Burnout (The Invasion Chronicles Book 1) (16 page)

“Positive.  Me and Zack both been closer than that and we’re fine.  All right, pull over as soon as it’s safe…I wanna get out of here,” Caleb said.  He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and cracked his neck with a fatigued sigh.

A few minutes later Lydia slowed to a stop in the middle of the street.  Caleb scrambled out of the truck bed as Lydia swung the door open, sliding out with her weapon ready.  Caleb ran around the side of the truck and slid to a stop beside her.  They needed to get moving again, and quickly.  They were nowhere
near
safe out here, and if they had to turn on the headlights, they might as well just spend the whole trip back blaring on the horn and leading more Burnouts back with them. 

For a moment, however, they just stood looking at each other.  Caleb’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his chest was still heaving from the run.  Lydia’s breathing hadn’t returned to normal either, and her whole body felt shocked and shaky from adrenaline.   

“We did it,” she said, unable to quite believe it.  Caleb nodded. 

“We actually did it,” he confirmed.  And just like that, they were laughing—breathless,
incredulous.
Caleb tucked his gun back into his holster, grinning at her in fierce joy.  They clambered back into the vehicle, Caleb driving this time. 

“So,” Caleb said once they were moving again.  “Scale of one to ten, how angry is your grandpa gonna be when we get back?” 

Lydia’s eyes widened.  Crap, she’d almost forgotten.  “Uh…about a fifty-two,” she replied, slumping against the passenger side window.  “Probably best if you let me do the talking.  He won’t kill me.” 

Caleb chuckled, but the sound died in his throat when he looked over and saw her expression.  “Oh,” he said.

“Yeah.  But he’ll calm down—once Ava tells him what Zack can do.  And I’ll back you and your brother up.  It’s not like you
made
me come with you!  And we got all those Burnouts away from the barricade.  He’s just—he’s just…”

“Protective,” Caleb finished.  “I get it.” 

Lydia thought of him and Zack, out on the roads by themselves…all alone except for each other.  “Yeah,” she said thoughtfully, “I guess you do.”  She leaned back a little further in the seat.  “But anyway, he’s not going to kick you out or anything. He might make you dig latrine ditches for a few days, though.”

Caleb shuddered.  “Seriously?” 

“Hey, don’t complain—he’ll probably make
me
scrub the toilets.”  And by toilets, she meant buckets: large gardening buckets too stained with paint and fertilizer to store drinking water in.   

The conversation dried up after that, limited to Lydia murmuring directions.  They drove through the subdivision, turning and doubling back a few times when they ran into knots of Burnouts.  There were nowhere near as many as Lydia had been expecting, though.  Perhaps the herd they had led away from Meadowbrook had attracted more stragglers? 

Whatever the reason, Lydia was grateful.  She didn’t want to think about Burnouts anymore, didn’t want to deal with the weight of the gun in her lap. She didn’t want to have to make any more life or death decisions.  She was still hopped up on adrenaline and danger, the lingering soreness in her legs a reminder of just what she and Caleb had accomplished.  It seemed like hours since she and Caleb had jumped the fence in Mr. Grant’s yard.  By her watch, though, they’d only been gone for about thirty minutes…and most of that had been spent winding through the neighborhood to throw off any other Burnouts that might have pursued them.  Even so, the relief that swept through Lydia when the barricade came into view was strong enough to set her hands shaking all over again. 

Caleb seemed to uncoil, tension in his arms relaxing as he drove down the street.  Lydia never thought she would be so happy to see that rusted out relic.  She leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ava or Grandpa.  She was sure they’d be waiting for her and Caleb to return.  Not that Lydia was eager for a lecture and punishment detail…but she needed to reassure herself her family was still there; was still safe. 

They could barely see in the purple twilight, but Caleb didn’t dare turn on the headlights.  Even so, Lydia scanned the top of the barricade and the windows of the houses for movement.  There was none.  No one waiting for them on the lookout point…no lights on in any of the houses now that the mass of Burnouts had been led away…no one using the last few minutes before night fell to check the barricades. 

Nothing.  

“Caleb—” she began, unease whispering across the back of her neck and down her spine.  She looked over at him to find him staring at the barricade with a confused, worried frown.

“That’s weird,” he said. 

He pulled to a stop just in front of the van, and Lydia was about to jump out.  The bad feeling was growing by leaps and bounds.  As she opened the door, however, she froze. 

From somewhere inside Meadowbrook, audible even across the distance, someone screamed in pure terror.

Time stopped.

Everything around her was still, the sound of the horrible, fear-filled scream echoing in her ears.  No.  No, no, no, no-no-no-no.  This was not happening.  It could not be happening—not now.  Tremors wracked her body, her breath coming in harsh pants.  She scanned the barricade, looking for some sign of movement, some indication that what they had heard was a mistake.  It had to be a mistake. 

“Lydia!”

Caleb’s cry, right next to her ear, startled her out of her panic. She jerked in her seat.  His hand closed over her wrist, but she shook it off.  Control.  She couldn’t help Grandpa and Ava—everyone on Meadowbrook—if she panicked now.  And they needed her help.  She refused to think otherwise.   Gunshots and blaster fire echoed in the night, unmistakable even muffled by the distance. 

“Let’s go!” she snarled. 

Everything felt strange and slow as Caleb obeyed, stomping on the gas and sending the truck squealing the last few dozen yards to the barricade.  She watched her own hands eject the half-spent charge cartridge from her blaster and slap a fresh one in with strange detachment.  Grandpa and Ava needed her.  That was all she could let herself think, all that there was room for.  Caleb checked his own gun with frantic, shaking hands.  Another scream pierced the air, followed by more gunshots.  He caught Lydia’s wrist again just as she was about to throw herself out of the cab. 

“Stay close,” he warned, his eyes steely.  “No matter what, we gotta stick together.” 

Lydia nodded once, acknowledging the sense in that, as much as she wanted to just scale the barricade and find her family.  Caleb squeezed her wrist, and then opened his door.  They leaped out of the truck, and Lydia’s heart felt as though it stopped in her chest.  Outside the truck, the sounds were worse.  Lydia searched the barricade with scared, frantic eyes for the point where it had failed, where it had let those
things
in…but there was none.  Everything was still intact.  It didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered but getting over it and finding the people they loved. 

She scaled up the barricade, her hands and feet flying over holds.  She hauled herself up onto the van’s roof as Caleb swarmed up behind her, her weapon already in her hand as she rolled to her feet and stared down onto the small patch of street she had grown up on, lit only by the first gleams of moonlight in the sky.

Some small, broken sound tried to leave her, but there was no air in her lungs for it to use.  Meadowbrook was overrun.  It was filled with Burnouts, what looked like a larger group than the one she and Caleb had just led away from the barricade.  The things were swarming like ants out of a destroyed hill.  They crowded around the Royces’ front porch, a giant knot of them—at least two dozen, maybe closer to thirty—clawing at the door.  Even as she stood there, she heard glass shattering, and another spatter of gunshots.  There.  They were still alive, over there. 

She couldn’t bring herself to look over at Eric Grant’s house, or Grandpa’s.  The silence from the second-story windows was telling.  Either they had left the houses and run for the Royces’ or…

She refused to think about
or
.               

“No,” Caleb groaned.  “No, this isn’t supposed to happen!  This is why we led the group off!” 

The things would notice them soon.  They had seconds to figure out what to do.  Seconds to form a plan.  Lydia’s eyes darted around the court, trying to find
something
that would tell her what to do, what would help the others.  They didn’t have enough ammo between them to make much of a difference.  There were too many Burnouts…they would be surrounded, and either pulled down or forced to retreat back out into the neighborhood. 

“We need more firepower!” Caleb said, as though reading her mind. 

And just like that, she knew what she had to do.  Her gaze snapped to the only unoccupied house on the court.  It was smack in the center of Meadowbrook, flanked on either side by Grandpa’s house and Emily DeSantos’s. It was also one of the points they had divided the weapons stash up into, for emergencies. 

Right by the front door were three of Grandpa’s hunting rifles, and another pistol that belonged to Andrew.  Grandpa and the others might not have had time to run for the emergency weapons at the McCain’s.  Even if they had, she and Caleb would be able to circle around through the backyards to Royce’s.  If the backyards were blocked, they could jump the fence out into the scrubland behind Meadowbrook.  It wasn’t an ideal plan, but it was all she could come up with.  It was their best chance. 

She tugged at Caleb’s sleeve, pointing to the house when he glanced over.  There were numerous Burnouts between them and the house…but most of them were swarming the Royce’s.  If they were fast, they should be able to make it.  Lydia didn’t wait for his acknowledgement, just checked that the safety was off her weapon one more time and slithered off the van.  She hit the ground running, trusting Caleb to follow her. There was no time to look for Grandpa or Ava, no time to figure out who was holding off the frenzy at the Royce’s—who was still
alive
.  There were at least two dozen Burnouts between them and their destination.  The only choice was to flat-out
run
for it. 

Almost as soon as her feet touched the ground, the Burnouts saw her.  Lydia tightened her grip on the blaster and clamped down on the instinct that wanted to fling every single Burnout around her to the ground, press down on them until they were crushed and destroyed and no more threat to the people she cared about.  She couldn’t, though; she had to save every scrap of energy inside of her until it was absolutely needed.   

She didn’t break stride, as first one, then another, and another turned, their mouths gaping open and their skeletal, silver-veined hands reaching for her.  The nearest one ran for her with surprising speed.  Lydia clenched her jaw and darted forward, ducking under the thing’s arm as it made a wild grab for her.  She felt the Burnout’s fingers skate over her shoulder as she passed. 

Another hail of gunfire went off, underscored by a man’s voice yelling.  Screaming.  Lydia couldn’t recognize the voice; couldn’t place the sound of it.  All she could do was keep running for the McCain’s.  She fired as she ran, taking out a pair of Burnouts getting too close.  The whine of Caleb’s gun going off joined with hers, joined with the sounds from the Royce’s, joined with the howls and groans of the Burnouts into an onslaught that turned Lydia’s blood to ice water in her veins. 

Time.  She just needed a little more time, and then she could do something to help whoever was in the house.  Just a few more seconds.  

Grandpa and the others had not retreated without a fight.  There were bodies lying on the ground, and Lydia made herself leap over them without looking, ignored the way her shoes slipped and slid in puddles of blood and other, more viscous stuff.  More Burnouts were following her and Caleb, drawn by the noise, and she had to fire over and over.  Her other instincts were chomping at the bit, begging to be let loose, and only the knowledge that she might need her abilities to help Ava and Grandpa kept her control steady.  She clattered up the front steps of the McCain house with Caleb a step behind, and three Burnouts only inches behind
him.

“Go, go, go!”  She did not need Caleb’s warning.  She sprinted for the door, slamming it open and instantly turning on her heel the foyer.  Caleb slipped in beside her, and together they tried to slam the door shut just as the pursuing Burnouts threw themselves at it. 

Lydia screamed as the heavy weight of the Burnouts—two females and one male—crashed into the door, forcing it back open several inches.  A bare arm thrust into the house, clawing blindly at the two of them as they set their shoulders against the door.  Lydia ducked away from the questing fingers, leaning on the door with all her weight.  She screamed again when the door shuddered underneath them, the Burnouts pounding on it in a frenzy.  Another arm, smaller than the first, pushed through the opening, and Lydia heard the heavy thud of more footsteps on the wooden porch. 

Caleb let out a cry of his own and began pounding at the questing, clawing arms with one fist as he set himself against the door harder, trying to drive the things back.  The door shuddered again, slamming open a few more inches before they managed to push it back. 

“Watch out, I’ve got this!” she hollered. 

He managed to force the larger limb away from them, back out of the door, shouting in fear and disgust when the Burnout tried to latch onto his wrist.  Lydia dug her feet into the floor, pushing and shoving.  Dark shadows pressed against the tall, narrow windows that flanked the door.  She closed her eyes. 

It was just a small pulse of power, just a little shove, but it smashed the door shut with a resounding crack, crushing gaunt, bony fingers to pulp and leaving trails of blood down the door frame.  Caleb gasped, stumbling against the door before he slid the deadbolt home.  The shadows at the windows became fists that thundered against the glass, and Lydia knew they had only themselves a few seconds. 

Caleb slumped against the door, breathing hard.  “Damn that’s handy,” he panted.

“Has its moments.” The emergency weapons were right where they were supposed to be, leaning against the wall by the front hall closet—three of Grandpa’s rifles and extra ammunition, as well as the pistol.  She stalked forward, tucking her blaster into the holster again. The ammo box was an old military model, with a carry strap.  That, she slung diagonally over her chest.  “I’m gonna circle around to the back of the houses.  Anyone who’s still…” She stopped, her throat tightening.  “Ava and Grandpa are there.  So’s Zack.”

It had to be true.  It just had to be.  She grabbed one of the rifles, checking that it was loaded and ready.

“What did you mean out in the truck?  You said this ‘wasn’t supposed to happen’.”  Unbidden, images from the vision Zack had shared with her flashed through her mind.

Running through the court.

The certainty the people she loved were going to die if she did not make it in time.

The bodies.  The screaming.

The presence beside her—unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. 

“You told me leading the pack away from the barricade would save us, but this…this is what Zack showed me!  It’s happening just the way I saw!”

“I don’t know!” Caleb burst out.  Immediately, he snapped his mouth shut, swallowing hard.  “I don’t know,” he repeated, quieter this time.  “It should have worked.  Getting those Burnouts away from us should have stopped it.”

A Burnout crashed hollowly against the door, and Caleb jumped away from it.  The whole door shook and vibrated.  A crack suddenly splintered through one of the windows beside the door.  Lydia stared at Caleb.

“Look, we can figure it out later,” he said tersely.  “Right now we gotta find the others.  He checked his own blaster, before grabbing another of the rifles.  He put the carry strap over his shoulder, leaving the last rifle for her.  Lydia was silent for a moment, and then made a decision. 

“Let’s get going, then.”

Instead of answering, Caleb scooped the pistol up and shoved it into his belt.

“I’ve got your back,” he said with a grim nod.

They hurried through the dark house, hardwood floors creaking and echoing in the empty rooms.  Every piece of furniture had been stripped from the house and used in the barricades.  The only traces of the family that lived here were a few old-fashioned paper pictures still hanging on the wall—frozen smiles and moments of happiness that would never exist again.  All of the modern holo-frames had been taken down and stripped for circuitry and power sources. The pounding at the front grew louder and more violent with each second, and just as they reached sliding-glass door in the kitchen that led out to the backyard, Lydia heard glass shattering in the front hall.           

“I’m not leaving without Zack,” Caleb said as they dashed out into the darkened yard.  There was a grim set to his jaw. “I don’t care what we find over there, I’m not runnin’ without my brother.” 

“Good.  I’m not running without my grandpa and Ava,” Lydia replied. 

“Long as we understand each other.”  Caleb shot her a fierce grin, all teeth and sharpness.  For a moment, he looked even more like Zack than he already did.  They followed the line of the fence that separated the McCain backyard from Emily’s, finding the doorway that had been cut into it.  Cautiously, they opened it an inch or so.

Lydia peered into the yard, checking for anything waiting for them.  There were no Burnouts immediately visible, though, and so she slipped through with the rifle at the ready.  Caleb boosted himself over the fence, landing with a muffled thud in the grass.

"All right, let's get...whoa."  He straightened, moving closer to Lydia's side. 

"So that's how they got in," Lydia said numbly. 

The fencing in the back of Emily’s yard had been partially demolished.  There was at least a ten-foot gap, broken and splintered fence posts lying like so much garbage on the grass.  It looked as though a swarm of Burnouts had just stampeded against the fence until it gave way.  Lydia blinked in disbelief.  How could that have happened?  How could they have not noticed a group that large prowling along the fence line? 

Her eyes tracked along the fence until they came to rest on the small gate that let out onto the side yard that ran between Emily's house and the Royce's.  That, too, was hanging askew on its hinges, the latch splintered and destroyed.  It was easy to imagine the Burnouts crashing through the fencing; easy to imagine them stumbling around Emily's yard until the commotion caused by her and Caleb jumping the barricade drew them to the little gate.  Easy to imagine them spilling out on the unsuspecting people.  She swallowed hard, clutching the rifle to her chest.