Vengeance (Twenty-Five Percent Book 3) (22 page)

Alex and Micah screamed in tandem.

Hands and arms slapped against them. The bike wobbled and lurched, hitting eater after eater as they hurtled through the crowd.

One fell directly into the path of the wheels and the bike bucked into the air, hit another as it landed, and skidded out of control. They crashed into a huddle of eaters as they fell, bodies scattering around them. They finally came to a juddering halt on their side in a mound of arms and legs.

Alex lay behind Micah, one leg pinned beneath the bike. To his surprise, he didn’t appear to be injured.

“Micah?”

In front of him, Micah moved his head. “I’m okay. I think.”

The eater that had cushioned Alex’s fall squirmed beneath him, trying to bite through his helmet. Another two were trapped under Micah, both of them straining to twist their heads around far enough to get to him. The crash had created a small expanse of incapacitated eaters around them, but already more were stumbling over their downed comrades.

Alex pushed at the bike, struggling to get himself free. Managing to slide his trapped leg out, he sat upright on the eater’s chest. It didn’t seem to mind as it switched its attention to biting at his jeans.

“Can you get out?” he said to Micah, hauling the bike up more and casting nervous glances at the horde around them.

Sitting up to avoid the snapping teeth of the eaters beneath him, Micah dragged his leg free. As soon as he was out Alex pulled his helmet off, grabbed a skull-spiker from his pocket and stabbed all three in quick succession. Micah tugged his own helmet off as he climbed to his feet. He shot an eater almost on them. Alex stood up beside him, fighting a brief flash of dizziness as the shock and adrenaline of the crash hit him.

The moaning from the surrounding eaters grew in intensity.

“That way,” Alex said, pointing to the thinnest section of the horde. “If we can clear a way through...”

Micah started firing before Alex had a chance to finish his sentence. Alex joined him, shutting the moans out of his mind as he carefully targeted eater after eater, opening a path ahead of them.

He looked behind them at the sound of the helicopter to see it coming in fast. He grabbed the bike, trying to haul it from the tangle of dead eaters.

The helicopter began firing, cutting a bloody path through the horde towards him and Micah.

“Come on!” Micah shouted, grabbing Alex’s arm and dragging him towards the escape route they’d created.

He stumbled over a body. Micah held him upright, letting go when Alex was stable and sprinting away from the chopper. Alex followed, catching up with him as they broke from the horde and ran for cover. At the sharp crack of bullets hitting metal Alex looked back to see the machine gun rip into Micah’s bike, shredding their best chance of escape.

“
No
,” Micah cried, skidding to a halt. “Not the bike! Not Christina!”

Alex expected the helicopter to continue after them, but instead it stopped firing and passed overhead, circling back to the horde. One door opened and a cartridge shot into the air, exploding above them.

Alex sneezed.

Already moving in their direction, the eaters picked up speed, their moans becoming more frenetic.

Micah was still staring at the bike.

Alex grabbed his arm. “We need to go.”

Micah heaved a sigh and followed him away from the horde.

Sam shivered in the cool early morning air.

He’d forgotten his jacket. He considered going back inside to get it, but it would take him at least five minutes to get from the front entrance of the underground lab to the lounge and back, even if he ran.

He didn’t want to leave for that long. A horde was coming.

He patted the pistol at his waist to reassure himself of its presence. Not that he had any illusions he’d be of much use with it. He’d had hardly any practice and his aim was sporadic at best. But having it was slightly better than nothing. Slightly.

Ben and Rick were at the gate, sixty feet from where Sam was sitting on the steps by the door. They were waiting for Tracey and the other soldiers to arrive. Sam hoped they came before the horde did, although even then he wasn’t sure if they’d be enough to defend the facility if something went wrong and the eaters got inside. The building was strong, but...

Behind him, the door opened and closed and he felt his jacket drape around his shoulders.

“I thought you’d need this,” Claire said, sitting beside him and smiling.

His stomach did a little flip. “Thanks.” Slipping his arms into his jacket sleeves, he forced himself to stop staring at her and looked back towards the gate. “Anything new about the horde?”

“No. None of the spotters can see it right now.”

He stifled a sigh. It was even worse not knowing where the eaters were.

Claire shuffled closer and he felt her shiver against him. After ten seconds of working up courage, he lifted his arm and wrapped it tentatively around her. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

After a further ten seconds, he had to remind himself to breathe.

Sam knew people thought he was weird. Sometimes he tried to be more normal, when talking to a girl or meeting someone new, but it took so much concentration censoring everything he said that if he relaxed at all he’d go right back to being weird without realising. And he had no clear idea why the things he said were so wrong. Yes, he said what he thought, and he was well aware others didn’t, but why was that bad? He didn’t say hurtful things and always tried to be nice to everyone. But still he got the look; the look that said, ‘You’re strange and you make me uncomfortable.’ Although Alex and Micah didn’t think he was weird. At first, maybe, but he had come on a bit strong in his excitement at meeting his first Survivor. And they’d been nice to him anyway.

But Claire never, ever looked at him like he was weird. Claire looked at him as if she was glad he was around. He didn’t quite understand it. She was beautiful and smart and funny and brave. Girls like her didn’t hang around with guys like him.

Of course, Sam had no doubt she only thought of him as a friend. He’d seen the way Logan looked at her. He didn’t like Logan. There was nothing technically wrong with Janie’s twenty-three year old son and he’d been very nice to Sam, but he was tall and handsome and muscley. Not as tall and muscley as Brian, Ben and Rick, but taller and musclier than Sam. And he had the blue eyes and blond hair that girls seemed to like so much. Sam’s hair was brown. Not dark brown or golden brown or any of the other types of brown that would make it interesting. Just brown. And his eyes were grey. Steel grey, his mother used to say, but she always said things like that to try to make him feel better about himself.

But the worst thing about blond-haired, blue-eyed, tall, muscley Logan was that Sam suspected he liked Claire. And Sam wasn’t at all sure that Claire didn’t like him back. Which was why he didn’t like Logan.

“We’re going to be all right, aren’t we?” Claire’s scared voice was so soft Sam could barely hear her.

He tightened his arm around her. “We are going to be fine. Brian and Rick and the others, they won’t let anything happen to us. And I won’t let anything hurt you. I promise.” He wasn’t sure how much it was worth, but he meant it with all his heart.

She drew back to look into his face. “Don’t be a hero, okay?”

Headlights swept across the building and Sam watched the APV drive up and stop outside the compound. Ben and Rick opened the gates to allow it in and it pulled up in front of the steps.

Sam and Claire stood as the doors opened and Tracey Dent, Matt Collins, Sean Hudson, Adam Ridgewell and Will Porter jumped out. Back at the fence, Rick and Ben closed and locked the gates.

“Did you see the horde?” Sam asked.

“We did,” Matt said.

“We got lucky,” Adam said. “They were near one of the wire traps you fixed up and we were able to get the chopper leading the horde to fly into it. It worked perfectly.”

“We would have gone and checked the wreck,” Tracey said, “but we couldn’t get to it through the horde. But from the way it went down, I’d say it isn’t going to be flying again anytime soon. If ever.”

Claire slipped her hand into Sam’s. “So does that mean the eaters aren’t coming here?”

“We can hope,” Tracey said. “We’ll stick around though. If Boot sent them once, he might try again. It’s too dangerous on the streets now to move the spotters around.”

“But he’s down to two helicopters now,” Rick said as he and Ben walked up to them. “That must slow him down. And if any come near here, we can just shoot them down.” He nodded at the machine gun mounted on top of the APV.

Matt grimaced. “Well, not exactly. We’re out of ammo. It was a good thing that wire was there because we were pretty much defenceless by then.”

There were a few seconds of silence as they all digested the fact that their best weapon was now useless. Claire squeezed Sam’s hand tight. He squeezed back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Let’s get inside and lock it all down,” Ben said. “Just in case.”

They settled in to wait. Ben and Rick took guard duty on the front door while the soldiers checked over the security of the facility. Hannah, Pauline, Larry and Dave continued their work on both the cure and the fake pheromones. To give Pat some time alone with Leon in the infirmary, Claire played with Emma and Katie in the lounge. Feeling a little useless, Sam stayed with them.

Hannah had given them some red, blue, and black markers and they sat around a table and drew faces on latex gloves which Sam then blew up into hand shaped balloons, to Emma and Katie’s delighted laughter.

Sam couldn’t prevent his thoughts wandering to what it would be like to have a family with Claire. With his lack of experience with the opposite sex, he’d never even considered he might one day be a father, but watching Claire with the children gave him a longing that made his heart ache.

If only Claire liked him like that.

He finished blowing up their latest creation, tied a knot to keep the air in and batted it through the air to Emma who gave it a tap to Katie. Claire gave him a smile he felt all the way down to his toes.

The door opened and Sam dragged his eyes away from her face.

“We’re all set at the back door,” Adam said as he and Sean wandered into the lounge.

“Did you fix it?” Claire said.

“No, but we’ve barricaded it with furniture. And the door of the shed and the entrance to the stairs are both locked.”

Sean sauntered over to the kitchenette. “Hey, chocolate digestives.”

“So there’s no way the eaters will get in back there,” Adam said, taking the biscuit Sean offered him. “Unless they have the entrance code.” He grinned and bit into the digestive.

Katie squirmed out of her seat and ran over to Sean, holding one of the glove balloons up to him. Sam watched as the abrasive soldier went down onto one knee in front of her and took the balloon.

“Thank you, Katie,” he said. “Did you make this?”

She nodded, smiling. “I drew it. Sam blew it up. It’s for you.”

Sean swallowed. For a moment, it looked like he was about to cry. “I love it. It’s my favourite balloon anyone has ever given me.”

Sean’s response was astonishing. In the admittedly short time he’d known Sean, Sam had barely seen any emotion from him whatsoever, other than anger. On another person, the reaction he’d had to Katie’s gift was equivalent to bawling like a baby.

Katie returned to her chair at the table and started work on a new glove.

Sean stood, said, “I’m going to check on the doctors,” and strode out.

Adam wandered up beside Sam as Sean disappeared around a corner along the corridor. “I think he misses his little girl. She’s a bit younger than Katie. It must be tough not knowing if she’s okay.”

Sean had a daughter and he didn’t even know if she was safe. The thought made Sam want to give him a hug to make him feel better. Although he suspected if he tried anything like that it might get him punched.

Adam took another biscuit and went to sprawl on one of the sofas. Sam returned his attention to Claire and the girls. It looked like his blowing up services were about to be in demand again as Emma wafted a colourful glove around to dry the marker ink.

A faint sound made him sit up and listen. “Did you hear that?”

Adam frowned, cocking his head to one side. “What?”

Sam didn’t reply, still listening. The sound came again; faint, in the distance. It sent ice through his veins. “It sounds like gunshots.”

Adam’s radio clicked on.

“We need backup,” Rick shouted. “Boot’s men. We’re under fire.”

By the time he found a car with the keys in it, Darren was exhausted.

He’d managed to give the horde the slip, but he’d had to sprint flat out for two minutes to do so. He’d then slowed to a jog for a further ten minutes, checking every car he came to and avoiding rogue eaters while always looking behind him, expecting any moment to see the horde catching up when he no longer had the energy to outrun them. Despite being in good shape, he felt on the verge of collapse.

He was beginning to think he’d have to walk all the way back to the hotel when he finally came across the hatchback. He stood and stared at it for a few long seconds before beginning the awkward process of folding his six foot eight inch frame behind the steering wheel. Even with the seat pushed as far back as it would go, his knees stuck up too high to be comfortable. But it was transport.

He held his breath as he rotated the key in the ignition, letting out a relieved sigh when the engine turned over and caught.

Two eaters shuffled from around the side of a house ahead of him.

Barely aware of what he was doing, Darren stared at them, tightening his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He pumped the accelerator, revving the engine, and the eaters turned in his direction, lurching along the centre of the road. He jammed the gear into first, let up the clutch, thrust the accelerator to the floor. The car jolted forwards.

He struck the first eater head on. It tumbled over the bonnet, hit the windscreen and flew over the roof. Darren squinted through the now cracked glass, still accelerating. The second eater impacted off centre, smashing the headlight and spinning off to one side. He slammed his foot onto the brake, bracing himself as the sudden loss of momentum threw him forward.

Shifting into reverse, he focused on the wing mirror at the eater struggling to rise, and hit the accelerator again. It disappeared from view as the car bounced over it and stopped. Back in first, he bumped over the eater one final time, and drove away.

Darren dimly became aware of the sound of roaring. It was a moment before he realised it was him. He stopped screaming and closed his mouth.

His hands were beginning to ache and he loosened his grip on the wheel, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

As the red around the periphery of his vision dissipated he headed for the edge of the city, the rising sun painting the sky orange behind him.