A hand grabbed my wrist. “Waverly, run!” Hattie’s voice screamed out. There was no time to fight them. I followed her through the basement living room and to the mudroom at the other end. She unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open. I ran out first and she tried to slam the door shut just as arms snaked through the opening. Hattie pulled on the knob, smashing the arms over and over, expecting their pain to make them recoil, but it was as if they felt no pain. I lifted my handgun again and shot twice into the crack. Even though their dark, black blood flew, they were undaunted. Hattie gave up on the door as two more arms crashed through the glass at the top. She yelled for me to run. Hoping she was close behind me, I bolted up the stairs and into the driveway. I stopped when I got to Hattie’s car, a sudden realization overtaking me. Looking up and down the street, the grey people were everywhere. Some had claimed victims; a group of them was devouring a man on the ground. I looked at the street in front of my yard and saw my mom’s SUV parked, but emotions of sadness would come later. Shock had taken over me. How could this have happened? Where had they all come from?
“Get in the car, Waverly!” came the voice of Hattie. The grey people were right behind her as she swung open the driver’s side door. She lifted her gun into the air and shot one of the grey people in the head and it dropped to the ground, lifeless. There was no time to think about it, however. I jumped in the front seat as the monsters crowded around the car, smashing through windows. One of them grabbed my shirtsleeve and was coming in to bite me, but Hattie revved the car into reverse and its fingers were unable to maintain its grip. We were in the street and Hattie slammed on the gas pedal, screaming past more of the grey people.
The tears began to flow again. “I shot five bullets into one of those things!” I yelled. “It didn’t even flinch! What are they, Hattie? What are they?”
Hattie simply stared straight ahead and shook her head, too focused to cry. Too shocked to answer.
My parents were dead. There was no way to know if my sister was still alive. It felt like my world had ended in a matter of minutes. Perhaps there was still time to save Hattie’s.
Chapter 5 – Remi
Sneaking through Crestwood in the middle of the night feels like walking through any old town at dark before the outbreak, minus the armed guards on the wall…and, of course, the wall itself. I’ve got to be careful, though. One of the first rules Gabe made sure to tell me when I got here was that curfew was always at eleven. Anyone caught outside their homes any later might be put in a holding cell, because anyone outside after eleven was probably up to no good.
It’s midnight, and I’m up to no good.
There is a roundabout on Main Street in the middle of the town across from my apartment building. When I reach it and crouch behind some bushes, I look all around me. Crestwood isn’t huge by any means. In fact, it seems like it might have been the most boring town in the world before the greyskins. I would have hated living here. Its size also means that I have to be extra careful. Guards will usually keep their eyes fixed outside of the walls, but occasionally one or two will do a sweep of Crestwood to make sure everything is quiet and under control.
I look at the front wall and can see two guards holding their rifles at their hips, chattering quietly with each other. If I wanted to, I could listen to what they were saying, but I’ve done it before, and unless I want to hear how much liquor one could hold or how many women another has had, I’ll keep my ears focused on where it matters.
I look up at the red brick building to my right. It’s a three-story structure that used to have a café on the first floor. The sign has faded and boards have been nailed into the outside wall below it with writing that says: Headquarters. The first floor is usually reserved for Paxton to meet with people like Gabe or the food and ration committee, or the medical staff, but the second floor is where Paxton and the other four elders meet, and that’s where I want to be. The third floor is where Paxton sleeps, and I don’t want to be there. According to Gabe, Paxton doesn’t have a bodyguard, so I shouldn’t be running into anything unexpected. But he did warn me that the town leader is notorious for his insomnia and often spends much of his nights on the second floor, going over meeting notes or plans that may have been discussed.
All it will take for me to know if he’s there is a slight tilt of my head and my ears will be able to tell me. I have no idea why I gained this ability. I know when it happened, and it saved my life, but ever since then I’ve been able to turn it on and off as I need it. I haven’t told a soul about it, and I don’t plan to. That’s why I was so startled when Paxton had asked me about special abilities. I just knew he had me figured out, but he hasn’t asked me about it since. Of course, I don’t exactly make a habit of hanging around Paxton. Mostly I just try to avoid him whenever I can. He seems nice enough now, but I’m not going to take any chances. Then again, I’m crouched outside Headquarters ready to break into the floor just below him. I suppose my skills of avoiding him will be truly tested in a few minutes. I feel nervous, but confident. There is no reason I should get caught. I’ve got an advantage over anyone that might try to catch me. I suppose that the nervousness that creeps into me comes from knowing that I can’t be completely sure I won’t get caught.
I turn my head toward the second story of the headquarters building and try to focus my hearing. The sound of a few hundred or more people breathing heavily, snoring loudly, and some of them arguing in bed come into my head all at once, but the key is to tune all that out. The voices, the breaths, all fade away as I focus on the second floor. If Paxton is awake, I will hear him breathing, I will hear the sound of movement, the turning of pages, the creak of a chair.
My eyebrows crease when I hear a short squeak and the sound of tiny nails scratching against a wall. My lips curl up into a smile as I pull my head away and turn to look up at Headquarters. The second floor is quiet as a mouse.
I glance to my left toward the wall and see the guards still chatting away. To my right, the street is clear. No patrols yet. This is going to be too easy. I stand with my back still hunched over as though I’m ducking for cover from bullets. It feels stupid since there isn’t anyone around — almost like I’m pretending to run from bad guys. Within three seconds I’m standing in front of the Headquarters door. The faded words above read The Crestwood Café, and I suddenly remember that most cafés answered each new customer with the sound of a happy bell. Though I’m sure the cute welcoming jingle used to put a smile on someone’s face, it’s a quick way for me to get caught.
I bite my lower lip and look from side-to-side. Would anyone actually hear it? At midnight, most people in Crestwood would have been asleep for at least a couple of hours. Of course, who knows how deeply Paxton sleeps when he’s actually out.
I decide against going through the front door and make my way to the left of the building. There is a narrow alley that leads to the next street over, but it’s the door next to the dumpster that catches my attention. I walk swiftly but softly to the door and feel the doorknob. It is locked, but I had expected as much. I reach for my back pocket and pull out a tiny flathead screwdriver — the kind people used to have for repairing glasses. I would have never thought about carrying one of these things around before I had been on the road for a few months. A guy named Jerome taught me its wonderful uses and I’ve always made sure to keep one on me. Luckily, Gabe hadn’t seen it as a threat when they took my knife and gun away. I remember half-heartedly smiling at him and saying that if I ever live to be forty, I might need reading glasses.