Pestilence: The Calling Series

by Faulks, Kim

  Her screams rebounded.

  Kenya shook her head. Her words were muffled by the drone of the generator. I strained to listen to the words, but her mumbled words never reached my ears.

  Miriam stilled, swaying on her feet for a second. She lowered her head, let out a sudden cry of anguish and then dropped to her knees. Kenya circled to the side, reaching out with a tender touch and then lowered herself beside the weeping young woman.

  “I’m so sorry.” I caught the words on Kenya’s lips.

  With a fierce battle cry, Miriam lunged and punched Kenya in the stomach. The blow was hard enough to shock, but not hurt. Kenya stuttered, swinging her fists to the side in an attempt to block. But there was no blocking, no saving…no saving anyone as Miriam hunkered, and then pounced once more.

  The jabs were quick, fierce, driving Kenya backwards until she hit the cage on the other side. Kenya jabbed a fist at the bitch’s face, making her duck. But the lab technician was no fighter…she spent her days saving…

  Saving stray people like me…

  She couldn’t hurt, not like that.

  The crowd erupted with vicious cheers. Some stood on their feet, their filthy faces a sickening mask of excitement and lust.

  Blood lust.

  Hate lust.

  Kenya gave a pathetic mewl, drawing my gaze. Blood spread out from the front of her chest, spreading out like it was ripped by the fisted blows. I took a step forward, and this time the brute let me go.

  “Kenya?” I called her name, but she stared down at her stomach, the bright crimson stain was spreading all over her chest. My body wasn’t my own anymore. I fought with everything I had to turn my head and stare at Miriam’s hand.

  The small sharp plastic shiv stuck out from her fist. The point was slick, shining with fresh blood. I shoved forward, scrambling for the cage door before a male yanked his head toward my movement and lunged.

  “Let her go,” Miles commanded.

  I never waited, only yanked the latch and heaved open the door. Metal howled, but it was a scream inside my head…No! The yellow lights overhead dulled, only to surge once more. The bulbs brightened. Kenya’s blood was neon in the hard glow. I crossed the floor, taking one quick look at the blade in Miriam’s hand before I dropped to my knees.

  “Kenya…Kenya, look at me.”

  She never moved, only stared at a mark on the floor one foot in front of her. I grasped her fingers and eased them aside. Fresh blood leaked from her belly. I speared my fingers between the gaps in her shirt and yanked.

  Buttons popped, stitching ripped. The gaping, jagged wounds wept. I smashed my hand across the mess, but there was no stopping the bulge that spilled from her skin, and no stopping the life that was dying in her eyes. “I need a doctor, or a nurse!”

  There was no rush, no flurry of panic. I wrenched my gaze to their leader, finding his gaze to scream. “Get me a goddamn doctor!”

  “There are no doctors,” he answered and glanced at the woman crumbled against the cage. “There are no nurses, no second chances. There’s only death…”

  Movement came in the corner of my eye. The savage bitch lunged, driving that thin shard through the air for my face.

  Instinct drove me. I shoved to my feet, hands out, slapping the blow when it came. Get on the outside, Dad’s voice filled me. Always on the outside, Harlow. Never let them trap you. The blow came again, tiny spear carving through the air for my eyes.

  “Fucking bitch!” Miriam snarled and swung. She circled, leaning back on her haunches only to spring forward like a damn cat.

  The howl of the cage door pierced the air. But I couldn’t look, I couldn’t take my eyes from this feral little beast as she came once more.

  “You know who’s killing us,” she snarled. “You and your fucking friends know everything. Tell us…tell us now and this will all be done.”

  The crowd closed in as the movement rushed. The blow was a blur coming at my right as Miriam came from my left. I swung, blocked…my focus on the blade and not on the fist. Faces from the crowd outside rushed as the blow landed. My head snapped to the side, pain flared, hot and white…blinding for a second as I fell.

  The dull boom ripped through my head. They came for me, swinging tight fists filled with honed plastic and steel. The crowd roared, screaming and laughing, as the girl to the left jabbed the air at my belly and Miriam came for my face.

  Her nails bit, clawing my cheek before I wrenched my head away.

  “Fight! Fight! Fight…her!” The roar was deafening.

  “Fucking bitch! I’ll kill you…I’ll kill every last one of you!” Miriam howled and raised bloody fingers.

  I could feel their blood, feel their disease. It was in the air, on my skin. It was bearing down on me, crushing me from the inside.

  Kenya coughed bloody spittle into the air. Desperation howled, burning through my veins. I wasn’t friends with this woman. I owed her nothing more than a warm meal and a place to rest…and yet my feet refused to move, grounded by her side. “I don’t want to fight you, Miriam. I have nothing you want. Leave Kenya alone, and we’ll walk out of here. You never have to see us again.”

  “You have everything I want,” Miriam snarled. “Your pretty face, your perfect fucking skin…your life—how’s that? I want your life, you fucking bitch.”

  My heart lunged, slamming against the inside of my chest. The hum carried like a nerve wound tight—a nerve that was wrapped around my soul. The Calling filled me, blinding me with exploding stars in my eyes.

  My fingers trembled as Miriam turned to her friend and smiled. “Let’s kill this bitch, Sara.”

  Sara said nothing, turning dark beady eyes to me, and then lunged. Her fists were fast and hard, bare knuckles finding my ribs.

  I blocked, stumbled, tried to shove her arms as she swung. Miriam slashed, driving the shiv through the air. Pain lashed my arm, the cut savage and deep.

  Don’t let them trap you.

  Miriam swung once more. I shoved my hand, fingers wide, palm in, shoving the knife away.

  On the outside, Harlow. That’s it, honey.

  Sara came from my left, swinging wide. She aimed for my face as I wind-milled my arm, blocking the blow, and then I wrenched my foot high. Stars danced, the glow stealing the faces of the crowd as I lashed out, driving my boot through the air and into her knee.

  Fight, Harlow, Dad snarled inside my mind. Survive anyway you can.

  The crunch was sickening. Sara buckled, fell to the floor, and reached for her knee. Her wails pierced my head and echoed in the dark. My breaths were raw and heavy, tearing from my chest as Miriam let out an unmerciful scream and leapt into the air.

  Her body smashed into mine, knocking me backwards with her weight. Fire lashed my side, and again, down low…biting like wicked fangs before she wrenched her hand high. Blood coated her hand, fresh and real…my blood…that’s my blood.

  Instinct was in the driver’s seat, reaching out to grasp her shirt. One yank and she was falling. Heat flared once more in my thigh as she smashed into my body. I left the pain behind.

  I left everything behind as I rolled, straddled her thighs—pinning her underneath me and drove my fist into her face. My knuckles crunched, blood spilled as her lip split.

  “Kill her!”

  The crowd screamed behind me, but I was too far gone to care—deep within the pain—swallowed by the hate of this world. I wrenched my fist back, my muscles screamed, tendons wound tight as I unleashed again.

  Her eyes widened, a second before the blow. Her teeth cracked, buckling under the force. The sound of my heart was all I could hear—the thunder consuming, stealing the cage, stealing her.

  She was nothing…no one. Just a woman—just a hateful woman. I lashed out, punching once more. She was this world, this day, any day…three years of days. She was loneliness.

  She was the end.

  I stilled, sucked in hard breaths and stared at her face. She was unrecognizable, a mess of cracked teeth an
d a bloody pulp. I saw her then, saw what I’d done—saw what I was capable of.

  My legs wouldn’t work, slipping from under me as I tried to stand. I shoved again, forcing my knees underneath me, and stood.

  They were everywhere, fingers gripping the cage walls. Faces filled with hate and lust. Revulsion rolled my belly. I lifted my head, staring into the murky light, and felt the room sway.

  Movement captured my eye. He strode along the back of the crowd, hood pulled low, his face hidden…all except for his lips…and his chin.

  I stared, watching his slow stride. Turn your head. Turn your head and look at me. The hum inside grew, buzzing through my veins, slashing lightning through my head.

  He never turned, never once looked inside the cage.

  My fingers danced, trembling, as the Calling raced.

  Blood dripped from my fingers, screams came from the shattered woman at my side…and yet in that second, he was everything.

  “Well done!” Miles screamed, his roar carving through the cheers. “We have a winner.”

  The hooded stranger stepped behind the crowd, and he was lost…lost to the darkness…lost to the hate.

  “Harlow…”

  A whisper came to my right. I spun, bloody knuckles raised, ready to hit, ready to defend.

  “Harlow.”

  Kenya blinked and stared at me. Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hand. My knee buckled, pain bit deep, making me weak, and I crumpled.

  Tears blurred. I owed her nothing, and yet I reached for her, grasping her hand and her shoulder. She was heavy in my arms, so very heavy.

  “Need to listen…”

  Her lips moved. I couldn’t hear, couldn’t do anything but hold her, feel the weight of her body, feel the warmth of her skin. “It’s okay…you don’t need to talk.”

  “Listen to me.”

  There was no plea, only determination—only need. Her brown eyes darkened, lips trembled. A sheen of sweat masked her face. She looked different under the harsh yellow lights, not the woman I dined with…not the woman I followed.

  “The clinic…the one where I made you wait…in the wall—” she winced, her breath hard, choking. “The wall…there’s a hole.”

  “You don’t need to…” I started.

  Her fingers clenched, fisting the hem of my shirt. “In there is a book. I don’t know which one. I don’t know who he is. Chuck. Kris…Damon. You need to save them…you need to find him. This time it’s different…not natural…”

  She stilled, her breath froze. Tendons tightened along her neck as her spine bowed. A whimper slipped from her lips. “Not natural…not naturalnotnaturalnotnatural…nnnnnnn…”

  Her words were fast now…just a jumble of desperate noises.

  Until she stilled. Silence settled in her brown eyes, the kind of silence I’d heard before.

  Her fingers relaxed, her hold no longer needed.

  I lifted my hand, touched her brows and skimmed her lids.

  I once buried my mother, and my sister, and now…

  My throat tightened, like a fist rammed deep.

  Now, I’d buried my friend.

  12

  “Are you Pestilence?” Miles murmured. His voice deep and husky, moving closer. “Are you this goddamn disease?”

  His breath brushed my cheek, warming my ear.

  I didn’t want to meet that gaze, didn’t want to see the filthy thoughts that danced in his eyes as he whispered. “Are you the end of this hateful goddamn world…or are you the beginning?”

  “Fucking bitch!” Sara howled as she rolled and clutched her knee. The angle was all wrong, kinked to the side… “You don’t want her, Miles. You have me…you have us!”

  But there was no stopping those hateful words. “If you’re truly the goddamn plague, then end her. After all, she’s suffering…she’s in pain.”

  I never lifted my gaze, never turned my head. His words spoke of killing and death like it was so very natural. And after three years of suffering and loss, I guess to him it was.

  But death shouldn’t be welcomed…death shouldn’t be rejoiced.

  Death should be hated, and hunted.

  Death should come at the end of a long life, when all the fighting was done.

  Death should come for those who deserve it.

  I stared at this pathetic woman, barely more than a girl. She snarled and hissed, her panicked gaze flitting from Miles to me.

  Not normal…not normal. Those words stuck in my head.

  I didn’t want to kill her. I only ever wanted to stop her. I glanced at Miriam, her eyes open, breath fast…in shock.

  “Finish it,” Miles murmured. “It’s the Lost Boys’ way.”

  I turned to him, lifted my gaze to see the smug glint in those soulless eyes. “It’s not my way.”

  I wanted to shove those words down his throat with bloody knuckles. Goddamn sonovabitch. My left leg trembled, pain gnawed my side, thick and sweet, carving through the stink of this place.

  “I’m leaving.” I stared at Kenya. “And I’m taking her with me.”

  “No.” I flinched with the command. “The dead stay, and the dead are burned. We can’t risk others…he warned us.”

  He? I raised my gaze. “Who warned you? The preacher?”

  Notnormal…notnormal…notnormal…

  “He said the end was coming. Said a choice had to be made.” Dark eyes burned with desire. “Said there was a savior among us…”

  You need to save them…you need to find him.

  The Calling filled me, resounding like the boom of a drum. Kenya…Kenya knew, knew it would come to this, knew it would end.

  “Someone’s infecting us, killing us. I’m going to find that someone, and I’m going to kill them…she knew more than she let on—and so she paid the Lost Boy price.”

  The hum deepened with his words. An unseen fist clenched in my chest. I wanted out of this place, and away from these people. I lifted my gaze to the quietening crowd, but it wasn’t looking for their filthy faces and torn-open mouths filled with savagery.

  It was looking for the hooded figure amongst the horde…he wasn’t here.

  He wasn’t anywhere.

  “I want to know who that someone is,” Miles snarled, the heat of lust now icy with rage. “I want to know who and what is killing my people.”

  He wouldn’t let me take Kenya. I’d be lucky to leave with my life. “My gun, at least give it back.”

  “Stay,” he said. “Stay here…with me.”

  “No!” Sara screamed. “You’ll take her, this fucking bitch over us...over a Lost Boy?”

  “Quiet!” He roared. “I rule here!”

  My skin crawled with the thought of staying, with those filthy images in his mind turned reality. Get out now…the need raged…get out while you still can. “You asked if I was the end, or the beginning…then let me leave this place and find out.”

  His breath was slow, steady, as he weighed my words. “You’ll come back.”

  It wasn’t a question, more of a plea. I let the words hover in the air. I wouldn’t lie…not now when the truth was such a fragile thing. Seconds lingered, until he finally nodded and answered himself. “Eventually.”

  He turned and motioned the brute forward. “Give her the gun and let her leave…unharmed.”

  Something in my chest soared with the words. I took one last look at the woman who helped me, who cared for me—who’d been a friend, before I headed for the open cage door.

  The brute sneered as I stepped through the door. His lips curled, revealing yellowed teeth as he sneered. “You know you’ll—”

  I threw my hand up, stopping him mid-sentence. “Save it. I’ve heard enough.”

  A male standing behind him held out my gun, and at his feet in a heap was my jacket.

  Agony roared, making me weak…making me limp as I left this Hell behind. My damn fingers trembled as I snatched the warm steel from his palm and leaned down. The room darkened. I tried not to inhale. But the
heady scent of my blood was overpowering, seeping into my nose—finding its way into my mind.

  I won’t make it.

  The thought came to life, bringing roots and digging deep.

  I won’t make it back to the lab. Won’t make it back to the others.

  And they needed me.

  My stomach trembled, and then hardened as I shoved myself to a stand. One foot in front of the other. It’s all I focused on as I made for the darkening light at the end of the garage.

  “Let her go!” Miles boomed.

  I ground my jaw and climbed the concrete rise. No one stopped me, no one even spoke. Sweat dried, itching my skin. It could’ve been blood…my blood, and Kenya’s.

  Miles called me Pestilence—called me the end.

  But he was wrong. I wasn’t the end…I was salvation. I was freedom.

  I was hope.

  One foot in front of the other. That’s all I knew now, following that desire that filled my soul. It was an evening star, a shining light…one I couldn’t see—but I could feel it.

  It filled me, swallowed me, became…me. The only question left—the only question that mattered now was…why?

  The preacher had answers. He could take this Calling from my soul.

  Save them…Kenya’s last words filled me as Chuck, Damon, and the cold, beady eyes of Kris filled me.

  My boot dragged, pain plunged like a searing knife in my side. The burn was deep, past muscle and bone to something alive with rage.

  A bead of sweat gathered, falling between my brows to sting my eye. I reached for my side. Pain roared like a beast of its own as I probed gently and then drew my hand away. My fingers were bright crimson, coated fresh.

  Keep going. The drive forced one step in front of the other as I climbed the rise. It’d been hours, mere hours since I stepped into that place, and yet, a lifetime had slipped away.

  Two of us had walked in there. But only I came out.

  Panic reared as stones scattered from my boots. I wanted to stop. I wanted to go back there, to hold her…to carry her. To find a special place to bury her—just like I…