The Survivors: Book One (53 page)

Angela stopped herself, trying to imagine telling him how she was feeling.
"I can’t stop thinking about you, about us and how good we were together, and I may want another chance with you once I get my boy back and find a way to ditch my man."

Never in a million years.

Even if Kenny was out of the picture - and he wasn’t, not by a long shot - there were other walls between them. Still, the young girl who had believed in the dreams began to whisper and it was hard to ignore as sleep refused to come. They were still a great match, and she still cared, still wanted the life he had promised her so long ago. Soon, he would figure that out and do something about it. Then, they would all be doomed.

Marc returned to his side of their bed, thinking they were getting closer despite her trying not to let it happen. She was so strong! Any other woman would have still been crying over being attacked, but not his Angie. She not only recovered quickly, she grew stronger and more confident from each encounter.

She wasn’t afraid to meet his eyes now, to walk close to him, and when he wasn’t looking. He could feel her watching, thinking about him and their past. She felt it too; he could read it on her pretty face. She felt the... What? Love? Maybe. Lust?
You bet that sweet ass
, he thought, slipping his belt and buckle loose. For him anyway.

He had never lit up around a woman the way he did with Angie. He had no doubts about his feelings, but he would accept nothing less than all of her. He had roughly four weeks left to convince her that giving into her man’s will wasn’t her only choice anymore.

2

Waking with a feeling of revulsion, Angela brushed at her arms as she sat up, eyes still closed in the damp morning air. Her skin prickled with tiny irritations, and her hair seemed to be moving on its own…she was so tired!

“What the hell?”

It was the sound of Marc’s voice that got her eyes open, and Angela couldn’t stop the yelp of disgust that echoed off the concrete.

“Spiders or crickets; trying to get out of the water. Not sure which. Come over here and let me brush you off.”

His tone was soothing, and Angela stood still while Marc rid her of the black and brown, nickel-sized spiders that had legs twice as long as their bodies, that were bent over them like grasshoppers.

“They’re under my clothes!” she moaned, horrified.

Marc immediately grabbed the edges of her shirt and yanked it over her head. He shook it out and gave it back, eyes watching Dog avoid the mutations instead of snapping at them as he did with normal insects.

“Do under your pants and I’ll get our stuff loaded.”

“It’ll all have spiders in it.”

Marc listened to the storm still rumbling overhead, sure they should stay, but the water was rising again and they couldn’t share their shelter with mutations. He had to get her out of here. “Yeah. When you put those back on, tuck the cuffs into your socks and come get what you really want. We’ll leave the rest.”

As he stepped past her with the heater and their duffle bags, it occurred to Marc that she hadn’t jumped when he’d reached for her shirt, and his heart stirred. Things were changing.

Half an hour later, they were passing through Matenea, Missouri, and Angela listened to the voices in her head as the wind pushed them along, little black balls of hail (acid balls) pinging off their roofs and hoods.

“I think we should take cover.”

“What’s...? Oh, shit! Stay on my ass!”

Angela spotted the funnel cloud by following his line of sight and for a second, couldn’t move. The twister wasn’t very wide, but it was moving incredibly fast and closing in, like it had sensed the presence of humans and dropped out of the sky - just for them.

“Come on!”

His shout startled her, Dog’s piercing bark through the radio breaking her daze, and Angela hit the gas, heart pounding. It was a real tornado and moving their way!

“Thought this only happened in the movies,” she whispered, scared as she caught up to Marc’s bumper, but the raw fury of something they had no chance of controlling was beautiful too, and Angela knew she would never forget it if they got away.

Marc turned them into a large, mostly empty parking lot, speeding up. When he sent his Blazer crashing through the front glass windows of the theater, plastic and glass flying, she followed.

Behind them, the tornado churned across the small city, smashing through anything in its way as it headed for the enemy: Man.

“Get as far in as you can!”

Angela swerved in next to him, lobby props tumbling, and they both ducked down as the tornado hit the theater.

The building shuddered, and both Blazers lunged forward with the wind, bashing into the concession stand’s high wall. Glass sprayed as the display shelves caved in, large chunks of debris banging off them as the roar grew louder.

A blast of straight-line winds swept through the cinema on the twister’s heels, grabbing and spinning Angela’s Blazer in dizzying circles before shoving it into a line of heavy arcade machines. Marc watched helplessly as the big games were sent flying into the air and each other from the hard impact, glass and coins erupting like tiny, silver volcanoes.

Bouncing back with a jarring thud, her muddy Blazer slid the length of the lobby before coming to a tire-squealing halt just inches from his front bumper.

A second later, it was over except for the rain, and Marc was scrambling over wet debris to open her door, help her out. “Are you hurt? Are you all right?”

“I don’t remember asking for the tour,” she joked breathlessly, eyes wide, and he grinned at her.

“Me either. You’re okay?”

Angela trembled, a bit shook up, and didn’t tense when he surrounded her with his arms, just buried her head against his hard, comforting body and held on tight. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling.

Marc rubbed her arms to warm her, knowing it was the shock of being woken so abruptly and forced to deal with the fury of their environment before she’d even had a cup of coffee that had shaken her, made her a bit vulnerable.

“Dog, up. Sshhh... It’s okay, Honey.”

Angela kept her arms locked around his waist as the wolf went to the roof of his 4x4. Marc held her close, watching the drumming rain continue as his body tried hard to ignore hers. It was still a perfect fit.

“Are we safe here?”

Marc recognized the moment. If she could ask him that, and be prepared to believe it, things really had changed. “I think so. I need to do a quick check.”

Angela shivered when he stepped back, immediately feeling colder as he disappeared into the dim shadows. The wind blew her hair back, and her heart whispered this storm was headed northwest, toward her boy. She had to send Kenny another message, had to warn him again. Heart thumping, she gathered herself quickly, doing it before the fear could make her change her mind.

Marc could feel the waves of energy humming through the cinema. Without knowing he could or that he was going to try, he stepped directly in front of her and closed his eyes, concentrating.

He was blocked at first by a wall of crumbling mental bricks, but he sent his want ahead of him and it fell easily enough. Angela’s lashes fluttered, but she didn’t protest, and then he was in and frowning.

“Where are you?”
The man’s voice was loud, intimidating, and familiar somehow?

“You have to take cover. Bad storms headed your way.”

“One more time, Bitch! Where are you?”

It was a struggle for Marc to remain silent, but he did.

“A lot closer. How’s my boy?”

“Happy with me. How close?”

The barely-controlled anger was clear and Angela forced herself to stand, emboldened a little by Brady’s presence,
“I’m coming for my son just as fast as I can.”

“You’ll never get him back. Not unless you do what I say.”

Searing rage filled Marc, but it was nothing compared to the fury coming off Angela in clouds of heat he could actually feel.

“You won’t keep me from my boy, Kenny! That was the old world. Things have changed, and you’re the one who should be careful!”
She sucked in a breath as he screamed obscenities, then overpowered him with her anger. The words blasted out in a furious snarl.
“If anything happens to my boy because you didn’t listen, there won’t be a place on this fucking planet that you can hide from me!”
she slammed the door before he could respond in kind.

“He’s in a good mood,” Angela said with a shaky smile, forcing her demon back.

Marc’s voice and eyes were hard. “I won’t let him hurt you or the boy. I’ll protect you. My word on it.”

Angela turned away as her heart continued to thump. That was the first time in over a decade she had stood up to Kenny so openly. There would be a payment for it.

“You can’t promise that. You think you know what you’re up against, but you don’t. He’s a violent, trained killer, and in the end, someone’s blood will spill.”

“His, not yours,” Marc stated flatly and she shook her head, hating it that he was thinking of murder again.

“Please don’t, Brady. It’s on my hands if you kill him, and it would destroy me as sure as losing my boy would. My freedom’s not worth another life. I need you to swear to me that you won’t.”

“I can’t. You don’t deserve to be treated that way, and I won’t just sit by and watch.”

“I’ll figure something out. For now, you think we can stay here until the storm’s gone?”

He sighed at her obvious distraction, looking around as he ran a hand over neck-length black waves in frustration. Wasn’t he getting to her at all?

“Sometimes too much.”

He flinched guiltily, and she waved a hand. “Well?”

“I don’t know. Let’s have a look around and we’ll decide.” Marc let it go, didn’t tell her he could make it look like an accident and not feel any guilt. He too, was a violent, trained killer.

“Dog, in.” Marc closed the door behind the big animal, not wanting him to get distracted by things blowing in the heavy wind and run off into the storm.

“Guns and light. Move out,” he ordered, thinking if he decided to handle her man that way, Angie would never know. He’d lock it up so tight, even he wouldn’t be able to access the memory.

3

A few minutes later they were on the upper balcony, the ghostly smell of popcorn and butter that still haunted the stale air, almost covered by the fishy rot blowing in through the broken glass doors with the rain.

“Wanna watch a movie while we wait?”

Angela smiled sadly. She hadn’t been to a movie since Charlie was a baby and kept herself from saying it only by looking at the poster for
A Miracle on 34
^th
Street
, trading one pain for another. “You know how?”

Marc listened harder, fighting the urge to find a room with a window. “Think so. Just have to find the generators, add some gas.”

Angela was reading movie posters, ignoring the unease of her stomach. After the morning they'd had, that was to be expected. “Okay. How about
The Shadows of Fate
? I loved
The Chronicles of Riddick
.”

Marc grinned, feeling unworthy of her beauty with his long hair and unshaven face. “You just like Vin Diesel.”

Angela laughed at his joking accusation, eyes admiring his sexy goatee. It added to his image of an old west gunfighter.
My own John Wayne,
she thought, smiling. “It was a good story.”

“It was crap with a lot of eye candy.”

She turned away, grinning. “Not just for the eyes.”

Marc stilled suddenly, looking over the destroyed lobby and dark, shadowy hallways where he thought maybe bodies should be, but weren’t. This would have made a good place to hole up, but until they’d hit it (literally) there hadn’t been… “You hear that?”

She listened for a moment, hearing only the storm and things moving with the wind, then shook her head, “No. What?”

He turned, shrugging. “Sounds like someone clearing snow with a metal shovel.”

The image made her frown, and she pushed at the door in her mind, as her stomach dropped. They had made over a hundred miles in the last week, and she was tired. The door hadn’t opened on its own. Something was happening.

“Up, I think. We should go up,” she whispered, eyes narrowing, ears open.

BOHICA
, Marc thought.
Bend over. Here it comes again
. “But Dog and the Blaz…”

“No time.”

Then they both heard it: that headache-causing sound of metal and stone meeting, but instead of a distant echo, it was loud and close. The vibrations rattled the walls and pounded through the floor under them.

“Up?”

Angela nodded, heading for the employee door to the right of the upstairs concession area. “We have to…”

The grinding noise was suddenly deafening, and Marc grabbed her arm, shoved them both into the dark stairwell as the building around them moved, knocked forward on its foundation.

A twenty foot wall of mud and debris slammed into the back of the movie theater like a bomb, blowing out walls and windows. The sound of it was like a tanker truck jackknifing, and the space immediately began filling with feet of sliding ooze. The entire back wall of the cinema crumbled under the onslaught, filling the rows of seats with thick, dark mud. The side walls held against the wall of mud, which slowed and then was finally stopped by something bigger than it was: the strip mall around the theater, which was more than a mile wide.

Sludge continued to invade, flooding the theater and parking lot around it with ten feet of thick, lumpy glop that poured around. It gushed over counters and ticket booths, shoving the two vehicles against the glassless front doors and then out of them.

Angela and Marc flipped on their penlights to see the dim stairwell and bowed-in door below them.

“Is that mud?”

Marc shined his light on the bottom of the door, where thick, blackish silt was gushing under and he waved a hand, looking upward. “Yeah. A slide.” He waved her up the steps. “That door’s not gonna ho….”