“Perfect. Just ring these up, okay?” Julia stared through the windows of the shop, looking for any sign of Laughing Boy.
Julia had never been so frightened in her life. Even when the chimera had jumped in the cab with her, she’d been too shocked to be scared like this.
“Wait,” she said, as the clerk started bagging up her purchases. “I’m going to wear these out.”
“You got it,” the clerk said.
Julia pulled on the cap first. It hid most of her red hair. The hood of the sweatshirt covered the rest and zipped up easily over her black sweater. The jeans she was wearing were common enough they shouldn’t make a difference. When she was finished putting on her new purchases, she looked in the mirror and barely recognized herself.
“Wow,” the clerk said, and clicked her tongue. “You look like a genuine hoodrat.” She laughed. “When you came in here, I made you out for some kind of lawyer or doctor or something. This makes you look ten years younger.”
Julia gave her another smile. “Perfect.”
She stepped out of the store trying her best to keep her head down so the brim of the cap shaded her eyes. She desperately wanted to scan the crowd and look for any sign of Laughing Boy, but Angel had been very clear — if she was going to live through this, she needed to keep a low profile.
There was an exit from the Underground straight ahead. Julia could see sunlight filtering down from the streets above. It wasn’t more than a hundred yards away. She moved in that direction, forcing herself not to run. Forcing herself to act natural. It was so hard not to panic and just make a break for it.
On her left a group of boys whistled at her, but she didn’t look up. On her right was a store that looked like it had been closed for years, judging by the dust that had collected in the display windows. She caught her reflection in the grease-smeared glass and saw that she was fidgeting with her hands. She forced herself to shove them into the pockets of her new hoodie.
Fifty yards to the exit. She let herself walk a little faster.
Twenty yards.
Fifteen.
“Nice try,” Laughing Boy said, stepping out from behind a cart that sold cell-phone accessories.
She squeaked a little in panic and turned around, intending to run back the way she’d come as fast as her legs would carry her. Before she’d taken a step Laughing Boy grabbed her arm. He squeezed hard enough on her bicep to make her squeal again.
“Maybe you think I won’t do anything out here in public,” he told her, his voice little more than a whisper. He giggled every time he stopped for breath, a raspy sound like his constant laughing had dried out his mouth. “So help me God, I will shoot you in front of a hundred witnesses if you try to fight me or run.”
“Just don’t hurt me, please,” she begged.
“Really? Are you that stupid? I have no idea what Chapel sees in you. Come on. Walk at a normal pace. You were doing a pretty good job for a while there. The clothes might have thrown me off if I didn’t watch you buy them.”
“You saw me the whole time?”
“Sweetheart, I’ve got eyes in the back of my head. You’d do well to remember that. Now come on. We’re headed over there.” He pointed her toward the closed-up store. “I’ve got a nice little place in the back all ready for you.”
“Who the hell are you?” she asked.
“Exactly what you think. The guy who’s going to kill you.” He chuckled at the thought.
“But the laughing — what’s that about?” she asked.
“It’s a medical condition, and I’ll thank you not to be rude about it,” he told her. “I’d expect better from the likes of you. It’s called hebephrenia.”
“That’s a kind of schizophrenia, isn’t it?” she asked.
“That’s right, I forgot you were a doctor of some kind. No, this is different. It’s neurological, not psychological. I took a metal fragment in the head a while back, in Iraq. Messed up the wiring. I’ve been laughing ever since and I can’t stop. I have drugs to stop the laughing, but when I take them I can’t drive or shoot straight. And today I need to shoot.”
Julia bit her lip and tried not to scream. “I–Iraq,” she forced herself to say, instead. “So you’re a veteran, like Chapel?”
“Chapel was in the army. I was a civilian consultant. This is the place.”
They had reached the closed store. The teenaged boys lounging across the way watched her as she was marched up to the doors. What would happen if she screamed for them to help? Would Laughing Boy shoot them? Could he shoot them all before they overpowered him?
Or would they just run off as soon as he drew his gun?
“Go on,” Laughing Boy said. “It’s not locked.”
Julia’s body was very close to freezing in fear. She could barely move her arms. “You want me to go in there,” she said, as if clarifying an order.
“Yep,” Laughing Boy said, giggling.
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “I don’t know anything!”
“Chapel didn’t tell you about the virus? Come on. I don’t have all day. I’ve got lots of other people to round up.”
Julia reached out and touched the handle of the door. It opened outward. She pulled it toward her and looked inside to see the interior of the shop, which was dark and stank of mildew. What a horrible place to die.
“Walk inside and turn around to face me. Then put your hands behind your neck and lace your fingers together.” He laughed. “Seriously, I just want to get this over with. I don’t get any thrill from killing people. It’s just my job.” He chuckled again.
She felt like her legs were made of wood. She couldn’t feel her toes.
She did what he said. To the letter.
“Good,” he told her, taking a step inside the store. He let the door swing shut behind him. “Now—”
“Now!” Julia shouted.
The drunk vet who’d been waiting for her inside the store did exactly as she’d told him to. He had a length of iron rebar in his hands, and he swung it at Laughing Boy’s head with all his strength.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA: APRIL 13, T+27:23
Julia wasn’t there when Chapel came back up through the hatch. He panicked for a second and then he called for Angel, hoping she might know where Julia might have gone.
“Hold it together, sugar,” she told him. “Just head to your left. Now, up ahead — see that abandoned store?”
“Just tell me if she’s all right, Angel,” Chapel pleaded.
“Just fine. Door’s open.”
Chapel shoved open the door and pushed through into the store beyond.
He could not have expected what he saw.
Laughing Boy was sprawled out on the floor, his arms above his head and his wrists tied together around a support pillar. He was chuckling softly to himself, though he wasn’t smiling. There was a nasty-looking bruise on the side of his head.
Julia had been hiding behind the pillar. She came out into the open, and Chapel saw she was holding a silenced pistol. It had to be Laughing Boy’s.
Perhaps strangest of all, the drunk guy in the army coat was standing up against one wall, holding a length of rebar like a club.
“You—” Chapel started.
“Name’s Rudy, not that you asked,” the drunk told him. “You did ask about my service record. First Battalion, Third Marines.”
Chapel nodded slowly. “Army Rangers,” he said.
“A grunt, huh? I guess I can forgive you for being an asshole, then. Since it comes with the branch.”
Chapel found himself smiling. “You rescued Julia?” he asked.
“Not exactly.” Rudy nodded at her. “Just came in for the assist, really, right at the end of the whole thing.”