The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide (8 page)

"Stopping." They slopped to a halt in the puddle as he searched carefully forward with his foot. The hole had been around here somewhere, he was certain of it. He hesitatingly took a couple of steps forward and found the edge of the hole. "This way."

He led the way across and started back down the hall. A small squeak sounded from the back. "Something just touched me," a girl gasped.

"Wires," Xander told her impatiently.

"It felt like a hand," she insisted.

Xander shuddered as he thought of the mushy thing from the first room, but he continued on, refusing to even think about the possibility. The turn should be somewhere up here…

His hand hit a wall; he jerked back as his wrist protested the abrupt contact. There shouldn't have been a wall there. He thought back over his counting, tried to recall the number of steps, and knew that they had been right. But as his hands pressed flat against the wall again, he finally accepted the awful truth that his mind had been trying to deny.

He'd somehow gotten turned around within the hallways. He had no idea where he was right now, or where to go.

CHAPTER 6

Al

Franklin, Mass.

"What is that?" John demanded.

Al could only stand and stare at the black rain that poured over the vehicles, asphalt, and washed down the road in a sweeping torrent that was already forming puddles and rivers. "The supplies!" Carl blurted.

He turned away from the door, took the gun out from his waistband and placed it on the counter. Lee grabbed hold of Carl's arm as he stepped toward the door. "You can't go out there!"

"The medicine is in the back of that truck, we can't let it get ruined," Carl reminded him.

"We don't know what
that
is!" Lee retorted.

"We don't know what anything is anymore. Al, give me your keys."

Al fumbled in his pocket for the keys and pulled them free. "Maybe you should reconsider this," he told Carl as he handed them over.

Carl fleetingly met his gaze before taking the keys. "I have thought about it. I'm not robbing anymore stores any time soon, and I'm not letting everything we have go to waste. John?"

John hesitated before giving a brief bow of his head and placing his gun on the counter. "Yeah, whatever."

Lee grabbed hold of Riley's arm when she placed her rifle down and unstrapped the belt at her waist. "Riley come on."

"They're going to need help Lee," she told him as she removed her arm from his grasp and handed him the belt. Her large blue eyes drifted toward the door before coming back to him. "Carl's right, we can't let it all be for nothing."

Lee shook his head as he released her. "I'll go with you."

"No, stay, if something… if that rain is wrong somehow, in more than the obvious way, someone has to find Xander and Bobby. You're the only other one that has any idea where to look."

"He'll kick my ass if something happens to you, let me go."

"No. I'm faster and you know it. We're wasting time arguing, I'm going."

Lee opened his mouth to protest, but he closed it again and gave her a brisk nod. Carl and John already had the door open and were waiting for her under the overhang. Riley swallowed nervously as she stepped through the door to join them. The scent of the rain hung heavily in the air as Al followed behind. Carl glanced at him but Al shook his head. "I have no intention of going with you, you'll move much faster without me. I'm simply curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," John muttered.

"Or us," Riley said.

Al stepped around them and hesitated before stretching his hand out and sticking it into the rain. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. For it to coat his fingers like tar, or sear through his flesh and rot his skin away like the person in the donut shop. However, it simply ran over his fingers in rivulets that left a black trail down his hand and arm as he lifted it in the air and rubbed it between his fingers. It felt like sand as he turned his hand over and brought it back from the rain.

"At least we know it won't kill us right away," Carl said.

"Oh so it's possibly a slow kind of death, like nuclear fallout. We'll be the ones who rot away for the next ten years instead of the ones who die instantly," John retorted.

"Happy thoughts John, happy thoughts." Riley slapped him on the shoulder as she moved closer to the edge of the overhang. "Let's go."

Before Al could say anything more, she plunged into the rain and raced toward the truck. Carl was close on her heels; John cursed loudly, ducked his head, and dashed into the rain behind them. They were soaked before they made it three feet, but they didn't hesitate as they heedlessly crashed through the puddles.

Lee stepped beside him as Carl threw the doors open and Riley scrambled into the back of the truck. They remained silent as bags were tossed forward and Carl and John scurried back and forth to the car. "I hope it's not nuclear fallout," Rochelle muttered.

"It's too late for all of us if it is," Lee told her.

"That's reassuring."

"Sorry," he apologized as he tugged at his hair.

Riley appeared again at the back of the truck and nearly fell out of it as one of her feet skidded on the wet wooden bed. Carl seized hold of her arm before she could topple to the ground. Whatever words he said to her were buried beneath the ceaseless crescendo of the rain on the vehicles and roof of the motel. Black ran down them in rivulets, their clothes were stained gray and darkening by the second as they were pelted by the relentless water.

He'd used black mulch in his yard once, and as he watched them Al was reminded of the mess it had made. His hands and clothes had been dyed black by the time he was done spreading it, and it had stained the old pair of boots he'd been wearing. After the first rain storm, even the weathered gray shingles on his house had been stained by the stuff. It had looked sharp in his beds, but he'd vowed never to use it again as his hands were black for a good week. He swore they'd dyed the mulch with charcoal, and as he tilted his head back to look at the sky, he thought that perhaps it was charcoal falling over them now.

They splashed back toward them, carrying two bags and a case of water as black puddles and rivers splashed over and around them. Riley stumbled in first and doubled over as she rested her hands on her knees. John dropped the case of water as Carl stumbled and fell against the doorframe.

"Are you ok?" Lee demanded. He reached out for Riley but seemed to think better of it as his hand fell back to his side. "Riley?"

She held up a hand as she panted for a few more seconds. "Fine, I'm fine," she assured him.

"You look like someone rolled you around in coal or ash, or a bucket of squids."

"Squids?" she retorted.

"You know what I mean."

She straightened up and held her arms out before her; she twisted them over as she studied her darkened skin. "Who knew having a ton of water dumped on me would make me feel dirtier," John muttered.

Carl took off his baseball cap and scowled at the now black material. "This is my lucky hat."

"And now it's crap," John told him.

"I'm not getting rid of it."

Black water ran down from his head as he squished the hat back into place. "It's almost like ash or soot or something," Lee said as he studied Riley with a curled upper lip.

"Gives credence to that whole super volcano theory," Riley muttered.

"Yeah, or maybe it is nuclear fallout," Lee told her.

"It's good to know you're a glass half full kind of guy Lee," John said.

"Let's get you guys cleaned up." Al gestured toward the office door. "Maybe there's an apartment or something back there that the manager or owner stays in."

"Let's hope," Rochelle said as she quickly stepped away from John. She squealed as he thrust his hands in her face and waved them around.

"Oh scary!" he taunted.

"You're gross."

"Not arguing with that," Carl agreed.

Al led the way toward the back of the office, the smell was starting to clear out, but it was still potent enough to make his gag reflex kick into overdrive. "Did anything get ruined?" Rochelle asked nervously.

"I'm sure a few bandages and maybe some food, but I think we managed to save most of the stuff in boxes," Carl told her.

"Unless it was just nuked," Lee reminded them.

"Well if a third eye sprouts in my forehead just put me out my misery ok?" John asked.

"No problem," Rochelle assured him.

Al walked around the desk and headed for the door behind it. He barely registered the fact that the knob was hot before he heard the sizzle of his skin. A startled cry escaped him, he jerked his hand back but it was already too late, a layer of his skin remained on the knob. His eyes were already watering, and it was taking everything he had not to vomit as he held up the blistered mess of his hand.

Rochelle staggered back and crashed into a rack containing brochures of local attractions, and places to eat. The rack tumbled to the floor and the brochures scattered across the ground in a glossy array of pictures. Riley leapt over the counter and grabbed hold of his arm, he heard her speaking but he couldn't quite register the words as she peered up at him from a face streaked with black. John had been right behind him, but he took an abrupt step back now.

Al had been through a lot in his seventy two years, more than most, less than some, but for the first time he was left completely dumbfounded as he continued to stare at his blistered hand. Riley's face was beginning to blur, and even beneath the black coloring of his face John was the color of a ghost.

Carl shoved past John and seized Al's forearm from Riley. He turned it over before him and then barked out a command to John. John stumbled back and bolted for the door of the office. Al watched him scramble and fall in the rain as Riley and Carl spoke with each other. "Radiation," Lee was saying and Rochelle was starting to take on the look of someone that had seen Frankenstein's monster coming at her.

"No," Al managed to choke out before complete chaos took over and they scattered like dandelions in the wind. He swallowed as Carl focused on him and clutched his forearm a little tighter. "Steam. I think one of those steam holes are behind that door, it would explain the smell if there were people back there also."

"Are you sure?" Lee demanded.

Al nodded. "Yes." He managed to hold up his other arm, the one that had been burnt earlier in the day. The damage hadn't been as bad as his hand, but the blisters were still present. He just hadn't thought of them in awhile.

"But…"

"It's steam," Riley interrupted briskly. "Get your mind off the nukes Lee, it
is
steam. It's what happened to Karen, it's what happened in the coffee shop, and it's what happened here. I hope," she added in a mutter that only Carl and Al could hear.

She turned away to dig underneath the counter. She came back with a pair of scissors; he nodded his agreement to her unspoken question as she bent forward and cut back the sleeve of his shirt. She rolled it away from the blisters at the base of his hand.

"I don't understand, wouldn't it have been in the whole office," Rochelle said as she came toward them. "Or wouldn't it be on fire or something."

Carl moved to the side, blocking Rochelle before she could get a good view of Al's disfigured hand. Riley moved closer to the door, she knelt down and tried to peer underneath the crack, but she shook her head in frustration and sat back. "Weather stripping," she muttered.

"Think of it like a sauna," Al said. "It's been trapped within that room but it won't set fire to anything."

Riley rose back to her feet and briefly pressed her fingers to the wood before jerking them back. "It must just be the knob," she told them as she held her untouched fingers up for them to inspect.

Al winced as Carl turned his arm a little to the side. He was pretty sure there were blisters on top of blisters, and they were red. He'd never seen blisters like them before, and though he didn't think it was a third degree burn, it was the worst second degree he'd ever seen or experienced. It was a good thing he hadn't had much to eat as his stomach heaved and rolled.

John stumbled back into the office and nearly fell as he tripped over his own two feet. "Graceful," Carl mumbled.

"Possible future generations may rest on that man's shoulders," Al managed to get out.

"That's a frightening thought," Riley told him as John panted up to them and thrust a bag out.

"There's burn ointment, bandages, and some painkillers!" John blurted.

Carl took the bag from him and began to dig through it as John left a puddle on the floor around him. "Shouldn't we wash it first?" Riley inquired.

"Where?" Carl asked.

Riley nodded behind them. Al turned to the pegboard with keys on it nailed to the wall beneath the counter. "Do you really want to open more doors?" Lee demanded.

"We can't stay in here, and this has to be taken care of before it gets infected," she retorted. "We'll just ah…" her forehead furrowed as her nose scrunched. Then she smiled. "We'll just throw rain water at the knobs to check them first."

"Oh dear god," Lee said as he threw up his hands and turned away. Al thought Lee was going to just walk out, but he stormed over to the water cooler in the corner and pulled some cups down. "Let's at least use clear water for this."

"Are you going to be ok to move?" Riley asked him.

"I'll be fine," Al assured her.

She squeezed past him and grabbed all the keys off the pegboard. John gathered the guns. "Grab the supplies Rochelle," John told her and nodded to the bags still sitting by the front door.

Rochelle remained mute and ashen as she hurried over to them. Carl continued to help hold his arm out as they shuffled out of the office and down the row of rooms. Lee tossed water on the first doorknob and it made a spitting noise before it began to steam. "Skip," Lee muttered.

He didn't bother with the second door but hurried halfway down the aisle before trying another one. He tentatively tapped on the knob four times before nodding to Riley. She fumbled through the keys for number six and handed it over to him. Lee unlocked the door and jumped back as he threw it open. He then dropped his arms and leaned forward to stare into the room.