The Kill Order
Page 22Mark suddenly had a rushing sound in his ears. The little girl. The two women. Gave them. The things Anton had said back in the bunk room. It all thudded in his mind, made him tremble. He thought back to how crazy those people at the bonfire were, and a situation he’d thought couldn’t get worse did just that. They’d wasted all this time in the bunker and their friends weren’t even there anymore.
Bruce was still talking, but Mark couldn’t focus on the words. He leaned in to speak in Alec’s ear. “How could they have given them to those … people? We have to go. Who knows what those psychos will do to them!”
Alec held a hand out to urge calm. “I know. We will. But remember the reason we came here. Let’s hear what this man has to say, then we’ll go. I promise. Lana means as much to me as Trina does to you.”
Mark nodded, leaned back into the wall again. Tried to listen to what Bruce was saying down on the stage.
“—fire is out, thanks to the latest storm that rolled in a couple of hours ago. The sky’s black, but the flames are dead. We’re going to be dealing with mudslides all over the place. The test subjects all fled to the half-burnt mountain homes, by the looks of it. Hopefully they’ll stay put awhile before they get desperate and march on Asheville for food. But I think we’re safe to head over to the city in the next day or two. Force our way in, demand our rights. We’ll go by foot and hope to surprise them.”
There were a few worried murmurs before he continued. “Look, we can’t deny that we’re dealing with our own outbreak now. We’ve all seen the symptoms, right here in our safe house. There’s just no way our superiors would’ve agreed to unleash this virus without having something to reverse its effects. And I say that they’ll give it to us or they’ll all die. Even if we have to go all the way to Alaska to do it. We know they have a Flat Trans at their headquarters. We’ll go through it and make them give us what we deserve!”
More cheers and pounding feet thundered through the air.
Mark shook his head. These people were obviously unstable. There was a wild energy in the room, like they were a nest of vipers, tensing to strike. Whatever the reason for spreading this virus, it was clear what it did to people: it made them crazy, and it appeared to be taking more time to do it as it spread. And if Asheville, the largest surviving city within hundreds of miles, really had erected walls to keep itself safe from the disease, things must be bad. Then the last thing anyone needed was a bunch of infected soldiers running through the streets. And the Flat Trans …
Mark’s head still pounded and throbbed and it was hard to sort out his thoughts. He knew he had to focus on Trina, getting her back. But what about all this new information? He elbowed Alec, gave him a look that said his patience was running out.
“Soon, boy,” the man whispered. “Never skip a chance to get intel. Then we’ll go find our friends. I swear it.”
Mark wasn’t willing to sacrifice Trina for information. Not after what they’d been through to survive this long. He couldn’t wait much longer.
The room had grown quiet again.
“The Post- … Flares … Coalition.” Bruce pronounced every word with exaggerated diction and spite. “Who do these people think they are? Gods? They can just choose to wipe out the entire eastern half of the United States? Like the PFC has more right to live than anyone else?”
“Don’t feel bad, friends. We couldn’t have said no to what they asked us to do,” Bruce said, slowly raising his eyes to gaze at his captive audience again. “We had no choice. They used the very resources they’re trying to preserve against us. We have to eat, too, right? It’s not our fault the virus wasn’t quite what they expected. All we can do is what we’ve done since the sun flares struck the Earth: fight tooth and nail to live. Darwin taught about survival of the fittest in the natural world. Well, the PFC is trying to cheat nature. It’s time to stand up for ourselves. We … will … live!”
Another raucous round of cheers and whistles and clapping and foot pounding went on for a good minute or two. Mark slinked back to sit next to Alec, feeling stronger than ever that they had to get moving. He was just about to say something when the crowd fell silent and Bruce’s voice filled the room like the amplified hiss of a snake.
“But first, my friends, I need you to do something for me. We have two spies in the back of this auditorium. They could very well be from the PFC. I want them bound and gagged by the time I count to thirty.”
CHAPTER 38
Mark was jumping to his feet almost before the man had finished his sentence, and Alec was close behind him.
A vicious roar erupted from the crowd like a war cry as Mark paused to take them all in. The group was already on the move, springing from their chairs and stumbling over each other to be the first ones to get up the aisle to the two intruders.
Mark ran toward the double doors of the exit, unable to take his eyes off the scene below, observing it with a strange mix of horror and curiosity. Bruce was bellowing orders and pointing his finger at Mark and Alec, his pale face now red with anger. There was something childish about his movements, almost cartoonish. The urgency with which his followers were clamoring to get into the open aisle also seemed exaggerated somehow, like they were all hopped up on some kind of drug. Men and women yelling and growling like apes on a rampage. Each wanting to capture him, acting like their life depended on being the first to do it.
Alec reached the doors first and practically flung himself out into the hallway. Mark skidded to a stop, his focus so intent on the onrushing crowd that he almost ran past the exit. That odd and misplaced sense of curiosity at their behavior winked out finally, replaced by the horrific thump of realization that he was about to be captured for the second time in so many days. Their cries of pursuit tore through the air and scared him, and with a quick sideways glance as he exited the room he saw the first of their group charging up the main aisle of the auditorium with bloodlust in their eyes.
He slipped on the floor of the hallway, caught his balance. Alec had reached out and closed the door after Mark came through, maybe buying them a couple of seconds. The light was dim, but Mark could tell Alec had forgotten which way they’d come from.
“It’s this way!” Mark yelled, already running. He heard Alec’s footsteps behind him until there was the loud bang of the door slamming back open, followed by the rush of bodies and their continued battle cries.Mark ran hard, trying his best not to imagine their pursuers or what they’d do if they caught him. Bruce had said to bind and gag them, but the look Mark had seen on their faces told him that was only the beginning. He glanced back to make sure Alec was keeping up, saw the old bear pumping his arms and pounding his feet, then focused ahead again, sprinting along the slow curve of the hallway. He was heading for the stairs because he didn’t know where else to go but up.
Adrenaline shot through Mark and hunger gnawed at his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He could only hope he had enough energy to escape back into the woods above them. The stairwell came into view up ahead and he burst forward with a little more speed. The shouts from their pursuers echoed and tore through the narrow space of the hall, reminding Mark of that almost muffled screeching sound the approaching trains of the subtrans made as they sped along the tracks of their tunnels.
He ran out into the upper hallway, which was still cloaked in darkness, something he could only hope would help them. A sudden moment of indecision hit him, causing a burst of panic.
“Which way?” he yelled at Alec. A part of him thought they should hide somewhere—maybe in the room that held the generators. Searching for an exit meant they’d be out in the open and just waiting for capture if they didn’t find one, but hiding would only delay being found.
Instead of answering, Alec started running to the right, back in the direction of the huge, pivoting landing pad of the Berg. Mark followed him, relieved that his friend had taken charge again.
They ran through the darkness at a reckless speed. Mark ran his hand against the wall to keep his bearings, but he knew that if he came across something on the floor he was a goner. They passed the generator room, its struggling red bulb of faint light giving them a brief break from the pitch-black, the hum of machinery like the drone of bees. Both the glow and the noise faded as they sprinted past. It was at that moment that Mark noticed something that almost made him stop.
The sounds of the people chasing them had ceased. Completely. As if they’d never made it up the stairs.
“Alec,” he whispered, barely hearing his own voice over their heaving breathing and footsteps. He repeated it a little louder.
His friend came to a halt, and Mark passed him before he could stop too. Sucking in deep breaths, Mark turned back to face Alec, wishing desperately for a little light.
“Why’d it stop?” he wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” Alec responded. “But we should keep moving.” Mark heard the man feeling his way along the walls of the corridor. “You do the right side, I’ll stick to the left. Maybe there’s another exit we don’t know about.”
Mark started searching; the walls were cool to the touch. He remembered the door with the faint rectangle of light from before—but there was no sign of it now. It was maddening to be in such darkness, and not knowing what had happened to the people chasing them put him on edge. It didn’t sit right with him.
They reached the end of the hallway, where the round submarine-like door led back into the chamber below the Berg landing pad. He heard Alec step through the opening, then come back out.
“Can’t see a thing in there, either.”
Alec shushed him, cutting off his sentence. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
The question alone made Mark shiver. He grew completely still and held his breath. At first he heard nothing; then there was a rustling sound, faint, but coming from down the hallway. It continued, and oddly, the noise played tricks, seeming to be close one second and far the next. Suddenly Mark was struck by the feeling that they weren’t alone.
Terror lit up his nerves. He moved to grab Alec, to push him through the doorway, knowing it was their only shot. Getting in there and slamming the thing closed, spinning the wheel handle, keeping it shut. But Mark had only taken one step forward when there was a click, followed by the blinding beam of a flashlight pointed directly at Mark and Alec. Whoever held it was only a few steps away.
“We didn’t say you could leave yet,” a woman said.
CHAPTER 39
There was a sudden rush of movement, the sound of other flashlights being clicked on, their beams crisscrossing and bobbing in a chaotic dance through the air. Bruce’s people were charging forward, reigniting their shouts and cries of attack. Mark turned toward Alec, who was already reaching out, grabbing his shirt and pulling him toward the open portal.
Alec was halfway through, his fist still clutching Mark’s shirt, when the storm of lights reached them. Their beams were blinding. Someone grabbed Mark’s foot and heaved it up into the air, and he crashed to the floor, the back of his head smacking down hard. Mark was suddenly jerked along the floor by his leg. He slid, bumping against people as he thrashed, trying to kick himself loose.
Alec shouted his name but Mark could barely hear him over the mass of angry people. They surrounded Mark and someone kicked him in the ribs; a woman let out a shrill cry and punched him in the stomach. He groaned and tried to curl into a ball, twisting his foot so hard that it sprang free from his captor’s grip. Taking advantage of the moment, he flipped onto his stomach and started crawling back toward the door. He was a flurry of arms and legs, frantically trying to stay out of everyone’s reach.
A roar cut through the melee: a booming growl, a noise that might come out of a she-bear protecting a cub. It was Alec—and suddenly bodies were flying everywhere. The man had charged forward and leaped into the fray, taking down half the people trying to get to Mark. In the frenzy, someone fell on Mark’s leg, someone else on his back. He twisted around and then there was someone sitting on his face. There was a moment when everything seemed absolutely ridiculous, like Mark had fallen into a clown act in a circus, and he almost laughed.
Then someone slapped him on the cheek, clearing that image right out of his head. Mark screwed up his fist and punched back but missed, tried again and again without connecting, his arms flailing like a blind boxer’s. On the fourth or fifth try he smashed his fist into someone’s chin and they cried out. He caught a glimpse of Alec fighting like a lion, pushing people and elbowing faces and throwing bodies to the floor. There was the clank of a flashlight falling, then the tinny scrape of it rolling until it came to rest against the wall. Its light shone across the floor and illuminated the circle of the door to the chamber, maybe a dozen feet away. Mark knew they had to somehow fight their attackers off and get through there or they were done for. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">