Bone And Cinder: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Zapheads Book 1) (18 page)

That’s a laugh.  You never loved anything, not even yourself.  Maybe drugs, but they took more than they gave.

The kitchen knife from the cottage was tucked in his jeans.  It was a slim chance, since they’d surely search him for weapons.

What the hell, one more spin of the roulette
.

He walked out the door, with Kara close behind. 

25.

“Mackie, I’m sorry.”  Dr. Lehman looked much older than his sixty years, as if the consequences of his choice had aged him.

“I told you to stay put.”

“I couldn’t let—”

“Shut up,” Krider said.  He pushed Dr. Lehman to the ground beside the huddled forms of Todd and Emma.  Emma’s eyes were closed but Todd mumbled something Mackie couldn’t translate into human speech.

“Lift your shirt,” Krider said to Mackie.

He may as well have left the knife with Desiree.

Mackie lifted his T-shirt.  The knife handle jutted from the waist of his jeans.

“This
pendejo
watched too many
Die Hard
movies,” Herrera said.

“Toss that,” Krider commanded

Mackie pulled the knife free from his jeans, considered flinging it at Krider’s face, but tossed it to the ground instead.

“Now you,” Krider said to Kara.

Kara lifted her shirt, spun around.  She was still wearing the tight, stretchy pants she had on when Mackie first met her.  Those pants had no pockets where she could hide potential weapons.

“Higher,” Herrera ordered with a grin.  She pulled up the shirt until it hid her face and her breasts swelled against her white bra.  “Not bad. I’m going to enjoy those.  But we’re getting this shit done first.”

Herrera walked over to Mackie, looked him over for a moment, and then swung an anvil fist into his jaw.  Mackie’s head snapped to the side and he dropped hard onto his side.

The pain in his face felt like he had leaned his head a little too far over a subway platform and gotten smacked by a speeding train.  His impact with the ground jarred the ribs Herrera had booted earlier at the cottage and sent fresh waves of pain radiating through Mackie’s upper body.

Herrera launched his booted foot at Mackie in a series of sledgehammer kicks that connected with his face, his chest, his ribs.  His skeletal system rattled like a broken xylophone and screamed Jimi Hendrix levels of feedback through his nervous system.

Dr. Lehman moaned, “No, please, stop.”  He moved toward Mackie and Herrera, but Krider clubbed him between the frail shoulders with his 9mm.  The professor fell to his hands and knees and clenched his face tightly against the pain, his eyes meeting Mackie’s in sympathy of a shared hurt.

As Herrera battered Mackie with kicks, McRae ambled onto the commons as if arriving for a leisurely round of Frisbee golf.  He stood off to the left, assault rifle in his arms, and watched the beating with the same impassiveness that Krider often wore even when the most horrific shit was unfolding in front of him.

Bastard.  You sold us out.

After a few moments, Herrera stopped.  He wasn’t even breathing hard.

Mackie would’ve done anything for a handful of pills.  Facing this sober...it was too much.  Far more than anyone should ask of another human being.

But Herrera didn’t ask.  Herrera
demanded
.

Mackie’s mind quickly went into bargaining mode.  What could he do to convince Krider to let him have a few Vics or Oxys or Percs before he died?

If he seemed too desperate, that would be the quickest way to
not
get the pills...

God help me, why am I thinking like this?  A worthless junkie to the end.

Herrera smiled down at him.  “That...oh, bitch, that was the
easy
part.”

And then he stepped past Mackie, palmed the back of Kara’s head and, before she could react, pulled her head down to meet his knee as he sent it rocketing upward into her nose.

The shattering of cartilage nauseated Mackie.  He closed his eyes.

He couldn’t see this.

He just
could not
.

Kara collapsed in a heap as Herrera tossed her down, just inches from Mackie’s face.  Mackie wondered if Herrera would rape her right there in front of everyone, just to display his dominance.

“Open your eyes, Mackie,” Herrera said.

Mackie clenched them shut tighter.

“I know you don’t care what happens to you and maybe not even this bitch, but you don’t open those eyes, I’m gonna make you watch as I take the heads off of every single warm body on this campus.  And compared to what I’ll do to your zombie girl, that’ll seem like an act of kindness.”

Mackie opened his eyes.  Tears welled, but he wouldn’t spill them here.  He knew how to hold them back, and he would do that no matter what happened now.

Once they saw tears, they would see him as a thing thoroughly broken.

For Krider and Herrera, it would be euphoric.  Their favorite high.

Kara looked into his eyes.  Her nose was obliterated, gushing thick rivulets of blood, and her eyes were now the only part of her face unpainted by bruises.

She was scared.

She would’ve wanted to hide that before, but now she wasn’t even going to try.  All her bravado had washed away beneath the reality now barreling down the tracks toward her.  Now or later, she was meat for Herrera’s sadistic buffet.

Herrera held an open palm out to Krider.  Krider handed him his 9mm.

Mackie lifted his head and shouted at McRae.  “You...you just gonna let this happen?”

Herrera looked over at McRae, then turned back to Mackie.  Even the raw, oozing burns on his face couldn’t hide his look of amusement.

“What, you think he can save your ass now?”  He put a boot between Mackie’s shoulders and pressed him to the ground.  “You think he’s going to side with the losers?”

Mackie wasn’t finished.  “You can stop this, McRae.  You know this is wrong, man.  You know it.”  Every word was agony.  Each breath reignited flares of pain in his pummeled ribs and chest.  “Don’t let this happen.”

McRae said nothing, but his face shifted slightly.  There was something in his expression...an unspoken apology, maybe?  Self-justified determination?  Guilt?

Either way, there was no chance of McRae raising a hand against Krider and Herrera.

It had been Mackie’s last card to play, but the effort was wasted.  But he could drag McRae down to hell as he went.  “Snitch...cowardly, piece of shit, motherfuh—”

That caught Herrera’s attention, and he punctuated it with a stomp to Mackie’s ankle.  “What did you say?”

Mackie looked at Krider.  “Didn’t even...didn’t even know you had a snitch in your crew...whatever edge you had before, Lucas, it’s gone now...couldn’t even tell McRae was an informant.”

It was subtle, but a moment of panic flashed across McRae’s face before Krider and Herrera turned to look at him.

It wouldn’t be enough to give him away.  McRae was a pro that knew how to stay cool under scrutiny.  After all, that was his job.

“What’s he talking about, McRae?” Krider asked.

“He’s coming up with whatever bullshit he can pull out of his ass to buy a few extra breaths.  You know that.”

“It’s what he does,” Mackie said.  “He’s a rat, and you couldn’t...
neither
of you could smell it.”

“Not a word of truth to any of that,” McRae said.  He was doing a remarkable job of keeping his voice steady.

“No...no, it’s true.”  Kara wheezed.  Her voice was barely recognizable.

“What’s that,
puta
?  You tellin’ me it’s true?  That my man McRae over there is a snitch?”

“I...I heard him.”

Herrera cackled.  “Well, if I got your word on it, that’s all the proof I need.”  He guffawed again and Krider smiled.

“I’ve sown the seeds, man,” Mackie called out to McRae.  “They’re going to start thinking about everything you’ve ever said to them.  And then they’re gonna trust you a little less and less, until they decide they can’t trust you at all.  And what do you think’s gonna happen then?”

Herrera howled.  “Oh, you better listen, McRae.  Better turn that rifle on me and Krider before we have a chance to do the same to you.  That what you’re saying, Mackie?”

“Yes,” Mackie said.  “That’s absolutely what I’m saying.  You can’t trust anybody.  Right, Krider?” As Krider glanced at Herrera, Mackie repeated, “Anybody.”

Herrera’s laughter stopped.  He snapped another kick into Mackie’s gut.

It was becoming a habit.  He barely felt it, although something gurgled inside him.

“See, the thing is,” Herrera said.  “I remember someone aiming a gun at me while my back was turned.  And that wasn’t McRae.”  He cocked his foot back again, but this time he launched the kick into Kara.

“It was this
puta
here.  And, see, what kind of man would I be if I just let that stand?  Somebody gets away with that, and then everybody’s trying to get away with that.”

“Please...please stop this.”  It was Dr. Lehman.  His hands were clasped in his lap and his head lowered.  “No more killing, please.”

“I was you, I’d stop chiming in,
abuelo
,” Herrera said.  “I’d keep real quiet and draw as little attention to myself as possible.  You don’t want to hurry your turn, do you?”

“He’s got a cat, too.”  It was McRae.

“The hell?” Krider said.

“Mackie, he’s got a cat.  He keeps it in that backpack of his.”

“Hell you tellin’ us that for?” Herrera said.

McRae shrugged.  “We could eat it.  When the food’s low.”

Krider shook his head, lips pursed in disgust.  “The food’s not going to get
that
low anytime soon.”

Herrera prodded Mackie with a boot.  At least he wasn’t using it as a battering ram this time.

“Why the hell you picking up stray cats,
pendejo
?  You think this is the Humane Society or something?”

“You gonna do this or not?” Krider said.

Herrera shrugged.  Mackie closed his eyes and waited.  As the round went off, he expected a tunnel of light, a lick of hellfire, a golden stairway, or maybe just a nice, soft curtain of blackness.

All he heard was Kara’s skull explode.

26.

Her eyes were still open, but they were unfocused now.  They had been hard before, fierce and bright, and then fearful—now they were as empty as the glass eyes of a ventriloquist’s dummy.

Mackie screamed.  The sound was deep and guttural, pulling the breath from a deeper part of himself than he even knew existed.

Dr. Lehman remained on his hands and knees, shaking, his breathing shallow.  An odd, stuttering sound came from his lips.

Todd and Emma had fallen completely still.  They both slumped over like a pair of marionettes with strings cut.  Todd’s face and lips were tinged with blue.

And then Mackie understood.

Overdosed.

Todd and Emma had overdosed, either on their own or with help from Krider and Herrera.

And then they were used as bait.

Kara had died—-and soon Mackie.  Dr. Lehman too, probably—all to save a pair of OD’ed junkies.

It was funny.  And more than a touch ironic.

He heard Krider say something about taking care of Mackie, wrapping things up so they put out the fires down at the cottages and sweep the perimeter of any stray Zaps.

He didn’t see Desiree approaching, only heard her when she called out softly, “Let me help you guys.”

Herrera turned to her and grinned.  “Hey, take a look.  The caregiver decided to come out of hiding.  Thought you’d be too busy nursing the zombie.  What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?”

“You’re hurt.  Those burns will get infected.  You need treatment.”

“Well, that’s real nice of you.  But maybe you should turn your attentions a little further south.”  Herrera brushed a hand lightly over his crotch.

What the hell was she doing?

What the hell were
any
of these people thinking?  Dr. Lehman was supposed to stay in hiding.  Desiree was supposed to stay with Allie and Sabbath.

No one is doing what I told them, and they’re all going to die for it.

And Allie is in her room, alone, unaware of anything happening around her.  She’s the lucky one.

He had to force himself not to call out when he saw Meredith approaching from the academic building where Lehman’s office was housed.  He thought, of all of them, Meredith would be the most prudent, the one who would survive no matter what.

What is she doing?

Krider and Herrera faced the opposite direction, so there was little danger of either of them spotting her unless she made noise and gave them a reason to turn toward the row of residence halls and academic buildings to their rear.

McRae might see her as she moved closer, so Mackie would have to keep McRae’s attention focused elsewhere.

If they did spot Meredith, she would have no chance.  There was no possible way she could take cover before Herrera or McRae opened fire.

Mackie knew he could keep his face neutral, but could Desiree?  And if Lehman spotted her, and he likely would soon, how would he react?

Too many moving parts in play and just too damn much that could, and most assuredly would, go wrong.

Even though Meredith and Desiree couldn’t possibly have planned this together, Mackie understood why Meredith waited until now to make her move.  Desiree’s appearance was the perfect diversion, something to keep Krider’s and Herrera’s focus.  As cunning as Krider was, he was just self-centered enough to worry first about his wounds.

But if Desiree hadn’t shown up, would Meredith have made
any
move to help?  Or would she have stayed in Lehman’s office with the others and watched while Krider or Herrera executed Mackie?

Now that she was closer, Mackie could see the glint of something metallic in her hand.

A knife?  But where would she have gotten that?

No, wait.

A letter opener.

The ideal office supply for inflicting bodily injury.

He hadn’t been paying attention to the words exchanged between Desiree and Krider and Herrera.

Desiree had surely spotted Meredith by now, but her face gave nothing away as she held up rolls of gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment and made her sales pitch.

For a moment, Mackie allowed himself to believe that this might work.

But first he had to capture and keep McRae’s attention.  He lifted himself up, called out, “Coward.”

McRae locked eyes with him, but kept his face neutral.

“You’re a coward.  You let this happen.”

No dice.

“And you’re gonna die before this is over.”

That got a reaction.  “We’re all going to die. Some of us are just going to do it sooner than others.”

“You were supposed to bring these people down, and now you’re lower than either of them.  Look what you became, you cowardly piece of shit.”

McRae lifted his rifle and aimed it at Mackie.  “I can bring
you
down.”

Mackie laughed.  “You won’t use that.  Not without Krider holding your hand and Herrera wiping your ass.”

“Son of a bitch, you’re gonna find out—”

“Plenty of people are going to die around here,” Krider said, drawing a glower from Herrera.  “But I’ll decide who and when.” 

Mackie could feel his last bit of hope sliding from his grasp.  Desiree slipped a hypodermic needle from her pocket, a drop of juice dangling from its silver tip.

“Medicine?” Krider asked, just as McRae shouted a warning.

“
Zaps!  They’re here
.”

“Knock ‘em down,” Herrera, said, tracking the direction of McRae’s rifle barrel.  McRae squeezed off three shots, and a figure fell at the edge of the commons.  Two more appeared behind it, emerging from the shadows of a lecture hall.

And then Meredith was directly behind Herrera (
Holy shit, how did she move
that
fast?)
and at the exact moment Krider became aware of her presence, she was on Herrera’s back, the letter opener plunging into the small swath of flesh visible above his Kevlar vest, the sounds coming from her mouth frenzied and primal.

“
FUCK!
” Herrera lifted his arms and spun.  He aimed the 9mm behind his back, but before he could squeeze off a shot at the thing clinging to him and tearing pieces of his back open, Meredith punched the letter opener into his forearm.  His hand opened reflexively, and the 9mm clattered to the ground.

Krider’s gaze fell to the 9mm and his eyes widened, telegraphing his intention to lunge for it.  But before he could, Desiree sunk the needle into Krider’s arm, grunting with effort.

She pressed down on the plunger with her thumb. The liquid in the syringe invaded the muscle beneath Krider’s skin before he shoved her away.  He glanced at the needle stuck in his arm, then at Desiree, and then he sent her to the ground with a right hook.

“Black bitch,” he muttered.  “What the hell did you put in me?”  He plucked the syringe from his arm and threw it to the ground.

McRae leveled his weapon at them, but indecision clouded his features.  Mackie hoped his words had hit home enough for the man to remember who the real enemy was.

But Mackie couldn’t wait for McRae to roll back from the dark side.  Ignoring the screaming agony in his body, he scrambled for the 9mm.  Taking down Krider was his primal instinct, but Krider wasn’t the immediate threat.  And the approaching Zaps were still a hundred yards away.

Sitting on his ass, Mackie lifted the 9mm and sent a pair of rounds at McRae.  One went wide to the left.  The other punched through his forehead.

Mackie swung the pistol toward Krider, but Krider jerked Desiree up from the ground and held her in front of him as a shield.  One arm snaked around her waist, the other clutching her hair and pulling her head backwards.

“You can take me out if you want,” Krider said, his voice sounding thicker now, “but your little nurse won’t be here to wipe Allie’s ass and give her the ‘Calm the Hell Down’ drugs she needs.”

He heard the wet, meaty sounds of Meredith struggling with Herrera, and she seemed to be holding her own for the moment.  Dr. Lehman made a feeble attempt to help, but Herrera knocked him to the ground with a thick forearm.

Mackie couldn’t risk a shot at this close a range, not with the tangle of bodies around him.  And he didn’t know how many bullets he had left, so Krider should be his first target.  Assuming he could squeeze off a round past Desiree.

“What did you give him?” Mackie asked her.

“Haldol,” Desiree said, wincing.  Krider’s punch had hurt like hell.  Hearing that, he gave her another, right in the kidney.

“So how you feeling, Lucas?  Having trouble keeping those eyes open?”

Krider’s eyes jittered a bit inside their sockets, and the cool intensity usually present in them, as still as a summer pond’s smooth surface, took on a hazy cast.  “I think I’ll be just fine.”  Krider shoved Desiree at Mackie and ran.

Before Desiree crashed into him, Mackie attempted to get a solid lock on Krider’s fleeing form with the 9mm, but then Desiree’s weight fell on top of him, jolting his grip on the pistol.  He squeezed the trigger anyway, hoping for the best, but after three rounds flew wild and failed to connect, there came the familiar click of an empty magazine.

Shit.  Plenty of that going around.

At first Mackie thought Krider would go for McRae’s rifle, but as it was some distance away and would bring him in range of the Zapheads, he seemed to think better of it and took off across campus.  The Haldol was slowing his movements, but the drug hadn’t reached its peak yet, and Krider was still able to jog at a faster clip than Mackie expected.

Mackie pushed Desiree off of him and lunged toward Herrera and Meredith.  Herrera had finally gotten her off his back, and he straddled her now, his large ape hands clenched around her throat.  The letter opener stuck out of his back, oozing blood around the metal.  Meredith clung to his rifle barrel with one hand so he couldn’t swing it into firing position.

Meredith bucked and thrashed beneath him, clawing at the Mexican’s cheeks, but she had maybe seconds before her windpipe collapsed in Herrera’s hands.

Mackie’s muscles burned and ached, resisting his silent orders for them to function.  He wished he could curl into a ball and shrink away from the pain.

He wobbled to his feet and stumbled over to Herrera, wiping blood from his eyes.  He waited for Meredith to squirm away enough for an opening, and then launched the handle of the 9mm into Herrera’s temple.

Herrera’s head cocked slightly and he fixed Mackie with a cloudy stare that said,
This was going to hurt before, pendejo, but you can’t even imagine how bad it’ll be now
.

He removed his hands from Meredith’s throat, and as he did, she grabbed for the assault rifle that slid from his shoulders and down his arm.

Mackie tossed down the empty 9mm, moved behind Herrera, and yanked on the rifle as well, but the strap prevented him from tearing it free.  He locked the crook of his left arm around Herrera’s throat, feeling the knot of Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his tensed muscles.  Mackie dug the fingers of his right hand into the gooey, burned flesh of Herrera’s face.

Herrera screamed and rolled free of Meredith, lifting Mackie off the ground as he did so.  Mackie tightened the chokehold as much as he could, even though his feet were no longer touching the ground.

Meredith rose from the ground along with Herrera and Mackie.  She clung to the assault rifle, but Herrera held his arm duck-winged against his body to prevent her from freeing it.

Still, she tugged at the weapon with all the strength left in her arms.

Herrera threw a knee into her gut and all her energy went into sucking the next breath.

Herrera bent forward at the waist and spun, attempting to dislodge Mackie, but Mackie clung to him like a burrowed tick and had no intention of letting go until the son of a bitch was fully drained.

Dr. Lehman sat cross-legged on the ground, head down, hands clamped over his ears.

He had completely shut down.  Was useless to everyone at the moment.

Desiree hadn’t moved from where she had fallen, either.  Mackie couldn’t tell whether she was unconscious or dead.  The Zapheads had closed to within fifty yards now.

No cavalry riding in.  Better finish this now.

Herrera bucked and wriggled.  Mackie wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.  He pulled his fingers from Herrera’s facial burns and slid them toward Herrera’s eye socket.

But Herrera had decided that enough bullshit was enough, and with a roar he fell flush onto his back, pinning Mackie beneath his weight.

A broken rib speared somewhere in his abdomen, probably a vital organ.  Hopefully not his heart.

Breathing was a massive boulder that Mackie was rolling uphill.

Breathing was something Mackie’s lungs would never remember how to do.

Breathing was a bitch.

Herrera raised himself, began to stand.  And as he did, Mackie’s hand found the handle of the letter opener still sunk in Herrera’s back.