Ballistic: Icarus Series, Book Two (28 page)

Caleb’s curls bounced with his every scampered step. He and his father headed toward the hatch. They stopped when they reached the big, red toolbox that lay next to the end of the tunnel. As soon as Mason turned his back to sift through it, Caleb turned toward us and patted his little legs.

Bella licked my hand and barked softly, then trotted off to the boy’s side. By the time Mason had turned back around, there were two sets of eyes of them staring up at him. He put one hand on his hip and frowned down at them, but it didn’t hold. With another heavy sigh, Mason surrendered. He shook his head and smiled down at Caleb.

“You are definitely your mother’s son,” Mason laughed. He tussled the boy’s curls, then patted Bella’s head, and set to work fastening a large metal plate in place over the closed hatch door.

“Collin, Devon,” Tessa whistled sharply. “Help these poor boys with Ballard.”

“Victor!” A redheaded girl shrieked as she sprinted over. “What the hell happened out there, Tessa?”

“Lurkers happened,” Tessa grumbled. “Is Squints around?”

“I’m sure he’s creeping around here somewhere,” the girl said, staring at Ballard over Tessa’s shoulder. “Is Victor okay?”

An odd-looking man wearing nothing but a battered, tan trench coat and a pair of navy blue sweats shuffled over from the shadows to our left. His sandy colored hair hung in a halo of what looked to be unintended dreadlocks. The matted strands parted across his forehead to reveal the thickest coke-bottle eyeglasses I had ever seen. He dug frantically at the thick wiry stubble that covered his face and eyed the lot of us.

When his oddly magnified beady eyes landed on Zander and me, he cocked his head to the side and took a step toward us. Zander shifted his weight forward reflexively and growled low in his chest. With a curt nod and a grunt, Squints turned his back on us. Either we had passed some kind of test or we no longer mattered.

“Ehh,” he grunted pointing to the shotgun still slung over Tessa’s shoulder. “Mmmm.”

“I know. I know.” Tessa shook her head as she laid the shotgun in his dirty hands. “Believe me; that wasn’t my intent when I liberated it from the shop. Pretty sure it’s garbage now, Squints, but have a look at it anyway, okay? See if you can work your magic.”

The man nodded stiffly and shuffled off. He moved slowly, cradling Tessa’s battered weapon against his chest as if it were a newborn baby.

The other men helped Ty and Jake lay the injured young man across a bank of armless plastic chairs. There was a flurry of activity as people rushed about trying to assess the man’s injuries. Ty and Jake quickly separated themselves from the melee and joined us on the opposite side of the makeshift sickbed.

“Lurkers did this? But how? How is that possible? You cleared the tunnels days ago.” She clutched at her throat. “Tessa. Was he—is he?”

“Calm down, Tamsen,” Tessa shot her a sideways glance. “He wasn’t bitten. Just a bit banged up.”

“Thank God,” Tamsen sighed. Her hand slid down as if to protect her heart. “I don’t think I can go through that ag—.”

“Where’s Doyle?” Tessa growled cutting her off.

“Last time I saw him, he was headed to the unisex washroom,” Tamsen said, her eyes landing on me as if I had suddenly appeared. “Who are these people?”

“Friends,” Tessa said. “Tamsen, sweetheart, Collin is going to need an extra set of hands, okay? Why don’t you head over and see if you can help with Ballard, yeah?”

“But, I—.” Tamsen took a step back. “Tessa, what if he’s sick.”

“I swear to you, he was not bitten,” Tessa said grabbing both of Tamsen’s hands in hers. “Now, please go and help Collin. Devon is a good kid, but he definitely doesn’t have your bedside manner.”

“Okay,” Tamsen sighed. Tessa nodded and gave the girl a little push. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, smoothing her red hair into a ponytail as she made her way over to help.

“Sweet kid, but she’s too soft.” Tessa shook her head and smiled after the girl. “Adorable little fobbit.”

“Fobbit?” I asked, side-eying Zander when he chuckled.

“It’s not a bad thing, really,” Tessa shrugged. “She isn’t exactly front line material, you know? Most people just aren’t wired for the messy stuff. It’s best they stay back and let people like me and you take care of that. Poor girl was a barista before all this. Never fired so much as a water pistol in her life. Makes one hell of a cup of coffee, though.”

“Don’t even,” Riley sighed. “I miss coffee.”

“You want a cup?” Tessa asked absently. She rubbed at her shoulders then rolled her head around until her neck cracked. “I think all we have is dark roast, but—.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Riley dropped her bag to the floor and stepped forward. “If this is some kind of sick, twisted…don’t you
dare
joke about coffee.”

Tessa’s eyes twinkled in the dim light and the harsh lines that had settled around them softened. “I would never joke about something as serious as coffee, honey.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Riley lunged at Tessa and wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck. “You are an angel.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Tessa patted Riley’s back awkwardly and shot me a questioning glance. “How about I show you all around, get you patched up, and set you up with some grub?”

“And coffee,” Riley added, finally releasing Tessa from her vice-like embrace.

“Yes, and coffee,” Tessa laughed softly and squeezed Riley’s shoulders. “Come with me.”

“Right behind you,” I said nodding to the others.

Zander’s hand was again at my hip, steadying me as we made our way through the dimly lit area. Ty reached for Christa’s hand, but she jerked from his grasp. She flipped him off, tossed her long braid over her shoulder, and stalked off to walk with Eli. Falisha nudged Jake, and the two of them flanked the sulking cowboy, consoling him as we followed Tessa’s retreating form.

“This is where most of us sleep,” Tessa whispered, gesturing to her right. “F1 is the only flat claim belt left in the entire airport. Like so many other things in this place, it has been out of commission for as long as I’ve worked here. Longer, probably.” Tessa shrugged.

A dull sheet of metal leaned against the wall half covering a white plastic sign with blood-red lettering.
Do not leave baggage unattended
. A long conveyor belt protruded from the rubber skirting over a dark rectangular hole in the corner of the room. It was shaped like a test-tube and stretched out nearly fifty feet into the room before curving back in on itself. The channel disappeared past the large metal plate that covered the second opening.

The baggage claim belts were at least three feet wide and no more than a foot off the ground. Nearly every inch of the roundabout, as well as the floor space that ran down the middle, was covered in blankets and cushions. The perimeter was cordoned by divider poles, much like those being used to create the passenger maze at each of the ticket counters a floor above us. A patchwork of blankets and tarps had been draped across the nylon bands that stretched between them.

“Try to keep it down,” Tessa said, flattening her palm to the ground. “Last night’s storm was rough on all of us. Especially the littles.”

Hands and feet dangled over the side of the platform, and soft snores echoed off the low-hung ceiling. There had to be at least thirty people crammed into this cramped corner of the airport. On the back wall, just past the luggage area was a bank of seats that matched the ones we had passed on the way in.

A woman with dark hair sat three seats in from the end closest to the claim belts, her eyes half-lidded, and her expression vacant. She looked as though she hadn’t slept well in days. Then again, who among us had?

A boy of about twelve clung tightly to her left arm, his legs slung out across the seat next to him. His mouth hung slack, and his head rested on the woman’s shoulder. Another boy, maybe six years old, was sprawled across her lap. His legs were scissored around her waist, his arms dangled loosely at his sides. He was nuzzled so tightly into the crook of his mother’s neck that her head sat at an awkward angle that couldn’t possibly be comfortable.

Both boys had the same dark hair and complexion as the woman to which they so desperately cleaved. The girl lying to her right practically glowed in comparison. Her skin was as pale as porcelain, and her hair was so blond it was white. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old, though the blotchy red lipstick and tear-streaked mascara she wore suggested she thought herself older.

“How are they doing, Brenda?” Tessa asked softly.

“Better, for the most part,” the woman sighed. “The boys finally passed out a couple of hours ago. Sammy held out until just before you got back. Poor girl just wants to get home to her parents. I didn’t have the heart to tell her—.”

“Shhh,” Tessa shook her head and looked at the girl with sad eyes. “I’ll talk to her later, okay? Just try to get some sleep. You could damn-near pass for a lurker right now, honey.”

The woman nodded and closed her eyes. Tessa waved us on and wound her way around a bank of lockers that jutted out into the room. I watched over Zander’s shoulder unable to tear my eyes away from the sleeping shadows lumped together on the conveyor. We had not seen that many civilians together since all of this had begun. My throat tightened. Was that hope I was feeling, or fear? I simply couldn’t tell anymore.

“How’s it going, Squints?” Tessa asked as we rounded the six-foot stack of metal cubes.

The haggard looking man sat with his back to us at an L-shaped desk, hunched over Tessa’s battered shotgun. The baggy coat he had been wearing earlier lay in a heap at his feet, leaving his upper body fully exposed. On his head sat an orange construction helmet with small flashlights taped on either side. The beams shined down onto the table. Tools were laid out on a towel at his side as if he were performing delicate brain surgery. He grunted, the lights shaking back and forth with his head then threw a dismissive wave in our direction and set back to work.

“Don’t mind him. He’s a bit odd and not much of a talker,” Tessa said, “but he can fix just about anything.”

“Maybe he should fix his hair, or at least bathe.” Christa wrinkled up her nose. Eli laughed softly at her derision earning both of them a glare from Tessa. Christa shrugged, unfazed, and twisted the end of her braid between her fingers. “What? I’m just saying.”

“Hate to break it to you, princess, but you don’t exactly smell like a bouquet of freshly cut roses,” Tessa said plainly. Christa’s mouth dropped open, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Tessa smirked at her, unapologetic. “What? I’m just saying.”

Jake’s grim expression finally cracked. His stoic silence gave way to a fit of laughter. Falisha was quick to join him. Riley, who had been beaming since the word
coffee
, snorted, then giggled into her fist. Even Ty chuckled softly, though he quickly attempted to mask his laughter with a cough. Christa wasn’t buying it. She spun on them with a look that could melt steel.

“Like any of you have room to talk.” Christa spat, jabbing her finger at us. “You guys smell like a litter box full of hot garbage.”

Silence fell over the group. Falisha pulled the neckline of her T-shirt to her nose and scowled. Ty lifted his arm and buried his face in his own armpit. He sniffed dramatically, then stumbled sideways with his tongue lolling out, and dropped to the ground. He twitched and flailed on the floor as though he were being electrocuted, then went limp.

“Damn, that’s ripe,” Ty smirked, lifting his head from the floor.

This time, Christa was the first to crack a smile. Before long, our dark little corner of the airport was echoing with our barely stifled laughter.

“How about we add the washing station to our little tour,” Tessa said, wiping her eyes.

“That would be awesome,” I said, my smile fading when I realized I was once again covered in blood.

Chapter 25

Wax and Warriors

“How many of you are there?” Jake asked as we skirted the baggage belt marked F2.

Just past the tilted circular conveyor, was a series of large utilitarian metal doors. The one adjacent to the claim area was labeled
stairs.
The
second appeared to be a maintenance closet of some sort. The word
utility
was stenciled halfway up the metal surface in dripping black spray-paint. A solid steel emergency door clipped the corner of the room at an odd angle. Its hinges were only a few inches from the lip of a plain wooden door with a blue plastic sign on it that read
Employees Only
.

“Thirty-seven,” Tessa said, pushing a row of luggage carts out of our path. “At least until I get my hands on that son of a bitch, Doyle and make it an even number.”

“You should really block that off,” Zander said gesturing to the escalators as we walked by. “You already have an exit point at each end of the building and an alternate route upstairs. This is a huge weak spot.”

“Trust me. It’s on my to-do list,” Tessa said, exhaustion evident in her voice. “I haven’t had time to assign anyone to construction, yet. We’ve been a bit too preoccupied trying not to die to put much time into remodeling.”

“It’d be easy enough to do, I think,” Jake said looking around. He pointed to the maintenance room behind us, and then to the opening above. “You could just pull some of these interior doors off the hinges to make a barricade at the top of the escalators.”

“Those counter tops at the ticket stations would work, too,” Ty said scratching his chin. “’Course, I’m pretty sure those babies are that fancy solid plastic stuff. You’d definitely need self-tapping screws or you’d never get through it and into the floor.”

“You two volunteering for the job?” Tessa raised a brow and pointed a finger at them.

“I wasn’t—,” Jake began.

“Perfect. You can start after we eat,” Tessa said, clapping Jake on the shoulder as we approached a second circular baggage carousel. “Speaking of which, I would like you all to meet our food crew. This little bucket of sunshine is Keith.”