Flowertown (25 page)

“Fuck you.”

He shook his head. “Poetry. Where the hell is my team? We’ll just sit tight until they get here. Then I can show them what you did to poor Mr. Carpenter. You’re so violent.”

Ellie fought back a scream. She hated Bing, or Dr. Byrd, or whoever the hell he had become. She hated her inability to act. Of all the helplessness she had felt over the years of containment, this was a fresh slice of hell that burned her skin. She wanted so badly to blow a bullet through his brain, but she knew her hands would not obey. Breathing in hard through gritted teeth, she closed her eyes. Bullets weren’t the only weapon she had.

“Rachel always told me you were a sick fucker.”

“She did not. She is far too smart to think that and way too classy to talk like you.”

Ellie snorted. “Are you kidding? We used to laugh our asses off about you and your little flirtations. She used to call you The Beak.”

“Nice try.” Bing shook his head and looked away, but Ellie could see the tendons in his neck stretch as he tried to calm himself. “But since you couldn’t even pay enough
attention to change your underwear every day, I doubt very seriously you could even comprehend the subtle nuances of a lovely girl like Rachel.”

“Subtle nuances?” Ellie laughed out loud. “She was a fucking farm girl. She wasn’t the Virgin Mary. She wasn’t even a virgin. I think you were just about the only guy in Flowertown she didn’t fuck, or at least blow.”

“You shut your mouth. You have no right to talk about her like that.”

“And you do? You’re going to blow her ass up. Of course, I guess that’s the closest you’re ever going to get to doing anything to her ass…”

“Hey!” Bing jabbed his finger at her. “I tried to get her out of here. I tried to get her cleared on the detox. There was no reason she had to suffer like that. I was the one that got her the Equilibrium shot. I was the one that got her a chance to leave. What the hell did you do?”

“You didn’t do shit.” Ellie knew how much this snarky tone of voice got under Bing’s skin. “All you ever did was fawn over her and bother her.”

“I blew up the goddamn records office for her!”

“For her? You think Rachel wanted people blown up?”

Bing leapt to his feet and barked into Ellie’s face. “Rachel wanted out and I was making it happen. They were supposed to give her enough Equilibrium to cancel out the detox. But those stupid fucking monkeys in the lab got it wrong and now she’s blue-tagged while you’re still dragging your useless ass around as healthy as a horse. She was supposed to be outside the zone when all of this went down. You were supposed to be up there in the records office, you stupid bitch. Big Martha lied and said you’d gone out for
cigarettes. She said you’d be right back. I guess I can’t trust any of you psychopaths.”

“You set the bomb? You killed those people?”

Bing smiled a hard smile at her, his tone that of a naughty child. “You know what else I did? I stole your fucking chili. Right out of your desk. I didn’t even think about it. I just took it so I could have something for Rachel that night, thinking she’d be better. Thinking we could mourn your pathetic life. Stupidly, I worried later that you might realize that I never go to Dingle’s to get that shit and then I thought, ‘Like Ellie is going to put anything together.’” He slapped his head for emphasis.

He was trying to be sarcastic and taunt her, but Ellie could see his temper fraying. She knew a little something about that. Bing thought he was a master manipulator, but Ellie was familiar with button-pushing herself. She smirked at him. “Ever wonder why I used to spend so much time up in your room?”

He laughed. “To get away from your wide circle of friends?”

“To get away from the porn shoot that was always going on in Rachel’s bed.”

“You suck as a liar, Ellie.” His face did not look so certain.

“All kidding aside, I think you might be the only guy in Flowertown that hasn’t put it to her.” It was childish, and what she was saying was untrue, but Ellie wanted to see the pain it drove into Bing’s brain. “You know Tito, that Mexican kid who works at the library? I came in one day after work and they were going at it. I’m no anatomy major, but I’m pretty sure they weren’t doing it the way God intended.”
Ellie laughed, hearing Bing’s breathing get hard. “She used to tell me that getting it in the ass—”

She looked up in time to see the white skin of Bing’s elbow as it crashed into her face. She heard nothing but a crunching sound as she collapsed to the floor, clutching her face, blood pouring out between her fingers. Above her, Bing screamed, but the sounds around her had vanished. The feel of blood evaporated, replaced by the familiar tingling in her hands and feet.

Ellie felt her throat closing off and hot, mottled spots rising on her skin as rage flooded her body like ecstasy. In one short blow, she was no longer kneeling on the floor of the care center. She was back to the early days, on her knees, gushing blood in the medical tents where all the people around her were dying in puddles of their own filth. Only this time she hadn’t been vomiting for days. This time she was well fed and her legs were strong. This time she wouldn’t need a box cutter to take down the man before her.

She saw Bing’s eyes widen as she lunged from the floor, her hands like claws tearing into him as an inhuman howl tore from her throat. Whatever control he thought he had over her evaporated as her mind went back to the blackest of the black rage that had consumed her. Ellie punched and tore, clinging to the body before her, the impact of her lunge pinning him to the desk beneath her. Bing pulled at her, screaming, but she was too close and held on too tightly.

Her hands dug at his skin, sometime tearing, sometimes punching. She didn’t feel the bruising of her bones against his skull or the scrapes of his teeth breaking against her knuckles. He tried to flip her off of him and they tumbled to the floor together, Ellie clinging to his clothes and skin like
a creature from hell. He punched at her, but she was beyond feeling. He tried to smash her head against the floor, but she craned forward and bit down hard on his lower lip, his blood pouring as his skin gave way with a thick, popping sound. There was nothing to see on his face but blood, and still Ellie clawed and screamed and bit, not thinking of escape or rescue, thinking only of violence and the sounds of his pain.

She didn’t register the sounds of gunfire until a piece of ceiling tile rained down on her like glitter. Bing was keening, his lip pierced between her teeth, and she could just see his eyes wild through the blood. She heard heavy boots in the doorway and bullets flew very near them. Ellie released her hold on Bing’s face, and she had to turn away to keep from inhaling the river of blood he poured down on her.

“Shoot her!” Bing screamed, his words garbled by the damage done to his face. Two guards stepped forward, their guns out, but Ellie was quicker and kicked Bing off of her toward them. The closest guard jumped back to avoid being splattered by blood, and Bing lurched in a puddle of wetness beneath him. The second guard fired into the crowded room as Ellie launched herself under the metal desk. Lying flat on her stomach, she squeezed herself under the back of the heavy furniture and slithered out into the open space between two file cabinets.

It was bedlam behind her as Bing screamed unintelligible commands, and Ellie used the confusion to risk getting to her feet and running. Bullets tore through the doorframe over her head and she was down the back hall. The hall was dark, but Ellie’s eyes were sharp with fear, and as angry shouts and heavy footsteps filled the hall behind her, she saw the emergency exit light ahead.

She didn’t slow down, knowing if the doors were locked it wouldn’t matter if she knocked herself out. It would be preferable to what she would encounter at the hands of Bing’s team. Like the bullets heading her way, Ellie smashed into the emergency door and tumbled into the darkness of the alley. She jumped over a pile of trash and pounded into the darkness. Her hands were slick with blood and sweat, and she felt what she held in her left hand trying to slip away. In a pool of light from the streetlamp, she was surprised to see what she held. It wasn’t the gun. That was gone. Instead she clutched the small plastic case that held Bing’s external hard drive.

The electric light on the block made Ellie feel vulnerable, so she ducked back into the alley behind the buildings. She had to get to the north med center. She had to find Guy. She knew Bing’s men would be looking for her; Bing needed the external drive she carried. He could get out without it, but after that virus he had released, this held the only records of the testing Feno had done. That meant it must also hold the proof that they were no longer contaminated, and that meant she needed it more. Ellie jammed the small plastic case deep into her pocket, not trusting her sweaty and blood-slick hands to hold it while she ran.

She wished she still had the gun. As she moved through the shadows, she watched for movement around the back doors of the buildings. Most of this block was storage and maintenance, but one taller building looked like apartments. Ellie slowed down as she neared the door and saw it was a heavy steel door like the one on her own apartment building. Plastic trash bins lined up on either side of it, and Ellie took a chance and stopped. Maybe the people in this apartment, like East Fifth, used the back door as well. If so,
maybe they had also hidden a pry bar of some sort under the trash cans. It wasn’t a gun, but Ellie knew she would feel better with something metal in her hands.

She pushed away the first can and reached around in the darkness. She found a brick, which she considered as a backup, but it felt heavy and unwieldy in her hands. There was nothing to the right of the door. To the left, she had to dig around underneath a paper-recycling bin. Her fingers left smears of blood on the sides of the bin, and the rough plastic made her wince. Then she felt something cold. Sticking her arm deep into the bin, she pulled out a long, tapered iron crowbar. That would do nicely.

Hefting the crowbar, Ellie began to run again, trying not to think about the throbbing ache in her face. She had to breathe noisily through her mouth, and it took focus to not let the sound of her panting panic her. The realization that she was clean filled her with energy, and Bing’s image of being tied to a bed kept the wind at her back. She had to move.

The blood staining her face and her clothes helped her blend into the shadows. She moved from alley to alley, ducking to hide from Feno trucks that crisscrossed the roadways, some with their lights on, a few without. She couldn’t take any chances. She had to assume they were on Bing’s team. She headed east, off the main avenue, closer to the eastern barrier, where the traffic seemed a little lighter and the buildings a little darker. Two blocks ahead, the power was definitely on because the block was flooded with streetlights and floodlights and every window glowed with overhead lights. It was what they all called the “Public Building,” where the clean rooms were, where the few visitors who ventured in
were taken. It was also the site of the upcoming press conference and, according to the guard at the care center, where a large group of residents had been evacuated. Armed guards strolled the edges of the block while a dozen or so civilians milled about in the light, smoking and talking.

Ellie’s first thought was to put as much distance between her and the guarded building as quickly as possible. Then she saw a familiar figure leaning against a light post, fishing a flask out of his tweed jacket. It was Mr. MacDonald, the newspaper vendor, looking for all the world like the professor he had been in his previous life. He was the first person to have suggested she read the local paper. In his own gruff way, he had always been nice to Ellie. If this was one of the buildings Bing’s men planned on blowing up, she had to warn him. At the very least, she had to let him know he and the people being held were clean.

A pair of guards walked very close to where she crouched between a dumpster and the corner of the building. She dared not crouch down farther in case she made any noise. Everyone was on full alert. When the guards had passed, she fished around in the darkness at her feet for a stone or piece of debris she could toss into the light to get MacDonald’s attention, but with the strict recycling laws, there was little to no garbage anywhere except in the clamped, closed garbage bins. She couldn’t risk a whistle or a shout; she could see another pair of guards turning the far corner.

She pulled at the plastic lid of the dumpster hiding her. Thankfully it didn’t creak. She bit back a gasp of pain as she lifted herself over the rim of the bin, her bruised ribs sending white sparks to her eyes, and fished around in the top bag of garbage. She felt old food and something furry
that she prayed wasn’t a deceased pet. Her fingers felt something powdery with little bits of spongy paper. She knew this, someone had emptied an ashtray. Grabbing a handful of butts, Ellie slipped out of the dumpster and crept closer to the opening of the alley.

The approaching guards stopped at Mr. MacDonald, and she heard them urging him to go back inside. True to form, the old man took umbrage at their suggestion, and she could make out what sounded like a cutting lecture on his opinion of their suggestion. One guard waved a finger in his face, and MacDonald dismissed him with a wave. Rolling their eyes, the guards moved on to the end of the block, again coming very close to where Ellie crouched hidden.

She launched the first cigarette butt, then a second. He paid no mind. The third hit him in the shoulder and fell unnoticed, but the fourth bounced off his hand. He looked up to see what had fallen, then fished in his pocket for a cigarette of his own. Ellie checked her palm. She had six butts left. Risking a step to the very edge of the shadow, she flicked two butts in quick succession, one of them pinging the old man on the cheek. He looked annoyed and pushed off the light post, his brow dark. Ellie waved to him from the shadow and his eyes widened. She put her fingers to her lips and he got her meaning. Taking a casual stance, he strolled down the curb and made his way to her hiding place.

Keeping his back to her, he leaned against the building and spoke softly. “Do I want to know why you’re hiding in an alley covered in blood?”

“There isn’t time to explain. You’ve got to get away from this building.”

“That’s funny. That’s exactly what the guards who brought me here told me at my apartment. Can you give a better explanation than they did?”

“I think the building has a bomb in it.”

“Hmm, that’s what they said about my apartment.” He blew out a plume of smoke. “I am more inclined, however, to believe you. A bloody face is very convincing.”

“Mr. MacDonald, please listen to me. There isn’t much time. You can’t be near this building or the press conference tomorrow morning. Feno has a plan that is…” She hesitated to tell him the details, wondering if she could even tell him he was not infected. If Bing’s plan worked, if this building blew up and these people were killed, was it a kindness or a cruelty for them to know they died uninfected?

“We’re becoming more and more aware of Feno’s plan.” He pulled his flask out and passed it into the shadows where she hid. “You’re going to need this when I tell you what Olivia has learned. It seems we are clean.”

“You know.” She took a sip of the bourbon, liking the burning on her cut lips.

“Yes. Some people think this gathering of the population into several crowded locations is a good sign. I am not one of those people.”

“You’re right. Listen to me. You have to get as many people as you can away from this building. Do whatever you have to do. They don’t plan on letting any of us out of here.”

MacDonald chuckled. “The very words they are ascribing to you, young lady.”

“I’ve got to get to the north med center. There are soldiers there who are—”

“Don’t bother. It’s been evacuated. They dropped off a dozen or so people here and are taking the rest to the clearinghouse at the east gate.” He reached for the flask and took a drink. “It cannot be a coincidence that they are gathering us in a tidy line, easily viewed by the world press gathered on the other side of the east barrier.”

Ellie looked to the east as if she could see the plan unfolding there. “Shit.”

“Shit is right, Ellie. Listen to me very carefully.” He turned his head and she could see his profile against the streetlight. The light caught the glassiness of his eyes, and she wondered if he was just a little bit drunk. She didn’t blame him. “It is very probable that I and most of us here are not going to make it out of this purgatory alive.”

“No, there’s got to be a way—”

He held up his hand to silence her. “This isn’t the time for false optimism. We are being detained. You are not. You are in the unenviable position of being able to do something, and do something you must. What is your full name, child?”

“Eleanor Marie Cauley.” All at once she felt as if she were in fourth grade.

“Eleanor Marie Cauley, we have been held in the clutches of evil for nearly seven years.” She heard the slur in his voice. Drunk or not, she hung on his words. “We are outnumbered and outgunned and have every reason to despair. But it is exactly these odds that cause Fortune to smile upon those of us stupid enough to fight to defend what is decent and what is right. They cannot be allowed to silence the cries of the lives they have taken. You know what you need to do.”

Ellie choked back a sob. “I don’t.”

“You do. You have got to get out of this zone, no matter what it takes. You have got to tell the world what has been happening in here.”

“There’s a team of soldiers who are trying to get word out—”

He turned to face her fully. “You can’t count on that. You have to do this.”

“How?” Tears cut through the blood on her cheeks. “I can’t just bust out of here.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “A man much wiser than I once said, ‘If not you, who? If not now, when?’” He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I have all the faith in the world in you, Eleanor Marie Cauley. Thank you for letting an old professor give one last lecture. Now go. I’ll do what I can here.”

Ellie watched him head back into the building. She felt the plastic hard drive in her pocket dig at her hip. She had to get it to Guy. Mr. MacDonald might have all the faith in the world in her, but Ellie knew she was nobody’s hero. Slipping through the shadows, she ducked between two parked Feno trucks as another black truck rolled by. She headed east. If Guy had been at the north med center, he would know that’s where they were headed.

She didn’t know this far edge of Flowertown. Seven years and she had never had cause to come to the clearinghouse where deliveries in and out had to be cleared. It was a large, beige metal building with enormous rolling doors. Around it, several small two-story buildings sat back on narrow roads that branched off of the main road. Ellie hid behind a paneled truck and looked down the road toward the clearinghouse. The asphalt was black under the halogen lights, and
the road was in perfect condition. It widened here to three times the width of the roads within the zone, and the length of it was lit all the way to a heavy chain-link gate. She stared at the gate and the guards posted on either side of it. This was the east gate. This was the road out of Flowertown.

Somewhere in the shadows off to her right, she heard a scuffle and the sound of guns being cocked. She ducked down as far as she could get, peering out from beneath the truck to see who was there, but whatever was happening was behind the cinder block building on the corner. She couldn’t risk crossing the main road here, under the lights, with all the guards around. She had to get into the shadows behind the cinder block building. Gripping the crowbar like a club, she ran in a crouch across the pool of light above her and flattened herself against the back wall. She heard radios crackle.

“Gate building four secure, sir.”

A staticky voice answered, “What’s the count?”

“Seven, sir. From north med. Plus two army.”

“Sanitize the scene. Do not, repeat, do not call in security.”

“Understood, sir.”

More static. “The convoy is en route.”

The convoy. Ellie blew out a silent breath. Bing was on his way out of the compound. If he got out of the zone before Guy’s team, he would blow the buildings. Even if everyone wasn’t killed, Ellie knew the lockdown protocols would be unbreakable. Checking her grip on the crowbar, she risked a peek around the corner of the building. Two black-clad guards adjusted their weapons and, looking to see they weren’t being watched, slipped through the door.
Ellie heard a dull thud come from inside the building, then another.

She crouched down below the high window and argued with herself about looking. She had to find Guy. She had to get away from this area, but she couldn’t stop herself from straightening her legs and peering over the ledge into the bright room. At first she didn’t understand what she was seeing. It looked like the guards were examining piles of laundry. Then she saw a muzzle flash and saw one of the piles collapse onto itself. They were people in hospital scrubs on their knees, facing the wall, their heads covered in pillowcases. One by one, the guards moved behind them and fired their silenced guns into their brains, letting the bodies topple forward.

Ellie caught her scream and dropped to the ground. She had to cover her face with her hands, the crowbar pressing into her bruised forehead. Her ears rang with terror, and she was sure her heartbeat would give her away. The metal bar grew slick in her sweating hands, and she nearly dropped it when the door to the building swung open and light flooded the area around the corner from where she hid. She had to fight to silence her harsh breath as the guards passed less than five feet from where she crouched. They opened the tailgate of a black Feno truck and pulled out two bound figures.

The radio crackled once more. “Black Team, convoy is on the move, ETA three minutes. Secure gate, weapons ready. Escort vehicle in position on my mark.”

One of the guards picked up his radio. “Black Team is approaching position.” He slipped the radio back onto his belt along with his gun. He nodded to the two figures kneeling
before his partner. “You got this? I’m riding in the back of the lead vehicle.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” The second guard nodded. “I’ll set the explosives on these two and follow in this truck. Make sure the gate is clear and nobody tries to stop us. I heard Byrd on the radio earlier. He’s having some kind of meltdown. This has got to go off without a hitch.” His partner headed off toward the gate. As he stepped away, the light fell on the two people on the ground. Ellie squinted, trying to make out the figures, and bit down on her lip when she saw them. It was Guy and Porter, on their knees, hands bound behind their backs. The guard checked his clip.