Elixir (Red Plague #1) (Red Plague Trilogy) (15 page)

Pollard drive right over Ben’s message painted on the asphalt.

I shifted my rear end around to find a more comfortable position and failed. The full cans of gas strapped to either side of our dirt bike put me in an unnatural position. And all that extra weight bogged down the Kawasakis. We made slow progress, rolling along only slightly faster than we could walk. But despite all the little hiccups, I was thrilled to be headed in the right direction. Finally. I was so close to validating my dad’s life’s work that I could taste it.

Chapter Thirteen

We chugged down the I–40, keeping to the very edge of the massive highway because it was impossible to cut through the mess of wrecked and abandoned vehicles. The shoulder lanes were the quickest and easiest to traverse. We drove slow enough that I didn’t have to hold onto Pollard to stay astride, so I put my palms on my knees and absorbed all the changes to the city.

The end of the world was different than I’d expected. The new quiet, apart from the loss of so many people, was the most difficult thing to get used to. The wind made more noise than I remembered.

Over Pollard’s shoulder the sad, quiet remains of our community zipped past. It was all just sitting there—houses, cars, clothes, cellphones, vacuum cleaners—untouched and unused. Because Reds didn’t care about all the trappings of humanity they’d left behind when they’d been infected. And the citizens who’d lived there had either run away or gotten sick. Or been eaten alive by a zombie.

Perhaps eventually the infected would kill themselves off and reduce the entire world to one, massive ghost town.

The dirt bikes were a huge asset the first mile, or so, and then we hit a particularly awful section of the highway with forests on either side, no off-ramp in sight, and vehicles crammed in like Hot Wheels at the bottom of a toy chest.

“Guess we’re walking from here,” Pollard said.

“This is bull,” Russell complained, pulling his bike over. “Let’s turn around. We’re not that far from the truck stop.”

“We’ll keep moving,” Pollard said.

I walked ahead a little ways, but after sitting for so long my bad knee had frozen up, and it throbbed with every step. Thank goodness we didn’t have to walk fast.

“Maya,” Pollard called. “Get on my bike. I’ll push you.”

“I’m fine,” I assured.

Russell passed me, propelling his Kawasaki by the handlebars through the mess of cars and debris, cutting high onto the grassy embankment. He grumbled something at me that sounded like
trouble
.

“Maya,” Pollard said in his five-star-general voice. “You’re injured. Get on the bike.”

I did not appreciate his tone. He thought he could order everyone around? Well, not me. I didn’t need a guardian or a protector.

After he’d put his mouth on mine, a little space was appreciated.

I was much more concerned with why Ben hadn’t killed me when he had the chance. Or how I was going to synthesize my dad’s 212R elixir. Or where I was going to find enough fresh water to last the week. Boyfriends and dates and hooking up all seemed relics of an ancient civilization.

Kissing strange boys was way, way low on my priority list. Even if we might be the last plague survivors on the planet.

 “I said I’m fine.” I walked gingerly around a baby blue Mustang, using the hood as a crutch.

Pollard stepped into my path. “That was rude. I’m sorry,” he said, offering his arm for me to lean on.

It hung there.

Waiting for me to make a decision.

“Will you please get on the bike?” he pressed.

The stubborn part of me wanted to say,
No
, but the ache in my knee had me nodding.

I gripped his arm and climbed astride the dirt bike. Pollard shoved the Kawasaki forward by the handlebars. But I hadn’t considered, to reach the handles he had to lean in close. His chest pressed against my left shoulder, warm and solid.

I felt every breath he took.

“Maya!” Hunny shouted in a startlingly high-pitched voice.

I nearly fell off the bike. “Good Lord,” I complained, palming the gas tank to stay upright. “What’s wrong?”

“Look!” At the next off-ramp were signs for a fried chicken restaurant, a discount store, and a gas station. Oh. And a toy store.

I didn’t want to stop. Besides the fact that the strip mall could be infested with Reds, walking up there, finding her pony dolls, and getting back on the road would waste precious time. A detour like that could set us back hours.

But I’d promised. “We need to make a pit stop,” I announced.

Pollard squinted at the signs. “Why? There could be a thousand Reds over there. We should stick to the plan.”

“Yeah,” Russell piped up. “Stick to the plan.”

“I’m not asking for permission,” I said. “You can wait for us, or you can leave without us.”

Pollard gave me a frustrated look. “You better have a good reason for this. Like, life altering.”

Sort of. Hunny’s life would be altered because she’d be a lot happier. But I didn’t think he’d appreciate that, so I didn’t say anything.

The boys rolled the bikes along the grassy edge of the highway and at the next off-ramp parked them in front of an overturned semi-truck.

“Okay,” Pollard began, still in commander mode. “We’re ninjas, you hear me? No unnecessary noises. No side trips. We go straight inside the toy store, get what you need, and come straight back. Everyone understand?”

My first few experiences with zombies had been accidental encounters. The Reds who’d chased me out of my neighborhood, little Jack, and the group Ben had saved us from. I’d never purposefully marched into a situation I knew would be full of killer zombies.

“And if there are Reds in the store, we’re leaving without your stuff. No exceptions.”

Then we better hope there weren’t any toy-loving Reds hanging around. Hunny would flip out if she couldn’t get her pony stuff. But chances were, the shop would be deserted. Humans were Reds’ favorite food source and there weren’t any people there.

Pollard took the lead and the rest of us trailed behind him in single file. Neither male pulled a gun, for which I was extremely grateful, and we quick-stepped it across what had once been a busy street and a parking lot. At the front doors of the toy store, Pollard scanned the interior. I stood back, controlling my breathing in order to hear the faintest sounds of movement.

Birds twittered as some trash blew under a white Jeep.

“Hurry,” he hissed, holding open the glass door for us. “No dawdling.”

No problem
.

Hunny went straight for the doll section, stumbling up and down aisles strewn with fallen merchandise. The store was a wreck. It had obviously been looted more than once. For bikes, bottles of soda, and baby wipes probably. There was more survival gear hidden within toy stores than I’d ever considered.

“It’s not here,” Hunny said, her voice overwhelming in the vast silence of the store. “They have Clara, but not Molly.”

I hobbled to a stop beside her, kicking up dust and doll clothes. “So, take Clara. What’s the difference?”

“Molly is my favorite.”

I catalogued the brightly colored mess on the floor. “What does she look like?”

“She has blonde curls like me.”

I searched the shelves for a blonde-haired Saddle Club doll. At the very top sat some more boxes. I climbed the shelf on my good leg and knocked them down.

“That’s her!” Hunny tore the doll from her box and cuddled her like a long lost friend.

I got a warm sensation in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t been able to do a good deed for someone in weeks, and it felt nice.

“Thank you, Maya, thank you!” She gave me a quick hug. Not an arm lock, but an honest-to-goodness, spontaneous embrace.

Yeah, a little sister would be a lot different than a twin brother.

I cleared my throat. “Good, then let’s go.”

“Wait.” She squeezed the doll so tight Molly’s head twisted at an unnatural angle. “The baby carrier. Remember?”

Couldn’t we leave while we were ahead? “Where are they?”

Hunny found one on the next aisle made specially for dolls, put it around her narrow chest, and we caught up to Pollard as he ogled the train sets.

“We’re ready to go,” I said while Hunny fawned over her new friend, petting her hair and kissing the tip of her nose. At some point three decorative clips had appeared, as if by magic, on the left side of Hunny’s head. And was she wearing lip-gloss? How had she had time to play dress up?

Not looking away from the electric train display, Pollard said, “I used to have one just like this.”

I leaned in to get a better view through the Plexiglas. Once upon a time the model train had looped around an alpine village, through a mountain tunnel, and had probably made all kinds of sound and light effects on its way to the station.

“I think my brother did, too.” Mason had been obsessed with model trains for a while and he’d had a couple different sets, though I couldn’t remember if he’d ever played with that specific one.

Pollard turned on me, leaning in way too close. “Promise me there’s a cure at this lab.” He furrowed his brow, his eyes reflecting fear and pain, which only further reminded me of my brother. Mason had often felt emotions more than most people did.

“Tell me we can fix all this. Tell me we can bring it all back.”

I almost fell over Hunny who was sticking to me like glue. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

We heard it at the same time. Footsteps and a low growl at the front of the store.

Russell appeared in the central aisle and sprinted past us. “Reds are coming through the front doors.”

“Time’s up.” Pollard snatched Hunny off the ground, doll and all, and hugged her against his chest. We scampered into the rear storeroom. Dark shadows engulfed us, and something scurried among the bins and boxes.

Pollard outpaced Russell and I, even carrying Hunny, so he was the first to punch through the exit doors. Thirty seconds of running in the sweltering spring heat and I was sweating and breathless.

Pain knifed through my knee with every bouncing step, my sword banged into my thigh, and I quickly fell behind. Pollard and Hunny turned the corner, and I was briefly alone in the alley. I glanced back.

We were being followed.

And not by shuffling zombies from a horror flick. Oh, no. These people were as fast as we were, if not faster. And they were closing in on me.

I followed Pollard around the building. Now that the dirt bikes were in sight my confidence returned. One hundred meters. That was nothing. Bare-footed and blindfolded, I could sprint that distance faster than most people.

Pollard reached the dirt bikes first, set Hunny on the back of Russell’s, and shouted for them to get going. He kick-started his Kawasaki, gray smoke spewing behind him. Despite regulating my breathing, the adrenalin and fear had me gasping for oxygen. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it to Pollard in time.

The rear wheel spun out as he raced back for me. I pushed a little harder, too scared to look over my shoulder.

I didn’t have to. I could hear their rapid footfalls on the pavement behind me.

Pollard skidded to a stop inches from my toes, and I jumped on the back of his bike.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” he shouted.

He accelerated so fast I was forced to grab his shirt to remain astride. I finally chanced a look at the pack chasing us, and the nearest one’s fingers came so close to my face I swore I smelled the rotten blood and flesh under her fingernails.

Pollard sped off across a patch of grass and over a curb. We weaved through parked cars and were soon out of sight of the toy store and the hungry Reds. My heart didn’t slow down, though. I laid my cheek upon Pollard’s shoulder blade and clenched my eyes closed. If he had been a little slower, or if my knee had buckled, or if Pollard’s bike had stalled out…

At the next off-ramp, Russell pulled over and Pollard stopped behind him.

“Everyone okay?” Russell asked, eyeing each of us.

Maybe. Other than severe terror, I was all right. Both boys seemed fine, and Hunny was so happy with her new doll she didn’t even enter the conversation.

“We’re alive.” Pollard gazed at the western horizon. “But it’ll be dark in a couple hours.”

“And the road’s blocked,” Russell added. “We’re gonna have to walk again.”

My pulse galloped through my chest and reverberated inside my skull like a hard-hitting bass drum. I’d almost died. And it had all happened so fast that processing it was next to impossible. One minute I’d been talking to Pollard and Hunny about model trains of all things and the next I was seconds from being tackled and eaten.

I shook my head to clear it, but hazy cobwebs remained.

I should have stayed in my panic room. I still would’ve died, but peacefully in my sleep from extreme dehydration, which sounded slightly better than being beaten and torn to pieces by zombies.

And then Russell’s adolescent voice shattered the calm, and I tried to focus on the present.

“You guys want to play Twenty Questions?” he called as he pushed Hunny on his bike. “I’m bored.”

I got my bearings and then pulled out our map and examined it. We still had a long way to go. “Dang it,” I muttered.

“Go ahead,” Pollard told him. “But keep your voice down.”

“Okay.” Russell paused. “I got it. I got something.”

I wasn’t in the mood to play games, but I asked, “Is it an animal?” simply to make the kid happy. My thoughts were still on that female zombie who’d almost had her hands on me.

“No,” he answered. “Next.”

“Is it a car?” Hunny asked.

“No.”

Pollard turned his face toward mine. “You were pretty fast back there. Faster than I thought you’d be. Your leg must be feeling better.”

The truth was, fear had overridden any pain and I’d taken off at close to full speed. “I was on my high school’s track team.”

“Really?” He sounded impressed. “Were you any good?”

“I was always in the top three at meets.” Back then my biggest concern had been what my hair looked like in the morning, or whether Cal was sneaking up behind me during lunch, but now running times—or hairstyles—didn’t seem so cool.