Heath held up the little bottle. “Immuni. Sounds like immune, right?”
Miles dug his fingers deeper into Heath’s arm. “You could kill him!”
“Maybe.” Heath looked down into Cricket’s blue face. The boy’s life was quickly fading away. “But at this point I don’t think it really matters, do you?”
Miles slowly released his grip. “Okay. I trust you.”
Heath jabbed the needle into Cricket’s arm and squeezed down on the plunger. When every last bit of the liquid inside the syringe was gone, he extracted the needle. They waited.
The thumping above grew louder. The bears roared. Heath glanced at the ceiling. It was so dark out now, but he could see the grizzlies’ paws pressed flat against the skylight. One of the bears rubbed its nose against the glass, and a thick strand of foamy saliva spilled from its mouth and pooled out toward the edges. The bear tilted its head and pressed one wild eye against the skylight, sliding its face along the surface until it met Heath’s gaze and stopped. It rose up on its hind legs and thundered down fiercely. The glass cracked and fractures spread across the pane like tiny lightning bolts. Again and again the bear pounded away at it.
“It’s a long drop,” Dunbar said, considering the height from ceiling to floor. “Do you think they’ll survive it?”
“Not without broken bones,” Heath replied, “but they will.” He pointed out the squirrels skirting the edges of the skylight, a brave few ducking between the legs of the two bears, waiting for their moment to strike. “They use their tails as parachutes and cushions when they fall from great heights. They’ll hit the ground running.”
“I don’t think it’s working,” Miles groaned. He hovered over Cricket like a doting parent.
Heath checked Cricket’s pulse, a trick he’d learned during swim team CPR. He searched hard and found the faintest beat. “Come on. Please work,” he whispered.
Seconds ticked by. The protective bubble of hopeful energy projected by Cricket’s friends enveloped the boy, filtering out the nightmare that surrounded them on all sides.
“Please…” Dunbar breathed.
Heath had never felt so helpless in his life, not even when he found out he had cancer again. At least there were several options for him if he wanted them. For Cricket there was only two: beat the virus or slip away. Fight or flight—the only options a person has when something’s trying to kill them.
Fight, Cricket, fight. Heath repeated these words over in his head.
“Look…” Dunbar said. “Is it just me, or are those purple vines fading?”
Heath repositioned himself to allow more light to fall over Cricket’s skin. “It’s not just you,” he said excitedly. “It’s working!”
Cricket’s mouth closed, and he started to take air through his nose in easier, calmer breaths. The drug was attacking the virus in his body and winning.
Glass splintered above them. Crack! The skylight shuddered. The hyena laughed nervously from the back of its cage.
“Where do we go?” Emma asked, looking to Heath for answers.
He didn’t have any at first: the foyer belonged to Quilt Face, while the squirrels had invaded the warehouse and would own the labs soon, too. He thought for a bit, then a spark of an idea came to him. They needed water to fight back. “Did anyone see a restroom? Or a sink in one of the labs?”
Dunbar’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! There’s a bathroom down the hall toward the warehouse! Good thinking! We can fill buckets with—”
“No can do,” Miles said. “I tried the faucets on my way back to the foyer to get Heath. They don’t work. Not a drop. The water has been cut off, probably at the main outside. I checked for Internet on the computers, too. Nothing. I’m surprised the power is still on.”
“Maybe that’s what Carl the Scientist was doing before he was shot—wrapping things up.”
Dunbar said, “Looks like the guy in the Jeep wrapped him up first. This is crazy.”
Emma crossed her arms. “Will would know what to do.”
“Well, he’s not here, is he?” Heath shot back. He hurled the empty bottle in his hand across the room, more out of frustration than anger. It shattered against the wall, stunning the group into terse silence. “We need to stop relying on Will for every little thing!” he scolded the group, himself included. He wanted to tell them how Will had probably been using them all, manipulating him…them…to save himself, but he just couldn’t do it. Not when Will had stayed behind in the river to provide them with the chance to save Cricket.
“Then you think of something, genius!” Emma ripped back.
Heath started pacing in quick, stomping strides while the others watched him nervously. He’d scared them when he threw the bottle. He shouldn’t have done it, but it had made him feel better. He was sick of their small victories being shoveled over by new, surmounting threats. They’d come so far, saved Cricket’s life, and now, unless they thought of an escape plan, it would all be for nothing. Deep down he knew what they had to do, but it was practically unthinkable.
“Okay, fine.” He came to an abrupt stop in the center of the group and addressed them all. “You want a plan. Here it is. We go back to the river.”
His friends’ facial expressions were illegible. No one said a word.
“If you want to vote, or throw down with rock, paper, scissors”—he bandied a look between the Ems—“we need to hurry it up, because we’re almost out of time.”
“We don’t need to vote,” Miles spoke up. He bent down and cradled Cricket’s unconscious body in his arms. “Let’s get out of here before the skylights break. If we’re gonna die, let’s do it fighting for our lives. Maybe a couple of us will make it at least.”
“You guys sure?” Heath asked, looking for unanimous consensus.
They voted with nods.
“But how do we get out?” Emily asked. “We can’t go through the foyer. And the warehouse…”
“The squirrels, I remember.” Heath imagined a room swimming with diseased rodents.
“I think I know,” Miles told them. “I saw it on the monitors.”
“Lead the way,” Heath said, then he and the others followed Miles out of the lab and down a long hallway connecting to the back of the building. They took a right, then a left, and then ducked into a large room with a couch, a Ping-Pong table, a card table, a coffeemaker, and a normal refrigerator.
“Looks like the teachers’ lounge at my school,” said Dunbar. “I guess even mad scientists need to relax once in awhile.”
Miles pointed to a narrow rectangular window high up the wall, close to the ceiling. “There it is.”
Heath’s heart sank. It was so small. Maybe even too small for Miles to squeeze his broad body through. “It’s no good,” Heath said. “Let’s find another way.”
Miles ignored him. “You take Cricket for a sec,” he ordered, handing his fragile burden off to Dunbar, who hadn’t lifted a weight in his whole life and struggled to keep from toppling over. Miles briefed them on his plan. “Heath, I’ll boost you up first. You open the window and crawl out. Then I’ll pass Cricket through. Then the rest of you.”
“How are you gonna fit through that?” Emily sized Miles up.
“I’m limber,” he reassured her. “Trust me. I’ll get through if I have to leave my butt behind to do it. Now c’mon, less talk, more action.”
Standing directly under the window, Miles quickly hoisted Heath up onto his shoulders. Heath still had to reach high and crane his neck to see the latch and unlock it. He grabbed the edge of the sill and pulled himself up, with Miles pushing vertically against the soles of his feet. Heath stuck his head out the window and looked side to side then straight ahead into the inky blackness of night. It was so dark out. He couldn’t see the river, but he could hear it gurgling away, calling out to him. He tried to stretch his range of hearing, listening for any rus
tle, scratch, or breath. He could hear the bears still pounding away at the skylights and the wolves baying at the building’s entrance, but as far as he could tell there was nothing directly between him and the river.
“The coast is clear. I’m going out,” he whispered, then shimmied his way through the window. He dropped down headfirst into the grass. Luckily the landscaping around this section of the building sloped up along the wall so that Heath, on his toes, could look inside the window. He stuck his head and arms back inside. “Give me Cricket.”
Miles took Cricket from Dunbar and pressed him up like a barbell, high enough for Heath to grab on to. Heath dragged the boy’s limp body outside, then spent a few seconds making sure he was positioned comfortably on the ground. When he returned to the window he found Emily there reaching out to him. Next up was Emma, who was considerably easier to lift now that Emily was beside him helping. Even with Heath and the twins tugging from above and Miles hefting below, getting Dunbar through the window left everyone winded. “Okay, okay! I’ll start my diet tomorrow,” he promised.
They heard the obnoxious squeal of a chair sliding across waxed flooring. Heath and Dunbar ducked their heads back inside as Miles climbed on top of it.
“You’re next, big guy,” Heath said, and he and Dunbar each extended one arm toward him. Miles took their wrists and hopped upward. Immediately Heath felt himself falling forward; Miles’s weight was too much. Emily grabbed the waistband of Heath’s swim trunks to steady him, and he was grateful that it was too dark out for her to see his plumber’s crack. Dunbar propped one foot up against the wall for leverage and pulled as hard as he could.
“Don’t let go of me!” Miles said. “I’m almost there.”
When enough of Miles’s arm was outside for Emma to latch on to, she jumped in to help.
BOOM!
A loud crash followed by the painful roar of a bear. The skylight had finally caved in. A grizzly was inside the building, and from the sound of it, badly hurt in the fall. Miles eyes widened into disks of pure terror.
“Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” Heath felt renewed strength, fueled by adrenaline coursing through his body.
“Pull!” Emily spurred them on.
Miles got his head and one shoulder free, and then he stopped coming. “Wait!” he hissed, grimacing in pain. “You’re gonna rip my arm off.”
“What’s wrong?” Heath asked.
“I’m stuck!”
“I knew this wasn’t going to work!” Heath was furious with himself for listening to Miles in the first place. Dunbar squeezed through because he was fat. Miles was solid muscle, and muscle doesn’t give. It was the difference between squeezing soft and hardened toothpaste out of a tube.
“Give me a second,” Miles said. “Maybe I can turn my body a bit and come through at more of an angle.”
He tried to twist around so that his torso would fit diagonally in the window frame. He used his free arm to push against the outer wall. He groaned through clenched teeth as he worked to corkscrew himself free.
A twig cracked in the woods behind them. It was too dark to catch a glimpse of the source.
“Almost there,” Miles huffed. His other shoulder popped free of the window. Miles flailed both arms at his friends. “Okay! I’m free! Pull me through!”
Heath clutched both of Miles’s wrists. “Here we go,” he said, but just as he was about to pull, he saw something creeping along the surface of the skin on Miles’s arms. “Miles?”
Miles didn’t answer. His mouth was open, but no words came out. He blinked once and tears spilled out. His face was a frozen mask. Purple vines weaved across it as if drawn by an invisible hand.
“He’s got the Flash!” Dunbar cried.
“Oh no, no, no, no!” Heath tugged hard, and Miles shifted a few inches forward. “Help me, you guys!”
The Ems clutched each other tightly. Emily let out a little bleat of grief and Emma gently shushed her.
Dunbar didn’t know what to do. “Dude…Heath…he’s—”
“Shut up and pull!” Heath hollered. He didn’t care if every animal in the forest heard him. He would drag Miles free if it killed him. It would.
A squirrel stabbed its head out the window, hissed, and showed them its teeth. Heath saw blood dripping from its tiny jaws and knew immediately that it had bitten Miles. Their friend was dead and there was nothing he could do to change that. He let go.
The squirrel was trapped between Miles’s rib cage and the upper part of the window frame. Its black eyes were bulging from their sockets as it struggled to squeeze itself through the tiny gap. Heath heard chattering inside the lounge. Squirrels were rushing into the room, and Miles’s body was the only thing plugging their way out. Moving Miles farther meant unstopping the swarm.
“I’m sorry, Miles.” Heath broke down into tears. “I’m sorry, man.” Dunbar led him away from the window. Emma and Emily worked together to gather up Cricket until Heath had regained some measure of composure. He was the only one strong enough to carry Cricket to the river. “I’ve got him,” he said between choking sobs. He felt the strain of the added weight burning in all parts of his sore body and was overcome with gratitude to Miles, whose steadfast strength had carried Cricket this far. “I’m so sorry, Miles. Thank you, man. Thank you.”
“Ready?” asked Dunbar.
More squirrel parts poked out all around Miles’s corpse. It was time to go.
As they trotted in the direction of the river, Dunbar and the Ems huddled like a force field around Heath and Cricket. They held on to each other tightly, moving as one, afraid to be separated in the dark. They could barely see the trees, often shifting at the last second to avoid colliding with one. The river was much closer than it had been in the livery, but because they could barely see a foot in front of their faces, it was slow going. They honed in on the sound of flowing water and let that be their guide.
They were fifteen yards from the Dray when they heard hooves clopping across the rocky shore. Heath strained his eyes and with only the slim evidence of a bolt of white underbelly, he knew that the thing between them and salvation was a deer. The kids froze, melding together, hoping it would clear out of their way.
More clopping. Flashes of white at differing angles. Two deer had joined the first. Heath knew deer had a keen sense of smell, so he guessed the breeze was blowing in the group’s favor. And the animals’ sense of hearing was exceptional. Their ears were basically satellite dishes connected to the head by a root of muscles that could turn them in every direction. If they moved, the deer would hear them. But if they stayed, the squirrels would wriggle free and come after them. Deer were faster than squirrels, so for now, the best course of action seemed clear. Heath whispered his plan as quietly as he could, risking only one word. “Wait.”
The seconds ticked by. Heath listened for any sound that would force a decision. He could tell that the virus was killing the deer; their raspy, shallow breathing was proof of that. They were so sick he might be able to fend them off long enough for the others to reach the river, but he couldn’t fight and still carry Cricket. Then Heath realized a disquieting truth—he wanted to make it to the river, too. Not just for the sake of the boy in his arms, although Cricket’s survival was important. Heath didn’t want to die, either. Not there in the forest or on the shore. Not in a hospital bed in Seattle. Not home. Not anywhere. Maybe he’d feel differently once they’d made it safely to the river, but at that moment, the only thing Heath could say with any certainty was this: he wanted to live.
“Where are we?” muttered a groggy voice below Heath’s chin. Cricket waking up was something Heath hadn’t calculated for. Maybe Will would have, but not him. And Cricket was one noisemaker that Heath couldn’t toss away.
Dunbar lunged forward and clamped his hand over Cricket’s mouth, but it just made matters worse when a stick cracked under his foot. This set
everything into motion.
Angry grunts on the shore.
Clacking of cloven hooves scraping across rock.
The whoosh of big animals bounding into the air.
“Go!” Heath ordered. The group took off through the forest, dashing parallel to the shore and the building. Dunbar took the lead, arms extended outward to find and guide them around trees, colliding with them now and then. He was getting banged up badly, but he never stopped moving. Courageous Dunbar. Fortunately the deer were slow, no longer graceful or fleet-footed. They were badly disoriented by the virus. Heath heard them crashing into the trees and into themselves. He looked back at the building. In the faint light emanating from the lounge, he saw bushy-tailed shadows pouring out from the window. Miles’s body had slipped back inside the building, allowing the squirrels to escape. Heath could see dozens of them bounding in diagonal hops across the ground, heading in their direction.
“Where can we go?” Emma asked. “We can’t outrun them forever!”
“Dad…” Cricket moaned.
“Quiet, buddy,” Heath said. “Go back to sleep, okay?”
Cricket obliged.
“We’re heading away from the river,” said Dunbar. “I can barely hear it anymore.”
Heath had intended to say something, but in the next instant the ground beneath his feet disappeared and gravity yanked him down the side of a steep gully. He instinctively maneuvered his body to safeguard Cricket from the brunt of the fall. The others were rocketing down the bank beside him, carried to the bottom on a carpet of pine needles that folded like blinds under their weight. They landed in soft soil and rolled to a stop. There was no time to shake it off. Heath made out the lithe shapes of deer at the top of the gully. They seemed confused, sniffing the air, trotting along the edge. After ten Mississippis, the deer bounded away. The kids were safe for the moment.
“Everyone okay?” Heath rose to his feet, which was no easy task since he was dizzy and miraculously still had Cricket securely in his arms.
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