Grime was a small town that used to house around 2,000 people, and like most small towns, it was squeezed into a few square miles. Will figured he was somewhere in the center of town, with Route 69 about eight hundred meters to his right.
“Speaking of which,” Danny said in his right ear, “how’s the show out there?”
“I see about 300 to 400 ghouls. Maybe more. They’re searching the city, so keep your heads low.”
“It’s as low as it can go, buddy. I got the girls covered. You just keep from getting dead.”
“Will do.”
He heard Lara’s voice: “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“I mean it, Will,” she added, and he could hear the burden in her voice. “I have too much invested in you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Danny made the sound of a cracking whip.
“Shut up, Danny,” Lara said.
Will smiled, and watched a couple of the creatures peering into a bright red truck parked at the curb below him. They spent no more than a few seconds on it before bounding up the street to join the swarm flowing southbound, so many that they swallowed up the roads and streets with their vast numbers.
Maybe 400, maybe more…
“So what’s the verdict?” Danny asked. “You just out for a walk, or is there something worth watching out there?”
“They’re definitely looking for something.”
“Aren’t they always looking for something? What else is new?”
“It’s been eight months since The Purge. I’m pretty sure they’ve cleaned out every small town like this one. And even if they were just looking for survivors, they wouldn’t need 400 to do it. No, they’re looking for something specific.”
“Us,” Lara said.
“Yeah,” Will said. “I think they’re looking for us. And have been since we left Starch.”
“You sure you’re not just indulging in your paranoia again?” Danny asked.
“It’s not paranoia if there are blood-drinking creatures chasing you.”
“I saw that coming from a mile away.”
“I’ll radio back if something happens.”
“Roger that.”
Will laid the Remington 870 tactical shotgun on the concrete floor behind him. He only carried the shotgun and a Glock in a hip holster with him, having left his tried and true M4A1 assault rifle back at base. His weapons were loaded with silver ammo, the only thing besides sunlight that could kill the ghouls. Silver, even a tiny amount, once exposed to the creature’s bloodstream, caused a kind of chain reaction that destroyed it almost instantly. Because of that, his group collected silver like junkies, smelting and recasting it into bullets whenever they got the chance. Sunlight was the only thing the ghouls feared more, but it was a little harder to wield the sun as an offensive weapon.
Night hadn’t done a lot to temper the heat around him, and Will was already sweating underneath the black T-shirt and stripped-down urban assault vest. He reached down and touched the handle of the cross-knife, in a sheath strapped on his left hip, just to make sure it was still there. The knife’s double-edged blade was covered in silver, and it was a reminder of that very first night when all of this started — The Purge, as they had come to call it. That was when Will had discovered the killing properties of silver, the main reason they were still alive to this day. He hated to think it was superstition, but he did feel naked without the knife on him at all times.
He heard glass breaking from somewhere behind him and moved to the other side of the clock tower. Two dozen ghouls streamed up the driveway of a house. They had accessed the residence through the windows — their usual M.O. — and gaunt figures flitted across the second-floor windows, briefly visible in the moonlight. After a while, the ghouls came rushing back out, down the same driveway, then spilled back out into the night, spreading out in different directions.
They’re definitely looking for something…
Will had suspected it, but he had become convinced when they had stopped for a few days at a small incorporated community called Village Mills about six kilometers back. There was no reason for the ghouls to be there. The place was barely a blip on the map, and Will made sure to keep their vehicles away from the main roads. Over the months, they had become good at hiding their tracks. And yet, there they were, about a hundred or so of the creatures, scouring through the few buildings in the area.
Looking, searching for something.
Someone.
This wasn’t a ghoul scouting party in search of random survivors. He was convinced of that now. This was a ghoul hunting party. They were being hunted. Will, Danny, Lara, and the others. And they had been ever since they had abandoned Harold Campbell’s facility in the town of Starch, Texas, three months ago.
In the back of his mind, Will wondered if she was down there, too…
He blocked out the rickety noise as he climbed down. He hopped the last couple of meters to the floor below just to be safe, and as soon as the soles of his boots touched the hard concrete, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Another day, another dollar.
He clicked the Push-to-Talk switch connected to the radio clipped to his vest. “Danny, I’m headed back now.”
“Grab some breakfast, will ya?” Danny said.
“McDonald’s or Burger King?”
“You even have to ask? Mickey D’s all the way. Grab me one of their world-famous Big Breakfasts. The one with hotcakes.”
“You want syrup with that, too?”
“What are you, high? Of course I want syrup with my hotcakes.”
“I’ll grab a dozen on the way back.”
“My man.”
Will pushed at the heavy display case in front of the clock tower’s glass doors, just enough to squeeze through. He stepped outside, blinking under the bright sun, then glanced down at his watch: 7:11 a.m.
He passed the red truck from last night, then jogged up Main Street. He turned left farther up the street and kept walking for a hundred meters or so until he came to a big, white two-story building at the end of the street. The Miller Hill House was surrounded by white picket fences that looked tiny next to its huge, towering frame. More importantly, it had a solidly built basement with only one way in.
By the time Will reached the house, Danny and Carly were outside with the girls, Vera and Elise. The eight-year-olds were racing around the overgrown lawn snatching up flowers and sticking them in each other’s hair, blades of grass rising as high as their chins. They looked happy, oblivious to the empty world around them. Vera was Carly’s sister, but Elise had come to them from Dansby, Texas, back when they still had the safety of Harold Campbell’s facility to fall back on. It seemed like another lifetime ago.
Danny glanced over. “I don’t see my Big Breakfast anywhere.”
“They were fresh out.”
“Ugh. That’s the last time I send you on a breakfast run.”
Carly said, “Lara’s fixing breakfast in the dining room.”
“Great idea,” Danny said, “keeping radio silence all night. Lara was real happy about it, too.”
“Be quiet, Danny,” Carly said. “I’m sure Will feels bad about it already.”
“I hope you’re wearing a cup,” Danny grinned.
“Oh, Danny,” Carly said, and punched him on the shoulder.
Danny feigned pain as Will walked past them.
They made for an odd couple. Tall, lanky Danny, with his blond hair and California surfer looks — though he was as Texan as Will — and the smaller Carly, with her darkening red hair. When they were together, it was hard to tell Carly had only turned twenty recently and Danny was ten years older than her. The end of the world tended to age you. Or in the case of Danny, kept you exactly the same.