Inhuman (18 page)

What had been a train station before the exodus was now a marketplace and dining hall. Along the perimeter, food stalls displayed the offerings of the day: plates of grilled meat and glasses of foamy beer. Carcasses hung from iron support beams — turkeys, geese, and chickens — yet the place didn’t reek of blood. The smell was more reminiscent of a summer barbeque. The center area was taken up with various tables and chairs, everything from wooden picnic benches to elegant dining room sets — probably plundered from abandoned homes.

Despite the dirt and debris tracked across the inlaid floor and the somber reason for holding the town meeting, the station didn’t have the desperate or unhappy feel that I’d expected. These people were living in the Feral Zone, and yet as they found seats, they exchanged greetings and words of reassurance with those around them. There was even a sprinkling of laughter as children chased one another, some of whom were manimals. Still, there was a worn, scuffed quality to the adults’ faces. Clearly life within a quarantine compound wasn’t one big campout with sing-alongs and s’mores.

Rafe paused by a food counter piled with smoked meats to survey the area. I looked around too, searching the crowd for the familiar head of wavy dark hair, the wire-rimmed glasses, my heart accelerating with the anticipation of seeing my father’s face. How surprised would he be to see me here? Would he be mad at me? Considering the trouble he was in, me coming to the Feral Zone had to be the least of his worries.

“Hey, Rafe, did you kill it?” a young voice asked.

I turned to see two boys sitting on the other side of the meat counter. They wore baseball caps pulled low, yet not low enough to cover the faint green speckles that ran from their temples to circle their eyes, which made them look moldy. Their vertical pupils were even more disturbing.

Rafe frowned slightly, a pucker between his brows.

“It’s Andrew Lehrer, remember?” said the boy.

“And Avi,” said the other. “You did a job for our grandma last month.”

“No, I didn’t kill the rogue yet,” Rafe said in a flat voice and returned to surveying the crowd. “Mack here?” he asked without glancing back.

“Haven’t seen him.” The boys took me in with curious eyes.

“Thanks,” I murmured to them and hurried to catch up with Rafe, who’d strode off. “You know, you could be nicer when you talk to them…. Manimals.”

“Why? So they think we’re friends?”

“Would that be so awful?”

He shot me a look and leaned against a massive pillar. Then he nodded toward the center staircase. Halfway up the stairs, a middle-aged woman, dark-skinned and curvy, stood alone, looking out at the crowd. Her riot of curls and high cheekbones gave her an exotic look, which was saying something, considering she was dressed like a lumberjack in jeans and a plaid shirt.

“That’s the mayor,” Rafe whispered. “Hagen.”

With a bartender’s apron wrapped around her hips, Hagen wasn’t the western vision of a mayor, but her demeanor was serious enough. “Okay, people,” she said loudly, “I’ll get right to it.” The room grew impressively silent. “Every one of us is torn up about losing Jared, but none more than his family. I know that Ruby and her sons can count on all of us to pick up their work shifts as they navigate their grief.”

People and manimals at the tables nodded, while I continued to scan the crowd for my father. He should have been easy enough to spot in this odd assembly, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

“When we found Jared,” Hagen continued, “the circumstances suggested a feral that’s gone rogue — probably the one that was preying on people in this area two years ago.”

A cry went up from the crowd and hovered over the room like a storm cloud. Hagen lifted a hand, and the voices faded. “I’m sure you’ve all heard by now how Jared died….”

I nudged Rafe. “I don’t think my —”

Rafe put a finger to his lips.

Fine. I’d go look in the back of the station by the food stalls. Maybe my dad was —

“And I’ll confirm it,” Hagen continued. “His heart was ripped out.”

I stopped short with a gasp. Ripped — how was that even possible? When Rafe told me about the rogue, I thought he was just trying to freak me out. What was I doing in a place where people got their hearts ripped out?

“And now a teenage girl has gone missing a mile south of here,” Hagen went on. “I don’t want anyone else disappearing, so I’ve allocated compound resources to offer a reward to the person who brings in the rogue. And thankfully, we have a bunch of hunters and hacks willing to try.” She gestured to a small group of people in the back corner. No surprise that from where I stood they looked like the sketchiest clump of humanity I’d ever seen. I needed to get out of this place ASAP. But my dad wasn’t in the crowd as far as I could tell.

When questions swelled in the room like a roaring wave, the mayor clapped her hands. “One at a time! Leonard, spit it out.” Hagen pointed at a man seated in front.

“Are we going to be stuck inside the compound again? We were holed up for weeks last time,” Leonard said. “We couldn’t trade or hunt. If it’s going to be like that —”

“It’ll be worse,” Rafe said loudly. I slid another foot away from him as the townsfolk twisted in their seats to see who’d spoken.

Leonard scowled at him. “That thing snatched anyone who set foot in the woods and if we were lucky —
if
— we’d find a heap of bloody clothes days later. How much worse can it get?”

“Two years ago, the feral skimmed the edges of the compounds, grabbing people who were outside the fence. It’s bolder now.” Rafe’s voice easily filled the echoing space.

“How much bolder?” Hagen asked, clearly dreading the answer.

“For the past year it has been going into compounds after dark and dragging people from their beds.”

Gasps and cries rippled through the room and I didn’t blame the crowd one bit. I was verging on hyperventilation myself over that image.

Hagen rubbed a hand over her eyes. “And you have no idea what it is?”

“Nope. Only that it’s strong. A couple of months ago, it hauled a 250-pound man over the Peoria fence.” Rafe’s gaze settled on me. “I do know there’s a guy infected with tiger in the area. I can’t
prove
it’s him, but that’s where I’m placing my bet.”

“Tiger!” The word cut through the crowd, followed by a horrified silence.

I glared at Rafe. How dare he bring up Chorda when he knew that the tiger-man wasn’t feral based on what I’d told him? Now those hunters would shoot Chorda on sight — no questions asked — because Rafe had just declared it open season on tigers.

“And here’s what else I know,” Rafe went on. “This feral has hit five other compounds — enough that I’ve picked up on a pattern.

“This rogue doesn’t have a pattern,” scoffed a greasy hunter in the back. “No one knows where it’ll hit next.”

Rafe looked unfazed. “True, but once this feral shows up in an area, it does have a routine.”

“And what’s that?” Hagen asked.

“It’ll stick around for about a week, kill one person a day, and then disappear for a couple of months. I don’t know where it goes when it’s lying low, but that’s its pattern. And here’s what you all
really
need to know: This feral isn’t taking whatever dirtbag crosses its path anymore. It’s gotten much pickier about its prey. Now it’ll stalk the person it wants, waiting for its chance to pounce.”

I wondered if Alva Soto had confirmed that for him when she’d said that her sister had sensed something hunting her.

“That’s a load of crap.” The greasy hunter sneered. “Ferals don’t plan — rogue or not. They eat, they sleep, and some howl at the moon. They’re
animals
.”

A low grumble of protest came from the manimals in the station. One gave an agitated flick of his hand, rejecting the statement, while I shuddered at the sight of his long black claws.

“
Animals
also hunt and they have preferences when it comes to prey.” Rafe folded his arms over his chest. “But I’m willing to consider another theory. Maybe it isn’t totally feral. Maybe it’s a manimal — evil as all get out, but still thinking straight.”

I frowned. He was throwing that out there so that he didn’t have to admit he was wrong about Chorda.

“Why a manimal?” A large man got to his feet. A layer of gray filmy skin hung from his cheeks, half peeled away. Considering his whiskers and downward pointing tusks, he was probably infected with walrus. “It could just as easily be fully human. Serial killers were around long before us.”

“The victims’ chests were ripped open with claws” — Rafe waggled his fingers — “not fingernails.”

“Rogue, alien, demented nun … I don’t care what it is,” Hagen said loudly. “I just want its head in a Hefty bag.
Comprende
, people?”

“Excuse me.” A young woman stood, her eyes on Rafe as she nervously fingered the knife tucked into her belt. Pockmarked and wiry, she could have passed for a boy. “You said the feral is choosing its victims. Who is it choosing?”

“Two years ago, it stuck to the bottom of the food chain, mostly picking off drifters. Now it only goes for respectable people. That’s a broad range, I know, but it
is
selecting its victims. Every person who went missing this year told someone that they felt like they were being watched the day before. So if you have that sense, come find me.”

“So, the feral’s already picked its next victim?” the greasy hunter scoffed. “Well, heck, I guess that means the rest of us can kick back and relax.”

“You can, Tox,” Rafe retorted. “Like I said, it’s only snatching decent people.”

The hunter started to reply but Hagen cut him off. “Okay, everyone, here’s what that means,” she shouted to be heard above the frightened chatter. “Mandatory curfew. No ifs, ands, or buts. The gate doesn’t open for anybody after sunset. Anyone out at night will be considered a threat. Manimals, that goes double for you.”

“Why double for us?” the walrus-man huffed.

Hagen held up her hands. “That’s it, meeting’s over.”

“Come on, Ed,” said the normal-looking woman beside the walrus-man. “Leave it alone.” She tugged at him until he followed her, glowering over his shoulder at the mayor. When he caught me staring at him, I looked away quickly.

“If Mr. Walrus is smart, he’ll leave town,” Rafe said, watching the couple go.

“Why? Is the rogue killing manimals too?” My voice caught on the word
manimals
, but I got it out. Maybe someday it would even sound like a real word.

“No. But when the humans start looking for someone to blame,” he said, gesturing to the departing crowd, “it won’t be one of their own.”

“Won’t they blame the rogue feral?”

“Sure, until somebody says that it’s punishing the compound because of something someone did. That’s when the tar and feathers get dragged out.”

“You’ve seen that happen?”

He nodded and took another long look around the room. “Mack’s not here.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Where else could he be?”

“Hagen will know if he’s in the compound.” Rafe pulled out a chair at an empty table. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Do you want to be? I’m sure the mastiff there would be happy to get a mouthful of you.”

The jowly man at a nearby table looked up from his meal and glared at Rafe. I wished the floor would split open and swallow me, but I settled for whispering, “Sorry,” before slipping into the chair and ducking my head to inspect my silverware for spots. Why did I have to be stuck in a new place with the rudest person alive? How were we going to get answers about my dad if he went around insulting everyone? I looked up to find him grinning at me.

“I’ve never seen anyone turn that red,” he said, sitting beside me. “Including the baboon dude back there.” He pointed over my shoulder — as if I was going to turn around. He smirked. “You know you want to look.”

“Shut up,” I muttered.

Rafe grinned. “Sure you don’t want to stick a ‘please’ on the end?”

“Okay, pretty boy,” Hagen said, joining us, “what are you doing back so soon?”

“I got a bunch of traps set and hung up poisoned meat. But then something came up.”

“You mean
someone
?” She sounded annoyed, though the gaze she turned on to me was friendly enough. “Where are you from, hon?”

“The West,” Rafe replied for me.

Hagen laughed. “And I just got back from swimming in the California surf.”

I felt a weird twinge of pride, knowing that I no longer looked like a silky from the West.

“She’s Mack’s daughter.”

There was something in the way Rafe said it that told me that this was significant information for this woman.

Hagen’s face twitched, and she pushed her chair back abruptly from the table. She saw me watching her and said, “It’s not that it isn’t good to meet you, Delaney Park.”

Did everyone in the Feral Zone know about me?

“The problem is that your being here means Mack is in trouble.”

“How did you know?”

“She’s your dad’s —” Rafe started.

“— good friend,” Hagen finished.

I’d have to have been an idiot not to catch that subtext. However, I decided to ignore it. If my father had a girlfriend over here, that was one secret I didn’t mind him keeping. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The crease in Hagen’s forehead deepened. “Mack came by here to tell me that biohaz agents were probably looking for him. He took off again last night to see if he could bribe a line guard to fly him over the wall. He was planning to clear out of Davenport.” She studied my face. Her eyes were a beautiful amber color. “So how did you get dragged into this mess, little girl?”

“She’s supposed to give Mack a letter,” Rafe said, “and then she’s going back to her side of the wall to eat bonbons and paint her toenails.”

Any other time, his barb would have set my teeth on edge, but now I didn’t care. I slumped back in my chair, feeling as if I’d given too much blood. I had crossed the last bridge, broken quarantine, hoping to find my dad in time. And now I knew without a doubt that I’d failed.