West was already developing an infection along his thigh thanks to the buckshot Blaine had put into him back in the Tower, something he further inflamed by spending the night in the woods rolling around in dirt and mud. The wound on his right side, courtesy of Danny’s rifle, was fresh, and it only required cleaning and dressing.
West didn’t say a word as she worked on him, and she couldn’t summon the strength to care.
She sent Roy, Bonnie, and the girls down to one of the supply rooms in the back of the hotel, past the laundry room, to clear it out. They didn’t leave until the room was just concrete walls and a floor. Then Roy came back, and with Danny, they carried West — still strapped down to his bed — over to the same supply room and laid him in the center.
As Danny cut his zip ties, West looked at her from across the room. “So how is this going to work? You can’t keep me in here forever.”
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” she said.
West sat up gingerly and rubbed his wrists and ankles. “You haven’t thought this through, have you?”
“Like I said, I’ll let you know when I figure it out. Until then, sit tight.”
She waited for Danny to come out, then closed the door and locked it, putting the key into her pocket.
Danny was leaning against the wall ten feet up the hallway, watching her.
“Go ahead, say it,” she said as she walked past him.
He fell in beside her. “Say what?”
“That I’m weak. That I’m not cut out for this whole leadership thing. That Will would have put a bullet in him back in the woods. Or last night. Or when he saw them at the marina. Say it, Danny.”
“I wasn’t thinking any of those things.”
“Then what were you thinking?”
“Handcuffs.”
“Handcuffs?”
“Yeah. The old-fashioned kind. With a key, that we can reuse over and over.”
She gave him a wry look. “You really think we’ll have that many prisoners, we’ll start needing reusable handcuffs?”
“Who says they’re for holding prisoners?” Danny said. “Do you have any idea what kind of kinky stuff Carly’s into?”
It was ten in the morning, and she sat in front of the ham radio and waited, but didn’t hear Will’s voice from the other end. For the fifth time in as many minutes, she made sure the dial was set to the correct frequency.
Lara passed the time by looking down at the floor. They had wiped the floorboards clean of Brody’s blood and scraped his brains off the wall. Mostly. There was still plenty of evidence, but she had gotten used to the sight of dried blood.
She glanced down at her watch again. Five minutes after ten.
She wasn’t the only one who had noticed the silence. Maddie was standing overwatch at the south window. “What time is Will supposed to call in?” she asked.
“Ten,” Lara said.
“What time is it now?”
“Five after ten.”
“Maybe he forgot?”
“Maybe…”
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“A little bit. Why?”
“You look tired.”
“I do?”
“You could definitely use a little more shut-eye.”
“We all could.”
“We all could, yeah, but you more than most,” Maddie said. “You should go take a nap.”
“Maybe later.”
“Well, if you’re not going to go to bed, then try the radio again. All this waiting is getting on my nerves.”
Lara gladly picked up the microphone and clicked the transmit lever. She took a breath, then leaned toward it: “Mercy Hospital, come in, this is Song Island. Over.”
She waited, but there was no response.
“Mercy Hospital, this is Song Island. Can you hear me? Over.”
Again, there was no response.
“That’s not good,” Maddie said.
“No,” she said softly.
That’s not good at all…
Lara checked the piece of paper with the list of frequencies taped to the tabletop next to the radio. She spun the dial over to the one for Jen’s helicopter, then pressed the transmit lever.
“Jen, this is Lara from Song Island. Can you hear me? Over.”
She released the lever and waited, but there was no response.
“Jen, this is Lara from Song Island. Tell me you’re receiving this. Over.”
Nothing. Not a damn thing.
Please, someone, answer…
She was about to press the transmit lever again when the radio squawked and she heard a male voice — thick, guttural, deep, and definitely not Jen: “Who is this?”
Lara leaned into the mic: “Who is this?”
“I asked you first,” the man said.
Lara glanced back at Maddie, just to be sure she wasn’t the only one who had heard the voice. Maddie was watching with concern. There was something about the voice that bothered her, and Maddie too, from the look on the other woman’s face. It was too cavalier, like this was all a big joke, like the man was enjoying himself.
“I’m looking for someone at Mercy Hospital,” she said into the microphone.
“You’re a little late,” the man said.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m afraid no one at Mercy Hospital is currently available to take your call right now. They’re too busy being dead.”
She couldn’t speak immediately, as a variety of scenarios — good and bad and terrifying — whipped across her mind with dizzying speed. It was all she could do to hold on to the mic, her other hand clutching the edge of the table without realizing it.
“Who is this?” she said into the radio.
“I’m the guy who just took over Mercy Hospital,” the man said. “That’s who the fuck I am.”
CHAPTER 11
WILL
It took them almost an hour to clear the entire Archers. Once Mike, Paul, and Johnson realized the silver worked as promised, Will could feel their unrestrained enthusiasm as they went through the store aisle by aisle, like wild men on a blood hunt long denied them. He almost felt sorry for the creatures that got in their way.
Will was more than willing to let them do the bulk of the work. By the time they were done, the tiled floor was slick with sticky congealed ghoul blood, splattered flesh, and shattered bone. He walked in black ooze, the clump-clump-clump under his boots not nearly as disturbing as the smell. He thought he would have gotten used to the stench of dead ghouls by now, but he was very much wrong.
While Mike and his men filled up on what they came for, Will wandered over to the shoe aisle. He maneuvered by flashlight and located the women’s section. Locating the right shoes in the right size took another few minutes. He grabbed two pairs, one in white and one in black, and stuffed them into his gym bag. Her birthday was coming up, and she had been wearing the same pair for the last few months.
I’m shopping for Lara now. Danny would definitely have a field day with this.
He went looking for Mike, finding the former lieutenant behind the gun display on the other side of the store, the glass counter dripping with thick black blood. Mike had turned on an LED lamp to see with and was tossing boxes of 9mm, 5x56mm, and shotgun shells into his already overstuffed bag.
“You might need another one,” Will said.
Mike grinned and produced a second bag from his back pocket. “The good thing about an Archers? Plenty of bags to go around. Where did you wander off to?”
“Shoe aisle.”