Shadow Falling (The Scorpius Syndrome #2) (9 page)

Raze swallowed and calmed his system. The dead weren’t his problem right now. He had to deal with the living.

The houses turned to small businesses, all crumbling and dark. A man, dressed in what might’ve once been a flowered dress and ski gloves, barreled out of a shack with “Pete’s Ink” burned into the shingles. A straggly beard covered his jaw and wild red striations marred the whites of his eyes. His hands gripped what appeared to be Barbie dolls.

He yelled something unintelligible and ran toward the truck.

Jax punched the gas. “Insane bastard.” Sorrow darkened his tone rather than anger.

“Should we shoot him?” Raze asked, turning to watch the Ripper run across concrete, rocks, and glass behind them, screaming incoherently.

“No.” Jax sighed. “Not today anyway.”

Raze nodded. Sometimes he didn’t feel like shooting anybody either. “Do you think there’s a cure? I mean, do you think it’s possible we’ll ever find a cure for Scorpius?”

“No.” Jax jerked the wheel to avoid a crumpled Honda motorcycle. “I don’t think we can make the insane sane again, you know? Maybe we’ll come up with inoculations to protect people from being infected, but I figure once it’s done, it’s done.”

“You’ve been infected.”

“Yeah, and I had B the second it happened, so hopefully I won’t go nuts. But who the hell knows?” Jax glanced up at the sun. “Vinnie has had the fever.”

Raze nodded, noting the Ripper had stopped following them. “I’m not planning on hitting that, so it doesn’t matter.” He kept the language crude on purpose so Jax would drop it.

“You could use a condom.”

Jesus. “I don’t
need a pimp, Mercury.”

“I’m just saying. Life is short, and she seems to like you for some damn reason. You moved her into your place.” Jax slowed down to drive around a couple of facedown bodies partially decomposed in the center of the street.

“I’m bunking with Tace. Not interested in Vivienne.” Not for the right reasons, anyway. Raze jerked his head toward a bunch of smashed mirrors up ahead. “Avoid the glass.”

“Copy that.” Jax had to drive up on a sidewalk and over lumber. The truck jumped and hitched, but they made it back to the street all right. “Did Vinnie say how yesterday afternoon went with the patients?”

Ah-ha. So Mercury wanted the dish on everybody. Suspicious bastard. “No, and don’t push her.” Even as he said the words, Raze bit back a wince.

“No need to be overprotective,” Jax drawled.

“I’m not, but you haven’t heard her screaming late at night.”

Jax slowed down and squinted out the window. “Pine Street.” He turned and drove down a street canopied by palm trees. “It’s interesting you’ve heard her scream so often. You time your patrol to be within hearing distance?”

“Just doing my job, boss.” Raze stretched his neck as homes, nicer than the earlier ones, started to line the street. Brick homes, small but probably well kept at some point. “We’re going the wrong way.”

“No.” Jax tugged a page from the phone book out of his pocket and unfolded it on his leg. Glancing down, he pursed his lips. “Twenty-seven-O-Two Jacoby Street.” He drove farther down Pine Street and then turned at Jacoby, which held more homes. “Humph.”

Raze eyed the silent brick sentinels. “We could raid here. Looks fairly untouched.” They could really use prescription drugs as well as canned goods. And condoms, although not for him.

“Agreed.”
Jax downshifted to move around a green barrel. “I don’t like having somebody I barely know cover my back—it makes me twitchy.”

Raze preferred not to know anybody right now. Even so, he understood the sentiment. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Not your biggest dreams or fears, asshole. How about telling me why you went into the service.”

That made sense. As former soldiers, they had that in common. So Jax was looking for common ground? Raze kept his focus on the threats outside the truck. “My dad died in the service, and my mom worked hard but didn’t have much money. The service seemed like a good idea, and I enjoyed it. Made friends, and I miss my good ones every day.” So damn many people had died from Scorpius. “You entered the military because a judge made you, right?”

“Yep. Either prison or military. Either way, I had to leave gang life or I’d be dead.”

It seemed like that background had actually served Jax well after the world became infected. Raze cleared his throat. “Speaking of gang life, any news on your brother?”

“No. I’ve sent out sketches with his face, but nobody has seen Marcus.” Jax slowed down to cross over a bunch of crumbled bricks in the center of the road.

It’d be a miracle if Jax ever saw Marcus again. The gang leader Jax had killed when rescuing Lynne had hinted that Marcus, another gang member, was still alive. It was likely that the gang leader had just been messing with Jax’s head. “I hope you find him,” Raze said.

“Me too. What about you? Siblings?”

Raze purposefully kept his body from stiffening. “A younger sister named Maureen.”

“Ah. Where is she now?”

“Not with us,” Raze said. He couldn’t exactly tell Jax that Maureen was being held by the Mercenaries up north.

“I’m
sorry.”

“Me too. She was everything good in this world, you know? I pretty much raised her since our mom had to work so much, and she ended up so damn smart. Got a scholarship to Harvard.”

“Wow.”

Raze nodded. “Studied food production. Wanted to end world hunger.”

“Sounds like she was a sweetheart. I would’ve liked to have met her.” Jax slowed down. “There it is.” He pulled into an empty driveway with 2702 on a plaque near the dusty red door. Another sign had been mounted on the house near the driveway: “Jack’s Construction—Go around back.”

A home business. Raze’s heartbeat sped up a little. “Unless scavengers bothered to look in the phone book, if they could even find one, this type of business wouldn’t be easy to find.”

“Nope. Let’s hope Jack didn’t take his goodies with him if he left.” Jax stopped the truck and jumped out.

“Let’s hope Jack left,” Raze muttered, exiting the truck, leaving his door open for a quick getaway. He settled his stance and took a moment as Jax did the same thing, not moving.

Birds trilled above, their chirping cheerful in the chilling quiet. No sound came from the ground or from the homes around them. No children laughing, no lawn mowers humming, no cars honking. No life.

Raze caught Jax’s eye and gave a short nod.

Jax nodded back, any congeniality gone from his stone-cold face. Leading with his gun, he kept to the brick and started making his way down the rest of the driveway past the house.

Raze stayed on his six, emerging onto a square of concrete with a metal shop on the far side. The twenty-foot
garage door was closed, as was the bright yellow man-size door to the side.

The wind picked up, scattering palm leaves against the house, while the birds continued to chatter. So long as they kept up the noise, he wasn’t too worried.

Jax kept his gun low and sidestepped across the empty lot to twist the doorknob of the shop. It turned easily and swung open. He leaned against the far side.

Raze hustled his way, his peripheral vision working hard, and stopped on the other side of the door. “I’ll go low.” He waited until Jax had nodded, took another glance around at the trees lining the wooden fence on either side of the property, and then bunched his legs. Turning, he ducked into the room and went low.

Jax moved in sync, his gun high.

Sunlight filtered through a series of windows from the back, revealing a stunning 1969 Boss 429 Mustang.

Jax whistled.

Raze nodded, his gaze on the shiny chrome as he straightened. “What a beauty,” he whispered.

“Man, I wish we could take her.” Regret crossed Jax’s face, so real and heartfelt, it almost made Raze laugh out loud.

“Me too,” he whispered back. New red and chrome lockers and tool storage units lined both walls, while the floor was sealed concrete, clean and nearly sparkling. “I’m thinking if there was a work truck, it’s long gone.”

Jax nodded and began filtering through the lockers, every once in a while glancing with longing at the Mustang.

After twenty minutes of searching, all they found were a couple of hammers, a can of nails, and a box of girlie magazines. Jax loaded them up and headed outside.

Raze cut him a look.

“What? We have teenagers, you know. Every teenager
should have a skin magazine.” Jax’s stride didn’t waver as he continued out to the truck.

Raze shook his head. What a bust. “This was a waste of time,” he muttered, carefully closing the door behind them. Maybe someday he could return for the car.

Jax nodded and dumped the loot in the back of the crappy truck. “Yep. We have five more businesses like this to hit. The shop was so clean, let’s skip the house. They took everything of value.”

Raze nodded and slid back into the passenger seat. Unfortunately, the best loot was found at homes with dead bodies. He was so damn tired of dead bodies.

They worked methodically through the list of home-based construction companies, finding many more tools, some pot, more magazines, cigarettes, and even a generator before reaching Plympton’s Hard Tools on the far side of Compton.

While they didn’t speak much, they moved in sync, both having been trained well. Jax had been Delta Force, while Raze had been SEAL Team Six. Something else they didn’t discuss.

Plympton’s was comprised of two metal shops behind a double-wide trailer not nearly as nice as the other buildings. A work truck had been abandoned near the trailer and gave up tools, electrical wire, and cocaine.

Raze lifted his eyebrows. “Do we want the coke?”

“Yep. Take all drugs.” Jax squinted toward the first shop. “We can’t be picky when it comes to pain management and bullet wounds.”

True. “If I get shot, don’t even think of using coke,” Raze said, gathering the bundle to slide it beneath an old tire in the back of the truck.

“Copy that.”

They walked side by side toward the first shop, more
than used to entering new buildings together. Before Raze could open the door, Jax moved, smoothly slicing a handcuff over his wrist.

What the hell? Raze kicked out, nailing the Vanguard leader in the leg.

Jax grunted, jumped forward, and secured the other cuff to the side of the metal door. Then he backed up, weapon out.

Raze went still. He’d gotten caught up in the day and had forgotten to watch his back. How the hell had he gotten so damn complacent? “What the fuck?”

“You don’t sound surprised,” Jax said, his aim steady.

“I’m not.” If he went for the knife in his boot, Jax would shoot to kill. Raze’s gun was at his waist, and he was fast, but Jax was probably fast, too. “You going to leave me here?” His heartbeat sped up, and he tried to control his breathing.

Jax slowly shook his head.

Ah, hell. Jax would go for the sure result. “You’re just going to shoot me and go,” Raze said evenly.

“That’s the plan.”

Raze kept his gaze level. If he could talk Jax into just leaving him cuffed, he could eventually get free. If Jax shot him in the head, then nobody would be able to help Maureen. He had to live. “I helped you save Lynne from Atherton. Why are you doing this?”

“Let’s not play games.” A muscle ticked at Jax’s jaw. “Give me some credit. You had to expect this.”

“No.” Sure, he’d expected it, but he’d gotten careless in the hunt for explosives. Jax and his crew had drawn Raze right in, and sweet Vinnie was the cream on top. “I didn’t think you had it in you. To kill a guy you’d fought next to.”

Jax snarled. “Reminding me of lost comrades is a shitty thing to do.”

“Shooting me
in the head is worse,” Raze countered dryly.

“Tell me the full truth, and I won’t shoot you. Why did you walk into Vanguard territory and offer to help? More importantly, how did you come by the intel about President Atherton that helped us rescue Lynne and Vinnie last week? You knew way too much about him and his troops.” Jax’s aim didn’t waiver a millimeter.

“I’ve been traveling and gaining intel,” Raze said, giving part of the truth. “I’m not going to harm you or yours, Jax.” Except Vinnie. He was going to betray her, and that would hurt.

A ruckus started up behind the other shop.

Raze reached for his weapon, able only to turn a little, while Jax slid to his right.

Instantly, four men ran around the far side. The lead two held guns, the next two knives and leashes. Jax settled his stance, switching his aim to the men.

The long leashes were attached to women running on all fours, who careened around the building, snarling.

“What the fuck?” Jax muttered.

The lead guy, a man in a pale green suit, smiled. “You’re trespassing.” Without blinking, he fired.

Vinnie tried
to roll up the sleeves of her borrowed sweater, leaving clumps at her wrists. Maybe the scavengers could look for some petite clothing on their next run. At least the yoga pants only went to her ankles and not beyond. Of course they were supposed to end right below the knee.