had been oriental; Chinese, Baker was sure. After a moment of fright, he paused, realizing that the zombie was trapped inside. He studied the situation, weighing the evidence. Obviously, he surmised after careful observance, the parent and this child had been set upon by the creatures. The parent had made certain the child was safely in the car first, but there was no time for themselves. Somehow, either through the parent's doing or the child's mistake, the child-safety locks had been engaged. After the death of the child (starvation, previous wound, shock-Baker ran off a litany of possible causes), the entity that took over its body was unable to work the safety locks because the child itself had no former memory of how to work them. It lacked the physical strength of an adult host, so attempting to smash through the window, as Baker had seen Ob do at Havenbrook, was fruitless.
How long had it sat there, trapped in this cage of
88 Detroit steel and Japanese engineering?
It looked very hungry. Ravenous in fact.
Baker tapped the glass with his finger, and the creature snarled; its rage muffled by the glass and the rain.
Page 67
Stooping, he snatched the keys from the dead hand.
The zombie tensed.
Baker placed the key in the lock and turned. The zombie sprang over the console and into the front seat.
With a speed that surprised even himself, Baker whipped the driver's side door open and aimed the pistol. Eyeing it, the zombie froze. A bulbous, gray tongue licked the split and cracked lips. It spoke to him in Chinese. When Baker didn't respond, it switched to the form of Sumerian that Baker had heard Ob use as well.
"You don't speak English," he observed in calm detachment, "because your host didn't know English."
The thing spat, its mottled fingers clutching at the seat tightly.
"But you know what this is, don't you?" Baker gave the pistol a slight shake. "That's sad. The child learned about guns before he learned to speak the language of his adopted home country."
The creature launched itself at him, but Baker was quicker. Thunder crashed overhead, and was answered by his pistol. The inside of the dead child's head splattered across the dashboard.
Baker made sure it was destroyed, then grabbed the corpse by its skinny ankles and dropped it unceremoniously onto the pavement. His stomach fluttered.
They aren't human, he reminded himself. This is the only way to survive.
"I'm sorry." he whispered to the grisly pile of flesh and bone. Then he fished the key from the door, slid behind the wheel, said a Hail Mary (something he hadn't done since
89 college), and turned the ignition.
The engine turning over was the sweetest sound Baker had ever known, and he cheered.
He checked the gauges, and was delighted to find that the car had a full tank of gas. Everything else looked okay as well.
He ran back to the shelter and burst through the door, rainwater pooling on the rug in the lobby. He found Worm, dejectedly bouncing the ball against a stall in the women's bathroom.
Page 68
"We're leaving," Baker mouthed, trying to convey his excitement. "Let's get your things!" He had to make several attempts before his meaning was clear, at which point Worm cringed, backing farther into the restroom.
"Don't you want to leave?" Baker asked "Don't you want to find other people?"
Shaking his head back and forth, Worm whimpered and dropped his eyes.
"Eeeet uss," he protested. "Peepol trhi to eet Wurhm!" The boy refused to look up. Baker cupped his chin and forced him to meet his stare. Tears streamed from the frightened boy's eyes.
"Worm!" Baker insisted. "Nobody is going to eat you. I promise. I'm going to take care of you now."
"Nooomyss? Noo dahd peepol?"
"No, Worm," Baker assured him gently, cradling the boy to his chest. Worm trembled, and then clung to him. Though he knew Worm couldn't see his lips, he continued talking in soothing tones.
"I'm not going to let anything harm you." Baker promised, and in doing so,
How long had it sat there, trapped in this cage of
88 Detroit steel and Japanese engineering?
It looked very hungry. Ravenous in fact.
Baker tapped the glass with his finger, and the creature snarled; its rage muffled by the glass and the rain.
Page 67
Stooping, he snatched the keys from the dead hand.
The zombie tensed.
Baker placed the key in the lock and turned. The zombie sprang over the console and into the front seat.
With a speed that surprised even himself, Baker whipped the driver's side door open and aimed the pistol. Eyeing it, the zombie froze. A bulbous, gray tongue licked the split and cracked lips. It spoke to him in Chinese. When Baker didn't respond, it switched to the form of Sumerian that Baker had heard Ob use as well.
"You don't speak English," he observed in calm detachment, "because your host didn't know English."
The thing spat, its mottled fingers clutching at the seat tightly.
"But you know what this is, don't you?" Baker gave the pistol a slight shake. "That's sad. The child learned about guns before he learned to speak the language of his adopted home country."
The creature launched itself at him, but Baker was quicker. Thunder crashed overhead, and was answered by his pistol. The inside of the dead child's head splattered across the dashboard.
Baker made sure it was destroyed, then grabbed the corpse by its skinny ankles and dropped it unceremoniously onto the pavement. His stomach fluttered.
They aren't human, he reminded himself. This is the only way to survive.
"I'm sorry." he whispered to the grisly pile of flesh and bone. Then he fished the key from the door, slid behind the wheel, said a Hail Mary (something he hadn't done since
89 college), and turned the ignition.
The engine turning over was the sweetest sound Baker had ever known, and he cheered.
He checked the gauges, and was delighted to find that the car had a full tank of gas. Everything else looked okay as well.
He ran back to the shelter and burst through the door, rainwater pooling on the rug in the lobby. He found Worm, dejectedly bouncing the ball against a stall in the women's bathroom.
Page 68
"We're leaving," Baker mouthed, trying to convey his excitement. "Let's get your things!" He had to make several attempts before his meaning was clear, at which point Worm cringed, backing farther into the restroom.
"Don't you want to leave?" Baker asked "Don't you want to find other people?"
Shaking his head back and forth, Worm whimpered and dropped his eyes.
"Eeeet uss," he protested. "Peepol trhi to eet Wurhm!" The boy refused to look up. Baker cupped his chin and forced him to meet his stare. Tears streamed from the frightened boy's eyes.
"Worm!" Baker insisted. "Nobody is going to eat you. I promise. I'm going to take care of you now."
"Nooomyss? Noo dahd peepol?"
"No, Worm," Baker assured him gently, cradling the boy to his chest. Worm trembled, and then clung to him. Though he knew Worm couldn't see his lips, he continued talking in soothing tones.
"I'm not going to let anything harm you." Baker promised, and in doing so,
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