The Truth is Contagious (The Contagium Series Book 4) (45 page)

I took a deep breath. Together, we twisted
the knob and stepped out. The city was alive with birds. Weeds grew
along the sidewalks and into the street. The strap from the quiver
dug into my shoulder, the rubber coating sticking to my sweaty
skin. I debated stopping and digging my button up shirt out of the
pack, but it was all the way down at the bottom and not worth the
effort.

“It’s quiet,” Hayden said, stepped off the
curb. Grit crunched under his feet. Dust coated the windows of
cars, stopped randomly along the road with doors ajar. The skeletal
remains of a woman rested against the steering wheel of a
Volkswagen.

“Seriously?” I said, pulling the ball chain
of Hayden’s dog tags out from under the quiver strap.

“What?”

“Never say that unless you want the opposite
to happen.”

Hayden shrugged. “I almost want it to. This
is unnerving.”

I bit my lip and looked around. “It kind of
is.” The fronts of businesses were boarded up with CLOSED spray
painted on them in big letters. “I thought New York was doing
well.”

“Not all of it, apparently.” Hayden held his
knife at his side. “I’m starting to think the whole thing was a lie
to cover up the preparations.”

“It makes sense,” I agreed. We made it
another few blocks into Midtown before stopping. My heart thumped
in my ears. My fingers tightened around the bow and I licked my
lips, looking at the blackened buildings and broken windows. “What
happened?” I asked out loud.

“Bomb,” Hayden said, voice tight. The word
was like an icy dagger to the heart. “This place has been bombed.
That’s why there’s no one around.”

I turned my head up to Hayden, eyes wide.
“They blocked off the exists and bombed Manhattan.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Fuck.” He shook his
head, staring at the mangled body that had been blown halfway out a
second story window. “We’re still blocks away from ground
zero.”

“What kind of bomb?” I asked. Were we at risk
for radiation? Would it mutate the zombies into something worse
than what they already were?

Hayden shook his head. “Not sure. Nothing
nuclear,” he said, sensing my fear. We stepped over twisted metal.
“I’m assuming the waves weren’t meant to hit Wards Island either.”
He tipped his head. “It’s fucked up to think like this, but if it
were me, I’d plant several small bombs around the city. It would
ensure destruction without damaging the shelter.”

“Not fucked up at all,” I said. “It’s what I
would do to. Kill the survivors who could fight back. It kept them
from turning into zombies,” I added with a grim smile. “I’m
thinking our chances of working things out are slim to none.”

Hayden agreed. “And our chances of getting
shot on sight…”

“Shut up,” I said, fear rippling through me.
I jumped onto the hood of a car, needing to get around a pile of
wreckage. Bits of brick from ruined buildings, overturned cars, and
a broken bus stop shelter blocked our way. When we made it over, I
stopped, laughing.

“What on earth is funny?” Hayden asked.

I pointed to the intersection. “The street
signs are gone. I have no idea where we are.”

Hayden put his hand on his forehead, wiping
away sweat. “Neither do I.” He got the map of Manhattan out of his
back pocket. “This is useless.” He let the map float to the ground.
“We need to go northeast. We’ll find the island eventually.”

“It’s bound to stick out among this mess,” I
said. Hayden and I stayed close together as we picked our way down
the rubble filled streets. Every now and then we came across a
body, strew across the street or huddled behind a wall. I inspected
one as we walked past.

He had died with his arms wrapped around
another person, shielding them from the blast. It was a moot
effort, but his last actions were heroic. Unwelcome images filled
my head, reminding me of Hayden, throwing his body over mine when I
fired that arrow at Cutter’s car in Eastmoore.

He was so willing to die for my sake…and that
terrified me.

* * *

Time’s Square hadn’t been anything
spectacular in years. The Depression reduced the entertainment
industry to almost nothing. Movie posters and advertisements were
something nobody could afford. I expected it to be empty, with
peeling posters and empty store fronts.

I didn’t expect it to be ground zero.

“Come on,” Hayden said, holding out his hand.
We booth stood, transfixed, eyes running up and down the tall
buildings. Entire parts had been blown off. Everything was charred,
blackened beyond recognition. Parts of a taxi lay in jumbled
tangles of metal along the street. I blinked and took a step.
Hayden shook himself and followed.

We went around the block, stumbling over
ruins. The debris slowed us down. The sun would be down soon,
causing a desperate anxiety to fuel us forward. There was nowhere
safe to stay.

We were forced to veer off the road and cut
through an alley. Immediately, we realized it was a bad idea.
Bodies had been piled, left to rot.

“They died after the explosions,” Hayden
stated. His hand slipped into mine. “Someone killed them after they
made it through this war zone.” His grip tightened as his anger
grew.

I didn’t know what to say. The truth was
worse than the lie. Worse than anything I could have thought of.
Suddenly, I longed for the days at the compound where we worried
about gathering supplies. Life still sucked, but things were
simpler, more black and white. It was the healthy versus the
infected with no political shit thrown in.

There was no going back. Not after what we’d
seen, not after all we knew. I turned around, tugging on Hayden’s
hand. We picked our way through a building, ducking under fallen
beams. I hurried to get out, afraid one gust of wind could knock
the thing over.

We continued north east, using the quickly
sinking sun as a guide. I had lost count of how many blocks we had
gone, but judging by the lessening rubble, we were more than a few
away from Time’s Square.

“What about there,” Hayden said pointing to
the remnants of an art museum. “It might be a good place to stay
the night.”

I nodded. The front had been damaged from the
bombs, as had everything around here. We needed off the streets
before night came and this place seemed as good as any. We were in
the middle of the street when I suddenly stopped, realizing at once
that everything was wrong.

The birds, that had been busy singing and
flying around the city in the pale dusk light, had disappeared.
Eyes pressed into my back, running a cold finger down my spine. I
grabbed an arrow and whirled around. I couldn’t see into the
shadows but I knew it was there.

Hayden moved, putting his back to mine. We
circled around, waiting for the crazies to come out of the dark. My
chest rose and fell and my fingers trembled. I took a deep breath,
forcing myself to focus.

A low hiss emanated from the dark shadows. I
pulled the arrow back, looking, waiting. But I couldn’t see
anything. I didn’t know where the crazy was.

Then one of them screamed, the drawn out war
cry reverberating through the ruined city. They moved as one, their
presence suffocating, and the dark mass of crazies crept forward.
Another let out a harrowing yell. Then another…and another, until
the entire group of crazies was shouting and yelling.

I wanted out of there. Now. They were
everywhere, slinking back in the shadows unseen. How many
surrounded us? Did we even have a fighting chance? The battle calls
were terrifying. Each screech curdled my blood, and I struggled to
keep breathing. I stepped back until the quiver pressed into
Hayden. The crazies kept screaming and growing, waiting to make
their move until we were fully paralyzed with horror.

Hayden’s hand wrapped around my wrist right
as the mob lurched from the shadows.

“Run, Riss. Run.”

I didn’t pay attention to where we were
going. I just ran, making sure Hayden was next to me. We sprinted
away from the museum, turning down another street. A crazy,
horribly disfigured from the bombs, jumped down from a building,
landing in front of us. The height from which he jumped would have
splintered bones or hurt enough to cause a normal person to fall to
the ground in agony.

He walked forward, ankles shaking but blind
to the pain, swinging a baseball bat at us. The end had been
wrapped in barbed wire. I slowed to shoot with an arrow.

“Come on,” Hayden yelled, a few paces ahead
of me. He yanked the arrow from the crazy’s chest and turned,
waiting for me to catch up. The pack was behind us, gaining speed.
They knew where they were going, knew how to avoid the pile ups of
broken buildings and overturned cars.

Hayden and I rounded a building. The light
was almost gone and we had no idea where to go…if there was even a
safe place. But we didn’t let that slow us down, not one bit. We
pushed forward, turning down another street. Then I saw it: the
dark outline of trees. The familiarity of nature among this
concrete jungle sent a flash of hope through me. I cut in front of
an overturned park bench and pointed. Hayden, too busy gasping in
air to speak, nodded.

We only slowed enough to jump over the fence.
My feet landed in packed dirt and the smell of the forest brought
instant comfort. Hayden held out the arrow, panting. I took it and
shoved it into the quiver and pushed my shoulders back, trying to
get in as much air as possible.

That few seconds of a reprieve was too much.
The crazies barreled down the street. Hayden straightened up and
extended his hand. I reached out but didn’t take it. There was no
time. We turned, pushing into the dark trees.

The woods were alive with wildlife. I crashed
into a spiderweb, the thin strings sticking to my face and neck. I
desperately pawed at my face as I ran forward. Hayden was a few
feet ahead. He turned to make sure I was ok, taking his eyes off of
what was in front of him.

He collided with a fence, toppling over. I
slowed, boots skidding on fallen leaves. Hayden sprang up in just
seconds. I hadn’t slowed enough. In my haste, the bow got caught on
the fence, causing me to slip off. I landed on my feet but bumped
into Hayden. He dropped his knife.

We stopped, panting. Hayden made a move to
keep going, not bothering to look for his knife in the dark. I
grabbed his arm.

“Listen,” I said, my voice breathy. He looked
behind us. The crazies were still growling, threatening us. But
they hadn’t followed us into the woods.

“They’re not coming after us.” Hayden shook
his head and laughed. “Why the fuck not?”

“I don’t know.” I turned him around, patting
along the pack for the flashlight. “Maybe because they can’t see in
the dark?”

“Maybe.” He picked up his knife when I turned
the flashlight on. “Stay on the path. There might be a map posted
along it.” We took a second to catch our breath before pushing on,
following the path through Central Park. “If we make it to the
other side, Wards Island is almost a straight shot across.”

“Easier said than done, right?”

“I’m sure.”

I hooked my bow over my shoulder. It was
pointless to fire off arrows in the dark. I pulled the machete from
the quiver, keeping it in my right hand. I held the flashlight in
the other, shining it back and forth across the path. I expected
crazies to jump down from the trees, landing on us and tearing us
apart.

We crossed a street and passed a statue of
Shakespeare. Lawn chairs, coolers, and tattered clothing lay strewn
across the path. The remnants of a tent was in a shredded mess a
few feet from us.

“I don’t even want to think about being
trapped inside the city,” Hayden said under his breath. “This place
seems huge but really…”

“I know. Just think of all the places we’ve
been to get food and supplies. They had to have run out so quickly.
How long do you think they lasted?” We passed another ruined camp
site.

“Not long, even if the bombs didn’t go off
right away.”

“I almost hope they had,” I added ruefully,
knowing how twisted that sounded. “It would have ended this
nightmare instantly for a lot of people.”

Hayden only sighed, shaking his head. We
pushed into a jog, wanting to get the hell out of Central Park. The
trees thinned a bit, letting moonlight spill onto the path. Tree
branches snapped. Hayden and I came to a stop. I clicked the
flashlight off, shoving it into the top of the quiver and held up
the machete.

Another branch flew back from someone pushing
through the woods. Then the ground shook and we realized why the
crazies stayed out of Central Park: It was full of zombies.

“This way!” Hayden said and took off down the
path, his head turned to make sure I was right behind him. We tore
down the path, jumping over fallen trees and failed campsites.
Clouds rolled over the moon and suddenly we couldn’t see. I reached
my hand out, feeling for Hayden. My fingers grazed the heavy
pack.

“I don’t hear them,” I huffed. Hayden turned,
his arm out stretched. When he found my arm, he ran his fingers
down it until he held my hand. I laced our fingers, holding onto
him tightly. I had no intention of letting go.

“Not yet,” Hayden whispered. We didn’t dare
turn on the flashlight. Zombies couldn’t see in the dark any better
than we could. Unless they followed the scent or caught sight of
our movements, we were safe…for now.

Silently, we inched along the dark path. Each
step was agonizingly slow. The clouds moved off the moon and
natural light illuminated our way again. But it was brighter this
time. I looked up. There were no leaves on the trees. The faint
smell of burned wood hung in the air. Had a fire ripped through
Central Park?

I didn’t have time to think about it. The
death moans came from deep inside the trees, a ways off the path.
Hayden and I took off again, not stopping until we heard the
lapping of water. Moonlight reflected off a still lake, sparkling
in the calm of the night. It seemed out of place, way too ethereal
in a world filled with walking corpses.