Rising Tide (5 page)

I covered my section of the perimeter, but it was trickier here than it had been at the football field. There were cars outside the police station, and they had been overgrown with vines and vegetation. I had to make sure to keep my eyes not only between them, but underneath as well. A Feral could emerge from anywhere.

Sweat started trickling. I had a wool cap on my head and safety goggles and my scarf up, but somehow it still fell between the gaps. There was nothing to do about it, though.

I wanted to turn and look to see how far Mal had gotten, but I kept my eyes straight. It was maddening. That's the thing about the ground, the fight with yourself is often more important than fighting off Ferals. Brave the ground without discipline, and you were asking to be infected.

Then I caught it. Movement, off behind a rusted heap that used to be a car. I raised my revolver and watched, hoping to catch it again. Nothing. Nothing. Then . . . something.

I signaled to Claudia, silently, then moved toward it. She would have my back, and hopefully the others would change their style of cover to make sure that they picked up the slack.

I moved, slowly but without hesitation. If it was a Feral, it didn't seem to be hunting. Hunting Ferals screamed and attacked almost fearlessly. For a moment I wondered if it could be some kind of smart Feral, and that was almost too much to consider so I let it go.

I inched forward, gun out, used the car for cover, and carefully pivoted so I could see (and shoot if necessary) what was beyond it.

It was a Feral, and my finger moved to the trigger but . . . then I paused. Something was different here.

The Feral was on all fours, moving back and forth in the space between the cars. I couldn't tell what sex it was. Long hair hung around its face, it had no real breasts to speak of, and whatever genitals it had were hidden between its legs. But it moved in an odd, jerky fashion, and sometimes it would stop and its head would arc, almost painfully, in one direction.

Injured? I didn't see any open wounds on the creature. As my heartbeat slowed a bit, I thought I heard it snuffling. Then a kind of whining wheeze, soft, but as it looked around. What the fuck was this thing?

I wanted to shoot it. I wanted to do it so badly that I had to actively restrain myself from raising my arm and pulling the trigger. But that was the stupid move. A shot would alert any others around that there was food nearby. Instead, making sure I wasn't within reach of the thing, I signaled to Claudia to use her bow. It was quiet enough and would take out the creature quite easily.

She moved around to where she could hit the thing. Then, whether it was Claudia accidentally stepping on something, or me, or nothing in particular at all, the Feral looked up. It saw Claudia there, bow outstretched. And it just gave that whine again, jerking its head to the side again. No snarl, no growl, no threatening gestures at all. I think that startled Claudia because she paused for a moment.

In that moment, the thing could have leapt forward. Claudia's shot might have gone wide, and it could have been on her, or me, before either of us could react.

Only it didn't. It stayed in that same position, head jerked to one side, that kind of whining sound coming out of it.

Then Claudia put an arrow through its eye and the Feral jerked back, striking the ground, and was still.

Exhaling, I gave her a thumbs-up as we returned to the group, but the thought of that Feral stayed with me. I assumed it had been injured at some point. Ferals were susceptible to the same kinds of things that humans were, and some of them were born with problems, but it was pretty well known that if an individual in the pack wasn't healthy enough to hunt or survive on its own, it was usually killed. And eaten. By its own pack. That this one had survived, and how, was a mystery.

I thought about that as Mal worked to open the door. Then, after a while of watching and waiting, Claudia signaled to me that it was done.

The door was open.

Our prize awaited.

Getting to the goods was surprisingly simple. Inside the outer door was a small entryway with what looked like a guard post or reception area surrounded by glass. Then, beyond, guarded by a few more locks, was a large warehouse.

Mal got us through the locks, and then we searched the warehouse, alert, most of all, for any signs of Ferals.

We found none.

What we did find, well, it was a haul for the ages. There were weapons, both small and large, and plenty of ammunition. Armored clothing and protective gear, including helmets and large shields. And, most impressive of all, large armored vehicles, the type that seemed should belong in a military base or stalled somewhere after the Bug hit, pitted with rust and overgrown with vegetation. Their hard, black shells were covered in dust, but I could see the beauty beneath. Like massive, black insects—and everyone knew that insects were some of the hardiest creatures around.

Lord Tess whistled when she saw everything. I didn't say anything, but my eyes were wider than I can ever remember them being. Claudia found my hand with hers and gave it a squeeze.

“Let's get this all loaded and ready to go,” Mal said.

It snapped everybody to attention, and we began loading duffle bags and backpacks and everything we brought with us. I focused on the smaller arms and rifles since I was most familiar with them. Also grabbed for some grenades and other explosives.

Then I decided to shift focus to the vehicles.

They weren't just impressive, they were valuable. Something like that, fully operational, would be a godsend on the ground, impervious to Feral attacks, and with enough firepower to cover any entrances or exits. I ran to one and pulled open the door. For all its age, it looked virtually unused. They definitely hadn't been able to use this when the shit went down.

I climbed into the driver's seat and was immediately bewildered. It was a good deal more complicated than your usual car or truck, which I had learned how to use early on—sometimes they need to be cleared from the roads, and sometimes they're useful for transporting hauls to a ship. I called over to Tess, asking her to come in. “Can you figure this out?” I asked.

She smiled. “Piece of cake.”

I helped her into the seat and then went back to what I was doing.

That was Tess's value—she knew stuff from the Clean. Knew technology, history, how things worked. She made it her business to be an expert on that world, and it made her useful to the people trying to pick amongst its scraps.

I filled another bag, and then another. I recognized one of the items as a launcher, used to fire explosives. That went in the bag, too.

“Benjamin!” Tess called.

I ran over to where she sat, her coat bunched up around her. “What happened?”

Her smile made lines on the sides of her eyes and mouth. “Turn it.” She pointed.

I reached for the key set firmly in the ignition and I turned it. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the engine coughed to life and emitted a loud, aggressive rumble. I smiled. “Good work.”

She made a mock bow from her seat. “I told you I had it.”

“We can load this up and ride it out,” I said to the others. “If we can drive it around those cars out there, I can get it up the
Cherub
's ramp.”

Cheyenne nodded. “It's a good idea.”

Mal frowned. “If we can get it out.”

“I'll check,” I said.

The warehouse had two bay doors for the vehicles to be driven out of, but there was no real way of knowing what lay on the other side. I would have to go out the front and circle around to the doors to see what was there or else figure out another way to get the vehicles out.

I moved to Claudia. “Can you continue this without me? I'm going to check out what's on the other side of those doors.”

“By yourself?”

“I'll be quieter by myself,” I said. “Besides, I need you to keep pulling loot. I want to win that fucking ante.”

“You know two of those things are ours, right?”

“It's the principle of the thing.”

“So I do all the work while you go for a stroll.”

I smiled at her. “If I get the vehicle, we're a lock for the win.”

“Just be careful,” she said.

“I will,” I said. And then I grabbed her ass. It was brash, but I was feeling, I don't know, something wild and buoyant inside of me. Since my father died, things had been a struggle. I had Claudia, of course, and she was great, but something had been missing. For me, at least. This was, well, the biggest score I had ever seen. Just the barter from this one score would keep the
Cherub
in repairs for as long as I would need. It would keep Claudia and me fed for a while. And the loot itself could be used if necessary. You never turned your back on weapons and ammunition.

So I was feeling good. Accomplished. Successful. As I turned to go, Claudia grabbed my ass, and I smiled.

And yet, while that excitement propelled me to that front set of doors, the moment I stepped out into fresh air, that feeling, the weight of the world and what it was, fell down on me. Hard. And most of that fire guttered out. Not all of it. But most of it. And I suddenly regretted going out alone.

I couldn't bring myself to go back in. Not with that group. Maybe if it had been just Claudia and me, but I wasn't going to show weakness in front of the others, so I moved around the building. As quickly, as quietly, and as questingly as I could. I stuck close to the storage facility, hugging the wall so that I had something solid against my back, the revolver down at my side, held firmly and ready for use.

One side of the building, then another, passed by without any other movement. I lowered my scarf a bit so my ears were less covered. So I could hear anything coming toward me. Howls, snuffling, the slap of feet against the asphalt. Anything.

Those moments are always the worst. You feel dangled like bait, out in the world, daring a hungry Feral to take a bite.

Crossing those two walls, all I heard was the hiss of my breath, the thumping of my heartbeat, and the calls of distant birds. That was one of the difficulties listening for any signs of danger—there were always animals about, it seemed. Birds, wolves, packs of wild dogs. Except for the birds, I'd want to avoid any of them.

Finally I reached the far side where the large doors were set. There were a few old cars in the way, and the rusted, old hulk of a truck arrowing in from one side. But it wasn't completely blocked. If we could roll a few of the cars a few meters in one direction or the other, we should be able to get through. All the way to the
Cherub
.

A smile curled my lips for a moment. Then faded when I realized I now had to go all the way back. So I retraced my steps, the revolver still at my side, my eyes and ears still alert. Straining, tense, every step of the way.

Each moment that passed was a relief. Ground gained. A minor victory. And as I neared the front of the building, I felt, I don't know, triumphant.

But as I approached the entrance to the building, something seemed off. I couldn't actually tell what it was at the time—just something itched at my brain. As I neared the door, I heard raised voices.

The door was slightly open, too, not completely closed like it had been when I'd left.

I opened it to a male voice, deep, gruff.

Not Mal.

Someone I didn't recognize.

CHAPTER THREE

D
ays pass in my cell on the
Phoenix
, and I'm not even sure how many. There are more than a handful of scratches on my mattress, but I've been a little inconsistent with that. The only good from all of this is that I've been healing. Slowly but surely. It no longer hurts to breathe or move or sleep, and one of the few things I can do to pass the time is exercise.

It's as I'm doing some wobbly push-ups on some indeterminable day that the knock comes on my cell door. I stand up and move away from it. It opens to admit Mal, flanked by two of his people—rough-looking men with rifles slung over their shoulders.

Mal nods, and the men grab me, each one on my arm, dragging me to the door.

“Mal?”

“Don't struggle, Benjamin,” he says. “I'd prefer not to get your blood all over my ship.”

So would I
, I think, but this could be it. He could be taking me away to my execution, despite what he promised Miranda. I lash out at the man on my right with my leg and catch him on the inner thigh. Then I turn and grab for the rifle of the man on my left. If I can get to the trigger I can—