Lust Plague (Steamwork Chronicles) (12 page)

Like thrown-aside toys, the women lay stripped of their uniforms, tangled together with twisted limbs. A long metal pole joined them grotesquely—driven through one woman’s stomach and out the back, then through the other. Dark blood pooled on the ground. The putrid smell of burst innards and violent death. The beautiful blue of the sky contrasted with the frozen agony on their faces.

Raped, tortured, then killed.

“Raised men,” she whispered.

“Yep.” Sten pulled a small knife from a sheath at his waist. “Hope they’ve gone elsewhere. They’re too smart for my liking.” He severed the rope joining Emily to the gyro, moved on to the ropes tying her hands.

“They did it in front of me once the ammo ran out, made me watch. Said I was next. There was one who talked. Kept talking like someone was telling him what to do…ugly things.” Emily shut her eyes a moment, cleared her throat. “About fifteen, twenty minutes ago, they turned away, forgot me, climbed down, and went.”

The talking bothered her.
Other zombies don’t talk. Ling did the same. And who attracted them? Us?
Kaysana breathed out slow through her teeth.

A stream of blood flowed across the concrete, swallowing the gray.
They’re dead, gone—nothing more can be done for them. Emily is the priority. The past is done
. A memory flashed in her mind.

Blood unfurling and spreading in the stream beneath the bridge. The stream that carried twigs for their races.

No
. Kaysana pushed it aside, shuddering back into the now.

Untied, Emily wrapped her arms about herself and stared wide-eyed up at Sten. “I know you. From the airship.”

“Yeah, darling.” Sten dropped his haversack, knelt, and gently turned her foot, studying the purple marks left by the rope. “I’m rescuing you again. Don’t make a habit of this, will you?”

“No.” She laughed in a choked-up way, wiped her eyes. “Promise.”

If she went nearer, Emily might recognize her.
The world’s so fucked-up, what’s it matter?
She squatted, put her arm about Emily, pulled her close. The notion this might make Emily feel better was strangely…nice. “Let’s get you checked over.”

The rope had abraded Emily’s ankle. Items from the gyro’s tool kit and first aid kit lay strewn next to her leg. The swabs stuffed around the rope were stained with blood. Impressive presence of mind. Had Emily been looking for something sharp? And she’d tried to treat her wound.

A few faint yells and shouts came from below. “You’ll be okay, Emily.” Sten massaged her foot, then met Kaysana’s eyes. “Color’s coming back real fast. We need her walking. From the sounds of it, a crowd is gathering down below and this building is climbable.”

Climbable?
“We should limit the entry points. Can you block the door?”

“How will we get out then? The zombs could come from any direction down there.”

Excellent question. She looked about, thinking. “I know how. Given some luck.”

“Luck? That’s my territory. I’ll wedge the door shut.” He stalked away.

One thing fixed.

The whistle of the wind and the creak of the gyro shifting lent the awful pause a musical background.

She stepped sideways, glanced down. Below, men milled at the base of the building, some making tentative efforts to climb.

Sten came around the end of the gyrocopter, and her mind plummeted into an abyss. A fog of desire swirled in, crowding out thoughts. Biting her lip didn’t help.

“I’ve jammed the door shut the best I can.” He wiped his brow. “It should do. Now. How do we get off here? What’s the plan? Kaysana?”

The fog was a gray shroud, tangling up his words with the lust raging through her. Teetering on her feet, she hung there, teased by the movement of Sten’s lips, by the swagger in his hips. She itched to sink to her knees and hold on to his leg.
Stupid. I’m not a dog. Not thinking right. Maybe, if I…shut my eyes?

Blackness descended. She groped for, held onto, some part of the gyrocopter. Something sharp dug into her fingers.

She heard the conversation as if at a distance, yet comprehension eluded her.

“Damn. She has a plan to get us off the roof.”

“Why can’t she say what it is? Who is she? I feel like I kinda know her.” A female voice.

“All she wants right now is to come—and this doesn’t seem the time or place. Emily, can you go slap her?”

“Me?”

“Yep. You. I bother her too much, an’ we need her thinking.”

Even through the fog she recognized smugness.
Bastard.

“Gosh, okay. Here I go. This seems
wrong
.”

Footsteps crunched closer. A hand smacked across her face, stinging her. She coughed and opened her eyes, put her hand to her cheek. Emily peered at her, concern and curiosity, all in one.

For a few seconds pain overrode her confusion.
Why does he affect me so?

“I’m sorry for that but… How do we get off the roof?” Emily leaned in, blonde pigtails swaying. “Zombies are coming.”

Behind Emily, as if he’d had been catapulted onto the roof, a man appeared—arms outstretched, eyes alight with orange fire, his fire-wreathed hands reached. Cadrach snarled and lunged…then Sten’s shotgun blew the zombie away.

Blood misted the air. He bit off a scream, spun out into midair, and went down. Gone.

A knife clattered to the concrete. Blinking, she studied it. The zombie must’ve had it.
Snick snick
. The shotgun’s barrel rotated, loading a round. Sten hefted it, stepped back toward her. “They’re coming up. Kaysana, what do we do?”

Fog waited at the edges. Pain, she needed pain. The sharpness under her fingers called, and she grasped it. Fire lanced into her, wetness leaked across her fingers, and her mind cleared. Even with her eyes closed, he’d affected her. If not sight, then maybe smell. She inhaled.

The first aid kit
. She dived on it, fumbled through the contents—swabs, tweezers, found a small bottle of antiseptic, unscrewed it, and wiped liquid under her nose. The scent burned away Sten’s distinctive odor.

She blinked, sneezed.
I can think again
. She went to jam the bottle in a pocket and found she had none.
Skimpy skirt, minuscule top. Blast
. She tucked it into her top.

Now even Sten’s smell sends me crazy?
The lust was still there, but a simmering presence instead of something that blazed like a ten-mile-high bonfire. Not being able to think clearly when she needed to was a disaster. She’d have to stay on her toes to defeat it.

Another zombie scrambled onto the roof. Cadrach lunged, thumping into him. He collapsed like a dead man should, all floppy, flailing limbs. To a symphony of wet cracking sounds, Cadrach closed his bear-trap mouth over the zombie’s throat and ripped it out.

In one stride, Sten reached him. “Leave it, Cadrach!” The dog backed off. Sten placed the shotgun to the zombie’s temple, pulled the trigger. The shotgun boomed and splattered the roof in an arc of black blood.

Three more clambered onto the roof. They headed for Emily.

Pirouetting and leaping back like a well-armed ballerina, Sten gestured at Emily and held out his arm as if to shepherd her farther away from the onslaught. For a microsecond, his arm touched Kaysana. The shock wave dropped her to her knees. As if they were puppets yanked by a string, the three invaders swiveled their heads and changed direction toward her and Sten.

On hands and knees, Kaysana scuttled back out of reach. She pulled the revolver from the holster. In their eye sockets, flames churned. The brush of hair at her side and a low growl told her Cadrach was there.

Blam
. She shot one plumb through the forehead, and the recoil rocked her wrist.
Still coming? Blam blam
. And it finally went over backward with a neat triangle of holes on its head.

Sten picked the other two off easily, knocking them off the roof. The third he booted into space. Yet she heard him mumble under his breath as if he found the killing distasteful.

“How do we get off, Kaysana? There’s a hundred down there!”

A step forward, a glance down, and she saw more zombies sprinting in. Some scrambled to climb the facade. Some fell, landing in crumpled heaps. Others, ones with flaming eyes, came up the building like monkeys. The revolver dangled heavily from her hand.

The next five zombies she and Sten blasted full of holes. She reloaded, slipping in the fat brass cartridges plucked from the belt, one by one. Though eager and full of a wild-eyed joy of battle, the wolf stayed behind, where Sten had sent him.

Before she was ready, five more reached the top.

After a step back to cover a wider area, Sten shot them, one after the other, like a prize-winning shoot at a fair. Then he reloaded, methodical and calm. Blood and chunks of flesh spattered the roof. Sten scrubbed his forearm across his face as he wiped away sweat.

She mightn’t be quite in her right mind, but she could see the man hated killing.
Hell, what sane person wouldn’t. How much had she prejudged him?

“We should leave, Sten, or we’ll be overwhelmed.”

The aerial—that had been her plan. She gestured. “Knock over the aerial and use it as a ladder to get across to the next building’s roof. That’s a police garage. Bound to be some vehicle in there. Can you unscrew the bolts at the base? They’re new. There’s a wrench in the kit you tipped out.”

“I can,” Emily piped up. “My dad was a steam engine fitter and mechanic.”

Naked, plus she’d just survived a close encounter with rape and death, and her little ship’s librarian was composed already and steady of voice? The depth of the woman amazed her. Kaysana adjusted her mask. “Sure. Do that. The bolts might still be tight. Yell if you need help.”

“’Kay.” Emily smiled, saluted, turned on her heel, and ran toward the aerial.

Saluting? Yelling orders might have given me away. God, Sten said my name too. This is stupid
. She drew off the mask, tossed it aside.

“Look at this.” Sten stared over the side. He held the long and bloody pole that had skewered the women. While she’d been preoccupied, he’d slid it from their bodies. Ugh. She hoped his reasons were good.

When she tore her gaze away from how he casually held that deadly pole, and looked at where he pointed, she saw a raised man below, surrounded by other kneeling men. He went from one to the other, touching their heads like a priest granting a blessing. They fell, writhing. Some rose. Even at the great distance, she could see the flare in their sockets.

“Shotgun won’t reach,” she murmured.

He drew back his arm, flung the pole. “Haaa!”

The shout seemed to stir the hairs on her arm. The pole sped down the side of the building, whistling, spinning, heading earthward with a vengeance…and speared into the raised man’s head—knocking him over, fastening him to the earth like a wriggling worm pinned in a collection.

Sten peered over, grunted. “Scratch one.”

By the time Emily had toppled the aerial onto the adjacent building, Sten was low on ammunition and Kaysana was low on antiseptic. The bitter stench of it under her nose made her want to throw up.

Worth it, though—if I can keep this wanting under control.

“There’s a gap in their attack. No more raised men.” Using finger and thumb to guide them, Sten slid the last five cartridges into the shotgun’s chambers.

“Let’s go, then!” She indicated the makeshift bridge. Emily had already traversed it.

The crisscross frame of the aerial looked strong but there was nowhere real wide.
And I’m not a trapeze artist. Cadrach should be okay. Which is good
. The wolf had grown on her, and leaving him behind for the zombies…the idea made her feel ill.

She’d have to crawl as Emily had. Kaysana gave it a kick with her boot and nothing shifted.
Solid
. At a whistle and gesture, the wolf crawled across the antenna to Emily, leaping and bounding about in joy once he reached her.

“Down, boy,” Emily squeaked, then giggled at the slurp of his tongue. “Come on, you two!”

“You’re next. Ladies first.” Sten inclined his head. Then, hand propped on knee, he leaned out to check the street. “Fuck. They’re following us.”

The sight of the heavy cord of muscle at the side of his neck fed into her like an electric zap. She ran her tongue along her parted lips.
No. Hell no. Control yourself
. She tore her eyes away.

The subdued roar forewarned her. The crowd flowed into the side street. Some already poured into the door of the opposite building. This would be suicide. And Emily was over there. Her thoughts raced through the possibilities. The only solution she could think of made her heart stutter a few lonely beats. Could Emily do what she needed to? She tried to remember the woman’s personnel file and couldn’t. What were the chances there’d be a vehicle with the keys inside?
Emily’s so young. How it is so many people have to die? God, I’m getting maudlin, weak.

She straightened.

“Sten. We need to distract them.”

“Oh?” He scowled, watched the milling zombies for a few seconds. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Ideas?”

“I have one.” Then she raised her voice and yelled across the gap. “Emily, go get a vehicle. We’ll draw the zombies away first, so wait a while in the stairwell. We’ll meet you down there, at the back street! Take care! And get some clothes!”

“Guard her, Cadrach!” Sten added. “Good boy!”

“Sure. Okay!” Emily cried. She and Cadrach headed for the opposite door leading down off the roof.

Brave girl
. Kaysana heard Sten approach.

“What’s your idea?”

She didn’t turn. Saying this was easier when not seeing his eyes. She licked her lips, composed herself. “Passion attracts them. When we touched earlier…and after we made love at the shop, they headed for us.”
Saying this is so hard to do
. “Seduce me.”

She listened. His boots crunched closer. Her breathing stopped.