Phoenix (32 page)

When is this?
Brad
said
to
himself
.
No
one
else
heard
him
though
because
this
was
only
a
dream
and
he
wasn’t
really
there
.
He
turned
his
attention
back
to
her
.

She
was
armed
,
thank
God
.
But
then
again
,
when
had
Brad
ever
known
her
not
to
be
armed
.
Kasey’s
friend
was
armed
,
too
.
The
two
women
aimed
their
handguns
at
the
screeching
monstrosities
on
the
other
side
of
the
fence
.
Brad
started
getting
a
bad
feeling
about
it
.

Should they be standing so close?

He
walked
closer
to
her
,
close
enough
to
smell
her
hair
.

"Hey, Kase, you shouldn’t stand so close. I
don’t like the looks of these things. There’s something wrong with
them."

Of
course
she
didn’t
hear
him
.
He
wasn’t
really
there
.

Then
the
dead
started
climbing
the
fence
.
Only
a
few
at
first
,
and
she
opened
fire
on
them
.
So
did
the
others
.
Brad
jumped
back
.
It
seemed
between
her
and
her
friend
and
the
handful
of
guards
,
they
were
controlling
the
situation
.
But
why
were
the
dead
climbing
the
fence
? How
were
they
climbing
?
They
were
dead
.

Zombies aren’t supposed to climb.

A
moment
or
two
later
the
gunfire
ended
and
the
fence
was
clear
.
A
couple
of
the
guards
stepped
closer
to
the
fence
to
get
a
good
look
at
the
corpses
.
Another
guard
talked
again
on
his
walkie
-
talkie
.

"
Wait
.
Wasn’t
there
more
than
that
chasing
us
?"
her
friend
asked
.

Why was she chased? Those things chased her?
What the hell is going on here?

No
sooner
had
Brad
thought
this
then
another
,
larger
group
of
dead
slammed
into
the
fence
.
They
screamed
,
growled
,
and
climbed
.
More
trailed
behind
,
hurling
out
of
the
nearby
tree
line
.
The
two
guards
close
to
the
fence
were
grabbed
,
jerked
back
,
and
torn
to
pieces
.
Brad
watched
this
with
horror
.
What
were
these
things
?
Where
had
they
come
from
?
He
screamed
for
her
to
run
,
but
again
,
she
didn’t
hear
him
.
She
fired
again
on
the
dead
.
They
all
did
.
The
corpses
were
hauling
themselves
up
and
over
the
fence
so
fast
though
that
most
of
their
shots
missed
.
A
nearby
guard
yelled
something
to
her
,
dropped
his
gun
,
and
took
off
running
somewhere
behind
Brad
.
He
tried
to
turn
to
see
where
the
man
was
going
but
couldn’t
.
It
was
like
he
was
meant
to
see
only
this
,
what
was
directly
in
front
of
him
.

Corpses
were
getting
caught
and
tangled
up
in
the
razor
wire
stretched
along
the
top
of
the
fence
.
Others
climbed
over
them
and
fell
to
the
ground
.
It
didn’t
take
long
for
them
to
get
to
their
feet
and
they
were
much
more
coordinated
than
the
dead
Brad
had
seen
.
She
grabbed
her
friend
by
the
arm
and
ran
.
Brad
was
spun
around
.
He
was
supposed
to
witness
this
.

Oh, Christ…I’m going to watch her be
killed.

He
screamed
again
.
They
didn’t
hear
him
.
Corpse
after
corpse
raced
past
him
as
if
he
wasn’t
even
there
.
They
chased
her
,
chased
them
both
.
The
two
women
ran
as
hard
as
they
could
and
didn’t
look
back
.
The
dead
were
so
close
.
Brad
could
see
a
set
of
doors
,
maybe
it
was
a
gate
,
in
the
wall
they
were
running
toward
.
It
was
closed
.

Open the gate!
he
screamed
.
Open the fucking gate!

He
didn’t
need
to
be
psychic
to
know
what
was
going
through
her
head
.
They
weren’t
going
to
make
it
.
The
gate
wasn’t
opening
.
Screeching
,
running
corpses
were
right
on
their
heels
.

And
the
only
thing
Brad
could
do
was
watch
.

* * *

"We’re going to have to do something about
this." Adams struggled to hold a hand towel over Brad’s mouth as
the man screamed in his sleep.

"I know, but what can we do? He’s dreaming
and I don’t know of anything that can stop those." Mort held down
his arms. "Unless you want to lasso a few dead people and keep them
in the house, garble up the dreams again."

Brad kicked, but his hands were more
dangerous. He’d grope until his fingers curled around something,
like the hilt of the knife he kept under his pillow or the
semi-automatic handgun that rested on the nightstand.

More minutes passed and Adams switched hands.
All three men had broken out in a sweat.

"I can’t believe Izzy hasn’t started this
shit." Mort mopped his brow while leaning across Brad’s torso,
where he’d pinned the younger mans’ arms.

"What makes you think she isn’t dreaming
whatever it is he’s dreaming?" Adams jerked his chin toward
Brad.

Mort met his eyes. "Believe me, if she was,
I’d know it. Boy’s terrified." Mort bit the inside of his cheek and
fought for control. It was hard sometimes. His mental image of Brad
was crisp these days, since their new home had been cleared out.
Every night, the picture swarmed with so much black and red that
Brad was invisible. The emotions that formed from those made Mort
feel like he was drowning.

Brad still screamed into the hand towel with
each breath. Mort knew he’d wake up in the morning with a sore
throat and wouldn’t be able to talk until noon. He even considered
breaking open one of the many bottles of liquor that was stored in
the basement, hoping a shot or two would help Brad sleep. Then he
remembered the binge his younger friend had been on before the end
of the world. That hadn’t helped him one bit.

"It’s starting all over again."

"What is…" Adams started to ask even though
he was pretty certain he didn’t want the answer.

"He’s done this before. Damn near drank
himself to death trying to stop it."

Adams understood. There wasn’t a single
member of the group that hadn’t been through something similar at
one point in their lives. Adams had gone through it and come out on
the other side a little more jaded, a little more cynical, and a
lot more cautious. The fact that a Psi had to live through this
more than once, though? Adams wasn’t sure how
he’d
handle
it, let alone Brad.
Probably
just
take
a
gun
and
eat
a
bullet
.

Brad stopped screaming and opened his
eyes.

"Hey." Mort leaned closer. "You really
awake?"

He and Adams held their breath and, as had
become habit, sat there spring-loaded. More than once Brad had
appeared
to be lucid. A couple bloody noses had been all the
pair needed to learn that lesson: never let him go until he
answers.

Mort shook the wrists still clenched between
his hands. "Hey, Brad, answer me."

Brad deliberately blinked and grunted. Adams
still had his mouth covered. Mort exhaled and let him go, nudging
Adams to do the same. The two eased back and gave Brad some space,
but not so much that they couldn’t pin him down again if things
took a weird turn. Brad stayed on his back. He stretched his arms,
flexed his wrists, rolled his shoulders as best as he could since
he was laying down. Then he blew out a breath and pushed himself up
until he was sitting.

"How long this time?"

Adams and Mort glanced at each other. The
older said, "I don’t know. Not long."

"Mort."

"About an hour."

Brad dropped his head and held it in his
hands. "Goddammit."

Adams slid off the edge of the bed and left
the two alone, slipping out the door and busying himself in the
bathroom down the hall.

Brad said nothing. He shook a little and his
breathing was uneven. Mort waited with pen in hand. Picture-Brad
swam among a residue of fear, but it was fading. The last time this
happened, before the dead had risen, he’d pushed Brad to talk about
it. That had backfired. The cause of this new bout of nightly
torture was unknown to Mort. He only knew he needed to handle it
differently than the last time.

Maybe give him more space and keep an eye on
the whiskey supply.

Brad cleared his throat. "I’m okay." He
rubbed his face and shifted around on the bed. The blankets were a
mess.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Can I get some water?"

Mort patted Brad’s leg and went straight to
the kitchen.
Don’t
baby
him
.
Give
him
room
. He passed Adams in the hall and the younger
man turned to follow. Mort thought he heard murmuring coming from
the room down from theirs, but dismissed it.
Brad
needs
water
.
Just
get
the
water
. He filled a cup from a water jug they kept on the
kitchen counter. Adams got a drink for himself and stayed behind,
leaning against the counter and staring out the small window above
the sink. Before going back into their bedroom, Mort stopped and
listened. This time he definitely heard Izzy talking in her room.
Mort closed his eyes, tapped his pen, and his picture of her was
misted over with shades of gray and green. It was nothing like
Brad’s had been, but it was far from her normal state.