done it! The kid had hit her mark. Sucking wind, Joe dug among the old soapboxes for his Glock, and when he had a firm grip on it, he tried to pull himself up. The world whirled. He tumbled back down.
“Grandpa Joe!” Kendra said, and rushed to him. The girl’s grip was surprisingly strong, and Joe hugged her for support, straining to peer down at his leg. Maybe he was wrong about the bite. It was possible he was wrong.
“Let me look,” Joe said, trying to keep his voice calm. He peeled back his pant leg, grimacing at the blood binding the fabric to flesh. There it was, facing him in a semicircle of oozing slits. A bite. Not a deep one. But damn well deep enough. Freak juice was already shooting all through him. Damn, damn, damn.
Night seemed to come early, because for an instant Joe Davis’s fear blotted the room’s light. He was bit. And where were Mike’s three boys? Wouldn’t they all come running now, like the swarm over the hill he’d seen in the field?
“We’ve gotta get out of here, Little Soldier,” Joe said, and levered himself up to standing. Pain coiled and writhed inside him. “I mean now. Let’s go.”
His leg was leaking. The pain was terrible, a throb with every heartbeat. He found himself wishing he’d faint, and his terror at the thought snapped him to more alertness than he’d felt in weeks. He had to get Little Soldier to the truck. He had to keep Little Soldier safe. God only knew what would happen to a girl left on her own. If the freaks didn’t get her, the survivors would.
With each step, the back of his left thigh screamed bloody murder. He was leaning so hard on Little Soldier, the kid could hardly manage the door. Joe heard the tinkling above him, and then, impossibly, they were back outside. Joe saw the truck waiting just beyond the gate. His eyes swept the perimeter. No movement. No one. Where were those boys?
“Let’s go,” Joe panted. He patted his pocket, and the keys were there. “Faster.” Joe nearly fell three times, but each time he found the kid’s weight beneath him, keeping him on his feet. Joe’s heartbeat was in his ears, an ocean’s roar. “Jump in. Hurry.”
After the driver’s door was open, Little Soldier scooted into the car like a monkey. The hard leather made Joe whimper as his thigh slid across the seat, but suddenly, it all felt easy. Slam and lock the door. Get his hand to stop shaking enough to get the key in the ignition. Fire her up. Joe lurched the truck in reverse for thirty yards before he finally turned around. His right leg was numb up to his knee— from that bite, oh sweet Lord —but he was still flooring the pedal somehow, keeping the truck on the road instead of ramming it into a ditch.
Joe looked in his rearview mirror. At first he couldn’t see for thedust, but there they were: Mike’s boys had come running in a ragged line, all of them straining as if they were in a race. Fast. They were too far back to catch up, but their fervor sent a bottomless fear through Joe’s stomach.
Mike’s boys looked like starving jackals stalking an antelope.
TWELVE
K endra could barely breathe. The air in the truck felt the way it might in outer space, if you were floating alone in the universe, a distant speck, too far in the sky to see.
“Grandpa Joe?” Kendra whispered.
Grandpa Joe’s face shone with sweat. He was chewing at his lip hard enough to draw blood. Grandpa Joe’s fingers gripped at the wheel, and the corners of his mouth turned upward in an imitation of a smile. “It’s gonna be all right,” he said, but it seemed that he was talking to himself more than to her. “It’ll be fine.”
Kendra stared at him, assessing. He seemed all right. But Dad had seemed fine too.
She and Mom had been all right for a while, living off the refrigerator, and then the pantry after the power went out. But Mom got bit by their neighbor Carolyn Stiller and had forced Kendra to hide in the cellar. Made her promise not to open the
“Grandpa Joe!” Kendra said, and rushed to him. The girl’s grip was surprisingly strong, and Joe hugged her for support, straining to peer down at his leg. Maybe he was wrong about the bite. It was possible he was wrong.
“Let me look,” Joe said, trying to keep his voice calm. He peeled back his pant leg, grimacing at the blood binding the fabric to flesh. There it was, facing him in a semicircle of oozing slits. A bite. Not a deep one. But damn well deep enough. Freak juice was already shooting all through him. Damn, damn, damn.
Night seemed to come early, because for an instant Joe Davis’s fear blotted the room’s light. He was bit. And where were Mike’s three boys? Wouldn’t they all come running now, like the swarm over the hill he’d seen in the field?
“We’ve gotta get out of here, Little Soldier,” Joe said, and levered himself up to standing. Pain coiled and writhed inside him. “I mean now. Let’s go.”
His leg was leaking. The pain was terrible, a throb with every heartbeat. He found himself wishing he’d faint, and his terror at the thought snapped him to more alertness than he’d felt in weeks. He had to get Little Soldier to the truck. He had to keep Little Soldier safe. God only knew what would happen to a girl left on her own. If the freaks didn’t get her, the survivors would.
With each step, the back of his left thigh screamed bloody murder. He was leaning so hard on Little Soldier, the kid could hardly manage the door. Joe heard the tinkling above him, and then, impossibly, they were back outside. Joe saw the truck waiting just beyond the gate. His eyes swept the perimeter. No movement. No one. Where were those boys?
“Let’s go,” Joe panted. He patted his pocket, and the keys were there. “Faster.” Joe nearly fell three times, but each time he found the kid’s weight beneath him, keeping him on his feet. Joe’s heartbeat was in his ears, an ocean’s roar. “Jump in. Hurry.”
After the driver’s door was open, Little Soldier scooted into the car like a monkey. The hard leather made Joe whimper as his thigh slid across the seat, but suddenly, it all felt easy. Slam and lock the door. Get his hand to stop shaking enough to get the key in the ignition. Fire her up. Joe lurched the truck in reverse for thirty yards before he finally turned around. His right leg was numb up to his knee— from that bite, oh sweet Lord —but he was still flooring the pedal somehow, keeping the truck on the road instead of ramming it into a ditch.
Joe looked in his rearview mirror. At first he couldn’t see for thedust, but there they were: Mike’s boys had come running in a ragged line, all of them straining as if they were in a race. Fast. They were too far back to catch up, but their fervor sent a bottomless fear through Joe’s stomach.
Mike’s boys looked like starving jackals stalking an antelope.
TWELVE
K endra could barely breathe. The air in the truck felt the way it might in outer space, if you were floating alone in the universe, a distant speck, too far in the sky to see.
“Grandpa Joe?” Kendra whispered.
Grandpa Joe’s face shone with sweat. He was chewing at his lip hard enough to draw blood. Grandpa Joe’s fingers gripped at the wheel, and the corners of his mouth turned upward in an imitation of a smile. “It’s gonna be all right,” he said, but it seemed that he was talking to himself more than to her. “It’ll be fine.”
Kendra stared at him, assessing. He seemed all right. But Dad had seemed fine too.
She and Mom had been all right for a while, living off the refrigerator, and then the pantry after the power went out. But Mom got bit by their neighbor Carolyn Stiller and had forced Kendra to hide in the cellar. Made her promise not to open the
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