The End Came With a Kiss (16 page)

One of Katherine's hands slaps the sink counter and the other comes up and grips the island. She is getting her legs under her.

"It's broken," shouts Harry, pulling the trigger twice more.

"Throw it here!" I say.

He tosses it, and I open the chamber and start shaking the gun vigorously. "I need a couple seconds!" My voice is panicked. The dart bounces off the floor and I scramble to pick it up. Loud banging and crashing fills the air as I try to stuff the dart into the chamber of my gun with desperate fingers. Harry grunts and there is another sound, like the splitting of wood.

There! The dart is seated. I fall on my side to shoot around the side of the island. Katherine is sitting half inside the cabinet under the counter. I take aim, center mass, and fire. The dart lodges itself just under her armpit.

She kicks and screams to get out of the cabinet, but slowly I can see the second dart taking effect. Her movements become sluggish. Soon she is still.

"You all right back there?" I call to Harry.

"Yeah. She got me a little bit, but it's not a bite."

I am immediately relieved. Though the mutigen is most effectively spread by a kiss, it can also be contracted from a bite wound. But loopers don't go out of their way to bite people, well, not till now. I feel a shiver tickle my ribs. I hadn't considered that. Now that the loopers are feeding on people, they'll increase in numbers. I wonder what will happen if they begin feeding on corpses. Will those who were lucky enough to be killed but not bitten be reanimated anyway? That is another chilling thought.

I climb to my feet and check for the little girl. She’s sitting on a chair in the living room, still staring at the photo, apparently unaffected by the chaos in the kitchen. She looks as though death has already taken her. The only difference is, her skin is warm.

Harry and I remove Kate from the kitchen cabinet and lay her on the couch in the living room. I waste no time administering the pill. Harry holds her mouth open and I drop it into the back of her throat. It closes up to pull the pill down, and Harry and I share a look of relief.

"How long will those pills keep her under?" asks Harry in his big friendly voice.

"There is no way of knowing, so we should bind her just in case. Here," I say, handing him the working dart gun. "Swap the darts over to this gun, and I'll go grab some duct tape from the cellar."

He set about his task, and I set about mine. Half way through binding Katherine, James and Ashlyn return from their task.

"Oh good," says Ashlyn. "You found her."

"Yeah. Apparently, she managed to slip into another loop that kept her right here at the house. How did things go with your looper?"

"We made it to the main road and drove up a ways so that he won’t be in our way when we head back."

"Well then. Let's get everyone back in the truck. We still need to stop at the safehouse and grab as much of those food resources as we can get."

James and I carry Katherine to the truck and Harry brings the little girl. On the way to the safe house I spy Mrs. Peeler jogging, but her dog is no longer with her. Instead, she drags an empty leash on the ground. I wonder if he was eaten by loopers, or if he finally realized it was not safe to be with her anymore. I choose to believe the latter. He was a good dog.

The safe house is intact, so we bring Kate in, lay her on the couch, and I fire up the generator.

I look at Harry, "How about you, James, and I load the food on the truck while Ashlyn and our little guest take a shower or a bath."

Harry nods, but Ashlyn looks terrified. "How about I help carry supplies to the truck and one of you cleans her up," she says.

"I think she'll feel more comfortable if you do it."

"I'm not good with kids. I'd rather help with the lifting." It is clear from her posture that there is no changing her mind.

"I'll clean her up," says Harry. "We'll do just fine." He takes her up into his strong arms. "Is that okay with you?" He says, looking at her with a funny face. Her eyes scan down the side of his face and then stare off at the wall blankly.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says with a big white smile.

I look at James. "She is about the same size as my little girl. Would you consider running back up to my house and grabbing some of her clothes? It seems safe out there."

"Yeah. I can do that."

"Ashlyn and I will stack boxes at the front door and we’ll load them in the truck when you get back."

James takes the keys and heads out. Harry takes the little girl in to start a bath for her, and Ashlyn and I begin to fill boxes and bring food and supplies to the front door. In short order, James returns with a pile of clothes. He hands them off to his dad who is happily singing a kids’ song to the sound of sloshing water. Then James joins us in carrying boxes.

I am fitting a box into place on the top rack of the shelving in the truck as Ashlyn hefts another one up. I step over to grab it and notice blood smeared on her neck, above the collar of her leather jacket. Blood is seeping from the zipper holes as well. I stop her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?" she says tilting her head up so I can see blood pooled in the lip between her collar and her neck.

"You have blood all over you."

She looks down. "That's from the looper."

"It looks like it's seeping out of your jacket," I say, pointing.

An irritated expression melts her features. "I think I would know if I had a sucking chest wound."

"Let me see," I say, climbing down.

"Why?" she says, covering the spot with her hand.

"Let me see it, Ashlyn," I say sternly.

Her hand slides down and her head shakes in disbelief. "Fine." She unzips the jacket and peels it open. The inside is caked in blood, and her orange shirt is torn at her shoulder as if something bit through it. But there is no bite mark.

"That's a lot of blood," I say, reaching out to examine the area.

She pulls away. "It's his blood. He got it all over me. It's nothing. See?" She tears the rip hole and smears the blood with her fingers.

There is no wound, only clear pale skin under the layer of slime.

"Why didn't you clean it off?"

"There hasn't exactly been time for that."

"All right, why don’t you see about getting into the bathroom to take a shower. Craig had a teenage daughter. You might find a shirt in her room you can use."

Ashlyn zips the jacket and levels her eyes on me. "This stuff is more important." She pushes the box into the truck. "I'll get cleaned up once the truck is loaded."

"Fair enough," I say, climbing back up to store the box.

We don't say another word about the blood as we finish packing the truck. Katherine is the last to go on. I put her all the way in and horizontal to the cab. She is still sleeping peacefully. I’ll check on her often to make sure she continues to sleep.

I go back inside as Harry and the little girl emerge from the bathroom. Her curly sandy hair is wet and tangled but she looks much more presentable with clean skin and a new dress. She wears the same black shoes, but at least the socks are pulled up.

Ashlyn takes the next shift in the bathroom, and James helps me pack the ham radio into a hard plastic bin in the cellar. "Have you talked with anyone on this thing?" asks James.

"Yeah. Some."

"Is there anyone left?"

"Yeah. All over."

"Is there anything left of the government?"

"It was hit pretty hard from the inside out. As far as I can tell the only thing standing is the Center for Disease Control, but it has a very limited staff. The mutigen slipped through many of their protocols and left them crippled."

"Did you tell them you're working on a cure?"

"I didn't speak to them directly, but I passed the word along through my contact. I haven't had time to check back with him."

"That's crazy. Do you think they'll be able to rebuild things? Do you think we'll survive this?"

"I hope so, James. I'm hoping we'll go one step further. I’m banking on a cure."

We carry the container up the tight staircase and out to the truck. There is just enough space left to squeeze it in.

"That's the last of it," I say, shutting the doors.

As I turn and look at James, something over his shoulder catches my attention. Off in the distance, where the main road climbs up and over a steep hill that divides the city from the suburban sprawl, is a blanket of wiggling shadows. No, not shadows. People. The road is covered with them. They are pouring around the corner and down the hill toward us.

17

"Look," I say, stabbing my finger in their direction.

"What
is
that?" he says squinting.

"The loopers from the city, somehow they followed us."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"They must have sprinted the entire way."

"What do we do?!"

"Hide the truck," I say, running around.

James follows after me. "What if they already saw it? If we can see them, they can see us,
their
vision is perfect."

He might be right. Is it worth the risk? If we stay, they could come down the hill, swarm the house and tear it to shreds, and us with it. If we flee farther up the road, we can circle around and head back to the city, or even back here.

"Start the truck and get it aimed toward the main road. I’ll grab the others!" I race up the stairs and burst into the house. Harry is in the kitchen with the little girl, pouring canned peaches into a bowl in front of her.

"We have to leave. Now! Take her to the truck. Don’t grab anything. There’s no time."

He doesn’t say a word, but scoops her in his arms like a rag doll and runs into the living room.

I pound on the bathroom door. "Ash! We gotta go!"

She calls out over the sound of the shower. "What? Why?"

"That mass of loopers followed us all the way out here! They’re coming down the hill on the road."

The shower squeaks to a stop, and I hear the curtain tear open. "You’re joking!"

"James is pulling the truck around, we have to go right
now!"

"What am I…" she sounds flustered.

"Just wrap a towel around you! We have leave now!"

"Grab the blanket off the couch!" she screams.

I run out, slide it off, and run back. "Got it!"

The door opens and she tugs it through the crack. The blanket is fleece and big enough to cover her.

"There’s no time to grab clothes! We’ll come back for them!"

The door swings open and she flies past me. "I’ve already got them." Her bare feet pad across the wood floor of the living room, her hair flying behind her in a tangled wet mess.

As I chase her out the front door and down the steps, something black falls out from under the blanket. She slows. "My boot!"

"Go!" I scream, bending down to snag it up.

I hear the sound of the mob’s approach. It has grown since the city. Over the wall and through the trees beyond I can see them, filling the street like water from a broken dam. They’ll be on us in seconds!

"Come on!" screams James from the back of the truck.

Harry is already in the driver’s seat and must see what I’m seeing, because the truck is already rolling forward.

Ashlyn and I race down the driveway and dive into the back.

"Go, go, go!" shouts James, pulling one of the doors shut. I roll out of the way as he goes for the other. He doesn’t quite reach it, because the acceleration of the truck causes him to recoil and brace himself on the door that is already closed.

I reach up and snatch him by the belt and grip a post on the shelving unit. James tries again but the truck is turning already, and the door disappears around the side.

My heart stops as I see the mass of loopers filling the road as far back as my eyes can see. It looks like the Million Man March with people of all nationalities and colors, only this is not a peaceful political demonstration. These people want to tear the flesh from our bodies, and the nearest ones are practically on top of us!

"GET US OUT OF HERE, HARRY!"

"I’M TRYYYIIIIINNNGGG!" He shouts back.

The first of the loopers lunges toward the open door, and I start kicking madly. One foot connects with a jaw, the other with a windpipe. Two fall away from the truck, but a third manages to get a handhold. James plants his foot on the beautiful woman’s shoulder and launches her to the tar with a roll, which takes out a handful. But that isn’t enough. Ten more take her place, and they’re closing in.

I kick at a man’s hand as he grabs for the edge of the closed door and kick a woman as she dives to grab the embossed steel bumper. Seeing her head snap back at an impossible angle sends electricity up my spine as though someone scraped their fingernails down a chalkboard. There is no time to dwell on it, three more side step around her and move in for their chance to climb in. Their arms rise and fall like pistons in a machine. Their feet slap against the pavement with endless energy. But it isn’t enough. We are pulling away, and they are losing ground.