Fury Rising (9 page)

The whole journey went off without a single problem. The best luck either of them could remember having in ages.

Luck. Not a good thing to rely on. Such luxuries were things of the past. You were lucky if you got concert tickets before they sold out. Or if you got an A on a test you didn’t study for.

“Wait,” she said as Michael opened the driver side door.

Michael sighed, not even giving her a chance to say anything else. “We’ll go check out the house. Just to make sure.”

That’s how well he knew her. He’d been waiting for it all along, knowing that Clementine wouldn’t be able to relax. Even if he thought the idea was completely pointless, he’d still go along for the ride. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. That’s why she loved him.

“Thanks,” she said. “For not thinking I’m overreacting or being overly sensitive anxiety girl.”

“You are a lot of things,” Michael said. “But never that. Besides, you’re right. We don’t want to screw up. If something is going to go wrong, best to find out now instead of later.”

The house was a few blocks away, across the street from an elementary school. A tiny little place, downright miniature compared to some of the mansions they explored in West Vancouver. The Baggers hadn’t picked the house for its cozy appeal. No, they chose it because it didn’t stand out. Leon probably figured that none of them would ever guess to search there.

And he was right. They wouldn’t have found the place on their own. But Leon had underestimated them, especially Aries and her special ability to coax information out of Baggers chained in basements.

No, wait, that wasn’t right. Leon hadn’t underestimated Aries at all. He knew the risks she imposed from the very beginning. Why else would he have every single Bagger out looking for her? No, Leon knew what kind of damage she could do. He understood her strange ability that blocked out the whispering voices and dulled the black veined eyes.

But Leon counted on Aries not fully understanding her powers. He hoped to capture her before she figured things out. He was out of luck on that one.

There it was again. Luck.

If the world hadn’t ended, Clementine might have considered rushing out to buy a lottery ticket.

They locked the van and headed down the street.

“Let’s hit up that store on the corner,” Michael said. “Weren’t there still a few energy drinks in the back? I could use a boost.”

“Uck,” she said. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

“Aren’t you the one who bragged about living off of Red Bull for a few weeks before I met you?”

“Not by choice. More like necessity.”

“Find me a coffee shop that still has electricity and I’ll make you the world’s greatest latte. We’ll need a cow too. That might be a bit harder.”

They checked the street before rounding the corner. They were getting closer to the house and the grocery store wasn’t always deserted. The shops hadn’t been looted as badly in the suburbs and the shelves still had a few items. Sometimes the Baggers would pop in there to pick up a few things. There weren’t many of them staying at the tiny house, but they still had to eat. Michael and Clementine were always careful to only take one or two things, just in case someone noticed.

As they approached the store, it was impossible not to immediately spot the damage.

“That’s not good,” Michael said.

The store had been completely pulverized.

Glass spread out across the sidewalk. The door, completely torn from its hinges, now rested on top of an abandoned truck. Empty wrappers and pieces of broken shelving littered the ground. The cash register lay in the middle of the street, looking like someone had taken a crowbar to it. Till buttons had snapped off and scattered like tiny broken teeth. A pile of scratched lottery tickets were piled up next to several empty bags of potato chips. Whoever had done this, took their sweet time.

They approached carefully, hyperaware every time their shoes crunched down on the glass, trying not to make any noise. The amount of destruction and debris made it impossible.

Clementine wanted to run. Every fiber in her body suggested she do so and fast. But another part in her brain reminded her that whoever did this, obviously still wasn’t around. If they’d sat down on the ground and gone through all those scratch cards, they obviously didn’t fear the Baggers. They wouldn’t sneak back into the store and hide if they heard someone approaching. No, they would have tackled Clementine and Michael right away, gone straight for their throats and asked questions later.

Regardless, she had no desire to go inside. No point in it anyway, the big gaping hole from where the wall and windows used to be, told them everything they needed to know.

Whatever items of value used to be inside, were gone. Every single last one. Even if they worked their way through all that mess, it was unlikely that the storeroom would still have energy drinks.

“Who did this?” Clementine whispered.

“Bored hipster Baggers?”

“Not funny.”

Michael squeezed her hand. “Looters. I guess the suburbs are more hard up. Bunch of stupid kids. Got tired of hiding all day and decided to go have a bit of fun.”

“But it’s dangerous.”

“Not for a group of them. They probably know this area better than us. Not a lot of Baggers here. At least not ones they can’t handle. For all we know they came looking for a fight.”

She forced her eyes away from all that damage to look further down the street. A trail of garbage and more destruction led in one direction. She could see several homes had fallen victim to the vandals. More broken windows. Furniture tossed into the overgrown yards. A motorhome flipped over on its side.

A very creepy trail of breadcrumbs and it was heading off in a bad direction.

“The house!”

“You don’t think—” Michael didn’t even bother to finish the sentence. Clementine broke into a run with him right at her heels.

A Bagger lay face down in the yard, blood pooling across pathway. Barely recognizable as human, more like a pulpy mess of blood and skin. Clementine could only tell it was female because of the long flowered skirt and flat dress shoes. A few feet away, another body had been tossed in the bushes, arms and legs splayed unceremoniously in an almost upright position.

Her first thought was that no human could have done that, especially bored teenagers with time on their hands. This went beyond self-defense. It even went beyond murder. Whoever did it, continued to tear apart their victims, long after they were dead. And that made no sense. Baggers didn’t kill their own kind. Right?

“Who did this?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Michael said. “People, maybe? Some sort of anti-Bagger group out for blood.”

“People aren’t this savage. It’s the sort of thing…” she paused. “The sort of thing you’d expect Baggers to do. Not us.”

Michael stepped around the dead Bagger on the grass. “Come on,” he said as he held out his hand. “Let’s go check it out.”

“You want to go inside?”

“No.” Michael turned back to the house. “That’s the last thing I want to do. But the children might still be in there. We have to look.”

Oh god, the children. She’d completely forgotten about them.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Had they witnessed it? Had whatever done this forced them to watch the entire thing? Or had they blissfully been slaughtered first? Clementine didn’t want to think about it. Could she go inside, knowing that it was likely they’d find the bodies of five small children?

“I don’t think I can do it,” she said.

“I’ll go,” Michael said.

She watched him go up the stairs to the porch and disappear into the house. Clementine wanted to scream out his name, tell him not to go, that it wasn’t worth it. But she couldn’t trust herself to speak. Tears threatened her eyes and she blinked several times to force them back.

Death was nothing new. She’d seen it in many shapes and sizes. She’d seen people gutted and hanging from trees. Bodies rotting in the street. She’d even killed a few Baggers herself. But the thought of dead children, that was simply too much. She’d finally found the one thing that could destroy her.

Her kryptonite.

Five children. When the Baggers removed all the young prisoners from the Plaza of Nations, they’d split them up into miniature daycares all over the lower mainland. No one knew why. Maybe they believed the children could be easier influenced without human corruption. Perhaps the Baggers wanted to see if they could raise them to become Bagger wannabes. A Bagger Youth Brigade. Impressionable minds to warp at will.

Clementine didn’t know how many daycares there were in total. Five or six perhaps.  They hadn’t actually made any plans to go and raid any other daycares beyond this one. That was a rescue mission for another day.

No, this house had been the only one of interest. 

Casey had been living there.

After a few minutes, she thought she would go crazy from waiting. No noise came from inside the house. What if the killers were still inside and Michael willingly walked into an ambush? She looked up and down the street again. Nothing. A few parked cars. Trees. Empty houses, or were they? The longer she waited, the more jumpy she became.

Dear Heath. It’s like the Halloween Corn Maze all over again. Remember that? Henry Tills and a bunch of adults running around in costumes? I used to get so nervous having to go in there as a child. Even with you beside me, I used to think all kinds of stupid thoughts. Knowing that someone is going to jump out at you, but not knowing when. This is my life now. I’m forever stuck in that corn maze. Only the adults are real monsters. I guess that’s not too far off considering Henry turned out to be one of them.

That’s it. She had to go in there. She couldn’t wait anymore.

And Michael appeared at the door. Alone.

“Did you…”

She wanted to ask him if he found the children, but she didn’t want the answer. She couldn’t tell by the expression on his face either. Michael normally wasn’t good at hiding his emotions, but somehow, between going in and out of the house, his expressions turned to stone.

“Empty,” he said. “House is clear. No kids.”

Relief spread through her, but only for a moment. If the children weren’t inside, that meant whoever did this, took them.

“Did you see anything?” She glanced back at the house.

“Like what? Clues? A map with an X on it pointing to where the kidnappers intended to go?”

“Don’t be a jerk.”

Michael sighed. “Sorry,” he said. “There’s food on the table. Whoever did this; they came in while everyone was eating. Dinner from the looks of it, unless they’re feeding them pork and beans for breakfast. The whole place is cleaned out. Just like the shop. All the food is gone. Weapons too. I checked.”

“So what do we do now?”

That was the big question. How could they go back without Casey? The entire plan revolved around getting that little girl. If Mason found out, well, she didn’t want to think about how he might react. He’d be crushed. Furious. He’d blame them for everything. And he’d be right. Because if Casey died now, her blood would be forever on Clementine’s hands.

Michael reached out and touched her arm, bringing her in close and putting his arms around her. She nearly shoved him back. The last thing she wanted was comfort. She didn’t deserve it. But when Michael hugged her, it felt forced. His body felt too forced. Too rigid. He lay his head on her shoulder.

“There’s someone in that SUV,” he whispered. “Don’t look. The grey one. Honda. Two houses down.”

She pulled back. It took her all her strength not to spin around and do exactly what Michael told her not to do.

“I said don’t look!”

She couldn’t help herself.

The car stood parked in the street. Sure enough, she could see someone moving in the back seat. With the tinted windows, she couldn’t get a good enough look. A second figure grabbed the first and tried to pull them back. A small hand slapped against the glass. The sound of a muffled girl’s voice screamed.

Michael didn’t wait. He ran straight for the SUV without saying a word. Clementine raced behind him. They reached the vehicle in seconds and Michael yanked on the handle. When it didn’t open, he raised his baseball bat to break the glass.

“Stop. Don’t.”

The voice came from inside. Michael paused and the door swung open.

Inside, several tiny faces looked up at them in uncertain fear. But the one in the middle broke free from the others and toppled out of the car.

“Clemmy!”

Casey. She dropped to her knees as the little girl threw herself into Clementine’s arms.

“I knew it was you. I knew it. But Janey wouldn’t let me go. She made me stay. But I knew you. I remember you from before.” Casey spun around and glared at the girl behind her still cowering in the SUV. Janey couldn’t have been older than ten herself. She’d pushed the other kids behind her and stood her ground, a small kitchen knife sticking out of her trembling hand.

“It’s okay,” Clementine said. “We’re cool.”

“They knows Mason,” Casey said to the group of frightened faces. “They’re his friends.” She turned back to Clementine and hugged her again. “Where’s Mason? Why isn’t he here too?”

“He’s not coming,” Michael said. “Just us.”

Casey’s face fell. Clementine mentally reminded herself to smack Michael later once her hands were free.

“What Michael means to say is that we have to take you back home with us,” she said carefully, aware that Janey still hadn’t lowered her kitchen knife. “Mason will join us later.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” Janey finally spoke. For a child, she sure had guts. At her age, Clementine had nearly burst into tears at the very thought of walking through the aforementioned corn maze. Hell, she’d slept with a night-light until she was twelve, not that she’d ever admit that out loud.

“Not Baggers,” Michael said, pointing to his eyes. “Take a good look if you want. Just don’t try and stick me with that thing.”

The girl raised her knife a little higher. “Not all of them have the black lines. Some of them can hide it.”