They continued along the street, keeping to the shadows of the houses. Many of the buildings were closed up tightly and locked. Several of them had the blinds drawn. Was it possible there were other stray stragglers hidden behind those walls? Or had Brandi and her group gone from house to house, closing everything up so their own safe house wouldn’t stick out among the others?
Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Catch some survivors by the toe. If they holler, kill them on the spot.
So quiet.
In all her years, she’d never truly noticed how quiet a place can become until after the Bagger invasion. And she was used to quiet, considering she grew up on a farm. The townsfolk of Glenmore weren’t the rowdy types. More than 70 percent of the town was over the age of sixty. Women who sat around playing bridge all day didn’t really kick off their heels and party all night long. Even the roads were quiet and hardly ever used. Clementine used to take her books into the fields as a little girl and hide out in the tall wheat. She’d listen to the crickets and close her eyes as the wind gently swayed through the grain. She enjoyed the solitude and took it for granted.
Quiet used to mean calm and peaceful. Now it was deadly. The ominous feeling pressed down around her, making her that much more aware of little things like her quickened breathing or the way the birds were no longer chirping away above them.
“Should we go around to the back?” Raj asked. His voice sounded weird in the midst of all that silence. They were one stop away from the safe house and Clementine couldn’t tell if anyone was watching their movements. If Brandi and her group were inside, they’d be fully aware that Clementine and Raj were outside. Last time she’d come with Aries, they’d approached the front door and someone had opened it before they’d even put their feet on the first porch step. So going around the back seemed too sneaky, especially since they were welcome. Everyone in Brandi’s group knew who they were.
“No,” she said. “We can go round the front. The street’s empty. It’s safe for us, I think.”
No one opened the door when she and Raj climbed up the steps toward the porch. Now she was at a loss. What was she supposed to do? Knock? Hello, would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies? She glanced over at Raj, but he looked as clueless as she felt.
She tapped on the door softly with her knuckles. The sound seemed shockingly loud. Stepping back, she turned and glanced both ways down the street. Nothing out of place. Just rain, rain, and more; rain. A set of wind chimes echoed from the house next door, the sound came across as lonely as the cry of a loon.
“You know that creepy feeling you get when something is about to go dreadfully wrong?” Raj asked. “It’s like a thousand snakes are trotting around in your stomach?”
“Snakes don’t trot.”
“Slither, crawl, gallop—same stuff, different pile. Well, I’m getting that right about now, babes.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
They both faced the door. A glass window with the curtains drawn looked back at them. There was no way to tell if anyone or anything was waiting for them.
“We should check it out,” Clementine said. She gripped her baseball bat tightly in her soaked fingers. Rain dripped from the wood, pooling on the welcome mat beneath her feet.
“Yep, we should.”
Neither of them moved.
“Even if the Baggers got them, someone might still be alive.”
“Yep.”
Still no movement.
She reached out with her fingers and grasped the handle. Slowly she turned it, careful to make as little noise as possible. It was unlocked. She pushed gently on the frame and the door opened, creaking loud enough to make her cringe.
The smell of blood insulted her nostrils immediately.
Oh, this was bad.
Raj gagged and stepped backward, just managing to rush over to the side of the porch, where he heaved over the bushes. Clementine held her breath, refusing to let the smell into her nose and mouth.
She stood at the door, straining her ears for the sounds, or lack of them, coming from inside the darkened house. But all she could hear was Raj spitting several times as he tried to clear his throat.
“Sorry, babes,” he whispered when he finally returned to the door. “Much better. Never was good with the stomach. Smells. They overpower me. Make me all weak in the knees. But there’s nothing left in the stomach now, so I should be okay.”
“You talk too much when you’re nervous,” she whispered back.
“That too.”
She opened her mouth and took a series of small little breaths. “Okay,” she said as she raised her bat. “Let’s do this.”
They stepped through the door.
A putrid smell of copper and overripe bathroom hit her face. Clementine gasped, her eyes watering as she pulled her shirt up over her mouth. Behind her, Raj made a choking sound in his throat.
“Are you okay?” She didn’t dare look at him. Misery loves company, and she was afraid that if she took even a small glance at his face, she might end up joining him in a visit to the bushes to toss her cookies.
“I’ll live,” Raj said. His voice was muffled as if he was talking through his shirt too. “I think the worst is over.”
The first body was lying on the stairs. Clementine didn’t recognize him, an older man; his arm was sticking through the banister at an awkward angle. A pool of blood lay sticky beneath his head, while his eyes stared up at a black-and-white photo of seashells. Clementine bent down to double-check. There was a big gaping hole in the middle of his forehead. The expression on his face was more of bewilderment than horror. He might have been the first to go. They must have surprised him when he came down the stairs.
Dear Heath, am I going to die like that? A pile of cold flesh left to rot in an abandoned house. What—
No! She wasn’t going to delve into self-pity. She straightened up. This man might be dead, but she was alive. And there might be others inside the house that were too. Feeling sorry for everyone and everything wasn’t going to get the job done. It might make things worse. She had gone this long without imagining what her final death scene would look like. She wasn’t going to start now.
From farther inside the house, there was a loud crash, as if someone was being thrown against the wall. Clementine stepped back and bumped into Raj. He steadied her, dropping his baseball bat in the process.
They shouldn’t have come here. They should have realized from the moment they opened the door that there was nothing but death waiting for them.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Raj bent down to retrieve his weapon. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered. “If we leave now, we might make it back alive.”
“No.”
YES!
“We can’t,” she whispered back. The noise was coming from the kitchen area. It sounded like someone was digging through all the pots and pans to try and find a clean spoon. “There were others here. We have to make sure. If any of them are still alive—”
Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t find the willpower to make them stop.
“Okay, babes,” Raj said, giving her a nudge forward. “Let’s do it.”
The smell lessened as they moved farther into the house. Or maybe it was because they were getting more accustomed to it. Dust particles floated through the murky light. The air had a hazy feel to it, trapped underneath all those blankets that covered the windows. More bodies waited for them at the edge of the living room. A woman. Not Brandi. Clementine recognized her immediately. She was one of the older women, a beautiful hippie-type lady who had braids in her hair and always wore a patchwork skirt. She had grown up on a farm too; a few weeks ago she and Clementine talked about it.
She was dead now.
There were two more bodies in the dining room. Both men. Blood was splattered all over the walls and the antique fifties-style table. They’d really put up a fight. One of them was missing his hand. She actually found herself looking around for it, and spotted i
t under one of the chairs. There was a hysterical moment when she almost thought about picking it up and trying to reattach it to his arm.
She heard Raj move toward her but she waved him back with her arm. “No, get away,” she managed through a garbled voice. He complied. She dropped to her knees and closed her eyes, swaying back and forth, listening to the sounds of the air going harshly in and out of her lungs.
“Clementine.”
Her mother’s voice. Clear as a bell. Right inside her head. Her mother, who used to wear pretty summer dresses with flower patterns and did all the stereotype things that small town mothers did. The smell of bread and freshly baked cookies in the kitchen when she came home starving from school. Her hair used to smell like strawberries, and even though Clementine used the exact same shampoo, she could never get her own blond locks to smell as good or look as fresh.
“Clem. You need to leave. Get up.”
Those had been the last words she ever spoke to Clementine, right before—well, right before the bottom of her world collapsed and the Baggers destroyed everything she knew and loved.
Had it been like this for Mom and Dad? All that blood? Yes. The Baggers had attacked the entire town hall. Locked the doors and blown away the hundreds of people trapped inside.
No, she couldn’t think about that. Not right now. She was going to go crazy. And if she left her mind on the floor of the dining room, next to that severed hand, she and Raj would be in even more trouble.
No, this was one cheerleader who wasn’t going to go cower in the corner and wait for the man with the hockey mask to come and hunt her down.
“Come on,” she said, hoping her voice sounded as strong as she wanted it to be. She led them over to the kitchen and, with a strong shove, pushed open the door.
A Bagger crouched next to the refrigerator. He let out a sharp shriek and jumped to his feet.
“Oh, aren’t you a pretty thing,” the Bagger said.
“I can still kick your ass,” she said, trying to look tougher than she felt.
“Too bad the others left,” the Bagger continued. “They already took the useful ones away. You’d be a good one to bring in. Pretty girls like yourself are hard to find. We’d make good use of you.”
“What about me?” Raj said. “Aren’t I good-looking enough?”
Tucking his head down, the Bagger barreled straight into them. Clementine didn’t think. With one arm, she shoved Raj back into the dining room while she raised the bat with her other hand, swinging hard. Wood hit head with a sickening thump, and the Bagger dropped to the floor like a stone.
It happened so quickly. It wasn’t until the Bagger lay there twitching on the floor that she remembered to breathe.
“Well done, babes!” Raj said, reentering the room. “Where’d you learn to hit like that?”
She stepped past the body on the floor, giving it a good shove with her heel. “Little League Baseball,” she replied. “I was a pitcher for six years.”
“You must have hit a lot of home runs.”
She smiled. “Actually, I sucked. Never could keep my eye on the ball. At least that’s what Coach said. I struck out more than I hit.”
“Not when it matters, babes,” Raj said.
Someone over by the refrigerator groaned. Clementine raised her bloody bat so quickly she actually knocked herself in the forehead. So much for looking smooth. Rubbing her head, she moved over toward the sound.
Brandi lay on the granite floor, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the blood pooled out underneath her. Clementine dropped to her side, reaching out to try and cradle the older woman’s head in her lap.
“You’re gonna be fine,” she heard herself say.
Brandi tried to laugh, a combination of wheezing and red-tinged spittle.
“Raj,” Clementine said. “I need paper towels, whatever you can find.”
He had already crossed the room and was pulling out drawers. Yanking a pile of hand towels out from beside the kitchen sink, he tossed them over. Clementine grabbed one and immediately shoved it into the area on Brandi’s chest that appeared to have the most blood gushing out of it.
Brandi just sighed as if she knew it was a wasted effort. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of Clementine’s hand. Her grip was still strong.
“I didn’t tell them about you,” she wheezed. “They tried to make me but I didn’t do it. I wasn’t gonna let anyone hurt you.” She coughed several times, spraying red liquid against Clementine’s hoodie. “I didn’t tell. But—”
Clementine waited while the woman beneath her swallowed several times. The breathing was slowing down but still steady.
“G . . . G . . . Graham,” she stuttered. “Someone told about Graham. I heard them.” Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying to hold back the pain and tears. “Don’t be mad. He couldn’t help it. They cut him open and started removing his insides.”
“It’s okay,” Clementine said. “We’ll get you help and then go there next. We’ll help Graham.”
“No.” Brandi shook her head violently. Her eyes grew a little clearer as she tugged on Clementine’s arm. She pulled herself up toward Clementine’s face. “I’m not real anymore, sweetie. I’m already dead and so is everyone else that was here.” Two harsh coughs. “It’s over. Don’t waste your time on me.”
“But—”
“Nope,” Brandi said. Even though she was dying, she was taking control one last time. No wonder she was such a good leader. “You go save the others,” she said. “You hear me? You promise me.”
“Okay,” Clementine said. “You have my word.”
Brandi sighed. “Now I can leave this world. I’m ready.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get out of here.”
Clementine tried to lower Brandi’s head to the ground as gently as possible. Standing up, she swallowed tears and nodded at Raj, and the two of them bolted from the house. Once outside, she paused, breathing in heavily of the fresh air.
“Where do we go?” Raj asked. He also inhaled deeply.
“We go get Aries and the others,” she said, brushing away his look of surprise with her hand. “Graham’s house is on the other side of ours. It’s going to take us twenty minutes to get there. We have no idea where the Baggers are. I say we get backup.” She waved the baseball bat absently. “And better weapons.”
Raj nodded.
“Let’s go.”
They ran hard.
NOTHING
There are three sides to every story.
Yours.
Mine.
What really happened: The truth.
The truth is we all have a dark side. Every single one of us. The truth is we all have bad thoughts at one point or another. We’ve all done things that were mean and awful and we almost always regret it when we act on these dark desires.
Almost.
There isn’t a single brother who hasn’t thought about killing his sister at least once in his lifetime. There isn’t a single parent who hasn’t thought about smacking their screaming child. Everyone has thought about breaking the law. We all think about cheating. Stealing. Revenge.
Some religions claim the thought is just as bad as the actual sin. So if you think it, you’re creating it out of nothing. You’re sinning.
Philosophers have spent generation after generation wondering why we have morals. Why aren’t we more animalistic? Why do we think?
Why do we live?
I am what I am. I’m not what they are. I am not like anyone.
I am Nothing.
Is it easier for them? The ability to forget or discard everything they once were? No conscience. They’ve forgotten all the little things that revolved around love and happiness. Enjoying a latte on a rainy day. Reading a book in front of the fireplace. Cuddling with the special person in their life.
Love. They’ve forgotten about love.
Desire.
Hope.
If I’m going to continue along this path,
I’d like to forget. I can’t take responsibility for my actions. I need to believe that my behavior is a product of their environment and not mine. The voices in my head are not mine. I am not responsible. I kill because they make me.
I am their puppet.
I kill.
The Baggers have expectations of me. They don’t say, but I can tell what they expect. I am the perfect spy. I will destroy the light that my friends still cling to. I am the most logical choice to flush them out.
And I will do it.
A frog is sitting on the edge of a river, doing all those interesting things that frogs do, when a scorpion comes up to him and starts chatting.
“Yo, frog, dude,” the scorpion says. “Can I hitch a ride on your back to get across the river?”
“I dunno,” the frog says. “How do I know you’re not gonna kill me? I’ve heard about how crazy you scorpions are.”
The scorpion shrugs. “That would be really stupid of me, dude. If I stung you, we’d both end up dying. I can’t swim. I’d drown. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to kill myself?”
The frog nods because that’s what frogs do, and he agrees to give his arthropod friend a lift. But halfway across the river, the scorpion lifts his giant ass up in the air and brings down that homeboy stinger. The frog is instantly poisoned.
“What the hell?” the frog says with his last dying breath. “I was totally hooking you up?”
The scorpion shrugs as he slips off the frog’s back and into the raging river to drown. “It’s in my nature.”
I will betray them. There is no solution to this problem. It is in my nature and we can’t change that. No one can change the evil inside of us.
I am dark inside. Black. Decayed.
It is my nature.
ARIES
“Th-they’re all dead.”
Clementine couldn’t seem to get the words out properly. She was breathing heavily; both she and Raj must have run the entire way back at full speed.