The Immortal Rules (23 page)

“Zeke…” I wanted to tell him that was screwed up, that Jebbadiah Crosse was a cold, unreasonable, heartless bastard, but I couldn’t. Because, in some sad, twisted way, I agreed with him. Growing up in the Fringe, you came to accept hard truths. Nothing was fair. The world was cold, unforgiving, and people died. It was just the way things were. I didn’t like it, but the old man’s reasoning wasn’t unjustified.

Though I still thought he was a complete bastard.

“Anyway…” Zeke shrugged, giving me a small, embarrassed grin. “You’re welcome. And I’m glad you came back. It was a good thing, too—you got us off the road in time. Thank
you
for that.”

“Sure.” I paused, chewing my lip. Now seemed as good a time as any, but I wondered how best to bring it up. I opted for my usual dive right in approach. “Zeke…who’s Jackal?”

He stumbled, then looked at me sharply, blue eyes narrowing. I knew I had something and hurried on. “The men said Jackal was looking for someone. It’s you, isn’t it? Or the group.” I nodded to the people walking ahead of us. “Who is he, and what does he want from you?”

Zeke took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Dropping even farther back, he gave the group a wary look, his eyes lingering on Jebbadiah up front. “None of them can know about this,” he murmured as I fell back to join him. “They don’t know who Jackal is, and it’s better that they remain oblivious. I’m the only one, besides Jeb, who knows anything about him, so you can’t mention his name to anyone, okay?” He closed his eyes. “And please don’t tell Jeb that I told you.”

I nodded. “Why the big secret?” I asked, frowning. “Who is this Jackal person, anyway?”

“He’s a vampire,” Zeke replied, and my stomach clenched. “A very powerful vampire. He leads a group of raiders all across the country, looking for us. The others think we just run into random raider gangs that want to hurt us. They’re terrified enough without knowing what he is. But Jackal is their king, and he’s been on our trail for a couple years now.”

“Why?”

“He hates Jeb,” Zeke explained, shrugging. “Jeb nearly killed him once, and he’s never forgotten it. So, he hunts him for revenge, but he’ll kill us all if he finds us.”

That didn’t make much sense. “So, you’re saying this vampire king is sending his raider army on a wild-goose chase all over the country, looking for one person who could be anywhere, all because he’s holding a grudge?”

Zeke looked away. I narrowed my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I can’t say.” Zeke looked back, eyes pleading. “I promised Jeb that I wouldn’t tell anyone. I won’t break that promise, no matter what you say. I’m sorry.”

I believed him, which was strange. I’d never met a person who couldn’t be bought, cajoled or bribed, but Zeke seemed the type that, once he promised something, would take his secrets to the grave. Still, it was frustrating, being left in the dark. Especially if the dark had a powerful vampire king lurking close by.

I cast about for another topic, another way to extract his carefully guarded secrets, but something else he’d said caught my attention. “Wait a minute,” I muttered, frowning at him. “You’ve been wandering around, looking for Eden, for a couple
years?
”

“I think…” Zeke paused a moment, brow furrowed. “I think this summer will be our third year. Or is it our fourth?” He raised one lean shoulder. “It’s hard to keep track, anymore.”

“And you still think Eden is out there?”

“It has to be,” Zeke said in a fervent voice. “If it’s not, all the lives we lost, the people who put their trust in us, it’ll all be for nothing.” His face clouded with pain, before he shook it off, his eyes narrowed in determination. “Every year, we get closer,” he said. “Every site we come to and it’s not there, that’s just one more step closer to finding it. Jackal and his gang, they’re out there, looking for us. But they won’t find us. We’ve come too far to be stopped now. We have to keep everyone’s faith alive. If they knew a vampire was hunting us, they’d lose hope. And sometimes, hope is the only thing that gets us through the day.”

He sounded very tired, and I could suddenly see the terrible burden he carried, the weight of responsibility far beyond his years. I remembered the way his eyes had gone dark when I asked why the group traveled at night, the look on his face as he recalled something terrible. Death had marked him, the lives lost weighed on him; I could tell he remembered each and every one.

“What happened?” I asked. “You said you travel at night for a reason. Why is that?”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he seemed a different person; the bleakness on his face transformed him into someone much, much older. “In the beginning,” he said, his eyes dark and far away, “I was the only orphan in the group. There were a lot more of us back then, and we were all so sure we would find Eden before winter set in. Jeb was certain it was along the west coast. When we started out, no one thought that we could be wandering for more than a year.” He shook his head, flinging bangs from his eyes. “At first, we traveled during the day, when the monsters were sleeping. At night, we waited a couple hours after the sun went down before making camp, to make sure there were no rabids in the area. We thought that the rabids came out right at sundown, and if we waited an hour or two, we would be safe.” His voice faltered, and he shook his head. “We were wrong. Rabids…rabids rise when
they
want to.”

Zeke paused, took a quiet breath. “One night,” he continued in a low voice, “we made camp as usual, about an hour after sunset. It was at the top of a grassy hill, no trees, no bushes, no places for the rabids to hide or sneak up on us. We posted sentries around the perimeter, per normal, and went to sleep.

“I woke up to screaming,” Zeke muttered, gazing at something in the distance, his voice dark and grim. “They came right out of the ground, from the earth under our tents. No warning, nothing. They were just suddenly
there.
We didn’t stand a chance.”

I shivered in sympathy. I could see the rabids coming out of the ground, right in the middle of the camp of helpless sleepers. “I’m sorry,” I offered, knowing how weak that sounded.

“More than half the group was lost,” Zeke went on, as if he hadn’t heard. “We would’ve all died if Jeb hadn’t been there. I froze—I couldn’t move, not even to help the others. Through all that chaos, he managed to get the rest of us together so we could escape. But we left so many behind. Dorothy’s husband, Caleb and Ruth’s parents.” He stopped, his face pinched and tight. “I swore I wouldn’t lose anyone else like that,” he muttered. “Ever again.”

“You were a kid.” We had drifted closer, somehow, our shoulders barely touching as we walked side by side. “Jeb couldn’t have expected you to face them all on your own.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced and kept walking with his head down, watching his feet. “But that’s why we can’t stop. Even if there’s a vampire out there who wants us dead. Even…if there is no Eden.” He shuddered. “We have to keep going. Everyone is counting on us to lead them there, and I won’t take that away from them. All we have left is our faith.” His voice dropped even lower as he looked toward the horizon. “And sometimes, I wonder if that will be enough.”

“Zeke!”

Ruth came skipping up to us then, smiling brightly, a tin cup clutched in one hand. “Here,” she said, wedging herself between me and Zeke, holding the cup out to him. “I saved a little coffee for you. It’s not much, but at least it’s warm.”

“Thanks.” Zeke gave her a tired smile as he took the cup, and she beamed, ignoring me. I looked at her back, at the pale expanse of her neck, and fantasized about sinking my teeth into her smooth white skin.

“By the way,” she continued, turning to me with wide, innocent eyes, “why is there a big tear in the floor of your tent? It looks like you purposefully cut it with a knife. What are you doing in there, slaughtering animals?”

Zeke looked at me, raising a puzzled eyebrow. Alarm flickered, but I forced myself to be calm. “There…must’ve been a hole already,” I said, thinking quickly. “I have nightmares sometimes—it could’ve torn while I was thrashing around.”

Zeke nodded and sipped his coffee, but Ruth narrowed her gaze, lips pursed in suspicion. She didn’t believe me. A growl rose to my throat, and I swallowed it, before going on the offensive to distract her.

“Besides, why are you snooping around my stuff?” I returned, glaring at her. “Looking for something in particular? I don’t have anything you can steal.”

Ruth’s mouth dropped open, her delicate face contorting in outrage.

“Steal? How dare you! I don’t steal!”

“That’s good,” I went on, smirking at her. “Because, sometimes I kill things in my sleep. Particularly if they come poking around my tent unannounced in the middle of the day. Comes with living in a vampire city—stab first, ask questions later.”

She paled and shrank back against Zeke, who gave me a look of mild concern, unsure how to deal with two bickering females.

“Freak,” Ruth muttered at last and turned her back on me in blatant dismissal. “Regardless, Zeke, I wanted to ask you about camp rations. We’re awfully low—what do you want me to do tonight and tomorrow?”

He gave me an apologetic look. I rolled my eyes and walked away, leaving them to talk, as it was obvious Ruth wouldn’t let me get another word in with Zeke. Not that she could’ve stopped me; I had no issues staying where I was, just to spite her. But watching her with Zeke, hearing her heart beat faster just from being close, her pulse fluttering wildly in her neck, I felt, for the first time since that lonely night on the road, the first stirrings of Hunger.

And I knew I would have to choose one of them, very soon.

Chapter 13

“There’s something strange about her,” Ruth murmured.

I opened my eyes as Ruth’s low, sulky voice drifted to me through the tent fabric. According to my internal clock, the sun had just gone down, though the sky overhead was still light. I could hear the camp moving around outside, getting ready to head out, but I stayed there for a moment, picking out bits of conversation, listening to voices drift through the walls.

“Don’t you think it’s odd,” Ruth went on, her voice earnest, “that she showed up in the middle of the night and just happened to stumble upon Zeke and Caleb? What do we know about her? Why was
she
wandering around at night—Zeke never said anything about that. How was she able to survive all that time by herself?”

I felt a prickle of apprehension. The stupid girl was still at it. A growl rose to my throat, and I had to stop myself from fantasizing about dragging her off into the woods.

“I think she’s hiding something,” Ruth went on. “Worse, I think she’s dangerous. If she came from a vampire city, she could be anything. She could be a thief, or a murderer. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s killed someone before.”

I rolled upright and exited the tent, stepping out into the open. At the fire pit, Ruth fell silent, but I could see her glaring at me over the top of Teresa’s head. The old woman looked unconcerned, ladling soup into bowls, but Matthew and Bethany turned to watch me over their shoulders, their eyes wide.

Stifling my anger, I spotted Zeke and Darren standing a few yards away, talking to Teresa’s husband, Silas. The old man was pointing a withered hand to the sky, and the boys were nodding solemnly as if it all made sense. Curious, I headed in that direction, trying to ignore the whispers behind me.

“You sure about that, old man?” Darren said as I came up. Zeke smiled at me and nodded, and my gut prickled. Silas snorted through his white beard and glared at Darren.

“My elbow ain’t never wrong,” he announced, bushy eyebrows bristling. “It only aches like this when there’s a storm coming. Considering it feels like it’s about to fall off, I’d say there’s a big one on the horizon.”

The horizon was clear. The first stars glimmered over the trees, and the sky was turning a deep navy blue. I could see why Darren was skeptical, but Zeke studied the sky as if he could see the storm approaching.

“Good,” he murmured, as a sudden gust of wind tossed his hair. “It’s been a few days since we crossed that stream. Water is running low—this will come at a good time.”

“Are we going to stop?” I asked. Darren snorted.

“No,” Zeke replied, ignoring his friend. “Unless it becomes truly dangerous, Jeb will want to press on through the storm. Rabids like to hunt during bad weather. You can’t hear them coming until they’re right up on you. It’s not safe to stay put during storms.”

I remembered another storm, watching the rabids close in on all sides through the rain, and shuddered.

“If the rain comes at all,” Darren put in, making Silas frown. “But I suppose death by lightning is better than death by rabids. At least I won’t see it coming.”

“Well, if anything, you can finally get a shower,” Zeke retorted. “No wonder we can’t shoot anything—they can smell your stink coming a mile away.”

Darren casually flipped him the finger. Zeke only laughed.

* * *

T
RUE
TO
S
ILAS
’
S
PREDICTION
, dark clouds soon billowed on the horizon, blocking out the moon and stars, and the wind picked up rapidly. Lightning flickered, eerie white strands snaking through the clouds, and thunder boomed an answer.

It started to rain, torrential sheets that whipped at faces and exposed skin, drenching everything. The humans pressed forward at a crawl, heads bowed and shoulders hunched against the wind. I hung back, watching for stragglers, not wanting anyone to see that the rain didn’t bother me, the cold didn’t make my skin prickle with gooseflesh, and the wind didn’t make me shiver. The ground quickly became a swamp, and I watched as Zeke pulled Caleb and Bethany through the worst parts of the mud, sometimes hefting them onto his back when it got too deep. The kids were shivering, and Bethany started to cry when she fell into a puddle that nearly swallowed her whole, but Jeb didn’t even slow down.

The rain continued. A few hours before dawn, a new sound began to penetrate the constant hiss of falling water. A low roar, faint at first, but growing louder and stronger, until the ground sloped away, and we stood at the banks of a dark, rushing river.

Jebbadiah stood at the edge, arms crossed, lips pressed tight as he glared at the river in annoyance. Turning, he motioned to Zeke, and I edged forward, listening to their voices over the roar of the water.

“Get the rope,” Jeb ordered, gesturing to Zeke’s pack.

“Sir?”

Jeb frowned and turned away, observing the river again. “Get everyone ready to move. We’re crossing now.”

I edged closer. Zeke hesitated, gazing at the water in concern. “You don’t think we should stop for the night?” he asked. “Wait for the water to go down a little? The current is probably too strong for the kids.”

“Then have someone help them.” Jeb’s voice was ruthlessly calm. “We need to be on the other side, tonight.”

“Sir—”

“Ezekiel,” Jeb interrupted, turning to stare at him. “Do not make me repeat myself.” Zeke held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.

“Make sure everyone is ready soon,” Jebbadiah said in a perfectly civil voice that made me want to slug him in the jaw. “Once we’re on the other side of the river, we can rest. But I want us safely across before we relax.”

Zeke nodded reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”

He backed away, shrugging off his pack, as Jeb turned and stared out over the water again. His gaze lingered on something I couldn’t see, something down by the water’s edge, and his thin mouth tightened.

I waited until he had walked back toward the group, where Zeke and Darren were unraveling coils of rope, before I hurried to the riverbank and looked down.

The water rushed by at breakneck speed, dark and angry. I wondered what Jeb was thinking; was he really that stubborn and heartless to push on through that? Especially when there were kids in the group?

Lightning flickered, and the glare reflected the sudden gleam of dead white eyes.

Jerking around, I gazed downstream, at a boulder lying near the water’s edge. Only I could see it wasn’t a rock now, but one of those massive horned creatures that roamed the plains in huge herds. This one, bloated and obviously dead, was lying on its side facing me, but its lips were pulled back in an eerie snarl, and its huge white eyes bulged out of their sockets. The wind shifted, and I caught the unmistakable stink of decay and
wrongness
over the water.

My gut twisted, and I hurried over to help Darren and Zeke, unknotting ropes.
So, Jeb wasn’t being an evil bastard, after all. Good to know.
Though I wondered why he didn’t at least tell Zeke there could be rabids in the area. That might’ve been important for the second-in-command to know. Maybe he didn’t want word to spread and panic the rest of the group. Or maybe the prickly human just didn’t feel like his orders needed to be explained. But at least his reasoning to get to the other side of the river made sense now.

Rabids are afraid of deep or fast-moving water,
Kanin had told me in the hospital.
No one knows why—it’s not like they could drown. Maybe they don’t understand why the ground won’t hold them up any longer. Or maybe they fear something that is more powerful than they are. But ever since they were created, rabids will not approach deep water. Remember this, for it might save your life one day.

I watched Zeke, carrying the rope, stride through the mud to a thick tree near the riverbank, and hurried over.

“How are we getting across?” I asked Zeke, who was busy winding one end of the rope around the trunk before knotting it tight. He gave me a rueful smile and held up the rest of the coil.

“We hang on for dear life.”

“How?” I asked, glancing at the trunk. “The rope is on this side of the river. It won’t help us unless it crosses to the other bank.”

“Exactly.” Zeke sighed and started tying the other end around his waist. I stared at him, alarmed, and he grimaced. “At least I’m already wet this time.”

I looked at the foaming, rushing water and shook my head. “Isn’t that a little…dangerous?”

“Exactly.” Zeke looked up, meeting my eyes. “Jake can’t swim, and I won’t ask Darren to take the risk. Or anyone, for that matter. It has to be me.”

Before I could answer, he stripped off his boots and jacket, placing them neatly at the top of the rise. Then, with everyone watching, he slipped down the bank, sliding a bit in the mud, and stepped to the edge of the river. A brief pause as he gazed up and down the bank, surveying the current, then plunged into the foaming waters.

The undertow caught him immediately, but he struck out for the far shore, swimming doggedly into the current. I watched his pale form, bobbing along the surface, sometimes getting pulled down. Each time he vanished I bit my cheek and clenched my fists until his head broke the surface once more. He was quite the powerful swimmer, but it was still several tense, breathless moments before he emerged, dripping and panting, on the other side. As the rest of the group cheered, Zeke stumbled over to a tree, tied the rope around the trunk, and then sat down heavily in the mud, apparently exhausted.

He did, however, push himself to his feet as the rest of the group started over, standing at the water’s edge to help those who made it across. I hung back, watching, as Ruth crossed first, probably anxious to get over to where Zeke was. After her, Silas and Teresa made their slow, painstaking way across, inching forward, their wrinkled fingers gripping the rope for all they were worth.

Then Darren turned to me.

“Your turn, Allison,” he said, holding out a hand. I looked over to where the three kids, Caleb, Bethany and Matthew, stood on the bank, huddled together in the rain.

“What about them?”

“Zeke will be back over to help,” Darren replied. “He’ll take either Bethany or Caleb across, I’ll grab the other one, and Jake will help Matthew. Don’t worry, it’s not like this is our first crossing. I’ll be right behind you.” He smiled again and motioned me forward. “Of course, if you need help, I’ll be happy to piggyback you to the other side.”

“No, thanks.” I ignored his hand and made my way down to the rope. “I think I can handle it myself.”

The water shocked me. Not the temperature—the freezing cold didn’t bother me, of course—but the strength of the undertow as it tried sucking me down was impressive. If I’d still been human, one who didn’t swim very well, I might add, I might’ve been concerned.

The water wasn’t very deep, only coming up to my chest, but the current fought me every step of the way. Somewhere behind me, Darren shouted to keep going, his voice nearly lost in the roar of the river. I looked back. Shy little Bethany clung to his back with her arms around his neck, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

As I turned to look at them, something big came hurtling toward us over the water—a broken tree trunk, bouncing on the waves. I shouted to Darren, but the tree was moving fast, and my warning came too late. The trunk slammed into him, tearing him away from the rope, and he vanished into the waves. Bethany screamed once before she was pulled under and lost from view.

I didn’t think. I just acted. Releasing the line, I dove into the water. The current sucked at me, dragging me along like a rag doll. It resisted my attempts to thrash my way to the surface, tumbling me along the bottom, until it was hard knowing which way was up. For a few moments, I panicked…until I realized the river couldn’t hurt me. I didn’t breathe; I was in no danger of drowning.

Once I stopped fighting the current, it was much easier. The river rushed me along, and I scanned the top of the roiling waves, searching for Bethany and Darren. I caught a split-second glimpse of a blue dress and lunged in that direction.

It was several long minutes before I could grab the limp, bobbing girl and haul her to me, struggling to keep her pale little face above water. Planting my feet on the river bottom, feeling the current rip at my legs as I braced myself, I struck out for shore.

Staggering up the bank, I lay Bethany on her back and sank down beside her, anxiously studying her face for signs of life. The girl looked wholly drowned; eyes closed, mouth slightly open, blond hair tangled and smeared across her face. She didn’t seem to be breathing. I put an ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat, bracing myself to hear only a hollow emptiness.

It was there. Faint, but still beating. Still alive.

I sat up, biting my lip as I stared at the motionless girl. I had an inkling of what I was supposed to do; back in the Fringe, I’d watched as a young boy was dragged out of a flooded storm drain. His rescuer had tried to resuscitate him, breathing in his mouth and pumping his chest, while the crowd looked on. Sadly, the boy failed to revive, and his mother had taken home a limp body. I couldn’t help but wonder if Bethany would share the same fate.

Well, she certainly will unless you do something, Allison.