Savage (22 page)

“Cody, you okay?” she asked in between jabs. “Wake up.”

His eyes flew open and he gasped.

“You all right?” she asked, knowing how stupid it sounded after what he'd just been through.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “What . . . ?”

“We hit something,” she said.

The sounds of the birds outside were steady—thumps, bangs, and scratches upon the metal roof and doors. The birds knew that they were still inside and wanted them.

Cody sat up with a groan, climbing onto the backseat.

“We can't stay here,” he said, leaning over to look out a side window between the cracks and smears of blood.

Sidney was about to agree when she heard gunshots.

They all jumped, except for Snowy, and looked at each other expectantly.

“Was that . . . ,” Rich began as more shots were fired.

Cody slid over in his seat, trying to see out the windows.

“Anything?” Sidney asked, looking through the windows on her side.

Her question was answered by the crackling of a radio as the strobe of a blue-and-red light illuminated the inside of the truck.

“It's the cops,” Rich said excitedly. He began to beep the horn. It sounded kind of sick, but it still worked.

“You in the truck,” came an announcement from the police car. “Get ready to exit the vehicle on my word.”

They all looked at each other, Cody and Rich both taking hold of the door handles. Sidney grabbed Snowy's collar.

The gun shots increased, and for a few moments it sounded like a small war had erupted outside the truck.

“Now!” boomed the echoing voice of authority from a loudspeaker.

Cody and Rich both threw open their doors and rushed out into the driving rain. Sidney began to slide across the seat, pushing Snowy in front of her, then remembered the raccoon.

“Rich, take Snowy!” she called out as she twisted herself around to look on the floor of the car for the trash bag.

She found it wedged beneath the front seat and yanked it out. A rotting stink wafted out from the bag, and she stifled the urge to barf. Cinching the top of the bag tightly to try and keep the stink in, she slid across the seat and jumped out of the truck into a nightmare in progress.

The ground was littered with bodies of dead birds—gulls, hawks, and even some sparrows—and the shapes of more still swirled above them in the whipping wind and driving rain. But it was the sight of a police officer pointing his pistol at Rich and Snowy that truly frightened her.

The dog was barking at the man as Rich held tightly to her collar, preventing her from moving any closer.

“What are you doing?” Sidney screamed, leaving the truck. “No!”

The cop briefly turned, pointing his weapon toward her, before returning the gun to Snowy. “Get in the cruiser, miss,” he ordered.

“Why are you pointing your gun at my dog?” Sidney asked as she moved toward Rich and Snowy, ignoring the officer's instruction. “She's no danger to you, or anybody,” she said, taking hold of Snowy's collar from Rich. The shepherd immediately stopped barking.

“I tried to tell them that,” Cody called out. He was standing beside the SUV with another officer whom Sidney recognized as Officer Isabel, a young woman only a few years older than herself. She was trying to force Cody into the backseat of the police SUV.

“The dog is fine . . . she hasn't been affected,” Rich said.

Sidney saw the fear in each of the police officers' eyes as Isabel and her partner exchanged glances.

“Please,” Sidney begged. “She's fine.”

The gulls were getting brave again, flying down out of the stormy sky to circle their party.

“How do we know that?” the officer with the gun asked, his eyes focused on the dog.

“She would have attacked by now, but she hasn't. She's calm and quiet,” Sidney responded.

The cop lowered his gun but didn't appear happy about it.

“Get in the car,” he said, sneering.

“She's fine, really.” Sidney tried to reassure Officer Isabel, who looked at Snowy with a cautious eye as they passed her. Snowy sniffed at the woman's leg, and she actually reached down to give the dog a scratch behind the ears, eliciting a friendly tail wag.

“Get in,” Officer Isabel told Sidney, motioning both her and Snowy into the vehicle.

Sidney directed Snowy in first, and the shepherd took a spot beside a dazed-looking Cody. A woman holding a little girl of five or six sat on the other side of Cody. Both eyed Snowy with genuine fear.

“She's fine,” Sidney said yet again, but the woman just pulled her daughter closer.

Sidney moved over on the seat as Rich got in next, the door slamming closed behind him.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Rich nodded. She then looked to Cody. “You?”

He said nothing, gazing straight ahead through the rain-swept windshield.

There were more gunshots, and the child whimpered as her mother held her tightly. Then the two officers jumped into the cruiser, breathless and shaking.

“Go, Kole,” Isabel snapped as meaty bodies began to slam into the cruiser roof.

Kole put the SUV in drive and started from the lot. It was like they were in the eye of a hurricane as a storm of birds of every conceivable kind, size, and shape, swirled angrily around the SUV.

Sidney glanced outside the window and saw the body of Cody's father still lying there. She knew that Cody could see him out there as well and instinctively reached over to touch his hand. He pulled away without a word.

“Sorry about your dad, Cody,” Officer Kole said. “Wish we could have been here sooner.”

“We tried, but . . . ,” Cody began, but his voice trailed off.

No one spoke as they drove out of the marina parking lot and onto the main road. The silence was unbearable. Sidney would have preferred the sound of birds pummeling the vehicle. The silence made her think about what was actually happening . . . and how bad it was.

It made her feel totally helpless. The last time she'd felt like this was when she'd seen her father in the hospital.

“My father,” she suddenly blurted out.

Officer Isabel turned her head.

“We were going to get my father after . . .” The images of Cody's dad as he'd been taken by the birds filled her head, and she quickly pushed them away. “We were heading to get him next.”

“Okay,” Officer Isabel said. “We'll drop you guys, Mrs. Levesque, and Amy at the station, and then—”

“We have to get to Doc Martin,” Sidney interrupted. “I have to let her know what I've found.”

Officer Kole looked at her in the rearview mirror. “What've you found? Do you have any idea what's going on?”

“It might be some sort of virus, but I'm not sure. I have a specimen for Doc Martin to look at.”

“A virus,” Officer Isabel repeated. “Do you actually think that's possible?”

Sidney shrugged. “It's as good a reason as anything,” she said. “And it only seems to be affecting animals, as far as I can tell.”

“If it's only affecting animals, what about your pooch?” Kole asked, his hard eyes again reflecting his suspicious gaze on Snowy.

“Haven't figured that out yet either,” Sidney said. “Hoping that Doc Martin can fill in all the blanks.”

Mrs. Levesque spoke up. “We're going to the police station. You said you would take me and my daughter someplace safe.” There was a nasty tension in the woman's face as her child continued to whimper pitifully.

“That's right, Mrs. Levesque,” Kole said. “We'll drop you all off at the station, and then we'll head out again and—”

“We really should go to Doc Martin's first,” Sidney interrupted again. “The more time we spend not trying to figure this out . . .” She paused a moment, considering her words. “The more time we waste, the more people could die,” she finished with a deep breath.

Amy Levesque began to cry even louder now.

“Would you please stop?” the child's mother said angrily. “You're frightening my daughter with that talk.”

“I'm sorry,” Sidney said, “but it's true. Whatever is happening here is spreading like wildfire, and the quicker we figure it out, the quicker we can fix it.”

“Maybe we should go get Doc Martin and . . . ,” Officer Isabel began, but was quickly shot down by her partner.

“We head to the station, drop everybody off, then we go out again,” Kole said. “We can't risk—”

“Exactly,” Sidney piped up, annoyed by where this was going.

“Sid, c'mon,” Rich said. “They're doing what they think is right.”

“I get that, but they're wrong. I need to get to Doc Martin with this sample right away.”

“We'll take it from here,” Officer Kole said with finality. “Once we get to the station, you'll hand over that sample, and we'll take it to the doc.”

Sidney was going to argue further, but the look Kole gave her in the rearview mirror told her it would be best to just keep her mouth shut. She turned her eyes away and focused on her town outside the windows.

A town that, in a very short amount of time, had gone to hell.

“Isaac, do you want a soda?” Dale Moore asked.

The young man stood in the center of the kitchen, rocking ever so slightly from side to side.

“Isaac?”

“Can't have soda,” Isaac stated flatly. “Can't have sugar.”

“Okay,” Dale said, holding on to the refrigerator door and peering into the darkness inside. “How about some juice?”

“Tea,” Isaac said.

“Tea?”

“Yeah, I would like some tea, please.”

“Okay.” Dale quickly shut the refrigerator door to preserve at least a little of the cool. “I'll make you a cup of tea.”

Using his cane, Dale made his way over to one of the kitchen cabinets and opened it. “I know I saw some tea around here recently,” he said, scanning the shelves. “Here we go.” He grabbed the box of Red Rose and showed it to the youth. “Is this good?”

“Red Rose.” Isaac read the label aloud. “My mother always buys Red Rose.”

Dale set the box down on the counter, using his left hand to open it and remove a tea bag. He retrieved a mug from the drying rack and placed the bag inside.

“So, where is your mother, Isaac?” Dale asked, trying to sound casual as he filled the teakettle with water.

“Red Rose,” Isaac repeated quietly. “My mother always buys Red Rose.”

Dale turned the gas on ever so slightly and used the fireplace lighter to ignite the blue flame with a whoosh. He set the kettle down over the flame. “We'll let that boil, and then we'll make you a nice cup of tea.”

“Red Rose,” Isaac said. “A nice cup of Red Rose.”

“That's right,” Dale agreed. He made his way to the kitchen table, where he pulled out a chair. “Why don't you come over here and have a seat.”

Isaac looked at him, and then gazed at the sliding glass doors that led outside to the yard. “I don't think so.”

Dale followed the young man's eyes and saw movement in the darkness. Above the howling wind and the ferocious pattering of rain, he could just about make out the sound of clawed feet upon the wooden deck.

Instead of sitting down himself, Dale went to the glass doors and pulled the heavy curtain across their length, blocking not only the view from the inside out, but that from the outside in as well.

“How's that?” he asked the young man.

Isaac studied the curtain for a few moments. “Better,” he said finally.

Dale motioned him toward the table. “Please, take a seat.”

Isaac hesitated, but then slowly walked toward the table. Dale pulled out another chair for the young man.

“I'll have a nice cup of Red Rose,” Isaac said.

“Yep, as soon as the water boils, I'll make you that tea,” Dale told him as he lowered himself down into the chair.

Isaac followed suit.

“Where's Sidney?” Isaac blurted out, looking around. “Is Sidney home?”

“She's out,” Dale said, feeling that nervous knot tighten in his stomach.

Isaac frowned, looking out of the kitchen down the hallway that led to the front door. “It's not good out there. Not good at all.”

“No, it isn't.” Dale shook his head. “I'm hoping that she's safe, and that she'll be home soon.”

Isaac stared at the door again. “It's not good out there,” he repeated.

Dale found himself attuned to the sounds out in the storm, outside the sliding doors, but the shrill whistle of the teakettle interrupted his troubled thoughts. “Let's get you that cup of tea,” he said, using the cane to help push himself up from the seat.

“Red Rose tea,” Isaac told him. “My mother always buys Red Rose.”

“You don't say,” Dale said, heading for the stove. He turned off the flame, picked up the kettle, and poured the hot water into the mug over the tea bag.

“My mother is dead, I think.”

Dale almost dropped the kettle as he turned toward Isaac.

“What did you say, Isaac?”

“My mother,” he repeated, looking everywhere but at Dale. “I think my mother is dead. The cats got her . . . the cats and the mice and . . . and the bugs . . . there were bugs, too. They got her.”

Dale approached the table, steaming cup of tea in hand.

“Are . . . are you sure, Isaac?” Dale asked, stunned by the revelation and feeling even more afraid. “Are you sure that your mother is dead?”

He set the tea down in front of the young man as he waited for an answer.

Isaac pulled the cup toward him, peering down into the darkening hot water. “Yeah,” he said as he picked up the tab and began to dunk the bag in the water. “Yeah, I'm sure she's dead.”

Dale leaned upon the table. “I'm so sorry, Isaac. Is there anything I can do to . . . ?”