The Junkie Quatrain (8 page)

Charlie looked up from one of the packs and grinned. ‘That’d suck. World ends and you come back to find a buncha dead people buried in your front yard.’

Chit swatted the back of his head. ‘Show a little respect,’ she said.

Monica frowned at them, then shot a glance at the back wall.

Barney saw the look. ‘Something bugging you?’

Monica looked at the back door again. She wrapped her arm around the P90 and let it settle into the crook of her elbow. ‘How long’s it take them to unlock the bikes?’

Big Jay leaped up. Chit and Charlie grabbed their rifles. Barney stopped them with a gesture and nodded to Monica to follow him. They eased open the back door, weapons ready, and peered into the back parking lot.

Epi and Sarah were gone. The bikes were unlocked and the cable was pulled halfway through them. There was no blood and no empty brass from their weapons.

‘Guys,’ called Barney. It was a stage whisper that probably carried a hundred feet at the most. ‘Where are you?’

They called out their names and listened for any sort of answer. A quiet response, a cry for help, or even just the awful sound of junkies feeding. The silence of the abandoned city filled the air.

Monica looked at him. ‘Junkies?’

Barney shook his head. ‘We didn’t hear anything.’

‘Maybe they just ran.’

‘Why would they run away from the door?’

‘Maybe something was blocking them.’

Barney looked around the parking lot. ‘Then where’s that? What could’ve made them run away that we wouldn’t’ve heard or seen?’

Big Jay shuffled up behind them, tugging on his knit cap. ‘She out there?’

Monica shook his head. ‘There’s no sign of either of them.’

The large man tried to push past them, but Barney settled him with a hand on his chest. ‘She’s gone, big guy.’

‘But she could be right over there,’ said Jay. He pointed to the alley on the west side of the parking lot. It almost lined up with the drive-through. ‘They both could be.’

‘If they are, they’ll find us. If they aren’t... well, there’s nothing we could do for them.’

‘We gotta look.’

‘We don’t and we can’t,’ said Barney. ‘We’ve got rules and we’ve got a schedule.’

The big man’s face twisted up and his fingers tightened on his rifle. ‘She’d look for me.’

‘If you want to go, you can,’ said Barney. ‘But you go alone. That’s the rules. You knew that from the day you joined up.’

Jay stared out at the empty lot for a minute. Then he turned and went inside.

‘Go make sure he’s not taking it out on anything we might need later,’ said Barney.

Monica nodded and headed in.

Barney looked at the hedge between the parking lot and the residential street. It was already getting overgrown and wild. The whole city was getting wild. He thought about the streets of Baghdad and how crazy things had gotten there, and he remembered how long it took before things even vaguely resembled sanity again.

How long was it going to take a city the size of Los Angeles? Or Dallas? Or New York?

Just like in Iraq, he could feel something watching him.

He went back inside. He put one foot behind the other and never turned his back to the thing with eyes on him. The door closed in front of him.

‘What’s the story, boss?’ asked Charlie.

‘They’re gone,’ said Barney. ‘We don’t know if they got killed or taken or what. We just know they aren’t out back and they’re not answering.’

Chit nodded. ‘So what are we doing?’

He looked at Big Jay. The man stared out the window and squeezed his fists. ‘Just what we said. The bikes are unlocked. We get out of here and head straight down Wilshire as fast as we can.’

A few grunts of understanding came from the outsiders. They looked at each other and realized how small their group suddenly was.

‘Let’s be quick,’ said Barney. He shrugged the pack of medical supplies up onto his back. ‘I want to be out of here in the next couple minutes, before the junkies start waking up.’

They exited the restaurant with weapons up. Charlie finished unthreading the wire that bound the bicycles together. He went to coil it and Barney waved for him to leave it. The little man nodded and guided bikes out of the pack one by one.

Monica straddled her bicycle and kept watch. The city was still silent. No vehicles. No sounds of junkies. It was quiet. The phrase
too quiet
immediately crossed her mind. She tried to come up with something less gnawing and her mind produced
silent as the grave
. When she brushed that aside it came up with
quiet as a tomb
.

A loud crash came from behind her. Charlie had knocked one of the bikes over. It had dominoed into the one that had been Sarah’s and trapped Big Jay’s under the pile. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered.

From down the street came the moans and senseless grumbles of waking junkies. One somewhere, a woman by the sound of it, let out a mournful howl. They always woke up hungry.

‘So much for the element of surprise,’ muttered Chit.

Barney slapped Jay in the arm and pointed at the bikes. The big man tossed the two fallen ones aside and hauled his upright. The noise of shifting bicycles almost hid the low thuds and stomps of feet coming down Sycamore.

The outsiders kicked off and rolled through the drive-through. Barney gestured right three times with quiet chops in the air. They pumped their pedals and moved out fast. The sound of feet faded away.

They fell into formation and headed down Wilshire. There was a faint downhill slope just past LaBrea that let them build up a bit of speed. Monica and Barney were in the lead. Chit was centered behind them with Charlie and Big Jay flanking her. Charlie put on a burst of speed to rush past a clump of sleeping junkies, then settled back to hang almost in her blind spot. Chit glanced over her other shoulder to check on Jay. It was a bit of a balancing act with the bulky pack.

The street was empty on that side.

She raised her voice as much as she dared. The junkies were shifting and waking up. ‘Where’s Jay?’

The quartet of bikes slowed. Charlie looked behind them, then dropped back to zigzag across the road. Barney and Monica managed the same awkward look around their packs. Aside from a few clumps of junkies stretching themselves awake, the road was empty as far back as they could see. There was no sign of the big outsider.

‘Damn it,’ muttered Barney. ‘Move.’

‘He might just be—’

‘He’s not,’ said their leader. ‘We all know it. Let’s put some distance between us and whatever took him.’

The four of them bent over their handlebars and the bikes skimmed down Wilshire.

* * *

They’d been going for almost an hour when Monica saw it. They’d passed the museums and were well into Beverly Hills when something in the other direction flitted through the corner of her eye. It was just a quick shadow. She turned and looked but the only thing on the cross street were a few clumps of junkies. They were reeling, as if something had whipped by too quickly for them to react.

Barney saw her turn her head. ‘What?’

‘There’s something a block or so up,’ she said. ‘I think it’s following us. Running parallel.’

‘D’you get a good look at it?’

She shook her head. ‘Dark and fast. That’s about it.’

Charlie pulled up. He let go of the handlebars and jerked one thumb to the north. ‘You guys saw it, too?’

‘I did,’ said Monica. ‘He didn’t.’

Barney nodded at Charlie. ‘What’d you see?’

Charlie shrugged. ‘Dark. Hunched over. Might’ve been a big junkie, the way some of ‘em kind of bend over like that.’

Barney thought about it. ‘Could it’ve been somebody on a bike?’

The round-faced man shrugged again. ‘Maybe. I just got a really quick glimpse.’ He eased back on the pedals and drifted back into position.

‘Might be Jay,’ said Monica.

‘Yeah,’ said Barney. ‘He’s probably just playing a great joke on us.’

‘Better than thinking it’s a junkie on a bicycle.’

Barney shook his head. She could hear the whisk of his beard on his chest even over the quiet chittering of the bike chains. ‘It’s not Jay,’ said Barney. ‘I think someone’s hunting us.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I’ve put a couple things togeth—LOOK OUT!’

The junkie lunged. Monica had drifted too close to the cars on the side of the road, and Barney had seen the twitching figure moments before she did. Threads of saliva streamed from the gaunt man’s mouth as he knocked her off the bike.

Monica landed on the pack and threw her arm up. She wedged her forearm under the junkie’s chin so the only way it could grab her was to throttle itself on her arm. One hand grabbed her shoulder and shirt and bra strap, tangling it up in one knotted mess. The other one grabbed at her cheek and she felt its thumb catch on her ear.

Charlie skidded to a stop and let his bike clatter to the pavement. Barney swung his around and brought up the big shotgun. Chit swung her leg off her bike and was charging forward.

Monica drove her other fist up. With the junkie on top of her, she couldn’t grab the P90 strapped to her chest or her pistol. Drool splattered on her face. She pressed her lips together and clenched her eyes shut.

Charlie slammed the stock of his rifle into the junkie’s skull. The infected man turned to growl at him and caught the second blow in the face. His nose ruptured with a sound like an egg breaking and gushed blood onto Monica’s shirt. He staggered back and Charlie swung the rifle again. It knocked the junkie off her and sent it rolling back.

The junkie twisted back to his feet as soon as he shook off the strike. He charged forward again. This time the man howled and gnashed his teeth. He bit his own tongue and blood frothed on his lips.

Charlie shot him in the chest. The M4 barked once, then again when the junkie took another two steps forward. The infected man dropped to the ground, his chest a mess of blood. He flailed on the ground for a minute, and his hands stretched out to grab at Charlie’s boots.

An orchestra of hoots and cries came from down the street. ‘Hell,’ said Barney. ‘I wish you hadn’t shot him.’

Charlie took a breath and let it whistle out. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said.

The sound of distant footfalls echoed between the buildings. Barney saw eight or nine junkies charging down the road, just over four blocks away. Three more joined them as they ran through an intersection. He looked at the two women. ‘Tell me you’re ready to go,’ he said.

Chit had washed most of the drool and blood away from Monica’s face. She rinsed the last of it away and emptied her canteen on the blood-soaked shirt. Monica wiped her face with her sleeve and opened her eyes. ‘Good as we’re going to get,’ she said.

The junkies were two blocks away when they got back on the bikes and leaned over the handlebars. The infected chased the outsiders for almost half a mile. Then one of their own, a young woman, fell and snapped an ankle. They forgot the four bicycles and went for the easy meal. Her screams didn’t last long.

Monica was just breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it again. A quick movement down an alley. It was almost like catching a glimpse of her own reflection. Almost, but just off enough that she knew it wasn’t.

‘It’s still following us,’ she told Barney. She jerked her head to the north. ‘Whatever it is, it waited for us.’

He straightened up in his seat for a moment and looked off to the side. ‘I told you, it’s not an it,’ he said.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ she said. ‘I got a bit distracted back there. What is it then?’

‘You sure you want to know?’

She nodded. He bent over the handlebars for a few moments and collected his thoughts. When he spoke he didn’t look at her.

‘I think that whoever it is probably has a really nice rifle. Something that’s a passable sniper weapon, but would still work if you got cornered. Probably with a high-end suppressor on it, too, or we’d’ve seen and heard a lot of gunshots last night.’

Monica nodded. ‘Makes sense.’

They’d reached Westwood. It was all downhill from here. They swerved around a pack of crouching junkies and heard them howl with frustration. The bikes soared down the street, building up more and more speed.

He mirrored her nod. ‘So, where’ve we seen a nice, high-end collection of guns lately?’

She glanced down at the P90 slung across her chest. ‘The off—’

They heard a clatter of metal behind them. Barney glanced back and slammed on his brakes. Monica and Chit did the same.

Charlie’d fallen off his bike. He was on his back, flailing. Monica’s first thought was that he looked kind of like a cockroach, and that wasn’t much of a leap for Charlie. As soon as she thought it, she saw the drops of blood spraying from his mouth. The red was that bright, even a dozen yards away.

He tried to sit up and twenty feet away they could see the twisted shape of his throat. Charlie grabbed at his neck and croaked out some air. He flailed some more when he couldn’t take any in. He wheezed and fell back on the pavement, clutching his throat.