Disciple: DreamWalkers, Book 2 (36 page)

Holy shit. Karen was astride the T-Rex, midway up its back. How she was clinging to it while the dinosaur flailed, Maggie had no idea—and didn’t care. Karen was distracted but good. Maggie scrambled up the ramp, toward the escape vent.

The curator had managed two rungs higher into the tunnel, and the penlight revealed that his limbs were trembling. Sad eyes gazed down at her.

“My girl,” he shouted over the frenzied T-Rex, “I don’t think this is going to work. Help me down and save yourself.”

“You can do this,” she urged, glancing at the T-Rex. Its hissy fit slowed, but instead of focusing on her, its wide, four-toed feet trod past the hole in the wall, intent on something deeper in the outbunker.

What could possibly be left to distract the T-Rex with Karen shrieking nonstop for it to rip Maggie to shreds? The woman’s voice hadn’t even grown husky, and she’d been shouting like a teakettle for several minutes.

Rocks bounced off the monster’s hide. One struck Karen, who cried out, a pleasant variation in her harangue of hatred.

“Over here,” Zeke’s voice yelled. “That’s right, you scaly bastard.”

Zeke was still alive. And tossing rocks. Maggie’s heart thudded with joy.

“Leave him alone,” Karen ordered the T-Rex. “Zeke, stop throwing rocks. You’re making him angry. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Fuck you,” Zeke snarled.

Hope bubbled inside Maggie like soap in a fountain. If Zeke could survive a bunch of wraiths plus another T-Rex, the damn curator could climb a few more rungs of the ladder.

“Sir,” Maggie called up at the curator in her sternest voice. “Climb four more rungs, and I’ll come up behind you and support you. You don’t want to die here, do you? Because I don’t.”

She didn’t want Zeke to die either and trusted that he’d taken care of the climbing wraiths as promised. She’d crabwalk the old man to the surface herself if it meant giving Zeke space at the bottom of the tube to shelter from the T-Rex.

Not that she could actually haul the curator to the top—but enough adrenaline was surging through her that she felt like she could.

Zeke was alive. He was still alive.

“I’ll try,” the curator conceded. “You shouldn’t have to die because I’m old and worn out.”

Maggie considered standing on her tiptoes and pushing the curator higher but opted to check the battle raging outside. “Be right back.”

She sidled down the ramp, not on her butt this time, and crept over the collapsed wall to peer into the hallway. She eased the penlight in the direction the T-Rex had gone.

Twenty feet beyond the bunkroom, Karen clung to the back of the T-Rex like a manky saddle. Maggie couldn’t see Zeke, but she could hear him. He and Karen exchanged taunts—or, rather, he taunted Karen while Karen extorted him to leave the T-Rex alone. Maggie didn’t see any other wraiths, though she could hear distant zombies.

What was Zeke planning? How much farther did the hallway extend? And how much damage to this section of the outbunker had the T-Rex done?

Zeke’s footsteps danced on the far side of the T-Rex. Since the T-Rex and Karen hadn’t noticed Maggie, she evaluated the area, checking for wraiths and cracks that could bring the whole place down. The greenish light emanated from an unfamiliar monster. Radioactive like the spider, its single appendage scratched wildly in all directions as it chittered like a giant squirrel.

Wait. That was the spider—with next to no legs. Now where were those zombies?

Before Maggie spotted them, the T-Rex’s head dipped, quick and sudden, like a stork after a frog.

“No!” Karen screamed.

Maggie clapped a hand to her mouth so she wouldn’t scream too. The lizard roared. Its head bobbed again. Up to the ceiling—
boom!
Down toward Zeke.

Zeke swore. Metal clanged on metal. Every fiber of Maggie’s being—and her last iota of common sense—insisted she should run and hide. You didn’t stand up to a T-Rex. You just ran. And ran. And ran. The monster’s thick tail lashed, loosening concrete when it struck the wall.

Maggie reeled back into the room before the cascade of pebbles hit her. The patter of gravel continued after the rocks quit falling, and it took Maggie a second to realize the sound was shuffling footsteps.

The zombie moaned right before it clamped a hand on her shoulder.

“Is that you sobbing down there?” the curator called. “Are you hurt?”

Shit!
Maggie smacked the zombie’s hand. Her nails dug into its flesh, tearing tendons, but she couldn’t break its grip. She flung herself at the ground, hoping to catch the zombie unaware.

Its arm released in a sickening splorch.

Released from its elbow, that was. The hand continued to grip her as the forearm dangled down her back.

As if wraiths weren’t creepy enough.

Maggie ducked and spun, the penlight held low like a dagger. The white beam danced on the monster’s moldering face. It stretched its arms toward her, but as it only had one left, Maggie was able to dodge.

Her sword was in the T-Rex’s snout. To use her dagger, she’d have to stash the penlight, reducing visibility. The spider’s radiance didn’t penetrate the room deeply enough to help her avoid becoming brain food. Literally.

When she’d signed on with the Somnium, she’d never expected to become a zombie expert. How was she going to take this thing out?

Sidestepping debris, Maggie dodged right, dodged left. Thank God she was only facing a zombie, not a Whedon or that banshee thing. The zombie shambled in a circle after her, the stupidest game of follow the leader ever.

She leapt onto the bunk ramp, confusing the zombie, and harried the curator. “I’ve got company, sir. Is there room for me yet?”

Was the zombie tall enough to reach into the escape tunnel and drag her down? She was pretty sure it couldn’t climb. It tramped unsteadily on the bottom of the ramp, slipped, and fell to one knee.

The ramp clattered as the zombie landed on it.

“Not quite yet,” the curator said, voice weak. She risked a glanced with the penlight.

Four rungs beneath him. Two to go before she could ascend. Good Lord. If he couldn’t manage a ladder, what the hell had he been thinking, flying to the United States all by himself?

With its one arm, the zombie crawled up the ramp toward her. Maggie slipped off the high side, the weight transferal causing the bunk to jangle again.

Which inspired an idea.

She gave the zombie a second to realize she’d changed locations. Its decaying eyes glared at her, and it rolled to its feet in a weird sideways lurch due to the missing arm. As soon as it stood, she threw herself at it with as much speed as she could muster in the small room.

She tackled it in the direction of the ramp. Its head struck the ground beside the bunk. Maggie jumped up before it could wrap its arm around her. She cranked up the bottom of the ramp with the lever Zeke had used, waited until the zombie began that sideways lurch to its feet, and slammed the sharp edge of the ramp on the zombie’s head.

The blow flattened the wraith. The zombie struggled, reaching up through the corrugated slats with dead fingers. The mass of the metal bunk wasn’t enough to crush its skull, but Maggie knew where she could get more mass, quick. She jumped onto the ramp with both feet.

Wham!

The zombie’s head squashed like a half-baked potato. It wasn’t enough. It continued to wriggle. Eventually it would get lucky. Her teeth clenched, Maggie pogoed up and down until its skull turned to mashed potatoes—and the zombie turned to dust.

The gnarly fingers pinching her shoulder disappeared.

“Hurry up,” she snapped at the curator one last time before slinking into the hallway, despite her fear of the dinosaur. Zeke needed to know she and the curator were all right—and that he should join them in the tube.

The trick would be how fast and high they’d have to climb to escape Karen and the T-Rex. Plus any climbers Zeke hadn’t dusted or new climbers that arrived. Plus any wraiths aboveground or inside the tube, lurking and salivating.

The T-Rex’s back remained toward Maggie. Karen was still trying to convince the angry dinosaur to eat Maggie instead of Zeke, but apparently she’d lost her power over it. The T-Rex assaulted the door of the bunkroom Zeke had apparently taken refuge in with great determination.

Did Karen’s inability to control the wraith mean Adi’s vigil-block was still in place? If Adi was alive, she’d be doing everything she could to save the curator. Would Adi think to check the exit of the escape hatch?

Wary, Maggie searched for monsters. No yowls from the banshee. Legless the Spider vibrated and hissed. A single zombie lay beneath concrete, kicking its legs, but it sounded like more were about to reach the original cave-in at the intersection.

A lot more. Escalating moans resonated down the hallway, a backdrop for the T-Rex’s coughing and snarling.

The remainder of Karen’s horde had found their mistress.

For a moment Maggie fantasized about tight-roping up the T-Rex’s lashing tail like a ninja and plunging her dagger into Karen’s back, but she wasn’t that coordinated. God, was there anything she could do to help Zeke? Sneak attack? Trickery? Miracle?

Hell, staving off the heart attack of terror that threatened would be her biggest accomplishment. Taking out a T-Rex? Only Zeke could do that.

Though he wasn’t having much luck with this one. The dino bashed through the wall and shoved its head into the exposed bunkroom. Karen went into some kind of convulsive fit, beating on the T-Rex, kicking it, cursing it. She pulled a dagger out of its body and stabbed it over and over.

“Goddamn you, let him go,” she screeched. “Obey me or I will send you to the dust.”

After a long, horrifying moment, Zeke emerged. He staggered under the T-Rex’s neck. His arm bled freely, and he clutched it to his chest. He’d lost his sword, his Kevlar vest. His vitality. He hopped along, dragging a leg. His thigh bled in a matched pattern to the wound on his arm.

Like a giant beast had snatched him up in its mouth.

“Faster!” she cried.

He stared across the rubble at her, eyes widening. “Get out of here!”

The T-Rex whirled to chase him. Too enthusiastically. It slid, bounced off a wall. The ground shook. A Kevlar vest fell out of its mouth to the ground.

“The curator’s safe.” She had no idea if that were true. “I told you. I’m with you.”

She hurried to him, caught him with her good arm. What a pair they were. The smell of his blood was pure copper, cleansing the stench of wraith from her sinuses. They staggered together.

He tried to shove her toward the bunkroom. “Leave me.”

“You’re not getting out of this relationship that easy. We both climb.” She shouldered most of his weight, gritted her teeth, and dragged him along.

“I can’t.” Pallor and grimness leached his face of confidence. “Fucker bit me. Something’s broken.”

The ground continued to jounce. The T-Rex was closing in on them.

Shit, shit, shit.

They’d nearly reached the bunkroom. Zombies poured through the intersection, along with another radioactive spider. Its venomous, green light turned the zombies into… Hell, into moldier, scarier zombies.

Spiders could definitely climb.

“Oh, God.” That spider would be up the tube in seconds to take them out.

“Get her,” Karen chanted. “Get her, get her. Leave him alone.”

Something huge and hard pounded Maggie in the back. She flew through the air and landed in a graceless sprawl against a solid wall. Her breath exited stage left as her entire body thumped with pain.

The T-Rex butted Zeke with its skull. That must have been what hit her. Zeke staggered forward, barely keeping his balance. Incongruously, Maggie noticed her sword bristling out of the dinosaur’s snout.

The dinosaur opened its maw. Blood discolored its jagged teeth. Zeke’s blood. It snatched at its prey.

He dodged—by falling to his knee. Karen’s sharp sob of dismay upset the advancing zombies. They moaned in a symphony of bassoon, oboe and death.

Maggie found herself crawling into danger, crawling to be with Zeke. They met in the middle of the hallway, several yards from the one-legged spider, and embraced.

They would die in each other’s arms, like Romeo and Juliet, except they’d be eaten by a dinosaur instead of drinking poison like emo idiots.

“I love you so much.” She stroked his face and kissed him. “We did everything we could.”

“Dammit, Maggie.” He rested his cheek against hers. “I failed you.”

“You love me. That’s not a failure.”

The T-Rex roared over them, and Maggie couldn’t resist a glance.

So. Many. Teeth.

It lowered its head slowly, as if savoring the best meal of its life. Its scaly nostrils huffed. Drool dripped between its teeth, landing on Zeke’s bloody leg.

Great. The T-Rex was a dinosaur gourmand.

A shadow fell across them, a wavering figure between them and the spider’s glow. Had the zombies already arrived?

No. Not zombies. Karen inserted herself between Zeke and the T-Rex.

“You will not touch him.” She spread her arms. “I forbid it.”

“I think we’re already dead,” Maggie said, stunned.

Zeke held her tight. “Can’t be. I hurt too much.”

She considered burying her face in Zeke’s neck and praying, but the face-off between the T-Rex and its mistress was too compelling. The monster rolled its head—not telling Karen no, but resisting her. It roared.

Then it chomped her up like beef jerky.

She screamed. Maggie watched in horror as the T-Rex whipped Karen’s body back and forth like a chew toy. Karen’s thin arms and legs flailed. Blood sprayed.

Maggie teetered to her feet and tried to pull Zeke with her. Could they escape while the T-Rex devoured its grisly appetizer?

Not if they were surrounded by an ocean of zombies.

Stepping anywhere and everywhere, the zombies jogged relentlessly toward the dino. They knocked Maggie back to the floor. They walked on her and Zeke, stumbling and moaning. Zeke grabbed her, rolled them across painful rocks, through zombie legs, to huddle as close to the wall as they could.