Pestilence: The Calling Series

by Faulks, Kim

  I left behind no sound as I stared at the end of the hall. A flashlight bounced around, splashing underneath the door to my left…the lab. I stopped at the side, watching through the small glass window as Kenya moved through the room.

  She was hunched over, rifling through papers, looking for something. But what was so damn important she had to get up in the middle of the night?

  I scanned the darkness behind me, and where the Hell was Kris?

  She stilled, wrenched her head toward the door. The torchlight wavered, reaching out into the hallway. My heart lunged and I took a step backwards. It wasn’t the right time to be prying. My bare feet skidded on the slick floor as I turned and made my way back to the bunkroom.

  The cozy, warm-hearted feeling was gone, something else replaced it. Something akin to confusion, and fear. Why hide? Why get up in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep.

  I gripped the door to the bedroom and eased it closed behind me. That fist clenched tighter as I lay back down on my bed. Pitt gave a soft chuff as I rolled over and lay on my side. I stared into nothing, while my mind raced.

  Seconds, minutes passed…or it could’ve been hours, until the bedroom door slid open, and then closed. I deepened my breaths as the dark outline stilled at Kenya’s bed and then slid under the sheets.

  This place wasn’t so perfect. Not so neat. There were secrets here, cold, dark secrets that Kenya wanted to remain hidden…

  The thought raced, blending with an urgency I felt in my veins.

  She wanted them hidden not just from me, but from the others, as well. That alone spoke volumes.

  The desperation lingered, tightening my belly, making the veins along my temples pulse. I closed my eyes, willed sleep to come, and prayed for the dreams to stay away.

  8

  I saw in the right hand of Him who sat on the throne a book written inside and on the back, sealed up with seven seals. And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the book and break its seals?”

  I stared at the words in the murky light. The fine paper crumpled under my fingers, and stuck to the tips as I ran my fingers along the seam.

  Was this me? Was I the angel? The one to hold, to carry…to find and fight. Angel. The word, bolded, it felt bolded—it felt me. I stared at the blur of words, touching, feeling, but not in my fingers…inside in my heart, in my spirit.

  “Whatcha reading there?”

  A shadow descended as Kenya leaned close. I hadn’t heard her, hadn’t heard a thing. Not soft snores, not the creak of a bed. The book consumed me, held me—took me away from this place to the real reason I was here.

  I turned toward her and whispered. “Revelations.”

  “You know, a preacher came through here not long ago.” She murmured, and knelt beside the bed. “He spoke about Revelations. Said the horsemen weren’t just coming. Said they were already here. Can you imagine that? Kinda makes sense, though…if you believe that kind of thing.”

  Butterflies flapped inside my chest, and the bedsprings creaked as I rose. “Where is he now?”

  “The preacher?” She gave a shrug. “Who knows. He was one strange dude…said the Horsemen wore the skin of man,” her eyes glazed, staring not at the open Bible, but at something else, something that lingered in her mind alone. “Said if you opened your eyes, you’d see his work all around us. Pestilence would be here first,” she murmured. “And he’d bring the plague. I guess the preacher was right, and now all we’re doing is cleaning up the goddamn mess.”

  “Dad said we brought this on ourselves,” I whispered. “He said this was a reckoning, and maybe next time we’ll learn from our mistakes.”

  She flinched with the words. A coldness echoed from her gaze as she murmured. “He sounds like a smart man.”

  Smart. Honest. Loyal. And look where it got him. I closed the book with a soft thud.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  I met her gaze. Here it was, the opportunity for the truth, to get it all out in the open. No…the word hovered on the end of my tongue. No, I didn’t sleep well at all, and I know you didn’t either.

  I could push her, force her to spill the secrets she held inside. I glanced around the room. I could make a fuss big enough to rouse the sleeping lions, and then…who knew? But a cornered person was a dangerous thing—no matter the intentions. “Yeah, and you?”

  “Always,” she stifled a yawn. “This place is as quiet as a damn morgue. I’ll be ready to head out in a few minutes if you’re still interested?”

  I glanced at the end of the bed. There was no way I’d take Pitt. She needed rest, and food, and to heal. Her paws were still red raw, the bandage still tight around her side.

  I didn’t want to leave her, not now…

  “Damon’s here, and he’s desperate to fuss. He’ll take good care of her. It’s been a long time since he had something to love.”

  Desperation trembled her words. I turned back to the deep brown of her eyes, stars sparkled, riding the edge of panic. She needed me to go with her, needed me here in this place with these people. I could almost feel her grip on my arms, almost feel her nails gouging my skin, desperate to hold, desperate to confide. I slid my hand under my pillow and grasped my gun. “Just let me head to the bathroom and I’m good to go.”

  Her hard exhale flicked stray strands of my hair against my cheek. “I’ll make us a pack,” she murmured. “Food, water, and weapons. I travel light.”

  I nodded, knowing the drill by now.

  We’d leave light, and carry as much as we could back here. We’d break into homes, we’d tear through their lives as though they had no meaning—but they did, they always had meaning, and to me the meaning wasn’t lost—it was merely hidden.

  Their lives came back to me in the darkened depths of sleep, and the moments where the birds didn’t sing, and the wolves didn’t howl. I thought about them then, those who left behind their possessions for me to scavenge.

  I remembered the pictures on the walls, and about the beds, and the little cots untouched, as I shoved my feet into my boots. A dark blur moved on the floor at the bottom of the bed. Pitt lifted her head, dark eyes trained on me. “You stay here,” I murmured, yanked my laces tight, and reached over to ruffle her ear. “Rest up, ’cause I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be staying.”

  A soft huff filled the air as she dropped her head back to the floor. I still felt her gaze following me as I grabbed my leather jacket and crossed to the door.

  “Be careful out there,” Damon murmured. “Watch her back, and she’ll watch yours.”

  I glanced into the darkness. Faded light hugged the outline under the covers. “I will…just take care of my dog.”

  The bedsprings groaned as Damon rolled. I left him behind and shoved through the door to the bathroom. Cold danced across my skin, and a shiver raced. There were no windows in here, no way for the hallway light to seep in. I reached out into the dark and touched the icy walls, memory was all I had now. Memory and touch as I shuffled along the wall to the bank of toilets.

  I shoved the sweats low, squatted, used the cloth and the bucket before I yanked my pants high. The creak of the bathroom door savaged the room. Kenya’s voice was soft, finding me in the dark. “Your clothes are dried and ready.”

  And for a second it was just like living at home. Mom fussing, Sarah whining. Family. My heart sped with the thought. “Coming now.”

  I surged forward, finding the open door, and followed her to the hallway.

  “The Lost Boys are first. One of their scavengers ripped open his leg about a month ago. They brought him here. Damon stitched him as best he could. But, it’s slowly getting infected. We’ve tried everything we have—a damn cocktail of drugs— and, so far, nothing’s working. If we can’t stop the spread, he’s gonna lose the damn leg…and a scavenger with one leg is useless. Miles won’t have the team slowed down.”

  They’ll kill him. That’s what she meant. I didn’t need to hea
r the words to understand.

  She shoved through the door and into the kitchen. My jeans and shirt were piled on the edge of the counter, folded neatly. I gripped my jacket and scooped the clothes into my arms.

  “There’s a room over there you can use,” she heaved a bag onto the counter. “It’s an airlock for the lab, but no one should be in there yet.”

  I made for the door and shoved through. The damn thing was small, barely big enough for three people. Standing room only. I glanced at the door on the other side, and the small, round window at head height. An icy finger traced its way down my spine, and goosebumps raced. There was no sound, not even a breath, as I stared into the darkness on the other side of the door.

  You’re being silly.

  The words lingered as I dropped my clothes to the floor and turned around. Cold steel covered the place from top to bottom. An airlock, Kenya called it. More like a damn tomb. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my sweats and shoved. That icy touch didn’t fade, it lingered, scraping my nerves with sharp nails as I knelt and grasped hold of my panties.

  I moved fast, stepping into each leg, and then followed with my jeans. My thin bra waited on the floor. I glanced over my shoulder to the window, and then turned away to grip the hemline of the shirt, and drag it over my head.

  The bitter air licked the warmth from my skin, tightening, puckering as I wrestled with the clasps. There was a shift behind me, a tiny scrape of sound…like a shoe against the floor.

  I wrenched my gaze to the window, black on black shifted as I smashed my arms across my chest.

  Someone was in there. Someone watched me from the other side of the door…someone who was in there now.

  My heart lunged, smashing against the side of my ribs. Fingers trembled, unable to catch the bottom of my shirt. I punched the button and slapped the steel door with my hip, stumbling into the dining room as I yanked the shirt down.

  “You okay?” Kenya stilled and stared, hands half in an open backpack.

  “Someone’s in there, watching me.”

  Her brows narrowed, the pack forgotten as she skirted the counter and crossed the room. “There’s only Kris, but he’d be asleep in the lab on the other side.” She peered through the window and across the other side. “No lights on. I doubt you could even get to the door with the amount of stuff we’ve piled into that room.”

  It was all in my head, just a figment of an overactive imagination. It shone in her gaze as she turned to me. Was it me? Was it this goddamn place, or the secrets they kept? I sucked in a breath and shoved my arms into the jacket.

  “You okay now?” Concern seeped into her words.

  “Yeah,” I glanced over my shoulder to the door. “It must’ve been nothing. I’m good.”

  I was getting used to lying, used to the way this cold place felt as I lifted my gaze to the rows of vials against her pack. “What are they?”

  She followed my gaze, and then turned. “Boosters, we give them when we take blood. It’s filled with vitamins, low dose macrolides which work like antibiotics. But it’s the blood we need, for Kris…for the cure.”

  I lost sight of her as she stepped around the cupboard to the other side of the counter. She loaded the rest of the ampules into the pack, making sure they didn’t rattle, or smash.

  “So, you just take their blood out there?”

  She gave a nod. “That way they know we’re holding up our end of the bargain. We take their blood, and give them a boost—and they wait. No one’s gotten sick yet, not truly sick, not since the last wave.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Twelve months, but it was weaker, taking those who were already sick.”

  Twelve months? The dark underground tunnel of the train station filled my mind. Don’t forget the babies. “And he’s really making a cure?”

  Her hand stilled, there was a deadly calm in her voice. “I know he is. I see how hard he works, how much he pushes himself. That’s why he doesn’t like us to go inside the lab anymore. It’s his space, his personal space. Best to just stay away. He wasn’t like this, you know, wasn’t so…” cruel.

  The word lingered between us before she set to work, pressing a towel onto the rows of ampules and tying the top of the pack. I slipped my gun into my waistband and for a second I felt something missing…Pitt, and the book. My hands were empty, chest void.

  “We better get going, while the sun’s not harsh.”

  I followed her, with one hand resting against my hip, and the other shoving open the door. Watch her back. Damon’s warning filled my head as we left the lab behind and made for the side entrance to the hospital. A quietness settled between us, one filled by the thud of our boots, and the heaviness of our thoughts. Kenya punched the release lock on the hospital doors and heaved the sliding door open, waiting for me to step through before she closed it once more.

  I lifted my gaze to the bruised, panicked-looking sky. Smoke gray clouds would lighten as the sun rose. I scanned the horizon as we left the safety of the hospital behind. Storm clouds were gathering, tiny flashes of lightening cleaved the air before they were gone once more. A storm was brewing. I could feel it, it swelled inside me, filling my nose with the bitter tang of ozone, filling my veins with need.

  Kenya stepped out to lead the way, and my thoughts returned to the preacher. I scanned the road behind us, and the buildings to the side, hand hovering near the grip on my gun. Maybe he knew more than he spoke about? Maybe he knew just how to find these horsemen? Maybe he’d give me exactly what I needed to hunt them down?

  My stride lengthened as we hugged the buildings. They came for me in a dream…they wanted…my breath caught as shadows reared—I didn’t know what they wanted...to kill me? To capture me, take me dead or alive? Could they feel God’s power inside me, driving me to meet them head on?

  Come…the word echoed, sending shivers along my spine. I stared at the growing light, finding movement in the shadows. Maybe Kenya was right? Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, finding enemies where there were none.

  She turned right, heading down unfamiliar streets. I glanced high, scanning windows as we walked. Kenya moved fast, keeping to the cleared paths as we headed west, and then north, until we came to a building. It was small and squat, hemmed in by giants of shattered glass. The small smashed sign at the front hung at an angle, but I gathered enough to know it was a vet clinic.

  She slowed her steps, and glanced at me over her shoulder. “The Lost Boys are just over that rise. But I need to do something, it’ll only take me a second. But I need you to stay here. Can you do that…just stay right here?”

  The way she said it made my stomach clench. I scanned the building while my mind raced. “Yeah, sure.”

  The ghost of a smile crested her lips before it was gone. She nodded, relief was one slow exhale. “Good…that’s real good. Just stay right here, I won’t be a second.”

  She stepped away, heading for the corner of the clinic. One quick glance at me and she was gone, slipping out of sight. My boots skimmed patches of asphalt and grass as I turned, taking in this part of the city.

  The faint nicker of a horse caught the breeze, and the sound carried, slamming into me. I spun, finding the cruel glare of the sun that bounced off the glass. The sound came again, only this time the deep, tormenting echo was louder.

  Hooves clipped hard asphalt. I knew that sound, knew it in my dreams…and my nightmares. I’d know it anywhere. My heart sped, squeezing tighter with a new rhythm. Trembling fingers skimmed the grip of my gun and clenched around the harsh pattern. “Who’s there?”

  I took a step toward the corner of the building…and then another. Was it Kenya playing damn tricks? “Not funny, Kenya.”

  Silence followed. Silence with its whispers inside my head.

  Come, Harlow. We’ve been waiting.

  I shot forward, lunging toward the corner of the building, and raced along the side. The echo was gone, swept away by the rush of my steps and the pounding
of my heart as I came around the side to the back of the clinic.

  Kenya was crouched near an opening, furiously scribbling into a notebook. She didn’t see me, and didn’t hear me. Her sole focus was the pen in her hand and the words pouring from her fingers. She shook her head, curls of her hair danced as she scribbled and scratched out a word before trying again.

  Call her name. The demand gripped me, squeezing the words into my throat. My fingers skimmed the rough brick. I held on, watching until she slapped the cover closed and leaned forward. There was a hole in the side of the building. I glanced at the tin sheeting. A hole she covered. This was more than rifling through the lab in the middle of the night. This was hiding things away from the others...away from her friends.

  Chuck was a germaphobe, and Damon couldn’t get two feet outside the damn door. They’d never come out here, never find what she hid in the side of a vet clinic. Her shoulders curled and shuddered as she stared at the closed notebook. The sting of anger faded, and what replaced it was softer, leaving an ache behind.

  She swiped her cheeks, and then dropped her hands. Even from here I could see the bright crimson smears across her skin. They weren’t just sick…the thought filled me. This was a lot more than jaundiced skin and blood-shot eyes. I was betting Kenya knew that…I glanced at the hole in the wall as she curled the notebook and slipped it inside.

  I eased backwards, stepping out of sight before I turned and made my way back to where she’d left me. Wayward strands ruffled my cheek. I curled my hair around the back of my ear and stared at the building. I wanted to know what was in that notebook. What it was that was so important.

  And what it was that woke her in the middle of the night.

  The echo of hooves filled the air, growing stronger the more I listened.

  Pestilence was here…amongst the living, infecting, killing once more. “I’m coming all right,” I whispered, and stared at what was left of my world. “I’m coming to hunt you down.”

  9