The Portal ~ Large Print (21 page)

V
ivian explained as
much as she understood to Torres, who sped down a cramped, one-way street with sirens blaring. Ahead, cars barely had room to pull over for them, making it almost impossible to navigate the hilly street. When she finished, he picked up the police radio.

“This is Detective Torres,” he said. Only static crackled. “Is anyone listening?”

No answer. In less than ten minutes, all contact with the station had gone silent.

“How long until we get there?” she asked.

“It’s not far, but we have to assume he won’t stay put. Where would this Mister Vincent try to go next?”

“Somewhere with lots of people,” she said.

“That can be anywhere.” Torres took a right. The tires chirped. “Think. He must have said something.”

“Only that he thinks that we’re an infection. He wants to clean us off the earth.”

“What, humans?” Torres asked sarcastically.

“I think that’s what he meant.”

“He’s four-years old, and he’s on foot. Mister Vincent or not, how much damage could he possibly inflict?”

“I don’t know, but look around. You saw what happened to Jarod last night.”

“Even if he takes out every precinct, shit, if by some miracle he touches every person in this city, the National Guard will step in and they’ll have the firepower—”

“Oh my God,” she said.

“What?”

It all made sense now. Why Mister Vincent wasted no time getting to the police. He was working his way up to the armed forces. Lunatics with assault weapons. Tanks. Helicopters. Maybe worse.

“What happens when the police department fails?” she asked. “How long until the military arrives?”

“They’d have to declare a state of emergency first.” Torres slammed the brakes and screeched left. “Oh Fuck.”

The seatbelt dug into her chest and snapped her back. The cab of the police car grew warm.

Ahead, the power was out. Towers of flame poured from storefronts as far as she could see. Hundreds of people raced through grid-locked traffic. A mother carrying a toddler crawled vertically from the windows of a tipped trolley car. Surrounding it, a mob pounded the roof and undercarriage of the vehicle.

“Jesus Christ,” Torres mumbled.

A loud snap on glass. Vivian spun to see a bloody handprint on the windshield. To her right, a fireman in full gear yanked a woman away by her hair. In his other hand, he held an ax.

“Help me,” she screamed and reached forward. Vivian reached back, but the side window blocked her hand.

“Stay here.” Torres pulled his gun.

“Wait,” she said. “We have to get to the police station.”

“You want me to leave her out there?” he asked.

“You can’t save them all. This will spread to more people if we don’t stop Mister Vincent.”

He flipped on the car’s floodlight, opened his car door, and used it for cover.

He aimed at the fireman. “Let her go.”

On the sidewalk, an old man with blood smeared over his mouth stopped masturbating. He stared at Vivian with the same blank face that she’d seen on the priest. A teenage girl walked from behind a minivan, dragging a tire iron across the asphalt. She stared, too. Torres was going to get them killed.

“The lights,” Vivian shouted across the cab. “Turn them off.”

“Let the girl go,” Torres shouted at the fireman, who threw the girl to the ground and raised the ax. Torres shot him. Immediately, the hostage girl grabbed the ax, stood, and slammed it into the fireman’s back. She laughed and stepped on his body to pry the weapon loose.

To the left, a UPS truck blocked the intersection. Behind, other vehicles had already boxed them in. They smashed into each other trying back away from the riot.

“Turn off the lights.” Vivian jumped out of the car. Smoke burned her lungs as she raced over to him. “They’re like moths.”

Several members of the mob rushed them. Torres fired, then again. A woman in a shredded business suit fell to the ground. Each gunshot drew more attention from the crowd. Now dozens of people stared at them. They closed in.

“We can’t save them.” Vivian pulled his arm. “If you want to stop this, we have to get to the station before Mister Vincent leaves.”

Torres aimed and backed away slowly. Then they turned and ran down a darkened alley. Within seconds, she reached a chain link fence, lined with razor wire. The block on the other side of the fence had its power out, too. He pulled her next to a dumpster and into the stench of rotting grease. She listened. No footsteps.

“I don’t think they followed us.” He pointed past the gate. “The station is four blocks down on the left.”

“How did he move so fast?” she asked. It didn’t make sense. How many people could he have possibly gotten to in the last hour?

“That wasn’t all his doing.” He sounded angry. “Every major city is a ticking bomb. Once order breaks down, it explodes.”

“Then we have to hurry.” She took off her jacket and draped it across the barbed wire.

Torres pushed the dumpster against the fence. She used it to climb the gate. He followed behind. Quietly, they raced to the end of the alley.

Down the dark street on the other side, car fires smoldered. Every so often, shadows darted through the flickering smoke. Either people hiding, or waiting to attack.

“When we’re out there,” he whispered. “You shoot anyone that comes near you.” He pulled a second gun from his ankle holster and gave it to her. “I don’t care if it’s Mother Teresa in a walker. You pop her right here.” He pointed to his heart. “One shot.”

“I got it.”

“Do you?” His voice echoed from the alley’s brick walls. “What are you going to do if you can’t stop this Vincent guy?”

“I will.”

“How? You don’t even know what the fuck we’re dealing with. He’s too dangerous.”

“If you even swing that thing in his direction.” She aimed at him. “I’ll kill you.”

“You’d better wake the fuck up.” Torres pointed his finger at her. “This isn’t a game.”

“Wake up,” someone screeched.

“Whore,” a man shouted from the other direction. “Whore. Whore.”

Vivian held her breath. The voices quieted, leaving only the roar of flames, mingled with screams of pain in the distance.

“He’s my son,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“My daughter Alexis is in LA with her mother right now. After this city burns to the ground, where do you think this prick will head next?”

“Cody is not the monster,” she said. “He didn’t choose who his father is. It’s not his fault.”

“This is bigger than us now,” he said quietly. “It’s bigger than him.”

“I can help him,” she said.

“How?” he asked. “You don’t even know where he is. Or if he’s still alive.”

“Don’t say that,” she said. “Mister Vincent told me he’s in Cody Town still.”

“How are you going to reach him?” he asked, but she had no answer. “If it doesn’t work, you know what I have to do.”

“No you won’t.”

“If something happens to us, no one will know what’s going on.”

“You’re not going to touch him.”

She hated herself for admitting it, but he was right. What if she couldn’t stop Mister Vincent? If her baby was still inside his body somewhere, watching, she wouldn’t let some stranger be the last person he saw on earth.

“Vivian—”

“I’m his mother.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “It has to be me.”

V
ivian avoided debris
as she followed Torres down the darkened sidewalk. The terror in her stomach amplified with each crunch of broken glass underfoot. What would happen when she found Mister Vincent? How could she possibly stop him, and what would happen to Cody if she failed?

Only one plan came to mind. Back in the hospital, when Mister Vincent first entered Cody’s body, she’d grabbed his face and told her baby to come back to her. Vincent had flinched away from her way too hard.

‘
I won’t think twice about leaving you a turnip to care for
,’ he’d said then.

Those words still haunted her, but the threat had also seemed like an overreaction. Even drugging him to bring him to Father Adrian hadn’t struck that much of a nerve. He must’ve been afraid that she’d reach Cody somehow. That was the way she could get him back. She had to hold him, and talk her baby into waking up from Cody Town. It was her only option now. But how could she possibly do it without being infected by his touch?

She tripped and regained her footing. Looking down, she saw a girl, dead on the sidewalk. Somebody had taken the time to cover up her face and the top of her torso with a trench coat. Her ponytail lay unhidden. Vivian broke down in tears.

“What’s going on?” Torres whispered. “Hurry up.”

He stopped. Then he walked back and put his arm around her.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him, but it wasn’t enough.

“You didn’t kill these people.”

“I should have told you about Cody this morning.”

“Then we’d probably both be dead now,” he said. “And there’d be no one in his way.”

“When we find him. If I can’t stop him—”

“You will.”

“I’m serious.” She looked up at him. This couldn’t wait. “In order to get to Cody, I have to touch his face like before. Hold him, and try to bring him back to me before he can turn me.” She wiped her eyes. “Jesus, that’s fucking stupid. Who knows if it will even work?”

“Listen to me Vivian.” He glanced around, apparently to check for safety. Then he turned back to her and gently grabbed her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you before. I’ve seen what you’ve done to protect your son from your ex-husband and his family. Stromsky. Even this Vincent thing. If there’s anything I’d stake my own daughter’s life on, it’s your love for Cody.”

“If I can’t do this though,” she said. “You have to promise—”

“I won’t let you live as one of the crazy people.”

“It’s not just that,” she told him.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Cody.” Her eyes teared up more. “I was wrong before. I couldn’t…I wouldn’t be able to, you know.”

“I already knew you couldn’t hurt him,” he said. “That’s not important right now. I trust you. This is going to work, but we have to hurry.”

She nodded, but she really didn’t see how to send Mister Vincent away. He seemed so untouchable.

They headed back down the road. Ahead, a big rig’s engine bellowed smoke. Its oval trailer blocked both lanes of traffic. Several leaks splattered fluid on the asphalt, forming a river that flowed into the sewers. Almost every car windshield on this street had been smashed.

Where was everyone? For the last two blocks, the only signs of life had been the occasional shadow racing across their paths. A few whispered voices. Sane people, probably, who were more frightened of her than the other way around.

They turned the corner, and suddenly she knew where everyone had gone. When Torres had flipped on the police car’s flood lights earlier, it had drawn them. Just a few blocks down, skyscrapers burned. Flames poured from almost every floor of the buildings. That must be where everyone had gone.

“We’re here,” Torres whispered and pointed to the police precinct.

The glass doors were smashed, their bent frames ripped from the hinges. She raced up the front steps and moved through the torn metal.

“Look around to see if he left anything behind.” Torres squeezed through the door behind her and pulled out his cell phone. “Something to tell us where he went.”

Dead police officers and civilians filled the lobby. Most of them looked as though they’d been shot. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the others though, who’d clearly been beaten to death. Bloodstained walls glistened in the light of several trashcan fires. A stench nauseated her.

“We’re too late,” she said.

“The circuits are busy.” He handed her his phone. “Keep trying. I’ll see if the station’s radio still works.”

He moved behind the front desk and disappeared into a door on the opposite side. She tried to redial. Got a busy tone. In the adjacent room, she heard Torres rummaging around. She tried again.

“Took you long enough to get here,” a child’s voice taunted. She spun to find Cody standing beside a vending machine.

“I want my son back.” She gripped the gun that she held at her side.

“We both know that you’re not going to use that.”

She couldn’t even bring herself to aim it in his direction, so she set it on the front desk. It wouldn’t help with what she had to do anyway.

“Cody’s too young for you.”

“I used to think that too, but you’d be shocked at just how many helpful folks rushed right up to me today. I’ve never fished with dynamite before, but I imagine it feels this good, too.”

“You’re sick. I won’t let you—”

“And if I’m so effective on my own.” He cut her off. “Then it doesn’t make much sense to have you out there getting in my way, now does it?”

This was it. Maybe her only chance.

“Cody?” She searched for any signs of her baby in those eyes. But she saw only hatred. And evil. And death. “Baby, if you’re in there, talk to me. Anything. Please, just talk to me.”

“That’s not going to work.” He sounded angry. Too angry. She was on the right path.

“Cody, I love you. You’re dreaming right now. All you have to do is wake up. I’m here waiting for you.”

He snarled and darted toward her.

***

F
ar away from
Cody Town now, the dead bushes on both sides of the muddy street looked like they were covered in black oil. Even the bugs were slimy black here. Cody walked up to the huge trunk of the Dead Tree.

Above, its branches filled the whole sky. Bone pinchers had landed on them and on the ground everywhere, too. When he tiptoed past them, they didn’t notice him. He touched the bark on the tree trunk, but nothing happened.

“I tried to tell you,” somebody said. He turned to find Little Girl. She stepped between him and the tree. “You’re dead, Cody. You belong with us now.”

“Let me go,” he said.

“I only let you get this far because I thought you’d finally be good and come back. Don’t you know we’re never going to let you leave, silly?”

All the bugs began buzzing. Above, the clouds made out of bone pinchers began glowing. One of the bugs on the ground tried to bite his shoe, so he kicked it away.

“I tried to warn you.” She smiled. “Now they’re going to pick their teeth with your ribcage.”

“Cody, I love you,” Mommy called out. Her voice rumbled the entire street. Little Girl ducked and covered her head. A crack split down the Dead Tree. Blue light showed through. Then Mommy said, “I love you. You’re dreaming right now. All you have to do is wake up. I’m here waiting for you.”

“Mommy.” He tried to squeeze through the crack in the trunk, but it wasn’t big enough. “Don’t leave me here!”

***

V
ivian jumped back
and fell to her knees. She caught one of Cody’s forearms, over his long shirt. She reached for his other hand. Shit, his fingers nicked her wrist. Had it been enough to infect her with insanity? No, he’d barely touched her. She wouldn’t let it. He managed to yank himself free. Then he backed away from her, down the hallway.

“You won’t take my son from me.” She started toward him.

Machinery whined in the distance. Louder, its gears began to grind. Needles pricked her skin. Please no. She had to fight it. Her baby was trapped. He needed her. Pain exploded behind her eyes. She screamed and clawed at her wrists.

Sounds of clanging metal filled her head. Voices began to creep through the chaos. Where was that knife?
Don’t listen
.
Focus.
She had to hold on. Cody was still alive. She could save him. The first time she’d spun him on the merry-go-round. Those blue eyes. She was supposed to be doing something here. Where was that knife? Cody. Blue eyes.

“What is it?” Torres ran into the lobby.

That prick cop. Rotten. Corrupt. Where was that knife?

“Come here.” She quietly picked up a shard of broken glass. Maybe it could even slice into stomach muscle before she broke it off. “I need you to look at this.”

“Why did you scream?” He eyed her.

“I thought I heard something.” She gripped the glass. Just a few more inches, and she would castrate the fucker. “You have to see this.”

“Did you find Cody?”

Yes. Cody. Where was that knife? No, she was supposed to be doing something. His blue eyes. Knife. No. Her baby was trapped. How his infant fingers wrapped around her forefinger the first time she held him in her arms. Torres put his hand on her shoulder.

“Get back,” she shouted.

Metallic voices screeched in her ears. He jumped away, pulled his gun, and aimed it at her.

“Where is he?” He looked around.

“No.” She couldn’t speak. Blue eyes. Her baby needed her. The machinery calmed, and then stopped.

Looking up with tears in her eyes, she saw Cody standing down the hallway. Flames glowed from the shattered office windows on both sides of him. Vivian stood. There was still time to save him.

“Stay down,” Torres shouted at her.

“I’m fine,” she said, and then pointed at Cody. The smile left his face. “My son’s right there. I know how to stop him now.”

Cody bolted out a side door. She raced down the hallway, jumped over a corpse that lay slumped against the wall, and pushed her way outside. Flecks of ash snowed down in the moonlit courtyard. There wasn’t enough time for him to get away. He must be hiding out here.

“Hold up.” Torres opened the door. He half-aimed his gun at her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Shhh.” She listened to the eerie calm. “He’s out here somewhere.”

“How do I know that you’re not crazy?”

“You don’t,” she whispered. “Now go back and call for help.”

“And leave you out here alone?”

“We don’t have time to argue. Think of your daughter. You’re the only other person who knows what’s going on here. I can get my son back. Trust me.”

He stared at her for a moment. Finally, he said, “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

A rattling grate to her left. There. Cody had almost reached the street.

“Go warn them,” she shouted at Torres.

Then she chased Cody across the street. A lighthouse loomed ahead. She followed him through the tower’s front doors that looked as though they’d been kicked in. Darkness. She could barely see the first few steps of a spiral staircase that led up.

A thud to her left. Somebody moaned. Immediately, she pulled out Torres’s cell phone. She held it forward with one hand. The light from the display screen barely showed the lobby. Thud. Oh, God. A thirty-something woman with dark hair sat on the stairs, her toothless smile drenched in blood.

“Tick—” she whispered. “Tick—Tick.” She bashed her own face into the stairway tile and stopped moving.

Vivian carefully stepped around the woman. She raced up the spiral staircase. To the top floor. Still, no Cody. Wind whipped her hair as she moved out onto the balcony that overlooked the entire city.

Her stomach dropped. He stood on top of the railing, eight stories above the concrete steps below. A fierce wind pushed him. He ducked to hold the rail for balance. She leapt forward.

“Get back.” His head jerked up. “Or I’ll jump.”

“Come down, please.” If she could just get close enough, she could grab him. Still, the five steps between them might as well have been a mile.

“I have to give you credit,” he said. “Not many can resist my touch.”

“It’s over,” she said.

“I’m just getting started.”

“I know your secret.” She calmed her voice. From the crazed look in his eye, she knew any little thing might cause him to jump. “You can’t turn me into one of them. Detective Torres knows about you, too. He’s calling for backup now.”

“I can’t wait for you two to tell that story,” he said. “Where do you think CPS will send me first? New York or Chicago?” She stepped forward. “Keep moving.” He glanced down over the railing. “I suppose this body could survive the fall. I’m betting paraplegic.”

“You’ll kill my son, and then what? You’ll have nothing.”

“Others are waiting to take his place.”

“No, they’re not,” she said. “You told me it took you a lifetime to create Jarod. Without Cody, you’re helpless for a long time. No Carmichael children in the future. Nothing.”

“This was our world first.” The hateful look on his face seemed to burn through her. “We won’t be held back.”

“And this is how you plan to run it?” She pointed over the railing. “Look.”

He turned. Flames from different skyscrapers fused together. Above, several helicopters shined spotlights down on the city. Explosions. Sirens. Gunfire rattled continuously. And Jesus, even at this height, people sounded as though they were being torn limb for limb.

“It’s beautiful.” He stared over the balcony. For a second, he seemed lost in it.

Vivian raced forward, grabbed his shirt, and yanked him back from the edge. She cradled him in her arms.

“I want my son back,” she said. “I’ll never let you have him.”

He struggled to break free. With both hands he reached up and grabbed her face. Each finger felt like ice picks in her skull, but the machinery didn’t come back. Not with her baby in her arms.

“Cody.” She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. “Come back to me, baby. I miss you and love you.”

He grabbed her face and her wrist, but this time, she only felt the warmth of his fingers. Her baby was coming back to her. She could feel him.