Infected: Die Like Supernovas (The Outlaw Book 2) (28 page)

“Of course Carter said that,” the old man said. “Don’t be simple. He wants you…on his team.”

“You are obviously building an army, Chemist.”

“Don’t be certain about things you do not know,” he snapped in reply. “You know nothing. You are an infant, yet.”

“I know you should leave these people in peace.”

“Peace,” he shook his head grimly. “You’ve obviously never walked this part of the city if you think they live in peace.”

More shouting, more cheers, more gunfire. The crowd was growing restless.

“Doesn’t matter, Chemist. You’re not helping them.”

“I’m not here to help.”

“Then enlighten me,” the Outlaw suggested and he spread his arms expansively. “Why all this?”

“Teach a newborn how to dance? Explain calculus to a toddler? I think not. Have you controlled your headaches?”

“I think so,” the Outlaw shrugged.

“How?”

“I found peace. In a person and in a place.”

“You found love,” the Chemist nodded. “Love is the only hope for broken minds. The human psyche was designed to be loved and only then are we whole. And love will protect you from the coming insanity. Carter refuses to teach that to his spawn.”

“Is that what you’re doing in Compton? Spreading love and joy?”

“I’m here on a mission, boy. I bring with me purpose and community and I give it to those who have nothing. I don’t offer my followers love, but I do offer them identity. Which is the next best thing.”

The Outlaw asked, “What mission?”

“I will
teach
you that and many other things. You belong here.”

“Teach me?” the Outlaw cracked. “How? You want me to move into your hovel and start snorting coke with the rest of your drug addicts?”

“The drugs would not work on you, Outlaw. Nor do they work on Walter. He tried. You would know this, if you had a guide.”

“I don’t need a guide.”

“No one on earth needs a guide more than you,” the Chemist pointed a finger wavering with emotion. “You’re just now realizing that you’ve stumbled into a larger story but it’s even bigger than you think. Trust me, Outlaw. You’ve stepped into a minefield and Carter will not help.”

“Tell me why you’re in Los Angeles.”

“I’m here for the same reason Carter is,” the Chemist replied.

“Which is?”

“We’re here to harvest, Outlaw.”

“Harvest what?”

“You haven’t told him,” the Chemist said quietly. “Have you, Carter?”

A new voice, one directly above our bus, barked, “Of course not. Don’t be stupid, Martin.”

“You are here to keep an eye on your protege?” the Chemist smiled. His name was Martin?

“He’s not my protege,” said the voice above. It was a gravely and sharp voice. “Kid’s a damn nuisance, actually.”

“You’re still smoking,” the Chemist said. “The habit of fools. I could smell your foul reek a mile away.”

“Weird looking team you’ve assembled,” the man on the roof said. “Buncha kids that can barely walk, thinking they can hide in shadows.”

The Outlaw asked, “Why don’t you two grumpy old men just kill each other?”

“I’ve tried,” the man above said.

“We were imprisoned together in Turkey for several years,” the Chemist sighed. “When we were younger. The Turks kept us weak through starvation, too weak to escape, too weak to kill each other, too weak to kill ourselves. Have you told him he’s special, Carter?”

“He’s not special. Neither are you. Neither am I.”

“And how do you plan on killing me this time?” The Chemist seemed genuinely bemused and interested, like he was enjoying this. No one paid attention to the helicopters circling helplessly far above.

“I’m going to give drowning a try.”

“This boy of yours seems authentically unspoiled. Perhaps we should leave him in peace?” the Chemist suggested.

“That’s funny.”

“I’m not joking,” he said.

The man called Carter said, “It’s funny because you don’t know him. Kid’s got a noble streak. He’d chase you around the globe. He’d never leave
you
in peace.”

“Oh, very well. Tell him why we’re both here, Carter.”

“Yes,” the Outlaw chimed in. “Please. This is crazy boring.”

Carter jumped off the bus, which rocked gently, and landed near the Outlaw. The Chemist stood up cautiously. The audience of faux Outlaws hooted and raged, but Carter ignored them.

“I’d just as soon drag you to the ocean now, Martin,” Carter said. He was a tall man. Completely bald, dressed similarly to Walter. Walter had a fresh rocket trained on him. “And tie you to a submarine.”

“We’re here for the Chosen that are emerging,” the Chemist told the Outlaw. Carter had rattled the Chemist’s dignity. His cool demeanor was tinged with anger and tension. I wanted to scream. Nothing made sense. “We’re here for you. And for those like you.”

“Where are these Infected coming from?” the Outlaw asked. He’d risen too, forming a triangle with the other two men. He kept glancing towards the bus, towards me. “Why am I Infected?”

The Chemist grinned triumphantly. “Your first good question of the night.”

“Martin,” Carter warned him. His voice was low and menacing.

The Chemist brought the staff down hard and sparks flew. He said loudly, “You have changed, Carter. For the worse. You can’t save him and you can’t save the rest. And since when do you even care?”

“Perhaps I’m having second thoughts.”

“Unlike you, I have resilience,” Martin said. Several other faces were beginning to materialize out of the darkness above the mini-market. They weren’t masked and they were sinister. They had the arrogant aggressiveness of Walter and Carla in their features. The good guys were wildly outnumbered. Assuming Carter was a good guy. “I have fortitude. I can finish what we started.”

“
What
did you start?” the Outlaw asked in exasperation.

The Chemist looked at the Outlaw and said, “You’re here because Carter
infected
you intentionally. At birth.”

The Outlaw was visibly shocked.

“He’s insane, hero,” Carter said. “Our insanity grows as we age. Don’t listen to him. Let’s just take him now.”

The Chemist spat, “
You’re
delusional, Carter. You still think the boy is on your side.”

The awful tension was briefly abated by a muffled roar, and then Tank burst through the side of the SUV! He pushed through the screaming metal but he was clearly woozy and unable to stand up.

“Outlaw,” Tank growled, on all fours. The man in the mask was stunned. The audience laughed and mocked and fired celebratory rounds into the air.

“Carla,” the Chemist called. “Hit the ogre with a lethal dose of the tranquilizers, please. It may kill him but at least it’ll shut him up. And remind me to alter the troops’ formula. We want our soldiers to have better control over their…animal instincts.”

“Outlaw,” Tank coughed, trying to fend off Carla. “Katie. On the bus. Get her out.”

“He’s still trying to save the girl,” the Chemist howled in wicked pleasure and he brought the staff around in a singing slice that showered sparks into the gasoline. “Let’s light the world on fire!”

“The girl?” Carter asked, and he whirled and stared at the bus, at me. Then his eyes went to the Outlaw. “You’re here for
her
,” he breathed.

Time started moving in awful split-second eternal frames.

Walter fired.

He missed; Carter was fast beyond belief. The rocket tore through our bus and detonated as it punched cleanly through the other side. The sound was deafening. Fire spilled onto the pavement and some of the smaller gasoline pools lit up.

Carter and the Chemist met in midair. Their elegance and civil words disintegrated into hate and they hammered each other savagely in a blur too fast for comprehension. It was ugly and horrible.

The Outlaw tried to reach the bus but Walter and Carla overwhelmed him. They both had knives and they pinned him down. The surrounding crowd of gunmen shrieked in tribal pleasure. More bullets hit our bus. A war was raging above the mini-market, silhouettes thrashing in the dark.

Chaos! Madness, pure and terrible.

“Katie MOVE!” the Outlaw screamed at me from underneath writhing bodies. The gasoline under the bus finally ignited, like a lake of fire. I stomped on the gas pedal and we lumbered forward.

I didn’t see what happened but Carla cried out and was propelled fifteen feet into the air. Her arms rotated wildly to gain balance and she landed on the remaining shreds of our bus’s roof. A passenger behind me screamed in terror and Carla laughed. Carla wasn’t scared; she was mentally unhinged, drunk with excitement. Before she could move, a gunshot louder than all the others crushed her, flinging her from the roof. She landed in the fire but quickly rolled out, holding a bleeding shoulder. Who shot her??

I swung the HUGE bus through the intersection, away from the gunmen, and cried, “Everyone out!” I jammed buttons until the hydraulic doors protested and crashed open.

>>What are you people DOING down there??!

Dying, Hannah. We’re dying. I rammed the bus against the overpass’s support post, directly under the bridge. “Hannah!” I screamed. “Jump onto the bus! The gas is going to catch fire!”

Carter lost the fight. The Chemist had Carter by the throat with a gun pointed directly into his ear. They both had blood spilling out of their eyes and noses. The rest of the fighting stopped, which was good for Walter. He’d lost the fight too. The Outlaw let him go and he collapsed. No sign of the injured Carla.

“One final offer, Outlaw,” the Chemist panted haggardly. With his chin he indicated the complete circle of guns surrounding the Outlaw. “But you’ll have to ask politely.”

“So if I want to live,” the Outlaw said, “I have to beg?”

“More or less. Your place is here. With me.”

The Outlaw raised his arms to the sides, like he was about to surrender. “No deal. Remember this, Chemist. Los Angeles is mine. And I’m coming for you.” The night seemed drawn towards him, as though he held darkness like a blanket in his fist. He made phony guns with his thumbs and fingers, pointed them at the idiots in the masks, and said, “Bang!”

“No!” the Chemist cried.

The Outlaw jumped and disappeared into the night as a hundred guns erupted. I couldn’t even watch. It was horrendous. The exhausted drug addicts tore into each other, mowing down the other side of the circle. It was meaningless carnage. The sound alone almost caused me to vomit. Blood and screaming everywhere.

The Outlaw landed silently on the bus’s roof. I muffled a startled cry. He hurled something at the Chemist. I never saw what it was, just a blur. The Chemist’s head snapped back from the impact, allowing Carter to stagger free. Before the white-haired man could recover, a phantom detached from the roof of the mini-market and collided with him. The phantom was a man dressed in black, like a shadow. The Chemist fought like a man possessed. More and more fighters were pouring into our intersection, fueling the fire. In confusion they were even fighting each other.

The Outlaw dropped next to me and said, “Time to go. This place is about to be overrun.”

“What about Tank? He’ll be killed,” I said weakly, trying not to cry again.

“Who cares about Tank,” he answered.

“I do.”

He looked at me a long time while the war raged but at last he said, “For you, Katie, anything.”

He turned to fetch Tank but…Tank was gone. He’d vanished. What…?!

“A fortunate turn of events,” the Outlaw remarked. “I’d have surely died fetching that overgrown moron.”

“Outlaw!” someone yelled from a nearby roof. “Move! Now!”

“We’re out of here,” he said, almost cheerfully.

“No wait!”

“Now what?” he sighed but I thought he was smiling. How could he be enjoying this?

“There’s a girl named Hannah. She’s stuck up on the bridge in her car.”

“She can walk home. Actually that’d be really good for her,” he laughed. “Besides, half a dozen police helicopters are about to show up.”

“But she’s stuck in a lake of gasoline.”

“Oh.”

I’ll remember what happened next for the rest of my life. I saw it over his shoulder. The Chemist threw off the attacking shadow and started deflecting gunfire with his remarkable staff. He could actually move fast enough to block bullets!

Sparks flew from the staff. The sparks landed on gasoline, which ignited with a WHUMP! The trail of fire flew up the grassy hill towards the abandoned cars. Twenty miles of interstate were about to blow.

The Outlaw saw flames on the hill. I barely had time to scream before he pulled me onto his back and jumped.

My ability to focus was exhausted. Time lost all meaning. Only my throbbing heart marked it’s passage.

We were in the air. Over the bridge. The fire was roaring, moving quicker than us. We reached Hannah’s car. The vehicles began erupting, jumping in succession as flames hit punctured gas tanks. The Outlaw shattered the windshield with his fist. Where had Hannah gone? The flames were right behind us. Hannah was at the side of the bridge, one leg over the guard rail, six feet away. The flames were under us.

The Outlaw leapt for her. The tanker beside Hannah’s car ignited like a bomb going off. The blast of unbearable heat flung everything into the air, including us. The Outlaw and I separated like rag dolls.

“Katie!” he yelled.

I looked down. Hannah was gone. Nothing but fire. Fire and falling cars everywhere. The bridge began collapsing.

I was falling through the sky above the intersection from hell. It was lit with fire and spotlights, like a demonic ceremony.

Then the Outlaw had me wrapped in a tight embrace. “Gotcha!” Something snapped and we jerked. A small parachute above us. I closed my eyes and kept them that way. The parachute worked well enough to pull us away from the fire but we hit the earth hard. My ankle popped.

Briefly, all was quiet. He simply held me. We were lying in thick grass. The distant sounds of war were muted by my ringing ears. Our enemies still fought each other.

Someone was coming. I didn’t care. My thoughts were no longer lucid. I was being carried. Strange voices.