Foamers (9 page)

Water dripped from her body, splashing off the tile floor as she pulled her matted
hair off her face. “Stop gawking and answer me.”

The door hinges shook against the impact of a body.

“They don’t seem like people I want to meet,” X said, checking the window. He peered
down the two stories and knew they couldn’t jump. A twisted ankle or broken leg would
make them as good as dead. He crossed his arms, staring at the buckling door as
if he had X-ray vision.

They were trapped by three foamers. His weapons were in the kitchen. The truck was
in the garage. The keys were hanging on the hook by the kitchen door. They needed
to move, and keep moving.

“I want you to open the door, slide out into the hallway toward the bedroom, then
stay behind me till we get to the kitchen. Once we get to the kitchen, get to the
garage and in the truck. When we’re clear, I’ll join you,” he said. He had given
his word he’d get her safely to Houghton, and he wasn’t about to break it.

“What if—”

“No. It’s not the first time I’ve been outnumbered in a fight. Ready?”

Ashton gave him a nod and unlocked the door. He stood beside her, the butcher knife
clutched in his hands. She swung the door open, and the uncle charged in with a harsh
rasp resembling a growl. She slid out of the foamer’s path as X brought his clasped
hands down between the creature’s shoulders. The foamer stumbled and crashed headfirst
into the far wall as X flung the door shut to cover their escape.

In the hallway, the father blocked the way to the kitchen, keeping the son behind
him. X blew through the corridor as he charged the foamer. He came up low, knocking
the beast into the kitchen. The point of the knife slammed against the creature’s
hip bone, stopping the blade’s momentum. X’s hand continued down the sharp edge,
leaving a gash along his knuckles. The foamer cried out as pain shot through X’s
arm; he abandoned the knife and clenched his hand into a bloody fist.

X landed on top of the father, who snapped and thrashed his teeth. Ashton bounded
to where the boy was waiting at the top of the stairs with a blank look of confusion.
She booted her bare heel into his chest, launching him down the steps. A fourth
foamer, wearing a green reflective vest, aided the boy back to all fours.

X rammed his forearm under the father’s jaw and slammed his other elbow across his
temple. He clenched his teeth and smashed the creature’s head unnaturally to the
side as it growled in protest until, with a loud pop, its body went limp and silent.
From downstairs, the son squealed from an unseen pain, rooted in the core of his
emotion. X scrambled off the beast and to his feet.

“What are you waiting for?” he shouted at Ashton as he shoved her toward the garage.
Blood dripped off his fingers, landing on the floor in single splatters as he made
his way to the table to grab his belt. With one fluid toss, he launched the buckle
around his body and fastened the belt. His bloody hand donned his knife as his other
drew his pistol. He cocked the hammer, rotating the cylinder one round over, hoping
the primers were still functional.

The keys jingled as Ashton lifted them from the hook and swung the garage door open.
She froze in the doorway when her path was blocked by two more foamers.

“X!” she said, backing into the kitchen. Wood cracked as the bathroom door splintered
off the hinges and the uncle emerged into the corridor.

X took a deep breath and moved back to back with Ashton. He glanced around the kitchen,
keeping her body against his. There were two foamers in the garage, two on the steps,
one down the corridor, and six bullets in his gun. All they needed to do was get
to the truck. All he needed was for her to get to the truck.

He swung around, pistol arm extended, and dropped to one knee beside her, aiming
at the doorway. He placed his left elbow on his upright knee and braced his wrist
under his right hand to steady the gun. His eyes trained on the first foamer, followed
by the back sight, and then he raised the barrel until the gap of the sight went
dark. He tugged the trigger.

His ears rang as the gunshot echoed through the room and the air filled with the
smell of sulfur. The bullet slammed into the foamer’s skull, splattering tissue on
the one behind it. X’s thumb pressed down on the cold hammer and cocked it back.
Sliding his entire body a few degrees left, he pulled the trigger again.
Two down
,
he thought as he shoved Ashton toward the garage. She leapt from the top step over
the two bodies, and ran for the truck.

X spun to his feet, facing the corridor and stairs. He pulled the trigger as the
foamer in the reflective vest launched toward him. The bullet penetrated the creature’s
shoulder as it tackled X to the ground, landing beside the kitchen table and pinning
his right arm between them. The creature spread its jaws and plunged its foaming
mouth toward X’s jugular. X’s left forearm crossed his face in self-defense, intercepting
the creature’s teeth. The foamer punctured his skin with its incisors as it thrashed,
jerking X’s arm like a dog with a toy.

His thumb cocked his pinned pistol. He rotated his wrist enough to avoid shooting
himself and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was drowned by the scream of the foamer
as it released X’s arm. It retreated back to the other two, stumbling to the ground
as its stomach bled maroon on the floor. The three creatures appraised X cautiously,
like lions unsure of what they were hunting.

X sat up and put another bullet into the wounded foamer. At the death of their comrade,
the other two rushed at him with teeth bared.

His shoes pushed against tile as he scrambled under the kitchen table, leaving a
red streak across the floor. He surfaced on the other side, keeping the furniture
between them. A flap of meat hung from his left forearm, and blood dripped from his
sliced fingers. His pulse ached through each digit, and his ears rang from the gunshots.
He had one bullet and two foamers left. The uncle faded to his right, while the child
moved to his left. They lumbered on their knuckles, each step slow and deliberate,
their rage-filled eyes locked on X.

The garage door rumbled open as the chain lifted the door. The foamers seemed puzzled
by the sound. X capitalized on the distraction and placed the sight on the adult
foamer’s head. As he pulled the trigger, the foamer rose on two legs. The bullet
punched through the wall, sending white powder floating toward the ground. The foamer
roared at the top of his lungs and charged X, who kicked a chair into its path. The
chair bought X a moment, which he used to roll over the table and rush through the
open garage door.

Looking back to see if the foamers were chasing him, X tripped over the bodies on
the stairs and slammed into the front of the truck. He stared through the windshield
into the wide eyes of Ashton, who gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.
As he rushed for the passenger door, she put the truck in reverse and backed out
of the garage. He jogged alongside until he swung the door open, and hopped into
the seat. He set his empty pistol on the seat and tossed the knife on the dashboard.

He tried to make sense of the beasts he had just faced. They weren’t mindless creatures
as he had assumed. That was something he would have to puzzle together later, since
Ash needed his attention now.

The engine hummed as the needle climbed the speedometer. Twenty, thirty, forty,
fifty, sixty, seventy miles per hour; her foot held the accelerator to the floor.

“Ash,” he said, opening the glove box and pulling out a first aid kit. “Slow down.”

Houses blew by as the road cut away from the residences and into the woods. Ashton’s
body was rigid as she strangled the wheel. X slid closer to her and placed his hand
on her knee. Slowly, he slid his hand along her warm thigh.

She slammed on the brakes, causing the car to skid down the road. Shifting the car
into park, she turned toward him and he wrapped his good arm around her, pulling
her against him. Her rigid muscles relaxed into putty. As he held her, her breaths
caught short while she fought the urge to cry.

He looked into her deep green eyes and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. They
embraced while her breathing returned to normal. She leaned against his chest.

“You’ve been bit,” Ashton said, alarm spiking in her voice.

“Let’s figure out how to get to Kade,” X said, knowing the mention of her brother
would distract her.

Since the moment the teeth broke his flesh he wondered if they were contagious. Whether
they were or weren’t, there was nothing he could do about it now, and his only priority
was seeing her to the safety of Kade.

___________

In their new fortress, none of them felt safe enough to claim an individual room.
With
the abundance of furniture, they stuffed one of the dorm rooms wall-to-wall with
beds, creating a bridge of mattresses. The rest of the furniture had been relocated,
leaving the rectangular space bare. To the left of the door was a row of their shoes
and coats, and on the right, their weapons stood against the wall like good little
soldiers waiting to go to war.

Kade’s sore muscles begged for rest. He had sprawled himself across his mattress
like a starfish, with his wingspan spilling onto other beds. If it wasn’t for Mick
and Victoria being on guard duty, someone might have had a complaint, but the others
let Kade have his space.

The first day had exhausted him. He and Mick had destroyed the first two floors
of the west staircase with sledgehammers and hauled the rubble to the rooms on the
first floor for Grace to cement into the windows. The second day had been longer.
Kade almost missed the monotony of stocking shelves at Rite Aid. He and Mick had
spent the day securing the building by taking out the east steps and blocking the
main entrance, all while not talking about what they were going to do with Grace.

Grace spent her time working with Tiny to wall up the first floor windows, board
up the second floor, and install Lucas’s solar panels. She had assured Kade that
when they lost power she’d have one room fed with electricity. They wouldn’t be able
to run anything large, but they would be able to generate enough power to charge
batteries, the occasional entertainment system, and a small appliance or two. Tiny
had labeled it the ‘electric room’ and informed Kade that with the hundreds of iPods
they now had, music would be in the picture. This was apparently a concern he had
overlooked when he had hoped for electricity.

Victoria had spent the last two days unpacking the vehicles and organizing the rooms.
She’d been amazed by the number of valuable items in a college dorm. They were sitting
on a monetary value that a few days ago none of them had dreamed possible. And now
seemed utterly useless. On top of organizing, Victoria had been tasked with creating
their new entrance for the building. With the main entrance and first two floors
fortified, they couldn’t access the dorm at ground level. On the north and south
walls, she had rolled out two emergency ladders from the third floor that they could
keep retracted. For the east and west walls, they used two knotted climbing ropes
with safety hooks on the ends; this was also the means they used to hoist Argos into
Lambian Hall, though the dog was far from a fan of the new method of egress.

Even with all the work they had done and still had to do, Kade worried about X and
Ashton as he lay on his mattress. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about them now,
or he wouldn’t sleep, and he didn’t have long until the second shift was called to
guard duty.

His sore neck muscles fired painfully to lift his head off the pillow before he dropped
it in frustration. He could hear the steady breathing of Tiny and Grace, and wished
he could turn off his mind. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift; focusing
his breathing, he slowed the pace and forced long, deep breaths. Every muscle in
his body gently relaxed, and a new plane of existence formed behind his eyelids.

Something warm nudged his foot. He kicked at what he assumed was Argos trying to
climb into bed with him.

“Dick,” Mick answered, pulling his hand back.

Kade’s eyes shot open. “Am I late for my shift?”

Mick waved for Kade to follow him. Afraid to wake Tiny, Kade grabbed a sweatshirt
and left the room as quietly as possible. He yawned as they made they climbed the
stairs and exited onto the roof. There was a slight angle to the roof the ushered
run off to the four corners where it plummeted through drain pipes.

“He did it again,” Victoria said, kneeling against the waist high wall with a pair
of camo binoculars.

Mick and Kade moved past the solar panels, mounted in the center of the roof, to
join Victoria. “He’s been doing it for the last hour.”

“Who’s been doing what?”

Kade jumped at the sound of Tiny’s voice. She gave her warm smile in response to
his quizzical look. “Did you really think you could leave the room without waking
me?”

“Someone is signaling us from that building,” Mick said, pointing out into the night.

His eyes followed the line across creek and the small grove of trees to Houghton
Academy, a prep school for teenagers. The looming stone building reminded Kade of
a prison.

Then he saw it. One. Two. Three. Three flashes of light, an international sign for
distress.

“See that?” Mick said.

Victoria lowered her binoculars. “What do we do?”

“We leave him out there a couple days and see what he does,” Tiny replied.

Mick shook his head. “We need all the help we can get.”

The solider and police officer, the two Kade expected to operate on the same wavelength
were the two he found to be most at odds. They both lived to protect, but they seemed
to have drastically different ideas on what needed protection. Tiny concentrated
on the group, while Mick wanted to save anyone.

Kade could feel the mantle of leadership trying to bring him to his knees. If he
sided with Tiny, the kid could be sick or dead by the time they visited him. If he
went with Mick, he’d be responsible if the kid was hostile. Victoria handed him the
binoculars. Scanning from window to window, he tried to find the person. Three flashes
again. Kade found him.

It was just a teenager. His face flushed white as he stared at nothing. Just a kid.
Just a kid, like Ashton.

“I’ll take a four-wheeler and check it out,” Kade said, returning the binoculars.

He started for the storm doors, but Tiny blocked his path. “I’m going.”

“Tiny, you don’t even want to bring him in,” Kade replied, stepping to the left.

She cut him off. “I trust you to lead us. Whether you agree or not, I’m more fit
for this than you. If he’s a threat, I can do what’s necessary. Stay here and cover
me.”

“Tiny, you can’t run. What if you make a mistake?”

“I don’t run. This isn’t up for discussion. Keep me covered.”

Kade’s face went blank. She trusted him that much. If only he deserved her.

“Be careful.”

“Just keep your eyes peeled,” she said, and disappeared through the door.

“We all know what’s coming. Can’t you just get it over with?” Mick said.

* * *

The four-wheeler’s engine drowned out the soft sounds of the night on Tiny’s ride
to the Academy. Although the two buildings were only a short distance apart, there
was no easy way for her to get there. She had to ride north along the creek to where
the road bridged, and then cut back down past the grove of trees that put her in
a blind spot until she reached the Academy.

Growing up, her family had a few acres of land and she had spent many days tearing
around their land on a four-wheeler. Much of her youth was spent doing traditional
“boy” things. She was adopted at a young age by a woman who loved her too much and
a man who hated her plenty more. Her adopted parents had one biological child before
her, and it had been a complicated pregnancy that left the new mother unable to carry
another child. Tiny’s adoptive father was perfectly content with that; he had the
son he’d always wanted. Then her adoptive father crashed the family car, which resulted
in the death of the brother she never knew.

Her adopted mom wanted to be a mother more than anything else, and eventually talked
her husband into letting her adopt a girl. Tiny was smothered by her mother from
the day she set foot in the house, which only drove her to try to win the affection
of her father. Foregoing dresses and dolls, Tiny took to sports and video games,
trying to be the son her father wanted. She never let him see her hurt or crying,
even after he’d taken his frustrations out on her. Those emotions were for girls,
and she wouldn’t ever show those to anyone.

Until she met Kade.

When she was around him, the cork came out of the bottle. He would listen and never
judge. She gave him her heart and he protected it, though he never accepted it as
his. Kade was the only one who saw through her abrasive exterior. Her feelings for
him were no secret to anyone, but nobody knew the depths to which they plunged. There
was so much more to it than want or lust. She had never been the type to believe
in soul mates, but there was something more to Kade. Within moments of meeting him,
she could feel a pull to be near him. Many times she tried to tell herself they were
just childish emotions that would fade, but years passed and the pull only got stronger.
It wasn’t as if she’d sat loyally waiting on the sidelines for him, but even when
she was with someone else, something was missing. Every relationship felt empty compared
to her draw to Kade.

Tiny let off of the accelerator as she stopped in front of the Academy. A door opened
and the teenager crept toward her, carrying a black backpack.

“I can’t believe there are other survivors,” the lanky teenager said. He had short-cropped
hair and a thin face with sharp cheekbones.

His eyes went as wide as full moons when Tiny drew her sidearm on him.

“Whoa, lady,” the student said, his body shaking.

She swung her leg over the four-wheeler and popped onto her feet, keeping her sight
trained on the kid’s chest.

“So much as exhale, and I’ll give you a new hole to do it through,” she said as she
stalked toward the lanky boy.

Standing behind him, she kicked his feet into a wide stance and patted down his jeans.
His body shook as he fought to hold his breath.

Kade’s voice crackled from the walkie. “
Tiny, what do you think you’re doing?”

She pulled the walkie off the utility belt around her yoga pants. “Shut up and watch
my back.”

Curling her fingers around the boy’s shoulder, Tiny spun him. “Anything in the bag
I need to worry about?”

The student’s face had turned a light shade of blue.

“I asked you a question.”

He dropped to his knees, gasping for air. His hands tore the straps from his shoulders
and he threw the backpack down.

“Please don’t shoot me!” he pleaded, clutching her ankles.

She sighed and holstered her pistol. She pushed her toes against his collarbone and
lifted his head until their brown eyes met. Saving this kid’s life was something
she had to do, but she already felt like he would be a liability. All she could think
about when she looked down on him was how pathetic he seemed.

“Get on the back,” she said. He scrambled to his feet and collected his bag. He rushed,
with the grace of a seven-legged spider, to the four-wheeler and straddled the seat.

“Can I drive?” he asked as Tiny approached.

“Just because I didn’t shoot you doesn’t mean I won’t,” she replied, stepping over
and taking her seat.

She cut the four-wheeler out of the parking lot and across the grass toward the bridge.
The terrain jostled them like a mechanical bull, so she decided not to hurt the kid
when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

The ATV ramped onto the bridge, and Tiny heard Mick’s voice over the walkie. “
You’ve
got two foamers chasing you. Keep moving
.”

She squeezed the breaks, sliding the ATV to a stop. The kid released his hold as
she raised her legs, spun around face-to-face with him, and drew her pistol.

“I’m sorry, I won’t touch you again,” he said, holding his hands up and leaning away
from her. She found him pitiful but lovable in his own pathetic way, like a puppy
still growing into its paws.

Tiny grabbed his collar and pulled his head down, accidentally burying his face
in her breasts. The two foamers pursued her onto the bridge.

A tall, twenty-something woman, dressed in a long T-shirt and short shorts, came
barreling toward them on all fours. Around her mouth and down her neck was a red
stain. Her warm breath clouded in the air.

Behind the female was a beast of a man. He was large enough to be a professional
football player and was wearing a coat with an A across the back.

Tiny rested her elbow between the kid’s shoulders and lined the sight on the woman.
She tapped the trigger and the bullet slammed the dead center of the woman’s face,
exploding the back of her head. Her limp body fell against the metal bridge. Pivoting
on the kid’s shoulder blades, Tiny’s sight aligned on the man. The shot echoed through
the night as the casing pinged off the bridge. The beast spun in a circle and collapsed.

Tiny holstered her pistol and took a few deep breaths. She uncurled her fingers from
the fabric of the kid’s shirt and pushed him out of her cleavage. He sat back with
a clown-like grin on his face as she spun around and continued toward Lambian, calm
and collected like it was any normal day.

* * *

“Help!” John screamed. Each of his limbs was cuffed to a separate post of a dorm
room bed. His black Jansport bag was beside the bed, and there was a German shepherd
sleeping by the door.

“Help!” he yelled. The dog lifted his head and gazed impassively at him. He could
swear the dog was thinking about what to do. Dumb dog. What did a dog know? He wouldn’t
know. He’d always wanted a dog. He wondered what the dog’s name was.

These thoughts vanished as light flooded the room. The dog licked the outstretched
hand of the man entering the room. Gray eyes. John didn’t trust him already.

The man ran a hand through his greasy brown hair. It didn’t look like it had been
washed in days. Poor hygiene. John really didn’t like the looks of this guy. The
grease ball strolled to the desk, wrapped his forearm around the back of the chair,
and slid it toward the bed. Spinning the chair to face John, the man sat down, like
a parent reading a bedtime story, and wiped the sleep from his eyes.