After The Virus (22 page)

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Authors: Meghan Ciana Doidge

BOOK: After The Virus
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“Big. Big.” Will called until he focused on Big’s face again. Big stood over the creature, who cowered and wept, though he seemed unable to actually speak or even swallow.
End stages of the disease then,
his brain randomly informed him, though he had no idea where he got that knowledge.

“We keep moving,” he ordered the big man.

“Always, Tex,“ Big answered.

And as edges of black exhaustion threatened to take his sight, he watched Big shoot the man point blank in the brain. He could have sworn he saw a moment of clarity precede the fatal wound, and then relief flood the dying man’s face and body as he bled out on the pavement.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

RHIANNON

Too much time had passed.

Stupid had insisted on securing the penthouse before they could flee, so they’d know no one was at their backs. While this was logical, Rhiannon chafed at staying or keeping Snickers in this plush prison any longer than absolutely necessary.

They had debated killing the Boss, who’d managed to get some packing into his neck wound and not bleed out yet. They secured him in the bedroom to get him out of Snickers' sight. But, when retribution won over hostage-benefits and Stupid had gone to put him down, they discovered an open door leading into an empty adjoining suite. They didn’t take time to investigate.

She worried about all this death traumatizing Snickers further, but the child looked resolute and content as long as Rhiannon remained in physical contact.

Stupid also insisted on bandaging the shower glass cuts on her hands, knees, and lower legs, as well as various other patching. She’d submitted.

He gathered guns into a bag made from a tablecloth.

She ate as much of the dinner laid out in the living room, as she could keep down.
 

Snickers preferred the crackers that went with the caviar.
 

They didn’t open the champagne.


When Stupid felt ready, they hit the back stairs. The concrete was cold on her bare feet, but her heels would have slowed her. Plus the dress, which was oddly intact, dragged enough already.

Stupid took point, with Snickers next. Rhiannon hadn’t wanted to put the child on her own feet, but thought it was better to conserve energy now.

They made quick work of the stairs; Stupid had obviously navigated them twice already, but they hit a bit of an obstacle in the parking garage. Namely, a small herd of them, the Infected. Stupid swore when he saw them milling about, loose among the cars.

“What is it?” she hissed.

He had her peek around the steel door to make her own assessment.

“What are those, fucking guard dogs?” she growled.

Stupid shrugged.

“Does he usually have them roaming loose like that?” she asked.

“Nope,” Stupid responded and then waited, like a good soldier, for orders.

“So a sudden change in protocol isn’t a good sign,” she mused. When Stupid looked confused she added, “They know we’re on the run. You were right; we should have killed the Boss right away.” She hated being wrong.

Stupid shrugged again; that was really going to bother her eventually. He seemed to take her glare in stride. His apologetic smile reminded her that he was just the muscle, and she had to be the brains.

“So… a car is out, and I imagine hitting the street on foot is a bad idea.” She thought of the mob that had quickly formed the last time.

Stupid nodded but also eyed Snickers, who was trying to sneak a look into the garage. He delicately unwove her fingers from the door latch.

“How hard is it going to be to get out of the hotel and into another building without being seen?” Rhiannon asked Stupid.

“Not,” he answered.

Stupid headed back up the stairs. She, with a sigh, followed, not too sure how many more steps she was going to be able to manage. Then Snickers tucked a hand in hers, and she knew she’d go as far as she was needed.


They cut through the kitchen, crossed twenty feet through a dumpster-filled alley, and entered an adjacent building. They were still in the hotel.

The decor of this brick building, though still high-end, obviously dated back to the ‘80s.
Who ever thought green and peach went well together?

They continued to follow exit signs; and after endless turns of hallways, they found themselves in an even older, maybe unused, part of the hotel.

Furniture storage seemed to be the main function of these rooms.
 

She broke the silence and asked Stupid, “Do you still know where we are?”

He shook his head no, but answered, “Heading east.”

Dust had settled on the baseboards. The carpet was worn down the middle of the hall.

Just as Rhiannon started wondering how they hadn’t seen anyone else, three unidentified Red Jackets burst in, and then shoved by them to flee down the corridor. They stopped to gape after the trio, who actually fell over each other to slam into and out of a steel exit door at the far end of the hall.
 

“That’s not good.” Stupid voiced what they must all be thinking.

She crossed to pick up Snickers; the Red Jackets had shoved her off her feet. As she reached for the child, the hotel rumbled and then shook enough to knock her down, but it was the second and third rumble that did damage.

The shaking continued, and as plaster started cracking and falling, Rhiannon pulled Snickers into a doorway and curled her body around the child.

She looked up to see Stupid farther along the hall, but trying to get back to them.

Cracked wall plaster revealed brick beyond, and then those bricks started falling.

Stupid took refuge in his own doorway just as the third boom — or perhaps bomb
 —
shook the building so hard that the floor cracked open. Dropped actually.

Finally, the floor and walls stopped heaving, and she felt that looking up wouldn’t cost her a brick to the head.

They were all covered in plaster bits.

Snickers, whose eyelashes were crusted in white dust, started coughing. Rhiannon tugged the neck of the child’s dress up to cover her mouth and nose.

“That wasn’t an earthquake,” she called to Stupid, who had stirred from his spot on the other side of the caved-in hallway.

“Nope,” he answered.

The crack that ran down the outer wall and across the floor revealed that day had dawned.

Something big cracked and fell with a boom nearby.

“Looks like time to get out of the building.” Stupid half-heartedly brushed off his jeans and carefully stepped toward the gaping hole in the hallway that now separated them from each other.
 

Two huge floor beams ran the length of either side of the hole, so both sides were fairly safe for now… she hoped.

She glanced back the way they’d come.
 

“We won’t be the only ones with that idea,” she said.

Stupid was on the exit side, while it seemed she and Snickers were trapped on the still-connected-to-the-bad-guys’ side.

“Can you clear some of that debris?” She indicated Stupid’s side. It was a smallish hole, after all, not that she was good with measurements.

Snickers just gaped at her as she twisted the back of the child’s dress into two fistfuls to make two handles.

“Trust me baby,“ she whispered, and then kissed her forehead.

She prayed to a God she didn’t believe in, and then tossed Snickers across the hole.

Stupid, waiting, fell as he caught Snickers on the other side.

Then as Stupid and Snickers found footing, Rhiannon took a few steps back and eyed up the gap while she knotted her long dress around her waist.

Snickers stared at her with soul-choked eyes.

“It’s okay; I’ve made jumps twice this,” she soothed.
With wires
, an inner voice reminded.

Then she looked at Stupid, whose ever-present unhurriedness seemed to have deserted him.

“You’ll make sure Snickers gets to Will?” she asked.

The child’s body stiffened at this question, and she was sorry to frighten her but felt she had to ask the favor of Stupid, just in case.

Stupid shook his head. “It’s a package deal. I need to get both of you out, or Tex’ll have my head.”

She laughed, and then tried for a teasing tone for Snickers’ benefit, ”He’s not getting rid of me that easy. I just might be a step behind.”

She ran, jumped, and knew milliseconds into the leap that she hadn’t put enough behind it. She’d been running on empty for days.

Still, she flung her arms forward in a final attempt to snag the broken floorboards on the far side.

Stupid’s fingers brushed her forearms.

Jagged wood speared her chest and belly, and, as she slid downward, ripped through the front of her dress.
 

Stupid couldn’t get a grip on her.

Rhiannon was wrong about that beam being solid, and it cracked under her added weight. She was afraid that the entire floor would come down on her.

She fell. Maybe it was a twelve or fifteen-foot drop to the next floor, where she thankfully landed on her feet, knees slightly bent, and then on her ass.
 

She looked up to see Snickers on her knees, peering down. The child’s tension eased when she offered up a smile. Stupid looked down too.

“I’ll find rope,” Stupid offered, already on his way.

“No,” she called to bring him back. “The floor looks solid down here. We’ll meet in the next stairwell, just keep heading east.”

He nodded, and tugging a very reluctant Snickers with him, quickly took off in that direction. The stairwell was probably the safest place to be right now.

Rhiannon sat there among the debris; her body was still absorbing the fall, and she was in no hurry to find out if she had sustained further injury. She might be in a little shock, but despite that, she was really sure that was a nail sticking out of her foot. A very rusty, now bloody, nail.


She finally convinced herself to pull the nail out and get moving. Ripping a bandage from the dress skirt had been oddly difficult.

She kept to the edges of the hall, guessing that the floor was more secure there, but she still managed to move at a fairly quick pace.

She made it to the stairwell, wrenched the slightly buckled steel door open with some effort, and wedged herself through to the inside.

Snickers and Stupid were not waiting.

Despite her gut-twist instinct to do so, she didn’t call out; she didn’t want to draw attention to them.

A few steps upward and she quickly figured out the problem. A good chunk of the upper stairs were warped and broken, too dangerous to climb.

Were they waiting for her here, or had they backtracked? They might have gone up a floor to see if they could backtrack that way…

“Clarence?” she called, remembering to use his given name.

“Rhiannon!” Stupid’s relieved voice floated down. They were only a few feet away.

“Can you go back?” she asked.

“Better to find rope, pull you up or jump down, don’t ya think?”

“The floor isn’t stable,” she said. “We pick a rendezvous point that we can both get to safely, and go our separate ways till then.”

“A what?” he asked, and she felt badly about the chagrin she heard in his voice.

“A meeting spot.”

“Okay then,” he answered and then fell silent.

“Stupid fuck! You know the area, you pick a spot!” she yelled.

“Right… ummm… we both get out of the building, that seems smart.” He pondered while she willed herself not to scream at him again and again.

“ ’Kay, how about a coffee shop, one of those Starbucks?” he finally offered. “There’s one on the northeast corner. You go down a level, head left, but it’ll take us a bit longer.”

“Perfect, I’ll wait for you there.” Not great directions, but how hard could a coffee shop be to find?

She swiveled to run down the stairs and found that a man had been standing right behind her the entire length of the conversation.

He wasn’t armed, though.

Unless you counted the meaty paws that were currently stretched to clench either side of the stair railing and effectively block her exit.

“Be safe,” Stupid called.

Rhiannon swallowed her fear and answered in a steady voice. “You too.”

Then she smashed her foot into Meaty’s face.

With shoes, this move would have done more than just bruise his already flat nose. Unfortunately, he got one of his paws around her ankle and pulled.


She blacked out for a bit — your head hitting a concrete stair will do that to you — but when she woke, she was slung over Meat’s shoulder.

Her bruised or maybe broken ribs didn’t fancy this position; and, realizing she was awake, Meat jumped to smash those tender ribs into his shoulder.

The resulting wash of pain caused her to black out again.
 

She didn’t even scream first.


When she next awoke, she was splayed out on a hotel bed; she could tell by the feel of the cheap comforter and lumpy mattress.

Meat loomed.

“Ah, good,” he said, and then wrapped one big paw around her neck to pin her while he began to widen the already gaping tears at the front of her dress.
 

Grit underneath her fingers informed her that plaster covered everything in this room as well. Her tongue was too thick for her mouth.

She ineffectively batted at his head and neck with her hands and arms, but the lack of oxygen didn’t help her aim.

He reached down to loosen his pants.

She dimly realized that this nobody was actually going to rape her; something that, no matter what else had happened, she’d managed to avoid.

Her hand hunted the bed, but pillows and blankets weren’t going to help.

She felt his belt buckle hit her inner thigh and shoved at his chest.

She couldn’t stop the sob that broke through, and that made him grin and give her an extra neck squeeze, almost like a sexy love tap.

He pressed his turgid dick against her, but he’d forgotten her panties and growled in frustration.
 

He dug in his back pocket and yanked out a small knife.

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