“Not yet,” she whispered to herself. “Wait for the others.”
Knock, knock, knock.
If she said nothing, he would get his colleagues, wouldn’t he? And they would all come back?
“Hello?” the man called through the door. “Hello? Are you home? Ms. Drexel? Hello?”
She froze. He knew her name.
Of course, he knows your name, Owen said. He and his friends are professional killers. They always prepare ahead of time. But there’s no way they could have prepared for what you have waiting for them.
That brought a smile to her face.
“Ms. Drexel, I just need to ask you a question.”
“Go get your friends,” she silently mouthed. “Go get your friends and I’ll open the door.”
“Ms. Drexel?”
Knock, knock, knock.
“I’m sorry if I’ve woken you. My son is missing. I need your help.”
Son? What was the man talking about? His son was missing? It must be some kind of trick to get her to—
Then she remembered. The boy. And it all became clear.
The kid had been part of it. He hadn’t just happened upon her garage to spend the night. He’d been sent to her place on purpose, to make sure she was the only one here, and to provide information to the men now out to kill her.
Oh, how tricky. Using a child to scout me out.
“Go away!” she yelled, then clapped her empty hand over her mouth.
Why had she done that? That was stupid. She should have just stayed silent.
“Ms. Drexel, my name’s Daniel Ash. I’m looking for my son, Brandon. I think he may have come this way, and I was wondering if you might have seen him.”
“No,” she said. “No, I haven’t seen anyone. Now leave me alone!”
“Are you sure? He probably would have come by here yesterday.”
“I said no!”
The man fell silent.
She stood as still as possible until she could stand it no more. She moved over to the window next to the door to see if he had left.
She pulled the curtain back just an inch, but what she saw was not her empty porch.
The man was looking in at her, right on the other side of the window.
__________
“NO, I HAVEN’T seen anyone,” the woman yelled through the door. “Now leave me alone!”
Ash leaned forward a few inches. “Are you sure? He probably would have come by here yesterday.”
“I said no!”
He stared at the door, unsure if she was telling him the truth. He turned his head and caught sight of the window just off to the side. Thinking that if he could get a glimpse of her, he might get a better sense if she was lying, he moved over to it and positioned his eyes as close to the glass as possible.
All he could see, though, was the back of a black curtain. There wasn’t even a crack along the side to give him a peek into the house.
He was about to back away when the curtain moved. The woman, wearing a pair of night vision goggles, appeared directly in front of him.
They both jumped, then—
__________
TWIN FIREBALLS ROSE into the sky as the double explosions of the house and garage shattered the night.
One moment Miller was standing behind a tree, watching Ash talk to the woman through the closed door, and the next he was sprawled on the ground, a dozen feet away. He rolled onto his hands and knees, and pushed himself up.
The two structures were gone, pulverized in the blast.
Miller ran out of the woods and weaved around flaming debris as he raced toward the house. All he could think of was Ash. He’d been right there, near the front door.
Miller stopped a dozen feet from where the porch had been. The only things left standing were bits and pieces of the retaining wall around the basement.
“Jesus,” he said.
This clearly wasn’t some accidental gas explosion. It was designed specifically to destroy everything.
He whirled around. The ground was covered with chunks of wood and bent pipes and things he couldn’t even identify. What he didn’t see was Ash or the woman. She had been inside and Miller doubted there was much left of her. But Ash? Miller couldn’t allow himself to think the same.
Starting from where he’d last seen Ash, he began searching. It wasn’t long before he saw the rounded tip of something sticking out from under a ten-by-three-foot section of siding that had been blown from the house.
He grabbed the edge of the wood, and shoved it up. Ash was beneath it, his arms wrapped loosely around his chest.
Miller pushed the siding out of the way and knelt down.
Ash was breathing, and his pulse, though not strong, was steady enough.
“Ash?” Miller said, tapping the man’s cheeks. “Ash, come on.”
His efforts were greeted with a moan, but Ash’s eyes remained closed.
Miller raised his hand to his ear to turn on his radio and call for help, but his earpiece was missing.
“Shit!” he said. It must have fallen out when he was knocked to the ground. “Hang in there, buddy. I’ll be right back.”
He sprinted over to where he’d been. There was enough light coming from the scattered fires that he didn’t have to turn on his flashlight. His earpiece was on the ground, not far from where he’d been thrown.
“This is Miller. Do you copy?”
“This is Christina. Any progress th—”
“I need medical assistance right away,” he said. “At the Drexel house. Ash is down.”
31
AFTER LEAVING THE woman’s house the day before, Brandon had continued east, knowing he would find a highway at some point. By early afternoon, he was exhausted, so he found a spot at the base of a large rock, and crawled into this sleeping bag. When he woke, the sun had already gone down, so as anxious as he was to keep moving, he’d thought it best to stay there for the night.
He had a cold dinner of baked beans and water. Afterward, he lay awake for hours, wondering if he would ever see his family again, before finally falling back to sleep.
It was the noise that woke him, a distant, rumbling roar that he wasn’t sure was real or part of a dream. He opened his eyes, looked around, then sat up and listened.
If the noise had come from the real world, it was gone now.
Just a dream, then, he thought as he lay back down.
He was able to get a few more hours of sleep before he opened his eyes and knew he was done for the night. He retrieved a couple of granola bars and ate them as his breakfast. He put everything away when he was done, donned his pack, and started out again.
Clouds had begun to move in overhead, but in the east, where a half moon had risen not long before, the sky was still clear. Beyond the boulder where he’d been sleeping was a narrow, shallow valley. When he reached the top of the ridge on the other side, he stopped and stared.
“You’re kidding me,” he said.
Below him, less than half a mile away, was the thin ribbon of what could only be a highway. If he had kept going the day before, it was possible he would have slept someplace warm and welcoming.
Walking down the hill, he debated with himself what to do if he spotted a car. His experience with the woman at the house had instilled more than a little caution. Maybe he should just stay in the trees and follow alongside the road to a town. That might be the safest option.
As the sun took away the night and the morning made its slow journey toward noon, it looked like he wouldn’t have to worry about what to do if he saw a car. So far, not a single one had driven by.
Around eleven he stopped for lunch. As he was eating another granola bar, he remembered what day it was. It was his mother’s favorite day of the year, the first to occur since she died.
Christmas Eve.
The tears started before he even knew what was happening, then the sobs followed. It was over twenty minutes before either stopped.
32
OUTSIDE MUMBAI, INDIA
3:30 PM INDIAN STANDARD TIME
WHEN SANJAY REGAINED consciousness, the sun was high in the sky. He started to roll onto his side, but made a poor choice of direction, and momentarily pressed his damaged shoulder against the ground.
He clenched his teeth as pain once more shot down his arm and across his chest. It wasn’t as bad as it had been when the bone was dislocated, but it still hurt like hell. Cradling his arm so his shoulder would remain immobile, he sat up.
The wrecked motorcycle was exactly where he had last seen it, as was, thankfully, the bag with the remaining jars of vaccine. His relief at this knowledge was tempered by the fact he still didn’t know where Kusum and her family were, and now he had no means of traveling around to find them.
He tried to remember where he was when the crash occurred. He was close to their meeting point, wasn’t he?
With some effort, he rose to his feet and looked out at the road. Dirt, rough, narrow.
Yes, this was the road to the place he and Kusum had slept the night before. No, two nights before.
The good thing was, even at a slow pace, he should be able to walk there in no more than an hour. But the location of the crash also meant it was unlikely Kusum and her family were there already. Surely they would have seen the wreckage and found him lying by the road as they passed.
So what should he do? Go to the meeting spot? Or head the other way to the main road? They’d have to come from that direction anyway, so it really wasn’t a choice.
He picked up the bag, slung it over his good shoulder, turned right, and headed toward the highway.
__________
IT TOOK SANJAY forty minutes to walk back to where the road ended at the highway. Once there, he found a shady spot from where he could keep an eye out for Kusum, and sat down.
It was eerie how quiet it was. When he was driving around earlier, there’d still been a few cars on the road, but in the first hour he sat there, he didn’t see one.
She’s not coming. The voice was but a whisper in his head.
“She is,” he said aloud. “She’s coming.”
She’s not coming, the voice repeated.
“Stop it!”
He pushed himself to his feet and walked out into the middle of the road. He stared in the direction that led to Mumbai, willing Kusum to appear.
“She’s coming,” he said. “I know she is.”
The highway, however, remained empty.
He staggered back to the side of the road, his body weak from the accident and the walk and the hours spent searching for Kusum. He needed something to eat, something to help him regain strength. He couldn’t recall the last thing he ate, but he knew it hadn’t been much.
Just down the highway was a roadside restaurant. Both the dining area and the kitchen were open air with a simple roof above, made from whatever materials the owners could get their hands on. Like everything else seemed to be, it was closed.
Instead of sitting back down, Sanjay headed toward it, hoping something edible had been left behind. Just as he reached the other side of the road, he heard the distant sound of a motor. He stopped, his head whipping around.
The sound had definitely come from the right direction, and it was getting louder.
He knew it was a mistake to think it was Kusum, but he couldn’t help it. It had to be. It just had to be.
He placed his hand against his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun. The road went straight for as far as he could see. In the distance, something moved. Though it was no more than a small blob at the moment, there was no question it was a vehicle.
He took a few steps toward it, as if doing so would make it arrive sooner.
“It’s got to be her,” he whispered. “It’s got to be her.”
Another step, the blob growing and beginning to take shape.
“It’s got to be her.”
A square now. A white square. Only—
He stopped moving.
The square continued to grow.
He dropped his hand to his side. It felt as if his heart had fallen off a cliff.
Not a car. A large truck.
He could now see the canvas-covered back, and make out enough to know several people were in the cab.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to not lose control.
She’s not coming, the voice from earlier said, stronger this time.
“She is,” he fought back, not as convincing as before.
He started to turn away.
“Sanjay!” The voice was just barely audible over the sound of the truck’s engine.
He paused, and looked back. Someone was waving from the open truck window.
Sanjay!” Louder now. A girl’s voice. Sounding very much like—“Sanjay!”
There was a squeal as the driver of the truck stomped on the brakes, and Kusum leaned out the passenger window.
For a moment, Sanjay thought his mind was just showing him what he wanted to see.
The door flew open even before the truck came to a full stop. The girl jumped down and ran toward him.
“Kusum?” he whispered.
“Sanjay! You’re here!”
Her arms flew open as she neared, and she wrapped them around him, squeezing him tightly. Though his shoulder screamed out in pain, he made no attempt to stop her. It was Kusum. And she was hugging him.
“You waited for us,” she said, finally pulling back from him.
Of course, I waited. What else would I have done?
Her smile began to wane as she touched his face where the skin had been ripped away in the accident. “What happened?”
“I’m okay.”
She took a good look at him, taking in his scratches and noticing his immobile arm. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.” He paused. “I could use some water, though.”
“Of course! Of course!”
She put an arm around him as if he needed propping up. When he took a step, he realized he did.
“Someone bring some water!” she yelled toward the truck.
“I thought you were…going to be in a car,” he said.
“That didn’t quite work out. Besides, it wouldn’t have been big enough.”
Big enough?
Before he could ask what she meant, Jabala ran up with a bottle of water.
“Here,” the girl said, holding it out to him.
“Take the top off first!” Kusum scolded her.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
Jabala removed the top, and handed the bottle back to Sanjay.
As the water passed over his lips, he wasn’t sure if he had ever tasted anything so good.
“Slowly,” Kusum said.
He continued to drink, slower than at first, then poured what was left over his head. The cloud that had infiltrated his mind began to lift, and while he was a long way from being whole, he could feel some of his strength returning.
“Thank you,” he said to Jabala.
“It is no problem,” she replied, taking the empty bottle from him. “Would you like more?”
“Yes, please.” He managed a smile. “And maybe something to eat?”
“I will be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, Kusum said, “Tell me what happened to you.”
He told her about the accident.
“It’s lucky you are even alive,” she said.
“But I am.”
Kusum eyed the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Is that it?”
He waited, but she didn’t say anything more. It took him a moment before he realized she was talking about the vaccine.
“Yes. I got it.”
She looked relieved, though not quite as relieved as he expected. “I hope you have enough.”
“Enough?”
“Come.”
She guided him over to the truck. As they passed the cab, he heard a child cry out.
“Wait,” Kusum said. She stepped up to the open door and leaned ins
ide. When she pulled back out again, she was holding a baby. “This is Nipa. Nipa, this is Sanjay, the one I’ve been talking about.”
Nipa looked at him for a moment, then hid her face against Kusum’s chest.
“Where is she—” he began.
“Later,” she said. “I have much to tell you. First, come.”
She led him around to the open back of the truck. Sitting inside were Kusum’s mother and her two cousins, but there were also nearly two dozen people Sanjay had never seen before, most of them kids.
He looked at Kusum, confused.
“We couldn’t just leave them on their own,” she said.
“Of course you couldn’t,” he told her. It had never been just Kusum’s beauty that drew him to her. It had also been her compassion.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Everyone, this is Sanjay.”
There was a chorus of greetings. He nodded and said hello several times, but the more he did, the more a question grew in his mind.
Did he have enough vaccine for everyone?
33
SHANGHAI, CHINA
6:07 PM CHINA STANDARD TIME
LI JIAO HAD a simple garden of potted plants on the small balcony of her second-floor apartment. Despite its lack of size, she took pride in what she’d been able to create. In spring she often had the most beautiful flowers on the whole block.
The news about what was happening in the rest of the world was frightening. She had watched for hours as reports came in from America and Europe and even elsewhere in Asia about the boxes and their deadly cargo. The endless reports were what finally drove her back outside, knowing she’d be able to forget everything else as she tended her plants.
So when she saw Madam Zhang step out of the apartment building across the street, she leaned over her balcony, yelled out a greeting, and waved as if it were just any other day. Madam Zhang, though, made no indication that she’d heard Jiao at all.
As Jiao started to call out again, the words died in her throat. Madam Zhang, who Jiao knew was only in her thirties, was moving like an ancient grandmother. She pressed a hand against the side of the building as if she would otherwise fall. Then Madam Zhang stopped and leaned wearily against the wall.
Pale Horse (A Project Eden Thriller) Page 22