Outer Banks (3 page)

He didn't listen. He continued to dance the light around them. “Alright, ladies. How many more of you are hiding under a rock out there?”

“I said, knock it off!” I shouted as I pushed him, causing him to drop the gun by his feet.

He turned on me, punching me in the face, and causing me to reel back. “Don't you ever pull shit like that during a takedown, you hear me? What if one of them was packing, huh?” I dropped my light. It aimed out toward the wall. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear a lot of shuffling, and I tasted blood in my mouth while my head throbbed. “These are hostile combatants, you got that? You assume they are a threat until they are secured.”

After a second, I shook away the fog, and grabbed up my light.

The father was standing in front of us a rifle in his hand aimed at me. His son stood behind him. Terror in both their eyes.

“Shit, I hate it when I'm right,” Bobby said.

I held up the hand not holding the flashlight as nonthreatening as possible.

“It's okay. Put the gun down. We're not here to hurt you.” This was true. We weren't there to hurt them. The fact that they had been hurt was a big mistake. “We're here to take you someplace safe.”

I heard two separate and distinct sounds.

The almost silent click of the trigger being cocked, and the loud crack as the butt of Bobby's shotgun came down hard on the man's skull.

The man crumbled to the ground as thick black blood oozed from the wound. The boy dropped next to his father, screaming.

“Bobby, what the hell?” I yelled.

“You would have been dead!”

“You could have used your light to get him to drop the gun.”

“You're the one who fucked up by interfering! This is a war zone, Dillon. Remember that.” He frowned as he reached down for the boy's arm and pulled him roughly to his feet. “He'll be fine.”

He didn't say anything more as we loaded them up. I checked for a pulse and nodded to Bobby when I found one. He seemed relieved. I wanted to think he felt bad about what he'd done, but I was pretty sure it had more to do with getting less money for a dead Haunt.

I got in the truck and looked at the rundown shack as the head lights crossed over it. There hadn't been much inside. Three rooms. No electricity or water. It wasn't much of a way to live.

“Let's go get something to eat,” Bobby suggested as my stomach still flipped.

He drove us to a diner in the closest town. He was unusually quiet. He didn't brag or share any of his stories about his other captures, for which I was grateful. It was late, so the diner was nearly empty. He got out of the truck, leaving me alone as I stared down at the black blood that had dried on my hands.

Inside I excused myself to the bathroom. I ended up stalling there, washing my hands a second time as I looked at myself in the mirror.

“What are you doing, Dillon? What are you thinking?” I asked my reflection.

I knew what I was thinking. I was thinking I got paid a minimum of eight hundred dollars per Haunt, and according to Bobby, I could take in at least two or three a week. Since the invasion I was having trouble making ends meet and this would put me on the fast track to owning my own garage someday. The economy was still a mess and everyone needed to find a way to survive and get ahead. This was going to be mine.

I frowned at my reflection as I dried my hands. “Money? You're going to hunt people for money?” I looked away and went back out to the table, unable to eat.

Bobby didn't have that problem. He smiled as the waitress carried over his order of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. No regret. No remorse. He'd hurt innocent people and didn't seem to care. It was pretty clear he didn't see Haunts as people anymore. They were a paycheck. They were cargo. It just reminded me too much of the things that had happened here during World War II, like the Japanese internment camps. And I was starting to wonder if it might get a lot worse.

Up to that point I thought this would be my last experience hunting Haunts. I was certain I was not cut out for this line of work, and hoped I would be able to go back to the garage and not think about this night ever again.

But when Bobby shook his head at me, and said, “It's easier if you don't care.” I changed my mind. I wanted to care.

I decided I was going to keep this job. I was going to find a way to do it better. I was going to do it so the Bobbys of this world wouldn't have it all their way.

“That is why I still do this.”

“Wow. Can I just say I am so glad you're the one who found me? I never thought I would ever feel
lucky
again, but,
dude.
” He shook his head.

I hadn't told him that story so he would think I was a great person. I wasn't. Sometimes I drank too much and had, on occasion, slept with women I had no intention of ever speaking to again. I was no saint.

What I was trying to convey to Corey was that some people still cared about how he was treated. I was one of those people.

He let it go thankfully.

He started singing along with an old song on the radio. It was cutting out. That happened a lot since the invasion. Cell phones and other electronics were affected by some kind of interference. They would cut out for no reason. It always seemed worse around the times the Haunts woke up.

The song was one I barely knew, I was impressed that someone his age knew it.

“You like classic rock?” I chuckled.

“I like all music. My parents used to fight constantly so I spent most of my time with my ear buds on to block them out.”

“Did it work?”

“No. The volume didn't go up that high.”

We started playing
Name That Tune
with the radio for a few hours. He was very good.

Come daybreak he requested to stay in the van again. I kept driving for a while until the sun in my eyes got on my nerves and I found a place to crash around ten.

That evening after dinner, I let Corey out and gave him two more juice boxes.

He was quiet. We didn't play games or talk like we had before.

“How long until we get there?” he asked.

“About four hours.”

“I heard about the latest trial going wrong when you stopped for gas last night.”

“Yeah. I heard about that too.” I let out a slow breath.

“At least this time it wasn't fatal,” he added.

“They're volunteers, you know.” I felt I had to say that much, and it was mostly true. There usually wasn't a shortage of those willing to risk everything for a cure. But at the end of the day, this wasn't something you could test on lab rats first.

“Do you think if I died and then they figured out the cure because of me, I would be remembered as a hero, or would I just be another person who died as a result of the invasion?” he asked in all seriousness.

“Corey, I think you've gone through a hell of a lot. You're already a hero in my book.”

“And who's reading your book?”

“No one.” I chuckled. “Well, me.”

“That's enough then.”

While he seemed content with my answer, I was suddenly uneasy. Usually there wasn't a shortage of volunteers, but sometimes there was. He wasn't a coward. But he also wasn't a lab rat. He was a child.

I had an idea, and pulled over to the shoulder rather abruptly.

“What are you doing?” he asked. I didn't answer. Instead I jumped out of the van and went to the back.

I searched through the box of first aid supplies—there was stuff in there I wouldn't know how to use if my life depended on it, let alone anyone else's—and found what I was looking for.

Coming around to his door I yanked it open, making him flinch. I quickly pulled the sleeve of his tattered T-shirt up a little and swallowed.

“Hold still. This might hurt.”
Might
, like hell. I jabbed a large gauge needle into his arm. He shrieked for a second in surprise, and then I pulled it back out, watching the black blood ooze out of the wound.

“Sorry about this,” I said, and repeated the process two more times, making a tiny distinctive triangle. This time he grit his teeth and took it.

He looked at his arm and then back to me. “You didn't squeeze anything in.”

“No, but now they'll
think
you've had the reversing agent.”

“Oh! Hey, thanks.” He rubbed his arm vigorously and smiled in relief.

His arm healed over quickly, leaving a scar in mere moments. The first batch of tests had been applied in three separate injections, and this tiny scar pattern was the telltale sign that he wasn't eligible for further testing.

As we made our way to the first bridge to the Outer Banks we had to pass a group of activists. They held up signs and yelled things like, “Kill the Evil Demons!”, “Earth First!” and “Hybrids Aren't Human!”

Corey twitched when someone pounded on the glass. I honked my horn to scare them away.

“Assholes,” I muttered.

We got to the first set of security gates on the Washington Baum Bridge at almost ten, and I could see Corey stiffen.

“It's going to be okay. It's not a bad area. They'll find you a place to stay, and you'll get food when you need it. If you get placed in one of the hotels, someone even does your laundry.” He looked down at his ragged clothing. “We can get you new clothes.”

He nodded as I held my permit out the window as one of the guards came to examine it.

I grouped the guards at the Outer Banks into three categories:

First, the ones who just saw it as a job. Impartial and tolerant of whom they were keeping out and who they were keeping in. They went home every night the same as if they had spent the day at a factory or a car lot.

The second group were those who were in it for the politics. They took personal interest in making sure Haunts never left the island.

The third—and smallest—group, were the guards who also took a personal interest in their job, but for a completely different reason. They had someone they loved living here, and it was the only way they could still be close to their families.

The guards at the first gate were of the first two varieties.

One, Sam, I had met on other runs. He was a strictly business guy. The other, someone I'd never seen before, would have fit in better with a sign at the bridge than a guard's uniform. He looked over at Corey sitting in the passenger seat with disgust.

“Aren't they supposed to be restrained during transport?” he asked Sam.

Sam didn't get a chance to answer. “His name is Corey,” I said, “and he
is
restrained. He's wearing his seat belt.” The other guard handed me my papers and opened the gate without saying anything else.

I rolled my eyes as Corey chuckled.

We got to the second gate a few minutes later. No one said anything about Corey being in the front.

As we reached the final gate I could feel the tension rolling out of Corey like a wave. He was frightened, but he was trying to hide it. I remembered being the same way at fourteen. Got to impress the adults.

“I know a few people here. I'll introduce you and hang around until you get settled if you want.”

“That would be awesome.” He seemed relieved. I shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

I parked in the spot outside of the Roanoke Island Visitor's Center. I guess on some level it was still a visitor's center.

Corey followed behind me while he looked around anxiously.

“It's not what I expected. It looks like a regular town.”

“It is for the most part. None of the grocery stores have food anymore. The arcades don't need quarters. If they put you in Kill Devil Hills, you can visit the Wright Brother's Museum. That's pretty cool,” I sounded like a realtor trying to sell him a condo.

A friendly face came to greet us, carrying a tablet computer, and I waved her over. “Hi, Tina. This is Corey. Corey, this is Tina.”

I saw Corey look her over and take her in. Well, he was a teen and she was certainly easy on the eyes.

“Welcome, Corey,” she said in her friendly tone. “How was your trip?”

“Fine,” he answered.

She started tapping on her tablet. “Where are you from originally?”

“New Orleans.”

“Date of infection, first day?”

“Second.”

“Okay. Let's see if you have any relatives here.” She started tapping again.

“Are you guys still using that GeneTree software?” I asked.

Tina smiled. “Yep. It's more thorough than the census reports. Gives us a broader selection.”

“How far does it go back?”

“Pretty far.”

“Can you do a search on me and Corey?”

“Sure.” She tilted her head to the side as she typed. “So, how have you been, Dillon?” she asked.

I got the feeling there was a bit more than small talk to that, but didn't want to go there. “Fine. Keeping busy. You?”

“Same. Hmm. That's interesting.” She turned the tablet around for us to see. “Says here you have the same great-grandfather.”

Chapter Three

“No shit!” Corey erupted at this news. I raised my brow at him. “Sorry, ma'am.”

Tina shook her head. “What are the chances of that?”

“It's a small creepy world,” Corey joked.

Tina started asking a bunch of questions about his immediate family, to see if there was anyone here more closely related to him.

He seemed somewhat comfortable, so I excused myself to get a bag of M&M's from the snack machine.

“No other relatives,” he said when I came back. “Just you,
cuz
.” He nudged my arm.

“He's allowed to call family members for free. Do you want me to put you down as his next of kin?” Tina asked me with a smile.

The sudden sense of responsibility nearly choked the breath out of me. I wasn't ready for that.

“It's okay. Dillon's busy,” Corey was letting me off the hook. He didn't want to be a problem even though he was completely alone. That forced me to get it together.

“Put me down as his next of kin.” I handed Tina my card so she could enter my number. “I'm not too busy for a phone call. You'd better call me.”

“It's kind of nice to have someone at least,” he said.

“Yeah, it is.”

His brows creased. “You don't have anyone either?”

“No one but you, so you'd better remember my birthday.”

Corey laughed as Sasha came in.

“Who do we have here?” she asked.

“No one you'd be interested in, Dr. Doom.” She glared at me playfully.

I held out Corey's arm so she could observe the triangular scar pattern I'd left on him.

“Hmph.” She frowned. “Shame. We need more volunteers who haven't been treated before. We have another formula ready to go.”

“Maybe next time,” I said. “But he's a bit young anyway, don't you think?”

“Younger is usually stronger,” she said. She stole one of my pieces of candy and winked. I'd taken Sasha out to dinner once. It didn't go anywhere, but we still remained friendly.

“Did you want to upgrade to Hatteras?” Tina asked. The boy's clothes alone should have told her he couldn't afford the pass to get into the swanky part of the island.

“Nah. You're better off up here. They have the Jurassic Putt. Do you have any openings in Kill Devil Hills, Tina? He should learn something while he's here.”

“We're trying to get a school going, but there have been more budget cuts,” Tina said.

“It's bad enough I live on blood, but now I have to go to school again?” Corey groaned, and we all laughed.

“I have a suite open at the Willows,” Tina offered. Private homes were usually used for families.

“Perfect. He'll take it,” I said. “A suite.” I elbowed Corey and he looked at me in confusion.

“It takes about two weeks for your Victim Aid payments to get set up. Did you want to put any money on credit for purchases? We discourage cash within the facility because of theft.”

Corey laughed as he patted his pockets.

“That's not going to be a problem,” he said.

No family. No money and still smiling. I pulled out my wallet and handed her eighty dollars. The only cash I had with me.

“No way!” Corey said, shaking his head.

“We need to get you some new clothes. No relative of mine is going to be walking around in rags. You'd be a disgrace to our family,” I joked.

He nodded. “Thanks. I'll pay you back if I ever get the chance, I swear.”

“Don't worry about it. That's what family's for, right?”

Corey bit his bottom lip and looked away. I gave him a moment.

“Is it all right if I show him around?” I asked Tina.

“Sure. You'll want to see Veronica when you get there. We have sirens that go off at ten, eleven and twelve hours after waking. We don't want anyone to fall asleep out in the sun.” Tina handed me his new identification card.

I checked it over for accuracy and then handed it to Corey. “Keep this with you at all times.” He nodded and put it in his pocket. “Let's go shopping. Thanks, Tina”

“Yeah, thanks!” Corey said with a wave.

“Come on. I'll show you around your new home.” Corey followed me back to the van. “They have shuttles that take you around.” I pointed to the right where a shuttle waited. “This building here has phones. You have my number in case you need anything, or just want to chat. None of the other phones here work, and there's no cell reception.”

He nodded as he looked around. He had nothing, cell service was the least of his worries.

We stopped at the Wal-Mart and got him a couple pairs of jeans and some T-shirts, socks and new sneakers. He told me he didn't wear underwear—something I could have gone without knowing. They scanned his ID and gave him his bags.

I took him for a ride down to the gate at Hatteras Island so he could see how big the facility was. He seemed impressed.

“That's where the rich people live?” He pointed while I turned around.

“They're still infected. Money doesn't change that. They just get a better view.”

I parked by one of the beaches I liked to visit in the daytime and got out. Corey followed beside me as I walked out and sat in the sand, far away from the water.

The sand was cool, almost like sitting on concrete.

“So what do you think so far?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “It's not as bad as I pictured it. So, I can sit out here, and no one would care?”

“Sure. You can go wherever you want on the island as long as you can get home before you fall asleep,” I explained. I could tell he wanted to ask something else. I gave him time.

“Those people outside the gate.” He paused. “They can't get in here?” he asked as we looked out at the moonlight glowing on the water.

By now I was used to dealing with the hate groups and the protests, but it must have bothered Corey more than I realized.

“No. The guards patrol the beaches regularly. Besides, they're more afraid of you than you are of them.” I repeated something my mother used to say about spiders, though I always doubted it to be true. Spiders didn't seem very afraid of me at all.

“Those people with the signs that say ‘They're already dead, put them out of our misery' are afraid of
me
?” He raised his brows.

“Maybe not you specifically, but Haunts in general.”

“Why aren't you afraid?” He tilted his head to look up at me.

I sniffed a laugh. “I'm definitely afraid of you.”

We sat in silence for a little while before he spoke again.

“You don't have any parents either?” I could tell he'd wanted to ask that since we found out we were related.

I picked up a handful of sand and watched as it trickled through my fingers. “No.” I hadn't talked about this in a while.

“What happened to them?” he asked. “Did they die in the invasion?”

“No. They died about ten years ago. Car accident.”

“What were they like?”

“They were the best parents anyone could ever have.” I sighed. “My dad was an insurance salesman who loved his job.” Corey's brow rose. “Yeah, go figure. My dad always said, ‘Whatever you choose to do with your life make sure you love doing it, because you'll be doing it for a very long time.' And he tried to help me find a career that would make me happy.” I smiled, remembering.

“He bought us a clunker car to work on. We hadn't finished it before he died, but I kept at it. I talked to my dad while I put it back together. Mostly asking him questions. Do you think this goes here? Does this look right? Of course, he never answered, but maybe he was guiding me, because eventually it was a car again. When it came to life at the turn of the key, I finally knew what I wanted to do. I still talk to my dad when I'm working on cars. It makes me feel like he's there. I decided to join the Army so I could make a career of it.”

“What do you think he would have thought of you taking this job? As a Hunter,” Corey asked curiously.

I sighed while I thought about it. “He would have been happy as long as I was happy.”

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“I'll be happier when I can go back to working on cars.” I looked at him and frowned. “Time to go.”

I got up to hide my unease as he followed. I could hear his footsteps in the sand behind me so I didn't need to make sure he was following.

The expression on Corey's face when we pulled up at
The Willows
was priceless.

“I'm going to be living here?” He looked up at the luxury accommodations with a grin.

“Yes. In a suite. That means you'll have a living room and a big TV,” I explained as we walked into the lobby. I was a bit worried I was overselling this. Life on OBX was far from idyllic, but I didn't want to scare him. “Veronica?” I asked, though I saw her name on her badge.

“Yes.” She looked us over through solid black eyes.

“This is Corey. Tina set him up in a suite.”

“Yes. I know,” she snapped. Great. A bitter Haunt. “Do you need a tour?” She waited. I used to think Veronica was a hot chick's name, but not anymore. This woman had snarly gray hair that frizzed out in every direction. The only thing missing from her witch look was a wart on her nose.

“Uh. No, that's okay.” Corey shook his head and took his key card. We started down the hall. “If I wasn't already like this, I would worry she would turn me into a toad.” He snickered as we made our way to the elevator.

I shouldn't have encouraged him, but I couldn't help but laugh.

Instead of getting on the elevator, I pointed down the hall. “There's a game room down there.” There was also an indoor pool, but swimming was too tiring for most Haunts.

We rode up to the fourteenth floor in silence. The elevator was covered in mirrors. Corey's reflection in the harsh light made him look even sicklier.

Corey forced a smile as we found his room. I assisted with the key card until he figured it out and let us in.

His room was nice enough. A living room, as I suspected, with a large flat panel TV mounted on the wall.

I set his bags of new clothes on top of the large dresser and went to the window. You couldn't see anything. All the windows were blacked out.

“You'll be able to sleep in this big bed instead of a box or a tarp,” I said.

Corey nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. It's nice.” He nodded.

“Nice? It's better than a shed with a tarp, right?” I pointed out the positive.

He shrugged, unconvinced. “Yeah.”

“But…?” I could tell there was something.

“It's still a prison. I mean it's nice and all, but it's a prison.”

“I guess so.” I frowned. I thought maybe he was too young to figure it out, but he wasn't. He saw this luxury suite for what it really was. A large, accommodating cell.

“I'm sorry, Corey. I'm sure once you make some friends and put some posters on the wall it might feel more like a home, but you're right. Until they find a way to reverse this, you're safer here than out there.”

He nodded again as the siren sounded for the eleventh hour, he would be falling asleep soon. Our time had flown by.

“I should get going.” I pointed over my shoulder. “We're family, so if you need anything call me. If you don't need anything, call me anyway. I come and go a lot, so I'll check whenever I'm here. Okay?” I felt like I was abandoning him. He was a kid with no one. Except for me, but I wasn't sure I counted.

“Okay.”

I pointed my index finger at him.

“I can't call you, so you need to call me.”

“Fine! I will! Jeez!” He rolled his eyes as if he hated the fuss I was making, but I could tell it made him feel a bit better. Pissing someone off was a sign you cared.

“Take care of yourself,”

“Hey, Dillon?” I turned back, his large dark eyes serious. “Thanks for treating me like a human,” he said.

“You
are
a human.”

“You sure?” He sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“See you next time.” He closed the door behind me, and I listened as he engaged the locks. “Good boy,” I said to myself.

Six people were waiting nervously in the lobby when I got on the ground floor. A regular human was standing guard by the door. After their sleep started for the day, the guard would leave.

I got in my van and drove down to the Cape. I missed the sunrise by just a few minutes. The sun was already shining bright pink across the water.

It was probably going to be a nice day. Of course, I wouldn't see much of it. I was going to go find a hotel and crash before heading home.

I parked and walked down to the sand. As I made my way to the water, I saw a pile of black slime laid out like a chalk outline.

It could have been an accident, but with the sirens I doubted someone would forget to take cover before they fell asleep where they would be exposed to the sun. This person, who disintegrated on the beach, had most likely had enough of their confinement, either at this facility or in their own body.

I got back in the van. This was an all-too common occurrence here. One no one liked to talk about.

I stopped at the visitor's center on the way out.

“All set?” Tina asked.

I smiled. “He's safely in his bed and I'm going to go do the same thing.”

She pushed the clipboard toward me so I could sign out.

“Someone's remains are down on the beach.” I added.

She sighed sadly as if she knew the person. “They're in a better place, I guess.”

I nodded in agreement. “Maybe.”

“See you next time, Dillon.”

I waved and left.

I wondered how long there would continue to be a next time. Would they all be captured eventually or would they find a cure first? I dreamed that someday I would be able to buy a garage and go back to my normal life. I was sure I wasn't the only person on the island wishing for something similar.