Savage (29 page)

“Move it people!” Officer Isabel screamed, and it was then that Sidney noticed her voice sounded strange. She looked at Isabel and saw the small puddles of blood forming on the door of the SUV where the officer knelt with the gun.

“You're hurt,” Sidney said, moving toward her as Rich leveraged himself out of the window. Something must have cut her when the SUV flipped.

“We don't have time for this,” Isabel said, firing again. Her shots hit their targets, but the undulating mass of life slowly reformed each time it was hit. “We've got to make a run for it.”

Cody crawled up and out of the window next to Isabel, giving her a handful of shotgun shells. “Here, thought you could use these. I picked them up from the floor.”

Isabel reloaded the gun methodically and shoved the extras in her pockets. “How far to your dad's place?” she asked.

Sidney looked down the length of road. “Not that far,” she said. “Maybe a five-minute walk—less if we're running like hell.”

“Then you three need to run like hell.” The police officer fired the shotgun again at the advancing mass.

The wave had pulled back into the darkness of the forest beside the road, and Sidney thought maybe they actually had a chance, but she was quickly proven wrong when it exploded from the woods, bigger and nastier than before.

“Watch it!” Officer Isabel roared, managing to get off another shot before the living wave crashed into the back of the SUV. The impact spun the vehicle and sent its passengers flying from their perches atop it.

Sidney landed in the center of the road, rolling to her feet, trying not to think about how badly her body ached. She quickly looked around, finding Cody and then Rich. Snowy was beside Officer Isabel, who looked as though she was having some difficulty standing.

The living mass lifted itself up from the ground, swaying like some gigantic poisonous snake, readying to strike.

Isabel got to her feet, using the shotgun as a crutch. She petted Snowy's head vigorously, and then motioned for the dog to go as she raised her weapon.

“C'mon!” Sidney yelled to Officer Isabel as Snowy and the guys joined her in the road.

Isabel turned toward them, swaying slightly, and Sidney was shocked by the amount of blood she saw on the front of the officer's uniform.

“Go . . . ,” the police officer said, waving them away. “Get out of here!”

She spun around to the organism as it seemed to notice her, what could have been millions of eyes all zeroing in on the woman who stood defiantly before it.

“Officer Isabel, please!” Sidney called out frantically.

“You heard me! Get the hell out of here!”

Rich took Sidney's arm, trying to pull her along, but Sidney tore it away. The living mass seemed to sense their movement and turned in their direction.

“Hey!” Officer Isabel screamed, moving closer to its writhing body. “Hey, right here!”

The thick tendril of life spun toward the police officer, rearing back and studying her as she brandished her weapon.

“Yeah, that's it—right here—you ugly freak of nature.”

“No!” Sidney cried. “You can't do this!”

“Get out of here! Save this island!” Isabel shouted as she turned and made for the back of the overturned SUV.

Cody and Rich began to drag Sidney away, even as she fought them.

“You do your part,” Isabel said. She aimed the shotgun at the SUV's gas tank. “And I'll do mine.”

With that, she fired a single shot, setting off an explosion that consumed her whole and engulfed the monstrous organism in hungry fire.

The force of the blast blew Sidney, Rich, and Cody backward.

Sidney could hear only ringing in her ears. She opened and closed her mouth and moved her jaw about painfully, hoping to return the sounds of the world. She stared at the burning wreckage of the SUV and the piles of flaming animal bodies littering the ground up ahead. Something warm and wet touched her hand, and she let out a scream that she could not hear, looking down to see a cowering Snowy. Realizing what she'd done, Sidney bent down, wrapping her arms around her dog's neck and speaking into her thick, wet fur.

“It's okay,” she said, the vibration of her voice allowing her to communicate with her best friend. “Everything is going to be okay.”

But as she said this, she knew the words were wrong—a lie. Rich and Cody had come to join them, and they all stared at the flaming wreckage, seeing movement from the woods beyond, Officer Isabel's sacrifice merely a pause in the night's horror.

It wasn't okay at all.

He jumped at every sound, his imagination getting the best of him.

Was that breaking glass? Was that the door swinging open?

Dale sat uncomfortably by Isaac's side, hoping that the seizure, or whatever it was that the poor kid was going through, would pass.

“C'mon, buddy,” he said, laying his hand upon Isaac's shoulder.

A noise startled him, a thumping sound that he couldn't quite place. He turned enough to peer up the stairs and through the open doorway. The sound most definitely came from somewhere up there.

He looked back to the youth. He seemed to have calmed a bit, his body no longer as rigid. Dale suddenly remembered a kid that he'd gone to elementary school with. He'd had epilepsy, and after he had a few seizures in class, they'd never seen him again. He figured the kid's parents had taken him out of school.

It was kind of sad. He didn't think that Isaac had ever gone to school, certainly not on the island. Dale's recollection was of Isaac and his mother, always together. He wondered about the life the boy had led, feeling bad that he'd never reached out in any way, even to just say hi or how are you today.

Another noise from the house interrupted his thoughts. This one was louder and more forceful.

Dale immediately imagined that it was Berthold, back to the finish the job. He couldn't just sit there. Glancing past Isaac's body, he focused on the bag of tools that he'd dropped.

Using his cane, he managed to push himself up far enough to grab hold of the stair rail, then used that to haul himself to his feet. The exertion left him winded and disgusted. He leaned against the railing, catching his breath and listening to the sounds of the house. He heard everything now, every bump, tick, patter—

And crash.

It was the front door; he was sure of it. He grasped his cane, and using it to steady himself, lurched toward the tool bag, managing to avoid Isaac's body and the boxes piled all around them.

Using the end of his cane, he parted the opening in the bag, relieved to find what he sought right on top. The banging sound came again, only this time it was louder, as if someone—something—was trying to force its way inside. Bracing himself, Dale attempted to bend his knees, but only one obeyed. Thankfully, it was just enough to let him grab hold of the claw hammer and pull it from the bag.

Hefting the hammer in his stronger hand, he hobbled back toward the steps, remembering the days when he hadn't needed a weapon, when no one was stupid enough to break into
his
home.

But now . . .

He squeezed the handle of the hammer with all his might, attempting to will some of that long-lost strength back into his beleaguered body, as he made his way toward the stairs.
Wishful thinking,
he thought, unsure of how much of a threat he would be, but he had to do something. He wasn't about to cower in the dark as somebody attempted to break into his home.

He was pathetic, but he wasn't a coward.

It seemed to take forever, and most of his strength, to make it up the three stairs and through the kitchen to the front door. It was still closed. Cautiously approaching, he leaned against it, listening, but all he could hear were the sounds of the storm still going on outside.

The doorknob rattled, and he gasped, jumping back, almost tripping over his own feet. He managed to stop himself with his cane and hold on to the hammer.

The doorknob rattled again, followed by the nearly deafening sound of the lock sliding back, and then the door began to open.

Dale was wild with fear and anger. If he was going to strike, he had to strike first—and hard. He doubted he would have much of a second chance. He raised the hammer.

“It's Sidney,” said an unexpected voice, so close that Dale nearly screamed.

With the hammer still raised, he turned to see Isaac, looking pale and weak, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“It's Sidney,” the young man said again as the door pushed open and Dale's daughter rushed into the house.

“Sid,” Dale exclaimed, letting the hammer fall to the floor with a thud.

“Dad,” she said, throwing her arms around him.

“Where have you been?” he asked, holding her tightly. She was wet and cold and dirty, but he never wanted to let her go. “Where have you been?” he asked again, choking back tears.

Snowy bounded into the hall, barking and wagging her tail, with Sidney's friends Rich and Cody close behind her. At least she hadn't been alone.

“Something's going on, Dad,” she said, pulling back from him.

He could see the fear in her eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, grabbing her for another hug. “I know.”

The thing that used to be Ronald Berthold walked through the dwindling fire with little concern of being burned. It stared at the blackened wreckage of the SUV and the human remains tossed to the side of the road, although only its right eye seemed to function. It tilted its head and turned its attention to the wooded area where another vehicle lay on its back.

The other vessels gathered around him, their right eyes scanning the wreck and the woods beyond as well.

Something moved not far from the vehicle, and all eyes turned in its direction. Leaves rustled, twigs snapped, and thousands of silvery eyes watched.

A lone figure—a human male—rose from the foliage, crawling on his hands and knees, begging for help. His clothing was covered with blood, and he seemed dazed and confused.

The things by the side of the road watched the survivor as he crawled toward them. “Please, help me.”

The dog that had been owned by the former Ronald Berthold stepped from the gathering of animal life and slowly padded toward the man. He saw the dog as it came toward him and tried to flee, but he was too weak.

The dog pounced, knocking the man onto his back, and sank its teeth into the man's neck, ripping out his throat in one savage bite.

The dog shook once, then turned and rejoined the other vessels.

As one, they began to walk away, down the center of the road.

In search of further human life to eliminate.

Sidney had to keep moving or she'd fall down.

She paced about the living room, then went to the window, pulling back the curtain to peer outside. There were things in the darkness of the storm. Things that scratched at the doors and windows. Things that wanted to get in.

“We've got to get you out of here,” she said, letting the curtain fall back into place as she turned to address her father.

Dale was sitting in his chair, Snowy by his side. Cody and Rich were on the loveseat, looking as though they might fall asleep, and Isaac stood just inside the doorway to the kitchen, playing with the hearing aids in his ears.

“I don't think that's necessary,” Dale began. “Isaac and I were just about to start boarding up the windows and—”

“I don't think you understand how bad it is,” Sidney interrupted, trying to keep the intensity in her voice from climbing. “Benediction is experiencing some sort of . . .” She had to think again about how to describe what was going on. “Epidemic or something,” she finished.

“You think a disease is doing this?” Dale asked.

“Kinda sorta,” Sidney answered with a shrug. “It's the best I've got right now. Something is making the animals incredibly aggressive, and they all seem to have the same shiny film over their right eyes as a symptom. Only the right eyes.” She pointed to her own. “Is it some kind of disease like rabies? A virus? I don't know, but it seems—”

“We still don't know why Snowy hasn't got whatever it is,” Rich said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Snowy saw that he was looking in her direction and wagged her tail.

“Another part of the mystery,” Sidney said, not even wanting to think about what she would do if Snowy ever were to succumb.

“It's not just animals,” her father said.

All eyes in the living room turned to him.

“I was attacked here,” he said. “By a guy . . . Berthold is his name, I think.”

“Who?” Sidney demanded. “Mr. Berthold attacked you? Are you all right? Why didn't you say—”

“I'm fine. Isaac got here just in time.”

Sidney looked to the doorway to see that Isaac was listening.

“Thank you, Isaac,” she said, and he quickly looked away.

“I didn't recognize him at first,” Dale explained, “but he broke in and attacked me. There was something wrong with his right eye, just like you said.”

Sidney felt a familiar chill run down her spine.

“Is this another one, Sid?” Cody asked.

“There was a weird-looking dog with him,” her father then said.

Sidney knew exactly who it was that had attacked her father—and her, not long ago.

“No,” she said, “this is the same guy. Mr. Berthold. He has a French bulldog, right?”

“Yeah,” her father said. “A French bulldog. That's what it was.”

“Holy crap,” Rich said. “That's the same guy that went after you back at the police station.”

“So it means that there's still only one human that has been affected,” Sidney said.

“So far,” Cody added.