Domino Falls (38 page)

“Where are we?” Kendra said, but no one answered her.
Terry didn't turn around or glance at her reflection. Had Kendra missed an argument while she slept?

Their silence felt worse than battle scars. Hipshot, who had rarely been far from her and Terry during the drive to California, was lying on the floor in the rear, closer to Rianne, Myles, and Myles's family. Hippy's eyes seemed sad as he stared up toward Kendra.

Kendra made a kissing noise. “Come here, Hippy,” she called. Hipshot wagged his tail but didn't move until she called him a second time. Even then, he walked slowly, his muzzle low to the ground. He had a slight limp he'd brought with him from the tunnel, so when he reached her, she examined his coat to make sure she hadn't missed a more serious injury. He wasn't bleeding anywhere, but . . .

“Hippy's acting funny,” she said to Terry. “Think he got hurt?” Or infected? She didn't want to say it. Hippy had bitten some of the freaks in the tunnel, but she'd never heard about animals reacting to freak juice the way humans did.

“Hippy's fine,” Piranha said.

But Terry said nothing.

Kendra's imagination raced to piece together her uneasy feeling and the behavior that didn't make sense, even from Hippy. Her heartbeat quickened.

Then she saw Terry smile at her in the mirror. “We're all shook up from last night, even Hippy. Right, boy?” he said, and dangled his hand for the dog.

Hipshot's tail wagged weakly, and he trotted to Terry's side to lick his hand. But his tail's wagging slowed. Hippy licked Terry's hand only once. Then he whined and backed away, his tail diving between his legs. He sat beside Kendra instead.

“See what I mean?” Kendra said.

Terry didn't answer.

Kendra's fear solidified into absolute knowledge: Hipshot was infected, and Terry and Piranha knew it. They were waiting him out, and they were hiding it from her because they knew how much she loved the dog.
I didn't know dogs could get infected,
she thought, dismayed. She bit her lip to stave off tears she didn't want to explain to the strangers riding with them.

She coaxed Hippy to jump on the seat beside her and wrapped her arm around his neck, burying her face in his fur. Was it still safe to be so close to him? Yes, he was already changing—she could feel it in his stoicism, the way he wouldn't rest against her, his oddly racing heart. He whimpered, glancing again toward Terry, not behaving like himself at all. Would he try to bite her?

When Hippy tried to pull away, she let him go. Tail between his legs, he slunk to the rear of the bus and lay down with his sad-eyed stare again. Poor Hippy.

The human mind gives us so many corridors where we can hide from what we don't want to see,
her parents used to say, trying to explain her nightmares.

Kendra would soon wonder how she could have been so blind.

Maybe it was the thermos of black coffee he'd been sipping from all day
even though it tasted like motor oil. Maybe it was the responsibility of the steering wheel and a busload of passengers, including Kendra, who were relying on him. Maybe he was just damn stubborn, like his mother had always said—but Terry didn't feel sleepy all day. For minutes at a time, chatting over his shoulder with Kendra or trying to make Piranha smile with a joke, he forgot he was supposed to be afraid. His shoulder throbbed steadily, but Extra-Strength Tylenol mostly put a stop
to that. Sometimes he sang along to the round of silly songs Deirdre had started with Jason in the back.

Memories came to Terry more vividly than usual—his mind wandered to long-ago conversations with Lisa and his mother, and he remembered his attack on his stepfather so vividly that he bit his bottom lip until it almost bled—but other than that, he didn't feel any different. He certainly didn't feel sick.

So maybe . . .

Terry tried not to think about the maybes, but he couldn't help himself. Maybe the run of good luck meant they would make it to Long Beach without having to clear the road or fire a shot. And despite Hipshot's obvious confusion around him, at least the dog wasn't barking or growling—so maybe he
wasn't
infected like the others. Maybe something about the way he'd been bitten, or the location of the bite, would slow the freak juice down . . . or stop its progress altogether. He was sure there must be
someone
out there who had survived a freak bite without turning . . . right? Why not him?

Terry's illusions died as soon as the sky began to dim with dusk. A cloud of steam rose from the hood of the Blue Beauty like an omen. The heating gauge was all the way on
H,
and he hadn't noticed! He never would have missed the temperature creeping up his last time behind the wheel; the infection was affecting his alertness.

“We have to stop the bus,” he said, and Myles came bounding up from the rear to check the control panel.

“How long's she been running hot?” Myles sounded alarmed.

“I'm not sure,” Terry said. Piranha and Ursalina were staring holes in him, but he didn't look their way. “Maybe a few minutes.”

“Well, pull over before we kill the engine. We gotta pop that hood.”

The singing stopped, and the group fell into an empty, resigned silence. They had all known something would go wrong on the trip, and now they knew when. Everyone reached for their guns. In the rear, Hipshot let out his first bark, pacing in an anxious circle.

“Hippy never barks unless there's freaks around,” Sonia warned, gazing out of her window. The back of Terry's neck flared hot with Piranha's stare.

“Maybe,” Kendra said in a dull voice. “Maybe not. He's been weird all day.”

Kendra knew something was wrong, but she wasn't sure what. Terry hadn't lied to her—Hippy
was
acting weird, he'd agreed—but his secret made his stomach squirm.

Trees and open land stretched as far as they could see under the graying skies, without a cabin or farmhouse in sight where a nest of freaks or pirates might be hiding. Both freaks and pirates favored populated areas for hunting grounds. And the embankment would partially conceal the Beauty from passersby on the two-lane road that was as much dirt as asphalt. Passersby seemed unlikely. Their path was still a distance from well-traveled Interstate 5. Myles's intelligence had advised them that the road would be clear south of Bakersfield, but not before. The 101 and coastal areas farther east would have meant doubling back after they avoided San Francisco, and the coastal road was considered more unstable anyway.

The Beauty cast the final vote in the debate about whether to stop for the night. Although the sun still peeked faintly over the edge of the sky, Terry could tell that it would have been hazardous to try to keep driving on the rough road at night.

Damn. Would he last until dawn? And then again tomorrow?

The Twins and Jackie pulled up alongside the bus on their bikes when Terry popped the hood. As soon as the cool air outside hit his skin, Terry nearly rocked on his heels from sudden fatigue. He righted himself quickly, but not before Piranha noticed.

“I'm good,” Terry said, forcing liveliness into his voice. Piranha's staring eyes weren't convinced.

While the others took sentry positions or crowded around the hood to watch Myles at work, Piranha and Terry drifted toward the woods as if they were on a patrol. Kendra watched them, clearly wanting to come along, but stayed behind with Hipshot.

“You look beat,” Piranha said.

“Coffee's cold, but the caffeine still works,” Terry said.

Piranha held out his palm, offering him two white pills. “You'll need more than caffeine tonight,” he said. Terry swallowed the pills dry without asking what they were. Briefly, he wondered if he should accept any pills from Piranha, but he flushed his doubts away. “Hippy's figuring it out.”

Terry sighed. “I know.” Losing the dog's friendship hurt. Terry had taken a chance on coaxing Hippy to his side earlier that day, but he wouldn't dare try it now. He and Hipshot were keeping their distance from each other.

“Listen . . .” Piranha said. “You need to tell Kendra. Soon. Tonight. The sooner the better. They all deserve to know, with night coming.”

“I'm awake,” Terry said. In that moment, it felt like the truth. The sky was vivid and crisp. The woods smelled damp and alive. He might never have been more awake, savoring every moment.

“What happened with the bus?” Piranha said. “Were you watching the gauge?”

Terry stared at the dry soil at his feet. “I don't know. It took me by surprise. Myles did a decent job fixing the bus, but I'm still the best to handle that clutch.”

“Bull,” Piranha said. “I'm driving tomorrow.”

“P, I need—”

“You think I care?” Piranha said between gritted teeth. “Listen to yourself. What
you
need? That day is gone, man. You blink too long, and we could all be dead.”

Terry's spirit sank, as if he were waking in a bad dream. Terry wanted to tell Piranha that he needed to drive the bus to have a reason to stay awake, to stay
alive.
But Piranha was right: the delay made it too risky.

Why hadn't he watched that heat gauge? Was there something he could have done sooner to avoid stopping?

“Radiator's clogged!” Myles called, sounding thrilled. “Not sure why yet, but I was afraid it was the cooling fan. I'll get it cleared out, but rodding the radiator will take time. I have to clean it and rebuild it.”

“But you can do it tonight?” Terry said. “With the parts you have?”

“Oh yeah. Take a while, but I can do it.”

A mechanic was a miracle. But not enough.

“Guess we're camping here,” Dean said from above. He'd already taken a post in a branch of one of the fir trees with binoculars, staring out over the forest.

“I cooked last time,” Sonia said.

It was as if they'd never left the road. Or Camp Round Meadow. But the voices were far away, as if Terry was already floating above them.

“I'll cook,” Kendra said.

“No fires,” Ursalina said. “Just MREs. And no loud noises. We don't want company.” Even without knowing, Ursalina was
easing herself into the leadership role. Terry could imagine her whipping Piranha into line after . . .

Just . . . after.

By dark, they'd all eaten and Deirdre, Rianne, and Jason were sleeping on the bus. Myles worked under the Beauty's hood with a pen flashlight he held clamped in his teeth. The Twins were guarding the camp, and Piranha was guarding Terry, practically following him step for step. Waiting for Terry's lead.

“What's with him?” Kendra said, irritated, glancing at Piranha as he lurked nearby while Kendra and Terry dug holes for toilets and trash a few yards behind the bus. The holes were concealed behind a juniper bush, a nod to privacy.

Toilet detail wasn't what Terry had imagined when he thought about how and when he would tell Kendra what had happened to him. But then again, most of his life was beyond his imagination now. This was as close as they would ever get to alone.

A low growl floated from behind them. Hipshot. Hippy was under the bus, watching them as keenly as Piranha.

Tears came to Kendra's eyes. “He's infected, isn't he?” she whispered.

“No.” Terry jammed his foot against the shovel to pitch away a mound of hard soil. “Dogs don't get it.”

“Are you sure? All day, he's been—”

Terry tossed his shovel aside and sat on an exposed tree root big enough to share. “Come here a second,” he said. “I have to talk to you.”

For a moment, Kendra stared down at him, as still as a tree trunk herself. Terry had replayed his bite in the tunnel from a hundred angles, and he was sure Kendra must have seen what had happened, or at least suspected. Yet she had never asked.

“About what?” she said, her voice thin and angry.

“About the tunnel.”

“I'm trying to forget that tunnel.” But she sat behind him. Her tiny frame was shaking. Hipshot growled again, slowly crawling forward to protect her.

“It's okay, Hippy,” she said, and the growling stopped.

Terry couldn't think of words to soften it, so he didn't. “He bit me, Kendra.”

“Hipshot?”

Terry's tongue was a mound of sandpaper. “A tunnel freak bit me.” He had to clear his throat to go on. “The runner. When I fell, he bit my shoulder. I couldn't get him off me in time.”

“What?” Kendra leaned closer, as if she hadn't heard.

He had to repeat it twice more before anything like recognition dawned in her face. Even then, she said, “So why aren't you infected?”

Terry didn't answer. He only stared, waiting for her to allow the knowledge in.

Kendra's face went slack, nearly lifeless. “Why aren't you infected, Terry?”

“I am,” he whispered. “I feel it. I just have to stay awake as long as I can.”

Kendra jumped to her feet, emitting such a wounded wail that both Hipshot and Piranha ran to investigate. Hipshot lunged at Terry, but Piranha pulled him back by the collar before he was close enough to nip at him. Hipshot's bark was full of heartbreaking rage and fear. Ursalina joined Piranha to keep him from getting free.

“Put him on the bus!” Terry said. “Just give us a minute.”

Kendra stared at Terry, moon-eyed, as if he were an inanimate object suddenly able to walk and speak. She was shaking so much that she looked unsteady on her feet.

Terry tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. Her eyes said:
Why didn't you tell me?

Terry swallowed hard. “This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Piranha figured it out. I wanted to tell you, but . . .”

Kendra pressed her palms to her ears like a small child. With another cry, she turned and ran toward the woods.