Her words struck me as very odd. “You would do that?”
“Of course I would!”
The music picked up outside, and Allende started to sing, female voices providing a haunting backup chorus. I shuddered, for tonight his song sounded like a chant for the great god Moloch, like the start of a human sacrifice. He sang of punishing the humans, of blood for lifeless blood, an eye for a rotting eye.
His song told a story I didn’t want to hear.
“What are you waiting for?” Nora asked, and her question hung around me, heavy, suffocating—because I had no answer for it. Hagens had asked me the same thing, and I’d had no answer then. I’d waited and waited for somebody else to rescue me. I’d waited and waited to see how the tale would unfold, never lifting a hand to try and influence it. I’d taken everything at face value, and so eagerly.
At last I made my decision. “How?”
“Turn around. I’ll get your knots, you get mine.”
I did, and Nora wormed closer to me and got to work. After ten minutes or so I felt the rope go slack, shook off my fetters, and returned the favor. Nora went still, waiting until I’d loosened them just enough to press her fingers together and wriggle her slender wrists free. “Thank you,” she said, rubbing them, shaking the blood back into her arms.
“What do we do?” I asked fearfully as I untied the ropes at my feet.
“Tell me who we’re going out there to find.”
“Dog and Abuelo,” I decided. “But if you think the army might come again … I don’t know how to get everyone else out of here. Some of them think humans killed Mártira.” Shame crackled through me. I should have told someone, done something sooner. Now there was no time to figure out who was truly with Hagens and who had merely bought her lies.
“Fire,” Smoke said. At the sound of his wet voice, we both turned to look at him. He raised his head, and his eyes were more alert than I’d ever seen them. “Fire makes everyone run. Like little ants.”
“He’s right.” Nora was immediately game. “We could set the tents on fire, the stage. Everyone might scatter. At least Hagens and her lackeys would have to deal with it before setting their sights on the houses. We’d have time to get to one of them, to warn people.”
Rushing over to Smoke to undo his ropes, I said, “There are bonfires.”
Nora headed for the tent flap and peered out. “They parked Coalhouse’s carriage out there. Come on.”
* * *
After tucking Smoke into the carriage, Nora looked for the keys. She cursed. “They must have taken them. Do you know how to hot-wire a carriage?”
“No. Dog does.”
“Great. Wait here, okay, Smoke?” She shut the door. “Lead the way.”
Clutching my plants about my body, I tried to think. Dog and Abuelo were probably in the tent I’d shared with them before Hagens had turned me into her abused pet. Careful to keep to the shadows, I led Nora to the west, across the green grass of the field, both of us doing our best to keep our heads down and our eyes open at the same time. The camp had been set up in a horseshoe shape, with two rows of tents and carriages interspersed with fires. The stage was set up at the point farthest from us, the music going strong. Most of the zombies seemed to be gathered down there, but we picked our way behind the tents nonetheless, ducking under their supporting ropes, on alert for guards.
Finding the tent we needed, I told Nora to wait outside for a second. Inside, I miraculously found Dog and Abuelo sitting together before a kerosene stove—but also someone else. A girl named Ruby, seemingly asleep.
Quietly, I waved Nora in, before tiptoeing across the pallets. “We’re leaving,” I whispered to Abuelo. “Come on.”
“Leaving?” he said, before looking at Nora. Seeing her, it didn’t take him long to get on board. “Oh, leaving. Well, s’bout bloody time.”
Abuelo settled himself into his cart. Dog moved to push him, but I waved him out of the way and took over. We started to make our way stealthily back toward the entrance—but not stealthily enough.
“What’s going on?” Ruby sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She was a young woman, her gray-frosted skin formerly the same color as her brown hair.
We all froze. For a minute, we just stared at one another. It wasn’t until she stood, her eyes narrowing in Nora’s direction, that I blurted out, “Hagens killed Mártira and Claudia.”
“What are you talking about?” Ruby said incredulously. “What are you doing?”
Nora stepped forward. “This tent’s going to turn into an inferno in two minutes. Come with us, or run away.”
Ruby was still for a second longer, before answering with a shocked, “My brother. I have to find him.”
“Do it, and get out of here.” Nora pulled on my sleeve. “Come on.”
As we made our way out of the tent and behind it, taking the ill-lit, long way back to the carriage, I found myself … happy. If nothing else, we’d warned one other person. My heart was glad for it.
Upon reaching Coalhouse’s carriage, Nora helped load Abuelo into the backseat and put Dog to work. Together we returned to one of the nearby fires, gathering pendulous skirtfuls of the kindling materials stacked beside it. As we loaded up on makeshift ammunition, finally returning bearing sputtering torches, Dog busied himself with a wad of wires ripped from the console. In the end he got it working, the carriage purring to life.
“Can you drive?” Nora asked him, as we lowered all the windows in preparation for takeoff. Dog shook his head, and showed her his missing hand. “Can anyone drive?”
No was the general consensus.
Nora took a breath, passed me her torch, and went for the driver’s seat. “Better buckle up your seat belts, then.”
Abuelo and Smoke remained in the back, with Dog scooting between them. I took the passenger seat. Everyone aside from Dog and Nora bore a torch, which we held outside the open windows. Once we were all secure, Nora started to move the carriage tentatively forward. Jerking only a few times, she was soon driving at a slow pace toward the back line of tents. All of them appeared empty, their residents gathered at the stage.
As she did so, I instructed Abuelo to lean out of his window, take a piece of wood from the floor, and light it before throwing it at any target he deemed fit. His eyes sparkled. “Oh, it’s like Christmas in the old days!”
Smoke, meanwhile, needed no instruction. He was already merrily lighting and hurling new torches in every direction, his movements spastic, almost manic. I was reminded of when he used to sit near the fireplace and watch old toys and chestnuts burn, transfixed by the flames.
One by one, working together, we set the tents ablaze. We tried not to target the carriages, aiming instead for fabric and wood—anything that would burn. In a way, it was beautiful. Cathartic. It felt like I was laying to waste everything that had tormented me, everything that had ever hurt me. And it seemed to work. The night air was soon perfumed with the smell of cinders, haunted by the sounds of people running, screaming. In the distance, dark shapes darted between the flames, fleeing for the nearby forest, the road.
“We’re doing it!” Nora declared, turning for the stage. She stopped the carriage with a shudder and braced her arms, looking back. “Now. The boss battle.”
Looking at the stage, I lifted a new piece of wood from the pile at my feet. “Drive fast, and then loop away. Don’t look back.”
“Plan to. I apologize in advance if any of you die for good.” Nora steadied her arm and threw the carriage back into drive, before flooring it.
The three of us with ammo lit up and leaned as far as we dared out the windows. The wind rippled through my hair, my leaves, littering a trail of petals and torch sparks behind the carriage. As Nora drove around the eastern side of the crowd, I could see heads turning to look, hear exclamations. From the stage, Hagens’s voice rang out. “The prisoner is a prisoner no longer! He’s been reunited with his people!”
Then our presence registered, and she turned to look—and
realized that, no, the prisoner was hurling fire at his people.
As Nora finally got us to the corner of the stage, I took my own shot—only to watch my torch land amidst the crowd. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only one to do so. None of us were managing to hit the stage, and yet the singers and band members jumped ship anyway, running into the swelling, roiling, confused crowd.
“Get them!” I heard Hagens shriek. “They have Smoke!”
Nora gasped and made a sharp left-hand U-turn. “The stage butts right against the trees! I can’t drive behind it!”
She tried to start back but it was too late. While the literal Hell the camp had become roared in the background, those loyal to Hagens descended upon Coalhouse’s carriage. A mass of dead humanity soon surrounded it, preventing it from moving. Abuelo and I fought back with our torches—I even shoved mine directly into a man’s face, almost crying when I heard his terrible scream—only to have them ripped away from us. Soon arms were reaching into the cab, clogging it, hard and grabbing.
Dog huddled on the floor as Nora took a piece of wood and whacked viciously at an arm holding her about the shoulders. As she yelled, “Break the windshield!” it cracked, a zombie jumping atop it from outside.
Then, in one quick, blind instant, Nora’s weapon was caught. She didn’t let go fast enough. Her arm was pulled into the crowd; teeth sank into her flesh. She cried out in pain and managed to wrench her arm away, her eyes going wide as more blood dripped onto her gown. She looked at me in fear, for a single, ageless second—before fury took over. Mashing both feet down onto the accelerator, she caused the carriage to rev, to buck into the crowd. “I!” she screamed, hammering on the pedal in time with her words, even as more arms reached in, surrounded her, “Will! Not! Die! Here!”
Meanwhile, I looked to the roof, reaching within my gown for Mártira’s hair comb. With a scream of my own, I hit the little button that released its concealed blade and slashed the thing upward repeatedly, until I managed to cut my way through the material.
“Give me your torch!” I said to Smoke, who’d managed to keep hold of his. He passed it to me without quibble, and I lunged up through the sliced soft top like a shark victim might cut through the water. Pulling my arm up, I hurled the torch at the stage and screamed, every breath I’d ever taken in life behind the words, “Hagens killed my sisters!”
My torch arced high and fell to earth just as quickly, landing amidst Allende’s equipment. A second later it burst into flames. As I watched it kindle, I kept screaming the same words, over and over. And after a while I thought they were having some effect, the mob surrounding the cab stilling, wondering.
Then I realized it wasn’t me they were wondering at.
Behind me, Smoke was howling like an animal. I turned to see the slimy, half-gone zombie clutching at his body furiously, as if he had caught on fire and sought desperately to extinguish the flames. Twisting to the side, he kicked his legs against the carriage door. The door actually shot into the mob, a cannonball-sized dent in it, clearing a path that widened as zombies fled.
Into that path, Smoke staggered. “Leave me,” he said, his voice horrible behind his muzzle, turning up to look at me. “Go!”
“What is the meaning of this?” Hagens fought her way into the cleared area. “You little bitch!”
As she spoke, Smoke started to … grow.
He didn’t gain any height, but his muscles bulged, his torn, ragged skin doing little to hold them back and hiding nothing. His shirt stretched and began to tear, the seams popping, the gaping front revealing his naked ribs, the muscles around them swelling. Through a gap I could see his heart, also growing, beating furiously.
Part of him was alive.
With a roar, his size nearly doubled, he launched himself toward Hagens. She pulled out her gun and let off a rapid salvo, to no effect. Smoke didn’t even seem to feel the bullets. He leapt at her and grabbed her by the arm, and she tried to pull herself away, doing little but breaking her own body with a final-sounding crack. As he wound his heavy arm back to deliver a blow, Hagens ducked down and spun away, somehow managing to tear her now flopping arm out of his grasp. She ran for the trees bordering the field, never looking back. Smoke howled again and pursued her, leaving the others to scream and stare.
“Hagens!” someone shouted. “We have to go after her!”
The zombies that had been attacking us scattered like a flock of frightened birds. A wind ripped over my head, fanning the flames consuming the stage. I dropped down into the carriage and looked at Nora, who was wrapping her arm up with a scrap torn from the hem of her dress. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, shaken. “But what the hell was that? He’s like freaking Edward Hyde! He must have snapped his own skin open. Like a sausage!”
“I don’t know,” I said, leaning forward to help her tie the bandage. “But we have to get out of here.”
Nora nodded, gathered herself, and started off again. The vehicle tentatively moved forward, across the grass, and I took Dog onto my lap to keep him from falling out of the open carriage door. As I did, I noticed the lights from the houses in the distance seemed to be joining us, swarming closer. I stared at the road, trying to understand.
“What is that?” Abuelo said, pointing. He saw it, too.
“Yes! Okay. Hopefully that’s the cavalry.” Nora looked toward the trees again, and jerked the steering wheel in that direction, speeding up. “Which means we’ve got cover. Let’s see if we can find Coalhouse—and Smoke.”
Michael still hadn’t awoken by the time I skidded into the final stretch toward the zombie camp, even though the windows were gone and air was rushing through the car with the force of a small tornado. Elpinoy was handy with that tray of his.
Settling forward, I watched for lights. Soon I came upon them—four carriages driving abreast on the two-lane highway at high speed. I beeped, and the carriages flashed their rear lights in greeting. Samedi had made it, along with the others. For a moment I wished I could send them all back.
Turning around, I sized up the chase situation. I figured I had about five armored black trucks on my rear. Maybe ten. Hard to tell in the dark, but it was plenty.
Ahead of me the carriages slowed and parted, sinking onto their respective shoulders, making room for me. I tapped the accelerator and wedged myself right between them.
“Has Dearly been in touch with you?” Samedi shouted as his window lowered.
“No. I have no idea what we’re driving into.”
“What’s the plan?” the driver of the other carriage called out. It was Ben. Behind him I could see Edgar driving the third, Franco the fourth. Scanning the carriages, I figured altogether we had about fifteen people. Cripes.
“Well, I brought a distraction,” I said, pointing back. “These guys are probably itching for a fight by this point, so try not to engage them. Concentrate on finding and subduing Hagens. I’ll lead the forces back there through the crowd, try to sow some confusion. Ideally, we want the Changed to surrender, talk to us. We want them wrapped up with a bow when the feds come.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Edgar called out. “We’d die for the zombie cause still, you know that!”
I did, and I didn’t want it to happen. Still, I nodded, respect almost overwhelming me. “On second thought,” I shouted, turning back to Sam’s carriage. “Chas, I need you in here! Think you can jump for it, or do we have to stop?”
The girl didn’t hesitate. The back door of Michael’s carriage opened, and Chas pushed it into the wind with her legs, Tom bracing her from behind. I reached back and unlatched the rear door, before sending an arm through my open window and catching the edge of it, pulling it forward. Sam and I steadied our respective speeds, and Chas gripped the top of Michael’s carriage. It was higher than the car, and she was able to swing herself into the Rolls with a bit of effort. “Ten points for the New Victorian Olympic teaaam!” she shouted, lifting her arms.
“I’ll flan
k east!” Ben shouted.
“That means I call west!” Sam said. As he spoke, Tom passed Chas her rifle, blew her a kiss, and got the back door of Michael’s carriage shut. “See you on the other side!”
Speeding up between them, I waited until I saw the first carriage turn off behind me before picking a spot to do the same, plowing over the shoulder, a set of train tracks, and right into the heart of the camp—which appeared to already be in a shambles.
It wasn’t until I slowed down a bit that I saw just how much.
The Changed had set up camp in a lightly wooded area just off the side of the road. Tents had once stood there, but most of them had collapsed or caught fire, turning into smoking pools of embers. The stage was set up, and also on fire, the flames rising high into the night sky. Zombies everywhere were running aimlessly, shrieking, obviously terrified for their unlives. Many were piled into and on top of carriages, headed for the road.
“Whoa,” Chas said. “You might not have needed Allister’s goons after all.”
Frightened, I drove on. As the crowd flowed around me, I saw what its members were running from.
Ahead of me stood a wide, muscular zombie—not a wall, not even as tall as me, but a sturdy brick of dead flesh. A born bruiser, a raging zombie pit bull roaring and rushing at anything that caught his attention, galloping back and forth across the open space seemingly at random. “Jesus,” I breathed.
Then I noticed an old brown carriage circling him. Coalhouse’s. The left rear door was missing, and Laura was leaning out of it with a long bit of wood, thrusting it at any zombies who dared to try and take the big guy on. As the carriage turned to cross in front of him, I saw that Nora was driving. She was here. I suddenly felt physically heavy with relief, so heavy I found myself marveling at the scene rather than leaping into immediate action.