massage them back to health.” I took a few steps to conceal myself behind another tree and get a view of the area past the building on our left. “What did you mean about the tired remark? All the craziness wearing you down?”
Murphy didn’t answer.
I gave him a long while before I pursued it. “Is it this life? All this? Running, chasing, killing? Living from one crisis to the next and barely stopping to take a breath? Is that what you’re tired of?”
Murphy shrugged. “When I’m in the shit, I dig it. You know that.”
“No doubt.” I examined the building directly across the street from us. It was a one-story structure with a long greenhouse attached to the rear. If I’d understood Fritz’s description correctly, it was one of the outposts. Judging by the number of fresh, naked corpses in the grass around it, I was sure.
“Jumping out of the helicopter today,” said Murphy, “and watching it fly off, knowing we were stepping in it again, knowing I had a choice, it felt like a weight coming down on me.”
“You afraid you’re going to die?”
Murphy shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I mean, there’s that risk, you know. But I don’t think about it that way. I think I’m too stupid to know I’m not immortal.” He laughed.
“I think I’ve got that same disease.”
“I know you’ve got it.” Murphy laughed again. “Hell, you’ve got it so bad, I probably caught it from you.”
“I think you’ve always had it.”
“Yeah,” Murphy answered, absently.
“What is it then?” I asked. “For real. What’s bothering you?”
“I think it’s the killing. I think it’s finally starting to get to me.”
“Killing is living,” I told him. “It’s the way things are now.”
Chapter 20
The helicopter’s guns fell silent, and the sound of the rotors changed.
Murphy looked back in the direction we’d come. “They’re leaving.”
I peeked out at the intersection in front of us. Whites were still in the street, still running in the direction of the mayhem, but not as many as there had been. I pointed to the one-story outpost across the street. “I’m thinking we cross over and check that place first. I mean, it’s right there.”
Murphy nodded without a word.
I cocked my head at the veterinary science building. “Then we head over there and see what’s up unless you want to check all the outposts first.”
“Don’t care.” Murphy examined the veterinary science building. “I don’t have high hopes. But maybe we’ll find some survivors. The Whites couldn’t have killed everybody, right?”
I half smiled and didn’t answer. Of course, the Whites could have killed everybody. Individually, they were mostly stupid, but collectively they made up a deadly killing machine that seemed always able to surprise with how effective it was at exterminating superior dipshits like me. Being smarter wasn’t everything. I stepped out from behind the tree trunk and waved Murphy to follow as I jogged toward the street.
We headed for the far end of one of the greenhouses and saw rows of dead stems in hydroponic troughs through the broken glass panes. At the far end of the greenhouse, we came to a closed doorframe. Most of the door’s dirty glass was broken out and lying in our path. Bloody footprints on the concrete walkways ran through it in both directions.
Murphy elbowed me and nodded down at the footprints, making sure I saw them, making sure I understood what they meant. Of course, I did. Naked Whites had been here before us. They were probably inside.
I led, crunching glass under the soles of my boots and scanning back and forth through the jumble of metal troughs, pots, water hoses, and crunchy leaves, looking for lurking Whites I knew had to be there. And they always were, sneaky bastards, ready to pounce as soon as I let my guard down.
My machete was up, keen to cleave a
Murphy didn’t answer.
I gave him a long while before I pursued it. “Is it this life? All this? Running, chasing, killing? Living from one crisis to the next and barely stopping to take a breath? Is that what you’re tired of?”
Murphy shrugged. “When I’m in the shit, I dig it. You know that.”
“No doubt.” I examined the building directly across the street from us. It was a one-story structure with a long greenhouse attached to the rear. If I’d understood Fritz’s description correctly, it was one of the outposts. Judging by the number of fresh, naked corpses in the grass around it, I was sure.
“Jumping out of the helicopter today,” said Murphy, “and watching it fly off, knowing we were stepping in it again, knowing I had a choice, it felt like a weight coming down on me.”
“You afraid you’re going to die?”
Murphy shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I mean, there’s that risk, you know. But I don’t think about it that way. I think I’m too stupid to know I’m not immortal.” He laughed.
“I think I’ve got that same disease.”
“I know you’ve got it.” Murphy laughed again. “Hell, you’ve got it so bad, I probably caught it from you.”
“I think you’ve always had it.”
“Yeah,” Murphy answered, absently.
“What is it then?” I asked. “For real. What’s bothering you?”
“I think it’s the killing. I think it’s finally starting to get to me.”
“Killing is living,” I told him. “It’s the way things are now.”
Chapter 20
The helicopter’s guns fell silent, and the sound of the rotors changed.
Murphy looked back in the direction we’d come. “They’re leaving.”
I peeked out at the intersection in front of us. Whites were still in the street, still running in the direction of the mayhem, but not as many as there had been. I pointed to the one-story outpost across the street. “I’m thinking we cross over and check that place first. I mean, it’s right there.”
Murphy nodded without a word.
I cocked my head at the veterinary science building. “Then we head over there and see what’s up unless you want to check all the outposts first.”
“Don’t care.” Murphy examined the veterinary science building. “I don’t have high hopes. But maybe we’ll find some survivors. The Whites couldn’t have killed everybody, right?”
I half smiled and didn’t answer. Of course, the Whites could have killed everybody. Individually, they were mostly stupid, but collectively they made up a deadly killing machine that seemed always able to surprise with how effective it was at exterminating superior dipshits like me. Being smarter wasn’t everything. I stepped out from behind the tree trunk and waved Murphy to follow as I jogged toward the street.
We headed for the far end of one of the greenhouses and saw rows of dead stems in hydroponic troughs through the broken glass panes. At the far end of the greenhouse, we came to a closed doorframe. Most of the door’s dirty glass was broken out and lying in our path. Bloody footprints on the concrete walkways ran through it in both directions.
Murphy elbowed me and nodded down at the footprints, making sure I saw them, making sure I understood what they meant. Of course, I did. Naked Whites had been here before us. They were probably inside.
I led, crunching glass under the soles of my boots and scanning back and forth through the jumble of metal troughs, pots, water hoses, and crunchy leaves, looking for lurking Whites I knew had to be there. And they always were, sneaky bastards, ready to pounce as soon as I let my guard down.
My machete was up, keen to cleave a
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