The Kill Order (11 page)

“And we all saw the Toad last night,” Alec added. “Who knows when he got it—if he had it as long as Misty, or just got it from being with her when she died—but he was crazy like mad cow disease.”

“Show some respect,” Trina snapped at him.

Mark expected Alec to retaliate or defend himself, but he appeared humbled by the rebuke. “I’m sorry, Trina. Really I am. But Lana and I are just trying to assess our situation as best we can. Figure things out. And the Toad was obviously not lucid last night.”

Trina didn’t back down. “So you killed him.”

“That’s not fair,” Alec said coolly. “If Misty died that quickly after her symptoms hit, it’s fair to say that the Toad was going to die also. He was a threat to all of us, but he was also a friend. I did him a mercy and hopefully bought
us
another day or two.”

“Unless you caught something from him,” Lana said tonelessly.

“I was careful. And I immediately scrubbed myself clean.”

“Seems pointless,” Mark said. He was sinking farther into the doldrums with every second. “Maybe we all have it and it just takes longer to kill you depending on your immune system.”

Alec shifted up on to his knees. “We’ve strayed from Lana’s point. There’s something wrong with this virus. It’s not consistent. I’m not a scientist, but could it be mutating or something? Changing as it jumps from one person to the next?”

Lana nodded. “Mutating, adapting, strengthening—who knows. But something. And it seems to take longer to kill you as it spreads, which—contrary to what you’d assume—actually means the virus is more effectively spreading. You and Mark weren’t there, but you should’ve seen how quickly those first victims went. Nothing like Misty. It was bloody and brutal and awful for an hour or two, but then it was over. They convulsed and bled, which only helped it to spread to more human incubators.”

Mark was glad he’d missed it. But considering what he’d seen Darnell go through at the end, those people might’ve been lucky that it had happened so fast. With way too much clarity, Mark recalled the sound of the boy beating his skull against the inside of the door.

“It has something to do with their head,” Trina murmured.

Everyone looked at her. She’d just voiced something obvious, but vital.

“It definitely had something to do with their head,” Mark chimed in. “They all had massive pain. And loss of sanity. Darnell was hallucinating—plain crazy. And then Misty. And the Toad …”

Trina posed a question. “Maybe they shot people with different things—how do we know it all started the same?”

Mark shook his head. “I went through the boxes on the Berg,” he said. “They all seemed to have the same identification number.”

Alec stood up. “Well, if it
is
mutating and if any of us have caught it, let’s hope it gives us a week or two before we lose our wits. Come on. Let’s get moving.”

“Nice,” Trina muttered as she got to her feet.

A few minutes later, they were on the march again.

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon they came within sight of another settlement. It was off the path Alec had scrawled on his makeshift map, but Mark spotted several wooden structures through the trees, big ones. His heart lifted at the idea of seeing large groups of people again.

“Should we go over there?” Lana asked.

Alec seemed to be weighing the pros and cons before he answered. “Hmm. I don’t know. I’m eager to keep moving and follow our map. We don’t know anything about these people.”

“But maybe we should,” Mark argued. “They might actually know something about the bunker, headquarters, whatever we’re calling the place the Berg came from.”

Alec looked at him, obviously considering all their options.

“I think we should check it out,” Trina said. “If nothing else, we can warn them about what’s happened to us.”

“Okay,” Alec relented. “One hour.”

The smell hit them when the wind shifted, just as they were approaching the first buildings, small huts made of logs with thatched roofs.

It was the same smell that had assaulted Mark and Alec when they’d approached their own village after chasing down the Berg and marching back. The smell of rotting flesh.

“Whoa!” Alec called out. “That’s it. We’re turning around right now.”

Even as he said it, it became clear where the stench was coming from. Farther down the path several bodies had been stacked on top of each other. Then a figure appeared. A little girl was walking toward them from the direction of the dead. She must have been five or six years old, with matted dark hair and filthy clothes.

“Guys,” Mark said. When the others looked at him, he nodded toward the approaching girl. She stopped about twenty feet from them. Her face was dirty and her expression sad, and she didn’t say anything. Just looked at them with hollow eyes. The stench of rot hung in the air.

“Hey there,” Trina called out. “Are you okay, sweetie? Where are your parents? Where are the others from your village? Are they …” She didn’t need to finish—the stack of bodies spoke for itself.

The girl answered in a quiet voice and pointed out toward the woods behind Mark and the others.

“They all ran into the forest. They all ran away.”

Mark didn’t know what it was about her words that made him shiver, but they did, and he couldn’t fight the urge to look over his shoulder toward where she was staring. There was nothing back there but the trees and the brush and the sunlight dappling the ground.

He turned to face the girl again. Trina walked toward her, which of course made Alec protest.

“You can’t do this,” he said, but even his gravelly rebuke didn’t have any strength. It was one thing to leave adults behind, people who were able to fend for themselves. Maybe it was even one thing to put a teenager—almost an adult—out of his or her misery, like Alec had done to the Toad. But this was a child, and that made everything different. “At least try not to touch her, for the sake of all of us.”

The girl flinched and took a few steps back when Trina got close to her.

“It’s okay,” Trina said, stopping. She got down on one knee. “We’re friendly, I promise. We came from a village just like yours, where they had lots of kids. Do you have friends here?”

The girl nodded, then seemed to remember something. She shook her head sadly.

“They’re gone now?”

A nod.

Trina looked back at Mark, heartbreak in her eyes, then returned her attention to the girl.

“What’s your name?” Trina asked. “Mine is Trina. Can you tell me yours?”

After a long pause, the girl said, “Deedee.”

“Deedee, huh? I love that name. It’s really cute.”

“My brother’s name is Ricky.”

It seemed such a childlike thing to say, and for some reason it brought memories of Madison slamming to the forefront of Mark’s thoughts. His heart ached. He wished this girl were his little sister. And as always, he tried his hardest to keep his mind from wandering down the darkest road of all. Imagining what might’ve happened to her when the sun flares struck.

“Where is Ricky?” Trina asked.

Deedee shrugged. “I don’t know. He went with the others. Into the forest.”

“With your mom and your dad?”

The girl shook her head. “No. They got hit by the arrows from the sky. Both of them. They died real nasty.” Tears welled up until they spilled over and washed down her dirty cheeks.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, sweetheart,” Trina said, her voice full of the deepest sincerity. Mark was sure he’d never liked her as much as he did right then. “Some of our friends were … hurt by the same people. Nasty, like you said. I’m so, so sorry.”

Deedee was crying but also rocking back and forth on her heels, something that again reminded Mark of Madison. “It’s okay,” she said, so sweetly that Mark didn’t know how much more of this he could take. “I know it wasn’t your fault. It was the bad men’s fault. The ones who wear the funny green suits.”

Mark pictured that day, remembered looking up at the same people on the Berg. Or friends of the same people. Who knew how many Bergs
were out there, flying around with dart guns full of who knew what. Why, though? Why?

Trina kept digging, as tenderly as she could, for more information. “Why did the others leave? Why didn’t you go with them?”

Deedee held up her right arm, the hand balled into a fist. She pulled up her ratty sleeve to reveal a circular wound near her shoulder, scabbed over but looking poorly cared for. She didn’t say anything, just held the arm straight out for everyone to inspect.

Mark took in a quick breath. “Looks like she was shot by a dart!”

“I’m sorry about your owie,” Trina said, shooting a glare at Mark. “But … do you know why they left? Where they went? Why didn’t you go with them?”

The girl jabbed her arm out again, pointing at the wound. Mark exchanged a look with Alec and Lana, sure that they understood the deep significance as much as he did. Why was this girl okay if she’d been shot?

“I really am sorry they hurt you,” Trina said. “Looks like you’re one lucky girl. Do you not want to answer any more questions? It’s okay if you don’t.”

Deedee groaned in frustration and pointed at her wound once again. “This is why! This is why they left me here! They’re bad, like the green men.”

“I’m really sorry, sweetie.”

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I’ll tell you what happened. They probably thought she was sick from the dart and left without her.” The words sounded wrong, though. How could anyone actually do that? To a little kid?

“Is that what happened?” Trina asked her. “They left you because they thought you might be sick? Like the others?”

Deedee nodded and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

Trina stood up and turned to face Alec.

The soldier held a hand up. “I’ll stop you before you even start. I may look like I was chewed up and spit out by the meanest beast in the jungle, but I’m not heartless. We’ll take the girl with us.”

Trina nodded and genuinely smiled for the first time that day.

“It probably
is
true that she’s infected,” Lana pointed out. “It’s just taking longer to manifest itself.”

“Odds are we’re all sick,” Alec grumbled as he readjusted the straps of his backpack.

“We’ll be careful with her,” Trina said. “We just need to keep our hands clean and away from our nose and mouth. Wear a mask as much as possible. But I’m not letting this sweet thing out of my sight until …” She didn’t finish, and Mark was glad for that.

“It’s another mouth to feed,” Alec said, “but I guess she won’t eat much.” He smiled to show he was joking—something that didn’t happen very often. “Part of me wants to ransack this place to look for supplies, food, but whatever is taking everyone down is probably camped up nice and cozy on every dirty inch of the place. Let’s get out of here.”

Trina motioned to Deedee to come along, and surprisingly, she did so without any argument. Alec headed back the way they’d come, to the path he’d so carefully mapped out. As they walked, Mark tried not to think about the fact that they were going exactly where Deedee had pointed earlier.

They didn’t run into anyone—living or dead—for the next few hours, and Mark almost forgot about the people who had left Deedee behind. The girl stayed quiet through the journey, never complaining as they maintained a brisk pace, up and down the rocky terrain and then up and
down all over again. Trina stayed by her side, wearing a cloth over her face.

Deedee eagerly devoured her dinner, probably the first decent meal she’d had in a while. Then they hiked for another hour or two before setting up camp. Alec announced that, according to his calculations, they only had one full day of traveling to go.

Mark watched Trina with Deedee. She took such good care of the little girl—making her a spot to sleep, helping her wash up in the stream, telling her a story as darkness settled on the wooded valley.

Mark watched, and hoped for a day when life could be good and safe again. When the horrors might end and boredom became their worst problem. When a girl like Deedee could run around and laugh like kids were supposed to.

He settled down next to Trina and the little girl, thinking about the past, and drifted off to sleep, only for the darker memories to come and stamp out his foolish hopes.

It takes Mark only ten minutes or so to realize that Alec is the person he wants to be close to until they’re back safe and sound in their homes. Not only did he disarm three men and put them out of commission in less than thirty seconds, he is also a former soldier who wastes no time taking charge and telling them how it is.

“Sometimes you can believe the rumors and chitchat,” the older man says as they slosh through the water of the passageway outside the storage closet where they encountered the armed thugs. “Most times it’s some lame-brained numbskull trying to impress a lady or two. But once the majority of the rumors are saying the same thing, you better perk up and pay attention. You’re probably wondering what in the hell I’m trying to say here.”

Mark looks over at Trina—he can barely see her face in the dim glow from the flashlight that Alec is holding in front of them. She gives him a look that says,
Who
is
this guy?
She’s carrying the box of food she found earlier. It’s like her security blanket or something—she won’t let anyone else touch it. Not yet.

“Yeah, we’re wondering,” Mark finally replies.

Alec stops and whirls around, quick as a striking snake. At first Mark thinks his answer came out wrong, sarcastically, and the man might punch his lights out. But instead the tough old man just holds up a finger.

“We have one hour, tops, to get out of these rat tunnels. You hear me? One hour.” He turns back around and starts marching again.

“Wait, what?” Mark asks as they hurry to keep pace. “What do you mean? Why? Isn’t it a bad idea to go up there until … well, I don’t know.”

“Sun flares.”

He says the two words like he needs to say nothing else. Like the others should instantly know everything going on in his mind.

“Sun flares?” Trina repeats. “That’s what you think happened up there?”