The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide (35 page)

"At least two inside," Al said.

Riley kept her ears focused on the front door even as one of the shadows seemed to lengthen. Her head tilted back but there was still nothing above her. Beneath the frantic beat of her heart she felt something new growing within her, something new slithering forth to fight against the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she shifted her hold on the gun and her jaw clenched.

She was tired of being hunted, but most of all she was tired of feeling weak. She refused to be beaten down anymore, refused to cower in the shadows. If these were her last few minutes on earth she was going to go down fighting and she was going to take a few more of these things with her.

Anger slithered through her as she took a step away from John and Al. "Riley," John hissed.

She ignored him though as she searched the shadows with her gun raised. She'd shoot, she knew it. Yesterday, she would have hesitated to pull the trigger. She
had
hesitated to pull it on Lee; she wouldn't hesitate now.

She'd never hesitate again.

Her teeth began to ache from clenching them so fiercely but even still she kept her attention focused on the shadows as she waited for something to leap out at her. The beam flashed across her and hit the back wall. A snakelike hiss filled the air seconds before Carl started firing. Riley spun as a howl erupted through the building.

She was pissed but even so her throat burned as the howl became a low moan. She found she couldn't look at the person as Carl strode forward and pulled the trigger one more time to silence the pathetic creature. Her ears were ringing, but even so she heard a muted tick, a tick that she couldn't place at first and then she heard the distinct sound of something on metal.

Her eyes shot up to the ceiling again but she instantly knew she was wrong as she turned her head to the right. The beam played over John's face, highlighting the dark scruff lining his cheeks and chin as he stepped closer to her. Carl returned to them and handed the flashlight to Al as he briefly checked the bullets in his gun.

He took the light back and bent to place it on the ground so that it was aimed under the truck again. "It's not under there," she whispered.

"No," he agreed. "It's not."

The front doors had gone eerily silent and she was finally able to pinpoint the tick sound as the front bar having been removed from the door. "How…?"

She broke the question off as she realized how. One of the ones inside had removed the bar to let its friends in. Al took a couple of steps toward the truck and moved at an angle so that he could see into the window. Relief filled her as his shoulders slumped and he gave a brief nod to assure them Rochelle was ok. There was little time to feel any happiness though as John let out a loud grunt and was knocked forward.

Riley lifted her gun as she took aim behind him. She'd expected to find something on top of him, attacking him, but there was nothing behind him except…

Her forehead furrowed as she stared at the thing lying on the ground and John rubbed at his back. "What is that?" she muttered.

"I don't know," John said. "But it hit me in the back."

Riley took a step closer and put her foot on the round object that had been heaved at John. The glassy eyes rolled in the head, first toward the right and then up beneath the stunted eyelids with feathery lashes. It took her a minute to realize it wasn't a real human head, but a
doll's
head. A doll head that was so realistic that she swore the blue eyes were looking at her as they relentlessly stared in her direction. Tufts of scraggly blond hair clung in patches to its plastic skull and stood out in odd directions from the dirt streaked face.

A feeling like eels twisting through her stomach filled her as she was hit by an image of Lee. Of blond hair and blue eyes that had been staring at her just as relentlessly. Blue eyes that had been unfocused and empty as he'd sat on top of her, and clawed at her with ruthless determination.

Tears burned her eyes; she shuddered as she pulled her foot away from the doll and glanced around her again.
What corner of Hell have we wandered into?

John's mouth was agape as he met her eyes over top of the hideous doll head. Riley half expected more plastic bits to come at them from the shadows, or for a little girl to come forward to reclaim the doll part she'd just tossed away.

Just when she'd thought she couldn't be any more creeped out, couldn't see anything more macabre than everything else they'd encountered, someone threw a freaking doll head at them.
There would never be a limit,
she realized,
there would never be a ceiling
. There would never be an end to the horror and terror and fighting and
death
.

This was only the beginning, this wasn't the end and this wasn't the middle. It was the
beginning
.

She had killed a man, she had killed
Lee
and there was no taking that back. There was a part of her that had changed when she'd pulled the trigger that first time; there was a part of her that had
died
when she'd pulled it the second time. However she'd pull it again and again and again if it meant surviving for just one minute more in a world that didn't seem to want them in it anymore.

She'd killed Lee, her friend, Xander's friend and her last real connection to her old life. The enormity of it swelled up around her and she couldn't breathe as the grief threatened to swallow her. It was the worst possible time but she could feel an impending meltdown working through her system as her hand trembled on the gun.

There was no guarantee she would find Xander and Bobby, and even if she did find them, how could they possibly forgive her for what she'd done? There had been no other option, she knew that, the people around her knew that, but Xander and Bobby hadn't been there, they couldn't possibly know that she'd done everything she could to try and save Lee.

They'd never forgive her. Then she realized that it wasn't them that wouldn't forgive her, it was
herself
. She had to forgive herself and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to do that. Her hand fluttered to her stomach as she tried for the thousandth time to think of something she could have done different and all she came up with was nothing. Simply nothing.

There had been no other option, no other choice, except for her own demise. It may be a crappy, crappy world right now but as much as she would like to take back the events of the past day, she couldn't say that she wished it had been her instead. Maybe tomorrow, or a week from now, she would be wishing it had been her, but not today and not tonight.

She took a deep breath as she straightened her shoulders.
Not tonight
, she told herself sternly.
Not tonight
.

She was just forcing herself to focus on the world again when John grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her forward. Something burst from the shadows with all the speed and screeching intensity of a banshee as it barreled down upon them. She stumbled and nearly fell to her knees as John spun and started firing at the woman.

Riley managed to right herself and turn as the woman's leg kicked back from the bullet John placed in her kneecap. She had the hysterical thought that they really needed some target practice as the woman continued to claw her way across the floor toward them. John stumbled forward and fired one final shot into the woman's heart that caused her to flop lifelessly onto the floor.

Riley breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed herself up from the floor and wiped the dirt from her hands and butt. She lifted her head to enjoy this small reprieve but it was abruptly cut short as her eyes returned to the chains and the small human rapidly scurrying down them.

A scream of warning tore up her throat but before she could let it out the child leapt from the ceiling and onto Carl's back. Carl slapped at the young girl and spun in a crazy circle before crashing into the back of the truck. The child adhered to him though, unwilling to be beat free as it began to tear at his back.

Riley saw red as the coppery scent of blood filled the air and the owner of the doll head continued to cling to Carl.

CHAPTER 28

Carl,

Somewhere in Mass.

"Argh!"

It was the only noise Carl could make as he stumbled back beneath the weight of the thing clinging to his back. It was small, whoever or
whatever
it was, was tiny as its spindly legs clamped against his side with a tenacity that seemed out of place considering the thinness of its limbs.

It looked as if whoever was on top of him had been playing in the mud for hours before running through a briar patch as its feet kicked against his stomach. Diminutive fists beat against his back before curling into his hair to jerk on it. It released his hair to dig its fingers into his skin. A startled shout escaped him as he felt his flesh being pulled back like it was a banana peel.

Child or not, he'd be damned if
he
was going to be skinned alive.

He tried not to be disturbed by the fact that his hands wrapped all the way around the monsters entire thigh as he seized hold of its legs and propelled himself backward towards the truck. A loud grunt escaped him and his teeth clamped down on his tongue as they crashed into the vehicle.

The monster child squealed as its fingers dug deeper into his flesh. More blood spilled down his back to ruin his hated Hawaiian shirt. Fists beat against him as the child adamantly expressed its displeasure over being pinned against the truck. Carl stepped forward and then thrust himself forcefully into the metal doors again.

His back screamed in protest, his knees nearly buckled as the impact staggered him forward. Most days he didn't think of himself as old. He didn't always recognize the face staring back at him in the mirror, but inside his own mind, he didn't feel old. That didn't mean his body didn't feel its age most mornings when he climbed out of bed, and it most certainly felt its age as he was battering it against the truck's metal doors.

A spasm in his back nearly drove him to his knees. His hand hit the ground as he struggled to remain on his feet, if he went down he knew there would be no getting back up. Tiny fingers dug deeper into his flesh, tearing it open from the base of his skull to the middle of his back.

He'd been trying not to cry out but a painful scream ripped from his lungs as fire slid down his back and fresh blood spilled forth.

His right knee hit the ground as John jumped forward and seized hold of the child. It continued to cling to him though as Carl was pulled back and forth with John's jerking motions. He tried to get an elbow up to jab it into the child but he couldn't quite reach it.

John cursed loudly and Carl heard a loud thwack but the child continued to hold onto the back of his torn shirt. Riley took a step forward but Al seized hold of her arm and pulled her back. Carl saw the glint of the gun as Al stepped next to John. The child released a strange hissing scream that reminded Carl of a teapot at full boil, and had images of forked tongues racing through his mind, as Al pulled the trigger.

He was pretty sure one of his eardrums ruptured but it was worth it not to hear that hideous scream anymore. He put his hand to his left ear as the child's body slid to the side and sprawled onto the garage floor beside him. Carl forgot all about his ringing ear, and the blood trailing down his back, as he stared into the sightless brown eyes of what was once an innocent little girl. A single trickle of blood trailed down her left temple to spill onto the ground beneath her. She couldn't have been any older than seven or eight and she'd either been very active, or underfed, before all of this had happened if the small size of her body was any indication.

Something other than his back began to hurt as he forced his gaze away from the fragile body with the surprising strength of a full grown man. The tears in his eyes, which he quickly blinked away, had nothing to do with his throbbing back as he tried to rise to his feet again.

"Stay down." Al rested a hand gently on his left shoulder. "Just stay down for now."

Carl's knees hit the ground as his body gave way to Al's suggestion. He'd love to stay down for awhile, to take a break and simply
relax
. Instead his body remained alert for any more danger lurking within the shadows of the building, anything else outside of the open doors.

"Are there more of them?" John asked.

"I think that was the last one," Al answered. Even so they all remained silent and watchful; Carl counted down the seconds as he waited to hear another person scurrying through the shadows. "I think we're good."

"I'll get the bandages," Riley said hesitatingly.

"The door," Al said. "Get the door first."

Carl turned his head to watch as Riley and John hurried toward the front of the barn. "How bad is it?" he asked as he heard the clink of the pole being slid back into place.

Al's hand clenched on his shoulder and then he patted it briefly. "It's not pretty and you won't enjoy riding in a vehicle for awhile, but you'll survive."

"That's reassuring," he muttered as he fumbled for his pack of butts and lit one.

"Is everyone ok?" Rochelle demanded as the truck door opened and light briefly flared into the building.

"Everyone will be fine," Riley assured her.

He recognized John's work boots as he stepped before him and knelt down. He held out a couple of aspirin and what looked like some antibiotics. "I have some stronger stuff if you want it."

Carl shook his head, he may regret the decision later but for now he wasn't willing to take anything stronger than an aspirin. He took the pills and bottle of water from John and quickly swallowed them.

"Carl…"

"Not one word about werewolves, do you hear me? Not one
fucking
word!"

John grinned at him but the smile didn't reach his eyes as he rocked back on his heels. "No werewolves," he promised. "I just want to make sure you're ok."

John's eyes gleamed with worry and Carl noted that there were lines under them that hadn't been present before all of this had started. As Carl looked around the room he understood why John wasn't going to start in on the werewolf talk again. Al had stepped away to stand by Rochelle and though they were both strong and could take care of themselves, Al
was
older and Rochelle was still just a child. John was a capable man, but though he'd always tried to act tough, he wasn't remorseless or ruthless.