He had two choices, the way he saw it. He could back down himself.
But he wasn’t going to do that.
Tom’s scream was ringing in his eardrums. The laughter inside was louder than ever.
“OK.”
“How? What do I do?”
John looked around, scanning the environment. But his mind was blank. He didn’t have any ideas.
“What should I do?” asked Cynthia again. “Throw something against the side of the building?”
John thought for a moment. But there really wasn’t time to think.
He shook his head. “They’ll grab their guns and come out. No, don’t do that.”
“Well I’m doing something.”
“OK,” said John. Cynthia nodded at him. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“No,” said John. “Don’t do that. Just back me up when it’s needed.”
“When will that be?”
John shrugged, and ran to the building.
John flattened himself against the wall again. He was sweating in the cool air. He was breathing hard.
It was now or never.
He kicked the door open with his boot.
Three heads turned to him.
He’d taken them by surprise.
He squeezed the trigger. His aim was good. Right in the face.
Time seemed to be moving slowly.
The two others reached for their guns. One fumbled. One got his out.
John already had his gun trained on the second. He pulled the trigger. But his aim was bad. The bullet hit him in the shoulder.
The other had his gun out now, and it was pointed at John.
There wasn’t time to shoot him. He’d gotten his two shots. He wasn’t a superhero. He should have known.
Another shot rang out, coming from right behind John. His ears rang again.
The third man fell. It’d been Cynthia. It must have been. But there wasn’t time to turn.
John shot the second man again, right in the head. His body fell heavily to the floor.
John looked at the bodies, just to make sure they were really dead. He looked at the fourth man in the corner, just to double check. But he was clearly dead.
He turned to see Cynthia standing there, satisfaction on her face.
“Looks like you needed me after all.”
John didn’t answer. He moved over to where Tom was on the table.
“You might not want to see this,” he said to Cynthia, who was still standing in the doorway.
But she came in anyway. When she saw Tom, she let out a scream, and covered her face with her hands.
Tom was no longer screaming. Instead, he was making indistinct noises of pain.
His face was no longer the face he’d had. His nose had been removed, cut cleanly off with a sharp knife. He was missing an ear. Missing a finger, too. It looked like they’d been slowly dismembering him at random, for their own sick amusement.
Humanity was capable of viciousness and sickness. But John already knew that. He’d seen plenty of it since the EMP. In Philadelphia and outside of it.
Tom lay there, tied tightly against the table, moving slightly against the rope that bound him, obviously in pure agony.
“Is he going to live?” said Cynthia, her voice cracking.
Tom’s shirt had been cut open. And so had large sections of his body. His abdomen had been sliced open, torn into. Some of his organs were hanging out partially. There was massive blood loss. It was a miracle that he was still alive.
But there was no saving him.
He’d be dead soon enough.
Or maybe not soon enough.
Tom’s eyes were barely open, but he looked at John and John saw the recognition there. Recognition, along with a pleading look.
“Why aren’t you doing anything?” said Cynthia, her voice shrill.
“There’s nothing to do for him,” said John. “Except put him out of his misery.”
“You’re not talking about…?”
John nodded.
Then he looked at Tom. Right in the eye.
“Sorry, Tom,” said John.
He raised his handgun, pressing it right against Tom’s temple.
It’d be quick. Painless. He’d feel nothing more. And that was what he wanted. It was in his eyes, and all over his face.
“Thanks,” said Tom, his voice barely above a whisper.
John pulled the trigger. He gritted his teeth instinctively, but he didn’t close his eyes. He saw it all.
Cynthia let out a scream, and then she burst into tears, a wailing come from her. It wasn’t just Tom’s death. No, it was more than that. It was the simple and constant horror that they’d faced, and would continue to face, day in and day out. Humanity was tearing itself apart, and they had front row seats to the horrible spectacle.
Tom moved no more. No more screams. No more pain.
“Come on,” said John, putting his arm around Cynthia. “We’ll check these guys for equipment, and then we’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
John was trying his best to act practically. To do what needed to be done.
But…
Something had changed inside him. He didn’t know what it was.
But he knew the cause. It was seeing Tom like that, all cut up. Mutilated for no reason at all except amusement.
John tried to shake it off, but it was still there. And it wouldn’t be easy to escape. It was a darkness growing inside him.
He could deal with it. He’d dealt with more than this.
But what if it was just the seed? What if it was something that would grow and grow, and never stop growing?
That was crazy, he told himself. After all, he didn’t even have the words to describe what he felt.
22
“You doing OK, James?” said Max, turning his head around to the side.
“I’m fine,” said James.
But he wasn’t. His breathing was ragged, and he was having a hard time holding onto the stretcher on which his mother lay.
She’d somehow fallen asleep. Mandy had said it was probably a reaction to the pain. It was easier, sometimes, for the body to shut itself off like that. Plus, her body was undertaking the massive reconstruction project of healing up her wounds. It needed time and rest to heal.
But it was hard to see his mother like that. It was hard to not have her there, protecting him and his sister.
James had thought he’d gotten it together himself. He thought he could look out for himself and his family, but was he really that strong?
He could barely carry the stretcher, and they’d only been walking two hours.
His hands felt raw. The wood was rough, from where they’d stripped the bark in places in preparation for the stretcher’s construction. His palms hurt, his arms were fatigued, and his back ached like crazy. He’d never felt pain in his back before. It was a completely new sensation. And not a good one.
Max, somehow, seemed to be doing fine. James didn’t understand it. He was a young man, and he should have been able to go and go and go.
But it was clear Max was going to outpace him.
More than a few times, James had stumbled. More than a few times, he’d almost dropped his end of the stretcher.
It was all he could do to carry the stretcher. He didn’t have the energy or concentration to look around, to keep his eyes open for animals or strangers.
Max seemed to know what was going on.
“Let’s take a break,” said Max. He called out to Mandy, who’d been walking ahead. She stopped.
“What’s going on?” said Sadie. “Did you see something?”
“No. We’re just going to do a shift rotation here.”
“I’m fine,” said James, protesting, even though he knew he wasn’t.
“James,” said Max, giving him one of those classic Max looks. “I know you want to keep pushing yourself. You only want the best for your family. But you’re only going to be a danger to everyone if you don’t admit when you’re tired.”