Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3) (27 page)

Sutherland had exactly enough time to turn and see the dwarf before the sword cleaved his head from his body.

Calla gasped for air and kicked the headless corpse from her body.

It fell back, neck spurting hot blood into the snow as Calla scrambled toward Ana, lying still, eyes closed and arms outstretched.

“Ana!”

Calla’s scream was drowned by the howling wind and brewing storm.

Father Truth dropped to the snow beside Ana. He ripped the blood-drenched pants along her left calf and looked at the wound.

He said to Calla, “She’s lost a lot of blood. Put pressure on the cut. Keep holding it, even if she wakes and screams.”

Calla looked at the wound that was still gushing blood and turned away before pressing her hand down, afraid she would wake Ana or hurt her even worse.

Branches snapped in the surrounding woods as the storm grew violent. Calla’s heart beat harder. She’d seen enough blizzards to know that they needed to get inside quickly, before they were blinded and unable to find The Station.

Father Truth ripped off his shirt, tore long strips from the bottom, and started making Ana a makeshift tourniquet.

“Keep pressure on it.” He reached under her leg with a length of cloth, then folded a second strip and handed it to Calla. “Put this on her wound; press down.”

Calla saw movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see dark shapes approaching. As the wind dimmed and flurries whirled more softly, she recognized Trina and Harris, a couple who’d come to The Station last year.

At first, Calla was happy to see them. More help. Then her stomach ate itself as she realized they were no longer Harris and Trina. Then she saw several more dark shapes moving within the white—zombies spilling out from the woods, about to converge on her, Father Truth, and Ana.

“Father! Look!”

He looked up, then back at Ana. “We have to stop her bleeding first!”

Moaning grew louder, just audible over the screaming wind, as if the zombies’ anticipation swelled with their approach.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

Calla’s heart pounded. The world blurred as she tried to focus on Ana’s leg rather than on the approaching zombies. She kept her eyes on her hands holding the cloth, not daring to look up at the undead on their way. If she looked up, she’d lose her will and let go. Ana could die.

Moaning grew louder. Something moved from somewhere behind her.

Can’t look!

The wind picked up and brought more blinding snow, chilling her wet body to the marrow.

A tree crashed somewhere in the storm.

Come on. Come on.

Father Truth spoke fast. “Almost there,” he said, tying the tourniquet loosely above Ana’s wound.

He reached back and grabbed another strip of cloth. He quickly folded it then brushed Calla’s hands away and laid it over the first cloth. He slid down the tourniquet and tightened it.

The zombies closed in, arms reaching for them.

Father Truth scrambled, reaching for his sword as a zombie behind Calla grabbed her.

She squirmed free and fell back.

The zombie, a tall, spindly, dark man with white eyes clawed at Calla’s leg and grabbed hold of her ankle. He dropped down, mouth wide-open, ready to bite.

Calla screamed as she spun, kicking the zombie hard in the jaw. It fell back but got up too quickly for her to mount another attack.

Calla was all that stood between the zombie and Ana. She didn’t dare turn to see how Father Truth was faring with the zombies on the other side of Ana. She could hear him grunting and the sound of metal slicing limbs, but if she saw him losing, she might lose hope herself.

Calla glanced back to search for Sutherland’s blaster, but the snow was too thick to see it.

The zombie threw itself at her.

She dropped to the ground and it flew past her, landing on top of Ana.

Calla yelled, launching herself at the zombie, and pulled it off of Ana. They rolled down the hill several times until they came to a hard stop with her back slammed into a tree.

The zombie was on all fours, practically growling just a few feet in front of her.

Through thick swirling blankets of snow, she saw Father Truth surrounded, barely fending off another three zombies. Beyond that, two more—Harris and Trina, no less—approached Ana.

Calla cried out, trying to draw Harris and Trina’s attention as she used the tree to pull herself to her feet.

Father Truth turned instead, perhaps thinking Calla was hurt. As he turned, one of the zombies jumped him.

No!

Calla wanted to intervene, but could do nothing as the closest zombie lumbered toward her.

She pivoted, trying to dodge and send it straight into the tree, but her foot slipped on the wet snow and sent her face first onto the ground.

The zombie landed on her back.

Calla then heard the most welcome sound of her life: a hunter orb firing its cannon.

The zombies on top of Father Truth fell away. A second shot from the orb hit those closest to him.

Calla managed to squirm free, but just as quickly as she slipped away, the monster pulled her back.

She flailed, squirmed, and tried to kick it away. All she managed to do, though, was land on her back. The zombie pounced on her, mouth open, hissing.

She threw her hands up, pressing them hard against its wet flesh, pushing back against its forehead and neck, trying to keep it from winning inches. She stared up into the zombie’s white eyes and chomping, rotting mouth.

Calla heard the orb firing more blasts into the zombies near Ana and Father Truth. She realized with horror that the orb didn’t see her. She’d rolled too far away. Calla cried out, trying to keep the zombie’s face from hers. It was all rotting flesh and muscles—and stronger than it had any right to be.

Her fingers were slipping on its wet skin.

Its mouth was getting closer.

Its weight was too much for her to push off.

Please! Someone see me!

Suddenly there was movement behind the tree. Another zombie, a fat giant the size of Sutherland’s large man, lurched forward just five feet away.

One zombie would pin her down.

The other would eat her.

There was nothing she could do.

She cried out again as the second zombie scooted its mouth toward her stomach and pulled her shirt up, its black teeth opening and closing while the first zombie continued to pin her down.

No! No! No!

She tried to move, but the zombie on top of her was too heavy. She continued squirming, grunting under the pressure as she tried to get away.

Get!

Off!

Of!

Me!

Her arms were about to give way—she couldn’t hold it off of her any longer. The two zombies were competing to see who would get the first bite of her flesh.

She looked down just as the second zombie opened its mouth, teeth inching toward her belly.

Noooo!

Another blast—this one red—decimated the fat zombie’s lower half, then a blade sliced through the first zombie’s head and a man wearing a full black chemical suit yanked the zombie away and kicked in its skull.

He turned, firing on more approaching zombies, as Calla sat stunned. She wanted to thank him, but all she could do was suck in air, glad to be in one piece.

The man held out a gloved hand and helped her off the ground.

“Come on,” he said, walking toward Ana and Father Truth.

Father Truth was struggling to gather Ana.

He called out to the man in the suit, “Can you help me get her inside The Station?”

“Yes.” The man bent to scoop Ana from the snow. “But are you sure you want to go back in there? They unleashed a virus.”

“There’s a second part of The Station, walled off and running on a different system than the first. I’ll show you the way. We can stay there until we can clear out the main station.”

“So you all were prepared for this?” the man asked.

“Not quite, considering how many we lost. Who are you?” Father Truth looked up at him. “City Watch?”

The man smiled. “In a fashion. The name is Keller.

“Provisional Leader of The State.”

Ana woke up feeling blurry. The world agreed.

“Don’t move too fast.”

The man’s voice beside her bed was unfamiliar. Well, not completely unfamiliar. There was something about it . . .

He came into focus. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Adam?”

“Yeah.”

Tears burst from Ana’s eyes as she ignored his advice and bolted up, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into an embrace.

She pulled away, looking Adam over. He looked so much different than she remembered. Leaner. No baby fat. Scruffy hair and a light stubble.

Her baby brother looked like a man.

“Oh my God, you’re OK!”

Tears continued to pour forth. Then she realized two things at once: they were still in The Station, even though the last thing she remembered was fleeing as it was overrun with the infected, and Liam wasn’t in the room.

“Where’s Liam?” Suddenly she felt certain he was dead.

“I need to tell you something,” Adam said.

“No.” Her chin quivered as bad news seemed to darken Adam’s eyes. “No, no, no.”

The door behind him slid open. Most of Liam appeared in the doorway, wearing pants and no shirt. His left arm was missing, the nub bandaged in thick white. Ana tried to stand, but pain shot through her leg and shoved her back down to the bed.

“You were stabbed in the leg,” Adam said. “Stay put.”

Liam came to her, tears in his eyes as he smiled. “I told you we’d get your brother back.”

“You better never leave me again!” She reached around Liam, careful not to brush against his bandaged stump, and hugged him. “Are you OK? What happened?”

“Father Truth says I’ll be OK, barring infection or anything else.”

Ana pulled Liam and her brother into hugs, not wanting to let either man go—ever again.

The door opened again, this time bringing Katrina, joined by Calla, Father Truth, and a small girl that looked familiar, but Ana couldn’t remember where she’d seen her.

“Ana!” Calla called, running over and jumping onto the bed, hugging her.

As Ana held her tight, she looked up at Katrina. She could’ve sworn the tough girl’s eyes were welling up.

“Thank you,” Ana said, “for keeping Liam from losing more of himself.”

“It wasn’t easy, and you owe me . . . but you’re welcome.”

The familiar-looking girl stared oddly at Ana.

“Who is she?” Ana whispered to Adam.

“It’s Zelle, our old neighbor.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ana remembered. “Hi, Zelle. How did you wind up here?”

“Your brother found me. He saved me, with Katrina and Liam, after my father died. Dad turned after he was bitten.”

“I’m sorry.” Ana tried to smile.

Katrina said, “There’s something else you need to know.”

“What’s that?” Ana asked.

“Zelle will tell you.”

Ana looked at the girl. “OK.”

“There’s a safe place we can go, a place The State can’t find. My dad called it ‘Eden,’ but most people call it ‘The Gardens.’”

Ana looked around, confused. “Where are The Gardens? Are we leaving here, then?”

Father Truth said, “The State will be coming here. No way to avoid it with everything that went down.”

Ana remembered something from before she’d passed out—Keller.

She looked at her brother, wondering how to break the news that the killer was here.

Or had he already seen him?

As if on cue, the door opened. Keller stepped into the room.

Ana’s heart raced, certain that Adam would strangle him.

Instead he looked over as if Keller were another well-wisher.

How long have I been out? What did I miss?

“Hello, Miss Lovecraft.” Keller was wearing his uniform instead of the chemical suit and mask he’d had on when she’d last seen him.

“He saved us, all of us.” Calla squeezed Ana’s hand.

“Why?” Ana asked, refusing to believe that he’d suddenly turned over a new leaf.

Men like Keller didn’t change—not for the better. They got worse. Entrenched in corruption, enslaved to the system, forever invested in clinging to power, they did whatever they had to do to maintain the status quo. Everything she’d seen from such men—Oli, the leader of Paradise; Sutherland, the leader of Hydrangea; and . . . even Egan, in his own way—had been trapped into the roles they had created for themselves. To believe that Keller was any different . . .

“I owe your father an apology,” Keller said. “I owe you all an apology.”

Ana tried not to cry at the thought of her parents’ deaths and Keller’s involvement.

“I was lied to by the people I serve. And only recently have I seen what that meant.”

“But you killed my father, on stage, in front of the world. He did it in front of you, Adam!” She turned to her brother, pissed that he wasn’t grabbing a gun and shooting their father’s killer in the face. But her brother only looked back at her, something—sympathy?—in his eyes.

Keller continued, “I can’t begin to ask you to understand, change the past, or bring your family back. Your father was a good man. But The State doesn’t reward men like your father, it rewards and promotes men like me—men who are so allegiant to the lie that they become blind to the truth.”

Adam looked at Ana. “Keller sent someone into The Outback to get Zelle, so The State could find The Gardens and get people they’re looking for.”

Keller said, “But instead I’m going to pretend I never saw you. Go to The Gardens. I’ll tell the Elders they’re only a lie. I’ll say that this station was home to the traitors. They’re dead now, thanks to the Patriot scum Sutherland, or rather, Dennis Weaver.”

“You’re letting us go?” Ana asked in disbelief. “All of us?”

“Yes,” Keller said. “Once Father Truth here says you’re ready, you can take whatever you need and go find the lives you deserve.”

“Why are you doing this? And how do we know you won’t change your mind and come looking for us later?”

“I want to fight
my
enemies, not The State’s. I’m not saying The Underground or these so-called Patriots have it right. They’re terrorists . . . well, a lot of them are. You can’t change the world by bombing innocents and attacking cities. You can only make it worse. You have to change it from within. I’ll find others who are also tired of fighting, who can help me change the leadership, find something in between what we have and the anarchy craved by The Underground. Something closer to The Old Nation’s foundation.”

Ana stared at Keller, trying to reconcile the man she’d come to hate—the man who’d shoved her family into The Games and murdered her father in front of an audience—with the man speaking now.

Could he possibly be telling the truth?

Am I the only one who thinks he’s lying?
She couldn’t just sit here and listen to this.

“Is anyone else buying this? Am I the only one who isn’t ready to forgive this bastard for what he did to our father?”

“Nobody wanted to kill Keller more than I did,” Adam said. “But he
did
save us. And he got me out of The Games. From what these people have said, he saved you too. We could kill him, but it wouldn’t bring Father back. Or change the world. And The State would never stop searching for us. And he’d never have a chance to atone for his sins.”

Keller said, “No one understands what you’re feeling more than I do, Ana. The Underground bombed a parade and killed my son. It’s hard to see you all as anything but monsters. But yesterday and tomorrow aren’t the same thing.”

Keller offered his hand.

Ana looked from Adam to Liam, to Calla, and then finally to Zelle.

Adam was right. If they killed Keller, this wouldn’t end. Their future would be worthless.

Yet, she couldn’t forget all that Keller had done. As she stared at his hand, she remembered that very hand taking her father’s life. It was all she could do not to rip his arm off and beat him to death with it.

But she also thought of all the people she’d had to kill, both in The Games and as they fought to survive in The Barrens. Most deserved it, sure, but not all. How many people were the “good guys” in their own stories in which she was the villain?

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to shake his hand. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

She met Keller’s eyes and shook her head. “I can’t forgive you. I’d like to believe you, I really would. And perhaps you are working toward some kind of atonement. I’ll do whatever the majority wants and accept your help in getting us out of here, but you can’t just expect me to forgive and forget.”

Keller lowered his hand, nodded, and said, “Perhaps someday.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Someday.”

THE END