ahead and through his traps. The other was to his right. That one would take them there via a circuitous route. The longer way would also be pitch dark since it did not receive any of the light filtering down the stairwell. He had a flashlight, but it was still somewhere deep in his knapsack along with the keys and would take time to extract.
He went straight, taking the most direct route. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the change in light, so he slowed. The girl bumped into him. She grabbed a piece of his shirt and held on tight. He could barely hear her breathing. She seemed calm, much more so than he was. Feeling his way along the walls using the barrel of the shotgun, he slowed, knowing his first trap was close. He was sure he’d be able to see it. He’d made the set of traps from bundled furniture he’d tied it together with thin ropes then created triggers that required a small amount of force to release. The triggers consisted of fishing line that ran between the walls. There were three such tripwires. When something snagged on one, it would release the bundles tied above. But as he got closer, he could not see the lines.
Holding the girl behind him, he carefully inched forward, searching for the first line with the back of his fingers. A pinging sound started up behind him. The first raptor had reached the chain-link fence. He glanced up at the bundled items overhead. They hung just overhead and gave the ceiling the appearance of a faceted cave. Legs from the many chairs stuck out at odd angles like porcupine quills. He had counted on anyone entering the hallway to be looking up and wondering why the hell someone would tie all that stuff up. Then they would hit the tripwire and find out.
He moved forward again, waving his hand slowly back and forth. The pinging sounds at the top of the stairs increased. He took another step forward. That first tripwire had to be close. Then he felt it. The thin line brushed against his knuckles, draping across them. He could even sense the tension in the line and realized that he’d almost set if off. He slowly pulled his hand away, remembering where the line started. The way forward was becoming easier to see. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but he still couldn’t see where the next trigger was. “There are three strings going across,” he whispered. “You will have to step over each. Don’t pull on them or trip over them. Okay?”
She said nothing.
He cleared the first tripwire and watched her do the same. He sought the second. When he hit it, he drew it taut, but fortunately not enough to set off the trap. Carefully, he made his way over the second and could now see the third. It was slightly brighter than its surroundings. The girl followed, holding his hand and stepping exactly where he said to step until they cleared the last trigger.
“Okay, clear. Now run.”
The farther in they went, the darker it got. His eyes were adjusting, but it was still too dark to see much, and he had to slow. They rounded a bend. He again started tapping the shotgun against the wall to feel his way along to the next doorway. So far, he had not detected the telltale sounds or smells alerting him to danger. He had recognized the scents of dust and mold and decayed raptor scat, but that was the normal odor present throughout most of the city. He also perceived his own stench, but just barely, for he had grown accustom to it. The girl had an unfamiliar smell, a sour mixed with sweet, somewhat like old candy. He liked that he could smell her because Hannah gave off no scent at all.
Near the end of the corridor, he located the steel door to his basement shelter. He’d marked it with a white X that faintly stood out in the blackness. Please be unlocked, he thought as he grabbed the doorknob and twisted. His hand, sweaty and covered with grim, slipped on the smooth knob. Damn. He wiped his hand on his shirt and tried again. The knob jiggled but did not turn. It was still locked.
The distant pinging sound was growing progressively louder. From the noise, he knew the raptors were searching for a way through. The fencing wouldn’t hold them for long. Nothing ever did. He removed his knapsack and rummaged through it. Inside, he locked his fingers around his collection of keys fastened to a two-inch ring. He pulled them out and held them up in front of his face. They clinked and rattled. His eyes had adjusted enough for him to make out individual keys, but not the one that fit the lock. The distant pinging changed in tone. He knew what that meant. The raptors had made it through the fence. They were in the corridors and would soon reach the traps. A new sound caused him to look up from the keys. A tick-tick-tick. He could hardly see down the hallway, but silhouetted in the dim light, were two black shapes. They had just turned the corner. Their heads were cocked sideways, moving right and left, listening, searching. Somehow, they had gotten past his traps without setting them off. He lifted the keys as quietly as he could and studied them for the one he needed. In less than a heartbeat, he heard the raptors start in his direction.
“Damn,” he muttered. He turned back to the door and quickly tried different keys. The first didn’t fit the lock. It was too large. He switched to another. Didn’t fit. Then he fumbled the key ring and dropped it. The tangled mass spilled onto the floor and went sliding past the girl’s feet.
“Keys,” he said in a forced calm.
But there was no time for her to get them. Spinning on his heel, he shoved her down toward the keys and raised his shotgun to fire. He aimed between the oncoming raptors and gave them a half-second to close the distance. His shotgun worked best at ranges around ten to twenty feet. Any more than that and the steel pellets spread
out too far to be effective.
Nails clicked on the concrete floor. The raptors closed until they both were less than ten feet away. He pulled the trigger. Accompanied by a crushing boom and a bright tongue of flame, the spray of steel pellets hit the closest raptor, snapping its head backward while the other continued to charge. He pumped and fired again. The second shot went slightly wide, skipping off the concrete wall, raising tiny sparks. The surviving raptor came at him, charging hard, mouth open. He spun to the side and fell against the opposite wall. This creature did not have the fleshy comb of an adult male. It was a female, which limited his options. Using the butt of the gun, he slammed it hard against the thing’s head, trying to get around the thick bones protecting its forehead. The blow landed and he followed through, pushing forward and pinning the creature against the wall. With his foot, he kicked upward, aiming for the thing’s soft underbelly and vital organs.
He missed.
Hissing and snarling, it tried to raise a hooked claw to gut him. The stock of his gun slipped off its head. The creature squirmed free. It raised a forearm to rake the girl. He could already see where the blow would land. It would take her across the face, ripping skin from flesh.
No! Jesse’s mind shrieked.
She had moved next to the door and was trying a key in the lock. She looked up the precise moment the raptor struck. But Jesse was already twirling the shotgun and grabbing hold of the barrel with his left hand, letting his arm fully extend. The butt of the gun struck the raptor in the back of its head, knocking it off course. The girl squeezed in tight against the door. The raptor flew past, missing her. It landed and fought for traction, skidding on the cement floor. Then it got up, shaking its head. Its mouth opened and closed mechanically. Jesse had broken something. Its skull, jaw, or maybe he had only dazed it. He pumped, loading another round into the shotgun. In the faint light, he noticed the lock on the door.
There was a key in it. He prayed it was the right one.
Covering the dazed raptor with the shotgun, he reached out for the knob, gripped it so he could turn the key and knob together, and twisted. This time, the lock clicked and the door unlatched. He wrenched it open and shoved the girl inside. He pulled the trigger. A loud, concussive bang pounded sound into his head. He next heard a wet, slapping sound as the body of the raptor exploded. He turned away from it, clamping his eyes shut. He opened them slowly, blinking hard and fast and seeing spots left behind by the muzzle flash. Half-stunned, he spun and rushed inside the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He flipped the lever on the lock. But with the key still in the mechanism outside, the lock wouldn’t engage. One of the raptors would only need to twist the knob and the door would open. He’d seen them do it. Few places could keep them out for long. Fortunately, he’d thought ahead. He’d screwed a pair of U-shaped brackets into the door frame when he initially set up the shelter. Alongside the door, was a length of steel pipe that he could drop into the brackets and bar the door. He felt around for the pipe in the complete blackness of the room, expecting to find it leaning against the wall.
It was not there.
“Pipe. Get it,” he said.
She must have understood and could see better than he could. She handed him the length of metal pipe he needed. He fumbled it into place. Breathing hard and fast, he backed away from the door, tripping when he hit something, the girl. She let out a squeak, held onto him, and squeezed up against his ribs. Off balance, he fished a disposable lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. The tiny flame provided just enough illumination for him to see the table on the opposite side of the room. The girl let go and backed away into a corner, where she sat with her arms curled over her legs. He went to light a candle on the table. When it finally took, the tiny flame seemed to him like a thousand-watt bulb.
“You okay?” he said, recovering.
She nodded slowly.
“Damn raptors. We’re safe now. I hope you can understand that.”
He set the shotgun down on the tabletop and tossed his knapsack into the far corner of the room. The meat he had bagged no longer hung from the straps. Somewhere along the way, it had fallen off. He didn’t have much else to eat. Only the few things he had scavenged earlier today. And to make matters worse, right outside the door was enough to feed them both for weeks.
More were coming. A lot more.
The small room wasn’t much to look at and seemed more like a prison cell than anything else. At some point in the past, it had been a storage room, or a janitor’s closet. The same thick walls and heavy steel-clad door had kept him safe and secure before. Now, they had to protect them both until the raptors gave up and went away, which could take days. He put an ear against the door to listen. Outside, he could hear other raptors arriving, piling up, snarling and snapping at each other. Their nails clicked as they paced the cement floors. Their manic breathing sounded like a dozen hacksaw blades cutting through steel all at once. The door jiggled as the raptors outside tested it. He heard them scrape down it with their claws, a terrible sound of squealing metal. Then he heard heavy breathing, more scraping. The steel-clad door had held before. He was certain it would hold again. They would be safe. Even though he knew this, he grabbed the shotgun from the table. It made him feel better to have it in his hands.
The scraping on the door ceased. He let out a held breath. But, a new sound began, starting with a dull thud. This time, it was coming from the wall.
Thud.
He knew there was little space to gain speed in the corridor. They must be bouncing from the opposite wall. This was new, but it wouldn’t work.
Thud-thud.
Impossible, he thought. They couldn’t get through. The females had thick skulls that they used to break down doors and punch through thin walls, but concrete? No way.
Thud-thud-crack!
Mortar around one of the cinderblocks fractured. Thick paint on the wall began to split, peeling back into open fissures. One of the cinderblocks moved slightly.
Thud-thud-thud.
Dust erupted from a series of small cracks breaking out along the wall. A muffled screech came into the room, the sound of focused frustration, an angry, snarling sound. The small cracks had increased in width, and the blocks had moved slightly farther into the room. A chunk of mortar dropped off and broke into pieces.
He shook his head. No, they can’t get through.
Thud.
This time a cinderblock exploded inward, sending small pieces skittering across the floor. The girl ran behind Jesse and gripped him around the waist. A creature roared through the newly opened gap. It stopped, snorted. This was it, his inevitable, invariable destiny. The girl would die. He would live. He covered his head with his arm and squeezed. No-no-no, not again. He had a difficult choice to make. If he stayed, he was sure she would die and he would live. He would have to live with the guilt of watching it happen in front of him. That was certain. It always happened that way.
But if he ran?
“Yes. Yes.”
He set the shotgun down and kneeled in front of the girl, looking her in the eyes. “You’ll have to stay here. I’ll lead them away.” He squeezed her arms, hoping she would understand.
Thud-thud.
“I’ll be back. Soon as I can. When I step out the door, shut it, and lock it. What you saw me do. Okay? And don’t go out there for any reason until I return. Any reason. Clear?”
She nodded.
“I will come back for you. I prom—” He couldn’t finish the word. It was too painful to say it.
Thud.
The wall pushed inward. A clawed forearm came through. He ignored it. The girl lowered her head and tried to smile. Her stringy black hair fell across her cheeks. So young. So young. He reached up and took her face in his hands. He wiped his thumbs below her eyes to clear away the smeared grime. Memories rushed back to him. It hurt to look at her, to see her and to know he had to leave her behind. He turned and ran to his pack, where he removed the flashlight and snap
ped it to his shotgun. He had hunted raptors in darkness before, but nighttime was when they were at their best and he was at his worst.
Thud-thud.
He felt like a condemned man going to the gallows, but going there acting on his own volition. Still, he was beginning to shake, and if he didn’t go soon, he’d never be able to do it. He moved a trembling hand to the door and touched it, knowing his death might be on the other side. He reached for the metal pipe placed across the frame. Then he reconsidered. Maybe they would be safer if they stuck together. Maybe the raptors would give up. Maybe the walls would hold. Maybe it would all be different this time. But, almost as if to mock him, another raptor threw itself against the outside wall and another chunk of the pebbly concrete exploded into the room. Putting his hand against the door again, he felt for pressure coming from the other side.
Nothing.
He removed the bar and took a deep breath.
Three.
Two.
One.
He yanked open the door and stepped into the hallway.
-18-
DISOBEY
“DISOBEYED?” CORY SAID. He could not let it go, even with the raptors starting to close in on the compound.
Eve said nothing.
Outside the walls, the tied-up man continued to squirm and beg for his life. It was time to go, Cory decided. His elaborate plan for how he was going to get away quickly became much simpler. Leaning in close to Eve, he whispered in her ear, “I cannot let him die like that.” Before she could react, he leapt to the top of the wall and landed on one of the wooden posts, balanced there for a beat, and then dropped down to the compacted dirt outside the walls. Landing, he rolled once and came up on his feet, paused, then casually brushed the grit off his hands and reached over his shoulder for the hilt of his only true friend, his Muramasa-made katana.
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