Rage Within (20 page)

Afterward he stumbled over to Ryder. “Come on,” he said and he held out his hand.

Ryder refused his gesture. But he wiped the tears from his eyes and followed Michael back into the woods.

Now after they’d spent the entire night hiding out, it was obvious to Michael that he and Ryder would never be friends. Michael could live with that. But they weren’t going to last much longer if they didn’t find a better place to hide.

“We could take cover in the dorms,” Michael said. They’d been watching the buildings for the last forty minutes and no one had gone in or out. They appeared empty, but of course that didn’t mean anything.

“Not a good idea,” Ryder said. “They haven’t been in there to clean up yet. Lots of dead bodies. It’ll be one of the first places they check.”

“Fine,” Michael said. So far Ryder had vetoed all his suggestions. “You pick, then. Where should we go?”

“The First Nations Longhouse.”

“Are you joking?” Michael asked as he pictured the big public building they’d passed earlier on their way to the dorms. “That place is wide open. All the windows are broken. We can’t even decently barricade ourselves in. We’d be sitting ducks.”

“When are you going to learn that the most obvious hiding spot is usually the safest?” Ryder said. “It’s called hiding in plain sight. That’s why I chose the museum.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out just how well that had worked for him, but Michael kept silent. According to Raj it had been their fault the Baggers found them.
Getting into a huge fight wouldn’t exactly be a good strategy right now.

“Okay,” Michael said. “Let’s do it. But as soon as you’re good enough to walk, we’re heading back to Clementine and the others. I’m not staying here any longer than I have to.”

The Longhouse wasn’t that far away, but because of Ryder’s ankle, it took them half an hour to creep across the parking lot and around the side where they crawled through one of the broken windows and into the auditorium.

Aside from all the shards of glass scattered on the floor, the place was in decent shape. The main room was huge, designed to look like a wooden cabin. There were a few chairs piled up in a corner and an overturned garbage bin, but the rest of the place looked untouched. There were no signs of life. If anyone was hiding here, they were doing a fine job of keeping invisible.

They made it halfway across the auditorium before Ryder’s ankle gave out on him. Collapsing to the ground, he cried out and started swearing loudly as he rubbed his leg.

“Let me see,” Michael said. Kneeling down, he waited as Ryder pulled up his jeans and showed his wound. The bruising was darker, black-and-red designs spread out from his ankle and all the way down his foot toward his toes. “That’s really not good. We’ve got to get you somewhere you can lie down for a bit. You shouldn’t be walking.”

“I have no choice,” Ryder said. “We can’t stay right here.”

“Agreed,” Michael said. He glanced around the large, bare room with all its broken windows. If anyone were to walk across the lawn right now, they’d spot them in a heartbeat. “I’m going to have to carry you.”

“You’re not touching me.”

“Fine. You need to wait here, then. Stay right in the
open.” He glanced over at the stage, with the PA and other electronic gear. “Maybe we can give you a microphone and you can make your whereabouts even more obvious. That speech you gave last night was breathtaking. Think you can do another?”

Ryder grunted. “You’re not helping me.”

“At least haul yourself over to the stage, then, where you can somewhat hide yourself.”

Ryder nodded in agreement. He had to half crawl, half drag himself, but he managed to get over to the corner of the stage where there were some stacked chairs to hide behind.

“I’ll scout ahead and see if there’s a spot where we can rest,” he said. “If you need me, holler. I’m sure I’ll hear you and come running.”

Ryder gave him the finger.

Michael went over to the doors beside the stage and tried to open them as quietly as possible. Beyond them, a long hallway waited that branched out in both directions. He stepped into the hall and the door closed behind him with a bang. The noise echoed, bouncing off the walls, and he involuntarily flinched.

He paused, waiting for the sound of footfalls as the Baggers came for him, but nothing happened. No Baggers.

But that didn’t mean the building was empty or safe. Not by a long shot.

He decided to head right past a set of bathrooms and pay phones. This brought him to a reception area with several entrances. One led toward the front lawn, which was thankfully empty. The glass windows were broken here too, and a soft breeze scattered the leftover junk food wrappers and paper into the corners. The other door was locked. It led out down a path along the back, which faced one of the
covered parking lots. He’d have to try and find a set of keys if they were going to stay here. They would need an escape route.

Beyond the reception desk he found an office area. Darkened computers and printers rested on desks, covered in dust and bird droppings. Obviously the animals had decided to make this building their home. He found two dead birds in a corner, along with empty water bottles and an open bag of chips. He picked out one of the chips and snapped it with his fingers. Still fresh.

When he looked up, he saw a handprint on the table. The dust was smudged and disturbed. It looked recent.

Michael knew he wasn’t a professional tracker by any means, but he was positive about one thing. Someone had been here recently. Opened bags of chips grew stale and soft within a day if not closed back up.

But who? Could it have been someone from the museum? It seemed unlikely. There was a lot of discarded litter. He couldn’t imagine that someone had eaten that much in less than a day.

Either way, they were gone now. Michael had left his weapon buried in the chest of the last Bagger he’d killed. They’d have to find something to arm themselves with if they were going to stay here. Michael looked around the office quickly but the most he could find was a roll of tape and a heavy hole puncher. Better than nothing. He put both items in his hoodie pocket.

For the next half hour Michael went through every desk, looking for a set of keys that would open the back door. Eventually he found them after prying open a filing cabinet with a letter opener. He plucked out a ring with dozens of keys attached. It took several tries, but on the tenth key, the
back door lock clicked and fresh air hit his face.

He pulled out the tape and wrapped it around the metal so he’d be able to identify it easier in case they had to get out in a hurry.

When he went back to the reception area, there were people walking across the front lawn. Quickly he ducked behind the desk, his heart hammering in his chest. Pulling out the dust-covered office chair, he crawled under, pulling the chair back in so he was partially covered. His hand closed around the hole punch, and the whole concept seemed ridiculous. What had he been thinking? It was the most useless weapon of all time. He discarded it on the floor, realizing the letter opener would have been a better choice. Too late now.

He waited, and soon enough, he heard shoes treading on broken glass as the people approached the window.

He couldn’t tell if they were Baggers or not. He hadn’t gotten a good enough look. But he couldn’t take the chance. Pressing his back against the wooden desk, he tried to will himself invisible. If they walked through the doors, it wouldn’t take long to find him.

It wouldn’t take long to find Ryder, either.

Sitting ducks.

Time stopped. Michael’s ears strained as he waited for the sound of the front door scraping on the cement as they opened it.

Nothing happened.

The air burned in his lungs. He’d been completely unaware he was holding his breath. He exhaled as quietly as possible. Knees screamed in pain from sitting scrunched up and still.

The door scraped. The two strangers entered the building.

They didn’t speak. Feet crunched on more glass and one of
them put something down on the table right above his head. Michael covered his mouth with his hand to try and silence his breathing.

He couldn’t see much from his hiding spot behind his chair, so he only caught a glimpse of their legs as they moved past the desk and into the office area. As soon as their shoes disappeared, Michael shoved the chair aside and crawled out. He moved as silently as possible, jumping over the desk and racing down the hall, back toward the auditorium. He didn’t dare look back to see if he’d been noticed.

Ryder was still in the same spot.

“Come on,” Michael said. “We’ve got to get out of here now. They’re here.”

Ryder didn’t move.

Michael grabbed his arm. “Now!”

“Leave me. I’ll only slow you down.”

Michael wasn’t about to show any pity. Not for this guy. He yanked Ryder to his feet, forcing the injured guy to put his arm around Michael’s shoulders.

But where to go?

“Come on,” Michael said. “I’ve got keys. There has to be somewhere we can hide.”

Ryder dragging, they moved slowly out into the hallway. Turning left, Michael led the way along the narrow corridor. He immediately rejected hiding in the bathroom. If they locked the doors, the Baggers would instantly know someone was hiding there. They needed to find a storage place, a locked door that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

The next set of doors on the left were big and heavy. He fumbled with the keys while Ryder kept watch, then unlocked it on the third try. He didn’t even bother to search the area first. Instead, he shoved Ryder unceremoniously through the
opening and quickly closed the door behind them, locking them in. Once inside, he reached around in the dark until he pulled the flashlight out of his back pocket.

They were inside a large kitchen.

He quickly scanned the room but it was empty. There was another set of doors and he checked them out. They led outside to a loading bay. Excellent! Always good to have another exit.

They waited. No one came and banged on the door. No footsteps echoed down the hall. Michael was positive that they’d managed to get inside without the Baggers noticing.

They were safe for the time being. There was no way the Baggers could break down those doors, so unless there were other keys lying around, they should be okay. Ryder slouched against the wall while Michael looked around for weapons again. There wasn’t much to work with, not even a knife or two. Most of the cupboards were locked and he didn’t seem to have keys that worked on them. He didn’t want to risk the noise of trying to break them open.

Some kitchen.

The refrigerator smelled moldy. It was empty except for some expired coffee creamers. The freezer had only a few ice cube trays filled with foul-looking water.

“This sucks,” he finally said. “We’re safe but there’s nothing here. We can’t stay. We won’t last more than a day or two without supplies.” He tried twisting the water tap. It remained dry. “We don’t even have water.”

Ryder nodded.

“Maybe later I can try slipping out and looking for something,” Michael said. “The student housing has to have a vending machine or two.”

“If it did, we probably raided it,” Ryder said. “Most of
the food on campus was brought over to the museum.”

“You couldn’t have gotten all of it.”

“My people were pretty thorough.”

“Then I guess we get to sit back and starve,” Michael said. “Because you’re not going anywhere with that ankle and I can’t exactly leave you behind.”

“I would.”

“Would what?”

“Leave you behind.”

Michael leaned against the fridge and sank down to the floor. “That’s the difference between you and me,” he said with a sigh. “You let people die. You leave them behind. I actually try to do something about it.”

“You really have no clue,” Ryder said.

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one.”

And they did. There was nothing else to do but sit on the cold tiled floor in silence.

*   *   *

He’d been sleeping. Dreaming about something, but the picture slipped away from his brain the second he heard the key turning in the lock.

Michael was up off the floor in a heartbeat. He fumbled around, searching for the flashlight, which had slipped out of his hands while he slept. How could he have fallen asleep? He should have spent more time searching for weapons, tearing the kitchen apart piece by piece until he found something. Why on earth had he discarded that hole punch? He moved around in the dark until he found the countertop. Crouching down, he blindly groped the cupboards beneath, trying to find something useful. His hands wrapped around a small blender. Not exactly a weapon of choice, but it would have to do.

In the blackness he heard metal jiggle in the lock again
and then stop. A slight pause. A rattle as someone searched for another key. There was a second set of master keys and this person had found it.

“Get behind the door,” Ryder whispered. “Get the upper hand.”

“We don’t know how many there are,” Michael whispered back. But he felt his way around in the darkness until he found the door. Stepping behind it, he waited with his hand blender held high, feeling absolutely ridiculous. Good thing the lights were out, because Ryder would probably burst into laughter if he could see him.

The person on the other side tried another key. This time Michael heard the lock click. His whole body tensed.

The door opened cautiously. Someone took a step into the room. Michael waited. He couldn’t strike until the person or people came in a few feet farther.

A hand fumbled with a flashlight.

Brightness filled the room, forcing Michael to blink several times in pain. He blindly jumped forward, ready to bring the blender hurling down, but paused in midflight.

A blond-haired guy froze, his hand still attached to the door handle.

“Holy crap!” the stranger said. “Don’t! I’m cool. I’m cool!” He covered his head and dropped to the floor. The flashlight rolled into a corner where it continued to give off light.

Michael kept the blender raised, but he couldn’t get past the visual of stopping to mix this guy up a smoothie. All he needed to do was arm Ryder with a cutting board or food processor and they’d be in business.