He marveled at their persistence, their ability to shun all sense of self-preservation. They didn’t stop. Not for a second. The tide kept coming, churning, one after another, and for every black-skinned thing he dispatched, another took its place.
And they kept coming, and climbing, and coming…
…and climbing…
7:01 a.m…
When was sunrise? 7:10 a.m.? 7:20 a.m.?
Whatever the time, they could sense it. The ghouls were desperate to get up to the rooftop, as if they knew they only had a few minutes left. Will couldn’t see light in the skies or on the horizon. He didn’t know how much time was left. How much longer he had to hold on. So he stabbed and slashed, moving back, then forward again, then back…
And they kept coming.
Again and again, again and again…
7:09 a.m…
He was covered in slabs of thick black blood and torn flesh. The smell was overwhelming, assaulting his nostrils, making his eyes flare uncontrollably, his skin tingling with the acidic stench of death and decay. He wiped at copious globs of fluid that dripped from his hair down to his forehead and into his right eye. He spat out something that tasted like flesh, but it could have been dirt, or garbage, or some kind of filth he had no name for.
Zoe did her best to keep out of his way, struggling to hold on to the antennas, the two of them literally tied together by a hose that wasn’t designed for the task. Still, it was better than nothing, and it allowed him to keep track of her without having to look back, because he didn’t have time for that. He prayed she didn’t slip and fall, because if she did, he would go over the side right along with her. Unless, of course, the tube snapped. That was possible, too.
Amazingly, he had begun to get feelings back in his body. The more he moved, the more sensations returned to his hands, to his legs, and to his joints. It took all his strength to keep scrambling, stabbing and slashing, kicking and punching. They were weak things, like striking bags of flour. They relied on numbers, which was useless when there was only one path up the water tower.
He had to stay clear of their mouths and the crooked yellow and brown teeth, like caverns of smaller bones trying to gnaw at him. Those were dangerous. Blood itself didn’t do anything to you, but if they bit you, the direct transfer of fluids was what caused the infection.
Teeth of Death. I should write a book.
7:15 a.m…
Goddammit, where’s that damn sun?
Slowly, he became aware that the speed with which each new ghoul appeared had begun to flag. They were coming up at longer intervals now, and he was able to breathe a little bit before he had to engage another one.
He killed a ghoul, then kicked it in the chest and watched it flip over the side, and waited for the next one.
The cross-knife in his right hand was covered in blood and skin, viscous things that looked like a concentrated form of foul-smelling sweat dripping over his fist. He was only dimly aware of his ragged breathing, and his legs screamed at him for rest. His lungs burned, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning away in his side. Was he bleeding again?
He looked down. No. No blood. Well, not the red kind, anyway.
A little rest right about now would be nice.
No. Not yet.
Not yet…
He waited for the next one to emerge up the ladder, but it didn’t come.
He kept waiting…
“Will, what’s happening?” Zoe said behind him.
He shook his head and stood perfectly still.
Will hadn’t looked over the tower in a while. He hadn’t had the opportunity.
But now he did, and he saw there wasn’t a single ghoul on the ladder. They were all on the ground, and as he watched, they began to dissolve, like a pool of black ink flowing away from the base of the tower, until the grass below became visible again. And there, the Ford F-150, unveiled as if by magic (Ta-da!).
“They’re leaving,” Zoe said, her voice breathless, as if afraid just saying those two simple words out loud might jinx it somehow.
He checked his watch: 7:18 a.m.
“Oh my God, are they leaving?” she asked, her voice shaking, filled with hope.
“I think so, yeah.”
“Oh my God, Will. Oh my God.”
She rushed forward and grabbed him — and almost knocked him backward and off the side of the tower. He managed to right himself at the last moment and held on to a telecom antenna to keep from falling.
“You did it,” she said, gasping for breath, somewhere between crying and screaming with joy. “You did it, Will. I can’t believe you did it.”
Something caught his attention.
A flicker of something distinctive below, in the corner of his eye.
Something blue.
He looked down and saw, among the writhing black canvas, something that stood out. It was about forty meters from the base of the water tower, and it didn’t move as the ghouls flowed around it, like Moses parting the Red Sea. It was looking back up at him, and Will saw intense, bright blue eyes radiating out of the darkness.
Will didn’t know how he knew, he just knew who it was.
Kate.
Not the Kate he remembered, but the Kate that Lara had seen that night outside the Green Room in Harold Campbell’s facility. He had dreamt of her, but she came to him in those dreams as the old Kate, the woman he remembered and for one night, loved.
This new Kate, this ghoul Kate, was another creature entirely, and despite the distance, he could see its deep blue eyes pulsating. They weren’t like the blue of Lara’s — these were more intense, like staring into the sun. He couldn’t look away. They drew him in, fascinating him.
Then Kate smiled.
No, not Kate. A ghoul. He had to stop thinking of her (it) as Kate. This was the enemy now. This creature.
It turned and walked away with a preternatural grace that was almost majestic. He watched it go, the other ghouls squirming around it, swallowing it up — or was it the other way around?
They merged into the darkness, becoming one…then nothing.
Just like that, they were gone.
A few minutes later, the first slivers of sunlight poked through the clouds. He smiled at the sight and pushed away all thoughts of Kate, remembering all the sunrises with Lara on the beach back at Song Island instead.
7:25 a.m. Sunrise.
Good to know, good to know…
CHAPTER 35
GABY
Sunlight drew her out of a deep slumber, whether she wanted it to or not. Her head seemed stuck in some kind of cocoon where just thinking was difficult, and it felt as if she had been sleeping for the last few centuries. Every part of her body ached, and there was a lightness to her chest that wasn’t normal, as if she were still asleep and dreaming all of this.
Nate.
She sat up on a bed that was almost as big as the one in her hotel room on Song Island, but fluffier, like sleeping on clouds. She swung her legs off the bed and took in the room. A closet to her right, windows in front, and a door to her left. Barren white walls, and old-fashioned wooden floors.
Gaby blinked away the sun, loose hair falling over her face. She swiped at them and stood up. She regretted it almost immediately, and had to reach over to the wall to keep from falling. Her legs were jelly and her stomach growled from hunger. Her throat was sore and felt constricted, and she flinched when she touched it.