After (Book 3): Milepost 291 (19 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR

Rachel
heard her name as if across a vast gulf.

But
it wasn’t until Campbell shook her awake that she realized she’d been asleep.

“Rachel,”
Campbell said. “Are you okay?”

The
question again irritated her. For all his explanation of how her echolalia was
a Zaphead trait, he sure seemed to repeat that same phrase a lot.

“I
was dreaming,” she said. “I can’t remember what, but I’d rather be there than
here.”

“You
were calling out. I was worried about you.”

The
fire had burned low into a pile of deep red embers, giving the room a golden hue.
Sometime in the night, Campbell had snuggled up against her back, spooning her
with his arm around her waist. She had to admit, even through the blankets, his
body heat was nice.

I
must still be human after all. What a relief.

“Looks
like I didn’t turn into a raging maniac and eat your liver in the night,” she
said.

“So
far, so good.” Apparently encouraged that she hadn’t wriggled away from his
embrace, he scooted closer so that his face was near the back of her neck. His
warm breath tickled her.

“So
what was I calling out?” she asked, still drowsy.

“You
were just saying ‘Why why why’ over and over again.”

“It
was just a dream. Random brain sludge trying to form patterns.”

“But
it might be important. If you have the least bit of Zaphead inside you, everything
could be a clue.”

“Yes,
Dr.—hey, you never told me your last name.”

“Grimes.”

“That’s
some name.”

“Don’t
try to change the subject.”

“I
didn’t like the other one.”

“Look,
even if we make it to your grandfather’s compound, at some point we’re going to
have to deal with the Zaps. I don’t know if that means going for the military
option or just co-existing, but the one luxury we won’t have is pretending they
don’t exist.”

“Maybe
we’ll get lucky and they have a built-in burnout in their brain circuitry. An
expiration date. We wake up on a Monday and they’re all dead.”

“And
where do you fit into that? Do you become only half-dead?”

She
rolled up on one elbow so that she faced him. “I just remembered the dream. We were…me
and a bunch of people…were looking at this girl who was maybe fifteen. She had
a couple of gaping holes in her chest, and her skin was pale and marbled. She
was obviously dead. And we—”

“Who
is this ‘we’?”

“I
don’t know. Just all of us. Anyway, we started tearing this girl open, just dug
our fingers into the wounds and peeling back. Trying to see what was inside
her. Because we couldn’t figure out why she died.”

“Jesus.
That’s what happened to the people at the farmhouse before I got there. The
professor said the Zaps just took them apart like they were trying to make
sense out of them. Like a kid pulling the legs off a granddaddy long-legs
spider.”

Rachel
shook her head. She didn’t want to remember any more. Because she was pretty
sure the “we” with her in the dream were strangers. Zapheads. And the girl had
been so young.

Worse,
she hadn’t been the only one. There were piles of corpses, laid out in rows,
dozens, maybe hundreds, in a big field. Some were long dead and rotted, like
those who had died instantly in the solar storms while trapped inside their
homes or vehicles. Others, like the teenaged girl, appeared freshly dead.

Still
others showed signs of mutation—the filthy clothes and greasy, tangled hair
common to Zapheads—and their bodies commingled in the same piles. The dream
hadn’t offered the sense of scent, but Rachel had the impression of an
overpowering odor of death and corruption rising from the charnel field.

She
fought her way out of the blankets, pulling away from Campbell.

“Hey!”
he said. “Where are you going?”

“I
have to be with them.”

“I
thought we were heading for Milepost 291.”

“No.
This is…hard to explain.”

That
strange tingle emanated through her body again, and she turned away so that Campbell couldn’t see her eyes. Because she knew they would be sparking like crazy. They
almost cast their own light before her.

“Rachel,
come back!”

She
was nearly to the door when Campbell caught up with her. He wrapped his arms
around her, dragging her back to the bed. She kicked and struggled, but he was
too strong.

“Let
me go,” she cried. “You don’t understand.”

“I
understand you’re having weird thoughts, and the worst thing you can do is go
running off in the middle of the night with no destination in mind.”

“Who
says I have no destination?”

“You
don’t even know where we are.”

“I
know how to get there,” she said. It wasn’t far, and the psychic pull was like
a beacon in the night—all she had to do was tune out her other senses and she
could follow it. But she had no way to explain the signal to Campbell. Or even
to herself, really. But she didn’t need explanations, because the tug was a
compulsion, a force that hinted it could tear her apart bone by bone if she
didn’t heed it.

She
wrestled with him but he refused to release her. “Calm down,” he said. “You’re
not going anywhere until you start making sense.”

“No!
I’m one of them, not one of you.”

“That’s
not true. You’re Rachel. What you were saying earlier—”

She
elbowed him in the ribs and he flung her onto the sofa. She landed hard, nearly
snapping her neck, and he jumped on her before she could scramble away. The
sofa tilted over and banged against the floor, causing them to roll toward the
kitchen. Rachel clawed at his face, drawing blood, and his sudden violence set
off something inside her. Strength and rage surged through her, and she saw him
not as a person but a black silhouette whose outline shimmered with the most
hellish of fires.

“Your
eyes!” the silhouette said, and she couldn’t help repeating the phrase as it
overwhelmed her senses. Her rage intensified—now she wanted to smash the source
of the noise, to wipe out its never-ending resonance.

She
grabbed a kitchen chair and swung it wildly at the top of the silhouette, where
the flames were brightest.

“Whoa,
whoa, whoa, easy!” it said, jumping back and only angering her more.

She
raised the chair over her head and was about to bring it crashing down when the
flames around the silhouette eased into a darker hue, their intensity fading.
The silhouette was unmoving, the black of its form merging to cobalt blue.

“Easy,
Rachel,” it said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Rachel.

She
recognized the word and tried to say it. Then she said it three times.

“Yes,
that’s right. That’s your name.”

Now
the flames around the silhouette vanished altogether, and the cobalt blue took
on shades of detail.

Only
a man, not a monster.

She
recognized him. Then she remembered his name. “Campbell?”

He
nodded. He stood with his palms up, arms held apart to show he was no threat.
“Sorry I threw you down. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I
became one of them.”

“But
you’re back now.”

“No.
Not all the way. I don’t think I’ll ever be all the way back.”

That
scared her more than she could say.

“Are
you okay?” he asked yet again, helpless.

“No,
I’m not.” He came to her and she welcomed his embrace.

She
wondered if Zapheads could cry. At least she was still human enough to do that.
It might be her last human act, but she was going to try her damnedest to flush
every little glint and spark out of her eyes.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE

The
progress was slow, but DeVontay wouldn’t let the group stop until they’d put
the compound at least half a mile behind them.

After
leading them through the forest for a while, he decided it would be safer to travel
in the open rather than stumble through the dark trees. After consulting Kiki,
the group headed downhill in the direction of the river road, although DeVontay
planned to stay well away from Stonewall. Some of the children were nearly at
the breaking point due to fear and exhaustion, but promises of food and rest
kept them moving.

They
emerged from the forest onto a rise of meadow that was part of a farm property.
A house and a few outbuildings stood near the road, the river beyond them
sparkling like a silver ribbon in the moonlight. The low mist lay across it and
seeped up the banks so that the opposite shore was hidden. They wouldn’t be
able to see anyone coming from a distance, but DeVontay reasoned the group
would also be difficult to see.

“Okay,
let’s eat.” He dropped the bundle and was busy spreading the blanket over the
high weeds while Kiki and the others gathered around. The blanket wasn’t large
enough to hold all of them, but Kiki set the youngest children on it as others
dug through the food.

“Sweet!”
James howled. “Scored me a Reese’s Cup.”

“Hush,”
Kiki said. “Someone might hear us.”

Stephen
stood away from the blanket with the “big kids,” chewing a Slim Jim. Carole
opened a bottle of juice and had the kids pass it around. DeVontay waited until
all the children had selected something before he snapped the tab on a can of Vienna sausages and ate them with his fingers.

“Those
stink,” Kiki said, helping the toddler with a strip of gelled fruit.

“Yeah,
well, I didn’t have time to find any caviar, anchovies, or pickled okra,”
DeVontay said. “What are you eating?”

“An
apple. A girl needs to watch her figure.”

“Maybe
you can put together the ‘Running for Your Life Workout Plan’ after all this is
over.”

“Like
this will ever be over.”

“I
didn’t realize you were a pessimist. Not after all the sacrifices you’ve made
for the children. You have to believe they have some sort of future for you to
act the way you do.”

She
shook her head. “You just do the thing that needs to be done right now. That’s
all.”

“Surely
you had your chances to escape. Or do what Angelique did and play your way into
Rooster’s good graces.”

“You
didn’t have to come back for us. You could have gotten away and left us for the
Zapheads.”

DeVontay
didn’t tell her that he’d considered slipping away with Stephen and leaving the
group to fend for itself. He didn’t really deserve it, but he enjoyed the
admiration that came from being a hero. Especially when expressed by an
attractive woman. “That’s not my style.”

“How
come you didn’t keep your gun?

“Because
I’m starting to think if you live by the sword, you die by the sword. Not in
some sort of Old Testament eye-for-an-eye thing, but because the Zaps seem to
respond to violence. Like they tune in on it, absorb it, and reflect it.”

“That’s
really weird.”

“Maybe,”
DeVontay said. “I’ve been thinking about it. We assume they’ve somehow mutated
so their brains are programmed to destroy us, but what if they’re actually just
picking up on our own neurotransmitter signals? What if they’re responding to
our emotions, even adopting them? A bunch of men with guns would throw them
into a complete frenzy. They might not understand intellectually they can be
killed, but they would feel the threat.”

“Like
when they hear sounds and imitate them?”

“Sure.
Maybe they’re learning. Back at the compound, when three of them were coming
toward me, I didn’t try to run or fight, and they walked right past me as if I
wasn’t there. Like they couldn’t even see me. They might operate on a
wavelength we can’t begin to understand. We assume they want to kill us, but
what if they’re only picking up on our fear? What if they smell it the way a
predator smells prey?”

“Then
we don’t have much of a chance,” Kiki said. “Because they scare the hell out of
all of us.”

Stephen,
who’d been playing with James, came over to them. “Are we going to sleep in
that house down there?”

Kiki
watched with interest, and DeVontay wondered whether he should consult her.
He’d hoped to get farther away from the compound before the sun rose, but
already children were yawning and a couple had curled up on the blanket to take
naps. He was right about one thing: having the whole group tagging along had
slowed their progress.

“What
do you think?” DeVontay asked Kiki. “You know these kids better than I do.”

“It’s
been hard on them.” She hugged the toddler close and kissed it on the head. “I
don’t think they can go much further, and the more tired they get, the more
likely things will go bad.”

DeVontay
nodded. “Okay. Things have settled down a little. I haven’t heard a gun in
maybe half an hour, and we haven’t seen any signs of the Zaps. That house looks
better than trying to sleep out in the woods.”

“Maybe
we should check it out first,” Stephen said.

“I
need you here to guard the children.”

“Let
the women do it. You might need some back-up.”

DeVontay
grinned. Stephen was embarrassed about freaking out over the snake and getting
separated from Rachel because of it, and now he seemed determined to show his
bravery. There had been no sign of light or movement in the house, so DeVontay
was confident it was empty. If he could build Stephen’s confidence, it would
help all of them down the road.

“Give
us twenty minutes,” DeVontay said to Kiki. “If we’re not back then, or if you
hear gunshots or anything, take everybody back into the woods where we came
out. Go deep enough that you can’t be seen from the road and wait until
morning. Then keep heading north and keep the river on your right. Whatever you
do, don’t head south to Stonewall, because I have a feeling the Zaps are
gathered there.”

Kiki
gripped his forearm and squeezed. “Just come back, okay?”

“That’s
the plan. But you never know when you need Plan Z.”

DeVontay
wondered if she’d give him another “hero’s kiss” but decided he didn’t want
Stephen to see it. Especially since the boy probably thought Rachel was going
to be DeVontay’s girlfriend. Stephen was too young to know how fast things
could change when you were living from minute to minute.

DeVontay
plucked out the last Vienna sausage and dropped it into his mouth, flinging the
can into the weeds. “Hope you’re not an environmentalist,” he said to Kiki.

“Not
any more. The environment’s doing better than we are.”

“That’s
what I’m feeling. Save the humans before we worry about saving the whales.”

James
was arguing with another boy about one of the candy bars in the bundle.
DeVontay took the candy bar away and stuck it in his pocket, then said to
James, “Stephen and I are going for a stroll, and you’re the man in charge
until we get back. Think you can handle it?”

James
dropped into a karate stance and delivered an air kick. “Hai-
yah
!”

DeVontay
chuckled when the boy lost his balance and nearly fell over. “You’ll do fine.”

When
he and Stephen were halfway to the house, pants damp from the weeds, Stephen said,
“I wish I had a gun.”

“Everybody
I’ve met that had a gun ended up dead.”

“Well,
Rachel had a gun.”

“Look,
I think she’s still out there somewhere—she’s tough and smart—but it might be a
long time before we find her again. So the best thing we can do is keep moving
until we get to Milepost 291 and find that compound.” DeVontay looked back up
the hill, but the group was already lost in the darkness and thickening mist.
“We’re just carrying a lot more baggage than I thought we would.”

“If
we had a gun, Rooster wouldn’t have trapped us in that stinky old building. I
would have shot him in the face.”

“Stephen,
this isn’t some video game. These are people. They’re scared. And scared people
don’t always act like they normally would.”

“Still
woulda shot him.”

DeVontay
fluffed Stephen’s hair. “I guess you’re scared, too. So am I.”

When
they reached the edge of the yard, DeVontay had Stephen wait by a garden shed.
“You know how to whistle?”

Stephen
tried, but only a thin stream of hissing air came out.

“Okay,
so much for secret signals. Let’s go.”

DeVontay
made two complete circuits of the house, drawing closer with each step until
DeVontay ended up peeking through each of the windows. “Looks good,” DeVontay
whispered to the hiding Stephen.

He
tried the back door and found it locked. He didn’t want to break the glass, so
he tried the window beside it. It was unlatched, so he quietly slid up the
lower half.

“Wait
there,” he said to Stephen. “I’ll check it out and let you in.”

He
crawled through the window, feeling his way in front of him, and decided he was
entering the kitchen. He knocked over a jar of some kind and scattered utensils
in a brittle clatter. Then he climbed off the counter and headed for the back
door. A match struck a few feet in front of him.

In
the bobbing orange orb of light, Rooster’s face was twisted with anger. The
muzzle of his pistol seemed as big as a sewer pipe as it pointed at DeVontay’s
chest.

“Eeeny
meeny miney mo, catch a Zapper by his toe.”