Skylight (Arcadium, #2) (31 page)

Because of
Adrian.

Adrian pollutes
the air with his laugh, spewing his spite into the raw silence. My
hands flutter in the air.

“Help!” I say,
but it’s barely a whisper. All I want to do is scream but it’s like
my voice and body have been separated. This wasn’t supposed to
happen. It can’t end like this. We can’t be split up. We can’t die
alone. Not now. Not knowing everything I know.

“How does it
feel?” Adrian asks.

I spin, my back
against the door.

His shoulders
curve, his neck dips. He’s all predator and I’m trapped in the most
impossible corner. “Why are you doing this?” I snap.

He blinks and
walks slowly toward me. “Why? I’m just giving you a taste of your
own medicine, Florence. Doing what you did to me, remember? How
does it feel? You’re safe in here while on the other side of that
door your friends are all dying and there’s nothing that you can
do. It’s only fair. You did kill my father in such similar
circumstances.”

“They are my
family
. Open this door you wack-job freak!”

“Please, only
blood makes family. And I think I’d rather watch you suffer for a
while.”

“You think
you’re so smart. You know nothing,” I say, acutely aware he still
has the metal pole in his hand. He sees me look at it and rests it
over his shoulders.

“But I know
everything.” Adrian takes one more bouncy step and pauses.
“Everything!” he roars.

I feel myself
getting ready for the fight of my life.

“I wanted your
friends to die and they’re dead. If I want you to die, you will.
And you know what? I’m feeling really under appreciated after all
the things I’ve done for you. I took you in, fed you, showed you
the way. I even forgave when you tried to kill me.” Adrian laughs.
“I mean, what else can a guy do?” The laughter slips from his face
until I can see his anger simmering, ready to boil over. “You
killed my dad. You killed a lot of people that night.”

Now it’s my
turn to laugh. “You’re the murderer. You let your father infect
thousands of innocent people.” I’m not sure if we’re just going to
debate stuff all day, or if he’s going to drag me somewhere else or
if he’ll kill me on this very spot. You never know with Adrian.

I glance over
my shoulder, out the window. I want to see Kean and Trouble one
last time but I can’t see anything. Finally Adrian makes his
move.

As I turn he
throws the bar over my head, pulls it up against my throat and
drags me back a few steps. The metal presses hard against my
windpipe, crushing it closed. I never thought anything could be so
painful, so shocking. I gasp for air, my hands flail.

My back’s up
against his chest and I can’t duck away. Thankfully my backpack is
between us and I hope the boots are digging into his front the way
they’re digging into my damned spine. My hands scrabble about,
trying to peel him off me. I try to dig my nails in his skin, maybe
find his eyes to gouge. Anything. I’d normally go for a knee to the
groin but I’m all twisted the wrong way and quickly
suffocating.

Adrian laughs
in my ear, soft and cruel.

There’s nothing
I can do. I’m stuck in this headlock. I can’t scream. I can’t
breath. I can’t save anyone on the other side of the door. So I
figure, if I’m going down today, Adrian sure as hell better be
coming with me.

I jump, pushing
my feet up so he has to carry my whole weight. I thrash from side
to side. I think his grip loosens slightly and it gives me just the
smallest flicker of hope. I reach back, grab his hair and pull. His
head smacks into mine and his grip gives again so I do it over and
over, ignoring how much it’s hurting me.

“Stop moving
and just die already,” he grunts.

I smack him in
the side with my elbow and really dig it in a few times, but apart
from stealing a couple of breaths, I’m not able to help my cause.
At least I didn’t just give up like Adrian wanted. I’ll know that I
fought hard. My vision goes red, my head feels like it’s bursting.
I’m slipping.

As we struggle
in the silence there’s a great big whomp on the door and it rattles
in its frame.

It’s such a
shock that we both jump and Adrian topples back. We land with a
thud, still in the same position, and writhe about on the
floor.

The door
rattles again and this time an axe head breaks through the tiny
glass panel, shattering it into thousands of teardrop pieces.

I stare at the
window so hard, waiting, hoping. I catch a glimpse of Trouble as he
winds up again. His face is like steel, like a raging bullet train.
I’ve never seen so much determination in one person.

But it’s slow
going trying to axe through a security door. I can’t wait for help.
I have to do something now before I black out.

Adrian whispers
creepy nothings into my ear, so I try to punch him in the eye.
Unfortunately it seems punching backwards is a special kind of
skill and he ducks, pulling up so savagely on the bar that I think
my head might pop off. I grab at the bar at my neck, trying to
loosen it. And that’s when I feel it. The broken shard of Liss’
favourite cup, hanging from a thin cord of leather. It’s pressed
firmly against my body and I wrestle it free.

I blink slowly,
my ears ringing, my lungs puffing up like balloons about to pop. I
tug at the necklace but haven’t got the strength to pull it free. I
search deeper for strength and find it in a hazy image of Liss
grinning and sipping from her genie bottle glass. Her hair is
frizzy and wild, glinting under a golden light. Her giggle sounds
as bright as sunlight. She watches me, waiting to see what I will
do, trusting me to protect her.

I grip the
glass shard and yank with all my might. The leather cord snaps. And
I slam the point so hard through Adrian’s hand that it comes out
the other side. Blood splatters over the white walls and Adrian
howls, dropping the bar, dropping me.

“Bitch!” Adrian
screams through sobs and he slithers back.

I leap to my
feet, holding my throat, coughing for breath, but there’s no time
for rest. I grab the bar and hold it over Adrian as he lies in a
weak mess on the floor, crying over his hand.

If Liss were
here she’d say something like, “Stop talking about yourself!”

I just stare at
Adrian, at the transparent blue glass protruding from both sides of
his hand. Blood runs along its sharp edges. Adrian climbs awkwardly
to his feet and reassesses the situation. Strength radiates through
me. I grip my new weapon as Trouble rips the door apart behind
me.

Adrian’s jaw
tightens as he cradles his wound. He won’t fight a fight he can’t
easily win. And so he just runs.

I watch to make
sure he’s gone before turning back. Trouble’s absolutely hacking
away at the door, breaking it apart from the weak spot of the
window. There’s nothing I can do to help him.

I catch my
breath and have time to think of everything that’s just happened.
Of how I almost died. How we got separated. How Kean’s…

Gone?

And it kind of
hits me, then and there, that if I get through this, and that’s a
big if, that I will have to tell Henry that Kean is dead. Standing
in the splinters, I know he’s gone. Actually, truly gone. Never to
speak again, never to smile. Never to open his green eyes. Never to
look at me again.

I feel it in
the pit of my stomach. A horror worse than a sea of infected
bearing down on us. Knowing I’ve lost another part of myself and I
have to keep going without it.

Trouble
disappears for a second, to fight an infected. I can hear it but
can’t do anything. I have to just... wait. He returns and three
chops later there’s a hole in the door big enough to climb through.
I leave the placid corridor and head straight into the horror.
Infected bodies are strewn everywhere like a bomb’s gone off in a
butcher’s shop. Blood flows like water. My ears fill with the
curdled groans and the clunking of skulls. Trouble’s arms glisten
with sweat. He’s covering one side, and Jessie the other. I glimpse
my bat against a slain body and grab for it. New infected just keep
coming, wave after wave. I see the glistening gold railing and run.
My eyes close as I lean over but I force them open. My breath
catches in my throat. I can’t see the ground for all the infected
bodies, wandering and bumping into each other. Some of them reach
their arms towards me, growling. They can hear our battle noises
but can’t reach us. Lightening breaks above, shearing over their
hollow faces like fire.

Something
catches my eye.

A leg.

Two legs.

The infected
move like a school of fish around an object, and my lungs fill with
air. As they wander mournfully, they jostle the bright yellow
trolley of towels and blankets I’d left earlier. And in it, Kean
lays, pale white, arms crossed like a vampire. Somehow the infected
don’t know he’s there. I suppose he never had the chance to scream,
and now he’s still as anything, slightly hidden from view. The
trolley shifts a bit to the left and an infected bumps it back
again.

Kean chooses
this moment to open his eyes and we lock on to one another. His
lower lip trembles and I can’t believe it. Although he’s in the
worst position a live person could be in the apocalypse, he’s
alive.

Kean lays there
in his little yellow boat, rocking on the sea of dead, slowly
drifting away.

“Trouble!” I
yell. He’s near enough so I grab his shoulder and force him to
look. As he does, I come over his shoulder and whack an infected
man in the head.

No one is
eating my family today.

Trouble does a
double take, and then we share a split second of a glance. Neither
of us knows what to do. We’re pinned down. And we have an exit. But
we can’t leave Kean down there.

Jessie calls to
me. “Cover me! I’ll get something.”

I take her
side, weapon at the ready. I can count two infected getting within
hitting range, another four that’ll reach me soon enough after
that. Beyond that they’re just little shadows, bobbing through the
dark.

A boom of
thunder claps above us and rumbles in my chest.

“I can make it
back to the sports store. I’m going in.” Jessie threads through a
maze of bodies and ducks under a roller door. She must really trust
me to keep her alive, when she probably shouldn’t. I mean, she
barely knows me. That’s true bravery right there.

The first
infected lumbers to me excitedly and goes down easy with just two
hits. The second one I clock with a back swing, like I’m playing
some kind messed up game of tennis.

I’m breathing
hard, coughing every now and then on account of my squashed throat.
I line up the next one, letting them come to me. I don’t feel my
exhaustion, like my brain knows there’s no possibility of rest so
it doesn’t bother to try and tell me what it needs.

I take a
breath, line up my swing and go for it. With all this space, the
politeness of the infected having spread out for me, I can just
keep on top of everything. I’m more efficient at dispatching them
than I ever have been, but then no two apocalyptic situations are
the same. Normally I’d be running and fighting on the go. Being
static is much easier, though probably more dangerous.

I wait for
Jessie with my stomach in my mouth. “Hurry!” I scream at her.

I swing and hit
and hit and hit. On the last one I swing but I slip in a slime
puddle of blood, leaving a tidy trail through the middle. I lurch
forward and stumble but don’t go down completely. Of course the
damn infected lady attacks in my one moment of weakness. I can see
the strain in her mould coloured eyes. Her teeth are broken and
chipped and stained a dull reddish brown. We’re so close I can see
her rotting nostril hairs.

And then out of
nowhere Jessie plants her boot in the woman’s chest and absolutely
rams her out of the way, following through with a solid whack from
her bar.

Jessie pats me
on the back like this is a normal day at the shops, and hoists a
thick coil of bright green and yellow rope over her shoulder. As we
double back she unravels it, tying a sort of loop in the end — a
foothold for Kean.

Trouble watches
us in glances as he fights. The infected are only coming from one
side now.

Jessie lowers
the rope, her hands moving in a blur. But when the rope is close to
the infected, they all grab for it. Jessie snatches it back a metre
and tries again.

“I need a
distraction!” she yells.

Kean is
trapped. Jessie is manoeuvring the rope. Trouble is taking on two
infected at a time and more are approaching. And I have no idea
what to do.

“Hey!” I shout,
running alongside the railing waving my hands and baseball bat
above my head. “Over here!” The infected watch me but I can’t run
past Trouble or I’ll die.

“Hey! Hey!” I
keep yelling and Jessie lowers the rope. As soon as it’s within
reach the infected claw at it.

Jessie gives me
a helpless look. I can’t get them far enough away from Kean to make
a difference. I try to grab an infected body and throw it over the
side but it’s too heavy and Trouble’s too busy to help. Our chances
of saving Kean are slipping away and if we stay too long we won’t
even be able to save ourselves.

Three infected
lunge at Trouble and I jump in to help. Eight more are seconds away
from reaching us. It’s too much. We have to retreat. We have to
go.

A sound
permeates through the air, rising above the shouts and cries and
gargling moans, so loud it makes the infected turn away from us.
The huge golden clock opens mechanically, blaring out Waltzing
Matilda. I’d completely forgotten it goes off after breakfast. I
glance over the railing and the effect is instant. The infected
gaze up, mesmerised, and then they move, crushing together and
surging forward like an ocean wave.