The Believers (The Breeders Series - Book 2) (24 page)

I flick the switch and darkness falls. My hands find the ridge and I pull myself up, banging my knee on what must be a rock, scraping my palm. I reach down for Clay. My hand swings through empty air a few times and then it connects with his. He pulls himself up.

Five of us crouch on the rocky shelf about the size of a walk-in pantry. The ceiling brushes my skull as I shift. Clay's body settles next to mine. A hand, Mama's I think, snakes around my arm. The darkness is total. And they're coming.

In the dark, the moans are terrifying. A mob of great wails, inhuman and angry, echoes down the cavern toward us. How many were there? Twelve? Twenty? My brain supplies fifty, all missing skin, eyes, and fingers. Their fanged teeth snap up and down.

They're closer now. Almost to us. My heart pounds so hard my chest hurts. Mama's hand tightens around my arm. She needs help and I can’t do anything about it.

They arrive in a wall of sound and smell, decaying flesh and toxic chemicals. Their loping shuffles echo through the cavern. As they begin moving past our ledge, I don't breathe. One passes by so close I can smell his breath as he exhales. I squeeze my eyes shut. Beside me, Clay is a stone. Mama squeezes my arm until it's numb.

They are passing. Their awful noises recede down the tunnel like a gaggle of tortured animals. Why can't I think of them as people? They were once, weren't they? People like Kemuel who were cast out, dropped down here to die, yet somehow hung on to live like the walking dead. Why else would they be down here?

We wait for what seems like hours, until we can no longer hear them, until we are sure they are long gone. Clay turns to me.

“What now?” he whispers.

I shrug, forgetting he can't hear me. “I don't know. My plan is ruined. Maybe we—”

A hand reaches out of the darkness and drags me off the ledge. I fall, smashing into the ground. My wind gone, I suck air. Hands grip my arms and yank me up. A body, smelling like death, holds me tight.

“Did you tell
themmm
?” the garbled voice breathes into my neck. “We're
ssstill
here.”

I fight against my attacker, but his arms are steel. The smell of his rotting skin makes me gag. His breath on my neck makes my knees weak.

The lantern flicks on and I slam my eyes shut against the assault of light. When I can open my eyes, Clay stands before me, his revolver aimed above my head.

“Let her go!” The gunslinger look is back, the determination flashing in his eyes. I lash back and forth against my attacker, but he holds me tight. He fits his body behind me, giving Clay nothing to aim at.

“We are here,” the creature behind me breathes. Hearing his voice, the monsters rush back down the cave. They look just about as awful as I remember: lesion-covered skulls shining, open sores dripping. A dozen of them lurch toward us. And they look pissed.

Clay flashes the lantern at them and they shrink back, covering their eyes. They advance with their eyes closed, hands reaching. Fear floods Clay's face. On the ledge, Mama cradles Ethan in her arms.

“What d'you want?” Clay yells at the one holding me.

The thing behind me draws a wet, rattling breath. “We want
vengenccce
,” he says slowly, drawing out the word like it's holy.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't've shot ya. You came at us like…like animals.”

“We are not
animalsss
,” he hisses. His hands flex around my biceps.

“Okay, okay,” Clay says, lowering the gun. “You're not. Sorry.”

“Sssorry
will not
raissse
the dead,” the thing behind me says. I don't like his tone. It sounds like he's smiling.

The monsters fall on Clay, a tangle of ruined arms and legs. Clay cries out. The lantern drops, throwing crazy shadows everywhere. My attacker's hands loosen as he watches his people struggle with Clay. This is my chance. I yank away and his hands slip off. He howls. I duck to the right as he claws at my shirt. Then I dive into a pile of rancid bodies and reach for Clay.

I punch. I kick. The smell of rot is awful. I try not to breathe. The lantern rolls, throwing light around so I can't tell who I'm fighting. A beam lands on the shelf where my family sat. Only now the creatures are dragging them off. Mama screams as they pull Ethan from her arms. Then the lantern rolls away. In the darkness, Ethan cries out.

“Ethan!” I yell, abandoning this scrum of bodies. I grope in the dark for my brother. My hand reaches the rock wall. Ethan, he must be somewh—

Something huge and hard smashes into my skull. Stars explode in my brain. My legs unlock and the ground slides up to meet me. I lie there, fading out as heat sears my skull. Then a faraway pain. Then Ethan crying. Then nothing.

I wake to darkness. Pain radiates from the top of my skull down into my spine. It throbs with the slow, steady beat of my heart. My arms are bound behind my back by what feels like rough twine, pinching and twisting the skin. With my eyes closed, the smells and sounds wake me to the horror. We've been captured by these monsters. Their rancidness clings to every inch of this space.

I open my eyes and the pain in my head flares like a rocket. I am lying on my side. The ground is rough beneath me. We're still in the caves, though God knows where. Ten feet away a fire sputters, lighting the cave in orange and black. Whatever they’re burning smells like hot feces as it crackles over the fire. As I lift my head, Clay turns toward me, relief flooding his face. I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head, a quick snap to tell me to keep quiet. His eyes flick sideways and mine follow.

The monsters move around on the other side of the fire. One skins a small black bat and its fuzzy skin peels off like a sock. Another slump-shouldered woman with one stumped arm uses a flat rock to drop more of whatever they’re burning onto the fire. The stink of hot waste makes me gag. They're definitely burning feces. How can they stand it? I tuck my mouth into the collar of my shirt.

My eyes rove the clearing for the rest of my family. Rayburn and Mama sit a few feet to the left, their wrists also bound. I search for Ethan, but he's nowhere. What have these monsters done with my brother?

One of the creatures lurches into the light. I recognize my attacker from the cave fight. He's also the one who untied me when Andrew left me chained. Where has his kindness fled to?

Now that I look him over, I realize it's not a he, it's a
she
. Her voice was so garbled I couldn't tell, but now in the light, her female form shows through her ragged clothing. Her body shows less decay than the others. There are a few patches of white-blond hair on her skull, long and stringy like corn silk. She has working use of all her limbs, a fairly amazing feat down here. When she opens her mouth to breathe, she reveals empty gums with four remaining teeth that hang crooked and yellow. Her clothes are strips of fraying material that only cover her most private parts.

When she whirls toward me, my insides go cold. Too late to feign sleep. She narrows her eyes and lurches over.

“Awake,” she rasps, leaning down to look at me. One puffy lid droops over her left eye. I pull back as her breath hits me.

“Yes,” I finally manage. I force myself to look her in the eyes. “Where's my brother?”

She glances over her shoulder at the group behind her. Most have stopped working and are focused on us. My insides curl like orange rinds. Then I notice something else. Most of the creatures are female. No, not most,
all
. I shoot Clay a look to see if he's noticed, but the speaker leans into my line of vision.

“Your
brother'sss
being kept. For
insssuranccce
.” She lisps the words like her tongue is a dead thing.

“I want him back,” I snap.

She shakes her head. “Not yet.”

I frown. “Why are we tied up?”

“You attacked
ussss
,” she rasps. “You killed two.” She holds up two dirty fingers.

Behind her, the group mumbles angrily. One mutant, with a few strands of hair clinging desperately to her head, lurches forward and shakes a fist. Her one working eye rolls angrily. “Kill, kill!” she shrieks. The others howl in agreement.

Clay snaps up, heat flaring into his cheeks. “I tole you. You came at me like rabid dogs. What you 'spect me to do?” He shoots me a pained look. “If anyone's to blame, let it be me. Let the rest go. I'll pay for my crimes.”

“Clay, no.” I haul myself to a sitting position. Pain knifes through my skull, but I manage to ignore it. “It's not his fault.” I turn to the speaker. “What's your name?”

The woman hovering over me looks surprised. “Name?” She grinds her four teeth together. “We are…the Forgotten.”

Behind her, the rest of the women nod their ruined heads.

I try another strategy. “I remember you,” I say quietly. “You helped me. I told the Messiah you were still here.”

At the mention of the Messiah, a shriek echoes from the group. I cringe as the awful moans reverberate around the cavern. The speaker hunches down, covering her head with her hands.

“We do not
sssspeak
that name. He
issss
the one who decreed we be put out.”

When I heard they “put people out” I assumed it meant the road and the blazing heat of the desert. Somehow this fate seems worse: trapped underground, your only water source the poison that'll eat at your guts. But, why are they all women? I look around the crowd. They're listening to me. Maybe if I can talk them into seeing things our way, they'll forget that Clay killed two of their own. If only I can figure out what they want. “The Mes… I mean, the leader put you down here?” I ask.

The speaker shrugs her skeletal shoulders. “
Hisss
men did. An…drew,” she says, slowly as if uncovering the buried memory from under yards of dirt. “He
usssed
to bring
usss
food. Now he left
usss
to die.”

I mull this over. “The leader might not've known what Andrew was doing.” There's an angry mumble from the crowd. One woman with an empty eye socket shakes a fist at me.

The speaker nods slowly. Her few hairs waft up and down. “Andrew will be
punissshed
.”

“Good.” I nod with her. So, we have one thing in common. If I keep her talking, maybe we'll find more equal footing. “How d'you, er, ladies survive down here?”

The speaker points to the lake and then to the woman skinning the bat. She's slicing open the bat's bloody body and removing small, squishy innards. My gorge rises, but I swallow hard and continue. “Bats?” I ask.

She nods, her moldy-fruit tongue roving around her remaining teeth. She points to a mound in the corner that I'd mistaken as a mound of dirt. As I look closer the mound reveals itself to be dozens of fuzzy, winged bodies. Dead bats. This time I visibly shudder. Clay clears his throat beside me, clearly trying not to gag.

“That's awful,” I say. The speaker narrows her eyes. “I mean,” I say, “it’s awful they made you live this way.”

Behind the speaker, a few of the mutants nod.

“Is there any other way out of the tunnels other than up into the mall?” It's my most important question, the one I've been dying to ask. Hope rises in my throat.

“No,” she says, dropping her head. The firelight gleams of the hairless patches. “
Sssome
have tried to find the
sssun
.” She takes a deep, ragged breath. “They've not returned.”

My hope sinks. I drop my eyes. What do we do now? A tunnel out was my only plan. To know that there's no way out… The cave walls seem to close in until I'm having trouble breathing.

“You ever tried to fight yer way out?” Clay juts his chin at some of the rock tools stacked beside the fire. “You could do some damage with those.”

The speaker glares at Clay. When she's angry, all of the humanity washes out of her face and once again she's the monster, lurching after us. “We are weakened.” Her ruined voice warbles. “If we fight, we die.”

“If you stay, you die,” Clay snaps.

A few of the mutants shoot Clay sharp glances and bare their teeth.

“He's trying to help,” I say, scrambling to think. I'm losing my footing with them. I need to get it back. A thought flits in my mind. Should I tell them? As I'm mulling it over, the snarling woman picks up a sharp rock, the size and shape of a dagger. She lurches toward Clay with it.

“The Messiah is dead.” The words jump out of my mouth, before I've realized what I'm doing.

A gasp from the crowd. A few push in to peer into my face, as if mulling over my words. The woman with the rock dagger stops in mid-stride.

“It's true,” I say to everyone. “Clay killed him.”

Clay stiffens and shoots me a look. I nod slightly and turn back to the group, holding my breath. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

The speaker studies my face. “The
Messssiah isss
dead?”

I nod. “Just now.”

“Why are you here?” she asks. “To tell
usss
thisss
?” Her cloudy eyes follow my every movement.

“They want to kill us.” I look at Clay unsure of my next words. “For killing their leader.”

The speaker looks at me and then lopes over to the group. The dozen mutants fold into a huddle. Their ruined voices struggle to form sentences, but can't make out what they are saying.

Finally, the speaker lumbers over, but I don't like the look on her face.

“What?” I ask, leaning forward. “What did they say?”

“We
sssay
,” she says slowly, “the time for remembering
isss
here. We go up and reclaim our place. While they are
weakessst
.”

I nod. “Okay. Let's go.”

She shakes her head. “You'll go. We trade you for our freedom.”

We walk between burning torches with mutants on either side. They shove us forward, back to the very people who swore to kill us.

The group was ready to leave in ten minutes, fastening torches, smearing guano on the torch tops so now we trail the rancid burning stench with us. They have pulled out sharpened rocks, as pointy and dangerous as daggers, likely honed in the dark with vengeance in mind. They peppered us with questions: Who's left in charge? What weapons do they have?