Outbreak (31 page)

Everything is upside down.

Owen snatches my gun off the floor, empties the chamber, and pockets the bullets. 

“Calm the fuck down!” he growls. “You’re going to get us caught. Everything will explain itself. Just sit tight for a second.”

My cheek is inflamed where he kicked me, and my jaw feels as though I’ve been curb stomped. But I’m too pissed to show Owen I’m hurt, so I just stagger to my feet and lean back against the pillar.

I try to focus on Malcolm’s speech, but I’m so furious I can hardly breathe. I can feel Harper’s eyes on me, but I have no idea what she’s thinking.

“We’ve come a long way in the last six months,” says Malcolm. “We’ve salvaged the best technology . . . fuel . . . medicine. We’ve built the strongest civilian army this country has seen since the Revolutionary War. And someday very soon, we’ll no longer have to live in fear.”

The crowd erupts into applause, and my stomach clenches. Malcolm makes a humble-looking gesture that fills me with hate, imploring the crowd to hold its applause. 

“I just confirmed myself that we successfully exterminated compound 119.”

Then the crowd goes wild. People get to their feet, stomp, clap, and cheer. They’re hugging and smiling, but it feels as though I left my stomach back at Cactus Ridge.

He can’t have said what I thought he said. It isn’t possible.

“
You
killed all those people at 119?” Harper breathes.

I glance over at her. Her face has gone stark white, and she’s staring at Owen in utter disgust. 

I can’t believe it. This has to be some kind of sick joke. All the drifters down below — they’re celebrating the deaths of thousands of innocent people.

“Why would you bring us here?” I spit in Owen’s direction.

I don’t look at him. I don’t want to see him smiling along with the others as though they’ve made some big accomplishment.

“Just wait.”

After several minutes, the crowd’s cheers die down enough for Malcolm to make himself heard again. “Someday very soon, we’ll no longer have to fear their soldiers who come out to kill. We’ll be able to raise our families without the need to run and hide. We’ll have access to clean water . . . a steady source of power.

“The plan is in motion. Soon, 112, the largest and most militant compound in the country, will be wiped — off — the map!”

My breath catches in my throat. There’s a very good chance I’m going to puke all over the church’s plush blue carpeting.

I knew the drifters were working to bring down the compound, but I never imagined they’d be successful. That was before I knew they were responsible for 119 — before I’d seen hundreds of them gathered together celebrating our impending death.

I can’t take it anymore. Throwing Owen one last bitter look, I stand up and grab Harper’s hand. She murmurs something I can’t quite make out, but I’m already pulling her down the stairs toward the lobby.

I hear Owen following us, and once we’re enclosed in the stairwell, he yells at us to wait.

I quicken my pace. I can’t even look at him right now.

“Hey!”

I feel the hand on my shoulder and react without thinking. I wheel around and swing at him with a wild overhand punch.

Any amateur could have dodged it easily, but I catch Owen by surprise, and my fist crashes into his face with devastating force.

“
Fuck!
What the hell was that for?”

“Are you serious? Were you in the same room just now?”

“Yes!” he snaps in a nasally voice, mopping the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “I was trying to show you why you don’t need to fake my death. It’s time for you to leave all that shit. Soon there’s going to be nothing left of that place.”

“You think I’m just going to stick around here and wait for you to murder an entire compound full of people?” I splutter. “I have
friends
back there, Owen! People I care about! Or is that just such a foreign concept to you that you can’t imagine why I’d have a problem?”

I shove him hard in the shoulder, but he grabs me by the collar and gives me a look Dad used to have when he was really, really pissed.

I don’t have enough distance for a good jab, so I throw a hook into Owen’s stomach. He makes a pained gurgling sound in his throat and slaps me — actually
slaps
me — upside the head.

Harper is watching our exchange with a frantic look in her eyes, and I know she’s got to be sick with worry over Celdon and Sawyer.

I’m stunned that our little scuffle hasn’t brought a dozen members of Malcolm’s congregation running to see what all the commotion is about, but I don’t care. Right now, I feel as though I could take on an entire army of drifters.

Somehow, Owen gets me in a headlock, and it’s as if I’m ten years old all over again. He drags me down the stairs and through the lobby as if I weigh nothing.

Harper is trailing behind him, whispering a nasty stream of threats, but he manages to shove me into a small chapel and trap me in one of the short pews. There’s a miniature altar directly in front of me and a stained-glass cross less than two yards away, but Owen is looking at me in a way that says he wouldn’t hesitate to deck me in a place of worship.

“Listen!” he splutters. “I knew this would be hard for you to handle, but it’s happening! There’s nothing you can do to stop it. The plan is already in motion. I just wanted to show you so you’d understand why you don’t need to fake my death . . . and give you a chance to escape.”

“What plan?” asks Harper. 

“You don’t need to know the details,” he says, rounding on her with a cold look in his eyes. “All you need to know is to stay away.”

“Why should we trust you?”

“Because you don’t have another choice. Hell,
I
don’t have a choice. This thing is happening.”

By Owen’s tone, I can tell he’s done talking to Harper. He turns to me with that stern older-brother look, but I can detect hesitation in his gaze that makes him look years younger.

“There’s always a choice,” I mutter. “You’ve just made all the wrong ones.”

“Eli —”

“What the hell did you
do
?” I ask, feeling my voice running a little higher than normal. “How did you introduce a virus that killed all those people?”

Owen sighs. He doesn’t want to tell me, but he seems to be torn between giving away the drifters’ plan and keeping me under control.

Finally, he caves. 

“The Centers for Disease Control had a repository before Death Storm. All the nasty diseases with the potential to wipe out the human race . . . they have a frickin’ library of them — well,
had
. The preserved viruses most likely died when the center shut down. You have to keep them frozen, or else . . .”

“Is this relevant?” I snap.

“Yes! It wasn’t just Atlanta that had the viruses. About a year ago, Malcolm met a guy who’d worked for the CDC branch in Fort Collins. He said that before Death Storm, the federal government bought one of the compounds in the Rocky Mountains and preserved a bunch of samples there in case the facility was compromised.”

“And you found the samples.”

Owen nods. “We sent a mole into the compound and stole one of the viruses the CDC was keeping under wraps. We weren’t sure if the samples would still be viable. But we were able to infiltrate 119, and it worked.”

“You killed
thousands
of innocent people.”

“They aren’t innocent,” Owen growls. “None of us are innocent in this, Eli, but the compounds make it damn near impossible for the rest of us to live.”

“What you did was mass murder.”

“No. They were just casualties of war. And this
is
a war, Eli. The question is . . . whose side are you gonna be on?”

There’s a long, strained silence. I glance at Harper and then get to my feet. “Not yours.”

“What are you gonna do?” Owen asks to my retreating back. He sounds a little desperate — so unlike his usual cocky self. “You can’t go back there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Going back there would be suicide.”

In that moment, everything Owen has made me feel lately — the hope and betrayal and disappointment — bubble up inside me. I can’t take it anymore. I fly out of my seat. 

Owen wasn’t prepared for my storm of fury, so he doesn’t move out of the way. I slam straight into his chest and pin him against the wall with my forearm.

“How could you do this?” I growl. “I
trusted
you.”

My voice sounds very strange, and my face and throat are burning with bitter unshed tears. “I’ve been running around trying to figure out a way to save your ass so we could be a family again, and you go and get yourself involved in something like
this
. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Eli!” Harper snaps, grabbing my arm. “Be quiet! They’ll hear you.”

“I don’t care.”

I shove my arm harder against his throat. Owen’s having a hard time breathing, but I don’t loosen my grip. Part of me wants to let him pass out and hope he wakes up a changed man. But I’m done lying to myself.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” I whisper, all the disgust and anger leaching out in my voice. “We weren’t raised this way. If Mom and Dad heard what you just told me, they’d die of shame.”

I drop my arm and let him choke in a breath before stabbing my index finger into his chest. “You’re a fucking disgrace.”

Owen takes a moment to replenish his lungs, and when he finally speaks, his voice is angrier than I’ve ever heard it.

“
I’m
a disgrace? You talk about what Mom and Dad would say, yet you’re gonna turn your back on
me
? Your own brother? For what? For a bunch of people who don’t give a shit about you? People who’d kill you just like that?” He snaps his fingers together, but the chilling effect is somewhat lost by his loud gasps for air.

I swallow and meet his gaze with as cold a look as I can manage. “You’re not my brother.”

As long as I live, I’ll never forget the look on Owen’s face. He’s staring at me as though I just ripped his soul out of his body.

Then he lets out a low, bitter laugh. “Not anymore, I guess.”

He reaches into his front pocket and holds out a closed fist. When I don’t reach for it, he jerks his hand at me. “Take it.”

“What is it?”

“Just fucking
take
it, Eli.”

Reluctantly, I hold out my hand. He opens his fist, and something hard and flat falls into my palm. It’s the arrowhead he and Dad found, still warm from his pocket.

All I can think is,
What the fuck is he giving me this for?

It feels oddly heavy in my hand — as though Owen somehow managed to transfer the weight of his disappointment to this tiny piece of flint.

“If you’re smart, you’ll go into hiding,” I say. My voice sounds funny, but I refuse to feel remorse. “Stay out of range of the cameras. I’m going to report you terminated. That’ll buy us both some time.”

I want him to take the damn arrowhead back, but he’s just standing there staring at me. 

Finally, I shove it in my pocket and turn to Harper. She’s giving me a broken look that exactly captures the way I feel, but I can’t wallow right now.

Without another word, I grab her hand and pull her out of the chapel. 

I don’t look back at Owen. As far as I’m concerned, Owen Parker is dead.

twenty-five

Harper

Eli doesn’t say a word the entire journey back through town.

The winding streets of faceless, empty homes are downright chilling after what we just heard. I picture rows of compartments standing vacant in much the same way — waiting for owners who will never draw another breath.

I keep expecting Eli to stop at an abandoned building to rehydrate or come up with a new plan, but he seems determined to put as much distance between us and the drifters as possible.

The afternoon sun feels as though it’s baking us alive, and by the time we reach our cliff outside of town, I’m exhausted and dehydrated.

“We have to stop, Eli,” I say, tugging on his arm to bring him back to earth. 

When he turns toward me, I half expect him to be wearing the same “you’re dead to me” expression he had in the chapel, but he just looks lost and a little confused.

“I need some water,” I say. “So do you.”

There’s a long pause, and Eli nods slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”

Relieved, I guide him into the shadow of the cliff and settle onto the ground to dig into my pack. Eli is still standing, staring off into the open desert as though he plans to make a run for it. When I hand him the water bag, he crouches down next to me and takes a long drink.

“So what’s the plan?” I ask tentatively, still concerned that he might lash out at the only person nearby.

“We need to signal the compound,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We can’t exactly walk back.”

“I mean about the drifters — Owen.”

Eli reaches into his rucksack and withdraws Owen’s faded gray baseball cap. “I’ll tell Jayden I took out Jackson’s right-hand man,” he says, brandishing the hat. “Hopefully Owen does what I told him to do.”

I look from Eli to the hat, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t add anything else, I say, “
That’s
your plan?”

Eli looks taken aback by my incredulous tone, and I force myself to muster up a little patience and compassion.

“Eli . . . you can’t count on him going into hiding. Even if Jayden believes you killed him, one wrong move from Owen and she’s going to know you made the whole thing up.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” he snaps. “I’m doing the best I can here, Harper!”

“I know . . .”

Eli lets out a guttural growl and digs his hand into a clump of weeds next to his foot. “Shit! I should have shot Malcolm when I had the chance.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. We never would have made it out of that place alive.”

“But he’s their leader. If I’d shot him, this could all be over.”

I can tell he’s furious with himself, but whether his frustration is truly about Malcolm or if he’s regretting the things he said to Owen, I can’t be sure.