TORMENT (26 page)

Paul reached out with his open mouth, aiming for Chang’s calf. But his head snapped back as Chang kicked out with her free foot. Unaffected by the pain, the impact only delayed him. As he lunged for a second attack, he was struck again, this time from the side, and much harder.

Blood splattered as Garbarino’s boot sent Paul rolling away. Garbarino drew his handgun.

“No weapons!” Austin hissed.

“Fuck!” Garbarino said as he holstered the weapon and drew his knife.

“Don’t let him scratch you,” Mia shouted back to them as she ran with Liz, hand still clapped over the girl’s mouth.

Paul lurched to his feet. “Run,” he said. “Please, run!”

“Not likely,” Garbarino said.

“Please, I don’t want—” Paul’s voice was replaced by an inhuman roar as he charged toward Garbarino.

Reaching out with one hand and side stepping, Garbarino intended to catch Paul around the neck and stab him in the back, severing his spine. But he made several incorrect assumptions about Paul’s attack.

That he would be slowed by age.

That he would lack fighting skills.

That he would be weak.

None of these things were true. In fact, Paul seemed faster and stronger than he had been in life and all of the dirty fighting tricks he’d picked up in the jungles of Vietnam could still be put to use by his reanimated body.

Paul caught Garbarino’s arm and twisted. Garbarino could feel the bones reaching their breaking point and screamed. But Paul’s grip loosened as he spun around and kicked out, catching Austin in the midsection.

As Austin went down, Garbarino used the distraction to swing down with his knife, burying the blade halfway into Paul’s forearm. The grip on his arm loosened, not from Paul reacting to the pain, but because the tendons in his arm had been severed.

Garbarino yanked free and fell back, losing the knife as he reached out to break the fall. Even with both hands free, the river bed was too uneven. His uncontrolled fall ended with him slamming into a large stone. The impact didn’t knock him unconscious, but it did leave him bloodied and stunned.

Paul stormed toward him, the fingers of his injured arm flapping uselessly. But then, as though a part had been snapped back into place, his fingers regained mobility. They clenched like a hawk’s talons as Paul reached out for Garbarino, who had yet to come to his senses.

“Joe!” Austin shouted, just now getting to his feet.

Garbarino saw Paul coming and screamed. Just before Paul reached him, a massive explosion ripped through the air, and knocked Paul back.
A shotgun blast.

Garbarino sat up quickly and turned around. Mia was there, shotgun in hand, Liz on the ground by her feet, crying hard.

There was no time for thanks. They all knew Paul would return.
And others, if the shotgun blast had been heard.
But the shotgun didn’t get a response. It was Liz. The little girl, wracked by sobs that shook her whole body, turned her eyes to the sky and screamed.

And then, in the distance, Henry Masters roared back.

31

Chang fell with a shout and skinned her elbow on a jagged stone at the bottom of the dry riverbed. “Shit.”

Garbarino helped her up. “Watch your step.”

“I can’t run down here. We’d be faster up there,” she said, pointing to the riverbank a foot over her head.

The group stopped to catch their breath. Austin turned to Chang. “Forest has thinned out even more.
Might be visible from a mile away.
Maybe more.”

“We don’t even know if they’re back there,” Chang said. “It’s not like the river runs in a straight line or even if we’re still heading north.”

She was right, of course. But Austin’s next words silenced the argument. “You want to go up there and take a look, be my guest.”

Mia picked up Elizabeth, who had been walking on her own for some time. The girl clung to her like a monkey to its mother. “What about Paul? White followed us through the woods because he knew which direction we were heading. Paul knew we were following the river.”

Austin looked upstream. As far as he could see, no one was coming. But Mia was right. Paul would be following them as long as they stayed on the river. “First road we come across, we’ll follow. Until then, we need to keep moving. Doesn’t matter if Paul knows which way we’re going if we stay ahead of him.”

“What if he tells the others?” Collins asked and then yawned.

Garbarino and Austin hadn’t told the others that it was actually the middle of the night. The combination of constant light from the heat lightning filling sky and the distraction of running for their lives made keeping track of time impossible without a watch. Better to let them think the sun still shown above the clouds and rest when they found someplace safe.

“I don’t think they talk, really,” Garbarino said. “More like a pack mentality.
Might be following Masters now, too.”

“Who?”
Mia asked.

Austin shot Garbarino an angry glance and sighed. “Henry Masters. Peace activist.”

“I remember that guy,” Collins said. “Tore his shirt off over the war and got trampled by his own people.”

“After we gassed them,” Austin said.

Collins shrugged. “You saw him?”

“The big one,” Garbarino said.

“The one that roars?”
Chang asked.

“Yes,” Austin said. “You can’t tell by looking at his face—”

“Because there isn’t much of one to speak of,” Garbarino added.

“But his tattoo—”

“The eagle with the peace banner,” Collins added, remembering the press photos.

“—is easy to identify.”

“But he died,” Chang said.
“Before.”

“I know,” Austin said. “Doesn’t make sense to me, either, but—”

A voice rolled down the river, faint but carrying the weight of white water rapids behind it.
“I don’t want to hurt you!”

Paul.

Though panicked and distant, they all recognized his voice, and ran. No orders issued. No questions asked. They just ran.

They stopped two miles downstream.

Paul’s voice persisted behind them, not gaining, not fading, but pacing them. The trouble was
,
he wouldn’t tire. And the group was exhausted. But the old stone bridge in front of them offered some hope. A small dirt path, probably made by kids seeking the perfect fishing hole, rose up the bank next to the bridge.

“Let’s go,” Austin said, motioning everyone up.
“Hurry!
We can’t let him see us.”

Elizabeth and Mia climbed up first, clawing at the dirt, clinging to exposed roots. Chang followed, shoved up from below by Garbarino. Collins came next and then Austin.

“Get down!” Austin hissed, diving behind the low stone wall at the top of the bridge. Paul’s voice was loud now.

Just as everyone lay down on the bridge, Paul’s voice grew louder. He mostly grunted, or whimpered, but occasionally would shout. “No, no, no!” he screamed as he neared the bridge.

Elizabeth jumped at the sound, but Mia held her tight and kept a hand over the girl’s mouth, just in case.

“Run!” he screamed.

Elizabeth began squirming.

“Run!”
Louder this time.
Right beneath them.
Had he stopped?

Mia and Austin locked eyes. He glanced down at his hand gun. The message was clear. He wouldn’t let Paul get them, but the chase would begin anew as the gun’s report attracted attention from Henry Masters and the horde of killers following him.

The silence that followed tore at them. Was Paul climbing the bank? Was he standing beneath them, listening for a sound? Smelling the air?

Elizabeth struggled for freedom, but Mia just held on tight, afraid to even shush the girl.

Paul screamed again. But this time, when his voice reached them, everyone relaxed. He’d already moved further downstream. Mia eased up on Elizabeth. “It’s okay,” she said, trying to soothe the girl, who was now crying lightly. “It’s okay, baby.”

Garbarino stood slowly, looking over the wall. “He’s gone.”

When Mia got up, she saw Elizabeth holding her wrist. She knelt down and looked at it. The skin was red and bruising slightly. Mia gasped. “Did I do that?”

Elizabeth gave a subtle nod.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said, hugging the girl tight. Consumed by panic, she hadn’t thought about how hard she was holding Liz. The girl hadn’t been trying to get away from Paul, she’d been hurt by Mia’s crushing grasp.

“It’s not your fault,” Liz said. “I was scared, too.”

Mia pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s
okay
,” Elizabeth insisted, placing a hand on Mia’s face. “You’re doing your best.”

At this, Mia’s eyes grew wet with tears. She nodded, sniffed, wiped the tears away and stood. “Let’s keep moving.”

Twenty minutes later, the group stopped in the middle of the street. Tall leafless maples rose up on the right. On the left was the largest church any of them had ever seen. Its modern, beige art-deco exterior made it look more like a wealthy college than a house of God, but the sign out front read: Trinity Non-Denominational Church. The parking lot, covering nearly an acre, was empty save for one car, a black Mercedes-Benz.

“Good a place as any to settle in for a rest,” Garbarino said.

Austin looked the building over.
“Not very defensible.
Too many entry points.”

“Lots of hiding places,” Chang said.

“Which can work in our favor or against us,” Collins added.

“We’re stopping,” Mia said, heading for the building’s front entrance, a series of six, large hardwood doors.

“Hey,” Austin protested.

“You’re the one who put me in charge,” she said over her shoulder. “Besides, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

“It is?” said Chang, now following Mia.

“Ask Garbarino. His watch works.”

Garbarino looked at the watch, then at Austin. He shrugged. “She must’ve seen it.”

Mia found the doors unlocked and let
herself
in.

The others followed.

Mia put Liz down as she entered the massive, three story foyer. Stained glass windows featuring scenes from the Bible surrounded them, filling the room with shimmering colors projected by the heat lightning flashing in the sky outside.
A sign reading “sanctuary” hung over three sets of double doors at the other end of the foyer.
Several other doors lined the sides, as well as a long hallway on either side.

She whispered to the others. “Lock the doors.”

Austin and Garbarino quickly and quietly locked all six front doors and then rejoined the group in the middle of the foyer.