The Children and the Blood (17 page)

She rushed toward the building. The plywood over the nearest window hung loose, and her fingers scrambled to push the covering away. Holding the wood aside awkwardly with one hand, she clambered onto the garbage bin beside the wall, and then hoisted herself over the splintered windowsill.

Dust puffed up as she landed and she coughed, fanning it away. Dim shapes resolved themselves from the shadows, becoming cloth-covered furniture and potted plants long since dead. Against one wall, the half-built remains of a front desk rested beside moldering rolls of carpet, while overhead, cobwebs dangled from the grayed crystals of a chandelier. To her right, a wide stairway swept up to a gallery overlooking the first floor. Light slid through gaps in the wooden coverings on the revolving door to her left, making the dust clouds glitter in the air.

Carefully, she eased the plywood back into place. Still waving at the dust, she inched farther into the lobby, and then froze as the floor sagged alarmingly beneath her feet. Picking her way across the room, she clutched the tarnished brass banister and then crept up the steps, her heart pounding as they creaked and groaned.

Atop the stairway, a gaping space for double doors led to a large room, and past the slats on the windows, deep gold sunlight streamed in. Paint tins and old blankets crowded a corner of the room, and beside the doorway, dented food cans lay scattered beneath a broken ladder. Warily, she walked to the windows to peer through a crack between the boards.

The sun was setting, and purple shadows spread over the streets. The last beams of sunlight reflected in shop windows, and lit on the faces of people walking by.

A cop car drove past.

She jerked back, her heart jumping into her throat.

Without pause, the vehicle continued down the street until it disappeared from view.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled and then turned away from the window and sank to the floor. She couldn’t stop trembling. Her lungs burned from running and her muscles ached horribly, but above all, she just couldn’t stop trembling.

Malden lay on the floor, his skin peeling and blood everywhere. She could hear his screams echoing in her ears.

Nausea rose and she swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. Squeezing her eyes shut, she smashed the memory into the flames, and bore down on the fires with all her might, trying to crush them into oblivion. Flickering and twisting, they fought for a heartbeat and then retreated, fading into an infinitesimal wisp of flame that refused to go away.

She gasped and then choked on the air. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She hadn’t meant to do anything at all.

She just hadn’t wanted to die.

Tears slipped from beneath her lids to join the dust on the floor.

The stairs creaked.

Her eyes went wide and she rushed toward the blankets against the far wall.

“Well, look what we have here.”

Halfway across the room, she froze, the amused voice dragging her terrified gaze back to its owner. From the doorway, a man regarded her, and he felt wrong. So wrong. Like her father, but darker. Like the men in the forest, but still alive.

Trying not to sob, she shook her head, backing up and then running into the wall.

He chuckled as he strolled into the room. “Here I was thinking I’d have to give up my cripple hunting and go home empty-handed.” The humor left his eyes. “But then I found you.”

Frantic, she lunged for the space between him and the door.

“Stupid little bitch!”

Something slammed into her. Nothing slammed into her. But it sent her back against the wall like a blow from a two-by-four.

She crashed into the plywood and then plummeted to the ground.

“You’re in my territory and
now
you’re going to run? You think I’m just going to let you get away from me like that?”

Scrabbling at the rough floor, she tried to stand. The horrible, dark mess of energy around him swelled up, and then crushed in on her like a vice. Circling her neck and cutting off her air, the impossible nothing lifted her up and pinned her to the wall.

Her legs kicked ineffectually as he came closer, and his face was all she could see. His eyes drank in her fear and then he scoffed, stepping back as the energy around him faded. She tumbled to the floor.

“Come on, bitch. Make it fun for me.”

Gunshots echoed through the room.

Paralyzed, she stared as the man’s brow furrowed at her. Confusion twisted across his face and he stumbled forward.

Legs giving way beneath him, he toppled sideways to the ground.

By the doorway, two black men stood, guns in hand and a German Shepherd the size of a wolf at their side. In stained jackets and jeans, they watched her, no expression touching their dark eyes.

Hysteria bubbled up and it was all she could do not to scream. The man had… he’d… and then these two men had…

They felt like the boy who’d died. Something missing. A void where something should have been.

The older of the two made a clicking noise, and immediately, the dog started toward her. Momentarily, it paused by the body, sniffing it, and then continued on.

She couldn’t breathe. Small, panicked noises escaped between her clenched teeth as the creature stopped beside her, and her eyes couldn’t leave the massive jaws inches from her face.

The dog licked her cheek and then glanced back at its master.

In a smooth motion, the older man tucked the gun behind his back and crossed the room. Ignoring the body, he crouched down in front of her, while the younger man made an aggravated noise.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She was shaking too hard to speak.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he said gently.

Annoyance on his face, the younger man covered the distance between them quickly. “We’ve got to go.”

The man in front of her didn’t reply.

Muscles jumping beneath the skin of his jaw, he gripped the man’s shoulder. “
Now
.”

Looking back, the older man met his companion’s eyes.

“Call Bus,” he said evenly. “Tell him to get ready to leave.” He paused, returning his attention to Ashley. “And that we’ve got a guest.”

She stared at him, struggling to process the words.

Incredulously, the younger man scoffed. “Are you crazy? You saw the news, right? You know who this is?”

Anguish suffused her. They’d saved her. They’d shot the monster. And now they’d leave because of lies on television.

But the older man just gave him a flat look. “Don’t tell me you believe that crap.”

Ashley blinked, her gaze going from one of them to the other.

Shaking his head, the young man scowled and then took out his cell phone. Ignoring his companion, the older man turned back to her and held out a weathered hand.

“You’re safe with us. I promise.”

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“My name is Josiah Carter.” He gave her a small smile. “Most folks just call me Carter.”

“He…” she started, her gaze flicking to the body and then darting away. “How did he…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, but at her words, Carter paused.

“That’s not important right now,” he said carefully. “What matters is, you’re safe. And we need go.” His eyebrow raised, and he nodded toward his hand.

Wide-eyed, she stared between them all. The younger man was snapping orders into his phone, and clearly talking over the protests on the other end. Ignoring them, the dog was snuffling through the blankets industriously.

And Carter just waited.

Trembling, she reached out, taking his hand. Stepping back, he pulled her to her feet and then glanced to his companion. Returning his cell to his pocket, the younger man snagged a rucksack from beneath the garbage on the floor and then shoved the cans of food inside. With a nod to Carter, he took the lead out of the room, with the older man a step behind.

The dog fell in beside her as she followed.

At the alleyway, Carter helped her over the windowsill while the other man watched the street as though waiting for it to attack.

“Paint,” Carter said.

A can of spray paint materialized from within the younger man’s jacket, and without taking his gaze from the street, he tossed it to Carter, who quickly scrawled a swirling mess of rough graffiti across the plywood on the window.

“Carter…”

The older man glanced back and then turned away swiftly, cursing under his breath. Ashley followed his gaze.

A few dozen yards down the street, amid the evening crowd waiting for a bus, a man stood, his cell phone raised. He paused, clicking something on the cell, and then stuffed the phone into his pocket and started across the intersection toward them.

Carter swore. In a fluid motion, he tossed the paint can into an empty stretch of road and pulled out his gun.

The bullet exploded into and through the can, and in the street, people screamed.

“Let’s go,” he said to Ashley, grabbing her hand.

The men took off down the alley, and she looked back in shock as Carter pulled her after him. Fury creased the other man’s face as panicked bystanders clogged his path.

Moving quickly, the two men wove through alleys and roads with a determination that belied their random path. The last shreds of daylight faded as they traveled, leaving dense shadows that could have been hiding anything. Headlights glared in her eyes as cars swept past, and from street corners, drunks and addicts called out, cursing, begging, asking her to come close. Ducking her face away, she strode faster while at her side the dog kept pace, unwavering.

Brick buildings gave way to dilapidated houses with posters warning of guard dogs. No Trespassing signs hung from splintering doors, and chain-link fences circumscribed every yard. Streetlamps flickered intermittently if they glowed at all and, as the neighborhood passed around her, fewer and fewer houses were lit behind their iron window bars.

Empty lots gradually took the place of homes, though occasional concrete foundations showed where buildings once stood. The darkened street curved, and at the end of the next road, she caught sight of the murky river rippling beneath the city lights. A bridge rose to her right beyond the remnants of the neighborhood and the distant noise of traffic mingled with the rushing waters ahead.

The weathered asphalt ended in two pockmarked posts with a No Trespassing sign dangling on a chain between them. The men stepped over it, leaving the rusted metal admonishment swinging and creaking behind them.

Warily, Ashley followed. A gravel expanse separated them from the river and the massive bridge supports plowed deep into its banks. Beneath the concrete structure, a fire burned in a garbage can, with a dark green van parked close by. The dog loped ahead of her as she walked after the two men, their footsteps loud in the silence.

A gun pushed into her back. In the shadows behind the hood of the van, a man rose and aimed a shotgun at her, while another German Shepherd rounded the vehicle and growled.

Ashley froze, her feet skidding to a stop a dozen yards from the garbage bin. Quivering with her fear, the flames began to surge, and desperately, she fought them down while trying to keep from crying.

“Who the hell are you?” someone demanded behind her.

Carter turned around. “It’s alright. She’s with us.”

By the van, the man with the shotgun eased his grip, but the gun behind her didn’t budge. Up ahead, Ashley could see dry amusement cross the younger man’s face.

Carter just lifted a brow.

The gun disappeared. Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her.

A girl circled around, her cold gaze not leaving Ashley. Firelight played over the blonde dreadlocks draping past her shoulders, and caught on the gun in her pale hands. A dark jacket hung to her waist and as she tucked her weapon away, Ashley glimpsed another gun stowed in a holster to one side of her chest.

“Got your message,” the girl said to Carter. “Trouble?”

“Feral and Blood.”

“Dead?”

“Yes and no, respectively.”

The girl grimaced, and then jerked her chin toward Ashley. “Who’s this?”

Carter glanced over, and Ashley swallowed nervously. A small grin pulled at his mouth.

“Introductions first, eh?” he said kindly. He nodded to the younger man. “Samson you know. The young lady with the weapons is Spider, and the gentleman by the van is Bus.” Humor flitted through his eyes. “Most of us aren’t fond of common names. So what do we call you?”

She stared. Crossing to Samson’s side, Spider raised an eyebrow at him before returning to watching Ashley. Pushing away from the van, Bus circled the vehicle and left the shadows.

The light caught on white hair and bright blue eyes. She gasped softly, crumbling inside.

And then the illusion ended.

It wasn’t Jonathan. Besides the hair and eyes, the two men didn’t look remotely alike.

Raggedly, she drew a breath. For a moment, she’d thought…

The old man’s brow furrowed at her expression, and he glanced to Carter. Swallowing hard, she turned away, her gaze finding the flames in the garbage can.

For a moment, she’d thought the impossible could be real. She wasn’t alone, everything wasn’t destroyed and, in some small way, she really could go back home.

And then that hope was gone, and stupid, cold reality crashed into the void. She felt like she was falling, though she wasn’t moving at all, and everything in her body was far away. Of their own volition, her eyes tracked the embers floating into the night, while in their own dance, the fires twisted somewhere inside.

Carter made a questioning noise. Dully, she looked away from the blaze, recalling what he’d asked.

Only one answer came to mind.

“Ashe,” she whispered.

Carter studied her briefly and then nodded. “Is there anywhere we can take you? Someone you can stay with?”

Numbly, she shook her head. Everyone she’d had left had been at the farm, shot and burned and blamed on her, while the rest lay in ashes at a home she couldn’t even recall.

The catalog of the dead scrolled through her mind and, trembling, she closed her eyes. It was too big. Dad being gone. And Rose. Jonathan. The farmhands. Lily. The whole world, barely a day before. It couldn’t be allowed to sink in. If she let it, she might not survive.