After The Purge: Vendetta Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Sisavath, Sam

  In the back seat, Chris screamed.

  Ana slammed on the gas pedal and held onto the steering wheel for dear life as the truck lurched forward.

  Shelby’s body, covered in an impossibly thick coating of his own blood, rolled onto the hood with the sudden movement, landing with a thump!, before bouncing off the side and vanishing into the night.

  Ana clung to the steering wheel with both hands to control the vehicle, to keep it from skidding left and right as the gas poured into the engine. Her foot—no, both her feet, for some reason—ground the pedal into the floor in an attempt to make the Ford go faster, faster, FASTER, you stupid piece of shit! Why can’t you go any faster?

  Nineteen

  She wasn’t entirely sure how long she had both feet on the gas pedal (Is it going faster? Does having two feet on the pedal make it go faster? Dammit, why isn’t it going any faster!) and had it pressed against the floor of the truck. All the way against the floor. It could have been just a few seconds, or a few minutes, or a few hours.

  That last option was unlikely, and so was the second one, for that matter. So it had to have only been a few seconds. But how much was “a few” seconds? Two seconds? Three? Ten? What qualified as “a few?”

  The answer became irrelevant when it appeared out of thin air and crouched on the hood of the Ford. She didn’t know where it had come from. Had it jumped out of the sky somehow and landed perfectly in that position? Was that possible? Or had it popped up from the ground and smashed its way through the engine block and out the hood?

  Impossible. This is impossible.

  But there it was, grinning at her through the spidery cracks in the windshield. Or was that mockery? Was it mocking her? Its face was whole again, the bullet puncture in its cheek having somehow closed up. There was no trace of the injury whatsoever.

  It was perched on the same spot that Shelby’s body had crashed onto earlier. Ana knew that, because she could still make out the splatters of blood the young slayer had left behind before he rolled off and disappeared.

  Disappeared? He didn’t disappear. Shelby is out there somewhere. Maybe he’s even still alive. Maybe he was alive when you drove off and abandoned him.

  Just like you abandoned Randall…

  She let out a wild scream that forced the accusing voice back, back into the deepest recesses of her mind, while at the same time slamming on the brake pedal.

  The truck came to a sudden stop, throwing Ana into the steering wheel. There was a loud thump! as poor Chris tumbled into the front passenger seat in the back again.

  At the same time, the blue-eyed ghoul careened into the windshield, its thin and deformed body colliding with the already-cracked glass, making a surprisingly dull whump! As the Ford’s front tires dug into the dirt, the creature jerked backward and rolled off the hood, vanishing into the pool of bright headlights.

  Ana’s mind shouted, What are you waiting for? Do it! Do it now! even as she shoved everything she had down on the gas pedal. The truck once again lurched forward, and she felt rather than heard the right passenger tire running over something. She kept going, kept the pedal pressed to the floor, and was rewarded with a second thump!, as this time the rear passenger side tire also hit a bump.

  No, not a bump. One Eye. She’d just run it over.

  She’d just run it over!

  Would that do it? Would that kill it?

  But she didn’t need to kill it. She just needed to wound it—to hurt it—and give herself enough time to escape with Chris in the truck.

  That was it. That was all she needed—

  The vehicle had stopped moving.

  No, no…

  It didn’t matter how hard or long she kept her boot on the gas. The damn thing wouldn’t move.

  No, no, no…

  Ana didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want to look up and slightly to her right at the rearview mirror. She already knew what she would find back there, even if she couldn’t see it. She could just feel it.

  Don’t do it. Don’t do it!

  But she did, because she had to. She had to know.

  It was behind the truck, its exaggerated stick frame lit by the rear red lights of the Ford, as twisted and frail-looking (Bullshit. There’s nothing frail about that bastard!) as the last time she had seen it crouched on the hood in front of her. Except now it was behind her, and though she couldn’t see what it was doing, she accepted that it had stopped them from moving. Maybe it was holding onto the back bumper or something similarly impossible like that.

  “Impossible?” What does impossible even mean?

  There’s a one-eyed, blue-eyed ghoul back there.

  Nothing is impossible anymore! Nothing!

  She stared at it in the rearview mirror, and the monster returned the favor, its one blue eye seeming to glimmer against the rear red lights.

  We’re not moving, because it won’t let us move. It won’t let us move!

  Slowly, the loud grind of the front tires turning against the hard Texas earth began registering. She didn’t have to look down at the dashboard to see that the speedometer was cranked all the way up, because she hadn’t taken her foot off the gas. She couldn’t. She was too afraid to.

  She stared at it, and it stared back. It might have even grinned—or what it probably thought was a grin but was instead an unnatural abomination—except there was a clump of something disgusting on the windshield, in the spot where the creature’s mouth was, and she couldn’t be certain.

  How long could it keep this up? Would it eventually tire? Did the monsters even get tired anymore?

  Smoke started appearing out of the hood in front of her, partially obscuring her view of (Nothing. There’s nothing out there.) the Texas plains. And still she wouldn’t ease up on the gas. Not even for a second—

  Chris screamed, then Ana joined her, when the truck lifted into the air and began spinning like a top. There was nothing but open skies around them as they turned—one revolution, two revolutions! She lost count of how many times they spun, but was thankful when finally, mercifully, they crashed back onto the hard ground with a resounding bang!

  Ana wasn’t sure when she stopped screaming. Maybe it was when she found herself gasping for breath, trying desperately to keep her chest from imploding, as she stared up at the driver-side floor and the dirt-stained pedals.

  Why was she looking at the floor and not the ceiling?

  Because they were upside down.

  She hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt when it happened, and she was now crumpled, resting partially on the back of her neck, on top of the truck’s ceiling. The tires were still spinning and the engine continued to bellow from somewhere above her, loose dirt and pebbles cascading down the sides of the windows like dirty rain.

  And there, next to her, was Shelby’s machete, still partially covered in ghoul blood. Where the hell had it come from, and how close had she come to getting chopped in half by that thing while the vehicle was spinning in the air?

  “Ana!” Chris, shouting from somewhere behind her. Or was that in front of her? To the sides of her? Which side? “Ana!”

  “I’m here!” Ana shouted back. “I’m here, Chris!”

  “What are we going to do? What are we going to do?”

  She didn’t need to see Chris’s face to know the terror the poor kid was going through. Ana recognized it because she could hear it in her own voice when she shouted back, “Stay there! Don’t leave the truck! Don’t leave the truck until I tell you to!”

  Ana grabbed the heavily-taped handle of Shelby’s machete and pried herself free from the Ford’s ceiling. It was easy. There was nothing holding her in place, but trying to get her feet under her was a little more difficult—

  Something grabbed her left arm, and before Ana could scream or tell her brain to try to pull free, her entire body was snatched sideways. She was unbalanced and having trouble figuring out which side was down, and never really resolved that before she was jerked through the driver-side windo
w and tossed across the darkening sky.

  I’m flying! Ana thought, about a second (Two? Three?) before she slammed face- and chest-first into the cold, hard Texas ground.

  The machete was jarred from her grip by the impact, and Ana’s mind screamed, No, no, don’t lose the machete! Don’t lose the machete!

  Knowing what she had to do and following through were two different things. The fingers of her right hand were scratching at the dirt, hoping and praying that the knife hadn’t gone very far, while her left pushed her body up even if every inch of triumph came with slivers of throbbing pain firing up and down her entire body.

  But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t just lay there and lick her wounds and do nothing. Because to do nothing would be to give up, to let the creature have its pound of flesh. Once it was done with her, it would turn to Chris.

  Ana couldn’t let that happen.

  She wouldn’t let that happen.

  She’d be goddamned if she let that happen!

  Ana was able to finally raise herself up onto shaky legs, but at least she wasn’t lying flat on her face like before. Her hands were still empty (The machete! Where the hell is it? Where the hell is it?), and she glanced desperately around her, but there were no signs of the weapon. It couldn’t have flown that far from her grasp, could it? Apparently it could, because she was unable to locate the damn thing. It didn’t help that it was pitch-dark around her, and the only source of light was from the truck.

  The truck…

  She spun until she found the vehicle lying on its roof not too far away. All four tires were still spinning, but they were starting to noticeably slow down despite the engine continuing to churn. Smoke billowed up from the crumpled hood, but she couldn’t see anything that looked like immediate danger. No fires, at least. So Chris was still safe as long as she stayed inside the overturned vehicle.

  Safe? No one’s safe tonight, least of all you!

  The ghoul. Where was the ghoul?

  She twisted again, searching for it. Her hands formed fists at her sides even as a voice from deep, deep down asked her, What are you going to do? Punch it? Did you miss the part where someone shot it in the face and it just got annoyed?

  She didn’t care. She still had some strength left—not a lot, but some—to fight back with. There was no way Ana was going to just sit down and take the beating. She hadn’t when the world ended, not when it recuperated, and not when Mathison took Emily. She hadn’t back in Mayfield, when everything was grim and hopeless, and she wasn’t going to start now.

  Not now.

  Not right goddamn now.

  So where was it? Was it hiding from her? She couldn’t spot it near the truck, and all the lights were there. She couldn’t smell it, either, and these things reeked.

  It wasn’t behind her.

  Or to her right.

  On her left…

  So where—

  She glanced up, fully expecting it to drop out of the sky and pounce on her, but there was nothing up there except cold wind whipping across the flat Texas landscape, and just enough moonlight to see with. But not enough to give her a better view of everything around her. Not nearly enough.

  Chris. Get to Chris!

  Ana turned and started running back to the truck. If she couldn’t find the monster, she couldn’t fight it. But Chris was still there, and she could still help the teenager—

  “Where are you going so fast?” a voice hissed.

  She stopped and spun and swung with her balled right fist even as her mind shouted, Hit it fast, and hit it hard, and pray! Pray with everything you’ve got!

  It was so much taller than her, and Ana had to tilt her swing upward almost at the last moment. She landed the punch across its jaw, and its head turned slightly. Slightly.

  Then it smiled at her. Or did something with its lips that almost resembled a smile.

  “Cute,” it hissed. “Now I know why he likes you.”

  She staggered back, hands still clenched into fists. Hitting it had been like slapping a punching bag at the gym. Its flesh had been soft and malleable, like clay, but at the same time, indestructible.

  “Oh, go ahead,” it hissed, its voice oozing with mockery. “You know you want to. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Ana swung again with everything she had, determined to knock that stupid smirk off its face.

  Except the monster lied, and instead of letting her get in another punch, it intercepted her fist in midair.

  “You meat sacks,” it hissed, lips curling into that damaged version of a smile. “You’re always so predictable.”

  It pushed her in the chest with its other hand, letting go of her trapped fist at the same time. It had moved with such blinding speed that she couldn’t dodge or sidestep or duck in time. Freezing cold swarmed her body as her torso burned with unseen flames (How is this possible?) as she was flung backward, backward through the air.

  This is going to hurt, she thought just before she landed on her butt. Her back followed half a second later and slammed into the ground, and pain—pure, miserable pain—spread all over her extremities.

  Get up! Get up now, or you’re going to die! Chris is going to die! So get up! I know it hurts, but you have to get up! Get your ass up right now!

  So she got up. She didn’t know how, but she did. She raised herself on wobbly feet for the second (Third? Fourth?) time that night and clenched her fists at her sides again. Ana summoned every little strength she had left to remain standing and watched as the creature walked toward her.

  Sauntered toward her.

  “We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight,” it said. “You, me, and him.”

  Again with the him. Who was the creature talking about? Who—

  Oh.

  It was talking about Wash, wasn’t it? What was that it had said to her back at the town? That it could “smell” him on her?

  Wash, it knows you’re here. It knows!

  The creature kept coming. Slowly, but with purpose, as if it had all the time in the world. And maybe it did. It knew it had the advantage. It knew she couldn’t beat it. And there was nowhere to run. Absolutely nowhere to run.

  The bastard had it all figured out and was having fun at her expense. She could see that realization in its exaggerated walk, in its gaunt face and sallow cheeks and gleaming domed head. And that one glowing blue eye. There was something so odd about it, reminding her again of just how unnatural this creature was.

  “You haven’t given up yet, have you?” it asked in an almost singsong voice. “Well, have you?”

  “Not tonight, asshole,” she said. Or grunted out. Just breathing hurt.

  “Show me,” it said. “Let me see that human spirit. Let me taste it.”

  Then it was in front of her—again, moving so fast she couldn’t keep track of it.

  Instead of trying to figure it out, Ana swung.

  And missed.

  It had stepped to the side, its taunting grin widening. Before she could balance herself and strike again, cold, skeletal fingers grabbed her around the throat and lifted her into the air, and Ana thought, This is it. This is the end. God, I’m going to die out here in fucking Texas.

  I hate Texas…

  But she didn’t die. At least, not right away.

  Instead, Ana was moved through the air, maneuvered like she was little more than a rag doll in the hands of an impatient child. There was pain in all her extremities, but maybe the worst was the burning fire in her chest, threatening to cave the universe in on her. Her legs kicked at empty air as it held her up with hardly any effort. She couldn’t even fight back with her boots or her fists because she didn’t know where it was behind her. The damn thing couldn’t even give her that little bit of dignity in death.

  “You took your time,” it hissed.

  What?

  “But you’re finally here,” it said.

  Finally here? What the hell are you talking about, you stupid piece of shit?

  Ana’s min
d went blank when she saw him stepping out of the darkness. He walked toward them with all the patience of a saint, and there was nothing that even looked remotely looked like fear on his face.

  She didn’t think she’d ever see him alive again, but there he was.

  Wash.

  His eyes lingered on her, and Ana felt suddenly embarrassed. She tried to imagine the sight of her face—purple and bruised, her cracked lips bleeding. It was anything but the image she’d wanted to give him when they finally reunited.

  There was just a ghost of a smile on his lips, as if he was saying to her, Everything will be all right. Everything will be fine.

  She wanted desperately to believe him, but she couldn’t. How could she?

  Then Wash looked past her even as he continued walking toward them. He wasn’t armed with anything but that strange knife of his, still in a sheath at his side. He hadn’t even pulled it out yet. Why hadn’t he taken it out yet? What was he waiting for?

  “I told you I’d find you,” Wash said. He wasn’t talking to her.

  One Eye might have snickered behind her. It made something that resembled a snicker, anyway. “Find me?” it hissed. “You didn’t find me, boy. I allowed you to catch up. There’s nothing you’ve done up to this point that hasn’t been with my blessing. The girl at the farmhouse, the one in the road…”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Wash said.

  “The truth hurts.”

  “The truth is that I’m going to kill you.”

  “You think so, don’t you? You really, really think so.”

  “I’ve killed plenty of your kind. What makes you so different?”

  It grunted. “I saw you, through one of my children’s eyes. Escaping from the barn earlier. But I knew you wouldn’t follow the woman. I knew you would turn around and run toward the fire. Because that’s who you are. You can’t deny your nature.”

  “You told them to hold me in Jasper until you came back. That mistake is going to cost you.”

  “Please. I told you I wasn’t going to end our little game until I was ready.”