Coy shoved Carson away and turned to tell Willie to run.
Willie was way ahead of him.
NINETEEN
She couldn’t stop shaking and somehow she knew getting out of the water would be worse. Erica pulled against the current to reach the shore and dug her hands deep into the mud.
The earth fell away from her hand and the current pulled her farther downstream until she caught hold of a tree root and snapped to a stop.
Gasping, she pulled herself up the bank and shuddered as the breeze drove the cold further into her body. Her hands were numb. Her feet were numb and wouldn’t listen to her. She slithered up the shoreline through the mud and into the woods.
Her limbs shook as she pulled herself to her feet and began to move. It was awkward at first. Her feet felt foreign to her. They felt so far away. But the more they moved, the more they listened and she moved deeper into the woods using her hands and the trees to keep her upright.
Her plan had not changed. She would make her way through the woods, get her bearings, and make her way back to New Hope. It was a simple plan only complicated a little by the potential hypothermia and the fact that she was beyond lost.
Her feet were working well enough now that she could keep her balance without bracing herself against the trees. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed what heat she could into her chest. It didn’t help the least little bit. She couldn’t see them, but she knew her lips had to be blue.
She stammered for breath and every lungful just added to the cold as she worked her way deeper and deeper into the forest. Her breath exploded from her lips in white clouds. She couldn’t hear anything over her own panting.
Had they followed her into the stream? Was the current fast enough to give her a head start? Did they have dogs? Would they even need dogs?
She barreled on, favoring speed over stealth until her breathing began to return to normal. She stopped against a tree and tried to take slow deep and quiet breaths. There were no shouts, no barking. For a minute there was nothing. Then a man said, “And, if we’re being honest, I hate kittens,” and several people laughed for a good long while.
Erica dropped to the ground as the laughter trailed off.
A woman said with a smile, “You don’t really hate kittens.”
“Sure I do. Kittens grow up to be cats, and cats are evil.”
“No, they aren’t. That’s a horrible thing to say. My cats were always sweet.”
“It’s true. When you sat there with your cat, petting it, loving on it and it looked into your eyes, you probably thought it loved you back.”
“It did love me back,” she said.
“No, it was wondering what your eyes would taste like.”
There was another round of laughter from the group and then the smack of a gloved hand hitting a padded jacket.
“It was not wondering that,” the woman said, but there was a smile in her voice.
“If a person dies,” the man continued, “at home alone with a cat, the cat will eat the eyes first. Science proved it. If that’s not evil, I don’t know what is.”
The group chuckled, and another man spoke up with mock condensation. “Don’t let the Freedom Police hear you say that. They’ll have you in the cage so fast. Remember kittens and puppies are cute.”
The man groaned. “I’m so tired of being told what to think. I shouldn’t have to come all the way out here to express my true feelings about the evil nature of cats.”
The second man continued, “Yeah, but what are you going to do? Things are as good in Tolerance as they are anywhere else. Better, probably. You’ve got food to eat. They keep the bears out.”
“I don’t know,” the first voice said. “There’s got to be somewhere to go where you’re not always fighting for your life and you can still hate cats.”
Erica knew a place like that. She could help them. She could tell them about New Hope. She could take them there if they’d help her. They could help her, and they could hate cats. It was win/win. She took a step toward the group and stopped. They sounded sincere about leaving. But, could she convince them to leave?
Another woman laughed. “Where is this Utopia you speak of?”
The group laughed and the cat-hater spoke again. “Ah, shut up. Don’t tell me you guys don’t feel the same way. You hate this place as much as I do.”
“Sure,” said the second man. “But it’s not worth the risk. Hell, I’ve been here so long I’m starting to believe their bullshit. You know, last time I saw the counselors come out I almost went for a hug myself?”
“Bullshit.”
“Swear to God.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that either,” the woman said. “Or you’ll be paying your fair share.”
The man laughed. “I could totally see you as my slave. I would make you do so much disgusting shit.”
The group laughed again and Erica made her decision. She stumbled into the group and said, “I know a place where you’re allowed to hate cats.” It probably wasn’t the best opening line, but she was pretty sure her brain was frozen.
There were three men and two women in the group sitting around a small fire. She spooked them and they all stood and backed away when she entered.
“I know a place,” she continued. “And I can take you there. Please. I can take you there.”
“Oh my God,” one of the women said as she pulled off her gloves. “She’s freezing.” She pulled off her jacket and draped it over Erica’s shoulders. She led her over near the fire and rubbed her shoulders before speaking to one of the men. “Christian, give me your jacket.”
“But, it’s cold out.”
“Do it, wimp.”
“Fine,” the man stood up, took off his jacket and gave it to the woman.
She put on the coat and resumed rubbing Erica’s shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I know a place,” Erica said. “It’s a safe place. And it’s free. You can think whatever you want. Say whatever you want. We can go there.”
“Just calm down,” Christian said. “Why are you wet? Why are you so scared?”
Erica didn’t say anything else. She just shivered inside the jacket.
Christian pointed into the woods. “You’re running from Tolerance, aren’t you?”
She was too afraid to admit anything. But, they wanted to get away; she could convince them to get away. “The town I’m from. They don’t tell you what to do or what to hate, I know several people that hate cats. You’d love it there.”
“Actually,” the other man said, “I’m the cat hater.”
“She’s a runaway,” Christian said. “We’ve got to take her back.”
“No,” Erica said as the woman stopped rubbing her shoulders. “You can get away. Come with me. We can go there. No cages. No slaves. No bears. You can hate cats. Please, let’s go hate cats.”
Christian looked around the group. “You’re not listening to her, are you?”
Erica spoke to him. “You come out here because you hate it back there, right? Why would you go back?”
“For one thing,” the man said, “the dorms have heat.”
“If you take me back, I’ll tell them what I heard. I’ll tell them what you were doing.”
Christian shrugged and the woman rubbing her shoulders clamped down on Erica’s arms and spoke. “Let’s take her back. If we turn her in they’ll probably reward us.”
Erica turned and looked her in the eyes. She had seen people do terrible things in the new world. But never so easily or so consistently as she had seen in the last few days.
The woman must have seen the surprise in her eyes. “Sorry, hon. Better you than me.”
Erica lunged forward and knocked the woman off her feet. She heard the men scrambling behind her, but she was already out of the clearing and into the trees before they had gotten to their feet.
She worked her arms into the jacket sleeves and slid down a ravine. The men tumbled in after her as s
he climbed up the other side and continued to run. Panic grew quickly. She was exhausted, freezing, and had no idea where she was going. They were going to catch her and she didn’t have it in her to fight anymore.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, but she was able to slip out of it and duck around a tree. Then she tripped and tumbled down a small hill onto an old hiking path. A foot grabbed her ankle and she grabbed a rock.
She turned over and Christian was on top of her. He grabbed her arm and pinned it to the ground. But it was the wrong arm.
Erica swung the rock into his face and kicked him off of her. She got to her feet again and ran down the path farther into the woods.
It hadn’t been used for years. Saplings grew in the middle of the trail, and she was forced to weave around them as she ran. The path curved and began to descend. She could hear water ahead.
Another swim could kill her, but it was a chance. The footsteps behind her had faded. They had probably stopped to check on Christian. She may have killed him. She couldn’t be sure. It was obvious that he wasn’t as tough as he tried to sound. The rock to the face proved that, as they often do.
She reached the edge of the stream and stopped, terrified to get back in the water. She looked behind her and saw no one on the path. Now was her chance. They wouldn’t expect her to risk the river again. If she could get in before they saw her they would just keep following the path. She took a deep breath and decided to risk the swim.
But there was a bear.
The brown beast rose up from the water’s edge where it had been drinking and stared right at her. Highly intelligent bears had been a threat in the new world for years, and Erica froze as the creature rose onto its hind legs and sniffed the air. It was almost impossible to distinguish a Super Smart Bear from a regular bear just by looking at it. A person had to pretty much just wait for it to do something super smart to tell the difference.
The bear growled and Erica became less curious whether it was an SSB or not. She turned and ran back up the hiking trail towards her pursuers. Smart, dumb, or of average intelligence, she knew she could never outrun any bear. But she also knew she didn’t have to.
Her legs had found new life because bears will do that to legs, and she came around the hill as fast as possible. Christian and the other man were still chasing her, and she dashed between the two of them before they could react.
They slid to a stop and turned to follow but, well, bear. The beast roared its surprise as the men shrieked their own. Three quick swipes of a couple of paws knocked one man to the ground where he did his best to curl into a ball.
Christian was the faster of the two men and he even made it several feet before the beast charged into him and knocked him to the ground.
Erica heard the roars and screams of pain but dared not turn around. She followed the path up a hill as she imagined the creature bearing down on her. A path less worn split to the left and ran through a thick cropping of trees. She took that path and weaved through the tight cluster of trees, hoping the bear could not follow.
The path turned steeper and she remembered they couldn’t run uphill as fast as they could down. Or it was the opposite. She wasn’t sure. She hoped it was up, but, if it wasn’t, at least she would be on a hill and she could turn around and run back down to correct her mistake.
The top of the hill was more than a defensive position against bears. The path led to a cabin that looked weathered and old and was almost certainly the home to an axe murderer or terrorist hermit. But it was also sturdy, and right now she’d happily hide behind any door she could find.
The area in front of the porch was flat and worn. She crossed it quickly and leapt up on to the porch. She collided with the door and crashed into the cabin. Erica jumped back to the door and slammed it shut with her shoulder, risking only a glance outside to see whether the bear had followed her or if it had been content eating her pursuers instead.
She held the door shut with both hands and looked for a latch, a crossbar, or anything to put between her and the outside world. A large board served as a sliding dead bolt. She rammed it into place and collapsed with her back against the door.
Then she screamed because there were bears in the cabin, too.
TWENTY
Something smelled awful and Jerry wasn’t sure if it was the dumpster or the dog.
He wasn’t sure how long Chewy had been licking his face, but it was long enough to allow a puddle of slobber to form under his cheek.
Jerry opened his eyes and found himself staring under the dumpster. His head rocked back and forth in rhythm with the dog’s tongue and dipped his cheek into the puddle of drool with every stroke.
“I’m up. I’m up.” His voice was weak at first but grew stronger with every lap.
The licking persisted. Turning his face would get a mouthful of tongue so he did his best to sit up without angering his head. That proved difficult. The shot to his skull had given him no particular point of ache. It killed all over. There was no way to move it, bend it, or think about without it hurting like hell.
After finally sitting up and brushing off the dog’s affections, he felt the back of his head and found the lump that had put him out. It hurt to touch, but the headache was worse. He used the dumpster to help him get to his feet using it for support as he found his legs again. They were the two wobbly things under his ass.
Chewy nudged for attention at his free hand and he scratched her behind the ears. “How long have I been out?”
The dog barked a useless response that Jerry interpreted as a question. Obviously the dog wanted to know how his stupid ass got knocked out in the first place.
“It was those idiots from Bomb City,” he said. “I can’t believe I fell for that. Yeah, it was the oldest trick in the book, but who would have ever thought those guys had read a book?”
He risked moving from the wholly supportive dumpster to a comfortable-looking concrete step and sat down. He looked around the alley and, for the first time since coming to, realized he was alone. “I wonder where they went.” He pointed at the burlap sack next to the dumpster. “I remember the bag. Obviously, they were trying to grab me. But what happened? Why didn’t they finish the job?”
Chewy sat down in front of him and offered absolutely no help in unraveling the mystery of the missing morons.
“You’re no help. At least Scooby Doo would find me a sandwich.”
Chewy wagged her tail at the thought of food. This created a distinct jingle as the dog wiggled back and forth across the concrete. It sounded like an ordinary collar. But this was Tolerance and there were no collars allowed.
Jerry stood up and examined the ground behind the dog. He picked up the brass casing Chewy had sent rolling with her tail and smelled it. The pungent odor of freshly spent powder confirmed his suspicion. A quick search of the alley turned up nine more casings. He sat back down and tossed the brass case across the alley. “I must have really been out. How does someone sleep through an entire gunfight?”
Chewy barked and it hurt every idea in his head.
He closed his eyes and grunted, “Did you find anything besides food?”
Chewy dropped her eyes and put her head down on the ground.
The Librarian scratched the dog’s head as he thought about Erica and her captor. “He couldn’t have gotten far. He might still be here. Somewhere.” He looked at his watch and tried to determine how much time had passed.
Chewy moved forward and put her head under the outstretched hand.
“I get it. You’re not giving up. And neither am I. We’ve chased him this far. We’ll catch him soon. But first I think I need to throw up a little bit.”
Fifteen minutes and a few hurls later he was back on his feet with reasonable stability. His steadiness returned as the pair walked out of the alley and made their way back to the marketplace at the center of the campus.
The crowd had thinned considerably and taken a lot of the emotional overreacting with it. Of those that remained
in the square, the panicked screams had turned to a muted sobbing. The counselor brigade was still out, but there were fewer members than there had been initially. Those that remained sat and rocked the ones hardest hit by the day’s excitement as the plush animals soaked up the remaining moans, tears, and snot.
Freedom Enforcement Officers continued to take statements from witnesses and Jerry watched a pair of the constables shoving a man down one of the pathways. One officer held a black leather jacket in his hand. The patch on the back was unmistakably a screeching eagle with an iron beak.
This put a brief hesitation in Jerry’s step, but he hid it well and kept his stride. He moved toward one of the administration buildings and stepped into the nook of a stairwell. Suddenly he desperately wanted a wall at his back.
That was definitely one of the bikers that had attacked him on the road to Tolerance. Had they followed him here? Those two morons from Amarillo had. They were here somewhere.
He watched as another biker was stripped of his jacket and escorted through the courtyard in cuffs.
The gang’s presence in town might explain the shell casings in the alleyway, but it didn’t explain why he had been able to wake up without being dead. They were all looking to collect the bounty on his head just like everybody else. He was lucky to still have it.
He knelt as if to tie his shoe and, after pushing Chewy’s tongue away from his face, searched the courtyard. On the other side of the clearing, a Freedom Officer sat on a low brick wall with a bloody arm as another official from the town worked from a first aid kit to dress it.
Not far from this scene a biker lay dead or really, really sleepy. Either way, he wasn’t getting up, and a couple of townspeople stood over him kicking at his head to make sure.
The cops were on alert. Mr. Christopher was probably in town somewhere getting stitched up. The gang was here to collect the bounty. And the morons were likely somewhere plotting another ridiculous booby trap. He hated himself for falling for their stupid trick. He was outnumbered and had let himself become reckless in his pursuit of Mr. Christopher. It was a stupidly dangerous combination.
He took a deep breath and vowed to be more discreet. He swore to move with more caution. He took off running across the square as the man in the stupid white suit stepped into view on the other side of the market.
Pursuit of the Apocalypse Page 12