Vengeance (Twenty-Five Percent Book 3) (24 page)

Claire hadn’t moved. She stared at him, her eyes wide. Then she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please.”

Sam wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. “I have to. I can save you.”

She pulled back and looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. “Then I’m coming with you.”

He shook his head. “You can help protect them. And I can’t do this if I don’t know you’re safe.”

“No, Sam...”

“I have to do this.”

Before she could say anything more, he pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering for a moment against her warm, soft skin. Then he stepped back to the door. With one last look at Claire, he stepped out into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind him.

Out of the infirmary, the noise from the horde was much louder. The sound of moans and shuffling feet echoed from the walls around him, the whole building seeming to vibrate with it. Sam fought an overwhelming desire to go back inside. Closing his eyes, he moved his head slowly back and forth, trying to determine which direction the eaters were coming from, and found it was louder to his right. Ignoring the thundering of his heart, he headed in that direction.

It took less than half a minute to find the eaters. He rounded a corner and there they were, filling the corridor ahead of him from wall to wall, a mass of vacant eyes and bloodstained lips.

Sam swallowed against his dry mouth and lifted a hand, waving. “Hello.”

Erupting in desperate moans, the horde surged towards him.

It took Darren twenty minutes to get back to the hotel.

For most of those twenty minutes, folded up in the cramped car, he thought about leaving. Just driving away and never looking back. Where to he didn’t care, so long as it was somewhere else. And yet he kept heading for the hotel. It felt like he didn’t have any choice in the matter. Chester had told him to go back to Boot, so that was what he was going to do.

He’d half expected Boot’s helicopter to be gone. His boss had said he wanted to be there for the final push, probably to stride confidently into the facility and make some grandiose speech to anyone there forced to listen. But it still sat in the car park, like some giant black insect waiting for the day to warm up before it flew off to wreak havoc. Darren parked a little way from it and extricated himself from the small car, relieved to be able to stretch his muscles.

Dim lights were visible through the wreckage of the front doors and he entered that way, not bothering to pull the doors open when he could simply walk through the empty frame. Candles were dotted around the foyer.

Jessup was on watch and Darren felt a flash of anger at the sight of his white eyes. He shook it off. Not Jessup’s fault. Save the anger for the eaters.

“Bish? What on earth happened to you?”

Darren looked down at himself for the first time since the crash. He’d discarded his jacket somewhere during his flight from the horde and his white shirt was ripped and hanging loose, stained with dirt and blood, some of it his own. He touched his fingertips to the area of his head aching more than the rest and felt his hair crusted with dried blood he hadn’t noticed before.

“Where’s Boot?” he said, ignoring the question.

“Dining room.”

Darren went in that direction. Pinner emerged and started to speak just as he reached the doors, but Darren pushed past him without giving him a look.

Boot was standing by the table in front of the window.

Valerie, as usual, was close by, sitting on a dining chair to one side.
Valerie
. Darren knew she and Chester had a thing going, but he didn’t know how serious it was. He had no idea how she would react to the news of his death. Not that it mattered. Whatever she felt, she wouldn’t show it. She was as loyal to Boot as Chester had been.

Boot looked up, frowning. “Mr Frobisher? What happened to you? You haven’t reported in in over half an hour. The success of this campaign is dependent on a precise strategy and I can’t direct my forces without knowing every detail of what is going on. I was forced to send more men in to check on you.”

Darren swallowed, nervous and despising himself for it. Why did the man in front of him inspire such an emotional response in everyone around him?

“We crashed,” Darren said, pulling himself up to his full height. “Something across the street, they’d strung wires or something. We didn’t see it.”

Boot frowned. “My helicopter?”

“Destroyed.”

Boot’s fingers contracted around the edge of the map of the city spread across the table, causing the paper to scrunch and crackle. “And what effort did you make to keep control of the horde you were leading?”

The horde. His precious eater army.
That’s what he asks about.
“I couldn’t do anything. I barely got away alive. Harris and Fitzwilliam died in the crash.”

Boot returned his attention to the map. “Fortunately for you, Vincent found the eaters and is now at the facility. The plan is still on course.”

“What about Chester?” Valerie was looking at Darren, fear on her face. “Wasn’t he with you?”

Darren suddenly felt bad for her. “We had to run. The horde was everywhere. He didn’t make it.”

She stared at him. A tear trickled down her cheek. “Chester’s dead?” she whispered.

Again Darren saw the alley, the eaters, Chester covered with blood, fighting to the end. He clenched his shaking hands. “I’m sorry.”

Slowly, Valerie’s gaze moved to Boot.

Their boss was still studying the map. From what Darren knew, Boot had known Chester Ferguson for over twenty years. Chester had been by his side through his entire career, always loyal, never wavering.

“That is unfortunate,” Boot said, finally looking up. “Mr Ferguson was a loyal man.” The words sounded flat. There was no compassion, no concern, no emotion at all in his expression.

“Loyal?” Valerie said, her face now soaked with tears. “He stuck with you for twenty years and that’s all you have to say? That’s all you care about?”

Darren’s jaw dropped. He’d never once heard Valerie say even the smallest thing against Boot, not even behind his back.

She rose from her chair. “You don’t feel anything, do you? You really are a monster.”

Boot’s face hardened. “Ms Honeycutt, I am aware you had feelings for Mr Ferguson so I will overlook...”

“I
loved
him!” she shouted. “I loved him and you killed him.”

Darren started towards her. For her own safety, he needed to get her out of the room.

He was still ten feet away when her hand darted beneath her jacket and pulled out a small revolver, raising it towards Boot.

A gunshot cracked.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

The revolver spilled from Valerie’s fingers, bouncing onto the carpet. A red mark blossomed on the front of her white blouse.

Boot lowered his silver pistol.

Darren ran forward, catching Valerie as she fell and lowering her to the floor. She stared up at him for a few seconds before her eyes fluttered closed and her body slumped in his arms. He touched two fingertips to her neck, feeling for a pulse. He didn’t find one.

At the sound of a sharp sigh, he looked up. Boot had turned back to the map. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but his hands held the table in a vice-like grip.

“After more than ten years of service, I never would have expected that of her. Such a disappointment.” He shook his head and straightened. “Please remove the body, Mr Frobisher, and then gather a crew for my helicopter. This debacle has gone on long enough. I need to take over. Oh, and get yourself some clean clothes.”

Darren opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Silently, he lifted Valerie’s body and carried it from the room.

For street after street, Alex and Micah ran, the horde never far behind them.

The helicopter flew back and forth, sometimes following them, sometimes shepherding the horde. Over and over they tried to turn, to head in a different direction, but every time the roads would be blocked with more eaters. They were being herded in one direction – east.

They stopped at another corner, hiding beneath the awning in front of a butcher’s shop. The emphatic buzz of the helicopter swooped in, searching for them.

“If we split up,” Alex said between pants for oxygen, “you could go on to East Town and warn them, get them out.”

“Get them out to where? And what about you?”

“Boot wants me. He’ll follow me.”

Micah shook his head. “Haven’t we been through this already? He wants both of us, and he won’t let you go any other direction than where we’re already headed.”

“He’ll have no choice if I stop.”

“Stop? What do you mean stop?”

The moaning of the horde was getting louder. They’d have to move again soon.

“I mean if I get into one of these houses, keep the horde here long enough for you to...”

“No. Absolutely not.” Micah’s tone brooked no argument.

That didn’t stop Alex from arguing. “I can’t lead all these eaters back there. They’ll be trapped. If they die because of me...”

“It won’t be because of you, it will be because of Boot. Besides which, even if you did stay and sacrifice yourself here, what makes you think the hordes aren’t already there?” He looked into the sky. “We’ve only got one chopper following us. Where is the other one?”

Alex followed his gaze. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, Micah was right. Boot was pushing them in one direction and there was nothing he could do about it. He and Micah couldn’t do this by themselves. They needed help.

Eaters poured into the road behind them, their moans escalating when they spotted them. Without another word, Alex and Micah started off again.

Emergency escape cars had been left dotted around the city, unlocked and with the keys inside in case anyone needed a quick getaway. Quite by accident, Alex and Micah came across one of them after another five minutes of running. Alex dropped into the passenger seat in relief. It was only just over an hour since he’d woken and he was already exhausted.

A few minutes later they were back at East Town and pulling up to the barrier of cars.

“They’re coming,” Alex called as they got out. “Thousands. Boot’s bringing just about every eater in the city here.”

Janie and Scott reached down, taking his hands and pulling him over the top then doing the same for Micah.

“We know,” Janie said. “The spotters have been keeping an eye on them.” She looked grim. “We’re surrounded. There’s no way out.”

Alex shook his head, as if it wouldn’t be true if he didn’t believe it. “There has to be...”

“They’re everywhere. But even if we could get away, where would we go? We’re better off staying put. At least here we have some hope of defending ourselves. Out in the open we’d be eater fodder.”

“How did it go at the bridge?” Micah said.

Janie shrugged. “We got maybe a few hundred. Not enough. Bloody helicopter just led the rest away. Until we can stop Boot’s men, they’ll just keep coming back.”

Bates jogged up to them from the other end of the street and handed Alex and Micah a rifle each and three magazines of ammunition.

Alex stared at the tiny amount of bullets. “Is this it?”

“It’s all any of us have,” Bates said. “So make it count.”

Alex thought about the thousands of eaters they’d been running from. “It won’t be enough.”

Scott rejoined Penny further along the barrier and Janie jumped down from the cars, joining Bates in encouraging the rest of the defenders. From what Alex heard, their inspirational speech consisted of something along the lines of, “Buck up, no-one lives forever.”

Roughly thirty people were here; Brian, Scott and Penny, some Survivors, Bates’ people, a handful of others from around the city who had volunteered to help. They were the last defence and there were so few of them.

How had it come to this? All Alex wanted to do was live through the outbreak and keep his friends safe, now Boot wanted to take over the city, use the lab to perfect his work, and give the power to create eater soldiers to anyone who could pay. And apparently the few of them were the only ones standing in his way.

What would happen when they were gone? Would Boot let the two thousand or so survivors of Sarcester now hiding from the hordes live? Or would he add them to his mindless, ravenous army? What about Alex’s friends? Would Boot punish them just for their association? What would happen to Hannah now she was a Survivor? When work on the virus was complete, would Boot regard her as an asset or a threat?

“It’s not over yet,” Micah said, watching him.

Alex slumped back against the barrier and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I think your optimism is wildly misplaced.”

Micah sighed. “Maybe.”

When he failed to say anything more, Alex frowned at him. “You’re usually the glass half full one. Where’s the pep talk?”

“It’s too early in the morning for pep talks, and I’m too tired to think of one. You’re right, we’re screwed.”

Alex huffed out a breath. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “No no no, this is where you tell me there is always hope, that we have amazing luck, and that we’re going to find a way to survive.”

“I don’t have it in me anymore,” Micah said with a slow shake of his head. “I think it’s time to admit it. We’ve failed and we’re going to die. It’s over. That’s all there is to it. Why lie to ourselves? We might as well just give up.”

“What are you talking about? We can’t just give up! We have to keep...” Alex stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Wait a minute, are you using reverse psychology on me?”

The corners of Micah’s mouth twitched. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Alex planted his hands onto his hips, glaring. “I am not four years old. Stop trying to manipulate me.” Suddenly realising he probably looked like an infuriated four-year-old, he dropped his arms to his sides.

Micah’s shoulders were shaking with restrained laughter.

Alex turned away. “Don’t speak to me. Just... don’t.”

They stood for a few minutes in silence. Micah seemed lost in thought. Alex rested his chin on his arms on the barrier and thought about Hannah, Sam, Leon and the others at the underground lab. What was happening? Did the horde simply disburse when the helicopter crashed, or did Boot find some other way to get to them? Alex wished he knew, but the communication system Bates had created, while extremely useful, wasn’t powerful enough to get through the layers of earth and concrete surrounding the underground facility. Alex longed to be there to protect his friends. To protect Hannah.

Seeing her again when he’d thought she was dead, the relief and joy he’d felt, made him realise how much he liked her, more than he would have expected given the relatively little time they’d spent together. And kissing her... just thinking about it sent tingles of excitement zinging through his nervous system.

She was all right. She had to be.

He shifted his feet on the car bonnet, trying to roll the stiffness from his shoulders and the crick from his neck.

“The Scottish Highlands,” Micah said.

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide the best place to live to avoid eaters. It has to be the Highlands of Scotland. Hardly any people there to begin with so it stands to reason there’d be fewer eaters. Also, it would take so long for any hordes to get up there they’d have starved to death before they reached you.”

Alex pushed away from the car barrier and faced Micah, leaning one elbow on the car next to him. “There’s a hole in your logic, namely the reasons no one lives in the highlands. It’s flipping freezing, when it’s not snowing it’s raining, and the only thing up there is grass and the occasional deer. What on earth would you eat?”

“Grass and the occasional deer?”

“Ooh, yummy.”

“Where do you suggest then?”

Alex pursed his lips and stared into the sky, thinking. “Cornwall.”

Micah screwed up his nose. “Too touristy.”

“You’re not going there to mingle with the natives and absorb the culture. It’s warm and it’s surrounded by sea so you only have to worry about eaters coming from one direction.” A thought came to him. “What about living on St. Michael’s Mount? It’s got a castle and everything.”

“And twice a day the tide goes out and any eater can just stroll across the causeway.”

“I’m sure you could set up gates to stop them getting onto the island, then when the tide comes in again it washes any eaters away.” 

Micah nodded slowly. “It might work.”

“Heads up, people,” Bates shouted. “Here they come.”

Alex picked up his rifle and turned to face across the barrier. “Or we could just stay here and continue our fight to save the world.”

“Holed up in a castle,” Micah said, training his rifle towards the steadily increasing sound of moaning. “We’d get bored.”

The leading edge of the horde came into view around a corner. Alex remembered the last time he’d watched a crowd of people coming around that corner. Back then it had just been Micah leading a common or garden mob.

Those were the days.

“Oh yeah,” he said, “this is
much
more fun.”