Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) (36 page)

              “I know,” she said, half-heartedly. “It’s cool. I’m fine, really.”

              “Whatever,” Falisha shook her head as she dug through a wooden blanket chest at the foot of the canopy bed. “The simple fact is, that boy ain’t got his head on straight and you deserve better.”

              “Well, there’s no sense in dwelling on things we can’t change, right?” Riley squared her shoulders. “So, for now, I am just going to focus on the things that I can.”

              “Amen to that, sister,” Falisha chimed in, as she disappeared into a closet in the corner. A few seconds later, we heard a muffled cheer from within. “Booyah! I found another one and this baby’s full.”

              She danced out of the closet, cradling the lamp in her hands. She shimmied past Riley and I and raced out of the door. Her footsteps echoed like thunder as she tromped down the wooden stairs to add it to the collection in the kitchen. Riley shook her head and smiled when Falisha started singing.

              “I found
another
one…the score is four to one,” Falisha chimed. “La, la, la, la, la, whoopin’ your ass is fun!”

              “Please tell me I don’t sound like that when I am excited,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous song.

              “Not at all,” I said, bumping her with my hip. “You are way more obnoxious.”

              “Don’t you have someone else you could be
helping
,” she laughed, sniffling as she made flying quotations with her fingers. “We’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit. When we are done in here, Jake wants us to check the metal death garden.”

              “Okay,” I said, turning to head out of the room. “But watch out for the flamingos.”

              I whistled for Bella and headed out to the barn to see if the guys had made any progress on the tractor. They were covered in grease but satisfied with what they had accomplished so far. I poured Bella some water and left her with them as I headed off to check on Micah. I found him, waist deep in the weeds behind the barn, digging through a pile of rotted two-by-fours.

              “Hey,” I said.

              “Hey,” he muttered, not looking up as he tossed a board to the side.

              “Need some help?” I asked.

              “Nah,” he said.

              “Micah, everyone else is busy,” I said, shrugging. “I need something to do or I am going to go crazy.”

              “Okay, I guess,” Micah said, wiping his face on the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt. After a few minutes of working together in silence, he stood and faced me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know it wasn’t fair of me to put you in this position, but I appreciate you backing me up.”

              “Yeah, about that. I don’t know how much longer I am going to be able to keep this up, Micah.” I tossed a board onto the pile he had created, and offered him a hard look. “Riley is my best friend and she is torn up over this whole thing. You broke her heart, Micah, but I think she still has hope that things will work out. Every time you shut her out, that wound is reopened.”

              “I know,” he said, dropping his head.

              “You need to just rip off the Band-Aid,” I glared at him, “because
this
is cruel.”

              “I know, okay? You think I don’t get that?” He rubbed at his chest. “I know it’s selfish, Liv, but I just want a little more time with her.”

              “Why torture yourself,” I asked, as he raked his fingers through his hair.

              “Every minute with Riley is worth it, Liv, even if I have to spend my last few hours watching her grow to hate me.” When his arms dropped limply to his sides, his fingers were full of hair.

              “Jesus Christ, Micah,” I rushed over to him. “Your damn hair is falling out.”

              “Whoa,” he said, looking down at it in awe. He shook the strands loose from his hands and watched them drift softly to the ground. “That’s new.”

              I reached over and ripped his shirt up, exposing his slender chest. The blackness had spread considerably. It had advanced beyond the edges of the large bandages I had applied to the bite mark earlier that morning. The entire left side of his chest was covered in leathery black leech flesh. The root-like tendrils pulsed and throbbed at the outer boundaries of the darkened areas. The skin just past the charring was already a pale gray. Despite the unbearably hot temperatures, Micah’s skin was cool to the touch, and dry as a bone.

              “God, Micah,” I said, covering my mouth with my hand.

              “I know,” he said, pulling his shirt back down. “Look, I’ll do it when we get to Morrison, okay? I just—give me today, okay?”

              “Sure,” I said, swallowing back my tears. “Of course.”

              “Thanks,” Micah said, wiping his eyes. “Let’s just get back to work, okay? This stupid trailer is not going to dig itself out.”

              Ten minutes later, we dragged a small flatbed from the wreckage of the back lot and parked it next to the house. It was about the size of a sheet of plywood and sat just shy of two feet off the ground. Short walls made of aluminum piping, rose a foot up from the bed of the trailer. It was nothing fancy but if we could figure out a way to replace the obliterated tires, we’d be in business.

              “I think I can make this work,” Micah said, cocking his head. “I’m no mechanic or anything but I used to build models and stuff when I was a kid. This can’t be that much more complex right?”

              “Right,” I snorted, handing him a bottle of water from my side cargo pocket. “Good luck with that. I am going to go check on Zander and Jake.”

              “Liv.” Micah grabbed my hand. “Thanks again, you know, for everything.”

              I didn’t deserve his gratitude any more than I wanted it. I just shook my head and walked away towards the barn. The sun sat high in the sky, raining heat down on me from above. The pile of thermometers I passed on the way through the trash heap ranged anywhere from one hundred and fifteen degrees, to broken. Even with frequent water breaks, which we could not really afford, the stifling heat had a way of sucking the life right out of you.

              “How’s it going in here?” I asked, grateful for the slightly cooler temperatures that, the shaded barn, provided.

              “I think this might actually work,” Jake chirped. “Between Zander’s mechanical talents, and my genius I.Q, we have a real chance, here.”

              “And your modesty,” I said. “Don’t forget about your modesty.”

              Zander smiled and shook his head as he slid his arm around my waist. All I could see of Jake were his skinny legs sticking out from beneath the tractor’s giant yellow wheels, but I could hear the smile in his voice. He prattled on excitedly, from beneath the big green monster, explaining how the Model D’s engine worked, and that there were only about one hundred and fifty thousand of them produced.

              Zander’s eyes met mine, and suddenly I lost focus on what Jake was saying. The corner of his mouth twitched up into that crooked smile and the world began to fade away. My heartbeat cranked up a notch, completely drowning out the sound of Jake’s voice as it echoed in my ears. Zander bit his bottom lip and slid his hands into the loose hair at the base of my neck.

              “I missed you,” he whispered, smiling as he pressed his soft lips against mine. It was a short, sweet kiss, but it set my blood (and my face) on fire. Zander smirked, brushing his fingers lightly across my cheek. “Red is a good color for you.”

              “Shut up,” I laughed, nudging him playfully.

              He pressed another kiss to my mouth, dipping his tongue past my lips as he did. Just as I was settling into Zander’s arms, Johnnie banged against his door. The whole wall shook, with the impact. Zander spun on his heel and my heart jumped up into my throat.

              “What the hell,” Jake shrieked, sitting up so fast he slammed his head into the tractor’s undercarriage.

              Johnnie slammed into the door again, snorting and growling in frustration. He started hissing and scratching at the door as he threw his weight against it, repeatedly. After hours of subdued silence, Johnnie had finally lost his cool. Equipment clanked to the ground, as he threw himself against the walls of the tack room.

              “What’s he so pissed off about?” Jake scooted from beneath the tractor, rubbing at the new lump forming on his head.

              “He’s not pissed, he’s scared,” I said, panicking. “Everyone shut up for a minute!”

              It was faint at first, but then I heard it, like a mosquito buzzing past your ear. I stepped out of the shaft of light and into the shadows between us, and the door, craning my neck to listen. Everyone froze, and went silent. Even Johnnie stopped banging inside the tack room. After a few seconds, I heard a low rumble from outside. I took off running towards the house and Zander and Jake fell in at my heels. Micah took off after us when we ran past him, the four of us kicking up dust as we tore across the yard.

              “Do you guys hear that?” I shouted over my shoulder.

              “Hear,” Jake huffed, trying desperately to keep up with me. “What?”

              “It sounds like…engines,” I said, skidding to a halt as I reached the end of the front porch. I held my hand out to stop them and peeked around the corner. “Someone is coming!”

Chapter 35

Small Victories

               “What on God’s green earth going on out here?” Riley screeched as she and Falisha came barreling through the front door.

              “Over here guys,” I shouted, frantically waving at them. “Hurry the hell up and get
down
. Someone is coming.”

              We had not seen a working vehicle since Icarus hit and I couldn’t help but wonder how it was even possible. From what we understood, the flare had wiped out all electronic components, including those which would allow modern vehicles like the ones in the caravan headed our way, to function.

              Alarm bells sounded wildly in my head;
Danger!

              We crept across the lawn and quickly dropped to the ground behind the raised flowerbed that spanned the front of the house. The cloud of dust down the road grew closer with each passing second. Finally, a sleek black Hummer rolled past us, leading a procession of large trucks in its wake. The Hummer had a strange logo on the passenger door, but I was so shocked by the sight of working vehicles, I didn’t catch what it said. The twenty or so trucks that followed were very distinctly military. Each was painted in flat camo, with a matching canvas drape over the bed. Every one of them had a serial number stenciled in black on its front bumper.

              “I don’t get it. Why are we hiding?” Riley whispered, pushing aside the fried grasses that were tickling her face. “That’s the army, right? Aren’t they supposed to be the good guys?”

              “Maybe,” I said, staring down the road after them.

              “The trucks are army. Those are personnel carriers, there. The flatbeds down there, probably carrying food and water, or maybe medicine, but
that?
” Zander pointed down the highway to the black hummer at the front of the pack. His eyes locked on mine, his mouth set in a grim line. “That is not a military vehicle. I don’t know who it is, though. Could be the CDC or Homeland Security, but there is no way to know for sure.”

              “Maybe it’s the Men in Black,” Jake whispered nervously.

              “I love me some Will Smith,” Falisha winked nervously at Jake.

              “Guys, focus,” I said. “Okay, from now on, until we know for sure, we trust no one.”

              “How are their trucks even running?” Riley said her brow furrowed. “I thought that wasn’t possible.”

              “This is the U.S. government, we are talking about here, Riley.” Zander’s jaw clenched. “They sort of have their own set of rules.”

              We watched in silence as the last of the rumbling vehicles, a small open-top jeep, rolled past. A man stood at the back of the jeep, bracing himself against the roll bar, with a large caliber gun against his shoulder. The end of his rifle swept back and forth as he dutifully scanned the area. His focus rested entirely on protecting the rear of the caravan.

              The driver of the jeep was a matching image of military discipline. He was dressed in full military fatigues, sweat dripping from every sharp angle in his face. He chartered on through one-hundred-plus degree heat, weaving around the craters the lightning had created, his concentration unwavering. His back was rigid, his shoulders square, his steady gaze trained on the road ahead.

              In the midst of such rigidity, the man in the passenger seat looked more than a little out of place. He wore a plain white T-shirt, faded blue jeans, and nondescript black tennis shoes. His gaze shifted nervously in all directions, causing the thin crop of dusty blond hair atop his head to slash about on the breeze, whipping against his face. He cradled a dark colored backpack, protectively against his chest.

              When the jeep hit a large crack in the pavement, the impact jostled the pack in the passenger’s lap. Despite the look of panic on his face as he fumbled the bag, he managed to keep hold of it. As soon as he had the bag settled back into his lap, he repositioned the precious cargo and hooked his arms through the straps. On the front of his backpack, embroidered in blood red flossing, were the letters E and G. Nothing about his presence made sense in that jeep.

              “Who’s the stiff?” I whispered. “No way that dude is army.”

              “Definitely not,” Zander agreed.

              I rose onto the balls of my feet and duck-walked to the edge of the flowerbed to get a closer look. A watering can rested on the corner of the bed, blocking my view. Just as I reached for it, the wind picked up, blowing it to the ground. The noise was quiet, but it drew the passenger’s attention. Our eyes locked and I froze, my heart beating wildly in my throat.

              His eyes shot wide as they connected with mine. He gave just the slightest shake of his head, then peeked over his shoulder at the driver. He turned back, brought his hand up to his face, and held it just below his chin like he was choking himself. A blink later, he was staring forward as if nothing had happened. My mouth dropped open and I leaned my forehead against the flowerbed, convinced I had imagined the whole exchange.

              As soon as the trucks were out of sight, I slowly rose to my feet. My crouched position had caused my legs to cramp, so I shook them loose as I brushed the dirt and dried grass off my knees. All that remained of the mysterious caravan was a cloud of dust and the lingering questions that flew in the breeze.

              “Well, that was weird,” Falisha said, shaking the dust from her t-shirt.

              “Was that sign language?” Jake asked, confirming that I had not, in fact, been hallucinating. “I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but it looked like some kind of hand signal.”

              “I thought I had imagined that,” I said. “It didn’t look like sign language, but it was definitely a hand signal of some sort. I just have no idea what the guy was trying to say.”

              “Show me,” Zander said, brushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

              “Like this,” I said, holding my hand in position, “and the guy looked scared out of his mind.”

              “Damn it,” Zander said. The tendons in his neck stretched tight, as he raked his hair back. “I knew it. I knew something wasn’t right about all that.”

              “What is it,” I asked, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

              “This,” Zander said, mimicking the gesture, “means
hostage
.”

***

              “We need to get moving,” Zander said. “If that was the CDC, then it’s only a matter of time before they start quarantine protocol. One of the first things they will do is set up checkpoints. If we don’t get ahead of this thing, we will end up trapped here.”

              “Beans!” I said, suddenly panicked. “Zander, we have to get to my little brother.”

              “I know, Liv, and we will.” Zander grabbed my hand. “The time line for full containment depends on the severity of the situation. If communication is down, that could buy us a little more time, but we cannot afford to wait until nightfall. We need to go, like now.”

              “How much fuel did you guys find?” Jake turned to Falisha and Riley.

              “I don’t know for sure,” Riley shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

              “We found seven lamps,” Falisha offered. “But all together, that’s maybe only a gallon?”

              “That’s not nearly enough,” Zander growled, fisting his hair in his hands. “A gallon won’t even make a dent in getting her running.”

              “Damn it,” I said, clenching my hands behind my head.

              My little brother was at least twenty miles from here, maybe even farther. The fuel we had on hand was not even enough to get the tractor to the road. With every second that slipped by, my heart sank farther into my chest. Every breath felt like a brand new failure.

              “Sorry, guys,” Riley said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We searched the entire house and the front lot, but that was all we found.”

              “Behind the barn,” Micah mumbled around the nails in his mouth, then disappeared back behind his trailer and started hammering away again.

              Micah had painstakingly wrapped each of the trailer’s four wheels in wide strips of canvas. He tore them from one of the giant tarps that had been draped over the old John Deere. He wound each length of fabric around the metal rim and threaded it through the spokes, over and over. He continued the process, tying the ends of each strip to the next, until the entire rim was covered. When he finished, they looked like padded cogs, but the cloth bunches had effectively created a uniform cushion between the rim and the road.

              When he finished the wheels, Micah set to work on the flatbed, fashioning a basic A-frame structure out of wood scraps. Across it, he stretched the remaining scraps of canvas, which he nailed into place along the length of each side. The ends of the tent-like structure were left open allowing air to flow through it while still providing protection from the sun. It was quite brilliant in its simplicity.

              I nodded my thanks and with Falisha at my heel, took off to dig through the muck behind the barn. Just past a pile of rakes and hoes and hidden behind a stack of broken pallets, was a six-foot high mound of multi-colored plastic jugs. We sifted through the pile together, tossing aside a random assortment of mysterious liquids, half-full soda bottles, and containers of motor oil. We smelled like a sweat-sock dipped in gasoline, but we returned a few minutes later carrying an armload of gallon-sized jugs of kerosene. In our absence, the rest of the group had managed to clear a path, and push the Model D from the barn, out to the end of the driveway.

              “They’re back,” Riley screeched, rushing over to wrap her arms around my neck. “Oh my god, you guys are amazing!”

              “Ry,” I choked, trying not to drop the jugs.

              “This is going to work. It has to work,” Riley squeezed tighter as she squawked in my ear. “This can totally work, right?”

              “Ry,” I wheezed a chuckle. “Need air.”

              “Oh God, sorry,” she said, gritting her teeth. She pulled two jugs from my hand as she release me from her chokehold, then trotted back to the where the others were working.

              Micah and Zander were acting like strangers, barely making eye contact as they worked to fasten the trailer to the rig. Once again, I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to defend Micah. Distance was what Micah had wanted and while it was difficult to watch, it was not my place to intervene. Jake held a plastic kitchen funnel in place and I slowly poured the kerosene into the tank. I was unsure of how far our fuel would take us, but I was careful not to waste a single drop.

              Falisha and Riley ran back and forth from the house to the driveway, loading up the trailer for the trip slow trip to Morrison. They made quick work of the task, stacking our packs and supplies down the center of the flatbed. Once the trailer was loaded, the two of them fastened everything down with some ratchet straps we scavenged from the basement. By the time Jake and I had finished fueling up the “D,” everyone (even Micah) was smiling and ready to go.

              The big green monster may not have been pretty and she sure as hell wasn’t fast, but she represented our first major victory since the war with Icarus began. This little win had given us a tiny glimmer of hope, and that was far more beautiful than shiny paint and fast cars.