Gods of the Dead (Rising Book 1) (21 page)

“Yeah,” Dante mumbles deeply. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Marlow turns to him, moving straight to business. “Take a team to the park. Clear it. Kill them all.”

I scowl at him. “Tonight?”

“Immediately. All of you are. You’ll destroy their little shanty town and kill every person you see.” He looks at me hard. “Are we clear?”

And we’re back. The moment he promised, the test to make sure I understand my place. I’m surprised it’s come around again so fast but I actually prefer the way it’s happening. Two hours ago I would dig in my heels and argue with him about killing everyone in the park. Two hours ago it was senseless, it was murder, but with John on the floor and three other guys in the ground I’m down with it. I’m game.

So we go. Despite the late hour, the dark night, and our better judgement, we go. Yenko, Hector, Mike, Dante, and I lead eight other guys out into the wild and we head for the park. It’s across town which makes it even more exciting. We come across a few pockets of undead, clearing them quickly and silently, and part of me gets a little thrill out of it. Running in a pack like this reminds me of the patrols. Of the strength in my body and the ability to use it. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, too long, and I smile as I run. As I use my knife and my speed, my skill.

It’s amazing how alive killing makes you feel.

When we near the park we slow, going stealth and low to the ground. Sweat builds on my back under my shirt from the exertion of the run and the fight but also from anxiety. Images of John’s hand flash across my eyes. The tears on his cheeks. I have no interest in finding out what it’s like to be that broken and the first person who steps from the shadows trying to show me will be in for a big surprise.

“It’s empty,” Andy murmurs.

“How can you see that far?” I whisper incredulously.

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes. “I have good eye sight.”

“Even in the dark?”

“Guess so.”

“I can’t believe they went native,” Yenko mumbles, crouching next to me. “They’re the last people I ever thought I’d be scared of.”

“Makes you think twice about attacking them, doesn’t it?” Andy asks, his voice quiet and deep.

I look at him in the dark, wishing I could see him better. I don’t like his question. Not what he’s saying but how he’s saying it. How comfortable he is with all of this. With where we are when even a big dude like Yenko is rolling with his ears back.

“What’s the plan?” Mike whispers to me nervously.

“We search it,” I tell him with resolve, turning my back on Andy. “We sweep it as a team. No one goes out of sight of the man next to him. We’ll start at the trees, comb it south.”

“And if we find anyone?” Andy asks.

“You heard the boss. We kill them.”

I know he’s angry even if I can’t see it. I can feel it and I’m oddly glad for it.

“There are children here,” he reminds me hotly.

“What’s your point?”

“You’d kill a kid?”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I answer evasively.

The truth is that I don’t know. I’ve killed zombie kids before. A lot of people have trouble with that but I never have. They’re not innocents. They’re not anything, not anymore. They’re dead little monsters and when it comes down to a matter of my life or theirs, I choose mine. I imagine I’d feel the same if it was a living kid too.

We creep through the shadows into the trees at the north end of the park and I can see right away that Andy was right; the place is empty. We need to sweep it anyway because I know Marlow will ask and I’m not into the idea of coming back out here again later tonight. Just to be safe and because I know the man we work for, I grab a handful of dry corn husk, build a small fire in the low grass behind us, and I strike a piece of flint over the top of it. It catches easily and Dante helps me spread it until the grass is burning, then the base of the trees nearby.

I put my back to it and motion the other men forward. “Let’s move.”

We walk through the fields with the fire burning behind us. Things are tense when we pass through the tall corn stalks. The chill in the night air has my hair on end, my arms covered in goosebumps that tickle and make me flinch every time a waxy green leaf drags across my skin. I’m listening to the sound of footsteps on either side of me, the crackle of fire behind me, the endless darkness in front of me, and it’s so claustrophobic it’s maddening. I feel blind and scared and it makes me infinitely angry.

When it’s done, when we reach the trees lining the south side of the park and we haven’t found a soul, we turn back toward home. We don’t wait to watch the fire finish the park because we know it will. It’s an inferno eating through everything and if anyone managed to hide inside it while we walked through, they’re dead now.

I’m glad to put the park behind me but I’m nervous too. Where did they go? Last count had them at almost forty strong. They were here just a couple hours ago when John’s crew came through, and now nothing. No one. No trace of them. Not a light in a building or a cough down an alley. Not a kid crying. How does that happen?

How do forty people disappear into thin air?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Trent

Breaking into the Hive should be hard.

It’s not.

Breaking into the Hive should be frightening.

It’s not.

I imagine it’s the fact that it’s so incredibly easy to do that takes the sting out of it – pun intended. There should be Hornets everywhere, up and down the corridors, in the catwalks, on every floor, but they’re nowhere to be found. A guard sits at the front door as always so of course I don’t go there. I can’t knock, say I need to get inside a pro’s room after hours, and no, I don’t have any money. It’s a foolish plan and I have a much better one.

I’m going in through the air ducts.

The aquarium is a big building. In its day it had both hot and cold air pumping through its veins at the appropriate time of year. Those large, metal veins that trace through the building – every corner of every floor – and connect to the large heart standing tired and rusted on the west side of the building. Unused and broken.

It’s loud when I force my way inside one of the ducts. Metal groans and screams, protesting change, but once I’m inside I’m not worried. Even if anyone comes looking now, they won’t see me. I’m already in.

It’s dirty inside. And cramped. Luckily my body is narrow, but it’s long. I have a lot to account for and in this narrow space I’m very aware of it. I only make it about ten feet past a single vent leading down into the building when I hit a grate that I can’t move. Instead I have to backtrack to the vent and use a Swiss Army multi-tool to free it from its home. I drop down out of the duct and check my surroundings.

The smell immediately tells me I’m not in the Stables.

Sweet and rotten. Rancid fruit on a hot day.

There are Risen here. A lot of them. These are the zombies they use for the fights, and once I smell them, once
they
smell
me
, I can hear them. They go wild inside their cells behind solid metal doors. Up and down the hallway is door after door and I realize that I’m on the opposite side of the Arena from the Stables.

This is not where I ever want to be.

I hurry down the hall to the door at the end and open it slowly. The Arena looms in front of me, the door to this hall dropping me straight into the cage. It’s strange to see it in the darkened room, empty of people. It’s quiet now. It’s sleeping.

I’m heading for the outer door to the cage when the door leading in from the lobby flies open. I immediately fall to the ground, going low into the shadows cast by the skeleton of the cage. Two people burst through the door and turn toward the Stables – Freedom and Bennett. Neither of them looks happy.

“This better be good,” Bennett grumbles.

“It’s not good, you dick,” she snaps angrily. “That’s why I came to get you. She’s in rough shape.”

“It’s part of the gig. It’s what they pay extra for.”

“Not like this. They went too far this time. You’ve gotta stop it with them before they kill her.”

Bennett opens the door and motions her through. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“Yeah, and you’re being a bi—“

The Stable door clangs shut behind them. I wait three minutes before standing slowly and heading for the exit to the cage. It’s locked. It makes sense. One more barrier between the living and the Risen, and I don’t mind it. The lock is easy to pick. Once I’m out I cross the large room and head for the door Freedom and Bennett went through. I crack it just barely and listen. Not a sound. I slip through and enter the dark hallway, slowly walking down it toward a cracked door glowing with low light. There are voices, muffled and low. Angry.

I sneak past them to the other end of the hall.

Now comes the hard part. Finding Freedom’s room.

I try turning a few knobs, listening at the edges of a couple doors, and finally I think I’ve found it. The door opens easily and I’m met with silence inside. I see a sweater on the floor, one that I know is Freedom’s, so I quickly pull the pack of crayons and chalk from my pocket and get to work.

I burn crayons like candles, the colorful wax from three of them turning to puddles on the floor before I’m done with the chalk. I can see but just barely and I imagine my handwriting has gone to hell after years of not using it. I practiced before I came, though. I wanted to make sure it was just right – the message
and
the delivery. It has to serve its purpose because it’s the only way to save him. In more ways than one.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Vin

We get back late, so late it’s almost early. The sun will come up soon and I can’t debrief Marlow until morning, but I can’t sleep either. I wander the quiet Hive, stretching my legs and trying to relax my mind. I don’t have a destination in mind and it should surprise me that I find myself on Seven’s floor, but it doesn’t.

I don’t want sex. Not right this instant. I’m too tired, too spent, and it’s just not what’s on my mind. I need something else. I need to know she’s safe because that vulnerable, scared feeling I had in the field is still with me. I can’t shake it and I need to see that look in her eyes. That fire that burns brighter than fear. It’s the only way I’ll sleep tonight.

When I get to her hallway I’m surprised to see that her door is cracked open, yellow light filtering out into the hall. Voices are vibrating low and nearly inaudible from inside. I slip closer along the wall until I can make them out.

“Jesus,” Bennett mutters angrily. “I should have charged them more.”

“You piece of shit,” Freedom snaps.

“What’s your problem?”

“You should have stopped them. That’s what you should have done.”

“I’m fine,” Seven says softly. Her voice is quiet and weak, almost unrecognizable.

“You’re not fine. You’re beat to shit and if Bennett were half a man he would have stopped it before it got this far out of hand.”

“What do you want me to do, Freedom?” Bennett demands angrily.

“Keep them out of here! Let them buy this kind of action in the Market, but not here. This is bullshit.”

“No,” Seven protests. “I’m fine. It’s all fine. Just give me the night to sleep and feel better.”

“You need more than the night, hon.”

“I can’t afford more. And I can’t afford to see the doctor so don’t bring him in here. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“How are you going to—”

“I said I have it!” she shouts, her voice regaining a little of its strength before it crashes and turns to a whisper again. “Just get out. Both of you.”

Feet begin to shuffle in the room, heading for the door. I slip carefully into a room across the hall. It’s dark inside and I can hear Natalie sleeping heavily in the bed in the corner. I pull the door nearly closed just as Freedom and Bennett leave Seven’s room. They go their separate ways without a word, Bennett heading for the stairs and his own bedroom. I watch Freedom walk down the hall and round the corner toward the showers, a towel draped loosely from her hand.

It’s covered in blood.

I give it a good five minutes before I leave the room. I walk silently through the quiet Hive, up the stairs to my bedroom where I grab my kit, and then I head back down.

I don’t knock before I open the door, but I’m surprised it turns without resistance. She hasn’t locked it.

Seven looks up at me when I step inside and quickly close the door behind me. She tries to sit up but winces and falls back. “What are you doing in here? Get out, Vin.”

I cross the small room without a word and kneel next to her bed.

“Do you hear me?” she snaps. “Get out.”

“I will when I’m done.”

She looks down at the supplies I’m unwrapping. Gauze, ointments, and tape. “I don’t want a doctor.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not one.”

“You’re not
fixing
me.”

I chuckle loosely. “Baby, there’s no fixing you. I’m just here to bandage you.”

“And say I told you so?”

“Not my style to gloat.” I roll my hand impatiently. “Are you going to sit up and let me get this done so I can get out of here?”

She sits up slowly, watching me. I don’t know what she’s expecting to find but whatever it is she must not find it because she finally scoots to the edge of the bed. “If I let you do this, I don’t—“

“Owe me anything. I know. I know. I don’t care.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Don’t read anything into it. You’re not the first fighter I’ve bandaged.”

She quiets as I apply ointment to a gash on her arm. She hisses slightly, her body visibly tensing, but then she settles. “You do this for the guys that come into the Arena?”

I slowly wrap gauze around her arm, both of us focused on the movement. “Not all of them.”

“Just the ones you like?”

I grin up at her. “You’re reading.”

“It’s a simple question.”

“It’s a leading question. Next you’ll accuse me of liking you. Then you’ll get all bent out of shape and kick me out before I can finish, so why don’t we just shut up, let me do what I gotta do, and leave it at that?”

Seven sits silently as I work over the rest of the damage to her body. She’s quiet but she’s clear on where I’m allowed to look and where I’m not, and I don’t push. I go where I’m welcome and I do the best I can to put her back together.

It’s brutal to see, and that’s coming from a guy who works in the Arena. It’s worse because it’s a woman, and maybe that makes me sexist and Freedom would want to slap my pretty face for thinking it, but it’s the truth. I don’t like what I’m seeing and the dislike I have for Bennett grows with every purpling bruise I find. Every torn stretch of skin.

“Vin.”

I look up to find her face lowered toward mine, her eyes on me. She looks confused.

“What are you doing?” she asks softly.

I realize that I’ve zoned out, my hands holding her arm and my fingers lingering on the skin surrounding a bright red welt across the inside of her wrist. It looks like imprints of fingers, probably because it is, and I’m gently running my own across it. Erasing it.

“How much more do you owe?” I ask.

“Not much.”

“You’ll be out soon. That’s good.”

She frowns, unsure. “Will Marlow really let me go when I’ve paid off the debt?”

“Yeah. I think he will.”

“It’d make more sense to kill me.”

“Dead men tell no tales, and for once that’s not what he wants.” I gesture to her beaten body. “You’re not going to go out into the wild and keep this to yourself. You’ll tell the whole world how much you hate Marlow and why. You’ll be a walking advertisement for
not
fucking with him. That’s better for business than a corpse.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut then.”

“Don’t. You could save someone else the suffering.” I look down at her arm still resting in my hands and under my fingertips. “You have to take a break.”

She pulls her arm out of my hands and the only thing about the retreat that startles me is how calm it is. She eases back on the bed until she’s leaning against the wall and her legs are curled up in front of her. “I can’t.”

I nod. “Because you need to get out of here.”

“Yeah.”

“Then let me help you get out.”

She looks shell-shocked. “Seriously? You’d help me escape?”

“Whoa,” I caution, holding up my hands. “Not the way you think.”

“No, of course not,” she says sarcastically. “Because you’d get nothing out of it.”

“That and because it’d get your entire gang killed. Don’t forget why you’re here. Marlow was going to wipe them out if you didn’t clear their debt. If you run, they’re dead and then what was the point of any of this?”

“If I fight in the Arena I could end up dead too.”

“Are you scared to die?”

“We’re all scared to die. Anyone who says they aren’t is lying or insane.”

As if her words weren’t enough, her eyes challenge me silently.

I sit back with a low laugh. “I’m not going to argue with you. I don’t want to die. I wouldn’t have survived this long if I wasn’t dead set on living.”

“That’s not the same thing as admitting you’re afraid.”

“No, but it’s as good as you’re going to get.”

“You’re so big and tough,” she says sarcastically.

“And you’re so strong,” I reply in the same tone. “You don’t need anyone.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I guess you don’t want me to train you for the Arena. Give you a shot in hell at staying alive instead of being ripped open and eaten in front of a frothing crowd.”

She immediately looks away, her eyes turning glassy, and I worry about her. She’s exhausted. She’s aching. She’s scared and angry. She can’t show this kind of weakness to anyone else. She needs to lock it down.

I wait as she takes several deep breaths, reigning it in, but when she brings her eyes back to mine they’re still soaking wet.

“Do it if you have to,” I tell her gently.

She shakes her head, pretending to be confused, but when she speaks her voice is shaking. “Do what?”

“Cry. If you gotta get it out, then get it out. It’s better you do it in front of me than anyone else. Marlow will make you pay for it. Bennett will enjoy it.”

She chuckles weakly. “Like you wouldn’t love to see me crack.”

“I don’t take any pleasure in seeing a woman cry,” I tell her seriously.

“Careful. That almost sounds noble.”

“Quit throwing that label at me. It’ll never stick.”

She laughs, her cheeks rising and spilling several tears from her eyes. She reaches up quickly to wipe them away. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You’re tired,” I remind her with a smile. “You forgot who you were talking to.”

“I must have.”

Her eyes linger on me for just a beat too long, studying my face. She’s still smiling and starting to look a little punch drunk, and the long night is starting to catch up with me. I lean toward her, searching her face for a sign of any kind. I expect to get slapped but she doesn’t flinch. She watches me come toward her and her smile begins to fade as her eyes fall half shut. It’s a greenlight in any country, any language. 

I want to kiss her. What’s worse is that I want to crawl in that bed with her, pull her small, broken body in close to mine, and fall asleep. I want to wrap myself around her and hold her there next to me until she’s healed and strong. I want to murder any Pike that tries to touch her. I want to beat Bennett into next week for letting this happen to her. And looking into her eyes, smoldering and expectant, I know she wants it too.

I’m tired and raw, thinking crazy shit, and so is she. This isn’t her, it isn’t me. It isn’t
us
. Or maybe it’s a version of us, but it’s one that can only end badly. One we both work very hard to steer clear of because we know how to survive and this thing between us, it’s not how it’s done.

I duck my head and toss my gear into the toolbox. “Get some sleep. Take a couple days to rest.”

“I’m getting back to work tomorrow.”

I shrug, standing up quickly. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“The Stables aren’t my problem. This was nothing more than a recruiting call. Get your ass in the Arena and we’ll have something to talk about. Until then, I could care less what you do.”

I head for the door, leaving her just as beaten but a little less broken than when I found her. I want to say it makes me feel good to have taken care of her. To bandage her and try to help her, but the truth is I’m more worried now than I was before.

“Oh my God!”

I rip open Seven’s door and turn right down the hall, heading for the shout. For Freedom’s room.

She’s there in the middle of it, light from a lantern blazing on high against her pale skin and long dark hair. She’s frozen with her hand on her mouth, her eyes open wide, staring at something on the wall. Something written.

the world bathed in red,

your onyx light i follow

toward summer skies

“What happened?” Cobalt asks, poking her head sleepily out of her door.

Seven stumbles into her doorway, looking down the hall questioningly.

I wave them away. “Nothing. Freedom has a mouse in her room. I got it.”

“Gross!”

“I said I got it,” I snap at Cobalt.

I step into the room and shut the door quickly behind me, throwing the lock. When I turn to Freedom she’s already watching me. Her face is purposefully calm and blank. I admire her skill.

“Kevin?” I ask knowingly.

Her mask slips slightly, her eyes tightening.

I grin at her warmly. “It’s okay. I won’t tell Bennett.”

“How did you know?” she asks hesitantly.

“I have eyes.”

“Does everyone know?”

“I doubt it.”

“Why not? They have eyes too, don’t they?”

“Not everyone knows how to use them.” I point to the poem on the wall. “I don’t know what it means, but I assume you do.”

She smiles faintly. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know how he did it. It wasn’t here an hour ago.”

“Hyperion broke into the Hive in the middle of the night?”

Her smile disappears. It’s replaced with fear. “No.”