Night Betrayed (38 page)

But she kept her face passive, especially in light of the sober expressions on the faces of the men, who were talking as they stood around and ate. “Hi,” she said, feeling awkward walking into her own kitchen. “You’re back.” Gee, what an observation. She felt her cheeks flush.

How was it that he was able to make her forget herself so easily?

“Selena,” Theo said, his dark hooded eyes searching her face. “I—we—need your help.” His expression . . . there was something reserved there, lurking in his eyes. Something hesitant and empty.

As if something terrible had happened.

“What is it?” she asked, tensing. Was someone dying?

“We need your crystal. Will you come?”

“Yes,” she said, and the prickling on her shoulders told her that this wasn’t merely as simple an agreement as it sounded. She realized she didn’t know where or what or why, but she had no hesitation about going with him. Even if it meant bringing her crystal and facing the zombies again.

She was just so glad he was here. And he’d asked.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he looked at the others. “The sooner the better.”

“But you just got here,” Vonnie replied, her gaze casting over everyone as if terrified that she’d lose her diners so soon after their serendipitous arrival.

“I could stay,” Lou offered. “I already saved Theo’s life once yesterday. I figure it’s Wyatt’s turn this time.”

Theo snorted and a brief smile quirked his lips. “What was it you were saying about ripped muscles, bro?”

“In the immortal words of Buffy: Bite me. All I’m saying is, that was the longest fucking ten minutes I’ve ever lived through,” Lou shot back, leaning against the counter as he adjusted his glasses. “I think your watch was slow and it was more like twenty.”

“That settles it,” Wyatt said suddenly, standing straight up, clearly taking charge. “Lou stays—sorry, Vonnie—and we’re heading back to— What did you call it?”

“Isengard. Didn’t you ever see Lord of the Rings?” Theo said. “Isengard’s where they birthed the Orcs—pulled them right out of the muddy bowels of the earth. That’s what this place is: where they make zombies.”

Selena stilled and met Theo’s eyes around Wyatt’s shoulder. That’s why they needed her crystal. A little fear seized her deep inside. What do they need me to do?

Will I be able to do it?

She didn’t know; really didn’t know.

“Can you be ready in five minutes?” Wyatt asked.

“Five minutes?” Selena gulped. “Yes, I guess.” She turned to rush out of the room, realizing she had no idea how long she was going to be gone.

Selena hadn’t taken the crystal out of its box since Sam died, and now she found herself running through the house to get it. She passed through the ward where only one patient lingered, and stopped—wondered if she was doing the right thing. She could be gone for a week, even longer . . . and who would be here for Sally? She was nearly ready to pass.

“I’ll take care of her,” Vonnie said from behind her. “You need to go with Theo.”

Selena turned and saw worry in Vonnie’s eyes. “I’ll be all right; he’ll take care of me.”

“Come back safely. All of you. All three of you,” Vonnie murmured, drawing Selena close for an embrace.

And Selena realized at that moment that she’d never been separated from Vonnie for more than a day or two . . . ever.

“Go on. I’ll be fine, we’ll take care of Sally, Frank and me. And that Lou guy. Theo needs your help, and I think you need him too.”

Selena nodded. I think so too.

In retrospect, Theo wasn’t certain that it had been the best idea for all four of them, plus Dantès, to ride in the same Humvee—but it made sense to leave one for Lou in case he had to get somewhere fast.

At least if he and Selena had been riding alone, they might have been able to talk.

Not that he knew what he’d say.

He could have insisted on driving, instead of Wyatt, who’d claimed the privilege simply because he’d been in Iraq in the marines, and commandeered a fire truck on a regular basis—or at least, he had before the Change.

Theo glanced at Selena as they jounced along in the backseat, noted her pert nose, the full thrust of her lips, and the long golden length of her arm. Not to mention the curves of that nicely proportioned, insomnia-inducing body.

Did she still see a berserker warrior, a bloodthirsty killer, a man who thrived on violence when she looked at him? Was that why, although she met his gaze, there seemed to be a reserve there?

There was nothing in her expression or demeanor to indicate that she’d forgotten her revulsion for him and his actions—and the tension between them rose and fell, as choppy as the primitive terrain.

He tried to make conversation with her in between giving Wyatt directions—and he succeeded. He learned that she only had one patient now, and that Frank’s cacao trees seemed to be surviving. The brittleness he’d noted before he and Lou had left seemed to have eased.

But she didn’t smile as much as she used to. And the peacefulness and serenity that had so attracted him from the first seemed dull and diluted from what he remembered.

She’d changed.

Or maybe he had.

Yes, I definitely have.

So when they at last approached the looming walls in the truck, he felt a wave of apprehension chill him. He glanced at a tight-faced Selena, hoping everything would be all right when this was all done.

Selena looked down at the struggling figure linked to a long table in a very brightly lit room.

The creature’s gray skin sagged and tore, and her orange eyes glowed with desperation and hunger. The face was long and rubbery and empty, with jowls that had sagged beneath her eyes, sunk deeply into her cheeks, and were hanging down around the chin and jaw. Holes and wrinkles in the foul-smelling skin exposed the white of bone, and the black muscle and tendon beneath the flesh. What might have once been thick glossy hair was now thin and brittle and gray. Lips were nonexistent. Clothing hung in shreds from a body that bulged around the ankle and the wrist cuffs that held her—it was a woman—to the table.

Oh my God, was all Selena could think. Despite her experience with zombies, she’d never seen one in this capacity: closely, and in the light where all of the details were clear. She had to blink to keep back tears. How does this happen?

“We didn’t know what to do with it—her,” Theo said, standing next to Selena. “I thought you could help.”

At that moment, she wasn’t thinking about the horrifying creatures of night, the ones who’d dragged her son into pieces. Those monsters were far removed from this pitiful being, strapped and confined, and desperate.

Her crystal glowed hot against her skin and she pulled it from behind her shirt, heart racing. This was easy, simple. There was no threat to her, no danger. No night.

“Let her up,” Selena said to Theo, moving closer. She reached for the woman’s rotting hand as soon as he’d freed the wrist and the hulking body shifted and moved, lurching as it tried to rise into a sitting position.

He refused to release the creature’s legs, but it was enough. Selena touched the woman’s hand and felt the grainy, flaky skin against hers, and closed her own fingers around the crystal. As she looked into the woman’s eyes, seeking that last bit of humanity beyond the guttural moans that sounded like nothing, they connected for a moment. She saw deep into the burning orange, into the fear and angst buried inside.

Then a jolt of energy slugged through her, and Selena took in the memories from the woman as the last bit of energy died from those orange eyes. The horrible creature slumped and sagged, and then fell back onto the table with a heavy jolt.

Selena turned to Theo. “She’s gone.”

He nodded, and reached for her hand. “Thank you.”

And that was when it truly hit her: that he’d waited for her to help the creature. Instead of killing her himself. Instead of doing the sort of blind, violent execution she’d witnessed.

Shaking a little, she looked around the room. Wyatt and Elliott had done nothing but stand there, watching in silent horror.

“Theo,” Wyatt said now, pointing to a long channel behind him. “What’s this?”

Theo glanced at Selena and brought her over to it. She gasped when she saw two people floating in some liquid that looked like thick, sluggish water.

“Ballard took her”—he gestured to the dead zombie—“from here. She was just like them until he took her out and injected something into her brain. A crystal and some other fluid . . . Over there, Elliott.” He pointed toward a table with a finger that shook. “And then she turned into that. Right before our eyes.”

The other three gaped, revulsion and horror branding their faces. “Just like that?” Selena asked.

Theo nodded. “The most horrible part about it was that he was talking to her all through it, after he took her out of that . . . stuff. She was still alive, still aware of what was happening. She even answered—or tried to—questions from him. And from what he said”—Theo swallowed audibly, his handsome face twisting into something old and haggard—“she’d been kept that way, in that stuff, for fifty years.”

Selena clapped her hand over her mouth as she stared at the two figures, but she wasn’t able to keep her belly from tightening and purging. She barely found a can before she lost the contents of her stomach. When she looked up, she saw that the others were just as horrified. “My God,” she whispered.

“I know,” Theo said, holding her gaze. “It’s completely changed how I feel about them.”

“Why did you leave them in there?” Elliott asked, a note of tension and judgment in his voice as he gestured to the bodies in the channel.

Theo shook his head, his lips pressed together. “We took one of them out. They can’t breathe; they can’t move. They just sort of start to gasp and cough, like a fish out of water. Lou and I tried to save them, but didn’t know what to do. It’s like they’re alive . . . but they aren’t. So we put him back in until . . . until we figured out what to do.”

Then Theo straightened and drew in a deep breath. “And that’s not all. That big tank outside—you saw it when we came in—it’s filled . . . filled” —his voice cracked— “with more of them. Including,” he glanced at Selena, “Wayne and Buddy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Wyatt said, the words tight and low. His hard face had set even more, and he turned away.

“Those poor people. What the hell are we going to do about them?” Elliott asked, staring down into the channel.

Theo looked at Selena, his face weary, the silent question in his eyes.

She nodded, her mouth dry. “I’ll do what I can.”

Remy opened her eyes slowly.

One of them was swollen half shut, but the other worked fine. The rest of her hurt. Everywhere.

The ground beneath her was cold and damp, and the only light was the smoldering fire beyond. She was under the vehicle, where Seattle had rolled her aching, limp body after he’d finished with her.

Remy shoved away the memory of his hands on her, yanking her clothing aside, spreading her legs, shoving himself inside. She’d emptied what little had been in her belly earlier, to his disgust, and all she had left was an ugly, empty scraping.

And the determination to get the hell away from him.

She couldn’t move far; one hand was attached to some metallic thing by a handcuff. The gangas couldn’t get to her there as long as she stayed under the truck, so she kept herself in the center, out of their reach. They weren’t smart enough, she didn’t think, to try and move the truck.

She just hoped Seattle meant to unlock the restraint before he drove off in the morning. She could live through another beating and rape, but not being dragged along beneath those huge wheels.

Things hadn’t started off this badly when he’d killed Ian and took her off with him in the truck a week ago. That was how she’d lost Dantès, too. He couldn’t have followed a truck, but he’d already gone missing when they drove off. Remy tried not to worry too much because Dantès always found her. No matter what.

And at first, Seattle had been what he must have considered to be charming and friendly. Remy had been plotting her escape from the beginning, taking care to keep her pistol hidden in the small pack she had, or in the back of her jeans. She should have left sooner, but they were with other bounty hunters and didn’t want to raise suspicion. Plus, she needed time to plan.

But after three nights of her resisting his physical advances, Seattle had obviously had enough. He’d slipped over to her while she was sleeping there, in the same room as the other bounty hunters, and she’d awakened to his hand over her mouth and his leg shoving between hers. His long ringleted hair brushed her face.

“You gave it up for Marck, you’ll give it up for me,” he growled into her face when her eyes bolted open.

But Remy didn’t sleep without her pistol, and when she reached behind her head to grab it in a pretend stretch, Seattle got the unpleasant surprise of the barrel jamming against the side of his head.

“Get off me,” she hissed when he froze and she shoved his hand away. “And don’t touch me again.”

Seattle rolled away, but not before he fixed her with a look of loathing evident even in the dim light of night. She knew then she’d made an enemy, so she’d gotten more serious about escaping.

But the next day, as they were driving in the trucks, Seattle made a detour while the others went back to Yellow Mountain. And he took her with him, using a handcuff to keep her in the truck, and then with him later.

That was the first time he’d raped her.

The next day, she’d tried to escape by hitting him in the head with a rock when he was taking a piss near a river, her wrist cuffed to his.

He’d held her face under water long enough that the darkness came and took her away. When she came to, he hit her in the face, then yanked down her pants again.

Tonight had been the worst, which was why she’d been relegated to under the truck—to a night of discomfort and the fear of being dragged out and devoured by zombies. She preferred not to relive the other details that had led to being here. Instead, she tried not to cry, tried not to give in to the despair and fear and pain.