Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) (37 page)

I was surprised I'd spoken as clearly and succinctly as I had. They all nodded.

We heard the helicopter moving away from the building and we all glanced up again.

I looked at Sarah. "Remember to come outside," I told her. And she gave me a strange look, and then I was confused as to why I'd said it.

We could hear them coming. They'd be here in a matter of seconds. Sarah grabbed the door knob and waited for me to signal her, and I gave her a nod and she opened the door.

I stepped out onto the landing with my bat ready. But there was no sign of the infected anywhere. I scanned the parking lot and it was empty save for the Tundra and the Elantra. The deserted lot didn't feel right, but I couldn't explain why. As I'd hoped, the infected had headed for the front of the building. I stood there staring, feeling disoriented and foggy, like when you wake up from too much sleep and your mind isn't quite calibrated yet. I seemed to be a step behind mentally. Dr. Nardone suddenly raced past me and ran to the passenger side door, gripping the thumb drive tightly in both hands. She stood by the truck and looked around nervously.

I looked back to Sarah and thought I heard myself telling her to go. She and Becky came through the door and closed the door behind them. I turned and heard a familiar scream, and then I was confused, and I wondered if there'd been two screams. I knew one of the screams had come from Becky because she was standing right next to me holding onto her mother.

The Swimmer had hold of Dr. Nardone. He'd appeared as if out of nowhere. He must have been hiding behind the front grill of the truck. Sarah and Becky and I stood paralyzed like statues on the steps. The Swimmer faced us and had his arms wrapped around Dr. Nardone, pinning her arms to her sides.

She was terrified. She had to have been the other person who had screamed. I realized that now, even though her screaming seemed like nothing more than a fragment of a memory that kept slipping through my mind, like a memory I couldn't get a handle on. She shivered in his grip and whimpered like a frightened child. A line of urine trailed down the inside of her leg and dripped into a small puddle next to her foot. The thumb drive lay on the pavement next to her.

The Swimmer was hunched down, using Dr. Nardone as a shield. I thought he might be afraid of getting shot again. He didn't know I was unarmed. I doubted he knew what a gun was. While I could see less than half of his face, I could sense his fierce resolve. And I conceded to myself that Dr. Nardone was as good as dead, though I wasn't sure why I was giving up on her so easily.

I realized the other infected would have heard the screams and would be coming now, at least those who hadn't gone into the building yet. Since the front of the building was a half block away, I thought we might have four or five minutes before they arrived.

I knew I had to act, but my mind was dulled and I was drawing a blank. Sarah grabbed me by the arm. "Jake. We have to do something."

"Yes," I told her. And then I started to take my backpack off. "Get the keys, get in the truck, get it started, and then go."

"What? What about you and Dr. Nardone?" Sarah asked.

I turned and she was staring at me oddly. I didn't answer her and had lost track of the question.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I told her, though I knew she wasn't buying it.

"You have to get out of here now, Sarah," I told her.

I didn't give her time to respond. I walked down the steps and tossed my backpack into the bed of the Tundra. I could still hear the helicopter as it made its way up the East Bench and beyond, and there was the sound of the infected pounding on the back door. I squinted from the bright sunlight that bathed the parking lot. It seemed so much brighter than normal. The day was remarkably still if not quiet, and the midday sun felt like a laser on the back of my neck.

Sarah and Becky had followed behind me and were at the back of the truck. Sarah searched the truck bed for the keys and found them.

The savage intensity I'd felt the first time I'd faced the Swimmer was nowhere to be found. I gripped the bat and clubbed it once on the pavement trying to wake myself up, but it didn't work. Not this time. Instead, I felt as if some kind of schism had occurred in my fragile brain and the vibration from it had yet to subside. I felt out of whack and needed to wait till my head righted itself, even though I knew I didn't have the time to wait.

The Swimmer clamped a long hand on top of Dr. Nardone's skull. A moment later he turned her head sharply to the left and kept it pinned there, exposing the right side of her neck. Dr. Nardone yelped briefly and then went back to quietly whimpering as if she'd thought any extra noise might upset him. I knew what was coming next, but the Swimmer seemed to be waiting on me.

Sarah and Becky were still standing near the back of the truck, and I couldn't understand why they weren't in the Tundra yet.

"Go, Sarah!" I yelled at her. "Get out of here!" And then I made a mad dash for the Swimmer and Dr. Nardone. I lifted the bat high above my head as I ran, gripping it tightly with both hands. I thought if I got lucky, I might be able to club the Swimmer on the head, maybe stun him. But before I'd finished taking the first step, the Swimmer had torn into Dr. Nardone's neck, ripping away the flesh with his teeth. Then he spat it on the ground next to him like someone causally spitting tobacco. Blood dribbled down onto his chin and chest.

Arterial blood sprayed from Dr. Nardone's wound in a spinning arc as she turned her head away from the wound as if she were trying to disown it. But she couldn't escape, and the Swimmer spun her roughly to the ground.

I was nearly on him, and despite the fragile condition of my mind, I swung the bat as hard as I could in an overhead arc as if I were driving a pick ax into his head. But he easily gobbled the bat up with one hand and ripped it out of my grasp. He gave the bat a glance and tossed it dismissively to the pavement where it clattered and bounced a few times before coming to rest.

I took an unsteady step back, then another. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Dr. Nardone. Her face was already pasty white and she lay on her side with her knees tucked inward. Though she was dying, she lay in a fetal position as if she'd come full circle. She gasped for air but choked on blood instead. She held both her hands to the wound in her neck, trying to stem the inevitable flow, but the blood seeped through her fingers and onto the pavement. There would be no stopping it. She had to have known it was too late, but she tried to hold on anyway.

The Swimmer kept his sharp, blue-green eyes on me, surveying me like a predator. He looked unreal with the ghostly ash-white skin, like a South American shaman with his face painted white. He knew he had me. He knew it and I knew it. Just then I heard the abrupt click of the Tundra's locks being unlocked. I looked back and Sarah held her arm up, key fob pointed at the truck. She grabbed Becky and they hustled around to the driver's side. I lunged for the back door handle, but he was on me before I could open the door.

He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and the back shoulder of my t-shirt and tore me away from the door and flung me down to the ground. I righted myself onto my butt and scrambled backwards away from him. My senses were starting to come back.

And I couldn't help but notice the moment had a ring of familiarity to it, a sensation reminiscent of my adolescent days. The same feeling I had had during any one of those childhood confrontations I knew I was about to lose. And while I felt resigned to certain defeat, a part of me stubbornly opposed the inevitable.

The Swimmer limped determinedly toward me, mirroring my every movement and quickly cutting the distance between us. If he felt any pain from the bullet wound, he didn't show it. Then I heard the truck door crack open and I felt a sense of relief.

He pounced on me before I knew what was happening. A moment later he had me pinned flat on my back. He hovered menacingly over me like some avenging incubus, his face twisted in insatiable rage, his ash-white face suddenly filled with blood. He sat on my abdomen, his knees and legs pinching tightly into my sides, rendering me immobile. I felt as if my body were clamped tight in a vise. His hands went for my throat and I couldn't fend him off. I grabbed him around the wrists, but he was too strong. He forced his hands to my throat and began to squeeze. I could feel the air being cut off and I gasped for air without making a sound. I couldn't move my head and I began to feel acute pressure in my eyes as if they themselves were being squeezed. I was frantic and started to hit his forearms with my fists to see if I could get him off me.

Then I heard the thrum of the engine as Sarah started the truck and I knew everything would be all right. At least they would get away. The Swimmer's hands relaxed from my neck as he started to get up to go after them. I coughed harshly gasping for air and felt a sharp pain in my neck. I reached for his wrists before he had a chance to get up and gripped them as tight as I could and then pulled him toward me. The Swimmer made a brief, half-hearted effort to pull away as if I were a bothersome gnat. But I held firm, and he relented and came back at me with a vengeance. His hands were around my neck again and he leaned within inches of my face. This time he shook my neck violently as he squeezed it. I tightened my neck muscles to keep from being strangled and I kept my hands around his wrists and tried to pry his arms off me, but I couldn't budge him.

The Swimmer fixed his hazel eyes on mine and a brutal intensity shined through them. And if I could read his eyes, and I thought I could, they were telling me of his dominance over me. He wanted me to know that he was killing me. And it occurred to me that killing me satisfied some primal need within him.

I closed my eyes and my head became light as a feather. Streams of white dots flashed before my eyes like shooting stars. I was about to lose consciousness. I could still feel echoes of pain, but they were fading now like a lost memory, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace, and I knew it would be all right for me to finally let go. I didn't need to be afraid any longer. A familiar feeling of lightness and incredible warmth beckoned me like an old friend, drew me toward it, and I followed.

And though my eyes were still closed, and I was certain that they were, I somehow saw my left hand falling lifelessly away from the Swimmer's wrist, followed by my right hand. I gave it no thought as if it had nothing to do with me. My arms and hands fell harmlessly to the pavement as everything unfolded neatly in its time and place.

And then I heard a word screamed with unflinching resolution. The sound split the air, rising sharply before dissipating back into the void. I was sure what the word had been: "No!" And then there was another sound—the sharp, unmistakable thunk of a baseball bat striking bone, clear and pristine. And a few seconds later, the sound repeated, accompanied by another, "No!"

Then I heard her call my name and I was suddenly thrust back into the pain. I tried to breathe but the pain only got worse. The wonderful feeling had vanished and I didn't know how to get it back. And then I heard a door open and then there was the clanking sound of something thrown onto the floor of the truck.

Then she was back and she lifted me up gently, cupping her hands behind my neck. "Jake," she cried urgently. "We have to go. They're coming. C'mon, open your eyes." And then she slapped me twice, hard enough that I felt it. "Wake up. You're going to be okay. But we have to get going. Right now, Jacob! Get up! Right now!"

I had no response. My world consisted of breathing as quietly as I could to help keep the pain at bay. And then she started to lift me and I stiffened and opened my eyes in protest. It was then I saw the panic in her eyes. She kept peeking over her shoulder as if she were expecting the grim reaper. But he didn't concern me at all. And I couldn't help but notice how beautiful Sarah was even with the bruised, worried face.

I heard the excited rasping breaths and I knew they were close and getting closer. I also knew she wasn't going to leave me alone. I knew she would keep at me, keep pestering me. I didn't know why she couldn't just let me go. I finally helped her since I knew she wasn't going to give up, and the two of us managed to get me to my feet. Sarah helped me to the truck's open back door and I crawled onto the back seat and lay there. Sarah closed the door behind her and climbed into the front seat from the back. A few seconds later we were gone.

I was stretched out on my stomach on the back seat. I gripped the front edge of the seat to keep myself balanced. I didn't want to move.  My head lay fragile on its side facing the back seat. I focused on the pain hoping to lessen its intensity. I knew my neck wasn't broken since I could move it and the rest of my body. But I didn't dare move an inch for fear of making the pain worse.

The Tundra roared up the street. Sarah was driving fast. I grabbed the seat belt receptacle with my left hand and used my feet against the door to brace myself.

"Mom," Becky drew out slowly, as if in warning. And then I heard a distinct thump on the left front fender and I guessed we must have hit one of them. Sarah made a sharp right turn and then we were driving through front yards. There were a few soft bumps here and there, but I managed to keep my head immobile. And then she swung left and we were out on the street again.

I managed to talk without moving my head, but my voice was scratchy and barely registered above a whisper. "Sarah... we need to get to a house... on the top of the East Bench. Okay?"