Music Box (The Dollhouse Books, #4) (8 page)

I slam a hand against the door, as though I’ve shut it, and shrug at the women. “Thought I’d start at the other end.” I open the next locker. “Shit, someone left a damned tuna sandwich in this one.” I kick the door shut, then look over at the women in surprise. “Is there a problem?”

They glance at each other, the blonde one named Nance putting her hands on her hips. “Damn straight there’s a problem.
You
.”

I raise my eyebrows in what I hope looks like annoyed confusion. “Rory told me to come in and help. You want me to go look someplace else?”

They walk toward me, guns still in hand.

“We don’t know you,” says Gina. “Who the hell sent you?”

Don’t make up a name. Be vague. Be stupid. But never, ever be on the defensive.
“Why? Would it change your day if you knew? I don’t have a clue. They just said to go tail Rory—said he’s too damned slow. I don’t want to be stuffing around in here any more than you do.”

Gina makes a huffing sound and her eyes narrow. “Why aren’t you in gear?”

I shrug again. “Said they’d suit me up later. I came in from the port in New York earlier. They want to speed the operation up, so they’re sending more of us up here—you know, so they can ship everyone out.”

“So you know what’s going on here?” There’s a cold question in her eyes.

You know what these people are like. Rangers are all the same. They’re either psychopaths who get a kick out of killing fellow humans or they’re normal people who try to justify to themselves the evil stuff that they do.
“Yeah,” I answer. “It’s a new world and only the tough are gonna survive. And I’m a survivor.”

A smile curves Gina’s mouth. “Too right. Some of us have to survive—else we all die. We’re preserving the human race.”

“That’s the way I see it, too.” I pretend to look around. “Rory said you need to hurry it up.”

Annoyance creases her face. “For chrissakes! While he’s relaxing out there, he’s handing out orders? Bet he wants lunch. All he thinks about is his gut.”

I force a smile. “Yeah, he was practically rubbing his stomach—like a genie was going to pop out of it or something.”

Gina bursts out in a short rain of laughter. “I like you.” She peers at me. “Your accent’s weird. Where you from?”

“Australia. My olds moved here two years ago.”

She toys with the pistol. “Hey I got an idea. I saw some kind of sick room back there—had a bed.” Nodding, she pulls her bottom lip through her teeth. “Could be important—I think you and us should check it out.”

I grin back at her—buying myself a minute while I think. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So let’s check it out later today,” I say. “Right now, we better get the guys down there off our backs, and wrap things up here.”

“They’re not going to miss us,” says Gina. “And I’m only talking ten minutes each. Unless you got more staying power than that.” She winks at Nance.

“I can’t,” I tell them. “Straight after this, the big guy told me to get back and clean the bathroom. Seems someone spewed their guts all over it.” I start opening and shutting locker doors, pretending to check them out. “Who’re we looking for, anyway?”

Gina strides up to me and slams the door shut that I’m trying to open. “Never mind that. They’ll keep. You come with us.”

“I said
later,
” I tell her.

Nance points a gun at me. “Gina says
now
.”

This isn’t going my way. And I have no weapon with me—nothing.
“I’m gonna get into a shitload of trouble. I’m new here.”

“Not as much trouble as a bullet in your head.” Nance smiles sweetly, but her eyes are hard as rocks.

Change tactics.
“Yeah, why not? But what about Rory? He’s not gonna wait down there forever.”

“Rory can sit on his fat ass and wait,” Gina exclaims. “S’not like he’s gonna puff his way up all these stairs.”

I laugh in reply, but they’re not buying it. They can tell I don’t want to go with them.

They lead me to the cafeteria. The room with the bed lies beside it.

“Maybe the food was so bad they needed the sick room right near it,” Nance jokes.

The room has a row of open lockers—the contents plundered. I guessed people must have stripped every kind of medical supplies they could find. The room is dark—there’s no window.

Gina pulls back the dust-covered sheets of the lone, single bed. A family of mice scamper away from the sudden exposure. I have no idea what the mice are eating in this desolate place—cardboard and wall plaster maybe. Gina shakes out the dust and mouse droppings.

Nance trains her gun on me while Gina strips to her underwear and waits for me on the bed, shivering with the sudden exposure to the cold.

I take off my coat and shirt.

Gina grins at the sight of my chest. “Nice.” Her gaze travels to the knife scars on my neck and under my ribs. “You’ve been bad—real bad—haven’t you?”

Gina’s no longer got her gun—it’s in her jean pocket on the floor. Now there’s just one of them with a gun. I glance back at the door. It has a thick bolt on the outside—probably used at one point in the factory’s history to keep the drug addict employees out when the attendant was away. A single light bulb hangs from a cord in the ruined ceiling. A cheap-looking desk holds abandoned files and scattered papers. The room is small, without much room to move.

“What about you?” I say to Nance.

“Nope,” she says. “One at a time.”

I widen my eyes. “It’s not kids you’re after, is it? Just saw one.”

Nance turns in a single, sharp movement. I jump on top of the desk then leap to the light cord, and swing out hard. My boots crash into Nance’s shoulder. She falls, her eyes like bulging blue marbles as she hits her head on the door frame. Gina yells out in anger. Rushing out the door, I slam it behind me and pull the bolt across—then leap to the side. Gunfire rains through the door.

I cry out, pretending one of their bullets got me. Another frenzied round of gunfire follows. I hope they’ve exhausted enough of their bullets now not to be able to shoot out the lock.

––––––––

E
THAN

As I race back to the lockers, I see the end locker hanging open. Cursing, I search the factory floor.

A soft scraping sounds from the other side of a large conveyer belt. Two pairs of small shoes pull in as I run over. Peering over the top of the belt, I see them—two boys huddled together, the whites of their eyes large against brown skin.

“It’s okay,” I tell them, “they’re gone.”

“You shot them?” says the biggest.

“No. They tried to shoot
me
.”

“You’re bad, too.”

“I’m not one of them. But if we don’t head off, they’ll figure a way out of the room I locked them in, or someone else will come looking for them.”

The eldest boy’s eyes dart about. I know he’s preparing to run.

“Look, I knew exactly where you were before—did I rat you out?”

The youngest one shakes his head.

“Well then cut me some slack. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why would you help us?” the eldest demands.

“Because I hate them too.” My voice is harsh—I can’t keep the bitterness out of it. But I must have convinced them because they slide out of their hiding hole.

I exhale slowly. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have the barest clue what I’m going to do with these kids. “What are your names?”

“Sam and Tommy,” says the eldest, pointing to himself and his brother.

“Okay, Sam and Tommy, stay close to me.”

We make our way down the factory stairs. I stop to pick up a small metal pipe just near the exit.

Outside, Rory stands with his back to me—his shoulders slumped. Something forms in my mind—a hazy idea.

Indicating to the kids to stay behind and stay quiet, I steal up behind Rory and press the pipe into his back.

“You come with me,” I say close to his ear.

“Who’s that?” His voice is tight, as though he spoke without moving his teeth.

“You don’t need to know that. Just walk.”

His back feels spongy, even through the thick layers of clothing. I poke him harder, and he starts moving. “Over there. To the left and into the blue door.”

“What’s going to happen in there?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

I prod him in the direction I want him to go.

Inside the bakery, Jack and Deandra have their kids in hand, about to leave.

They stare at me like I’m a monster. Deandra shuffles the kids behind her.

“So,” says Jack, “You finally show us who you are.”

“Not yet I haven’t,” I tell Jack. Turning, I motion behind me. The boys run out, their eyes huge.

“What’s going on?” Deandra says sharply.

I twist the pipe into Rory’s back, raising my eyes to Jack and Deandra. “All I ask is a few minutes of your time. I want you to come back inside, and sit and listen.”

Jack’s mouth sets into a grim line. “Let the soldier go, Ethan. You’re not helping yourself.”

I look down at the two boys. “Do you want me to let the soldier go?”

They shake their heads.

“Why don’t you want me to let him go?” I ask them.

“He’s not a soldier.” The eldest boy speaks with a fierceness that defies his age.

“Kids,” I tell Sam and Tommy, “these people here are a family I traveled with from Canada. They’re good people, but they don’t understand what’s really happening here. So I want you to tell them. They shot your parents, because your parents knew too much, didn’t they?”

Sam nods silently. The little one starts crying.

“Where’re you kids from?” I ask Sam.

“Milwaukee,” he answers.

“And how did you get here?”

“Lots of people were hiding out at my school. But the trucks came and got us.”

“Why were people hiding out?”

Sam presses his full lips together, pointing at Rory. “To get away from the bad people.”

I don’t want to ask the kid any more, but I’m sure he knows more. A lot more.

Jack and Deandra stare at each other from across the room.

I order Rory to go sit on a chair. He seats himself heavily on the only chair in the room, surprise dropping into his eyes as he looks over his shoulder and sees me. “You’re a kid.”

“Maybe. But I’ve been around your type for the past eighteen months. I know you. I know all about you.” His gaze drops to my hands and he sees there’s no gun. “I dunno what’s goin’ on here, but I’m heading back to camp.” He rises clumsily to his feet.

I walk over and stand in front of the door. “So you can go and tell them there’s some more snake fodder up here? I don’t think so.”

He nervously neatens his collar and walks toward the door. “Don’t look like these people are on your side. That means I can go.”

I hear the click of a gun. Deandra has her gun pointed in his direction, but the look on her face is uncertain.

“Dee, what are you doing?” Jack shakes his head at her. “Put that away.”

She keeps the weapon raised. “No. Not yet. I don’t know what’s right or wrong here, but I want to hear more.”

“Dee...” Jack says under his breath. “We can’t do this.”

Her lips are white. “We’re not hurting anyone. I just want to hear what this person has to say.”

Jack hesitates for a moment, then gives a tight nod.

I relax slightly. “Did you hear that, Rory? Sit back down and tell us your story.”

He looks from me to Deandra, then plods back to the chair. “I dunno anythun’.”

“How long have you been with
them d
own there in the camp?” I ask him.

“’Bout six months or more.”

“I’m guessing you must have lived somewhere with a big supply of food to hold out that long. What was it—a farm?”

“Yeah. My family grows corn’n’soybeans—or they did. They had a larder big enough to keep us going.”

“Where are they now—your family?”

“Dead. All of ’em.” His expression crumbles. “I was the only one left on the farm.”

I keep the questions coming—rapid-fire. “Is that why you joined up with those people down there, Rory? Because you had nowhere else to go?”

He doesn’t answer. Frowning, Jack leans in slightly as he listens.

“Have you been to the camps in New York City, Rory?”

He nods dumbly.

I glance at Jack. “You might want to send the kids into another room right about now.”

Jack nods at his children. “Kids, you take these boys into that room over there. Just for a little while.”

“Aren’t we going down to the camp with our cousins, Daddy?” Mia stares up at him.

“Yeah, honey. Won’t be long,” he tells her.

Mia casts a confused look toward Rory then back to her father, but she herds the younger children into the other room and closes the door.

I move around to stand directly in front of Rory. “And what happens in New York, Rory?”

He doesn’t answer.

There’s no point in messing around trying to bleed the truth out of Rory. He’s been told to keep his mouth shut and he’s going to do his best to do just that. I decide to go for broke.

“It’s a full-time operation feeding the monsters, isn’t it, Rory? First you have to make sure the people don’t know they’re destined to be snake food. Then you’ve got the task of getting them all to the ocean. And when it all falls apart—when too many people find out what’s really happening—then you’ve got a mass panic and people start running everywhere. And it’s your job to rein them in. Isn’t that right?”

He stares hard at his boots.

“Just answer that,” I tell him.

“Dunno anything about what you said.” He breathes steadily, focusing downward.

“I’ve lived it.” I shake my head. “In Florida, it all fell apart long ago. Everyone there knows about the monsters—everyone that’s left, that is.”

Jack looks like he’s about to say something, but he changes his mind. Deandra stands frozen, her hand fixed on the gun.

“But you’ve seen what the shadows can do, haven’t you?” I continue. “They haunt you. They’re in your nightmares. And the military is all gone—the shadows took them all. You think you’ve got no choice, no other options.”

Rory starts trembling all over, his eyes glazing. I need something that will force a response, but I’ve already gone too far. I can tell he’s seen the shadows and what they can do, and his mind is in some kind of frozen panic.