Freedom

Chapter 23

It was awkward. Everybody else was hiding in the secure room at the end of the corridor, and I was standing knee-deep in bodies, spattered with blood. I didn't let anyone see the mark on my hand.

No one said anything to me. That was good; I needed a minute. The Biker and Sagaris came out to secure the hall. We'd probably drawn out all the infected, but who knew what else lurked in the building. The others found a room that would be easy to defend, and set up there. Once things calmed down, Velvet found me.

"Should I ask?"

"I wouldn't."

She sighed, but let it go at that, turning away. I reached out to stop her, but remembered that probably wouldn't go over well. "Wait," I said instead. She looked back, and I started to tell her what I had seen underground – but she stopped me.

"The Biker should hear this too."

I wasn't feeling very sociable, but I sat down at the lantern with the others, who were eating. I wasn't hungry, but they needed to know this. I watched Purple nibble at a calorie bar for a moment, then started talking. "I ended up in the culvert before the blowout, I had to go in the drain. There's a room down there with three bodies and a lot of blood. They hung the guys up and cut their heads off." It occurred to me I probably shouldn't say this in front of Purple, but it looked like she was in her own world. The sister was watching me intently. There was no mistake; I'd seen her before somewhere. I pulled up my mask and looked back at Velvet. "There was some kind of altar."

"Rocks?" That came from the Biker, and I looked at him in surprise.

"That's right."

"Did you see a statue?"

"No, but I wasn't looking."

He shook his head in disgust. "Who are these guys? You used to see stuff like this once in a while, but now you can't take a goddamn step without finding signs of them."

"They're Duty's problem for now," Velvet said. "But all the same, in the morning we should get down there and check it out."

I shook my head. "There's something else, something big. We don't go down."

"A giant?"

"Yeah, but not the kind you mean. I don't know what it was – but we don't want anything to do with it. This thing could go toe to toe with the Blood Demon we saw. We need to get away from here as soon as it's light."

"I'll buy that," Velvet said, nodding.

"Where are we going?" I asked her bluntly. She seemed slightly taken aback. Maybe there was something in my voice she hadn't expected. My hand throbbed. I wasn't myself.

"From here," Velvet said, still eying me curiously. "We cut through the lowlands and head for the channel."

I nodded. That was straightforward enough.

"We can do it in a day if we don't get held up," the Biker added. "There are drinkers down there, but we've got enough of a group that they won't give us trouble. Shouldn't be anything to worry about but the slog."

I'd had enough. I got up and left the room. It wasn't a very good idea – but nobody stopped me. I wouldn't have.

We had set up on the upper level, and I went out into the open air. They say it always feels good after the blowout, but I wasn't in the right state of mind to appreciate it. I took some deep breaths and tried to put my thoughts in order. I took off my glove and flexed my hand a couple of times. It seemed all right. If you're wondering why I lost my cool with the infected, I can tell you.

You probably know about how the infection was, in the great scheme of things, not a big deal. It didn't do what its creators wanted it to, but it did have its moments. I was there for one of those moments, and it didn't leave me with favorable feelings regarding the infection, the infected, or the people who had brought the whole mess about.

Now that everyone has easy access to the proper vaccinations, the infection is rapidly becoming a memory – but it still exists. Some say the retrovirus is evolving, and that the vaccine can't protect everyone – I don't know about any of that, I'm not a virologist. Anyway, a lot of infected people end up in the Zone. Nobody knows why. There are theories – like the Zone itself somehow nullifies the vaccine – but I don't know what to believe.

I don't know if it was the hand or my own memories that set me off in that corridor.

The spot hadn't grown visibly. It was inky black now. This couldn't be good.

I didn't feel like going inside, but I didn't want to just stand there, either. I headed down the exterior stairs, not really sure where I wanted to go. It wasn't the safest thing to be doing, but in my state of mind, rather than worrying about the Zone, the Zone should have been worrying about me.

I went down to the ground floor and shone my light in. I'd never gotten a look in there, but that didn't bother me. I turned and headed across the catwalk, but stopped when I heard a splash from below. I'd left my carbine in the building. I was too out of sorts to be bothered by that. With my hand on my Glock, I crept to the lip of the wall to look down into the culvert. There was no shortage of moonlight – in fact, it was uncannily bright – so I could see clearly.

There was a man in the water, sitting with his back to the wall. He was breathing heavily. On the far wall, some armor and an old rifle lay in a pile. He got to his feet and moved away from the wall. I could see he was pretty young, probably around my age. His t-shirt, soaked with sweat, read MORTON SALT in big, friendly letters.

He started to climb the ladder on the opposite side of the culvert. He hadn't noticed me yet. I thought he was going to get his gear, but apparently that wasn't the plan. He walked about ten paces back from the edge, then turned. He couldn't miss me now – but he wasn't paying attention. I watched him sprint forward and leap.

The culvert was far too wide to jump. He struck the wall below me with a painful sound, and slid down into the water, splashing onto his back. Was this what I had heard?

"Hey," I called down. "The ladder's right there." I pointed.

"Don't need it," the stalker in the Morton Salt shirt panted. He sounded American. Doggedly, he staggered to the opposite ladder and started climbing up.

"Are you trying to jump this?"

"Yeah."

There was no time to say anything else; he was sailing toward me. I winced as he struck the concrete and slid down, groaning. This time he sat down again, trying to catch his breath.

"Can I ask why?"

"Have to," he gasped, looking dazed.

"You see that drain over there?"

"What about it?"

"There's something pretty dangerous," I said. "You shouldn't be down there."

"He's not my problem." Looking determined, the stalker got up and tried again. This attempt didn't go any better.

"So – uh, you're pretty serious about this."

"Yeah." He was already climbing up for another try.

"Well, maybe I can help."

"Don't need help." He turned around to face the gap, slapped his cheeks and shook his head. "Move."

"You're not going to hit me," I assured him.

"Your funeral."

He jumped. I winced again. "Come on," I called down. "I can catch you and pull you up. Maybe."

"I said I got it, man."

"It's the only way it's going to happen, bro."

"Then there's no point, friend."

"Why not, pal?"

"Because if you don't do it yourself, it's no good, buddy."

"Then you're never going to make it, neighbor."

"Then that's on me – uh, dude. Can we stop?"

"Yeah."

He jumped. Ouch. I sat there and watched him two more times, then got to my feet. "Look – my friends and are camped out in this building, so try not to startle us when you get across, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"And it looks like we're headed for the channel. If you're going that way, you should join us. It's safer in a group."

"Hey, I appreciate that – but until I get across this," he paused, readying himself for another jump. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Suit yourself." I turned and headed across the catwalk, back to the stairs. As I climbed, I heard another thud from below.

"Ow," floated up on the wind. I shook my head and went back up to join the others.