Tomorrow Land (17 page)

He slapped his horse’s reins and before Peyton could even wish him luck, he was halfway down the stretch of highway, whooping in a loud voice and waving his hat in the air like some crazy cowboy on those old westerns her parents used to watch. Her heart fluttered, simultaneously admiring his bravery and worrying about his survival. Then, forcing herself to stay focused, she quickly mounted her own stallion, then gestured for the children to gather up.

“Is he going to be okay?” Darla asked worriedly, sticking her braid in her mouth and sucking on it as she watched the scene.

“He’ll be fine,” Starr answered for Peyton, rubbing her passenger’s head. “You know Chase.”

“Yeah, we do,” Torn said with a snort. “That’s why we’re worried.” The other kids laughed nervously. In the distance, Chase and his horse disappeared around the first cars of the pile-up.

Peyton shivered, though the day was blazing hot.
Come on, Chase
, she thought.
You can do this!
Though she had no idea, she realized suddenly, if he actually could. The thought left her cold.

“What’s taking so long?” Red demanded, voicing all of their unspoken fears. “Why isn’t he coming out?” He frowned. “Maybe I should go find him…”

“No!” Peyton cried, more vehemently then she’d meant to. “I mean, remember what he told you,” she reminded the boy. “You have to get Sunshine to safety.”

Red sighed. “Okay, fine. But if he doesn’t come out in three seconds—”

At that moment a cloud kicked up over the horizon. Everyone turned and watched, hearts in their throats, as the billowing dust obscured the crash scene. Peyton gripped her horse’s reins so tight her knuckles turned white.

Come on, Chase! You can do it!

A thundering sound assaulted their ears and a moment later Chase emerged, galloping full force from the cloud and toward the highway’s median. Behind him, a parade of zombies stumbled after him in slow pursuit. Peyton couldn’t hear them from this proximity, but she could imagine them gnashing their teeth and growling hungrily at the sight of easy prey.

The children broke out into cheers and applause, but Peyton silenced them quickly. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go!” She urged her horse forward at a slow walk. They had to be quiet and they couldn’t make any sudden movements. Chase said the Others were nearly blind and so a slow move down the other side of the highway should rightly escape their attention.

Sure enough, as they made their way down the road and around the accident scene, the zombies continued to follow Chase, ignoring them completely. Still, the slow journey was excruciating and the children, she could tell, were getting restless. She didn’t blame them. It felt unnatural to make a slow escape when they could be galloping like bats out of hell.

“Help!”

Peyton whirled around at the sound of a child’s cry. Crap. Drummer had evidently gotten cocky and picked up his pace. Two zombies at the end had noticed, abandoning Chase’s train and heading over to the boy. Even from here, Peyton could see their wild and hungry eyes as they circled around him. Drummer’s face was white with fear.

“Keep going!” Peyton instructed the other kids. “I’ll catch up.” She swung her horse around and headed back to the scene. When she got close enough, she activated her cybernetics. Here went nothing.

She leapt off the stallion, right onto the back of the nearest zombie, just as he was about to take a bite out of Drummer’s leg. The creature stumbled backward at the sudden weight, bellowing in pain as her razors dug into its shoulder blades. She slid off the creature, dragging her nails as she went, until its lungs were exposed through its rotting backbone. She reached her hands in, trying not to gag at the hot meat inside, puncturing its lungs. The Other collapsed on the ground, struggling for breath, before it gave up and lay still.

“Drummer!” Peyton cried. “Go!” As she turned to face zombie number two, she was relieved to see the boy follow her command without question, galloping away as fast as he could. At least he would be safe. That was the most important thing.

But she had another one to deal with. A female this time. As she squared off with the creature, who was still carrying a diaper bag, of all things, on her arm, she had to remind herself that this wasn’t a human. Not anymore.

As if to prove her point, the creature took the opportunity to charge, teeth bared and arms ready to grab hold. Peyton slashed out with her razors, but missed. The woman grabbed her by the shoulder with an iron grip, trying to pull her closer so she could get a good bite. Peyton slashed again, this time connecting with her chest.

The creature squealed in pain, releasing Peyton and grabbing at her chest, losing her balance in the process and falling to the ground. Peyton took advantage, leaping on top of her and pinning her to the asphalt with her thighs. But just as she was about to stab the zombie through the heart and end it all, her razors suddenly sparked, smoked, and retracted back under her fingernails. What the—?

She blinked, attempting to activate them again, but nothing happened. They stayed retracted. She grimaced; this was worse than what had been happening in her training sessions back at the shelter. Her cybernetics were breaking down at an accelerated rate. And she’d just put herself in mortal danger.

Gritting her teeth, she turned back to the zombie. She’d have to rely on good old fashioned muscle rather than machine. All those years down in the basement, training with her dad, had to count for something, right?

But the creature had taken advantage of her hesitation and had managed to free herself from Peyton’s grasp. The Other clamored to her feet, growling and spitting angrily. Peyton drew in a breath as she rose to a fighting stance. She squeezed her hand into a fist, then punched the zombie as hard as she could. As hard as she used to punch the heavy bag down in the shelter on those days she’d been especially frustrated.

Her fist connected with rotten flesh. The zombie’s skull cracked, her head caving in. Peyton followed up with a roundhouse kick, smashing her foot into the zombie’s side. Then she shoved the creature with both hands.

The Other staggered for a moment, then fell to the ground, wiggling helplessly like a turtle on its back. Peyton swallowed hard, closed her eyes, then stomped down on the creature’s neck, trying not to vomit at the sickening crunch. Trying not to see the diaper bag still in the woman’s arms.

It was over.

She looked around, trying to find her horse, but the frightened stallion had taken off and was nowhere to be found. She scanned the area, noticing a few more heat signals coming from behind a couple of cars, and wondered what she should do. She was exhausted after that last fight and wasn’t sure she could take on more. Especially without her enhancements.

But just then another heat signal burst onto her radar. She cried out in relief as she saw Chase, galloping toward her. He stopped, grabbed her hand and boosted her onto his horse, wrapping an arm around her waist as he urged his mare forward. Peyton could barely breathe as they leapt over a Smart Mini and charged down the highway together.

“You okay?” Chase asked, his breath hot in her ear.

“Now I am.”

They reached the kids a few minutes later, all of them present, accounted for and safe. Even her horse had made it through. Peyton let out a breath of relief. She hadn’t known them for very long, but she had to admit, they’d already become like family and she couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to them. The kids cheered and whooped their victory over the zombies, everyone hugging everyone else. Chase helped Peyton down off the horse, looking at her with shiny eyes. She couldn’t resist—she threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight.

“What?” he asked cockily, after they hugged. “Were you worried or something? I told you, no zombie will ever get the jump on me.” He met her eyes with his own, locking her in his gaze and refusing to let go. “Still sorry you took me along?” he teased.

She smiled, her heart bursting. “I suppose you have your uses.”

Chapter Seventeen

Mt. Holyoke Hospital was a tall brick building originally built in the 1800s and it had survived the Civil War. Over the years there had been additions, but the main structure still stood. It was a full-service facility, but one of their main operations nowadays was delivering babies. They had a reputation for kind nurses, beautifully decorated private rooms, and the best epidurals in town.

Thus, it was surprising that when Peyton and Chris got off their bikes and approached the place, they saw armed, uniformed guards flanking the sliding glass doors of the entrance. Guards who stopped them from entering.

“We’re sorry,” said the one on the left, a giant in full beard and brown uniform. “We’re full.”

Peyton cocked her head. Full? Since when did a hospital turn people away? Didn’t doctors sign an oath to help everyone? Especially after the socialized medical act of 2021. We don’t need to see a doctor,” she informed the guard. “We just want to find out if a friend of ours was admitted.”

“No visitors,” said the one on the right. He was clean-shaven but just as big.

Peyton and Chris looked at one another. “Since when?” Chris asked.

“Kids, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” said the guard on the left. He rattled his machine gun.

Peyton shivered. None of this was helping her case against the deadly plague theory.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Chris by the arm. There was no need to mess with armed soldiers. “Let’s go.”

Once out of earshot, Chris turned to her, looking puzzled. “We’re giving up that easily?” he asked.

Peyton shook her head. “No,” she replied. “We’re just going to have to be more creative. Let’s walk around back and see what we can find.” She was curious now, to be honest. Were her dad and Chris actually onto something? She wasn’t leaving until she got some answers.

They headed to the back of the hospital, ducking under barbed wire fencing that pronounced the area off limits. Since when did a hospital use barbed wire?

“We have to be quick,” Chris whispered. “They’ve probably got a billion security cameras and motion detectors. And maybe guards patrol here, too.”

Peyton nodded, peering around the back lot. At the moment the place was desolate, and it gave her the creeps by being overgrown and littered with trash. She pointed to a window and motioned for Chris to follow. Wiped off the grime with her sleeve and peered in.

She drew in a quick breath. The guards hadn’t been exaggerating when they’d used the word “full.” Though “packed like a can of sardines” would have been a more accurate description of the place. The long, white-walled room was full of cots, jammed close together with very little space in between. Each cot contained a patient, deathly pale, with a weird greenish tint to their skin. Peering at the ones closest to the window, she cataloged bloodshot eyes, dried drool at the corners of their mouths, open sores on their appendages. Some patients lay perfectly still, eyes staring wildly into nothingness. Others thrashed in their sleep, as if they were living a nightmare from which they couldn’t wake. And perhaps they were.

Peyton backed up, horrified, bumping into an enormous trash compactor directly behind her. She hadn’t paid it much attention before, because it looked like it was used for industrial construction work. She wondered now what it was doing here. “Ow!” she cried, rubbing her arm. “That hurt.”

Chris abandoned the window to give her his full attention. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she assured him, taking another peek inside the hospital. “God. There’s so many people in there. And they all look… awful.”

He nodded grimly. “And this is just one hospital. Imagine if the same thing’s happening around the world.”

She shuddered. “Maybe those rumors weren’t exaggerated after all.”

“I wonder…” Chris absently flipped open the trash compactor door, peeking inside. He went dead silent. Peyton turned from the window and squinted at him, surprised at how white he’d become. How violently his lips were trembling.

“What did you find now?” she asked, almost afraid to know.

He banged the door shut. “Nothing,” he said quickly, but his shaking voice betrayed his lie.

“Let me see.” She reached over to pull open the lid.

“Peyton, no—”

But it was too late.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. An overwhelming odor of rot assaulting her nose. But the smell was only a precursor to the true nightmare inside.

“Oh God.” She felt her knees wobble, and she stumbled.

Chris caught her, steadying her. His hand felt warm on her suddenly freezing cold skin.

“Those… those…” She found she couldn’t finish her sentence. It was too awful. All those bodies, thrown out with the common trash. What were they doing there? What about their families? Their friends? Their chance at a proper burial?

“Come on,” Chris commanded, putting an arm around her waist and leading her toward the exit. “We need to get out of here. Now!”

They stumbled back the way they came, each with shaky legs that made it difficult to walk. But before they could reach their destination, a sound erupted in the otherwise silent afternoon air. A low, guttural moan. They froze, exchanging glances.

 “It sounded like it was coming from the trash compactor!” Chris cried, his eyes wide as saucers.

Peyton felt her stomach heave. It was all she could do not to throw up. “Do you think . . . Oh God, what if the doctors made a mistake? What if one of them is still alive?

The moan grew louder, accompanied by a thrashing noise. Someone was clearly trying to get out.

“Should we check?” she asked.

Chris glanced at the compactor and then back at her. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to take a quick peek,” Peyton said, inching over to the compactor. Everything inside her said it was a mistake, but she just couldn’t bring herself to walk away from a living person trapped amongst corpses. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and it was difficult to draw in more than a shallow breath. She swallowed the bile bubbling up in her throat. “Here goes,” she said, reaching for the door.