Blood Run (24 page)

“Promise! Stay with me!” he said and kicked Snow into a run.

Promise, shocked and reeling at the sudden turn of events, kicked Ash. He bolted as if on a spring, and her head was snapped viciously back. The sudden, sharp pain pulled her out of her daze. She concentrated on watching the track before them and pulling back just enough on the reins to keep Ash from an out and out bolt. If she allowed him his head, he’d lose it, blinded by panic. She had to be his mind.

The minutes were agonizing as they sped through the tunnel of vegetation. She’d just begun to wonder if they’d been wrong about the length of the reserve; maybe it went on for miles and miles! Then she saw the end of the trees where the forest thinned and retreated away from the road. Without the heavy cover of woods, even in the gray light, they should be safe.

Should be.

She chanced another look behind, but there must have been a shallow curve in the road, too gradual to notice as they rode. She could no longer see the Humvees.

She and Peter had not been followed.

Fifty feet past the entrance, Peter pulled Snow to a stop. She stomped nervously, blowing and shaking her head up and down. “We better get off to the side,” Peter said. He ran a hand over Snow’s shoulder, trying to calm her. “Just in case they come out fast.”

They watched the opening, so like the maw of a tunnel, but no one came out.

Five minutes went by, and still no sign of the soldiers.

After five more minutes, Peter said, “Maybe we should–”

An engine whined, cutting him off, and two Humvees burst from the park entrance. Lu was behind the wheel in the lead vehicle, and Billet was in the passenger seat. Their faces were tight, just shy of panicked. Evans drove the second vehicle, and Miller sat beside him in the passenger seat. Her eyes stared sightlessly above her blood-soaked uniform.

No sign of Riker or the girl.

The lead Humvee braked next to the horses, and Lu leaned out. His glasses had a small crack, and one lens had a spray of blood across it. “How fast can they run?”

“Thirty would be the top, but they can’t do it for long,” Peter yelled over the engines.

Lu nodded. “I won’t lose you, but we have to get away from these woods,” he said and pulled away.

Peter turned to Promise. Her face was white, drained of color.

“What about Riker?” she said, her voice small.

Peter shook his head and pulled Snow in a circle. Already the Humvees were too far away for comfort. “I don’t know…but we have to catch up with them. Okay?”

They galloped.

After a mile, the forest had retreated even further from the road, leaving the sides clear and free of hiding places. The clouds thinned, and everything was washed in a lighter, uniform gray. Their shadows appeared, wavering and uncertain, like ghost riders keeping them company. Barns and outbuildings had begun to appear, but they, too, were far from the road and no immediate threat.

Snow slowed first, her heavy, powerful body unable to maintain the speed they were going. Her sides heaved, and she was in a sweat despite the cold. Steam rose from her white coat in waves. Beside her, Ash modified his pace to match hers.

Promise watched the Humvees as they continued on. Panic jolted through her at the increasing distance of the vehicles. Then they braked, slowing, and came to a halt in the middle of the road. Lu had been good to his word. He wasn’t leaving them behind.

She was glad Lu had been leading, and not Evans.

Evans would have been long gone, she was sure.

She and Peter rode to the Humvees, the question about Riker large in her mind. She wanted to know what had happened to him…would he be catching up to them soon? Her heart told her that wasn’t the case, but she tried to swallow that knowledge. She would ask Lu; she would be sure. But as they neared the Humvees, the brake lights flashed and they began to roll again. They had to keep the horses at a moderate jog just to keep up.

Snow snorted, pulling Promise’s attention away from the trucks.

“Is she okay at this pace?” she asked. Ash’s longer legs and thinner build made him a natural runner whereas Snow was heavy and dense with muscle.

Peter’s face was tight with worry. “Not for very long, no.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the dull clatter of the horse’s hooves.

“Who do you think will be in charge if…if Riker isn’t…didn’t…make it?” Promise asked. It was hard to talk while they rode, but the thought of Evans being in charge terrified her.

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. But don’t worry…” he said, and his voice dropped; it was almost inaudible. “It doesn’t matter who’s in charge.”

There was a hard glint in his eye that scared her and reassured her at the same time, and she didn’t understand how that could be. Her mind went again to Riker. In the short time she’d spent with the Guard, she’d already been coming to regard him in a fatherly way. She hoped he’d be okay, even though she knew he wouldn’t.

Part of her wished they could travel on and on, through night and day, and over distances unimaginable, never stopping, so that she’d never have to have the answer that she didn’t want to hear.

Chapter 4

Miller’s face was a pale oval in the cold, failing light of late afternoon. Her eyes were bleak. “I’ll tell you everything,” she said and sighed, hefting a green, canvas bag to her chest. “After we get settled.” She looked past Promise to where Peter stood with Ash and Snow.

Two little boys stood nearby, staring at the horses with open-mouthed fascination. Behind them a broken, faded wooden sign read: Welcome to Greenville! Stay Awhile!

“That horse looks worn out,” Miller said, nodding toward Snow. Snow’s head had dropped almost all the way to the ground. Her breathing was easier, but she was clearly exhausted from the running. “Do you think she’ll be able to go another two hundred miles?”

“If we’re staying here tomorrow, then she’ll have time to recover. She’s a strong horse,” Promise said. “She’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get you all inside.” A voice came from behind Promise, and she turned. A tall man stood on the concrete steps of a large building. He was looking past them to where the sun was close to the horizon. Behind him, an arched sign read: Greenville Middle School. He was bald and wore a wool suit that should have looked out of place. But didn’t. “People are excited to see the horses,” he said, coming down the steps, smiling. “Can’t remember the last time we saw one, much less two!” He held his hand out to Miller. “I’m Robert Allen. Welcome to Greenville.”

“We actually met once before, but I haven’t been to this outpost in a long time. I’m Miller, this is Lu, Evans, Billet,” she nodded, indicating the soldiers who were emptying the Humvees, stacking bags at the curb. People came from the building and grabbed the bags. It was a well-known routine, and the residents of Greenville were obviously happy to the see the Guard soldiers. Miller turned to indicate Promise at her side. “This is Promise, and the man holding the horse is Peter.”

“But you and Peter are civilians?” Robert asked, looking at Promise. She nodded, and he turned his troubled gaze back to Miller. “There are usually six soldiers…you lost two people?”

She nodded and hefted the bag again. Exhaustion was written in the drooping lines of her face and shoulders.

“Come on, then,” Robert said, and ushered them inside. “We have a fire going and food for you. Please…leave everything for now, and just come in. We’ll get–”

Evans stepped forward, brushing past Miller. She stared at him in tired surprise.

“You can take the children and horses in,” Evans said, nearly in Robert’s face. His voice was harsh, condescending. “We’ll handle
our
business,
our
way. You don’t give us orders–you hear me?” He turned away before Robert had a chance to answer.

~ ~ ~

“I had a niece that lived up near Wereburg for a while in the seventies. She went to work in Rochester after she graduated college, and Wereburg was a comfortable commute,” Robert said. He and Promise shared a table in the cafeteria. Peter had eaten and then gone to see about the horses. Not that he had to worry–people were lined up to help in any way they could, whether it be brushing the horses or feeding them treats of mealy, winter-stored apples and sugar cubes.

The soldiers sat at their own table. They ate quietly, not speaking even to each other. Promise hoped Miller would let her know what had happened to Riker, although she found that fatigue was already trying to close her eyes. She yawned.

Robert laughed. “Well, it’s not exactly an exciting story, is it? About my niece.”

Promise shook her head and blushed. “No, it’s not that, it’s just–”

“It’s okay, I’m not offended,” Robert said and leaned forward to put a hand on her arm. He still wore the suit, but had draped the jacket over the back of his chair. “I find myself doing that, occasionally, speaking of inanities. Some kind of holdover, I think, to before all this.” He waved his hand vaguely, indicating the cafeteria, but also the school, the town, maybe the entire country. “I used to be the principal of this school,” he said, and to Promise, that made sense. He
looked
like a middle school principal. He leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms behind his head and contemplated the ceiling. “And I find myself drifting into the past when everything quiets down.”

“Too much time,” Promise said and cleared her throat when his gaze came back to her, questioning. “Too much time on your hands, I mean…that’s when I drift the most. When I’m not occupied.”

He smiled. “What do you usually do to stay occupied? Besides riding around with the National Guard?”

She felt compelled, in an odd way, to tell him about Chance. But she held back. The story was too long, too complicated, and she was just too tired. And what did it matter if this man knew what she and Peter were trying to do? She’d most likely never see him again after tomorrow.

“The usual; the same as you here…surviving,” she said and smiled. She yawned again.

“You’re tired,” he said, standing. “Let me show you where Peter and the horses are.”

Promise stood, too, and glanced at Miller and the other soldiers three tables away. Evans was leaned over, one hand fisted on the table, speaking in low but urgent tones. Miller was turned away, her arms crossed over her chest. She was staring off as if disinterested…obviously at odds with what he was saying. Evans glanced at Promise and his expression soured. He shifted until his back was to her and continued talking.

“Are you safe with them?” Robert asked from beside her. His voice was soft, but she jumped anyway, because it was as if he’d read not her
mind
exactly, but more her nerve endings.

“I think so,” she said, her voice hesitant. She thought of Peter’s expression earlier in the day, his single-mindedness and determination. She nodded and smiled at Robert. “Yes. We’ll be fine.”

Robert’s flashlight swung easily as they walked through halls plastered still with little kid art projects and posters advising hand washing and mouth covering. Little kids are dirty, Promise thought to herself and smiled. Chance had just gotten over a bad case of pinkeye about a month before everything had gone wrong. It had shut both his eyes, and he’d been out of school for a week.

“In Wereburg, we lock ourselves into the classrooms at the end of each day. We wouldn’t be out in the halls like this,” Promise said, mostly to distract herself from thinking about Chance.

“Why would you do that? Isn’t the high school safe enough?” Robert asked.

“It would have been, if people didn’t get careless,” Promise said. “When we first got there, we all camped out together in the gym, but one night, someone left a back door open by mistake; it was before we were better organized. Vampires wandered in while we were sleeping and…” she hesitated, remembering the horror of that night. Jolting awake to the screams and chaos, the blood covered floor. That was when Chance had been changed. “It was a hard lesson. After that, we stayed in classrooms at night. It was safer.” But by then it had been too late, she didn’t add. Too late for her little brother.

Although maybe now it wasn’t too late, after all. If she could come back with a cure.

At the end of one hall, a cluster of people had gathered outside a door. Their expressions were filled with wonder and joy. Children darted among the grown-ups, laughing, their flashlights flashed crazily. It was like a celebration.

“Can you guess which room Peter and the horses are in?” Robert asked and laughed. She glanced at him and smiled, but then an urge to see Peter washed over her, and she felt pulled as though strong, gentle hands had wrapped around her, drawing her to where he waited.

She trotted the rest of the way and pushed through the people with murmured excuses. She was suddenly homesick, but not the way she’d felt when they’d first left Wereburg…she was homesick for Peter and the comfort she found with him.

~ ~ ~

Later, when things were quiet, there was a knock on the door, and Promise and Peter, who’d fallen asleep near the horses, jolted awake. Promise was disoriented; this classroom reminded her so much of her room back in Wereburg that for a brief moment, she thought she was back home. She rose and went to the door. She looked through the lightly pebbled glass to see Miller standing in the hallway, carrying a lantern.

Promise opened the door. “It feels weird to open a door after dark,” she said as Miller brushed past her. “It feels wrong.”

“It
is
wrong,” Miller said. “People shouldn’t have the run of the building once it’s dark outside. The chance for infiltration is too high. It’s one of the reasons Wereburg has the least fatalities…you guys have the best policies. Strict but good. We tell every outpost about what you guys do, but they each make their own rules.”

“It’s because of Mr. West that we have all those policies,” Promise said. “He’s really smart. And tough but not the bad kind of tough.” She was thinking of Deidre and her attempts at bullying people to bend them to her will–the bad kind of tough.