Until the End of the World (Book 3): All the Stars in the Sky (19 page)

A car door slams. Bits freezes at a growl from Barn, who stares at the door with raised hackles before the boom of a single gunshot sends him into a frenzy of barking. At first I think it’s Lexers, but it’s followed by more booms and the sound of feet running on the roof. A bullet hits the side of the RV with a thud. I shove Bits and Hank to the floor and follow them down. This isn’t zombies—it’s voices I don’t recognize. Jamie races from the bedroom, hair and eyes wild.

Kyle isn’t far behind, gun already drawn. “Lock the doors!”

I crawl to the main door and lock it. A volley of shots mixes with Barnaby’s piercing barks. Ashley scrambles for the doors of the cab and sinks between the seats when a bullet smashes the passenger’s side window.

Jamie runs to her while I drag Bits and Hank into the bedroom and cram them alongside the bed with Nicki. I return to the kitchen at a long, pained scream. Ash is huddled in the passenger’s seat, a man’s hand wrapped around her braid and the other holding a pistol to her head. Jamie crouches behind the seat, out of eyeshot, but there’s nothing to do that won’t get Ash killed.

“Put your guns down and call off your dog!” a man’s voice yells.

Heat rises off Kyle, only inches away. He snarls and lowers his gun to the dinette, and I place mine next to his. We both know we don’t have a choice.

“They’re down,” Kyle calls.

Ash shrieks as she’s dragged outside through the cab’s open door. It’s followed by the sound of a hand smacking flesh. The RV’s main door rattles. “Open the door,” another voice commands.

“Cassie!” Bits screams from the bedroom. Penny moves in that direction, but I point her to the cabover bed and motion Maureen to the back. Penny shakes her head, and I hiss, “Hide. Now.”

I wish the kids had never come down from there. These men might never know they’re here if they were well-hidden behind the jumble of blankets. Kyle unlocks the door and steps back, hands fisted at his sides. I hold Barn’s collar as he strains, looking fierce with white fangs and a low growl vibrating in his throat. Ash is shoved in first. Finger-shaped spots flare on her cheek. The man holding Ash is followed in by five others, the last being supported by two of them as if hurt. They wear stained winter coats and short, unkempt beards. I think they were once average guys, but now they’re gaunt, with watery eyes and rough, broken skin. None are older than fifty, and one appears to be in his twenties, although it’s hard to tell with the hair and dirt.

“Close the door, Whit,” the man who holds Ash says to the youngest. “Get that dog out first.”

He’s the oldest, with a gray-brown scraggly beard, rotted teeth, and an authoritative manner that the others defer to. All of them look sick and desperate, but the worst part is the stench. We might smell bad, but we smell like people. These men smell like Lexers. And not just how you smell when you’ve gotten into a scrape with zombies, but like they
are
zombies. It fills the camper so that I gag.

I can barely hear over Barnaby’s barks, can barely make sense of what’s happening. I’ve gone from relief to terror in seconds and the adrenaline outpaces my brain. My heart is attempting to escape my chest. The men’s shouts become distant echoes while I try to think of a way out of this situation and come up blank.

Barnaby squeals when a boot connects with his side. “Take him out!” the boss orders me.

Barn’s feet skid along the smooth surface of the kitchen floor as I drag him to the door and grope for the handle. The night air is cold and holds who knows how many terrors, but I could slip out and run. I’d love to run, to feel my feet pound the ground as I fly away. Not that I would ever leave. I give Barnaby’s behind a shove. He hits the ground and scrambles back up the steps. Whit, the youngest one, slams the door in his face.

Barnaby scratches at the door. I will him to run away, to slink off and be frightened the way he always is, but he howls until an auburn-haired man fires out the front door into the night. There’s the sound of paws scrabbling on metal and then nothing.

I stand beside Kyle, whose tense body is waiting to spring. But they aren’t stupid. They don’t take their eyes off us or lower their guns for a second. One swings his pistol with a hiss when Jamie moves.

“Shawn!” she yells toward the ceiling. She turns to the men. “Where are they?”

Another man with a scraggly beard and an eye that twitches constantly says, “You mean the ones bleeding out on the road?”

A vein pulses in Jamie’s neck before she launches herself at the twitchy-eyed one like a rabid animal. The boss knees her in the stomach and she falls at Twitch’s feet with a gasp. I bend to help her and am rewarded with the barrel of a gun at my ear.

“Sit,” Twitch says.

I help Jamie to the couch, Kyle beside me, and Twitch pushes Ash to the floor by our feet. She clasps her knees to her chest and drops her head. I stroke her hair and keep my eyes down, afraid that anything will set them off. They don’t know about the kids in the bedroom. Maybe we can keep it that way, give them what they want and get out of this relatively unharmed. I won’t believe that Shawn and Adam are dead. They could be hurt or devising a plan to help us.

“Let’s get some lights and heat in here.” The boss turns to the controls built into the wall and the lantern is drowned out by bright light.

“Put Jay in the bedroom,” Boss says.

I dig my nails into my palms at the shrill cries when they enter the back. After much yelling, Maureen falls through the short passageway to the kitchen with the kids clustered around her.

“Leave them alone!” Maureen yells.

“Get on the couch,” Boss commands. Bits runs for my lap and I set Hank between my feet, but Nicki clings to Maureen’s leg and sobs.

“Her arm’s broken,” Kyle says, voice hoarse and body rigid. “Nicki! Baby! Just come here.”

Twitch tugs on her bad arm. Nicki screams, locking her legs around Maureen, and he slaps the back of her head, teeth bared. “Shut up!”

Kyle is off the couch and makes it three feet before a rifle butt slams him in the temple. He doubles over, droplets of blood splattering on the laminate floor. It’s a terrible blow, one I likely wouldn’t survive, but Kyle raises his head and takes another step before he’s hit once more. He goes down like a felled tree.

“Nicki,” Jamie says in a quiet voice. “Nicki, come to me.”

Twitch tosses Nicki by her shirt into Jamie’s lap. Maureen sits at the table as ordered, lips thin and eyes murderous. It looks out of place on the face that’s always pleasant. They drag Kyle to drop him between the front seats. His chest rises. I thought he was dead.

“Food, fellas.” Twitch pulls everything in the cabinets to the counter. The other men stare at the bounty as though it’s a fully-stocked supermarket.

“These are good,” Whit says, holding up an MRE. “We used to take them hunting.” A man with dark hair and a giant sore on his cheek slices one open and dumps the contents on the stove.

“You can take it all. Take it and leave,” I say, and hate how weak and begging my voice sounds.

No one answers. They don’t bother with the heating pouches, just spoon food into their mouths with open-mouthed chewing. Cracker crumbs hit the counter and floor. An MRE contains a lot of food, but it takes no more than minutes for them to finish them off.

“We’re not leaving,” Boss says when he’s done. “But we will take the food.”

“You can have the RV,” Maureen says. She holds her trembling chin high. “Just drive away with it all.”

“Don’t worry, we will,” Twitch says.

And now, with their stomachs full, they focus on us. Every one of them looks sick. Months of starvation, maybe, or some sort of illness. One of them hacks up something with a deep cough and spits into the sink.

“We haven’t had real food in a week,” Auburn says. I catch a glimpse of bloody gums when he pops in the last bite of his dessert. Not
his
dessert—the dessert I was saving for the kids. “Know what we’ve been eating?”

The answer hits my brain and gag reflex at the same time. There’s no way they’d smell this terrible otherwise. You can change clothes, take a cold bath with soap, brush your teeth. You might still reek, but this is more than a dusting of Lexer innards on clothing.

They’ve been eating Lexers.

None of us speaks, although the appalled looks on the others’ faces tells me they’ve come to the same conclusion. I didn’t think it was possible without getting sick. But they
are
sick. You can see it in their eyes, in their almost feral expressions. They’re still human, but only because they’re not dead. It could be something similar to mad cow disease, or it could be that having to choke that down drives you insane.

“If you cook them you don’t get infected,” Boss says with a rotten smile. He motions to Ashley and when she doesn’t move, yanks her to her feet. “Take off your coat.”

Ash unzips her coat with jerky movements. Her chest jumps as he inspects her long-sleeved shirt and jeans, then spasms with quiet sobs when he runs a hand down her side. The breathing of the other men speeds up. I’d hoped they were too sick or hungry to think about anything but food and maybe showers, but he looks at her the same way he did the MREs.

I shove Bits behind me when I bolt to my feet. It’s doubtless a mistake, but I can’t watch this. “Get your fucking hands off her!”

Boss’s mean eyes slither my way. “Or what?”

I don’t have an answer. I would rip off his head, disembowel him with my fingers if I could. He works his tongue around his mouth and spits a chunk of food to the floor. “You volunteering?”

He leaves no doubt as to what he means with the way his eyes slink down my body. If this is what it takes to get his hands off of Ashley, I’ll do it. She’s a virgin. I won’t let this be her first experience with a man. I attempt a breath, but the RV suddenly feels as tiny and stifling as a closet.

“If you leave her alone,” I whisper. He nods and shoves Ash into the kitchen, where she hits the refrigerator with a moan.

Auburn’s rifle rises at a gasp from the cabover bed. “Get down here,” he says.

Penny hits the floor and stands with her shoulders back and lip curled. The only part of her that doesn’t resemble her sister is the hand curled protectively over her belly.

Boss crooks a finger at me. “Come here.”

I trip over Hank to get there. The creases of Boss’s face are filled with grime and his hands are filthy. I shudder when I imagine them on me. He leans close, and there’s nothing in his washed-out eyes but a whole lot of crazy. “You fight, you die.”

I thought they’d do whatever they’re going to do with me right away. Instead, Boss has shoved me into the dinette across from Maureen while they pick through our food and argue over who gets what.

They discuss Jay, the man in the bedroom, who’s dying of a gunshot wound. Shawn and Adam got one of them, at least. They must be dead—I know they’d do anything to stop this if they weren’t. I don’t want to see Nelly’s face when he hears about Adam, but I probably won’t be here to see anything. I just need to keep Boss and his friends busy long enough for the others to get here.

Boss’s eyes land on Nicki’s arm. “Who did that? You said she has a broken arm. Who bandaged her up?”

We’re silent. Finally, just as he looks about to explode, Jamie speaks. “I did.”

“Go and look at Jay. One of your men shot him.” It’s accusatory, as if they’d been out for a leisurely walk when we opened fire.

“If you let me check on the ones outside,” Jamie says.

“You think you can make a deal?” Twitch asks with a harsh laugh. He’s the first one I’d kill. I’d love to shove a knife through his thin lips. “You’ll look at him if we tell you to.”

“Let her see her dead men,” Boss says with a shrug. “When she’s done.”

Jamie sets Nicki on the couch with Penny and the kids. They’re only feet away, and I want to hold them so badly that it might be worth dying for if I wasn’t already doing the one thing that might keep them alive.

Twitch herds Jamie to the bedroom with his gun in her back. The handheld radio crackles softly from somewhere on the table. If they call when they’re close, these men will be waiting and they won’t stand a chance. I scan the surface and spot the short black antenna peeking out from under a map. I slip the walkie-talkie down by my thigh and lower the volume when the can opener grinds on a can of beans. Maureen watches with round eyes and sags when I succeed without anyone noticing.

They’ve opened our honey. They chew on uncooked oatmeal. Crumbs fall as they dig into Ashley’s birthday cookies. The kids’ faces are blank. I know they don’t care, but I do. There’s so little left to celebrate, so few presents to give, and these men are taking every single thing we have—Shawn, Adam, and even our fucking cookies.

I wedge the radio between the seat cushion and wall, looking down quickly to make sure the button is depressed. Maybe they’ll hear us when they get close. But no matter how much they call, the men won’t hear them.

Boss grabs my arm and bashes my side on the table when he drags me clear. It’ll leave a bruise, but I barely feel it. This is it. “Time to go. Where’re you taking her?” he asks Whit. “Bedroom?”

Whit looks like the most normal of the bunch, although that’s not saying much. He has most of his teeth, at least. I’d love to curse him, to stand my ground, but I’m scared. Scared of what’s going to happen, scared they’ll hurt someone else.

Whit grimaces. “Jay’s in there.”

“So?”

“The truck.”

My stomach heaves. I’ve talked myself into believing I can let them take whatever they want of my body and leave my mind intact, but now I’m not so sure.

“I’ll keep watch,” Auburn says.

“Remember what I said,” Boss says to me. My head nods of its own accord. “You don’t want to die, do you?”

I’m probably going to die, anyway. I don’t know why he’s bothering to pretend. I stumble when Bits calls my name. She breaks free of Penny’s arms, face a blotchy mess. She knows exactly what’s happening; she’s lived through this before. This could be the thing that destroys her forever, but I think she’s stronger than that.