Broken (Otherworld 6)

"Drop the knife," Clay said, his voice a nearly unintelligible growl.

"The--?" The man's gaze dropped to his hand. "Oh, oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry." He stooped and laid the knife down, then gave a small, nervous laugh. "I can't blame you for being wary. I know they've been after your wife, which can't be very pleasant." His gaze slid to my stomach. "Particularly considering her delicate condition. But I believe--" He swallowed. "That is to say, I hope I can help you."

"Not interested."

As Nick and Zoe approached, I could see that my assessment of the man's size hadn't been skewed by our position--he wasn't much bigger than Zoe, in height or weight.

Zoe stopped and looked at him, head tilting as if puzzled. Nick was downwind, so I motioned for him to sniff the air. He did--twice--then shook his head.

"Hello," the man said, his head bobbing in greeting. "I was just speaking to your friends. I saw you together earlier. I was following you. That is to say, I was following her, that...thing. The woman. She led me to you, and I continued on here, in hopes of getting an opportunity to speak to you. But before I could go inside, the other one cut me off."

"The other one?" I said.

"The man. Her partner. He saw me and--" The man swallowed, his gaze tripping around the construction site. "I hid, and I thought I lost him. Then I heard noises. I was preparing to run when I saw you."

"Who are you?" I asked.

Clay grunted, telling me not to engage him.

I leaned closer and whispered, "He's not a zombie."

Clay's expression didn't change. "Don't care."

"I'm not one of them," the man said, then hesitated. "Or, I should say, I do not believe I am. It's all very..." He shook his head sharply. "It doesn't matter. My name is Matthew Hull, and yes, I did come through that...whatever it was. I could use your help, and in return, can offer my own."

I glanced at Clay, but he was staring at Hull as if he could bore into his thoughts and read his intentions.

Hull continued, a near-pleading note in his voice. "My perspective is one you're not likely to have, or be able to find elsewhere. A firsthand account, so to speak."

Clay's scrutiny was obviously making Hull uncomfortable. He shifted from one foot to the other, glanced over his shoulder at Zoe and Nick, then took a sideways step, as if preparing for a quick escape.

"Perhaps we could speak in someplace more...public," he said. "We passed a park south of here. When I was following you. The road appeared to circle around it."

"Queen's Park," I said, as Clay tensed, ready for the leap. "Fine, but we have someone else who'd like to speak to you, and he's not here right now, so why don't I give him a call..."

I took out my cell phone. A momentary distraction that worked better than I expected because, as I lifted it to my ear, the man stared at me in confusion. The perfect opportunity for Clay to take him down. When he didn't, I looked over to see him staring out over the construction yard. There, on the other side, a man was creeping around a dump bin. While I couldn't make out his features, I recognized his form and his stance, slightly stooped. The other zombie.

Below, Hull had noticed our attention wander. I motioned to Nick, telling him to go after the zombie and leave this one to us. He slipped away. Zoe hesitated and glanced at me for instructions. When I didn't give any, she followed Nick. The man watched them leave.

"They--they're still here, aren't they?" he stammered. "Those...things. Perhaps I should leave this to you--"

"Don't move," Clay said.

"We could still meet in the park," the man said, gaze

darting about for the clearest escape route. "Shall we say, dusk? At the north end?"

Clay leapt just as Hull bolted. A second sooner, and he would have landed atop him. As it was, he hit the ground about five feet behind the already running man. As I moved forward to jump down, the toe of my sneaker snagged on an exposed nail. Any other time, that would have just meant an embarrassing stumble and quick recovery as Clay sprinted away, leaving me to catch up. But the moment Clay saw my shadow stutter, he stopped, turning fast, arms going up as if I was about to fall headfirst off the trailer.

"I'm fine!" I said. "Go!"

He hesitated until he saw that I was indeed okay. Then he continued the pursuit, but slowly now, as if my stumble had reminded him where his priorities lay. As the gap between Clay and Hull widened, I knew that the only way we were going to get him is if I caught up--and fast. So I concentrated on forgetting the twenty-pound weight on my gut and the sweat streaming into my eyes.

As I sprinted forward, something jumped from behind a pile of lumber. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught only a furry brown blur, and my brain screamed "wolf." I backpedaled so fast I tripped and thudded down on my backside, letting out a whimper as I felt the jolt slam through to my stomach. I jerked forward into a semi-seated fetal position, protecting my stomach.

Something hit my shoulder, teeth catching in my shirt. A strangled snarl from Clay. A high-pitched squeal of rage from whatever was clinging to my shoulder, then the thump of flesh hitting wood as it flew off. I caught a whiff of my attacker then, and knew what it was even as I turned to see it lying dead beside a pile of boards.

"A rat?" I said. "In daylight?"