Hunted (A Sinners Series Book 2) (38 page)

I hold my breath, waiting. Bruno jumps out from his position of cover and holds his gun at the ready. He approaches the hatch. He carefully lifts the sharp metal edge of the awning so he can peer inside. Thick, gray clouds of smoke billow out, and he waves Cole to come closer for a look.

Cole follows him, holding his gun tight to his shoulder, as Bruno steps down into the tunnel. Their bodies disappear. I grit my teeth. I feel so helpless, but I know if anyone’s going to get it done, it’ll be Bruno and Cole.

Gunshots split the humid, moonlit night. I jump to my feet, exposing myself, but not caring. Zeus barks, and we both sprint across the street.

Not Cole, please. Not anyone.

In the midst of the trailing smoke, I watch as Bruno and then Cole exit the tunnel. Paths of sweat form light streaks on their grimy faces. Relief washes over me, and my shoulders relax. They’re alive, uninjured. Cole’s eyes meet mine, but his posture doesn’t ease a bit. Even in the moonlight, I see his forearms flexing.

“All clear,” Bruno says.

“Who was that?” Roméo asks.

“Guards, an entire squad,” Cole says in a strained voice. “And there’ll be more.”

I turn around, and see Grace struggling under the heavy load she carries. I run to her and offer to help her off her knees, but she shrugs me off.

“Can I carry something for you?” I ask as I reach out my arm.

“No, dear,” she says too quickly. “I can do this, but thank you.”

That’s when I notice numerous people standing in the street. They come silently, and their eyes follow our every move. I swallow hard and put a sweaty hand on Zeus’s back. He seems as uneasy out here as he did underground. He won’t sit, and he woofs at every sound.

“Oh my,” Bill says. “Follow me.”

His voice sounds steady and sure. The way he carries himself stuns me, not what I’d expect after witnessing all the drinking he does on a daily basis.

“Lexi, stay within arm’s length,” Cole says. “I’ll shield you with my body if it comes to that.”

“They’re not going to shoot me.”

“And what if they do? Even by accident? I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to take that chance.”

Bill leads us through alleyways and streets. He moves quickly, like a fox. Now I know why I never paid him much attention before. Though always drunk and obnoxious, he’s adept at keeping under the radar.

He avoids wide, open areas, so we dredge through trash in the murkiest alleyways, and then he stops, lifting the lid of a sewer.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He raises an eyebrow, sensing my thoughts.

“Want to hide from them?” he asks. I nod. “You first.”

I carefully step onto the first slippery rung. My hands slide down the wet ladder as I struggle to hold on with all my equipment. The farther we travel downward, the lower the temperature drops. I wrinkle my face as the stench of decaying bodies, garbage, and stale water hits me. This is worse than I thought.

“And how come we weren’t informed this existed?” Cole asks as everyone reaches the bottom.

“Don’t know, man, but I’m not complaining,” Bruno says.

“Well, good thing I know about it, huh?” Bill says in whisper. Even then, his voice carries.

“Let’s not forget there are cameras everywhere in the Hole.” Bruno says. “They might be following us.”

“Let them try,” Bill says. He begins cutting a path down the dark tunnel.

My boots make a sucking sound with each step, and water trickles from somewhere. Luckily, I can’t see what I’m stepping in.

“This tunnel runs about one hundred yards,” Bill says. He cautiously peeks around the corner. “The first Commander began construction on it, but after a while, it was abandoned.”

“Really? I can’t imagine why,” I say, almost gagging.

It’s quiet, except for our feet sloshing through inches of liquid. Then something brushes against my leg.

“Zeus, please tell me that was you,” I say. My voice comes out shaky. But I already know it wasn’t Zeus because his tail whips my knee from in front of me.

“Something run along your foot?” Bill asks. “Probably just a rat.” He flips on a light, and the hairy bodies skitter across the floor, through the muck.

“Ahhh, I hate rats,” I say.

“Would you prefer bullets flying around your head?” Bill asks.

“Smart-ass.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Grace says. She stops, her bag slides to the side of her back, and I catch it. She heaves violently and then stands up straight.

“Are you okay?” Bruno asks as he pats her back.

She swallows and gives a thin smile. “I’m fine; it’s the smell.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Bruno says. But his tone falls flat compared to the usual jokes he tells.

Bill stays close to the wall on the left side, stopping occasionally to make sure all of us follow. Every noise carries, especially the jangling of our equipment.

“What in the world … is that?” Grace asks.

Cole flips his flashlight across the tunnel, and I find myself groaning with disgust. My hands fly to my mouth.

A body lies there half decomposed, its clothing stretched across bloated, green-tinted skin, liquid dripping from its nose and mouth. As soon as the stench reaches my nose, I don’t know if I will be able to keep from puking.

“Don’t look,” Cole says, trying to redirect me with his body.

But I’ve already seen the maggots crawling through the nose of the body. My breath catches, and I turn my head away.
This isn’t real. This isn’t the closet with the dead cat and the maggots weaving in and out and all over me.
I’m not being tortured by my stepfather anymore.
But my arm begins burning to the point that I tear at it with my hands.

“Lexi, you’ll all right, I’m right here,” Cole says. I realize I’ve left claw marks on my arm and have to shake my head free of the nightmarish memories. “You’re bleeding.” He sounds breathless.

“I am?”

“Not a lot,” he says, wiping my arm with his bare, rough hand. Sure enough, when he pulls it away, blood stains his fingers.

“Poor person probably came down here to die,” Bill says.

“What a terrible way to go,” Bruno says. “Smelling like crap.”

“Bruno!” Grace says, then she turns to Bill. “Please, I’m begging you to hurry up.”

“Only a few more … ” Bill stops and then tugs on a ladder hanging from a black-stained cement wall. “Ah, here it is.” He smiles. “Going up?”

“Oh, for the love of God, yes,” Grace says.

Bill climbs up the ladder, carefully removing the lid of the sewer with a scraping sound.

“All clear,” he says.

With the delicate balance of tightrope walkers, we somehow manage to get back up the ladder and enter the street without being seen. Strangely, the sewer comes out into an alley between two shacks.

“It’s no wonder you survived here so long,” I say in a whisper.

Bill grins at me, light gleaming off his teeth. “Being crazy has its advantages.”

“You’re not that crazy,” I say. “Just different, but it’s a good different.”

“Lusty, I must say, you’re my favorite person here.” We smile at each other, and he pats my shoulder.

When I turn around, Grace holds onto the wall and stumbles out of the sewer. Her skin has a chalky undertone as she turns and throws up on her own shoes. My stomach drops. I put a hand on the back of her neck and give her a squeeze as she finishes. When she comes up, her eyes are watering, and she purses her lips to keep from crying. But there’s no time to rest. And even if there was, she motions us forward, not wanting to make us wait on her account.

Bill leads us toward the hospital, the tall, dark outline of it just a few blocks away. I notice there are no stars, just a velvet blanket of navy blue laid over us and the large moon glowing white as it hangs suspended above.

Mosquitoes and flies crawl all over us. I instinctively whack and shoo them away from my face.

We get through one block, discreetly staying in alleyways packed with broken furniture, trash, bodies, and countless other obstacles. But the next block is a street. Already, my heart beats in my ears, and my legs feel numb beneath my knees. The Sinners have to be hungry, and here we are, running around, with food packed onto our backs.
God save us.
If I were them, I’d want to hunt me down too.

Cole taps my shoulder, letting me know he’s behind me, and I move ahead. I keep my head on a swivel and scan in patterns. I check rooftops, houses, and especially dark doorways and windows. All of my senses work together, keeping me tense and alert.

I hear screaming and pause, flicking my eyes in the direction of the noise. Two Sinners fight each other in the street as a small crowd surrounds them. Children are pushed to the back of the crowd, an attempt to shield them from whoever’s making the grunting and moaning noises.

Bill stops and points to a doorway. I follow him inside. He peers through the single window in front with a frown on his face.

“We can’t move until they’re done,” he says.

A hand rests on my arm. I turn, and it’s Grace. She nods her head left. I follow her gaze as the street noise grows louder.

“They’re fighting over food,” she says in a low voice.

Bill shakes his head. “It’s heartbreaking,” he says.

“But there are children,” she says. Her mouth’s set, and her hands rest on her hips.

“Grace, we can’t help them right now,” Bill says. Before he can finish, Grace opens the door and stoops in the entryway.

“Pssst,” she says.

“What are you doing?” Bruno asks.

“Psst,” she says again. A young boy glances in her direction. His filthy face and sad eyes fill my heart with compassion. I know exactly what she’s doing, and it makes me love her more.

“Come here,” she says.

“Grace, you can’t. You’re risking exposure,” Bill says. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he grunts, exhaling a frustrated sigh.

The young, dark-haired boy wanders over. He wears a t-shirt that’s too small for him by about three sizes, tattered jeans, and no shoes. At first, he seems afraid. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts in awe as he takes in the sight of our group and all our equipment.

Grace gives me a beckoning look. With trembling hands, I unzip part of her backpack and pull out a protein bar.

He jumps back, hands flying in front of his dirtied face.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. He slowly drops his hands.

He reaches out. I notice the dirt under his fingernails and the creases of his small hands as I place the bar in his palm, giving him a tentative smile. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. The boy rips open the wrapper and shoves the entire bar into his mouth, eyes warily scanning us.

The crowd begins breaking up. I hear Bill’s impatient foot tapping beside me as the boy swallows his last bite and licks his lips.

“Do you have any more? My sister’s starving too,” he says in a quiet voice.

“Yes,” I say, before Bill can answer. I give him two more bars and then zip Grace’s sack back up.

“Dahlia,” he whispers. A little girl standing in the street alone, staring at the group of Sinners, raises her head, trying to locate him. “Dahlia, come here.”

“Now this is just great,” Bill mumbles. But I don’t pay him any mind when I see her.

A head of bouncy, scraggly curls frame an almost luminescent complexion with large, almond-shaped eyes and full lashes. She reminds me of a china doll. The boy waves her over quietly.

At first, she seems frozen. Her eyes move nervously between the dispersing crowd of Sinners and us.

“Hurry up,” the boy says. I see the hesitance in her eyes as she slowly steps toward us. She twists her fingers around in front of her. When she gets to the doorway, the boy pulls her inside. “Look, they have food!” He holds out the protein bar, and her eyes light up.

“And we can eat it?”

“Yes,” her brother says.

He hands her the protein bar, and she shoves it into her mouth. Her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk as she chews.

“We haven’t had anything to eat for two days,” he says. His hands go to his stomach, and he rubs it as his eyes fall to the floor. He kicks dirt around with his bare feet.

My eyes water, but I blink back the tears.
How many more children are starving in the Hole?
Then the little girl grabs her brother, and he hands her the last protein bar. As she stretches out, her torn sleeve slides up her thin, pale arm.

My heart breaks into pieces when I see the perfect, dark circle marking her. My chest tightens, and my hands ball into fists.
Oh my God. She’s younger than Alyssa.

“When did you get that?” I blurt. I point at her arm, and she retracts it as quickly as she extended it. Her eyes flash a warning, and her brother puts his arm around her protectively.

“Lexi,” Cole says. I fight the urge to wrap her in my arms as Cole pulls me back. He gives me a warning look.

She can’t be saved.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I … ”

The boy squints. He examines me for a minute and then drops his arm from around his sister.

“She got that vaccine thing this morning,” he says. “At least she won’t get sick.”

I want to die when he says those words. Because that’s what they told Amber. Part of me wants to scream out loud. I do my best to mask my emotions, but my facial muscles twitch as I try to keep from crying.

Oh my God, please let us get these records out
…
He’s still killing children.

“It’s time,” Bill says.

The boy pulls his sister’s hand, their faces instantly turning grim and serious. Dahlia coughs, and I see her cringe.

I know what she’s about to go through, and I fight the images of her screaming in pain like Amber.

“Take your sister and go straight home; it’s not safe out here,” Bruno says. His voice cracks a little. He bends down with all his equipment on. “Be brave, okay? And don’t tell anyone what happened here. It’s our little secret.”

The boy nods. “Okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Outside, someone calls their names. The boy flips his head to the side, his shaggy hair lying across his forehead, then he runs down the street, holding Dahlia’s hand. She looks back once, and we catch eyes, but then I tear mine away. I can’t breathe. My heart can’t take much more; soon, it’s going to combust.