Burnout (The Invasion Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

He held out his hand, palm up, the way he had the night before. 

Oh.

             
Oh
. 

              “There’s something I’ve known for a month now,” Zack said.  “I haven’t even told Caleb, but I need you to know.” 

              Lydia stared down at his hand, her heart racing at the memory of what sharing one of Zack’s visions had been like the night before.   Zack was silent, not demanding an answer, but not withdrawing his hand, either.  Lydia wanted to tell him to wait for her grandfather or Ava to get back—didn’t want to be alone when the rush of images and emotions hit.  But…if they were really going to work together as a group, they would have to trust each other.   She wanted them to trust each other. 

              She took his hand.

              It didn’t hit her quite as hard, this time.  She was expecting the rush, the sensation of spinning out of control, of the air being sucked from her lungs.  Expecting it didn’t help
much
, but it did help.  She kept her eyes squeezed shut this time, concentrating on the feel of Zack’s hand in hers, letting it anchor her to the present moment.  When she could catch her breath again, she slowly opened her eyes. 

              She was standing in her kitchen, across from Zack.  Ava was just outside the house, and Grandpa and Caleb were nearby, tending to the bodies of the friends they had been able to find. 

              Lydia was also standing in a wide open field, grass soft under her feet and a warm breeze whispering across her skin.  The Columbus skyline was visible, cutting across a wide expanse of crystal blue sky, but far in the distance; they were at least twenty or thirty miles outside the city. 

              They.  There were other people around her.  Screaming, crying, embracing, laughing in loud joyful bursts. 

              Laughing?

              Lydia stood stock still in her kitchen, her hand suddenly tightening on Zack’s. 

              Lydia took a few faltering steps forward, staring around her in relief and happiness.  They’d made it.  They’d actually made it.  She was exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that left her feeling drunk and slow, but she couldn’t bring herself to go seek out a bed—a sleeping bag, a convenient pile of leaves,
any
horizontal surface—not yet.  She’d spent so long thinking this day would never come. 

              Lydia gasped out loud in her kitchen.

              In the field, she closed her eyes in relief, reveling in the knowledge that
they had won
.  They were safe, and though the fighting wasn’t over yet, it would be soon.  They had done it.  She looked around their little encampment, searching out her friends and the people that had become like family. 

              In the kitchen, Lydia swayed dizzily as face after face flashed through her mind—people that were familiar, people that were strangers, people who inspired a feeling of fierce, loving devotion, and people who evoked simple friendship or camaraderie.  They swirled before her eyes too fast to focus on. 

              In the field, Lydia whirled around dizzily when someone grabbed her wrist, and she found Zack’s laughing face only a few inches from her own.  With a pulse of wild joy, she threw her arms around him, laughing out loud when he picked her up and swung her around in a wide circle. 

              “We did it!” he wheezed, still laughing as he spoke.  “We actually did it!” 

              God, how long had it been since she’d seen him this happy?  This carefree?  How long had it been for her, for that matter?

              “Lydia!” a familiar voice called, the same breathless, incandescent joy that had enveloped the camp hanging thick on every syllable of her name.  She gave Zack another hug and turned towards the voice, searching the crowd that was gathering in the field…

              And nearly lost her balance, stumbling against the island and almost knocking Zack from his perch.  He reeled back, one hand going to his head, though thankfully there was no immediate nosebleed this time.  Lydia clutched at the island, panting like she’d run a marathon as she tried to make sense of what she’d just seen. 

              Trying to shove back against the hope blossoming in her chest. 

              “That…was that,” she stammered, while Zack pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes as though he was trying to ward off a headache.  She leaned forward until her forehead was almost touching the cool counter, struggling to get her breathing under control. 

              Zack climbed down from the island gingerly, leaning back against it so that they were more or less eye-level.  He tilted his head towards her, his expression deadly serious despite the lines of pain that still creased his forehead and the corners of his eyes. 

              “We can beat them,” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.  As though he was afraid of being overheard.  “We
do
beat them.” 

              A wave of emotion so intense it almost sent her crashing to her knees swept through Lydia.  Fear and confusion and wonder and
hope
, in such a jumbled mix that she couldn’t tell which she was feeling at what moment. 

              “This is why we had to find you,” he whispered.  “We can beat them, if we’re together.” 

              Lydia straightened slowly, swallowing against the lump rising in her throat.  “How?”  She couldn’t even imagine how they would go about defeating the Burnouts.  What kind of force it would take.

              He turned a slightly sheepish grin on her, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Welllll, that’s the down side.  What you saw is what I got. I don’t know how we do it, or who helps us.  There’s other people we have to find, places we have to get to.” 

              “But we can beat them,” she said slowly, trying the words out. 

              “You saw it, too.  That moment, those people, that place—that wasn’t just temporary safety.  We do something that saves everyone.”  He sobered a little, some of the sadness seeping back into his expression.  “We can’t tell anyone yet, though.” 

              “What?!  Why the hell not?”

              She couldn’t keep something like this from Grandpa or Ava—she couldn’t!  Zack was shaking his head sorrowfully, though, and tapped along the counter until he found her hand, laying his fingers over hers. 

              “Because we
don’t
know what we do.  How that happens.  I wasn’t kidding about changing things, Lydia, I don’t know what set of actions has to happen for that future to become a reality.  Right now, it’s just one possibility.  The
best
one, sure, but still just a possibility.  The more people we tell, the more chance there is someone accidentally changes something.” 

              Lydia regarded him silently, coming to the reluctant realization that he was probably right.  She wanted to run out right now and find the path to that moment in that field, no matter what it would take to get there.  Who wouldn’t?  She turned her gaze to the window over the sink, staring out at Grandma’s lavender bushes. 

If this was going to work, then they had to trust each other. She stopped fighting against the hope, let it bloom bright and beautiful in her heart.

              “Well then,” she said, “we’ll have to figure out how we make that happen, won’t we?” 

They exited the house for the last time without a word, Grandpa closing and locking the door behind them.  Both Ava and Lydia pretended not to see when he leaned against the door for just a moment, resting his forehead against the wood.  Lydia trailed her fingers over the porch swing as they walked down the steps.  Silently, she prayed that the house would somehow be protected.   

Caleb and Zack were already in the truck, idling just at the end of their driveway, and they both jumped out to come and help pack up the last of the boxes and bags.  Grandpa started checking their packages one more time, then froze, his eyes widening as he swore out loud. 

“Hang on, I’ve gotta run back in,” he said.  “Your grandmother’s things.  I need to grab—”

Wordlessly, Lydia pulled her chain out from under her shirt, holding it up so Grandpa could see the ring.  Relief swept over his features, and a wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“That’s my girl.  Thank you,” he said.  Lydia started to pull the chain over her head, but Grandpa laid his weathered hand over hers.  “No, no you keep it for now.  Safer that way.” 

A thrill of surprise ran through her, but Lydia just nodded and slipped the chain back under her shirt. 

“All right, you girls get situated in the car.  I’m going to do one more sweep in Eric’s house; make sure we got all the ammo and—”

A loud crash interrupted him.  The sound of wood hitting the pavement echoed around the court, as loud as an explosion in the eerie quiet of the neighborhood.  They all jumped, Caleb and Grandpa immediately whirling around toward the front of the barricade with weapons drawn.  Lydia dropped her comforter on the ground and raised the blaster, while Ava stepped closer to Zack and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Up by the rusty carcass of the van, another few pieces of furniture tumbled to the ground.  Again, the sound echoed around the court, and Lydia held her breath.  Caleb and Grandpa moved to stand shoulder to shoulder, placing Ava and Zack square behind them.  As Lydia watched, breath catching and freezing in her throat, a pale, silver-veined arm wound around the edge of the hole in the barricade.

Lydia tensed as the Burnout grasped the rungs of another of Emily’s dining chairs.  It clattered to the ground when the thing used it to leverage itself over the scattered debris, spilling into the court without a sound.  The Burnout stumbled, nearly crashing to the ground as it staggered over the fallen corpses that littered the ground.  It was dressed in a pair of black track pants and a matching t-shirt, as though it had been out for a jog before it Burned.  A spill of bright red hair tumbled down its back and over its shoulders, tangled and matted with dirt and who knew
what
else.

Lydia heard Ava bite off a choking gasp.

It was Jenny Morrison. 

The Burnout that had been Ava’s piano teacher, and one of her mother’s best friends.  The Burnout that Lydia had herded away from them the day Caleb and Zack had appeared. 

Grandpa muttered a savage curse under his breath, looking at Ava over his shoulder.

The bags she was carrying hit the ground, and Ava turned away from the Burnout entirely, her hands pressed against her mouth.  His face a mask of confusion, Zack reversed their positions as she turned, awkwardly wrapping one arm around her shoulder as her knees started to sag.  He patted her back with the exaggerated care of someone who had no idea what they were doing and was afraid they were going to make things worse. 

“Uh, guys?” he asked. 

Lydia braced herself, and focused on the Burnout.  God,
why
did it have to be someone they knew?  This wasn’t going to be as bad as watching Grandpa put Emily down, but it would be close. 

To her surprise, though, Ava shook away from Zack’s grip.  She clenched her fists and turned back to look at the Burnout, then took a deep breath and stepped forward just as Caleb raised his gun to fire.  “Wait,” she implored, reaching out towards Grandpa only to draw her hand back again.  “Wait…I’ll do it.”

Lydia’s eyes snapped to her friend, even as Grandpa whipped around to stare at her.  Ava wound the fingers of one hand into the ends of her braided hair, twisting and untwisting before she seemed to steel herself, and held out her hand for Lydia’s blaster. 

“Av,” Lydia whispered. 

“Okay, guys?  What’re we doing here?” Caleb asked, agitation thick in his voice as the Burnout turned towards them, pulling up short as it registered their presence. 

“I have to, right?  I have to get used to it.”  Ava’s eyes were glassy and wet, but her hand was steady, outstretched in front of her. 

“Honey, no one’s asking,” Grandpa began.

“No, sorry,
I’m
asking.  Really…sorry…but someone needs to shoot that thing,” Zack interrupted.  At least he looked a little apologetic.

“
Dude
,” Caleb hissed. The Burnout was only a couple hundred feet away. 

“Lyds,” Ava said. “I’m sure.” Soft.  Resigned.  Determined.  Lydia handed the blaster over without another word.  The Burnout moved faster, racing towards them.  The silvered veins were beginning to glow. 

“Just like I showed you.  Feet apart,” Grandpa instructed.  Ava nodded tightly, widening her stance and taking careful aim at the thing barreling towards them.  She took a deep breath.  Another.  Another. 

The Burnout closed on them, so close now Lydia could see the way its clothes were crusted to its body with dirt and sweat, could see the tears in the fabric of its pants, the inhuman gleam of its eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Ava breathed, and squeezed the trigger. 

The Burnout jerked again, fell backwards, and was still.

“Hey,” Grandpa said, turning Ava’s face until she was looking at him.  “You’re right.  You have to be able to do it…no matter who they look like. 
It’s not them anymore
.  You remember that, okay?  That woman died a long time ago, sweetheart.” 

Ava took a deep, shaky breath and nodded.  “I’m okay, Mike,” she said, and sounded like she actually believed it. 

“We have to get moving,” Grandpa said, and if his voice was rougher than usual, Lydia didn’t comment.  “If there’s anything close, they’ll have heard that.” 

Lydia turned and looked across the court, towards the Royces’ house.  Zack and Caleb had climbed into the truck, and were just sitting in the cab, their heads bent together in conversation.  Grandpa sighed, and bent down to pick Lydia’s comforter up off the ground, winding it up into a bundle and tossing it on top of the pile of supplies in the Jeep’s cargo space.  He slammed the trunk, and turned back to look at them with a grim, serious face. 

“We’re going to try and get out on 270 before sunset.  Reed says the highways are tricky going, so it’s going to be slow.  Probably a few days to Cleveland, at least.” 

Lydia just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  Cleveland was a day trip, under normal circumstances.  A little over three hours.  Grandpa turned and walked back up the driveway to pull the garage door down—though Lydia supposed it hardly mattered.  Together, she and Ava shuffled around to the Jeep’s doors, climbing into the backseat together.  Lydia put the blaster up in the front passenger seat, in easy reach.  As soon as they were settled in the seat, Ava leaned over and rested her head on Lydia’s shoulder. 

Grandpa climbed into the driver’s seat a moment later, and gunned the engine.  He backed out of the driveway and guided the Jeep out through one of the gaps in the barricade that he and Caleb had cleared of bodies.  When Lydia looked, she could see the truck behind them in the rearview mirror, following. 

Grandpa wove the Jeep through the tangle of collapsed bodies on the street just outside the barricade, and at
last
, they left Meadowbrook behind.  They drove up the familiar street, heading along a route they had taken dozens, hundreds,
thousands
of times before.  Never had the view outside the Jeep’s windows looked so alien.  So wrong.  Lydia resisted the urge to turn around and watch as the house—her
home
—receded from view.  It would hurt too much.

The road stretched out in front of them, warm autumn sunshine beating down on deserted sidewalks and abandoned cars, pieces of civilization that didn’t exist anymore.  In another few weeks, maybe a month or so, it would start getting colder—and she honestly had no idea if either Grandpa or Caleb and Zack had thought what to do when winter hit.  The Cleveland safe zone was a start, but she knew better than to think it was a guarantee.  Guarantees didn’t exist anymore. 

She still had Grandpa, she reminded herself.  She had Ava with her.  Now they had supplies to last at least a little while, and they had Caleb and Zack to help them learn how to function outside the barricade walls. 

She had a vision of people she loved, triumphant against the Burnouts.  She had hope.  That was more than a lot of people could say, anymore. 

“We’re gonna make it, aren’t we?” Ava asked. 

And that wasn’t a promise Lydia could make. 
No one
could, not anymore.  If they took anything from what had happened last night, it had to be that they were all living on borrowed time.  Their luck could change any moment. 

She looked up at Grandpa’s face, bone-tired, but just as strong as he’d always been.  She glanced in the rearview mirror, where the truck was dutifully following them.  Her power sparked in her chest, shaky still, but already regaining strength.

She would make her own luck. 

She grabbed her best friend’s hand and held on tightly.  It wasn’t a promise she could make, but she did it anyway.  She held the image of the field in her mind, and swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to make sure Grandpa and Ava got to see that day. 

“Yeah,” she whispered back.  “Yeah, Av.  We’re gonna make it.” 

The End