Rawley nodded. “Could be. But first, how do I know you aren’t infected?”
“How do we know you aren’t?” Lisa managed.
“Morning, cutie-pie,” Rawley said, bowing slightly. “Hate to be the one to say it, but you look like three-day old dog shit.”
“Go… fuck yourself.”
Rawley laughed. “That’s my girl.”
“We’re going to the roof, Texas. We’re gonna make a stand,” Lou explained to him very calmly. “You’re either in or you’re out. Make your choice. We’re not fucking around here, okay? You can pretend you’re Jim-fucking-Bowie or some shit. That ought to make you happy. Now move or fucking die.”
Rawley did not move. He kept his gun leveled on them.
Lisa let out a grating moan and collapsed.
Lou pulled her to her feet with his good arm, pretty much using up what remained of his strength. “She’s okay,” he said to them, to Johnny in particular. “She needs a rest. We all need a rest.”
“All right, Rawley,” Johnny said with a look in his eye like maybe he had the urge to play a little fast-pitch with the man’s testicles. He had his rifle on Rawley now. “What’s it gonna be?”
Rawley shrugged. “You Yankees certainly are a violent bunch. Must be the climate.” He lowered his sixteen. “Of course, I’ll join you. I was only playing a bit, relieving the tension.”
Terra glared at him. “I came real close to relieving your brains all over the wall, motherfucker.”
“Don’t say?” Rawley acted like this was very interesting. “Where’s your Buck Roger’s helmet, soldier boy?”
“I shoved it up my ass to keep it warm.”
Rawley was still grinning.
“Let’s go,” Johnny said and started down the hall.
Terra turned his back on Rawley for just a second. Then he came around real quick with the barrel of his rifle, slashing the bayonet across Rawley’s face. Rawley screamed and dropped his weapon.
His face was splashed with blood.
He had barely hit the ground when Terra started jabbing him viciously with the bayonet—in the belly, the ribs, the throat, the balls, the ass. Anywhere that was soft and unguarded, the bayonet got him. Pretty soon Rawley was curled into a frayed red ball, the floor wet with his fluids.
Neither Lou nor Johnny intervened.
They just looked at each other and made a mutual decision to let the man die. The world—Cut River, at least—had been thrown back into the Stone Age. Atrocity was nothing new. Barbarism was the norm. Why fight it? Besides they were too damn tired to save the ass of some Texican peckerwood who would have fed them to the dogs the first chance he got.
Terra stooped down next to Rawley’s cooling body.
“What’re you doing?” Johnny asked him, though he well knew.
Terra laughed, thinking it was all pretty funny. He slid a K-Bar knife from its sheath and slit off Rawley’s left ear. Then, in no hurry whatsoever, he carefully threaded it onto his necklace. He had an even ten now. He seemed happy.
“Just a hobby,” he said when he saw Lou staring at him.
Lou nodded dumbly, nervously. “Yeah, you should see my football cards. Mint.”
And then there was the sound of feet coming up the stairs. Many of them.
33
“Boy, am I glad to see you guys,” Terra told the half-dozen soldiers watching him through the goggle visors of their protective hoods.
“Are you?”
The soldiers wore no insignia, so Terra didn’t know if he was talking to a private or a major. Didn’t matter, he figured.
“Johnson-12,” he said, saluting. “Bravo Company, 1st Platoon.” He swept his hand towards his trio of new-found friends. “These ones are okay. Norms.”
The soldiers stood there with weapons raised. They muttered amongst themselves.
“Where’s your hood, Johnson?” another said. “You know the rules.”
And he did: anyone without full protective gear was to be considered infected, as was anyone found within the city limits of Cut River.
He knew that.
He hadn’t forgotten.
He couldn’t help it if his hand casually (or not so casually) drifted up to his face and then slid down again. “Creepers tore it off me,” he explained. “But I drilled ’em all. I’m okay.”
“Are you?” the first one said again.
“Course I am.”
Lou felt like he was stuck in a maze.
A maze full of crazies—some that way by accident, others by training.
He said, “We’re just survivors. That’s all. We’re not foaming at the mouth. Our eyes aren’t lit up like Jack-o-’lanterns. So cut the shit for chrissake. We’re taxpayers. Now do your duty and get our asses out of here.”
Johnny watched them. He expected the worst and kept his mouth shut.
Lou lowered Lisa to the floor because she was getting too goddamned heavy to lug around with his busted-up shoulder and aching leg. She started to tremble and gag, writhing around like she was about to swallow her tongue.
They were all watching her then.
How thin she was.
The sweat beaded on her face.
The bubble of snot in her left nostril.
They were watching her and although nobody could see their eyes behind the visors, it was obvious what was going through their little minds.
“What about her?” one of them said stepping forward. He carried a H & K submachine gun.
The others inched forward. Including the guy with the flamethrower strapped to his back.
“She’s just sick,” Lou said.
“She looks it.”
Terra shook his head. “No, she ain’t got it, man. She’s an addict. She’s strung out.”
Another of the soldiers said, “The town’s burning. It’ll get here soon enough. We should be gone by then.”
“So let’s go,” Lou said.
“We will. Soon enough.”
He whispered something to the other soldiers.
They drew their weapons and formed a defensive perimeter.
“Here’s how it works,” the soldier said. “You and these other two drop your weapons and step away from the girl. She’s infected. She’s gotta go.”
Johnny’s hands tensed on his rifle. “I don’t think so.”
“Then you all burn.”
A tongue of flame licked out of the end of the flamethrower two or three inches. Just enough so all present could see it was primed and ready to do some damage. The guy carrying it stepped forward.
“She’s not infected,” Terra maintained.
“Don’t tell me my business, soldier. I know infected when I see it.”
Terra turned away and then came back with his M-16, sprayed a volley of rounds into the soldiers chest. He stumbled back, pissing red, and went down.
The other soldiers didn’t move.
Nobody moved.
Except the rabids.
A howling, screeching pack of them came flooding down the corridor, bringing the stink of death with them. There had to be nearly twenty of them. Some running, some hopping like insects, others barrel-crawling on hands and feet.
The soldiers didn’t care about Lisa or the others then.
Terra opened up on them.
Johnny and Lou hit the floor, both trying to cover Lisa. A spout of flame whistled over their heads, singeing Lou’s hair.
The rabids ran right into it.
It barely slowed them down.
A few were thrown into a deranged mania as flames swallowed them up. They ran right into the ranks of the soldiers, throwing themselves madly into the walls, the floors, dancing and jumping and shrieking, looking like flaming puppets with clipped strings.
The soldiers were overwhelmed instantly.