Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (28 page)

“Fuck,” Josh shouted. “I can’t lose them, Stan.”

“Turn off here,” Stan said.

The impact was very real. It felt as if the van had crunched around her like a soda can. Was the somersaulting feeling all in her head? She couldn’t be sure. She didn’t have anything left in her to worry about her eyes or the blackness that was closing in on her at a jarring pace. The pain consumed her faster than the object in her eye stole her vision. Though she had intended to push past the pain and merely blink, when her eyes closed again, they stayed shut.

Utterly terrified, Stormy lay on her back, scrunched up between two bodies. One breathed too fast, like he was sprinting. The other took deep breaths and held onto them for what seemed like eternity before heaving them out again. Both bodies thudded against the floor and the sides of the van. One sounded like he was in the throes of a fit. The other moved less, like he was in a constant state of discomfort, but refused to surrender to it. Stormy now knew what Purgatory felt like. It was this feeling.

She remembered everything that happened before she passed out, but wasn’t sure how long she lay awake in the van. To her sides lay Ian and Purdy, she was sure of that, but that wasn’t what scared her. Her friends sounded just as banged up as they had been before, but she wasn’t in fear for them. They were alive and she could live with that.

Being caught didn’t frighten her, although the thought loomed in the back of her mind and made her heart race. What terrified her was that she knew she had been awake for a while, but couldn’t move or see a thing. She wanted to call out, flail her arms, let someone know she was in trouble, but the darkness trapped her. Now she knew what a botched anesthesia session felt like. It felt like Purgatory.

Stormy counted her breaths and Ian’s and Purdy’s too. She lay there while the van rumbled around in the darkness. Was the darkness just hers? Had morning light found them yet? There was no way to tell. Her mind begged Josh or Stan to say something, to let her know if they were being chased. If they were almost home. If Purdy and Ian were okay. Something, anything to let her know if she should fear the nip of a bullet in her skin or the panic of a friend turned into an enemy in the middle of the night.

No words were spoken. No relief was provided. Unconsciousness overcame her again. It took her hearing from her. Now she was completely cut off from the world. In that moment another thought occurred. Maybe none of them made it out of the tunnel. Perhaps, they were all in the van driving a road that never ended. All of Catalyst assembled in Purgatory together, fighting the waves as one, but not as one unit. And that might be why no one was talking to each other. Because no one could.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

DAY ONE—HOURS INTO EPIDEMIC: 00:04:38

If ever there was a hangover, it was the one demolishing Stormy’s body at that moment. It felt like she had popped a half a bottle of Ambien and then chased it with a fifth of whiskey.

She did not wake on her own. Fingers pressed along her brow line. Water gushed down her face and neck. Her shirt absorbed it. This sent her into a screaming fit. She fought back, but it was no use. The water kept coming and resisting only banged her up more. She couldn’t see what she was fighting, but her attacker appeared to see her just fine.

She knew she was screaming, but didn’t hear her own voice at first. Something popped in her left ear. Muffled at first, her voice and others filtered into her head, but they were only sounds. It was when she swallowed, and heard the second pop, that words started to register and she had radio quality sound again.

“Stormy, quit screaming.” Stan’s voice still held compassion, but aggravation gave it an edge.

“Do that eye again,” Josh said. “It’s the worst one.”

“I don’t think she can hear me,” Stan said.

“Want me to gag her?” Josh asked.

“No, but I’m going to need another gallon. And get more towels and bandages for her leg. It’s bleeding through.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Stormy quieted herself, but when the paper towels pressed down on her face, she couldn’t help but moan. It didn’t feel right. She knew the dimensions of her own face and the pain felt far from where it should. When she reached up to wave the paper towel away, she bumped her cheek. A flurry of curse words coursed off her tongue. The pain was overwhelming. Now it made sense, her face had swollen immensely, and that’s why the pain wasn’t where it should be. This time, when the towels grazed her cheek, she didn’t resist.

“Josh is going to get more towels, Stormy. Do you want anything else while we’re here?”

She choked when she tried to answer.

“Here, have some water. You’re gonna need to take some painkillers.”

She loosened her clenched fist to accept the water. Stan’s fingers wrapped around hers, securing the bottle within. She stopped him when he tried to pull away and gripped his fingers tighter.

“It’s okay, Stormy. I just need to get a better look at your eyes. One looks really bad. You’ll be fine though. Just try not to scream anymore.”

Of all the times for her to wake up.
Send me back to the Purgatory place, please. Just till this is over.

Stan helped her get the cap off the water and find her mouth. After a few sips, he made her stop. Her throat felt charred, but her voice sounded new to her.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“A gas station,” Stan said. “Almost home.”

“Are Purdy and Ian—”

“They’re both asleep,” Stan said.

“Are they alright?” she asked.

“Purdy still has the shakes, but they’re not as bad. I think Ian’s fever broke about an hour ago.”             

“You been up the whole time?”

“Most of it. I’ve got good news. My arm quit bleeding. I might get to keep it after all.”

“Thank you for taking care of us.”

“You won’t be thanking me in a minute.”             

A decent breeze rocked the van. The chills hit Stormy hard as the wind cast her soaked shirt against her skin. Stan cursed and groaned and then she felt his jacket fall on top of her.

“Hang onto it until the water works start again,” Stan said. “When we get your eye open, I’ll give it back to you. This way it will stay dry.”

She nodded.

Josh came back. Plastic bags sang as they danced with the night air. Stormy wanted to cringe back into the van, but there was no point.

“Stormy, we’re making a mess in here. I’m going to lay your head out the back of the van that way we don’t soak it, okay?”

“Do your worst.”

“Do you need me or can I finish pumping gas?” Josh asked. “I don’t like being here so long.”

“I can pour the water with my good arm, but help me move her,” Stan said. “She can’t see where she’s going.”

A minute later, Stormy was on her back with her head hanging out the van. The wind blew the doors around. Josh locked them back.              

“Thanks, Josh. I’ll let you know if she starts fighting again.”

“Five minutes and we’re bugging out.” Josh was gone as soon as the doors clicked into place, leaving Stormy to be doused in ice water again. Most of the water found her eyes before making currents that ran down her hair and along her collarbone. It felt like water torture, not the Chinese kind, the water-boarding version. 

She tried to focus on the water instead of Stan’s chilled fingers. When he grazed her eyebrow, her lips thinned. She breathed deep over and again trying to keep her composure.
I can be quiet and suck this up. It’s over. We made it. One mission down. This is the easy part.

No amount of inspirational inner chatter could counteract the pain as his fingers prodded her eyelids apart. She had seen how methodical his hands were when he checked the others. Stan would never hurt her on purpose, but she still flinched. She wanted it to be over right now.

Stan stopped. “Stormy, I’m sorry. I have to look—”

“I know,” she said. “Just do your thing.”

“You can’t move though. I could scratch your eye.”

“I can’t help it. It hurts. Sorry.”

His hand remained above her eye for a moment. Exhaling slowly, he moved his fingers back into her hair and ran them along individual pieces.
He’s trying to calm me down. Let him.

At first, she found this to be a wasted endeavor, but then noticed a slight calming effect. Her breathing slowed and her shoulders relaxed. She leaned into his touch without even realizing it.

When he kissed her, Stormy’s brain went into overdrive. There was no warning at all. She had never imagined it happening and had no reflexes to prevent it. He needed to be stopped, but as the seconds passed, she realized she didn’t have it in her. Before she could wrap her mind around what was happening, she kissed back. She kissed someone she couldn’t see and didn’t feel that way about. Blindly, she kissed a mouth that was warm and affectionate, but also connected to a cruel mind that shot Matt with no just cause.

Part of her wondered if he had wanted her all along and used Matt’s state as an excuse to cut in. That was ridiculous. What wasn’t ridiculous was how she was drowning in memories of times she thought he was being a good friend. She second-guessed each, one by one. But with every motion of Stan’s mouth, the reasons behind things, the theories her mind sought to expose, became quieter and further removed.              

By the time gas quit flooding the tank and the vehicle revved to life, Stan had withdrawn from Stormy’s space. She bit her lip and tried to find something to say. Luckily, Stan found a way to fill the raw silence between them.

“Now, hold still.” His fingers were freezing when they returned to her wet eyebrow.

Now she was even more confused. His tone was methodical. She wondered for a second if what had just elapsed was just a calming tactic. It was ridiculous, but then again it wasn’t. Visions filled Stormy’s head that had no place in it. Stan was good looking, in a reserved way. How many situations had he kissed his way out of before?

None of that mattered or remained in her head when her eyelids were pulled apart. She choked down her screams. Her hands flew up and clenched Stan’s T-shirt. She wanted to throttle him, but knew it would do no good. When he started breathing again, he would be right back after her.

She still couldn’t see a thing, but she felt Josh’s grip on her shoulders. He pushed her back down into the van and centered her head. It took several tries and two gallons of ice-cold water, but they managed to flush her eyes out.

Once the intrusive object was gone, heavy relief took its place. Stan said her other eye was just scratched. Nothing but time for that one to heal. He would have to keep checking it to keep infection from finding her, but she got to keep her vision, which was much appreciated.

Stan’s jacket seemed to be trapping moisture instead of warmth. If her teeth hadn’t started chattering, she might’ve stopped Stan from wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his side. Through one puffy eye, she watched a hazy, but much clearer image of Josh shut the van doors and disappear. They were on the move again. Stormy was wide-awake now that it was a perfect time to pass out.

Part of her didn’t want to sleep at all. She was too wound up over what had just happened and wanted to deal with it right now. But she halted that part of her heart. This wasn’t the time or place. She didn’t have enough to go on, not even enough to make assumptions yet. But she had another reason to be anxious: Josh said they were about three hours from Aranchea. Three hours from home. That was worth staying up for.

“You know,” she said. “I realize this was an epic failure, but I don’t feel that way.”

“What do you mean failure?” Stan asked. “Which part?”

“We didn’t stop the agent at Vallexor.”

“Yeah, but we blew up the production facility. They can’t make anymore.”

“We didn’t kill Matt.”

“That blast probably took him out, unless he got far enough away. It was the biggest fireball I ever saw. It damn near melted the tires off the van and we were almost out of the tunnel when it blew.”

“They won. They had multiple targets. They started the apocalypse and we couldn’t stop them.”

“We did enough damage for one day. No one could’ve done more.”

“Cold World can undo all that. Dr. Easton’s in the wind. If they link back—”

“Stormy, stop doing this to yourself. The most important thing right now is that we’re almost home and all of us are pretty much safe. There are two people breathing in this vehicle right now that should be in body bags. Or chewing their way back out of them.”

“You’re right.”

She watched Ian take in rapid breaths and knew from the depths of her being that she meant what she said. Not a damn thing in the world mattered more to her right now than the souls that cargo van ferried back across state lines as it fought the rising sun for some borrowed time.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DAY ONE—HOURS INTO EPIDEMIC: 00:07:02

About an hour and a half before they reached Aranchea, Ian woke up and coughed like he had swallowed something wrong. Stormy could see clearly out of one eye now, well enough to hand him a water bottle. Ian didn’t say anything at first. He lay still, eyes wide open, confusion spread from unibrow to chin stubble.

Twenty or so minutes later, Purdy returned to the land of the living. He didn’t have much to say, but Ian began posing questions right after they crossed the state line. Stan was patient and answered one question of Ian’s for each question Ian answered about how he felt. He said he felt weak, but other than a raging migraine, he was fine. Purdy agreed, saying he felt like he had just gotten over a rough round with the Swine Flu.

They were both up and stretching when Aranchea came into view, but only Purdy jumped out of the van while it was still moving. The others were right on his tail, but they waited for the van to slow down before racing toward the burning house. It hurt like hell as Stormy stumbled behind them, but she didn’t give a damn.

Josh left the motor running and parked right behind a black Mercedes covered in soot. He ran to catch up with the others as they darted through the smoldering front door. Ian and Josh ran straight to the War Room and grabbed everything they could. They tossed it to Stan who broke a kitchen window and heaved everything outside.

Purdy disappeared to the other side of the house, the part that was in flames. Stormy held her breath for as long as she could. She tripped over the body of a dead man and came face to face with him. That was when she noticed that his neck had been torn out. She started screaming for Killer. Between coughs, she called out for him again and again. She searched the living room and the kitchen, but found no trace of him. Purdy and her collided on the stairs. He brushed past her and bolted into the smoke filled kitchen.

“Is Killer up there?” she shouted.

“I can’t find him,” he shouted back. “Check under the beds. I’ll check downstairs again.”

Hobbling from bedroom to bedroom, she pulled open the closets and dropped to the floor to look under the beds. It wasn’t until she reached the bedroom overlooking the backyard that she saw his bloody body ten feet from the porch. She screamed Purdy’s name and hurried back downstairs and outside. Dried blood on broken glass littered the back porch. Killer had made it out on his own long before they got home.

By the time Stormy reached Killer’s side, Purdy was already in the yard. She collapsed next to both dog and owner. Purdy stroked his friends’s blood-soaked coat. Killer’s howl was an excruciating sound. Not crying was no longer an option for Stormy.              

It wasn’t long before Josh and Stan surrounded them. When Purdy looked up, his eyes were wet and his bottom lip quivered. Killer’s cries worsened. Stormy and Josh backed up, but Purdy moved in closer. When his touch registered with Killer, the fear in his eyes receded a bit. Killer held his paw up for as long as he could. Purdy choked as he closed his hand over the paw and shook. Killer wouldn’t let him go.             

“Fix him, man,” Purdy said.

Stan’s hands moved quickly over Killer’s sides. He bowed his head and took a long breath before locking eyes with Purdy. He shook his head slowly from left to right. In response, Purdy wiped the back of his hand over his cheeks. His upturned eyes cursed everything beneath the sky.

Purdy pet Killer for a minute longer. His howls grew worse and worse as his entire body tensed up and shook uncontrollably. Stan choked up. He hugged Killer softly and then excused himself.

Josh pet Killer’s head and tousled his ears. “Killer, I’m going to miss—hang on.”

“Ian!” Josh bellowed as he bolted toward him. Ian was carrying a load from the house to the pile in the yard. Josh caught him there and filled him in. A second later, the equipment lay on the ground and Ian was at Killer’s side.

“Oh, my God.” Ian stroked Killer’s belly, paying no mind that his hand came back up bloody. “I’m so sorry boy . . . I’m so sorry.” More tears fell. A minute later, Killer started choking. Ian sniffled, said goodbye, and took off toward Stormy’s running trail.

Stormy reached up and hugged Killer from behind. She whispered in his ear, “I love you. Thank you for saving us.”

Her tears fell so hard and so fast. Her vision blurred all over again. She lay over Killer for a moment, kissed his nose, and ruffled his ears. Killer cried out again in excruciating pain. She sat back on her heels and looked dead at Purdy.

Purdy stood over Killer and swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple rose and fell like the Superman ride at a fair. The handgun came up from the back of his jeans. It hovered over Killer for a solid thirty seconds, long enough to let that howl embed itself in Stormy’s memory forever. Purdy closed his eyes and turned his head away.

There is this sound a rabbit makes when it dies. Rabbits are silent their whole lives, but make up for it with a shrill scream in their final moments. Killer’s howls and pain-filled cries had that same haunting effect, right up until the bullet clipped them off permanently. The cries didn’t stop there. They merely transferred to Purdy who tried to contain them in his arrow straight posture.

With a loose hold on his weapon, he used the back of his hand to wipe his cheeks. He didn’t look like he could manage a single word at that moment, but still found the strength to speak. “I’m going to fucking kill them all.”

He turned his back to his dead companion and stormed off.

Stormy whispered after him, “And I will help you.”

An earthquake, that only Stormy felt, rocked her so hard she had to dig into the dirt to keep still. It was followed by a volcano of burning anger she could no longer contain.              

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Flurries of smoldering ash covered the ground around her like charred bits of heaven falling down to Earth. Ashes flurried around her face and painted everything in sight.

They haven’t finished me. They haven’t finished us.

Stormy wanted to pull Killer’s head into her lap and hold him until his heat dissipated, but she couldn’t twitch even a pinky finger, let alone make the two foot distance between them disappear.              

But she could still hear. Hear the fire roar as it reached the second floor. Hear Purdy’s anger unleashed on the Mercedes in the gravel drive. When he ran out of bullets, he let his pain out in kicks and punches. The vehicle groaned in protest of the onslaught.              

Purdy eventually dropped to the ground, arms out behind him, battered knees bent in front. He stared at the house in disbelief, like he wanted to tell Ian and Josh they no longer had to follow the rule about using coasters since the house had been torched. Stormy felt remorse like no other had experienced it before, but part of her really wanted him to stay angry. Angry enough to keep the group together and after their enemy.

The house lit her world up in an amber ambiance as it burned. What was truly tragic looked ethereal. What was the heaviest burden of death and loss she had ever experienced was being cast all wrong by her surroundings. The slow motion of the rolling fire, the utter stillness Killer took on now that he didn’t breathe anymore. It looked peaceful, but was the complete opposite, if it was anything at all.

Stormy sat on the balls of her feet in the grass, just a hundred yards off the gravel drive. Her eyes fixed on Purdy’s dead companion. A swirl of ashes caught in her hair. She didn’t put a hand out to stop them. She planned to stay there until the world righted itself and the peace around her let the anger within conquer it. Until her heart could accept the failures in front of her face. But Ian wouldn’t have it. Neither would Josh, and it took both of them to uproot her from that spot. She fought until the sight of the cargo van carrying Killer’s corpse to the shed was out of her view. She screamed as Ian and Josh pulled her in the other direction, but they wouldn’t let go. They never let go.

Not until the van reached Roanoke.