Scavengers. Part 28

"Dejah!" a man's voice cried.

Dejah turned toward the sound of her name. Her heart pounded. Thomas? A man pushed though the crowd toward the stall where she, David, and Lauren sat. It was Thomas.

"G.o.d in heaven," she whispered. "Thomas."

David eyed the approaching man warily.

Thomas was gaunt and unshaven, his eyes mere sockets blackened with pain. Dejah barely recognized him, but it was him. He approached her, not with outstretched arms, but with a strange look, like he had something to hide.

"Oh G.o.d, Thomas. Selah...where is she? Tell me she's with you, Thomas."

He looked at the dirty straw-strewn ground, his face reflecting a struggle of emotions.

Dejah's hopes sank. "Where is she? Where's my baby?" Lauren sidled up to her, softly touching her elbow, comforting her. Dejah trembled.

Thomas only stood there, blinking.

"Thomas, d.a.m.n you! Where is she?" Dejah stood and grabbed him, violently shaking him. David reached from behind and grabbed her arms. She whirled around, burying her face in David's chest.

Thomas and David exchanged loaded looks.

"I-I don't know where she is, Dejah." Thomas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I think she might be with Bal Shem. There are rumors that there's a child that's healing the people being eaten. I G.o.d Dejah, they took me a couple of nights ago, and they...." He choked on a deep sob that wracked his body. He pulled himself together and looked at her with eyes so red they might bleed. "My G.o.d, Dejah, they ate me. I still remember the teeth, the blood, screaming and then... I-I was out. I blacked out. And then, when I woke up again, I was in a tent. I didn't see Selah or anyone else other than the infected guards and the others...the other people who were eaten with me. We'd been healed. But I don't know if she's up there. I don't remember seeing her...and I don't know where she went." His voice broke again and his anguish was laid bare for all to see.

Dejah gasped, and looked at Thomas. "How can you not know? Didn't you stay with her?"

"We got separated during the uprising. I told her to stay at our tent when I had to go help dig graves for the dead. There were guards. I thought she'd be safe, but, well, you know Selah. She had her own ideas and went looking for my mom. That's the last anyone saw of her."

"She has to be the child everyone is talking about. The healer. You know that, don't you?"

Thomas nodded slowly, reluctantly. He sniffled and blinked away tears. "I don't want to believe it but...it makes sense. I just-"

"Of course it makes sense!" Dejah's voice grew louder. "Do you seriously mean to tell me that you completely lost track of her, and now you suspect that she's up there in that trailer with that monster, and you haven't done a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing about it?"

"I don't know if you've looked around at what's happening here, sweetheart," Thomas's voice took on a sudden edge that turned the term of endearment into an expression of loathing. "But we're pretty much sitting-f.u.c.king-ducks around here. They're armed, they're feral; we're surrounded. We are completely at their mercy, Dejah. Do you understand that? There's nothing we can do."

Dejah separated herself from David, yanking her arms free. Her cheeks flushed red as she moved closer to Thomas. "Nothing we can do about it? Have you even tried? Have you done anything at all, Thomas? Or have you just sat in here wallowing in self-pity, while your daughter, your flesh and blood, is being used as some kind of sick p.a.w.n in this Bal Shem's game? G.o.d only knows what else is being done to her!"

They were attracting a crowd. They blinked at the altercation like gathered birds on a wire. "And the rest of you. How long are you just going to cower in here like sheep? Getting eaten and revived and thrown back for another day? How long are you willing to let the infected treat you like f.u.c.king hamburger?"

"If we try anything, they'll kill us," one bookwormish woman said. Her tone of voice a.s.sumed she was dead already.

"Would you rather go on living like this for the rest of your lives? Waiting, day in and day out, for one of those freaks to come haul you out of here and eat you? Is that how you want to live?" Dejah was shouting.

"Ssh," Lauren said, "They'll hear us and come in to investigate."

"I've got an idea," said Dr. Robbins. He pushed through the huddled group, a figure of strength in a crowd of the defeated.

Dejah turned to him, hopeful.

"I'm a doctor. Working with a few members of the military, I've been trying to come up with a toxin-antidote serum to neutralize the infection. The serum, when injected into the body of an infected, promotes antibodies to neutralize viral cells present in the body. It's worked in almost all of our test cases at the hospital. We were bringing this batch out here for Josh Dr. Gutierrez. Unfortunately, we were too late to help him, and his crew and...the rest of you. But we're here now," Dr. Robbins said. "And I have some syringes of the serum."

"How the h.e.l.l did you manage to get in here with that bag?" David asked.

"They may be able to talk, and they do appear more advanced than the average infected, but in the end it seems they ain't too bright, son," Robbins said. "It wasn't a gun, and I didn't fight against them, so they didn't bother me much. I had it strapped to my back. They threw me in here, medical supplies and all."

"How much of that stuff do you have with you, doc?" David asked. "Is it in the bag?"

"I have about twenty doses. Some of my supply got destroyed in the scuffle before they brought us here."

"This is crazy!" Thomas said. "You-you're talking about getting close enough to Bal Shem to inject him?"

"What are you willing to do for your daughter, Thomas? How far are you willing to go?" Dejah said with angry resolve. "Because, for me, I'm willing to die for her. I'll gladly give my life if she can go free."

"Easy for you to say, lady," someone in the crowd said. "You come back to life when you get eaten."

Thomas looked at her inquisitively. "What does he mean?"

She shook her head. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She was coming at Thomas tooth and nail, and it wasn't fair to him, no matter how much of a jerk he'd been to her in the past. If it hadn't been for him deciding to take Selah with him for their agreed-upon break from each other, none of this would have happened to them. But it didn't matter now. It was done, and she had to back off. The energy she'd bottled inside, all the anxiety worrying about Selah, was coming out as blasts of anger at Thomas when they needed composure. She needed to relax. Breathe, Dejah. Just breathe. "It's a long story."

David looked around at the people standing elbow to elbow. "We have to act together. If some of us revolt, everyone will face reprisals anyway, so it's best if we put on a unified front and act as one cohesive unit."

"No f.u.c.king way," someone said, voice trailing away.

"I'm not getting involved!" a woman screeched from the back of the group.

Thomas shook his head. "It's just not a good idea."

"I'll help," Lauren said, voice eager, a look of determination on her face. "I'll fight. I'd rather be dead than keep on being their prisoner."

Private Brooks joined the group. "I've got hand-to-hand combat skills, so does Abbott and the doc. He served too. Anyone else here have any special skills, maybe served in one of the branches of the military?"

Tired faces stared at the young private, but no one spoke up. The crowd began to disperse. No one wanted to discuss a rebellion.

Thomas wouldn't look Dejah in the eye. A tense moment pa.s.sed between them in which she felt a growing sense of revulsion for the man before her. What were petty thoughts in the face of their challenges rushed back to her...all the times he turned away from her when she needed him, the long nights he left her alone and aching for the sound of his voice. How many years had it been since he'd spoken to her with a word of kindness, or given her an affectionate touch in pa.s.sing? She couldn't remember. She couldn't recall him ever being concerned for her or for anything other than himself, and occasionally Selah. Yes, they were petty thoughts, but she couldn't help having them. Feeling the hurt of his neglect, and the rage that now filled her to realize that when she needed him the most, when Selah needed him most, he was content to hide in the shadows and save his own a.s.s rather than stand at her side and risk it all for their daughter. The situation that now faced them all revealed the true nature of all of their characters, and his was cowardly, self-centered, pitiful.

Easy, girl. Easy. There's too much at stake. Remember to breathe. These things aren't important now.

Still, she turned her back to Thomas and willed him to go away.

David stood in the horse stall, talking to Dr. Robbins and the private. He looked over at her, his eyes reflecting the tumult of emotions he must be feeling inside. She ached for him, for them, for their uncertain future, but most of all, her immediate concern was for Selah. She still dared to hope.

One way or the other she would set her child free from the clutches of Bal Shem.

CHAPTER 41.

The sound of rain was interrupted by splashes outside the front door of the barn. Whispers of terror were exchanged between the barn's inhabitants. Those closest to the doors scampered away, into the shadows, behind bales of hay. Everyone receded en ma.s.se to the farthest points of the building.

The big double doors were flung open. Falling rain pelted the dirt, causing swollen rivers to course over the barn floor. Puddles formed. Lightning flashed outside, and a deep baritone rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.

Then the zombies rushed in and the barn erupted into chaos. People screamed. Bodies scrambled. They scrabbled and fought with whatever makes.h.i.+ft weapons they could find; they weren't much.

Hungry infected attacked two people unlucky enough to be nearest the doors, biting deep into one man's neck and coming away with a mouthful of b.l.o.o.d.y flesh. The second infected caught the teenager Lauren by her hair and yanked her to the floor. She screamed until her skull hit the ground with a dull-sounding thump.

Dejah leapt from behind a bale of hay, diving for Lauren.

David grasped at her arm, but missed. "Dejah!" he shouted, but in the ma.s.s confusion, his voice was drowned out amidst screams and cries of horror.

One of the talkers stood near the door, a fetid example of what the infection could do at its worst, with exposed glistening muscle and bone. This monster was severely infected; one of the worst David had seen that was still living. The gangrene and pure rot of what little flesh it had left exuded a putrid wafting stench. He brandished a baseball bat.

"No, Dejah!" David s.n.a.t.c.hed at her leg, this time connecting with fabric. He yanked with all of his strength, heaving backward, trying to keep her from going forward.

Dejah fell as the feral creature grasping Lauren by the hair wrestled the girl to the ground, pinned her beneath its pus-laden sore-infested body and took a bite from her face. The girl's skin was stripped away like a length of rubbery latex from her left cheek. The gristle of her nose popped and came loose in the infected monster's jaws. Blood dripped from its blackened chin, and it seemed to grin at the pleasure of the kill. Lauren's red blood was bright in contrast to the dark decay of the hideous zombie's own skin.

Jagged talons, dirty and broken, raked the soft flesh of her face, and with a deep gouging movement, one eye came loose from Lauren's left socket. Lauren tried to scream against the filthy hand m.u.f.fling her mouth, but the beast pried open her jaws, disregarding her attempts to bite the nasty fingers, and grabbed hold of her tongue.

Dejah kept screaming, "Lauren!" as the infected monstrosity pulled Lauren's tongue out as far as it would go, and then gnawed it from the poor girl's mouth. Crimson blood spurted over the teenager's pale skin and splattered the infected patient's face and upper body in a ghastly fountain.

Dejah screamed the girl's name, fighting against David's grip as Bal Shem's infected henchmen pulled that day's choices through the door. The talker stayed behind, waving the bat and glaring with shriveled eyes. It coughed a congealed wad of black blood from diseased lungs and spit the noxious clump onto the straw-covered ground. With a final glance around the barn, the door closed.

Everyone huddled in the back corner. Some were crying, trembling in a panicked state of fear. Some were cursing, angry, but still not willing to do much more than hide and pray.

"Oh my G.o.d" Dejah exhaled loudly, her heart racing, body shaking. "Oh my G.o.d, David, that poor girl. Poor Lauren!"

"I know." He pulled her close, wrapping his arms tight around her as if to shut out the sheer insanity of what just happened. "I know. There's nothing we can do for her now."

Dejah wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't come. She felt numb. She could see Thomas cowering in a far corner around a group of equally frightened people. For a moment their eyes met. The look on his face was cla.s.sic Thomas: an I-told-you-so type of expression, as if he was reiterating the fact that there was nothing any of them could do except wait for death one agonizingly slow day at a time.

Dr. Robbins stood beside them. He reached out a hand and helped them stand. "We need a plan," he said. The doctor's face was a work of statuesque determination. Everything about the way he stood, jaws clenched, watery eyes fierce with a general's cunning, said he was done sitting here and he was ready to move.

David nodded in agreement, but looked doubtfully at the others around them. "A plan will be useless without enough partic.i.p.ants. These people are terrified, driven nuts, or both. I don't have much hope for any blatant action we take being very successful."

"Perhaps not," said Robbins, "but we can move on a smaller scale, perhaps at nightfall-"

Thomas rushed toward them. "Don't listen to him. He hasn't been here. He doesn't know what they're capable of. Did you see what just happened? Are you still not convinced? They're monsters!"

Robbins blinked at Thomas with little other than bemus.e.m.e.nt.

"We saw it, Thomas," Dejah snapped at him. "We get it. But Dr. Robbins has a point. We need a plan. A real plan. Not just waiting till tomorrow and hiding next time they fling open that door and come for food. We need a plan - not just to save Selah, but to save all of us."

"I have a daughter, too," Dr. Robbins said. His voice was remarkably even considering all that had happened. Deep, aged. "If that were my girl in there, I'd do whatever it d.a.m.n well took to get her out. It's your kid, man, isn't that enough?"

Thomas stepped back, away from them. "You don't get it." His eyes switched between the three of them. "You understand you'd be walking to your deaths. I don't do anybody any good dead."

"Well, here's what I understand," Robbins stepped forward and seemed to restrain himself a bit. "Your daughter is in there with Bal Shem. My daughter is G.o.d only knows where. I don't know. I can only hope and pray she's alive. You, on the other hand, you know where your daughter is. What I want to know is: do you have the b.a.l.l.s to go in there and get her? You're her father. It's your job to protect her. You don't do anyone any good dead; you also don't do them any good in here sitting on your a.s.s."

"I'll go," David spoke up. "I don't care what we have to do. I'll help. I don't know Selah, but she's Dejah's child. That's enough for me." David leveled an iron-cool gaze at Thomas.

"You just don't know-" Thomas started again.

"Save it, Thomas." Dejah spat the words. "Just...go."

And he did. Thomas slunk into the corner, melding with the people cl.u.s.tered there, avoiding their stares.

Left alone, the trio stood together. Private Brooks stepped up to join them, nodding at the doctor.

David held Dejah at arm's length, looking into her eyes. "You have to concentrate on Selah. You need a level head. Channel your anger into being productive. Deal with...all of this...later."

Robbins was nodding. "I agree. It's hard not to want to kill him, but we've got to be focused."

David lifted an eyebrow and gave the doc a bemused half-smile.

"Well, if I was married to him, I'd want to kill him right now, too," Robbins said. "But, it seems there's enough bloodshed and death around us without me or you adding to the carnage."

Dejah sighed loudly. "I don't even care enough about him to want to kill him anymore. You're right, Dr. Robbins, about him, me, and about the fact that we need a plan. This is bigger than me and my child. This is about all of us."

"That's the spirit."

"Maybe we should try talking to everyone here," Private Brooks offered. "Some sort of pow wow. Either we give it our best shot, or we just sit around waiting for these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds to eat us. And then eat us again."

Robbins absently reached for a breast pocket, but finding no cigarettes there, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair instead.

David scanned the people in the nearby group, settling on an older man. He looked like an old farmer, grease smudged overalls, long sleeves of a red and black plaid s.h.i.+rt, a CAT cap with an old sweat ring perched on his head. "How long is it until the infected guards bring back the people they dragged away?"

"Don't know," the farmer said. "Varies. I think it depends on how fast they eat them and how fast that kid he's got in there heals them. Occasionally, a few don't come back at all."

David looked at Robbins, and then at Dejah.

The old man sunk his hands deep into the pockets of his worn overalls. "Any they deem trouble-makers, seldom get sent back here, it seems. Don't know if they kill'em or just keep'em somewhere else. If they do come back, they're never the same. Spirit is gone from them. Broken. Same thing for anyone who's been eaten and then brought back, it's like once they get fixed up, something ain't quite right about them ever again."

Dejah felt the breath catch in her throat. What had Bal Shem done to Selah?

"Once they figure out y'all got some sort of plan, none of y'all are coming back here." The man pointed a k.n.o.bby finger at the three of them. "You'll be lucky if they kill you and not just eat you and keep bringing you back over and over. That's fer d.a.m.n sure."

CHAPTER 42.