Running Red (9 page)

I can hear Bethany’s shouts for help growing closer. I break off through the picnic pavilion and follow the asphalt road. There is no way of knowing where it goes. The only place I need it to go is away from here.

Up ahead the road bends to the left. When I reach the bend, there is one of those military trucks parked diagonally across the pavement; it stretches shoulder to shoulder. This one has been burned. I’m not sure if it was abandoned or placed there. It’s useless to me, and an unexpected inconvenience. I step onto the shoulder to run around it when I see the bobbing, swinging beams of flashlights coming from the other side of the truck. In a few moments, the two parties chasing Matt and me will meet together. I stop next to the truck and look around.

There is another concrete pathway cutting into the nearby trees. A wooden sign at the entrance of the path says “Pool.” It’s the only clear exit from the situation. The path is not long. It ends at an Olympic size swimming pool surrounded by a ten-foot-tall, diamond link fence with a pair of gated doors usually held shut with a length of chain. The chain hangs off the metal frame of one of the gates. I push the gate and go inside.

I can see in the moonlight that there is no water in the pool. I go to the edge, hoping that if the chasers do check the pool, they won’t bother to look into it. I’m about to lower myself in when I stop. The pool is not empty after all. It is filled with people. Fifteen, maybe twenty. They are huddled together in the deep end in ankle-deep puddles.

I don’t have a flashlight, but from the smell I know they are runners.

They just stand there, motionless, like they are in some sort of hibernation, a state of suspended animation. Root stalks extend out of their ears. Their heads are all bowed and their eyes are closed. It reminds me of flowers that fold up their petals at night and don’t open them until the sun shines on them. I wonder how much of the zombie fungus remains in them, and if that is why the runners are behaving like this. How much is human? How much is vegetable?

There’s an odd grinding sound coming from their mouths. I can see tiny movements of their jaws and inside their cheeks. It’s only then I remember the runner who latched onto my hair and the black, talon like fangs growing sideways in her mouth.

Behind me there is a rattle of chain. When I turn, Bethany and Tessa are standing there.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Shut up, agent,” Bethany yells.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Like you don’t know.” Bethany wraps the gate chain around her fist. About two feet of links hang off the end. When she lowers her fist the chain strikes the concrete patio around the pool and the links ring like a demonic wind chime. “Who sent you to find us? The Guard?”

“What Guard?”

“Listen to her, Tessa,” Bethany says. “Acting like she’s so innocent.” Bethany begins walking along one side of the pool. Tessa takes the other. They are trying to corner me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. I hold my knife out in front of me. I don’t want to use it on them, but this new world is all about survival.

Bethany flexes her bitch muscle. She starts whipping the chain around in front of her in a large circle. She starts repeating an X pattern with it. If the chain strikes my hand, I’ll drop the knife. “Come on, bitch,” she says. “We know who you are. We know why you’re here.” Bethany whips the end of the chain down onto the concrete. It makes a sickening ping-ping-ping.

Tessa, on the other hand, has no weapon that I can see. She moves with less confidence. I think that maybe I can make a grab for her, use her as leverage to get by Bethany.

“I’m here because Matt and Aubrey brought me here,” I say. I move backwards towards Tessa’s side of the pool. I keep my body angled so that Bethany isn’t completely out of my sight.

“You’re an agent,” Bethany says. She whips the chain around her head. “A spy for the Guard.”

I scream at Bethany. “Who is this freaking Guard you keep talking about?”

“They said they were taking people to the Safety Zone,” Tessa says.

I stop moving. Hanging on the fence is a long pole with a scoop on the end of it. The apparatus looks like a letter “J.” Lane used to call them Body Bars. They were used to fish someone out of a pool if the person cramped or, worse, drowned.

“You mean the army?” I ask.

“She means the Guard,” Bethany says. She comes charging at me. The chain is whipping through the air making whistling and ringing sounds. I have just a brief second to drop my knife and reach for the pole. Just as Bethany brings the chain down, I hold the pole above my head, parallel to the patio, and the end of the chain whips around its shaft, barely missing one of my eyes.

Bethany tries to yank the pole out of my hands, but I’m already pulling it down to my chest and turning to my right. The force of my turn pulls Bethany along with me. She stumbles along the edge of the pool and bumps into Tessa. Tessa sprawls backwards into the fence, striking the nape of her neck on the steel post.

Bethany balances precariously on the corner edge of the pool. A large black “3” is trapped between her shoes. The gate chain is still wrapped around her hand. I give the Body Bar a hefty tug and Bethany drops sideways into the pit. Her left foot bends unnaturally under her weight and I hear a sickening snap as her bone gives way. I let go of the pole and the metal scoop strikes Bethany in the face.

With Tessa out and Bethany groaning, I turn back and pick up my knife. Across the field I can see the other guys coming towards me. They are no longer running, and I can hear Matt trying to explain himself. He’s hysterical.

In order to get out of the fenced in pool area, I have to run towards them and then run immediately in the opposite direction. It’s going to put me in their path, but if I don’t go, I’m a trapped rat in a cage.

“Over here,” Bethany yells from the pool. She’s heard the searchers, too. “She’s at the pit.”

The front two chasers are quicker than I gave them credit for. I swing myself around the gate and run past the pool. I can hear Bethany crying for help. Up ahead I see the trees. I need to get lost in them. It’s night, and it’s pretty clear all these guys can do is chase. They can’t track. I’m nearly to the edge of the brush line when something small and hard strikes me in the back of the calf. It’s like I’ve been shot. It hits me so hard I stumble and fall forward. When I hit the ground, the wind gets knocked out of my lungs. I instantly feel around behind me for my leg. The calf is tender to the touch and burns.

“Did I hit her?” one of the chasers yells.

“I think so,” says a second.

The first chaser lets out a victory whoop. “Got you with your own slingshot, Sunshine.” I know the voice already. It’s Denny.

I try to get up, but my leg is on fire. The bone doesn’t feel broken. Had I been shot in the front, my tibia would have shattered. It’s hard to stand, but I have to get into the trees. I can hear the front chaser gaining on me. I push myself up out of the dirt and dive into the bushes, my right leg screaming in pain.

My hand flops around. I need a heavy stick to lean on. I can’t stay here on my back, I think. All I grab are twigs and dirt and rocks. I take a handful of stones and throw them off to the left, hoping it sounds like I’m trudging through the brush. I crawl deeper into the trees and hole up behind a large boulder. When I stop to catch my breath, I don’t hear anyone following me. I look around the rock only to discover I’m barely ten yards into the tree line. Denny and the Scarecrow stand outside the edge of the woods.

“Where did she go, man?” Denny asks.

“I don’t know,” says Scarecrow. “She must have gotten into the woods.”

“I thought you said I got her.”

“I thought you did.”

Then, farther away, I hear someone yell. “Yo, Denny. Back here at the pool.”

Denny’s frustration boils over. “What is it, Sledge?”

“Tessa and Bethany. They’re banged up.”

“Well, take them back with Matt.”

“Bethany is in the pit.”

Denny swears. “Jimmy, keep looking for her.”

“Where are you going?” Scarecrow asks.

“To help the wives.”

“Hey, hold on,” Scarecrow says. “I need something. Give me the slingshot.”

“I’m not giving you the slingshot.”

“What if she’s armed?”

“Fight her, Jimmy. Okay? Just frickin’ fight her.”

Scarecrow Jimmy swears under his breath and takes a couple of steps into the trees. I can hear the ground crack and crunch under each of his steps. He’s not accustomed to being in the woods, I realize. It’s possible I can use that to my advantage. I feel around for a couple more rocks to throw deeper into the woods. Hopefully he’ll follow them. I whip one stone, and then two.

“Got her,” Scarecrow Jimmy yells. He runs off in the direction I threw the rocks.

I wait until I hear him pass me before I try to stand. I have the boulder to help hold me up, but when I try to take a step with my right leg the pain almost knocks me out. I put my hands on the rock for support. It is at this moment I feel the hand grab me from behind. I reach for the knife in the back waistband of my pants, but Scarecrow Jimmy has already gotten it. The bastard has circled back around and caught me by surprise.

I broke the number one rule of survival. I underestimated my opponent.

He puts one sweaty hand under my chin and lifts my head backwards. He holds my knife with his other hand. The tip of the blade touches the fleshy spot under my mouth. I can end it now, I think. I can just lower my head down onto the blade and my throat will be cut and all of this will end.

But I’ve come this far.

“Denny’s goin’ be real happy to see you, little girl,” Scarecrow Jimmy says, and that just creeps me out.

I jam an elbow into his ribs. The tip of the blade scrapes my chin. I can feel warm drops of blood fall down onto my chest. Scarecrow’s hand is on my arm now. He spins me around and holds me down onto the rock. He clamps his sweaty fingers over my throat and squeezes as he leans down onto me. The knife dances next to my face. He lays the blade onto my cheek, smearing my blood on my face.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Scarecrow Jimmy says. His voice is a hiss. He stands back from me and I am glad to no longer feel him pressing onto me. Scarecrow Jimmy raises the knife over his head to deliver the death jab.

That’s when I see the underbelly of the beast fly over me. It has spring-boarded off the space of rock next to my head and buried its muzzle in Scarecrow Jimmy’s knife wielding hand. The two topple backwards. Scarecrow Jimmy howls and the beast growls. Scarecrow Jimmy tries to pull the beast off of him, but the animal bites and barks at his hands.

It’s Yuki. She has found me and rescued me from Scarecrow Jimmy. Even after I abandoned her at the Get Gas for the boy with the clear, blue eyes, she stayed with me, and now she’s here trying to save my life. She’s made a bloody mess of his right hand and has clawed open the front of his plaid shirt. Scarecrow Jimmy crawls backwards, his denim vest hanging open, his belly exposed over the waist of his jeans. Shreds of his shirt are tipped in his own blood. Yuki bares her teeth, growls angrily, and bites at his thighs.

“Denny! Hey Denny! Help! It’s a lion! A mountain lion!”

Yuki advances and bites at his hands. She catches his right one by the wrist and shakes it back and forth. I can see Scarecrow Jimmy looking for the knife. Twice now his left hand has almost fallen on the handle. I push off the rock and fall onto it, rolling away to stay clear of Yuki’s attack.

Scarecrow Jimmy is whimpering in pain. Occasionally he lets out a wail. Yuki refuses to back down. I think she might kill him if I don’t call her off.

Before I can, something crashes through the brush before it strikes her. Yuki lets out a yelp and backs off. There’s a second shot that hits the tree just above her head.

“Go,” I say. Yuki barks and runs off. I see her tail disappear up the hill just as Denny and the others come crashing through the brush.

Sledge drops down next to Scarecrow Jimmy. He lifts his friend in his arms. “I gotta get Jimmy back to the house. Aunt Alice will know what to do, won’t she, Denny?” he asks.

“Take him,” Denny says.

I look around, but I don’t see Aubrey. I see other faces, but not the blue-eyed boy’s.

There’s a man standing next to Denny. He has short, dark hair, a moustache. For some reason he reminds me of an English teacher I had in junior high. It’s the man who was with the guitar guy back at the house. “What about Bethany?” he asks.

“What about her, Cage?” Denny asks.

“She’s got a busted ankle,” Cage says. “She’s still in the pit. You can’t leave her there.”

“Why not?” Denny stands over me.

“She ain’t done nothing wrong,” Cage says. He is not an English teacher, I deduce.

“She let this one get away, Cage.” Denny yanks me up. He sees the knife on the ground. “Well, well. What did you bring me this year, Santa?” Denny picks up the knife.

“Hey, you might as well say Tessa let her get away too, then,” Cage says.

“Tessa was able to walk back with Matt and the others. If Bethany can crawl out of the pit, she can come back, too.”

“That just ain’t right, Denny. You’re being capricious and arbitrary. You’re changing the rules on a whim.”