Rage Within (25 page)

A woman in the crowd began screaming; she had recognized someone. A man on the stage stepped forward when he heard her cries but was savagely stopped by a Bagger using his machine gun as a baseball bat. The man’s kneecap popped under the force of the metal. He fell to the ground in a heap.

The woman continued screaming, and finally some of the other prisoners forcibly carried her away to the back of the crowd.

Mason’s eyes were diverted back to the stage. There was a little girl standing at the end of the line. Her face was downcast as she played with the zipper on her dirty pink-and-purple jacket. He recognized her immediately. He quickly scanned the rest of the group, but Graham and his wife weren’t among the crowd. His stomach churned uneasily. If they’d found Graham’s safe house, did that mean they’d found Aries and the others?

“I know that girl,” he said.

“Which one?” Chaplin asked. “The child?”

Mason nodded.

“Better pray you get reunited with her.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. The closest Bagger raised his rifle up to the sky and fired off a shot. The uneasy crowd grew instantly quiet.

The Baggers began moving across the stage, stopping at each prisoner to study them. They poked some people to check for injuries and even forced one man to take off his shirt so they could check out his chest. They asked questions, but the words couldn’t be heard over the murmuring of the crowd. Some of the prisoners onstage were picked out and pushed back against the wall. Others were pulled forward and shoved off the stage, where someone from the crowd would dart forward and lead them to safety.

Mason began to understand. The fallen man with the broken kneecap was dragged back against the wall, and the woman in the crowd began shrieking like a crazed banshee. One of the Baggers turned his machine gun on the crowd, pointing it warningly. Several men grabbed the woman and dragged her away from the scene. They carried her off into one of the tents, but her cries could still be heard although everyone pretended to ignore them.

The Baggers finally approached Graham’s little girl and Mason held his breath. Relief swept over him as one of the monsters yanked her forward, tossing her off the stage. Mason broke away from the crowd, reaching her first. He put his arms around her, picking her up in a quick sweep.

“Hey,” he said as cheerfully as possible. “You remember me, right?”

The little girl rubbed her fingers against her teary eyes and nodded shyly.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Mason said. “No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe with me.”

The little girl—her name was Casey, if Mason remembered correctly—dug her tiny fingers into the fabric of his hoodie and held on with all her might.

He turned, ready to walk away from the crowd, but the show wasn’t over. The guards had gone into the gathered crowd and were searching for someone. They pushed prisoners aside, hitting them with baseball bats and the butt ends of their guns, until they finally grabbed someone. As they pulled him up to the stage, Mason recognized Paul. People began murmuring and there were some angry shouts from the men at the back.

“It’s because of you,” Chaplin said beside him.

“Me? What did I do?”

“They don’t like fighting.” Chaplin turned and spat on the ground. “They want us docile. Subdued. If we fight among ourselves, it’s only a matter of time before the uprising begins.”

“Why aren’t they coming for me, then?” Mason scanned the crowd. The Baggers weren’t even close. They were returning to the stage without so much as a glance in his direction.

“No idea. Maybe what the others say is true. Maybe you are a spy. But it’s not too late. You might be able to stop it.”

Mason stepped back toward the stage, completely unsure of what he could say or do. The child in his arms grew suddenly heavy, and he shifted her fragile body to try to distribute her weight more evenly. The Baggers paused, their guns positioned in their arms. They were obviously amused, eager to listen to Mason beg for the other man’s life.

Then Paul’s eyes met his.

And Mason understood.

There was pain there. Pain and regret and a soul that couldn’t be repaired. A warrior who’d spent thousands of years as a stone statue. Now he was waiting for his destiny to appear.

Paul didn’t want Mason to save him.

Mason nodded.

The taller guy gave him a slight smile before looking away.

Mason walked back toward Chaplin, ignoring the angry cries and protests that burst from the crowd. He’d done the unthinkable. No one was going to forgive him for this. No one except the person standing on the stage.

Casey leaned her head against Mason’s chest. He could see a tiny little pink-and-blue barrette hidden in the mess of tangles at the back of her neck. He could feel her breath on his skin and the softness of her fingers on his arm. There was only one thing left to do. Mason needed to get Casey out of there before the bullets started flying.

“Where can I take her?”

“Come on,” Chaplin said. “We’ve got a bit of a day care set up over by the toilets. Lots of other kids there. It’ll be the best place for her.”

Mason nodded. He allowed Chaplin to lead him through the crowd. Someone spit on him as he walked past. Other people hissed obscenities under their breath. Another voice said they wished he’d die.

The Baggers finished thinning out the line on the stage. They brought their guns down on the remaining few while the audience watched helplessly.

I will not flinch. I will not flinch. I will not flinch.

Mason’s hands clenched tighter against Casey’s jacket and he pressed her head down into his shoulder. There were several long seconds of silence before the guns finally fired.

MICHAEL

It took a bit of coaxing before the blond stranger finally stopped rolling around on the floor and covering his head with his hands. It took even longer to get him to stop pleading for his life. When he finally looked up, his face held a mixture of embarrassment and contempt, not overly impressed with Michael and Ryder’s laughing spell.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Michael said between hiccups. “It’s just too funny. Not you, dude, me.” He waved his hand blender around before chucking it into the corner by an empty trash bin. “Seriously? I’m standing in the middle of a kitchen that is probably full of knives and cast-iron frying pans—and all I could pick up was that?”

Michael had his flashlight turned on and a small amount of light bounced off the ceiling. His batteries were beginning to die. Not good. Now if only he could stop laughing, he might be able to think about their next step.

He went over to the closed door and opened it, glancing carefully down the hallway of the Longhouse. It was dark now, so he wouldn’t be able to head out and search for supplies. He didn’t want to leave Ryder and the new stranger in the dark.

“I’ve got candles,” the blond said, reading his mind. He yanked his backpack off his shoulders and rummaged around until he produced a few long white sticks. “I’ve got food, too,” he added. “Mostly chips and chocolate bars. Got a few bottles of water and some Pepsi. Been living off the vending machines in the student buildings. Not much, but better than nothing. You’re welcome to whatever I have.”

“Amen to that, brother,” Michael said. His stomach had been grumbling for most of the afternoon. He hadn’t eaten anything since forever. Vaguely he remembered someone giving him a stale Twinkie at the museum, but that had been over twenty-four hours ago. “We’ve got nothing.”

Ryder gave him a discreet kick with his shoe. Right. They still didn’t know anything about this guy. Best not to look so eager.

With the door firmly locked, the three of them sat down on the floor. Flickering light reflected off the refrigerator, giving the room a slightly cheerful atmosphere. Anything was better than nothing. The blond tossed Michael a small bag of chips and a can of Pepsi.

“No thanks,” Ryder said when he was offered some Doritos. “Not hungry.”

“Really?” Michael studied him, wondering if he was really going to be that stubborn or if there was actually something wrong with him. Ryder was looking quite pale, even with all the shadows half covering his face. But with his wrecked ankle, he was going to need every ounce of strength, even if that meant forcing down a chocolate bar or two.

“What I really need are drugs,” Ryder said, gently stretching his foot up and down. “It’s getting worse.”

“Wish I could say I was a doctor,” the blond said. “But I’m just a computer techie wannabe, and a lousy one at that. Unless
you’ve got a hard drive that needs debugging, I’m pretty much useless in this new world. Can’t even chop wood.”

“You’ve made it this long,” Ryder said with a grimace. “That’s got to count for something. Don’t sell yourself short.”

The guy nodded. “I had a lot of help. A good friend of mine kept me safe. He had a much better head for this sort of thing. But he’s gone. Happened right after the nut jobs came on campus. He just disappeared one day.”

“So you’ve been here a while, then?” Ryder asked.

The blond nodded. “A little over a month, I think.” He shrugged. “I haven’t seen a calendar in ages. Can’t be certain. Why do you ask?”

“Just surprised we haven’t crossed paths,” Ryder said. “I’ve been running a group here. We’ve been pulling people off campus and giving them a safe place to hang. At least until last night.” He gave Michael a snide glance. “We’ve made several sweeps of the grounds. Thought we’d pretty much found everyone there was to find.”

“Guess not,” the blond said.

“Yeah,” Ryder said. “Guess not.”

The tone in Ryder’s voice was unmistakable. But then again, considering he’d also accused Michael of being a Bagger, his radar was clearly a little damaged. It was obvious he didn’t trust the new guy, but Michael didn’t think there was reason to worry. The guy had literally almost peed his pants at the sight of the hand blender. No one could fake that kind of panic.

But just to double-check, Michael started playing with his almost dead flashlight, pretending to accidentally draw the beam of light across the stranger’s face. A pair of blue eyes winced at the direct contact. Blue eyes. No black veins.

Nothing to worry about.

“Do you think there’s a bathroom here?” the blond suddenly asked. “When I saw those crazies, I grabbed the keys and tried the first door I found. No time for a toilet break.”

“There’s one across the hallway,” Michael said, remembering seeing the washroom signs earlier. “Not sure if it’s safe, though. I didn’t spot anyone a few minutes ago, but that doesn’t mean the Baggers aren’t still around.”

“Baggers?” The guy grinned. “Interesting name. Haven’t heard that one before.” He climbed to his feet. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Leave your keys,” Ryder said.

The blond gave them both a puzzled look.

“You can knock when you’re done,” Ryder said. “Leave them. I’m not taking any chances.”

The guy pulled the set of keys out of his pocket and dropped them on the counter without a second thought.

Michael waited till he disappeared through the door.

“What the hell?” he asked. “What’s your problem? He’s not one of them. Didn’t you see his eyes?”

“Just because his eyes aren’t black doesn’t mean he’s not one of them,” Ryder said. “Some of them can hide it. I’ve seen it myself. I don’t understand how you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. You can’t trust anyone. How do you not get that?”

“Not everyone is the enemy.”

“Everyone is my enemy,” Ryder said, leaning forward and pulling up the leg of his jeans to check his ankle. “How do you think they managed to pull this off? Do you not think about that? Within a matter of weeks, these monsters managed to kill almost the entire population. Not just here but across the whole world. Why? Because we were too stupid and we trusted them. We ignored warning signs. We ignored everything! And
you’re sitting here pretending like none of this happened and it’s perfectly all right to become best friends with the first stranger that comes through the doors? And why? Because he screams like a girl?”

“That’s not it at all,” Michael said, feeling heat rising in his cheeks.

“You’re an idiot and it’s a miracle you’re not dead.”

Michael stood up, bits of discarded potato chips falling from his shirt. “You’re really beginning to annoy me. I don’t know how on earth you managed to lead a big group like you did, especially when it was obvious that no one actually liked you.”

“They didn’t need to like me,” Ryder said. “They respected me and listened because I kept them alive. I didn’t take chances, except with you and your girlfriend. Look where that put us.”

“I’m not a Bagger,” Michael said as his fists clenched involuntarily at his sides.

“You’re no leader, either.”

That hit below the belt. Ryder couldn’t possibly have known about what happened back at the cottage. He didn’t know that Michael took the cowardly way out and ran away, leaving his friends to die.

Evans.

Billy.

The woman with the sick child.

Michael had tried to lead them to safety. But at the first sign of real trouble, he’d run away while his entire group was slaughtered.

Ryder couldn’t possibly know about them.

But he sure knew the truth. Michael was no leader. And he was right, no matter how much Michael wished it wasn’t so.

A soft knock at the door announced the return of the
blond-haired stranger. Michael didn’t even bother to wait for Ryder’s response. He went over and opened the door with a wide swooping motion.

The blond was alone.

No Baggers.

Trying hard not to give Ryder an “I told you so” look, Michael returned to his place beside the candles and plopped down on the floor.

“Thanks,” the stranger said. “I tried keeping my ears open. I don’t think any of them are still in the building. It sounds pretty empty. Of course, it’s pitch-black out there. Almost couldn’t find the toilet to pee in.”

“We’ll have to wait until morning,” Michael said. “I can’t stay here longer.” He suddenly didn’t care so much about Ryder and his ankle. “I’ve got people waiting for me. I should have been back ages ago as it is.”